#trying to be more objective but still warning you: somewhat negative ahead

[canislupus-exe]

In Your Corner | bill denbrough

>>gif credit to @/beenchillin on tumblr<<

fandom | IT: Chapter One

character | Bill Denbrough

reader | (disabled) they/them (she ver.)(he ver.)

requested | anonymous

warnings | cursing, ableism

word count | 1,131

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | Hi! Could I request a Bill Denbrough x disabled!reader? Where Richie compares (y/n) to a bike and tries to ride their wheelchair while (y/n) is still in it- and bill tells him to fuck off? I just think bill would understand 🥺💕

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

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You hummed quietly as you pushed against the wheels of your chair. Approaching your best friend’s driveway was the only way you could hang out with him, seeing how inaccessible his front door was. If you thought too hard about it, it didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, so you tried not to.

You saw him sitting on the floor, sketching in his notebook somewhat mindlessly. Upon hearing your quiet hum, he flipped a few pages ahead to a blank one. Looking up at you, he squinted from the sun shining in his eyes but smiled.

“H-Hi (Y/n). You’re the f-first to get here so we can wait for everyone else.” He said, standing up and moving to the couch his dad had put in the garage a few months ago. He realized how much more inclined he was to hang out there now that he was friends with you.

His parents were lovely, but he started to pick up on the sudden stiffness and overall negative feelings you had when they said certain things. About how they were sorry and glad Bill was so kind, which he was. It was one of his greatest qualities, but it was as if they only thought he was your friend because he was so kind.

“That’s alright. What were you drawing?”  You asked casually, backing your chair into the space of the wall that was just the right fit. You remembered when he moved aside a table so he could sit next to you. It was one of the moments that made you feel your heartbeat in your stomach, as he so often did.

“Oh, n-n-nothing. Just practicing shape l-language for objects.” He replied, sitting on the cushions in a way that made it easier to look at you. 

“Really? What are you trying to learn to draw?” You asked. He shrugged.

“Nothing in p-p-particular. I just think it’s a g-good skill to have.” He replies, closing his sketchbook and setting it aside. You smile and nod.

“Do you know when the other Losers plan on joining us?” You asked leaning on the arm of your chair.

“Right now.” A voice called from behind. You looked over your shoulder to the garage entrance, watching Richie, Eddie, and Stan enter. You smiled and waved, which only Stan returned. 

“What are we doing here? You never told us.” Eddie says, sitting on the far end of the couch. You were never sure why, but he always seemed much more tense. You could come up with a few reasons, but they weren’t good ones, and you hoped those weren’t the case.

“J-J-Just a movie night. I made popcorn and st-ocked the drinks.” Bill replied. You begin to self-propel toward the fridge in the far left corner of the room. You looked inside, seeing mostly cokes and water. You opted for the latter.

“Plus, if we run out, we can hop on (Y/n)’s wheelchair. They’re basically a bike.” Richie says with a snicker, placing both his feet on the back of your chair and causing you to become unsteady. You yelp in surprise, immediately swatting him off. You turn your chair to face him, a look of panic on your face.

“What the fuck Richie?” You shout. He raises his eyebrows.

“What?” He asks, lacking a single modicum of self-awareness. You’re so flustered and upset that you find it difficult to articulate your feelings. Bill stands up from the couch, stepping between Richie and yourself.

“Y-You can’t say shit like that Richie!” Bill exclaims, his ears turning red from anger as they always did.

“Why are you guys freaking out?” He asks, raising his arms in exasperation.

“C-Comparing (Y/n) to a bike? You don’t get why that’s f-f-f-fu-fucked up!?” He shouts, finding it harder to speak due to his anger.

“No? It was a good thing. Bikes are cool and they’d be helping us to the store.” He replied. 

“It’s fine Bill. Don’t worry about it…” You mumble, trying to maneuver around him.

“N-no (Y/n) I am w-worried about it,” Bill says, turning to look at you. There was a look in his eyes that made you feel warm and safe. 

“They said don’t worry about it so I think-“

“Fuck off Richie!” Bill yells as he whips his head around to stare at him, not a stutter in his voice. Richie backs away with his hands up in surrender.

“Whatever dude.” He mumbles, sitting next to Eddie on the couch.

You were thankful Bill was so quick to defend you, but the confrontation still made you uneasy and guilty. You wheeled your chair out of the garage and onto the driveway, stopping when you heard Bill coming after you.

“Where are you g-going? Are you ok-kay?” He asks, walking by your side. You sigh and stop wheeling yourself forward. You say nothing at first trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. Bill walks in front of you, so he can see you while you talk, a simple gesture but something so thoughtful.

“You’re the only one who treats me… Well, normal… Richie always has something to say, Eddie avoids me like he’s going to catch something and I just… I hate it.” You mutter, folding your hands in your lap. Bill sighs as he crosses his arms.

“I w-wish there was more I could do. I t-t-tell Richie all the time to quit his shit but he-“

“It’s not you Bill. You do more than enough. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person I have in my corner.” You say, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiles, his eyes holding that same shine that made you feel so warm and safe.

“Y-You know, that’s exactly how I feel.” He replies. You tilt your head in confusion. Bill rubs his neck bashfully before shrugging. 

“You’re the only one who ever t-tells them to stop making fun of my s-st-stutter. Sometimes it feels like y-you’re the only one in my c-corner.” He replies. You smile, a warm glow rushing to your cheeks.

“We can be in each other’s corner.” You reply, giddily grabbing his hand. It takes you a second to realize what you’ve done before pulling back.

“S-Sorry I was just-”

“No! It’s okay!” He grabs your hand again, this time intertwining your fingers. “I l-like being in each other's corner.” 

“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He chuckles and locks his pinky around yours.

“P-Pinky promise.” He replies.

“Now let’s go watch the m-movie. If Richie says anything else I’ll j-just kick him out.”

“Since when are you Mr. tough guy?” You ask with a giggle.

“S-Since I had to be in someone’s corner. I-it’s a tough job you know.”

[aeroknot]

some thoughts on the latest wynonna plot twist

i’ve been working on this for a little while. 

i just want to explain a large part of my resistance to the wearp development of season 2. it is very personal (perhaps tmi) and reveals a deep bias infiltrating my ability to whole-heartedly accept or celebrate the plot line. I still think it’s worth expressing, though.

ok so like… i’ve felt a range of emotions regarding this pregnancy plotline, most of them negative and just varying in the degrees of pissy pessimism i can shift between, and at first i was really self-interrogating and just being like “are you being an insufferable asshole about this because of wyndolls?” and i thought about it and y’know, probably, like, I’ll be transparent bc who the fuck else am I gonna be real with about this show other than strangers on the internet? and yeah, 10% of it’s wyndolls-related dread, sure, but honestly??

the root of it is that I don’t like kids right now, especially infants, and this intensely combines with the fact that, as a 27 year old with shared qualities with her, I was projecting onto wynonna hard. a big specific fear we shared was where I constantly wonder about whether I truly have choices in my “fate” (mostly, re: am I doomed to repeat my parents’ mistakes? and also am I doomed by my depression? a deep and real limitation that really honestly does feel like its own kind of curse. and, would I pass this onto a child and doom them?) I was ecstatic to be connecting with her and key tenants of her personality, as well as her past traumas (such as but not limited to: child abuse from an alcoholic father, being institutionalized, and acting things out sexually with guys) that I found so relatable. a smaller part, but most relevant to this discussion, is that liked to think of her as a woman who, also, at this point in her life, was wholly uninterested in motherhood, for a whole shitton of reasons; many of which I could relate to, but particularly based in her family trauma/this curse/complicated relationships with men, and also her general attitude of prioritizing her needs above everyone else’s except maybe waverly’s and her partner(s)’. working on herself. and i loved that. it resonated with me.

a baby has really thrown a wrench in this experience, and this is largely because a not-so-insignficant emotional dufflebag that’s been chained to my ankle since my ex left is all the times he told me I’d be a terrible mother, and how i’ve been processing that and moving on from letting that hold any more weight in my life completely opposes being excited about a plot development like this.

after I finally picked myself up off the floor of my shame spiral into his evaluation of me, I rebuilt myself by asking: what right did he have to evaluate my worth based on an abstract, idealized, and hypothetical version of motherhood he imagined – specifically myself as a mother, when, might I add, neither of us were even close to being stable enough even as individuals to be ready for parenthood – (answer: no real fucking right). so: would it be liberating and healing to discover that I can be a woman without procreating? could I still find my worth in myself if it never happened for me? could I erase some of that disdain for my character away by moving the goalpost and allowing myself to say: I don’t need this to be a woman worth admiring and loving-- and I could remain someone a person would desire in a long-term romantic relationship? and did I even fucking want children? was it a good idea for me to have them? I don’t completely have a definitive answer and even if I did decide I didn’t want some, maybe if I met the right partner and i decided -- regardless of what my partner wanted -- that I wanted a baby more than I was afraid of a baby, it’d change, maybe. or I’ve thought about adoption later in life. but for now, and what’s feeding into my disappointment and discomfort with wynonna’s arc, is the fact that I have been experimenting with expressing disinterest in children, publicly and privately, and testing out how that makes me feel, and lately, I’ve felt pretty damn good thinking about a childless future, and after the pain I felt with ‘being inept at motherhood’ lorded over my head as a deep insult to my character, it’s very healing and empowering for me to be able to say “I could live without kids” or “having children is perhaps not in my path” and even go so far as to admit “I don’t think I even like children right now.” 

I don’t dislike children, per se (though I do resent I even feel the pressure to have to put that as a disclaimer!!). I’m nice to them. I love my young cousins. I think children are often hilarious and inquisitive and generally good-natured. but they’re…. they’re like how men are to me right now. the idealized ones are really neat; the fictional ones and the ones over there and the ones other people really love are really cool and I’m happy they make others happy and sometimes I get to spend some time with them too, but as a general practice I’d like to just not prioritize them in my life right now, and women are asked to prioritize both all the damn time or else believe there’s something wrong with them, and I’d like to create space and consume some more media where maybe we just… don’t allow that as much? I promise I’m not going around kicking kids nor am I telling other people to kick them. but I am letting myself feel what it’s like to admit that maybe I don’t think they’re the greatest thing on earth, which is what I feel pressured to say (oh god damn, especially in my Christian work environment, dear lort). I’m experimenting with allowing myself to say to someone who invasively inquires about the status of my reproductivity, “y’know, I don’t really like the idea of being responsible for a very sensitive, innocent, impressionable, and defenseless young soul who deserves a lot of time, energy, and self-sacrifice in order to care for and raise; emotional and physical and mental labor that I don’t feel like designating to anyone but myself right now.” basically, I just don’t find them as enthralling as I used to (I once worked at a daycare and wanted to be a teacher), and I’m even questioning now how much of my enchantment back then was authentic and how much of it was indoctrinated.

and a large part of what I’m realizing is the fact I’m made deeply uncomfortable and displeased by the idea of carving out parts of my identity and my life in order to create the large, large space a child deserves in order to fit one into my story. I don’t like the permanence of adding a child; I don’t like the irrevocable nature of such a huge undertaking that will impact every single facet of a person’s life from that point forward. maybe I’m selfish. maybe I’m just not ready. call me what you want, I’m still walking this path for now, though, and I’ll assert I deserve respect even if I don’t want kids.

so to watch this story that I was feeling so connected to for reasons really opposite of this whole storyline so quickly suddenly make room for a baby while I am resisting motherhood as a measure of a woman’s worth and also very freaked out by the permanence and weight of being responsible for your offspring? yeah. it’s a little disheartening to me. like dolls said, it changes everything. and it’s like…… any way they shake the story out, I think I’ll be upset, because I’m... not personally invested in the baby even sticking around, even though I know that sounds sort of horrible.

I admire the way they’ve done it so far in the aftermath of this reveal. I admire the dialogue. and I think admiring and respecting how they’re doing it while still not liking it is valid, and is also a testament to how well-executed it can be. but I’m still hesitant, skeptical, and resistant.

and this is all hard for me too because like… I think I WOULD think it’s awesome if post-broken-curse, older, perhaps in-a-loving-relationship-wynonna and forgiven-herself wynonna kicks down a door while pregnant, and asserts she can still be a hero while pregnant, and she’s still this or still that and not an invalid fragile incompetent person at her job, etc, etc….. demon-hunting mom who pisses off the PTA moms because all their kids think she’s so cool. but it... it’s sudden. it’s “too early” in my head. and of course I understand why that is. but I’m still grumbly about it.

i’ve also realized that I was a child who was somewhat unwanted. conceived between two people with an unhealthy relationship who did not want to be tethered together for the rest of their lives. and as a child in the middle of that stress, as an unplanned baby who MY MOM GOT PREGNANT WITH WHILE ON BIRTH CONTROL, I know what the downsides are to have that origin story. with this context, it makes sense this is a big hang up for me, something I’m recoiling from. and my mother made me her impetus for change and growth and when she failed at healing herself through me, it made me feel like the failure and a waste of space and “not worth it.” (it’s similar with my dad, but fatherhood’s not really the point here.) to be entirely both the source and motivation for your mother’s (and sometimes father’s) personal healing is a lot of pressure. and it feels suffocating. to be the only reason your mother works on herself when you live with her, but then devolves when you’re not with her-- it serves up some real emotional erosion. we can’t say for certain this is what wynonna would do, but even a whiff of this makes me want to run the other direction.

I’m also upset about the issue of consent in the pregnancy. her opportunity to choose was taken from her by the time demon, and that makes me uncomfortable. she’s doing amazing now, she’s so fucking strong, but I’m still upset. it was clever, but if you really look at it, it was another way she had no choice. &... I appreciate her anger about it! i really do! that is one of the things I do really respect: I appreciate her sadness being allowed time onscreen, and Melanie’s acting is uh-mazing regarding this.

see, I have a lot of conflicting emotions about this. I’m trying to articulate it as best I can.

so then I’m even further flabbergasted by all the ways my brain is trying to cope and trying to make the story cool, trying to patch it, trying to adapt it, trying to twist it, and trying to sneak in lighter and happier moments, and trying to find optimism in things like “oh well I love Jane the Virgin and that’s baby-heavy from the get-go.” .... though therein sorta lies the fundamental difference. you knew a baby was coming from the very first episode, the baby is literally the impetus for everything, and so even though there were consent issues even in Jane the Virgin, there was no real transition from Main Plot to Suddenly A Baby Gets To Be The Center of Everything..... but.... making this comparison also helps me to maybe trust a bit more. I love Jane the Virgin (but.... even still, I’ll be honest that I’ve kind of lost interest since Mateo was born and I haven’t been keeping up as regularly as I used to. I need to stop with that, but I feel it’s another example of just how much I’ve been disinterested in kids these days.)

anyway...

i’m trying to…. well…. respond to the prospect of this fictional baby the exact opposite of how I’ve been trying to react to real babies lately. and it’s just… it’s all a perfect storm, I guess.

BUT: it’s my own personal shit. and maybe I just need to set it aside. 

and maybe, even.... this take on motherhood onscreen, seeing wynonna, who I relate to so much, be a mother... perhaps it may even heal some of the wounds I’ve felt regarding the subject since the shame was first implanted by my ex, and reinforced by my own childhood and genetics and immaturity as an “adult.”

maybe. 

we will see.

[brockadoodles]

endless moments that led me to you - b. boeser

AN: I wasn’t gonna post this for a while cause like, there’s so much content and I really don’t want it to get buried but @nikolajehlers​ asked nicely so.. please don’t let it flop. I promise there’s no angst. It’s a 4+1 but slightly different. 

Word Count: 4281

Warnings: teeth rotting fluff, also babies. 

You were a firm believer in the concept that all lives were a series of moments. Moments where sometimes you’d feel joy so closely that it bubbled in your stomach. Moments where sometimes you’d feel heartbreak so deeply that your chest would physically ache. Life to you, was about the little things that added up to all of those moments, and the people that you chose to spend it with along the way. Friends came and went, flings and partners came and went, and that was okay with you because they were a part of a little moment, a moment in time that you’d cherish forever. Brock Boeser was different. He wasn’t a little moment, he was what all the little moments led to, even if it took you far too long to realize it.

You stood in front of your shared vanity, the reflection of a tree filled with thick snow coming from the window that was opposite of the mirror and you smiled. You reached a hand down to your stomach and spread your fingers, the ring glistening on your left hand, another not so little moment in your love story with your best friend.

“We’re gonna tell daddy about you today, little peanut. Hope you’re ready.” You hummed, looking back up at your own reflection in the mirror,

“I sure am.” You added softly. This moment was one that felt like it was almost not possible. It had been over a year of trying, a year of doubting, negative after negative test. Each one cracking your heart a little more. Each one was a moment you wanted to forget, because you didn’t want another negative. You didn’t want to have to watch his face fall when he’d look at the test first for you, a frown on his face when he would break the news. You didn’t want another moment where you doubted yourself and wondered why your body wouldn’t work the way you wanted it to.

A soft knock broke you from your little moment in the mirror, and the man in question poked his head through the door. He was a bit older now, his hair was a bit shorter than he used to keep it, his beard now has flecks of grey mixed in, but he was still the same person you fell in love with all those years ago. Another moment that led to now.

“Are you ready to go?” He asked.

“Yeah.” You softly answered, leaning up to kiss him quickly before following him out. You grabbed your bag, knowing that the surprise was tucked safely inside for him to see in just a little while. You thought back to what life was like before getting to love Brock, and found yourself lost in a daze from the moment when he almost told you how he felt, but couldn’t quite get the words out.

“Where are we going?” You asked your best friend as he drove down the windy road. The top was off of his Jeep, the sun shining down on you as you watched the scenery pass by. It was his first summer back home in Prior Lake since starting in Vancouver. It had been three weeks since he came slowly walking out of the airport terminal, falling into your arms with a sleepy smile and a hug that lingered just a bit too long, and you had spent almost every minute with Brock since.

“My favorite place.” You tilted your head at him and wondered why you didn’t recognize where you were going. You and Brock didn’t really have secrets, you had met a few years prior, your friend had been dating his roommate at the time and the two of you clicked instantly, becoming nearly best friends overnight. You were used to him being away, but he never once made you feel like you weren’t a priority to him, and every time he came home you knew that the distance between you didn’t really matter.

“I really missed you this year.” Brock frowned. His voice was a bit softer than usual. It was shaky as you sat next to him, your legs dangling from the back of his Jeep as you admired the lake in front of you. His words sent a pang of sadness to your chest, a feeling that you had buried deep down a long time ago. You were used to missing Brock, but something about the tone of his voice had you wondering if he was trying to say that he missed you in the way that you missed him.

“I missed you, too.” Was all that you responded with, careful to guard your own heart. Things worked with Brock as they were. Every year he left, off to live out his dream that was now a reality, and you always stayed in contact, spending nearly all of your time together when he was home. But Brock always left, he had to, and while he took a little piece of your heart with him each time he went, the feeling of knowing he was keeping it safe for when he returned was enough to stop you from admitting your feelings. Because having a piece of your heart gone every fall was manageable, having the entire thing gone forever was not.

Brock had always felt like he was somewhat of an old soul, or the type of person who was always just emotionally a few years ahead of those around him. He thought often about what his life was going to look like in the future, where he wanted to settle down, how many kids he hoped to have, one girl and one boy, and who he pictured this future with. Each vision or dream he had was of you. Every girl he met, every single one that he tried to connect with in Vancouver when you weren’t there, he picked apart. Perhaps he did this unfairly, placing expectations on people who didn’t deserve to be compared to the person he was waiting for back home, but that’s what he did, until he had the realization that it was you he wanted, only you. So when he told you he missed you, it meant something more than the traditional definition of the words.

“No, I missed you.” He took your hand in his and laced your fingers through his own as he spoke.

“I realized that while I was in Vancouver, everything came back to you. All I wanted was you, all I ever want, is you. You’re not just my best friend, I don’t think you have been in a long time. I want it to be real, do you want it to be real?”

You didn’t have the words on the tip of your tongue to answer, instead you grabbed his cheek and leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his lips that turned into something more out there on the lake, in the back of his Jeep, that answered the question just the way he wanted you to. It was a moment shared between two people who were probably too young to know what love really meant, but had the closest possible version of it at the time.

“You seem a little distracted, honey. Everything alright?” Brock asked you, snapping you from the moment back into the current one. Your hand had been frozen on top of the bag on the counter, the one containing the food you were planning to bring, not that your stomach was settled enough to eat any of it anyways. Brock had a concerned expression on his face and his eyes were soft as he tried to read your feelings.

“Just thinking about how much I love you.” You smiled. It wasn’t a lie, in a way that’s what you were thinking about and the answer seemed to satisfy Brock as he took a moment to wrap an arm around your waist and kiss your forehead gently.

“I love you, too.” He replied, kissing your temple softly before heading out the side door to where the car was parked, you walking just a few paces behind him and taking it all in.  

Brock was home for Christmas and it was the first time you had seen him in almost three months. After spending the first part of your relationship together almost 24/7, the reality of long distance hit you as soon as September came and he had to leave again. The distance wasn’t easy. The time difference sometimes would get in the way and you’d just miss each other. Sometimes when he tried to call after games, he would just miss you, usually with your phone buzzing in your hand as you fell asleep. But for all of the hard moments, there were also the good ones, and you had been counting down the days, to the hours, to the minutes that you would see him again.

