#real sol hours on my brain

[purplecladmerchant]

Impostor syndrome and God syndrome kicking in

[wooataes]

Real Eyes, Fake Lies (Part Ten)

Pairing: soulmate!Lee Jihoon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: Hanahaki!AU, angst, alcohol consumption, green-eyed monster named jealousy, tears, lots of crying, heartbreak, mentions of death, suggestive thoughts? guilt, swearing

Summary: What do you do when you find out the one person that was created by the universe to be yours doesn’t want you back?

A/N: It has been a long time coming! Oh my goodness guys, thank you so much for your incredible patience with me as I have been navigating my life into the new year and getting my life together essentially. I finally (with the support of my friendos) managed to get this up and out for you all! Thank you all as always for your love and support of refl! 🥰

- Tae 💜🌸✨

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Jihoon was so fucked.

To his credit, he is trying. Trying to ignore the fact that his body feels some sort of attraction towards his soulmate, situated only a few feet away from him on a beach chair. Trying to ignore the ink embedded into your skin along your collarbone that he can see out of his peripheral vision. 

Trying to ignore temptation. 

Your sunglasses are pushed up your nose to keep the sun out of your eyes, having opted to let the sun warm your body up instead of making your way into the water. It’s unusual for Jihoon to see you so still and so silent, simply basking in the sunlight as a hand belonging to Jisoo reaches up to pat your calf. Jihoon immediately scowls to himself when he sees the older man glance up at you from his towel, asking quietly if you’re good to which you respond with a little nod and smile before leaning your head back again and relaxing into the beach chair.

Your soulmate heaves a soft sigh as he checks his phone for the fourth time in the last two hours. Ji-ah was due to arrive back in Seoul soon and he has been growing increasingly more worried the longer it takes for her to not answer. 

“Y/N!” A loud voice rouses you from your hungover slumber, causing you to whine and look at the shadow that is now blocking the sun from you that comes in the form of a 6’2 man named Kim Mingyu.

“Mm?” You grumble.

“Why won’t you come swimming with us?” he pouts at you, hands on his hips.

“I’m having my enrichment time out of my enclosure.” You deadpan, eyes closing again, a little grin forming on your face as you hear Mingyu let out a loud whine.

“Please can you come in the water?”

“Why does it have to be me?” You groan.

“Because Wonwoo can’t do swimming because of an accident when he was younger, Kwan and Sol are in their own little honeymoon phase world over there,” he points to said couple who are making an intricate sand castle, “Minnie is hanging off Soonie-hyung like a rash, Hannie-hyung will just attempt to use us all as a floatation device-”

“What makes you think I won’t do the same?” You raise your eyebrow.

“AND,” he glares at you, ignoring your comment. “Your brother is sulking that it’s only me who is playing with him. Please?”

“Do I have to?” You throw your head back with a dramatic sigh.

“If you don’t come in the water willingly, I will have to take you by force, Y/Nie.”

“Ha ha ha.” You roll your eyes. “I’d like to see you try.”

Jihoon has kept his back to you both for the entirety of your interaction with Mingyu, deciding on his own that he needs to actually follow Jeonghan’s advice and actively make an effort to at least attempt to ignore you and help you move on. He is finding it extremely difficult, however, due to the bikini you’re currently in looking too inviting for you to wriggle your way into his thoughts like a catchy song that can’t seem to escape his brain.

Mingyu seems to take your words as a challenge though, as not even two seconds later, Jihoon is alerted by a shriek coming from you.

“KIM MINGYU!” You try and scold, the large man having now scooped you up into his arms, marching his way towards the water. Jeonghan and Wonwoo both begin to laugh at the way you flail and kick to no avail.

“Yes, Y/Nie?” Mingyu grins at you, and you thrash more.

“Kim Mingyu, I swear if you don’t put me the fuck down right now…”

“Oh, put you down?” He smirks. “Okay!”

“YAH!” You let out another squeal as he moves to drop you, but you’re faster. You immediately wrap your arms and legs around his torso, squeezing onto him for dear life. Seungcheol bursts out laughing at the sight of you, a big smile on his face as he watches on.

“I meant out of the water, you BRAT!” You smack at Mingyu’s back, who only trudges deeper into the water. You whine loudly and cling tighter to him. 

“Are you sure you want to call me a brat when I could sink both of us into the water right now?” He raises his eyebrows at you, arms down by his sides as you hold onto him like a backpack..

“Yah!” You whimper, burying your face into his shoulder. Jihoon bristles at the feeling in his stomach. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry! I’ll hang out!”

“Told you it would work.” Mingyu smirks to your brother, who only grins back triumphantly.

“I hate that you know me too well.” You groan, carefully untangling yourself from the overgrown puppy’s broad back, shivering at the feeling of the cold water as you sink your feet into the salty beach water. “I swear to god though, if you try to push me under the water, I will end you.” 

Soonyoung only giggles at the glare on your face, glancing back to the shore at Jeonghan. “Hyung, isn’t she cute when she’s angry?”

“The cutest!” Jeonghan calls back, an amused smirk forming on his face as you shoot your brother’s soulmate a glare.

“I hate you all.” You grumble, crossing your arms with a pout, only making the boys around you giggle more.

“Oh come here, you big baby.” Seokmin turns around, offering his back to you.

Jihoon feels the immediate change in your mood lift to excitement, glancing over to see you happily perched up on Seokmin’s back, who wades slowly through the water with you comfortably resting against him. 

“Thank you Minnie~” You sing sweetly, hugging around his shoulders.

“Hey!” Mingyu points accusingly at you. “That isn’t fair! I went through all that work to bring you out here only to have you be coddled in the water too?”

“Be grateful I’m even here, Mingyu.” You playfully glare at him, Seokmin turning you away from him as Soonyoung starts cooing and patting your head, making you grin.

“Aish, what are we going to do with you…”

For the next hour, Jihoon knows he is torturing himself by listening to the others around him (aka you) have fun. Him, alongside Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Seungkwan and Hansol watches as you with the others play happily around in the water. For the better part of twenty minutes, the game of choice, chosen by the birthday boy, has been Marco Polo. You have opted out of this game, your soulmate keeping an eye on your head currently nestled against Seokmin’s warm shoulder, eyes fluttering closed as the heat from the sun covers you like a blanket and makes your sleepiness return at full force. You look peaceful, he thinks. 

His calm thoughts soon turn to discomfort as he feels his phone vibrate against his pocket, hurriedly reaching down to check the text, only to feel himself deflate at the message from his girlfriend.

Made it safe. x

No nickname, no warmth, no nothing. This is seriously unlike Ji-ah at all, and it has Jihoon nervous. Should he reply like normal? Or should he give his girlfriend the space she needs to handle her emergency?

“Jihoon-ah?” Wonwoo’s voice cuts his thoughts short, startling his housemate as he turns to stare at him with wide eyes. “You okay over there?”

“Uh, y-yeah.” He hums slightly. “Ji-ah just let me know she made it home safely.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

Is it?

“Yeah, I suppose.” Jihoon replies after a short pause, sighing quietly. 

“It’s okay to be worried about her.” Wonwoo smiles at him, patting his shoulder gently. “After all, she is your-”

“YAH!” Your voice squeals out, alarming the others as they turn to look at the ocean. You’re swatting at your brother, who is loudly cackling and snatching you from Seokmin’s arms. “Get away from me, you big buffoon!”

The others upon the shore begin to laugh and smile at Seungcheol as he spins you around bridal style. “You dare be rude to your big brother on his birthday, hmm?”

“HANNIE OPPA!” You shriek as Jihoon glances at your brother’s soulmate, who simply smirks back. “DO SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR SOULMATE!”

“And ruin my hair if I fall into the water? You’re on your own, Ladybug.”

“You bast-AAAAAH!” You yelp as Seungcheol tosses you to Mingyu, who catches you effortlessly. “I hate you all!”

“What did I do?!” Seungkwan fires back immediately, wagging his finger dramatically at you as the others laugh at the joyful mood surrounding them all.

Jihoon breathes a sigh of relief at the change of subject from Wonwoo’s questioning, letting his head lean back to briefly glance at the sky as he delves back into his own thoughts.

“Aw, come on guys, leave the girl alone!” Jisoo chuckles as he rises from his towel, tucking a surfboard under his arm. He jogs into the sea, sitting up on his board as he paddles his way over to the group. “Come here, Goober. I’ll save you from these punks.” He laughs as Mingyu turns away from him, holding you tight to his chest.

“Nuh-uh! She stays with us!”

“She’s not going to stray far, promise.” He pats the board gently, making the tall man sigh and plonk you down in front of your childhood friend.

“Thank you, Shua’ppa.” You smile sweetly at him before poking your tongue out at Mingyu, who huffs and splashes you playfully, making you yelp.

“Do you know how to surf, Goob?” Jisoo asks gently, giving you a cheeky grin.

“Hong Jisoo.” You deadpan, raising an eyebrow. “I am a homebody girl from Daegu. What do you think?”

“Well,” he ignores your sass, crossing his arms across his chest as you mimic him. “Would you like to learn?”

“When I feel like throwing up from how the ocean is rocking me right now?” You laugh. “I think that’s a recipe for disaster.”

“Hmm.. you make a compelling argument.” He hums sagely, reaching up and stroking his chin, trying not to grin at the sound of your giggles. “How about then I teach you how to keep your balance on the board? No wave riding.”

“Can you guarantee that I won’t fall in?” Jisoo simply raises his hand up, his pinky extended to link with yours, flashing you an angelic smile. You narrow your eyes for a moment before reaching out to link your pinky with his. “I swear, if I fall in…”

“Trust me, Goober!”

Jihoon blinks and raises his head as he feels your amusement filling his veins, eyes coming into focus as he curiously gazes out to the sea to see why you’re feeling this way.

Your legs are shaking as you attempt to stand on the idle surfboard, your nervous laughs reaching down to where your soulmate sits. Jisoo is standing behind you with his large hands settled delicately on your bare waist, keeping you steady as he talks quietly into your ear on how to stand correctly that Jihoon can’t hear.

Jihoon feels his hair stand on end as his eyes zero in on the older man’s hands resting on your bare skin, bristling in his chair slightly.

“You can do it, Ladybug!” Jeonghan is cheering from the shore, an amused grin on his face as you flip him off.

“Focus, Goober.” Jisoo’s voice is steady as he keeps his hands on you.

You take a deep breath, standing with your legs apart as he directs you, biting down on your lip and holding your arms out to keep your balance, your eyes squeezing shut.

“That’s it!” Seungcheol cheers you on from the water, keeping a hold on the surfboard so it doesn’t toss and tip as much.

“Look at her go, babe!” Seungkwan coos excitedly to Hansol from their spot in the sand, as his soulmate watches on with an amused smile.

“Bug, open your eyes!” Soonyoung laughs at your scrunched up face.

“Goober,” Jisoo laughs, both hands now in the air. “You’re doing it. Open your eyes.”

You slowly open your eyes, looking down to see your legs balancing on the board. Your eyes widen as you look around at Soonyoung, Seokmin, Seungcheol and Mingyu in the water, all cheering excitedly at you and Jisoo standing behind you with a proud grin.

“Holy fuck.” You laugh nervously. “I’m doing it.”

“WOOHOO!” Seungkwan cheers from ashore, waving excitedly with Hansol as Wonwoo simply gives you a thumbs up from beside your soulmate, who just stares with a bewildered look on his face, not knowing how to comprehend the feelings that are in his stomach.

“See?” Jisoo smiles charmingly at you, leaning in to press his lips to your temple. “I told you that you could do it.”

Jihoon grimaces at the shy smile that graces your face.

“Jihoon-ssi?”

“Hmm?” Jihoon’s brain switches into focus at the sound of your brother's voice calling out for him.

They had been back at the campsite now for roughly two hours after a long birthday dinner in the city for Seungcheol, full of fried chicken and even more alcohol. Everyone now has settled down around the campfire, ready for a final night of alcohol and drinking games for the last hurrah of the trip.

“Soonyoungie said that you are studying music production.” He smiles warmly at him. Jihoon bristles. “What made you want to pursue that?”

“O-oh.” He stutters. “Umm..”

It’s not that he was afraid of his soulmate’s brother and the fact that if he knew that he rejected his precious sister, he’d rip his head off, no, it was the fact that Jihoon isn’t a very sociable person. He has never been one to hold any type of conversation for very long with anyone unless it was something he was passionate about. Luckily for him, music is one of his specialties that he could go on for hours about. So, he does.

”My older cousin is an amateur producer and songwriter.” Jihoon quietly smiles. “He has a few albums that he’s made at the moment. His soulmate does choreography for some of his tracks. I always thought he was really cool and wanted to follow his footsteps and do what he does. I guess I’m kind of his protege now?” He shrugs his shoulders nervously with a chuckle. “There’s just something I find really interesting about breaking down a song into different segments and sections, and creating completely new beats and melodies from the source material.”

“Wow,” Seungcheol replies with curious eyes. “That’s actually really interesting.”

”I suppose so,” your soulmate nods his head as he smiles shyly to himself.

“Do you plan on releasing things in the future?”

“Oh! Um.. Maybe?” He blinks. “I write a few things here and there, but they’re not very good, I don’t think.”

