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#that kind of wound every time ive experienced one of those i feel the way im currently feeling so thats the issue siudghds
thecherrygod · 2 years
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out of everything that i thought could be triggering for me when reading, and that i usually ignore those and tho i may feel a bit bad its never enough, i never thought reading a fanfic that sorta articulates a bit more than others about strains and dislocations and similar wounds would be the kind of thing that would make me at least take a step back from reading bc it managed to lower my blood pressure
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akookminsupporter · 1 year
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[230912 RM Weverse Post/Letter]
🐨 hello.
it’s my last birthday in my 20s.
I’m not sure if it’s because of my occupational characteristic, but it feels that a bit of shyness accompanies the day called birthday. even though i think that its a day that isnt too big of a deal.. i feel so happy and blessed that so many people send their sincerest congratulations/wishes.
Time to time, i think that love is something that gives/creates a name to someone. to where kim namjoon becomes ‘kim namjoon’. and its all because of you, that although it is just one day out of the many 365 days in a year, 29 year old me isn’t just a day that’s passing by.
Although i want to be a person who can be as honest as one can be, i wonder, to what extent, could the existence of the intangible and tangible relationship between fans and artists possibly go beyond and reach up to. Can everything just be accepted under a kind apparition called love? im still experiencing times where expressing my inner thoughts honestly becomes an achilles heel, and honesty becomes a wound, but im still not sure.
I had said in the past that i was sad that it was growing harder to talk. I feel that statement still stands true. but still, ive grown calmer. because i received all the sincereity that one may or may not receive in one’s life in the form of a large downpour, i regarded pessimism and futility to be cool, but i realized that im also someone who is optimistic. Isnt this a miracle. lately ive been living with the phrase, ‘why not’. i want to live by sharing the optimism that ive received from the people around me. And im also pressing down and holding onto my next songs that will be released someday.
Yes. could i show honesty in a more beautiful method than with music? its a truth everyone knows but it feels as if its still not enough. Thats why i sometimes wonder if i became bts because of this. because i wanted to do so in various ways. whether it be through programs, interview, or dance, whatever it may be.. how blessed of a life this is. And wherever i am, these things make me want to see it clearly with my own two eyes and ponder.
they say its destiny when things coincidentally overlap. they also say coincidence is also fate disguised as coincidence. And i think thats of a similar reason as to why im writing this letter to you. it feels as if i would have wrote this letter on September 2023 regardless of which version of me i would have been. every time, my birthday letter is describing the place that i have arrived at, just in a different language of love each time. because of all of you, im living really well. i want to live well. i just want to tell you every time, that im loving you with the best version of myself. Although i cant hug each and every one of you, my heart/feelings exceeds those feelings. no matter what appearance i may take, i wont ask for you to love me. but i will put in the effort that reflects how much <love> i have received.
the last birthday of my 20s is going smoothly like this. let us be healthy and happy for a long time, no matter what sky we’re under. lets meet again after some time passes.
Sincerely wishing you an early, if not a belated, happy birthday to you as well !
thank you.
-namjoon
Translation: @/miiniyoongs
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sparrowjaywrites · 3 years
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Forget-Me-Not
-Spencer Reid x Female Reader-  Plot: When the team is caught in explosion you wake up with no memory of who you are, or who anyone on your team is.
Y/N = Your name
Y/L/N = Your last name
H/C = Hair color
Heat burned around her as the young woman stumbled to her feet; her vision was hazy, blurred. There was a part of her who wondered if the blurriness was from her pounding head or her missing glasses… glasses moments ago she hadn’t even known she wore. Her feet kicked against debris small stones and smoldering pieces of wood; she could see an opening… a doorway red and blue lights flashed through it. She coughed as she moved, she needed to run, to get out faster… yet despite her desperate need to escape, a need she didn’t understand she couldn’t make her feet drag any quicker over the soot covered floor.
She stumbled through the doorway the red and orange haze of smoke quickly replaced by police lights that blinked fast enough she wasn’t sure if everything was washed in blue and red or possibly purple as her vision began to blur more each time she coughed. A man… no two men raced towards her shouting words she couldn’t make out past the ringing in her ears. Her knees gave out just as one of the men a handsome black man with kind eyes reached her. The other man was just as handsome though in another way… cute with curly brown hair and a singed sweater vest over a buttoned up shirt that she was sure had once been white.
She let the men drag her towards the ambulance slumping into their arms her boots dragging on the black cement. She was placed on a stretcher the second man, the nerdy one she dubbed him simply climbed in with her holding her hand tightly in his. She didn’t know why he held onto her so tightly but she found she liked it; it was comforting for some unknown reason.
The drive to the hospital seemed to pass in a blink of an eye… or maybe she’d just passed out for a moment; that was more likely she mused as she was rolled through the ER doors. Nerdy man followed her inside but was quickly rushed away by a nurse. The nurses were speaking to her asking questions she still couldn’t fully hear though she could now make out the low hum of their voices. They quickly stopped speaking to her just offering her comforting smiles as they worked. She knew she must have been loud with her hisses and yelps of pain as they began to remove blackened pieces of cloth from her legs and chest, and small pieces of metal from throughout her body.
Nerdy man was back as soon as the nurses let him past. Again her hand was in his as he talked to her and tried to smile at her. She blinked at him blankly, she couldn’t hear him… the nurses must have said as much, a doctor had even looked in her ears. Why was he bothering? Who was he, why did he seem so upset by her blank stare? He lifted a hand from hers and brushed his fingers along her cheek, she jerked her head back at the motion. Holding her hand was one thing, to touch her face when she didn’t even know him was another. The man quickly moved his hand back looking at her questioningly; hurt clear in his brown eyes.
A nurse quickly joined them injecting something into her IV, it wasn’t until her eyes began to shut that she recognized the burn in her throat and realized she had been yelling. What she had yelled she had no idea, nor did she care as her eyes drifted closed.
---Line Break---
The next time the young woman awoke she was in a room. She scanned the room with squinted eyes, she couldn’t see much of anything clearly, no she would need her glasses for that. Glasses she had left behind in the burning warehouse she had woken in originally. She cursed her stupidity her eyes landing on a man reading a book beside her, she could hear the turn of the page every few moments, far too quickly for anyone to actually read she suspected. Blinking back the haze of sleep… or drugs, yeah definitely drugs, she recognized the man.
Why was Nerdy man by her bedside again? She blinked at him staring silently until he glanced up as the beeping of her heart monitor sped up as she tried to figure out who he was. Those brown eyes that seemed so very precious to her though she knew not why locked with hers. A relieved smile split the man’s face as she immediately set the book he’d been holding aside.
“Y/N?” His voice fit him, his long lanky form straightening as he grasped her hand once again. Y/N? Who was Y/N? Was she Y/N? The woman blinked fear flickering through her as she realized she didn’t know… what was her name? How old was she? When was her birthday? Who was the man sitting next to her? “Whoa, hey it’s okay, you’re safe, we’re safe.” Nerdy man quickly reached out cupping her cheek in his large hand his long fingers gently caressing her skin as she began to hyperventilate.
“Who are you?” She managed to rasp out past her smoke damaged throat. Brown eyes widened at her question his hand quickly falling from her cheek as he gazed into her eyes worriedly.
“Y/N? It’s me, Spencer.” Spencer… the name fit, recognition pinged in the back of her mind, though the sensation was short and fleeting gone before she could grasp it.
“I… am I Y/N?” She swallowed thickly speaking her words slowly, she could hear the fear in her voice, it was almost solid it was so thick. Nerdy man… no, Spencer closed his eyes clearly blinking back panicked tears as he took a deep breath then nodded.
“Yes, you’re Y/N. I’ll be right back.” He quickly stood striding out of the room in long strides on long legs. Though blurred Y/N couldn’t help but note he had a very nice ass… shut up, Y/N, this isn’t the time. She chastised herself surprised how quickly she accepted her new… or old name. It felt like a long while before Spencer returned followed by two men, one clearly a doctor in a white coat the other a man in what was clearly a suit, though he had the tie and jacket draped over his arm.
“Hello, Agent Y/L/N, my name is Doctor Lynn; Spencer here tells me you don’t remember him?” The doctor asked slowly giving her a content smile. Y/N shakes her head silently noting the deep frown on the suited older man’s face and the pain that quickly covered Spencer’s face. “Agent Y/L/N do you know where you are?”
“A hospital… is Y/L/N my last name?” Her eyes move to Spencer as she asks the question, he had stood by her through everything from the moment she’d stumbled out of the warehouse too lying in the bed she was now in. He was who she trusted to answer her honestly.
“Yes,” Spencer said clearly though his voice rasped with unshed tears. Suit man placed a hand on his arm reassuringly.
“Agent Y/L/N, can you tell me what you remember about yourself?”
“I… I have H/C hair…” She responds after a moment of thought, small flashes of cutting off long H/C locks in a bathroom, a school bathroom as a teenager flashing through her mind, “I wear glasses… I left them in the warehouse… I couldn’t fully remember them so I didn’t pick them up.” She adds after a moment.
“Well you’re correct on those counts. Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid could you please wait in the waiting room?” Both men shared wary looks but nodded leaving the room. The suited man shooting her a caring smile on his way out. The next few hours… at least it felt like hours were spent being whisked through the hospital from one machine to another then back again. Nurses explained what they were doing every step of the way, every hour she was asked if the remembered the three words the doctor had told her before her bed had been rolled from her room. Spoon, House, Rock. She passed with flying colors or so her Nurse, Rebecca Jones informed after each memory check.
“It seems you have amnesia Agent Y/L/N. We believe it was caused by the head injury you received in the blast along with brain damage caused by multiple seizures you experienced in the ambulance on the way to the hospital.” Dr. Lynn explained slowly and simply making sure she nodded before continuing. “You seem to be forming new memories and retaining information perfectly well, which is a surprise considering your ADHD, making us believe your experiencing retrograde amnesia, your bouts of recognition also assure us your symptoms are temporary.”
“So I’ll get my memories back?”
“You should, I can’t promise you’ll get them all back, you’ll likely never remember the moments before the blast, but overall we have high hopes for your prognosis, Agent Y/L/N.” They discussed more technical things such as bringing in a social worker and psychologist to determine if she is mentally sound enough to be in charge of herself or if her medical power of attorney would need to be brought in. It was quickly determined she would need to be placed under her medical power of attorney’s power until she at least remembered more about herself and her life. From there though she was informed of everything being done and all conversations she was not a part of them.
Normally she’d have been furious about this she suspected but considering she couldn’t even remembered her damn birthday let alone what medications she was one, where she worked, or any of her family she agreed this was probably for the best. She didn’t see Spencer or suit man again until the next day; they came into the room cleaned up and in fresh clothes.
“Hey, Y/N how you feeling?” Suit man asked smiling at her.
“Like I was blown up… which I was so that seems pretty apt.” She shrugs in response. She had learned she had second degree burns covering both her legs and a good portion of her chest. She had also been riddled with shrapnel though all of it had been removed and the cut’s either sewn or glued closed and covered. She was told she could be released in about forty eight hours when she’d been woken for the billionth time by her nurse that morning. All her wounds could be managed outside the hospital but they wanted to keep her a few days due to her concussion.
“Memories or not you’re still you.” Suit man snorts with a small grin.
“Good to know. So which of you is my medical power of attorney? They said you two were handling my affairs so I assume it’s gotta be one of ya?”
“I am, I uh… we made each other our power of attorney’s when we moved in together.” Spencer spoke up nervously. Y/N’s eyebrow rose at his words… moved in together? Her mind flicked to the sense of comfort she got from him clutching her hand, the way her mind immediately jumped to… less than appropriate thoughts when looking at his very fine ass, and the way he hand caressed her cheek. Oh… oh, that made a lot more sense now.
“Dating, engaged, or married?” She asked calmly smiling as he immediately turned bright red and started stuttering over himself.
“You two are married.” Suit man snorted. Y/N nodded slowly, thinking hard she could remember a wedding dress, blue flowers… forget-me-nots… huh ironic she snorted at the memory before smiling. It may have only been flashes but the memories brought joy, so very much joy.
“What are you smiling about?” Spencer finally found his voice sitting beside her in the same chair he’d been sat in the night before.
“I was trying to remember, forget-me-nots… at our wedding? A bit ironic now wouldn’t you say?” She asked with a small laugh. Spencer’s face lit up at her words as he chuckled along with her.
“I’ve never known anything to fit the meaning of the word better.”
“I mean, the odds, we tempted fate with that one didn’t we?”
“Clearly...” He took her hand in his squeezing it. “Do you… remember anything else?”
“My dress, at least I’m assuming I was the one in the dress,” She raises an eyebrow her eyes moving up and down his slim form. “Though I’m sure you’d look very beautiful in one.” The laughter from her other side was sudden and quickly covered up with a cough as suit guy quickly left the room.
“Your dress… I don’t wear dresses” Spencer quickly confirmed his own amused smile blindingly bright. Maybe, just maybe she could get through this after all?
 ______________________________________________________ AN: Hey Everyone I know it’s been years since I posted but I’m back with this little story I suddenly had the urge to write at 3 am. I plan to post the original version of this which is with my original character as well for anyone interested in that. I may make a part 2 if people are interested, and if not then the one with my character will probably at least get a part two. I hope you all enjoy!
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rosy-cheekx · 3 years
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Aesthetic prompt- song: "in hell i'll be in good company" by the dead south; vibe: steam off a warm drink, heavy rain on windows; color: cool gray, bronze, red :)
Took me long enough! This fic is months in the making, but I am so excited to finally be able to answer this prompt. This is chapter 1 of probably 3!
A Phoenix Razed
Chapter 1- Rebirth
---
3 days since Great Yarmouth
Tim’s hands encircled the paper cup in his lap. The cup was small, he noted; he could clasp his fingers together easily. Or maybe his hands were just big. The tea was dark, way over-steeped, and the herbal scent bloomed out in waves alongside the rising steam. There was no sugar, no milk, none of the usual accoutrement Tim used to take tea. Just harsh, bitter, black.
It’s what you deserve.
Tim rolled his eyes at his internal monologue, drama queen, and sipped the beverage. Agh, still hot? He sucked in air through his teeth, startling Martin, who he’d forgotten was beside him.
“Tim?” He snapped his eyes up from where they had been resting on the book, lips moving to form words Tim hadn’t been listening to. “You alright?”
“Hmm? Oh. Yeah, burnt my tongue.” Tim’s words sounded like a shrug, slumped and uninterested, now out of his reverie.
Silence stretched between him and Martin. Or, Tim wished it was silence. The only sound was the low static of the EEG, a rainbow of wires between the machine and Jonathan Sims’ scalp, shaved to accommodate the electrodes. What Tim wouldn’t give for any level of sound other than what they experienced right now. Any less, and there would be an answer to the question, “Will Jon ever wake up?”, and more would mean his heart was working, or lungs, or any other number of body parts to which machines were attached, waiting for any sign of response.
It’s your fault he’s like this.
It should have been you.
Tim exhaled and sipped the tea again, more careful this time. It was still hot—he was pretty sure the burn on his tongue made it feel even hotter—but he tempered his expectations and swallowed a sip of the bitter liquid, letting the raw flavor coat his throat.
“-there’s not much point to this, huh?” Martin asked, slipping a tattered bookmark between the pages of the book he had been reading—he was hoping to annoy Jon with poetry into waking up with Tennyson’s Ulysses—and letting it slip from his lap to the bed, green cover stark against the yellowish-white of the thin blanket.
“I don’t know, Marto, doctors said he might be able to hear us. Maybe dear Alfie will bore Jon back to life,” but Tim’s words lacked the bite and humor that was meant to be there.
“Don’t-” Martin warned softly, shaking his head and pushing his reading glasses through his fringe of curls. “He’s not…he’s still alive. He’s just lost.”
“You’re right,” Tim nodded, placing a hand on Martin’s shoulder lightly before pulling it away as he felt the round of Martin’s shoulder twinge under his touch. “You know what I mean.” He rubbed at the bandages that wound around his abdomen, letting himself indulge in the ache of raw skin and muscle and fat, the hiss of pain atonement for his sins.
Martin sighed, a slow, burdensome sound. “Yeah, I do.” At his words, Martin’s phone rang, and he looked at the caller ID before shoving the phone deep in his pocket, ignoring the call as he did so. “Listen, Tim, you know I’d stay longer if I could-”
“No, I get it, Martin.” Tim stood as Martin did, grabbing the IV bag by his chair for support. “Duty calls. I must away, my love.”
Martin scoffed, the pale sound muffled and diminished by the emptiness of the room. “I’ll be back tomorrow. Try to go on without me.” His voice dropped the light in it as he placed a hand on Tim’s. His hands were freezing, Jesus. “Seriously, Tim, if you need me…”
“I’ll call.” Tim waggled the phone in the pockets of the linen pants the hospital had provided. “Promise.”
--
“I hear the Great Grimaldi’s in town.”
“That’s not funny.”
“I know.”
He wished the moments after were fuzzy. He wished he could chalk his memories up to delirium or carbon monoxide poisoning. There was the detonator, small and squat in his hands. There was Grimaldi, or Nikola, or whatever that thing was. And there was Jon, kneeling, eyes piercing him in a way he had never experienced before. A moment of true lucidity amongst the madness of the Unknowing.
Tim had pressed the button, resigning this to be his final image, his final memory. The things in the world he hated most, all splayed out in front of him, with the promise of all the things he loved waiting for him. A win-win, really. Go out with a bang, leave a mark on the Stranger, cause some errant destruction, and finally see Danny again. The Stranger would never forget the Stoker brothers, that would have been for sure.
But the combustion and the flames had swept over him like a hot wind. He felt the flames lick the sides of his face, felt smoke choke his lungs, felt impossibly hot ash and air swirl around him in a tango. The building had crumbled around him and Tim had been unable to move, forced to witness every last nanosecond of the chaos he had caused.
And he reveled in it. He had won; he had beaten the Stranger. To know he had avenged the deaths of Danny and Sasha was prize enough.
None of it made any sense. He shouldn’t have survived.
How had he survived?
-
5 Days After Great Yarmouth
“Tim.”
Basira was in Tim’s room, wheelchair parked in the corner and sitting in a visitor’s chair. Her body was tense and still, reminiscent of a panther in some documentary he had watched with Jon. Ready to strike? Or run?
“Basira.” Tim’s voice was careful. “Martin said you weren’t up for visitors today. Glad to see you’re okay.”
“Save it.” Basira’s hands were fisted in her robe, the white and yellow one matching Tim’s, declaring them both as patients under observation. Tim frowned, pulling his IV behind him to sit on his bed, wincing as he bent and adjusted himself. “Daisy’s gone, Jon is…whatever he is. I survived because I was smart.”
Her voice was low and sharp, accusing him of…something. Tim felt blood boiling under his skin, as he waffled somewhere between furious and confused. “Excuse me?” He said pointedly, voice measured, squeezing tight the paper cup of tea in his hand.
“Tim, how are you not dead?” Basira gestured with her hand. “Your burns were all superficial. You broke your arm in the collapse, but you managed to survive the fire.” She shook her head and smoothed the fabric that lay there with her hand. “You and I both know you shouldn’t be alive right now.”
