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refriedweeb · 4 years

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LET ME SANCTIFY YOUR BODY (SHINSOU + PLUS SIZED READER 18+)

A/N: refriedweeb here my little chickadees. Here’s another plus size reader one for all my beautiful thick babes out there. I’ve started hardcore sipping over everyone’s fave emo boy (who I always thought would prefer a thicker girl bc it just screams at you he would be) not responsible for any emotional trauma caused. ALSO, I used the same quirk from the Hawks’ series I have going on don’t judge me it’s honestly my favorite quirk I’ve thought up (and totally not bc I'm self-inserting) also if anyone draws y/n/me/yourself in this hero costume y/n chooses I'd die bc I think it’s so incredible

Prompt: Your hero agency has been pressuring you into a more scant, sexually appealing hero costume. Though you’re a hero, you’re still coming to accept your body and feel that the new costume they’ve put you in is anything but. Your boyfriend has other thoughts.

Tags/Warnings: body worship, oral, sex, spanking, shinsou being an absolute god

Word Count: 6,009

You stared at yourself in the reflection of the mirror in your bedroom. It’d been a long, exhausting past couple of weeks between you and the hero agency you worked for. They were insistent on changing up your hero costume, eager to add some sex appeal and tighter material around the assets that made you such a ‘feast’ as they called it. You were fuller figured, plump in spots that other female heroes weren’t. Your curves had caught the eye of the media surrounding the hero discourse, and you’d become something of a source of body positivity for the public. It wasn’t about your health, rather, but that strength and power came at any size, and a hero didn’t need to look like the heroes of the past in order to do good and be worthy of everything you had in your life. At first you’d been a little skeptical, sure that the other shoe was going to drop and you were going to be shunned for the tummy you had, the thickness of thighs that made you look ‘more beautiful than Venus being born’ according to one of the magazines that had commented on your body.

However, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with the hero costume you’d been rocking prior to the media’s public obsession with you. It hid the insecurities that you wished to conceal, like that very tummy so many people had started to praise. The dimples in your thighs that showed through in the latex and skin tight material that made up so much of hero costumes. Many designers of said hero costumes had been scrambling to get their designs to your hero agency, practically groveling for you to pick theirs. You’d left that day after your seemingly endless patrol (thankful that nothing out of the ordinary outside of small, petty crimes) had come to an end. But...that didn’t mean the work was over just yet. The agency you worked in had been persistent that you needed to pick a new costume by the end of the week, and it was already Thursday.

Your eyes moved from the mirror to the laid out costumes on the bed. The hero alias you went by was that of Nightmare. Your quirk was an Emitter quirk, and worked in a way that many people had been careful to get within your reach of. Once you activated your quirk, you could raise your target’s worst nightmare into a warped physical reality around them, or at least they perceived it to be a physical reality. What it really was, was a field of false reality with layers so thick it was hard to look through in order to see that it wasn’t real at all. A hallucination of the worst kind. You, much like your boyfriend Shinsou, had been people that your fellow classmates had thought would be best as villains, rather than heroes. People didn’t trust you, didn’t want to get to close to you lest you reach out a hand to their forehead and bring forth their own personal hell.

They wanted to make someone they had once demanded be too dangerous to be a trustworthy hero into a sex symbol. The fleeting thought caused you to snort, your eyes moving back over the costume layout once more. Shinsou hadn't popped around to yours yet, likely still finishing out his own patrol. His opinions might have helped, but you weren’t sure when he’d get to yours and you’d rather get the uncomfortable trial and error of why your body didn’t look right in any of the costumes that had been sent to you over with. That way you could curl up in bed under the sheets and wait for Shinsou’s warm embrace. It’d always managed to make you feel better when you were sure the world hated everything about you. That very reason had been one of the reasons you and Shinsou had bonded so quickly. The world was determined to make you a villain before you’d even had a chance to prove them otherwise. You were each other’s biggest support system, the team cheerleader while you raced to make the world a better place.

What would Nightmare wear? What would the unstoppable, dangerous Nightmare wear? The first costume was definitely not your speed, a deep plum color that was beautiful on its own. Yet, it was cut deep in the back with a half-peplum tiered skirt at the back of your waist. To you, it made you feel like a joke of a circus ring leader, feeling more like an overripe raspberry than a hero worth going toe to toe with. You didn’t have a body like Midnight or Mt. Lady. You were fuller all around, a pooch of a stomach that stuck out more than theirs, thighs that were thicker in muscle and fat then theirs. An ass, that as Shinsou had once said when he was drunk on sake, wouldn’t quit. Once again, you didn’t see anything wrong with the hero costume you had now. It was baggier, yes, allowing you to obscure a body you hadn’t fully come to terms with despite the years of progress you’d made with self-acceptance. Sure, the trench jacket did nothing to show off much of the body you’d worked hard to maintain and love, but it hadn’t been about how good you looked. It’d been about being able to do good and save people from villains. If you’d wanted to be judged for your looks, you would have signed up to be a model. But hero politics were the same politics that existed in every aspect of reality, and you had gotten used to it. It was really only a matter of time that you’d be up next in the line of speculation. The first costume was a hard no, and you peeled yourself out of it already feeling the sinking feeling of defeat as it crawled up into your spine.

The second costume was better in some aspects, worse in others. It was black in color which was much more your speed, with a black mask to match that shielded the top half of your face. Yet, over your bust and over the widest part of your hips ran horizontal white lines, giving the effect of making them appear wider than they were. It wasn’t as if they just ran the front of the costume, either. Traced around your back and your butt, you only felt that sinking feeling grow. You looked wrong, and felt worse. There was no way people actually thought this was going to look good on you, did they? An annoyed sigh passed through your nose, doing one last turn around in the mirror confirmed your thoughts. These people had no idea what would look good on you. The cynical part of you was sure that this was the other shoe dropping. This was some grand joke that you were the punch line of. If you picked any of these costumes you’d be ridiculed for your body just like you’d been when you were a kid. That mere thought sparked tears in your eyes, but you pushed them down. There was one costume left. Though you didn’t have much hope for it.

You were so in your negative thoughts at the moment as you stripped down from the second costume, you hadn’t heard the front door of your place open and close. Nor the sound of shoes being kicked off.

The third costume was by far the most aesthetically pleasing to your tastes. Like Goldilocks and the three bears, it’d been the one you thought would be best. It was a one piece jumpsuit as the rest had been, cut deep in the front and back, low plunges that exposed everything to your naval in the front, and the small curve of your lower back. Though where freshly exposed skin would have been free, black mesh was laid overtop to give the graft appearance. There were winding slits down the long sleeves of the costume, making the mesh look like ropes winding down the length of strong arms and deliciously thick thighs. The mesh at the lower back connected to the beginnings of the mesh at the back of your thighs, lining up with the mesh that curved down from your naval and over your hips to meet up with the front mesh of your thighs. The mesh of the costume was one continuous running line, and you had to admit you liked how it shaped your body. It was tight as the other costumes, and certainly left nothing to the imagination of anyone who’d see you. If you picked this costume, everyone would know what it was you were working with. And that was what they wanted, right? The final costume was by far your favorite, opening and closing the fingerless gloves that had come with it. But were you okay with the world seeing the rest of your body? You didn’t think you were ugly by any means, and hadn’t felt ugly since you were a teenager. But...that didn’t mean the world wouldn’t take that chance to pick you apart if they thought you’d gotten too confident.

You leaned up on your toes, angling to this way and that so you could get a full view of how you’d be seen from all angles. Your hand rolled over the little pooch of your belly, over the curve of your backside into that meshed lower back of the costume. The way your thighs blossomed against the costume, looking strong as hell. In the platformed boots you wore to do hero work, it’d look good. You thought. But was it too risky? Would you look like a joke? Your shoulders sagged in defeat, not sure you had the confidence to pull this off like the world seemed to think you did.

“Well, well...” came that deep drawl of the man you cared so deeply for. You jumped, completely unaware that for the last five minutes you’d been examining yourself in the mirror, that Shinsou had been eyeing you up from his position. Leaned against the frame of the door, hands tucked into his pockets with a shameless look on his face. “These those new hero costumes you were talking about?”

Once you were sure you wouldn’t about faint from the racing of your heart, you nodded. “Yeah, they weren’t that great,” you said and jutted your chin to the ones you’d hung back up on their hangers to be sent back. “Those were the first two options, and they looked...gross on me.” you said, voice dropping as the negative term against yourself left your throat. Shinsou angled a brow upwards question, violet eyes moving over to look at them. He doubted that they looked bad on you, almost disappointed he hadn’t gotten to see your skin slip under that tight material, the way it ran so flush over that body of yours he’d worshipped for so long. For all Shinsou cared, you could be running around in a trash bag and he’d find a way to think you were the most beautiful person in the world. But, one thought he shared in common with you on the first two hero costumes, was that they didn’t speak Nightmare. Your quirk was exceptional, like his in a way. It needed something as equally daring, as enticing as you were.

“I doubt that...” Shinsou strolled over to look at them, running the fabric of the raspberry suit between thumb and forefinger. “But they’re not you. They’re too tame for you.” the comment was innocent enough, but your mouth dried up at it. Sunken eyes moved over to look at you once more in that black suit number, one that he found himself to be a growing fan of. “What about that one?” His expression was hungry as he dragged his gaze up and down your body, over the curves showed off so freely.

Shinsou had never had an issue with your body. Rather, he preferred a partner that was on the thicker side to begin with. He liked being able to feel you in his hands without worry about hurting you too much. Your skin was a comfort to him, the way you were soft and plush drove him up a fucking wall. He might not have been the biggest fan of public affection, but when it was just the two of you he couldn’t keep his greedy hands off you. And how could he? Even in that moment, his fingers twitched with the carnal need to have your flesh under the pads of his fingers.

“It’s definitely the best of the bunch.” You shrugged, hand running down the shape of your belly once more, your mind still stuck on whether or not it was going to get you ridiculed. “I just don’t...I think it’s too much. I don’t think...” you trailed off. “I don’t know if I look good in it.”

The sound of a snort from behind you had you meeting Shinsou’s gaze through the mirror. He wore an incredulous expression as if you’d just claimed that there was no such thing as gravity. He shook his head and approached you slowly. “You’re kidding, right?” Shinsou stood behind you, his chin resting on the top of your head. His body was pressed flush against yours, and you could feel the half-hard length of him pressed against your backside. “You don’t think you look amazing in this, (Y/N)?”

A blush hit your cheeks as his hands rested on your shoulders. “It’s not that, Shi. I just don’t...I guess...I don’t think people will want to see me like this. So...exposed.” Being sexy wasn’t the problem here. It was how others would see you and if they’d take the same thought away that the agency had, that Shinsou had, that some of the media had about you. You could take being ridiculed for your ability to act as an hero, if you messed up on the job or anything like that. Those criticisms pertained to your ability to help and change the world, and nothing to do with your physical appearance. Changing your hero costume would open up that path to criticisms about your appearance that had never been there before.

“Ah...so that’s it.” Without having to say much, Shinsou understood where your mindset was. He sighed, feeling somewhat guilty. Had he not shown you how beautiful you were each time he settled his mouth or his cock between your thighs? Had he not told you how you were the only person who was ever going to have his eye whether you were dolled up in a face full of makeup or drooling while you slept? The last thing he wanted for you to feel about yourself was inadequate because of how much you weighed or what your body looked like. He knew it wasn’t for him to decide, that only you could determine your self-worth, but you were perfect for him. And if he was selfless enough to let the world see you how he saw you, he would in a heartbeat. But just because he wanted the world to see it, didn’t mean he was a fan of sharing. Timidly, you met his indigo gaze through the mirror’s reflection. “Here’s what I think, kitten.”

A chill ran down your spine as his fingers started to ghost over your shoulders. “I think...” He slowed his movements, tracing the seam where mesh met spandex, Shinsou’s eyes narrowed as they followed where his fingers met. They ended at the inner point of the V that formed the front of a potentially new costume. Goosebumps erupted over your skin wherever his fingers trailed, and all you could do was watch in the mirror as his head came to rest on your shoulder, doing the same. “This looks downright sinful...” his fingers moved back up the V of the spandex material, only to pause as his fingers cupped the fullness of your breasts, thumbs whispering over piqued nipples. He hovered there for a moment, tracing circles around them as you shivered against the well defined muscle of his chest. “Not a thing left to the imagination...” Shinsou murmured, taking as his hands swept over the top of your chest to your shoulders, slowly down your arms. The winding tightness between your thighs had started, and he’d only been gentle with you so far. His thumbs moved along your inner forearm, traced circles along the sensitive part of your inner wrist before they flowed back up the length of your arms, returning to your breasts where he pulled and teased once more. “You’re telling me I might have to share this with the public...”

Shinsou’s eyes, a beautiful shade of setting sun, were narrowed as his hands traveled down the mesh material of your stomach once more. His fingers spread as he traced your belly, fingers bent just slightly so you felt the drag of his fingertips through the material of the suit. It was just a prototype, after all. The real work effectiveness of the suit would be put in place if you agreed to have it. At the sensation of his nails scratching along your stomach, your thighs turned inwards, backside pressing in against a growing erection. It only caused Shinsou to smile that smarmy smirk that had caught your attention all those years ago at UA. “You’re telling me everyone’s going to get to see this goddess body I get to claim night after night...” Shinsou continued, pulling the soft pudge of your skin in his hands as he raked them to the side to grip your hips. Those fucking hips. His fingers dug in sharper there, knowing your skin could handle it. So full, so fucking lush. “Hell, kitty, you might just raise the crime rate because everyone wants to see you in this costume...” He released his iron grip on your hips, hands sweeping towards your backside to grab at the bountiful ass you had. How it drove him up a fucking wall to see how it bounced against his hips when he took you from behind. “You have no idea...” Shinsou paused to pull up the legs of his pants before he squatted down to his knees, his hands still on your ass.

“How fucking good you look in this...” You were speechless as he continued to knead at your ass, giving that plump backside of yours a soft slap that sounded through the room. He worshipped your body day in and day out, and had simply no problem letting you know how much he loved every square inch of it. Shinsou let out a low hum. His hands continued their march, coming to cup the lower part of your ass in his hands. He was greedy when it came to this, the best fucking handful and then some any god could have given him. “Your ass looks so fucking good...” he whispered, side of his face nuzzled up against the curve of your thigh. One hand slipped from the grip it has on your backside, slipping between your thighs. An idle thumb swept through your lips, so thick and full that when he ate you out he simply rested his head there. A sharp gasp escaped you, rolling into the touch that ended before it’d even begin. This didn’t go unnoticed by Shinsou, that devilish smile there once more. “And these fucking thighs...” he whispered, his second hand repeated that sinful sweeping motion between your legs, his hands gripping your inner thighs, slowing pulling them apart. All the while, you watched through the mirror, his eyes zeroed in on the puffy mound of your pussy that seemed particularly swollen in that jumpsuit. “These fucking thighs that I love to have wrapped around my head...” Shinsou turned in so his nose was pressed against your left thigh, his teeth soon enough caught the material of the jumpsuit between them and pulled it back from your supple skin. A moment later, a sharp snap hit the air as it slapped back against your skin, causing you to squirm. “You’re telling me the world is gonna know how fucking delicious these thighs are...”

He wasn’t the jealous sort, Shinsou. He knew that you wouldn’t be with him if you didn’t want to be. That you came home to every night because you wanted to. In that sense he was secure in his relationship with you. But he wanted to make it astoundingly clear to you just how beautiful your body was, and how everyone else in the world who had their head screwed on tight enough was going to see it too. He was hungry to devour you in that suit right there, to fuck you and mark you so greedily so that the world would know his mark on you, but this wasn’t about him or his selfish wants. This was about making you feel like the strongest, sexiest, most powerful woman on the entire earth. And based off the heat he was feeling so close to his hands that gripped your thighs, his mission was working. He hummed, digging his fingers into your skin. “I could spend hours on your skin, kitten.” he murmured, his nose inching up the length of your thigh to where it curved, the crease of hip into thigh his goal. “Kissing it all over, tasting all of you...” you squirmed as Shinsou shifted on the ground slightly, so that he knelt in front of you. The sight of him looking up at you, sunken eyes dark with lust, made your waver on your knees. It was next to holy imagery, his legs spread wide, hands gripping your thighs for purchase as if he didn’t, he’d disappear entirely. “You gonna let me taste you, kitten?”

Shinsou didn’t wait for your answer, moving on his own agenda. He leaned forward into that sweet, tantalizing mound of yours. His nose burrowed in, hands moving up to grip your hips as he pulled you in against him. The flat of his tongue slipped over the clothed length of your cunt, warmth radiating against the sweetness of your pussy as he pulled your thighs apart for him. You moaned out his name, the action he took so simple but enough to threaten you over the cliff. Shinsou had only touched you, slow and measured at that, and this was the first he’d put a hand or tongue where you needed him most. The fabric that had been between your legs was in his mouth, Shinsou sucking on the fabric there to get as much of you in his mouth that had already escaped you while he’d been busy touching you. The fabric fell from his mouth when he was done, slapping against your heat and causing you to jolt forward. Your fingers found themselves wound through the thick tendrils of indigo hair, balancing as he smiled up at you with his head tipped to the side. The look was downright bastardly, and you tugged on his hair. “Don’t tease me,” you said, breathless.

“No teasing here, baby...” Shinsou breathed, pausing to blow hot air against your sex. “I want to make my girl feel good,” while he spoke, he stroked his middle and index finger up and down the slit of your cunt, pushing in slightly so the fabric dipped in your glaze. “I want to make you feel good about this fucking body I intend to destroy...” He sounded so bored as he played with your pussy that it only drove you crazier. You knew from the bulge in his pants that he was far from bored, but how nonchalant he could be while he was winding that coil of an orgasm tighter and tighter inside of you could have pushed you over the edge. “I want to take my time getting you there...”

You mewled, rocking against his fingers as they slipped back and forth, agonizingly slow in their rhythm. Shinsou had never been a fan of when you doubted yourself or your abilities, your worth and your beauty. This wasn’t exactly what he would have called a punishment, rather a reminder that there wasn’t a single part of you that he would want to change about you, and that you should have felt the same. He worshipped you, every second of every day. Frankly, in his eyes, there wasn’t enough hours in the day to give thanks to whatever deities were out there that created the fucking perfect version of yourself that was stood over him currently. “Sit on my face, kitten.” he drawled, eyes raking upwards over those delicious curves of your body, the thickness of your skin so plump, until he was looking into your eyes. “Let me taste you.”

With the way he’s looking at you, you know you don’t stand a chance of saying no. “Yes,” you rasped out, Shinsou’s hands soothing you as they smoothed up and down your thighs. You took a step back from him, Shinsou staying where he was, frozen as he watched you pull down the suit.

It was like a work of art, his cock hardening as you pulled the front of it down, exposing your mounds of flesh, nipples piqued and flushed from when he’d been teasing them earlier. As the black material folded over your arms, exposing soft skin he ached to get his hands on. Down over your midsection, exposing the little roll over your belly that had his mouth watering. “You look so fucking beautiful,” his voice had hollowed out, thick with need to have your thighs practically suffocating him. He watched the blush deepen on your cheeks, only serving to make him grow harder. His eyes snapped back as the skintight material rolled over your hips and his cock twitched. The way your skin pushed out, full and so fucking desirable from the spandex material sent him over the edge. And then there it was. That glistening pussy with the softest patch of hair extending up towards your naval, a landing strip you’d called it once. Shinsou couldn’t help himself as he reached up to his mouth and ran his index finger over the swell of his bottom lip. He could see how wet you were already from the teasing he’d put you through, how your glaze seeped onto the thighs you’d pushed together. He was motionless as you slowly rolled the jumpsuit the rest of the way, over the curve of thighs into calves, finally at those fucking ankles he rather enjoyed having up by his face when he drove into you like a man starved for your fluids.

“You look so fucking tasty, kitten.” he whispered, settled onto his back. Not once had his eyes left yours. “Let me have you, please.” The please and desperation in his voice caused you to squeeze your thighs together again, and he moaned. But you indulged him once he’d taken his shirt off, your eyes directly tracing the spattering of indigo chest hair that lead a thin trail to his naval, the patch at his waist thickening as it disappeared below his pants. Slowly, you lowered yourself until you were sat on his chest. The slickness that spread on his chest from your cunt caused Shinsou to moan as his hands wrapped around your thighs once more, spreading you so he was face to face with that precious cunt he called his. “Gonna make you feel real good, baby.” he said and pulled you forward so that your thighs were pressed in against either side of his head. When he spoke next, the breath he exhaled was right against your heat. “The world’s prettiest cunt, all mine...” Shinsou’s chuckle had you fisting your hands. “One thing I won’t share...”

And then he dived in, having dessert before he’d even had dinner. He’d been aching to get his mouth on your cunt since he’d seen that swollen mound of the hero suit you’d tried on. Now that he had it, he was going to ravage you until you were begging him to stop. His nose pressed in against your mouth, hands spreading your legs further as he lapped noisily against your wet pussy. You were so wet for him already, his tongue lapping up those juices only spurred you to drip more. He was always sloppy when he ate you out, simply because Shinsou wanted to have as much of you on him as possible. You tasted like honey, like a lazy Sunday morning, like the feeling of victory. He slurped and suckled, his teeth grazing over your clit as you found the rhythm of his tongue and started rocking against him. Soon enough the sounds that filled your bedroom were the wet, sloppy noises of Shinsou eating you out, and you whispering his name like a prayer as he suckled on your clit with feral need. His face was slick with your silk glaze, running down his chin and onto his neck, the floor underneath him. But frankly, he didn’t give a fuck. Your thighs had done what he’d hoped they would, squeezing and flexing against his head as he played with and teased your clit. Shinsou could hardly breathe, but if this was how he was supposed to go, he certainly didn’t mind.

He’d started to flick and circle, traced his tongue around your bundle of nerves faster, and you started to ride his face harder. It was a chase to your orgasm, and just before you reached that finish line, he stopped. A desperate whine escaped you, writhing in an attempt to get back on his tongue and finish out your eye. Except, Shinsou was hiking one leg over his shoulder so that you were off his chest entirely. You whined once more, your core throbbing at how wet his face was. “You taste like fucking heaven...” he groaned as he wiped his fingers over his face, coating his hand in all your silk. Then, he undid the button of his pants, the zipper. And as you adjusted yourself with legs spread, you saw the brilliant pink tip of his cock, dripping pre-cum as he sprung free. You whimpered, desperate to be full once more and to reach your orgasm. Shinsou eyed you up, taking the wetness of your slick from his face in his hand and pumping himself as he came to rest between your thighs once more.

“I want to cum,” you groaned as you reached out, fingers ghosting through the curls of the violet hair around the base of his cock. Shinsou pried your fingers away, returning it to where it’d been beside your head.

“I’m gonna let you, kitten.” he said, as he continued to coat himself in your silken drip. First, he wanted to take a mental picture of how fucking good you looked on the floor. Hair fanned out around your head, your cheeks flushed, eyes blown wide with lust. The rapid rise and fall of your chest, your divine breasts moving with each movement. On your back, you were subject to his mercy. The only plan Shinsou had was to make you cum, to make you realize how fucking incredible you were. “You feel good for me?” he asked as he pulled you close to him by the legs, leaning over so that he could hike them up over his shoulders.

You nodded, any of the previous doubts about your body and how you looked quieted as you watched Shinsou turn his head to the side and nip at your ankle. “You’re so fucking perfect. These fucking legs drive me wild every time, kitten.” You felt Shinsou pressed up against the entrance of your cunt, feeling him leak onto your slip. “I don’t ever want you to feel bad about yourself when you look so good.” He was slow as he pushed into you, feeling the stretch around his cock as you moaned out his name. “Your body is fucking perfect,” he said through gritted teeth as he propped himself up on his forearms, leaned in over you so that violet hair hung over your face. Once he started thrusting, he was slow, hitting deep against your walls.

“This tummy is so fucking beautiful,” he groaned as your walls clamped around him once he picked up pace. “Feels so fuckin-nngh,” he sputtered, your feet locked behind his neck. “So good to rest on.” His pace quickened again, purple shaded eyes dropping to your breasts as they bounced in time with his thrusts. “These fucking breasts,” he grunted. You whimpered as you felt that mounting wave of your high start to climb again. “So fucking hypnotizing to watch while I fuck you,” he hissed, your hands braced against his muscled biceps as his pace started to turn sloppy. Your nails dug in, and Shinsou tossed his head back as he hit the final turn.

When he looked back down at you, there was carnal need in his eyes. “These fucking lips,” he moaned, leaning down to capture your mouth in a sloppy, wet kiss that left behind traces of your cunt. “I can’t get enough, kitten...” His tongue ravaged the rows of your teeth, lapped against your tongue as he fought to taste every part of you could. You were at the climax of that wave mounted in your heat, and you moaned his name, the only indicator he needed of to hurry the fuck up. He started to fuck harder into you to the point where bruises were likely to blossom against where his skin slapped against yours. “That’s it, kitten, that’s it.” he cooed, listening to the mewls falling past your lips as you started to spill over, the wet sound of sex filling the room louder than it had been.

Shinsou leaned back just slightly and returned his hand to your clit, the final push you needed as he paid it loving attention. You came undone around his cock and thumb, the shuddering orgasm ripping through you as you cried out his name. Your legs spasmed, squeezing against once more as he followed after you moments later, spilling hot ribbons of cum inside you. He continued to thrust after he’d come, emptying whatever remains he had until he was empty and spent. Breathless, Shinsou flopped against your chest. His head rested against your breast, moving in time with your rapid breaths that mirrored his own. His thumbs traced loving circles over your hips, his cock soft inside you but Shinsou not wanting to leave you aching and empty of him just yet. “That’s my good girl,” he rasped, swallowing heavily.

Your hands raked through the thick wave of indigo hair, gentle as you combed through it. Words and thoughts were out of your functionality for a passage of time, but when you finally remembered how to do both, you asked a simple question. One that you really already knew the answer to, no longer abashed about how it hugged the curves of your body, just another indicator that you were human. After how much attention Shinsou had dedicated to your body, you almost felt silly for having felt insecure to begin with. “The black suit?”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to the breast opposite the one he was slumped on. Shinsou turned his head slightly so that he could look at you, admire all that you were. And what you were to him was the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life making feel that good about herself, about her place in the world. However he had to do that, he would. It was only right because you had supported him through so much and had never asked for anything in return. You were the only person who had ever looked at him like he was normal, like he wasn’t some type of freak. And he’d done the same for you when you’d both attended UA. As far as he was concerned, the only forever he needed was right there, pressed up against his naked body. Shinsou’s grin was lopsided and he nodded. “The black one.”

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proxylynn · 3 years

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Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #27

Chapter 27: Burden

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

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[A quick recap]

My melancholy blinds me to my current surroundings. I only come out of it once a spotlight hits me.

"The hell...?"

Things look funny. No doubt it's a setup by Mettaton. But I'm unsure what this act is. I mean, it looks like a receptionist's waiting room. A desk and some random chairs.

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTS...!"

Mettaton zips in wearing a red suit and shoves me in a chair as he takes center stage.

"FIRST AND FOREMOST, WE HERE AT MTTTV WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF ME OVER THE COURSE OF THE PROGRAM. DUE TO THE LACK PREP WORK WITH MY COSTAR HERE, WE SADLY HAD TO FORGO A THRILLING ACT BACK IN LEVEL TWO INVOLVING HUNDREDS OF EXPLOSIVES!!"

I so freaking called it. I should let him have his moment...Nah!

"I thought you said that act was shit anyway?"

He extends an arm to cover my mouth.

"FORGIVE HER. SHE'S LOST A LOT OF BLOOD AND NOT ALL THERE MENTALLY."

I leer at him flatly.

"BUT...DARLING HERE IS GOING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH US ALL RIGHT NOW. IT'S TIME TO ANSWER SOME BURNING QUESTIONS."

I'm so confused as he lets go and leaps onto the desk, posing dramatically.

"IT'S TIME FOR..."

A large neon sign shaped like him drops from the ceiling.

"BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL WITH A KILLER ROBOT! THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOSTED BY YOURS TRULY."

Huh. Not a bad title.

"I thought you were working on a courtroom trial program?"

He scoots to now sit behind the desk.

"UNFORTUNATELY, WHILE I DO HAVE THE FUNDS, I DON'T HAVE AVAILABLE WORKERS TO MAKE SUCH A SET. SO...WE'RE DOING THIS INSTEAD."

"Heh...Must be hard to meet your expectations."

"DARLING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA."

A tense dramatic score plays.

"SO, DARLING...ARE YOU READY TO TELL ME EVERYTHING?"

Ah. I see now. Fine, Metta, have it your way. Just be careful what you wish for. You may not like it. Now don't get me wrong. I know my limits. I'm not about to tell him EVERYTHING. I'm not that stupid. But if he wants truth, he's going to get a version that's missing some characters and other junk.

"As you wish. You wanna know the truth? You want to scar the entire Underground? Sure. Why not. What else do I have to lose at this point since you exposed me? So congratulations! I hope you like the prize you've been longing to get. Because I sure as hell don't."

Let the show commence.

[Now our featured presentation]

"RIIIIGHT...ANYWAY...WHY NOT INTRODUCE YOURSELF. LET THE UNDERGROUND KNOW JUST A BIT ABOUT YOU."

I wave with a stupid grin to where I think a camera is.

"Howdy, monsters of the Underground. My name is Lynsie. Last I checked, I'm 5'8'', twenty eights years old, born November 7th, am a Scorpio, blood type A+, and enjoy long naps by the beach."

Am I introducing myself or recording a dumb dating profile video?

Mettaton whips out some cards from his desk.

"REALLY? YOU'RE THAT OLD? HUH."

"Yeah. Why?"

"YOU LOOK OLDER THAN THAT."

I sneer.

"It's the raccoon eyes. Insomnia is a hell of a slap to the face."

"THAT ASIDE...HOW ARE YOU FEELING? YOU'VE BEEN THROUGH A LOT SINCE THIS PROGRAM STARTED."

"I'm grateful to have this reprieve. It's nice to not be flung into fight after fight for a moment. I don't like fighting. I'd much rather avoid any conflict if able."

"SUCH A KIND GIRL. ARE ALL HUMANS THESE DAYS LIKE YOU?"

I eye him funny.

"WHAT?"

"Do mean 'kind' or 'stupid'? Because every monster has called me a fool for being nice."

"STUPID IS A STRONG WORD. NAIVE IS MORE LIKE IT."

I rumble lowly in my seat.

"But...To answer you properly, no. Not all humans are like me. Or...I'm not like most humans."

"OOOOH~, SUCH AN AMBIGUOUS ANSWER. FINE THEN, IF YOU'RE GOING TO BE LIKE THAT, I'LL HAVE TO BE MORE BLUNT IN MY QUESTIONS. LET'S SEE..."

He flips through some of his cards.

"OH! HERE'S ONE...HOW DID YOU COME TO FIND YOURSELF IN THE UNDERGROUND?"

Blunt? I'll give you blunt.

"Easy. I tried to kill myself."

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

The mood in the room sours as the human continues.

"Yep. You see, Mt. Ebott has a reputation, a legend dating back lord knows how long, that those who climb the mountain never return. This has made it a popular place to die. Not as bad as the literal 'Suicide Forest' of Japan, but it does the job okay."

Mettaton's screen blacks out.

"Don't give me that look. You wanted this. You wanted the truth. So take it. Take the blunt no holds bar truth of the matter. And you know what else? It wasn't the first time either. I can think of at least five other attempts. Each more pathetic than the last. But, if memory serves me right, I do believe my very first try was when I was still so very small. Somewhere around age six to eight. I had learned that apple seeds contain cyanide, a very toxic poison. Of course, there's not a heck of a lot in a single seed, but if you ingest a lot...well...Kid me didn't know how many were needed. Just that it was deadly. As you can see, I didn't have enough and I didn't try that form of suicide again. I don't try the same kind twice. I'm too fearful of messing things up the second time. What if it only partly works and I end up surviving? Heh...Trying to end it all only to live but in even worse condition? The irony would be such a hilarious joke. Then again, that's my life in a nutshell. One big cruel unrelenting joke."

Toriel's eyes water. She knew her child had her demons, but she knew not just how far back they spawned. Mettaton's screen relights.

"I...I WASN'T EXPECTING..."

"Yeah, no one does. No one expects me to be so dark. But what can I say? I do a damn good job hiding it."

"BUT...WHY THOUGH? WHAT WOULD MAKE A CHILD THAT BENT ON KILLING THEMSELVES?"

She takes a deep breath and lounges back in her chair.

"You ever feel guilty for something? Something you have no idea why you should feel that way for but you just do?"

She runs her hands over her face.

"I don't remember why I asked her that question. Maybe I was just morbidly curious. I knew my siblings were unexpected pregnancies. The eldest never came to be, so whether it was a boy or girl is forever unknown. My brother came about in the randomness of my mom hooking up with my dad. She married my dad because, well, she did like him but also so that he wouldn't be deported once his school visa ran out. He and his family escaped their homeland to start a new life...but did so illegally. Even on the surface, there's no true freedom. Four years into the marriage, I was born. Things only seemed to spiral from there. Dad would stay out drinking. Mom would be pissed. Bro and I would hide in my room and try to keep the fighting out. Mom gave up on him, someone else charmed her heart and would later be the father of my sister. Eight years into this world and they divorce and months later sis is born. She was unknown and with how old mom was at the time, she now suffers from spontaneous seizures."

The girl looks up in thought.

"So a few years ago, I asked mom...Was I unplanned like they were? Was I another surprise baby?"

She looks back down, her face holding a more cold expression.

"No, she told me. You were the only planned one. ...I should've stopped there. *sigh* I then asked...Why? She answered..."

Emotion leaves her.

"We had you in the hopes that you'd fix our marriage."

Silence. Dead silence.

"So much pressure. And to put that on a babe? How was I supposed to solve your problems? How is it my fault you couldn't stand each other when things got rough?! How is a kid supposed to make sure you don't start taking drugs and acquire sixteen felonies?! How is it my job to make sure you don't regret loving someone else?! How is that fair?! Why not take some fucking responsibility for once in your god damn life?!"

She becomes irate, grabbing one of the chairs and beating it into another one till both are useless before ending with a guttural roar that pains the throat in its harshness.

Toriel recalls similar words from her not long after they became close and she found her.

"Child? You're trembling. Is everything all right? Child, please. Just speak to me. Tell me what's wrong."

"I hate you! I hate all of you! You fucking pieces of shit! Why?! Why is it so hard for any of you to care?! I've been missing for days or weeks and none of you care! *sobs* Did you ever love me?! Why did you even bother having me if you don't even care that I'm gone?! *bawling* Why? Why? Someone tell me why...please..."

"I know this isn't the most pleasant of times to ask...But since we've come to know more about each other, I have been curious about something. The humans that fall down here...They tend to not fall down for the happiest of reasons. If it is not too painful...Can you share with me your reason? What made you come to a cursed mountain where none ever return from?"

"*hard sniffling* They used to care. I used to know what it was like to know others cared. I can't remember when they started to pull away. When I became invisible. I just want to know why. Was it something I did? Did I do something wrong? Did I not make them proud? I thought I did everything right. I was a good girl. *voice cracking* I'm a good girl. Aren't I?"

Even Grillby had memories of such talk pop into his head.

"You are an amazing person. You live in his cold place and open this bar to every sad face willing to cast aside their mean spirits for spirits of another kind. You put up with a lot of nonsense, a good bit came from me today, and I'm sorry about that."

"Where is all this coming from?"

"I'm not done. You have been nothing but nice to me. And doing that isn't easy in this world we live in. Since meeting you, you've shown me more kindness than I got from my own family, and this is only our second meeting. Heh, how pathetic is that? I fell into the Underground trying to die, only to end up wanting to live because of the few that showed me any decency. And for that, I give you my thanks."

"Pussycat?"

"I don't know if it was the punch or I'm just in a weird mood. I'm probably making things awkward. No one wants to hear someone ramble about lame junk when at a bar. This is a place people go to forget things. I know I've got a lot I want to forget. Like the three or four times I ran away from home but never had a plan and always had the cops take me back. Or the time I cussed out my grandma because I thought she lost my dog when it turned out my mom had dumped the pup at a shelter and told me it escaped. Or the suicide attempts..."

"Attempts?"

"Oh yeah, there was more than one. Hard to believe, but I'm a very sad person. No, that's being too nice. Depressed is more accurate. 90% of the smiles you see me do are fake. Just part of the mask I wear to hide how truly miserable I really am."

"God, I hate myself. I'm a sad pathetic mess."

Sans now gets a clearer picture of the baggage weighing on her.

"oh! and don't forget, you're making dinner. pap only let that slide because you were practically dead. so don't get any ideas thinking you can get out of it."

"Did you just really say that?!"

"the hell is your problem?"

"Did you really just insinuate she'd harm herself?"

"i dunno...maybe?"

"You can't say that kind of stuff to her!"

"why not?"

"You...You don't know how she came to the Underground, do you?"

"she told me that she fell."

"I'm not comfortable telling you this, seeing as she hasn't and I don't think it's my place, but I can't let you say idiotic things like that."

"okay, weed, you have intrigued me. if she didn't fall, then how did she get here?"

"Well...Falling is how she came to the Underground. But...She didn't fall from an accident."

"you're telling me she..."

"She fell on purpose. She...was trying to die. I don't know about her life on the surface. She doesn't tell anyone about that stuff, not even Mom. But I have been with her since the start and I can tell...Under all that toughness and pass the goofy dork innards...She's very sad deep down."

And that moment that recently happened at Grilbby's.

"enough with the act! you act all calm, with your little quips and remarks. making you look so well put together. but i know better. i know you're just as messed up as the rest of us. so why don't you get off your high horse and get out of my life!"

"You're right. This is an act. Every day, I wake up and I pretend to be this way. To play this role of the girl that never gives in and can smile through it all. I put on my mask and face this world as best that I can. But inside I'm dying. I'm being crushed by insecurities, doubt, depression, and so much negativity that I let myself fall into a pit hoping for the sweet embrace of death. I have attempted to end my life a good handful of times. Each more pathetic than the last. Even now, I'm just a few triggers shy of crumbling into a blubbering mass of tears. Yet there are few things that keep me from doing those bad things now that I'm here. And if putting on this act keeps me in, relative, ease...Then yeah. I'm gonna pretend my ass off that all is fine with me. Because I'm a fucking moron that is too afraid to open up to those closest to me and ask for help!"

Papyrus, of course, takes all this in as vital information he could use against the human. Her emotional and mental instability can be used to manipulate her. Grooming her to be more obedient to his will.

"I'm sorry."

"DAMN RIGHT YOU'RE SORRY."

"No...I mean, I'm sorry for earlier. It was wrong for me to hit you. You just...*sigh* How do I say this without sound like a dweeb?"

"JUST...SAY WHAT YOU WANT TO SAY. DON'T ALTER YOUR WORDS. THEY LOSE IMPACT THAT WAY."

"If that's true, then don't make a big deal out of this."

"W-WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"I am an emotional wreck and going through so much internal bullshit that it ain't funny. So know that the stupid things I'm about to say are true because this is making me feel very vulnerable and uncomfortable which I think you feel too."

By now the human was breathing heavily over the shattered remains of once recognizable objects, slowly regaining her composure. She stares at the mess for some time. Mettaton doesn't even try to do anything that could get her attention while in such a state. Eventually, she drops the bits in her hands and takes a seat in the chair she spared. Slumping in remorse and holding her face.

"I'm sorry. That...That was shameful. I'll pay you back for the damage."

"DO YOU NEED A MOMENT?"

She rubs her eyes of faint moisture.

"N-No...No. I'm fine. That...That was just a moment of venting weakness. I normally cry this crap out of my system. But...I'm so sick of crying. Yet...That felt good though. So much pent-up bullshit I don't or can't let out was just dropped like weights off my back. ...Does this count as therapy? Because this feels better than that child physiologist mom sent me to after I ran away...the first time."

"SOUND LIKE YOU DON'T CARE FOR YOUR PARENTS."

"You'd think that, but no. Don't get me wrong. I love my parents. They could've been far worse even with the flaws I've mentioned. Dad never missed work and made sure bills could be paid. Mom always made sure we could eat even if it meant she didn't and often broke the law to do so."