You waited outside of the terminal for him, your arms wrapped tightly around your chest. His sweatshirt was underneath your parka, and the beanie on your head was also his. You took whatever you could take of him when he was home, almost letting it become a running joke when in reality you used the material objects as pieces of him to hold onto. Comfort when he wasn’t there to comfort you. You watched as person after person came through the gates until you saw him. You didn’t care that people were staring as you ran into his arms, jumping into them and kissing him hard. He reacted instantly, pulling you closer and resting his hand on the nape of your neck.

“Can we go to our spot?” He asked, his voice barely above a whisper. You pulled back to look at him and nodded. Grabbing his hand and lacing your fingers together as you walked out of the airport and to the parking lot.

“You know, the view isn’t really as great when we can’t see anything.” You commented as you parked the car in the familiar place. Brock had been suspiciously quiet the entire ride from the airport to the familiar spot on the lake, and part of you was riddled with nerves that this was some cruel way of breaking up with you exactly where you got together, an idea that didn’t even make sense fully when you thought about it. Brock didn’t answer your question, instead he looked straight out the window at the dark now frozen lake, whose only source of light was the soft glow of the various homes surrounding it and the reflection of the moon on the ice.

“I love you.” He whispered, breathing a sigh of relief as soon as the words left his lips and hit the air. Your breath caught in your throat and you nearly cried. You had felt it for weeks now, that you loved him. And you had almost told him so many times. On nights where he felt just far enough away that it hurt, you would almost say the three words. On nights where one of you was experiencing a happy moment, you almost said it. On nights when you’d fight from the distance that felt permanent between you, you almost said it. So hearing them come from his lips, was your favorite moment you had shared together so far.

“I love you too, Brock.”

That was probably one of your favorite memories to think about. You were young and trying to navigate your entire life with a chunk of you physically in another country most of the time. But even through the time differences, the schedules, and the endless amount of FaceTimes and minutes on the phone, you always had him. And the thing about Brock was that he always made sure you knew that, even now that you were older and in a different phase of love.

Brock was undoubtedly your person. The concept you see written about in love stories and dramatized in television shows. He was the personification of that for you and as you looked over at him while he was driving the familiar route to the spot that had become your spot together, no questions asked, you were thankful that this whole new moment was going to be with him.

As the trees continued to pass by and the music softly faded into the back of your consciousness, you thought about another moment where Brock reminded you that he was the destination for you, that every other moment was just a catalyst leading you down a path of a life with him.

Brock was normally a calm person, his demeanor was relaxed and things didn’t outwardly bother him. He rarely showed his nerves, you had always supposed that it was a by product of the many traumas he has grown up with. But he still made an effort, openly talking about his feelings with you and openly loving you with his entire heart nestled on his sleeve. Brock in this moment, was anything but calm or collected.

He had driven you back to that same spot on the lake, the one that was tucked away neatly about fifteen minutes from his parents house where he grew up, where you had already had so many moments with him. He was practically shaking with nerves as he parked the car and you got out, heading straight for the back of the Jeep like you always did. He watched you for a moment, taking in each detail about you as if they weren’t already memorized and stored nearly in his head. Habits and details that he thought about more often now that you were his and he was yours, replaying the memories and moments in his head when it wasn’t resting next to yours, when he was miles away from you. You caught his eye and smiled at him, and he knew. He knew that this moment was the right moment. He knew that you were his forever, and the ring box in his pocket didn’t feel so heavy anymore the longer he focused on your smile.

Brock moved to stand in front of you, stepping between your legs as they dangled from the edge of the Jeep. He rested his hands on your thighs, using his thumb to rub soft circles into your skin. He looked at you like you were his entire world, and that was because you were. You were the only thing he couldn’t live without.

“I was thinking…” He hummed as he reached one of his hands into his pockets, never moving his eyes from yours.

“Oh boy, I can only imagine what about.” You teased with a soft smile on your lips. You were expecting a chirp back, a moment of banter like so many that you had shared before. You weren’t expecting him to just smile and drop to one knee in front of you. You weren’t expecting him to pull out a black velvet box, with a gorgeous ring nestled firmly into the cushions. You weren’t expecting the tears that fell from your cheeks as you nodded yes over and over again, unable to speak from the shock of what was happening. Regardless of what you hadn’t been expecting, your feelings after it happened were a welcomed, comfortable rush of love. The love that had been consistently pooling deep into your chest, making a permanent home there now that Brock had put a ring on your hand, a moment that up until then was the best one of your life.

As he pulled into the usual spot, you thought of another moment. One that you would in a way get to do again, now that there was a new addition coming to the family. You looked off into the distance, spotting the same house you had just come from. The deck still looked new, the paint was fresh, and the memory of what it once looked like was another moment cemented into your heart as you thought back to the moment you first saw it. Vancouver was beautiful, but this was home.

“God, I love it here.” You hummed as you stepped out of the car. It was early June and this was the first time you had been back to the lake since coming home. It wasn’t too hot yet and the sun was reflecting just enough on the water to show the deep blue color that you loved. Everything about it felt familiar as you stood there for the first time in months. Brock wrapped an arm around your shoulders and turned your body into his, pressing a kiss to your lips quickly that still had your heart racing every time he did it. You were no stranger to the feeling, having been together for a few years now, but you still couldn’t believe that you were lucky enough to still have him, each moment spent with him gave you a new understanding of love, and the engagement ring that now adorned your finger was a product of that.

“So I have a reason that I brought us here.” Brock smiled down at you.

“Yeah? Please share with the class, Brock.” You joked. His eyes rolled a bit and you leaned up to kiss the smirk off of his lips. He settled you into his chest and rested his head on top of yours, admiring the view of the lake. If he looked hard enough, he could see the property just to the left and down a few miles, the one he had come here to talk to you about. He pulled back from you slightly and looked into your eyes.

“I found this house, it’s kind of a mess honestly and would be a lot of work. But it’s here, on the lake, and it has this feel to it that reminds me of you, of us. And I don’t know, I guess I just want to make it ours, build it back up together and have a home to come back to when we’re here.”

You let his words sink in, all of the feelings about what he had just said fluttering in your heart. You had been engaged for only a few months now, you lived together in Vancouver, you came back to Minnesota with him whenever the two of you could, it felt like the most logical next step together, to figure out where to settle. Vancouver was where you spent 90% of time, and you had never really thought about it as home, until then, Brock was your home, Vancouver was just a place that you happened to enjoy. Brock however, took your moment of silence as hesitation, and for a few seconds he pulled back, letting his mind race that maybe what he was asking for was too much.

“I know we haven’t really talked about it, or about where we’d want to raise kids yet. I don’t know, maybe it’s too much, I just..” He turned to face you, grabbing one of your hands in his and running his thumb along your skin, something he always did when he was nervous.

“I don’t want to just come home to you, I want to come come with you, in a place that we build up together. I know we have the Vancouver place, and I know we’re getting married next year, but, I don’t know if it’s something about being here, but it feels right. Don’t you think?” And with a statement like that from who was most likely the greatest person you ever had the privilege to love, how could you say no?

“Let’s do it, Brock. Let’s fix a home together.” And that’s exactly what you spent the next year doing, designing each detail to accommodate into your lives together perfectly. From the kitchen you had dreamed of having since you were little, to the view of the lake you grew up on from the back deck. You had always thought you’d grow up and leave Prior Lake, and even though you did for 90% of the year, you felt a wave of nostalgia coming back to have a house here together. It felt fitting for the moment as newlyweds, and deep down you knew that it would be perfect once kids became a part of the moment.

“We’ve been through a lot here.” You hummed as Brock drove down the familiar windy road. The snow was freshly crisp, littering the trees with white. Your stomach was fluttering with nerves as you got closer and closer to the spot at the lake that had become the spot where every important moment together had happened.

Brock had taken you here one summer nearly five years ago, telling you that his feelings had progressed past friendship and into something more. He had brought you there again nearly a year later, where the moon reflected on the frozen lake as he told you he loved you for the first time. The third time he brought you to this spot, it was fall, just before you were both set to move back to Vancouver for the upcoming season and he had gotten down on his knee and put a ring on your hand, the same ring that sat securely on your left finger as he held your hand while driving. The last time he brought you here, it was a year ago, to ask you to build a home together, the same home that he thought was finished, but you’d soon be telling him about one more renovation to make.

This time, you asked him to come to this spot, you were the one that was going to change his life that day, and as he pulled back into the familiar place, everything felt calm. You looked over at the man you had fallen in love with all those years ago and subtly ran your hand over your stomach, this was real, it was the love you didn’t think you’d get to find and you got to experience it all with your best friend, every little moment had led to this one right here.

“Yeah, feels like some of that stuff was forever ago, honestly. I mean we’re getting old now, almost 30.” He joked. You just leaned your head into his shoulder a bit, silently agreeing with him. Somehow all of those moments did feel like forever ago, even if in reality it was only five years, not even half of a decade’s worth of moments yet somehow they all felt central to your survival. You couldn’t imagine life without him, and everyday you felt lucky that you never had to.

“I brought you here for a reason, though.” You mumbled as you grabbed your bag. You dug through it for a moment, buying yourself an extra few moments of time before everything would be out in the open. Before he would know what might be the best news he ever heard. You pulled out the envelope, opening it slowly in front of him and handing him the piece of paper.

Brock froze as you handed him the piece a paper. That small piece of paper confirming what you had both been trying for, for months. Months of tears, and negative results that tore your heart out each time you saw them. Months of questions and wondering if this was ever going to happen for you. Months leading up to this moment, where you got to hand him a piece of paper with a positive result on it.

You bit your lip as he scanned over the paper, his eyes welling with tears as he took in the result, your own filling just watching him.

“Are you serious? This is real?” He asked, gesturing to the paper still firmly in his hands. You nodded softly, wiping your eyes a bit. Brock quickly grabbed you, holding his hands steady on both of your cheeks as he pressed his lips to yours, smiling into the kiss. He pulled away, his eyes still glistening with fresh tears as he pressed one hand flush against your stomach, as close as he could get with your puffy parka keeping you warm in the snow.

“I can’t believe it, you’re really serious? We’re having a baby?” You could see the hesitation in his eyes, the concern about getting too excited over something that might not be real. But it was, and you smiled reassuringly as you rested your hand on top of his, nodding slowly at him to confirm what he had just read on that little piece of paper from your doctor.

“Holy shit we’re going to be parents.” He concluded, his eyes wide as he jumped out of the back of the Jeep. He nearly slipped as he landed in the snow, pacing back and forth a bit at the news and continuously mumbling something you couldn’t quite make out about being a dad. You looked out at the frozen lake behind him, snow covering the surrounding trees, the sky grey, and you thought back to all of the moments you had shared with him from this spot. From being young and stupid together, spending summer nights out by the water, to standing in a spot nearby surrounded by all of your close family and friends, with a flower crown secure on your head as you walked down the makeshift aisle and married him all those years ago. Your heart swelled at the memories out here on the lake, and you smiled thinking about how you were going to get to share that in the future with your little one.

[coldmorte]

Hey! I really really like your blog and all the Dutch content, and I read your posts on Molly and Dutch and I just felt like sharing my thoughts :) If you don’t feel like it, just ignore this

I like Molly, even though I agree that she’s very much a snob and very paranoid at times.

It’s always felt very clear to me that Molly really, truly loves Dutch. And love makes you do stupid, desperate things (just look at Arthur).

Molly’s interaction with Abigail is about Dutch’s love for Molly, not the other way around. It’s Abigail saying that Dutch doesn’t love her and Molly lashing out (probably to protect herself from the truth).

This is brought up again in An Honest Mistake, when she talks to Arthur about Dutch, questioning how Dutch seems to him. When Molly says, “I really love him, you know,” Arthur averts his eyes and doesn’t look at her. I’ve always seen this as Arthur knowing Dutch doesn’t love her in the way Molly wants him to, if he loves her at all.

I’ve always seen Dutch as being kind of ahead of his time when it comes to certain progressive ideas (especially as it pertains to race), but when it comes to women, he’s very much a product of his his time. The way he talks about them and to/at them, whether it’s Molly or Abigail or Mary-Beth or Sadie, is often either dismissive or condescending.

While he doesn’t outright say it, the way he acts around the women at camp has always left me feeling like he prefers women (at least the ones he takes an actual interest in) to fit into the roles society has carved out for them; they have to be beautiful and docile and romantic-minded for him to take an interest.

You’ve said yourself, that Dutch deals with a lot of self doubt and that stems from wanting to be seen as a great and powerful man, who the people in camp can look up to, and women (especially young women) were (and to some degree stil is) seen as symbols of status. Molly is a beautiful woman from a wealthy family; she could have anyone she wanted, and she chose Dutch and ran away with him, leaving her old life behind – that’s the ultimate powermove on Dutch’s part.

I’ve always thought of Dutch as a romantic, the way he talks about love and how it’s the one thing worth living for, and I believe that he may have at some point actually loved Molly or at least convinced himself that he did, but the second he grows tired of her and realises that he doesn’t actually love her, he’s moving on to another, younger woman.

His inner romantic and his ego and need to be perceived as powerful are at odds with each other, and as the game progresses we see how his romantic and kind side wilt under the weight and pressure of his responsibilities as a leader and his need to be perceived as powerful and a great leader.

Those are my thoughts at least :)

Hello!

Thank you for the ask and the kind words! That really does mean a lot!! 💜💜💜

I am very grateful for your message, and no!!!! I don’t want to ignore it!! That wouldn’t be very fair of me, as I feel like you bring up some good points to discuss. Also, I appreciate the respect in your message and for taking the time to write so much out! I’d be happy to give you some of my time in return 🥰

(Warning: SPOILERS below)

I’m going to take your points one at a time here. So, starting with liking Molly, it’s totally fine! I don’t want to be too negative on my blog, and I don’t want people to feel like they have to think the same way I do. That wouldn’t be any fun, so it does make me happy that you can enjoy her character. I don’t want to take that away from you!! By all means, love her to your heart's content!!! ❤️

Furthermore, though I don’t personally like Molly, I don’t think she was a truly bad person. Just like every other character in the game, she had flaws and made mistakes. I primarily wish I could have gotten to know her better because she was presented during a very dark time in her life. I feel like this affected my perception of her, and I might have seen her differently, if I had gotten the chance to interact more with her character (especially outside of the RDR2 timeframe). Everybody deserves not only to love somebody, but everybody also deserves to have faith that the person they love can truthfully say the same back to them. I felt bad that Molly died such an unhappy, loveless death.

About the love Molly had for Dutch, I agree that she loved him. My point in bringing up infatuation was to primarily highlight the reason and the degree to which she honestly loved him. Did Molly love Dutch for the man he was, or for the idea of the man he was? Maybe, it was a mix? I am not sure there is enough information to give a conclusive answer to this (as I somewhat mentioned before).

To be fair, the same thing could (and should) be asked of Dutch. Did he truly love her, or did he just love the idea of having her at his side? Again, it would be fascinating to see the early part of their relationship. It would answer a LOT of questions. You mention that Dutch arguably saw Molly as a symbol of status, and I agree that it was very plausible. I think, to some degree, both Molly and Dutch saw each other as being favorable for what they represented, unfortunately.

In regard to the interaction between Molly and Abigail, I realize my response was unclear about this (that’s my bad). I'll try to write it better here, but this is really complicated to put into words! I'll do my best!!

What I said was that Molly got angry at people she “perceived” as challenging her love (this was subjective to her POV and not necessarily reflective of true reality). My original answer was not objective (nor was it meant to be - I was trying to write this part from her POV), and there are a few layers I want to analyze here. First of all, from an objective perspective, you are correct. The conversation between them was ultimately about Dutch not loving Molly the way she wanted to be loved. However, the first thing Molly did was state to Abigail that she loved Dutch. If she didn’t see this point as being in question, why did she feel the need to immediately justify it before saying anything else? To me, it seemed like she needed to actively prove that she loved him to others.

This was also seen with Karen and Arthur. The conversations with Karen were confusing because they didn’t have much context, but perhaps, that was the point - to show the extent of Molly’s paranoia (in other words, that there was no context and that she was imagining Karen to be against her out of insecurity). Molly continually complained that Karen said bad things about her, and she insisted that she not only loved Dutch, but that he loved her as well. Then, as you mention, Molly emphasized to Arthur that SHE loved Dutch (it was not directly about his love for her). Again, by constantly having to profess her feelings, it was as if she thought people were doubting her on some level.

But here is where the contradiction comes in - I believe that Molly was smart enough to know that this doubting wasn't entirely genuine. She knew it was never really her love that she should have been concerned about. Although, by focusing on herself, it was a way to deflect from her insecurity regarding Dutch and the fact that she knew, deep down, he didn’t truly love her (at least, not anymore). That’s why she got so upset when Abigail, for instance, brought this point up. As soon as the conversation shifted from Molly’s love to Dutch’s love, she lashed out and stormed away.

So, to try to summarize this all up, what I am trying to say is that Molly “perceived” challenges to her own state of emotions as a means of shifting away from her concerns about Dutch’s feelings. She knew her "perceptions" were really more like lies to herself. Molly wanted the conversation with Abigail to seem like it was about her because she felt she was more in control of that and could handle it better. From a neutral perspective, the conversation was definitely not about Molly - it was entirely about Dutch, which Molly knew (she just didn’t like Abigail directly pointing it). I hope my response makes more sense? Sorry, if I am still being confusing!

Now, as for Dutch and his progressive ideas, I think a lot of them were formed in his youth. Little information was given about his childhood, but he did seem pretty sensitive about the fact that he grew up fatherless. His dad died in the Civil War (a conflict primarily centered around the issue of slavery and states’ attitudes towards it), while fighting on the side of the Union. One reason Dutch was probably so progressive in regard to race was because of his anger over losing a parent to racially-motivated violence. Racism seemed like a waste of time and life, so he was bitter towards people who still harbored racist sentiments. He knew firsthand how destructive they could be.

Minimal insight was provided into Dutch’s relationship with his mother, other than the fact that it was quite strained and unhappy. He left home at a young age and essentially disowned her. He obviously didn’t keep in touch with her, judging that he didn’t even know she died until years after the fact. Could this have affected his attitude later in life (towards women)?

I suppose it’s possible. Maybe, Dutch would have looked better on women, had he been closer with his mother. I consider his attitude towards women as pretty average for the era. It’s not entirely fair to compare him to Arthur, who was very progressive for the time and definitely above normal standards. As you say, I think Dutch was a product of his time. In RDR2, he didn’t come across as physically abusive, nor did he overtly sexualize women. However, he did seem to expect women to act in a subordinate manner. It's not great (and I certainly do not agree with his attitude), but again, the contemporary standards in regard to gender roles did not exist in 1899.

Lastly, I COMPLETELY agree about Dutch being VERY romantic, sentimental, and idealistic. This wasn’t just limited to interpersonal relationships either - it also fit his entire perspective of America and the values he held dear. Just take a look at some of his quotes:

“The promise of this great nation - men created equal, liberal and justice for all - that might be nonsense, but it’s worth trying for. It’s worth believing in.”

And:

“If we keep on seeking, we will find freedom.”

In the beginning, he had such high hopes and strong faith that he could find a way to live free from social and legislative demands. Compare that to the end, where he started to say things like:

“You can’t fight nature. You can’t fight change.”

And:

“There ain’t no freedom for no one in this country no more.”

Dutch wanted to believe that there was a chance to live free from the threat of control, but as he started to lose people he loved and got closer to losing his own battle, he started to take on a much more cynical tone. He began to realize that his romantic notions and idealistic visions of life were not always obtainable - no matter how hard he tried to reach them - and it broke him. This change in his life outlook was kind of similar to his interpersonal relationships. When he realized they were a lot of work and not always happy/perfect, he seemed to grow frustrated. Love requires a lot of patience and energy. Despite full effort, love still does not always succeed.

Also, I just want to add that I think Dutch knew he had a problem with his pride, but he tried his best to maintain his tough, confident persona because he didn’t want to be perceived as weak. He definitely realized he messed up in putting his pride first in the end, but at that point, it was too late. Whatever was left of his idealistic aspirations in life died with Arthur up on that cliff.

Anyhow, I’ve said more than enough. I’d like to once again thank you for the ask!! I hope my response was worth the time to read and that it makes sense. Feel free to share any more thoughts you may have!!!

~ Faith 💜

[jooneggs]

Rain, Forever | Namjoon ☁

⤑ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader ⤑ SUMMARY: Since the lack of rain and the coming of Winter, Namjoon hadn’t been the same. He didn’t seem to smile much and his grin never quite met his eyes. He’d lost passion for everything he once loved. Well..everything but art. Specifically that one black and white watercolour painting in the Seoul Art Gallery that resembles a lonely figure standing in the rain.. ⤑ Genre/AU: Fluff + Angst / non!idol Joon + alt!universe Joon ⤑ Warnings: The main component of this story mentions depression and suicidal ideation*, swearing, burglary, suffocation and a sprinkle of magic ⤑ Word count: 7.4k

⤑ Rating: +14

*This story, in no way, attempts to romanticize or idolize mental health issues. I can only say it comes from a personal perspective which is somewhat unique and subjective to every individual.

A/N: A song that touches the crest of my soul and speaks to so many others. I hope this helps, heals and warms many people who, like myself, miss the rain. 

☁

“I don’t know whether I should take you seriously or not..”

“C’mon it’ll be fun!”

“You’d better not make me regret this, Kim Namjoon.”

“As long as you trust me, it’ll be fine.”

It was October of last year and you and Namjoon had found yourselves in Haneul Park. 