Tim took a steadying breath, though it did little to conceal his frustration. “So what, you think I’m fucking magical or something?” He could feel the heat and pitch rise in his voice. “You think I’m like...like those freaks we read about in the statements? Like-like Jon or Elias or like fucking Nikola?”
Basira opened her mouth to speak but Tim cut her off. “You know why I was there, Basira. For Danny. For Sasha. You bloody well know none of this was supposed to happen.” He gestured in the general direction of where Jon lay, dead to the world. “The audacity to assume I-”
“Tim!” Basira cut in, interrupting his increasingly desperate tone. “Look!” She pointed down. Following her gaze, Tim saw the paper cup he was holding. The cup of tea was steaming. No, it was boiling. He could hear the roil of the water, see the bubbles blossoming on the surface. On instinct, he yelped, tossing the cup of bitter black tea across the room, hitting the sink on the far side of the wall squarely. He winced as the liquid splashed across the mirror, the cup rolling to a stop in the basin.
“What the fuck?” He wiped his hands on his robe. “How the hell did that happen?”
“Did it burn you?” Basira asked, eyes passing over him studiously.
“Ah…” Tim turned his right hand over, checking for any splash marks or blisters on his palm. “No.”
“Are you sure?” Basira asked, raising her eyebrow. At Tim’s irritated roll of his eyes, she folded her fingers together.
“You know that’s not normal, right?” It wasn’t a question.
Tim nodded, voice stolen from him as he processed her words. “Are you trying to say I’m fireproof or something?”
Basira shrugged. “I dunno. Sounds weird enough to be right. I’d say ask Jon about it, but obviously…that’s not happening quite yet.”
“This is so fucked,” Tim mumbled, scrubbing a hand down his face in exhaustion. “I hate this job.”
--
Tim was walking in a black room. Kind of. It wasn’t black, really, nor a room—just the concept of space, devoid of color or light.
Tim was somewhere and it was dark.
He picked a direction and walked. The space he was in was hot, a dry stale heat pressing in on him from all sides. It was like that prickling heat from being too close to a campfire, where the heat should singe your leg hairs. It should have been painful. He should have been sweating. But he felt…good. Great, even. He felt alive and awake and ready.
He walked for what felt like hours in this dreamscape, not knowing where he was going. He had realized he was dreaming around the point where he noticed he was more floating than walking, being guided like a character in a low-res video game. There was something in the back of his mind nudging him forward, coaxing him along some predetermined route.
Suddenly, he stopped. There was something in front of him, maybe four meters away. He couldn’t see it, but he could sense it. This spot in space was the source of all the heat in this room, the warmth surrounding him that was more accosting than comforting. The feeling surrounding him was all-consuming and it made him feel…all sorts of things. Righteousness, anger, betrayal, pain. They were all the emotions he had been feeling at Great Yarmouth, built up upon each other, each idolized in their own way. They were the feelings he had chosen to worship when Jon had stopped being his friend and started being his enemy, when Sasha had been discovered to have never been, when he had looked Nikola in its eyeless face and pressed the detonator. It all felt good to feel.
All of a sudden Tim was struck with a sudden knowledge. If he accepted this heat, this painful destruction, he would never need to worry about being hurt again. He could protect himself, the loved ones he had left (if he still had any), and burn the hearts out of anyone who dared hurt him or his ilk. No one would ever leave him again except on his terms. He understood what the Lightless Flame meant, what it promised, what it could give him in return. He would be able to live on the destruction of those he deemed unworthy of the love of the pyre, those who had so much to lose. Like he had had, once. Like Danny had had. Like Sasha. They had had the world before them, and it was stripped away. The Stranger had the potential to take over the world and he had destroyed every last bit of success it had. And it felt good. He could chase that feeling again and again and again with a family that knew what it was like to love and lose and destroy.
All he had to do was take it in.
-
7 Days After Great Yarmouth
Tim woke up gasping for air. He could feel an icy hand on the back of his neck, colder than anything he knew, dragging him back into reality. He opened his eyes, wincing at the harsh light of his hospital room and yes, he was in his hospital room, not a great expanse of nothing nothing nothing, searching for answers. He reached a hand to the back of his head and felt a frozen rag, dripping icy water down the back of his neck, down his spine.
A nurse was at his bedside, a thin woman with dark blonde hair, checking his vitals with a delicate hand. “Welcome back, Mr. Stoker. You gave us a scare, there.”
“Wha-”
“Your monitor was beeping like mad last night. Said you had a fever of 42, but the machine was probably broken. Thermometer put you more at 40, but still, concerningly high. Gave you some fever reducers and a cool rag, kept an eye on you. Are you feeling any better?”
Tim rolled his neck, hearing his joints crack as he did so. “Uh-” He took stock of his faculties. He felt great, actually. No pain, no stiffness, just a tingling warmth spread throughout his body. Something about that felt...right. But he wasn’t sure why. “Yeah, fine.” He pulled the rag out from under his neck and noticed, for the first time, he was naked.
“Sorry,” she smiled apologetically at the flush that spread across his face and neck. “First rule of fevers: tight clothing comes off. It seemed to have done its job though. You were out for a whole day. According to our thermometers, your temperature’s gone back to normal, but we’d like to keep an eye on you a bit longer, especially with your injuries. They don't seem to be infected, so the fever might have been a latent trauma response to the explosion.” The woman shrugged, her smile light. “Our bodies do crazy things to keep us safe. Even when it hurts.”
“A-apparently so,” Tim nodded softly, squeezing his hands into fists, feeling the nails dig into his palms. At least this wasn’t a dream. He rested his head against the pillows propped behind him and sighed heavily.
The nurse left eventually, when there were no more monitors to check and Tim had promised eight ways to Sunday to press his call button if he needed anything. He settled back into his pillow, listening to the steady beep of his heart amplified on the monitor. The TV droned low in the background, newscasters revisiting today’s tragedies. Had they been on the news when it happened? Tim huffed and shook his head. Not if Elias had a say in it. Probably chalked it up to a gas main.
He grabbed the remote strapped to his bed, and flipped through the channels aimlessly, looking for something interesting…or at least to lull him back to sleep. Kids programming, soap operas, more news, interior design—wait. Tim flipped back to the news channel. Demolition of an old primary school. The reporter spoke to a heated young woman, round cheeks framed by wild curls, who spoke to the camera about the memories and traditions the school represented, how unfair it was to lose such an important monument to the history of her town.
“A shame, isn’t it?”
Tim started at the voice, whipping his head to the door, gripping the remote tight in his hand. The woman standing in the doorway of his room was short and wide, hair cropped close. She wore a grey tank top and black shorts, revealing tattoos of flames licking up the backs and sides of her calves. Something about her face was odd. A little too smooth? The grin on her face seemed wider than normal smiles were meant to be, drooping a little too low.
“Pardon?” Tim managed, grip on the call button tight, even if there was…something keeping him from pressing it.
“About the school.” She pointed to the television as she crossed the threshold, crossing her legs as she sat in the cushy visitor’s chair next to his bed. “So many childhood memories, so many job opportunities, so many opportunities for self-improvement-” She spat the word with malice. “Truly some of my favorite forms of destruction.”
Tim stared at her dumbly. “Do…am I supposed to know who you are?” Her returned chuckle burned him from the inside.
“Oh,” she crooned, more to herself than to Tim. “For keepers of the Eye, you are all so stupid. I am Jude Perry and I serve the Lightless Flame. And, if I’m right, you do too.”
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paper-n-ashes · 3 years
Text
sparks and embers - chapter 2
Characters: Poe Dameron x Original Female Character, Kylo Ren x Original Female Character
Story Tags: Explicit (18+), Canon Compliant/Divergent (Set after TLJ), First Person POV, Love Triangle, Slow Burn, Enemies to Lovers, Porn with Plot, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo Ren hates Poe Dameron
Summary: Alexys is a doctor living a life of exclusivity on Raxus, hoping to survive through a peaceful existence, concealing herself from those she believes would use her, or kill her. When fate intervenes and instigates a perilous journey she’d been desperately trying to avoid, Alex finds herself caught in the middle of two sides in both war and love.
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Chapter 2 - Consciousness
Words: 3.4k
Chapter Tags/Warnings: mentions of blood and broken bones, medical procedures
Read on AO3
~
It was the light of morning that caused my eyes to flutter open, the hardness of the tiled floor beneath slowly recognised in an increasing ache pulsing through my body.
I was slow to move, measured actions helping to bring myself into a seated position, arms shakily holding me up at the sides. Memories of the previous evening flooded back in swift succession, along with the pain of immense fatigue that always followed the act of letting the Force do my healing for me.
Did it even work?
My hand gripped the hospital bed that his body remained slumped on and I pulled myself upwards, feet gliding along the ground under my legs until I could stand. The scene before me was still shocking, even in remembering all that happened. Eventually, I noted the even breaths seeping in and out of the pilot’s chest.
He survived the night. Well done.
The numbers on the monitor confirmed what the voice had said. Heart rate steady. Oxygen levels optimum. Blood pressure higher than it had ever reached the night before. Looking over the battered and broken man, covered in dried blood that had spilled to the bed and floor, I felt a rush of emotion break free from its cage in my chest, unleashing an irrepressible urge to cry.
I sobbed quietly, knowing it was both relief and exhaustion that the tears crawled down my face. I wasn’t really sure why it hit me so hard. I didn’t even know this man, and somehow his survival at my hands was overwhelming, bursting at the seams with a happiness I’d never experienced for a patient before.
But then I recalled what I’d done to make it possible.
Fear struck like a spark in the centre of my chest, rippling its way through my veins.
There’s no way I could explain this as a simple act of medical miracle. He’d know. Then they’d know. And everything I’d built would come crumbling down. I’d have to find a new planet, a new home, build a new clinic, leaving everything behind.
I just wanted to heal people. I didn’t want to be a part of either of their worlds, and I didn’t want to d-
A croaky moan escaped from the pilot’s lips, his eyes moving underneath the lids, struggling to open. He groaned louder, and it became clear all too quickly he was starting to feel his extensive injuries. Panic set in, realising I hadn’t had time to give him any anaesthetic or pain relief.
This was going to be a rough wake up.
A piercing whimper bellowed from his chest, startling me into focus. With the trolley at hand I wrenched open the draws in search of anything with a pain-relieving quality and prepared the med-injector with heavy fluid. He’d already started to move his limbs, presumably in a way to understand what was happening, and another strained yell echoed in the room, sending a shiver rocketing down my spine. I jammed the needle into the IV cannula port, pushing in the medicine without much of a thought to appropriate dosage.
I just needed to stop him moving.
He began hollering even harder, tears welling in his eyes as he started to thrash against the mattress. Snatching at his wrists, I slammed them back down on the bed.
“It’s okay! You’re okay! I know it hurts but you’ve got to give the painkiller time to work. I promise it’s going to be alright!” 
His eyes flew open, an obvious distress burning from behind brown irises. They flickered over my blood-stained clothes, then locked into mine, pleading, begging for me to do something to take away the agony.
“I know,” I said softly, a more tender edge to my voice. “I know it hurts. I’m doing all that I can. Please just stay still. It will get better. Please.”
The pilot drew in a deep, haggard breath, his bottom lip trembling. Eventually his jaw clenched as our eyes remained fixed, a silent pact of trust hanging in the air. It took me by surprise, how easy it was to calm him, and I seized the chance to soothe him even further.
“My name is Alex, I’m a doctor,” I explained. “Your ship crashed just outside my clinic. You were hurt, badly. You fell unconscious and I brought you in here to treat your injuries.”
Such a simple explanation for the truly gargantuan effort I had performed.
I wonder if he’ll ever know how close to death he was.
It wasn’t the time to tell him now, not when he seemed so scared. There was some semblance of understanding in his features, dark bushy eyebrows furrowed in thought for a moment, only for his eyes to shut again as he withheld a pained cry. I released my grip from his right wrist, placing my hand in his to squeeze gently. An act of sympathy, something I had done many times for people in distress. Even the small movement was enough to make him yelp.
Kriff. I forgot his arm was broken.
“Sorry!” I squeaked. He was still wincing. “Let me try and fix that.”
It was obvious how wrong the angle appeared in his forearm, beginning to prepare more local anaesthetic into the injector handle. I shot the needle a few centimetres above the fracture, the pilot barely flinching. Compared to the rest of his injuries it would likely have felt like nothing at all.
“I need to set this okay? Your arm is going to feel numb in a minute or two. I’ll be as quick as I can.”
His nod was measured, careful not to move anymore than he had to. I left him for a moment to find my universal cast and a sling, giving the injection a few moments to filter through his tissue and into the nerves. When I returned I could see some of the pain medication had already started to take hold, the sting of discomfort in his eyes beginning to waver, his muscles losing their tension and relaxing ever so slightly into the mattress. I prepared the cast, cutting the shapes out for his fingers and thumb, getting it ready for quick application.
“Poe,” he said slowly, his voice croaky and filled with restraint. “My name is Poe.”
I met his gaze again, trying my hardest to put forward an aura of confidence, even in my exhaustion. “Nice to meet you, Poe,” I smiled. With a lightened touch, a finger trailed softly down his right forearm. “Can you feel this?”
“A little,” he whispered. It was clearly hard for him to find his voice again. “It’s kind of… fuzzy.”
“Do you think I could try and set your arm now? I can wait if you prefer.”
“I can handle it.”
Underneath his lips I could imagine gritted teeth, clenching hard, bracing for the pain. It occurred to me then maybe this wasn’t the first time he’d broken a bone.
Without another word I pulled the X-ray unit’s arm up towards his fracture site, hoping he didn’t notice the splashes of his blood smattering the machine. Pressing down on the image button revealed a better picture in comparison to the absolute mess his femur had been. Only his radius was broken, in an even line, no splintering to be seen.
Finally something easy.
With two hands around his arm on either side of the fracture, I poised myself for a quick pull and twist. Poe’s muscles tensed underneath my grip.
“Just try to relax, it will make it much easier,” I insisted.
He drew in a deep breath, and the tension released from underneath my fingertips. I’d learned in my experience not to tell patients exactly when I was going to perform something painful. Something about the surprise of it somehow made it hurt less. So with one fluid movement I pulled and rotated the bone back into place, knowing even before I shot the X-ray it would be aligned. Poe was crushing his eyelids closed, waiting for me to move again.
“It’s okay, I got it.”
His eyes opened, meeting me with a look of surprise. I’d already begun to position the cast, bending the malleable plastic to the contours of his limb.
“First try?” he marvelled. I nodded, while trying to rein in my ego. “Never had someone get it on the first try.”
I swallowed hard. “I, uh... I wasn’t so lucky with your femur.” I flicked through the previous X-rays, pointing to the multiple shots of my attempts to fix the break. His eyes widened, mouth in a small ‘o’.
“That was my leg?” he gasped, “And you put it back?”
Both of our eyes glanced to the wound on his thigh. It was closed.
But I didn’t put any bacta on it.
Poe’s disbelief distracted him from my own. What I’d done last night with my crude attempt at Force healing had managed to not only mend the life-threatening severing of his artery, but also somehow pulsed enough energy to knit his wound back together, leaving a sealed laceration where the deep hole had been. Dread filled me again, weighing down so forcefully I didn’t want to move.
How am I going to explain this?
“T-thank you. For getting the bacta into it so quickly. Must have some good quality stuff.”
Thank every particle in the universe. He suspected nothing.
I moved slightly to position myself in front of the trolley that stored evidence of the low quality bacta solution and salve I had used for his chest wound and burns, and feigned a smile of appreciation.
“Just doing my job.”
All of a sudden it seemed to hit him, the situation he was in. His questions came out in rapid fire, desperate for clarification.
“Wait, where am I? What happened to my ship? Where’s BB-8?”
He began to rise from the mattress, wincing at the many injury points as he pulled himself into an upright position on the bed. The quick movement evidently made him dizzy, as he pulled his newly casted arm onto the bed railing to stabilise a wobble.
“Woah, just hold on a minute there,” I snipped, doctor mode engaged. “You’ve still got some serious injuries that need time to heal. Nasty burns, a collection of broken bones and the remnants of a punctured lung. Now bacta can be a miracle cure but it still needs more time before you start moving around again, or you’re going to ruin all the progress I made.”
Poe looked as if he was going to argue, but as my eyes bore into his, he recoiled back into the bed, sighing from both the pain of movement and the lack of answers.
“I was in the middle of an important mission okay?” he stressed. “There are people who are waiting on me. I need to get a message back to the Resistance. To tell them I’m out of commission.”
I tensed. The thought of the Resistance coming here to pick up their injured pilot was enough to make my heart beat faster. Sure, maybe Poe didn’t suspect anything, but the likelihood of convincing force sensitive people like Leia Organa, or the scavenger girl….
Attempting to fool them into thinking I’d healed this man with a bit of brute force and bacta would be near on impossible. But I couldn’t prevent Poe from contacting anybody without arousing even more suspicion. I’d just have to go along with whatever he wanted until I could formulate some kind of plan.
“Alright, how about I get you my transmitter and you promise not to try and move until I say so?” I offered, the tone in my voice not really implying that no could be an appropriate answer.
“Sure thing doc,” he agreed.
Maker, I hate when people call me that.
I made my way over to my tech station, using the moment to give him a couple of the answers he’d been so desperate for. “You’re on a remote clinic on Raxus, about 3000 kilometres- uh… klicks, from Raxulon. Your ship… Well, I haven’t been outside since it exploded at my front door. And your droid unit… I haven’t seen.” I realised quickly how insensitive this information came out when I looked up from my rummaging to Poe’s horrified expression. He began to sit upwards again, giving even less care to his wounds, forcing me to rush back to stop him. “I haven’t checked outside yet!”
“Why haven’t you been out there?” he demanded, eyes flaming.
“Maybe because I was stuck in here saving your life? And how was I supposed to know you had an astromech droid with you?”
He huffed, seeing the logic in my question. “Can you please check if BB is okay?”
I raised an eyebrow, curious at how much emotion he was committing to this piece of equipment. All of the medical droids I’d come into contact with over the years were extremely flat personality wise. Intelligent and useful, but I’d never grown any type of attachment to them. Nothing like Poe seemed to have with this BB-8 droid.
“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll go look for the BB unit. Just please stay in bed. And… prepare for the worst.”
Underpromise, overdeliver. One of the many phrases I’d recited during my medical training. I just really hoped the latter would be the case in this situation.
The latch of the clinic door closed softly behind me, the crisp morning atmosphere somewhat refreshing for a moment or two, until I shook myself into focus to assess the completely destroyed X-wing ship consuming my vision. With sunshine finally illuminating the environment, rolling green hills of the countryside extending beyond the horizon, I scanned the blackened metal skeleton of the ship, ashes smattered all over the ground, glass and electrical wires splayed everywhere.
Well, this doesn’t exactly ignite hope.
Walking around what was left of the X-wing, I examined the surrounding area for any trace of a droid - not just the shine of metal, but the possible tracks left by a robot who was looking for its master. I walked slowly into the field behind the crash site, my eyes surveying every bit of ground, hoping to see any metallic glint that might indicate an intact droid.
Since the clinic was the only building for a few kilometres, there was hardly another structure it could be hiding behind, or lodged in. I almost wanted to keep walking, washing my hands of all of this, so I didn’t have to go back and tell Poe his obviously beloved droid hadn’t survived like he did. But another ruined machine caught my attention.