Her head lolls back as she lounges.

"It's easier to dwell in the negatives than the positives growing up. It can make for a bitter soul. This is just the tip of a massive iceberg, there is so much more crap hidden below. But now is neither the time nor place to dive deeper into those murky waters. I'll drown if I stay under too long. *sigh* I don't hate them for the life they brought me into. I'm just...disappointed. Disappointed by the choices they made and things they expected to get from them. Disappointed in myself for allowing all that to have so much of a hold on me. Disappointed...So very disappointed...*long drawn out groan* Could we please leave the personal questions for now?"

"VERY WELL."

He flips through the cards.

"YOU'VE BEEN IN THE UNDERGROUND FOR SOME TIME NOW. HOW HAS THAT BEEN? WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE A HUMAN AMONG MONSTERS?"

This gets their attention. The human knows better than to tell all. But she's so far been extremely open. They hoped she was of sound mind enough to remember to keep some secrets.

"Even after all the attempted murder...I prefer monsters to humans. Because at least once the fighting is over, things can be somewhat normal. It's like 'hey, I know I just tried to kill you, but do you wanna maybe hang out for a bit?' and then that happens. It blows my mind how there's no animosity or spite afterward. After Humans fight with each other there's no calm, no peace of it being over, hell, a war might break out if it was bad enough. You never know how bad someone feels after and if the grudge they carry will make them go to extreme measures to make them feel better. Well...Except for the Irish. Those lads can tussle and then be all chummy after like it was a bonding experience. Nice folk. Always fancied them. Heh...Kinda like Monsters. A tough outside but nice inside. Maybe that's one of the reasons they were persecuted too. ...God, my kind is trash. All it knows is hate. We even hate ourselves. And one day...That hate will be the end of us."

She moves some hair from her face. A small smile coming to her.

"Moments like this...It's nice. Brief pauses of reflection and repose. Typically I end up doing this kind of thing in my head or I talk to myself. Funny how that works, the mind I mean. It is a self-aware entity in itself that can be both you and not you at the same time yet won't confuse itself by doing so. Probably why the imagination is such vital part of it. *pause* Heh...My bad. Lost myself for a moment. Back on point...Sure, this all began with you nearly killing me and it's probably just leading up to something else. Something good or bad. Yet till that happens...This is nice."

"SPEAKING OF NICE...YOUR LV HASN'T GONE UP FROM ITS BASE LEVEL. WE'VE SEEN YOU GO INTO FIGHTS, SO IT'S NOT THAT YOU'VE AVOIDED THEM COMPLETELY."

"As I've said...I don't like fighting."

"YOU MUST BE AWARE THAT PACIFISUM IS NOT A RECOMMENDED OR AN EASY THING TO DO IN THE UNDERGROUND. IS IT HARD BEING NICE FOR YOU DOWN HERE?"

"Is it hard for a fish to swim or bird to fly? Nice is my default. I don't have it in me to be genuinely mean. I can be rude or even a bitch, but that's only if that was how I was treated first. The real hard part about it is getting others to understand this niceness is real. Some pick it up with no trouble. But others are difficult. Going so far as to think I'm trying to lull them into a false sense of safety as part of an evil human trap. Can you believe that?"

Sans eyes Papyrus who rolls his sockets at his brother, both knowing damn well she meant him.

"EVEN SO, HAS THERE BEEN A TIME WHERE YOU WANTED TO FIGHT BACK? SURELY EVEN I PROBABLY INCURRED SOME IRE FROM YOU?"

She looks at the mechanical machination with a mix of confusion and annoyance.

"Ire is a strong word. True, I'm not happy about this situation. Exposing me for ratings. One of your goons bashing me over the head. The creepy stalking behavior by watching me through cameras. The needless puzzles and fighting. All of it wasn't necessary."

"I DISAGREE. EVERY BIT WAS COMPLETELY NECESSARY."

"Bull crap."

"NOW NOW, LET ME EXPLAIN. REGARDLESS OF YOUR INTENTIONS, YOU HAVE TO AGREE THAT YOU BEING HUMAN DOES CALL FOR CERTAIN MEASURES TO BE TAKEN. HUMANS DEAL PHYSICAL DAMAGE AND MONSTERS ARE WEAK TO SUCH ATTACKS."

"I know that. Get to your point, Metta."

"MY POINT? VERY WELL. MY DATABASE CONTAINS THE COLLECTED INFORMATION WE'VE GATHERED FROM THE PREVIOUS HUMANS THAT CAME BEFORE YOU. EACH WEAKER AND WEAKER AS TIME PASSED. YOU, ON THE OTHER HAND, HAVE BEEN DISPLAYING STRANGE ABILITIES..."

A monitor comes down, displaying the human in her earlier distress and giving off that strange energy.

"NOT TO MENTION YOUR SOUL HAS BEEN CHANGING IT'S COLOR WITHOUT MAGIC INFLUENCE."

The monitor shows the many different colors her soul was throughout the show.

"SO, DARLING, AS YOU CAN SEE EVERYTHING HAS BEEN COMPLETELY NECESSARY. EVERY LITTLE OBSTACLE ALLOWED FOR MORE OF YOUR UNKNOWNS TO BE REVEALED. HOWEVER..."

The monitor goes back up.

"I GET THE FEELING YOU'RE STILL HIDING SOMETHING."

She glares at the robot.

"I repeat, this wasn't necessary. All you needed to do was ask."

She sits up straight and focuses. Her soul emerges...it is a deep dull blue.

"I don't know everything. Seeing as this whole 'soul' thing isn't known on the surface anymore. To use now, the soul is an intangible thing. It leaves when we die and does whatever since no one truly knows what happens after death. But...I do know my soul isn't normal. Not normal from what I've learned here anyway. I possess ten traits for which my soul can become."

Shock smacks them. Even Mettaton spits oil from some port.

"T-TEN?!"

She nods.

"Ten traits. Ten colors. Nine of which are completely fine."

Her breathing falters as she concentrates harder, forcing the soul to change color to her will.

"Blue, integrity. Cyan, patience. Green, kindness. Pink, passion. Purple, perseverance. Orange, bravery. Red, determination. Yellow, justice. White, hope. ...These are my main traits. The nine that make up my core personality. Yet...There is one, the last one, that I will not show you. No matter what."

A question mark appears on Mettaton's screen. Toriel and Sans know full well which one she means.

"WON'T SHOW? HOW COME?"

"That soul is too dangerous. One that I can't control. The black soul of relentlessness."

Papyrus sockets widen. Sans wasn't making it up after all.

"IF YOU TRULY EXPECT ME TO BUY INTO THIS BLACK SOUL NONSENSE THAN YOU BETTER FIND A WAY TO PROVE TO ME THAT IT'S REAL!"

"and how do you expect me to do that? have it triggered and let her kill half the town?"

"OF COURSE NOT! SHE'D NEVER GET THAT FAR INTO SUCH A SPREE ONCE I SLAY HER."

"YOU DON'T THINK I CAN KILL HER?"

"her? sure, you'd kill her no problem. she'd probably let you do it if things got really bad. but the black soul? that's a different story all together."

"YOU TALK AS THOUGH YOU'VE SEEN THIS 'BLACK SOUL' IN ACTION."

"..."

"YOU HAVE, HAVEN'T YOU?"

"that thing isn't something you want to mess with. don't go after something you can't handle."

"YOU DARE THINK THAT PITIFUL CREATURE CAN HARM ME?!"

"no! i don't think it would harm you! i know it would kill you!"

"I have no will over that trait. It consumes me utterly. Coldly targeting anything and everything as a threat, then calculatingly eliminating victims brutally with no remorse by any means. Pain doesn't phase it. It has no fear. But I do. I fear this soul. I fear becoming that...that thing. That beast."

The robot's screen blips.

"YOU MAKE IT SOUND TERRIBLE. IF IT'S AS BAD AS YOU SAY, HOW HASN'T YOUR LV INCREASED? SURELY A MURDEROUS SOUL LIKE THAT WOULD HAVE A BODY COUNT ATTACHED TO IT?"

"I have thankfully been taken out of that state when it happens. My brother down here, the flower you may have seen me with, he's the one that saves me. I don't know how he does it as I only barely register what happens when the Black Soul is in control. But it's one of the reasons why we stay together. He doesn't want to die and I don't want to hurt anyone, so it's a good deal for us both."

"AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT TRIGGERS SUCH A STATE TO HAPPEN?"

"I'm not 100% sure but I have a theory. The worst of times. Moments when I lose all hope or can't take the pain. Mentally and/or physically. It takes over when I can't deal with things. And I guess it tries to 'solve' the problem...by getting rid of it."

Her demeanor is becoming more unsettled as she continues.

"I...I normally am unwilling to share this information. I don't like being personal with strangers. But since this is a live broadcast, and I've basically torn open a can of worms full of my emo baggage, I want this to be known. I need others to understand the danger. Because you all seem to view me as an easy kill. The dumb nice human that doesn't fight back. It'll be easy to get her soul. Hell, if it weren't for the black trait, I'd have given this thing to you guys ages ago. But it's not worth it. There's no point going to the surface, otherwise I'd be more inclined to leave and be subjected to the crap I deal with. And trust me...You don't want to know what I deal with."

Her eyes get dark and her expression serious to the point it's unnerving.

"The death that can possibly happen if the black soul activates and isn't stopped could be limitless. As the bearer of this curse, I remain here. Not because I see less harm if it triggers around monster, hell no. I trust my death to you because I have faith in monster kind being able to handle it. It's because I don't want to risk it being weaponized by humanity. Magic...REAL magic like this is gone from the surface. If it were to be discovered now...Magic will be coveted like any other valuable resource. Blood and dust will be spilled over ownership. The experiments to find a better means of harvesting it, the torture, the suffering, the endless cycle of hate feeding upon the lack of morality. I have no doubt monsters wouldn't even be seen as people. We've done it to different creeds of humanity throughout history, hell we still do it. I...I don't want that for Monsters. Part of me is saying I'm overthinking it, but I can't that optimistic side of me knowing all the fucked up shit Humans do. I don't want you guys to suffer. I don't want to cause harm. I don't want to see any more death! Please!!"

Her eyes are watering and her body trembling.

"I...I-I hate this feeling. This h-helplessness. I'm caged. I'm useless. I'm nothing on the surface. I'm a danger underground. I'm my own worst enemy and I don't know how to fight. *struggling* Why? Why didn't the fall kill me? Why can't I just die? Why am I so weak? I can't even bleed to death!"

She's a mess, weeping into her gloved hands. But Mettaton dismisses this display and keeps going.

"WEAK? YOU SELL YOURSELF SHORT. CLAWING INTO YOUR OWN BODY ISN'T A VERY WEAK THING AT ALL. COME TO THINK OF IT...IN YOUR ENCOUNTER WITH MUFFET, YOU TOLD HER WHY YOU DID IT. CARE TO EXPLAIN WHAT YOU MEANT?"

A recording is played.

["I have just spent an ungodly amount of time trapped in that elevator over there having my soul violated by people that don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality. I have clawed my skin off to stop feeling their hands on me."]

Her face has the look of someone biting their tongue fairly hard to stay in control.

"What's to explain? I meant what I said and said what I meant."

"YOU'RE AVOIDING THE QUESTION, DARLING."

"No. You're refusing the answer."

"YOU SAID YOU'D TELL THE TRUTH!"

"I am!"

Agitation mounts.

"BULLSHIT! HOW THE HELL CAN ANYONE BELIEVE THAT?"

"I don't give a crap if you believe me or not! You weren't the one there!"

"JUST TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!"

"It doesn't matter! You can't do anything about it! No one can! You can't stop people that break the laws of reality!"

Sans didn't like what he was hearing. And none of them liked that her still exposed soul was sparking with that strange energy.

"THERE ARE NO PEOPLE LIKE THAT!"

"How would you know?!"

"IF EVEN A FLY FARTS ANYWHERE IN THE UNDERGROUND, I KNOW ABOUT IT. IF ANYONE WITH ABILITIES LIKE THAT WERE HERE, THEY WOULDN'T BE UNKNOWN FOR VERY LONG."

"Did you not hear my words? They don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality! You can't find people that are outside time and space, you fucking idiot!"

"I'M THE IDIOT?! DO YOU NOT HEAR YOURSELF?! OUTSIDE TIME AND SPACE?! YOU CAN'T EVEN MAKE A CONVINCING LIE!"

"I'm not lying, you insufferable ego-maniacal narcissistic jackass!"

"TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED!!"

"I did! Accept the fact there is shit in life you can't fathom or comprehend yet is true! Like Bigfoot, life on other planets, or stigmata! Unexplained phenomenons are the backbones of reality! Deal with it!"

"THAT'S NOT AN UNEXPLAINED PHENOMENON! THAT'S A PURE IMPROBABLE IMMPOSSIBLITY!"

"By who's rule?! Are you God?! Do you know every infallible law the universe runs on?! No! You know nothing! No one does! So stop digging for shit that isn't there before something bad happens!"

"THEN GIVE ME A REAL ANSWER!"

"Stop...Please stop!"

"DARLING..."

"I s̷ái͟d͝ s̷t̢̛o̧͘p̀͟!̵̕͜!̧"

A surge of energy bursts from her soul, the flash whites out the screen and hurts the eyes. While blinded they all can hear the garbled sounds of pain and the sudden thud of weight hitting the floor. Their sight comes back to see the human writhing on the ground and gripping her soul, teeth bared in restrained growling.

"DARLING?"

She struggles to make her body move. Just slightly getting her head off the floor.

"Th͜i͞s͠...͜T́h̴i̵s̸ ̛įs ̕y̕our ̛f́aul͝t͏..̢.̴I͜ ͟a͡ske͝d ͠y̕o͏u t̷o͜ ͜s̛top..̢.̵"

The energy courses from her soul over her form, a brighter than normal light emanates from her clutched soul. She weakly pulls herself up to be supported by her free arm and the reason for the light is made clear, a crack has marred her soul. But that is far from the worst part. Sans spots it before Toriel but she's the one that points it out.

"Oh no!"

"What's wrong?"

"The darkness!"

Indeed. Black began to appear in the human's heart. The darkness corrupting the white light and faintly leaking out of the crack. The girl feels this. Panic flashes in her eyes but she's in no condition to handle so much on top of what has already happened.

"Wh̸en̢ wil̡l҉ ̛yo͡u̶ le͘ar͜n.͞..̡Y͘ou ̴fuc̀kín͜g id̴iot.̸..W͢hén wil̡l yoų ́a̶l̢l͜ léar͘n that͏ ̵y͘our act̵i҉o͞ns ͏ha͡v̛e ͘co͡n̴seq͘uenc͘e̶s͘?͘!"

The distortion. The off tone. The malice that seeped out. Perhaps it was enough proof for the automaton to believe her earlier words. For Mettaton seems to be distracted one second and then takes it all seriously the next. One of his hands snakes under his desk and the next thing to happen is the floor beneath the human opens up, dropping her into the unknown. Glitched roaring echoes as she plummets. A sickening crash leads into dead silence.

"WELL...THAT WAS INTERESTING."

His nonchalance about the whole thing is upsetting.

"SADLY, MY CO-STAR SEEMS TO BE HAVING A BIT OF TROUBLE. NOT EVERYONE CAN HANDLE THE STRESS OF BEING IN THE SPOTLIGHT, LIKE MOI."

His flamboyance is rubbing them the wrong way.

"HOWEVER, DESPITE HER TEMPER TANTRUM AND LACK OF COOPERATION, I WILL ASSURE YOU ALL SHE IS NOT DEAD. I MERELY GAVE HER THE SMALL BREAK THAT SHE CLEARLY NEEDED."

It's likely that the break involved her bones or some body part.

"BUT...I CAN GIVE YOU ALL SOMETHING TO LOOK FORWARD TO...THIS WAS THE LAST PRELEWD ACT. THE NEXT TIME YOU SEE US TOGETHER, IT WILL BE FOR THE MAIN EVENT. THE FINAL BATTLE APPROACHES, MY ENCOURAGABLE VIEWERS. DO NOT MISS OUT ON THIS HISTORICAL MAKE OR BREAK MOMENT."

The show shifts into a commercial break.

Toriel begins shaking. She can't deal with this much longer. Grillby does what he can to give her support, but he too has much on his mind. His pussycat unloaded a TON of things and a lot of it was incredibly concerning. Papyrus ushers his brother away from the other two as not to be overheard.

"SO...HOW LONG?"

Sans looks at him funny.

"uh...what?"

"HOW LONG WERE THE BOTH OF YOU GOING TO HIDE THIS PART OF THE SECRET FROM ME?"

"um...which part?"

"THAT POWER. SHE HAS TEN TRAITS, SANS. JUST HOW STRONG IS THAT GIRL?"

Sans scratches his skull.

"i honestly don't know, pap. i didn't even know she had that many. my main worry was always the black trait, so i never asked about others."

Papyrus folds his arms and shuts his eyes in thought.

"i swear, i ain't lying to ya."

"I KNOW YOU'RE NOT."

"then...what's wrong?"

"*HUFF* I DON'T LIKE THIS. I DON'T LIKE THE IDEA OF THAT WEAKLING BEING POWERFUL."

His eyes open but look at nothing.

"I SHOULD'VE KNOWN SOMETHING WAS OFF THAT NIGHT...THAT PUNCH...SHE WAS HOLDING BACK SO MUCH..."

Papyrus clenches his fists into tight balls of rage.

"THAT BITCH."

"ya know she didn't want to hurt ya."

"THAT'S THE THING. SHE THOUGHT SHE COULD HURT ME. HOW WEAK DOES SHE THINK I AM? THAT'S WHAT'S PISSING ME OFF MORE THAN ANYTHING RIGHT NOW."

Sans sighs. One day his brother will taste humble pie and not like it.

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne finishes off her sixth bowel of ramen and looks at Alphys.

"Well...That wasn't how I thought it was going to end. Was it really necessary to tell him to drop her?"

Alphys takes a few more notes and ponders.

"Would you rather there be no main event? Besides..."

She adjusts her glasses.

"If what the human said is true, then the Black Soul being triggered in an open area would result in mass casualties. The zone in which the ending will be shot in is, for the most part, closed and under my remote control. So even in the event of something going wrong, which the odds of such are highly unlikely, then any and all threats can be dealt with in an optimum manner."

Undyne nods.

"I guess that makes sense. Still...I don't what I saw. There was real fear in the human's eyes."

"Good. She should be afraid. She should be very afraid of what's to come."

"And what's that?"

"That would be spoilers."

"Damn it. *sigh* A human soul with ten traits...Sounds tough. I wanna fight it!"

"It does raise a lot of questions. One, in particular, is on my mind."

"What's that?"

"If a human soul, deprived of magic, possesses ten traits and begins gaining magic...What will happen when it attains 100% magic?"

A cold chill runs through the captain.

[HOTLAND: SOMEWHERE ON LEVEL 3]

I am getting so sick of this crap. Why can't I just die at this point?

"*muffled* Lynsie?"

The voice and light jostling is bringing me back to consciousness. Damn it. Here I go again.

My eyes weakly open to the sight of dirt and rock. Just an inch away from losing the ability to see. Like I need a handicap in all this.

"Lynsie? Are you okay?"

Ah, Flowey. It's about time we met back up.

"*groan* H-Hey, bro. I missed you."

He smiles sadly.

"Are you okay? Can you move?"

I roll over on my back and check myself.

[HP ██████████ 10/40]

[HEARTBREAK level ONE in effect]

I figured that's what happened. No wonder the Black Soul was triggering. Thank goodness for the fall knocking my ass out or things would've gone bad fast.

"I think I'll be okay. Sore, but okay. I'm sadly getting used to falling and possible brain damage."

My answer has him pout.

"What's with the face, bro? You know I'm a tough cookie. I'll be fine."

His face gets full of concern.

"I...I heard what you told Mettaton."

Yeah, you and the rest of the Underground.

"I...I understand now why you didn't talk about your past. Why you kept to yourself. I'm sorry."

God, he's too sweet for this place. I reach over and gently stroke his petals.

"I love you, bro. You have no idea how much it means to me that you care. But don't pity me. I do that enough on my own."

I wearily sit up, shaking my head of all that baggage I brought up for the show.

"I wasn't pitying you. It's just..."

He fiddles with his leaves in a shy way but I cut his words off.

"Bro, I get it. I do. It's the same feeling like when you told me your history. Yet, let's be honest here, you're more mentally mature than me and I'm still not completely okay after getting all that off my chest. We can talk more about it later after this ordeal is over. Maybe over mom's cheesecake? Deal?"

"...You mean it?"

"Yeah. I promise."

He smiles brightly.

"Okay. I'd like that."

I pick myself up and stretch, taking a look around at where we are.

"Don't tell me he dropped me back at the start."

"Nope. This is still Level Three. In fact...I do believe MTT Resort is just past this place."

"...For real? Is it a safe space?"

"Yep. There are shops and rooms to rest."

I hear a heavenly choir sing in my head.

"Finally! The universe throws me a decent bone!"

I regret saying that the moment it leaves my mouth. Flowey looks at me funny.

"Don't take that out of context, you know what I meant."

"I don't know. You and Smiley Trashbag are eerily close."

My eye twitches. Things I wish Gaster didn't show me try to pop into my head.

"Are you okay? You look like you're about to puke."

"Never insinuate something like that ever again."

He shakes his head at me. I try to change the subject before I have a heart attack on camera.

"So...Are you able to follow me to the resort? I'm sick of being separated."

"There's ground outside of it and parts I can reach beyond it, but the resort itself I can't get in without some sort of aid like a pot. Cement and tile flooring is a pain to break into."

"Damn, bro, you hella strong."

There's a deactivated reversed conveyor belt that's attached to the artificial platforms.

"Is it safe to cross? It's kinda giving me 'trap' vibes."

"You should be fine. This is normally the part where the colored tiles would be used again, but you know, stuff changed. It's probably off."

"Ah. Gotcha. I guess...See ya soon?"

"You bet."

He ducks into the ground so I take it as my time to leave this pit. The entire time I feel on edge. With my luck, the trap will turn on and I get screwed. Thankfully nothing happens apart from some jets of flame randomly going off in the distance and making me jump like a wuss. At least it got me to the stairs quicker.

After a quite the climb, I reach the top perturbed yet undaunted as a four-way crossroads greets me, though the two paths on the sides are blocked. More Royal Guards, a cat to the left and some kind of insect on the right, both in that imposing armor.

"Well if it isn't my best customer..."

The Ice Scream rabbit pops up from behind the cart I wasn't paying attention to.

"Fancy seeing you again."

As odd as seeing him here is, he's a familiar face that is a sight for my sore eyes. I approach.

"Hey, guy, what's up? Haven't been seeing you much in Snowdin Forest for a bit."

He leans on the cart like a cool guy.

"Yeah...Been moving around seeing if I can make mad gold somewhere where the weather isn't the same temp as my product."

"Any luck?"

"Waterfall wasn't so bad. Even started a new program with rewards cards. Turn in a card with ten punches and get a free doubling of your next order. Speaking of which..."

He reaches into his pants pocket and hands me a punch card. Some holes have already been made.

"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't have had the funds to get this far. So...Instead of starting your card full, I may have added your previous buys. Can't say I haven't gotten better at my wonderful salesmanship."

I can't help but smile. He's come a long way. I'm proud of him.

"Well then, wonderful salesman, I'd like to add some more holes please."

"Heh...sure. But I'm warning you, prices have gone up. 25G. Got to charge more here 'cause of the heat."

"Understood, my dude. Um...Just curious...Got fudge pops? Kinda have this hankering for something chocolate."

He shakes his head.

"Sold out. The Royal Guards bought those like crazy."

"Damn. Oh well. One blue, orange, grape, and blood. All bisicles."

He fills my order and I pay the 100G.

"Here you go. All five ready to enjoy."

I look at him funny.

"Five?"

"Yep. Five. I definitely didn't toss in a strawberry one because of customer loyalty. Nope. Didn't do it."

Must...resist...the urge...to HUG!!

"...Thank you. That...That means a lot."

He gives me a wink and I practically skip away up another set of stairs. I place the treats in my inventory for now. I know not what crap will happen from here, so healing items are a big help.

I am met by a large complex. Redbrick that's been tagged with graffiti, yellow-tinted windows with some broken, a gold MTT sign with two Mettaton images with devil horns, a black & white checkered awning over the door, two large plant potters that have dry withered flower remnants, and a blood-red or just stained that way rug embroidered with gold MTTs.

"Classy."

I'm about to head inside when something hits my leg. A paper airplane? I inspect it to find it's a note.

[Hey! Go up the creepy alleyway on the right for some great deals!]

"...I'm gonna get mugged, aren't I?"

It's against my better judgment, but this is a neutral zone, so I should be okay. I wearily creep around, following spray-painted arrows, to end up finding two girls gossiping among garbage. They notice me and straighten up.

"Hey! Check it out!"

"Yeah! Check it out!"

"So, like, what's up? I'm Bratty, and this is my best friend, Catty."

"I'm Catty, and this is my best friend, Bratty."

Oh no...More valley speak!?! Why is that a thing down here?!

Bratty is a tall, green alligator or crocodile monster that wears a primarily black shawl with yellow and red details on the sides. She has yellow hair that flows into curls and red lipstick.

Catty is a plump purple cat creature who wears a set of black overalls with yellow buttons and tufts of red fur with yellow highlighted tips coming out from under it on either side. She has black hair with a red streak in it and a yellow earring on her left ear.

"Uh...Hi? So...This is a shop?"

"Like, the best shop!"

"You should buy ALL our stuff!"

Catty gets this blanket out and opens it out to show me their items. They don't have much, just four things, but I can't turn away from these items.

[25G - Junk Food - Has a big bite out of it]

[350G - Rusty Revolver - Bullets NOT included]

[350G - Tattered Western Hat - ATTACK up when worn]

[600G - Mystery Key - Probably to someone's house LOL]

A gun...How the fuck is that here?

"Oooh! I know that look!"

"That's the look of some wanting something!"

"Bratty! We're gonna be rich!"

"Where did you find this stuff?"

"I mean, like, where does anyone get guns, or food, or..."

"We found it in the garbage!"

I so called it.

"It's GOOD garbage."

"It's like, really good garbage."

"Where do you get the garbage?"

"Like, the garbage store, duh!!! ...Waterfall mostly."

"I found a gun in a dumpster!"

I check my gold...I don't have anywhere close to 1,300G for their garbage.

"Um...Maybe we could work out some sort of arrangement?"

They glare.

"That's poor talk."

"You need WAY more money."

What I need is to get that stuff away from them. That stuff is bad enough with humans, I don't want monsters messing with crap like guns.

"Ladies, I'm sure there's something we can do. Shops run on trade. This is just a trade of a different kind. I can't give you the gold, but I can get you other things. There's gotta something you'd both want that I can fetch for you in exchange?"

They mull it over.

"Thanks, but we, like, don't really need anything."

"Oh my god, can you go get us some Dazzleburgers?"

"We don't. Really need. Anything."

"Wait! I'll pay you 1000G if you get Mettaton to autograph my butt!"

Catty seems to be the easier one here. Maybe I can work with this.

"While I do know the guy, I'm not sure I can get Metta to sign your butt."

"Damn."

"Wait...You know Mettaton?!"

Their eyes sparkle.

"...Yes?"

They squeal with fanatical glee.

"Oh my God. Mettaton."

"Oh my GOD, METTATON."

"He's like...My robot husband."

"Actually he's like...MY robot husband."

"I think we're like...both going to marry him."

"We're both like, ALREADY married to him. He just, like, doesn't know it yet."

They're insane.

"Okay...Can I ask what's a Razzburger? I could try to get that."

Their eyes widen in shock.

"You don't know what a Dazzleburger is?"

"Do you, like, live under a rock?"

Don't we all do since this is a mountain?

"Dazzleburgers are epic!"

"They're only sold in the resort."

Interesting.

"Inside huh? Let me guess...Very pricey."

Bratty nods.

"The stuff inside, is like..."

"TOTALLY wicked expensive."

"But, like, this stuff we found is like..."

"TOTALLY wicked cheap."

"You should..."

"Like..."

"TOTALLY wicked buy all of it?"

"Cheap? You're selling a random key for 600G!"

They giggle at me and I sigh. Bitches, man...bitches.

"So where inside am I gettin' them?"

"The MTT-Brand Burger Emporium."

"You have to get them from Bugerpants."

That name...That name brings back memories...as well as sore spots. Douche-cat...

"Burgerpants."

"Yeah, that guy from the store. Yuck, what a creep."

"Yeah! He's a creep! But he's kind of cute, too..."

"C'mon Catty, don't you have ANY standards?"

"Nope!!!"

...You need standers, Catty.

"Yeah, I met him. Not so much a creep but he is a massive prick."

"OK, like, the annoying thing is..."

"He'd be OK if he just treated us with some respect."

"But he just acts..."

"Really weird."

"And then acts like it's OUR fault he acts that way!"

"Like, when we asked him to get those Dazzleburgers..."

"He dropped them and ran away before we could even say anything!"

"We were, like, going to share them."

"Really? I wasn't."

"Catty!"

This zone is full of awful people.

"One last thing...How many you want?"

Catty waves her paws.

"So many! Enough to fill a dumpster!"

"The mega value pack should cover us."

I give Bratty a thumbs up and leave their shady establishment. Now I enter the main building and this time I'm greeted by someone for once. It's either very diamond-like or very origami-like, but above all, it's a tiny monster.

"Welcome to MTT Resort - Hotland's biggest apartment-building-turned-hotel! Whether you're here for a night or still live here, MTT Resort prides itself on a great stay! Just passing through...? Nice! MTT Resort prides itself on being passed through!"

"Interesting business model. Does it work?"

"Oh, indeed it does, human."

"You know what I am?"

"Oh yes! The staff has been informed of your coming and instructed on how to handle you upon arrival."

Oh god, what now?

"Over on your left, we have a dine-in restaurant complete with a stage which hosts a wide cast of live acts. Either comedy done by locals or Mettaton entertains when he isn't too busy."

"Neat."

"If you're feeling like you hate yourself, behind me is the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, home of the Dazzleburger!"

Well, they know how fast food works.

"All further questions can be taken to my coworker behind the desk."

I scratch my head and shrug.

"Thanks."

I walk away and head for the other receptionist. It's not a bad-looking lobby at least. Red & yellow checkered tiles and the rug from outside continues forward into parts unknown. The obnoxious fountain of Mettaton is gaudy though. I reach the desk and the monster behind it is a weird one. It's blue and its head is a hand with very well manicured red nails.

"Yes, we know. The elevator music volume is super loud and the song is stuck on a three-second loop. We are working on it. Because of this incident, rooms are running at a special rate! 200G a room. Interested?"

Someone sounds grumpy.

"No thank you. I was told to come to you. I'm the human if that helps."

Their head fingers extend in alert.

"Oh! Sorry. I was instructed to inform you on where to go next."

"That would be helpful, yes."

It motions to where the rug is heading.

"If you follow the rug there, you'll be lead out back to the entrance of the CORE. Mettaton will be waiting for you at the top."

"Could I use the elevator instead? All this travel is exhausting."

"No can do. The elevator leads to the Capital and main residence of our people. You're not allowed to go there."

"Oh...That's fine. I didn't want to go there. Just trying to take shortcuts if able."

"*ahem* If you require a small rest, might I suggest renting a room?"

"I don't the gold, sorry."

"That's fine. Mettaton has pre-paid a room for you. One time only."

I'm stunned. Damn him! Why does he confuse me so much?! I want to like and hate him at the same time!

"Um...In that case, sure. Where are rooms?"

They motion again.

"Down the hall to the right."

I wait for them to give me a key or card but nothing is there except awkwardness.

"Is there a problem?"

"No...not really. But...uh...Isn't this the part you give me a room key?"

"What? Room...Key? No, we don't do that. If you leave your room, you'll have to pay again."

So if I enter I can't leave or else I'll have to pay? That's insane!

"On second thought, maybe later."

"Shame. Do let us know if you change your mind. Have a sparkular day!"

I'm getting the feeling they're being nice because they were told to be. Otherwise, I doubt I'd be given such a warm welcome. Oh well. Time to pay a certain someone a visit.

I stroll up to the emporium and find myself paused. I can go about this in many ways. The different choices and outcomes play out in my head super fast. After a few, I settle on something...something that'll leave an impression. I push the doors open. A digital bell sounds. I look at what appears to be a sadder version of McDonald's. And like a mindless corporate drone, he speaks while moping the floor before seeing "who" just walked in.

"Welcome to MTT-Brand Burger Emporium, home of the Dazzleburger. Sparkle up your day (TM)."

He begins to turn around.

"What can I do to..."

His eyes widen seeing me, grinning sadistically at him like a lunatic.

"Uh...help?"

This hurts my throat to do, but it really sells this whole thing. I deepen my voice to imitate Dr. Claw from Inspector Gadget and just laugh. He is unnerved to say the least.

"*menacing* No one will help you."

"H-Hey now...Don't think of doing anything funny."

I walk up to him and he backs away slowly before leaping behind the counter.

"Stay back! You can't hurt anyone in shops!"

I keep the deep voice.

"*menacing* Hurt you? Foolish boy...Why would I do that? It's not like you put a cigarette out on my wrist and bashed my head with a bat!"

That last part was done a bit too harsh and I end coughing. All seriousness leaves.

"*coughs* Nah, man...*normal* I ain't gonna do anything. For reals. I was just messing with ya."

He eyes me funny.

"Riiiiiight...What do you want then?"

"Preferably, my phone."

He flinches, his eyes looking quickly down then darting back up.

"I..."

"Metta doesn't have to know."

"What do you mean he won't know?! He knows everything that goes on here!"

"Look, you either give me my phone, or I'm gonna go back there and take it."

"You're not seri..."

My dead stare shuts him up. He seems to freeze up now. I sneer and put my hand out. He looks at my hand and then starts sweating. I'm beginning to lose my patience.

"You have five seconds."

His fur stands on end and he suddenly slams his face on the countertop, giving himself a bloody nose.

"Sorry, (Ha ha) it's against the rules to talk to customers who haven't bought anything. And talking with you this long has put me in serious shit. If you want this 'exchange' to continue, you're going to make a purchase."

I'm not happy.

"...What do you have?"

[60G - Sorebet - Very popular food.]

[120G - Dazzleburger - Very popular food.]

[300G - Mythical Villain - Anti-Hero Sandwich. ATTACK UP in battle.]

[500G - Biltong Slab designed to look like Mettaton - Don't ask. Please.]

I huff through my nose and shell out the 60G.

"That Sorebet better come with my phone."

"Yeah yeah. Don't get your panties in a twist."

"Fuck you. I wear boxers."

He eyes me with a blush before heading into the back. Might as well chat him up while I can.

"So...Do you know the chicks behind the building?"

"Huh? Oh...Them. Yeah, I know them. What of it?"

"They were talking about you."

"The girls were...Talking about me...?"

Hooked him.

"They mentioned you threw burgers at them and ran."

"Bullshit! That is not what happened."

He comes back to the counter with a glass of frozen dessert and my phone.

"Care to enlighten me?"

He sighs and lights a cigarette. I wonder if he can do that while on shift?

"Never interact with attractive people. Unless you're 'one of them', they're just gonna take advantage of you. Those two chicks asked me to sneak them some Dazzleburgers. And I, the naive teenager that I was, said yes to them. Bad idea."

"What happened?"

He takes a dag and lifts the collar of his uniform shirt open, blowing the smoke in there.

"Does that really keep the smoke from spreading?"

"It's worked so far. *puff* So I went out to the alley to see those two ladies, and uh...you know, see what'd happen next."

"Like...Naughty stuff?"

"...Maybe."

"Nice."

He blushes.

"Anyway...Then my boss comes out of nowhere, sees me, and demands to know what I was doing. I was so startled, the hamburgers in my pockets tumbled out onto the ground. Not wanting to lose face to the girls, I scrambled to pick them up! But, as I was bending down, the weight of the remaining hamburgers...*puff*...caused my pants to fall down."

He expected me to mock him. But I can't feel anything more than pity for the guy. This surprises him and he continues his story.

"Then the girls laughed at me. Everyone calls me Burgerpants now. It's gotten to the point I can't remember my name half of the time. It's even on my name tag for fuck's sake!"

Poor douche cat.

"I think you're the first to not laugh at me or that story."

"Why would I laugh? That's...That's messed up, man."

He takes another drag.

"You know something...I misjudged you, human. I know it ain't much, but, I'm sorry for being an ass."

I rub the back of my head.

"I'll be honest, guy...Since the bar thing, I've seen you only as a prick. The idea of you having hard times and lashing out didn't cross my mind at all. That's my bad right there. Sorry on my part for being a bitch."

He smirks.

"So...You're really not going to tell Mettaton about this?"

He hands me my phone.

"Dude, this stays between us. Besides, he's kinda been pissing me off lately."

"Yeah, he does that."

He takes a deep drag before putting the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe.

"Can I give you some advice? I'm getting on in years, so take it from me...You've still got time. Don't live like me. I'm 19 years old and I've already wasted my entire life. I'll probably be trapped at this stupid job forever. But wait! There's one thing that keeps me going! If ASGORE gets just one more SOUL, we'll finally get to go to the surface! It'll be a brand new world! There's gotta be a second chance out there for me! For everyone!"

"Maybe. So, what did you want to do before this?"

"Oh...I wanted to be an ACTOR."

"Neat."

"When I first came to Hotland, it was my dream to work with Mettaton. Well, be careful what you wish for! God, look what that idiot has done here. This place is a labyrinth of bad choices. And every time we try to change something for the better, he vetoes it and says that's not how they do it on the surface. Oh! Right! Humans are always eating hamburgers made of RHINESTONES AND GLITTER."

"...I can assure you we don't eat that. Eating that would be very bad for our health. Maybe even fatal. Monsters don't really eat that...Do they?"

His eyes shift and I facepalm.

"And you guys think I'm gonna hurt ya?"

"You should probably get going. The boss will get his gears in a bunch if you take too long getting to the CORE."

"Fine."

I put the Sorebet in my inventory and remember my awkward side-quest.

"Oh! Before I bounce, can you help me with something?"

He tilts his head.

"What?"

"The chicks, Bratty and Catty, they have items I want but don't have the crazy amount of gold. They say they'll trade for a mega value pack. Any way you might be able to help make this trade happen?"

He sighs.

"Really? Do you know how much that is?"

"1300G close? Because that's how much I need."

"...What kind of shit are they selling that's worth that much?!"

I goofily shrug. He groans and rubs his face.

"I can't just give you that much for free."

"Catty thinks your cute."

"...For real?"

I nod. He fidgets, fingers tip-tapping and pitter-pattering.

"Okay, I'll tell you what...You score me a hook up with her and I'll give you the burgers."

Damn you rule of three in side-quests!

"Argh...I guess I can try. It won't be the weirdest thing I do today but it is on the list though."

His eyes light up with excitement. I can't mess this up now. How often does he actually smile like this?

"Thank you! *ahem* I mean...Cool."

I slink out of the emporium and head for the exit.

"Um, excuse me, human...The CORE is the other way."

I groan.

"I know. I'll be back."

Exit building, go into the creepy alley, and meet the girls again.

"Look who's back."

"Do you have the Dazzleburgers?"

I show my empty hands.

"Ha! I knew she'd blow it."

"Sucks to be you!"

"Hold up. He'll give me the goods. But..."

"But...?"

"Catty...Do you really think he's cute? 'Cause he thinks you're hot."

Catty's face flushes. Bratty rolls her eyes.

"For reals? He wants a date?"

"A date? A hangout? A simple meeting while he's working? I don't know. For all I know she can walk in, say hi, and that's it. All I need is confirmation and you get all those shiny burgers."

"Yes!"

"Catty...?"

"What a deal! A cute guy and free food! It's the score of a lifetime!"

"Catty, he's a loser. You hang out with him once, then he wants to hang out... All. The. Time."

"But don't you feel bad for him, Bratty? Poor Burgerpants...Think about how cool we are compared to him!!! We'd be saving his LIFE with our awesomeness!! His LIFE, Bratty!!"

"Uh, so?"

"Think of all the Dazzleburgers he could get for us!!"

And just like that, I feel like shit for doing this.

"...So is he free after work?"

"*huff* I'll be back...again."