Standing under the shelter of a bleak cafe, he had been tugging at your sleeve, urging you to run out into the open with him. But you hadn’t the slightest clue why you’d want to be anywhere else but under the shelter. It was cold enough in the cafe, but outside it was completely meek. It had been windy yet pleasant just an hour ago, but now the wind was just pelting rain drop after rain drop at the windows. 

In a light cardigan and an impractical corduroy skirt, you dreaded the prospect of having to run through the rain to get to your car. You’d taken shelter, narrowly avoiding the rain, and now you’d practically holed yourself up in the cafe after downing two mugs of tea and a triple chocolate cookie. Namjoon, however, was quite the opposite. For the past thirty minutes, his eyes had been glued to the window. Despite his lack of warm-clothes, he seemed more desperate than ever to get outside. While you had finished your cup of tea in just over ten minutes, he’d simply downed his, pouty cheeks sloshing with liquid before swallowing the beverage in one ecstatic gulp. 

Now he was standing right by the window to which you’d hesitantly joined him. The rain fell harder that day than it ever had before. Namjoon absolutely loved it. You never quite understood his thinking, but he’d always be willing to explain it to you. He’d said tt was the way the trees moved to the sound, the way the clouds gathered, watched, hovered over you, better than any shelter. It was the way the grass leaned, succumbing to its force, the way the pavement shimmered in its grasp. It was the way it felt to be amongst it all, like an unknown spectator, just a pair of eyes. It satisfied more than any drug could, oxytocin soaking through your pores, melding flesh and bone like a soldering iron. 

You wished you could feel just as excited about all these small droplets of h20; you were desperate to make sense of it. Especially when it came to Namjoon.

“Well..I do want to understand.” You spoke, leaning into his pull. At that he only tugged your sleeve further.

“C’mon then, Dew-Drop!”

He walked you toward the door with an overwhelming sense of eagerness. You thought yourself to be mad, but still your hand remained in his. 

“So we’re running to the car?”

“Running, walking, admiring the view; whatever you want to call it.” He said, pulling the door open, taking you with him.

“Ah!” You yelped as the first draft of rain lashed out on you “I’d much prefer to just run Joon.”

He couldn’t hear you though, almost dancing ahead. Namjoon was fervent in the rain; he always had been. You remembered meeting him like that, when you used to teach and he came in as a motivational speaker to talk about his career as a musician. 

After his speech, you’d been given the duty of cleaning the chairs in the school hall. Eager to finish, you began to stick them out in stacks in the courtyard, and that was when you saw him, far off in the distance, leaning against the rails of the basketball court, rain pouring down his face. 

Like the feeling you felt looking at him now, you were magnetized, curious.

“It’s fucking freezing!” You began, clenching at your sides, hopping on the spot “Can we run now?”

“You, miss l/n, are no fun.” He chimed.

“And you’re a polar bear!”

“An endearing term, but i find my pace akin to a cheetah.” He joked “Now chase me!”

Before you could blink, he had bolted across the grass, down towards the car park.

Now, you not only had to fight the rain, but focus on keeping up with your long-legged boyfriend. 

They say girls are good at multi-tasking - and they are - they just struggle with things like this because it involves the tedious process of thinking and being sensory-aware all the time; something which lengthy boys like Namjoon don’t take into account.

“A fucking polar bear isn’t this fast!″ You puffed, circling a bed of drooping flowers to further keep up with him,

As the rain pelted heavier, giddiness overcame you. You couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of yourself (merely a few years ago) watching this man, as a primary school teacher, from the playground - almost untouchable, unreal - now encouraging you to chase him, soaking wet, through the rain like lovestruck youth. 

“Catch me if you can.” He laughed.

☁

That was three months ago..

Today was March 13th. 2020.

Friday the 13th...

The balcony of your third floor apartment was glowing that day. As you sat on its cobblestone base, dusting your plant pots, you felt the sun cast warm rays on your neck.

Friday the 13th, that one day that came up so seldom, never seemed to hold any negative connotations for you. Every day you felt lucky: to have a quaint little flat, thriving plants, an endless supply of herbal tea at your feet, and of course Namjoon.

Right now you were tending to his favorite small bonsai, gently seated between two lucky bamboo plant pots, shaded by a leafy green hanging plant. You polished its black base, sprayed some water on its soil stones and gently trimmed any stray stalks growing from its arms. Namjoon had called him ‘peet’, an affectionate name that often made you forget that this plant was more an inanimate object than a human body with full-functioning organs. You were often reminded of this when he’d catch you in lengthy conversations, strewn across the balcony floor at night, bonsai leaves tickling your cheek as you tried to lean back further to watch the stars. But these plants were a huge healing tool for you; something that kept you occupied, just as well nourished as them, and excited to see how they’d blossom each day. 

Finishing off by cutting the last wandering stalk, you gently got to your feet and headed for the kitchen. Only 11am, you’d had your breakfast but felt slightly parched for a drink. Fortunately enough, when the clock struck 11.10 every day, you’d find yourself coincidentally hunched over a mug of steaming green tea; you knew there was no coincidence, just the pure, unrelenting fact that you loved the warm, floral taste it brought you. It gave you just the right amount of energy each day, and it was always a wonder to watch Namjoon puff his cheeks like a hamsters as he’d swallow a cup whole in one go. 

You’d left him asleep this morning, waking at 9am to grab some groceries and sort yourself out. You hadn’t disturbed him since, knowing he was a heavy sleeper and knowing he really needed some rest since working the past few weeks. Night after night he’d been slaving in front of a laptop, attempting to draft and file possible lyrics for his upcoming album. It wasn’t helping that his producer had him on a leash and under a constricting time limit. What could you do but give him the time and space he needed to get things done.

Sealing the kettle and the tea bags, you lifted Namjoon’s mug and carried it over to your bedroom.  Approaching the door, you listened carefully for the sound of snoring, aware that waking Namjoon wouldn’t do any good for the level of guilt you felt entering the room anyway.

When all you heard was silence, you decided to nudge the door open and slip through into a darker room.

 “Joon, I've made some tea for you.” You approached the bed and placed his mug on the bedside table, anchoring it away from him so he wouldn’t hit it off with his elbow when turning; he was clumsy like that. You watched as he shuffled in response to your entrance, the caramel of his skin sliding against the sheets as he adjusted his neck to gently turn to you

“Mmh Morning.” He yawned, his eyes forming crescent moons as they squeezed shut before opening to clear the haze from his vision. He was a beautiful little shape of a human, shrouded in cosy bedding as he watched you in the dim light.

“You coming out today Joon? I’ve got some exciting things up my sleeve.”

“I can’t..I'm sorry.” He replied, a certain lifelessness in his tone.

“Are you sure? I can make us some cake and we can go to some park. It’ll be nice.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Oh, okay..”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You whispered, bringing your palm to his cheek, feeling its heat coarse through your fingers. “We’ll try another day. Don’t feel bad about it at all. Have a nice rest Joon.”

With that, you slowly turned from him and made your way back out into the living space. You let a sigh wash over you and attempted to rejoice in the fact that at least you had a warm mug of tea ready for you. Swigging it down, you sat in silence, watching the outdoors from the distant balcony window. It was still just as bright outside, much brighter than the bedroom, clouded by dark curtains. You felt sad for Joon, powerless even. How badly you missed even the simple things like swigging tea with him. How long had it been since you’d done that?..

Too Long.

☁ 

The rest of the day painted itself in a slow and monotonous fashion. It wasn’t unbearable - you got things done - but it all seemed watered into the same actions, the same meaning, the same routine. 

It started with finishing your tea, slower than you had intended. Lost in monotonous thought, before you knew it, it had gone cold so you had ended up pouring the remaining portion down the sink. You then went on to finish the laundry, have lunch, check on your beloved plants, read a book, watch TV, yawn and sigh a countless number of times, and take a quick nap. 

Before you knew it, the room had darkened and the sky had taken on a delicious yellow tone. Before you knew it, the whole day had almost passed. 

You didn’t want to lie to yourself, this is the way the days had gone for the past few weeks. It was just you, the sun, a cup of tea and the rest of the world. Namjoon, every day, had been stuck in the bedroom, occasionally popping out each evening to say hello. Now that was something you had a problem with confronting. You felt it was appropriate for him to get some rest, especially after the few weeks he’d spent finishing up his work. But it had reached a turning point now. One which you didn’t know how to address.

You weren’t too happy about it, but Namjoon was clearly broken. Were you scared to face the extent of his unhappiness? You never wanted to see the one you loved so much feel so hollow. At least that’s how you assumed he felt. You’d felt a similiar emotion before, but never to the extent Namjoon was experiencing. How badly you just wanted to rip the shreds of dread from him like a stuffed toy, or hug him to death and fill him full of love, stitching him back up to like he’d been before. 

What could it be that made him feel like this? Perhaps it was nothing at all, just a fragrant aroma of unease that settled upon him - something he couldn’t shake off. When would you build up the courage to ask him? Talking to someone might free him from his bonds, but you couldn’t force him, you just couldn’t.

He had to be the one to make that choice.

Shifting on the sofa and taking a rather taxing stretch, you moved from your napping position and onto your feet. You stepped out onto the balcony, greeted by a golden radiant light, seating yourself on the heated stone floor, your feet nudging blooming plant pots.

You watched through the rustic balcony bars as the air grew wispy and chill around you, a harsh brick wall supporting the stability of your back. The clouds were starting to fade into the distance as stars pushed forth through the air. Was it time for another cup of tea yet? Probably. You felt spurred to go and get one.

“Morning.” 

“N-namjoon.” You turned in surprise from the gruff voice to be met with his tall figure slouched against the door frame. “Evening, sleepy-head.”

He yawned in response, ruffling that luscious hair of his that now seemed so tangled through his fingers. 

“Come sit down.”

Shuffling, he came to a seated position, one knee bobbing against yours, the other scraping the soil surface of his bonsai. Another yawn again, and his knee was now fully perched on your thigh, his back hunched over, shoulder nudging yours. You watched him as he shook out his tawny hair and took in his features in the setting sun. 

“What’s up?” You smiled, your hand resting on his leg.

“Wanted to see you, dewdrop.”

“If you aren’t the biggest charmer.” You grinned in response “I’ve been missing you all day.”

“Yeah..i know.” He whispered.

“Then what’s up? I’m always here for you Joon.”

He sighed, fingers now raking into his scalp. Moon pools, darkened and tenebrous sat under his eyes, his thick lips chapped and his face a starker cream against the fading light. You turned to him, watching more closely, waiting for him to open up, praying that he would just open up. 

“If you’re not ready that’s fine, i don’t -”

“No, no..I need to.” He shuffled nervously “I know things haven’t been the same since a few weeks ago. I’ve been pouring all my energy into my work and now I've been pouring it all into sleep and it feels like I've finally used up all my resources - like i’m at a dead end for solace, for what to do.” 

“It started a few weeks ago. Things were fine, then all of a sudden, it stopped raining. It was probably just one of those years where the weather just wanted to let up and stay sunny, but for me, it felt like the first. It really did feel like the first time it hadn’t rained. I didn’t know what to do. I was at a loss. All my fondest memories, all my comfort and all my shelter came from the rain - it was a thing I could not deny, and I'm still desperate to get it back.”

“I just..I wish it rains all day. Cuz i’d like someone to cry for me. Cuz then people wouldn’t stare at me. The umbrella would cover the sad face, people would be busy minding themselves. I felt like i just needed to stop, I needed to breathe a little slower because my life and my rap, they’re usually too fast.”

“Yeah..that’s it..”

He let out a strong exhale, letting the air around him encourage the entire earth to fall silent. With that breath, his hand found yours on his thigh, his fingers lacing into your own. A strong thumb pawed across your palm, pressing softly into the flesh, the ultimate grounding tool.

But it wasn’t you needing to be grounded, it really wasn’t. It was him, the friendly giant who had lost all hope and solace to the power of the rain.

“Thank you for telling me. Really thank you.” You squeezed his hand “It’s you i want to protect. If I could hang clouds in the sky and make it rain for you I would..you know that.”

“If only I could find something else to make me just as happy..”

“Hey..” You chirped, a thought springing to your head. “You know i checked on you this morning to see if maybe you wanted to do something? Well..maybe we could go to the Art Museum on the waterfront tomorrow?”

“Okay. Sure.”

“It might help. And maybe we could get a coffee as well and see if we bump into any visiting artists.”

He grinned at you, a sense of adoration and respect filling the lakes of his eyes and the hollows of his dimples. You smiled back, a slow and affectionate grin that you hoped could transcend from your heart, right into his to fix him completely.

“Cool. Well, lets get some dinner on and look forward to a beautiful tomorrow.”

☁ 

That night, with full stomach’s and a coruscating sunset washed over your bodies, you lay in your bed, arm in arm, the night falling into the next day. You slept on your side, your arms crossed over your chest. Namjoon rested behind you, his stomach against your back, hands set in the violin crests of your waist, his head latched against your neck. Perhaps this was the first time, you thought, in weeks that you’d layn like this. The past few days, you’d been laying in bed alone, or an oceans distance from Joon, leaving him to get the best rest possible without your heat leaching onto him. This felt nice. It felt so much more than natural. He smelt of vanilla, and long nights and restless days. It reminded you of the angel you’d met so long ago. 

The only thing you missed was his damp, fresh, rain water scent. 

☁ 

“Catch me if you can.” He laughed.

Running further down the hill of the park, you felt your feet race ahead of you, almost slipping, as you begged yourself to catch up to him. Oaks, maples, alders, zelkovas, and birches all fade into one collective tincture as Namjoon dominated your vision. Despite your distance, his smell, his touch and his colours blocked out all sensory notion and summoning around you. You would not be held by the bounds of nature, he was yours and you were his, and in this race all there was, was blank space and the two of you. 

“We’re nearly there!” He yelled again, bringing you from your thoughts.

“I’m -” You huffed. “I’m. So. Close.”

“Ah. So now it is about the race and not the rain. Perhaps you have a newfound love for it?”

In response, you slammed the brakes, watching him as he skipped into the car park, unlocking the doors to your vehicle and climbing in, beckoning you over. 

“In your dreams.”

☁ 

“For this week, to celebrate the Seoul Arts Festival, we are holding a two for one deal for all art lovers. Therefore, your ticket entry to the art museum is only half price! Enjoy your visit.” 

The gallery was lit with stars this afternoon. In awe, you walked through the reception and into the main hall to peer at the strings of golden paper in the shapes of stars decorating the ceiling and the walls. Clearly, this week was a week to be celebrated in the arts community. 

You hoped Namjoon felt as excited as you to spend this time with him and on such a special day. You watched him, a small smile poking at his cheeks, not giving away whether he was displeased or not. You took the nervous drum of his knee to be the latter. 

You always spent a lot of time in each room when you were with Joon. In love with his adoration for exhibitions, each time you joined him, you simply stuck to his side, viewing every single detail of every single painting. 

At first, you felt the visits to be somewhat taxing - much preferring living, breathing art such as himself. Eventually, however, you succumbed to his ways - finally realizing that all exhibits were living things with their own lives and stories behind all their individual brush strokes. Like most things, it was him who taught you that, with his silent yet ethereal way of just being and learning and loving.

“Okay..wow, so this is the central room for this real highlight exhibits.” You breathed, Namjoon echoed your awe with a slow nod. 

Now this was a room you felt you could really spend hours in. From Eunho, to Hye-Sok, to Eungro, to Jiho, you span around in a flurry of colour as you attempted to absorb the true joy of being amongst all this art at once. You knew Joon felt it too, immediately joining him by the first exhibit to gape at the thatched lines and geometry sitting on the canvas before him. You wondered how long he’d felt this way about the things before him: from paintings, to people, to the rain itself. Had he always been so sensitive and in-tune with his environment? Did he always care so much concerning the life buzzing around him?

After crowding around a few of the exhibits, you decided to head to the bathroom and grab a drink for the two of you. Almost ten minutes in, you’d realized you would probably need a drink to support your long and meticulous visit. Now was the perfect time to head off and grab one.

“Joon, I'm going to grab us a coffee, okay? Don’t go too far.” 

“You know i won’t.” He chuckled “This room is way too fascinating.”

Almost fifteen minutes later, and a large queue for the cafe, you hurried back to the central room with two piping cups of pure vanilla fuel. Walking through the doorway, you searched for him in the crowd, but to no avail. You’d told him to stay put, and you were convinced he would do so, but now he’d ran off, almost as if your exit was the perfect opportunity to get away from everything that bound him. It was the perfect inconvenience.

Walking through the room, you decided to take the door to the next section of the exhibit and see if he was there. Entering into a more low lit space, you squinted your eyes, looking for him in every corner of the room. After a short amount of time, you came across his figure, hunched by an exhibit in the far left hand corner. 

Positioned diagonally, you could see the features of his face in pure scrutiny. His eyes, wincing, paced back and forth across the painting, his teeth sandwiched between his lip, chewed at it gently. 

You’d watched him before like this, staring at paintings, watching life go by on the apartment balcony, tending to his plants, but it had never quite been like this. You stood there for (what?) ten to fifteen minutes, simply wondering when he would stop staring at the canvas..if he would move on. Was he waiting for you to join him? Was the painting simply that jaw-dropping?

“Joon..”

He turned in surprise, immediately standing straight. You smiled at his action, and approached him to look at the painting further. From a distance, in the dim light of the room, the painting was a monochromatic smudge with the tall figure of Namjoon shading its central half. Now, up close, it looked much different. 

A figure in a long white trench coat and cap stood in its centre. Beneath him, a flowing stream of black ink submerged the better half of his shoes, meandering forward through the painting and toward a large black hole hanging in the sky ahead. Black arcs of rain shot through the surrounding sky like hasten sparks, falling into the reflection of the figure wavering below in the light of the tenebrous stream. The painting, as a whole, had been crafted in monochromatic watercolour, its brush strokes melting down the canvas like tears to paper. It was a sad yet inspiring vision, you thought.

“It’s beautiful.” He answered, a tear pooling down his cheek. 

☁ 

That night you lay awake for a while. 

A long while.

At 9pm, you turned to your side, and slipped out of your bed to sit on the balcony. The weather was tinged with cold, but you brought a blanket to shawl across your shoulders and drape under your naked toes. 

You’d tried getting to sleep that night around 8pm. Joon had huddled against the corner of the sofa before bed and downed a mug of green tea, before watching you finish yours, lacing your hand with his and heading for dream-land. 

But as soon as you hit those warm, delicious covers, you knew there was something much more pressing calling your name. 

Ever since leaving the museum that afternoon, you couldn’t draw your mind from that watercolour painting. Like an obnoxious poster of propaganda, or an inviting store-front display, the picture sat in your mind, a prized possession, and mocked you your entire journey home. You thought about Joon’s face viewing the canvas, the time he spent simply looking at it and the silence and serenity that followed him afterward. 

He wanted the rain, he yearned for it, he called for it ever since its disappearance. You only realized this last night, once he opened up to you, but it had made sense. The long showers he took when you were distracted at the grocers and would come home to him singing away to the sound of the running water in the bathroom. The way you would sometimes wake just as he was heading to sleep and watch him kiss the sky goodnight with a certain desperation for the rain to come. Even the long, delicious sips he took of green tea, feeling the liquid wash down his throat and cleanse him of his doubt. It all made sense. 

He was waiting for the rain to answer him and it was that singular painting that seemed to pick up his call.

It was that realization, again, on the foot of your balcony at 9pm at night that made you stoop through the house, throw on your shoes and run back to the museum to bring home that painting.

Racing down cobblestone streets and narrow lanes, you found yourself driving all the way back to the museum with only yourself and the headlights of the car to guide you. 

All your life, you’d learnt better from the mistakes you’d made and soon realized it was best to follow a calling and take an opportunity when it came to you. Even if it ended up failing. This particular calling was stronger than ever, a migraine in your head, an instinct that screamed that there was more to this painting than what meets the eye. You knew it would help Namjoon.

On special events, the museum closed at the ripe hour of 10pm: in just fifteen minutes time. What on earth were you doing? You didn’t know. You would enter the museum, visit the catalyst that stuck itself in your mind and hopefully the answer would come to you.

Jumping out from the car, you ran toward the entrance, bursting through the doors like some crazed artist, desperate for information. 

A man halted you just as you were headed through to the main hall, his gentle touch on your shoulder. 

“Ma’am, this gallery is closing in ten minutes time.”

“I-i understand. I just need to take a look at one of your exhibits.”

He nodded, an uncertain look crossing his features “Of course..go ahead.”

And with that notice, you sped walk to the dim lit room without a single thought but of the canvas in your head.

“Good evening, this gallery will be closing in five minutes time. Can all remaining visitors please make their way to the exit on the lower floor. Thank you for visiting.”

With the echo of the final closing announcement following you into the dark exhibit room, you had to make a decision. A dangerous decision. 

With no rational thought, plan or hope in mind, you would decide to stay at the museum past its closing time. Searching the room, you peered for somewhere to hide. Unfortunately, galleries never really delivered in this particular apartment, often baring clean white walls and flat floorboards. In your case, frantically scouring the room, you had found an exhibit sitting on top of a white box with a possible way to unfold itself and hide you in it. With urgency, you got to your knees and tugged at the side of one of the corners, digging your nails in, in an attempt to open up one of the sides and slide inside. 

And just as if it really was your calling, one of the sides slid open - albeit with a tremendous screeching sound against the floor - but it still very much opened. With that, you were asking no questions, simply bending yourself into a rectangular shape and sliding back into the box, closing the side behind you. 

Now to wait.