My comm-tower was flattened into nothing - steel, wiring and black plastic flattened into an artificial pancake.
Kriff, more bad news for Poe.
With my only means of communication squished there was no way any of my tech could send a signal far enough to reach the Resistance, let alone the next village over. And now I would have to make the weeklong trek back to Raxulon to get another one.
This day is kicking my ass.
With a long sigh, I ventured towards the ruined X-wing, assuming if I hadn’t found BB-8 by now, it must have been pulverised by the explosion I narrowly avoided last night. I searched the hollow structure of the ship, hoping for any scrap of metal that could be related to the droid, but it was all so black, covered in soot and melted, everything beginning to mutate into some other portion of the machine. When I skimmed over what was left of one of the wings, there was still a rounded hole I assumed BB-8 would have been housed during flights. An empty hole. There was always a possibility the BB droid could have gone searching for help beyond my clinic, but again, there wasn't a trace of movement in the dirt track leading away to the nearest village.
I think it’s time to be the bearer of bad news.
I extricated myself from the mangled ship, looking back towards the front walls of my clinic, noticing now the remnants of the explosion that had left countless dark stains over the light blue paint, along with a few cracks and impact points where metal had hit the cement. The bushes I’d planted a few months ago in time for this planet’s version of spring had been scorched, most of the green overtaken by grey and black soot. On closer inspection, it became obvious one had been split in half, the edges of leaves opening up to a large gap.
I quickened my pace and kneeled in front of the jumbled shrub, my hands diving in to push burnt leaves out of way, finally discovering a large metal ball of orange and white leaning on the blue concrete wall. A little cracked and dirty, but seemingly intact.
Oh wait, where’s the head?
Scurrying around on my hands and knees, I felt around the bushes once more, moving along the line of the wall. The twigs were scraping against the skin of my arms, but I was too excited for the possibility of some good news that I ignored the sting they caused.
Unexpectedly my hand struck something hard, pushing the stiff lower branches out of my view to find a domed head dug into the ground. Picking it up, I brushed away some of the dirt, surveying for any obvious damage. Its antennae was crooked, a few deep scratches slicing the metal, but it all seemed fairly superficial. With the head in hand, I strode back to the body unit, beaming with the thought I could ease even a little bit of Poe’s worry.
My delight was swiftly dissolved when setting the pieces together. I’d assumed the magnet would hold and the droid would spring back to life. Instead, the head slipped straight off, sinking into the ground once more with a muffled thud.
Yeah, that seems about right.
*
“I have good news and bad news,” I declared sheepishly as I walked into view of Poe, lugging in a separated BB-8. His face burst into an illustration of relief, then confusion as his brain finally registered the image of his dear friend separated into two pieces, and lifeless.
As I placed the metal components onto the hospital bed at the side of Poe’s leg, he looked up at me. “This is the bad news right?” His hands tentatively checked over the BB unit, attempting what I had done not minutes ago, and watched the head piece slide back over the metal ball and dive into the mattress.
“Um… Actually… This was meant to be the good news,” I grimaced. “The bad news is that my comm-tower was completely flattened by your ship. None of my transmitter tech is going to be able to send out any messages until I can get another one built.”
Poe’s jaw clenched, and I only noticed now the dark stubble that glittered the lower half of his face.
“And when would that be exactly?” he queried sharply. I didn’t like the tone of his voice.
“At least another week if I left now. But I can’t leave you like this, you’re still in critical condition.”
It was obvious he was hiding his frustration, hands scrunched into balls. “They can’t wait that long.”
I scrambled at any answer that might settle him. “I mean, maybe some of the villagers could help, but there’s no guarantee-”
“Then get them to help!” he exploded, making me step back. At seeing the startled look on my face he softened, realising the severity of his demand. “I’m sorry, but this is just… so important. I know you’ve already done more than I could have ever asked of someone, but I still need more of your help. The fate of the galaxy depends on it.” His eyes glistened with hope, a silent plea, sending a cold wave of unease down my spine. He held a bandaged arm out, hand open, reaching toward me.
I didn’t want to be a part of this. It was exactly what I had run from for so long. Even now the immediate urge was to bolt out the front door, leaving behind this stranger who could unravel everything I’d built.
But there was something about the expression on his face, the desperation in his eyes, calling out to me. I was all he had right now. I was his only lifeline to put him back on whatever journey he had been travelling before fate made him, quite literally, crash into me.
“I mean, if the fate of the galaxy depends on it…” I mumbled, placing my hand tentatively in his. “Okay. I’ll help you get back home.”
~
Next Chapter
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ficforce · 4 years
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Little Wound Part 1
Joker x Little Lady Reader SFW There will be mentions of noncon and other abuse in this and the coming chapters
Joker stared up at the steel ceiling, his eye was unfocused as his mind drifted back to the rooftop nearly three months before. He wasn’t sure how he had survived because he had been pretty far gone; it was a miracle he had even been able to get a signal out to Licht. He loved her. He loved her so much and he had ruined her life because of his selfish desire to be free. He tried to recall her happy smiles and the way she would tell him off but the images kept morphing into her dead stare and her cruel words. She didn’t love him back, it had all been a lie to get close to him and slip a knife between his ribs. “I changed your IV drip - ya know I’m not this kinda doctor, right? I’m the experimenting kind.” Licht tapped on the rail of the hospital bed they had acquired, “The actual doctor did say you should start getting up and about… start eating more.” It didn’t take a genius - even though he was one - to realise the Joker was depressed. He had to be. Joker hadn’t left the hideout once since they had set up the bed, borrowed some simple hospital monitoring equipment, they also acquired blood and medicine for him. They had other allies working with them, all of them trying to work out why people kept catching fire - one of those people was a surgeon and he had barely saved the man’s life. “You can’t find the truth laying on your back.” “This word sucks, the truth just makes it suck more…” “But you wanted to find out why it sucked, remember?” This wasn’t his friend, this wasn’t the awkward, dangerous man he knew, “So you’re gonna just wait for the world to burn? Become a different kind of shadow that disappears into the dark all alone?” Nothing. Not a twitch. Joker turned his head away from Licht, figuring he’d disappear if he hoped long enough. “Damn it, Joker!” his fist hit the rail and the metal hinges of the bed squeaked, “Get up and do something - every second you waste in that bed is another second Y/N is trapped.” A sharp inhale followed by a shaky breath out was the only reaction he gave outwardly. The words stung but they did start a wheel turning in his head, one that hadn’t turned in three months, Y/N was trapped. She was likely back with the shadows under the Holy Sol Temple. Going through the hell he had run away from and damned her to. “Get outta here… I’m tired.”
x - -
‘You never belonged to the shadows’ Sometimes those words echoed around his head. Some of her parting words to him and he didn’t know if she was rejecting him or comforting him. Joker relived the night over and over, every word, every detail until he started to realise the minuscule things. Like the fact she had stabbed him in a way that deliberately missed his heart. She would have known exactly where to land a killing blow but she didn’t; she had nearly killed him. She hadn’t finished the job either. She had told him that she wanted him to remember her being different and special - not part of the collective. She didn’t want to be with the Shadows. She wanted to be free just like him and he wished he had recognised the pain in her eyes - the tension in her jaw. ‘The Captain always finds fault with me’ Joker knew what she meant because he had experienced it. He should have stormed tin there a year earlier and saved her, instead, he had felt sorry for himself whilst the Captain did Sol only knew what to her. Because she was his replacement, because he had tainted the Five-Two name.
Breaking into the Holy Sol Temple with Benimaru had been to seek the truth but it was also a partial rescue mission. However, when Joker saw those dead green eyes of the man who beat and violated him day in and day out, who had ordered the murder of the family who had taken him in and forced him out of the sun again… He forgot all about Y/N and set Benimaru loose on the Shadows. The very idea of finally ripping out the bastard’s heart gave him the edge, his hatred of the Captain and what he had done - not only to him - gave Joker an odd kind of joy.
A pained yelp went through Joker’s ear like an arrow and he felt a heated blade catch his leg. This wasn’t the time to get distracted but the sound had caught him off guard and his head whipped around to see Benimaru kick one of the masked assassins in the stomach to send them skidding along the floor. They weren’t supposed to make a sound, even if their bones were snapped. Joker lit up three cards to deflect his opponent’s whip sword, keeping his eye on the other whilst shouting over to the other man, “Oi, not that one, Mr Almighty - I got business with the Little Lady.” Maybe it would be considered cheating; the way he had used a hallucinogenic on the Captain. Scaring the shit out of the man before dicing him up into pieces. Dead was dead.
Joker took a deep breath and straightened out his clothing, the adrenaline was buzzing under his skin from finishing off his once Captain, a man who had been hard to erase from his scarred mind and nightmares. However, things just weren’t that easy, now he had to deal with Leonard Burns and he was out of drugged up cigarettes. “Really?” He turned to face his old acquaintance, “So to get the holy scriptures, I’ll have to defeat you…”
“For someone who has been hiding in the shadows, this is pretty daring of you.” Captain Burns wasn’t surprised to see who had been causing all the trouble, there were only a few people as dumb as Joker to attach the Church head-on.
The dark-haired man spread out his hands and called up his cards, “That’s because I don’t want the truth to stay hidden…”
Leonard took a breath and beckoned to him, “Come.”
They were at the ready to fight and then Benimaru’s voice broke the heavy tension, “Sounds like fun. Let me join the fight too.” There was a long pause, a three-man standoff that ended with Leonard turning his back on them and declining to fight - much to Joker’s surprise. It had been a strange turn of events but now Joker had a neutral ally in the church and more evidence that something stank in the Empire. That just left his other business… Y/N’s body shook uncontrollably in the corner Benimaru had forced her into, he had tied up her wrists and around her body to secure her arms to her sides, “Whatever it was that you used to send these bastards mad also affected her, figured I’d tie her up for her own safety.” The younger man crossed his arms and watched silently as Joker knelt beside the assassin to remove the faceless, white mask, he could see that the woman’s eyes were blown wide and tears streamed down her cheeks - he wondered what she was seeing in her head.
Joker’s voice was quiet, his tone soft as he started to undo the ties, noting that they were quite intricate knots that indicated Benimaru had certain hobbies with ropes, he smiled gently as he eyes tried to focus on his face, “Hey there, Little Lady. You’re a bit high but I promise it’ll wear off in a few minutes.” Her eyes widened all of a sudden and Joker flinched as she began to scream, Y/N’s legs kicked at him and began begging for her life. “Please, please don’t kill me! Not like that, don’t cut me up into pieces! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I- I’ll… I’ll do it myself but please -!” She had betrayed him, she had played his heart and his mind, poured her drink over him as he bled out; she deserved his punishment but she couldn’t stand being tortured anymore. “I’m begging you… Please…” Y/N’s voice began to break and she was sobbing too hard to be understood.
Joker stared at her in silence. Watching the woman he still loved fall to pieces and begging for a swift death. He pulled a playing card out of his breast pocket and lit it up - she had always liked his card tricks before but the sound of the burning card only seemed to terrify her more. Y/N cowered into herself, her freed hands covered her head as she buried it into her knees. “Tch!” Benimaru’s click was loud enough to be heard over Y/N’s whimpering and he stepped closer to them, the air rippling with heat as his crimson eyes lit up, “Revenge is fine but I’m not gonna let you fuck up some woman who’s already given up.”
“Relax, Mr Almighty, I’m not planning on hurting her…” The card went out and Joker sighed almost sadly as he watched her, “This was a rescue mission too.” Reaching out, he stroked her head lightly, pointedly ignoring her increased sobbing as the man tried to offer her some sort of comfort, “It’s just the hallucinogenic making everything worse.” Feeling Benimaru come off the offensive Joker began to hum some nonsense song to Y/N, picking her up into his arms once he realised she was paralysed with fear - it was time to leave the Shadows and monsters behind.
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Humans are Space Orcs, “Nest.”
Finally guys, some fluff! Based on some comments made by @beckitty and @digitalmagpie on Compromised Earth.  I was inspired by the idea and thought it would be fun to write, and would totally make sense, so. I hope I did the idea credit.
Enjoy the fluff, and thank you all for reading.
Sunny was mad.
Sunny was also worried, but that was mostly overshadowed by just how pissed she was. Adam was being an idiot, the biggest idiot, the king of the idiots. If he kept this up any longer he was going to upgrade himself to the god of all idiots, and it seemed like it was up to her to get something done.
Adam was in a bad way.
He could be fine, she thought, if he was given the time he needed to rest and recuperate. He was exhausted, and short twenty minute naps were going to do nothing to help that exhaustion. She knew enough from Krill to know that the human body required sleep to recover from injuries, and the Steel Eye armor had practically destroyed his body. There was muscle strain, extreme inflammation, the overdose, internal damage, nerve damage, stress fractures etc. etc, and despite all that he was still answering the call of the UNSC.
The stress of his job, and his inability to say no to other people and their needs was going to kill him. He felt obligated, by his job to make sure that everything went well, he assumed because of who he was that he was in charge of protecting earth, even the entire universe if he had to. He was taking on weight that he was not obligated to take on.
Even the UNSC was well aware of how sick he was, and despite taking his help, they seemed concerned about him, and she had no doubt they would be ok if he decided to take time off to recover. There were other men and women in the universe who would be willing to take on the weight he was trying to bare.
Yet he wouldn't listen to her.
Sitting on his chair in the UNSC command room, fighting back sleep, and no ability to walk, he was running himself into the ground.
She needed to find someone who could rein him in.
And she thought she had just the idea.
She left him, though she didn’t want to and made a quick call before walking into the room and quietly whispering to some of the Admirals standing off to one side of the room during break.
“I will not be accepting no, but I thought you should be aware.”
They looked at her and nodded, “We can take it from here.”
“Thank you. I hope you understand that this isn’t a reflection on him.”
“The reflection on him has to do with the fact that he refuses to leave. Do what you have to.”
She nodded turning and walking over to where Adam was sitting slumped in his chair half asleep pale as a ghost. He had insisted the IV be removed so he wouldn't be so distracting. She had argued, he had been stubborn
She walked over putting her arms around him and hauling him to his feet. His head lifted in exhaustion bright green eyes glazed over with exhaustion,”Sunny?”
“Just relax. We are going to go get you some sun during the break.”
He was too tired to be sceptical, and just walked with her.
She could feel his feet dragging, and occasionally his legs would give out under him, but she wrapped one arm around his waist and the other arm around his chest to hold him upright until they finally made it outside to the front of the building. In comparison to the inside, where the lights were dark and the mood was darker, the day was bright and warm. The sky overhead was blue and the ground before them was lush and green. Overhead the sun was warm and bright.
An automated lawn mower was roaring in the distance filling the air with the sound of freshly cut grass.
It made sunny mouth water.
She let Adam sink onto the curb, his head in his hands and lifted her head looking this way and that for signs of life, for the people she was expecting. She heard them before she saw them, the screeching of rubber on pavement, a sound that wasn’t exactly common in a world where everything could hover.
Sunny turned her head and watched as the ancient, four door pickup roared around the corner and skidded through the parking lot. Sunny could feel the aggression spilling off the thing in waves, and when it gunned towards her, she almost worried that she was destined to be roadkill.
However, the tires came to a screeching stop just before them.
Adam lifted his exhausted head and blinked eyes focusing blearily on the front of the car, and as soon as he did, his eyes widened.
Sunny peered through the front windshield where a small, blond- hair woman in a red flannel was hunched behind the steering wheel eyes narrowed face contorted into a predatory snarl that made sunny think twice about having made that call. In the seat just next to her, a greying human male was white knuckling the crash handles.
A door was thrown open and then slammed shut.
“Mom?” 
Martha Vir stormed around the front of the ancient truck, whose engine popped and rattled as it cooled down.
The look of anger fled from her face at one moment, to one of concern as she knelt on the curb looking over her son with piercing blue eyes wild with concern. Mr. vir wobbled stiffly from the cab of the truck forced to pry his hand from the crash handle.
“Mom… what are you doing here?” Adam said in confusion as she tiled his head this way and that, pressing her hand against his forehead, grabbing his hand to examine the inflamed wounds still evident from the steel eye implantation.
It was clear by her expression that she knew exactly what had caused those scars. 
“What-did-they-do. They made you wear the suit again! I swear to the lord above I am going to kill every last-”
“Mom!” his voice was weak, “No one made me put it back on….. I…. asked them to.”
She stared at him in confusion, “What?” “I had no other choice.” His voice quivered a little though he tried to choke it down. Clear evidence that humans were more likely to drop their guard in front of a caregiver, no matter how long past.
She rested her hand on his cheek, “But why… Adam….” 
“It’s what I had to do.”
“And the drugs….”
All was silent for a moment, and he lowered his head.
The stormy expression on her face grew thunderous. 
“I’m sorry…. I couldn’t…. Take the pain.” 
Sunny was surprised to see she didn’t even look mad. Instead she hugged him holding him to her chest his head resting on her shoulder for a long moment. Jim came to sit next to them one hand resting on his son’s back.
“It’s alright, we’re here to take you home.”
He lifted his head, “Home, no, I can’t I have….”
“I don’t care what you have. You aren't in any kind of shape to be doing any kind of work.”
“But mom the burg could attack earth at any-”
“I don’t care if the burg is attacking,I don’t care who is coming. I don’t care if it’s the rapture, and Jesus is descending from the sky on a chariot of fire, you are coming home.”
“But-”
“Adam you are not the only thing standing between earth and eminent destruction, now argue with me again…. I dare you.”
Sunny had never experienced such intense eye contact in all her life. And she thought her own mother had had a mean glare. As soon as Adam made eye contact with his mother, it was over, Sunny saw the fight drain out of him and he simply nodded his head.
He glanced over at sunny, “You called them didn’t you.”
Sunny lifted her head, “I did.”
“Why?”
“Because you won’t listen to me, but I knew who you would listen to.” 
His father leaned down, and with one strong calloused hand, he helped Adam to his feet, “Come on Kid, let's get you home before your mother levels the UNSC.” He chuckled, “Thought she was going to drive the truck through the front door.” Adam snorted, too tired and weak to actually laugh.
His legs gave out before he made it to the car. His parents caught him, doing their best to hold him up.
Sunny intervened, lifting him easily off the ground and into the back of the truck, she then followed after allowing him to rest his head on her leg as he lay across the back seat.
Jim and Martha got back into the truck, Martha grudgingly allowing her husband to drive. 
After a moment she reached a hand back holding a water bottle out to adam.
“Drink, this better be done by the time we get home.”
“But-”
“Drink your water!”
He shut up, finishing the water in a few minutes. It wasn’t a second later that the water bottle clattered to the floor, and Adam was out. Sunny sat in somewhat awkward silence as they drove down the highway.
Jim glanced at her in the rear view mirror, “You alright, Sunny.”
“Yes, sir. 
“Enough leg room?”
“Yes sir, just fine, sir.”
“My name is Jim, Kid, you can use it.” 
Er, “Of course, Jim.”
After another few minutes of awkward silence, Martha turned around in her seat to look at sunny, “What happened?”