Leave the alley, enter the building, meet up with Burgerpants.

"I don't like the look you have there. Did she say no?"

I can't lie to this guy.

"Dude, I'm really uncomfortable with this."

"What's wrong?"

"She said yes. But..."

"She said YES?!"

"I mean, she agreed, but please listen..."

"Ha! Ahahaha!! Yes!!! You've brought a tear to the eye of this old man."

I feel so bad.

"Dude, please...I'm, like, 100% sure she's gonna use you for free food and maybe gold."

"...So?"

I'm taken back.

"Look, you don't think I didn't think of that? I know she's probably going to use me. Everyone does. If it's for the food, I don't care. That's just another way I can stick it to my boss. Speaking of..."

He plops this cardboard case down on the counter.

"A deal's a deal. The mega value pack for the girl."

...Okay, they're made for each other. Everyone here is trash!

"So, uh, what time did she say she wanted to hang out?"

I hate everything about this!!

"I'll be back again."

Take food, leave, exit, alley. At this point, I nearly shove the shit at them.

"Oh my God!"

"Is that the mega value pack Dazzleburgers?"

"OH MY GOD!!! GIMME!!!"

"God, Catty. Try to have some self-control."

"Sorry..."

"'Cause they OBVIOUSLY brought the Dazzleburgers for ME."

"NO WAYYY!!!!!"

I point to the items.

"Trade. Now."

Bratty puts the key and gun into the hat before handing it over to me.

"Thank you."

I put the key in my inventory and equip the other two.

[You equipped the Tattered Western Hat]

[You gain 12 Defense and 5 Attack]

[This battle-worn hat makes you want to crew on straw for some reason. It also raises attack by 5.]

[You equipped the Rusty Revolver]

[You gain 12 Attack]

[An super old gun. It has no ammo. Must be used precisely, or damage will be low. Duh.]

[HP: 40 ATK: 62 DEF: 50]

I am becoming OP!!

"Oh! Give burger-boy this!"

Catty hands me a scrap of paper with her number.

"Fine. I'm just glad this is done."

Back to Burgerpants. I slap the paper down.

"Here's her number. I hope you don't regret this."

His face contorts in a weird way...Is he...Happy?

Sweet! I need to pick a spicy outfit for my little shindig later. Though, now that I think about it, I had to throw away all of my clothes to make room for the outfits Mettaton gave me."

"...What?"

"Don't take it the wrong way. They're just all these...Weird getups. 'Promotional' costumes. For 'holidays'. Or 'specials'. Or 'because he felt like it'. The thing IS though! Most of the time I'm the only employee who has to wear this stuff! Sometimes he even calls me into his office just to...Make me put something on...Then he laughs and lets me go back to work as normal."

My pity meter is breaking.

"Anyways, I won't sweat it. I'll take it casual. NEVER let hot people think you care. That's how they GET you."

And the pity meter dropped dead.

"Good luck with that."

I leave on that note. Fuck this resort. Fuck this quest plot. Fuck this whole damn thing!

Wanting this shit show to be over and done with, I do as instructed by following the rug's path out some doors that have a giant sign above that says "CORE". Lazy-ass designers, I swear.

Weirdly this leads to a balcony. A balcony that has been opened and a walkway built that connects to the massive facility. The light from the resort barely shows half of the path as the CORE itself surprisingly gives off the faintest glow. The CORE is an entirely mechanical complex that is largely black and yellow with red accents. The blah colors aside, what gets my attention are the two monsters that were minding the entrance that slip inside when I show up. I don't like this.

"Flowey, you better be able to get here. I have a bad feeling about this."

Approaching shows more of this crazy thing. The CORE appears to be the most industrial and modern region of the Underground. Ozone, a byproduct of electrical power, is omnipresent below the floor level of the CORE. This could mean the CORE might be made of stainless steel, titanium, or platinum; as ozone is highly corrosive to most organic materials. If this is the case, they could use this stuff. The CORE could be a source of ozonated water, which cleans clothes, sanitizes food, and purifies drinking water. This also implies this might be the greatest source of oxygen in the Underground as ozone simply decomposes into oxygen at high concentrations and temperatures. The only hazard I can think of is that oxygen is a shitty thing to breathe. Breathing pure oxygen at high pressures can cause nausea, dizziness, muscle twitching, vision loss, convulsions, and loss of consciousness. Breathing pure oxygen for a long time can irritate the lungs causing coughing and/or shortness of breath. Higher exposure may cause a build-up of fluid in the lungs and subsequent death. Guess how much more O2 is needed to do this to a person? 20% more. God, Humans are so freaking weak. I'll need to be careful here.

The lobby of the CORE has an elevator to the north and two paths to the left and right. Not a bad looking place, very lavishly decorated, the floors are engraved with intricate patterns and multicolored neon tubes serve as wall ornaments and embellishments. I check the elevator, which is disabled, I'm not shocked at this point. Not much else to do, I go to the path on the right, which turns out to be a small room with a square platform overlooking a pit of fire. Not bad. I do enjoy looking at fire. It's pretty. Moving on! Going through the left path leads to a rectangular stretch of wall-less hallway with a doorway at the end.

"Hmmm...My bullshit senses are tingling. I'm willing to bet a random encounter/ambush is about to happen."

As if cued by my words, something cracks the back of my head and then hits my gut as I turn.

"*wheeze* Called it..."

My attacker appears and my dull cracked purple soul is forced out to play.

[Madjick pops out of its hat!]

Madjick has a typical appearance of a wizard. It wears a curved wizard hat, a pair of boots, and two rotating orbs emitting cross-shaped particles. Madjick has a sly smile on its face, but a pair of bright eyes are hidden just under its hat.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

I wonder if SPELL will work on this thing? ...N-No. No. Can't chance it. Stick to normal tactics.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[TALK]

[STARE]

[CLEAR MIND]

...The fuck kind of options are these?!

[CHECK selected.]

[MADJICK – HP: 190 ATK: 29 DEF: 24 – This enemy can only speak in magic words.]

Finally! My states aren't shit compared to my attacker. Also, only speaks in magic words is the most fucking adorable thing I've ever heard.

"Abra cadabra."

An orb spawns off to my left and rapid-fires crosses at me. I dodge and the orb tries to cut me off by going where I'm headed. It fires about eight times and moving around is not so great.

[HP ████████████████ 16/40]

Thank goodness my defense got increased during all this crap. I could've been really messed up.

[Madjick flaunts its orbs in a menacing manner.]

It snickers.

"A smug one. I like that."

[TALK selected.]

"You know...I can do magic too."

It looks at me intrigued.

"Yep. I can make your smile disappear."

It pauses before sneering at me.

"See? I made it vanish before your very eyes!"

It didn't seem to like my humor.

"Hocus pocus."

[Madjick begins chattering to itself. Its gibberish dizzies you...Your DEFENSE drops by 1.]

My head feels fuzzy. Did it just jinx me? Are there more types of magic than what I've been told?

One of the orbs begins to chase me while deploying harmful but immobile crosses. Yet due to the jinx, my sense of direction is ass-backward. Left is right and right is left. Up is down and down is up. However...much to Madjick's dismay...I'm used to being incredibly dizzy. My childhood was filled with countless hours of boredom appeased by spinning around till I couldn't see straight.

[HP ████████████████████ 20/40]

Ha ha...Suck on those magic balls, wizard-boy!

"*slur* Is that what you call magic? Boo! Disappointed!"

[Madjick whispers arcane swear words.]

"*slur* Oh...Someone needs to put some gold in the swear jar. I'm gonna tattle!"

It growls.

"Eh eh eh. It's not your turn."

I slap my face a few times.

[CLEAR MIND selected.]

"I wonder where Flowey is?"

[You think of pollen and sunshine. Your confusion abates. Your DEFENSE increased by 2.]

"...What?"

"Alakazam!!"

It tries to surprise me with that following orb trick. But now that I know that move it's not so bad.

[HP ██████████████████████████ 26/40]

Huh? Am I auto-healing faster? Sweet! Surely that only means good things for me.

[Madjick peers at you with strange eyes.]

"What? You scared? My sick moves and auto-healing too much for you? No worries, wizard-dude, we cool. I got you."

The hell did I just say? Am I magic high? Fuck it.

[MERCY selected.]

[New options available.]

[FLEE]

[SPARE]

[SPARE selected.]

It looks at me funny. Then it looks at my HP.

[HP ████████████████████████████████ 32/40]

It flinches.

"Please and thank you."

Madjick accepts my act of mercy.

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 120 gold.]

The fight ends, my soul returns to my body and I give my opponent claps of approval.

"Good show, buddy. Keep up the good work."

It seems confused but nods, hovering away behind me towards the exit.

"Well...That was weird."

My head still feels odd. Nothing a few brain sloshing shakes of the old noggin won't fix. Anyway, no time to question strange feelings or whatever. I gotta get through this so I can get back to Toriel. Onwards I go.

Continuing forward, I enter a room with a bridge that is cut off by a tesla coil. Wow. Hadn't seen that in a long ass time. How much do I wanna bet there's a convenient off switch nearby. Oh, look! A super obvious switch right there on the wall. Who could've ever had guessed! I flip the switch and lasers fire at me! First blue, then blue again, and orange. Thankfully they're slow, so once I triggered the first blue laser I easily hit the deck to avoid the others that pass by.

"Setting booby traps on top of other traps now. Geez, Metta, I'm starting to think you don't like me very much. Well, that's fine. I don't like me either! So come at me already and quit this pussy bullshit!"

Calm down. No need to get riled up. Get through this and go home. Then I can just stuff my face with Nanny's awesome cheesecake and pass out happy. I march on, doing my best not to look down or notice how some of the walls and floors are chipped away. Now I'm paranoid about if any other laser that turns up is functional or decorative.

The path leads into a crossroads with a path to my left and a path straight ahead. My bullshit sense is tingling when I look at the left path. Straight ahead it is.

This room contains a bridge with many blue and orange lasers followed by a massive wall of blue lasers.

"Nope. Just nope. Screw the rules! I have plot armor importance and common sense!"

Fuck this outfit. Fuck this shit! I have lost all my fucks! I get down on the floor and combat crawl the long as fuck cold metal catwalk.

"*muttering* Stupid bullshit. Why do I have to be nice? If I wasn't nice, I wouldn't have to put up with shit like this. Bitches don't end up in laser catwalk traps. But no...I have to be a decent person. *getting louder* I have to be a good girl. I have to not give in to the overwhelming urge to punch assholes for being assholes because that's wrong for dumb reasons! *shouting* Why am I pissing myself off?! This is extremely counterproductive given my current situation! Fuck!!"

I blame all this on Mettaton. That's a healthy way to look at it. Probably not. But I'm not a mental health doctor! The fuck do I know?! After crossing the bridge, I storm grumpily along another walkway only to reach something called "Core Branch".

Turns out the "Core Branch" is a four-way intersection. Fan-fucking-tastic. Man, my mood is fucking sour. Maybe the digital sign can be useful and give me directions.

[North, the warrior's path. West, the sage's path. Any path leads to The End.]

"*growling* This is so...FUCKING STUPID!!"

Nope. Not falling for anymore of this. I choose neither side and go straight. This middle path of the "Core Branch" has me entering a vertical room with a right path leading to the eastern portion of the "Core Branch". There's nothing to my left. It just drops into the ozone, so it's certain death. I'm so sure this place followed all safety measures. There is a sign on the wall that is telling me to "Get lost...And stay that way".

"Wha...Why have signs telling me to leave when you told me to come here?! Stupid metal moron giving me dumb mixed messages."

I hate everything. No monster better encounter me while I'm in this mood. I take out a gold piece and flip it. Heads for straight and tails for the right. It lands on tails so right I go. This has to be the stupidest designed building ever! What the hell was Gaster thinking?! Was he on the drugs? Because this seems like he was on the drugs! 'Cause now I'm at another four-way crossroads. Only now I have two digital signs.

[To the East! This is The End.]

[I cannot fight. I cannot think. But, with patience, I will make my way through.]

A third, and hopefully final, tesla coil blocks what has been established as the exit. This means there's a switch somewhere. F that shit. Know what? You know what'll piss everyone off? I'm gonna do what that sign said. I'm going to be patient. Because if I know Mettaton, and I know massive egos very well, he won't want boring content to be televised and eventually spice things up. I plop my edgy tush under the sign and...wait. Using this time to chill. Let this negativity go and...

*Clank-clank-clank*

Oh hell no!

A large monster ominously approaches. Knight Knight is a monster that wields a great staff with a sun symbol in her right hand. She wears a suit of black armor and what resembles a horned helmet with a crescent moon emblazoned on her forehead. The helmet's eyepiece occasionally widens and un-widens as if it is her mouth. Her torso is dominated by a dragon face whose beak occasionally opens and closes, revealing a small eye. It is unclear whether which face is the true face.

"Let me guess...You're here to make me move?"

"Yes."

"No."

She's confused.

"...No?"

"Did I stutter? I'm not moving."

She readies her spear.

"Then prepare for..."

"Let me stop you right there. I get that you're doing your job and following the law, and blah blah blee bloo, whatever. I have been through one of THE worst days in my life. My mind, soul, and charitable goodwill have been pushed to limits that are very VERY thin now. I am in no mood to deal with any more crap. So I'm going to say this once because I ain't fighting you or moving from this spot till this electrical blockaded is gone...Turn around and go home."

She doesn't take me seriously and laughs.

"Heh heh...You have no power to give me orders, human."

She takes a step closer and I snap.

"I͏͟ ̧̀̕W͝IL͘͡L̴ ̶Ŗ͟͜I͝҉P͘ ̵O͜F̧F̛͞ ̸̀Y̧͡O̡͢U̡͠R ͠H̸EA̶͏D͏͢ ̸̕A͜N͢D S̢̛͜Ḩ̶Į͢T̵̕ ͝D̶̀OW͞N̷̴͠ ҉͞Ý̸̢O̡͡U̡͢R ̸ŅE̴͝CḰ̡̧!͞͞!̧͢"

She stumbles back in shock. The strange energy sparks off me. I regret everything.

"I̵'͘͟͏ḿ͢͞ ̧̕͞so̧̨͡r̴̢ŗ̷͜y̧.̵̛.̢͞.̛p̢l͝ea̷se͢.͟.́͢.leave me. I'm so sorry."

I seem to have disturbed her. She slowly steps back and turns around when she's convinced I'm not going to move.

"Adieu...Human."

She leaves me and I let out a shaky exhale. It's getting worse. I'm losing control. I can't do this for much longer. I haven't been given any proper time to deal with this shit. My internal bottle has been shaken too much! It's going to explode! I...I...

"What the heck was that?!"

Flowey pops up beside me and I'm too freaked out to be startled.

"Sis? What's wrong?"

I hold myself in an attempt to squeeze into a tiny ball of self-loathing. This only worries him more.

"Lynsie?"

I...I can't...I need a break. If only I had my music. I could drown out all this. Lose myself in the lyrics.

"B-Bro..."

"Yes? Talk to me. I can help. Tell me what you need."

"...H-How fast can you get to Snowdin?"

He frowns.

"You want me to get 'him', don't you?"

All I can do is nod.

"I...I can help too. You don't have to turn to him."

My eyes dart to the blocked path. He puts things together. He is a smart boy after all.

"True. Mettaton is that way and the room his encounter takes place in is an elevating platform. I can stretch from my roots pretty far but not THAT far."

He pouts.

"*huff* I guess there's no other option. He does have experience helping you out when things get bad. And he can teleport."

I feel bad that I'm making him do this...again. Like in the dead timeline.

"I...I'm sorry."

"Wha...N-No! Don't apologize. I understand. You're worried. It's okay. We'll get through this. Family helps family. What kind of big brother would I be if I didn't do everything to help? Even if that means getting others to help when I can't."

"...I need a hug...please?"

It pains me to see him hesitate. But vines come out to wrap around me for a bit.

"Thank you."

The vines retract and he extends to nuzzle my cheek.

"It won't be like last time. I promise. You won't kill anyone. No one's going to die."

"H-How do you know?"

"Because you're strong. You just have to believe in yourself. I know I do."

...I needed that. I give him a smile.

"There we go. There's my sis. Now keep that smile. I'll get Smiley Trashbag and we'll be back home with mom in no time."

He really is too sweet for this world. He sinks into the floor and I forgot to ask how he was able to get through this floor. I mean, I guess he said he can get through cement so metal can't be too far of a long shot. Asriel sure is a super strong boy even as a flower.

*BUZZ*

The power to the coil suddenly is shut off remotely like I so knew it could be. Damn it. I was hoping to have more time. How impatient is Mettaton for this? Reluctantly, I get up and walk down this new road. Halfway along this bridge, I am blocked by three vaguely familiar monsters that look like tougher versions of monsters I see in the Ruins.

Final Froggit has spike-like protrusions on its head and eyelids, accompanied by a crown-like muff on top of its head. Its lips are marked with lines, as though wrinkled from age. Its "shoulders" are decorated with sharp excrescents, while the silhouette between its legs forms a face with a triangular smile and cross eyes.

Whimsalot has a more human-like appearance than Whimsun. Also, its antennae are thicker, and there is a muff on their head that branches in two. Whimsalot's appearance is also accompanied by a double-bladed spear and a knight mask. Its ghost-like torso is skinnier and shorter.

Astigmatism's body consists of a large ball and four spiked limbs. The ball is accompanied by two "horns" on each side. When idle, a large eye can be seen on the ball also with three eyelashes. However, it changes from this face to another where the eye hollow is changed with a smile. When having its eye closed, the two side eyelashes become Astigmatism's eyes, while the middle one simply becomes a marking.

I don't know what I must look like to them. Probably dreadful. Because they move aside with not a word being side. I nod in thanks, proceeding to the end which for all I know might be the most tragic moment of my life second to Grillby dying. No! Stop it! Do as Flowey said. Smile. Stay chipper. Think of something silly. Like how dumb this place is. Honestly, was Gaster high making this place? I'll have to ask him later. Nah...I'll ask Sans. Less hassle.

The bridge comes to an end, leading to a shadowy doorway and an elevator that probably would've been super handy but was out of order to pad out the length of this bullshit subplot. Augh...It's so much easier to think my life is a fictional story or internet abridge series. It's the only way my brain allows most of this crap to make any sense.

"So this is it, huh? The epic conclusion of this grand show. Heh...I want to feel accomplished for making it this far. Almost. But all I do feel is..."

I can't finish my sentence. The weight I thought I got off my back earlier begins pressing on me again.

"Nothing...I feel nothing. *sniffling* Damn it...Don't fucking cry!"

With a breakdown seconds away from happening, I enter the doorway to the room of darkness and a door shuts behind me then locks. There is no going back now.

Please...I made a promise...Please...Don't make me have to RESET...Please...I'm begging...Please...

#undertale #underfell #Anomaly #Lynsie #sans #papyrus #gaster #grillby #grandpa semi #flowey #Asriel #toriel #asgore #frisk #chara #undyne #mettaton #napstablook #alphys

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thelegendofclarke · 4 years

Text

still got scars on my back (from your knife)

A Bellarke Knives Out Au in which Kane is probably Benoit Blanc, Clarke might be Ransom Drysdale, Bellamy is definitely Marta Cabrara, Dante was Harlan Thrombey, and like Detective Elliot, Miller is just along for the ride.

Written for @bellarkejanuaryjoy Day 29 and dedicated to @marauders-groupie and @woodswit who were the best sounding boards and cheerleaders and are the reasons this fic exists in any way, shape, or form.

When Bellamy walks into the Mt. Weather police station again, where he has been far too many times in far too few days, he is tired. The kind of tired that starts in your bones and slowly leeches into your soul. He has a migraine that feels like it originated in his prefrontal cortex, and he genuinely can’t remember the last time he felt like he could breathe normally or wasn’t on the verge of puking. He’s led into an interview room in the back and when he enters he stops short. Marcus Kane, the self-proclaimed “last of the gentleman sleuths,” is perched on the corner of the table, posing dramatically as always. And sitting in a chair next to him is Clarke. Despite being arrested over 48 hours ago, she isn’t wearing handcuffs or an orange jumpsuit. Damn it must be nice to be a rich white girl. She’s just wearing a regular button-down shirt and jeans, and that small smirk that always made him want to kiss her. There’s something softer about it now though, and he hates how much that just makes him want to kiss it off her even more. Detective Miller motions for Bellamy to sit down in the chair across from Clarke. He does so without looking at Clarke or saying anything, just glaring down at the table so he doesn’t do something stupid like cry.

“You’re probably wondering why we’ve called you back here…” Miller starts.

“Oh, I’m wondering about a lot of things.” Bellamy shoots back at him.

Miller just snorts and looks over at Kane, “I’ll let you take it from here.”

Kane pulls out the pipe he carries around with him and starts to pack it. Bellamy can feel his scowl deepening, who the fuck even carries a pipe anymore?

Continue reading below or on Ao3...

“First of all, Mr. Blake,” he starts without looking up, “we must begin by giving you our most profuse and sincere apologies.” Kane lights the pipe and brings it to his mouth, then he looks at Bellamy and grins. That dramatic asshole actually smiles, far wider than Clarkes’ smirk, but equally as infuriating. “But you are just far too honest and decent a man to have been let in on all our plans.” He turns to Clarke and nods.

Clarke takes a deep breath and starts talking, but Bellamy can’t bring himself to look at her. He knows if he does all he’ll see is her grabbing his hands when he started having a panic attack, all he’ll feel is her fingers running through his hair, all he’ll hear is her soft but strong voice telling him to look at her, to focus on his breathing, reassuring him “It’ll be okay I promise… We’ll figure this out… Together.”

“You know, I used to be one of the only people that could ever beat my Grandpa Dante at Go. I used to pride myself on that,” she chuckles. “And then you came along and he told me you beat him twice as often as I did.” Bellamy looks up at that and finds Clarke looking right at him, her eyes focused on his. “He said you beat him almost every time. That you had never even played before you met him, but that somehow you would always win. And god that used to drive me fucking crazy,” she laughs again. “I couldn’t figure out how the hell you were beating him. I knew he wasn’t letting you win, he wasn’t that nice. And I knew he wouldn’t lie about it, he was far too arrogant. It was one of the mysteries he could never solve” she shakes her head ruefully at the memory. “How you beat him at that goddamn game night after night.”

“He never figured out that answer to that mystery,” she continues. “But I did. I finally solved it… You win because you don’t just play from the head, you play from the heart.”

“And you won again Bellamy… You won this game not by playing my way or my grandpa’s way, but by playing your way. You won because you are a genuine and honorable and fundamentally good person. You played it honest, you didn’t lie or mislead anyone or try to throw them off your trail. That’s why all the pieces fell perfectly into place: because you made all the right moves. You won by figuring out your strategy and making your decisions the same way you always have: from the heart.”

Bellamy just stares at her for another minute and then looks at Kane. “Look I don’t mean to be rude, but it’s been a really long couple of days and I’m pretty worn out so I’m just going to be really straight with you here and ask: what the actual fuck is going on?”

Miller snorts again, “I asked the same damn question.” He turns to Kane and Clarke and pulls out his little yellow notepad. “Actually, would you mind starting from the top again? Because I’m still not sure I really understand what in the damn hell happened.”

Kane and Clarke look at each other again doing that annoying nonverbal communication thing they seem to be so good at. Bellamy thinks he probably can’t complain about that too much though, since he and Clarke had gotten pretty damn good at it themselves after years of knowing each other, pretending to hate each other, and refusing to admit that they secretly adored each other.… Or so he thought… How the hell did he get her so wrong?

Before this week, Bellamy would have told anyone who asked, with a higher degree of confidence than he possesses about most things, that he could tell you almost everything there is to know about Clarke Griffin…

Namesake: Science fiction author Arthur C. Clarke, who her father had been a massive fanboy of and managed to convince her mother to let him name their newborn daughter after while Abby was still high as a kite on epidural anesthesia. Evidently, he had persuaded her by arguing that it was probably better than Arthurette or Arthurina; when Abby tells the story she always magnanimously says that at the time it seemed to be “the least of the evils.”

Middle Name: Matilda, after Empress Matilda, a member of the British monarchy who was some distant relative of the Wallaces, but that she pretended was after Matilda Wormwood because that Matilda was “infinitely cooler in all ways.”

Notable Likes: Inclusive, intersectional feminism. All forms of alcohol; with the notable exception of tequila which she will not look at, smell, touch, or tolerate in her presence in any way, shape, or form (he’d tried to ask her why once but she’d promptly turned green and puked into the nearest potted plant so he decided not to push the issue). Shark Week. Jane Austen novels. True crime documentaries. The Jonas Brothers (“They’re making a comeback Bell, whether you like it or not! Just save yourself the trouble later and lean into it now!”) Any and all things Harry Potter related (he’s pretty sure she’s on multiple bar trivia teams, including his own, just to answer the Harry Potter questions… And get the free booze.) Netflix. Adult coloring books. Anytime someone climbs a building to tear down a Confederate flag. Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Antique tea sets. Movies that have women wearing armor and/or holding swords. Wearing high heels because they make her feel tall (her diminutive frame is something she endlessly despairs over, but Bellamy maintains she makes up for through presence, spitefulness, and sheer force of will.) Her cousin Roan.

Notable Dislikes: Donald Trump. Tinder, which she has an active profile on (a fact that definitely did not bother him. Much.) Twitter, which she hates even more, and has an even more active profile on. Blavy (“I don’t care what Tom Ford or Marc Jacobs said Bell, it’s a disgrace!”) Humidity. The NRA. The Twilight series (because it was “pushing the suspension of disbelief” that anyone would pick Edward over Jacob, and “downright offensively unrealistic” that Bella wouldn’t just dump them both and run off with “the hot Cullen sister… Either one of them.”) Most forms of organized sports. All forms of organized religion. Camping. When people talk during movies. Having to wear “real pants” for more than a couple of hours on a given day. The American Healthcare System. Toxic masculinity, men yelling, manbuns, manspreading, mansplaining and men having to put the word "man" before everything because their egos were so fragile. Wearing high heels because they are “torture devices of the patriarchy” (Clarke speak for “they make her feet hurt and she’s a wimp.”) Her cousin Ontari.

Favorite Foods: Sushi. Guacamole Doritos (which she had cried genuine tears over being discontinued). Her grandfather’s disgustingly greasy fried egg sandwiches that taste like heartburn. Her mother’s blueberry cheesecake. Avocados (Bellamy never understood what the deal was with white people and avocado; like yeah avocados are great and all, but damn do white people really love avocado.) Movie theater popcorn. Bellamy’s adobo. Octavia’s empanadas. All kinds of Indian food, the spicier the better. Watermelon, especially when it’s filled with vodka. Almost anything that has chocolate in or on it. Potatoes in all their forms, especially the ones that have cheese on them. Kraft Macaroni and Cheese. Cheese Blintzes. Cheese fondue. Cheese in general, honestly. “That one thing we got at that one place that one time, Bell!” which he always knew exactly what she was referring to (Dante had always said that Bellamy, like him, was “fluent in Clarke: a skill coveted by the many, but possessed by the few.”)

Hobbies: Smashing the patriarchy. Art; painting, drawing, sculpting, anything that struck her fancy really (she even went through a sand art phase at one point, which ended up being short lived because while she loves art, she hates sand.) Making fun of Bellamy. Conspiring with Octavia to make fun of Bellamy. Making fun of her grandpa Dante. Conspiring with Bellamy to make fun of her grandpa Dante. Equestrian activities, the only kind of formal, organized “sport” she was actually good at (“All I have to do is sit there and tell the horse what to do, Bell. I’m so good at sitting around and telling people what to do!”). Fighting Twitter trolls. Reading, especially her grandfather’s mystery novels. Krav Maga, which Bellamy will admit surprised him a little (and then surprised him more than a little when he’d asked where she’d learned it and she shrugged and said “Israel” like it was as obvious as the inevitability of death and taxes.) Online shopping. Pretending to hate it when Bellamy calls her Princess. Buying and playing video games she doesn’t really understand with her little sister, Madi (“ I can’t trick her into thinking I’m cool anymore so it’s the only way I can get her to hangout with me. I’m just embracing bribery as a form of bonding!”) Over, and incorrectly, using the word “literally.” Telling Bellamy he is literally a pedantic killjoy.

He knew that she was deathly afraid of heights and irrationally paranoid about catching scurvy and getting cat-fished. He knew that she liked real bananas and blueberries but hated banana and blueberry artificial flavoring. He knew that her first kiss was with her best friend Wells in a closet during a game of 7 minutes in heaven at a classmate’s birthday party in 6th grade, and that her first kiss with a girl was in the exact same closet playing the exact same game at the exact same classmate’s birthday party two years later with a girl named Glass. He knew she lasted exactly one and a half years in med school before telling her mother that she needed to choose between Clarke being a doctor and Clarke being alive, because it was it was killing her slowly and driving her insane. He knew that she always ordered some kind of strange, obscure plant or flower to place on her father’s grave every year on the anniversary of his death because “he was weirdo who liked weird shit” (this past year it was a Venus Fly Trap, the year before that it was a Ghost Orchid because she was “feeling ironic.”)

He knew that she once met the Clinton’s at a charity fundraiser when she was little where she told then President Bill Clinton that he looked better with brown hair and threw up on Hillary Clinton’s shoes. He knew that she’d actually thrown up on several member of the rich and powerful elite; notable examples including Condoleezza Rice’s Hermès Birkin bag, Paul Ryan’s Armani sports coat, and Eric Trmups whole entire arm (which she admitted was definitely not an accident.) He knew that she loved school and learning and once got her English Lit teacher fired for failing her on a paper where she argued that Humbert Humbert was an obsessive, delusional, predatory pedophile who deserved to be medically castrated and the teacher had tried to tell her that Lolita was a “tragic love story” and that she was “simply too narrow minded to appreciate Nabokov’s true message.” He knew that she had unsuccessfully tried to pierce her own belly button in high school and managed to successfully pierce her own nose in college. He knew that she has four tattoos: a small crown on the back of her neck (which only made Bellamy double down on the Princess nickname after he found out about it), a lion on her left foot for her father, a lotus flower on her on her right wrist for her ex-girlfriend Lexa, and the Latin translation of “do no harm, take no shit” running down the left side of her rib cage.

He knew that she pretended to hate Valentine's Day when really, every single year, she handmade super elaborate and incredibly awesome cards for all her friends and family members (well, the ones she liked anyway). He knew that she was planning on naming her first daughter Gertrude after her grandmother, Dante’s deceased wife, even though the kid would probably hate her for it because her grandma was a badass and “metal as fuck.” He knew that otters were her favorite animal and that he favorite type of otters were those terrifying Amazonian river otters that could fight crocodiles (which was typical Clarke, honestly.) He knew that she loved her adopted little sister Madi more than anything or anyone in this world and was as fiercely protective of her as he was of his own little sister. He knew that she loved horror movies and hated Claymation because it freaked her out that that she has seen every single episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. at least three times and could sing all the lines of every single song Lana del Ray has ever recorded from memory.

He knew that she started drawing when she was really young and would sit on the floor in her dad’s office and draw on his grid paper while he worked on his designs; he knew that art had helped her through some really hard times like when she started questioning her sexuality and when her father had died and when he girlfriend had been killed and that she hoping to go back to school to become an art therapist. He knew she was stubborn and loyal and empathetic and unafraid to speak her mind. He knew she could be cunning and calculating and ambitious and ruthless and even downright vicious when it came to things going her way or getting what she wanted. Bellamy had just never thought there would come a day where he would be on the receiving end of all that Clarke Griffin Intensity. At least, not like this.

In all the years he’d known her, Clarke had never treated him like one her family’s employees or made him feel like “the help.” She got along (scarily, in Bellamy’s personal opinion) well with his little sister, and took (or sometimes dragged) him out places with her. She asked his opinion on things, and incorporated him into her friend group (while gleefully teasing him about how hot they all thought he was). She went to him for advice, and liked all his friends. She actually read the books and watched the movies and listened to the music he would recommend to her, and made him feel included at Wallace family events and dinners. She always laughed at his dumb jokes (sometimes so hard she would snort, which was his favorite), and would go to his apartment to feed the cat and water the plants when he was out of town. She would text him while she was on a bad date or at a boring event, and listened to all his rants about mythology and colonialism and the Star Wars universe and representation in media and all the historical inaccuracies in every single period drama they ever watched together. She would show him the art pieces she was working on, and remembered shit like his birthday and that he was allergic to tomatoes and the anniversary of his mom’s death and that Nerds were his favorite candy. She treated him like he was someone important to her, someone she cared about even. She made him feel valued and respected. She’d never treated him or made him feel like anything but her equal.

But now, finally looking up at the girl across from him, knowing just how much time and planning and work and effort she’d put into trying to fuck him over and ruin his life, it feels like being in the room with a complete stranger. And it might be one of the worst feelings in the world. Bellamy thought he knew her. Thought he could trust her, that he understood her, that they understood and trusted each other. He had considered her a good friend and, after so many years of knowing her, possibly even a best friend.

He had introduced her to his friends and his sister, and texted her links to stuff she would find funny and when someone said something absurdly ignorant or hilariously dumb on TV. He started keeping those alcoholic ciders she liked better than beer in his fridge, and thought way too hard about what to buy her every year for her birthday. He told her stories about his mom, and his childhood, and his first kiss, and his first girlfriend, and the first time he got punched and the first time he punched someone which were, to Clarke’s endless amusement, two completely different situations.

He told her about how terrified he’d been that he would never see his sister again when they were separated after their mom died, and how for years the only time he felt truly happy was during their weekly visit with their social worker when he got to see her, and how it took the longest time after he was officially able to get custody of her for him to finally relax and not worry that she wasn’t coming back every time she left the apartment, and how fucking proud he was of her for getting into a good college, and all kinds of personal shit he would never just tell to just anyone.

She’d become a fixture in his daily life, a staple in his routine, the first person after O that he wanted to share good news with, and the last person he wanted to say goodbye to before he left the Wallace estate to head home for the day. He let her in.

After years of his mom’s revolving door of terrible boyfriends, and moving around different towns to where ever Aurora could find a job, and constantly having to switch schools, and never really having time to hang out with kids his age because he had a little sister to take care of, and being passed around from foster home to foster home once he was put in the system, Bellamy didn’t just let people in and make friends with them. He has a screening process, a thorough one, what he had thought was an effective one; but somehow, Clarke Griffin had managed to make it through with flying colors in record time.

Bellamy is well aware that, in all likelihood, he should be more concerned about the fact that finding out he didn’t really know Clarke as well as he thought he did feels like his whole world has turned on its head and he doesn’t know which way is up. But between Dante dying and being framed for his murder and having paparazzi actually camped out on his front lawn and being put in charge of an entire estate he has no idea what to do with and bequeathed an amount of money so high he wouldn’t have believed it existed, there’s a lot to be concerned about. He can prioritize. Or at least multitask. Probably.

“Well why don’t we start with who it was that hired me,” Kane begins as he puffs on his pipe.

“We know who hired you,” Bellamy interrupts. “Clarke did. As part of her plan to frame me for Dante’s murder… I really don’t need to hear about it again.” If he has to listen to the whole story in terribly thorough detail again he is definitely going to do something stupid like cry. His voice breaks a little on the last words and out of the corner of his eye her sees Clarke bite her lip and look down at the table. Good, he thinks, she should feel like shit.

“Yes, Clarke did secure my employ,” Kane confirms.

Bellamy almost rolls his eyes. ‘Secure my employ?’ who the actual fuck even talks like that anymore?? While smoking a pipe??? Jesus tap dancing Christ.

“But she did so by proxy,” Kane continues, “under the instruction of her grandfather.”

That stops Bellamy and his internal running commentary on Kane’s outfit (Who the hell wears actual suspenders? And a goddamn deerstalker hat?? Where the hell do you even buy a deerstalker hat anymore?!?) right in their tracks. “Wait… What?”

“Dante Wallace hired me not only to solve his own murder, but to help his granddaughter frame herself while she also pretended to frame you at the same time.”

Bellamy blinks at him.

“You see Dante Wallace knew he was going to be murdered before he committed suicide,” Kane begins what Bellamy suspects is going to be one of the most confusing and ridiculous stories he has ever heard in his life. “And yes, Dante Wallace most definitely did commit suicide.”

This time Bellamy turns to blink at Miller. “Yeah,” he says dryly, “this is about where I started screaming internally too.”

Instead of continuing, Kane uses the pause to pull out that stupid coin he’s always tossing around and flips it in the air, catching it again without even looking but with uncanny precision. Bellamy is sorely tempted to tell him exactly how far he should shove the damn thing up his ass, but he physically restrains himself and waits for Kane to go on.

“Mr. Wallace knew not only that he was dying, but that he was being murdered. Slowly and painfully at that. He knew he was going to die and how, but he didn’t know when it was going to happen or who was doing it. He had a murder and a murder weapon, but no body and no actual death.”

Kane pauses and runs his fingers over his beard. Bellamy is like 99.9% sure this dude grew a beard just so he could stroke it dramatically. “He did have one other thing though,” Kane goes on, “and that was an obvious suspect.” He nods in Bellamy’s direction, “you.”

All three of the room’s other occupants are looking at him in silence. Bellamy’s breath catches and he starts to panic, “But you already cleared me. You said you know it wasn’t me. It wasn’t… I didn’t… I couldn’t… That’s…”

Clarke reaches out and grabs one of his hands. Bellamy can’t help but think that her tiny hand on his huge one shouldn’t be as reassuring as it is. “We know you didn’t do it Bell,” she tells him softly but firmly. She squeezes his hand, “we know you could never.”

He wants to smack her hand away and tell her not to call him that. He wants to tell all three of them to fuck off, he wants to get the hell out of here, he wants to get some weed from Monty the groundskeepers’ stash in the garage, or go down to Polis Pub and have O mix him up of those “kitchen sink” drink thingies she makes that he is pretty sure have what must be an illegal, non FDA approved amount of alcohol in them. He wants to go home and sleep forever, he wants to wake up tomorrow and have this all just be a terrible dream, he wants to travel back in time and never take this fucking job in the first place. He wants to do a lot of things, but he doesn’t. He just stays quiet and waits.

Clarke withdraws her hand and he sees her clench it into a fist on the table in front of her. “Grandpa Dante was being poisoned,” she says matter-of-factly. To anyone else it would seem like she was emotionless; but Bellamy sees the tension in her shoulders, the clench in her jaw, the rapid blinking of her eyes. He has been around the Wallace family long enough to know that they know how to put on masks. The can tamp down their anger, and swallow their sadness, and choke back their tears, and fake out their fear, and affect apathy along with the best of them. But Clarke has her tells, and he knows them. Dante always told him he was observant for his own good; that he was a good judge of character, that he pays attention to detail, that he notices the little things others wouldn’t even know to be looking for. And that one of these days it was going to get him into trouble.

He saw Abby disguise her sorrow and depression and grief after the tragic death of her husband Jake. And a few short years later, saw Clarke as the ice-cold, emotionless mirror image of her mother after her girlfriend Lexa was shot in a drive by. He saw Maya mask her terror the day she got her diagnoses, when she’d found out that she had developed a rare, life threatening blood disorder before she was even able to drive a car, that she would have to go through painful blood transfusions for the foreseeable future just to stay alive, and sees her to the same every time she leaves to go get her treatment. He saw Roan force back his fury every time he sees his mother treat people like dirt and watches his little sister show up to yet another family event high out of her mind. And he constantly saw Dante hide his sense of regret, his feelings of helplessness and hopelessness, when he reflected on what his family had become.

None of them managed to mask their feelings the day Dante’s will was read though, their emotions were written all over their faces: Nia’s fury at being passed over for “the help.” Abby’s shock and confusion at her father’s decision and clear feeling of betrayal and heartbreak that her father trusted Bellamy with his legacy more than he trusted her. Emerson’s horror over not being able to continue to maintain his lifestyle or pay for the treatment his sick stepdaughter needs to survive. Ontari’s hysterics at the easy funding for her pill and powder fixes being cut off. Roan’s indignation when he finally snapped ad yelled at his family members to “chill the fuck out and back the hell off! Bellamy clearly doesn’t know what the fuck is happening even more than we do!” And finally, Cage’s rage over Bellamy daring to take what Cage saw as rightfully his.