For a few minutes, you sat in silence, wincing at a cramp in your ankle. Suddenly, you were hearing footsteps and jangling keys announcing themselves in the room. With a held breath, and extreme concentration, you sat rock solid as the steps circled, stopping occasionally to scent out a visitor, and continuing before finally click-clacking goodbye. If there was any time you thought you would be in need of an oxygen tank (surprisingly not in 50 years time) it was now. You were never one to break the rules or to find yourself being ridiculously spontaneous, so this was really a first. You felt on edge, yet devious and buzzing with an electric pulse of energy. It really was time for you to try something new, and for Joon to finally get his dose of happiness.

In a succession of fox-like footsteps, you peeled yourself from the box and made your way over to the painting. You thought, standing still, that the answer of what to do would just come to you. 

Certainly nothing had happened straight away, but you were definitely taken aback by the painting in this light. With only the back-up lighting on, a shadow was cast on the canvas before you, washing the monochromatic tone over in a blue haze. Things looked even sadder from this angle, but ever more fascinating. Almost unconsciously, you leaned forward and traced the painting with your finger, letting your palm slide flat against the cold canvas. So melancholy and so mysterious, the longer you stared, the more you fell. Before you could even comprehend your actions, you were again applying another hand to the canvas, feeling its ridges and bends. Slowly, you came closer to it, pushing forward past the small rope barrier to reach nearer in its gaze. 

Black, white, grey, it all melded into one in a romantic and tragic spiral of colour. Your eyes fell onto its detail, its strokes, its edges, and soon you couldn’t even tell what you were looking at anymore - simply a puddle of water absorbing your interest, absorbing all consciousness. 

☁

“Hello”

“Hello..”

“Are you okay?”

In a buttery, and gooey, and delicious state of silence a voice filled your ears. Slowly you felt your touch, your scent, your taste and everything return to you. You were a warm body on a cold floor, palms clawing roughly at its spongy surface. You were a clouded head, lost in direction, coming to your senses with the figure above you. 

Eyes squinting and pleading to open, you heard his voice again. It rang a deep, husky, baritone chill through your spine and reminded you of someone oh so familiar. As you squeezed your eyes open again, everything came into view. 

The figure above you was a tall, looming shadow. Dressed in a long white trench coat and cap, with loose trousers and messy black hair, he stared ominously into your eyes, confusion and worry painting the slight lines smudged across his face. 

It only took you a second, but before you knew it, you were free of numbness and doubt, standing to your feet and cradling the shadow in front of you. 

It was your Joon.

Well, it was him, but rather a slightly altered version of him. A small wedge of his collective person so to speak. In fact, to put it definitely, it was the figure that stood central in the watercolour painting. 

And now you were in the painting itself. Standing with him as if you’d never left the house, as if you hadn’t ever had a care in the world. But you most definitely had; in fact, the biggest question shrouding your brain was how on earth did you end up inside the canvas? Was this a dream?

“I’m sorry.” You whispered into his shoulder. 

“Hey, hey. It’s okay Dewdrop.” He replied, leaving you frozen with the familiar nickname. “I missed you.”

“Joon..” You mumbled, a hand lacing itself against his collarbone “Hey..this isn’t some weird calling is it? Or some nightmare that will leave me on my knees in penance?”

“No, no. I know this feels weird and I know this was the last place you expected to be in order to help the one you love..but it is. And you won’t be here forever, don’t worry, I just need to explain things.”

“Okay okay.” You nodded, pulling back from him to fully process the situation. 

Viewing him from such a close perspective, and viewing the strange yet ethereal world floating in your peripheral wasn’t even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was how quick you had been made to suddenly process this all, as if it were foreshadowed in the flecks of your bloodstream. 

Always one for make-believe and skipping class in favor of daydreaming dungeons & dragons, this would seem custom for you. And it was in a sense. Crossing that initial bridge of fear and the unfamiliar, you felt strangely calm in this new world’s clutch. 

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“Sorry.” You pulled yourself from your sudden thoughts. “I was just..i’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.”

“It’s fine, honey. Come here, let’s walk.” 

In the still slight state of shock, you took his hand and walked. Before, the world feeling silent, you could now hear rain. Long flecks of it smashing against the ground like fireworks bouncing beyond the stratosphere. In some strange way -  like everything that had happened to you this evening - you felt calm. 

In the weeks it hadn’t rained, you forgot what it had felt like to hold Joon’s hand, to hug him, to really feel him near you. In the early hours of morning, you had missed his warmth, his feathery kisses, his pleasure that was true sin of the flesh. Feeling him here, being next to him now, you had a hope that his more unfortunate, lonesome counterpart would soon be reunited with his true-self again.

“It was a few weeks ago, when the rain halted all action. When the skies fell to rest. A part of me left and found itself here, a strange deity of happiness, an outlier in a world of strangers.”

Looking around, you felt his words. To your left, and to your right stood figures masked with umbrellas, floating in the inaudible wind. Some figures had their umbrellas angled so you could see their faces. Strange features marked the upper half of their torso: hollowed cheeks with eyes sitting in the banks of their flesh, botanical hair, melding into faces, blossoming into sharper spikes. Some figures were full of expression and stories, others were simply black smudges, scribbles atop slouched shoulders moving with the current. 

“When it rains, I get a little feeling that I do have a friend. Keeps knocking on my windows; asks me if I'm doing well. And I know that when Namjoon’s at home, writing his music, waiting, he will answer: ‘I’m still a hostage of life. I don’t live because i can’t die, but i’m chained to something.’” Joon responds, talking about the physical side of himself, the man you’ve left sleeping at home, dreaming of the rain. You sense a sadness in his tone, a longing to be reunited with his other half. To make him whole again.

“What can i do? Please tell me?”

“We need to get out of here; but i can’t do it without your help. You need to help pull me out through the other side, to set me free, to help me reach him.” 

You take a fresh gulp, anticipating instructions, waiting for an order of where to go, something to help you complete your task. But nothing.

“Where do i take you?”

“Through..through that black hole over there.”

With an unsteady, ghostly white watercolour finger, he points ahead of himself, toward a tenebrous pool of ink, hanging in the sky. Walking with hope, an inkling of dread at your side, you tug further on his hand to approach the crevice, the tear in the seams. 

Approaching nearer, you feel your feet start to become submerged in a tar-like substance. Upon looking down, you notice that your wading further out into a lake of ink. But there’s no way out. Stepping to the side to try and climb out of the stream is no use. You are not the floating figures around you, you never will be and neither will Joon; you are simply grounded, falling deeper, yet becoming more assured of the goal you must now reach.

Before you even comprehend it, your right up against the hole, your vision shrouded in darkness and dripping ink, like a fountain from the devil himself. But you know on the other side that there’s the gallery room, and you know that a stone's throw from there, is your home, and your safety again. 

“When i count to three, we’ll jump in.”

“Okay..” You breathe.

“Just help me through once you're safe and sound.” He grins, dimples kissing his cheeks.

“Of course I will, silly. We’re in this together.” 

“Okay. One..”

“Two.”

“Three!”

The first thing you feel is damp wet sludge, then the tugging sensation of being pulled through a tumble dryer.

The next thing you know: you’re out the other side, and he..

..he’s gasping for air, 

tugging onto your arm,

and gurgling.

And - oh god - you don’t think you’ve heard such a sound before, but it terrifies you and leaves bile pooling against your gums. 

Against the arcs of rain spilling from the painting, his arm shakes further, fingers gripping so hard you’re afraid they’ll simply shrivel to bone. He’s screaming now, low and hollow and you’re teetering on the decision to just denounce this is a bad dream, pinch yourself and wake up. But you know this isn’t. 

You feel you’ve had nightmares similar to this one before. Visions of losing him to a pool of ink, watching him fade into just an image. You’ve tried to imagine life without him, taking long walks and cold showers to prepare for the worst, but you had never wanted this.

“H-elp, PLEASE, he-”

“It’s okay!” You felt breathless “Joon, stay with me, please!”

What on earth would you do if you couldn’t get him out of here? Would the Joon at home you knew so well forever lose his spark? Would you get to try again the next day? Or would the love of your life simply fade away forever..

With that thought you tugged harder, putting all of your energy into the pull. Grounding one foot in front of the other, you leant back against the rope barrier of the exhibit and fastened your grip further up his arm. With excruciating strength, and the need to make sounds akin to an engine revving, you pulled further and further. Further and further, until you could see his shoulder, then his neck, then his head, the waist, the thighs, the knees, the ankles..

All of him. 

In an instance, he was falling into your arms, your grip fervent and desperate on him, cradling his body as if he would melt away. 

Little did you know, he would melt away if you weren’t fast enough.

“We need to be quick. I’m so so sorry. You need to hurry before i gradually fade; i can’t exist in this world normally as a painting, you need to get to him. Now”.

☁

Racing down empty streets, steering near desolate corners, your car drove with the solid ambition of getting to him. 

The longer you rode, the harder you found it to look across to the passenger seat at him. Every single minute, he was fading away. First it was his shoes when you first fastened the seat belt, then his ankles, and now the evanesce was reaching toward his thighs. There was no point in looking a little further or breathing a little faster or thinking a little longer. It was your eyes, ahead, on the road. Just you and the world.

 And soon it would be you and him. 

Turning another corner, you felt the engine stutter and pool to a stop. With a long, steady breath, you pushed at the pedal again, urging it to move, 

“C’mon just a little more -” 

But to no avail. 

Again you pushed and pushed, just like how you pulled and pulled earlier, but life could only give you so much, it would only give you so much. 

A feeling of despair overcame you, throwing you instantly onto the bed of the steering wheel. You lay there silently for a while, face nested against the cold fabric, questioning it all. 

Did you do enough? What would Joon think of you? Why were you so hopeless? Did you really think you could finish this on your own?

You had to finish this on your own.

...

....

......

*pit*

*pat*

*pit-pat*

You blinked, lips brushing the wheel in an attempt to shut your mouth and hold your breath.

*pit-pat*

*pit-pat pit-pat pit-pat -*

It was raining.

Looking up, flecks of water were falling from the sky. They were landing like confetti and surging through the air in the trillions. The ground, in seconds, had become a stone riverbed, and the car windows a submarine tanks. 

You’d be damned if this rain wasn’t going to turn into the most magnificent storm you’d ever seen. 

“C’mon Joon, we’re nearly there!” 

With a thrust, you pulled yourself out of the car and up into the rain. Following your steps, he trailed behind you as you stepped out into the cold, exposed to an onslaught of flood. 

Out in the open, and with one more step to complete, you took your hand in his and began to run.

If tears were rainy days, you think you’d have experienced a drought. But now, you were crying, crying like there was not enough rain in this world, like there couldn’t ever be enough. 

Ushering a melting figure through the torrent of rain, you’d become desperate to reach home. Looking back, you saw the rain was having its effect on him. Every second now, he was simply being washed away.

You turned the final corner to your apartment, readying yourself to rush down a long street to reach the end of it and enter dry-land. To run back home with the risk of turning back and no longer seeing a figure following behind you. 

But was it luck, or the final piece in this discombobulated puzzle, that Namjoon was standing right there, at the end of the street, waiting for you?

Now you were running even faster, your legs pacing ahead of the rest of you before you could even think. 

Closer and closer and you could start to feel Joon’s grip in your hand fade away, only urging you to hold on stronger. 

With watery, shut eyes, you made the final distance and collided with a strong chest, sending Joon forth into his physical counterpart. 

Pulling apart from him suddenly, you watched to see his watercolour other-half melt into the crest of his heart. With no urgency, he was sucked in, and you stared in awe as Joon slowly stood straighter, grew brighter, felt happier. 

It was a gasp of air that finally brought him back to you. You saw it before you truly felt it: lips on your own like soft, rubbery buds. He kissed you with tenderness, with concern, with desire. Kissing you further, the light poured into you too. You felt it in the way he held your waist, in the way he held your face, in the way he made sure the both of you were never ever ever displaced.

He sang against your lips,

“Please don’t ask any questions.”

“But do keep pouring forever.”

[uwuyourpxrker]

All the Things You Are - 1

Pairing: Peter Parker x Female reader

Soulmate au! Where at age 16 all the females have a dream about their soulmate, but it only shows them one trait about them, whether it be physical or a personal trait, like a hobby or something they like. When they wake up the next day you start to see color, but you only see one color with the corresponding object, example: if you wake up seeing red you’ll only see things that are red in real life. You get to see more color the more emotional interactions you have with your soulmate; depending how they affect you emotionally, positively or negatively. At the end when you finally receive enough emotional interaction or a big emotional impact, you get a final dream where it shows you their identity. When you finally tell them that they’re your soulmate and they stay with you, you start to see all the colors at once. (This is explained more as the story goes on.)

Summary: Y/n has been anxiously waiting for her 16th birthday in order to finally get a glimpse at who her soulmate will be. It only happens that her birthday falls on the day of her class’s trip to Europe. Things start to get out of hand as strange events start to occur on this trip. The most confusing part is that her dream consists of something very peculiar… is that a spider? (The reader doesn’t know that Peter’s spiderman)

Follows the events of Far From Home except when Peter gets exposed. After the trip the story continues.

Warnings: swearing, barely any angst or fluff… basically a short introduction

Word count: 3k+

A/n: So this is my first post so I apologize if it sucks, I’ve never done anything like this before. Also, I guess the reader is like that every other girl in fanfictions that’s kinda awkward. Honestly the reader is oblivious to a lot of things at the beginning. Also, the words sometimes change from past tense to present tense but that’s because I get it mixed up since I look at it from different pov’s. It also sometimes changes pov’s.

_______________________________________

“Happy birthday y/n!,” your mom shouted at you as she barged through your bedroom door.

Taken aback, you jumped and gasped loudly at the shock of being abruptly awakened. Your mother chuckled as she looked at your tensed up form. You looked at your mirror and took in your appearance: messy hair sticking out wildly, and a shocked expression worn on your face. You couldn’t blame her for being amused at how you look.

“Thanks, mom,” you grumbled as you rubbed your eyes and yawned, flopping back onto your bed and pulling the covers over your head. You heard rustling and soon enough you felt the warm embrace of the covers leave your body, leaving you feeling exposed.

“Well good morning to you too,” your mom said as she crossed her arms and looked at you. “Aren’t you excited? It’s your sixteenth birthday!,” your mom exclaimed as you started to slowly wake up and come to your senses.

As you slowly sat up tiredly it hit you: you’re 16 now… holy shit you’re 16. Well, technically you’re supposed to be 21, but you blipped so that changed the time in when you were supposed to age; but that didn’t matter because you’re 16!

You definitely knew what that meant; that when you sleep again today you’ll dream of your soulmate, the one destined to be the love of your life. You’re ecstatic! It’s such an important day!

“I know that it’s your birthday and you’re excited, but don’t forget that you have a trip today, so as much as you might want to go back to sleep, hurry up and get ready. I’ll drive you to the airport in 30 minutes,” your mom told you as she embraced you in a hug and smiled at you. You nodded frantically as she stood up and walked out of your room.

The moment your mom stepped out of your room you jumped out of bed and hurried to get ready. Not only was it your birthday but you were also going to go on a class trip to Europe! You took in your surroundings and sighed contently as you look out your window. Soon enough you’ll be able to see at least one color lingering in the horizon.

You pulled your gaze from the black and white colored sky as you turned to your dresser and began to pick out an outfit.

You threw together a cropped shirt that was light colored and some dark colored ripped jeans. It was a casual outfit since you were about to board a plane and you didn’t want to be uncomfortable.

You changed quickly then went to the mirror to get ready and do your hair. You hastily brushed your hair and put it in a half up, half down hairstyle. You looked in the mirror and smiled contently. You rushed to go put on a pair of converse and searched for your suitcase that you already packed last night. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the dark shaded suitcase and you turned around to go get it. Once you got your suitcase you made your way to the living room where you found your mom sitting on the couch watching the television.

Once she heard your footsteps she looked up and asked, “ready?” You nodded as she got up from her spot and made her way towards the door with you trailing closely behind. You turned around and took a final look of your apartment as you closed the door and locked it, trudging behind your mom.

•••••••••••

You finally arrived at the airport and you suddenly saw the familiar faces of your friends. A smile cracked on your features as you got your suitcase and hopped out of the car, telling your mom you love her in the process. Once outside of the car you waved goodbye to her as she drove off.

You made your way into the airport and towards your group of friends. You noticed one of your best friends, Peter act nervous as you saw that Ned was telling him something. Nonetheless you made your way towards them.

You saw that Peter had caught the attention of your presence and immediately told Ned to shut up and Ned seemed confused until he looked up and spotted you.

You felt somewhat hurt and left out that they were keeping something from you, but it probably wasn’t a big deal since you probably already knew.

“You guys know that if you’re discussing Peter’s plan to get MJ, I would know, right?,” you exclaimed as you finally halted in front of them.

Peter’s cheeks immediately went to slightly greyer shade (signaling blush) at the mention of the curly haired girls name.

“Shhh! Shut up! She might hear you!,” Peter exclaimed as he looked around to make sure she was nowhere near hearing distance.

You let out a discontented sigh. In all honesty you did develop a tiny crush on Peter, and him talking about MJ did hurt you a bit. At the end of the day you realized that he probably isn’t even your soulmate and that one day you’re going to meet someone who will love you immensely. That still didn’t stop you from wishing that maybe it could be Peter.

“Alright class gather around!”, Mr. Harrington exclaimed as he motioned for the class to huddle around him.

“Get your passports ready, I’ll be handing you the boarding tickets”, he said as everyone began to take out their passports.

“I’ll see you guys on the other side,'' you stated as you saluted them off and went to get your boarding ticket. Once you got your boarding ticket you went through the whole security check and waited on the other end for your friends.

Just then they announced that the flight was opened and you had to board. Sighing, you quickly left to board the plane.

You found a spot in the middle aisle and sat down. You eagerly awaited your friends arrivals. You made sure to sit on the corner so that Ned and Peter could sit on the other end, or maybe for even MJ and Betty to take the spots available as well.

Disappointment arose when they chose different seats on another aisle, Peter and Ned on the aisle to your left and MJ and Betty a few rows ahead. You felt invisible; it was your birthday and your friends just so happen to forget about you. You looked over the seats to see Peter and Ned talking about something, and how Ned started to get up from his seat.

Maybe they had a fight? But that can’t be true, they’re best friends.

Your question was answered when you overheard Ned go up to Betty and tell her something. You could make out a bit of what he was saying, something to do with an old lady wearing perfume and that Peter has a perfume allergy. Surprisingly enough, in the 5 years that you’ve known him, you don’t recall Peter having a perfume allergy.

“So Betty if you switch seats with Peter that would be great,'' you heard him say. You looked up farther then noticed the familiar bunch of curly hair. It took you awhile but then you finally remembered Peter's plan to confess to MJ and how the first step was to sit next to her on the plane. You groaned softly as you sat back down and slumped on your seat, feeling a mix of emotions at those simple words.

You didn’t hate MJ, no, in fact you adored her, she was such a good friend to you… but Peters crush on said girl is what gives you these feelings. The feelings of disappointment, defeat, and jealousy. At the end of the day you keep reminding yourself that you have a soulmate.

“Peter has a perfume allergy?! I’ll tell you from experience: perfume allergies are no joke”, you heard Mr. Harrington chime in as he got up. Ned fumbled with his words, trying to come up with an excuse to contradict the fact that Peters “perfume allergy” was bad. However, it was all in vain as Mr. Harrington got up and started to rearrange the student seating.

“MJ stand up, Ned take MJ’s spot, MJ take my spot”, Mr. Harrington began as your friends started to change seats. You looked over to where MJ was now sitting and saw that she was sitting next to Brad Davis. A wave of amusement came over you since everyone who looked close enough could tell that Brad obviously had a crush on MJ. “It must be frustrating for Peter”, you thought as you realized that his crush was now sitting next to the guy that he dreaded.

“Peter let’s get you out of there! Peter you come with me”, Mr. Harrington ordered as Peter stood there, defeated.

They made their way down the aisle until they stopped right at your row.

“Peter sit next to y/n and I’ll sit near the aisle since I have a small bladder,'' he said as he motioned for Peter to take a seat.

You saw how Peter’s face lightened up at the sight of you and how he was able to sit with one of best friends. You awkwardly said hi to him as he took a seat next to you.

“Hey Peter”, you began awkwardly as you gave him a small smile. He returned the gesture as he replied, “hey y/n”, with just as much awkwardness. You couldn’t understand why it felt awkward and tense if you guys have been friends with each other for years! Since middle school!

“Did I ever tell you guys about my wife and how she pretended to blip out? Turns out that she ran away with some guy from her hiking group… we even had a funeral for her and everything. Do you guys want to see the video? I have it right here”, Mr. Harrington suddenly barged in as he began scrolling through his phone to retrieve the video.

“Oh god, it’s too early in the day for him to be pulling this crap again,'' Peter suddenly whispered to you and you giggled at his remark.

“I know right, but what can I say? He’s just a hopeless romantic”, you stated as he smiled at the comment. “It looks like I’m not the only one with a one sided love”, you thought as the comment you just made about your teacher struck you hard.

“True true, he could’ve at least cut it today, it’s such an important day,'' Peter stated as you looked at him with a small bit of hope that maybe he remembered your birthday. He had to right? He was one of your best friends! He never forgot, but ever since his crush on Liz and now MJ, he’s been less active in your guys’ friendship. Especially after the blip too, he’s been acting so weird and distant lately and you can’t pinpoint why.