Sunny wasn’t entirely sure what she was and was not allowed to tell them, but she didn’t want to find out what would happen if she didn’t, “The Burg declared war on the GA, and then proceeded to attack the Gromm homeworld for the warp codes that would give them access to the rest of the GA. They landed on the planet and were dug in inside an energy field with a plan to attack and charge our line within a day. Adam and his advisors determined the best course of action would be to attack them first and detonate their ship’s engine. Adam made a call…. I had no idea what he was doing. Both Krill and I tried to stop him when we figured it out, but he made it clear that he would find someone else if we didn’t do it. He….. he wasn’t doing so well, but he began the battle without any drugs….. Halfway through…. Well he just couldn’t handle it. He took them, and we finished, but he overdosed. Krill saved his life, but, he just hasn’t slowed down since. I can’t get him to, no one can…. So that’s when I called you.”
She stared up at martha worried that she would be blamed for not stopping Adam.
It seemed as if it might tilt in that direction, but Jim piped up, “Thank you for taking care of him, Sunny. Adam…. He’s always been stubborn. A weird mix of stubborn and not being able to say no.”
They turned off the highway and cut through the suburbs finally pulling up to the familiar house under the unassuming blue sky.
Sunny stepped out pulling Adam with her, who only partially woke up.
She carried him to the door and into the house following Martha back to a guest bedroom,where she set his hat on the nightstand, and woke him up long enough to get him to kick off his shoes and pull off his uniform jacket.
Then and only then was he finally allowed to lay down. Sunny wasn’t sure if he was even awake for the following few minutes where, like a mother bird, the human proceeded to construct a nest out of pillows and other soft things. He had a pillow under his head, and a pillow under his legs, and if that wasn’t enough, he was then surrounded on all sides by pillows. That done, she took a moment to check the sounds left by the Steel eye armor, cleaning a few of them up and bandaging over with clean gauze. She lay a hand on his forehead checking for fever, and by extension, and infection.
He shifted in his sleep.
She then went hunting through a closet which was hoarded at least two dozen more blankets. 
She left the window open allowing the warm sunlight and cool air to breeze into the room, covering his legs with the blanket, but leaving his arms and chest exposed to the warm sunlight.
Finally done, She then ushered Sunny out of the room, leaving the door cracked slightly, where it could be seen from down the hall in the kitchen. Sunny stood awkwardly in the living room for a time her back facing the window where sunlight was beaming through onto the floor. Dust moats churned and rolled in the sunlight.
Martha sat at the table while Jim stepped outside to get some work done.
Sunny shuffled her feet awkwardly before.
“Thank you for…. Coming so quickly.”
Martha looked up at her, her bright blue human eyes cutting and cold.
“I would do anything for my kids.”
Sunny shifted her feet and looked down quietly and before realizing what she was saying, “I wish my mother had been more like you.”
There was silence.
Martha worked her jaw for a second before curiosity got the better of her, “Are…. Drev mothers not protective of their children?”
Sunny shook her head, “No…. not at all…. Just not…. Mine.”
“Oh…. I’m sorry…. What…. Happened?”
Sunny looked away and shrugged, “Oh I was a disgrace. A crippled abomination that should have been tossed into the fire at birth.”
Martha stared at her, “Don’t you think that’s a bit exaggerated.”
Sunny turned to look at her, “No… That’s what happens if you are born crippled. You are tossed into the fire.” 
Martha stared at her mouth open, “They what!.... But how…. Why… why would anyone do anything like that….. And you. You look fine.”
Sunny turned to look out the window, “My mother was a great general. She won land in all directions of the compass, but after my brother, she was never able to produce another child…. It is very important in Drev culture to be able to produce kits.” She turned to look at martha, “Drev mothers give birth near the mouths of volcanos, and if the kit doesn’t hold up to standard they are thrown into the fire for their spirits to be recycled. My mother was…. Unable to get rid of me…. I am very small. I think she hated me because I was a symbol of her weakness, and she just couldn’t handle that.”
Martha had gone very quiet staring on at Sunny in surprise and….  a hint of something else in her bright blue eyes.
“I tried for her to be the best warrior I could. But in truth, I am not talented in battle. When the Drev war came, I thought I could win her love through valor, though I should have known better by then.” She looked at Martha feeling a horrible clenching feeling rising up in her chest and stomach, “What I did to Adam…. It isn’t excused by any means, but at least now you know why I did what I did.’ She looked down at her hands, “But instead of winning my mother’s love, she blamed me for my father’s death.”
“Your father…. Died during the war?”
“Yes, he was killed by a Steel-eye soldier during the last push.” She raised a hand, “Don’t worry, my father died an honorable death in battle…. I was happy for him. Once again my mother went against our customs and turned her sights on revenge.” Sunny siged taking a seat at the table resting her hands together atop the polished surface clasped lightly together.
As she sat a sudden touch of warmth on her hand made her look up.
Martha Vir had a hand over hers and was looking at her with an expression Sunny had not seen on the human’s face before.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s alright.”
“No, it’s not. No one deserves to be treated like that.”
Sunny chirped half heartedly, “It’s past me now. “She glanced towards the door, “Besides, I have people who care about me now, and they make it pretty clear that I am worth far more than what my mother said.”
There was another silence. The distant sound of laughter reached them from outside, “I am sorry, for the way I treated you. I shouldn’t have done that.”
Sunny chirped again, “I hurt your son, you would have to be crazy to trust me, or even like me all that much.” “Still, I should have been willing to trust his judgement…. He’s my youngest, and sometimes I forget he’s his own man.” She laughed, “Every time I picture him he’s still eight years old.”
“Are you sure he isn't” 
The two of them laughed.
The door creaked open just then, and Jim stepped into the house a handful of dandelions in one hand. He seemed surprised to find the two of them laughing with each  other, but just as pleased, “What did I miss.”
Martha smiled, “Nothing important. What do you have there?”
“Well, I was just getting rid of these from the lawn, and I was going to throw them away, but.” He glanced at sunny sheepishly, “I thought I heard Adam mention that you liked eating them, so…. I bought them inside instead. Forgive me for overstepping or mishearing.”
Sunny perked up a bit at the sight of the little yellow weed, “You heard him right.”
Jim looked relieved, handing Sunny the flowers and coming down to sit  at the table. Sunny munched on the flower rather happily. 
“Please eat them all. I hate those little yellow bastards.”
Martha looked over at Sunny, “Adam ever taught you how to play cards?”
Sunny shook her head, “I’ve seen him play, but we usually do other things.”
“Might as well do something while we pass the time.” Jim reached out to open a drawer revealing a few decks of cards. “Prism, turn on the sports channel.”
A blue light flashed around the upper edge of the ceiling, and a projection bloomed to life at the center of the room.
Martha began manipulating the cards between her hands adding a pleasant shuffling sound to the air.
Sunny growled at the screen.
“What, you don’t like the Strikers?”
“No, their coach is a D bag and Marcos can’t throw to save his life.”
Jim laughed, “Finally someone who gets it. Only Jeremy was ever into football, but they’re his favorite team.”
“Schmuck.”
“That’s what I said.”
Sunny chirped happily, and Jim laughed.
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starryeyes2000 · 3 years
Text
That Night and Morning on Discovery: Chapter 3
Chapter 2 | Chapter 4 Masterlist|
Pairing: Christopher Pike x OC
Rating: Teen, mild references to sex, mild references to assault
Word Count: 1.8K
Summary: A week after the events on New Eden, Discovery's crew is granted much needed leave. Chris' wife joins him on Discovery for a little R&R of their own. But a Captain is never really off-duty and personal time is scarce.
Ghosts of Talos
Chris decided to run one more lap before returning to his quarters. He found solace in physical exertion. Pushing his body allowed his mind to let go of unproductive and endlessly repeating thoughts which he could then analyze individually with context rather than assumption and speculation. He believed that permitted him to resolve the matter rationally and move on.
It had been months since a trigger from the Talos IV incident affected him, even mildly. He felt trapped and anxious. And if he, an officer wielding great influence – oh hell Christopher be honest with yourself, not just influence but power – felt this way; what was it like for that young woman this evening caught in a situation with only bad options? Truly a helplessness beyond what he experienced on Talos. And it happened on a facility belonging to the organization I served. That is unacceptable. And one thing I can fix.
As the anger grew, his pace quickened. His breath hitched and his wounded side protested. If he didn’t behave sensibly, his wife’s tacit agreement to go along with downplaying the injury’s severity would end. And that would be a poor tactical move, he thought, especially if Aalin teams up with Tracy Pollard. He slowed to a jog. Then to a fast paced-walk as he let his breathing return to normal.
Per his usual practice, once the physical injuries from Talos healed, he dissected the experience looking for the lessons it contained and compartmentalized those. Moved on. This time he had glossed over the significance of the ordeal.
No crew coped well when their commander engaged in numerous casual relationships among its members. And while he didn’t live like a monk, he had always indulged carefully, typically confining sex to a small set of friends with benefits, mostly off ship. Or flings during leave where neither participant was looking for a long-term commitment. And he wasn’t a “sleep with the alien princess” type of guy. Therefore after Talos it had been easy to slip into a celibate life without questioning why.
Then he met someone, and the attraction was more than sexual desire. They became lovers in every sense of the word – except physical. Each time the moment was right, he pulled back. Unwilling to trust himself. Unsure it if was real. That was when he realized or rather admitted the Talos incident was more than kidnapping, imprisonment, and mind-control.
It was an assault, a violation not only of his mind, but also his body. He was tricked into believing he felt an attraction. His physical response was coerced with illusion as well as physical, mental, and emotional reward and abuse. Threats and violence were employed attempting to force consummation with any partner.
Only now, after three years of marriage, did he feel comfortable with his wife initiating sex. Sometimes … occasionally … well it was still a work in progress.
As he walked back his thoughts turned to Tilly. She continued to surprise and impress him. While he couldn’t officially condone her throwing the first punch, he certainly wasn’t going to punish her for it. She stepped up and fulfilled her oath to protect and serve, regardless of the consequences. And she would do it all over again, in exactly the same way if necessary, choosing to help over the cost to her career. Even if it landed her in the brig. When they discussed the incident tomorrow, he would acknowledge her kindness and … initiative, while still coaching her to first look for a less aggressive solution.
Seeing his wife’s face brighten when he returned melted away most of his remaining anxiety. Catching up over the salads he brought from the mess hall dissolved the rest.
“Better?” She asked.
He nodded and explained what happed without compromising Tilly’s or the victim’s privacy.
“I finished comparing Spock’s latest drawings to the map of the seven signals. Do you want to review it?”
Chris shook his head. “Right now I want to be with you.”
She smiled. That smile of love and contentment she reserved for him. The one that picked him up from his lowest moments. Rising and holding out a hand, she coaxed him to lay on the sofa and tucked in beside him, gently resting his head on her lap.
He noticed the lights were lower than their usual harsh setting, a change that made the small space feel more intimate. And a few odds and ends from their quarters on Enterprise – a cactus from his home, now their home on Earth, a bowl with pieces of sea glass they gathered on a distant planet, a couple of books, a favorite photograph – were placed around the room.
He gestured at the additions. “Thank you for this.”
Aalin leaned down and, like a whisper, kissed his forehead after smoothing his hair back. Once confident Chris wouldn’t pull away from her touch, she started running her fingers lightly up and down his chest. When he sighed and closed his eyes, she knew the memories of Talos had faded. He was truly healed from his ordeal. But the guilt of leaving Vina behind unprotected, although it was her choice to stay, was nearer the surface and more easily triggered. As had happened after this evening’s incident in the bar.
Leisurely, she began tracing small circles on his chest then expanded the circles to more random patterns and deepened the contact as she moved across and down his chest and abdomen. A few times, here and there, she ventured a little lower, stroking a line just past his waist, loosening the drawstring of the sweats he changed into after showering and slipping her fingertips just inside the waistband. She was careful to keep her touch intimate enough to be grounding without expectation of more.
Chris clasped her hand and lifted it to his lips. “My turn.” In one graceful movement he sat up and settled her on his lap which she straddled. “You are wearing more clothes than when I left for the Starbase,” he scolded and began unbuttoning her blouse.
“If anyone came looking for you, I preferred not to greet them in a skimpy robe.”
He rested one hand on her hip, providing balance as the other slowly traced up her spine causing her to arch her back and shift her hips as she squirmed. Nibbling her neck he murmured in her ear, “Yeah that sight is a pleasure I reserve for myself.”
Their lips met and the kiss lingered and slowly built. The next kiss was more intimate; tongues touching, sweeping, and caressing. She felt him respond and moved her hand down to encourage it.
The door chime shattered the moment. Chris dropped his head to her shoulder and groaned. “What the hell else can go wrong? I envisioned this night differently.”
After one final quick kiss she moved away, her hand brushing across his groin and thighs as she did. “Ah, hmmm, ok … I should answer that.”
Aalin straightened her shirt and refastened the buttons while walking to the door. As it opened, a small woman held up a finger as she rapidly and loudly spoke into a communicator. “I’m with the Captain now.” She walked into the room. “No. Do. Not. Not until I get back.” Snapping the communicator shut she muttered “children” under her breath and then looked up and stared at the woman in front of her. “Captain, you’ve changed.”
Hearing heard Reno’s insistent tone, Chris, modesty shoved aside by concern for the ship and crew, strode towards the door. “What’s going on?”
Aalin caught Reno’s faint smirk as the engineer looked to the Captain, to Aalin, back to the Captain and sized up the situation. The smug look was replaced with a deadpan expression as Reno regarded Pike. Her eyes moved over him slowly and carefully, top to bottom. Casually she said, “I always thought you were a robot designed by Command. You know, as the perfect officer.”
Her gazed raked up and down him again. Combining a mischievous tone with her impassive look she drawled, “But it turns out you are a real boy after all.”
Aalin quickly turned towards the wall, slapping a hand over her mouth and trying not to laugh, shoulders shaking and eyes watering from the effort. Chris merely raised an eyebrow. “Aalin, this is Commander, soon to be Ensign, Jett Reno. Commander, Lieutenant Pike.”
Now more composed, Aalin nodded as she faced Reno. “Nice to meet you. I’ll give you some privacy.”
“No need. Having met you I no longer remember why I came to speak with the Captain.” Reno grinned. “By the way, you’re way out of his league, how did he snare you? Whatever it was, I assure you, I’m better at it. And the dimples are overrated.”
“Are you chatting me up Commander?” Aalin teased. “It’s been, well forever, since anyone did.”
“I imagine even the most foolish junior crewman thinking with the wrong part of their anatomy would be dissuaded from their ardor by the stripes. But then I’m not a junior crewman,” Reno replied.
Chris now drumming his fingers impatiently on his crossed arms interjected, “For. The. Moment. Did I mention that, once again demoted in rank crewman Reno will be cleaning plasma ducts for the next six months if she does not expeditiously explain what is happening on my ship?” His eyes glinted with amusement despite the stern tone.
Reno tossed him a communicator. “Internal comms are down. Should be back in a couple of hours. I’ll send a report but the short answer to your next question is maintenance gone wrong, the main link was damaged. Nothing to worry about. And I finished an overdue inspection of the dilithium crystals. One has a hairline fracture. I want your permission to take the warp engine off-line and replace the damaged crystal. That will require a cold restart.”
“Granted.” He called the bridge. “Take us out 275 million kilometers and hold position until Commander Reno sends an all clear. Full impulse. Inform Commander Saru and the local port authority we are leaving orbit for an engine restart. Return ETA three …” He looked to Reno and she nodded, “Three hours.” After closing the communicator he asked, “Anything else?”
“Nope.” Reno answered. “I’ll go see to the children so Dad will be relaxed and happy in the morning.” She gave him the once over again. “And I will inform Linus his estimate was accurate.” Smiling wickedly and chuckling to herself, she left.
Noticing that again his wife was trying, unsuccessfully, to hold back her amusement, Chris sighed. “Do I want to know what that is about?”
Between strangled whimpers Aalin answered, “Probably not.”
Chris narrowed his eyes slightly; now certain he did want to find out more. Later. He reached for Aalin’s hand and guided her to him. “Where was I?” He asked. “Ah yes, I was about to make love to you for the rest of the night.”
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amusedyan · 5 years
Text
Mother of Legacies
So this was a collab between @hearteyes-candyskies and me! We worked out the plot together and she was kind enough to give me a list of yandere Greek myths for inspiration. We hashed out a lot of this and she was so helpful in picking out the details.
Special thanks to my good friend @lightautumnsky for taking a look at this for me and giving me her opinion- you’re amazing and I owe you big for this.
One more disclaimer; normally I go out of my way to keep my darlings and reader inserts as neutral as possible. Everyone deserves to be a darling no matter gender or race. However, because a lot of Io’s importance is because of her bloodline, I had to keep her female. I’m very sorry, but that’s how this had to happen.
tw: implied forced pregnancy
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Your legs ache as you climb the mountain. Your hooves are uncertain in the stone as you journey upwards, and you huff with exhaustion. The sun beats down on your hide and your tongue lolls- you’d never thought to miss sweat before.
Overhead and forward some distance an eagle screeches, and you shudder instinctively. But there is no lightning crossing the sky, and no boom of thunder, and so you continue on.
You make steady ground and in the distance you see him, and you breathe in peace.
You’re so close.
The Adversary, chained to the mountain; beneath his sunburn he is frighteningly pale, with matted dark hair and haunted eyes. He tracks your progress as you approach. There is a gaping, scabbed wound in his side, bleeding sluggishly.
Everyone knows the story- once an ally with the Lord of the Sky, he’d disobeyed to serve humanity. For his insolence, Zeus had stripped his name and chained him to the mountains, his eagle set upon him to tear out his liver every day.
You are so tired, but you’re made the journey, and you feel you deserve a rest, setting yourself down at his feet and looking up at him patiently.
“You’re no normal cow, are you?” He asks bluntly, peering down at you. He doesn’t seem surprised. You shake your head no- and he nods. “Transformation?” You nod in assent. “Nice to know they haven’t changed.”
You want to ask, but he laughs a little. It’s distinctly unamused. “I can understand you. Don’t worry. Now, the details?”
“I don’t quite know where to begin.” You admit carefully. The Eagle is nearby, and you aren’t sure if it’s just an eagle.
The titan catches where you look and assures you that it’s just an eagle. “A pet, that’s all. Let’s begin this way- what have you come for?”
“Do you have a name?” You ask first. “I need to call you something.” Are you imagining the slight quirk of the titan’s lips.
“L. It’s close enough to what was stolen.”
So you begin.
i.
Your name was Io. Is it still? Who knows, a cow can’t introduce herself.
You were a priestess to Hera, but before that you were a princess, princess of Argos. You’d not wanted to marry, and so your parents had bought you a place in the temple, and you had devoted yourself to worship.
That life spoke to you, and you had friends in your sister priestesses, and went about your duties happily- you cleaned your section of the temple, you helped prepare meals, occasionally you even assisted with the sacrifices to the Goddess herself. You would stand behind the senior priestess as she prayed watch the smoke from the altar drift to the sky and think in this I am happy.
Your life continued this way for months, until winter came, and with it came Gamelion- the month blessed for marriage. Engaged women and mothers of the brides and their grooms flocked to the temple to pray for wealth, happiness and love.
Among the ceremony were the plays- plays dedicated to the marriage of your Gods. The performers reenacted the marriage and courtship of the pantheon, and as always, Mighty Zeus ad Hera were among the most frequent.
The temple kept cuckoos for their own performances, and you loved the birds. Only the most senior priestesses were tasked with their care, but you liked to be around them when you had the time.