Not Clarke though. Clarke remained seated in the arm chair she had unceremoniously plopped down on when she arrived, throwing her legs over one of the arms and pulling up Candy Crush on her phone. Her attention wasn’t focused on her phone anymore though. Unlike the rest of her family, she stayed silent. Also, unlike the rest of her family, her ice blue, all seeing eyes were focused not on him, but on the people gathered around him, yelling and screaming, all hellfire and fury, threats and accusations flying. At first glance she appeared stone faced and detached. But while she studied her family Bellamy looked closer at her and for a brief moment, no more than a second, he saw it: the slight smirk curving at the side of her mouth.

Bellamy couldn’t tell exactly what was running through her mind that day, but he knows what she’s feeling now: grief over Dante’s death, sorrow over losing a family member (one of the only family members) she was close to, anger over her grandpa being murdered, and primarily: pissed as fuck that someone would do this to him. Bellamy still isn’t sure what’s happening or been able to process all the information he’s been given, but he’s starting to strongly suspect that hell hath no fury like Clarke Griffin scorned.

Kane rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder, wordlessly encouraging her to continue. Clarke takes another deep breath seemingly trying to calm herself, like it’s been ages since she felt like she was able to catch it. He knows the feeling. “I figured out he was being poisoned a while back,” she says. “He was just… He was getting sick way too fast.”

“I might not have been in med school for long but I was there long enough to know that his condition shouldn’t have been deteriorating so quickly,” her voice is getting steadier now. “He shouldn’t have been in so much pain, he shouldn’t have been so tired all the time. And nothing was working; some of the treatment should have been working, something should have been working.”

“You must have noticed it,” she half states, half asks. “I mean… He was just so… And nothing was… You had to have noticed it too?”

Yeah, she’s right; he had noticed it. Dante shouldn’t have been so sick so quickly. No matter how much he slept, he always felt tired. He started to lose drastic amounts of weight and his skin started to yellow at a disturbingly rapid pace. His heart rate and blood pressure were all over the place. His bones appeared to have become brittle overnight and he seemed to be in almost perpetual pain, his body shrugging in on itself while he sat, or contorting itself while he slept, just trying to get comfortable. He started getting spells where he was confused, he would have no idea where he was or not remember why he walked into a room or forget something Bellamy had told time only minutes prior. The spells wouldn’t have normally been too alarming in an elderly patient except that this wasn’t any other elderly patient, this was Dante Wallace. He had never been anything but sharp as a tact, quick on his feet, alert and awake and of perfectly sound mind.

She was also right about the treatment. Lung cancer is obviously nothing to scoff about, but the kind Dante was diagnosed with should have at least been manageable, if not treatable or even curable, with the right medication. Medication Bellamy knew he was on because he was the one that administered the drug to Dante every day, which subsequently brought him to the shit storm he was currently caught in without rain boots or an umbrella. Not only did the medication not seem to be doing anything to improve Dante’s condition in any way, they seemed to be making him worse. It was almost like they were causing new symptoms in addition to exacerbating the ones that were already there.

So yeah, he had noticed. Bellamy was no medical professional or trained expert; he was just a caregiver, a companion, he was just “the help,” but even he could tell that something was wrong. Whenever he had tried to express his concerns to members of Dante’s family as well. But whenever he tried to speak with Dante’s children about his health, he was either told off-handedly that it would be checked into, or told in no uncertain terms to mind his own goddamn business or his ass was fired.

“I mean, I’m well aware that me making the illogically, dramatically huge jump straight from ‘my grandpa is super sick’ to ‘MY GRANDPA IS BEING POISONED!’ is a little odd,” Clarke shrugs. “But it turns out that when you’re majoring in pre-med and spend your summers researching insane, off the wall ways to kill someone for your grandfather who writes murder mystery novels, you pick up some things,” she says grimly.

God, he thinks, her whole entire life must just be so weird.

“I remember taking a random medicinal chem class in undergrad,” Clarke starts rambling. “That’s how I think I first figured out what was happening. It took me a while to figure out the specifics, but once the details starting becoming clear it was obvious: Grandpa had anthracycline induced cardiac and pulmonary toxicity that was incorrectly diagnosed as potentially malignant, early stage lung cancer.” She’s talking even more animatedly now and gesturing wildly with her hands like she’s really getting into what she’s saying. Bellamy hates how cute he finds it.

“He was then treated with unnecessary, prolonged, and continuous exposure to radon which not only served to exacerbate his current vascular symptoms, but also caused additional idiopathic neurological, respiratory, skeletal, cardiovascular, and immunological afflictions that caused his condition to deteriorate to the point of inviability,” Clarke explains. Kane is nodding along like this all makes perfect sense to him and that she was explaining something as simple as how two and two makes four.

Bellamy and Miller just stare at her with blank expression of incomprehension on their faces. Miller previously had his pen poised over his notepad like he would have written down every word she said if he knew how to spell half of them. Now he just sighs and tucks his pen behind his ear and shoves the notepad back into his back pocket.

“Uh huh, right, exactly,” he says dryly. “How about you repeat that one more time in Normal Person.”

“He was poisoned with something that made it look like he had lung cancer,” she states matter-of-factly.

Miller shots Bellamy a look that he knows is asking “the fuck couldn’t she have just said that the first time?!” There’s a similar expression on his own face right now, he’s sure.

“Then he started getting chemo and radiation for the Not Lung Cancer which probably ended up giving him the Actual Lung Cancer and definitely gave him a whole bunch of other bad shit. He was slowly but surely dying,” she swallows and looks down at her hands, picking at one of her fingernails. “And the stuff that was supposed to be helping him was really just causing radon poisoning and killing him more quickly and painfully,” the crack in her voice makes him want to fold her up in his arms and tell her everything is going to be okay, the way she had for him so many times over the past week. Until he reminds himself that we don’t comfort people who try to frame us for murder. People who try to frame us for murder are assholes, no matter how pretty they are.

“My first guess was obviously Cage,” she goes on, “mostly because he sucks and I hate him. But still, it's not like I was wrong. It took a while for me to convince grandpa though, he was actually really pissed at me for even suggesting it in the first place.”

Bellamy remembers those few weeks severalmonths back when Clarke had stopped coming around and Dante had gone from his usual “exasperating old man shouts at cloud” to “insufferably cranky asshole.” When Bellamy suggested that maybe they invite Clarke over to cheer him up since she hadn’t been around in a while, Dante had just glared even harder and huffed that he and Clarke had “parted ways” due to “irrevocable creative differences” before flouncing from the room like an egregiously offended prima donna and locking himself in his study for the remainder of the day.

“I finally managed to convince him by figuring out where Cage would have been getting whatever he was poisoning grandpa with: his wife.”

Bellamy didn’t really know Cage’s wife, Dr. Lorelai Tsing Wallace, very well. Nor had he made any effort too. Primarily because she gave him the fucking creeps. She wasn’t the same brand of downright terrifying like Nia, or intimidatingly poised like Abby. She was scary in her very own, unique “don’t stand so close to me,” “makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up,” Stranger Danger kind of way. He would catch her eyeing him with interest sometimes, and he could never quite tell if it was in an “I want to jump you” kind of way or an “I want to kidnap you and harvest your organs” kind of way.

“It seems that the pharmaceutical development company Dr. Tsing works for had been doing a great deal of experimentation with alternative forms of radiation and chemotherapy treatment.” Kane says from where he’s returned to his perch on the table. “Namely, orally administrated, pill forms of radon.”

“We haven’t been able to establish any conclusive evidence that Lorelai Tsing-Wallace was knowingly or willfully involved in her husband’s plot to kill his father,” Miller interrupts, all procedure and formality. All three of them look at him with thoroughly unimpressed faces. “But yeah,” he concedes. “I honestly have no idea how the hell Cage would have gotten his hands on so much radon for so long without her help.”

“So yeah,” Clarke continues. “Once I was able to sit grandpa down and calmly and rationally explain to him what was happening to him and how, he was persuaded to see reason.

It’s another part of the story that Bellamy can’t help but snort at, because looking back, he’s pretty sure he remembers the exact incident she’s talking about. After going weeks without seeing her, Clarke had stormed into the house like a category 5 hurricane (as opposed to her typical level 2 tornado) and stomped up the stairs to Dante’s study. She’d pounded incessantly on the door, demanding he let her in and talk to her. And when he’d continuously and steadfastly refused she’d threatened to “kick in his antique, handcrafted, mahogany door with her heavy-duty riding boots that he knew would fuck that door right up because he bought them for her and knew exactly how expensive they were and exactly how much she was not screwing around.”

Eventually Dante had relented and after that there was a lot of muffled yelling and what definitely sounded like things being thrown and furniture being knocked over, all of which was typical for a Wallace family argument. “You can never say we lack passion,” Dante had always told him. But it was the eerie silence that came after that was concerning. After they were quiet for so long that Bellamy genuinely began to worry that they had somehow managed to kill each other, he relented and made his way up the stairs.

His soft knock was met with an even softer “come in.”

Bellamy had popped his head in and teased “just wanted to make sure everyone was still alive up here.”

God in hindsight that was such a terrible joke, pun absolutely not intended he swears.

“Yes, yes, everything is just fine Bellamy, fine.” Dante had said quietly. Both he and Clarke had been sitting at his desk, red eyed, red faced, and looking horribly sad and defeated.

“Uh ok,” Bellamy had cleared his throat. “Well can I get either of you anything?”

Dante didn’t answer, still staring at his desk, so Clarke said “No I think we’re fine… Everything is… Fine.”

Dante had looked up at that point. “Yes,” he’d said, still sounding odd. “Just fine… You may go for the day.”

Bellamy should have known at that moment that something was up; it was only 11 am and Dante rarely ever even dismissed him an hour early, much less before noon. But he’d just shrugged it off as “family stuff” he didn’t want or need to get involved in, and made his way home, honestly happy to have a day off.

“All that evidence combined with the fact that, starting several months earlier, Cage had apparently started coming around more often wanting to do “guys night” with grandpa and bringing over whatever absurdly exotic, stupidly expensive liquor he could find that week for them to try, was what finally did it.” Clarke continues her story.

Bellamy remembers that, too. Cage had started coming around in the evenings to visit with Dante and they would drink and smoke cigars out on the screened in porch or in the den. Bellamy had been wary of why Cage started coming over so often when he had basically never made an effort to spend any time “getting to know” his father since Bellamy could remember. Dante had, of course, decided to humor him saying “perhaps there’s still time.” Bellamy had never really figured out what there was possibly still “time” for, given that there was no amount of time in the world that could reform Cage into a halfway decent excuse for a human being. But he guessed that was really none of his business.

When he’d asked about it off-handedly, Cage had thrown him some kind of excuse about “who even knew how much longer the old quack was going to survive, so he needed to get in quality time while he could.” Bellamy had just glared and scoffed quietly when Cage turned his back, chalking it up to Cage being an insensitive asshole and generally awful person who was just trying to make sure he would get his cut after his father died. Bellamy just hadn’t realized exactly how far Cage was willing to go to make that happen. At that moment, Bellamy also remembers that after the Hurricane Clarke situation was apparently resolved, that Dante stopped seeing Cage as often. He would make up well and truly absurd excuses like “he volunteered to referee a charity tennis game… at 7 at night… in the middle of January” for Bellamy to give Cage about why he couldn’t come over in the evenings or why Dante wouldn’t be making it to Cage’s house for their usual Thursday night dinners. Eventually Cage got the message and just gave up; not that Bellamy had minded getting to blow Cage off. It had become one of the highlights of his day.

“It was also me who figured out that the person he was probably trying to pin the poisoning on was you,” Clarke says.

“Okay this is one of the parts I’m still a little fuzzy on,” Miller interjects.

“Same,” Bellamy agrees, with feeling.

“I mean it was basically just simple process of elimination,” Clarke says, like figuring this out had been nothing more than a leisurely stroll in the park. And for her it might have been honestly. She’s terrifying.

“Cage was going to have to pin it on someone, he might be a slimy little shit weasel but he’s not completely stupid. And the fact that you gave grandpa his meds, including his radon shots, every day and night, made you the most obvious and ideal candidate.” She’s right of course. “They were going to need some way to explain the inexplicably high levels of radon in Dante’s system. So the most straight forward strategy would be to make it look like you were either knowingly, willfully, and purposefully trying to kill him, or at least make a solid case for elder abuse and negligent homicide.”

“That’s also why we felt we couldn’t go to the police at that point,” she says sadly. “We had no real idea how long Cage had been at this, except that it had been awhile. And we also had no idea just how much evidence he could have fabricated against you, how well he had covered his tracks. He wasn’t just a step ahead of us, he could have hiked the whole Appalachian trail for all we knew.”

“That’s probably also how he came up with the insulin and morphine ol’ switcheroo scheme,” Kane says.

Switcheroo? Bellamy can’t with this guy, he really just can’t.

“And this is where you lose me,” Miller interjects. “How do we jump from Long-term Radiation Poisoning to Lethal Morphine Overdoes to Slit Throat. Not that I don’t think it’s not possible,” he reassures them, "mostly because you are all insane,” he tacks on to the end. “It’s just that I’m gonna have to explain all this to a jury, and with those three potential causes of death, I can barely draw a Venn diagram… And juries love diagrams, so I’m gonna have to come up with something to show them.”

“Have you considered a histogram?” Kane asks, completely unhelpfully. “I know they have developed a somewhat questionable reputation in the chart and graph community, but there is really something to be said for…”

Miller just levels him with a glare that Bellamy is pretty sure could cut through bullet proof glass and Kane raises his hands in apparent surrender. “Just something to consider.”

“Anyway,” Clarke says, bringing them all back to the task at hand. “Like most heartless psychopaths, Cage is nothing if not a determined little creep. It’s why he has several restraining orders again him. I don’t even know how many it is at this point to be honest.” She glances over at Miller, “Could you look that up for me actually? I’ve always wondered and whenever I try to ask him about it he gets all testy.” Miller just looks at her disapprovingly, but when she turns away Bellamy sees Miller write a quick note on his pad and yeah, he’s totally looking that up. They’re all curious about how many it could possibly even be now.

“Since his quality poisoning time with grandpa had been severely limited once we figured out what he was doing, we knew he was going to come up with another plan. He once called 73 ‘Kate Johnstons’ trying to find a girl who had already changed her phone number once because he wouldn’t stop harassing her. His brand of Relentless Creeper Bravado knows no bounds,” she says with a disgusted, despairing look on her face.

“We could never tell exactly when it was going to happen or how it was going to go down,” Clarke said. “But we knew it would be coming eventually. Grandpa knew he would have to help you when the time came, and he also knew that I would need to be there to have your back and cover anything that might look like your tracks in the aftermath. I mean, I had to make it look like I was throwing you under the bus and then hanging you out to dry. But I really was trying to cover your ass. It’s a great ass, I would have hated for anything to happen to it,” Clarke grins a little like the cat that ate the canary and Bellamy can’t catch himself before he starts to grin back. It’s been a long day alright, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep track of everything that’s happening and control his facial expressions at the same time, sue him.

God he would be a terrible murderer. There is just way too much going on, he would never have been able to keep all this straight.

“We knew we needed to make the plan, including the final cause of death, airtight so that no average cop would ever even consider you as a suspect. No offense,” she says, glancing over at Miller who just shrugs like he wouldn’t have even considered taking offense in the first place.

“So that’s when it was decided that Clarke would be the Moriarty to our Holmes and Watson,” Kane says with a flourish of his pipe.

“I want you to be the Watson to my Holmes on this Mr. Blake,” Kane had said a few days into the investigation. “As one of the last people to see Dante Wallace alive, you have a unique insight into his state of mind and what happened that frightful night… Whaddya say?”

“Sounds like a dream come true, sir.” Bellamy had deadpanned, biting his cheeks to keep from smiling when he heard Clarke inelegantly, and completely ineffectively, attempt to cover her snort of laughter from somewhere in the background.

Kane had just grinned at him. “The game is afoot, eh Watson?” he’d joked in his comically slow, exaggerated southern drawl. That time he was pretty sure Clarke didn’t even try to choke back her snickering.

“Wait…” Clarke says glancing up at Kane. “Would I technically be Moriarty or Irene?”

“Well,” Kane ponders, stroking that goddamn beard again. “You were technically good even thought you were pretending to be bad, so wouldn’t that make you Irene?”

“Yeah… But I was still pretending to be something I wasn’t, so wouldn’t that just make me Moriarty either way?”

“Guys,” Miller interrupts their exchange.

“Right. Sorry,” Clarke says, like she’s just remembering where she is and what’s happening. Kane, on the other hand, looks like he’s still deeply considering the question and will continue to do so for the time being.

“It was actually the slit throat that tipped me off in the first place,” Clarke says with a little shake of her head and a half smile, half grimace. “If grandpa was really going to commit suicide he would never do it by slitting his throat,” she explains.

“He refused to use it as the cause of death in any of his novels because he considered them ‘offensively unimaginative’ and ‘inelegantly pedestrian’,” Clarke says, doing her best Dante impression which, Bellamy must admit, is pretty good. “But it was an effective way to blatantly show that his death was definitely self-induced. So that’s how I knew that something had gone wrong,” Clarke explains. “And when you told me about the accidental morphine overdose I knew it had to be the King of Try Hard’s plan put in motion and that it was Go Time…. No pun intended,” she adds quickly.

Bellamy runs his hand over his face thinking about the Go board, which is probably locked up in evidence right now, covered in Dante’s blood.

“Apparently,” she continues with a look in her eyes that could only be described as ‘murder mode’, “grandpa Dante was taking too long to die for Cage, so he decided to expedite the process. He knew that grandpa would never be able to say no to his birthday cake at the party.”

It was his favorite, German chocolate. Cage special ordered a huge one from Dante’s favorite bakery just for his birthday Bellamy remembers sourly. “I can’t believe you lived through World War II just to keel over and die from a German induced sugar high,” Bellamy had teased him while Dante dug into his second piece.

“Maybe so,” Dante had grinned at him. “But what a way to go eh?” Bellamy had just chuckled and walked away. He remembers reminding himself to make sure Dante got his insulin that night, and to make sure he got the higher dosage.

He can’t smile or laugh about that memory now though. All he can do is remember the horror and heartbreak that came just a few short hours later. He can feel himself starting to panic as he remembered looking down at the tiny glass bottles that held Dante’s insulin and morphine prescriptions. The terror that almost made his heart stop when he realized he’d given Dante more than 200 milligrams of morphine instead of insulin — more than enough to be a fatal dose.

“Hey, hey, Bellamy you gotta breathe,” he hadn’t even registered her moving, but somehow Clarke was kneeling right in front of him. Bellamy sucks in a deep breath through his mouth, but somehow the oxygen still doesn’t reach his lungs and he starts gasping for air.

He remembers the horror that washed over him as he realized: he’d switched the medication vials; the way it grew and started squeezing his lungs and clawing at his throat as he discovered that the emergency Naloxone was missing from his med kit. He remembers the feeling of urgency washing over him while he quickly told Dante what he did and picked up the phone to dial 911. The confusion when Dante pulled the phone cord out of the wall telling Bellamy they needed to “not be too hasty” and “to think this through” all the while Bellamy desperately trying to tell him that he only had ten minutes.

“Ten minutes until what?” he’d asked blandly.

“Ten minutes until you’re dead Dante! Like, stone cold dead. No do overs, no take backs.” Bellamy remembers trying to yell, but what came out was high pitched, hysterical panic. “We need to get you an ambulance NOW!” He’d lunged for the phone again, but Dante stopped him.

“Bellamy, son, listen to me right now,” Dante had said in his most serious I Am Dante Wallace and I Am Not Fucking Around voice. “If it’s only ten minutes, I’m already as good as gone. There is no way an ambulance could ever get here in ten minutes. We are too far from a main road, too far back on the property.”

“Dante, listen… There is no time, you have to listen! We have to get you help!” Bellamy had begged him, not even trying to maintain any of his composure at that point.

“Stop it! Stop this, Bellamy!” Dante had said, his voice even more serious and harsh. “Don’t you understand? If what you said is true, there is no saving me. If you call for help, the authorities will find you and a dead body and you will be in serious trouble for this. Trouble that you may never recover from.”

“I don’t care!” Bellamy had yelled. “I’ll deserve it!” I killed you, he’d wanted to scream. You’ll be dead and it will be all my fault.

“Think Bellamy, think about this. What about your sister? If you are tied up in, or even bankrupted by, lawsuits and legal proceedings and very possibly end up having to serve jail time, who will take care of Octavia? Who will be there for her? Who will protect her?”

Bellamy had glared over at Dante, he knew O is Bellamy’s kryptonite. He’s right though, Bellamy can’t just leave his baby sister alone in the world, not when he’s the only family she has left. Not when she’s relying on him, when he’s putting a roof over her head and making sure she eats and sleeps and does all those things young adults seem to constantly forget to do. Not when he’s paying for her health insurance and car insurance and putting her through college and planning on helping her with grad school. All with the money he made from this job. Fuck. He can’t just abandon her, can’t bring her whole life crashing down around her. He can’t do to her what was done to him when their mother died.

Dante must have noticed the change in Bellamy’s demeanor because he’d placed his hands on Bellamy’s shoulders and said, “We have to get you out of this. If you go down for this, your family will be broken again, but we aren’t going to let that happen are we? You need to listen to me very carefully and do exactly as I tell you… Will you do this Bellamy? This last thing. For me. For your family.”

He remembers trying to calm himself down and snap himself out of the overwhelming, panic-stricken haze that had overtaken his brain as he tried to pay attention to all of Dante’s instructions. He remembers the frenzied anxiety that he felt trying to remember what Dante had told him to do. Was it the drain pipe on the left or the right side of the house? Was he supposed to turn off the road before or after the tiered fountain?? What was the back-gate lock combination again??? Bellamy had known every single lock combination on the estate for years, but in that moment it had taken him at least six guesses. He remembers the frantic need to get as far away from the estate as quickly as he possibly could as he was driving home.

He remembers walking into his apartment and all the adrenaline that must have been keeping him upright completely disappearing. He remembers dragging himself into his room and lying in his bed all night, not sleeping a wink, just staring at his god awful beige colored bedroom ceiling, sobbing silent tears, a nifty little life hack he had picked up during childhood so as not to wake O who was usually sleeping in the room right next to his, if not in the actual bed right next to him. He remembers the freight train of emotions steamrolling over him as he realized that one of his best friends was dead. That he had killed one of the only true friends he’d ever had in this world.

The thing that he remembers most vividly of all though, was turning around to open the door to Dante’s study right after he’d stepped out to say “Fuck it. I’m calling you a goddamn ambulance, I don’t give a shit,” just in time to see Dante slitting his own throat.

“No, no, in through your nose and out through your mouth Bell,” Clarke says a little more urgently, jerking him back into the present moment. She grabs his hands and pushes her thumbs hard into the middle of his palms, trying to ground him. “Close your mouth and breathe through your nose and think about something else, like Kane’s stupid pipe. I know how much you hate that thing.”

Kane’s expression momentarily turns from concerned to offended. When he opens his mouth Bellamy just knows he’s about to launch into a diatribe about how pipes are traditional and sophisticated and all that shit. The thought makes Bellamy snort out a laugh which interrupts his breathing efforts and he starts gasping again.

Then Kane comes to kneel next to Clarke and looks at Bellamy with the first serious, sincere expression he thinks he’s seen from the man since he met him. “Bellamy, son,” he starts in that ridiculous drawl that Bellamy is sure must be greatly exaggerated, if not totally fake, but doesn’t really know enough about Southern dialect to call him out on it.

“Bellamy listen to me,” Kane goes on, making Bellamy meet his eyes and squeezing his shoulder. “You didn’t kill him, son. You did not kill Dante or do anything that led to or resulted in his death. You are an innocent man, Bellamy Blake.”

Bellamy tries to listen to what they are saying to him, but it sounds like they are talking under water and he feels like he’s drowning.

Miller rushes back into the room with a styrofoam cup that he gives to Clarke who then thrusts it into one of his hands while keeping hold of the other. “Here,” she says decisively, like somehow this cup is going to single handedly subdue the sheer panic tsunami that’s still building up inside him. Maybe they just think he needs something to throw up in. When Bellamy looks down at the cup though, he sees that it's full of ice cubes. “Now start crunching and breathe through your goddamn nose.” He does what he’s told and can’t believe she remembers such a small, insignificant detail like that this is his mental breakdown self-medication of choice.

They had been at the Dropship Diner for about an hour or two, and it was during one of the lulls in their anxiety inducing and more than a little depressing conversation about What the Actual Fuck Happened to Dante that he'd noticed her staring at him.

“What?” he’d asked. “Do I have something on my face?”

Clarke had blinked like someone just woken her up from a coma and then shaken her head a little ruefully. “No,” then she’d smiled slyly at him. “Well… At least not anything you can fix.”

He’d snorted. “So just thinking about who you’re going to hire to slowly and painfully kill me to avenge your grandfather’s death then?” He’d only been about half teasing, give or take. Clarke was very much her grandfather’s granddaughter in that she could be downright terrifyingly intimidating when she wanted to be.

She’d cackled at that. “Definitely not,” she’d laughed. “I mean, why outsource a job I could easily do myself?” Bellamy wouldn’t put it past her to be honest, but her grin while she said it had made the would be threat completely ineffective, and he could feel some of his nerves finally begin to settle a bit.

“I’m honestly just wondering how in the world you still have any teeth,” she'd said, shaking her head. “Did you make some kind of dental deal with the devil? Can he do something about my molars? I mean, I know I clench my jaw all the time, but them chipping so often feels a little dramatic.”

He’d barked out a laugh. “What?”

“Well I’ve watched you chew your way through cup after cup of ice water with the hyper focus of some kind of robot beaver on meth, but I don’t think you’ve actually drank a single drop of actual water.”

Bellamy looks around him and sees that yep, there are about eleven half empty water glasses in front of him that he had sucked the ice out of with the tenacity of a Roomba.

He runs a shaky hand through his hair. “Just a weird coping mechanism,” he’d told her. “I started doing it as a kid. We were too poor to get me on any actual anxiety medication or pay for me to do something constructive with all my nervous energy, like ice dance kickboxing or therapeutic underwater basket weaving or whatever it is you rich kids do.” She’d snorted at that but still nodded her head as if to say fair enough. “But between all my mom’s shitty, drug addict boyfriends and being my little sister’s primary caregiver while still trying to get good enough grades to not get kicked out of the charter school I was in, I had a lot of nervous energy. So yeah, ice chomping it was.”

“Wow,” she’d said. “That took a real hard left from cute childhood anecdote to tragic backstory really quickly. Never even saw the plot twist coming.”

“Yeah, I’ve got a few of those,” he'd told her, trying for a joking tone but completely missing it, if the way her expression had softened was any indication.

"I know you do.” She'd said quietly.

“You know you’d make a perfect broody detective with a tragic childhood in one of my grandpa’s books,” she’d said lightly, obviously trying to bring the levity back to the conversation. “You know, the dramatic ho, asshole with a heart of gold type who says shit like ‘they work outside of the law, but on the side of justice’ .”

He’d just shaken his head and smiled ruefully at her before putting his head in his heads, thinking about how much he was going to fucking miss Dante and willing himself not to start crying again. He’d cried more in those past few days than he had in a long time.

“SO!” she’d said loudly all perk and pep, clapping her hands like an annoyingly upbeat cheerleader and jolting him out of his reverie. “What are we gonna do about the whole ‘you potentially being caught propelling down a drain pipe with the stealth of a cat thrown into a swimming pool a few minutes after grandpa’s overdose’ thing? Because even I gotta say… That one is gonna be a toughie.”

Of course she remembers, he muses, she’s Clarke. And even though he’d never admit it, he’s pretty sure he remembers every single small, insignificant detail he’d ever learned about her too. She’s Clarke after all, his Clarke. The thought comes with such startling clarity and certainty that it’s what finally manages to snap him all the way out of the deep, dark panic hole he had been digging.

He opens his eyes and sees that Kane has moved away giving him some space. But Clarke is still there, holding his hand tightly in hers and stroking her thumb gently over his knuckles. She’s looking up at him from her place on the floor; all soft, concerned blue eyes and earnest, encouraging heartbreaker smile and yeah, he thinks, definitely His Clarke.

“Did you hear what Kane said, Bell?” she asks gently. “You’re innocent, you didn’t do it.”

Bellamy opens his mouth to contradict her, but Miller interrupts him before he can say anything, “It’s true Mr. Blake. Dante Wallace’s official cause of death is in fact blood loss from a self-inflicted stab wound.”

Bellamy opens his mouth again to point out that Dante never would have cut his own throat if Bellamy hadn’t fucked up and given him a huge overdose of morphine, but Miller also interrupts him again. “The toxicology screens and blood tests conducted as part of Mr. Wallace's autopsy also showed that there was no morphine in his system at all, just his normal dosage of insulin. In fact, the only abnormality found on Mr. Wallace's tox screens was an irregularly high level of radon in his system. Inexplicably high, even for someone who had been undergoing regular treatments of radiation or chemotherapy for some time. You didn’t give Dante Wallace an overdose of morphine or any other drug.”

Bellamy just sits there, totally speechless and completely dumbfounded.

“Now that Wallace’s deathly has been unequivocally ruled a suicide, neither you, nor anybody else, is under investigation for his murder,” Miller says firmly.

“But,” he goes on and Bellamy feels his gut clench again. There’s always a but. “In anticipation of the potential event that Dante Wallace’s death was not a suicide, we started considering potential motives. With a man like Dante and his considerable fortune and assets, as I’m sure you could imagine, money was obviously the first thing we came up with.”

“Dante’s oldest child, Abigail Caroline Griffin had no financial motive to want him dead that we could find.” Miller said nodding at Clarke. “Nor could we find any financial motive for his other daughter Antonia Elizabeth Kingcade. Like, none. Absolutely. Whatsoever.” And damn, Bellamy knew that was the god’s honest truth.

Not only was Nia still getting alimony and child support for Ontari from her ex-husband, who somehow managed to make more money than she did, he knew that Nia regularly made a killing in her own career. Figuratively that is; although it’s totally possible Nia actually kills people as part of her job, he wouldn’t be that surprised. Bellamy never knew what exactly it was that Nia did honestly; every time he’d try to ask someone, including her own son, they would open their mouths and start to answer him only to say something like “huh” and scratch their heads trying to figure out if they just couldn’t remember or ever even knew in the first place. Eventually they would start to look like they were thinking so hard they might hurt themselves, so Bellamy would just say “never mind” and eventually gave up trying to find out. All he really knew about what Nia did for a living was that she did a lot of it and that she did it very well. Well enough to land herself a spot on the high ends of all those “Fortune 500,” “50 Most Influential Under 50,” “Lifestyles of the Super Rich and Powerful,” "Have Never Paid Their Federal Income Taxes," "We Could Probably End First World Poverty But Just Choose Not To," lists that magazines like Forbes and Time made year after year.

“His oldest son Cage Bradford Wallace however,” Miller says with a pained look on his face like the name is so douchey it offends him to have to say it. Bellamy will hand it to him that it is an offensively douchey name. It's almost like his parents knew he was going to be an offensive douche bag and named him accordingly, “had more motivation than a Richard Simmons workout video. Turns out that Wallace Jr. has been running his ‘investment firm’ less as a business and more as a personal piggy bank. We think he figured out a long time ago that it was going to catch up with him and that he was going to have to somehow magically replace all the money he’d stolen from his investors. But apparently the scheme he came up with the get that money was less magical and more... attempted homicidal.”

“We have a forensics team sweeping his home, his car, and his office right now as well as digging through all his trash,” Miller says. “And I’m not a betting man… At least not during the week anyway… But I am more than willing to bet we are going to find radon residue all over Cage’s entire life from the past year or so.”

The door swings open, interrupting Miller’s monologue, which he looks vaguely put out by. “Not probably, definitely.” It’s Detective Reyes, Miller’s partner and head of the forensics team on the case, and who is the same brand of disconcertingly intelligent and unnervingly observant that Clarke is.

The first time he’d met her, she’d been taking his fingerprints and DNA sample and collecting fingernail scrapings and whatever else it is forensic people collect. He was having a hard time focusing at that point, the panic fog still hanging thick over his brain.

“Okay, you’re all set!” She’d declared when she was finished with whatever it was she was doing. “I’ll let you get back to your cat.”

“My…?” he’d started, staring dumbly at her.

“Your… cat…,” she’d said slowly, like she was trying to explain the rules of Candy Land to a four year-old. “Orange Calico, I’m pretty sure… Might be a Tabby though.”

“How did you…?”

She’d reached over to pluck off a tiny orange hair Sphinx must have left on his jacket that his heavy-duty lint roller didn’t catch. Then she’d just grinned like a wolf and left him with a cheery “have a nice day!” and blown out of the room in a whirlwind as quickly as she came in.

“We also strongly suspect that Carl Emerson Wallace is a co-conspirator in his father’s death,” Kane adds flipping his little coin thingy again. Bellamy decides that he really doesn’t need to work both the pipe and the coin at the same time. One would be enough for him to maintain whatever vibe he’s going for. Bellamy still isn’t completely sure what that vibe is exactly, but at this point he’s a little too afraid, and mostly too tired, to ask.

“Not only did he also have a financial motive,” Reyes says letting a stack of file folders drop loudly onto the table and making everyone in the room jump, “being that he too was broke. But a search of his car turned up a small vial of Naloxone, which he has no business or reasonable explanation for having in the first place. And it will likely prove to be the emergency Naloxone missing from your kit.”

The emergency Naloxone Bellamy needed that night. The Naloxone that would have saved Emerson’s own father’s life. Bellamy can’t help but clench his jaw and tighten his hold on Clarke’s hand. Fucking Emerson, this would be the one time he manages to do something vaguely useful or slightly right.

“Okay. Ow. Bell,” Clarke interrupts his mental tirade by poking his leg. “I know I’m not your favorite person right now, but maybe we can negotiate about which of my appendages you get to rip off? Because I like my fingers, and I just got this manicure.”

Bellamy looks down to see that Clarkes fingers are literally turning white in his grip. “Sorry,” he says sheepishly letting go of her hand. He can’t help but chuckle, both at himself and over the fact that Clarke doesn’t know she’s basically his favorite person in any given room at any given time. Even, evidently, when she’s fake framing him for murder.

She just smiles ruefully at him and gives his hand one more warm, reassuring squeeze before making her way back to where she had been sitting on the other side of the table. He wants to drag her back over to him; to take her hand back in his and fold her under his arm and know she’s on his side again. But he doesn’t, he can maintain some level of chill. He can.

“We knew Cage would fuck up at some point,” Clarke says once she’s settled. “He might be a clever little douche canoe, but he’s not that smart. And his first major fuck up was thinking you would fuck up.”

"He switched are the vials in your med kit," Miller says when Bellamy looks at him questioningly, "or had someone switch them around for him, as the case may be."

Fucking Emerson.

"It was as simple as using the syringes in your kit to switch the liquids in the insulin and morphine medication vials, and then taking the emergency Naloxone as a precaution," Reyes explains. "So simple even an idiot like Emerson could apparently do it."

Bellamy might just end up in jail for murder after all before this is over, because he is going to fucking kill Emerson.

“Apparently, the one thing Cage didn’t count on was that, unlike him, you are actually competent at your job,” Kane says pulling several small vials out of his bag on the floor next to him and setting them on the table in front of Bellamy. "Not just competent; dedicated, skilled, exceptional, unerringly so it turns out. And for that reason, you did not give Dante an overdose, you did not use the incorrect medication. You switcherooed the switcheroo."

Bellamy can't even be annoyed at Kane's word choice, because he is genuinely to stunned to think straight.

“That’s impossible,” he manages to choke out. “I was there… I know what I… I know I gave him an overdose.”

“No, you didn’t,” Kane counters. “Here, I’ll show you… Hand me that vial of morphine.”

Without thinking Bellamy grabs the bottle of morphine from the table and hands it to Kane, who takes it from him grinning. “If you look Mr. Blake, you’ll see that I have taped over the labels of all these medication vials, and the vials themselves are identical… So how did you know this was the morphine?”

“I just knew,” Bellamy says shocked as hell and honestly surprised he can talk.

“Yes, you just knew. You knew because there are the slightest, almost imperceptible difference of tincture and viscosity between all these liquids. You knew because you had administered these exact same medications to Dante Wallace steadfastly and without fail every night for years. You knew because you'd done it hundreds, if not thousands, of times. You gave him the correct medication because you are a good care giver.”

“Then Dante was…?”

“I’m sorry Mr. Blake, but yes,” Kane says sadly. “Mr. Wallace was perfectly fine. His blood was normal. The cause of death was truly, solely suicide, and you are guilty of nothing but some slight property damage in the form of a broken drainpipe and a few amateur, albeit impressive, theatrics. In fact, if he had listened to you and called the ambulance, he would be alive today.”

Bellamy swears his heart actually breaks in that moment. He can feel the sharp, relentless pain starting in his chest and radiating through his entire body as he puts a hand over his mouth and chokes out a strangled sob.

“Yeah,” Clarke says sounding and looking absolutely miserable. “You would think he would have learned at some point to just listen to you,” she tries to tease, but it doesn’t quite land.

“Anyway,” she says curtly, quickly wiping a tear off her cheek like it’s personally offending her. “Once we found out that grandpa had left you literally everything, Cage was even more likely to start getting sloppy and desperate. But what we couldn’t have happen was for us to wait for Cage to dig his own grave and have you go down in the meantime. And I just so happened to be the perfect scapegoat,” a little bit of her grin coming back. “The greedy, self-obsessed granddaughter whose more than willing to hang ‘the help’ out to dry so she can get her perfectly moisturized hands on her share of granddaddy dead and dearest’s dough.”

It’s in that moment that Bellamy actually understands just how immeasurably huge of a gamble Clarke took in risking her ass for this. Sure, it was a calculated risk, with several elaborate fail safes and back up plans, but still. As he begins to truly appreciate what Clarke had done, what she had been willing to do, all for him, to keep him out of trouble. The guilt settles over him like a dark, heavy cloud. He’s spent days hating her. He has said some truly heinous things about her in anger. He had no second thoughts about believing the absolute worst of her. She’s supposed to be his friend. He should have known she would never truly do something like try to frame him for murder she committed. Hell, he should have known that she wasn’t even capable of committing any type of murder at all, much less the one of a person she loved. Clarke could never in any time, dimension, or universe do anything like that. Not his Clarke.

She must notice the heaviness settle over him because when he opens his mouth to start apologizing to her, he’s not above begging really, she puts her hand up and says “I know what you’re gonna say, and don’t… I also know exactly what you’re thinking, and stop.” Honestly he’s sure she really does know, she always knows somehow.

“Yeah sure it was risky,” she says with a shrug, like possibly going down for first degree murder is about as potentially risky as buying a lottery ticket. “But, given the fact that I didn’t actually kill grandpa Dante, they never would have been able to come up with much more than a pretty weak, completely circumstantial case against me… Again, no offense,” she says to Miller who just nods as if to say ‘well, it’s not untrue.’

“And besides, it’s not like I couldn’t afford adequate legal representation who could have totally gotten me out of it. I mean, we might have had to sell one of the summer homes, but it’s like they always say: victory stands on the back of sacrifice,” she says with a completely straight face.

That does startle a bark of a laugh out of him, but the guilt is still there. It’s pinched between his eyebrows and clenched in his fists and sitting heavy in his gut. He knows he won’t be free of it until he really gets to talk to her. Just the two of them. Together. But this clearly isn’t the time or the place to do it. There’s already way too much going on.

“Here’s what I don’t get,” Miller interrupts, startling Bellamy. He had genuinely forgotten Miller was there, or that they were in a police station, and pretty much everything else that was happening. Clarke tends to have that effect on people. Well, mostly him, that he knows of; but he’s sure there are others somewhere. “Why not just tell Bellamy all of this?”

“Kane wasn’t just being figurative or facetious when he said Bellamy was ‘too honest’ to be in on it,” Clarke says. “He is literally incapable of being a convincing enough liar for us to have told him anything about it. He has an unfortunately obvious tell when he tries to lie.”

Ah, so Dante told her about the stutter. Bellamy knows he shouldn’t be surprised really, especially now that he knows Clarke was Dante’s ghost writer. And Clarke was observant as hell, it was totally possible that she just picked up on it herself. He tried not to make it a habit to lie to his employers, but when you are working for the impossibly rich and impossible to please, sometimes it’s necessary. He could usually make it through a quick fib without his voice shaking too much, but he knew it was still noticeable if you were paying attention or looking for it.