“Don’t downplay your skills and hobbies, Jihoon-ssi.” Seungcheol pats his shoulder once as he rises from his spot by the campfire. “If you enjoy it, that’s all that matters.” He makes his way to grab himself a second serving of the birthday cake you had brought from your work for the final night of Seungcheol’s birthday celebrations.

Jihoon smiles to himself.

He is so kind. No wonder you turned out so well. After all, he did help raise you for most of your teen years.

“It’s not tap, tap, kick,” Soonyoung instructs loudly. “It’s tap, kick, tap! Yah, don’t you remember anything from this routine, Kwan-ah?”

“We made this dance four years ago, Hyung.” Seungkwan glares, hand on his hip. “Please spare me for not remembering a dance that is nearly HALF A DECADE old.”

“NO EXCUSES!” He shouts back, pointing dramatically as he begins to get back into position. “Five, six, seven, eight!” Seungkwan groans and begrudgingly begins to move in time to Soonyoung’s movements, much to your amusement as you weave your way through the camping chairs, bundles of bracelets in hand.

“One for you,” You chirp, two bottles of soju deep as you slide a bracelet onto Seungkwan’s wrist as you pass without skipping a beat. “And a specially made tiger one for you,” You coo, squeaking and giggling as Soonyoung takes your hand, twirling you in his arms and dipping you dramatically as the bracelet slides with ease onto his wrist, your loud laugh echoing through the empty forest and right into your soulmate’s ears, sending goosebumps down his arms.

”Thank you, Buggie Wuggie Boo,” Soonyoung coos, making you groan and shove him away.

“ICK!” You yell as you continue to pass bracelets through the group, Jihoon eyeing you out of the corner of his eye as you draw closer towards where he sits. “Here you go, Hannie-Oppa!”

”Thank you, sweetheart.” your brother’s soulmate smiles, ruffling your hair as he admires the colourful beads on his wrist.

Jihoon takes a deep breath as he feels your presence draw closer, eyes downcast as you fiddle with one of two bracelets in your hand. “Jihoon-ssi,” your voice is once again timid and shy, and he dislikes it. “I didn’t know what colour you liked, and I noticed your wardrobe is pretty void of colour, so…” You quietly place a simple black and grey beaded bracelet with his name written in lettered beads in the middle on his lap. “I thought it matches your look.”

Jihoon stares at the bracelet, picking it up and examining it between his fingers. He can feel your nerves running through your stomach, fiddling with the remaining bracelet in your hands. After a soft sigh, Jihoon slips the bracelet onto his wrist, cheeks warming at the kind gesture of you still including him.

“It’s perfect.” Jihoon smiles softly to you. “Thank you, Y/N.”

Your cheeks flush as you give him a small smile, turning and making your way towards Chan, who said quietly beside Wonwoo as he ate.

“I saved the best bracelet for last,” you smile to the youngest, sliding the final bracelet onto his wrist delicately.

“What colour is it, Noona?” Chan asks quietly, staring at the beads intently.

“Well,” you begin, sitting down beside him. “I made this with every coloured bead I could think of. It’s a rainbow.”

“Huh?” Chan balked, tilting his head. “Why would you do that? I can’t even see them…”

”I made it this way because then, the day that you meet your soulmate,” you nudge the bracelet, “you will be able to see all the colours of the rainbow straight away.” Your eyes light up with a little smile.

Jihoon’s stomach drops at the sound of hope and joy in your voice that is almost infectious, and he scowls to himself.

“Hannie-Oppa did the same for me, see?” You chirp, holding your hand out and showing Chan your nails, now chipped and slightly overgrown. “He gave me all the colours I could have on my hand, and I wanted to do the same to you.”

“B-but…” Chan takes a quiet breath. “Noona.. wh-what if… what if I meet my soulmate and it doesn’t work out? What if… what if I’m left behind and look like a complete fool?” He stares at his lap, knee bouncing nervously.

Your soulmate feels a twist of discomfort in his gut at the maknae’s question, turning his head to see the same discomfort evident on your face.

“Chan-ah,” you smile softly, reaching up to ruffle his hair. “Don’t be silly.”

“B-but you-”

“Uh-uh-uh,” you wiggle your finger at him. “Things like that only happen to people like me, who are just simply unlucky in life.” Jihoon feels the dagger pressing against his chest. “You, little one, are lucky, and I know your soulmate will be absolutely smitten with you when you meet. And, in that impossible scenario,” You bump your shoulder against his, “you’ll always have all of these guys here to spend time with. And even Noona too.” You add on for good measure, smiling sweetly at him. Jihoon feels the dagger twist inside him. Chan shyly smiles back, leaning his head against your shoulder, signaling for you to give him a big side hug, cheek resting against the top of his head.

“Promise I’ll always have you, Noona?”

“Silly boy,” You giggle. “I couldn’t leave you alone, even if I tried.” You ruffle his hair once more, causing him to whine and swat your arm, your giggle growing once more as Jihoon feels his stomach twist and tighten, a million thoughts once again flooding his mind.

“Okay,” Seokmin settles comfortably in his chair, looking around at the circle. “Here’s a question.” He hums quietly at the small group that has formed around him of you, Wonwoo, Jisoo, Jeonghan and Jihoon. “If you could have one wish that could be granted, what would you wish for?” Before anyone can open their mouths, he points aggressively towards Jeonghan. “NO WISHING FOR MORE WISHES!”

“Yah, you’re no fun.” Jeonghan whines, slumping in his chair and crossing his arms.

“I would wish for…” Wonwoo mumbles. “Being able to have enough money in my pocket at all times to be able to afford what I need at that time.”

”That is… oddly specific.” Jisoo chuckles.

“But practical.” Seokmin grins.

“I would wish for Seokminnie to let me answer questions the way I want to.” Jeonghan huffs, shooting him a playful glare as Seokmin gasps loudly, pressing his hand to his chest in shock,

“How dare you!”

”What about you, Goob?” Jisoo nudges your side with a little smile.

“I’d wish soulmates didn’t exist.”

The group falls silent, the air filling with awkward tension as they balk, trying to think of an answer.

“Bug, I…”

“Not for the reason you think.” You mutter, staring into the fire with a dull look on your face. “If soulmate’s didn’t exist, I’d only have divorced parents, not a dead mother and an absent father. If soulmate’s didn’t exist, I’d still be able to go home and see my mother and tell her about how my day went. If soulmate’s didn’t exist, I’d actually be wanted.”

Jihoon feels his heart twist, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he eyes your face. You look empty. Jihoon can’t feel a thing, and that frightens him.

“C’mere.” Jisoo takes your hand delicately, leading you to a small clearing; the same clearing that Jihoon went to the night before.

The little conversations start up again, Jihoon’s ears zeroing in on Jeonghan’s light scolding to Seokmin as to why he’d ask such a ridiculous question. His ears are ringing as your emotionless words echo through his head, making him feel worse than he ever has before.

“Goober…” Jisoo encourages you quietly to speak.

“Remember how you asked me yesterday if I was okay?” Your voice shakes. “If I was broken?”

Jisoo nods slowly, hand resting on your shoulder.

“A-and I said to you I was fine?”

“Mhm…”

“I-I.. I’m not. I’m not okay.” You whimper, bottom lip trembling. “I’m living a good life, I have a job I love, friends and family who care about me, I can-” you hiccup. “I-I can see colour… and I’m fucking broken.”

You let out a loud sob, a heartbroken wail, letting yourself fall into Jisoo’s arms, your face burying into the warmth of his sweater as your arms wrap tightly around him. Jisoo feels his own tears filling his eyes at the sound of your broken cries, your hands gripping the back of his sweater for dear life, as if afraid he would disappear.

”I know, Goob… Don’t worry, I got you. Let it out.”

“Are you sure it’s been resolved?” Jihoon smiles at Ji-ah as they stroll through the street, making their way to Love Letter cafe.

It has been a week since he has returned from Busan with you and the others; the group having been mostly quiet as they recovered from the long weekend of partying and merging back into their daily lives. This is the first time Jihoon has seen his girlfriend, having given her space to get through her emergency. He’s finally happy he is able to have a date with her after being at university all week and catching up on the projects he wasn’t able to do while on the road trip.

“Yes, babe, I’m sure.” Ji-ah smiles back at him. For some reason, though, Jihoon finds the smile uneasy and almost hollow, and he can’t figure out why until a quiet voice cuts his thoughts short.

“Ji-ah?”

He pauses as he sees a tall man in front of him with a single rose in his left hand, right hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Hajoon.” Ji-ah whispers out with a nervous breath, almost like she’s been caught.

Jihoon freezes at the sight in front of him - his not-soulmate with red tinged cheeks and shy smile on her face, and a stranger looking just as shy and sheepish smiling back at her. He feels his stomach drop as his mind flashes with realization at the scene unfolding in front of him.

He knows the look on her face. He has seen that look before with Wonwoo and Mingyu, Junhui and Minghao, and especially with Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

His heart breaks a little, as Jihoon knows in his heart that he’s already lost his girlfriend to her real love, her soulmate.

Real Eyes, Fake Lies Taglist

@vixensss @hemmingsness @lizzymizzy-blogg @kawennote09 @breakfastburritosattiffanys @im-gemmy @friendlywraith @devinkelsey19 @kameko-ko @mar-627 @woozieeeee @milopenne @stellauniverse @addicsvt @changbinisms @phenomenalgirl9 @lanatheawesome @maidachi @jeanjacketjesus @sunnynapp @jihanniee @reallyshypost @jaeminsbuckethat @sweetchelly @iarayara @opheliaas-stuff @claireleem @hotricewoozi @beardedartgamingbakery @sumzysworld @lavayeon @unusuallyshy @woozixo @mirxzii @mhlsymlysn @seventeenthingsblr @kwanniesboo @loomsuhcats @markleehee @scuzmunkie @tumblerluvver @wooanghae @xxpr3ttyk173rxx @comingupwithacoolnameishard @whorecore-world @sana-is-ms-rmty @bitterbluemorningstar

(48/50)

[inaconstantstateofchange]

Meet-Ugly Writing Prompt: Interminable Intercom

okay so this is based not-so-loosely on real life events, and has been banging around my brain as a fun little writing prompt ever since. i might make a character-specific post with it at some point, but wanted to get the general concept out there.

-

Character A lives in an old af apartment building that has no on-site staff, where all the apartment entrances are in the building's interior, which you can only access through the locked main entrance doors. Each resident gets one key.

The entrance doors have an ancient intercom next to them. This intercom technically works, but the process of getting your phone number set up with it is so inconvenient that many residents do not bother.

If you lose your entrance key after hours, you are kind of SOL until business hours, when you'll have to pay a hefty fee for the management company to bring you a new key.

One evening, late, Character A gets a call from the intercom. They can't hear very well - again, ancient - but didn't have anything scheduled for delivery, and manage to catch that someone got locked out. They decide to be a good neighbor and press the button on their phone to open the main entrance door, then hang up, thinking nothing else of it.

However... it keeps happening. This Character B motherfucker must be the most forgetful or unlucky idiot to walk the earth, because they are constantly losing their key, and calling the one number on the intercom that always picks up. Maybe Character A is a homebody, maybe they work from home, but whatever it is, they're reliable. And no matter how annoyed they get about it, they can't bring themself to just leave someone stranded out there. And also, how could they make them stop? Neither of them knows what the other looks like, and Character A doesn't even know what apartment Character B is in!

-

anyway, what happens next is of course totally up to the writer. are there fun identity shenanigans when they bump into each other in the laundry room or by the mailboxes and don't know it? does character a finally put their foot down? does character b find a way to stop losing their damn key?

[dotster001]

The Sorcerer's Fiance Pt 1

Summary: Simeon x gn!reader . Solomon has been acting weird lately, so Simeon comes by to see if he can help.

A/N: I watched the original bishop's wife over Thanksgiving break with my family, and all I could think about was Simeon and Solomon.

CW: verbally abusive Solomon, asshole Solomon

Part Two Part Three

Simeon hadn't seen you or Solomon in two years. Solomon was one of his best friends, so he'd told himself he was fine with you both dating, but he'd not gone to visit either of you in the human world, and had felt his heart break when he'd seen the devilgram post announcing your engagement.

:readmore:

He'd planned to go to the wedding, and stay for a little while at the wedding. Come in, give his regards, and leave.

But the wedding kept getting pushed back. There was never a reason why, but the longer it took, he figured, the easier it would be to let go.

He had no reason for concern until today. Asmo had invited him to a new coffee shop, and seemed nervous.

"Simeon, the real reason I invited you here is because I think Solomon needs your help," Asmo said, not touching his drink.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Simeon asked.

"He…he acts really odd sometimes. And he only ever summons me to make weird requests," he was anxiously drumming his nails. "You're his best friend. Maybe if you offered him some help or something, I don't know, he's always stressed and working on something."

"Okay, okay, I'll ask him," Simeon said, clutching his mug tightly.

                                       ….

Simeon and Luke were in their human clothes on the porch of yours and Solomon's house.  

"Why do I have to wait here?" 

"It's just in case. Asmo seemed nervous, so I'll just take a peak, and let you know when things are okay," Simeon said, mussing up Luke's hair. "The second I need you, I'll call for you."

The little angel assuaged, he moved to knock on the door, but it swung open. He walked into the house, and immediately heard yelling. He followed the sound to what he assumed was Solomon's study, when he heard you.

"I really think you should take a break. You're bursting at the seams, and it's really showing…"

"If you're not going to offer any helpful advice, did you at least get me a pact with Lucifer," Solomon said, voice venomous.