It was your duty one morning to prepare the altar- you cleaned it and offered your prayers to Hera. You lit incense and kept your voice pitched low. The fruit offered- the finest of oranges- filled the room with it’s citrussy scent. All the smells made your nose itch.
Your eyes were closed when it happened; all you felt was heat. The light was visible through your eyelids, like you were looking straight at the sun when you’d closed them. There was no noise, no smells, nothing- just the light.
When it was gone, the worshippers in the chamber were gaping at you with awe, and your robes were dusted with gold. The offerings to Hera, you realized with growing horror, were gone- replaced by pomegranates.
                                                       --------
“So you were blessed by Zeus.” L interrupts. You nod.
“That’s what the High Priestess said, anyway.”
“How did you feel?”
“Afraid.”
“Oh?”
“Zeus blessed a priestess devoted to Hera in Her own temple while she stood before Hera’s altar.” You elaborate with one more shudder. L hums, and you can see that his fingers twitch.
“And everyone knows what happens to Light’s conquests.” He says quietly, and you frown, as much as you can.
“Light?”
“Continue, Io.”
ii.
One night, soon after, there was a thunderstorm. You lied in your bed, shivering beneath your blankets.
You’d grown up sharing a room with your sisters; the single accommodation afforded to you as a Priestess left you lonely on nights like that. Your youngest sister had been frightened of thunder, and often joined you in your bed to keep from crying out and waking the others.
“It’s only Zeus, little one,” Mother would promise when she caught you both, smiling a little, then leading your sister back to her own bed. “Nothing to fear.”
Lightning arced across the sky with a boom.
Nothing to fear indeed.
You shivered and tucked your blanket under your chin.
Storms had never scared you like this.
But then, you reflected, never had you been in a position where the Lord of Storms had blessed you.
The gold hadn’t come off those robes, and it had taken the temple’s strongest soap to remove it from your skin.
Outside your window, the tree shook with the force of the wind, and the chill crept in. 
Sleep was long coming that night, and it didn’t come easy. Dreams were too much to ask, but sleep you finally did, even with the noise of rivaling the falling of the sky happening outside.
In the morning a bowl of acorns lay on your sill innocently, even if they were all but innocent.
                                                         ----
“That must have been frightening.” 
By now night was falling, and the first of the stars were lit.
“Oh very much. I nearly screamed. But then I’d have woken the others and that’s not fair to them.” You explained. With night falling the flies had finally ceased tormenting you, and you can finally relax.
“What was Misa’s opinion?”
It shouldn’t shock you, L knowing Hera’s second name. He’d once walked with them before his betrayal.
“I received no sign or omen in warning.” You can’t help the bitterness.
By now, the wound in L’s side has nearly healed completely.
You hope to be gone before morning, or at least before the torment begins again.
“What was the High Priestess’ opinion of these occurrences?”
iii.
“Have you actually seen Him?” High Priestess Agnete demanded.
“Of course not! Would I still be here if I had?” You demanded before you could stop yourself. The slap was painful, but not unexpected, and you bowed your head in apology.
“So Zeus has just been...sending you gifts?” And you could actually hear the derision in her voice. Or contempt?
“I know how it sounds, ma’am.” You promised.
“Do you? Because it sounds to me that an under priestess, one who’s hardly belonged to the temple longer than perhaps a fortnight,” and that wasn’t fair- you’d been here more than a year and she damn well knew it, “is claiming that the Lord of the Sky is attempting to court you.”
Court you? Was she serious?
Who in their right mind believed Him capable of courting anyone besides His wife? 
Zeus seduced. He did not court.
“I understand,” you tried again, trying to keep the nervousness from your hands, “how it sounds, but I swear-”
“Say no more or risk punishment for your lies.”
“And the gold?” You demanded, “even you agreed that that was a sign from Him, didn’t you? And oak-”
“A blessing and nothing more. Zeus’ holy tree is the oak- I don’t believe acorns count toward anything significant, Io. Now, if you don’t mind-”
You had a split moment to wonder if Agnete was being thick on purpose, perhaps playing up her ignorance to stay out of matters larger than her, when a screech rendered the air and made both of you look up.
Agnete scrambled back as a sceptre, long and golden, emblazoned with the mark of Light, embedded itself in the ground at your feet. It was nearly as tall as you, slim and well crafted.
To your left there was the fluttering of wings, and an eagle seated itself on the garden wall, watching you with eyes unblinking.
Agnete had whimpered, and you couldn’t help but feel smug satisfaction at being proven right.
                                                           -----
“I take it that things got worse after that?” 
The moon cast shadows on L’s face, and your new eyes had poor sight in the dark. You might have missed his face entirely if not for the shine of moonlight from his eyes. You wonder if he can see you clearly with his hair hanging in his face like that.
“Not at first.”
“Were there any more gifts?”
Gifts, and you couldn’t resist a laugh.
“No. None. I’d gotten the message.”
“But you refused him?”
“Yes. I was a priestess. It was out of the question already.” Besides, Zeus had never turned up to try and goad you into it. Or force, as it were. Your stomach growls. Nothing can be done- the mountain is barren, there’s nothing to graze here. 
iv.
Your sister Priestesses were dying.
It was late, and you were praying feverishly.
You hadn’t slept in several days, nor eaten. 
As they walked about, as they prayed, as they did their chores, they were dropping dead like flies with nothing to forewarn what was happening. The old, the young, the experienced and the newly initiated. Agnete had gone first, and of them, only she had seemed to be in pain.
“Hera, Mother and Wife, Patron of This Holy Temple, to You I Pray,” you whispered, on your knees with your head to the stone floor. You’d been at this for hours. The words were blurring together, and the smoke of the incense was so thick you could hardly see. 
“Rise, Mortal,” a soft voice called, “and gaze upon your Patron.”
Misa, Queen and Mother. She was small and golden haired, dressed in elegant blues and greens, with a crown upon her head and a silver scepter in hand.
You looked at her and you saw Power. You were in the presence of a God, and never before had you felt so small.
“Lady Misa.” You whispered. She nodded.
“Many names have I, Mortal. But you know that, don’t you?”
You didn’t answer; this was all relative. You were in danger. You knew you were in danger.
Misa stepped forward and looked you over. Her eyes were cold as the sea- you were nothing to her, a catalyst to her cult’s destruction at the hands of her husband.
“Zeus pursues you, mortal, though I’m sure you’re aware.”
You swallowed.
“Yes, My Lady.”
She began to circle you, silently as a cat. You couldn’t bear to look in her eyes.
“Never before has my husband been so...brazen, as to pursue a priestess belonging to me. In my own temple.” Was that anger or pain that made the slight Goddess flinch. “He strikes down my own worshippers even.” She tsked, “all for you.”
“My Lady,”
“My Husband pursued me once. With great zeal. But I had something he wanted then. Now you’ve caught his eye. It won’t last long, but until then, you cannot stay here.”
Her sceptre clapped upon the ground and you felt something akin to nausea take you over from the inside out. You stared up at her, even as your flesh changed and your bones turned. There was no pain, just horror.
“Leave my Temple, Io. In this form, Zeus will not find you. I suggest you make use of that gift.” 
And then Misa was gone.
v.
“Is that the end of it?” Asked L. The sun was beginning to peak over the valley below, but the light had yet to touch the mountains. The titan’s side was healed by now.
“Yes. You’re said to be the wisest besides Athena, and you have the gift of Prophecy. Is there any way to undo what was done to me, L?” The name is strange and foreign on your tongue.
L looks south, towards Mount Olympus.
“I spoke the truth to Men before. I Saw what he would become, and I tried to mitigate the damage. For that betrayal he hunted my brothers and sisters and stripped me of my name, chained me to this mountain and tortures me day after day with his damned bird.” His expression equal parts bitter and sad, but when he looks at you he is angry.
“Go South. Beyond the sea is a Land of Sand and Fire, there, there are magics unlike ours. You will find a way to return to your former body. But be warned, Priestess. Should Zeus find you he will get what he wants. And from your unions a bloodline cursed and blessed shall be born. Blessed with the weakness of their dam and cursed with the madness of their progenitor; a line of heroes and kings and monsters.”
The eagle opens its eyes and with a screech descends upon L’s side with a vengeance.
You do not thank the titan, but you do offer a prayer that he might be freed some day.
vi.
It’s a long journey to the South.
You are so tired you can hardly stand, but the sand beneath your feet is undeniable, and you could weep for joy.
From there it’s a blur of heat and confusion. You cannot speak, and never before has this land seen a cow quite like you. Common enough for Greece, but not here.
You are taken to a palace where you are fed and watered and given shelter.
By morning, the court sorcerer has seen you, declared you to be enchanted, and broken Misa’s hold on you.
It’s quite embarrassing; a beautiful woman, naked in the royal stable. But the sorcerer calls for clothing and soon you’re dressed in fabrics so lovely that they might as well be gossamer on your skin for how soft they are.
You spend that night in a bedroom fit for royalty, and you allow yourself to be pampered for the first time in ages.
The King requests that you join him for the evening meal, and you arrive, presenting yourself as the Princess that you are, since you are no longer a Priestess.
Seated on a strange throne is a young man about your age. He watches you with eyes too red and hair of chestnut, but to look at his face is to see a clever face that you have known.
Light, Lord of Storms, Lord of the Skies.
Zeus, King of the Gods.
“Hello, darling.” 
He stands and descends, taking your hands in his when he reaches you.
“You’ve come so far, I’m so proud! You did exactly what I thought you might.” His hand is soft on your cheek, thumb daring to touch your lower lip. In his eyes is greed and lust and pride.
“Did you know, sweet Io, that I overhear what my servants do? Gossip, knowledge, prophecy,” perhaps you might die now. Drop dead like the others. 
But Light continues, unashamed, amused, even.
“Io, Mother of Legacies- it has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it, my darling?” 
Are the walls closing in?
“And best of all, Hera can’t reach us here.”
His hand cups you middle, imagining the growth there.
“From you springs a dynasty.”
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mosquecannon17-blog · 4 years
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Is A Follistim treatment Right For You?
vaginal Canal tightening device.
Content
Do I need a Gp referral For Facelift surgical Procedure?
Femiwand
Which locations Can Be treated With Hifu?
What Is Mole, growth and Skin Tag Removal?
Why Are Cars Facelifted?
Due to its distinctively developed transducer system customers frequently feel very little discomfort throughout the therapy. Any type of unpleasant feelings normally decrease instantly following the procedure. Visual appeal Lab is committed to ensuring your wellness and wellness. During your preliminary Ultraformer III examination, we evaluate your case history with each other to guarantee that this procedure is appropriate for you. However, outcomes may occupy to 3 months to show and also they will certainly remain to improve for approximately 7 months blog post therapy. People may experience skin inflammation for a few days after the session. Some light swelling, prickling or inflammation may happen temporarily.
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A facelift, which is also known as a Rhytidectomy, will give an individual a relaxed and younger appearance. In order to be a suitable candidate for a facelift, an indiviudal should have adequate skin elasticity to ensure the procedure is effective.
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Do I required a General Practitioner recommendation For Facelift surgical Treatment?
You might have an MRI scan and also numerous samples of prostate tissue taken. This will give the medical professionals a clear image of where the cancer is in the prostate. HIFU can be offered to the whole prostate when there might be cancer in greater than one area, so that all areas of cancer are dealt with. You might additionally have other tests, such as a CT scan, MRI scan or bone check, to see if the cancer cells has actually infected other parts of your body. A continual surge in your PSA degree can be an indication that the cancer has returned. If your cancer cells does come back, your physician or registered nurse will chat with you about additional therapy alternatives.
Femiwand
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A lot of people endure the therapy well while the power is being delivered. Discomfort and also discomfort related to the treatment are temporary and also are just experienced throughout the therapy. A three dimensional alternative to an intrusive facelift, without any cosmetic surgery and no down time. All skin consultations will be done by phone to evaluate your viability.
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After my training course and a little Physio I am entirely back on form. The therapy really helped me get my self-confidence back, as well as the will to begin training once again. Tone, tighten up and also strong skin on your confront with this pioneering therapy.
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Results from tests and very early cases in the very first 5 years are extremely motivating with way of living results far better than many various other typical treatment options. The HIFU procedure normally lasts between 1-4 hours, depending on the size of the prostate, as well as is either done under basic anaesthesia or an epidural as well as IV sedation.
Which locations Can Be treated With Hifu?
What Is Mole, wart and Skin Tag Removal?
Our reference campaign deal is valid whatsoever centers for any kind of plan. Share this page to your pal and then get in the coupon code, "FRIEND30" when scheduling your Free assessment. The HIFU treatment is perfect for those individuals who intend to boost their face, tighten up the skin as well as overall battle indicators of aging. Whilst the therapy doesn't harmed, you may experience minor pain throughout the treatment, similar to a light prickly feeling. Did you know that you can schedule your appointment in either of our aesthetic facilities in Nottingham or London? We're devoted to supplying a high quality, personal and also practical solution for each and also every one of our clients, making it as very easy as possible for you to gain access to our very skilled experts. Schedule in at our Nottingham or London facility today, we can't wait to see you soon.
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These men will certainly have regular examinations to watch on the cancer that is not treated. Some guys who have focal HIFU have only one location of cancer cells in their prostate. Focal HIFU deals with a smaller location of the prostate and takes one to 2 hrs. It might be suitable for guys who have cancer that requires dealing with in just one location of their prostate. You may have a catheter placed in at the beginning of the therapy to drain pipes urine out of your bladder. A catheter is a slim tube that is passed into your bladder, either with the penis or through the wall surface of your abdomen. You will have a general anaesthetic so that you're asleep during the therapy.
On the early morning of your HIFU treatment, you'll be offered an enema to clear your bowels. You'll additionally be asked not to eat or consume for around six hrs prior to your HIFU. If you're having focal HIFU, you will typically most likely to a testing appointment initially
One of the large advantages of the HIFU Facial is that it's a non-surgical therapy that can be done in a single treatment.
You can see the results quickly, and also the renovations remain to be seen for up to nine months as your collagen is restored.
HIFU is secure, effective and also an excellent solution for training and tightening the jowls, minimizing great lines around your eyes, nose as well as mouth, tightening your skin around your jaw and also neckline as well as reducing hooded, saggy eyelids.
High intensity focused ultrasound is in some cases made use of as a therapy for very early prostate canceror prostate cancerthat has actually returned after radiotherapy.
Rather than surgery, the Ultraformer harnesses ultrasound innovation to radiate energy to the SMAS layer to tighten, lift and plump the skin.
Focal therapy making use of high-intensity focused ultrasound for localized prostate cancer.
It is given as component of a scientific trial, so it is just available in some medical facilities in the UK.
Because of this, it's only readily available in specialist centres in the UK or as part of a medical test.
These tests will certainly help your specialist target the area of the prostate that requires to be dealt with. As Lipo Sculpt offers a Coolsculpt Surrey is reasonably brand-new understanding regarding the long-lasting advantages as well as results is raising daily.
I have constantly been fairly athletic, yet lately because of injury I have actually been not able to educate and as a result my chest as well as Abdominal muscles have actually gone a little bumpy. After visiting the clinic the therapist informed me that due to absence of activity, my blood circulation has decreased and also I have actually established cellulite.
How much does a ponytail facelift cost?
Cost: $8,000–$11,000. The Hair Trick: A DIY ponytail placed just right will yield impressive results too, even if only for an evening.
Transurethral resection of the prostate is a procedure to eliminate prostate tissue as well as improve the circulation of urine. This operation is sometimes used before HIFU to lower the danger of some urinary system troubles after the therapy. Ask your physician or registered nurse which kind of HIFU might be ideal for you. HIFU could be suitable for you if your cancer cells is had inside your prostate. The Content on Our Website does not comprise advice on which you must rely. Professional or specialist advice must constantly be sought prior to taking any kind of activity associating with clinical aesthetic treatments.We make reasonable initiatives to ensure that the Web content on Our Website is full, accurate, and up-to-date.
Why Are Cars Facelifted?
Can a facelift help smokers lines?
Unfortunately, a facelift is not effective at treating those all too common lines around the mouth (smoker's lines). Even patients who do not smoke can develop these lines, sometimes fairly deep. To correct those, a resurfacing procedure needs to be performed.
HIFU treatment takes mins, during treatment it is common to experience some pain as well as a tingling feeling relying on the intensity of the ultrasound. This introducing treatment uses the current cosmetic modern technologies to help tone, tighten and also solid skin on the face, which assists to lower the appearance of fine lines and wrinkles as well as leave the skin looking rejuvenated as well as younger. We can quote the rate for treatment after a preliminary complimentary consultationwith you. If the person selects a body contouring therapy, fat cells are gotten rid of using lipolysis.
Ideal cosmetic results are achievable with just one therapy session, the study images below give an instance of the results from HIFU treatment. targets adipose tissue by using high-intensity ultrasound power creating thermal coagulation to fat cells. The energy generated penetrates below the skin surface and creates mobile friction within cells. As aesthetic medication has advanced, ultrasound has verified to be an outstanding tool for a number of medical procedures. Complete Body Care offers innovative Skin Firm treatment for the face and body utilizing High Strength Concentrated Ultrasound. An usual adverse effects of ageing hangs, sagging skin, triggered by the exhaustion of collagen as well as elastin in the dermis. Ecological elements such as sunlight damage and smoking can better decrease degrees.
If you have focal HIFU, you might have low-risk cancer in another location of the prostate that is not dealt with intentionally. You will have routine tests to keep an eye on the cancer cells that is not dealt with. These might consist of PSA examinations, MRI checks, and also prostate biopsies. You might have a few of the adhering to symptoms directly after therapy, or they may establish time later on. Talk with https://southampton.lipo-sculpt.co.uk/ or nurse if you have troubles with erections or other sex-related problems. They can discuss your therapy alternatives as well as organize complimentary therapy on the NHS. Some males have troubles getting or keeping an erection after HIFU.
What is the best face tightening procedure?
Laser resurfacing This is the most effective procedure for tightening loose skin. Unlike the laser treatment described above, this procedure requires some downtime. You'll need to stay home for 5 to 7 days. Laser resurfacing also gives you the fastest results.
If you aren't able to have a basic anaesthetic for health and wellness reasons, you might be able to have a spine anaesthetic to ensure that you can't feel anything in your lower body. With this, you will also be provided some medicine to make you drowsy.
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What Can I expect throughout My Cryopen therapy?
This is since it can damage the blood vessels and also nerves that control erections. For some males this will certainly enhance, but for others this will be a longer-term side effect of HIFU. The following adverse effects can establish right after your therapy. If you have hormone therapy or a TURP before you have HIFU, these can additionally create side effects. Various other males have an additional area of cancer cells in their prostate that is not treated on purpose. This cancer cells is not treated since it is less most likely to spread out (low-risk cancer cells) and it might not trigger any type of troubles.
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azuredmoon · 4 years
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LITTLE CHARACTER THINGS
just a fun little character game. fill in the below categories with 3-5 things that your character can be identified by.  repost & tag away!