“Yeah,” he says with a grimace. “It’s a little nervous habit I picked up during childhood.” He knows that’s putting it very, very lightly. He’s not sure exactly how much Dante would have told Clarke about how Bellamy developed the “stammers when he tries to lie” thing. Probably not much, considering the fact that it’s not a particularly fun or entertaining story to tell.

It had started with one of his mom’s shitty boyfriends, who happened to be O’s dad, which came with the unfortunate side effects of him not just being around for a while, but actually living with them for an extended period of time. While all of Aurora Blake’s boyfriends had been shitty humans in general, this one’s particular brand of shiftiness was a drug induced one. The guy, whose name Bellamy refuses to remember on principle, was a crazy, paranoid tweaker who had decided that 10 year-old Bellamy was somehow the root cause of all his problems and the bane of his entire existence.

When Aurora was at work he would yell and scream and threaten Bellamy for hours on end, sometimes keeping him up until the early hours of the morning when his mom had to work the night shift. He would sit Bellamy down at the kitchen table and pace around the kitchen, using the “bad cop” style of interrogation that Bellamy recognized from those crime shows he definitely didn’t secretly watch while his mom was at work or he was at a friend’s house. He would accuse Bellamy of lying to him, of stealing from him, of spying on him, having him followed, trying to take over his mind, trying to body snatch him. Of being everything from a Ded to a demon haunting the apartment to a rare alien species trying to take over the world and make humans their slaves.

Eventually he started throwing in threats about hurting his Mom and O, who was still just an infant at the time, and Bellamy got so terrified of the dude’s escalating behavior that he just started making things up and telling him what he wanted to hear. Typically, this would appease him and he would calm down for a while until he shot up again and the process started all over. Bellamy would admit to anything, confess anything, say literally anything just to make it stop.

He got so used making things up that he almost couldn’t tell what was the truth and what was lies anymore, except for one thing that kept them apart for him. Bellamy would try to come up with stories so quickly and talk faster than he could think and get so terrified and nervous that whenever he came up with a lie, he would stutter, desperately making things up as he went, just trying to get it out before the yelling and screaming started all over again. It started happening with other people and in normal, everyday conversations too. And before he knew it, he couldn’t even tell a simple fib without breaking out into cold sweats and stammering uncontrollably.

That had gone on for what was probably way too long, until it eventually escalated into the shitty boyfriend demanding Aurora kick Bellamy out because he was actually some kind of government drone sent to spy on them. For what reason the government would give enough of a fuck about this deadbeat, drug head to send a drone to spy on him, Bellamy could never figure out. And it was honestly kind of a moot point anyway because Aurora had ultimately refused, obviously. While she had horrible taste in men and difficulties holding down a job, she made for damn sure that no one fucked with her kids.

It was after that incident that Aurora sat Bellamy down and explained to him that while she counted on him to look after his sister, he also needed to look out for himself. That she wanted to look out for the both of them, so she needed to know when someone treated either of them badly, or he thought someone was treating her badly. That if anyone ever hurt or scared him or his sister, or gave him a bad feeling, he could tell her and they would be gone, no questions asked. And to Bellamy’s surprise she actually kept that promise for the remainder of her life. But unfortunately, “the rest of her life” would only be a few more short years. He lost a lot of things when his mom passed: he lost her, he lost his sister for a while, he lost his home, and he lost any small sense of stability and security he’d had in his life. But the stammer stubbornly refused to take a hike. Now it’s just a part of his everyday life, a quirky personality trait. At best, it’s a fun, if not kind of bizarre, party trick. And at worst, it’s some stubbornly residual PTSD resulting from a depressingly tragic back story that Bellamy probably should have gotten years of therapy for. And hey, now that he’s loaded, he can actually afford it.

Dante had found it absolutely fascinating. He even used an adaptation of it in one of his books. One of the main characters in the novel was a young woman who had a “regurgitative reaction to mistruthing” or, in other words, she blew chunks every time she even thought about telling a lie. Bellamy hadn’t particularly cared for that rather unflattering iteration of his condition. But apparently Dante’s publisher’s thought it was inspired and his readers went absolutely nuts for it, so he just got over himself.

“But grandpa Dante didn’t need to know any of that to be sure that you were the right person to trust to leave in charge of his estate,” Clarke says. “I still can’t believe how genuinely shocked some of them were that he would leave you something… Leave you everything even… I saw it coming honestly.”

“See my grandpa knew you Bellamy Blake. Even when he found out he couldn’t trust his own family, his own children, even we he thought he could no longer trust his own judgment, he knew he could trust you. He knew you wouldn’t sell his stories or his company off to whoever was the highest bidder like Nia wanted to, that you would make sure it went into the hands of someone who would respect his vision. He knew you would never do something as cruel as leave Maya in the lurch with her blood transfusions, but would be able to keep Emerson from seeing ‘one red dime’.”

Bellamy can’t help but smile at Clarke’s use of one of her grandfather’s favorite dramatic epitaphs; but at the same time, he feels his gut clench at the memory of the phone call he got from Maya the other day while he and Clarke were sitting in the Dropship Diner, staring at what had to have been at least their fourth pot of coffee.

“Hey Bellamy,” she had sounded nervous, her voice strained.

“Maya? Are you okay? Did something happen?”

“No… I was just wondering if you had decided what you were going to do yet? With grandpa’s estate? Are going to keep it or…?” she trailed off at the end.

“I don’t know yet Maya,” he’d told her. “I’m still in shock my head is spinning, I can’t even…”

“I think you need to give it back,” she interrupted him in a harsh tone she’d never used with him before. “I mean, it’s the right thing to do Bellamy. This family… We were always good to you. We’ve always been really good to you and your sister… It wouldn’t be right just taking everything from us like that… It was shitty of grandpa to put you in this position and I think you really just need to…”

She’s rambling, her voice is getting even more high pitched, it sounds like she’s panicking. Somethings not right, he can tell. “Maya, slow down okay. Just… Tell me what’s going on.”

He hears her choke back something like a hysterical sob.

“Shitgoddamnitfuck,” she sounds even worse. “I can’t do this. God, I’m sorry Bell! I’m so fucking sorry I’m…”

“It’s fine,” he tries to keep his voice level, nonchalant, reassuring. “Just tell me what’s up.”

“My dad can’t afford my treatment on his own.” Bellamy swears he can feel his balls drop and a cold dread settles over him. “My dad is… He’s broke Bell… He can’t pay for them, grandpa was paying for everything and now he’s not and I don’t know what will happen if I stop being able to get my treatment Bellamy, I don’t even know if I’ll…”

Bellamy knows: she’ll die. Maybe not right away, but eventually, her condition will turn from manageablely life threatening to undoubtedly fatal. Without the ridiculously expensive medication she has to take and her bi-weekly dialysis and transfusions, her blood will start clotting, her immune system will stop being able to fight off infection, her bone marrow will break down, and her body will collapse in on itself. He’s not a doctor or nurse, but he’s been around enough sick people to know what all the big words and scary jargon add up to.

He was there a few years back when the Wallaces called one of their rare Official Family Meetings and were told that Maya’s aplastic anemia had progressed to full blown paroxysmal nocturnal hemoglobinuria. He was there when Dante called in doctor after doctor and flew in experts and specialists from around the world to get 2nd and 3rd and eventually 12th and 13th opinions. He was there when Maya would stay over at the estate for days at a time, not wanting to be home alone while her step-dad went off on one of his “business trips,” (aka his week-long benders in Vegas or Miami or where ever there wasn't currently a warrant out for his arrest for some kind of misdemeanor). He was there when Maya would break down and crack under the depression and the fear of dying. And he was there when Dante would cry on his shoulder over the helplessness he felt that, even with all his fame and fortune and infinite resources, he couldn’t fix this for her.

God, it was just like Emerson to blow through all their money without giving a second thought to his 16 year-old step daughter and her life threatening condition for which she needed continuous care for the foreseeable future. Bellamy never got the chance to know Ada Vie, Maya’s mom, very well; but at least he knew she loved and took care of her daughter. He could never figure out why the fuck Emerson got married in the first place, especially to a woman who already had a kid. He had no interest in being a husband and even less interest in being a dad. Bellamy had always slightly suspected he married Ada for her own family money, and now that he knows Emerson has blown through it all, it’s not even a suspicion anymore. Ada had died suddenly a few years after they got married, and after the dust settled Emerson was left with a step-daughter and dependent whose share of her mother’s estate he controlled and had apparently plowed over like a goddamn 18-wheeler on the interstate.

“Hey listen to me Maya,” she’d been crying in earnest at that point, still apologizing for trying to guilt and manipulate him. “No matter what I decide, nothing bad is going to happen to you. I won’t let it, I would never do that,” he’d promised her. And he’d meant it. Dante was always more of a father figure to Maya than Emerson ever was, and Bellamy knew beyond all shadow of any possible doubt that Dante would have wanted Maya to be taken care of.

He hadn’t been able to figure out why Dante hadn’t left anything to Maya or any instructions about her care in his Will, but now it was clear. Maya was underage and would be for the next two years. Until she turned 18 her legal guardian would have control over the funds left to her as well as if and how they were used. And that legal guardian would have been Emerson. After finding out that Emerson had not only been scamming him, but also using Maya’s inheritance from her mother as his own personal piggy bank, there was no way Dante would have ever trusted his son with this.

“The only one of his kids Dante really worried about cutting out of the will was my mom. But in the end, he knew she would respect his decision like she always did, even when she didn’t understand it. Besides,” Clarke grins, “it’s not like she was left high and dry or anything. My dad left her with a pretty cushy set up when he died.”

Jacob Griffin, also known as Mr. Go-Green; the environmental engineer responsible for most of the prototypes used for the U.S.’s eco-friendly technology. The man who helped spearhead sustainable energy as the world knew it. Yeah, Bellamy could imagine his wife wouldn’t have much to worry about after he died, and his daughter too.

As if Clarke could tell what he’s thinking she adds, “I mean obviously he set me and Madi up nicely too. But honestly, I do pretty well for myself… Who knew that working as a research assistant and ghost writer for one of the most famous crime novelists in history would be so lucrative?!” There’s that smirk of hers again. This time he doesn’t even try to stop himself from smiling back as he feels the last bit of the knot that’s been in his stomach since Dante died finally begin to fade.

“We figured Roan wouldn’t be too much of a problem either since he hates this family’s money on principle and probably wouldn’t have even taken his part of Nia’s inheritance in the first place. Plus,” she goes on, “he would be on the opposite side of his mother and sister purely out of spite. Apparently he’s not hurting for cash either,” she adds. “Did you know that he owns the largest and most lucrative chain of non-medicinal marijuana dispensaries in the North Eastern U.S? Roan, an entrepreneur… Who knew right?!?”

Bellamy actually did know that; Roan told him once while they were commiserating over some of Dante’s good whiskey. What he didn’t know was that Roan was keeping it under wraps or not telling his family though, apparently the combination of top shelf liquor and good weed makes Roan chatty. Or maybe it was just Bellamy that made Roan chatty. Bellamy has that effect on people, as it turns out. Yet another one of his sparkling personality traits that seems to get him in predicaments like the one he is in now.

“I’m kinda jealous of how much he’s winning at life honestly,” Clarke groans. “God… How did the cousin who thought he could practice Santaria and unironically wore dreads and spent multiple summers following Black Sabbath around on their world tours end up being the one with a successful career and functional relationship?”

“According to E!News he’s dating that insanely hot, Icelandic supermodel with no last name. God what is her name?” Clarke starts tapping her head like she’s trying to poke her brain into submission. “Gecko…? Ghetto…? Techno…?”

“Echo.” Miller says in a patronizing tone implying that not only Clarke, but everyone on this planet, in this world should be aware of the information.

“Yes!” Clarke cries out, snapping her fingers at him and making Bellamy jump, “ECHO! Oh my god thank you, that was going to drive me nuts!”

Miller nods at her like he’s willing to let it go this time, but he won’t tolerate such an infraction again.

“Pft you would know that,” Reyes chimes in with a scoff. “I swear, for a dude who is strictly dickly, you are more knowledgeable about supermodels than anyone I’ve ever met. You’re like a walking Hot Chick Encyclopedia.”

“Don’t you have something to be analyzing with some super overpriced high techy-tech thing that we paid way too many hard working, taxpayer dollars for somewhere?” Miller asks her wryly.

“Roger that, chief.” She says with a mock salute.

“So nice to meet you by the way!” she says to Kane on her way out the door. “I’m a huge fan… You’re so much taller in person than I thought you’d be.”

Kane beams radiantly at her and places his hand over his heart like that was the most touchingly gratifying compliment he had ever received. And with that, Reyes breezes out of the room, flicking her perfect pony tail behind her.

“Anyway,” Clarke says, presumably finished with her lamenting and ready to get back to business. “Grandpa knew that those of us he actually wanted to leave money to didn’t actually need it or honestly didn’t give enough of a fuck to try to get our hands on it. My mom and I are set. We both have plenty of savings, we both work, and we’ll have no problem making sure Madi goes to good schools and can take up all the ridiculously expensive and completely useless hobbies she wants.” Bellamy snorts at that and Clarke grins again.

“Roan and his inhumanly hot girlfriend are off conquering the weed market, one pot lollipop at a time, and Maya’s medical care would be taken care of. You were the perfect choice.

“But unfortunately,” Kane says gravely, “that also made you even more of a target for Cage.”

“Idiot kept his cool for about a day and a half after you were released before he tried to hire a hitman,” Miller scoffs.

Bellamy startles at that, “He what?”

“Oh don’t worry,” Miller says waving him off, a scooch too nonchalant about Bellamy's life hanging in the balance for his liking. “We had his phone tapped and got a warrant for his arrest as soon as he made the call.”

“He also just so happened to call an undercover federal agency posing as some kind of hitman concierge service. It’s like he Googled ‘hitmen in my area’ and then just called the first number that showed up. Pleeb,” Miller scoffs again, like the murder for hire business should be easier to figure out than a single serve Kuerig.

“He was brought in about an hour after you were,” Miller says, looking down as gets a message on his phone. “And apparently Emerson is being brought in right now, so I need to go deal with that and you two,” he says pointing at Bellamy and Clarke, “are free to go.”

As Miller is walking out of the room he says over his shoulder, “if you have any questions or concerns, please don’t hesitate to call Detective Reyes... Or Lieutenant Pike… Or Sargeant Byrne… Or even Petty Officer Jordan if you’re feeling desperate... Basically anyone but me to be honest. After this amount of white people nonsense, I’m going on sabbatical.” And with that he’s gone, letting the door slam behind him.

Kane says something about needing to greet his “adoring public” and fixes his bowtie as he starts to strut, all pomp, circumstance, and perfectly coiffed hair, towards the doors at the front of the station, while Bellamy follows Clarke as she heads to more discreet back exit.

Standing in the back parking-lot, she puts on her big floppy hat and hilariously huge sunglasses and Bellamy can’t help but remember the first time he ever encountered Clarke Griffin. It was right after he’d started working for Dante; Clarke had pulled up to the house in her latest model Mercedes Benz looking like she’d traipsed straight out of a Lily Pulitzer catalog, all impeccably dressed, and flawlessly made up, and perfectly curled blonde beautifulness. She’d skipped up the front steps announcing that her spring break trip to Cabo was canceled so she was here to visit her grandfather.

“You’re new,” she’d said, looking at him over the lenses of her ridiculously, unnecessarily large sunglasses that she was still wearing inside.

“I usually go by Bellamy,” he’d responded flatly.

Clarke had grinned at him like she approved, even though he didn’t give a single shit about getting her approval. He swears, he did not.

Then she’d stuck out her hand and said “I’m Clarke Griffin, the prodigal, heathen granddaughter.”

“Heathen?” he’d asked her raising an inquisitive eyebrow and shaking her hand.

“Feminist, agnostic, bisexual, liberal Democrat takes way longer to say,” she’d said, still smiling widely. “Nice to meet you.”

He’d had to put an embarrassing amount of effort into keeping a straight face and not give into her grin. “Uh huh,” he’d said “your grandpa is in his study.”

After that he’d though she was just another dumb, ditzy, blonde, rich princess who had no idea how privileged she was and did things like blow wild amounts of money on fancy cars and trips to Cabo and whatever else it was that princesses spent their money on because she could.

While he’d figured out very quickly that he couldn’t have been more wrong about the dumb, ditzy, and ignorant parts (and about the spoiled princess thing too, admittedly. But he refused to give up the nickname on principle because it got such a rise out of her and riling her up was one of his favorite pastimes. He might have never gotten past the whole “pony tail pulling” stage of flirtation, but he’s working on it. Mostly), he was right about Clarke doing things just because she could.

She definitely did things like blow money on exorbitantly expensive shoes and even more expensive booze; and take last minute trips on jets and yachts to the Hamptons or the Virgin Islands or wherever it is rich people go when they need to “unwind” from their completely stress free lives; and eat caviar on crackers as an “afternoon snack;” and get the same kind diamond infused nail polish manicures that Beyoncé does; and always have the latest models of cars and computers and even a moped that one time. All because she could.

But she also did things like give thousands of dollars and hours of her time to countless charities; and maintain multiple scholarships for low income students interested in STEM and sustainable energy in her dad’s name; and spend her winter vacations working at places like a Sri Lankan elephant orphanage or a battered women’s shelter in El Salvador; and buy staggeringly over the top generous birthday and Christmas gifts for Bellamy and Octavia like all new stainless steel kitchen appliances for their apartment because the ones they had were “tragic,” and those stupidly expensive running shoes O had had her eye on along with a new iPod because “She can’t run without an iPod, Bell. She’s not an animal”, and the annotated first editions of The Iliad and The Odyssey that her book dealer managed to find (because of course she had a book dealer), all of which she apparently got “great deals on” and refused to return because they were all conveniently “final sale;” and pay for everyone’s meals and bar tabs and cover charges and Uber rides and movie tickets and concert seats and amusement park passes and, a few notable times, their hospital bills without even thinking twice or accepting a word of thanks or asking for a penny in return. Just because she could.

He’d asked her once, about the gifts. “Not that I don’t appreciate it,” he’d said quickly. “Obviously I do. A lot. Like, so much. I’m just kind of wondering… ya know… why?“

“Because you deserve them,” she’d answered immediately without looking up from whatever she was viciously typing on her phone in her latest Twitter fight with whichever woefully misguided, conservative, alt right, incel, neck-beard, dude bro had dared to take her on that week.

Then she’d tilted her head up at him with her little smirk he was a completely normal amount of obsessed with. “And because I can.”

Once he’d gotten to know the real Clarke, he still couldn’t help but laugh and heckle her about her over dramatic eye and head wear that made her look like a widow visiting her convict pen pal turned clandestine lover in prison where he was serving time for tax fraud. She is absolutely one of those ridiculously over the top rich people and she absolutely knows it. But her ridiculousness is far surpassed by her kind-hearted, earnest generosity. That was just Clarke.

His Clarke.

“Oh! Before I forget!” Clarke exclaims, reaching into her absurdly large purse, which he must say goes perfectly with her attire. She pulls out a thick manila envelope and hands it to him. “Grandpa Dante wanted me to make sure this got to you. I mean, it’s technically yours anyway since he quite literally left you everything,” she smirks at him again. “But he especially wanted to make sure this made it directly into your hands.”

Their fingers brush as she hands him the envelope and instead of pulling away she twists his fingers into his. “Look Bell,” she starts awkwardly. “I know this was all really fucked up, like beyond fucked up, Kardashian levels of fucked up even… But I just want you to know I am so sorry.”

“More sorry than words can say. For every thing... And I totally get it if you can’t trust me anymore or don’t want to be friends with me,” she starts rambling. “I mean I probably wouldn’t want to be friends with me either after this. Honestly if I could ghost myself right now…”

Bellamy just chuckles and tugs on her hand until she’s close enough for him to press his lips to hers. It’s a totally chaste, 8th grade style kiss. But still, she lets out this little sigh against his lips; and if they weren’t literally standing in the parking lot of a police station right at this moment, the situation definitely would have escalated from tolerable PDA to public indecency.

Instead he just pulls his lips away but keeps his forehead pressing against hers. He opens his eyes and finally feels relaxed for the first time in what feels like an eternity. He’d been wondering where his ability to breath normally had run off to. Figures it had been with her the whole time.

“I’m trying to come up with something really smooth to say right now,” he says, “but I’ve been dealing with a little stress lately so I’m kind of off my game.”

“It’s ok,” Clarke says, eyes still closed, more than a little breathless he thinks proudly. “You’ve never been smooth, I don’t know why you would start now.”

He starts to object that he is the smoothest, but she just pulls his mouth back down to hers and he figures there are much better things his lips can be doing at this current juncture. And when she throws both her arms around his neck to get him closer he finds himself yet again wishing the nearest building weren’t literally full of cops so that he could press her up against the side of it.

When they pull away for air he can’t help but think about how damn smug as shit Dante would be about being instrumental in pushing Bellamy and Clarke together. This probably wasn’t quite how he imagined it going down, but still.

Dante had never outright pressured them, or come out and said they should go on a date, or anything of the sort. No, Dante knew his granddaughter needed to go at her own pace, knew she need time and space to grieve and move on after girlfriends’ death, and, most importantly, knew she would vehemently resist being ordered or pushed into anything. Instead he would find small, yet absurdly unsubtle ways, to nudge them towards each other, to suggested how they would be good together.

Sometimes it was Dante all of the sudden “feeling a tired spell” or “losing his appetite” when he had arranged for his personal chef to make a nice lunch for the three of them, leaving Bellamy and Clarke alone out on the patio, rolling their eyes and chuckling awkwardly into their salmon club sandwiches and sweet iced teas. Other times he would request Bellamy go pick up Clarke when she would work for him during the summer do he wouldn’t have to “wait around for Lincoln or bother him with such a short trip when Bellamy could easily do it,” all while Lincoln, Dante’s own personal chauffeur, sat approximately 20 feet away on the patio where he had been all morning, snorting behind his newspaper. And then there were the times when Dante would have an oddly specific, and usually vaguely ridiculous and completely unnecessary, errand he needed Clarke to run at the exact same time Bellamy would be running his own errands for Dante, and “oh well wasn’t that convenient that they could just go together?!”

Typically, Dante’s antics were met with raised eyebrows, unimpressed expressions, and the occasional snort or sigh from both of them. They had only ever acknowledged it between them once while they were on their way to Saks one summer a few years ago. Dante had decided he needed Clarke to pick out some new swim trunks for him for the pool he literally never used because “she had the best taste in seasonal attire” and needed Bellamy to go with her to make sure the material of whatever she picked out “wasn’t too scratchy.”

“I can’t decide,” she’d said flatly, “if I’m more offended by him thinking he’s actually fooling us with this, or by his clear belief in my total and complete lack of game.”

Bellamy had snorted while desperately trying to come up with something to say about how he thought she had great game, the best game ever, like Shaq level game, without sounding like a total moron when Clarke’s phone had pinged with another text notification.

“He said he also needs flip flops,” she’d said raising an eyebrow. “But the ones without ‘the thingies that go between your toes’.”

“God, what does it say about me that I actually know exactly what he’s talking about?” Bellamy had groaned in response.

She’d looked over at him and they had both burst out laughing. The moment may have been ruined, but he had always been of the opinion that laughing with Clarke Griffin was a moment in and of itself. She didn’t really, truly, genuinely laugh all that often. She would usually cackle or snort, and there was the occasional chuckle, but the only person who seemed to have the innate talent for well and truly cracking Clarke up was her grandfather. Bellamy would hear them both losing it over something or other behind the closed doors of Dante’s study when she would come visit him or do whatever work it was she did for him over the summer. It seemed like someone had taught Clarke at some point in her life that she was only allowed a finite amount of happy and carefree moments, so he always felt a weird sense of accomplishment when he got to witness one; and being the cause of one was even better.

He opens his eyes and sees that right now she’s wearing the biggest, brightest, most beautiful, bonafide Clarke Griffin smile he’s ever witnessed, and he’s more than a little smug that he put it there. They stand there for a minute, just breathing each other in, until she pulls away slightly and beams up at him.

“Well,” she says giving him one last peck on the lips. “You’re about to have to answer an entire metric shit ton of questions from the media who will probably be here in about 3 minutes and 47 seconds, give or take. And while I usually love a good press conference, I haven’t showered in about 3 days and there is no amount of dry shampoo in the world that could tame the epic tragedy that is currently my hair.”

She steps out of his arms and starts digging around in her Mary Poppins bag for her keys. “Wait...” he says incredulously, “you’re leaving me? To face them all alone?! Clarke, how am I supposed to give a press conference?!? You know I can barely even talk on the phone!”

“Oh Bell,” she says patting his shoulder affectionately. “You’re rich now… Rich people can do anything!”

“You’re a dick!” Bellamy calls as she starts walking towards her car.

“You know you love me!” she yells back and yeah, he definitely does. He’s not gonna tell her right this second or anything, but he does.

She blows him an exaggeratedly loud kiss as she hops into the driver’s seat and revs her engine obnoxiously as she speeds away and God he’s totally gonna marry her, he thinks grinning like an idiot, he has no doubt. He’s going to be the shameless, boy toy, arm candy, trophy husband of one of the coolest chicks in the entire world and it’s going to be awesome.

It’s not until hours later when Bellamy gets home that night (gets to his new home holy fucking shit), after Cage and Emerson’s very public arrests, after the press conference clearing Bellamy and Clarke of all wrong doing, after posing with Kane for an endless number of photographs. and after answering what had to be a floppily trillion questions for the media, that Bellamy remembers the envelope. He pulls it out of his bag and slowly opens the seal. Inside is a thick stack of papers with a letter on top in Dante’s messy scrawl.

Dear Bellamy,

Thank you for being a kindred spirit, a loyal friend, a kind heart, and an excellent listener these past few years. And thank you, most recently, for being most inspiring muse yet.  It felt only fair and just for you to be the first to read the completed debut novel of my newest series. I think it has some real potential, but it’s up to you whether or not it will continue.  I trust that you will find someone with the perfect head for it and leave it in the right hands.   

Best,  Dante H. Wallace

Bellamy sets down the letter and looks at what he now realizes is the title page of a manuscript... The Casefiles of Odysseus Private Investigations & Detective Augustus B. Blake  Book 1: The Gold That Killed King Midas.

 On the next page he finds a dedication: for C and B, the head and the heart. Bellamy settles back into his new arm chair in front of his new fireplace in his new study and gets comfortable.  

Prologue: Augustus had a sister, her name was Octavia…

#bellarke #bellarke fanfiction #bellarke january joy #the 100 #the 100 fanfiction #i genuinely cannot believe i finished this on time #it's probably FULL of mistakes but i'll fix them later bc my head is about to explode #bellamy blake #clarke griffin #nathan miller #marcus kane #modern au #the 100 au #knives out au #character death tw #panic attack tw #suicide mention tw #cancer mention tw

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uneryx · 4 years

Text

Payback

Based on all the meta going around about Soren and Rayla having a rad bromance, Callum gaining a ton of upper-body strength from flying everywhere and general Rayllum fluffiness. So have a fic about Callum returning to the Storm Spire after a year of mage training, and how Rayla and Soren respectively welcome him back. Takes place about 3 years after Season 3, so Callum is just shy of 18, Rayla’s just shy of 19, and Soren is 22. Enjoy!!

From the peak of the Storm Spire, Rayla scanned the horizon, tensely waiting for something.

“Whatcha looking for?” said a voice behind her, causing her to nearly jump out of her skin. In a flash, she drew her swords and pointed them at the throat of her assailant.

“Whoa, whoa, it’s just me!!” said Soren, holding his hands up defensively and backing away.

Rayla relaxed. “Don’t sneak up on me, Soren, I’m not in the mood.”

“Why? Antsy because your boyyyyyyyyfriend is coming back today?” Soren leaned back with a sly grin.

Soren’s presence on the Storm Spire had initially made the rest of the Dragonguard nervous, but he was there on a diplomatic endeavor: a human Crownguard serving with the Dragonguard. His counterpart, a Sunfire elf named Yavuz, was stationed in Katolis. And after some time, the elves had come to realize that, while not the sharpest sword in the armory, Soren was really good at guarding things, and was pretty determined to prove he was nothing like his father. Plus, even Rayla couldn’t deny that he had his good points, and a strange friendship had blossomed between the two.

Said friendship mostly consisted of trying to out-do each other with increasingly dangerous or ill-considered feats of bravery and strength, but it was friendship nonetheless.Still, just because they were bros now, that didn’t mean Soren got to tease her about Callum.

“Shut it,” she said with a glower, and returned to scanning the horizon. “He’s been gone a long time, I’m allowed to be nervous.”

“It’s been what, a year?” said Soren, sitting down beside her with a clank as he pulled an apple out of some hidden compartment in his armor.

“A year, yeah.” Rayla looked down. She had tried not to miss Callum too much, and hoped that wherever he was - Cloudvale, the Shrieking Shore, Mt. Adra - he pined for her as much as she had pined for him this long year. She’d received letters very regularly, with accounts of his adventures and drawings of what he’d seen, and she sent letters back with updates on Zym, life at the Storm Spire, her own training. But letters and drawings weren’t the same as seeing him; his wide smile, the soft look in those green eyes, the shiver that went down to her toes when he said her name.

Soren bit into the fruit, and continued to speak with his mouth full. “Didn’t know mage training was so intense. Think he learned anything cool?”

“Probably. In his last letter, he said that he and Ibis had been chasing storms, trying to find a big one so he could make a primal stone.”

“Y’know, if you’d have told me three years ago that I’d be hanging out with the Dragon Queen and a bunch of elves, waiting for the step-prince to come flying in because he’s a sky mage and can turn his arms into wings? I’d have thought you were crazy.” Soren paused, thinking. “Actually I probably would have tried to kill you, since you’d have been a Moonshadow Elf in the castle, and since my job was to keep elves OUT of the castle--”

“I get what you mean,” said Rayla, cutting him off. And then, a speck in the distance - no, two specks. She tensed, watching the shapes draw in closer, hopeful but not certain.

“Whoa. Either those are really big birds, or that’s them,” said Soren, standing.

Rayla did not consider herself to be particularly vain or fussy. She had a job to do, which was guarding the spire from threats. Her appearance was low on her priority list (aside from making sure her clan markings weren’t faded and she looked presentable). But now that Callum was approaching, she felt her pulse quickening and suddenly whether or not she looked cute mattered a whole heck of a lot. She fussed with her hair, and tugged at the edges of her uniform.

“Calm down, you look fine,” said Soren, noticing her jitters. He knew he wasn’t the most tactful or observant man out there, but he did have a little sister, and he wasn’t THAT dim. He ignored the pang of sadness at the thought of Claudia, and instead focused on Rayla’s worry. So what if she hadn’t seen Callum in a year? The guy was obnoxiously earnest and a big softie, she had nothing to worry about. And if Callum was a jerk, he’d throw him off the Storm Spire. Assuming Rayla didn’t first.

The shapes drew in closer, and it became apparent that it was two winged humanoids - Ibis and Callum. Rayla waved, excited but restrained, and one of the figures wheeled away from the other, diving lower down, heading for the landing outside the Queen’s chambers.

Soren smirked. “I’m gonna go say hi to Ibis and let the Dragon Queen know they’re back,” he said, heading towards the stairs. “Don’t smooch him too hard!” He nimbly jogged away before Rayla could sock him. She scowled at Soren’s retreating form, but the frown vanished quickly as she looked up.

Callum was drawing closer now, wide brown wings fanning out and tilting upwards as he brought himself in for a landing. His feet had barely touched the stone of the Spire’s pinnacle before Rayla rushed at him, almost tackling him with her embrace.

The mage prince laughed, and it may have been slightly deeper but it was still Callum’s laugh and it had been so long since she’d heard it. Soft feathers wrapped around her (to her delight, he had remembered that she loved his wing hugs), and she snuggled into his chest. “I missed you, you stupid human.”

“I missed you too,” he said warmly, the feathers fading and turning back into arms, before he yelped. “Ah, watch the horns!”

That was when Rayla noticed something was off. Her horn had indeed grazed his nose, and she had her face pressed into his neck, and the chest and arms around her were a lot more solid than she remembered…

She backed up, and her eyes widened. Mage training had had quite the effect on him. To start, he’d hit a growth spurt. They’d been eye-to-eye when he left (her horns giving her a slight advantage on top of that), but now he was a few inches taller than her. But whatever, she’d seen his aunt, and apparently his mother had been tall as well, so she had figured that he’d end up taller than her once they were done with puberty.

What she hadn’t expected was the changes in his physique.Below the waist, he was still fairly scrawny, although it was hard to tell with baggy pants he was wearing. From the waist up, he had gained quite a bit of muscle. His shoulders and chest were considerably broader, and while his arms weren’t the same kind of muscular as Ethari’s or Soren’s (men who spent their days swinging heavy metal objects around), there was lean definition there, similar to Ibis.

Callum beamed at her, and stepped away from her embrace, digging into his bag. “I have something to show you, one sec.” With a flourish, he pulled an object from his satchel, and flipped open an impressively made staff, topped with a small blue primal stone. He posed, staff extended in one arm and the other hand on his hip, his gaze skyward, trying to look heroic and cool. He made a small aspiro rune and blew out the side of his mouth, causing his scarf to flap majestically in the breeze before giving her a grin. Still a major dork, then. An incredibly cut major dork.

Rayla swallowed, and tried to say something intelligent, only managing a flustered “um.”

Callum glanced over at her, his smile fading.“Is… something wrong?”

At his hurt puppy expression, Rayla felt the heat rise in her face. He was so damnably attractive, and so clearly happy to see her after all this time, and here she was, her tongue tied in knots because he’d gotten a little beefier. She stammered a bit, and then resorted to giving his bicep a squeeze.

He looked down at her hand, which trailed over to his chest, and understanding dawned on him. “Oh,” Callum said with a chuckle, “turns out flying everywhere is like doing push-ups for hours.” He smiled slyly, and flexed an arm. “You approve?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, running her finger down his arm, following the line of the runes. She was wondering what he looked like under the red tunic - elven made, since they’d been on the other side of the continent, of course, but still in Katolis red and gold.

Callum tipped her chin up towards him, green meeting lavender, and his mouth quirked into a smile. And Rayla melted in his arms, diving forward and letting her mouth do what she’d spent all the days between dreaming of doing. She could have spent forever in that kiss, freewheeling through the sky that was him, but it wasn’t to be.

Another pair of strong arms wrapped around the two. “This is nice,” said Soren, hugging them both from behind Callum, smirking like the devil himself and leaning on the prince. A few more inches still hadn’t put Callum taller than Soren, much to Callum’s annoyance.

“Hi, Soren,” he said flatly. “Your timing is terrible.”

Soren pulled away, beaming. “Uh, my timing is great, thank you. I was waiting just behind that rock for the right moment!”

“That’s weird,” said Rayla, folding her arms.

“Whatever,” Soren sneered, and then spun Callum around to face him. “Time for a real hug!” He grabbed Callum, and squeezed hard, lifting him off the ground a little in a tight bear hug. Ever since that day before the battle, Soren had gotten it into his head that macho bro hugs was a thing he and Callum did, and a year apart wasn’t going to change that. Callum wheezed, frantically tapping Soren’s arm to let him go.

Finally, he did. “Wow,” said Soren, eyeing Callum up and down. “If I had known all it took to get you to work out was to make it about nerdy magic stuff, I’d have made Claudia give you that primal stone years ago.” He grinned, and dropped to the ground into a plank, and looked up at Callum. “So let’s do this!”

Callum and Rayla exchanged confused glances. “Uh… do what?”

“Push-up contest! I want to see how many you can do now!”

“Soren, I just flew here from Cloudvale. My arms are tired.”

“Oh, so you’re still too puny to do push-ups with your good buddy Soren?” He smirked at Callum, raising an eyebrow. The taunt was obvious bait, which Callum took like a hungry fish. Glaring at Soren, he lowered himself into the ready position. At this, Soren beamed. “Hey Rayla, count us off!”

“Count yourself off,” she said, her voice coming from lower down than expected.

The two boys looked over to see that she had also lowered herself into a ready position, planking effortlessly. “What?” she said at their befuddled looks. “You two really thought I was gonna sit here and let a couple of humans show me up?”

I’ll count,” said Callum with annoyance. He looked at Soren and then Rayla, who both nodded, and with a sigh, he counted. “One… two….”

He stopped looking to see what the others were doing after ten, and after 25, he felt a sudden weight on his back. Specifically, around 200 pounds of armored person, sitting on him. “Soren, why are you sitting on me?”

His arms were shaking now, but with a small note of pride he did consider that he was managing to hold Soren and himself up.

“Well, I was impressed that you got to 25 without breaking a sweat. And then I thought… payback time.” He shifted, bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged on Callum’s back. “I think you were on 26?”

Callum managed 26 and 27, before Soren roped Rayla into participating as well, and Callum collapsed on 28. At that, the competitive tension broke, and the three of them lay in a heap on top of the Storm Spire, laughing.

Later that night, Soren found several dozen moon moths in his bed. Moon moths that someone who could fly had probably flown a little ways west to gather. The note on his pillow said “Payback.”

Well, if Callum wanted to engage in a prank war, then it was on.

#tdp fic #the dragon prince #tdp fanfiction #tdp soren #tdp rayla #tdp callum #based on meta about callum getting really buff due to flapping his arms #also note the reference to a bad comedy punchline

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sillyfudgemonkeys · 5 years

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Kasumi/Hamuko Parallel post

I mean I’m not saying Kasumi is Hamuko reincarnated in Minato’s timeline, but I feel like it’s a very good possibility (considering MT’s lore and as well as possibly Persona’s). I mean again, it’d be REALLY SEXY if I was proven wrong with Adult!Hamuko showing up in P5S! REALLY SEXY ATLUS! ;w; (just watch and see me be right with both P5R and P5S, let’s hope not cause that’s giving me a headache just thinking about it haha ;w;). Anyway, this is mostly going to be a parallel post between Kasumi and Hamuko, both really freaking shallow to “hey those are some key character traits!” kinda stuff. I’ll organize it from newest release/info to oldest. So starting with PQ2 (prior to that I will open to why it’s perfect timing out of universe) and then P3P (during which I’ll talk about why the timing in universe is perfect too).

There will be spoilers of P5R BUT ONLY ones from a stream, which showed the first like 10 min of the game (the spoiler is that it confirms when a specific scene happens in game). There will be PQ2 spoilers tho so like....yeah 8U

(lowkey been trying to finish this since Cinderella’s announcement but better late than never and I wanted to at least get most of it done before P5S’ possible trailer tonight 8U)

Under the cut cause length and pics~!

So before with start with PQ2, I should say why this is perfect timing out of universe. PQ2 has just released, Hamuko is in the public’s head. Not only that but she was as important to the game as the main-main case (aka P5). Now would be the perfect time to release a new character who looks the same and has the same importance. I mean this wouldn’t be the first time they did it, they first did it with Arena-PQ1-Ultimax, with PQ1 having secret answers to Arena, and Ultimax later reaffirming these answers (I’ll keep it vague for those who have yet to play the, as I like to call it, “The Yasogami Labyrinth Trilogy.”) It could be that PQ2 was actually our Arena in a possible trilogy (with P5R being the PQ1 and P5S being our Ultimax, that’s just a theory tho, it could just be that this is a duology too 8U). But yeah this is why it feels like perfect timing if they wanted to make this twist. Now onto PQ2

PQ2 (might add more later):

Were to start is the real question, I’m kinda just going to list of things with pictures showing them. I’ll try to keep everything numbered to make it easier.

1) Both apparently first appear in the first arc which stars Kamoshida (Kasumi is stated to not introduce herself during that time, but we can still find her). Kasumi is around for Kamoshida, Hamuko is around with Kamoshidaaaaaman.

a) Coincidentally enough, there is a little girl that appears in Kamoshidaaaaman’s trailer that looks A LOT like Kasumi. (which I dunno might also symbolize Hamuko, speculation on my end but I felt the female dinosaur kind of symbolized Yosukesaurus that we actually see in the movie so maybe it’s a parallel maybe not but I wanted to throw it out there), also if Kasumi’s life is anything like Cinderella (and trailer girl’s dad is dead from that impact), that means Hamu/Kasumi/Trailer girl both have their dads possibly not being around anymore:

2) Both technically have a magical girl connection, Kasumi mostly from her transformation and what the devs said....but Hamuko said something really interesting concerning the PT and Magical Girls:

3) (P5R first 10 min stream spoiler) Both are introduced into these two games via showing off how great fighters they are (even tho that’s not Kasumi’s chronological introduction to the audience because of the cold open, but it’s the first time we see her and it’s our first impression of her).