"No."

"God, you're so useless."

Simeon felt like he'd been slapped, but you responded patiently, like you were trying to sooth a toddler throwing a tantrum.

"I know, I'm sorry."

Simeon decided to knock on the door and you both went silent. You opened it and looked palpably excited. You wrapped him in a hug, and he reciprocated without thinking.

"Simeon! It's great to see you!"

"You too, little lamb," he said, reveling in your familiar scent. 

"Simeon," Solomon said after he broke away from you, "it's great to see you, but why are you here?"

"I heard you were busy lately, and thought I'd offer to help with something so you could take a break."

"Sol, that's a great idea! Why don't you go out with Simmy for a while, and when you come back you're brain will be nice and clear to-"

Solomon's eyes flashed a pure black, and he spit out, "If you really want to help, take Y/N out for a couple hours, I need some quiet to think."

You huffed and turned on your heel, "you heard him Simmy, time to take the pet for a walk."

"You're not a pet, Y/N. Pets obey their master's wishes. You're a human. And that's much worse."

Then Solomon slammed the office door behind you, leaving you and Simeon in the hall. You took a deep breath,  then turned to Simeon with a smile. 

"Where do you want to go?"

                                   ….

Luke had been wanting to go ice skating for a while, so Simeon had decided to take you both there. While you helped Luke put on his skates, Simeon paid at the counter.

"You got a cute little family there, young man," the man at the counter said as he handed the receipt to him.

"Yeah," Simeon said with a tight smile, before joining you both. When it was the three of you, it really did feel like a family. And when it was the three of you, it was easy to remember why he loved you in the first place.

After hours of skating, Luke was getting tired, so you offered to call it a night. Simeon wasn't sure how he felt about returning you to Solomon, so he made a compromise.

"What if we go out to dinner? Catch up? There's a restaurant I've been meaning to try."

Setting foot in the restaurant, it looked familiar. Then he saw your eyes go glassy, and you whispered, 

"This is where Sol and I got engaged."

You blinked the glassiness away, and put your shining smile back on. You nudged his shoulder playfully.

"It's a great choice, Simmy, you'll love it!" 

And he did. The three of you chatted, and laughed, and reminisced. Luke ordered every dessert on the menu, and gave his full reviews on each of them.

After you ate, he hired an old fashioned carriage to take you around the city and see the holiday lights. Luke fell asleep on your lap, and you started yawning yourself.

Simeon put a hand on your knee, and you gave him a soft smile.

"Y/N, what's happening with Solomon?"

You nodded like you knew that's what he was going to ask.

"Yeah, so you saw his eyes when he got upset, right? He's…. he's spent the last couple years making pact after pact hoping Lucifer would give in, or that he could "persuade" him to make one through sheer numbers. It was around pact 103 he started acting funny. His eyes started flashing like that at 115."

Simeon sat up in shock. "How many does he have now?"

"127," you sighed heavily. "To be honest, I don't think he'd hold up if Luci did make a pact with him, but he doesn't listen to me anymore."

Simeon stiffened thinking about the way Solomon had treated you that morning.

"If you don't mind me asking," he whispered softly, "why do you stay with him?"

Your sad smile broke his heart all over again.

"I know some of him is still there. At least I think there is. He's sick, Simeon. I don't think I could just abandon him to himself, right now. I'm worried what will happen to him if I do."

"What about you? There's only so much of that a human can take."

"He's not often like that, just on his bad days. You just happened to get here on a bad day."

You settled into uncomfortable silence for a while, and Simeon realized you'd also fallen asleep. He sighed and paid the carriage driver some more to just drive around for a while. When you woke up, you got out of the carriage. Simeon carried Luke and you walked back to your house. 

You seemed lighter than this morning, and he was glad that he could have helped. When you made it to the porch, the door swung open, and you were greeted by Solomon. 

"Hello darling, how was your outing?" He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek. He seemed out of it, and had a strange aura, but the anger from earlier wasn't present.

"It was great! We went ice skating, then went out to eat, then we saw the lights around the city in a carriage!" 

Solomon pursed his lips but simply nodded.

"Oh, and I told Simeon and Luke that they could stay in our guest room for the week, I hope that's alright."

"Yeah, of course," he said stiffly.

"Great!" You took Luke from Simeon. "I'm going to put Luke to bed, then I'm going to sleep myself. Don't stay up too late boys," you said with a giggle, not feeling the tension between the two. 

Once you were out of earshot, Solomon's eyes flashed that horrid black again, and he hissed, "What do you intend to do with my fiance?"

[solradguy]

How do i find the motivation to practice sol badguy ggst? I have so many twitter clip shitposts that’ll never come to fruition because my skills plateaued ):

God if you find out let me know about it too LOL I'm coming up on 500 hours in Strive (most of them with Sol) and I get sooooo bored trying to lab stuff that 90% of what I know how to do with him's just been making shit up as I go when I play with my friends lmfao

I saw someone on Reddit say once that you should find a combo/strategy off Dustloop and then play against real people (or bots, depending on where you skill level/comfort zone is) and then try to do that combo/strat at least once against them. Sol's got a jump canceled 5k combo that looked really fun that I learned how to do this way. I still kinda suck with it but my friends golf clapped the first time I did it on them lol

I think it's this combo but if I'm being entirely honest when I play GG I'm mentally screaming and smashing buttons. My hands know the buttons but my brain doesn't: 5K > jc, j.S > delay j.D, c.S > CL 623H, WS 41236H

This is actually the latter part of a longer anti-air combo: AA 5P > 6S > 236K, 5K > jc, j.S > delay j.D, c.S > CL 623H, WS 41236H

Good luck and godspeed you! tyrant rave

[lllllllllllines]

Overflows: Chapter 2

The lanterns began to dull, their flames changing from their bright daytime orange to a calm royal blue. I could hear a slight whirring noise coming from the lanterns as they slowly switched from "Day" to "Night".

Over the settlement, voices could be heard. Sounds of excitement and enthusiasm within the groups of those who left the assembly.

Each of them heading back to their individual homes and families. Every sound soon dulled, becoming silence.

And then I was alone.

The royal blue of the sol ember in the lanterns began to flicker. I felt a strange humidity.

The closer I got to my house, the thicker it became.

A faint blue light could be seen in the distance, past the walls and into the surrounding wood.

There was this... Sudden urge, to follow it.

I walked past my house, down the road and climbed over the wall. Making sure to check for guards, so as to not arouse suspicion.

The woods were deep and dark, not a sound was heard. The light from the lanterns peeked over the wall, filling the void.

I stared into the mass of trees, the light was gone, though the feeling stayed.

Something urging me to step in.

My eyes still locked on the darkness of the deep wood.

I began to step inside.

It was hard to see, the light from the settlement fading out, leaving only the ghost light of the eternal moon. Staring down at the earth.

Without the lights the stars shown brightly, The Omphalos, the eye on the moon, its details were more pronounced. Its design layed out to bare.

My eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness, the forest was still hard to decipher. Though the feeling I had seemed to act as a guide.

It gathered as a sort of scent, or was it a sort misty path? It was so many things at once. And all at once, I had to follow the bait placed before me.

The path zig zagged and wound around trees, almost as though it were a massive serpent.

It had an almost pinkish color to it.

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

It had almost felt like hours had passed.

It was hard to tell as no light aside from that of the eternal moon would have appeared in the sky.

Even so I couldn't stop, I needed to find what was at the end.

It was long, I wasn't sure if it had an end.

At least, until i saw something, a neon blue glow.

I closed in on it, my steps as quiet as possible. The feeling grew stronger as I approached.

I could feel a weight in my chest.

The closer I got, the more I noticed, the neon pink stains that lined the trees and the ground.

Almost dripping, they seemed fresh.

I walked past them, the path seemed to diverge, smaller strands, coming off of the stains like a scent.

They all culminated into the path ahead. With each step, the stains became larger, the strands of that feeling/scent/path became stronger, more pronounced.

It kept going until all I could see was a pink fog.

And a blue light.

Directly in front of me.

It was tall. Long fleshy strands glowing neon blue. With a head made of a thousand screens and monitors.

It was strange. Despite the pink fog over my eyes, I could see it clearly.

I could even see the large gashes, hidden under its many tendrils. Bleeding a neon pink essence. The reason for the fog no doubt. Though i wasn't quite sure why.

It towered over me, its true body was hard to make out under its fleshy coat.

I pulled the sword out from its sheath.

A fear gripped me, I didn't have the tools to fight like a real Agent of Vigilance.

But I wasn't about to die here, not until I got the answers I wanted.

I could hear rustling in the trees surrounding me.

Looking around, I could see shadows hidden in the fog.

Cracks of neon blue, splotches of white that matched the color of my sword, contrasted with the jet black that made up the rest of their bodies.

Many of them had monitors for heads like the being I saw before me.

The majority however had a very familiar characteristic, one that I was taught keep an eye out for. It was buried so deep in my brain that it would be hard not to notice even in the fog.

A humanoid head shape, bone white with a massive dark pit replacing their faces.

They were Geists, the living dead, and they were in mid mutation. They must have saw that beast, the Grail as their monarch, as their mutations matched its own.

Judging by the white spots, and their still humanoid forms, they were still in their infancy. Geistmatter not yet turned to Geistbone. Though they seemed to have been growing for a while still, as the majority of their bodies had become flesh, the geistmatter only shown in those spots.

There were too many of them, hope was fading fast.

I couldn't take them all at once, that would mean death in any situation.

But so would just standing there.

I hated to say it, but I had to attack the Grail.

There were so many large gashes in its body, it seemed weakened. If I could get a good hit, I could take it out, disorienting the Geists just long enough to escape.

I may not have had the ability to face off against them just yet, but I had no choice.

I stood in a combat stance, leg spread a width apart, shoulders squared, blade pointed directly at the beast.

It stared at me, or at least it looked like it.

Many of the monitors had images of eyes on each, staring down at me.

I didn't waste time despite my fear, I charged at the Grail, blade bared.

In a instant, its many tendrils coiled around eachother, coming down on me like a wave.

I stopped, it's too late now, I was dead.

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

They crashed down and all I could see was black.

Just... Abyss, nothingness.

No sound.

No feeling.

Nothing.

It was all null.

Then, something could be heard.

Hard to tell at first, it seemed as though it was a voice.

Loud and in the distance.

I could feel....

A wooden floor underneath my feet.

I opened my eyes and I was in a wooden cabin.

The cabin I lived in until i was Six.

The one I stayed in with my father.

I could hear the rain, I could see the neon pink glow that poured in from the outside through the blinds.

I knew where this would go, and dreaded it.

I kept dreading it.

Even as I got up from the fetal position I sat in, the same one I sat in every time I came back to this moment.

I walked up to the door.

And as I held the door, I heard the distinct sound of something sharp stabbing through flesh.

I hurried to open the door as I saw Kyler, standing over the body of my father.

His corpse twisted and mutated, rain soaked hair, abnormally long and caked in mud.

Essence pooled around him.

Why.

Why did it turn out this way.

What happened.

Who did this.

Who are you, dad?

No.

Micah.

Who are you, Really?

Kyler turned toward me, started by the sound.

His blade bared in defense.

Coated in Essence, it was fading, being absorbed into the Geistbone.

We stood there, staring at eachother.

He tears running down his face.

And pretty soon, tears ran down mine as well.

I felt a humidity, as I began to scream.

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

I jolted awake, my hair in my face.

I was in my room, a dream.

The same yet different.

It was the first time I had seen something other than that scene.

What caused it I wonder.

The lanterns changed from blue to orange again signaling the "day".

Today was the day of the first test.

I got up and got ready for the day.

Noon hadn't set yet so I had ample time to prepare. I rushed around the room, throwing on a black tee shirt and some nondescript grey pants.

I brushed my hair out of my eyes, kept in a sort of messy style, and cleaned myself up.

I did know there was quite a bit of time from when i needed to be there, but something in me had this burst of urgency.

Something told me that I should be ready.

I went to grab my sword. But something seemed to stop me.

I stared at it for a moment, reflecting on what I had seen in my dream.

I shook my head, an attempt to clear any disarming thoughts. I took the blade by its sheath and slung it over my shoulder.

With a deep breath, I headed down the stairs.

"I see you're raring to go" Kyler spoke, sounding tired as ever.

"Since you have time, maybe we should go over some basics"

"Uh, sure, as long as I'm able to make there on time" I spoke with an awkward impatience.

"You will, I promise"

He lead me out back again, the backyard was spacious, needed to be, an agent needs room to practice after all.

I sat on a tree stump, the shed sat in a corner of the yard under another tree.

Kyler appeared from a niche in between the two.

He held a sword, old, made of Geistbone, just like my own.

The blade looked almost as good as new, save for a few surface level cracks.

Geistbone is a very durable material.

He held it in front of him in a combat stance.

There was a sort of confidence and flourish in how he stood.

"Come at me!"

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

I arrived at the assembly, sword in hand, and a few bruises on my face.

They felt slightly tender as I placed my hand on my cheek.

"Hey, you!" A voice could be heard behind me.

It was hard to pinpoint who it was.

The voice called out again, "I'm talking to you!"

The voice was light, yet abrasive. Not in an annoying way, but in a way that sort of cuts through the silence. A very loud, almost center of the room sort of deal.

I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Can you help me out here?"