TAGGED BY - this has been sitting in my drafts forever but now it’s out  TAGGING - YOUUUUU
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EMOTIONS / FEELINGS:
I. Emotional facade; the prince of Faerghus chooses to present himself with a kind smile, though a shade of sorrow that looms over him after experiencing numerous tragedies II. Guilt; as the sole survivor of the Tragedy of Duscur, the young prince carries much remorse on his shoulders, often wondering if he deserved to live or how best to give his life meaning  III. Anger; he comes to the academy with the intention of seeking revenge ;; anger is among the many emotions he feels post-Duscur, yet it is one that overwhelms and overrides the others IV. Hopeful; despite the life he has lived, the young prince still looks to the future with hope-- towards to a time where he will properly be of service as King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus V.  Contentment;  surrounded by the company of his companions, the young prince can find moments of happiness and contentment in between times of rest and relief
GREETINGS:
I. A deep bow as is customary for those in nobility and in court II. A polite nod as to acknowledge your presence in the conversation and room III. " AH , ______” IV. A low growl warning you not to step any closer V. Straightens his back and a tight grip on his lance -- an almost defensive position
COLORS:
I. Royal Blue  II. Rusted Gold III. Grayish Black  IV. Velvet Red
SCENTS:
I. Lilies and Violets; from quite perfumes, pressed to his wrists and behind his ears II. Lavender; as someone has one told him that the scent calms the mind III. Sweat and Sun; from a full day in the training grounds or battlefield IV. Petrichor; especially so during the five years he spent in the wild and alone V. Ink and Pounce;  it especially grips his hands after a long day of doing paperwork 
CLOTHING:
I: A cloak;  often lined with fur due to the harsh weathers of the Kingdom and of the shade of blue as it is the color associated with nobility in Faerghus II: Gauntlets or Gloves, for it would seem that the young prince rarely lets anyone see his scarred hands or feel his bare touch  IV: Armor; whether it merely be wearing a breastplate or plackart, his highness feels less vulnerable when wearing a piece of metal or steel 
OBJECTS:
I: Adreadbhar; the relic passed down from generation to generation of the Blaiddyd line. The young prince keeps it close to him as the last surviving member of his father’s name  II: Lance; though his family’s relic is a mighty enough weapon in itself, the prince prefers wielding a regular lance least the holy relic break in his hands due to overuse.  III: Dagger; a gift his father was supposed to pass to him before starting his academic year in Garreg Mach as a reminder that he must cut his own path.  IV: Needle and Thread; though the prince swears up he is no good with delicate matters, he has some basic understanding of mending tattered clothes or  even suture a wound if needed  V: The Blaiddyd flag; during the five years without a kingdom or a claim to the throne, the young prince created a makeshift cloak out of a velvet banner of his family as a way to honor his house and mourn how far they’ve fallen. 
VICES / BAD HABITS:
I. Insomniac ; often has trouble sleeping and is wakened by nightmares -- though he would much rather prefer to wait out the night rather than try return to sleep  II.  Reckless ; rushes into situations without much thought or regard to safety, especially if someone or something is on the line  III. Emotion-driven ; though his emotions does bring out the best in him -- empathy, forgiveness, understanding -- it also clouds his judgement if forced to ruminate on such feelings IV. A false sense of vulnerability ; the prince is willing to  share experiences and traumas, though it is an unknowing facade of him pretending to understanding his trauma  V. Repression ; though he extends his offer of help to all his allies, the prince would be damned if anyone dare help him or see 
BODY LANGUAGE:
I. Shoulders pulled back and spine straightened; the posture taught into him as noble. There is a stiffness and rigidity to it if it weren’t for the fact he was used to holding such a stance while carrying on normal conversations II. Attentively leaning towards their conversation partner, as if holding on to every word they speak and savoring their personal company ( which can sometimes difficult to keep as his roles as ‘ house leader ‘ and ‘ prince ‘  often intimidate others ) III. Massaging or flexing his forearm to alleviate the heavy feeling; it is wear he feels the strain and surge of his crest after an exhaustive fight.  IV. Crouching like a wounded animal ready to strike; during the war, he loses his traditional fighting stance that was once more open. Now he slouches and cowers as if to protect a heart that will not hold  
AESTHETICS:
I. Paintings hanging wall to wall with images of kings and queens of old II. Cloaks and fur pelts too big for the owner yet still warm and inviting III. An abandoned cathedral -- from the echoes to the moss growing between the cracks IV. Rough and calloused hands hiding behind silk gloves V. Clumsy mending of tattered garments and accessories    *VI Memories that read like a snowglobe -- fuzzy, vague, yet ultimately familiar and safe
SONGS:
I. Revenge, and a Little Bit More - Unlike Pluto II. So Cold - Breaking Benjamin  III. Running Up That Hill - Placebo  IV. Stay, I Pray You - Anastasia the Musical  V. Here Comes the King ( extended ) - X-Ray Dog
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k-drabblings · 5 years
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only then (pt. 5)
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KIM JIWON (BOBBY) X READER Type | Genre: badboy au | fluff/angst Word Count: 1663 A/N: I thought this was much longer than 1.6k words... Guess not.  Also I do update very very slow, I know. It’s mostly because I have no idea what to write next, and I don’t want to write nonsense. So thank you for your patience. I hope this doesn’t disappoint!  To be honest, it feels a little weird to write about Hanbin after the huge scandal, but it felt weirder leaving him out of the story after including him in the beginning.
Also wtf happened to line breaks? Why is that not an option anymore? This sucks.
part one two three four
Jiwon looked at the well healed scar on his arm fondly, running his finger along the raised ridge. His smile couldn’t help but widen as his phone buzzed. 
[23:22] y/n: i can’t sleep [23:22] jiwon: y? [23:22] jiwon: cause ur too excited to be talking to me? [23:23] y/n: ... zzz ...  [23:23] y/n: o look i fell asleep
He chuckled. Within a matter of days, teasing had already become part of their regular banter. So cute.
[23:23] jiwon: ...  [23:23] jiwon: do u think ur funny or something bc let me tell u rn that u r not [23:23] jiwon: boooooooo [23:24] y/n: if im so unfunny then y r u texting me hmm HMM??? [23:24] jiwon: cause i pity u [23:24] y/n: ...  [23:24] y/n: GOODNIGHT
Even though he knew was joking, his fingers still quickly scrambled to reply. 
[23:24] jiwon: im just kidding!! [23:24] jiwon: ur funny sometimes [23:24] jiwon: a little bit [23:24] jiwon: real little [23:25] y/n: then go talk to ur other super exciting and funny friends y dont u [23:25] jiwon: now dont be jealous [23:25] jiwon: the more time u spend with me the more exciting and fun u become [23:25] y/n: ive only seen u like 3x [23:25] jiwon: thats y ur so not funny
His finger hovered over the keyboard, wondering if he should type out the next line. He knew it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn’t help himself. Fuck it. He firmly pressed the upward arrow.
[23:26] jiwon: so i guess we’ve come to the logical conclusion that we should hang out more [23:26] y/n: i guess we have
You felt bold as you sent that last message. Was this considered flirting? You hadn’t known that your heart rate could increase so much within a mere 4 minutes. The past few nights had consisted of increasingly witty and teasing messages - messages that got your heart racing, your face flushing, and your imagination going a little crazy. Nothing even close to romantic had happened between you and him, and yet your ridiculous mind was coming up with possible scenarios that could maybe (just maaaybe) happen in the nearby future. You felt like an silly high schooler again, getting too easily excited over someone you barely knew. You didn’t even know how exactly how old he was or what he did for living. 
But all those unanswered questions just made you more excited - kind of like a good mystery book you just didn’t want to put down. 
[23:27]: jiwon: ok so whens ur next day off
Your breath hitched. You were off the upcoming Thursday, which was in 2 days. You hadn’t expected the next time you were going to see Jiwon to come so soon. You were used to seeing him like twice a month. You knew you could simply lie and give him your next day off, which was in a week or so, but you knew you didn’t want to wait that long.
[23:28] y/n: thursday [23:28] jiwon: ok cool so ill see u then [23:28] jiwon: and if ur busy... [23:28] jiwon: make yourself unbusy thanks
Your lips curled into a smile. How could someone this cute possibly be bad news? 
“You’re distracted, Hyung.” Donghyuk mumbled quietly so Hanbin wouldn’t hear. 
“Hm?” Jiwon murmured. “Nah, I’m good.”
Donghyuk’s eyes narrowed as he carefully tried to peer over Jiwon’s shoulder to see what was keeping him so preoccupied.  A girl’s name. He rolled his eyes. He was more than willing to bet that this was the same girl that had so nicely bandaged Jiwon up that rainy night. “Let’s keep outsiders... outsiders, okay, Hyung?” Donghyuk warned in a hushed tone.
Jiwon immediately shut off his phone screen and gave his younger friend a long hard stare. “I’m not fucking stupid, okay?”
And of course, despite Donghyuk’s words, he still went to see her on Thursday. They met up later in the afternoon, mainly because he slept in well into the afternoon. Since he did his work mainly at night, his sleeping schedule tended to be slightly off. When he woke up, you were getting some errands done - groceries and such. That gave him some time to get dressed and ready - he wanted to look good for the first date.  This is a date right? He hadn’t made it explicitly clear, but he was hoping you were on the same page as he was.
He recalled the the other day that you had said you wanted to try this restaurant that you had seen on some celebrities eating on TV.  And since it was on the other side of Seoul Station, they could walk along Seoullo 7017 along the way. He supposed that would be a good, somewhat nice way to start the date.
And you were delightfully surprised at how much Jiwon had actually planned out. You wouldn’t say it aloud, but you had been expecting somewhat of a haphazard schedule of activities that randomly popped up into his mind. 
“You look cute.” You jokingly scowled. “Are you saying I wasn’t cute before?” He rolled his eyes and laughed. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.” He put his hands up defensively when he earned a playful punch to the arm. “Hey, you gotta appreciate my honesty, right?” He grinned. “No, but seriously. You should wear dresses more often.”
“Thanks,” you mumbled shyly, having always been slightly awkward at accepting compliments. You glanced down at your outfit. It was a pretty plain dress, but this was the most dressed up he had ever seen you. 
“Where’s the scar from - if you don’t mind me asking?” He asked, pointing to the mark on your forearm. If it hadn’t been for that scar, he probably would have never recognized you. “Nothing cool,” you responded. “Got it while I was helping out at the bakery a while ago. Hot stuff can do that to you sometimes, you know.”  He laughed. “See? You’re already getting funnier - thanks to me.”  You rolled your eyes exaggeratedly but couldn’t help but join him in laughter. 
You were sure he had a fair share of scars all over his body, and also exciting stories behind them. But you were reluctant to ask, afraid that it could ruin the lighthearted mood.
The rest of the evening went by in a blur - partially because Jiwon had convinced you to share a bottle of soju with him during dinner. ‘You can’t enjoy pork belly without soju!’ he had insisted.  You had initially refused, being worried that you might end up blabbering and saying something stupid or embarrassing. But Jiwon was one convincing young man.
But luckily the only embarrassing thing that slipped out was a, “Fine, you’re kinda cute, okay?” after he had pestered you about what you thought about him. And boy, did he enjoy that answer.
You were partially disappointed when the date ended with a simple hug. You probably would have thought he were moving too fast if he had gone in for a kiss, but by no means would you have refused. In fact, as much as you hated to admit it, you'd immediately have shut your eyes and puckered your lips.  But a long, warm hug was what you got tonight. And you weren’t complaining. "Thanks. Today was really fun,” you said with a warm smile.  “Okay, so when can we have fun again?”
All of a sudden, you had something to look forward to every week. Every date with Jiwon was exciting. You got to experience thrilling things like ziplining, but even just sitting at a cafe and chatting got your heart pumping. You felt like your life had been recharged.  You had even bravely kissed him on the cheek when he had dropped you off at your door tonight. 
As Jiwon walked over to work after dropping you off, he heard a familiar voice calling his name. “Jiwon Hyung! Hyung!” Junhoe shouted from down the block. "Where’re you coming from?” He asked, frowning. Wherever Jiwon was coming from, it wasn’t from the direction of his home. Jiwon played it off vaguely. “Just was doing something. Don’t worry about it.” “Come on, tell me!” Junhoe whined. “Why’s it a secret, huh?” Jiwon pressed his fingers against his tall friend’s forehead and gave it a good shove. “Have you ever heard of a personal space? Look it up.” He couldn’t recall the last time anyone had made him so easily excited, and he wasn’t willing to part with you now.
His friends had also noticed that he was constantly in a good mood these past few weeks.  Donghyuk wasn’t too happy about it, but the others seemed to enjoy having a less moody Jiwon around. He wondered if Hanbin knew what Jiwon was getting himself into outside of work. But he didn’t want to tick off Jiwon, so he kept his mouth shut. A pissed off Jiwon was one scary man.
“How long do u plan on keeping this up, Hyung? It’s going to serve as a distraction to you and a danger to her. She doesn’t even know what you really do. If you tell her, do you think she’ll stay?” Donghyuk hissed. “Yeah, right.” “I know. I know.” Jiwon mumbled. This was like the fifth time he had approached him about this issue. He was thankful that Donghyuk hadn’t blabbed to the rest of the guys, but it was a disturbing reminder every time. Why was it so wrong to enjoy it while it lasted?
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orcinusorca1617 · 5 years
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Favorite Star Wars Fics
REBELCAPTAIN
Floating, Sinking shuofthewind
Somewhere in her is the sinking feeling that they weren't supposed to survive.
[In which they all live, in a manner of speaking, and they keep going, in spite of the odds.]
[Post-Rogue One. Runs through A New Hope. Eventual Rebelcaptain.]
whetstone shuofthewind
They're finished with their first mission. Now it's just the matter of downtime.
[Part of the floating, sinking universe. Mostly just fluff.]
Restless jenniferjun1per
Jyn needs to sleep, but she can't seem to get comfortable.
You Still Are leralynne
The scar zigzags down her side, puckered white along the ridges of her ribs. Cassian’s fingers still the first time they brush over it. With her head on his chest, she can feel his intake of breath.
A Long Pause leralynne
“Be quiet!” Jyn hisses. “I hear something!” Cassian stills. And then slowly, very slowly, he lifts his lips from Jyn’s collarbone.
slowly, and then all at once caramelle
It's probably sheer stubbornness, Cassian thinks wryly.
Even so, it doesn't mean he's just going to leave her like that.
Or, the one where Jyn has a habit of falling asleep around the apartment, and Cassian develops a habit of carrying her back to bed, because he's a Gentleman, and a Good Friend.
There For You guineapiggie
They reach Yavin IV and Jyn has every intention to lock herself in the room they've given her and not come out ever again. However, someone strongly disagrees with that plan.
flight lessons ignitesthestars
“One hundred percent of the crashes I have experienced involved you, Jyn Erso.” K2 informs her pleasantly. “Given that no other flight experience I've been involved in has experienced an abrupt descent, I can only conclude that you - oh. You're bleeding.
Or, Jyn is slightly impaled and Cassian sees to her wound. Emotions are had.
Won't You Let Us Wander (series) angel_deux
Cassian came back for her. Again and again. After Scarif, that complicates things for Jyn, who's used to running | 13 part series.
Cuddling for Warmth leralynne
“Jyn is shivering,” K2 observes, with the kind of bland indifference only possible when one is a droid incapable of experiencing just how goddamn freezing this planet is.
Bloody Little Worms Kobo
Jyn Erso is accustomed to being jolted awake. Saw Gerrera shaking her awake at every hour of the night, keeping her on her toes; the rough shift from hyperspace to realspace rattling the frame of a ship; Imperial guards smacking their batons against iron bars; nightmares, images of her father’s last breath or the echoing smack of Cassian’s back against steel bars: Jyn is accustomed to those.
A white hot grip on her lungs? This marks the first time she’s awoken to that.
Closer muggleindenial28
"They don’t speak on the way down.
They don’t acknowledge the distant shrill screams of TIE Fighters and X-Wings outside.
They don’t think about how they’re not going to get out in time."
They make it off Scarif, but not without scars.
like real people do mollivanders
“I have an idea,” she says, mind whirling as she steps towards the room. “We need a reason to be here like this.” He follows close behind her and she can practically feel the tension washing over him. In contrast, the plan forming in her mind has provided her with a calm clarity. He closes the door behind them before she props it ajar/
They need to be caught.
Beach House lyresandlasers
“Never say I don’t support you,” Jyn lifted his head into her lap, cradled in crossed legs.
cover me, i'll cover you mollivanders
“Are you hurt?” he asks blindly, reaching for her only to snatch his fingers back as she lurches away. He forgets she’s like a feral animal when she’s injured, used to being the only person having her back. “Let me see,” he says, trying to force authority and calm into his voice, both to reassure her and take control of the situation.
Inside, he’s anything but.
I hear the revolution rebsrising
The babble sounds through the baby monitor, soft and quiet, but enough to wake two well-trained soldiers still adjusting to the safety of peace.
Bodhi's Perspective rebsrising
It’s a simple scene - and that’s what strikes Bodhi the most. They kiss like they’re going to do it everyday for the rest of their lives. And he hopes, not for the first time, that they have the chance.
We Can Turn Over and Start Again kyrdwyn
After Scarif, Jyn starts over, with a new mission, and an unexpected friend.
Fifteen Days clashofqueens
It's hard to hold on to a happy ending during a war, and in the final days of the Rebellion, Jyn might lose hers.
Lay Down My Shields katsumi
Jyn comes down with a strange reaction to a foreign plant, but it doesn't seem like a big enough deal to bother anyone with. That is, until she faints in the middle of the hallway.
Run to Me in the Rising Dawn katsumi
Jyn has never had anyone stick around before. The battle is over now, but the war rages on and Jyn is already preparing for the day when she loses Cassian, too. (She doesn't realize he's terrified of the exact same thing.)
the quiet we hold ithacas
After Scarif, Cassian wakes up broken. He and Jyn learn to fix each other.
We Should laurie2000ann
Jyn could have died trying to save Cassian and he’s pretty angry about it.
Let's Give 'Em Something to Talk About astoriamalfoys
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks her, a wry smile twisting his lips. Jyn ducks her head. “Nightmares or the medicine?”
It’s meant to be an easy conversation, but she says, “I was worried about you,” and his heart stutters to a staccato instead.
Han x Leia captainkitten
Important Thing of Awesomeness™ meets Dumpster Fire of a Human Being™
REYLO
we could plant a house, we could build a tree Like_A_Dove
Ben takes a deep breath. “It’s—it’s a project. Conceptual art. You wouldn’t get it.”
Rey presses her lips together to keep from laughing. She plans her next words quickly and carefully, determining what will get her the best reaction. “Really? Looks like you ruined a bedsheet to me.”
His reaction does not disappoint. “Get out.”
Parenthood (series) pontmercy44
What to expect when you're expecting the child of a rich, womanizing, alcoholic, unredeemable asshole? And what to do when the unexpected, improbable, irrational happens?
What She's Worth g_girl143
After being sent to train under his uncle in the Jedi academy, Ben Solo meets a youngling girl who would change the course of his life. An alternative universe companion fic for Claudia Gray's "Bloodline" novel. A scenario in which Ben Solo and Rey are fellow students of Luke's Jedi Academy and the events that led to the birth of Kylo Ren.
A Proposal by Any Other Name LucidLucy
Rey and Finn have been A Thing for a long time now. Since she was eighteen, to be exact. When Finn leaves on a trip to Europe for six months for work, Rey finally chases after him to Dublin to do what he seems to be putting off: propose. | Leap Year AU
If You Trust What's in Your Heart (What Better Can You Do) TheJGatsby
After the war, Rey likes to savor the peace on her own sometimes. Then she's not alone anymore.