4) I don’t care if I’ll repeat this below in the P3P thing, but yet again but PQ2 hinted at Hamuko’s big appitite again:

5) Hamuko’s Ult Persona, both in P3P (tho it’s not shown in the credits) and in PQ2 is Messiah. Considering she’s a savior, and Kasumi’s relationship with magical girls (who usually are the “saviors”).....shallow I know but there. 8U

6) A big one, PQ2 actually hints at reincarnation, it’s just a throwaway line but....it’s not the first time Persona’s had a throwaway line and then it ends up coming true (sometimes it’s happenstance and sometimes it’s on purpose). (I should also note, reincarnation is a big part of MT, it’s even in the title, so it’s def not something that’s off the table). And the reason I’m including this is because, it kinda hints that even if Hamuko is reincarnated Kasumi, they’d kinda still have their own identity and be a different person.

7) Lastly (for now probably), Hamuko and Kasumi both end up “joining”/working with the PT at some point. I mean so does the rest of P3/4, but they really try to make Hamuko feel included, and she feels extra gung-ho about the whole thief thing. It’s a shallow/small one but I should include it anyway.

(the reason I might add more later is because I’m re-going through PQ2 to see if I pick up anything else, anyway onto P3P~!)

P3P:

Before listing their similarities, I want to explain what I meant by the timing being perfect for in-universe. The reason being, if Hamuko died around 1999, she’d probably be reincarnated into someone who was born around 2000, and people roughly in 2000 (minus the first 4 months) are....guess what? 1st years during P5 (Futaba and Yusuke have late birthdays fun fact). And considering Kasumi is a first year~! Yeah it’s perfect timing if they wanted to pull a reincarnation card.

1) They.....they have the same face..... I’M NOT JOKING THEY HAVE THE SAME FACE! It’s not the hair style it’s the face man! ;w; Rough same eye shape and face shape (sadly their portraits usually have their faces not being the same portfolio but this is the closest we have):

2) The both have red eyes (which also look brown in some lighting). (I know some people want to say Hamuko has auburn hair for some gd reason even tho it’s pretty brown in a lot of artwork, but since that’s close to red and Kasumi has red hair like bonus points it seems if auburn is also a correct answer XP)

3) Both of their portraits like to have their eyes looking to the left (their perspective)/right (our perspective) area (the angle of their face differs tho):

4) Both have been said to be big eaters. Like Atlus is freaking advertising this about Kasumi like crazy man, but Hamuko has food and her big appetite tied to a loooooot of different events with P3P. Like Hamu being a hungry girl and loving her food is a very iconic trait to her (ironically it’s not really done to death in PQ2 unlike Chie’s meat or Aki’s protein klfjsadl;fja).

5) Both have red as a main theme (like red eyes, red ribbon, red shoes/headphones 8U). It’s shallow but important!

6) Shallow but interesting thing I notice, there’s a lot of key design similarities between Fem!Orpheus and Kasumi’s PT outfit and Cinderella. The biggest being the vine embroidery and the same heart design. There’s also the fact Fem!Orpheus Picaro also has red hair and a black headpiece similar to Kasumi who has red hair (all the time) but a black ribbon, also both have a similar flower connected to them (red gloves and black fingers, former for Kasumi and the latter for Cindy, but I don’t think it’s as important as the heart/vine/flower similarity). 8U Other than that I’ll just show it in the picture below:

7) This one is part of a popular theory with Kasumi, and will possibly be debunked after P5R’s release but I do want to throw it out there. If the theory that Kasumi gets hit by a car in the rain (possibly during the fireworks festival), well..... That means they both have ties to car accidents. Just described what might be Kasumi’s. Hamuko survived one 10 years prior to P3, and there’s two that happen in two separate events (she saves Yukari from a crazy driver almost hitting them), and I iirc Theo saves Hamu from a crazy driver).

8) They have similar designed shoes (tho the promo art of Kasumi her shoes are different from the teaser so I dunno if it still counts) But it’s worth mentioning since Atlus went out of their way to keep Yusuke’s shoes as a reference to the past Persona game school he was supposed to be a part of before they made Kosei (god I’m so sorry for that word salad, no I won’t fix it at least not now)...btw Yusuke’s are stated to be in reference to P3 it’s stated in the art book:

9) Kasumi’s maid outfit is much closer to P3′s(and P4) than it is to P5′s (aka the traditional black and white as opposed to P5′s red and white), it’s just odd that it’s not also red 8U:

10) Uhhhh this (I don’t care we’re look for the smallest details! >:D DX ;w; also I’m ok really I’m ok 8U ;w; orz):

11) Last thing, but interestingly enough they both are known to jump really high. It’s not stated as a big thing for Hamuko, you just see it in her critical and that’s pretty much it. But it is a big defining moment for Kasumi (remember she jumps high to get a kid’s balloon). They also both like to twist and twirl in the air (tho Hamu is just designated to her critical). Shallow I know but I want to throw it out there. 8U:

Seriously look at that air time!

I might add more to this section, because I feel like I’m forgetting something but flksdajf;akf I want to get this out. Before I end it I do want to add a few not completely related Hamu parallels (but I can still loop back around cause my mental gymnastics are top notch! Probably even better than Kasumi’s! 8U). First is Minato parallels, which via PQ2 we find out that he and Hamu are “basically the same person.” The similarities is that he and Kasumi both have the same type of sword, and both of their Personas have the same skin (I think Male!Orpheus’ face is the only “real part” and thus both have the same kind of skin), and OT and Cindy technically both have blue eyes. 8U Small but I wanted to mention those 3 things. The other is Mitsuru, fun fact between Hamu/Minty/Mitsuru/Kasumi they all seem to be honor students (or can be, Hamu/Minty it’s up to the player). But I now a lot of people think Kasumi’s red hair and it also being wavy remind them of Mitsuru more, almost like a sister? Kinda like:

RIP to Hamuko, the cockblock sister zone destroyed us all that day. We stand with you girl. 😔✊✊

So yeah I dunno how else to end it. They just have a lot of similarities ok? And some of them are very distinct design features. Of course, again, it’d be really sexy of you to prove me wrong with Adult!Hamuko in P5S Atlus. ;) Be really sexy of you to stop ignoring Hammy and P1/2 characters~! Oh it’d be such a shame if I was proven wrong and those two things happened instead. Oh whatever shall I do~! 8U

#persona 5 royal #kasumi yoshizawa #persona 3 portable #hamuko arisato #p5r #persona 5 the royal #p5tr #slight spoilers #like one line but just in case #persona 5 royal spoilers

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fallintosanity · 5 years

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the common fandom interpretation of mts is that they’re half-daemonified people inside suits of armor, which isn’t true according to either the main game or episode: prompto

but what the actual fuck besithia was doing with the clones is really hard to work out.

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15

“C’mon,” Future Prompto said over his shoulder as he sauntered toward the ramp down the side of the haven. “It’s a twenty-minute walk out to the water tower and if we take too long we’re gonna get sunburned.”

“Right,” Prompto said, and scrambled after him.

They walked for a few minutes in silence, following a faint track along the sun-hardened ground. In the distance, Prompto could see a short, squat water tower, probably their destination. His future self, despite what he’d said about sunburn, was walking at a lazy pace, his face tilted up to the sun again. Prompto trailed behind him, feeling awkward and unsure. How did you start a conversation with your future self, anyway?

He picked at the gauze that wrapped his right wrist in place of the familiar wristband Ardyn Izunia had sliced off. He couldn’t see his future self’s wrist; the crisp sleeves of his Kingsglaive uniform jacket covered it. The uniform looked surprisingly good on him. Prompto had never thought about joining the Kingsglaive, or even the Crownsguard, not seriously at least. The Crownsguard was for people like Gladio and Ignis, who’d trained since birth in all kinds of crazy fighting arts, who were muscular and powerful and brave. Prompto figured the former out-of-shape, shy kid who’d been too chicken to even talk to the other kids at school wouldn’t stand a chance.

No, Prompto had just planned to get through high school and find a job taking photos for magazines or something. Maybe see if Noctis wanted a royal photographer, though he’d known that was unlikely. Not that the Lucis Caelums didn’t have royal photographers, but like the Crownsguard, that was a prestigious role reserved for the country’s best. Not some nobody orphan with a barcode on his wrist.

But apparently his future self had ended up a Kingsglaive. He looked good, too - other than the unhealthy sunless pallor of his skin, which all four of the future adults had because apparently the sun went away in the future too, what the hell. But he was a couple of inches taller than Prompto, and while he was no Gladio, he’d filled out with muscle. Prompto’s own arms and legs were basically twigs, all skin and bone after a growth spurt he hadn’t planned for in his diet, and he felt constantly awkward and clumsy. His future self moved with easy confidence, the way Gladio did, the way the guards who followed Noctis everywhere did.

As if sensing his scrutiny, Future Prompto met his gaze. His mouth quirked, a small expression that wasn’t quite a smile. “Go ahead,” he said. “Ask.”

“Ask what?” Prompto said, nerves making his voioce less steady than he would have liked.

His future self waved a hand vaguely. “You have questions, right? Ask ‘em. It’ll be easier like that than if I just start babbling, you know?”

“Uh, right,” Prompto said. He rubbed at the gauze over his tattoo, took a deep breath, and blurted, “Your Noctis knows, doesn’t he? About… about the…” He waved his wrist. “Does that… does that mean you know, too?”

Future Prompto nodded. “Yeah.”

“So…” He almost couldn’t get the question out. He hadn’t thought he’d ever know the truth, and definitely hadn’t thought he’d learn it like this. “What is it? What does it mean?” He didn’t have to say what am I? If anyone would understand, it was his future self.

For a long moment Future Prompto said nothing, his gaze turned up toward the sky. Then he sighed and stopped walking, turning to meet Prompto’s eyes again. “You sure you want to know?”

Prompto opened his mouth to say Of course I’m sure, but the words didn’t come. Future Prompto wouldn’t be asking that if he didn’t think Prompto had a very good reason not to want to know. Instead he asked, very quietly, “It’s… it’s bad, isn’t it.”

His future self didn’t answer, which was answer enough. Prompto swallowed hard, looking away, eyes skating over the bright yellow desert landscape without really seeing it. But there really was only one option he could take. The barcode had haunted him his whole life; he couldn’t let it keep being a phantom holding him back. He said, “I’m sure. I want to know, even if it’s bad. Especially if it’s bad.”

Future Prompto started walking again. “Have you had that world history class yet, the one with, what’s his face, that one teacher who hated Noct?”

Prompto frowned at the non-sequiter, hurrying to catch up. “Mr. Malazan? Yeah, we have him this year, why?”

“Have you done the Niflheim module yet?”

“Yeah, last semester.”

“So you know about the origin of MTs.”

“Uh. I guess?” Prompto tried to remember what they’d covered. He hadn’t paid much attention to the lessons; he hadn’t thought he would ever need it, for one, and for two the whole idea of robot soldiers wigged him out. It wasn’t fair, Niflheim fighting with robots they could build and replace, while Lucis had to send humans to fight and die. “They were first created like thirty years ago by some Niff scientist, but didn’t start showing up in combat for another ten years or so.”

His future self nodded. “Thirty-two years ago from now. Forty-four from my time. The name of the scientist was Verstael Besithia. They didn’t show you a picture of him in class, did they?”

“They did, but it was some old grainy thing,” Prompto said. “All I remember was he was bald on top and kinda spotty. Why are you asking about this?” He wanted his future self to get to the point.

Future Prompto snorted. “Spotty,” he muttered, and shook his head. He held out a hand; blue magic shimmered between his fingers and suddenly he held a small, battered notebook. Prompto watched in amazement - even Noct didn’t use the magic of the royal Lucis armory that freely, and it was strange to see his future self treat it with the casualness of reaching into a pocket. Future Prompto handed him the notebook. “Take a look.”

Prompto frowned at him, but flipped through the book. The pages were covered with his own neat handwriting, and various newspaper clippings and photos had been wedged in between. Most of the handwritten blurbs were marked with the words “Transcript”, dates - all between ME 757 and 763 - and strings of letters that might have been abbreviated place names. The newspaper clippings were much older, dating back to 721, mostly from Niflheim and talking about Besithia and the production of magitek troopers.

Then he flipped a page and found a photo of himself staring back.

Except it wasn’t him. For a second he thought it was his older self instead, but that wasn’t right, either. The man in the photo was probably in his mid- to late forties, his blond hair fading to grey around the edges, his freckles turning into age spots above his beard. His outfit was ostentatious, brightly colored with a tall collar and broad shoulder pads, and matched the arrogance in his expression.

Prompto looked up at his older self in horror. “Who…?”

“Verstael Besithia,” Future Prompto answered shortly. His eyes had gone dark and shuttered, the way Noct’s did the rare few times someone mentioned the daemon attack he’d suffered as a child.

“But…” Prompto looked at the picture again, then up at his future self. They were damn near identical save for age. Even Gladio didn’t look that much like his dad. “He’s - he looks like—”

“Yeah,” Future Prompto said. “Noct mentioned where daemons come from, right? Last night?” Prompto nodded, not trusting his voice. Future Prompto continued, his voice flat, “Besithia needed daemon miasma to power his MTs. But using regular daemons didn’t work well, and when he tried using people who were in the process of turning, that didn’t work either because of something he called ‘ego death’. So he figured, why not use babies? They don’t have egos.”

His voice was bitter and sharp enough to cut, and Prompto flinched. His future self noticed and took a deep breath, visibly reining himself in, before continuing. “He cloned himself. He eventually figured out a way to speed up the babies’ aging without actually letting them develop as people enough to have egos. But before he did… some Lucian spy stole one of those cloned babies.”

Prompto stared at his future self, horror curdling his stomach; he was suddenly glad he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday. “That was—You mean—we were—”

Future Prompto nodded. “We were just one of thousands of clones meant to be infected with Starscourge and harvested for daemon miasma to power MTs.” He reached out and flipped the pages in the notebook Prompto’d forgotten he held, stopping on a page that had nothing but a photo taped to it.

A photo of tall narrow glass tubes, each one holding Prompto. A Prompto, a clone, one of many in a row, each with Prompto’s face and a barcode stamped on its right wrist.

“I was taking photos of every room I went into,” Future Prompto said tonelessly. “I figured the intel might be useful. I didn’t realize what I was looking at until after I took the shot.”

The world swayed and for a second Prompto had to focus on staying upright, on not collapsing to the hard desert rock and throwing up or passing out or screaming. The notebook fell from his fingers, shattering into blue crystal light before it could hit the ground. “But… but…”

Future Prompto said nothing. When Prompto looked up, his future self was staring at him, his expression grim. Prompto managed, “Noctis - your Noctis - knows? He knows?! And Gladio and Ignis?”

Last night, in the van, Future Noctis had said, It’s nothing to worry about. You’re fine.

Except Future Noctis had been wrong. How could Prompto be fine, how could he ever be fine again when he was—was that?!

His future self just nodded, and said softly, “They don’t care. They’re—It’s rare, people that good.”

“Does anyone else know? In the future?”

Future Prompto’s expression darkened and he gripped his own right wrist. “Everyone.” At Prompto’s horrified look, he added grimly, “Ardyn thought it would be fun to spread the news.” He met Prompto’s gaze, eyes cold and sharp and deadly. “He’s probably gonna do it again. He hates Besithia damn near as much as he hates Noctis, and Besithia’s dead in my time, so guess who he’s taking it out on. The guys are okay—” with a tilt of his head back toward the haven to indicate Noct and Gladio and Ignis— “but from now on, you don’t turn your back on anyone. Not strangers. Not people you think are friends.” His eyes closed for a moment, his fingers tightening around his wrist so hard the leather of his glove creaked. “Especially not people you think are friends.”

Prompto shivered. Despite the desert heat, a chill had seeped down into his bones, one he doubted any amount of sun or warmth could dispel. It was too much to take in all at once, too much to process, to understand. He couldn’t think, the photos of Verstael Besithia, of the clones in their tubes - him in a tube, hairless and placid and stamped with a barcode like the property he’d been created as - spinning through his brain. He doubled over, hands on his knees, breathing hard like he’d just finished a run, like he’d pushed himself past his physical limits only this time it was his mental limits, his ability to comprehend his own freaking existence, not who he was but what he was—

His future self hooked an arm around his shoulders, jolting him back to awareness. “Sorry,” Future Prompto said ruefully. “I didn’t…” He sighed. “I fucked this up. You need to know, but… it’s a lot to take in at once.”

That startled a laugh out of Prompto, watery and maybe a little more hysterical than he’d have liked. “A lot. Yeah.”

“C’mon,” his future self said, and ruffled his hair. “Let’s get to that water shed before we both get burned crispier than the steak when Noct’s cooking.”

Prompto snorted another almost-laugh, nearly choking on the hysteria before he wrangled himself under control. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Okay.”

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #chocobros #sanity's time travel fic #time travel #fanfiction #prompto argentum

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howtowrotedotcom · 5 years

Text

Double Trouble Determination - Chapter One

(Summary: Frisk has been missing for days. With them being the only surviving member of your family, you go looking for them. You search Mt Ebott and end up falling into the Underground. You quickly come to terms with the fact that monsters really do exist, but what you can’t wrap your mind around is how Frisk gained some sort of spectacular ability to control linear time. And that somehow, you’re able to use it as well?

How will this work, two humans in the underground with the same ability to SAVE and RESET, and the same DETERMINATION to overpower the other?

(Reader is gendered and refers to Frisk as her "brother", but is otherwise referred to by they/them pronouns)

(Soulmates AU))

{This work is also on AO3}

__________

Chapter One: A Heart Falls

Your body ached as you came to, eyes adjusting as dust settled around you.

The only source of light was above you. Glancing up with squinted eyes you vaguely wonder how you managed to survive such a high fall with nothing more than a couple bruises. Shakily you get to your feet, feeling a bit weak as you adjust to your new settings. Flowers stood proudly beneath you, the soft soil beneath your feet indicating that they had been watered quite recently. You stepped out of the flower patch, kicking up soft dust from the path that stretched out in front of you. With no way to climb up, and a small part of you curious about the path, you start off.

The walls around you quickly start to develop into a corridor, and your hand trails along the packed dirt absently. The corridor ended with a doorway, with an emblem carved over the threshold. Hesitantly, you step through it. Somewhere, a light source illuminated a single patch of grass among the dirt, almost as if waiting to present something to you.

To your surprise, a golden flower popped up from the patch of soil.

Only…

This “flower” clearly had a face- and was currently eyeing you with a hint of amusement. “Well, this sure is a surprise.” It said with a small chuckle. “You must be so confused.”

“I uh…I guess I am.” You admit with a slight tilt of your head. To be frank, this was by far the weirdest thing to have happened to you, and you weren’t too sure how to approach this being in conversation. Instead of asking the obvious questions, you stuck with asking about the reason you were here in the first place. “I-I’m looking for my little brother, Frisk.”

With that, the flower’s eyes seem to twinkle with recognition. He let out a harsh laugh. “Frisk! Frisk is YOUR brother?”

Hope flutters in your chest. “They are! Have you seen them?”

The flower snorts dismissively, his expression melting into a malicious grin that contorted the shape of his face. “Does it matter? You won’t live long enough to see them again.”

“What do you mean…?” The settings around you flickered dark and you found yourself staring at an inverted color version of the flower, who seemed unaffected by the sudden change of scene. A teal light blinded you for a moment as you felt a tug at your chest. A small bluish heart floated in front of you now.

“See? Not even a hint of DETERMINATION.” The flower sneered. “You won’t last as long as the others, nevermind your dear Frisk.” White pellets circled you and you reached for the light in front of you, hoping it would somehow protect you. Cowering under the threat before you, you felt your throat tighten as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. An awful laugh echoed off the empty walls of the cavern, sure to haunt your dreams for years to come.

“Actually, you know what? That’s too boring.”

The settings returned to normal, but you stayed in your kneeling position in shock as you stared at the flower with wide, tearful eyes. The flower winked cheekily. “As much as I’d love to be the one to take your SOUL, I’m pretty sure it’d be much more fun to see you suffer. Especially after you see what your precious little Frisk has done.” With another mocking laugh, the flower dove back into the dirt, leaving you shaking uncontrollably on the ground.

You felt your stomach twist horribly as you realize that the myths you heard as a child were true.

Mt Ebott was indeed the home to all monsterkind.

* * *

The area was strangely quiet, you notice as you walk through the Ruins. The name on the sign was accurate, as everything around you was crumbled and neglected, with piles of dust everywhere you turned. It felt like you had been walking for hours, forcing your way through odd puzzles and mazes, until you found a decent house tucked away from the rest of the Ruins. You politely knocked on the front door, waiting awhile before inviting yourself in. The door had been unlocked, and creaked quietly as you stepped in, with no sign of anyone else in the home. It was rather spacious, and warm, too. A nice fireplace blazed quietly in the living space, and a fresh pie sat on the countertop in the kitchen, only one slice cut from it. With no one around, and your stomach growling hungrily at the sight of food, you forgot your manners and cut yourself a slice. The grumble in your stomach grew as you caught a whiff of the pie. It smelled of butterscotch and cinnamon-- an odd combination in your opinion, but one you were more than willing to try.

The baked dish was soft and warm, as if it had just come out of the oven not too long ago. The ache in your body was relieved the moment you swallowed the first bite, and you could’ve sworn you felt the bruises on you melting away. A fuzzy sensation nuzzled itself into the center of your chest and stayed there long after the pie had been finished. You felt as if you had eaten a whole meal, and sleepiness started to weigh you down. You made yourself comfortable in the huge recliner in front of the fireplace, former worries and stress having been forgotten for the time being. With a sigh you settle deeper into the chair.

Just a quick nap, you resolve, and you’ll be back on your feet in no time…

…The fire was still burning when you woke later.

You yawned and stretched, basking in the wonderful homey feeling this place gave you. You felt safe and secure.

Frisk would have loved this place…

The thought made you stiffen with cold realization. You jumped to your feet, horrified at how easily the home had secured you, how it made you forget everything, including your poor little brother. You couldn’t stand to imagine the horrors he might have had to face down here, while you sat here kicked back and lazing about in dreamland without a care in the world. You rubbed your face angrily, kicking yourself mentally before letting out a sigh. You’ll beat yourself up later after Frisk is home safe.

You carried on exploring the rest of the house, now sure that there was no one here for the time being. You hoped to find a map or some sort of clue that could lead you closer to your brother. Unfortunately, all that you discovered was a journal full of silly puns and jokes, small libraries with facts of snails, and a dusty child’s room that looked untouched. Having searched through the main floor of the home, you made your way downstairs. The stairs revealed a long hallway that seemed to go on for a while. With no other choice but to push forward, you did, after a while coming across a huge metal door. As heavy as it looked, it seemed like it had been pushed open just enough to let someone small through. Maybe even Frisk, you thought to yourself. That small flutter of hope from earlier resurfaced inside of you, coupled with a small bit of fear.

Frisk had already been here, it seemed, and you were right behind him. At least you had hoped so.

A brisk breeze drifted from the opening, and you shivered, rubbing your arms in anticipation to leave the warm house. Steeling yourself, you stepped over yet another larger pile of dust and pushed the door open wider to accommodate yourself.

It was like stepping into an entirely different world. Snow fell softly from a dark sky, but light reflected off from somewhere, creating a decent amount of luminance for you to feel comfortable travelling ahead. It was colder than the house, but you could manage for now. A small part of you wished you had enough foresight to bring a thicker jacket. It was warm this time of year, but you still scolded yourself for not knowing better than to prepare for the worst.

You supposed you still hadn’t learned that lesson by now.

You followed the path up towards a short bridge, with a fence across it just barely big enough for you to squeeze through. As you crossed, a chill ran up your spine, making you shiver violently.

You were being watched.

You spun on your heel and faced the open air, paranoia coursing through you. Things had been silent since your interaction with the flower, but that didn’t mean the entire place was completely devoid of monsters. There had to be some reason why there was no one here, and there had to be a place where they were all currently gathered, you were sure of it.

Snow frosted the piles of dust scattered along the path. Your chest tightened for some reason as you glanced at each pile, wondering why there were so many of them. Each varied in size, but you found it harder and harder to ignore them with each pile you stepped over. It made you very uncomfortable, though you didn’t understand why.

A very long bridge and several completed puzzles later, you found yourself in a place called “Snowdin Town”, if the sign was anything to go by. It looked like it could’ve been a lively and cheerful place, but once again, it was silent and empty, which made the uneasiness in your gut grow. Frozen hands rubbed at your arms through your sleeves and you shivered violently. Goosebumps pebbled your skin, and you couldn’t help but to glance around you suspiciously. Knocking at each door you came across proved to be futile. The air was silent save for the sound of your own pulse in your ears, driving you slowly but surely to madness.

Something was most definitely wrong here.

It wasn’t until you moved past the town that the cold really began to seep into you. All the warmth from the pie was long gone now, and exhaustion rested heavily on your shoulders. Each step was unusually draining, feeling like your legs weighed a ton as they started to drag underneath you.

There was a bigger pile of dust in front of you, perhaps bigger than any that you had seen so far. Unlike the others, however, this one had some sort of clothing on it. Stepping closer to investigate, you noticed what looked to be thick body armor, boots, gloves, and a scarf. It was so out of place it was unnerving, and you didn’t dare to disturb the pile in fear of why it had been laid out on top of the pile of dust, as if someone had tried to dress it unsuccessfully like they would a snowman.

Your chest began to feel tight at this point, paranoia and fear and exhaustion starting to cloud your mind. You tried to push through it, tried to steady your breath and trudge on, but dark spots began to dance across your vision and your body started to weigh itself down. You sank to your hands and knees, fingers numb to the cold snow as you gripped and clawed at it in vain attempt to get back on your feet. It was no use. Using the remainder of the strength you had, you rolled yourself onto your side, staring at the annoying red clothing against the pure white of the snow, hoping that you weren’t going to die of out here.

…And hoping Frisk would be okay…

* * *

Sans had felt the presence of a new SOUL in the underground when it first fell. He had watched her emerge from the Ruins, unscathed but put off for some reason. Even with the fear and uncertainty radiating off her SOUL, she pushed forward. He couldn’t see any LV on you, which was the only thing keeping him at a curious distance now, watching her from afar and shortcutting each time she came close to spotting him. The further she progressed the more uneasy she became, like she sensed something was wrong.

It wasn’t until she got to Snowdin that she had started to slow down, most likely from the cold, he reasoned. The jacket she wore was too thin for this weather. Her cheeks started to flush, and your body continued to shiver in efforts to regain body heat. He was closer to her than he had been before, but she failed to notice as she discovered the pile of dust that laid in the middle of the path before her. He glued his sight on her, hand clutching his jacket as his SOUL ached knowingly. He watched as she hesitated over the pile before trying to move on. At this point, however, the exposure had started to take serious effect on her body as she collapsed almost at his feet. The struggle to get back to her feet had led her to sink down into the snow, exhaustion and resignation washing over her SOUL as she seemed to accept her fate. She had laid unmoving for several minutes before he approached her.

Now that he was closer, he could see the resemblance between her and the kid. That discovery alone made him want to leave her there. And he had planned to, turning away from her and preparing another shortcut. Just as he was about to leave, however, he felt something tug at his SOUL urgently, keeping him in place for a moment.

Sans glanced over his shoulder, eye sockets widening as he saw her SOUL hovering above her body, thrumming and swaying desperately in the cold. The tug at his own SOUL grew a tiny bit stronger with hope as he acknowledged it’s pleading call for help. Its hue was a mix of Integrity and Kindness, which created a color like that of Patience, but darker. Not a bit of DETERMINATION could be found in there, unlike the kid’s SOUL. He had seen that color enough times to have the violent blur burned into the back of his eyelids. Looking at her SOUL in comparison made him relax, letting a small breath escape his teeth as he once more approached the body.

Hesitantly he let his blue magic surround the SOUL, gently pulling her limp body from the snow with a slight lift of his hand.

The whole situation was unusual, and he knew it. A human SOUL never left its vessel unless confronted by a monster. He had no intention of confronting her, and there was quite literally nobody else around to do so either. And how it had managed to call him for help so strongly was beyond him. None of the other humans had this sort of control over their SOUL, not even Frisk. Yet, while still unconscious, her SOUL instinctively called out to his, pleading and persuading him to help her.

This human was certainly something of an anomaly.

The thought was put to rest for the moment as he concentrated on getting the human to a warmer spot. Reluctantly, he settled for his own home. The shortcut was brief, and her SOUL squirmed uncomfortably at the sensation. Her body was laid out across the couch cushions, and he pulled a thick blanket over her before stepping back to give her space. Her SOUL was gone now, establishing itself back into its rightful place.

He rubbed at his forehead silently, mulling over the fact that this girl, who was clearly related to Frisk, was now curled up comfortably on his couch.

…He could still faintly remember the timelines Frisk brought them up to the surface, only to get bored and drag the lot of them back into this hellhole, with only him being aware of it. It nearly drove him mad to think about, but at the same time, filled him with a complete sense of hopelessness. Frisk had too much power, too much DETERMINATION to be stopped by him or anyone else, and Sans was fully aware of that fact. How many timelines had Frisk killed his brother now? How many times had they offed Sans now? That they killed everyone and everything in their path, only to bring it back just to do it all over again?

What kind of sick human was this kid that she was related to? Was she even aware of the true monster the young child had become?

Regardless, how she was even related to Frisk in the first place was a mystery to him. Her SOUL was much too kind, he could tell, to harm even the smallest creature. Her LV was nonexistent, and there was no part of her that seemed threatening in the least.

Of course, he had been wrong before about Frisk.

He shook his head, glancing over her again. Her face was relaxed now, as if she hadn’t almost frozen to death outside mere moments before. Although he didn’t understand why, a small part of him was glad she was alive now, though he wouldn’t admit it to himself.

For now, Sans needed to go check on Frisk’s progress through the Underground, resolving to come back when she was awake. Perhaps she’d be the one to set things straight around here.

He hoped you would be.

#undertale #sans #sans/reader #frisk #determination #fanfic #Double Trouble Determination

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azurexskies · 5 years

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A Nocturne for Heroes

I just had to write something for this collaboration event because Carmen/Mayu started out as a FF15 OC so here it is!

This wasn’t real.

She already knew how this story ended. She had seen it, lived it, and yet she was standing here, looking at the Regalia. Save for the dust and dirt from the Thanalan desert, it was otherwise in pristine condition, though the fact that it was here, in the desert and not moving, was something of a telling sign, and all too familiar.

But not as familiar as the face that popped up from behind the vehicle.

Their surprised expressions mimicked each other’s and the silence that hung in the air was for a few beats longer than it should have.

“May- uh …” Noct’s eyes shifted around, and Carmen fixed him with a look, “Carmen. Hey”

She snorted, “Hey.” If this was a dream, it was a damn realistic one.

“So, you ended up here too, huh?”

“It’s been a hot minute,” Carmen nodded, hands clasped behind her back as she looked the Regalia over. “And this time I’m guessing this wasn’t Prompto’s doing?”

“Yeah, I don’t really know what happened, think you can take a look?”

Carmen raised a brow at him, arms crossing. “You got money?”

Noct sighed, and she could hear the hint of a swear under his breath. “Really, Carmen?”

“Really”

Chuckling to herself, Carmen came around, clapping a hand on Noct’s shoulder. “Look, normally I’d say yes but I don’t have any of my tools here and I know someone who would totally love to take a look at this for you, for free … probably.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Cid!” Noct gave her a confused stare, “not that grandpa, this is a … uh different one” Still confused, but not seeing any other solution, all Noct could do was trust her on this.

“Oh, but just so we’re on the same page, pretend this is the first time we met, okay?” She could see the questions starting to bubble up in his throat, “Please?”

“You have a lot of explaining to do later”

“I know I know, but come on! Let’s get this girl back in shape. I’ll take the wheel, you push?”

“What? No, it’s my car, I take the wheel”

“You can push it your damn self!”

“You spoiled princess!”

“Prince Charmless!

In the end, Carmen ended up pushing, a hole she had inevitably dug herself into to keep up the guise that they were strangers and her unfamiliar with the Regalia. The charade was easy enough to maintain and it wasn’t until the two were scouting the area for MTs that Noct had a chance to question Carmen.

“So, it wasn’t until I showed up that the MTs did too? Like, it’s been fine the whole time you’ve been here?”

Carmen shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t really get the specifics, but they’ve never showed up here until now”

“I’m guessing you haven’t found a way back yet then, either”

Carmen paused for a second, shaking her head sadly. It was a blatant lie. It wasn’t that she hadn’t found a way, it’s that she didn’t bother to even look.

“Well, maybe with the two of us we can figure this out, and we can both go back” The hope in his voice only tugged at her heartstrings more. “I bet you miss Ignis like crazy”

“Yeah, it’s been a while”

The whole conversation just felt odd, like an echo of a dream or a memory. There was something so comforting and nostalgic about hearing his voice again, and talking about things like this as if everything was fine.

This must be a dream. It had to be. There was no way that the Noctis she knew ever since she was little was here. She was almost certain that he had to be a figment of her imagination, and ghost from the past haunting her, reminding her of the life she had before and the people she had left behind

“Hey …”

Carmen was pulled out of her thoughts as Noct called to her. Everything seemed like a bit of a blur she had barely even noticed or registered their trip here to the East Shroud. For better or worse they at least hadn’t encountered any MTs, but the furrow on Noct’s brow hinted at the concern he had for his friend.

“Wanna talk?” his voice was soft, and she could feel tears starting to form at the corners of her eyes. That sweet gentle tone that she knew so well, one he rarely took on, but always seemed to know when something was wrong.

She mustered a smile, shaking her head. “N-no, it’s okay, just a lot on my mind”

“I know, that’s why I’m asking”

Before she could reply, a cry resounded through the forest, their attention now turned to a daemon that had somehow found its way to Eorzea as well. Even with the physical validation, the feel of each blow, that familiar magic in the air, the seamless flow of battle as they two fought together, it just made this feel like a dream sequence.

It’s not real.

It can’t be real.

But she couldn’t find the words. Where do you even start? How can you even say anything like that to a friend? Maybe this was real. Maybe, by some chance this was real, and there was a possibility that what she had witnessed before was some crazy prophetic vision. Maybe there was time to rewrite his fate.

Maybe.

“Okay, seriously now,”

With the daemon vanquished and camp set up, Noct finally had an opportunity to corner Carmen. “Something’s eating you, what is it? You miss Ignis that much?”

Carmen had to laugh at that. It brought a smile to Noct’s face, relieved to see his friend lighten up a little. She shook her head though, gaze turning towards the treeline. “The forest is really calming at night. You can see the stars in the sky, too. It’s so much more peaceful here”

Noct’s gaze followed hers, eyes closing as he breathed in the scent of the forest. “Yeah, it’s pretty nice. You don’t get views like this in Insomnia”

“Definitely not. Oh! And there’s so many great fishing spots here too! Not just the forest but Limsa Lominsa and just all of La Noscea, you’d love it!”

“Really? I’d love to see it”

“We should go! And there’s Coerthas too, it’s cold but I mean, they do this thing called sky fishing up further north, er … well, higher in the sky obviously too and Kugane all the way on the other side. There’s so many places we should go and see. And just think, we don’t have to worry about meetings and foreign dignitaries anymore, we could just be … us”

Some time during Carmen’s rant Noct’s gaze had fallen sadly on her and she could see she was losing him a little in the conversation. Not that he wasn’t interested but rather she could see that it was impossible to do all that.

“Mayu” She swallowed thickly, “You know we can’t do that. We have to go back. There’s people waiting for us, depending on us”

“Noct, I …” she took a deep breath to calm herself, “I love you”

Shock couldn’t even begin to describe the myriad of emotions on Noct’s face as the words spilled from her mouth. “I love you, and I want to stay here, with you. We can just be ourselves, and enjoy our lives and each other. I just think-”

“You’re not even looking at me”

She stumbled a little, taken aback “I’m just feeling a lot of emotions, about you, it’s hard to- you know, I just don’t want to be overcome-”

“You don’t actually mean that, do you?”

“I mean it with all my heart! This is a sincere confession … and you’re not buying any of this, are you?”

He snorted, and then chuckled, and then he was howling with laughter as Mayu held her head in her hands, embarrassed. It was a desperate move, and clearly one she didn’t have her heart in enough, but perhaps it was the years of friendship they had that allowed Noct to see through her charade.

“Look I’m uh … flattered? But I mean, I think you want me was much as I want to eat vegetables”

“You know, you need to stop giving Ignis such a hard time about that”

“And I’m totally going to tell him that you fake confessed to me to stay here” They both got a good laugh out of it, wiping tears from their eyes once the laughter had died down. “Just think, if I had taken that seriously you’d be stuck with me, forever”

“Gods, what a life that would end up being. No thank you”

“So, we find a way back, then”

Carmen sighed, shoulders drooping. “We find a way back. Gosh, I hope it doesn’t take too long. I don’t want to be stuck with you any longer than I should, we’re already sharing the tent tonight”

“Yeah, so don’t roll on to me”

“Me? You’re the one that hogs all the space!”

“I can’t help it if I move in my sleep!”

They bickered and bickered, all the way until they fell asleep, having no one to stop them and it wasn’t until her eyes closed that she thought maybe, maybe this wasn’t a dream. This was real. She had her friend back.

-----

“We should do this again sometime”

The words rang in her head as she was gently awoken. She remembered the fight with Garuda, saw the vision of Luna on the other side of the gate, waiting for Noct. She couldn’t go with him, not now, not yet.

No, it was impossible.

“Darling?”

Her eyes fluttered open, the soft rays of dawn’s light filtering through the curtains and the warm, gentle embrace of Ignis behind her. His fingertips gently caressed her cheek, and it was only then that she noticed she had tears streaking down them.

“Bad dream?”

She shook her head, turning around in his embrace, her own fingers gently tracing the scars on his face as she looked up into eyes that reflected her face.

“I had a dream about Noct” Silence, but she could see a small hint of a frown on his lips. “It was really nice. We had an adventure, and we got to see a lot of things. It was like we were kids again, having fun”

“Bickering”

Mayu chuckled, “Yeah, that too”

She didn’t say it, but they both felt the same in that moment.

They missed him.

“Will you tell me about it over breakfast?”

Mayu smiled, her arms wrapping tightly around Ignis’s chest, “Yes”

#carmen walker #ffxiv x ffxv #noctis lucis caelum #writing them bickering is my favorite thing #c: writing

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kim-isnt-seaweed · 6 years

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Gyeongju Day 2

Day 1

For our second day in Gyeongju, we rented a car because we were going to visit some places that were fairly far away from the city and from each other, plus, Gyeongju doesn’t have a subway system, there aren’t many buses and taking a taxi all the way there would be very expensive. So, as you can clearly see the best option was renting a car, however, instead of going to dealers, or car rental shop we used this app called SOCAR, i had seen a few cars in the local parking lot that had a sticker that said “socar” but i never really paid attention to them until that day where i learned that its a short-term car-sharing service and everything you need to do can apparently be done on the app, no need to deal with anybody, and as a person that is extremely shy i thought this was amazing. I don’t really know how it worked because my husband was the one that did everything, but from what i gathered you download the app, log-in and then you can book the car, when you’re ready to use it you can just pick it up at whatever parking lot it’s at and you can unlock the car with the app, i don’t really know how to explain since i didn’t use it myself and i was much too distracted worrying about the Aux cord to ask questions but i found this other blog that can help.

Anyhow, after taking a few pictures of the car just in case we set off to our first destination, though we had two stops before we really headed to the place, first we stopped at the McDonalds drive-thru for our morning coffee and then to Daiso to buy a few things we needed for the day, like hot packs, an aux cord, and a blanket (now that i mention Daiso i think i should make a post about it) After we had everything we needed, then we finally headed our way.

Bulguksa Temple.