I turned around, it was a girl.

She was a couple inches shorter than me, she had an asymmetrical bobcut. Dark skin, and amber eyes.

She had a heart shaped face, and a small round nose.

I felt a twinge.

Like an invisible weight.

"I was wondering if i could find some information on the next two tests after this one?"

I was slightly confused as to what she meant.

"I don't... think there's been any sort of information like that."

She mumbled something under her breath.

Contemplative, she looked down at the ground for a moment, resting her chin on her hand.

She looked back up in my direction.

"Wait."

"You're the Agent's kid right?"

I shuttered a bit as the words came out of her mouth.

"We aren't related."

She snickered at the comment.

"You still live with him, don't you?" Her snicker had become a little louder.

"So, what about it?"

"Nothing much", She said.

She wandered around me, her steps silent.

"It is some good information to have, though."

I looked at her with a slight concern as well as confusion.

"Who are you, how do you know me?"

She took a second to think.

"Just call me Ange" she said with a smile.

"I'll go on ahead, thanks for the help!"

As she said that, she disappeared into the crowd.

"Ah- hold on!"

I tried to catch up but she was nowhere to be seen.

An amplified voice carried across the crowd.

A balding head peered up from the stage, along with him, two agents in white robes stood to his sides.

Each held an Armament of their own.

The one on the right carried a large halberd, the whole of the blade was covered in a neon pink muscle, save the edge which had a white outline, Geistbone. Opposite to the axe blade was a pick, made of the same material coating the edge of the axe.

The spearing end at top was pure metal, not as effective against Grails or Geists.

The other seemed to wield a sort of gunsword.

The main part of the weapon looked to be a revolver. While there were metal components from what I could see, due to the lack of reflection, it looked to be made of either an organic armor or scale.

The cylinder seemed to pulse, beating like a heart.

Resting under the barrel was the blade, long and curved with a single edge. Neon green with neon pink veins running through it. Its shape sort of reminded me of a tooth.

Having a closer look, Grand General Dove had deep set eyes.

"Welcome back, each and every single one of you."

Everyone was in the crowd held a weapon, large and small, young or old.

There were some who held a weapon the last time, but not to this extent. They were the minority in the crowd the day before. Now, in the hand of each person was a weapon.

There were a lot of swords.

"I hope you all are prepared, each of you shall be put to test."

"A one on one duel"

His voice wasn't as grandiose as yesterday, it was stone cold and serious.

"This is not a tournament, there will be no ranking."

"You lose this bout, you are cut from the running then on."

"It will end when this crowd is cut in half."

Murmuring rang throughout the crowd, a sort of nervousness that filled the air.

Almost cacophonous.

Previous

Sorry, for how all over the place this is.

It sorta just flows out of my head.

But i feel as though it kinda fits this story.

I do have notes, and a roadmap for how this story plays out.

But the free flowing nature of it feels comfy.

I hope it makes sense, cause there is meaning storywise, behind all of it.

I hope ur having fun with this as much as i am.

[queenoftheblackpuddle]

Chapter 2: We’d Like To Know A Little Bit About You for Our Files

Breathlessly, Joel began to tip at the crate, ramming it with his shoulder. The girl inside let out a muffled cry with every shove, until at last it tipped over. Out she tumbled on a wave of toothpaste tubes, toilet paper, Frito-Lay chips and a box of Thin Mints.

Crow reached for the cookies, only to be slapped away by Tom. “This isn’t the time for Thin Mints!”

Joel gave a look of pride, only for it to be dashed away in seconds as the robot continued, “They were under her butt! They’re probably all melty, you gotta put them in the freezer for at least an hour now.”

“Will you guys cut it out?! Look at her, she’s already scared to death, the last thing she needs to hear is you two knuckleheads yelling about cookies!”

The woman herself was inching away, quite literally as her arms and legs were bound behind her back, as Joel began towards her with the caution of a wildlife rehabber coming to the aid of an injured possum. As she closed her eyes tightly and began shaking ever harder, he reached over and removed the tape from her mouth. The woman let out a gasp, and began to hyperventilate. 

“Oh my god, oh my god oh my god, ohhh my god!” She braced herself, as if expecting to be slapped for the outburst. “P-please, don’t hurt me, I-I won’t tell anybody what I saw in the lab! I swear, I’ll do anything, just, don’t hurt me!”

“Hey, hey, take it easy!” Joel had his hands up in front of him, as if surrendering. “Nobody here’s gonna hurt ya, alright? Just take a deep breath, see, in, out…”

Surprisingly, the woman followed along with him. After a few seconds of this, Joel chimed in again, “I’m going to untie you, but I need you to sit still and not freak out on me. Deal?”

Shakily, she nodded. Joel set to work undoing the knots around her wrists; Clayton had tied them tight enough, he hoped it hadn’t done permanent damage. Soon enough, they were free, and the woman flexed them with a grateful sigh. Legs were followed shortly after, and with Joel’s aid, she began to stand, wobbling like a new deer as she began to find her footing. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Now, mind telling me why you were stuffed into a supply crate?”

She opened her mouth to speak; unfortunately, as many things were on the SOL, her explanation was cut off by a shrill beeping. Joel mumbled irritably. “I think we have our answer. Guys, the Mads are calling!”

Hastily, Crow and Tom appeared next to the two humans in front of the screen. With a slight blipping sound, Clayton Forrester’s smug face appeared onscreen. “Well, Joeliekins, how are you liking the surprise I sent you?”

“What’s your problem?! It was one thing to send me here, but what did she do to deserve this?!”

The woman piped in. “That doesn’t mean you get to hit me over the head with a vase and shove me in a crate!”

Forrester huffed. “Little Miss Muffet over there decided to wander off of her Tuffet to go snooping around Deep Thirteen.” His voice held pure disdain. 

Clayton growled under his breath. “Normally I would vaporize any unwelcome intruders into my space. However, I found myself thinking, about you and about our little experiment we have going on. You, Joel, much as I loathe to admit it, have a gifted mind. Your brain won’t break so easily under the force of a horrible movie. I needed an everyman, a Prole if you will, to add into the mix.”

“Did you just call me dumb?! I think he just called me dumb!”

Ignoring the woman’s protestations, he continued. “Having an average person to experiment on will boost my chances of finding true success! And, besides…your little space hovel could use a feminine touch. I’ll let you two kids get acquainted for a bit before I send the next film." Emitting a smug cackle, the call disconnected, sending the screen to black.

The room went dead silent for a moment, until, at last, the woman spoke again. “What was that all about?”

Joel let out a sigh. “Dr. Forrester’s just like that. Every week, he sends us a real stinker of a movie to try and break our brains, but it never works; we make fun of it, do a skit or two, and keep earth from being driven insane by his weird little side project.”

The stare she gave was something between blank and desperate. “...What.”

All he could do at that point was shrug. “It’ll make more sense the more you get used to it.” Joel’s eyes lit up in recognition. “God, where are my manners? I’m Joel, Joel Robinson, and these are my robots. Tom? Crow, GPC, c’mon and say hi.”

Crow and Tom, who were still hanging around and watching the scene unfold, gave a slight wave. While Crow mumbled a “how ya doin?”, the little red robot approached the woman, giving her a poke in the stomach.

“This is a real human woman, huh? They’re much flabbier in person!”

The woman let out a noise of protest as Joel yanked Tom away by the arm. “Tom, you can’t just poke people, it isn’t nice!”

From the next room over, a large purple robot slithered in. The girl shuddered slightly as she was approached. “This is GPC.”

“Charmed!” The bot focused on her with what she could only assume was an eye, giving a polite nod. “What do we call you, then?”

The woman cleared her throat, rocking slightly on the balls of her feet as she did so. “My name’s Cheyanne Wyat, but everyone calls me Shy.”

“What kind of a dumb name is that?” Joel nudged Crow, who whined. “What? It is a dumb name!”

“I don’t like my full name, and you’re named after a bird, so it’s not like you have room to talk!” Her arms were crossed, looking forward at the tiny golden bot with indignant anger.

“At least I’m not named after an emotion!”

“Guys, guys, cool it!” Joel, ever the peace-keeper, stepped between the two. Now that the initial shock was wearing off, he could get a good look at her; Shy was small, at least a few inches shorter than him, with wide eyes that caused her to appear younger than she was. They were green, in a striking contrast to her curly yellow hair that lay stuck to her head where she had been trapped in that crate for goodness-knows how long. If the situation had been different, he might actually consider her cute.

 “Everybody let’s settle down, okay? There’s a lot to unpack here, for starters, what the heck were you doing snooping around Deep Thirteen?”

Shy gave an exhausted sigh, her form appearing to deflate. “It’s a long story. But given we’ve got plenty of time to tell it, I guess I can go ahead and tell it to you"

[arend000-blog]

Hello welcome to my blog. If you came here because you were confused as to what the heck is going on in one of my posts I hope this post will help.

Here’s some basic information if you want more it’s under the read more

In normal text it's Nick, “me”, you can assume it's me if there's no other indication in the tags if i think it's necessary i’ll add Nk: in the tag to clarify it's him speaking.

In red and/or cursed we got Azerium, the demon, in the tags i’ll lead with Az: if he’s saying it.

Green is the overworked and tired Berrian, half-elf feywanderer ranger, Br: in the tags

And finally in golden text it's Amashiel, the angel, going by Am: in the tags.

Quick reference: me, Ames, Az, Berrian, me and Az, me using my powers, god of true ends🎶

Boreon, Sol, Cinys

Who are using this different font cause i ran out of colours a bit

Boreon is a ghost with ice powers

Sol is some kind of sun spirit

And Cinys is a lying manipulative ash demon

All of us (except Cinys) are no longer sharing my body, still sharing the account though it is an rp thing it's just me playing them they're not actually living in my head

Hope this helps!

Alright time to introduce them properly

Let’s start with “me” Nick(this is me for all intents and purposes, no this is not my real name but you may address me as such), he/him pronouns (at least at the moment i don’t really know my own gender or sexuality so the best you can get out of me regarding my oc’s is pronouns), okay so he’s kinda stuck in a roguelite-like kind of loop spanning the entire life of the multiverse, link here if i ever write that down, he's an inter dimensional gaurdian but he can’t really use his powers at the moment (don’t tell the-crimson-river-society or florida, i’m trying to keep up appearances), the only one with common sense and enough self restraint to not stab people, has the most control over who gets the body, still ends up sleep deprived despite only needing two hours of sleep, likes milk chocolate, doesn’t like swearing and is currently playing host to an angel and a demon but probably more somewhere down the line.

Okay onto Azerium, the living blade, as they like to call themself, a demon straight from hell and actually got banished from there for promoting the idea to kill all the damned souls now, since they would end up down there anyways, it didn't help that he’s a halfbreed, a result of a succubus and a fallen angel, which makes him the lowest ranked demon in hell even below puny imps, pronouns are he/they, might look like they’ll go apeshit but will actually sit down and let you cry your emotions out before setting the responsible party's house on fire hopefully with them in it, only wants to kill the damned souls, supports the lgbtq+ with pure chaos energy especially the arsonists, somehow pretty good and responsible with kids, also the one who usually gets us out of trouble, he’s the only one with actual combat training and is also training us, absolutely loves duels and fights especially if there’s swords involved, despite having wings he can’t actually fly, has a tiefling like prehensile tail, likes dark chocolate, swears the most easily out of us and often takes over to have Nick not swear.

Now for the angel Amashiel, protector of the innocent, got kicked out of heaven by the archangels because she wanted to guide humanity instead of simply sitting back and letting them figure out their own problems, may look like a cinnamon bun but will absolutely go on a crusade should someone hurt one of their friends or loved ones, also has only one brain cell which is mostly occupied with figuring out how absolutely everything works, might make it as an technician if she remembers to unplug whatever they are dismantling, initially disliked Azerium but now they quarrel like siblings, somehow the more vengeful of the two, also the more annoying one, we call her Ames, might look like the team mom but is somehow the most irresponsible one out of us, they almost got us electrocuted twice already, also not good with kids, inexplicably has sparkles appear whenever they are in control, she's also british somehow, hard to piss off even harder to calm down, likes white chocolate and pronouns are she/they.

Fun tidbit, apparently chocolate is a very good substitute for prayers and whatever the heck demons get their powers from, screams, terror, human souls? nah it’s just terror if we used human souls for power we’d run out of ones to torture Oh alright!

Quick rundown of abilities and powers:

Nick: having a body, knowing how the human world works, phoenix fire healing power, being the best host an angel could pray for, thanks ames, having potential as an eldritch knight, creating and stabilising portals, being able to go into a trance like state and keeping all the other ones on track.

Azerium: being able to transform his arms into tentacle blades, fighting skills, having a prehensile tail, being able to set his hands on fire and simple curse magic. i also have my own blog now @azerium don't tell the other

Amashiel: creating force fields, simple healing and blessing magic, flight and emitting enough light to rival a lighthouse.

Together we got resistance to non supernatural damage and a downright immunity to fire, also only needing two hours of sleep a day.

And here's the posts with some charcter artwork

Ames is now working for osha

[jayvikbrainrot]

Hio, I'm back >:3

I read Do What You Can With Me a few hours ago and my brain is so rotted, I read that Viktor and Jayce had domino masks and I truly thought they were masks just looked like really big domino tiles (at least I didn't think of the pizza ahahah). I had to look up domino maskes to set things straight ahah.