Black Gloves, Orange Soup Solia
While the dwindling Rebellion starves, awaiting their chance to attack a First Order supply vessel, Rey is trying to keep busy repairing the lightsaber. As luck would have it, her Force-bonded rival Kylo Ren is knowledgeable on the subject and keen to help, but he is also very... distracting.
A Good Fall ohwise1ne
Ben Solo refuses to take a stunt double and pays the price when he breaks his leg filming his latest action blockbuster. His new physical therapist, Rey Sanders, seems to be the only person in Hollywood who doesn’t recognize the infamous Kylo Ren – and for some reason, he finds himself fighting to keep it that way.
A Royal Mistake reyofdarkness
Ben Solo (aka The Playboy Prince): Prince of Alderaan and tabloid sensation, never seen with the same girl twice.
Rey: Mechanic, blissfully unaware of Ben Solo's very existence.
Until Paige recruits her for a night servicing the Met Gala, host to a diverse class of guests, including royalty. It is there that a chance encounter gets Rey caught up in a pair of pretty eyes and a charming personality that she knows she should stay far, far away from. The universe, however, seems to have other plans. Hot Tip: Don’t look up your crush’s sex tape.
The End of a String Silvershine
A bridge still exists between the Supreme Leader of the First Order and the rebel known as Rey. As the connection winds tighter, the line between enemy and friend continues to blur, and Rey's loyalties are called into question. A force bond can bring companionship and support, but it's not without its dangers... or delights.
No Ill Will Castiloar
His face set into a resigned expression before tapping his phone with a final flourish, sending whatever excuse he made. She almost jumped when he squarely met her gaze. “Me? Your hostage? I’d almost think you like having me here.” Even with the congestion he managed to drop his voice low enough to make the quip weigh heavy.
variations on a theme of you disasterisms
"Who knows?" Luke darted a faint smile at Ben and Rey as they stewed in silence and disbelief. "The two of you might even learn to get along. Right, Leia?"
"Like a house on fire," the General deadpanned. "Complete with screams, flames, and people running for safety."
"Indeed." Luke's blue eyes twinkled. "There may be no survivors."
As Hard As I Try... KKetura
When her friends find out about her force bond with Kylo Ren, Rey finds herself more alone than ever. But in her forced solitude, she slowly discovers a better understanding of herself and the man to whom she's inextricably linked.
lying restless (as the dawn comes near) TheJGatsby
They have a tradition for nightmares.
you gotta stop doing that semi-hiatus
She caught herself right before the words ‘you gotta stop doing that’ slipped from her lips, saving her from having the explain why she randomly started talking to herself in the hallway.
Why Her? Aramenialys
Just one last battle. One. Then they can be done and put everything behind them. That was the plan. Then it's smashed to bits, and Kylo has to figure out how to come back from tragedy and form a new one. A short drabble/oneshot about Rey dying and (redeemed) Kylo learning to cope.
Quiet issueswithjedipedagogy
He wasn’t sleeping. She had caught sight of him in the darkness, blinking awake to the strange vacuum the bond created around her; the quiet focus on two souls that seemed to make everything else fall away.
Soft Things catmusing
Kylo Ren wakes up aboard a familiar and yet unknown ship. His body aches and it hurts to remember but there is Rey of light.
Aphelion ambiguously
Stranded on a barren planet together, Rey and Kylo Ren have only each other to help them survive.
Vulnerability and Soft Hair smallenoughtofit
After two years with the Resistance, Kylo Ren still lacks any real security or relationships outside of his tenuous whatever-this-is with Rey. And Rey still wonders what his hair feels like.
the remedy is the experience (i won't worry my life away) TheJGatsby
Rey gets sick, and she isn't very good at letting people look after her.
Proper Sleep tearoomsaloon
Much to her frustration, Rey can no longer properly sleep unless she's snuggled between Ben's glorious pecs
ad infinitum hyperphonic
for the prompt: Rey and Kylo telling Leia, Rey is pregnant. Leia had no clue.
any way you want it thegoodlannister
rey helps ben begin to work through the process of making decisions - even really simple ones - for himself. rehabilitation is a slow process in the aftermath of the mess snoke has spent three decades making of ben's mind.
It Will Come Back ReyloTrashCompactor
“Honey, don’t feed it. It will come back”
A Series of Firsts Tandy
Ben (or is it Ren?) and Rey sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First comes love and then comes marriage, then comes baby in a baby carriage.
A story told in firsts.
Dark Prism whythokylo (OpalElephant)
Rey awakens again, except this time it's to a life she can't recall with a man she only knows as her enemy. My attempt at a long form, dark AU. (Formerly titled Aphelion)
A Few Small Repairs TourmalineGreen
Rey buried her face in her blankets. She wasn’t crying. She wasn’t going to allow herself to feel anything. Rain was just water, and so were tears. It would all dry, in time. The storm would pass, and then she’d keep going. That’s how it always had been, and that’s how it was going to be.
She would be alright, after this. She would find a way, find something…
what ails you thegoodlannister
or: three times ben solo was sick and one time kylo ren was. unabashed reylo and even more unabashed hurt/comfort.
100 Ways to Say I Love You AquaWolfGirl
Taken from a list on Tumblr of 100 Ways To Say I Love You, 100 little oneshots leading up to Valentine's Day.
I'm always in this twilight (in the shadow of your heart) disasterisms
Coded on a secondhand datapad in a run-down motel room in Mos Eisley, deleted and never sent: Everything about us was a whirlwind.
Written on a scrap of durasheet in a Tion Cluster outpost, the words fading after a while into air and ghosts: You shouldn't have forgiven me for any of it.
Scraped into the bark of an oak tree on the Argazdan homeworld: You won't believe the dreams I have about you.
the one with the lust writing-reylo
She has bigger things to worry about than that.
The most pressing of which is reclining in her bed, shirtless.
“Can you move?” She asks, unwinding her scarf and shrugging off her huge jacket.
Milking It thewayofthetrashcompactor
“Rey.”
The voice was deep and familiar, rough with exhaustion, and echoed across the gap closed by the Force.
She ignored it, hunched over on the edge of the cot she'd been sleeping on. She wanted nothing more than to lean back and curl up into an unconscious ball again, but another voice, this one much closer, called her name again.
morning in the burned house disasterisms
Leia's not really surprised at all, to be honest, but, for the sake of his pride, she should probably pretend to be.
find a thread to pull, and we can watch it unravel again_please
The war is over, Snoke dead at Rey and Kylo's hands. The two of them find themselves feeling a bit out of place as the Resistance celebrates and decide that the answer is a bit of good old fashioned Corellian whiskey. Enjoyed responsibly, of course. And in private.
Because You're There disasterisms
Three years ago, Rey had not yet climbed Everest.
Presenting the first half of my fic/art trade with the lovely lilithsaur, based on her trash triplets x 2 universe. The gist is that there are three Solo boys— Kylo, Ben, and Matt (the character from Adam Driver's SNL skit)— and three Kenobi girls— Kira (dark Rey), Rey, and Daisy (undercover Rey).
Sword of the Jedi (series) diasterisms
“What do you think?” Luke asks his nephew. “She has potential.”
“She bit me, Master,” is Ben’s stiff response. “Any opinion I give would be biased.”
Or: Everyone is connected, even if, sometimes, it's just by the skin of our teeth. Even in the midst of darkness, still, luminous beings are we.
Reign OptimisticBeth
Alternate Ending to "The Last Jedi." Rey accepts Kylo Ren’s offer in return for the lives of the retreating ships.
Political maneuvering is not Rey's forte. She must adjust to life as the First Order's first lady, making friends and enemies along the way and indulging in sweet awkward romance with her Ben.  
Burgeoning Hope crossingwinter
#ShesPregnantAndHesDumbAndHasntLeftHisJobYet
miles from where you are mooncactus
After an argument over Star Wars fandom with a "gatekeeping, entitled monster" with the cryptic username of KyloRen, Rey finds herself stuck in a series of unavoidable video calls.
Prisoner orphan_account
Rey has been running all her life. She had known since she was a small girl that she was born with the powers that had been cursed and labeled evil by the galaxy. Running had worked for so long, that she was almost surprised when the bounty hunter Kylo Ren had caught her trail. But they might have more in common than they both originally thought.
Hand of Fate sweetestcondition
Rey is offered a choice at the end of Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi. This time, she takes the hand of Kylo Ren, grasping at the chance to transform the First Order from the inside. She hopes to create a Resistance from within, starting with the heart of Ben Solo. | feat. KoR, Kezzik
keep me in your clouded mind hi_raeth
Flu season has claimed its latest victim: Rey’s roommate, Ben Solo. But it’s fine. She’ll get him dressed, bring him to the hospital, and everything will be okay. Things are totally under control.
Except for the part where Ben has completely lost his verbal filter and keeps babbling about his feelings for her.
Exile Ernzo
The war is over and the First Order has fallen. Ben has returned home to face his consequences.
A story of Rey and Ben finding peace in the aftermath of war as Ben accepts his punishment.
made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter disasterisms
The First Order does not exist, what is dead stays dead, and they grow up together at Luke's Jedi Academy.
Or: The one where everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.
(Then again, it's Ben and Rey, so maybe things hurt a little.)
A little ginger, a little honey Areah51
Rey is sick, and Ben shows up where he's not wanted, but in the end, we all need someone to take care of us when we're ill.
my wildest wind (come blow into my room) meritmut
“Would it have been so terrible?” he asks. “Staying?”
Could we have had this? she thinks, like she always does.
Non-consecutive ForceTime vignettes in the days, weeks and months after Crait.
Play to Win Enterprisingly
Ben Solo – aka KyloRen – is a professional gamer, playing the first-person-shooter StarKiller for the internationally ranked eSports team, The First Order. He’s made a name for himself as a ruthless competitor with a ferocious temper and top-notch skills that can’t be beat. That is, until a mystery player named ReyOfLight begins thoroughly trouncing him whenever they cross paths.
Unwell AquaWolfGirl
Jakku was cold, but nothing compared to Hoth. While staying at the old Rebel base, Rey catches a cold, and someone is a huge worry wart over the woman who denied his offer.
The One Where He Decides writing_reylo
He’s on the bridge and he’s alone.
The First Order are no more.
It only took him a year, carefully manipulating every weak mind he came across, emotionally manipulating the ones he couldn’t.  
Embers sciosophia
All the myriad things he’d been—someone who made her laugh; the warmth on the other side of the bed; her best friend—those things, Rey had buried.
Rey left Ben two years, three months, and sixteen days ago. But who's counting?
Interstellar Transmissions LovelyThings, ricca_riot
Rey’s interrogation at the hands of Kylo Ren triggered an awakening in the Force, as well as an unwelcome bond that links them across the galaxy and grows stronger every day.
What Stays and What Fades Away astra_inclinant
Her feelings for Kylo Ren are quiet, not acknowledged, but deeply felt. She cannot make peace with them and send them from her mind.
Or, everyone is emotionally stunted and no one has healthy coping skills.  
Our Heaven is Just Waiting FrostedFox
It's his turn to fall wounded before her, and her turn to decide where to go from there.
If only she could convince him to stay alive.
make it look just the way i planned TheJGatsby
Ben buys the painting on a brokenhearted impulse, and somehow it ends up being exactly the right choice.
(Based on the song Paint Me a Birmingham)
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The Mind Of A Mutt (Hunger Games - Mockingjay)
Alright guys, As promised, Whumptastic Wednesday has returned. 
Just some background, this fanfic takes place during Mocking Jay Part One. I do reference some stuff from the books that weren't in the movie, so if you haven't read the books and you are confused, then read the damn books because they are incredible (AND VERY WHUMPY!!!) That’s all for now. Please enjoy, and don’t forget to give me some feedback. I would love to know what you guys think. 
-Jimmy
Word Count- 2,299
Warings- violence 
The cold floor of the cell sends goosebumps crawling up my arms. My hairs stand on edge, and every couple seconds my whole body twitches. The tracker jacker venom runs thick through my veins from the last "session." That's what they call them: President Snow and his team of doctors and nurses. Their only objective is to keep me alive long enough to torture me, to damage my brain and fill my head with artificial memories meant to brake me. Day in and day out, they show me pictures of Katniss, her voice rings through my head as they beat me. I have violent hallucinations of her doing unspeakable things to me. I feel every second of it. Why can't they kill me? Send my conscious mind into a desolate never-ending state of nothingness, because that's too easy. Nothing in the capital is easy. That's why twenty-four kids are sent to the Hunger Games every year. Because somewhere in Snow's sick distorted perception of reality, watching kids slaughter each other and celebrating the victors whos lives will be forever plagued with nightmares and flashbacks, is the only way to keep the districts in line. The only way to hold off the rebellion. Well, not anymore.
Katniss is the rebellion, the Mockingjay, and President Coin has got her. She's the reason I'm tortured in a cell in the capital. Katniss is the rebellions weapon, and I'm the capitals weapon. The only difference is never-ending suffering experienced by those saved by the capital. They are turning me into a Mutt, wearing me down little by little till I snap. Until my mind reaches depths of madness incomprehensible by a sain human. This issue is, it's working. Every day I feel my self becoming angrier and angrier. With every injection, every beating, every drop of my blood spilt, my anger grows. I can feel it festering in the back of my mind.
I try to sit up, but my arms feel week and numb. My vision begins to look fuzzy, and my eyelids feel heavy. The black polished shoes of President Snow standing in front of me is the last thing I can remember before I finally let my eye's close. In seconds I'm overtaken by sleep.
I inhale sharply as my eye's shoot open. Where am I? How long was I out? My breathing quickens as I try to move. My arms and legs are strapped into a chair. My heart begins to rase in my chest as I thrash violently, trying to escape.
"Don't struggle," I shoot my head up. President Snow is standing in front of me, two doctors wearing all white at his side. "You will only make it worse."
I grit my teeth. I've been here before. I know what's going to happen. I'm so tired, so fucking tired.
"Please." I plea, hot tears well up in my eyes. "Please, not again. I can't take this anymore." My voice cracks as I look up at President Snow. His cold face is unnerving. His dead stare sends a shiver down my spine. He nods, signaling to the doctors that its time. The doctors in their clean white coats approach me. I close my eye's, hoping that maybe if I think hard enough, this might all have just been a bad dream. I could wake up in a cold sweat, next to Katniss in our house in the victor's village. We could spend the morning talking about my nightmare like we always do when one of us has a distressing dream.
The prick of the IV being inserted into my arms knocks me back to reality. Reminds me that I'm not in my bed, I'm strapped to a chair in the capital, and I'm definitely not dreaming. I hold my breath as a cold liquid fills my veins. Suddenly my head feels like it's a thousand pounds. I let gravity do the work as my head goes limp against my chest. All at once, my ears begin to ring, louder, and louder, and louder. I squeeze my eyes shut. I think my eardrums might burst. I bring my knees to my chest and my hands to my ears, my throat letting out a blood-curdling scream. As abruptly as it began, it was over. Replaced with a silence that's equally as uncomfortable. I open my eyes, my arms and legs are free, I'm not in the capital anymore, I'm in the cave, from the first games. I prop my self up on my elbows; I look down, my wound is as bad as ever. Blood and pus seep out of the jagged cut — my whole body aches. Sweat drips down my face, and I have to bite my lip to stop from screaming.
"K-Katness," I pant, the pain is worse than the first time I experienced it. "Katn-ness, p-p-please!" I call out, where is she? Why isn't she here with me? Abruptly she appears beside me.
"I've brought you a treat. I found a patch of berries a little farther downstream" she says, brushing the hair from out of my face. Not again, I am not falling for this trick again. Katniss brings a spoonful of the mashed berries up to my mouth. This time they look different. Not red, and they don't smell like the sleeping syrup my mom used to give me. The mash is jet black. NightLock. Katniss is trying to kill me. I back away, dragging the lower half of my body with my arms. A malignant smile creeps onto Katness' face as she traps my neck under her arm. I choke and scream, trying to kick her off of me.
"Shhhhhhh, it will be over before you know it," She whispers, prying my jaw open like its nothing. I cringe as the sour taste of the nightlock berries hit my tongue. I heave as Katniss lifts her arm from off my throat. My relief is short-lived as she instantaneously clamps her hand over my mouth and plugs my nose. "This doesn't have to be difficult. One swallow. One swallow and all this pain will be over."
Nightlock, dead before it even hits your stomach, I remember. I fight underneath her. My lungs burn; they are screaming at me for oxygen. Black spots start the cloud my vision. I'm going to die. Whether that's from asphyxiation, or nightlock was my choice. I finally give in. My throat burns as I swallow. Katniss releases her hands from over my mouse and nose, and I gag and choke. My limbs start to feel heavy; the world around me begins to spin. I can see Katniss mouthing words to me. Why can't I hear her? I can feel her brush my hair out of my face. The pain I once felt begins to splinter away into a raw numbness. Soon the only thing I can discern is my heartbeat. Slow and unnatural. Like the heartbeat of a mutt.
Catching me off guard, the pounding in my ears begins to quicken. As I come back to my senses, I can hear my self gasping for breath. My vision returns soon after my hearing. I see the world speeding past me. More specifically, I see trees speeding past as I sprint through the forest. I feel like I'm not in control of my body. My lungs are on fire, and my muscles feel like they are threatening to snap. But I keep running. Suddenly my head shoots backward, and I know all too well what I'm running from. Mutts. A huge wolf-like creature is sprinting close behind me. But there is something different. I remember the mutts who chased after me in the first games. How could I forget? But this wolf was different, but at the same time... familiar. The smooth brown coat and piercing stern green eyes were all I had to see. This mutt was Katniss. Similar to the wolfs the capital made from the dead tributes in the first games. Katniss was hunting me. And I bet anything, that one stumble, and she wouldn't hesitate to rip me limb from limb. The forest floor becomes a minefield of sticks, rocks, and other things I can't identify given my current situation, but would undoubtedly lead to my inevitable demise if I were unable to avoid them. I feel in control of my body again. The first thing I notice is that the adrenaline that kept me running fast enough to stay ahead of the mutt has warn off. I'm starting to fall behind. Humans weren't built for this kind of physical exertion — my whole body cramps with every wheeze of my exasperated lungs. I feel my eyes begin to roll back into my head. My brain feels like static. Any minute my body is going betray me. I'm knocked back to reality as my foot gets caught on a rock, sending me tumbling down the steep hill. A scream tears through me as the mutt's teeth sink into my leg, dragging me down the hill. Blood smears the dirt behind me as the wolf finally slows down, stopping in the middle of the forest. Pained sobs erupt from deep within my chest. I scream through clenched teeth as the mutt's jaw opens, releasing teeth that were buried deep within my leg. Without warning, it lunges at me, teeth showing, ropes of drool cascading down its chin. I hear a sickening crunch as it jumps on me with all its weight. Hot tears spill down my cheeks as blood bubbles up my throat, leaking out my mouth. I kick and thrash, trying to release my self from under its weight, but I'm too weak. It snarls and snaps at me. I put up my arms in defense, trying to cover my face. Within minutes, my arms are a blood bath. Full of bite marks and cuts. I wail as the rabid dog rips me to pieces. I begin to lose feeling in my limbs, and my vision starts wavering in and out. I'm too weak to defend my self. Deep lacerations scatter my body. It's Tearing into me like I'm nothing but it's next meal. All the while, I stare into its eyes. Katniss' eyes. I feel my mind begin to deteriorate. Please end this. Please end me. I can't take this anymore. My body slowly slips into an empty numbness; this feeling isn't new. This is how most of my hallucinations end, with a numb body and a broken mind. My vision abandoned me a long while ago. Leaving me alone with my thoughts. It's hard to describe how I feel in these moments. When my body is numb and my brain has shut off anyway for me to identify where I am or what's going to happen next. My mind is in such a drug-induced haze; it's forgotten how to perceive the world around me. My eye suddenly shift as sporadic visions of Katniss and Gale flash into my brain. No, please, no. Like my own private movie under my eyelids, I watch Katniss and Gale laughing and smiling as they touch each other in a lust-filled haze. Please make it stop. Every touch, every kiss, fuels a fire buried deep within me. I can feel jealousy brewing in the pit of my stomach. This isn't real. I try to distract my mind, but the hallucinations win every time. I can't stop them. They start to get faster, flashing in and out of my mind like strobe lights. I see visions of my mom, of my family. Of the bombing of District Twelve. I watch as bombs rip them apart — peacekeepers making sure to put a bullet in the heads of anyone who survived the initial explosion. I feel sick to my stomach. My brain is moving at a mile a minute. This isn't real. I repeat it over and over in my mind. Start simple; start with what you know is true. My name is Peeta Malark. My home is District Twelve. I was in the Hunger Games. Katniss was saved. I was left behind.