After an hour or so we arrived at our first destination, Bulguksa Temple. When we arrived we parked the car which has a fee between 500won to 2.000won depending on the type of car, you also have to pay an entrance fee Adults pay 5.000won and from there teenagers and children pay less. i was actually a bit taken aback by the number of people there was since it was a Tuesday and we’re not on vacation period so seeing so many people was surprising. there were children on a field trip, some western tourists, and tour groups of Japanese tourists and other groups of Chinese tourists and even groups of Koreans, i found this a bit amusing since i noticed that aside from the children, the few western tourists and a few other young people here and there most of the tour groups were made up of older people, something that repeated itself at every other Temple we visited that day.

When you first enter through the first set of gates you are welcomed by a dirt path surrounded by trees, and since we’re in Autumn the trees had beautiful shades of red and yellow and some of them being a bit stubborn were still a little green. To your left, there’s a small pond with and if you continue going that way you’ll find yourself in the car park, and next to the entrance on the right, you’ll find the bathrooms, which i believe are the only bathrooms on the property but i could be wrong. Now, when we entered we had to wait for a little bit because i big group of what i would guess middle school children were making their way out and as children normally tend to do where being a bit rowdy and taking all the space on the main path. After the cheers and yells died out we continued on the path they had come from, to our left was what seems to be a new building for made for the Temple stay experience.

we looked around for a bit and then crossed a beautiful bridge over to the “Main Gate” of the Temple. At first i just thought it was like any other ancient door, but as we went through i noticed that on the two inner walls stood two giant statues (two for each side) I don’t know what they were since i am fairly ignorant on Buddhism, especially when it comes to deities, but i think at least from their poses and expressions they must be guardians.

From the door to the temple it doesn’t take much, but if you’re like me you will definitely get sidetracked but the little stalls selling souvenirs and Religious artifacts (?) however i didn’t take long looking at them since my husband said we couldn’t buy the little sword, why they sell a mini sword is beyond me but it was cute. We then were faced with the Breathtaking view of the Temple stairs. They’re these huge stone steps that go all the way to the top of the temple and were lined with beautiful potted flowers. According to my husband, these steps are the original ones and haven’t been restored. I don’t know how true that is since the Korean Tourism website they say that the temple has been destroyed and reconstructed multiple times be it from fires or war, however, they make no mention of the steps, but the Temple’s website does say they were built in 751 and have been in continuous use until they were closed off to the public to preserve their already fading characteristics.

Then we officially entered the Temple, it’s a beautiful place, imagine Gyeongbokgung since it follows the same architecture and layout as most Korean ancient structures but much more colorful. The red and yellow of the walls and the beautiful paintings on the roof are mesmerizing. the inside of this first hall had a magnificent golden Buddha, as most buddhas are. you aren’t allowed to take pictures inside the rooms so you’ll just have to go and see it for yourself since whatever description i can give will do it no justice.

on the outside, there are these two huge stone pagodas. One of them is called Dabotap and the other one is called Seokgatap, according to the temples official website they are Korea’s two most renown pagodas.

“The two pagodas were built at the same site to reflect the content of the Saddharmapundarika Sutra (The Lotus Sutra), in which the Dabo Buddha (“Buddha of the past”) stands beside Sakyamuni (“Buddha of the present”) to prove that his Buddhist sermon is right.” -temple website.

Dabotap pagoda certainly catches one’s eye at once due to its unique shape, varying from the more traditional structure Seokgatap and most pagodas have. Because of this people aren’t entirely sure how many stories it has. It is a beautiful structure, it has so many different shapes and structures within its self yet the still look so harmonious and pleasing.

Seokgatap is a more traditional and simple type of pagoda, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less beautiful. The Pagoda from its construction many centuries ago remained in near perfect conditions until 1966 where robbers damaged the structure, i assume they were looking for reliques that are often stored inside the stone, luckily when they were repairing it the right people found multiple artifacts and reliques now deemed national treasures like the pagodas themselves. I definitely recommend reading the website since it has amazing historical facts.

After this main hall, we followed the rest of the temple’s layout each as beautiful as the one before. We spent a few more minutes looking around and admiring the scene but alas we had to move along to the rest of the places we had planned for the day.

Seokguram Grotto.

At the top of the mountain, almost a 40-minute drive from Bulguksa temple where all you really see is the mountain full of trees, all changing color, especially the gingko trees golden yellow and cascading like a shower of gold flakes. Aside, from the autumn scene, it was all so reminiscing of Colombia, with its lush green mountains and winding roads. We arrived at a parking lot, paid the entrance fee and walked through a small forest path we arrived at a small crook in the mountain where we found ourselves facing two small temple-like buildings hidden by the trees. We made our way to the uppermost building where you can see the Buddha of Seokguram grotto. Unfortunately, you can’t take pictures inside but is such a magnificent view. It’s a huge Buddha made of stone, everything is made out of stone, carved with such amazing detail.

Aside from the amazing masterpiece that is the Buddha, the view from this place is simply breathtaking, i didn’t realize how close we were from the ocean.

The other buildings were a prayer hall, a souvenir shop, and a bathroom.

Golgulsa Temple

Located at the foot of Mt. Hamwol, Gulgulsa is the only temple cave in Korea. The temple was built out of solid rock during the 6th century by Saint Gwang Yoo and some accompanying monks, and was designed according to the architectural structure of India. –Visit Korea

Our Third stop was a small temple i convinced my husband to go to since it isn’t actually one of the bigger more popular temples, on the contrary, it’s a small and very private temple nestled in between the forest. the place is smaller than any other temple we’ve been, it feels more private and it is much less “touristy” feel than Bulguksa or other temples we visited. This place first caught my attention because on the map we had the picture they displayed had monks doing martial arts, this is the first time i see something like it on any temple, but then when doing some research on it aside from its peaceful setting and the Buddha Carved on the side of a mountain, they had a statue of a dog that used to live there, this made me want to go even more.

The entrance was lined with statues of monks in various martial art positions, i didn’t get a chance to take a picture of them because on both our way in and out i was preoccupied eating some pound cake since at this point we hadn’t had anything to eat all day and i was starving.

The first few buildings you encounter i assume since we didn’t go in, seem to be the study halls for the monks and participants of the Temple stay, and imagine the cafeteria.

After a short walk up a hill, we were met by two statues. one was Buddha and the other of a dog.

The Dog was called Donga or Monk Donga, he was born in the winter of 1990 and since he was a puppy he dutifully followed the monks on their prayers, he also loved people and helped guide them to the temple, and contrary to his breed’s natural behavior -he was a Jindogae, and they apparently are used for hunting and guarding- he never hurt another living creature. He was such a good dog that when he died in 2010 the human monks made him a statue so he could reincarnate as a human. I got a bit choked up as i pet his statue.

Then we went to the prayer halls and caves, they are all located on the side of a small mountain. the first hall you encounter is where the monks perform their martial art, then as you continue up the stairs you will see different little grottos carved into the rock.

At first, as we went up the main stairs i was fine, but then to get to the Maya Tathagata Buddha the path got more precarious as we had to actually climb up the rock walls while holding on to the safety ropes which are very high up for someone who is extremely afraid of heights. the Maya Tathagata Buddha is magnificent, carved out of the rock by hand.

Unfortunately, when we got there, we were too high up for my comfort and i immediately sat down on the prayer platform which i don’t think was appropriate but i was too terrified to move and this seemed like the safest place to be. i was too scared to even look up at the Buddha and was only able to look down at the platform banks while my husband took the pictures.

Tomb of King Munmu (Great King Rocks)

A few minutes drive from Golgulsa temple through the countryside we arrived at the beach to visit our next sight, the tomb of King Munmu. King Munmu was the first 30th king of the kingdom of Silla responsible for unifying the three kingdoms (Baekje, Silla, and Goryeo) hence becoming the first King of great Silla. You would assume that such great historic King should have a huge tomb made in his name, yet, if you didn’t know what you were looking for you’d just see a bunch of rocks of the coast.

The Tomb of King Munmu is an unassuming group of rocks, close to the shore, that to the unknowing just seem like home for seagulls, but if you look closely to you will notice that on top of the biggest rock there’s what seems like a marble tombstone, i don’t know for sure what it says but it must have the King’s name. you see, According to the legend King Munmu gave instructions that after his death, he should be buried at sea where he could become a Dragon to protect Silla from Japanese invasions.

The rocky island, about 200m in circumference, is divided by a cross-shaped waterway, forming a pool at the center, at the bottom of which is a granite stone 3.6 meters long, 2.9 meters wide and 0.9 meters thick. Legend has it that the remains of King Munmu’s cremated body are buried under this rock. Historians still debate whether the ashes of the King Munmu were scattered or stored in an urn and placed under the rock.- Visit Korea

Following a few photos of the tomb, a few pictures of us and a quick history lesson from my husband, we walked along the beach just looking at the water and taking in the view, since aside from the tomb there isn’t anything else of particular significance other than a few seafood restaurants. We walked for a bit when we saw a group of grandmothers/old ladies, three sitting together, one sitting behind them to the right and another a little farther away to the left, at first i just thought they were having a picnic at sea or just sunbathing, but then i noticed the one to the right was banging a drum, the one to the left seemed like she was crying or pleading and the three in the front where all praying and bowing. I quickly realized they practice all Korean religion, the original religion before Buddhism or any other, also known as Shamanism. It was the first time i saw this in real life, only seeing it before in movies or shows so it was a bit surprising, just because it’s something so unknown to me.

Columnar Joint Zone of Yangnam.

Our second to last Sight was the columnar joint zone of Yangnam, Its a geological formation caused by a pool of lava that got cooled down int’ its present shape. It looks like piano keys or steps, this particular one is called buchae the Korean word for the hand fan since the circular shape of this formation makes it look like a half-opened hand fan.

Gameunsaji Temple Site

Not far from the Tomb of King Munmu, but in the middle of seemingly nowhere, where all you can see are mountains, farmland, and the highway you will find the Gameunsaji Temple site. However, all you will actually see are the pagodas because nothing remains another than these huge three-story stone pagodas. The temple was ordered to be constructed by King Munmu, whose purpose was to have a place where he could pray for Silla’s guidance and protection from invasions. He died before they finished its construction but his son King Sinmun completed and named the temple in honor and respect for his father.

We stayed in the parking lot in front of the pagodas waiting for the sun to fully set so we could both see the pagodas lit up against the darkness of the night and because we wanted to see the stars, something we don’t get to do in Seoul but here, in the middle of nowhere, it was perfectly dark for stargazing.

Woljeong bridge.

When we got back to the city we made one last stop, Near the royal tombs there is a beautiful covered bridge called Woljeong, i don’t know anything about it since i only saw pictures of it, and since it was a bit dark and cold we didn’t walk up to it. All i know is that it was built sometime during Silla, it was destroyed and rebuilt and now its closed off to the public which just means you can’t cross over it, you can only admire it. next to the bridge there’s a traditional village where you can rent a hanbok and take pictures in traditional looking homes, a restaurant and a very cool looking Cafe, but due to the time it was already closed and the cafe although visually very inviting we weren’t in the mood for coffee so we didn’t bother going in.

I took many pictures of the bridge but sadly we couldn’t last long because it was cold and because we were hungry again so we headed back to the hotel and look for somewhere to eat dinner.

Despite the fact that we arrived relatively early, actually, at around 7 pm we noticed that every restaurant and was either about to close or closed already. we drove all over the place trying to find somewhere to eat, without any luck. we even went to hansot – a homestyle fast food restaurant- that earlier that day we had noticed closed at 9 pm but when we arrived at 8 pm on the dot, the lady was already closing, our only to options at that time was either McDonalds or convenience store food, and given that my husband was already tired of Mcdonalds we at the convenience store which compared to American 7/11 it’s actually pretty good because they sell lunch boxes that come with rice, and vegetables and whatever type of protein you chose, so even though we were a bit disappointed we still ate very well and understand that not every city is like Seoul where people tend to eat very late so restaurants close very late, so if you ever go to Gyeongju just keep in mind that if you want to eat at a specific restaurant you should go before 7pm.

And that was how our day ended, with a belly full of quick food and tired from a day of exploring.

*All pictures are taken by me and are not edited.

To The South, Second Day. Gyeongju Day 2 Day 1 For our second day in Gyeongju, we rented a car because we were going to visit some places that were fairly far away from the city and from each other, plus, Gyeongju doesn't have a subway system, there aren't many buses and taking a taxi all the way there would be very expensive.

#Asia #beautiful #Buddha #Buddhism #East Asia #expat #fun #History #Korea #Korean History #Life #living abroad #living in korea #nature #photographs #sea #south korea #travel #traveling #Visit Korea

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clandestineclairvoyant · 7 years

Text

Jungle Law

(Based on an au by @kickingshoes Where Lucian's are cats, Niflheim's dogs, there's deer and horses and tigers, but most important is Cor Leonis adopting puppy!Prompto)

Summary on AO3;

Cor opened what felt like the hundredth door of the day, and looked down the barrel of a gun.

It wasn’t the first time.

In fact, it was far from the first time, and probably bound to be far from the last. Something about Cor Leonis prompted people to point weapons at him, and if he ever found out why, he had strict standing orders to explain it to Clarus.

In detail.

Niflheim bases were large, sprawling, and confusing.

Cor had spent the past hour since they’d broken through the front gate trying to find the base Commander, or where they kept their project files; Whichever came first.

It was looking as if the base was going to crumble before either happened though, he thought idly, as dust from the concrete ceiling sifted gently down from another distant, rattling boom.

He felt no closer than when he’d started. Cor was more experienced than most, able to decipher most of the written signs on the walls, and easily following the cramped and sterile halls towards where he assumed the command offices were based on the flow of traffic and the upkeep of the hallways. But he must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, since a sign that led towards ‘Infantry Research and Development’ certainly didn’t seem like where he’d find the base commander cowering. Possibly the files though.

Another rumble echoed through the base, and Cor adjusted his steps, letting the quaking of the floor rattle itself out. He remained stubbornly on all four paws, glancing at the ceiling to gauge how much time he had left, and whether someone from the Crownsguard would be able to disarm the self-destruct charges before the base Commander got clear and detonated them. If they didn’t, there was a time limit. The latest they could push to before cutting their losses and getting out, empty-handed or not. It was still a victory of a sort, with one less Niflheim base pushing onto the border of Duscae.

But their Infantry could do that. You sent in the Crownsguard for other reasons.

Cor scowled, pushing himself clear of the wall once the shaking stopped to head towards what looked like the door into the next research division, an emergency light blinking sickly over it. He had about another ten minutes, and then he’d have to start sounding the retreat.

Might as well see what the next corner brought.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~42 Seconds~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cor opened what felt like the hundredth door of the day, and looked down the barrel of a gun.

It wasn’t the first time.

The scientist with the gun was dressed in familiar Niflheim whites, face covered by a plastic and rubber mask that had misted with quick shallow breaths brought on by panic and desperation. No doubt exacerbated by the fact that black and red blood was dripping freely and tackily from the naked blade in Cor’s hand. The scientists fur was an off white, what Cor could see of it under the white sterile cloaks most of them wore. Some kind of winter canine, a coyote or fox of some sort maybe. Didn’t matter.

He was slightly to the right of the door in front of row of odd containers set into the wall, and behind a bank of computers. They looked like glass and steel boxes set into complicated machinery, with double hinged doors to open them from the front. Cor had passed rooms full of them on his way here, but this one looked like the most recently used. Some if not most of them were dark and dusty with disuse; But the one the scientist was standing next to looked functional, if a little battered. It had lights on the side, indicators flashing indiscriminate red and green and the LED read out scrolling through a complicated array of numbers.

The room was cluttered compared to the rest of the facility, almost hospital-like. Cor had passed many empty and dark rooms with what looked like abandoned equipment and glass casings behind dirty and cracked observation screens. He hadn’t expected to find anything but perhaps some files back here.

And there were, between him and the scientist. Steel computer terminals with small keycodes and fingerprint scanners on them, no doubt holding the documents Cor had been hoping to prevent the magitek-facility employees from destroying. The Crownsguard had taken longer than he’d thought they would cracking the front door and muscling past ranks of MT’s, and he’d been forced on ahead alone to see what intel he could salvage before it was destroyed.

You always got the best stuff that way.

Fortunately, it looked like nothing here had been wiped yet. They might be able to pick apart the function and hierarchy of this particular branch if Cor could only download it onto the thumbdrive he had on his belt. Combined with scans of the base layout, and whatever equipment they could salvage, it could prove a boon to the war effort. Made it almost worth the three week trip.

Unfortunately, the scientist had gotten ahold of a gun, and thought it would stop Cor Leonis of the Crownsguard.

The hand that wasn’t holding a trembling weapon was thrust into the depths of one of the weird machine boxes, tubes and wires that had various liquids dripping from them into its hidden depths. It didn’t look to be opening quite right, and the scientist appeared to be fumbling with something before making a frustrated, guttural sound, and switching his full attention to Cor with both hands on his weapon.

It didn’t cease the shaking of the barrel, Cor noted idly, as the door swung shut behind him with a heavy, final sounding click..

“Back up. I- I have information. I was lead scientist on a multitude of projects here and- I said back up.” The man screamed- Cor guessed by the voice and the breadth of his shoulder it was a man- and jerked his gun pointedly. “Move back or I’ll blow the fucking kids brains out.”

Guessing correctly that Cor would not stop his slow and purposeful walk across the room to remove the man’s head from his shoulders, the scientist whirled to point his gun at the box, and it brought Cor to a surprised, jerking halt as soon as the words penetrated the blood soaked fog in his brain.

He didn’t say anything, trying to parse what he’d heard, and emboldened by the silence the scientist thrust a hand into the box (now that he was looking, Cor supposed it looked almost like a coffin) and this time managed to disentangle the contents, jerking loose a-

Baby.

Cor’s heart sunk. He couldn’t tell on first glance what it was, as he stayed in one spot and stared at the scientist, mind whirling. It could have been feline, a Lucian child. Could have been a canis, an underfed wolf. Could have been a bony sort of wildcat, some sort of prairie animal. The fur was silky, long, and paws slightly oversized, the distance too far to tell the shape.

Didn’t matter, since it was a child. A cub, his brain tried to beat into him, thinking of tiny spots and a disheveled white mane of fur. An instinct in his chest flipped and thrummed to life, like an engine starting, and for the first time in a long time Cor was afraid. His hands remained steady, his gaze unwavering. His heartbeat even remained the same as it ever did, steady and slow.

But he was afraid; And it pissed him off.

Cor’s next thought, as disjointed and aimless as it was with the base rumbling to pieces behind him and shaking the floor, was that it was cold in here. It was no place for a child. The computing power required in a Niflheim base necessitated low temperatures, and even hot-blooded Cor shivered underneath his thick leather coat and body armor, the steel and linoleum flooring ice-cold underneath his paws. He could see from here the pale color of the lips, the bloodlessness under the fingernails. The poor thing was shaking, eyes tight shut.

The scientist pressed the cold circle of metal at the end of his gun to the soft exposed belly of the- of the cub in the paper gown. Cor let the tip of his sword drop, a rumble of a frustrated growl starting somewhere in his chest that was deep enough and loud enough that the son of a bitchstumbled back on skittering paws, startled and tail tucking down between his legs.

The motion jerked the cords and tubes connected to the hostage taut, threatening to snap loose. The man didn’t seem to notice. His limbs shook in fear as the sounds of gunfire blatted out in the distant metal hallways, and if there hadn’t been another life in jeopardy, Cor would have been smug. But as it was he was mostly sick; Nauseous at the sight of one of the IV’s yanking loose, blood staining the gauze that had held it in place on the arm.

The cub was shockingly silent in the meanwhile, even with blood starting to snake its slow way down his arm, eyes screwed shut and paper pale under the heart-breakingly small hospital gown. His hair was light as dandelion fluff the same shade as his fur, paws and tail drawn up to his second heart and belly as if to protect it. Cor thought numbly of how fast he would be able to get there. How fast this paper-pushing scientist could pull a trigger. How fast he could knock the gun loose, how fast he would be able to draw a sword-

How fast a bullet would-

He felt sick, and stopped thinking, raising his hands and letting his sword drop onto the ground.

When the man reached the end of his tether the machinery fell over with a splintering crash of plastic and glass, and he gave a hoarse yelp of alarm; Cor and the cub didn’t even flinch. Cor because his eyes were fixed predatory on the gun, and the cub… The cub because he wasn’t entirely sure the little thing was awake, or aware.

Cor didn’t know why the he didn’t move, didn’t wiggle, but the concern at the shockingly still figure was enough to keep him in one place, to keep him rumbling threateningly, tail lashing in agitation behind him.

He’d faced hostages before, the dregs of society forced to the ends of their tethers and desperate. But never so unexpectedly. Never with such a little victim, and never when the standoff was so short on time. Or with so much on the line, he thought, eyeing the banks of computers. It looked like a program was already running on them, and he knew the longer he took the more files were being deleted.

Shit.

“What the fuck do you have cubs in here for?” Cor demanded hoarsely, stalling and icy still with anger. But the scientist simply kept his eye on him without answering, and slowly backed towards the computer terminal protruding from the wall covered in monitors. The cub was transferred to the crook of his arm, dangling and still curled in on himself, gun held in the free hand as the scientist kicked some debris to the side to access the computer.

If he’d just set the gun down, Cor might chance it. There was plenty at stake, enough to risk the bullet if it was just himself on the line.

But. He had to put something down if he wanted to get rid of the files. The gun, or the kid.

He seemed to realize it soon after Cor had, breath shaky, and staring down at the cub. He made a disgusted noise, and held the kid up by his scruff, the sneer evident in his voice.

“Come here and take him. And don’t even think of trying anything. This is military grade hollowpoint; You’d be dead before the kid hit the ground.”

The scientist jerked his gun pointedly. Cor didn’t reply, lowering his hands slowly and stalking one step forward.

The scientist flinched, but didn’t react, gun held firmly pointed at the kid.

Then one more.

He kept his steps slow and even, loose. Like he was afraid, cowed. Like he wasn’t shaking apart on the inside with anger, just some soldier worried about the kid and in over his head. Like he didn’t feel that familiar choking rage coming up his throat like something physical and hot, prickling the skin of his hands and face and the delicate tracing of veins on the inside of his forelegs. Making his head almost spin without an outlet.

Cor didn’t show a single bit of that. Hands curled slightly in on themselves, tail dragging, and head tilted slightly to the side. Harmless.

The cub was looking at him now, Cor noticed when he let his eyes glance down. His eyes were blue, set slightly wide with almost invisible lashes and his fist stuck firmly up in his mouth, the blood running down towards his elbow. He wasn’t quite a baby, and to Cor’s sinking disappointment he was probably old enough to be afraid. Maybe even old enough that he understood what he was looking at, when he followed the kid’s line of sight, and realized he was looking at the blood splattered across Cor’s front.

A third step, and the gun was trembling, and this close Cor could make out the shape of a face behind the mask, the pale flat line of a mouth pressed too tight and the dark of his eyes. They darted nervously, from forward, to back towards the computer, as if wracked with indecision.

Good.

He never took a fourth step.

The base shook with the strongest explosion yet, and the scientist staggered with the shock of it. The force was powerful enough to knock one of the cabinets over, shattering and sending black viscous liquid oozing out across the linoleum, sparks flying in bright green arcs from equipment shifted loose from it’s moorings. The sound muffled the scientists shout of surprise; Cor only noticed because of his intense focus on the mask, the mist of breath across the visor, and the tension in the scientist’s shoulders. The way he staggered, off balance.

The gun jerked to the side, away from the cub, and the wash of relief Cor felt to be looking down that cavernous barrel was almost obscene. He was already moving, and had never been more grateful to have a gun pointed at him as the cub slipped loose from the man’s grip; Squeaking in shock, and kicking his hindpaws out to knock himself further clear.

And then the gun clicked and Cor saw the hammer go down, the stale impotent sound of a misfire all that happened.

He met the man’s eyes through the visor of his mask, and didn’t smile. But something in his face must have showed, because the man dropped the gun from suddenly nerveless fingers.

Cor never took a fourth step, because he leapt.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~9 Hours 23 Minutes~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There were only a baker’s dozen of the Crownsguard left, winding their way across the hills.

Sixteen miles they’d crossed already, a smear of dark gray marring the crystal clear glow of the winter skyline behind them where the Niflheim facility still burned, hours after cracking the damned thing.

Luche had what physical evidence they’d managed to gather on his broad blue-gray colored back, shaggy with the cold and tail flicking for balance. Ackers at the back shouldered most of the medical supplies, severely depleted, his ginger fur a bright spot of color on the landscape that made Cor’s eyes twinge when he craned his neck back to check on the troops.

Or maybe that was the dryness.

Cor’s fur wasn’t quite long enough to withstand the weather, and he’d been forced to don a cape to cover his second-shoulders and withers while the others could simply make do with their fur and coats, tail dragging behind him and leaving a long line behind him in the snow. The cape was dark, simple. Factory made and mass-produced. It had been one of the MT snipers, and not so tattered and singed as to be unusable. It was thick enough to do the trick, and fit well enough.

It was crusted with dried fluid, which Cor didn’t inspect too closely. He simply scraped the worst of it off and stuck his sleeves in, and kept a barrier of cloth between the kid and any that might remain.

The landscape stretched out as pale and white as bone around them, ugly protrusions of rock bursting through in a series of ridges and gullies, making it a long difficult climb back towards the pick up. Trees here were tall and thin, bursts of bright emerald green needles capped in snow, that did nothing to break the harsh wind that plucked at their clothes and threatened to bowl over the smallest of the Crownsguard, Pontius. He struggled on hooves cut bloody by the hard packed crust of the ground, propping up Horatia who was limping on a shredded paw.

Cor wasn’t much better, towards the front, gathering his coat tighter around the bundle in his arms and blearily wishing they’d thought to bring more thermal packs. He did a better job of making it over the snow than Pontius’s delicate paws, but his pads did jack shit to block out the cold. Even Luche had done better than he had to grow a winter coat during their six month deployment, all patchy shaggy fur and embarrassed blushes when Monica pointed it out.

Cor had been forced to shoulder capes and blankets, and bed down with whichever of the Crownsguard was amenable enough to share body heat, in order to even get a couple hours sleep during their deployment.

Now, with so few people, it would be hard even to get that.

The cub in his arms snuffled, and Cor idly brought his lapel further up, to cover the small pink hand that had ventured out to rest against his throat, a spot of heat almost lost in the cold. He’d taken every spare bit of clothing he had and bundled the kid up. A linen shirt, a cape, some rags that had almost been used for bandages. Now they wrapped four little paws, where they were tucked against a soft golden belly and bundled in the only blanket the Guard could spare.

Cor had his jacket, and he had a cape thrown over spotted shoulders to cut the worst of the chill out. Beyond that he was just putting one paw in front of the other, hoping that the kid didn’t get sick from the cold, from being hungry.

From whatever the fuck those scientists were doing to cubs out on the borders of Duscae in a facility that was barely even on Niflheim records.

“How’s he doing?”

Monica drew up alongside him, breath pluming out and cheeks rosy with the chill. She was doing unsurprisingly well, serious face set in a determined frown and eyes fixed on the snowy horizon where their train car back to Duscae waited. Her paws were large, far wider than the span of her first hands, and padded across the snow while leaving only the lightest shadows of a divot. Cor tried not to feel jealous at the swathes of thick, mottled fur that snow didn’t even melt on, and grunted noncommittally.

“He’s fine.”

Monica smiled wryly, before settling back into her usual contemplative frown. Her tail was short, bobbed. Didn’t betray anything, and Cor tried not to feel bitter when the anxiety of not knowing what she was going to bring up caused his tail to twitch uncertainly.

“He might not make it you know.”

Cor stiffened, even more than the cold had managed; Monica continued undaunted, always as clear and blunt as her Captain needed. Her eyes were a steely gray, and she didn’t even look at him when she said it, “He was hooked up to a lot of wires. He’s small.” She did look down at the bundle that, while considerable, didn’t make as large of a dent in Cor’s jacket as a cub of his apparent age should. “Too small.”

“I was small too.” Cor grit out, voice hoarse with cold. The kid stirred, as if he could sense them talking about him, and Cor felt the brief thump of a tail wagging sleepily against his ribs before he tightened his grip and jostled his arms soothingly, ignoring the strange look Monica gave him. “He’s just cold, and tired, same as the rest of us. Don’t be so morbid Lieutenant.”

“Sure.” She said agreeably. “Its was just a thought.”

“Yeah well.” A gust of wind whipped across the line of Crownsguard, and Cor grimaced against the sting, as a murmur of disquiet rose up behind them and a couple of heartfelt grumbles. “Keep your thoughts to yourself.” He was being uncharitable, perhaps. She was making a lot of sense. What had possessed him to pick the kid up in the first place, he didn’t know.

But he had, and now he wasn’t sure how to put him down.

They trudged on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~10 Hours 12 Minutes~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One train car, Cor noted wearily. The train car that’d been sent to pick them up made the faintest bump on the horizon, almost indiscernible from the stones and abandoned structures in the war-torn landscape; just as they’d intended. It was almost invisible from the air, and the clear crystal tracks next to impossible to discern from a distance It had taken them two cars to get everyone north.

Now, one was more than enough. Cor tried not to think about it.

His arms were numb with the weight of the cub in his arms, and jacket damp. He wasn’t sure if it were tears, snot, or some sort of terrible mixture of both, but with his shirt serving it’s last duty as a blanket for the kid, he could only pray it didn’t reach his bare chest.

Despite the moisture mysteriously seeping from the kid, there was silence in his arms. No sounds besides the puffs of breath from the Crownsguard around them, the crunch of snow under paws and hooves, and the occasional grunt of pain from their injured or quiet murmur of encouragement.

He knew it was bad, the silence. But Cor couldn’t help but be relieved that on top of everything they didn’t have to deal with a screaming kid.

“Last stop little guy. Then Duscae.” He murmured quietly, guilt prodding him to say something, anything, and lifting the weight in his arms to adjust for the climb up the hill. He’d tried handing him off, tired and hoping that he’d imprint on someone else that wasn’t a completely fucking terrible idea. But every time he tried the little shit would clam up and tense stiff enough that it hurt to feel, all locked limbs and wide dilated eyes. His chest would start to move pitter-patter fast, fists clenched, and Cor would hurriedly take him back murmuring inane niceties. Now, after the entire hike, something like stockholm syndrome had set in and Cor wasn’t sure he could set the little shit down if he even wanted to. The idea of putting the cub down didn’t sit right anymore when he was still tense and behind enemy lines, made his fur prickle and his mouth tense in an uneasy snarl.

His arms would probably fall off if he tried anyway.

No one, in the short time they’d had to evaluate, knew why he wouldn’t cry. Whimper. Do something. Cor had carried this cub through the ruins of a Niflheim base, past dead bodies he’d tried to hide by shoving the small face into the depths of his coat, and humming dumb nonsense songs. Stupid little strings of song he’d heard on the radio, or things he’d heard other parents sing. Tunes that didn’t seem to have much of an effect, but left Cor without a wiggling armful of limbs and a pair of eyes looking shocked up at him.

But still, the kid had hardly made a whimper, besides to yawn wide and suck on his thumb when the shadows started getting long and the sun low. He’d been chilled on one side while Cor had pressed him to his chest during the hike, trying desperately to keep him warm when the cub started fussing. No doubt hungry, or thirsty despite the water Cor managed to drip into his mouth. Kicking fitfully before freezing completely still and stiff again, like he’d gotten scared. Or expected Cor to… Do something. Hurt him.

But he hadn’t cried.

They climbed the last stretch, and Cor finally, finally sat, lying against the icy side of the train car while the more able-bodied Crownsguard clambered up the steps, groaning and giving small whoops of relief when they saw the cots.

The cub wiggled, and Cor untangled him enough to looks down at his face, all bright blue eyes and downy gold hair. His nose and cheeks were flushed, but it appeared he was warm enough tucked into Cor’s coat, judging by the way he blinked up and idly pat his hand up against Cor’s lapel and chest. He was still strangely quiet, still with his free thumb in his mouth. His fur was soft, much softer than a cheetah cub’s, although it was a similar shade of gold without the chaotic tufting white, almost dun colored.

Cor fished a paw out, and felt a flicker of amusement when the cub kicked and tried to chew on his fingers. Pressing on the toes, the claws didn’t retract, and the pads were noticeably black. Canine.

“Well.” Ausker said, coming out from the car after what felt like thirty or so minutes, wiping his hands clean on a spare rag. Cor had spent the few quiet moments just looking down at the little cub while the rest of the team got settled, letting him chew on his grimy knuckles and jostling him every now and then when he tried to kick himself loose from the various blankets and shirts. The sounds of the Crownsguard making idle conversation and clinking gear together was soothing. Much more soothing than the whistle of wind across the snow, or the grind of weaponry. Or the slow implosion of concrete. “Let’s take a look at the little guy.”

For a moment, Cor didn’t want to hand him over. The idea of giving the cub to someone else and having him wiggle in distress, or for fucks sake, cry, was too much to handle. But Ausker held his hands out, patient, and Cor finally gave the kid one last little pat and got wearily to his feet to give him to the Crownsguard medical officer.

Within a few moments they were back inside, and Ausker was distracting the cub- pup, he was a Canis, Cor reminded himself- with an inflated latex glove.

The car started moving while he worked, slowly coughing to a start in the cold air and dragging itself a few feet on the tracks before building momentum. It didn’t whistle, since there was no steam, but did give an impressive moan of cold steel warming under the heat of magik engines.

Cor rocked carefully on his paws, catching himself on the cold strut of metal that came off the wall of the car to form a bench, watching Ausker’s hands as he palpated the kid’s ribs under the thin paper gown that was all he had to wear. It was slowly warming, with the heat of all the Guard and the electric grill radiating warmth through the car from the back corner, but Cor still felt uneasy and tucked a blanket more firmly around his furry lower half.

“Six. Do we have anything for the kid to wear?” He murmured wearily, and the pup’s head jerked to the side at the sound, tail thumping faintly on the seat he’d been perched on as his eyes fixed on Cor, fist firmly against his mouth and working eagerly. It had to have been a coping mechanism of some sort, but Cor couldn’t help but find it endearing. Even cuter was when Ausker checked the reflexes in the kids elbow with the tiniest hammer Cor had ever seen, causing the pup to jump in surprise and give the doctor a betrayed look.

“Probably not, but Pontius is working on it.” Ausker said, and gave the kids head a firm scratch and pet in reward when he didn’t fidget. Pontius waved from his seat at the back of the car, where he was haphazardly sewing something and letting Luche use him as a pillow. The car rocked gently as it sped up, but it only made Pontuis scowl and shove irritably at Luche, who was interfering with his stitches by virtue of his shoulders shoving under his hands. Cor imagined Pontius’s velvet fur was appealing in the cold metal of the train car, all soft ash gray with the feathered tail tossed over Luche’s hooves.

“Hrn. Well, he should work faster.”

Cor stiffened when Ausker pulled out a needle and a phial, but it was pointless. The pup didn’t even flinch, simply watched Ausker with bare interest, then held small hands up to Cor when he was done, looking plaintive. When Ausker gave him a nod, Cor picked him up, tucking the pup back into the crook of his arm and letting the little blonde head snug under his chin.

The smug look Ausker gave him was met with a lift of his lip and a small snarl.

“Relax. He checks out as healthy enough. A little dehydrated, a little malnourished, but it’s only to be expected from what you told me.” Ausker became slightly more serious, frowning, and looking at where the kid had started to fidget. “I can’t imagine what they had infants there for.”

“I can imagine any number of things,” Cor said bluntly, rocking the pup gently in his arms, and ignoring the flinch Ausker gave. “And you can too. Don’t be sentimental.”

Ausker’s mouth thinned to a grim line, giving Cor a dark look which was ignored. He was commanding Officer of the Unit. Not here to baby them. “I’m not being sentimental. But the equipment that wasn’t damaged beyond all repair was too heavy to take with us, and nobody who was qualified was able to take a long enough look. We don’t know what they were doing at that base, besides that it’s somewhere in the chain supply of Niflheim weaponry and they were doing some kind of genetic stem cell research, if their vitatanks are in anyway similar to ours.”

They were. Cor had been deeper in the base than the others, and decided not to mention the smaller vitatanks he’d seen until it was necessary for a brief. The sort of thing he only really told Clarus, or Regis; In the safety of the Citadel and with the safety of miles between him and the sight of the obsolete labels fixed to the front of almost a third of the vitatanks.

“Luckily, I managed to salvage about half the files on the desk terminal in the main vitatank atrium while the team was subduing the security.” The terminals had been on a closed system, all wireless signals snuffed out by a signal jammer that no doubt extended for the whole base, and made downloading it a much lengthier and difficult process than it had to be. What with the pup shaking silently in his arms, and the body of that Niflheim scientist leaking on the floor where Cor had left it. “We’ll hand it over, they can decide for themselves what was going on.”

“Hm. And this little guy?” Ausker wiggled his fingers enticingly at the pup, who looked as surprised at that as he had at anything, head bobbling backwards and looking up at Cor in bewilderment. Cor felt another flicker of amusement, and let him figure it out for himself. “You have a name for him yet? Or are we going by number.” Ausker caught the small hand that wasn’t buried into Cor’s coat front, pulling it gently out and turning it to show the barcode with a string of numbers. The ink was stark black against paper pale skin, and Cor rumbled involuntarily at the idea, tightening his hold and causing Ausker to arch an eyebrow.

“No.” The pup stiffened again, getting that blank look, and Cor made an effort to calm down, loosen his hold, and jostle his armful soothingly. It was jerky, and he frowned, feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

He was unused to being gentle. He’d held Gladiolus Amicitia a few times, Clarus laughing fit to burst every time he tricked Cor into holding the baby, all awkward elbows and desperate looks when the tiger cub started to fuss.

This was different. The pup was quieter, stiller, and too watchful. Cor didn’t like it; but since he was the only one who seemed to be able to hold him for now, he figured he was responsible for making it disappear as much as he was able.

“Well, we should call him something. How about something with the snow? It’s cold as hell out. Glacies?”

“Name him after Cor’s favorite thing; Acies!” Pontius called from the corner, drawing a chorus of grumbles from the occupied cots around the swaying train car from the Crownsguard trying to get some sleep.

“No.” Cor thought back to the gun the scientist had held, the one that had whipped from pointing at the kid, to right between Cor’s eyes; A black circle that had gotten larger in micrometers as time slowed down and he’d gotten closer across the room.

Thought of the echoing click, as the piece of shit misfired.

“Prompto.” Cor said, and Prompto looked up at his voice and smiled, the first one he’d seen, even if it was quickly replaced with that startled look he gave as Ausker broke into laughter.

“That shitty handgun model?” He looked down at the pup and grinned, holding his hands up at the defensive glare Cor gave him. “Alright alright, calm down. It’s a great name. Hey Prompto!” Ausker grabbed the little hand in gentle fingers and shook it in a pantomime of a handshake, his own tail curling in delight when Prompto patted it and investigated the gloved fingers curiously. “Nice to meet you little guy. Daddy Cor here will take good care of you. You’re in the safest place in all of Lestallum right now.”

Cor huffed and jerked away, storming over to his own cot to catch some sleep while he could, ignoring the embarrassed blush he could feel creeping up his neck that caused the team close enough to see to break into chuckles. Monica to offered him a small, soft smile from the one cot over. Her paws crossed elegantly in front of her, fur plush looking now that she’d groomed the blood and snow from it, and Cor gave her a brisk nod as he settled in with Prompto.

The pup wiggled into the blankets eagerly when Cor set him down, making a surprised series of noises when Cor climbed in after him, arranging himself in a curl to prevent the pup from falling out. He laid his upper body against the wall, the reassuring rocking of the car soothing even if it was cold as hell. Every motion brought them closer to home, and it made Cor’s tail flick in satisfaction.

After a while Prompto stopped wiggling, snuggling by Cor’s side in the warm fur against his ribcage. He was no doubt exhausted. Cor wasn’t familiar with babies at all, but he suspected they weren’t used to staying awake this long at whatever age Ausker had guessed at Prompto being. Roughly one and a half to two and a half years old was his best guess.