I'm always down to read porn with feels but I have to say this is probably the first fuck or die fic I've ever read (loved "fuck or die variant fuck or lose your funding" took a screenshot of that tag immediately ahaha), or at least the first that I've read in many many many years. Anyway loved the story, I'm always a fan of Jayce getting into a situation ^^

Also just how gentle they were with each other 🥺 like just how Viktor guilded Jayce through the idea that they're gonna have to have sex with each other and then how he is so reassuring towards Jayce for the actual intercourse, it's just *chef's kiss* And then! And then afterwards when Jayce cleaned Viktor off AAAAAAAAAAA! It was so sweet that Viktor could have cried, *I* could have cried!! it's just so intimate and sweet 🥺👉👈

Anyway, Very nice very nice I liked it a lot <3

Also "he could open that door he had kept closed for so long. Because it seemed on the other side was Jayce’s open arms." Has No right to hit as hard, or make me as emotional as it does. Like gosh darn, you really decided to swipe out my knees at the end didn't you?

Anyway really really enjoyed reading another fic of your's, absolutely fantastic ^^

Okay this just made my like… entire week.

Agsjsggdh thank you so much. ;A; DWYCWM is just… like pure self indulgence. I did not expect the reception it got (and I mean it still gets kudos???? Ashgshjkh WILD) I have such a niche love for like, situations where like sexual tension is like ramped up to like an 11 but the characters involved have to still navigate their feelings, and like, there is still some barrier they have to overcome, but then the tension spills over and they just, have each other. Ugh it’s so weird and specific this probably won’t be the last one I write where that happens

Yeah I wasn’t sure how to tag lmao, because that’s kinda the trope at play but like…no one’s in any real life or death trouble, they just would be really SOL if they didn’t find a solution. So im glad it made you laugh at least lmao

Ahhh 🥺🥺🥺 yeah I really wanted to highlight how much Jayce wished things were different. Like I imagine before that night, Jayce would have been like ‘Oh of course Vik is a good looking guy, but he’s never shown any interest.’ Like a very light crush, but like throughout the night he was like ‘I have to make this okay, I dragged Viktor into this, I need to really show him how much I care about him, etc.’

Ahsjgshdk again thank you so much! I have a few drabbles on this tumblr in my ‘drabble’ tag if you want to read more, they’re kinda all over the place in tone and subject matter, but it’s all I got for now 😅

[astyle-alex]

[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim] 

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2 

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

&

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

           A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

           Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

           A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

           How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

           It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

           It could save lives.

           So… fiddling.

           Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

           The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

           It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

           And then… it wasn’t.

           One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

           A big flash of blinding light.

           Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

           And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_     _     _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

           Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

           But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

           And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling  program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

           Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

           It found an Angel.

           Sorta.

           It found a something.

           And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

           Yeah. BIG Weird.

           Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

           HELLA Big Weird.

           So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

           Personally.

           And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

           Charlie’s met Castiel.

           Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

           Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

           But, like, a cool alien.

           Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

           And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

           Not really.

           For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

           And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

           He is looking for something, though.

           Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

           Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

           She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

           Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

           Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

           And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

           Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

           But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

           So, she makes the call.

           Sam picks up on the third ring.

           “So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

           With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

           “Well, they do.”

           “Okay. And?”

           “They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

           “Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

           “Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

           There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

           “Trench coat?”

           “I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

           Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

           “Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

           “Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

           “What if he really wants to head out?”

           “Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

           He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

           It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

           Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

           It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

           She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

           Only to find him looking back.

           For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

           But he seems kinda zonked.

           And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

           She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

           He’s not really expressing anything.

           He’s just looking.

           It’s weird.

           Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

           The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

           Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

           It makes her shiver.

           But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

           The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

           He blinks, real slow like.

           Then he nods.

           Relief floods Charlie.

           Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

           In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

           Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

           But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

           She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

           “So, kid, what’s your name?”

           “Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

           Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

           Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

           He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

           Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

           The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

           Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

           “My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

           Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

           The kid simply frowns.

           “So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

           The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

           For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

           And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

           “My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

           Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

           The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

           “Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

           Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

           “One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

           Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

           “Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

           “You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

           Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

           For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

           But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

           Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

           “Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

           The kid rolls his eyes.

           It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

           The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

           “Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

           Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

           “But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

           “Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

           In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

           But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

           Immediately, he softens.

           “Hey, what happened? You okay?”

           Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

           “Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

           “Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

           “Like apocalypses?”

           “Yeah, kinda.”

           “Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

           “Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

           “Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

           “Yeah,” she tells him.

           “So where are you now?”

           “Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

           “Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

           “No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

           “That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

           “What?”

           “I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

           “So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

           “Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

           “And..?”

           Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

           She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

           “I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

           Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

           But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

           So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

           But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

           And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

           Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

           Sounds totally doable, right?

           In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_     _     _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

[yorunokatana]

Sol and Lune (1) - Prologue

So this fic features my Genshin Impact boi Sol, who is basically Aether in canon except I hijacked his looks and fit in Sol’s character, because honestly canon does not talk much about Aether as a person and so I’m taking artistic liberties.

FYI I also hijacked Lumine’s looks and fit in Lune’s character.

Might make this a series if real life allows me.

.

They were born in the hour when all three of their moons, the Sun, the Wandering Star and the Star of Change were in the exact alignment to form a pentacle in the sky, with the Sun at the centre and the other celestial bodies as the points. It is a celestial phenomenon that is estimated to occur only once every six millennia. It is a sign of immense change, either for better or for worse. It is said that children born in the hour of this great and rare astrological miracle are destined to bring great change, but only after greater trials.

This miraculous hour is known as Invictum, as recorded in the ancient tomes.

In the Ancient Royal tongue, Sol is the beginning, while Lune, the end.

He was born first, so he was given the name Sol Invictum, while his sister Lune Invictum.

Beginning and End of Invictum, respectively.

Oh, he knows how it began. It began with a pair of twins too bold for their own good. It began with a journey into another dimension, the first of many in a series of such travels between worlds. It began with the foolhardy belief that they were invincible.

It began with a passage into an inhospitable world and an Unknown God who fought them like an adult fighting children.

It began with him waking up on a sandy beach without his twin sister.

“All that begins will end.” So sayeth his mother, ever so wise, ever so kind.

He has always known how it began.

He cannot see the end.

.

I have a lot of Dragon Raja fics on the back log dear brain why do you have to give me new ones.

Anyhow, say hi to my Genshin boi Sol, not to be confused with my Dragon Raja boi Naja.

(I should create separate blogs for them.)

Here’s to hoping this fic won’t end up dead like so many others that came before.

[smashskate]

Jackie Jett - For @thesimsters-stories​‘s Love Island

“Well damn! I’m Jackie, and I can control the weather!”

Name: Jackie Jett

Age: 26

Location: Del Sol Valley

Occupation: Weather Reporter

Traits: Non-Committal, Ambitious, Outgoing

Aspiration: World-Famous Celebrity

Skills:

Charisma: 8

Wisdom: 6

Dancing: 4

Acting: 4

Bio: 

Introducing Jacqueline “Jackie” Jett, the semi-famous Weather Reporter on the Del Sol Valley Network, Channel 7. With hair about as big as her ego, Jackie is known for being loud, proud, and... another word that ends in -oud. Give us a bit to think of one, and we’ll get back to you. 

Jackie grew up in the suburbs of Del Sol Valley, with her parents and two older brothers. She excelled in school, graduating Valedictorian of her class and getting accepted into Foxbury Institute’s Specialized Biology program. It’s safe to say that years of success definitely boosted her opinion of herself, which was struck down a few notches when the job market tightened up as soon as she graduated. Jobs in her field were hard to come by, and Jackie was feeling down on her luck. One day while shopping with her bffs, she was approached by a man who she assumed to be a model scout. It turned out to be Victor Price, one of the producers at DSVN, who offered her a spot as their new weather reporter. With the show’s viewer count draining as online news becomes the new craze, Jackie’s appearance is possibly the only thing holding the studio together at this point, and she knows it.

While Jackie does have some brains on her, her most admirable trait are her wits. She’s real cunning, and knows how to play the game to come out on top. Unlike some of the other applicants, long-term romance isn’t really Jackie’s thing. She’s much more inclined to one night stands and hookups, and anyone who lasts longer gets their number deleted from her phone. Jackie claims to love this lifestyle, much to her cuffed friend’s dismay. While they think she’s crazy for not wanting to get boo’d up, she thinks the idea of being tied down is absolutely sickening. So why would she apply for a show like Love Island, where the only goal is to find true (or true in terms of reality television) love? (Reason number 1 will shock you!)

Questions:

Briefly describe yourself and your life.

“If you insist, LOL! Alright, my name’s Jackie Jett and I’m 26 years old. If I look familiar, it’s probably because you’ve seen me on DSVN, during the 8am time slot, 9 on weekends. Shameless plug, I’m the hottest weather girl in the hottest city in the west! Sure, the job’s a bore at times and I really only got hired for my looks and not my now-useless biology degree, but it pays well and I get a lot of time off to do the things I actually enjoy! I’m not actually as dumb as I come off to our viewers. I’m college educated! Although, it doesn’t really matter much at the moment, so I figured why not have fun where I am now? Also yes, I’m a natural redhead. Anyone that tells you different is a disgusting liar.”

Any Hobbies?

“My hobbies pretty much only consist of me going out and getting drunk. But it’s not that bad! I’ve always been a party girl, since high school even. There’s nothing more fun than going to a nightclub and letting your inhibitions run wild for a few hours! And if I can witness some celeb drama happen live before I hear about it at the studio the next morning, that's always a plus.”

How long have you been single?

“Well, that depends on what you define a relationship as, doesn't it? If you’re talking about any kind of romance, than I’m technically never single. I’m just never with the same person! If you define it as a romantic, long term relationship, then not since freshman year of college. And I’d like to keep it that way, thank you very much. I love to have my options open.”

Why did your last relationship end?

“Again, if we’re talking longer term, he wanted to get more serious and I realized that it just wasn’t what I was looking for. I was 19 and I still wanted to experience so much before getting cuffed. He really didn't take it well, so kinda safe to say I dodged a bullet on that one.”

What are you looking for in a relationship?

“If I had to be in one? I would want the other person to know and respect that I’m not going to be tied down for the rest of time. The whole “open relationship” thing is a standard I like to set with my long term hookups, and I would like that to apply here as well. Also, they should be hot. I’ve been with every type of guy you can think of, but I’ve got standards. I like em sexy, who can blame me? I promise, if I get on the show I’ll try to restrain myself. Keyword try. Also generally don't be a dick. Just because I’ve been with a lot of men doesn't mean I’m less deserving of respect. Any guy that thinks differently goes out the door, sorry not sorry. Oh, did you know that I have Demi Lovato’s phone number? We’re, like, basically besties.”

What are you not looking for in a relationship?

“By this point in the interview I think it’s pretty obvious the one thing I’m super not looking for, LOL! But other than that, I’m open to a lot! Just depends on who’s asking.” *winks* “I’m really not territorial, but if any of the women try to shame me for my lifestyle, I’m not afraid to get my claws out. Women are supposed to support women, I’m not tolerating any bullshit.”

Something else we should know about you?

“Okay, I guess this is where I come clean. Well, to the producers at least. So, basically, for the last few months, our shows ratings and viewership have been dropping. Our analytics team looked into it, and we’re pretty sure it’s because of that Simstagram News update. Instead of watching the actual news, people are going there because it’s quicker and easier to get info. So one day, Victor comes up to me and is all like “I’ve got an idea and I need your help”, which is already fishy because that’s basically code for “I need to use your looks to get the show traction��. So I go into his office and he brings up the Love Island Application. And, like, at first I’m hesitant because I work in showbiz, right? I know how reality tv stars get perceived by the public. But then I realized that if the studio tanks, I’ll no longer have a job, which like, major bummer. So I say yes!

In the end, I’m here to stir up drama and look cute on camera, all as bait for people to come and watch live news. Of course, I get the added benefit of a longer segment on the show, and a boost in Simstagram followers! So it’s really a win-win! Honestly, I probably would have applied anyway, if I had seen the casting call before Victor showed it to me. A bunch of hot guys, hookups, and more drama than a Kardashian-Jenner Simstagram comment section? That’s basically my dream life! And hey, who knows? Maybe I’ll finally get a tan!”

Some fun facts:

Please, make more That 70′s Show references when you meet her. She’s never heard them before. You’re so original, oh my gosh.

She’s allergic to shrimp. Makes for a downer at fancy parties.

She doesn’t tan, just burns. Curse her Irish heritage.

She played volleyball in college. She was pretty good at it, but almost broke her nose, which cause her to quit out of fear of getting a nose job.

She’s definitely a B list celebrity. No, don’t look it up. The internet is full of misinformation. You can’t trust anything.

She watched Mr.Robot and now has tape over her webcam. Sincerest apologies to her FBI agent. He/She’s missing a lot.

She’s a secret drama nerd. She can’t sing for the life of her, but she did the occasional play when she was younger.

Although her brothers know she can make her own decisions, they’re still super protective. They’re like 6ft+ guard dogs that Jackie sicks on any man that harms her.

She's got a tattoo of a ladybug. She won't tell you where, you’ll just have to find out for yourself ;)

Despite her complaining, her and Victor are pretty close. They have that sibling type bond. Only if one sibling was able to fire the other.