“Yeah, it’s such an important day,” you implied as you over exaggerated the last part, hoping that he might get the hint. You weren’t lying, it was a very important day for you, finally being able to see color after you sleep! You were sure bound to fall asleep on the plane, and you wondered if that counted as your sleep for the day and if that would be enough to allow you to see colors. You guessed that all your questions will be resolved when you fall asleep and wake up later on.

“Yeah, it really is, but it just got ruined with the fact that I’m not sitting next to MJ,” he told you as he looked frustrated. It didn’t surprise you that he might’ve forgotten, if all he talks about is about his plan for confessing to MJ. Still, a bit of hope dawned upon you.

You let out a small sigh of disappointment to which he took notice.

“Hey, what’s wrong?,” he questioned as he scanned your face for any signs. “It’s nothing really,” you began to say as you could feel some tears start to well up. “It’s just that it’s such an important day for me,” you confessed as you looked straight into Peter's chocolate brown eyes with your glossy, teary-eyed e/c ones.

Peter thought to himself as he took in your confession. Ned and Peter always included you in everything, so why would you be so heartbroken?

Then it finally hit him as he kept staring at your glossy eyes, it was an important day, and he just forgot his best friend's birthday.

“Oh shit, it’s your birthday, isn’t it?!”, he suddenly exclaimed as you nodded slowly and looked away. You heard Peter groan and let out a few small murmurs that consisted of cusses under his breath.

Suddenly you felt his arm around your shoulders as he pulled you in as close as the seats would let you.

“Happy birthday n/n. I’m sorry for forgetting, I know it’s such an important date to finally be 16,” he told you as you lay your head on his shoulder and sniffle a little. You two pulled away just in time to see Mr. Harrington’s amused yet shocked face.

“Guys let’s keep it PG in here, alright? No pda,” he stated as you and Peter looked at each other and began to feel embarrassed for the misunderstanding.

“No sir, it’s nothing like that I swear-”, Peter told him but Mr. Harrington cut him with a small hand gesture.

Embarrassed, the both of you just slugged back into your seats.

“Hey, I brought a dual headphone adapter… it was supposed to be used for me and MJ but uhm if you’d like maybe we can watch a movie,” Peter sheepishly told you as he showed you the adapter.

“Sure,” you replied as a small cracked on your features, making Peter feel warm inside.

•••••••••

It was an eight hour flight to Italy, so you and Peter began to watch movies, which undoubtedly turned out to be a Star Wars marathon.

Half way through the second film you began feeling tired, so you rested your head on Peter’s shoulder as you still stared at the screen.

A few moments later and you were sleeping. Peter looked at your sleeping form and suddenly felt a small flutter. He didn’t know why he felt like this, but something about seeing you so calm made him smile. Not to mention that you looked adorable perched on his shoulder.

For the first time in a long time he felt calm. It had been so hectic for him recently, that he felt so serene in the moment. He too rested his head on top of yours, and stared at the screen as he tuned into your guys’ heartbeats.

••••••••

You woke up startled at the touch of someone shaking your lightly. You looked up and saw Peter.

“Time to go, the flights over,” he explained as he got up, away from the closeness the both of you had. You nodded and then tried to calm down the flutters you felt.

You stood up and had to do a double take. Was your mind playing games on you? Your eyes perhaps? What’s that thing that you see? Color?

You looked around and noticed some people had an unfamiliar shade of color that you’ve never seen before.

Then it hit you; your dream!

Then all the images from your dream came crashing back at you as you held your head for support as you started to stumble and crash with the seats in front of you, falling backwards on the impact.

Suddenly, instead of feeling the “cushions” of the plane seats, you were met with something strong. You looked back and noticed that Peter had caught you.

“Woah there, are you ok?,” he asked as he looked at you worriedly.

You blinked a few times to get adjusted to the new color before you continued, “I had my dream! I can see a different color now,” you exclaimed as you began to feel happy.

Peter’s eyes almost bulged out of his sockets at your answer. Then he began to smile with you, feeling joy at knowing that you were closer to knowing your soulmate.

“That’s great n/n! What do you see? Can you describe it?,” he asked.

Judging from what you learned in your art class; that had a separate lesson for girls age 15 where they explained the different colors and what they would like. You recalled that your teacher mentioned that the common first colors girls see after they get their dream is either red, blue, or yellow. Based on that, you determined that the color you were seeing was one of those.

“Is it the color of my shirt?,” he asked, as Peter knew that the common colors were either red, blue, or yellow; so he pointed at his (blue) shirt.

“No,” you replied as you shook your head.

“Ok, um, how about Ned’s shirt? Do you see a color there?,” he motioned as you looked over at Ned and did in fact see color.

“Yes, the top half,” you stated as Peter looked euphoric at your answer. “Red,” he told you.

“That’s the color… well it’s more of a maroon but I’m guessing you can see all shades of red,” he told you as you nodded and smiled.

“Red..,” you whispered to yourself with a grin.

•••••••

While everybody was boarding off the plane, you were adjusting to this new color. You looked around at your surroundings and sometimes caught glimpses of a shade of red. You felt elated! This was so different, so new! It felt amazing!

Then, you came to another realization. You learned from your teacher what the different colors mean. If you saw the color blue then you haven’t met your soulmate yet, if you saw yellow then that means you’ve seen them at least twice before. If you got red then that means that your soulmate is a close acquaintance of yours… but that didn’t make sense. You already knew your soulmate? You were delighted yet confused. You then tried to remember your dream to see if you can get any answers as to who it might be.

“Hey, y/n!,” you heard the voice of a girl say. You turned around and saw MJ walking towards you, Ned, Betty, and Peter trailing behind. You looked at them and then noticed that Ned and Betty were holding hands.

“Woah there, what’s going on here?,” you asked with a chuckle as you motioned to Ned and Betty’s interlocked hands.

“Well we spend time together on the plane and realized that we have a lot in common, so now we’re dating,” Ned told you as Betty went closer to Ned. “I’m so happy for you guys!,” you exclaimed as you gave them a thumbs up.

“Yeah, and I heard that’s not the only thing that happened on the plane,” MJ told you as she looked at Peter.

“Peter told me that you had the dream,” she told you with interest. “So then, what was your dream?,” she asked you.

You then tried to recall your dream, then you remembered. Your face contorted into confusion as the images flashed back. This didn’t go unnoticed by Peter and MJ as they began sending you questioning looks and concern.

“So then-,” Peter began to say until you cut him off with your answer.

“Spider,” you told them as the confusion never left your face.

“It was a spider.”

A/n: sorry it sucked, I’m not the best at writing. Part 2 will come out shortly after I’m not as busy.

[alchemist-shizun]

I Can See My Kingdom Now

Read on Ao3!

Chapter 4: Lightened up darkness

Word Count: 5,736

Taglist: @krisdoesart @stop-it-anxiety @jeevashun @kim-argent-moon

Characters in this chapter: Virgil, Deceit.

Warnings for this chapter: scars mention, implied insomnia, minor panic attack, negativity, mention of terminal illness

A/N: I’m not dead yet, apparently.  I wanted this to be longer but I also wanted to give you guys something as I haven't updated in two months djkssj pardon me. So, finally our snake boy is here! Also, if you have any theories already on what might happen, let me know, I'd love hearing from you. Next chapter, again, I have no idea when it'll be out, school started and I'm already doing tests, last year sucks, but I'm not going to abandon you! As always, thank you all for likes, reblogs and your wonderful comments! I appreciate every single reader, hope you're liking it this far, enjoy!

✾

❝ My mother, she told me

"Don't get in trouble"

My father, he told me

He knew I would.

My brothers, they told me

"Don't give a damn"

My sister, she told me

To do something good ❞

A flock of ravens was startled awake as the man in the black cape appeared between trees and forest plants through a flash of light, as if a thunder had just erupted from the barks surrounding him.

With a precise direction in his mind, he followed those instincts that never dared to fail him and let himself be dragged toward the place his familiar was busying itself.

The boy he had seen was still sitting on the grass, petting the fox by his side and giving it all his attention.

He approached them, careful not to make a sound. He didn't want him to end up like the ravens.

At a safe distance, sure he wasn't already in his field of view, he extended his gloved hand towards the boy and let a smirk play on his lips for as long as he didn't speak.

« Got lost, kid? »

While Virgil's head snapped up to look at the source of the sound, time seemed to slow down to a stop. His eyes went from the bright yellow glove not too far from his body, to focusing on the face of the man. To the white in his irises.

And the horrid scars on his cheek.

The man was sure time had started up again when he heard the kid bolt away in his opposite direction.

Eventually, he ended up like the ravens.

Not long had passed before he had lost hope for Virgil to return. He could as well have began his search again, just for someone else that might have been as much a good fit as him. But there was a certain feeling in his guts, something he couldn't exactly give a name to, which told him to procrastinate on that.

In fact, he had found the perfect amount of broken in that single soul.

Despite preferring the dark his home had to offer – more times than he could count he had found the light outside to be too strong even for his blind eyes – he let himself wander around the spot in front of his habitation. His familiar lent him its sight, responding to his every command as if it were a telepathic being.

He sat down next to it after adjusting to the sudden change of atmosphere; he could see the green around him and raised a hand to contrast the monotone colour.

Then, with automatic movements, his palm faced the sky, while his fingers refused to extend completely, some still sprawled over his palm.

He didn't even need to take a breath for the first flicker of light and smoke to be forming on top of his hand. The little aleatory shapes danced around themselves, some slow, permitting one to see the change from a pitch black hue to a somewhat light violet. Others were so quick they blended into a single multi-colored flame as they fought for dominance.

There was no spell to be cast, no purpose behind his work, he felt like he was back when he was still in training. All those years back...

His eye caught on something that felt off about the nature in front of him, right behind his hand: he had lived in there long enough to know every little change and detail of his surroundings.

The figure of the boy, trying his best despite failing in hiding behind one of the trees, sent excitement all over his body. But decided against making a move.

Instead, he used his other hand to put his show to a stop, joining the hands, only to open a new one as he separated them again.

Soon enough, a humanoid shape took over the scenery, walking on a pavement of black smoke: they were clearly wearing a hat and a cape. He knew it was working when he subtly noticed Virgil staring, but not running away.

After all, dark magic was prohibited in their kingdom.

The human shape put their hands to their face and soon enough was approached by another figure of the same likeness. As the newcomer passed a dark flame suspended in the air, they seemed to take away something at the eye-level of the first person.

The scenery changed when a fox appeared in front of the human with the cape, who knelt down to it and extended his hand. As soon as the two shapes came into contact, there was a tiny sparkle between them that changed into a reddish hue. Before he knew it, the scene had disappeared into a myriad of miniature sized fireworks, the glittery remaining flying down on his body and disappearing into the deep nothingness.

A small smile made its way on his face as the fox nuzzled closer to his leg.

The tale of how he met his familiar had always been one of his favorite stories to tell.

Despite how much it usually amazed and softened the people around him, when the man looked up, Virgil was nowhere to be found.

He couldn't have known yet that didn't mean it was a defeat.

Not until later, the day after, as he heard a timid knock on his door, the fox already bolting to the wooden entrance.

When he opened up, his eyes fixated on the mysterious person with an odd precision.

« Please, teach me how to do that. » they said.

The man didn't need to see who it was to understand the boy had inevitably fell into the game as well.

They had been sitting quietly in one of his not many rooms, the windows finally letting some light in.

« What is your name, kid? »

« Uhm, » for some unsettling reason, he hesitated. « Virgil. »

« Very well, Virgil. » he began, letting his chin rest on his hand. « I know you want to ask, go ahead. »

Virgil felt like he was piercing his skin with a simple stare, and shrank in his chair. « I don't... I wouldn't want to be rude. »

« Answers can be stupid, but questions are always valid. »

Virgil's mind seemed to twist for a second.

« Uh- What happened to your eyes? »

« I am merely blind. » he explained, moving his glance to the ground. « There are times in which you must pay a price. »

« Is it because of ... » the boy's voice trailed off, unable to find the perfect words.

« If you're wondering if this is for dark magic, not really. » the way he was so nonchalant to name it left Virgil taken aback. « Although, it requires to suffer to achieve it, it is easier to perform if the person has already been through hell and back. Like you. »

He knew he wasn't mistaken when he heard Virgil shift in his seat and basically felt his gaze on him.

After a beat, the boy found voice and courage to talk again.

« Who are you? »

« For anybody who knew me, the name was Sir Amartìa, » he leaned on the table. « But the people in town liked to call me something else. » he smirked, underlining the fact that he had cut ties with those gents.

« What would it be? »

The man's eyes lit up and turned to a glowing shade of yellow, much like the fox's, who jumped up to sit on his lap.

« Deceit. »

✾✾✾

Virgil spent three years with him.

His parents had given up on getting him a regular life, as far as he fed himself properly and started sleeping again, they didn't mind him wandering off in the woods for hours, only to return late in the night.

He knew he wasn't doing anything good, or something the citizens would have condoned, but it gave him a purpose, a target to achieve, something to look forward to.

He thought that, maybe, it could have fixed him.

The first purple glimmers that sparkled on his hand had sent so much joy and excitement in himself, a positivity he had long forgotten and had been afraid, as a child, that he would have never been able to experience again.

After he had been able to cast a few minor spells, Deceit had led him back to his home and told him to wait outside. He had informed him it was for the sake of a little surprise, a gift for his dedication and hard-working nature.

As someone who hardly even cared for his own birthday anymore, the anticipation seemed to give him goosebumps and drive him impatient. His mind raced through the options: could he be finally getting a familiar? Was he going to have a sorcerer outfit as well?

Deceit peeked from the half-open door and hid an object behind his back, barely able to conceal it.

« Close your eyes, snoopy. »

Virgil did as he was asked, even when he felt his arms being pulled outward: a cold sensation immediately caught his fingertips as a smooth object was placed on his hands.

He tilted his head to the side, not sure of what to think of it, a low hum stuck in his throat.

With one hand, he gripped a side of the item and was surprised to find … strings? They were definitely attached to one of the ends. Virgil arched an eyebrow, but couldn't stop the corner of his lip to twitch upward.

He opened his eyes after a moment of hesitation, and found a violin lying in his hands, as well as a bow being handed by the sorcerer facing him.

« Happy belated birthday, I suppose. »

Virgil didn't even notice his mouth was hung open when he examined the instrument and took the bow from Deceit's hands. He, as well, didn't recall deciding to launch himself at the man and trap him in a suffocating hug, but there he was, locking his arms around his chest. It felt like the last time he had done it had been years earlier.

« Hey, » Deceit gently pushed him away by the shoulders. « you said you wanted to use black magic as a neutral source. »

Virgil nodded, determined. For as long as he had heard of the tale and the laws that forced dark magic to be banned throughout the kingdom, he had been eager to find a way to prove people wrong.

Nothing was inherently bad, to be feared and lock away in the farthest corner of one's mind.

« We can start by simply shaping the substance magic is made of. You've seen me doing that once. »

A rose hue tinted Virgil's cheeks, embarrassed he had been easily caught.

« If you can put your mind into it, you will be able to control your own flow with the violin's strings. Only then the melody may tell a story. »

And Virgil had so many stories to tell.

He practiced daily, for hours, with such dedication that he amazed even himself, he felt drawn to the instrument and its music, he could forget about anything else and only concentrate on getting a tune right.

He played for the trees, the lakes and the flowers, he played for the forest animals brave enough to approach him and the fishes that weren't scared of the strings' vibrations.

Sometimes, when Deceit claimed he had to busy himself indoors, he basked in the sunlight that shined through the leaves and danced to the symphony he created. Tentative steps grew into twirls until he felt lightheaded and almost fell by tripping over himself.

Until one particular and seemingly tranquil afternoon.

The scenery was almost the same, with Virgil dancing with the air around him and the violin in his grip.

His eyes were already fixated on the strings when he saw a different hand, made of black smoke and purple light, pick on the chords for him.

Too frightened to realize what might have been happening, Virgil let the instrument fall to the ground, crashing and breaking right on the impact. He watched in horror as it went tumbling a few feet away from him.

His hands flew to his mouth before he even processed he had yelled.

Deceit swung the door open, eyes already flashing the familiar yellow color as he darted to the wide-eyed boy.

His glance went back and forth between Virgil and the broken violin on the ground. He sensed a strong magical aura from both.

« What happened?! » he demanded, placing himself between his apprentice and the instrument.

Virgil didn't answer, instead his breathing increased and tears welled up in his eyes: that was it, he failed, he was scared, it was too dangerous and couldn't help himself, he disappointed the last person that put trust into him and  he was going to disregard him from there. He lost his occasion to prove himself that he actually valued anything.

He saw Deceit open his mouth and he braced for insults.

Which never came.

« Virgil, hey kid. » had he ever heard his voice soften up that much? « I need you to breathe for me here. I am simply concerned. »

He was barely able to make out any shape, or to focus on anything that wasn't the crushing anxiety that threatened to destroy his stomach. He trembled and shivered with small sobs, his hands were already shielding his eyes to protect him with darkness. It was like those nights with those thoughts.

« Can you hear me? »

No no nononononono.

He crumbled to the ground, his shaky legs were too weak to bear standing up any longer. He didn't even sense Deceit catching him and kindly guiding him in a sitting position.

« Do you mind if I touch you? » why was he being so patient with him when he had ruined everything?

The familiar came closer to them, recognizing a situation it had experienced months before by then, and offered all the support it could give.

Deceit tentatively moved his hand to Virgil's fingers, trying to pry them away from his eyes as gently as he could.

As he succeeded, he gained enough confidence to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, even though new ones wet them again almost immediately.

« Focus on me, can you do that? » he waited for him to look up before he carried on. « I want to teach you something. »

Virgil saw him counting, he really wanted to follow him but he just couldn't understand what was happening around him.

One, two, three, four …

It's like the steps you do when you dance. Follow the rhythm.

Five, six, seven.

He tried to relax his stiff muscles.

Eight.

« It's fine, we can try again. » finally his hearing matched his lip-reading.

« Breathe in for four seconds. » Virgil did so, finding himself enthralled by the chanting of Deceit as he counted.

« That's wonderful. Now hold it for seven more. »

He didn't feel like choking anymore.

« Breathe out from your lips for eight seconds. » as he slowly complied, Deceit nodded and kept counting for him.

As soon as he was able to do it by himself, Deceit smiled and sat next to him.

« I apologize if I startled you. I heard you shouting, I thought the worst. »

Virgil didn't know how to answer. He wasn't used to apologies.

« Do you want to tell me what happened? »

« There was- » Virgil's voice was still shaky, he hated how he sounded like the ghost of his crying was still there.

He cleared both his throat and thoughts, as he would have been barely able to formulate a sentence of any meaning. « I- the violin. It was … I was playing it and something- a weird shape- it appeared right next to my face. »

« Do you recall it? »

Virgil dug in his most recent memories. « It looked like … a hand. Made of smoke. »

Deceit got up and picked up what remained of the instrument and the bow, only to turn back to his apprentice without looking away from the object.

« And what were you thinking about the exact moment before it appeared? » there was no way it had been someone else's deed. Virgil wasn't powerful enough to be envied by other mages, let alone trying to be manipulated.

« Uhm. » his thoughts traveled deeper, he remembered the melody he had been trying out and how difficult it was, but he had been settled on succeeding so much he didn't want to give up at all.

Realization struck him as he responded. « I thought that I could have used a hand. Because the song was too complex for me alone. »

« Are you sure you weren't the one that summoned it? » as Virgil saw the knowing look on Deceit's face, he could tell he had arrived to his conclusion.

« I did that? »

« You were emotionally invested. This permitted you to create a bond even with an inanimate object. » Deceit pointed to the violin in his hands, then set it on the ground, moved his hands on top of it until it was clouded by the now all too familiar smoke.

« Epanorthou. » the black turned into light blue and, when the mist had disappeared, there it laid the instrument, as if untouched and completely unfazed by the fall. Brand new.

Deceit caught Virgil staring in disbelief as he handed the violin back to him.

« Therefore, you gave it the ability to respond to your very needs, desires and commands. »

Virgil tried picking at the strings with his fingers. Nothing happened, especially because he wasn't particularly asking anything out of the instrument or his magic.

Then, he tested a few small tunes with the help of his bow.

I'd like a setting played out for this one.

Just as the first string touched the bow and the notes danced around them in an imaginary musical notation, at the same time a flicker escaped from the source of the melody and shape-shifted into a small forest scene.

Virgil stopped, and with him the magic flow turned into white stardust. This time, he felt confidence pervade his senses.

« Keep practicing. » Deceit encouraged him, walking back to the door he came from.

He couldn't hide his pride, for sure. That kid had managed to handle his magic so well in so little time! Anyone would have been amazed, too bad they had to hide in its shade.

It was when he glanced back at how the familiar danced around the boy, that he knew.

He was going to protect Virgil at all costs.

Not long after that, steaming teas were prepared and drank, a certain fox was pet and conversations were being held.

Their chat had been going on for quite sometime when the wizard had to stop Virgil after hearing a detail he didn't remember giving out to him.

« I told you that? » Deceit's white irises fell to the ground in a pensive look.

« You … did it just now. »

« Oh. » he pondered, leaning on a piece of furniture. « Must be this headache I'm having. » he mused and placed a hand on his forehead with a pained expression.

Virgil was rather confused, but shrugged and brushed it off; he couldn't really prove whether he might have had some kind of condition he hadn't told him about.

« Why don't you rest? I'll have your familiar by my side. » the fox promptly showed at Virgil's feet.