Sure enough, after a few minutes, the small motion of the pup’s tail against Cor’s hind knee slowed to a halt, and eventually was replaced by the small kicks and twitches of a deep sleep. If he concentrated, Cor thought he might be able to feel the little flicker of a heartbeat and the slow expansion of breathing.

He felt a sinking in his chest, at odds with the warm fond feeling that caused his tail to curl up under the blankets and an embarrassed purr to almost free itself from his throat.

Clarus was going to be a pain about this.

#kickingshoes #ffxv #taur au #cor leonis #dad!cor #prompto #writing #jfc sorry guys if this is bad

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hiekkis-blog1 · 7 years

Text

Sun god Prompto

This is a FF XV/Percy Jackson Au no-one asked for. I was listening to Prompto’s voice actor Robbie Daymond reading The Trials of Apollo, The Hidden Oracle, and I came up with this silly Au. Listening to that voice being vain, self centered and whiny was wayyyy too fun.

Not betaed, all mistakes mine. Also, apparently I can’t write anything in this fandom without turning it into promnis. Rated T.

Sun god Prompto

“How is he doing?” Gladio voiced their common concern when the doctor left their shared bedroom. Ignis was unaccountably silent and Noctis was guilt ridden, leaving the shield to speak.

“He’s had a severe electric shock, yet he has managed to escape severe burns. I suggest that you keep an eye on him for tonight. He should wake up sometime tonight or tomorrow at the latest. If he doesn't wake up by mid-day, bring him to the hospital. He'll need an IV for nourishment. However, I doubt things will progress that far." Doctor didn't mention that a recent surge of daemon and magitek attacks had filled the hospital to full capacity, and they really didn't have time or space for a patient who absolutely didn't need to be there. "I've seen a lot worse burns on the power plant workers. Your friend should be fine with some rest. Full extent of his possible neural damage is impossible to say while he hasn't regained his consciousness. We'll do a checkup in the hospital just in case."

“Thank you, doctor." Ignis managed to say.

"How did you say your friend got injured?" doctor queried. They had somehow avoided the specifics earlier, when they had returned to Lestallum and Leville after a hunt gone horribly wrong.

"A hunting accident with some coeurls" Ignis replied.

They had been fighting against a pack of vicious coeurls when the magiteck troops had joined the fray. The fight had dragged on and on until Noctis had managed to attain some godly help from the Astrals. They had been relieved when they had seen the Fulgurian's silhouette loom in the sky, but their reprieve had turned in to horror when, in addition to magiteks and monsters, the thunder god had attacked their gunner. Prompto had been sprinting though the fight when the lightning bolt hit him square in the chest and had expanded all around him, killing all their enemies. Ignis had run to his boyfriend’s side while the earth was still blackened and crackling, elixir on the ready. The fight was over, but Noctis had been too shocked to do anything. Even an elixir hadn't done more than a first aid. Prince's best friend didn't regain consciousness and Gladio had to carry him back to Regalia. Noctis had broken all speed limits while driving them back.

"He's going to be okay?" Noctis asked, hating how weak his voice sounded. He hadn't meant for the Astral to blast his friend. Usually only his spells did that and they never did this much damage. The Astrals were supposed to have a much better finesse with this kind of thing! They had never targeted his friends before.

"I can see no physical reason why not. As I said, just give him some time. He got shocked so recently that it is a miracle if he wakes up before tomorrow anyway." The doctor left after making them promise to bring Prompto in tomorrow, when they would be better prepared to receive him at the hospital. Ignis was unhappy with the result, even though a very small voice in his head that was always on top of their monetary situation was pointing out the tiny bright side. He didn't want to think about money when his loved one needed medical attention. But his elixir had helped, right? That was why there hadn't been any physical damage and doctor could be so relaxed. She had said it. No any visual physical damage and exhaustion wasn't any news when it came to relying on healing items. Prompto was just resting.

* * * * *

Apollo woke up feeling miserable. Everywhere hurt and he had a splitting head ached. On the positive side, he was in a soft, queen sized bed, and he had someone in the said bed with him. It was dark, so the headache wasn't aggravated by more light. He turned around to see a man, taller than he was, with a tawny hair and beautiful face, had draped his arm around his waist. Well, this certainly an improvement to the last time he had been exiled to be a mortal. Maybe his father truly loved him for allowing him such a companion from the very beginning of this punishment.

There was a rustling noise coming from another bed he hadn't noticed earlier. In the dim light he could make out the shapes of two more young men. Bigger one had some truly spectacular inkwork in his skin. He would be more than happy to experiment and explore everywhere on that fine sculpture of a male anatomy. After all, he loved the arts. Maybe these men were muses in male form? He would have to find out later.

Carefully he slipped out from under the arm holding him loosely. Or tried to, at least. The arm around him tightened, holding him tighter against a nicely toned chest. This was off to a good start! He turned around to give a languid kiss to a stranger in his bed.

"Hello gorgeous," he muttered when the man answered his kisses, held him closer, then jerked back.

"Prompto? How are you feeling?" the man asked, retreating a bit and scrutinizing him.

"Hush, I’m feeling fine. Let me taste those lips." Apollo leaned back to kiss him. Man was certainly handsome and had his priorities in order. It had been a while since a mortal's first words had been over his welfare. Oh yes, this was certainly an improvement.

Except the handsome stranger drew back and help him at arm’s length, his shiny green eyes suspicious. "What are you doing? Noct and Gladio are in the same room with us."

"Doesn’t bother me" Apollo smiled lazily. "They can join us in pleasure if they so please."

"You're not yourself." the man reached for the nightstand and took a pair of spectacles that had been resting over it. He scrambled out of bed and lit a small lamp. Soft glow filled the room and Apollo could admire his reluctant lover. They were lovers, right? But why would they be wearing pajamas if they were? The other man must be shy then, due to the other men's sleeping presence.

"You’re up to speed fast. Are you shy? I can make them sleep undisturbed until the morning if that's the case."

“Prompto. In the name of The Six, what the hell is wrong with you?” Now spectacled man pulled away. He sounded angry. That couldn’t be. Finding a half-naked sun god in your bed shouldn’t be upsetting, it should be joyous. Apollo stretched lazily and sat up.

“It’s like you said. I’m not the usual habitant of this body. I’m Apollo.” His declaration made his companion dumbstruck. Naturally, now that they knew who he was, they’d be awestruck and provide him with pleasing sacrifices and offer to fulfill his every whim. Curious, the man didn’t get on his knees, but sat on the bed and put his hand very gently on his forehead.

“The doctor never mentioned any psychological problems as a side effect.” He mumbled in a quiet voice. Apollo felt humiliated and slapped the hand away.

“I’m the god of sun, arts and healing. I can assure you, I don’t have a psychological disorder.” He rose from the bed as gracefully as he possibly could, only trip over the cover that was laying on the floor. He could feel his cheeks burning from embarrassment. “I see my presence upsets you. Let no one say I’m not gracious or sensitive. I’ll be in the bathroom while you can collect yourself.” So saying he rose from the floor and left the room. He felt shaky and dizzy. What had this body been doing?

Light bulb showed a pathetic small bathroom. No gold or fresh flowers anywhere. What a dump. Apollo washed his face and reached for a towel hanging from a railing over a bath tub. He peered at the foggy mirror.

Slowly he let the towel drop and leaned over to watch closer, wiping the fog away from the mirror. This couldn’t be happening.

* * * * *

In the other room, Noctis and Gladio woke up to a blood curdling scream. Both stumbled out of the bed battle ready, summoning weapons and looking for the threat. Had the MT’s attacked the hotel? Was Loqi on their trail? Ignis was already running to the bathroom, and yanked the door open to find shirtless Prompto covering his face and staring wide eyed at the mirror.

“NO! DON’T LOOK AT ME!!!”

“Prompto!” Noctis barreled inside. “Man, are you all right? What happened?”

“DON’T LOOK AT ME, I’M HIDEOUS!” Everyone froze, not believing their eyes. Prompto sobbed. “I have a face and body of a monster. These blemishes are everywhere!” Noctis was amused by his friends problem, mainly because he was so relieved to find his best friend had finally woken up.

“Dude, you’ve always had freckles. Iggy loves them.” A cough from the advisor. “Why are you freaking out? It’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“Then this ‘Iggy’ has a remarkably bad taste. This body is hideous! It’s short and has a flab instead of my eight pack! It still has ZITS!!!” Prompto had leaned over the sink and wailed again as he saw his visage. One of those spots was definitely a red spot. “And will you look at these arms? These are not the arms of the best archer in the universe. They are way too weak!” Gladio had joined them and looked at the blonde wailing at the glass.

“Knock it off blondie. You know how we react to false alarms.” Gladios’s voice was harsh. “This isn’t a right time for your sudden drama.” Prompto made a rude humph sound.

“Like expected from a son of Ares.” Gladio’s face turned in to a grimace. He never talked about his dead father and didn’t appreciate his dad being called names. Even when he didn’t understand the reference. “And these scars! Stretchmarks are just as unacceptable as flab. Despicable!”

“Scars are just another kind of memory…” Ignis tried to quote Prompto’s own philosophy back at him, but he sounded angry. Only Noct had heard Ignis that angry. Ignis has balled his hands in to fists, trying to hold on to the last shreds of his self-control.

“Dude, why are you talking like a videogame character?” Noctis beat Gladio for an answer.

“He has been acting out of character ever since he woke up. I think we should take him to hospital sooner later than later. Maybe the lightning bolt triggered a schizophrenia or there must be some other reasonable explanation.” Ignis turned to Noctis, pointedly not looking at his boyfriend.

“I’m not acting out of character and I don’t need to go to a hospital! I doubt this little backwater town has a hospital of such renown that any of my children work here.” Propmto huffed when Ignis ignored him. “Silly mortals, who do you think I am?”

“Until this night, we thought you were our friend.” Gladio growled. “Who do you think you are?”

“I am Apollo. The sun god. Patron of music, archery and healing.”

“That’s a character from the Percy Jackson games.” Noctis recognized. “Knock it out, Apollo was always so annoying.”

“What!?” Apollo squeaked, indignant. “You have a game of Olympian gods and it’s named after a demigod? No, no, no! It should be The Amazing Adventures of Apollo.”

“Noctis, pray tell what is going on. You seem to be only one understanding his nonsense.” Ignis was pinching the bridge of his nose.

“It’s a RPG. Main character is this dude, Percy, who finds out he is half a god and he goes to this camp Half Blood, where everyone is a demigod.” Noctis’s sleepiness evaporated when he started talking about his games.

“That place exists. My children have been trained there.” Apollo commented but was ignored.

“Basically, the game is about his adventures when he tries to save the world from destruction. Trying to make all the selfish and arrogant gods cooperate isn’t easy. It’s like they want to die.”

“HEY!” Apollo protested.

“Are these so called gods The Astrals?” Ignis inquired.

“Nah, they’re make believe. They’re called god’s of Olympus and they are like a really big, crazy family. Their leader is Zeus, a thunder god. Kind of Like Ramuh except he likes to have kids with all weird creatures.”

“Can we please not talk about my dad’s sex life? Or call my whole my family make believe while were at it?” Apollo whined. “This mortal thing is way too embarrassing to begin with, you don’t have to try and make it worse with your ignorance.”

“Do you think this is because of the lightning bolt?” Gladio asked Ignis and Noctis, completely ignoring the whiney blonde.

“Definitely, we need to get him to hospital as soon as possible. He could be danger to himself at this point.” Ignis declared. “We should take him now.”

“But what if he is right and this actually is Apollo and not Prompto? Is it possible that the Fulgurian could have changed them?” That led to a long argument between the three of them. Ignis refused to entertain even slightest possibility, that his boyfriend’s body had just changed the hosts. Noctis pointed out that Apollo was also a god of prophesy, and he really could use some help with one. Gladio asked Apollo to prove his godhood so they could solve this. That led to Apollo punching Gladio’s shoulder and then freaking out that his super strength was gone. He had also bruised his knuckles with the punch and Ignis ended up dragging him to the Hospital in the middle of the night.

AN: I have no idea where I’m going with this one, if this will stay as a one shot or morph into a longer fic. If you like it, let me know! I’m also open for prompts for this one.

#ff xv #percy jakson universe #horrible mashup AU #promnis #i've got no idea what i'm doing

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johnlharrisr-blog · 4 years

Text

Perceptions

By Rabbi Pinchas Winston

Parshas Vayakhel

A Separate Matter

Moshe called the whole community of the Children of Israel to assemble… (Shemos 35:1)

I HAD A tangerine for breakfast this morning, and it was quite the KABBALISTIC experience. To begin with, it looked perfect, the color, the shape, everything about it. It was largish, so it also looked easy to peel. And I wasn’t disappointed once I actually ate it, because it tasted every bit as good as it looked, b’H.

Of course, I did not eat the whole thing. As apPEALing as the peel looked, I did not eat it. It smelled great, but my stomach would not have appreciated digesting that part of the fruit. So, I easily removed it and dispensed with it into the garbage container. I was ready to eat.

Oops, apparently I wasn’t through yet. This orange was very pitty. I had to spit those out first before chewing the meaty part and swallowing it. Five minutes later, the entire orange, at least the part I actually ate, was gone and I moved on to the next course of my breakfast.

But even as I did my body was not through with the orange yet. Even what I consumed of the orange was not all food, and my digestive system took over the process of separating out the food from the waste, a longer process. Only once that was done, would the rest of my body get to benefit from what was left from that perfect orange, while rejecting the part it cannot use.

It’s a little different with an apple. Orange peels are for the most part inedible, or at least hard to eat. Some orange peels are so thick that by the time you finish removing them, only half the volume of the original orange remains.

Apple peels are quite edible. They just have to be washed thoroughly because of the teensy bugs that might live on the peel. But after that, the apple and peel can be eaten. The peels of some fruits and vegetables are even quite healthy.

Nevertheless, the apple will go through a similar process, once it enters the digestive system. The body will know which parts are good for nutrients, and which parts are to be rejected, and it will take care of both. And that is the way it works for pretty much anything that gets past our teeth and into our stomach, a separation of the good from the bad.

And such is life. All that ever goes on in history is the separation of the good from the bad, or at least the less good. Most of the time we probably don’t see it happening, or know that we’re doing it. But 24/7, “digestion” is happening everywhere, on all levels, and at all times. And the process won’t stop until the last bit of good has been separated from the bad, at which time Moshiach comes and history, as we know it, will come to an end.

The Kabbalistic term is “Birrur,” which means “separation.” Kabbalah teaches that everything in Creation is a combination of good and bad. The good is something completely spiritual called a holy spark, which is what gives life to all that exists, even the seemingly non-living things. The bad or the waste, is the part that contains the spark

The threshold between simply bad and actual evil depends upon how easy it is to access the spark and use it for some holy purpose. For example, it is not that difficult to grow an orange, harvest it, and then consume it, and turn its spark into mitzvah-performing energy. This makes the “waste” of the orange “waste,” but not evil.

Some things not only make it difficult to use holy sparks for holy purposes, they literally block it. THAT’S evil. There is very little “war” between a person and a fruit, though it may take some effort to get to it. But there are places in Creation where accessing and utilizing holy sparks requires all-out battle.

Money is a good example. Some have called money “the root of all evil,” because of all the greed and selfishness money can “inspire.” It is not, of course, the root of all evil. Money is not evil at all. Only the choices we make regarding things determines good or evil. If a person’s choice somehow furthers the Divine cause of Creation, then good has been done. If it interferes with it, then it is evil.

In this week’s two parshios, Moshe goes over the materials used to build the Mishkan, and what was produced. Each item came from raw materials, which were purchased with gold and silver the Jewish people had accumulated since leaving Egypt. Because some of it had been used to build the golden calf, an act of evil, they freely gave from the rest of their wealth to build the Mishkan instead, which was holy and, therefore, VERY good.

The calf harnessed the holy sparks within the materials for idol worship and promiscuous behavior. That went totally against the purpose of Creation, greatly blemishing the sparks that were utilized. It wasn’t just that God had been disobeyed. It was that people had come along and abused God’s Creation for what they imagined was personal gain.

The Mishkan on the other hand, harnessed sparks for the sake of serving God. That greatly elevated the holy sparks and brought completion to Creation. God of course was very pleased with that, and the Jewish people were praised for it. Not only had they used the sparks within the materials in the service of God, but they used the sparks within themselves to do the same thing.

This is life, separating the good from the bad. It can happen consciously, for which we are rewarded, or unconsciously for which we will receive little or no reward. But happen it will, and happen it does, non-stop, everywhere in the world at all times.

The most important and meaningful part of the birrur process is, that humans contribute every time they make a decision. It can be a dramatic decision or a very mundane one. But any decision will, by necessity, be one of good or evil. It has been so even since man’s first choice to disobey God and eat from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. It’s the only reason why God made Creation and gave man free will.

Unfortunately, most people do not know this, and even fewer care about it. Most decisions are made to make life more comfortable. In fact, when some people choose a moral thing, it is because they know in advance how uncomfortable they will feel later if they do the “wrong” thing. It’s one level, but not the ultimate one.

Furthermore, most people only make choices when they really have to, especially if they are difficult ones. But choosing not to choose is a choice as well between good and evil, and one for which we will also be evaluated, perhaps even more harshly. There is one thing God hates more than a bad choice, and that is the choice to not choose at all. (At least that is what Eliyahu told the Jewish people at Mt. Carmel.)

This is why God sends crises, small and especially large. These force the issue. They compel us to make relevant choices. They reveal what we care about and how much. They show us and others what our priorities are, both good and bad, and how committed we are to them.

The current virus COVOID-19 is no different. Whatever is actually going on, whatever is true and whatever is hype, all of it is to make us make choices…to speed up the process of birrur and to prepare for the upcoming redemption. Redemption is not a door you just walk through. It is one you have be READY to walk through.

Therefore, God increased the slavery of the Jews before the exodus. The time for redemption had come, they had not been ready, and the increased slavery made up for the difference. Therefore, God sent Haman in Mordechai’s and Esther’s time. The time for redemption had come, the Jewish people had not been ready, so God sent Haman to speed things up.

The end is near. Exactly which one, nobody is really quite sure. Personally, based upon what I have seen and worked out, I think the final one. Yes, I know, that sounds too good (or bad) to be true. But that’s what I believe, especially since today’s “Haman” is a global one. It is affecting so many Jews and their ability to get to Eretz Yisroel.

If ever our choices have mattered, it has been over the last few decades. But if this is truly the end, and it should be a glorious one and one we can enjoy, then the choices we make today count the most. Four-fifths of the Jewish people died in the plague of darkness, because they made a very wrong last-minute decision. The Talmud expects a similar scenario at the end of days as well.

Look past the headlines. Look at the Torah’s version of history. Make the right choices. It is those that will separate you out to the side of good, or, God forbid, to the side of bad.

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Top Things to do in Bali

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Sunrise Trek to Mount Batur (Bali)

Chantell from Travel For Your Life

Mount Batur in Bali has one of the most incredible views you can find on the whole island.

It’s best to do the trek to arrive just in time for sunrise. On a clear day you’ll even get to see Mount Rinjani in Lombok from the top. And since it’s an active volcano you can see steam coming from the rocks.

If you’d prefer to organize the trek yourself, just go to Kintamani and ask at the tourist station at the base of Mount Batur to book a guide for the next day. There’s plenty of accommodation in town to stay for the night and you’ll only be sleeping a few hours before starting the trek anyway.

You have to have a guide to do the trek otherwise you’ll be blocked from starting the climb.

Another option is to book a tour from somewhere not too far away like Ubud which will mean your transfer to Batur is included in your ticket price, as well as the guide. They’ll pick you up the night of the trek and drop you back straight away afterwards so it removes the hassle of having to organize anything else like additional accommodation.

The climb itself is relatively short and easy for such a spectacular view.

View from the top of Mt Batur during Sunrise

Riding the waves at Kuta Beach (Bali)

Lydia from Lydiascapes Travel

If you are someone who loves the sun, sand, sea and most importantly surfing, then Kuta Beach in Bali is the place to visit!

There are many great surf spots around Bali island to ride the waves, but I would recommend Kuta Beach if you are between a beginner to intermediate surfer, as the waves are not too high and there is a decent number of surfers around to not feel isolated or too remote from other people in the event something happens to you.

Given this is a rather popular beach amongst locals and tourists alike, there are multiple surf shops and beachside bars along the entire beach that you can compare the prices to rent a board with a rashguard provided too ( this is a wet suit you should put on to keep you from getting injured or hurt by the board – very important especially if you are a beginner surfer).

There is always the option of getting a personal coach to train you on the basics and safety tips to note before you head out. Mind you, surfing is a very tiring sport and requires a degree of technique mastering, balance, endurance and loads of energy. So don’t neglect on the refueling of water or fresh coconut before hitting the waves Cain.

Do some prior research on when is high or low tide, and do try to avoid the hottest time of the day between 12-1pm to surf to minimise the chances of getting burnt or worst still, suffer a heat stroke.

Kuta Beach is a great place also due to the convenient continuation of activities you can enjoy at night. The sun sets right over the horizon at this beach and the restaurants, bars and cafes along this beach comes alive at dusk.

So after a full action day of surfing, it’s great to relax and unwind with a drink at your choice cafe and listen to the waves while watching the sunset. The perfect type of experience for all outdoor adventure lovers!

Witnessing a cremation ceremony (Bali)

Wendy from The Nomadic Vegan

Ngaben, which means “turning into ash”, is a cremation ceremony that is part of the intricate Hindu funeral ritual followed in Bali. If you ever have the chance to attend one of these ceremonies, don’t miss it. They take place in villages all over the island, usually once a year.

The one that I attended was near the fishing village of Padang Bai. All of the people from the village who had died in the past year, which in this case was 153 people, were cremated together.

The families placed the bones of the deceased in a multi-tiered, tower-like structure called a waddhu. It looked very much like a pagoda but was a temporary structure made from bamboo, paper and wood.

Dozens of men then carried the waddhu to a cemetery, where the bones were transferred to a sarcophagus, called a lembu, which was in the shape of a giant lion. Then the lion was set on fire and the bones of 153 people and all the offerings placed inside for the gods went up in smoke.

A ngaben is a spectacular sight, and foreigners are usually welcome to attend as long as they are respectful. It’s actually quite a festive celebration, so expect lots of music and dancing.

Tirta Gangga (Bali)

Clare from Travels in Peru

One of my favourite places I visited while in Bali was the Tirta Gangga Royal Water Garden. It is a former royal palace and was built in 1948 by the Raja of Karangasem. The translation means water from the ganges.

As you first walk in it is an amazing site, very beautiful. There are water fountains, bridges and stepping stones that you walk along to cross certain parts of water.

On a sunny day it is beautiful and certainly a place you can spend some time, whether just sitting on a chair and looking at the fishes swimming or the beautiful flowers or enjoying lunch in the restaurant overlooking the gardens.

If you do not want to do a tour then there is a bus that runs from Kuta to Tirta Gangga daily, normally departing Kuta at 7am and takes around 2 and a half hours. I personally decided to stay 2 nights in Tirta Gangga village so that I could explore the gardens and also the area, which is beautiful. I managed to explore when there was not bus loads of tourists which was great and to see at sunset too with the reflections on the water is amazing.

If you are in Bali then make sure you visit this magical place.

Tirta Gannga

Cafe hopping in Canggu (Bali)

Maire from Temples and Treehouses

Canggu is a laidback beach area renowned for its surf spots and cafe culture. It’s more relaxed than neighbouring party hotspots Seminyak and Kuta, but instead you’ll find trendy coffee shops, bars and restaurants. Canggu is all about dreamy beach vibes and cafe and bar hopping. The focus is on smoothie bowls, vegan treats and Instagram-friendly decor.

For brunch, visit Monsieur Spoon, Crate or Cafe Organic. Or if you’re looking for a fashionable bar for cocktails and seaside chic, you can’t go wrong with La Brisa or The Lawn, where you’ll feel a bit like you’re in a music video. My favourite was La Laguna, a Spanish-style beach bar that features incredible views and photogenic gypsy caravans.

Cafe Organic Canggu

High or Afternoon Tea (Bali)

Jacklyn from Get Lost With Jackie

One of the best things to do in Bali is indulge in the British tradition of high or afternoon tea. While it may be a bit confusing (British Tea – in Bali?) the fact that Indonesia is the sixth largest world exporter of tea – might connect some dots!

Many of the luxury hotel properties have taken a “Balinese spin” on the British tradition and serve up small Balinese desserts such as “Godoh and Pisang Rai” (fried and steamed bananas) or Bantal (pillow cake) instead of the classic scones and chocolate cake bites that are traditionally served with Afternoon Tea. Being that Bali and Lombok can be hot and humid, you can also expect to be able to order various iced teas, as opposed to the traditional hot teas.

While the Tea services are typically offered as a service alongside a hotel booking – almost any of the hotels that offer the service for their guests, are more than happy to welcome daily visitors to indulge in their High or Afternoon Teas!

Jatiluwih Rice Terraces (Bali)

Arnav from HighONHimalayas.com

If you are looking for an authentic Indonesian experience with less crowds, Jatiluwih Rice Terraces is the place to be. Declared as a UNESCO World Heritage Sight in June 2012, The Jatiluwih rice terraces located in the middle of Bali near Ganung Batukaru, are the best example of Bali’s outstanding picturesque rice fields.

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The Jatiluwih rice terraces comprise over 600 hectares of rice fields following the flowing hillside topography of the Batukaru mountain range. These are well-maintained by a traditional water management cooperatives dating back to the 9th century and passing down the generations, known as the Subak irrigation system.

Luwak Coffee Tasting (Bali)

A lot of people don’t have this on their list, but it gets added somehow. There are plenty of small coffee plantations scattered around Bali, where one can not only go and taste the most expensive coffee in the world – Luwak coffee, but also a variety of different teas, and coffees.

For beginners Luwak coffee is basically cat poo coffee. What basically happens is that the civet cat, feeds on the best coffee berries in the wild. These beans remain intact, but pass through the cats digestive system, where fermentation occurs. When the cat poo’s, the beans are intact, and are collected by locals. After a thorough cycle of washing, cleaning and drying off, the beans are pounded, and dry roasted. And thats how the most expensive coffee in the world is made.

Kecak Dance At Uluwatu Temple (Bali)

Mariza from Hop On World

Uluwatu might be most famous for its centuries-old Pura Luhur Uluwatu temple, stunning clifftop views and remarkable sunsets, but one thing to add to your list of things to do whilst here is to watch a Kecak Fire Dance.

The mesmerising performance depicts a battle in which a prince and his helpers defeat an evil king. With more than 75 dancers, it’s a great performance which will leave you sitting at the edge of your seat whilst enjoying the chants, traditional dance and fire tricks.

Tickets can be bought right at the ticket office on the grounds, so there’s no need to book through a third party. Sales start at 17:00 and tickets go for IDR 70,000 – IDR 100,000 (USD$ 5-7), depending on when you visit. The show starts promptly at 18:00, so if you want to get a good seat in the little amphitheatre try to head in a bit earlier.

Oh and travel tip – there are a few sneaky monkeys outside the amphitheatre, so keep your valuables safe in your bag or backpack!

Sunset at Tanha Lot (Bali)

Ferna Mae Fernandez from Everywhere With Ferna

Sunset in Tanah Lot is one of the best things to do in Bali, Indonesia. This is why it is packed with tourists during sunset time because of the rich in colour with a bright light that disseminates over the water. In addition to this, Tanah Lot is also the most sacred temple in Bali which is formerly known as Tengah Loh that means “in the sea”, thus the beauty of the temple behind the ocean gives a different feeling when visiting. Exceptionally a sunset backdrop that gives a spectacular silhouette image.

It has a huge size in the area so being the most visited temple in Bali, no matter how crowded, a traveller can still do a lot of the things as there are so many spots to stop by and corners to get the full view of the sunset. Like their cave situated at the base of the temple where a donation is a way to get the priests blessings, apart from which a Clifftop restaurant is also open to grab some beers, sit and relax while waiting for the sun to set. This and more are just one of those that you can do while embracing the beauty of the sunset in Tanah Lot.

Sundowners at La Plancha, Seminyak (Bali)

Mariza from Hop On World

It’s no secret that Indonesia has some of the best islands in Asia to add to any destination hit-list. And, one of the most diverse islands not to miss here is Bali. With plenty to do, see and love, it’s the perfect getaway for solo travellers, couples and even families.

One of my favourite things to do in Bali is to enjoy the sunset, right on the beach! And the perfect place to do just that is at the trendy La Plancha – a hipster bar in Seminyak.

The bar has plenty of seating both inside and on the beach. But the best spot to enjoy the vibe is undoubtedly stretched out on one of the many brightly colored bean bags, feet in the sand and cocktail in hand!

La Plancha gets very crowded just before sunset, so be sure to grab your spot early. They have a wide selection of tasty meals and platters, as well as an extensive drinks menu (both alcoholic and non-alcoholic).

USS Liberty Wreck Dive – Tulamben (Bali)

Henry Wu from This Life of Travel

The USS Liberty Wreck is one the most famous dive sites in Bali for good reason. If you come to Bali and are an advanced diver, this one is a must! Some history on this ship – The Liberty was a United States Army cargo ship torpedoed by Japanese submarine I-166 in January 1942 and beached on the island of Bali. In 1963 a volcanic eruption moved the ship off the beach into the water, making it the dive site it is today – lying on a sand slope in 9 to 30 m of water.

The wreck is approximately 130 m long with the shallowest part at about 5 m deep and the deepest on the other side of the wreck at about 30 m deep.

If you go very early in the morning, you will see Bumphead parrotfish who sleep there overnight. It’s also the best time to see Mola-Mola, Manta rays, turtles and any Whale Sharks passing through.

Otherwise, the ship is completely covered with anemones, gorgonian fans, and coral. There is an amazing variety of marine life everywhere here such as anglerfish, nudibranchs, ghost pipe fish, shrimp/goby, eels, reat barracuda, Giant groupers, batfish, sweetlips, batfish, fusiliers, and butterflyfish.

It is also an excellent place for a great night dive where you’ll see Spanish dancers, sleeping Bumphead parrotfish in their cocoons, flashlight fish, Bobtail squid, and possibly even phosphorescence!

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Monkey Forest Santuary (Ubud)

Cazzy from Dream Big Travel Far blog

If you love monkeys, then you’ll love Monkey Forest in Ubud. A visit to the amazing Monkey Forest will give you a unique opportunity to get up close and personal with various monkeys, including cute baby monkeys! This is quite an interactive experience and there are around 700 monkeys in the forest.

You can purchase some bananas and the monkeys will eat them out of your hands, or they’ll even sit on your head or shoulder whilst eating. Monkeys can be random creatures so move slow with them and don’t try and touch the babies or their mums won’t like it. It’s such a fun experience and something everyone should do. Don’t wear any glasses or have anything on you that a monkey can steal- they are crafty!

The Monkey Forest itself is considered sacred by the locals, so definitely treat it with respect. You could easily spend up to two hours here walking around and playing with monkeys. You’ll probably spot other wildlife there too and there are over 150 species of trees. There are lots of eateries, coffee shops and souvenir shops if you need a bite to eat afterwards. This is definitely one of the best things to do in Bali and you’ll get some awesome pictures.

Tegallalang Rice Terraces (Ubud)

Amanda from Fly Stay Luxe

No doubt you’ve seen the photos on Instagram of beautiful Balinese rice paddies, stepping down a steep mountain with early morning sun rays peeping through the tall palm trees, and a beautiful lady twirling around wearing a flowy tropical maxi-dress. There are literally hundreds of rice terraces dotted around the mountains of Ubud, but the Tegalalang Rice Terraces are undoubtedly one of the most beautiful in all of Indonesia.

Located 20 minute’s drive north of the artisan town of Ubud, the Tegalalang Rice Terraces are easily accessible by car or bike and is a wonderful place to explore in the heart of Bali. The best time to visit Tegalalang is early morning. The tourist buses tend to start arriving after 10am.

To enter the rice terraces, you will need to pay IDR 15,000 per person (approximately USD 1.20) plus IDR 5,000 for parking. As you explore further into the terraces, you will also be encouraged to pay a small donation (equivalent of 50c) to the farmers that work in the fields.

If wandering around the steep rice terraces is not your thing, there are also many small cafes located on the side of the road, where you can savour a traditional Indonesian meal while enjoying beautiful views over the rice terraces.

Yoga Barn(Ubud)

Amanda from Fly Stay Luxe

If there’s one thing Bali is well known for, it’s the relaxing and mindful practice of yoga. Located in the heart of Ubud, Bali’s cultural centre, Yoga Barn offers a calming respite from the bustling streets and markets. A place that is focused on bringing together community and giving back to the island, Yoga Barn has become a popular hotspot amongst local expats and travellers passing through.

Yoga Barn offers 10+ yoga classes daily, including Yin Yoga, Restorative Yoga, Beginners Yoga, Power Yoga, meditation classes, workshops and much more. There is also an onsite Holistic Healing Centre and they host weekly community events, such as movie nights and community buffet dinners. The delicious organic Garden Kafe is one of the best places to eat in Ubud. Guest House accommodation is also available.

Whether you’re a seasoned yogi or absolute beginner, Yoga Barn offers something for everyone, with world-class teachers from countries all over the world. So, if you’re looking for an authentic, cultural experience during your visit to Bali, be sure to check out the Yoga Barn.

Diving with Manta Rays and Mola Mola ( Nusa Penida)

Campbell and Alya from Stingy Nomads

Nusa Penida is one of 3 islands separated from Bali on the east side by The Bandung Strait. The nutrient rich upwelling here brings exiting marine life over the beautiful coral reefs making for excellent diving. The water around Nusa Penida is fairly cold and the deep-water trench here is renowned as one of the top places in the world to spot mola mola, the giant oceanic sunfish. The strange looking mola mola looks like a big head swimming around without a body and is the heaviest known bony fish in the world. These fish usually live very deep but they come up to shallow waters from August to October to be cleaned of skin parasites, divers from all over the world come to see this. Nusa Penida is also an excellent place to dive or snorkel with Manta rays.

We saw plenty of Manta Rays every time we went to the famous dive spot, Manta Point, they often swim close to the surface and I enjoyed snorkeling with them more than diving. Mantas can be seen here all year round, with the peak season from August to October. The pumping currents around Nusa Penida makes for excellent drift dives with beautiful scenery floating over hard and soft corals, gorgonian sea fans and amazing marine life, we saw turtles, reef sharks and some big marble rays.

A Trip to Nusa Lembongan

Ron and Michele from Legging It Travel Blog

The perfect getaway from the Bali Mainland is a trip to Lembongan. This can be done as a day trip through many of the transport companies where you go over and spend the time mainly on the boat but also get the opportunity to explore small parts of the Island.

However, to really take in the island it is well worth getting the ferry across from Sanur, and staying for a few days. Ferry companies will pick you up from your hotel and drop you back on your return. Transport around the island is minimal as there are no cars on the island, so you can get the taxi/ buses (open topped trucks from place to place or it really is the perfect place to try a scooter (I do recommend you check your travel insurance).

It costs about $6 Aus to hire a bike for the day and this gives you the freedom to see the whole island. If you do not feel confident enough to do this, there are days trips available as well. Renowned for its surf you will see plenty of bikes rigged up to carry surfboards to the waves but there are many other interesting places to see as well, stunning temples, amazing beaches and really quirky bars.

During the day the Island is busy with day trippers but after about 4pm the area becomes much more relaxed and there are plenty of lovely restaurants and bars to enjoy a cocktail and the stunning sunsets.

A trip to The Gili Islands (Lombok)

Sharon from Dive Into Malaysia

Visiting the Gili Islands is the perfect thing to do when you are visiting Bali or Lombok. Located between these two islands, they are convenient to get to from either location but they are much closer to Lombok. There are ferries and boats to take you across. You can take a day trip, especially from Lombok, but I recommend you stay on the islands and explore them all.

There are three Gili Islands: Trawangan, Meno and Air.

They each have their own vibe and I recommend visiting all three. There are many boats between them or you can hire your own. They all have nice beaches, water sport and diving opportunities and plenty of places to eat and stay.

Gili Trawangan is the most popular and known as a party island. It’s the place to go for action and lots of choices. They even have a night market and stick fighting tournaments. Gili Meno is the least busy and populated. It is calm and peaceful and has some extra attractions like a bird park and turtle sanctuary. Gili Air is in the middle of the two. No island is a bad pick and it’s best to base yourself on the island that has the level of popularity that you will most enjoy.

Scuba Diving in the Gilis (Lombok)

Arnav from Eat Travel Live Repeat

The three Gili Islands, are literally a scuba divers paradise. With around 30 dive sites surrounding the three Gilis, you can have all sort of dive experiences here. Be it diving and finding yourself surrounded with 20 odd turtles, or seeing some reef sharks casually swimming around, or getting swayed in a current and discovering what flying in water is like!

You can have all sort of amazing experiences here in the waters surrounding the Gilis. There’s definitely a reason why you’ll find that almost every one on the island is a scuba diver, and has experienced the joy of exploring the pristine waters surrounding the three Gilis.

Some of the popular dive sites are Marlin Hill (for turtles), Shark Point (Wreck and Sharks), Seahorse Bay (Macro stuff), among 20 odd other dive sites.

While you are there, I would definitely recommend diving with Manta Dive Gili Air.

Mt. Rinjani Trek (Lombok)

Michelle from Full Time Explorer

The best thing I did in Indonesia was the 3 day/2 night Mt. Rinjani Trek on Lombok. Mt. Rinjani is a volcano that stands at 12,224 ft. To this day, it’s one of the most mentally and physically challenging things I’ve ever done. The first day is a steep uphill climb to the crater rim. I’d only seen volcanos from a distance, and now, I was standing on the rim of an active one! The following morning, we climbed to the summit. I was told that not everyone makes it and people are known to cry at the top. I couldn’t understand why. It didn’t look that difficult from afar.

Sunrise during the Mt Rinjani trek in Lombok

We woke up at 2:00am ready to climb the remaining 3,370 feet to the summit, and it was brutal. The entire trek is made of volcanic ash. Each time I took a step forward, I slid two steps back. I felt like I was on an elliptical made out of dust. It took nearly four hours to walk a distance I could normally do in less than one hour. Every single step I took I wanted to give up, and I had to mentally fight myself to keep from stopping. When I made it to the top, I looked out over the volcano and the view was stunning. The sun was just starting to hit the mountain and tears formed in my eyes. I’d made it to the top.

Trip to Komodo National Park

Sara from Our Kind of Crazy

One of the most exciting experiences we had near Bali was going to see the Komodo Dragons. It’s one of the only places in the world where you can see them in the wild, and they are very cool.

First, you fly to Labuan Bajo island to stay the night, and take a boat to Komodo National Park from there. You can choose between several tours to get there. We recommend taking a few stops along the way to check out Flores, the pink beach, and swimming with manta rays on a full day tour.

When you get to Komodo Island, you purchase your ticket, and you decide which hike you want to go on. We did the easy hike, since we had more stops on the way, but that was enough. We saw 5 and even saw a couple babies as well.

The tour guides were great and taught us a lot about them. They also posed us by the Komodo Dragons and got some great pictures for us. These beasts were awesome to watch in the wild, and even more exciting when they were walking through the trees. It’s definitely a stop to add to your list!

Take the ferry across to Java and see the “blue fire” (Ijen)

Chantell from Adoration 4 Adventure

One of the most memorable and exciting activities I did while in Indonesia, was seeing the “blue fire” of the Ijen Crater. The colored flames are caused by sulfur gas and can only be seen at night. They burst out over the top of the volcano, which sits beside the world’s largest acidic lake.

This phenomenal experience is only a half day trip from Denpasar, Bali by bus and ferry to Banyuwangi in East Java. You could either book an all-in-one package from Bali or travel to Banyuwangi yourself and then book a guide once you arrive.

As you will be hiking in the dark, a professional guide is highly recommended. However, if you join a group tour you can negotiate your entrance and tour fee for as little as 270,000 IDR (approximately $20 USD). We paid 13,000 IDR each for the ferry from Gilimanuk, Bali to Banyuwangi, Java then (less than $1 USD).

After two hours of trudging uphill, the guides provide gas masks to make it easier to breathe while staying close to the volcano. The groups descend down into the crater, passing local miners carrying sulfur on their backs. After witnessing the spectacular night-time show, visitors will be further amazed by the sunrise over the turquoise-colored lake.

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