[darlinrogue]

It had been a long time since an argument had made him feel such a way: exhilarated even in his exhaustion, trembling with adrenaline even as his body ached. He and Adam had argued, and he and Adam had brawled, strikes to the jaw, fists and knees—Adam’s knuckles colliding with Kenny’s mouth, and Kenny simply smiling at him with bloodstained teeth. Pinned to the wall, Adam against him. Like electricity. Kenny kisses him hard, blood staining Adam’s lips. And for once, The Cleaner is ashamed.

Sol Finished Her Essay.txt >:3c

Adam and Kenny AKA Omegaman 

A swipe of his thumb and the twitter feed blurred. Post-after-post, oh, that kitten was cute, he did not care about this person’s problems, holy shit, Adam did not want to read about politics right now. Bright blue and white fluorescents burned his eyes, blurred his vision. Adam blinked and wiped his hand down his face. He dug his fingers into the bridge of his nose to alleviate the pressure of a building headache. An open beer, three sips deep, rested on the bar counter at his right elbow. Adam picked-up the bottle. He swirled the contents and watched the amber liquid and brown glass disperse the light. Molten, dark, and shifting, a tiny kaleidoscope in his hand that captured his brief fascination-- haha, dumb monkey brain like pretty colors. He brought the rim to his lips but didn’t tilt a swig back. His phone vibrated. The bottle returned to the counter and with a couple taps he opened the message app. Mom had sent him a question, will he be home this weekend? She’s making tex-mex for dinner Saturday.

With a little :-) emoji at the end. 

For a second, Adam stared at the little green bubble of white text. 

As a professional graphic designer, he always thought the Iphone text function was ugly as hell, plain and near unfunctional. The colors were plain and unappealing-- and there was no fucking search bar. That line of thinking didn’t help him answer the question. Adam pressed the power button and the screen blackened. He laid the phone face down on the bar counter. Adam leaned back and pressed his hand against his thigh. The stool creaked beneath his shifting weight. He threaded his fingers through his hair and swiped sweat dampened curls from the back of his neck. An ache worked into his muscles, a little bruised, a little sore, but not yet satisfied. Not yet— Both elbows now pressed on the counter, a sigh racked his shoulders.  

Tucked into a corner of the arena, this small bar probably served executives and cultured peoples during the day. People who wore like, a tie everyday, the poor miserable bastards. This late at night it was empty. Crystal glasses lined the back shelves and fractured the golden glow of the light bulbs. The black marble countertop reflected back Adam’s face and hands. The curve of his IPA. It was quiet and it was lonely, exactly how he liked it. The hour was ticking way past late, he had to get back to his hotel. Right here, on his own, though, post-match, he was content for the night. This was it, this is what he asked for. He took a swig of his poison, the grain had a good flavor, smooth but with a bite. The bottle returned to the counter, and with a nudge of his finger, Adam pushed it just out of reach. His stomach churned, heart constricted in his chest. His forehead fell into his hands and stayed there when the door pushed open. Footsteps shuffled across the carpet. The stool legs next to him screeched as it was dragged across the tile. The newcomer settled down.

“I had a feeling I’d find you here,” the coarse voice observed.

Adam leaned back, hand gripping the edge of the counter to balance himself as his gaze peeled to his left. His twisted heart found new contortions-- like dislocated shoulder, levels. Kenny sat next to him, within touching distance. A heavy, dark leather jacket draped over his broad shoulders. A thin sheen of sweat coated his bare chest. Adam’s gaze studied the seams of the coat, the lines of Kenny’s throat, and then the features of his face. The light had a way of softening his rounded features, the thin, pinkness of his lips, and the fullness of his cheeks. He wore dark, aviator sunglasses, obnoxious because they were in a well lit room, inside— at night. Adam turned back on his stool, facing parallel with Kenny. Looking at nothing in particular. His entire skin was on fire, cheeks warm, hands shaking. He tucked his fingers under his armpits.

“Yeah,” Adam said, he rolled his palm over his forehead. “At least I’m consistent.”

“How long are you going to do this, man?” Kenny demanded, his leg propped against the stool spindle. “Wasting time, getting drunk— you know how many calories are in that?”  Kenny did not look impressed when Adam twisted the bottle to check the label. “You think what you’re looking for is at the bottom of that bottle? Think again, man, think again. All you’re doing is drowning your braincells, you know you need those, right?”

“Yeah, and how do you know what I’m looking for?” Adam grunted, his eyebrows lifted, glancing at Kenny. 

Kenny was all grins because Adam took the bait-- hook, line, and sinker. From his side, Kenny lifted the belt and laid it on the counter to his left. Kenny smirked, with smarmy, stupid, self-confidence. Adam hated that his arrogance was hot as hell. His eyes darted from Kenny to the AEW World Championship Belt. That big strap of black leather, gold, and silver, glittering like the Stairway to Heaven. A muscle tightened in Adam’s jaw and his hand fisted. Adam scoffed and he sought solace in his drink, swallowing, relishing the burn of alcohol down his throat. A year or more, with all sorts of detours, divergences, side-paths, distractions, an entire run as one-half of the tag-team champions, and he was still chasing that damn belt. Adam had everything, it was supposed to be his for the taking. Yet, twice now, it’d slipped his grip. It was an illusion, like a pond screwing with his depth perception. It was always a little deeper than he thought. Much like someone else at this counter. 

Kenny’s head laid on his chest. A mop of curled, unruly blonde hair, that tickled Adam’s lips and chin. He buried his face against the top of Kenny’s head and smelled the plain soap, the cheap shampoo he used, floral, rosemary, something aromatic. Kenny breathed slow and even, and Adam could feel each inhale and exhale through the connection of his hand against Kenny’s back. Proof that was he real and present. He was warm, contrasted to the cooled hotel room. Adam tucked Kenny against himself, drew him closer, terrified to let go-- knowing he’d escape in a heartbeat. That moment was as fleeting as the kiss laid on Adam’s forehead like a reverential gift. Adam awoke in the morning, alone and cold. He grasped at the still warm mattress and felt Kenny fall through. 

“You’re too easy,” Kenny chuckled, he tapped his forehead with his finger. Like he was some kinda conniving mastermind. Dude, watched way too much Anime. Adam only barely remembered Kenny being this annoying in Japan. He’s seen the videos of Kenny singing his own damn theme song during his entrances. “You let people in your head, they get to you— it’s an excuse, Page. You’re just too pussy to do anything, that’s why you sit there and get fucking wasted, ‘cause that’s all you can do.”

The beer bottle shattered. Slammed against the counter on the perfect sweet spot, crushed in Adam’s hand. The glass fractured into dust and piercing shards that buried in his palm. Beer spilled onto the counter and dribbled onto his jeans. Blood, red and crimson, mingled with the stinging alcohol, and seeped between the lines of his callouses. Adam snatched Kenny’s lapel. Hand fisted, Adam dragged him in, the tendons and muscles of his bicep tight. Kenny was all teeth, eyes obscured. Once again, Adam had taken the bait. Kenny was in his head and he lived there rent free. Adam wasn’t sure if he could evict him. 

“You mad bro?” Kenny queried. “Because I’m right? You couldn’t beat Chris; You couldn’t beat Maxwell; and you couldn’t beat me. You got it, you got everything you need, but you keep wasting it. You lose, and what do you do? What you’ve always done. Take a beer from some stranger that has God knows what disease and mope. You think I was fucking cool with it? Dealing with your drunk ass all the time?”

“You’ve been a real dick since you won that belt,” Adam growled. He laughed to himself, chin ducking to his chest. His attention focused on Kenny, “You know I’m going to take it from you.”

“No, you won’t,” Kenny snapped, a little irritation biting in his tone. “We both know you won’t do shit.” His tone took on a whiny, mocking lilt. “Oh, I’m sorry, I’ll try harder next time. Sorry, doesn’t cut it Pizz. What are you going to do, stretch my coat? You’re a coward, you won’t do shit.”

Adam’s bottom lip trembled, his throat dry and eyes locked with tinted glass. “Take off the fucking sunglasses,” Adam demanded, voice cracking. He dragged Kenny a little closer. “Say that to my face.”

Kenny pursed his lips, he pouted. 

“Take off the glasses, Kenny,” Adam repeated. “Look me in the eye, you son of a bitch— and say what you just said, again. Show me you actually mean that shit.”

Kenny sneered and Adam read the disgust, discomfort, mockery. And, something else he’d been missing. It was right there, right in front of him. Kenny leaned in the last couple inches, his nose brushing against Adam’s. He whispered: “Make me.”

“HIt me, punch me,” Kenny insisted, sing-songing. “C’mon, do it, prove it— that you can do something. Literally, anything, Hangman.”

Adam’s grip slacked. He released his cinch on Kenny’s jacket. Kenny eased back onto his stool and muttered, “I knew it, I knew you wouldn’t, you’re--”

Kenny didn’t complete the sentence before Adam decked him. A hard and clean right hook across the jaw, that knocked Kenny clean off the bar stool. Kenny stumbled, his hand swiping and reaching for the counter to steady himself. He rubbed his fingers over the site of impact. The skin of his left check now red and swollen, imprinted with Adam’s bloody knuckles. Kenny smiled and giggled, nodding his head with approval. Adam pressed to his feet, jaw stiff. Small sparks of pain coursed-up his arm, like he just stuck his finger in an outlet. Kenny straightened, cocked his hip, and returned the favor. The left smashed across Adam’s cheek and sent him reeling back. A pump of adrenaline rushed his head, throbbed his heart, and burned in his skull. Like a bell ringing clear in the night, unsure of for whom it toiled. 

Adam hoped it chorused for him. So, that he might hang for his crimes and his corpse could feed some daisies. Finally, after twenty-nine years he could do something good for this miserable planet. Let the worms make sweet worm love in his brain and maybe then, by the nutrients of his bones, he’d be useful. And despite the grim thought, the certainty of his resurrection filled him. Burry him, return in three days, and he’d be back-- call him Lazarus. He resented the executioner, hated his accusers. Adam was a piece of shit, son-of-a-bitch, with poison for blood and a rock for a heart. He was too pissed, anger filled, frustrated and unsatisfied to stay dead in a shallow grave. 

And Kenny’s left hook hurt like hell.

Damn, that felt good, he needed that.

Like he needed oxygen, like he needed water, like he needed Kenny.

Like he needed that belt. 

Adam surged and swung with a wide punch. Kenny caught it at the elbow and twisted Adam’s arm. Adam stumbled forward, bending into the momentum. Kenny drove his knee into Adam’s gut. The air rushed out of Adam. His already sore ribs seized like a vice around his internal organs. 

Oh, shit, he had not thought this through. Adam had already gotten the crap beaten out of him tonight in a match. Like, put through a table but still won-- crap beaten out of him. This was not good. Adam couldn’t beat Kenny on a good night. What the hell was he doing picking a fight on a bad night? Well, Adam was way past dumb decisions at this point.

Adam drove the heel of his hand into Kenny’s lower stomach, a cheap shot to make Kenny drop his hands. Adam popped a quick jab into Kenny’s face. Nothing but a distraction, to make his eyes water, and stun him. Adam seized Kenny’s jacket by the lapels and drove him him back into the wall. A solid ‘oof’ escaped Kenny as they collided with the solid surface. Kenny wheezed, because he had had a match too. Neither of them had any business picking a fight. 

“Damnit! Kenny!” Adam shouted. “Get your head out of your ass!”

Adam growled, a low rumble reverberating through his chest and his eyes darkened. Chest-to-chest with Kenny, he leaned-in, to push and pin him against the wall. He breathed hot and fast, his heart shuttering, beating against his chest. Their pulses mingled so that Adam couldn’t separate the chaotic rhythms. Kenny’s glasses were ajar, hanging crooked off his nose. Adam knocked them off Kenny’s face. They clattered to the floor. Kenny blinked, eyes adjusting to the new light. Tension drained from Adam’s shoulders and he sighed, soft breath over his chapped lips. Blue eyes, like the sky over his childhood home, baby blue, aquamarine, the Gulf when his family took a trip to the beach. Pupils blown-out and black. Breathless, Kenny left Adam breathless. The rage dissipated, draining from him like water. Kenny grinned, blood on his teeth, white and red, their noses an inch apart. It would be so simple to--

Kenny’s lips tasted of iron and him. Everything Adam dreamed of but better. The kiss was all teeth, blood, and spit, ugly and gross. Worthy of something from Adam’s fumbling teenage years. Adam groaned into Kenny’s mouth, lungs shuttering and eyes fluttering closed. He braced his hand against the wall and pushed back, tilting his head for a better angle. Adam kissed Kenny with his blood roaring in his ears and demanding more of whatever the hell this is. He slowed, lingering, in a passionate and deep kiss, relishing the taste of what he had been starving for. Then, Adam slid his hands through Kenny’s hair, cradled either side of Kenny’s stupid, soft and stubbly, chipmunk cheeks. He laid small, quick, fluttering kisses to Kenny’s lips, the corner of his mouth, and Kenny whimpered, wanting more than teasing. Adam smirked and he tangled his fingers into those ashen curls to tilt Kenny’s head back to give more. Darted his tongue past Kenny’s lips to find more. Kenny clutched at Adam and dug his nails into Adam’s shirt.

Then Adam parted, gasping for air. He rested his forehead against Kenny’s and whispered something like ‘holy shit.’ He threaded his fingers in Kenny’s hair to pet and soothe him. Kenny surged forward, looking for that second kiss, but Adam laid his hand across Kenny’s chest and pushed him down. Kenny slumped against the wall, settling on his heels. He looked wounded, like a kicked puppy. It was enough to tug on Adam’s heart strings. 