« Perhaps that'd be for the best. »

Virgil had been practicing for quite some time outside, when he noticed a certain golden flicker coming from the fox with the corner of his eye and sighed in defeat.

✾✾✾

« How did it happen, anyway? » Virgil was sixteen when he finally managed to ask about the story behind Deceit’s eyes. It took him an year to find the courage he felt when Deceit had barely mentioned his blindness in a discussion.

The man turned from the counter where he was placing some of the herbs found during one of their walks.

« You said it wasn't because of dark magic. »

« It's a bit heavy for a youngster like yourself. I doubt you'd want to hear it. »

« Try me. »

Deceit let out a sigh and abandoned his task, leaning against the counter, while Virgil reached him and sat on top of it.

« I used to live in another village before. » he talked to the air as if he was narrating a story to an audience in front of them.

« Everything was the same old miserable but oddly functioning and lament free livelihood, just like your place. But, of course, that didn't stop disgrace to fall onto people for natural or other circumstances. » his voice turned bitter, before recomposing himself.

« Everyone that saw me asked if I was alright. I said I was and that the blurriness I saw could have been easily fixed with a good pair of glasses. »

His head turned to the side and his glance hovered over where he believed Virgil's eyes were. He blinked a few times.

« The first doctor I went to diagnosed me with an eye condition. Another one told me it was a  simple sickness related to the discoloration of the irises. » uncovering old wounds didn't have to be so painful, yet there he was, holding back tears with the profound hope Virgil wouldn't have noticed.

« The last ones were professionals, » he took a deep breath. « And told me I had a terminal illness. »

Virgil was glad he couldn't see his expression. He placed a hand on Deceit’s shoulder, finding physical contact to be the only way he would have been able to show support.

On the other hand, Deceit couldn't wait to change the topic. « I was around thirteen I think, when a hermit traveled to our village. Just in time, he said he could have fixed the problem. None believed him until he gave a demonstration of his skills in public. Black smoke and indigo lightnings were enough for the people to condemn him and lock him out of the village. »

« But wasn't your life in the line? Didn't they care about it? »

« They would've soon stopped doing that too, anyway. »

Virgil arched an eyebrow, and let his confusion slip away as Deceit carried on his explanation.

« I reached out to him. I was going to get cured by myself. He told me he was going to cure the illness, but that I would end up blind for the rest of my life. My eyes turned white after the spell, which I agreed to without hesitation, and that only confirmed the type of condition I had. » he extended a hand to caress the fur of his familiar.

« Then he told me he could have helped me seeing again if I wanted, but I had to learn his magic first. I did, I escaped my own village, I found a familiar I could trust, then I was by myself out here. » he motioned to Virgil and himself. « And here we are. »

Virgil wanted to ask about why he had to escape rather than wanting to leave the place in a peaceful way. But, seeing as Deceit had barely brushed the memory, he decided against it.

« You never met the guy again? »

« No. He disappeared right after I met this fox. He said his duty was done. »

« That sounds sketchy. » Virgil eyed him warily.

« Or, he was actually a creep I shouldn't have approached as a thirteen years old. »

He stifled a laugh. « You're here now, though. »

Deceit looked down at his familiar, now curled up between his feet, always in need of human touch when sleepy. « Yeah, » he smiled almost imperceptibly to himself. « I think I'm glad. »

✾✾✾

He remembered the cries.

Howling. Screams. All those different voices he didn't realize actually came from him alone.

Virgil, now seventeen, paced around the forest shack in search of the seemingly absent wizard. Now, where could a blind sorcerer have gone without his familiar?

That was inexplicable. He never left without warning, nor did he leave the animal or the house completely unlocked and devoid of protection charms.

That was … too unusual.

Virgil grabbed his magical belongings and started running.

He had lost control over himself. All he wanted was to prove his power and worth to the other citizens, but there he was, horridly looking at his hands as solid scales made their way through his body, thickening his skin with every second.

The villager ended up following the familiar to a pattern it seemed to know a little too well to be casual; there was another clearing in the forest he hadn't been told to check yet. Deceit had explained there was nothing to be noted in that spot and that he had, consequentially, to ignore it.

Little did he know he was going to find him right there, peacefully sitting on top of a fallen tree trunk.

Alastair was at his side, but his vision was blinded with utmost fear and confusion, his agitated state worsened his condition and a suffocating feeling filled his chest.

« Deceit! »

« Deceit? »

The sorcerer's glance shifted to the spell book at their feet. A formula gone wrong. « What have you done? »

« Deceit? »

His eyes closed shut, his brain on the verge of exploding, his body heating up with impetuous emotions. He felt his shoulders being grabbed, a light flashed before his eyelids and the ringing in his ears ceased.

A slight tap on his left shoulder snapped him back to life, he intook some breath sharply and scrambled to his feet, searching for the source of it with a wary look.

Virgil threw his hands up. « It's me. »

He watched him slowly relax, as if he were trying to hide the fact that his heart had been pounding in his chest just a moment before. The fox immediately brushed its fur between his ankles and lent its sight.

« Didn't see you there. » he attempted at a joke, which failed to be delivered as Virgil's expression didn't change.

« What- »

« -happened? » Alastair's demanding tone had a veil of deep concern.

The citizens.

They had definitely heard. They were going to be after him.

« We need to leave. »

« What are you talking about?» there were barely hints of his voice, more startled noises.

« About them.» Alastair gestured to the window and, in that single motion, he gathered a multitude of meanings and dangers.

« They're not gonna be like that. » how could Deceit still put trust in the people that had already started to despise him was the greatest mystery the sorcerer had ever encountered.

« I beg you to rethink this. »

« It's fine. No need to worry about me. »

« They will turn against you, I assure you. »

« They're not going to end up like that. »

« You can't pretend I didn't see you holding your head like you were having a migraine. »

Monster. Inhuman. Beast. Abnormal. Miscreation. Revolting. Sickening.

They ended up being like that.

Deceit winced, reminiscent of a past wound that still stung right under his skin.

« Want to know how I got this? » he gestured to the scars that traveled down his cheek, cutting his eye in two symmetrical halves.

« Yes. » Virgil didn't hesitate.

« I didn't. »

Virgil shifted slightly, his eyes narrowing as the response set in his mind. Did that mean anything? Was this another life lesson? He kept silent, looking for a clue, when a sad smile formed on the man's lips.

A swift movement of his hand covered the left side of his face and, altogether, the scars vanished, leaving greenish-coloured scales in their place.

Virgil couldn't help but watch as he removed his gloves only to reveal more of them down his arms and fingers.

« There are more. » Deceit declared, his tone was so low Virgil wondered if he was actually suppressing a devilish voice that remained after a failed experience.

« Was this a curse? » the boy analyzed it all from a distance, he could almost feel the magical aura around them.

« I suppose. This is the result of inexperience. » he tapped on the scales on his cheek. « And the reason why I insist on being around when you perform new spells. »

That was when it hit Virgil. He had done that.

« Why do you cover them with an illusion? »

Deceit raised his eyes from the ground where they were implanted and fixated them on him in a blank stare.

« Because people are complete jerks. »

« I don't recall anyone around here apart from you, though. »

« And yet, you found me. You may never know. Prevention is better than cure. » his glance shifted to a pond nearby. « And compassion is better than a death threat. »

Of course, dragon-like skin would have alarmed anyone with enough brains to work out the single danger signal that would have derived from such a sight; scars, though? Empathetic individuals would have simply smiled sadly to themselves and moved on.

Virgil, though? He had an undecipherable expression, like someone had written in hieroglyphics on his face. He understood his decision and respected it, but there was still that sour aftertaste that left him ponder to what extent that situation was okay.

But it wasn't, at all.

Deceit stood up with a deep sigh, his fox trailing after him with silent contentment, with the intention on heading back to his habitation. He was stopped by Virgil's hand on his sleeve.

« Are you going to be alright? » how could he fool him, of all people? Virgil went through similar doleful circumstances, which made him the most understanding of the situation in the first place.

« Why, yes. I was merely reminiscing. » Deceit lied, but didn't move.

« Do you need a hug? »

He turned to face Virgil and offered a half smile while holding back tears.

« Please. »

✾✾✾

There was something fizzy in the air that morning.

Sure, with autumn around the corner, the temperature was on its way to get lower with each day, but Virgil had this sensation in his guts.

He was eighteen in that moment, which made him old and experienced enough in the supernatural to know what that feeling meant.

Virgil felt literal shocks sparkling around him, as if tiny thunders formed in mid air and disappeared the moment they showed themselves. The sound of static filled the silence here and there, lights and flickers made him buzz with an excitement he couldn't give a cause to.

He approached Deceit's home in the woods with a faster pace than usual. Once inside, he saw his literally glowing eyes looking through a woven bag. He heard the clinking of coins.

« What, are you going on holiday? » he smirked and took a seat in front of him.

« Something like that. » Deceit grinned and closed the bag before putting it back on a reserved spot on the wooden counter.

Virgil raised his eyebrow. « Huh? »

« Oh, you're coming with, too. »

« Sure, just let me go ask my parents for permission. »

Deceit let out a short laugh. « I'm serious. » he lifted his yellowish eyes to meet Virgil's, which were slowly growing wider. « We're leaving. »

The boy was stunned. « Wha- Wait, what do you mean? Where are we going? » he stared at the man, who smirked right after.

« The capital's center. Hopefully, also the royal palace. »

Virgil wasn't sure if he had just stopped breathing, or altogether existing. He was sure, on the other hand, of the hit his heart gave to his rib cage, so hard he was worried he'd have a broken bone by the subsequent few seconds.

At the mention of the palace, his hand instinctively flew to a certain golden and emerald bracelet in his pocket.

He hadn't been thinking about that for years.

Seeing that the boy was, for some reason, too taken aback to react, Deceit continued. « I heard they're holding some kind of festival soon. A talents show of sorts? There are going to be people from our kingdom participating, the best three competitors are going to perform in front of the two royal families that will be merged in the upcoming marriage. They're going to decide which of the three is the winner and they're going to let them stay at the palace and, eventually, attend the wedding too. »

To be fair, Virgil wasn't able to pay attention to the details. For the first time in eight years, he was given a chance to, maybe, see Roman again.

The name felt almost foreign even for his own mind.

« What will we do? » the blatant determination with which he spoke gave, right then, a meaning to the previous fizzy air.

« You can perform. » Deceit got up from his seat and approached him, before placing a hand on his shoulder and leaning slightly forward. « Show them dark magic isn't inherently wicked. That was your goal, wasn't it? »

Virgil smiled imperceptibly with the corner of his mouth. He nodded.

« Let's achieve it, then. » he backed away and opened his arms, his yellow glowing irises almost pierced Virgil's body in the dim light.

« Let's make history. »

Previous chapter | Next chapter

[thepilotanon]

Prelude xx

...for the end {masterlist}

Hello, yes, I’m still here! I’ve been very, very busy with life and juggling to have time to write and take care of myself, but we’re here now, so that’s all that matters. We’re almost done with the series, and it’s very exciting for me; I hope you will enjoy this chapter and leave a message, if you have time. Thank you for sticking around!

warning: some kind of sexy stuff, if you know what I mean!

xxx

Sitting up in the rubble, a dry cough left her lips as she realized that she wasn’t anywhere she remembered herself to be. In actuality, as soon as she opened her eyes, she knew she was in the right place, but not the correct spot at the same time - as confusing as it all seemed, the moment of dizziness eventually dispersed lifted. It only a minute for her to take a deep breath, to collect herself as best as she could in the rather dusty and damp environment, for her to rethink her irrational thoughts…

In conclusion, she fell through the floor.

“Kylo…” Nova croaked with a dry throat, rubbing her face with one hand in hopes to remove dust and debris from her eyes, nose and mouth. However, upon realizing how she was just a mess all over, she gave up and bend her knees to take in her surroundings.

Looking up, she didn’t see any sort of opening for her to see the upside/outside (where she sensed she was originally standing before the ground gave out), or any makeshift light. There was space, making her wonder if she had fallen into a lower level part of the abandoned building; flat ground underneath her bottom, long, narrow space to her left while the remaining pile of rubble stood rather proudly to her right. Sighing, Nova buried her mouth into the collar of the cowl, pretending it would get the taste of dirt off her tongue and tried to think carefully. There was air, Nova could tell, so there had to be a way out somewhere within this mess - unless it was on the other side of the pile of rocks and rubble. Thinking that, Nova immediately crossed out the idea of her list of possibilities to try and go through the remains, seeing how unstable the pile was.

Sighing, Nova flattened the outside of her thighs to the ground and sat up straight. Closing her eyes, she dropped her hands to her lap and took slow, deep breaths - in through her nose, ignoring the dust, and out through her lips. Through the Force, she attempted to stretch out the planes and passageways of the lower level, just like how she was taught. 

Everything was too quiet in comparison of practicing on the Supremacy or the Starkiller Base, but Nova had to remind herself over and over that the planet itself was vacant (minus herself and Kylo), yet there was an immense discomfort of the space…

A part of it reminded her of when she would be alone - left, locked up - and she couldn’t find her abilities to see if anyone was nearby, wondering if she was forgotten and left to rot. 

Jerking forward with a surprised gasp, she scrambled to get on to her knees before stumbling a bit to her feet. A spark burned into determined flames in her eyes as she took a second to breathe, feeling a bit winded.

“No. No, no, no,” she grumbled through clenched teeth, forcing herself to find balance before walking off to the extended pathway of the unknown corridor/tunnel. “No, must get back - mustn’t stop now.”

She didn’t sense any exit going this particular way, yet she didn’t see any reason not to try and find something to guide in her escape from being trapped underground. Nova was more uncomfortable sitting around than trying to use everything she learned on her feet, her instincts kicking in in search of some formulated layout of wherever she was. It looked too chiseled and clean to be naturally made, yet with the years of not being used and natural erosion from the weathering disasters forcing things to shift over time...the woman wasn’t too sure what to make of this unfamiliar territory.

However, as unfamiliar as it was, a part of it felt like it was someplace she once stepped foot in far back in her past. Frowning, Nova sped up in her walk to the point her footsteps echoed while following the pathway that laid ahead of her. While using her abilities to search further for her own safety, Nova kept her thoughts focused on her main goal. Keeping her thoughts open to any discoveries of an exit and any signal, her mind was also focused on Kylo’s own well-being. Knowing how serious he was with her staying close and safe, she had no doubt that her lover was more than likely losing his mind over the collapse of the flooring.

Reaching under the cowl, Nova’s fingers lightly grazed the small commlink tracker pinned inside the collar of her coat. Fixing and tugging the material, she eyed the pin as best as she could to see it blinking faintly in her peripheral vision, signifying that it was coming through contact with Kylo’s shuttle. The knowledge of knowing that Kylo was finding through through the connection helped ease her breathing a bit, making her hold on to the tech and press it against her chest. She knew she will be found by him, and that’s all she needed to keep going.

“I’m not giving up yet,” she mumbled to herself, taking another deep breath before closing her eyes.

The rattling of rusted chains coming from behind snapped her out of her positive thoughts.

Turning around, Nova’s whole body language changed from determination to defensive. Eyes scanning and focused solely from where she came from, Nova pushed out with the Force to retrace her steps to see if she was being followed or even bumped into something that may have shifted from the change in gravity. There wasn’t anything there, nor could she sense a single object she could have come across and moved on her own by mistake.

“Kylo,” she called out, somewhat rougher than she would ever expect herself to call for him. Her brows furrowing in deep concentration, she felt a sudden shift in the flat air - a dangerous one. When nothing was found, Nova released the breath she was holding and went on to venture further - 

To come face-to-face with a child.

Dirt, half-torn garments and rusted shackles around her ankles and metal bracelets with thick hoops for connecting chains hung heavily, and Nova could practically feel the weight of the metal just by looking at the all too familiar type of cuffs. Swallowing, Nova raised her eyes to meet the tired, lifeless ones of her younger self staring right back at her: skin dirty with mud and grime, dried blood on the corners of her lips and hair ratty within the unkempt braid she recalled growing up with, it was almost as if she went back in time and was looking at her own reflection. She knew it wasn’t real - it was impossible, and Nova knew that…

But, her chest still twisted with an unhealthy thrum of nerves of the negative memories. She knew what time this particular vision of herself was, and it made her suddenly feel too warm for her liking.

“You…” she spoke, taking another breath, “need to go away.” Straightening her back, Nova held her hands in tight fists at her sides as she kept her composure and voice steady. “You’re not welcomed here. Leave me alone.”

“Alone,” the child croaked out, her gaze aimless as she rocked on her bare feet. “Alone. Alone...I don’t want to be alone.”

“I’m not alone. You need to go away,” she repeated more firmly. “I have to get back to Kylo.”

“He doesn’t care. They all never care, eventually.” A twisted, somewhat disturbing smile spread on her cracked lips, reopening some of the cuts on her the dried skin. A ghostly, childlike giggle slipped from the vision, blurry eyes suddenly snapping its focus onto Nova. Her voice spoke in a sort of sing-song tune. “Time to go. Go back to being alone.”

Nova felt herself bristle with a hidden anger she was forcing herself to bury deep within. “I’m not -!”

A chilly, frail hand raised to Nova’s lips, silencing her in an instant when it pressed her mouth shut. “Shhh, shhh…”

Within the dead silence of reality, Nova could feel the environment taking its course. The sound of her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, the young woman took in a shaky inhale and covered her ears to try and it out, but the thrum was too strong, even with her efforts. The hazy memory of herself stared with the haunting curiosity of watching a target, just like she was trained since she was an infant. Its head tilt to the side, the lips smiling in a weird attempt to reach mutual agreement of each other’s company. Frowning deeper, Nova stood straight and walked around the child, continuing to walk and search through the Force for any exit or sense Kylo somewhere.

“Don’t go away,” the child whimpered, causing Nova to shiver with the echo that rang in her ears. She had to cover her ears with her hands and ignore the sudden reappearance to the side of the younger version of herself. Keeping her eyes forward, Nova kept walking as it passed by over and over. “It’s safer here. No one will hurt us.”

Nova ignored it as she came to a fork in the tunnels - more carved and smooth under her tumbling footsteps - she figured easily that her assumptions of the underground being a basement of sorts were true, and there must have been an exit. Taking a deep breath, she took a left and passed by the apparition watching her every movement.

“You can’t sense him, so he can’t sense you,” it said with a matter-of-fact tone that Nova didn’t like at all. “Perhaps he’s closed you off. He doesn’t want to find you.”

“Not true,” Nova snapped out, her thoughts immediately going to the blinking commlink. She knows Kylo is looking for her, or else why would it be doing that? It didn’t do it before when Kylo first pinned it to the collar of her coat. “It’s not true. He would never be like that with me, you liar.”

“Then, why do you dream of it at night?”

Snapping her head to the side, Nova glared dangerously at the memory of herself looking sad, pouting to her as the innocent child it proclaimed to be. “You dream of being left on a planet - on Starkiller Base, with Kylo leaving you all alone with the empty base and snowstorms. On Bavva III, back with Master Garri, or the others. Chains back and shoes taken away, back with sleeping on the cold floors, barely able to eat enough to stop the noise of your stomach. Crying to yourself, wishing you could sleep the hunger away.”

Nova takes a few steps before towering over the child, her arms wrapped around her as she stared down at it with absolute hatred. “What are you?” she demanded. “What do you think you will gain by pestering me?”

The ghostly face stared off to nothing for a moment, a slow smile growing on its face as it spoke in a soft whisper. “Please, stay.”

Nova’s brows furrowed as she turned away and went on foot. The sound of her heartbeat a background noise for her now, she pushed her abilities out on ahead to notice a sudden change. With that catching her attention, Nova sped up in her walk as she approached arched pillars holding up to what looked to be an underground mine shaft. Between the pillars was a definitive line of what was carefully constructed tunnels to the other side of a natural collapse of rocky material with an unkept earthly path leading to nowhere. There was no form of light, as if all life ended from that point on. Muted. Silent…

“We want peace.” The child stood behind Nova, in the light. Now presented with drenched skin and clothes, Nova could easily recognize the times in her childhood of searching for food in the rainfall of her masters’ properties. Mud caked to the vision’s feet and legs, bloodstains and grime patches around its mouth and hands and arms as it stared blankly at her in return. “We don’t want to be slaves anymore, if we stay here. We want peace.”

Turning ahead once more, Nova took a single step towards the threshold of the difference before the apparition began speaking with sobs hidden within, a lace of threat suppose to be hidden, but Nova...she knew this child all too well.

“If you go, you will be a slave again. We both know it.”

Nova didn’t turn around again to look at the vision - the illusion. “You know there is no peace within the First Order. You know that Snoke has taken you for his own benefit, that you are still wearing invisible chains that have been placed on you since Kylo took you off Bavva III,” it continued to rant. “What will you do, if you go back to him? What will you expect to find, once you venture out?

“Kylo isn’t peace - he put those chains on,” it spat viciously. “Kylo is controlled by Snoke, you’re still his property! Do you really want to go back to what is expected of that monster sitting on the throne?”

Nova took a deep breath and stepped forward, ignoring the child’s shrilling scream dissipate once she was surrounded by complete darkness. Everything is muted. No heartbeat pounding her ears, nor sense of direction of what could be aiming her close to the rocky walls or to trip over something. Closing her eyes, she took one more breath and forced herself to relax and let go of the experience with the unusual ghost. She can make it, she knew that with every cell in her body; every particle that made up her as a being was going to make it through whatever was happening…

A soft, gentle hum eventually made her eyes open, revealing some sort of bioluminescent glow from the top flats of the harsh edges. Nova blinked in confusion, looking around to the sudden new environment that never seemed to ease in its constant change. Looking behind her, there was a pile of rubble that looked awfully similar to the one she first started out at, making her wonder if this was all part of an illusion.