My eye's open. Fluorescent lights blind me. Where am I. My arms and legs aren't strapped down? I look down; I'm wearing a clean white hospital gown. I look up. A group of people wearing gray jumpsuits are conversing around a clipboard. District thirteen is written on the back. I'm not in the capital anymore. They saved me.
"Should we bring her in?"
Their voices are muffled; I can almost make out what they're saying.
"Are you sure he's ready?"
My head begins to pound, and I lay back down on the bed. Coving my eye's with my hands, taking deep breaths. I'm processing a lot right now. I feel adrift of cool air as the door to the room opens. Looking up, suddenly im staring into those familiar green eye's. I feel my chest begin to swell with anger. My mind flashes back to everything that happened to me in the capital. All the pain I endured. All that emotion, all that damage, it's all because of Katniss. I looked into her eye's as she stabbed me, kicked me, mauled me, drugged me, burned me, killed me. I let my anger control me as I lurch forward, grabbing her by the neck and slamming her down onto the porcelain floor. The look of shock and horror spreading across her face only makes my desire to watch the life drain from her powerless body grow. Hot tears stream down my face. I don't want to kill her. But the resentment I feel needs an outlet. I don't know how to stop it. The need to strangle her feels compulsive. Just a side-effect of a damaged mind. The mind of the capitals weapon. The mind of a Mutt.
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shinidamachu · 5 years
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Holding On And Letting Go - Chapter IV
Summary: Chapter I | Chapter II | Chapter III | Chapter IV
Word Count: 2180  Genre: angst  Fandom: InuYasha  Pairing: Inukag Format: multichapter  AO3 Link: 🌹  Fanfic.Net Link: 🌹
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“I’m the one to blame and I know it. That’s the worst part.” InuYasha confessed to the dorment well in one of those nights, when he missed Kagome so dearly it was downright suffocating.
He would never forget the moment when she first taught him about the universe — how it was infinite and always expanding. He still remembered how small and overwhelmed it made him feel. 
Even now, that the memory was old and dusty, InuYasha felt the same. Missing Kagome was just like the universe — infinite and always expanding — and he was only himself, powerless and infinitesimal when faced with the immensity of it all.
“I shoulda fought harder for you.” The claws piercing his palm compensated the lack of emotion on the statement. “Not just that last time...” He shook his head, his brain flooded with images of the time they were forced apart and how he had been unable to do anything besides watch it happen. “But before that too. I shoulda told ya how much you meant to me, even though you knew already. I shoulda kissed you each chance I got. I shoulda apologized more.”
A lump housed in his throat as he recounted their journey on his mind, making sure to linger on the mistakes he made with the rawness of salt thrown straight into an open wound. Every argument they ever had seemed so pointless now, and yet, what wouldn’t he give for one more quarrel, if only to hear her voice again?
“And I shouldn’t have let you go!” All at once, the all too familiar anger started bubbling in the depths of his stomach, surfacing through his intonation. “What the hell was I thinking? That just because I wasn’t a selfish asshole for once, everything would be just fine at the end? It ain’t how life works! You’d think someone like me woulda learned that by now.”
Sitting on the grass, InuYasha fought the urge to scream in frustration. It was all bullshit. All of it.
“Before you, I didn’t use to do the right thing and we both know it. So why the fuck should I keep doing it now? ‘S not like it would bring you back.”
Deep down, InuYasha knew the answer. In the end of the day, her happiness and well being were way more important than his self-centered desires, and ultimately, he would never jeopardize all the effort he had put into becoming the man she showed him he could be — a man deserving of her. It didn’t mean he couldn’t feel sorry for himself, just a little.
“They already had at least fifteen years of you in their lives, but we... We didn’t have enough time.”
Part of him argued that it would never be sufficient, no matter how many lifetimes they got bestowed with. The other part reminded him of all the times he had pushed her away.
InuYasha acknowledged his greediness right then. Kagome had already given him more than he ever dared to dream and admittedly more than he deserved. Most of his kind would die without knowing so much as the prospect of love, while he had experienced it in every shape. Because of Kagome, he had finally found a place where he belonged, with people who accepted him. That should have been more than enough.
And yet there he was, asking for more as if he was entitled to it, as if every good thing in his life wasn’t as bright as it could be if she was around.
What an ungrateful bastard he was.
“I need you more than they ever could, anyway.” InuYasha went on, wondering why is was so much easier admitting these things when there was no chance for her o listen. “If you ever come back, I’d do everything different. No more wasting time, no more acting stupid. I’d even tell you how much I love your food and the way you smell, ‘cause I do, I always did.”
He once believed that Kagome was born to meet him. Now it looked they were doomed from the start.
“Just come back and see.”
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If the Honekui no Ido was a Wishing Well, her wish would be him.
She knew it was selfish, but it was true.
There was nothing she cared about more, nothing else she wanted so fiercely in her supposedly fulfilled life.
Day and night, she dreamed of better worlds, where they never had to be more than a heartbeat away from each other. If she could, she would change her own, just to fit him in it the same way his Fire-Rat robe used to fit around her shoulders — warm and familiar — and he would know he was safe and sound. She would rewrite each cosmical rule keeping them from being together, speak over the prejudiced voices whispering their bigotry at them, shield him from the hurtful things he pretended to be indifferent to even though it broke his heart. And they would get the happy ending they deserved.
“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy.” Kagome remembered that day, swallowed by the sands of time, when she sat in the very well she now leaned against, and faced with these same emotions, asked InuYasha to stay with him. It was the moment she realized no amount of nasty blows to her ego could make her walk away. Her happiness was tangled with his. “And I promised you I would always be by your side. I guess things never work the way we plan, but I want you to know I would have kept my word. I still intend to.”
Kagome deliberately looked at the pile of books beside her. Most of them turned out to be useless, brimming with inaccurate information. A couple of few managed to carried interesting material and maybe Kagome could even teach Kaede a thing or two if she ever accomplished her main goal, but the rest were not written to be taken serious at all.
The girl, however, was no fool. It was highly unlikely that the solution she was looking for would be laying in a long lost book, and that just like in the climax scene of a hollywoodian movie, she would decode its manuscript, unsealing the magical time portal, consequently, reaching the anticipated joyous outcome, white letters rolling up the screen and lights turning on to reveal a clapping audience.
But what could she do except keep trying? The alternatives were way too depressing and she had promised him. She owed him — owed both of them — that much, and it gave her a purpose. Doing something felt good, even if something meant a new burn to a cauterized heart. What was a little drop of frustration for someone drenched on its rain? What was a little wave of sorrow for someone drowning on its waters?
It was also a good distraction from math problems and her oblivious — despite of  well meaning — friends. She welcomed those distractions as much as the lamppost lights that guided her way home.
Truth was, too many new moons had passed and it wasn’t lost on Kagome that the separation would affect her and InuYasha differently. While he knew she was out of danger, secure with her family in pacific modern era Japan, that same courtesy was never offered to her.
Sure, Naraku was gone and InuYasha would always have Tessaiga, as well as their friends, to support and protect him. But he was still a cocky half demon with a remarkable talent to lost his temper and a pretty respectful list of enemies. Trouble would find him one way or another. 
Part of her wondered if it already did and, as much as it hurt to consider it, that was why he never met her after the five hundred years gap. But then again, it could also mean that he didn’t have to, because she found a way to get back on her own. 
Her attention went back to the open book on her lap.
“I just… I just need to see if you’re okay.” Pleaded Kagome, aware of her own lie the second it left her lips. Just a glimpse of him, brief and distant as it may, and she could never walk away.
The night came and went as she devoured the pages, in vain. Then daylight touched Earth, imposing and golden like his eyes.
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The sky was so clear, not a single cloud dared to taint its dazzling blue. Around him, InuYasha could see all the summer colors, as bright as they were, from the floating orange of the butterflies to the endless rainbow of flowers gifted to them by a generous spring. Nearby, he could hear the birds singing their jubilant melodies and the village’s children playing under the sun.
It was a beautiful morning and he hated it.
A day like that without Kagome to enjoy it was such a waste. Everything about it seemed pointless — wrong, somehow — since she wasn’t there to see it.
Particularly, he had grown fond of the cloudy days. It was much easier to blend in. Everybody gets a little sad when it rains.
But InuYasha couldn’t control the weather and certainly he couldn’t extinguish the distance separating them either, as he had previously learned. All he could do was sit there and wait for her.
“And now the little brats are getting old enough to chase me around.” Continued InuYasha, on yet another detailed report Kagome would never hear. “‘S a nightmare, I’ll tell ya. Not even you or your mom were so obsessed with my ears and that’s sayin’ a lot.”
His heart clenched at the thought of the kind woman who had treated him like a son from the very start, but it didn’t last long, as he could practically hear Kagome’s giggles. He had no doubt she would find the whole situation insanely amusing, much to his pretended annoyance.
He didn’t even try to fight his smile.
“Can you believe it? Miroku and Sango have twins!” InuYasha exclaimed, because he sure as hell still couldn’t, no matter how many times the living proofs climbed over him, pulled his hair or pestered his poor ears. “I mean, ‘course you can. You saw it coming way before I did.”
Well, not even her wildest guess would have bet on twins right away, but the important thing was the monk and the slayer were really making marriage work. InuYasha would give anything to see her smug I-Told-You-So expression.
“They’re really happy.” And they had every reason to be. Against all odds, they were together, they had a family. After so much trauma, fights and goodbyes, they managed to stood side by side at the end. They had earned that. InuYasha knew it. And he wanted to be happy for them. He was happy for them. He just couldn’t shake the terrible feeling that would come along with every look, touch or gleeful moments shared between the couple: it should have been Kagome and I. 
Then guilt would hit him like a punch, making him avoid the pair for a while just to feel even worse. It was much harder to feel happy for someone else when his own happiness was in the other side of the well with her. 
“They miss you, though.”
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“Congratulations!” Kagome walked in, dropping her purse to the base of the Honekui no Ido to grasp her hair in exasperation. “You have finally made Tokyo boring and I thought this was impossible!”
The schoolgirl spent the whole day out, passing by parks and stores that had been so fascinating to her in the past, but that now just couldn’t catch her eyes. 
Since she was a little child, she always felt her city like a living entity. Pulsating, stimulating, a surprise on every turn.
Then, years ago, she had fallen into that damned well and the conception of adventure that she once had changed forever.
In that new, exciting land, Kagome had been a fish out of temporal water, but then she decorated the tides and made them her habitat. Now that she was isolated from it, she missed it like crazy and the place she used to call home didn’t felt like home anymore.
She was a fish out of water again, but this time in her own town.
The city lights were as pretty as ever, but they could never match the starry night sky from Feudal Era and the more she walked through the comfortable pavement, the more she longed for the freshy grass. It was sickening and frightening.
For her family, Kagome desperately kept trying to make things go back to the way it was before — Studying, hanging out with her friends, helping in the shrine. She never told them it wasn’t working. There was no need to hurt them over nothing.
But she didn’t belong there. And she hadn’t for quite a while.
“What do I do?” She whispered.
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A/N: one day I’ll write something that isn’t angst again... but today was not that day. Thank you for reading, tho. It means a lot to me. Oh, and let me know if you want to be tagged or something. See ya!
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veinsinneon · 5 years
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“How is it like? Heroin I mean… how does it feel like?” Syd cut dryly through the silence from his restless, leg shaking position. The atmosphere was relaxed but he sensed it as tense, thick enough to slice with a knife. The tight alley the balcony was facing echoed with a short, sour laugh and words that followed. "I’m not sure I can say, I don’t want to prompt you to trying it yourself.” Logan leaned back, staring intently at the man in front of him. He was surprised at the sudden shift of the subject, at how he was put in the spotlight of Syd’s attention. "If I wanted I would get out of this place and buy some, yet I am still here talking to you, so I guess it’s safe to tell me.” Sunlight was lazily seeping through the trees, lighting up the small space. Particles of dust were dancing in the light, raising up then slowly falling down following their own choreography. Silence was only interrupted by muffled ticking of the clock from the back of the room behind. "I will preface this with the mandatory, it’s not a drug to be messed with and I mean it completely, take it from someone who overdosed twice and was found once by a friend and second time by my then girlfriend. I lost a loved one and a friend to addiction. I tried to quit cold turkey four times, only followed by relapse after relapse, then finally detox, rehab and proper therapy. I know people who ended up in jail. I was the biggest, lying asshole to everyone around me, because I didn’t care anymore, I wanted to stay in that heroin bubble and tried to push everyone away. I am sitting here only because I had someone who fought tooth and nail for me, who believed in me so hard I started to believe too, I understand curiousity and I don’t mind your question, from one addict to another without bullshit… it’s like-”, blue-eyed turned his gaze from Syd and pinned onto his own hands. "It’s definitely not how you think it is. If we take an IV use it’s an universe of experience on it’s own. But it’s not making you feel energized… there’s no fireworks. It is a great fucking feeling, like sinking into a warm bath. There’s no care that you could give, because everthing is meaningless. Not in a depressive kind of way, but more like, all that matters is what’s in your veins. You just float.” It’s a feeling that could never be forgotten, and then gets chased like the white rabbit. Logan sighed, immersed in his dark and hazy thoughts. You never forget your past lovers and this is exactly the same. "Your body naturally produces dopamine, it can turn off the feeling of pain or fear.” He continued. "Heroin binds to the opioid receptors and turns into morphine and you get the feeling of a rush of endorphines, your heartbeat slows, your breathing gets shallow and slower, you’re experiencing an absolute pleasure… If you could have an essence - it’s all of the best things you can think of; the best food you ever had, every happy moment of your life, sex – combine it all and you can loosely imagine how heroin feels like.” World moving at light speed while you’re stuck in heroin haze. Logan’s mouth corners twitched as a bitter smile plastered itself on his face. His thoughts swerved back and forth between gray colored memories. "That’s why it’s such a dangerous drug, it makes you think ‘oh, it certainly isn’t that bad right?’ There was no come down, you didn’t feel awful, no hangover, maybe a nice glow after, that’s all. So, there comes another opportunity to do it and again, you don’t see why would anyone be so scared since it’s doesn’t appear to be that bad. You do it and it’s great. You can get a balloon for $15, so like a pack of cigs and a nice beer, right? So, why not try. You can still go to work while on it. It’s how I functioned, getting dope, going to work to make more money to get dope. It makes everything that you hate totally bearable, maybe even makes you enjoy it; you love all the people around, ah a small talk during the lunch break? Lovely.” The sun got covered by a blanket of thick clouds and the balcony deprived of light source darkened. "You go on and on… until one morning you wake up at 4 am, you feel sick, you’re cold, you have a runny nose, you hate life, you hate everyone. Oh, time to buy some heroin to make you feel better. Oh, it’s 60 dollars now? Your usual dose is not enough? You’re spending $250 daily? Shit, what are you going to do now? Now, you need it not to get high and drift motionless through space, you need it, to feel normal, to function, to not feel like you’re dying. Because withdrawals after prolonged use are a pain. Literal pain, in every little part of your body, you can’t really tell where it’s located, because you feel it everywhere. Take every broken bone, tooth aches, open wounds; but it’s the mental thing that’s coming with the withdrawals, where you just feel the worst anxiety and the worst fear, sadness and dread at once. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. It’s not like with alcohol where the withdrawals can kill you, heroin withdrawals will not kill you, but it sure will make you wish it did. First few days are like this, even thinking hurts, you can’t move without being in pain, you’re shaking, can’t even get up from the floor that’s covered in your own vomit. It stops being a casual drug habit and turns into a chore.”
What’s the word that could describe it best? Agony. Your own personal hell that was created by your hand. Carefully designed… "All of that comes crushing with this ultraviolence that’s beyond anything imaginable. To a normal person you could put syringe filled with watered down tea and say that it’s heroin and they would be like cool, take it away, I don’t want to do it. But if you put that syringe in front of me, tell me that’s heroin in there I will get fucking uncomfortable, I would probably have to leave the room. I think it’s the part of the allure of heroin. Since I got sober I don’t want to get fucked up at all, but there are moments in my life, sometimes when I think Jesus, I would love to get some dope, but even though I have those moments, this desire, I don’t want to act on it. And meeting addicts and working with people trying to get sober and trying to stay clean is reinforcing that thing in my head, thoughts of I don’t want to have that life anymore. I don’t want to be at this point we’re all I think about every day is how I’m going to get in contact with my dealer, then go buy dope and try to not get caught with either having it on me or using somewhere, it’s a whole ritual that’s coming with usage. And when you’re in rehab everyone says how it’s so amazing you’re getting clean and your life will be wonderful. It sounds like lies, because sobriety is a bitch. Addiction is like taking your life and smashing it into million pieces, and then sobriety is taking all of those pieces and trying to put them back together but nothing fits, nothing will ever be right.” Logan blinked rapidly, realizing how his words have taken on a somber tone. The man next to him calmed down, his hands rested together, legs no longer bobbing to their own rhythm, his dark eyes fixed on a dead spot somewhere behind Logan. "The thing is… one dose is too much and hundred never enough. If you manage to stop – and success rate is extremely low – all you’re feeling is boredom. Emptiness, depression that cuts straight to the bone. It follows you for months, years, you are unable to feel anything. Happiness becomes a myth that only makes you despise people who feel it. It’s like mourning a loss, because heroin was like a friend, always there. It will always be there, in the back of your mind, long before you’ll feel like a human. You will think about it, it’s like an itch that you can’t scratch. People who never experienced it will never understand. They think that since you were sick and then quit means you’re completely healthy. Poof, problem gone.” Logan took a deep breath, and smiled as the alley was once again bathed in sunlight. "Heroin may be the best thing you ever experienced, probably is, but that’s hardly a living, and you can only be a dead man if you choose to be.”
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