“Adam,” Kenny whined, drawing out the last syllable. 

“Kenny,” Adam said, voice firm. “Stop, that’s enough.”

Kiss him again, his inner voice insisted. While Kenny stood there, all pretty and cute, gaping with his brow furrowed. His cheeks flushed and lips almost scarlet. Take a second taste, a third, let the whole night unfold like origami. Except no, this wasn’t what Adam wanted. Whatever the hell this was, it ain’t it, chief. Adam knew what he wanted. He knew what he needed. He knew, he knew, he knew, it was so obvious that this dumbass, pinned beneath his hand, could see it. So obvious, that even Adam was starting to see it. Adam stepped away from Kenny even though it felt like ripping off his own arm. Pure chemistry, the pure need and want of a man dehydrated in the desert. Adam didn’t want to go back to his hotel room alone. He didn’t want to spend another night in a cold bed. He didn’t want to keep playing this game of cat-and-mouse, always guessing, always confused, and lost. He didn’t want to keep his thoughts to himself anymore-- but there was something else he needed more than he wanted.

Something, he’d needed since he was a child, since his birth. Adam was convinced it was inscribed in his DNA. And until he had it, he would never be satisfied. Maybe he was a masochist, always stepping-up to the chopping block like this. Knowing, believing he knew, what came next when the axe fell. Yet, Adam Page didn’t have an ounce of quit in him. He was far too stupid to stop.

Adam eyed Kenny and then reached behind him to find his phone on the counter. Kenny stayed pinned to the wall like a taxidermy bug. Then, Adam turned to leave. He paused at where the belt rested on the countertop. He lifted his hand. Adam curled three fingers to his palm and pointed his index to the sky.  Then he took aim at the belt. With a dramatic flourish, Adam took the shot. He left the bar, leaving the door ajar. While the Uber drove him back to the hotel, Adam typed-out his reply on the ugly message app. 

I’ll be home this Saturday. Looking forward to tacos I’ll bring tequila. See you soon. Love ya, a lot. 

[youngster-monster]

Daffodil - respect

Saint-14 has been busy since he came back. One would think coming back to life would be a good enough reason for him to take a break, get himself acquainted with the changes in the City, but no. Barely a few weeks since his miraculous escape from the Infinite Forest and here he is.

Leading the Trials of Osiris.

Torturing Guardians with exercise.

The two are connected, but not in the way you’d expect. The Trials are wildly popular: there’s nothing Guardians love more than fighting each other for glory, and a little more challenge is always welcome. But where Shaxx keeps an iron fist over the Crucible, physically Sol-hammering the rules into the heads of cheaters, Saint has taken to a more… creative approach to disciplinary actions.

(That’s where the torture comes in. Who knew the Hero of Six Fronts had such a mean streak?)

The few Guardians gathered today at the godless hour of four in the morning know exactly what they’ve done. Tea-bagging enemies, cheating, going to Saint to complain about a defeat — sore losers are a thing, but he draws the line at Guardians bothering him with their wounded ego. What they don’t know is what Saint expects them to do.

The man himself is waiting for them once they reach their meeting spot in the hangar. He looks to be in a very good mood despite the very early morning — or rather a very late night at this point — but that might be due to the coffee mug he’s carrying and occasionally taking a sip from. From the mumbling going through the small crowd of assembled Guardians, the general consensus is that murder would be happily and enthusiastically committed for some of that coffee.

They all gather before Saint in a loose group not unlike a colony of penguins trying to ward off the cold. A few of them are still grumbling. Most glares sullenly at the Titan, wondering what the summon was for. They’ve all, for the most part, experienced or seen Shaxx’s punishment for misdemeanors before. They’re hoping Saint will be nicer.

Idiots.

In their distraction they don’t immediately notice him putting his cup down next to himself and straightening to his full height.

“Guardians!” Saint booms. The sound echoes in the silent hanger. Immediately, as if responding to a forgotten, lizard brain instinct, the Guardians shut their mouths and stand at attention, backs military-straight. “You know why I have summoned you here.”

Oh, they know. By now they’re spooked enough that they don’t dare shift on their feet in shame, but the grimaces and the way some hisses through their teeth is enough of a tell. He nods with a grim sort of satisfaction.

“Today, I will teach you to do better. To be better.” That’s very inspiring. A few of the Guardians foolishly let a glimmer of hope brighten their tired eyes. “But betterment of the spirit… it is not enough. A strong mind requires a strong body to carry it, yes?” They nod with no small amount of dread. “And strength, it needs pain to grow. To develop.”

Saint cracks his knuckles. Someone in the crowd gulps audibly.

“Today, I intend to make you very strong.”

Osiris is… somewhat ashamed of it, but of the two of them he’s the one who’s had the hardest time adapting to Saint’s return from beyond the grave. It’s taken him months to get used to the idea enough to bear talking to the man, and even then it was only through letters that Sagira had to bully him into writing.

He’d never admit it, but he’s afraid that he’ll try to go to Saint and his oldest friend will be gone, maybe he was never back at all, maybe it was all another timeline Osiris stumbled into, never to come true. Even worse: he’d be there, but he’d look at Osiris with anger and resentment, would blame him for his demise, would want nothing to do with him for as long as the two of them continued to live.

It’s stupid. He knows it, Sagira knows it and reminds him constantly, and if Saint knew about the reason for his reluctance — he has the uncomfortable feeling he does — he’d absolutely call him an idiot for it. But he can’t help it. And he can’t face Saint. Not yet.

He’s not running away, he’s just… busy. So is Saint.

After a while though, he can’t help but send an Echo to check on him at the Lighthouse. See how he’s settling. It’s not the real thing, or at least not the way Saint would like it to be — and he tells him so as soon as he sees the shimmering form of his Echo materializing next to him — but it’s better than nothing, and it settles the anxiety in Osiris’ chest somewhat.

Baby steps, Sagira tells him, before ruthlessly mocking him for it.

Thing is, once he’s done it once, he can’t stop. It’s soothing to have that level of distance with Saint while still being able to check on him, talk to him. See how he’s doing and remind himself, yes, he’s alive, he’s fine, you did it.

Saint takes it with his usual level of grace. Meaning: he doesn’t comment on it too much, but there’s a look in his eyes that tells Osiris that when he comes back, he’s gonna hear about it at great length. Saint is never letting him forget this.

He thinks, by the time he comes back, he will be ready for it. He might even be glad, for the fifteen minutes it takes him to be done with Saint’s relentless mockery. There’s a reason Sagira and him got along so well back in the days: they’ve always loved making Osiris’ life a living hell.

In the meantime though, the Echoes will have to do.

Saint doesn’t react when the Echo steps into existence next to him. The Guardians briefly stop at the flash of golden light, risk a glance up, and hurriedly go back to their push-ups at double pace. He takes a sip of his cup then, when he’s sure they won’t slack off as soon as he turns his back on them, he looks at the piece of Osiris standing at his side.

He’s observing the Guardians with something like puzzlement, though he would hide it well from anyone but Saint, who knows him too well.

“Much has changed in my absence if you’re now making social calls, old friend,” he says. He can’t help the smile that comes to him as he speaks. He’s in a great mood, and poking fun at Osiris is only making it better.

“A lot has changed,” Osiris agrees absently. He nods towards the Guardians. A few look queasy from the exertion. The sun is starting to rise, pale light shining through the shimmering form of the Echo: they’ve been at it for a while. “What are they doing?”

“What I tell them to, mostly.”

“Already going mad with power, are you?”

Saint shakes his head with a rueful chuckle. “I didn’t like the way they acted in the Trials. I thought I’d teach them a lesson in respect.” Then, when the Guardians seem to be getting a little too comfortable with their situation, “One hand now!”

They all put a hand behind their back with a speed born of rightful fear for their lives.

Osiris huffs softly, obviously amused despite himself. He settles to watch, leaning so close to Saint he’s almost warm. Discreetly he reaches for Saint’s mug, who snatches it before he can get his hands on it.

“If you want to steal my drinks, you’ll have to do it in a body that can actually drink,” he grouches before taking a sip, leveling Osiris with a pointed look.

“That one at the back is slacking off,” he says instead of making any kind of meaningful reply.

Saint lets it pass if only because he has more pressing matters to attend to.

“You are not taking this seriously enough. Give me a hundred more push-ups. Yes, all of you!”

[autumnstwilight]

Dawn of the Future summary- Aranea

So, Aranea’s section is the shortest of the book, and you can kind of tell that it was a story intended to be presented in game format. I had to put the book down and sigh in frustration a few times from reading a description of a huge set piece boss battle that could have been really cool. IF THEY MADE IT.

-Our story begins with Aranea sleep-deprived and eating a bag of popcorn she found in a destroyed and partially flooded store, which tastes bad but she doesn’t want to throw out. She’s in the cockpit of her airship returning to Niflheim after a 35 hour no-breaks shift working on recovery and cleanup in Altissia, along with Biggs and Wedge, and the 86th Airborne Unit, which she commands. -Musing over her bag of gross popcorn, she thinks of how there are no facilities such as amusement parks or movie theaters in Niflheim, there were in her childhood, but as the Empire expanded its war effort and territory, the lives of the citizens became more and more bleak as funds and real estate were devoted to the military. -She’s also frustrated by the poor treatment of human troops as opposed to Magitek infantry or daemonic weapons, as half her unit was lost in Altissia. -They’re about to land in Gralea when her ship is fired upon by Diamond Weapon (the giant daemonic weapon used to attack Insomnia in Kingsglaive), which is loose in the city and being fought by the army. -A lot of Aranea’s story is essentially about pursuing and taking down Diamond Weapon (while also contending with flying daemons and rogue Magitek troopers), which probably would have been an awesome multi-part boss battle to actually play but is a little meh to just read. -She calls the Weapon デカブツくん (slang term for something large which I can’t think of an English equivalent for as my brain keeps providing “chonk” or “absolute unit”). She also tells it, “Now, it’s punishment time,” if anyone would like to imagine her saying that. -The Weapon heads for Zegnautus Keep, and Aranea enters and fights her way up toward the roof. Meanwhile, Biggs and Wedge help some kids evacuate. -Ardyn begins speaking over the city PA, “Ladies and gentlemen of Niflheim, thank you for your presence. The Empire ends today.” He then mentions that the Emperor has no successor. Aranea recalls that the Empress died soon after giving birth, the Emperor never remarried, and their son died in battle several years prior. The public believes that the Empress’ death is the reason for the Emperor’s personality change, but Aranea thinks it was due to Ardyn’s arrival. -Ardyn explains that the Emperor pursued “magic” as a path to immortality, intending to remain emperor forever, and look where that brought them to. He then allows a dying Iedolas to speak, “Sol… heim… The sun of Solheim… will rise again…” -Aranea finds Zegnautus empty of people and Iedolas dead of Starscourge on the throne. When she gets to the roof, she sees an airship carrying away Diamond Weapon. Ardyn is there eating an apple and watching the Empire burn, repeating his もったいない line (“Oh, what a shame…”) from when he was watching the destruction of Insomnia in Kingsglaive. She realizes he is the one who set the Weapon loose and made the Magitek troopers go out of control. -She tries to attack Ardyn, but her spear hits empty air and he counters, sending her flying and leaving her on the ground wracked with pain and coughing violently. She recovers enough to ask what he’s doing with the Weapon, and he says he plans to let it rampage in Tenebrae. -”You want to destroy it?” -”All of it. Everything.” -After this Aranea’s internal narration switches from calling Ardyn “the Chancellor” or “that man” to, essentially, “goddamn idiot lunatic” (イカレてる大バカ野郎) -Biggs radios Aranea to let her know he’s just put the refugees on a train to Tenebrae. Ardyn is amused. -”It’d be really nice if I could stop the daemons by kicking your ass.” -Ardyn offers her his half-eaten apple if she can beat him. -Instead, Aranea tells him that she’s quitting her job, giving “I hate you” as the reason when requested, then jumping off the roof with her spear. -At this point, she runs into “the most annoying man out of anyone she knew”- Loqi Tummelt, in his Magitek Cuirass. After a fight, he opens the cockpit to reveal he is transporting an eight-year-old girl on special request from the Emperor. The girl says that she wants to fight too- Aranea tells her she’s ten years too early, then reflects on her own childhood. -When Aranea was around the same age her village was attacked by daemons and she was ordered to take the younger children to the basement of the church and hide while the adults fought. She had the same “ten years too early to fight” exchange with her father before both her parents were killed. -Loqi entrusts the child to her and quietly says thank you as a swarm of daemons approach. As Aranea heads for the train and Tenebrae, she watches him fight in his Magitek armor, and hears him announce “Glory to the Niflheim Empire!” Aranea tells her Airborne Unit that their final mission is to protect Tenebrae. -They run out of bullets trying to shoot down the airship carrying Diamond Weapon, succeeding in damaging the airship enough that it crashes, but the Weapon is still active. Aranea takes her spear to fight the Weapon alone. -[insert boss battle sequence of her destroying Magitek cores on the giant daemon accompanied by Biggs and Wedge in Magitek armor that sounds like it might have been fun to play] -The Weapon is destroyed, the refugees get to Tenebrae safely, everyone is alive, etc, etc. -except then a bunch of flying daemons arrive and they have to take those out too. -Aranea finally talks to the girl, who turns out to be Sol Antiquum, the secret child of the Emperor’s deceased son. She comforts the girl and hugs her, again remembering herself as a child. -Ten years later, during the World of Ruin, Sol has grown up and learned to fight, raised by Aranea, and is now a rebellious teenager. Aranea tries to send Biggs and Wedge with her on missions, but Sol insists she doesn’t need to be treated like a child. Biggs and Wedge are apparently even more overprotective. Meanwhile, Aranea cooks a meal with canned food while waiting for her to return.