The humming continued in a sweet tune, and Nova felt her chest twist at the sound of a feminine voice seeming to reach towards her ears, as if it was something dedicated to her presence and not as a temptation. Walking forward, she willingly followed the song by the guidance of the glowing rocks, her arms carefully wrapped around herself as she looked towards the unknown. Her abilities, although strong enough to see a good portion around herself, as it was also placed with her Force wall, seemed to be smushed out to just one step ahead and one step back before producing a heavy fuzziness. 

Nothing was stressful, however. Instead, there was a sort of pleasant peace to the soft song.

‘It is like a hug,’ she thought to herself, feeling her face warm up a bit and an unusual sensation of growing tears in her eyes. ‘It feels like when I’m held by Kylo when I sleep. I feel safe.’ Nova knew for a fact that the way she was heading was alright, feeling the embrace and the thrum of the song in her ears. A seeming lullaby that truly meant no harm or impose to her journey as she came to an opening of what looked to be an inner crater in the guise of a chamber; rocky walls and dusty debris coating in the air and instantly stuffing up her nose, making her sneeze automatically and rub her eyes. The dust was itchy, but the song didn’t falter with her interruption of sneezing and coughing a bit, just needing to get that bit of annoying dust out of her eyes before reopening them. 

Healthy, glowing roots grasped along the crevices and mounds of the earthly material, thrumming gently to the tune of the ghostly lullaby that still hummed throughout the environment. Along with the roots and rocks where glowing crystal material protruding into jagged stacks, similar to the icicles and ice chunks from frozen water from the winters on Bavva III. Flickering with different colors illuminating deep within the core of the minerals, it made Nova realize how she was stuck in pitch darkness - even with the hallucination stalking her with fake lighting - until being able to see more clearly. In the middle was a natural pool, where little, singular droplets dripped from nowhere in particular of the ceiling, but landed perfectly into the center of the puddle awaiting underneath. To Nova, it looked similarly to a fantastic grotto she would hear from stories of elders speaking of wonderful places that held wonderful adventures and happy secrets to make any sorry lifeform smile in their most sorrowest times…

Turning her head, Nova caught a glimpse of her reflection to see the amount of dirt coated to her skin and clothes. A thin layer of blood from a very minor injury of hitting her nose and temple caught her attention as she absent mindedly wiped it away with her fingers. She wasn’t hurt enough to be having unusual visions or losing too much blood for any critical worry, yet was still amazed by the amount of possible height and weight of the fall and rocks that obviously should have done damage.

‘The Force, obviously,’ she huffed to herself. ‘But...I did no such thing to control it. It happened so suddenly.’ Frowning, Nova looked down to her own palms, flexing them for a bit before dropping them to her sides once more. 

The song rose in volume and in tune, becoming more complex and detailed with octaves and bell instruments in the background. Turning towards the natural pool once more, Nova made her way to what she figured the source was coming from based on her hearing ability. The pool itself was shallow enough to come up to her ankles, the water crystal clear, saved for the rippling shadows from the single drips. Even when the droplet would make contact with the surface of the water, there was no sound overpowering the sound of the song or the humming. However, the closer Nova got and observed more of the inside, the more Nova tuned everything out.

Two separate, submerged collections of rocky crystals on either side of the pool. Two, small eroded crystals that remained under the mineral water made the pool glow and radiate like a slow, steady heartbeat. To her, it was brighter in comparison to the rest of the natural roots and crystals bringing light to the cave. Their shape reminded Nova of little nests that avian creatures would construct with whatever they could find back on Bavva; clunky, makeshift homes of circular tubes that were meant to keep predators out. Inside either cluster of crystal stood protruding crystal in its center.

Tilting her head, Nova felt an unusual tug towards the two little bits in the pool, her hands feeling an unusual chill within the middle of her palms. Every nerve in her body was telling her that the only satisfaction to relieve the cold tingle was to take one of the crystals in the pool.

Only one. Only one would suffice it…

Why?

Frowning, Nova looked between the two glowing crystals, both seeming to call out to her with the song echoing further into her ears in a mantra. It was directed to her specifically, she knew that, from both of the crystals inside the water and she felt an strong tug from the Force between the two. A tug by her wrist, drawing her hand to hover above the middle of the pool. However, the Force was unable to bring her to a specific path to which one she had to take - the Force couldn’t figure out which one was the perfect fit, it wasn’t going like how Kylo said it would go for when it was time to construct her lightsaber. Nothing was working the way it should be, and she was beginning to feel anxious.

Which one? Which one? Which one?

Her hand stayed in its position for longer than necessary, and a sudden wave of exhaustion overtook her limbs. As if she walked for day cycles nonstop, she stumbled to her knees like a newborn mammal attempting to walk on its own for the first time without assistance. Her fingers digging into the soft dirt to keep herself grounded better while a slight pinch of nausea made her eyes swim in dizziness for a moment. Her other hand still outstretched over the water, seeming to be held there by an invisible grip - a warm embrace cradling her palm and fingers with the most gentle of touches, all familiar to her, and yet she didn’t know.

Which one? Which one? Who are you?

Looking up to where her hand seem to float outstretched, Nova released a shuddering breath that made her stiff muscles relax. Something about this while atmosphere was starting to calm her. The singing tuned down immensely, surprising, into soft whispers that didn’t project annoyingly to Nova, making her take a deep breath once more. Nova felt the sensation on her hand squeeze with reassurance, all too familiar yet completely alien to her past interactions with people she didn’t know.

It was different from whenever Kylo held her hands or touched her. His touch was like fire to her icy skin; a relief to the coldest winters she endured without proper clothing or shoes, and how he would easily pick her up and hold her to his broad chest. His touch was something she desired and longed for at this very moment.

This one - this touch in particular - was something almost like Kylo, but Nova couldn’t give it any sort of name or face.

Which one? What is this? Who are you?

The invisible pressure squeezed Nova’s hand, a sort of comfort to her. Blinking, Nova felt her eyes beginning to feel sore from swelling with tears. From where or why, she didn’t know, but the feeling of that weird connection to this ghost-like connection suddenly became overwhelming for her emotionally. Biting her bottom lip, she felt her chin wobble a bit as she took a deep breath to collect herself when the squeeze happened once more to her knuckles, pressing a sort of gentle caress to her dirtied skin. What was happening to her? She had never experienced this sort of feeling for the longest time, yet with the situation of the Kyber crystals calling out to her - it was feeling too much. She felt like she was being watched, self-conscious of what she was suppose to do before searching for an exit; as much as she wants to run away and return to Kylo’s embrace, she couldn’t move...she didn’t want to. Not yet.

Be brave.

Exhaling, Nova closed her eyes and plunged her hand into the icy water.

xxx

Kylo was, to put simply, panicking.

Not the sort of panic that people were used to seeing; seeing him stalking left and right, using his lightsaber to slash things apart with no proper direction. This different panic was new to him, wondering to himself if there was something wrong with him. He was pushing rocks and rubble out of his way outside of the abandoned building with his own hands - without using the Force, all while focusing on the tracking pad back in his personal shuttle (probably the only ability he’s more focused on, on the soft ping noise of the tracker he pinned to the collar of her clothes). The signal was faint, yet still steady, and showing movement, so Kylo acted more on instinct with a sort of desperation he could somewhat relate to back on Starkiller Base with her. For him, he was worried for her - his Nova, who, as of right now, was trapped somewhere underneath the rubble of the building. He was trying to find an opening to find her, hoping she found space for air to last long enough for him to find her. Kylo was just so focused on the tracker and moving a large chunk away, that he missed the intense shift only a few feet away.

Rocks flew away and Kylo’s whole body froze before catching sights of familiar arms clawing their way out.

Nova coughed dryly while stumbling from the wreckage, the edge of her cowl snagged and tugged her back a bit. Growling through her annoyance of being covered with dirt, her whole arm being cold and soaked, and feeling as if she had been walking for days on end, the woman simply grabbed the thick material and ripped it away. It caused her to lose her footing for just a split second and stumble backwards, and Nova was caught in familiar, strong arms in a desperate hold.

“Kylo!” Nova immediately felt her childish frustration disappear, looking up to his sweating, wild-eyed face. “Kylo, I -!”

“You’re hurt.”

Blinking, Nova felt his gloved finger barely press her temple, feeling the blood, now crusted, crack from the softest touch. She suddenly felt like she could breath; inhale and regain all of her abilities and sensitivities she was so used to before being trapped underground, she could feel him again. His anxiety, his worry and desperation to find her and make sure she was alright and alive and safe.

He was out of breath - utterly exhausted - yet his adrenaline was pumping through his veins and muscles as he held onto her desperately, almost afraid. Sweat clung to small collections of locks of his hair and stuck to his skin. Sweat was dripping down his pale face, a single drop coming ready to fall off the tip of his nose and the evidence of tears forming in his frantic eyes. As rugged and out of mind he seemed to be, Nova knew he was calming down already with just his arms around her body. Radiating unnecessary heat to her still somewhat chilled form, Kylo suddenly dropped his head to her shoulder, pressing his sticky face to her neck and clinging to her. He had been scared, no doubt, but his thoughts were swimming with how he couldn’t just leave her, how he couldn’t see himself without her and all his fears.

And all his love for her.

“I’m sorry,” he hissed out. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Nova. I shouldn’t have left you to wander on your own. This is all my fault - I can’t...I-I can’t ever forgive myself for this. Just...please don’t -!”

Without saying a word, her hands coming to comb through his damp hair. Turning her head, she snuggled her nose into his scalp and pressed a meaningful kiss to his ear before tugging on the roots. He willingly lifted his heavy skull up and she slipped her hands to either side of his thick neck, her eyes locked with his. Her dry lips smiled immediately at feeling his thumbs brush away as much dust from her face as possible, his eyelids lowering and he exhaled so softly. Nova knew her smile would always force him to calm down.

“Kylo,” she said, her thumbs gently massaging the curled on the back of his clammy neck, “I love you.”

His voice was whispers but still filled and overflowing with so much emotion that sent a beautiful tingle throughout her body. “I love you, too.” Leaning down to have their foreheads and noses touch, Kylo closed his eyes. “So much.”

Bringing a hand to grip his wrist, her eyes never leaving his, Nova sent through her emotions and deep thoughts in the link they shared together. This action caused Kylo to blink and slowly tighten his hold on her, as if trying to consider this a reality.

When she smiled, Kylo swallowed thickly and brushed a dirtied strand that was glued by dry blood away from her temple. “Let's just...get you cleaned up,” he murmured, his voice a little bit thicker than usual.

xxx

Kylo’s shuttle was equipped with a small bunking compartment in the far back, with availability to a small sink to clean up or drink from with towels and a first aid kit. The mattress was a bit too firm for most people’s liking and the blankets provided where too thin to really give any warmth, but it would serve its purpose in the end of it all for a few people to fit all together, lie down and rest. 

Being stripped of her coat, boots, socks and cowl, Nova fiddled with the commlink still pinned to the collar of her sleeveless top. It took until Kylo’s much larger hands snuck their way in and easily unpinned the tool and casually put it aside, making Nova huff and go back to eyeing the pack she carried with herself through the tunnels tucked away in the corner of the room behind Kylo. Allowing him to take a wet rag to finish cleaning the grime off her face with gentle, yet firm strokes, she simply leaned her other cheek into his palm that was carefully angling her head to give him easier access. Kylo was also stripped of his outer layer and undershirt, carelessly having kicked his boots off somewhere else. The outside dust storm taking place didn’t deter them with the shuttle all locked up, keeping them safe and at peace from the thrashing winds and the occasional thunder in the back. Kylo’s focus was solely on cleaning the small wound and how his beloved seem to be cuddling her own cheek into his naked palm, sighing in relief…

And it was making Kylo’s chest twist and feel uncomfortably warm under his skin.

“You must have hit your head,” Kylo mumbled, his voice cracking a little bit, almost as if he was a young, aloof young boy once more. So new to the interaction that he had so much more experience with in comparison to her, yet it all seemed to just disappear as soon as Nova looked at him knowingly, her smile making him inhale sharply. “You’re not feeling well, and it’s making you behave this way. You should rest.”

“You and I know very well that I have no such thing,” she responded, turning her cheek so that her lips to press to his palm. “If you don’t want to, I won’t be bothered if you don’t want -”

“It’s not that!” he stopped her quickly, making her blink curiously to him. Seeing his face flushed across his cheekbones, forehead and the tip of his nose, Nova blinked before giving his wrist a kiss in attempt to comfort his nerves. “It’s just - very sudden, after what happened. Are you sure you didn’t hit your head or feel ill?”

Nova shook her head gently, her gaze staring at the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he watched her. “I thought about what you said, about wanting it to be someplace where we wouldn’t be bothered or be noticed, if there is any obvious changes,” she explained gently. “I can’t think of a better place, being away from the Supremacy and everyone else, on a deserted planet. I got what I needed for my lightsaber, and I see no reason to hurry back...”

“In a shuttle.”

Smiling as she usually would with his reactions to her rather happy-go-lucky towards his curiosity of her behavior. “You know I don’t mind having such luxuries,” she teased lightly. “You know, so long as I have what I need, I don’t ask for much more. Having you with me is enough and all I can ask for.”

Kylo searched her face once more, the thumb resting against her cheek carefully stroked along the contour of her face. “Are you sure?”

When she nodded, he leant down and pressed a hard kiss to her lips, which she returned with equal fervor and last long enough to leave them both breathless once they eventually pulled away. Lips flushed from the passionate friction, Kylo pressed his thumb against her pouting lip and kept his intense eye contact with her; feeling her warm breath against his skin, brushing noses together, Kylo allowed a new warmth under his skin to burn through his veins. Exhaling shakingly, he gave her a quick kiss to the bridge of her nose, then her forehead, before speaking softly to her skin.

“Stand up for me.”

Sliding her hands into his waiting palms, Nova allowed him to assist in helping her to her feet. There wasn’t much elbow room for her, standing between his legs and his hands keeping her still - not that she minded at the moment, wanting to keep her lips attached to his lips and skin with the newfound height. Kylo felt her smile against his mouth when he gave her a gentle kiss back, but wanted to get ahold of the skin of her jaw and so he had to gently nip her bottom lip and bring her hands to either side of his head. Instantly, her fingers tangled in his hair and angled his head the way she wanted and deepened their kiss. With his hands now free, Kylo got to work.

Easily undoing the buckle that settled close to her belly button, Kylo had a much easier time to unzip her thick top and carefully part them over her shoulders and let them hung around her elbows, leaving her in her black brassiere and bare skin. His fingertips trailed along her sides, Kylo didn’t miss how her whole body shivered and goosebumps erupt on her skin. Smiling, Kylo slowly pulled back and admired the newly exposed skin. Sure, he has seen her barely nude many times before, but this time...this time was different for the both of them, and things were going to become different.

A finger tracing a very faint scar on her rib, Kylo had to take a deep breath. “I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are,” he whispered, watching her own hand come up to lace her fingers with his and he promptly brought the joined hands to his mouth and pressed gentle kisses to her knuckles. “I want to make sure you feel nothing but pure pleasure,” he told her softly, and he could feel through the Force of how Nova craved it, solely from him. “But, before we can do that, it takes time for your body to be ready. I don’t want to hurt you, if I can help it, as much as possible.”

She didn’t seem to understand him right away, so he simply stood up, cradling her face in his hands. Kissing her forehead, he trailed his hands down and helped Nova take off her top completely, letting it drop to the ground at their feet. Pushing the definition of foreplay to her, allowing her to read his thoughts more thoroughly that had her heart rate pick up a bit in a flutter while he resumed admiring the scar that stretched on her rib with a tender look in his eyes. Nova peeked shyly up to him, seeming to forget how she was more exposed to the cooler temperatures and Kylo’s warm hands working the buttons of her pants.

“Please, stop me at any time, if you get scared to go any further. It doesn’t matter when,” he instructed carefully as Nova helped in shimming her pants down her legs. Now, she only remained in her undergarments. She held onto his arms for balance as she stepped out of them, yet her attention was focused directly to the strong, dotted patch of skin on his chest. Carefully taking her chin between his fingers, he gently forced her gaze to meet his again. “I mean it, Nova. Your safety and comfort always has to come first,” he informed her.

“Okay.” Nova nodded and let her eyes fall back to the specific spot on his chest, her eyes seeming to glaze over into being deep in thought. Without warning, she leaned over and pressed her soft lips to him, near the spot of one of the many freckles and moles that decorated his skin. The feeling of her kissing that particular spot made him take a deep breath, and she nuzzled him in return. She muttered against his warming skin, “I trust you, Kylo. I know you’ll take care of me.”

Tucking a curled strand of her hair behind her ear, Kylo kissed the top of her head softly. “Lay on the bed for me, love,” he whispered gently, encouragingly with a slow stroke down her spine when she hummed in response and took a small step back. He followed after with a knee pressed to the firm mattress and was careful to hover over her while placing kisses to her lips in little patterns. “Relax as best as you can. Let me know what feels good, and what doesn’t.”

Nova nodded once more and Kylo moved his lips from hers to her jaw, sucking to the thrumming pulse hidden underneath and making her shiver once he started using his teeth into the mix. Her fingers cautiously reached into his dark hair, making Kylo pause in his ministrations, thinking she wasn’t enjoying it, but soon relaxed when she seemed to tug his head a little bit closer and tilt her head away, giving him more access to her neck. He nuzzles her pulse for just a moment before adding teeth into his more active bites and sucks, making her toes curl and cheeks heat up. 

One hand slipping under the small of her back and the other helping to prop himself on his elbow near her head whilst having her gently lie back, Kylo gave Nova a deep kiss that left her breathless and himself feeling warm under his own skin. Feeling her experiment with nipping his bottom lip, sucking lightly when he slowly pulled away, Kylo exhaled with a delighted hum before going towards her collarbone. Kissing along the bone with soft lips before licking the small divot in the middle with the tip of his tongue once she tilt her chin up and back. He could taste the stale dirt mixing with her sweat...he could practically groan with aching need with how tight his pants were becoming when Nova arched her back to feel closer to him, if that was even possible. Her hands tangled within his dark hair, tightening their hold on and off whenever he caught a sensitive spot on her skin with his lips. He could sense her arousal growing with the friction.

Soon his knee wedged itself between her legs, the bend of his knee motioning up and down at the apex of her thighs. Nova jerked a bit before pulling his head back to lead his lips back to her mouth, and he eagerly leaned forward to catch her in a kiss and his hand trailing down to replace his knee in a much more firm, rhythmic patterns against her underwear. Once his middle finger found the protruding bundle of nerves through the thin fabric, Nova released a gasp and jerked her hips towards him. Sending a soft, buzzing, heated sensation towards his wave of the Force, she told Kylo through invisible whispers how she really enjoyed what he just did with the swell of heat overtaking his body, melting deep into his skin that made him try to repress a shiver.

Swallowing, Kylo rewarded her with a gentle kiss to her jaw, then brought his hands to hover over her torso, then slip under her brassier. His bare thumbs swiping across her nipples firmly before tracing the shape of the hardening buds while his lips made their way to join. Kylo was quick enough to unclip the bra and slip it away from Nova’s body, joining the rest of the clothes piled on the floor before his hips suspended to gently suck on her breast. Nova arched her back with a breathy sigh, her fingers carding through his hair and tightening their grip once he flicked his tongue over the hardening bud of her nipple before wrapping his lips around it. His hands slid soothingly up and down her naked back, feeling every scar with his bare hands with tender strokes and warmth spreading to seep into her bones as he kept his mouth busy on her chest and torso.

Softly nipping the skin under her ribcage, Kylo allowed his thumbs to trace around her pelvis, right above the waistband of the undergarments she wore, igniting a tickle spot that made Nova gasp and let out a soft moan, prompting him to press his lips to her hipbones. Her hands in his hair loosened their grip to give him enough room to tug the fabric down her legs and off her ankles and feet, allowing him to palm his way back upwards to hover over her. A hand keeping himself propped up while the other carefully hovered around her hip, his thumb carefully tracing the protruding bone of her hipbone in a slow circle. It took him a moment to realize that he, too, was also breathing heavily through his mouth, just like her. Admiring her flushed cheeks and reddened lips, he leaned down and softly kissed her, sharing air, while projecting his next move to lessen her anxiety and not surprise her with something that might startle her negatively - a gentle request for permission from her, before daring to move forward.

A little squirm from her hips before pulling his head down harder by the roots of his hair, Nova parted her legs for him to skim his featherly touches down to her slit and carefully searched for her clit. As soon as the pads of his fingers brushed the bundle of nerves, Nova let out a breathless moan and tightened her hold on his hair, her nails digging into the thick muscle of his back shoulder. Kylo bit back a pleasured hiss, biting his bottom lip while gently stroking with his fingers, adding pressure.

Whining with her lips between her teeth, Nova’s hips began to move along with his hand between her legs. The movement and effort cause careful, faint friction against his own crotch and Kylo had to drop his head beside her own, feeling her hot breath panting against his sweaty skin; his nose brushing into her hair and pressing his moist lips against her galloping pulse under her jawline.