[crqstalite]

Epoch.

(n.) a particular period of time in history or a person’s life.

for MER 2020. day 3, mass effect + andromeda. set in 2185/6 + 2819.

-

23:45. sent november 13th, 2185.

>> video recovered.

>video playing.

"Hey Dee--No that's wrong. Shepard? Kodelyn? Commander? Fuck. Y'know what? No script."

[inhale and subsequent exhale. camera shifts to focus on dark haired woman in alliance clothes.]

"Shepard. I don't know whether to believe the rumors or not. For nearly a year they've said that you're alive. Hell, Alenko came back a while ago from Horizon, shell shocked saying that Anderson was right. Don't even know how I'm supposed to feel about that."

"Feels like everything fell apart when you died. I lost my best friend, I lost the first ship I'd ever served on. I lost basically all of my contacts. The only person I'm still even in sort of contact with was Joker, but that was nearly...two years ago? I see Alenko whenever he's on the Citadel, but he's clammed up. Won't say a word about you, about the Normandy, about anyone but his current assignments in the Terminus Systems. I think he's in denial."

[dry chuckling. sighs.]

"We're all in denial, by the way. I wanted to go after Liara, find what she knew. Apparently she set up shop on Illium, but by the time I got there, she was gone. No one would tell me where she was. Alenko said Garrus was with you, so that's some solace if you're still out there. You know he'd follow you to hell and back after what you did with Saleon for him."

"I still don't believe you're alive. I saw the reports. Saw the whole debacle over what attacked the Normandy. Good old Council, still denying everything. There's no way that was the Geth. They're only claiming that it was because they don't want to start a mass panic over what they don't know and can't fathom in their peanut sized brains. I'm going to biotically smack Sparatus into next week if he claims Reapers don't exist again."

[muffled conversation]

"The real reason I'm making this video is because the Initiative is taking off in a bit. I know, it moved fast since my dad got shut down over SAM. We're set to take off in the next two weeks, so everyone's cleaning up shop. Farran has had his apartment cleaned out since we got clearance for the arks. He's always been on board to head to Andromeda."

"I didn't want to leave at first. I helped the best I could before I headed off to Therum with Liara, but I thought that's what was here for me. The Milky Way is my home. Then the Geth attacked and I saw you again. Then I decided I might just be a career soldier like my dad always wanted. I'm trained as an adept, you know. I was happy on the Normandy. Helping Liara with research, going out to uncharted worlds with you. I had my best friend and new friends all around me. It was far from perfect, especially with Hackett throwing mission after mission at us, and then Virmire..."

[rustling of datapads. gets up, paces back and forth. sound is viable, but accompanied by the sound of socked feet on linoleum.]

"Then you died. Then I didn't have a purpose anymore, sitting in that escape pod for nearly a day, acting like a child. Rocking back and forth, crying to the point I couldn't even really see or breathe. I didn't want anyone to touch me, hell I went out on my own to search for you. I got lost. Tali found me, throwing pieces of the Normandy around like a raving idiot searching for anything that would point me back to you."

"After that, I threw myself back into helping my dad. He was disgraced for SAM -- I'm sure you know that bit by now. Everywhere on the Citadel reminded me of you. Everywhere in the Milky Way reminded me of you. I had to get out of here, and acting like the rest of the galaxy didn't exist sounded like it would be the best course of action. Somewhere completely new, somewhere I could wipe the slate clean. Start over. Be happy again."

[laughs. sigh of disappointment. looks over to clock.]

"Joker came to me in...late 2183, I want to say? Said Cerberus -- yeah Cerberus of all people, those guys mixed up with the marines? -- had you. Said they were rebuilding you and he had proof. I denied him, didn't believe him. I knew he'd taken your death the hardest, that he blamed himself for it. I said things I shouldn't have. I know I can't justify it that 'I was in a bad place'. I hurt him, I know I did. Then he was just...gone. Completely off the grid. Anderson couldn't track him down. Your sister disappeared after that as well."

"I felt so alone. Farran tried to comfort me. Didn't work. The Initiative was tangible again, and I didn't see dad for a while. I had never been so ready to leave before. Now looking around, the empty room, the severed ties with anyone else in the Alliance? I ask myself if I'm doing the right thing or not. Whether leaving it all behind is the right decision."

[more muffled conversation. swiping of another tab before returning to chair and sitting down.]

"Look. If you are with Cerberus, I know you're doing it for a reason. Maybe you're a mole or something. Tearing them apart from the inside out. If you're alive, shit if you're even a little alive, please send me something. Confirm it, please. So I can reconsider all of this if I have to. I'd do anything to fight by your side again. Stop me before I make the most irreversible mistake in my life, Shepard. Kodelyn, please. Andromeda is full of opportunities, but you were everything to me. Alenko can mope all he wants, yes I knew about that, but you were my friend first, my sister first. You gave me so much, and now I can't pay you back."

"We can talk about Cerberus if that's what you want. We can talk about whatever's going on. Anything you want. I won't judge."

"Please. Come home, Shepard. I need you."

>video playback ended.

>>video archived.

23:56. november 13th, 2185.

-

>received november 14th, 2185.

>>opened july 8th, 2186.

-

16:18. sent july 8th, 2186.

>>video recovered.

>video playing.

{crackling. mumbled words. indecipherable. recorded on omni-tool.}

{clearing procedure}

{video stabilizing}

[woman appears. dark haired. recognized as commander shepard of alliance navy.]

"Fia. Hi."

"This is an entire year late. I know. I was too late, I think. I don't know. Any records of the Myungs were erased from the Citadel databases. I just recently got access to classified and personal files back, yeah long story I was arrested for a couple months. Reinstated as of a few minutes ago."

[mumbled conversation from male voice behind subject. ignored.]

"Find Vega, get him prepped for Mars. We're going in quick and quiet but tell him to be ready if things get hot."

[video refocuses.]

"Earth was just attacked. The Reapers are here. Sparatus is going to eat whatever a hat is in Turian places for denying their existence all these years."

"The suicide mission against the Collectors was a success. They're no more. But the Reapers...shit I just watched them take out Vancouver. We're getting reports of other attacks all over the planet, more in the Sol system by the hour."

[woman pulls helmet out. video focuses.]

"Shit shit shit shit. If it's any solace, my parents are alright. My brother is as well. Lali's onboard with me. As far as Dr. T'Soni and Lieutenant Johansson are concerned, we don't know. Last we heard they were on Mars, fighting their way to the archives for anything to fight the Reapers with. Staff Commander Petrakis has been off the grid for a couple months now, not a word out of her since the collector base assault. Major Alenko doesn't know where she is, but we know we need to get in contact with her, and in turn Garrus and the others if we can. We need every force we can get."

[clattering noise sounds. more cursing.]

"Fia. I'm so sorry. I heard AI took off a few months back while I was under house arrest. I know you're probably gone, and I wish I'd seen it before. My omni-tool code changed back late 2185, security risk so close to the base assault. Lawson was worried after Horizon that brass would come after me. I'm so damn sorry."

[incoming call on another line.]

"Please. If you get this, be careful. I don't know if the Reapers will come after the Initiative. Be ready for anything. They will not stop at Earth, I know that much. Tell your father, Garson, anyone to be ready for whatever comes your way in Andromeda. I've always loved you, sister, best friend. You know that. I’ll always be with you, wherever you are."

[incoming call.]

"Be careful, tabula rasa. There's another galaxy out there, and if you all are the last humans out there after all this goes down, make us proud."

[incoming call.]

"Don't let the cycle take us again."

>video playback ended.

>>video archived.

16:25. july 8th, 2186.

-

>received august 22nd, 2186.

>seen august 30th, 2818.

>>opened june 1st, 2819.

-

"So the Reapers were real then," Cora says, turning to the Pathfinder, deep in thought, "They were in such a hurry to deploy us because whoever funded the Initiative--"

"They knew the Reapers were coming. We were humanity's Noah's Ark," Fiametta Myung responds, shutting off the blue and white display in her father's old quarters. Stepping back, she runs a hand through her brown and purple hair, "And now? We don't even know if Earth survived all of that. And Shepard..."

"It's been six hundred years. I get the picture," Cora muses, "You said Dr. T'Soni travelled with her early on though? You think you might be able to get a message out to her?"

"If I could, I think we would've got one first from either her or Shepard. Either with the destruction of the galaxy or one of victory," Frustrated, Fiametta sits down on the edge of the bed, "Cora, forget that T'Soni might still be alive. Do you think there's a chance the Reapers could come for us?"

"All the way in Andromeda?" The commando shifts her posture, crossing her arms and leaning against the desk, "If you want my opinion, it's a flat I don't know. You worked with her closer than I did. Any Reaper information I heard about was secondhand accounts from you."

"Great. I'm flying blind again. Tann is going to have my ass if we know about this and they show up in a couple months to finish the job," Fiametta drags a hand down her face, flopping back on the bed unceremoniously, "I'm the worst pathfinder to ever pathfind. First my dad dies, then every planet in uninhabitable, can barely reunite all the races, can't find the Quarian ark, and to top it off, nearly lost the whole Hyperion taking Meridian."

"Well I was going to say that if they did...well we could get a headstart on them? Start bunkering down before they find us, so they don't catch us off guard like they did the Milky Way," She says, gesturing to the computer. That made sense. They probably hit Earth so hard because they hadn't been ready. Fiametta scoffs inwardly, damn War Council never took Shepard's word for anything and now they'd paid for it dearly. Her tone is still concerned, but softens, "And don't say that. First, who knows if they managed to take down the Reapers anyway? Second, we don't know jack about what's going down in the Milky Way right now. Anything could've happened, and we could be worrying for nothing. You found Meridian, we took Meridian and took down the Archon. Hell you made every viable world habitable for generations to come. What's a couple more to add to the list of achievements?"

"Cora, the Archon was one dude. The Kett retreated, probably to gather more forces. These Reapers? They've been in this cycle for fifty thousand years, probably since the beginning of time. The Protheans weren't the first to be wiped out, and they might not be the last either," Fiametta curses under her breath, "We aren't prepared for war. We've barely got enough forces to fight off the remaining Kett, much less another wave of space cthulus. We're explorers, not an army."

"It took us six hundred years to get out here. Maybe it'll take the Reapers a whole lot less, but we've still got time if they do. I'll requisition Tann for more forces on the edge of Heleus in a few years time if you're still really worried. We just need to establish a foothold first and then we can have patrols out."

"Now you're making me sound crazy," she notes, "Forget the Reapers for right now. Just stick a pin in it, Cora. I'm rambling, you don't have to pay attention to me."

"If that's what you want," Cora chides, striding over to the bed, "Hey. You've done a damn good job at colonizing Heleus. If anyone can take the Reapers, it's you."

"It's Shepard, actually. She was the one with a Prothean cipher in her head," While Cora sputters at the news, Fiametta chuckles, "Early 2183. Feros. Thorian. Some asari. I wasn't there for it. Just... stressed about finding this all out now."

"She was really important to you, huh?" Cora questions, gears still turning in her head, "She'd be proud of you. Just like your father would be."

"Hope so," Fiametta answers, sitting up to face her second in command. She doesn't know if it's true, but if it makes Cora feel better about their situation, she can at least pretend to take the praise in stride. Her heart hurts, Shepard had always been there to guide her through the worst of it. And now? She was all alone, pathfinding without a path to follow, "C'mon, let's get out of here before Jaal tears the Hyperion apart looking for me."

Cora nods approvingly, a smile crossing her features. As the other woman leaves, Fiametta stands again. She pulls up the UI with a few swipes, scrolling back to the message. She watches it again. Shepard hadn't looked all that well in those final moments. Bloodied and bruised, torn BDUs. Arrested? For what? Working with Cerberus? Hell if this so-called suicide mission was so successful, they should've given her a medal like they did after the Skyllian Blitz. Johansson -- that was Annika. Petrakis was Brione. Vega, she hadn't heard of a Vega before. Alenko...that meant Kaidan had been promoted after she left.

She misses them. Six hundred years separates her from the people that knew her best. 

Six hundred years separates her and Shepard. Her best friend. Her everything at one point. History would remember them for their sacrifices. They’d better remember her sacrifices specifically. Maybe she should try to get in contact with Dr. T'Soni. If Shepard's message made it to them in-transit, maybe with the Nexus' connections she could get her own out to the Milky Way. Find one of Shepard's descendants, or one of the species that hadn't been entirely destroyed if Liara's research had been truthful when they had been working together.

Her hand hovers over the UI, considering. Her old life had ended. She hadn't woken up a tabula rasa, but instead had changed Heleus for the better. She hopes.

Staying in the past wouldn't get her anywhere.

>video saved. june 1st, 2819.

>>removed from active messages. june 1st, 2819. archived by pathfinder fiametta myung.