Sliding his fingers further down in her heated flesh, Kylo was absolutely careful in introducing his finger to enter, all while keeping his thumb against her clit to keep it consistent. Her response was a gasp, an airy “Ah!” yet she nuzzled against his shoulder with so much trust and affection. Her breathing still labored, she kissed his heated skin in a firm confirmation that he was allowed to keep going, to test the waters. He obeyed, carefully pressing his middle finger further into her sex, massaging around the front wall that sent her nerves alight in the best ways possible, making her more vocal with her soft moans and breathing. One of her legs raised to rest her foot on the firm mattress, parting her legs farther for him to come closer, to keep going.

Giving her a brief, almost struggled, kiss under her ear, Kylo whispered against her heated skin. “Are you alright, my love?” he asked her with an exhale, shivering when her nails dragged down his shoulder and suddenly grip both hands in his dark hair. His eyes squinting shut, unable to resist rolling his hips in a sort of rhythmic pattern against her leg and felt his trousers becoming too uncomfortable for his liking. 

“Yes.” Kylo felt himself grow hot within the marrow of his own bones at the sound of her voice - aroused and under a pleasurable spell that she was growing to enjoy more and more. Taking his face into her hands, Nova brought their lips together in a slow, gentle yet passionate that made them both melt to the point where they didn’t recognize where they began and where they ended. An affectionate bite to his bottom lip, sucking lightly while she broke the kiss, Nova gazed at him through half-lidded eyes filled with dilated pupils and so much love.

“Kylo?” she whispered to him softly, her fingers trailing down from his face, neck, chest...closer and closer until she tugged lightly on the hem of his trousers. Refusing to break their eye contact, her expression sure and at peace in his embrace, her thumbs pressing to his abdomen and feeling the muscle flex. “Please, Kylo…”

He couldn’t deny her. He could never say no to such a soft request from such soft lips with a strong heart fluttering underneath. Nodding his head, Kylo lifted his hips off of her so she had better access to the latch and zipper of his pants. Allowing her to force herself to focus on the task (as best as she could), Kylo leaned far back enough to watch himself work with his hand between her legs. Having eased the pressure on her clit with his thumb, Kylo’s dark eyes were careful to take in every bit of information with a curl of his finger that made her hands jump; the slick drooling and sticking to his skin and slipping down, staining the cheap fabric of the sheets. Easing in a second finger to test how relaxed she was, he was grateful for Nova to finally undo his trousers and push it down with all her collected strength, freeing him. Kylo rewarded her efforts be separating the two fingers inside her and slowly pull them out while pressing against her front wall, ultimately making her shiver and drop her head back against the bedding with a blissful cry. He then swiped his fingers through her slit, collecting more wetness.

Using his wet hand, coated with her remnants, Kylo wrapped his fingers around his own cock and stroked himself, firm and easy. “Nova, y-you may feel uncomfortable - maybe a bit in pain,” he said before swallowing thickly, trying not to tighten the hold on himself and lose control. “If it becomes too much, just tell me. If there’s -”

“I’ll be fine,” she told him, her hand carefully grasping his thick wrist with an encouraging grip. “Please, come here, Kylo.”

He followed her, kissing her forehead, her temple, her cheekbone, all while her hands slid to his strong waist, right above his hips while being guided to rest completely on her back. Bringing his member to her slit, Kylo mentally prepared himself in focusing on Nova’s reaction beside his own, rubbing the tip against her clit. Keeping his himself open for her within their bond, Kylo balanced himself on his other hand and brought himself to her entrance…

Tight. Unknown stretching. So unusually tight!

Kylo dropped his head, pressing his forehead to the hard mattress as he became overwhelmingly hot and tight as he pushed into her at a slow, easy pace. He knew that no matter how long he would have worked to have Nova relax as much as possible, it was still going to be uncomfortable for either of them being given his size. He knew from his past experience with partners from long ago that he was a bit above average within size, yet having been inactive for so long for so much, he wondered if a part of it was just him - but he was wrong.

Nova’s voice, her thoughts, was echoing softly to him. There wasn’t panic, nor an ounce of pain in the tone, much less the fierce digging of her nails on his sides were not pushing him away. Forcing himself to lift his head, Kylo met Nova’s teary-eyed gaze through the haze of becoming one.

“Don’t stop,” she urged him through a quiet voice, and he reached to wipe the corner of her eye before a tear could slip out. Hearing his intentions within his mind, Nova took a breath before nodding to him, bringing her hands up to link together behind his neck while he knelt down and kissed her deeply. “Please.”

His movements were slow, calculated and careful. He didn’t want to thrust too hard into her, much less restrain her like he was used to in the past. This was different, especially with the person he was sharing it with; giving her all of his attention and care by giving her kisses, searching through the Force to find any sort of pain being hidden from him.

Nothing painful. Unusual pressure. Feeling filled beyond what she could ever explain with words - and she was enjoying it coming from him.

Kissing along the corner of her lips and along her jaw, Kylo brought her leg over his hip and the other limb follow suited, ankles crossing at his lower back. Letting his hips do the rest of the work, Kylo resisted all he could to keep himself from relishing in the tight heat and climax so soon while he used his thumb between their bodies to help her reach a higher plane, causing her to gasp against him again. She clung to him when he circled his thumb over her clit, softly pleading to him with her hands tangled in his hair, nails digging into his scalp once his angle hit just right to make her moan in delight.

Kylo was enamored by the sound and repeated the action with newfound desire to hear it over and over, moving along with her body in response. Building a careful tempo, he focused by the nature of their lovemaking.

“Please, please,” Nova whispered with each gasp into his ear. Kylo paid attention to her pulse, kissing the skin of her neck and biting softly to drive her senses off the charts, feeling her clench around him with the building tension in her lower abdomen.

Taking his free hand to slip under her neck, tilting it up to be exposed to him, Kylo increased the tempo to her utmost desires. Pressing his mouth to the skin of her neck, Kylo sunk his teeth and sucked harshly, making Nova nearly lose all her senses at the sudden break of the thread. Extending her climax for as long as possible for for him to finish, too, while she was still in her orgasmic cloud of bliss, Kylo used her overwhelming smell of her hair, taste of her skin on his tongue… Kylo shut his eyes tightly and growled against her flesh, slightly biting harder. Taking in the vibration and mind-throbbing sensations emitting from Nova’s Force wall, Kylo dove deep into pleasure.

His hips faltering in their thrusts once - twice, and Kylo moaned deeply before dropping his upper bodyweight on top of Nova, making her let out a small squeak when he grunted with their chests pressed together. Long moments of heavy breathing, skin becoming sticky to one another from the drying sweat, both of them laid tangled on top of the bedding with their clothes strewn about in the small room. Nova legs were still wrapped around his waist, her thighs wide apart, unmoving, her fingers were still in his dark locks. 

Swallowing tiredly, Nova combed the knots and sweaty tangled out of his hair. The action earned her a firm kiss to the distinct bite mark on her shoulder and another to the soft skin of her neck. His palms coming to slowly smooth their way to hold her thighs, Kylo gently hushed her when she flinched and took in a sharp breath. Lifting his head, Kylo met her exhausted gaze still laced with remnants of the euphoric climax with his own, brushing the tip of his nose along the bridge of hers and kissing her gently.

“Stay relaxed, my love,” he urged her under his breath before carefully pulling out. Waiting for her to give him permission, he held her hip with one hand and balanced himself with the other; then, looking down to the mess they both had made, he took a deep breath. Seeing their mixed fluids ooze out of her sex, he gently massaged the top of her thighs with his thumbs. “I’ll have to get another rag to clean you. Are you in pain?”

Shaking her head, Nova reached for his wrist and tugged him back to lay beside her. Scooting closer to him, she nuzzled her cheek to his chest, ear against his heartbeat. “Stay like this with me for a while longer,” she murmured. “Please, I just want to rest with you.”

Taking a deep breath, Kylo settled himself by her side, barely able to reach for his cape to use as a blanket. More so covering majority of his lover’s body, he kissed the crown of her head and made it his mission to keep her warm and comfortable as much as possible - which didn’t go unseen.

Feeling her smile against him, Kylo leaned back to see her eyes filled with amusement. He frowned. “What is so amusing to you now?” His eyes narrowed, yet held no malice towards her once she started planting little kisses to his collarbone. “You do remember that I thought I lost you because of the cave-in, right? I could have gone mad, if something were to happen to you.”

“Yes, I do.” Looking up to him, Nova’s smile was more genuine and purely at peace, and it struck a chord in his heartstrings to see how she looked at him that way. The way of just being completely at ease in his hold and in love with him that she didn’t have a single care in mind. “I felt it when we landed,” she told him, kissing the divet between his collarbones. “I felt it when I fell.” Another to his Adam’s apple, where it bobbed when he swallowed thickly by her feather-like kiss. “I felt it when you held me.” One to his jugular vein. “When you undressed me.” His jawline, her hands carefully taking control of how to angle his head. “With every kiss.” His cheek. “Every moan…”

Sealing their lips together, Kylo didn’t resist in returning it with more passion and more force. His hand sliding to the back of her skull and deepening the kiss in a slow, numbing rhythm that left them both breathless, yet unable to pull themselves away completely. Him hovered over her, breaths mixing and her fingers delicately tracing the carving of his face - every freckle and faint scar. Their eyes never dared to break contact from one another once Nova tucked a lock of his dark curl behind his ear, her flushed lips twitching.

“I felt it all,” she told him in a whisper, “that you don’t even have to say it, because I already know.”

Still, even if she told him that, Kylo Ren still felt compelled to say it before giving in to her embrace and another kiss.

“I love you.”

xxx

Fun fact: This is my most least favorite, because I suffer writing sexy content c;

taglist: @ayatimascd @ymariejp @yippee-ki-yay-motherfucker460@formerly-anonhamster @rosalynbair@redhairedfeistynerd@imyourdreamwife@kyloxfem @goth-pigeon @kylorentv

Remember, if you would like to be tagged for future chapters, please don’t hesitate to message me! I’d be more than happy to add you. Thank you for reading and I hope to hear from you!

[kaleidopewrites]

Superstition

Summary: Of all the places you expected to find love, you didn’t see it coming on the day of Peggy and Steve’s wedding

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader (Modern AU)

Word Count: 2258

Warnings: just all the fluff, Barnes being a flirt and a hottie (as always let’s be honest)

A/N: Just another short story to fuel my trash love for Bucky XD

You pace in the room, fiddling with the bouquet of flowers in your hands. She’d been in there for an hour, how was she not ready yet? “Come on, Peggy! Let’s get a move on!” You call into the bathroom.

Peggy emerged minutes later, her skin pale under the makeup and her eyebrows set into a worried line. “I don’t think I can go through with this,” She mumbled, having to lean on the bathroom door frame. You give her a confused look.

“What on earth are you talking about, Pegs?” You scoff at her, never finding her more worried in her life. “Maybe this isn’t right, maybe I shouldn’t go through with this,” You walk up to her, dumping the flowers onto the bed.

“Look, this is just pre-wedding nerves. Everyone gets it.” You smile at her, trying to reassure her. “Steve loves you with all his heart. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have taken you out on three expensive dates trying to propose,” You laugh.

This made Peggy laugh too, lessening her stress. “I guess,” She sighed, palming her wedding dress. “You two were born to be together. Trust me, you’ll remember it when you walk down that aisle,” Smiling, you take her hands reassuringly. Peggy nodded her head, regaining her confidence.

There was a knock at the door. “Peggy, (Y/N)?” Nat called through the wood. “They’re starting the ceremony. You guys better be ready,” Peggy started stressing again. “Hey, hey, don’t worry,” You smile, calming her down again.

“You’ll be fine, you look perfect,” You smile. Peggy nodding her head, managing a smile on her face as you hand her the bouquet of flowers. With high heads, the pair of you begin your walk through the backrooms to the church.

Steve had insisted – or, rather, asked nicely with no protest – to have the wedding in a beautiful church. Peggy agreed, only because she wanted the reception outside in a garden. They easily compromised for each other, a quality you loved about them.

Peggy had been your long-time friend, and she supported your love of travel. You hadn’t seen each other in years, however, that didn’t stop you from being her maid-of-honour. But travelling so much meant you didn’t really get to meet Steve until the week before he proposed. You didn’t mind, you thought he was a lovely catch.

Although you were a photographer, Peggy banned you from taking up the responsibility of that role during the wedding. “I want a maid-of-honour to enjoy the wedding, not stand around all day and take photos of the happiness around her,” Peggy had said when you whined about it.

Finding a replacement photographer wasn’t easy, but you found one. And you’d give them hell if even one photo looked terrible. They were terrified of you, that was for sure. “Ready?” You asked, but you weren’t looking for a negative answer.

“With you by my side? Always,” Peggy grinned. You smiled before taking up your position in the line, right behind Natasha. The doors opened and the audience were already standing as the ceremonious organ began playing, wafting beautiful music into the church.

The four of you started walking inside, the three bridesmaids and then the bride herself. Clint Barton’s children were the flower girls and boys, throwing petals onto the ground haphazardly while the youngest, Nathanial, eyed the rings carefully, not eager to drop them.

We stood at the altar, Steve beaming from ear to ear as Peggy swivelled back around to him after handing me her flowers. The priest, or something, talked on about their love and devotion for each other. He talked about God blessing the marriage, or somewhat but you had grown bored.

Much like Peggy, you weren’t a religious person, but you both respected Steve’s background. It’s what his dear, late mother would have wanted, and neither of you would be able to say no. But that’s when you spotted him, standing behind Steve with a proud look on his face.

He wore a sharp suit, like the groom, and had his hands clasped gently in front of him. His gorgeous brown locks were slicked back behind his ears, not a strand out of place. Well, maybe a few were falling into his eyes, but he quickly swiped them away.

His jawline was strong and cleanshaven, but you wondered what he’d look like with a bit of stubble, or even a beard. His eyes are what really captured you. These beautiful eyes, painted like the ocean. Cerulean mixed with sapphire and a hint of azure hiding in the corners, ready to blink with mischief.

And then, you realise, you had been staring too long and had been caught. The man was returning your sudden flush with a smile, a lopsided grin that made his eyes sparkle like a sea glare, enticing you to try and figure out more.

You watched as his tongue darted quickly from its toothy cage, running across his light cerise lips. He tilted his head and, unbelievably, his lips darkened in colour slightly, turning him into a whole new man to admire.

You look away from him, trying to focus on the bride and the groom but you couldn’t. It was like had put you under a spell and, sure enough, you glanced back to him again with only your eyes. He was still watching you carefully, head tilted towards the couple but eyes circling yours.

You felt proud that he had his sole attention on you, a feeling of pride swelling up in your stomach and making you stand a little taller. You barely heard the vows Peggy and Steve spoke, having already heard the former’s a million times when she was writing it.

Before long, the man was wrapping up the ceremony and Steve took Peggy into his arms, not hesitating for a second before signing their love with a pure kiss. You turn from the man, attempting to clap with the rest of the guests with two sets of flowers in your hands.

Cut off from view from the man, you now find you can focus on your best friend. With a big smile, you hand her the flowers before walking behind her down the aisle towards the cars, that were ready to drive most of the guests to the reception.

You lost sight of the man, but you figured you’d see him eventually.

James Barnes. That was his name. Barnes was Steve’s best friend and, in turn, the best man. You’d learned that through his best man speech. He had made it light-hearted, talking about embarrassing times he witnessed with his friend. It was a very beautiful speech, moved a few people to tears.

The reception was in full swing now. People danced on the floor, Peggy and Steve among them with big smiles on their faces. Drinks with hidden shots of alcohol were being passed around, and you didn’t say no to a few of them.

You could feel the buzz in your veins when you were suddenly joined by another presence. “Okay, help me out,” The man smiled and you looked over at him, recognising him instantly. Mr James Barnes.

“There’s a massive party going ahead. Big lights, loud music; and this one, beautiful girl is sitting on the sidelines. There seems to be something wrong with this picture,” He grinned. You laugh, taking a sip from your drink.

“Depends on the view of the picture. Yes, there is a massive party going with big lights and loud music. But this ‘beautiful’ girl you talk of is also having the time of her life, admiring her best friend who has finally found the man of her dreams. I’d say there’s nothing wrong with the picture.” The man smiled.

“Bucky Barnes,” He introduced himself, extending a hand. You take it, shaking it with a polite smile. “(Y/N) (Y/L/N). I thought your first name was James,” You say. The man cringed at the name slightly, taking a sip of his own drink.

“I only ever use James if I’m being scolded by my mother. Bucky is a nickname,” He explained and you nod your head. “Explains a lot then,” You smirk, speaking into your drink. Bucky scoffed, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Whatever do you mean?” You bat your eyes at him, looking as innocent as ever. “(Y/N)!” Peggy suddenly stands before you. “Come on, time to throw the bride’s bouquet!” She grinned. You didn’t have the heart to tell her no, to remind her that you don’t believe in that sort of stuff so you followed her to the floor.

You were vaguely aware of Bucky watching you from afar, a soft smile gracing his lips. You were forced into a group of other girls, most of them you recognised. They all seemed far more eager than yourself to try and catch the flowers.

You wormed your way to the back of the group, opting to give other girls the chance at their good luck. You found Bucky again, staring at you from the table you were just sitting at. His eyes widened and he stood quickly from the chair just as you felt something whack against your head.

Sticking hands out, you catch whatever had been flung your way. You were surprised to find Peggy’s flowers in your grasp, a hand crushing one of the flowers in an attempt to catch the object. The girls squealed around you, asking all sorts of questions about your love life and if you had a boyfriend.

But the music started up again and distracted them all as they ran back onto the centre of the floor, dancing away their disappointment at not catching the flowers. “Nice catch,” Bucky chuckled as he stood next to you, looking down at the flowers.

You turned from Peggy who was attempting to reach you before being swarmed by guests, all gushing over her wedding dress. “Thank you,” You smile politely, moving back over to your lonesome table and gently putting the flowers down.

“So, when’s the wedding?” Bucky teased and you rolled your eyes. “As soon as I get myself a marriable boyfriend, you’ll be the fifth person to know.” You laugh. “Fifth?” He exclaimed, pretending to be offended.

“Well, I have to let my best friend Peggy and my family know first.” You laugh. He smiled as well, that resting smirk growing for a second. “So, hang on, you mean to tell me you’re not seeing anyone?” He asked, catching on to the rest of your sentence.

“Nope,” You smile softly, popping the ‘p’ sound in the word. “Well, after catching that,” Bucky gestures to the flowers sitting on the table. “I’m sure you’ll find a man,” He winked. You shake your head, taking another sip of your drink that you left on the table.

“Oh, please. I don’t believe in those silly wives’ tales,” You laugh, looking back into the room as Peggy was once again preoccupied with guests, soon joined by her husband. “Then you wouldn’t object if I asked you to dance?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I thought it was bad luck; the best man and the maid-of-honour hooking up.” You said. Bucky laughed. “And I thought you didn’t believe in ‘silly wives’ tales’.” He grinned, devilishly licking at his soft lips. You allowed yourself a second to ponder what it would be like to kiss them.

“You got me there,” You laugh, unable to find another reason to deny him a dance. “Well then,” He grinned, scooping your cup from your hand before placing it down onto the table. “Would you do me the honours of a dance?” He asked, curtly bowing before you.

“The honour, would be mine, Mr Barnes,” You giggle, trying to hide your laughter as he takes your hand. He swiftly led you onto the dance-floor, putting his arms gently around your waist and guiding your hands up to his shoulders and around his neck.

“Besides,” He leant down to your ear, voice low and husky and making a shiver run up your spine. “I don’t think we’ve had enough to drink to ‘hook up’.” You blush as you lean your head against him, his scent wafting over you and making your insides churn happily.

You spot Peggy over Bucky’s shoulder as he swayed you to the music. She was beaming, putting up two thumbs when you two locked eyes. She tries mouthing at you, but when you didn’t understand, she was nodding her head at him, making kissing faces. You figured she was trying to get you to loosen up.

“Well, maybe that’s something a few drinks can sort out,” You flirt, making him reel back his head to look at you. The azure in his eyes blinked down at you, swarmed with lust and admiration. He purred at you, the notion making his chest rumble against yours.

You snake a hand into his hair, tugging him down towards you as you meet his lips with yours, hoping the lipstick wasn’t smearing across him. His hand travelled up your back, pressing you tighter against him in the middle of the dance floor.

He pulled away, hot breath mixing between the two of you and your cheeks flushed. He bit his lip, eyes moving up and down your face as if he was looking at you from a whole new angle. His eyes flickered quickly over your shoulder for a second before he looks back down at you.

“That dress is going to look magnificent on the floor of my apartment tonight,”

[system-architect]

fractal chronicles: chaos isles fractal

yesterday i mentioned that i was going to start doing in detail text-and-picture documentations of the fractals that are relevant to the plotline of FotM and dessa’s lab!! a lot of folks are interested in these but the wiki doesn’t cover much, and it can be hard to find youtube videos that examine all the details or give you enough time to process/read npc dialogue, plus for varying reasons not everyone wants to or can do the actual fractals themselves!!

so, i will be starting a series of these where i go through the fractal run in order posting all the dialogue and explaining the general run of the fractal! i’ve only done chaos isles so far so we’re starting there as “chapter 1″-- i’ve heard that uncategorized fractal is also story relevant but likely only makes sense later on so i’ll go back and retroactively cover that when i feel it’s relevant

anyways, enjoy, please avoid putting spoilers for future story fractals (nightmare, shattered observatory) in the reblogs or tags so that folks browsing won’t get spoiled!! without further adieu here’s my playback--

(to view bigger images, right click open them in a new tab and change the 500 at the end of the url to the number 1280)

upon entering the fractal, the first thing you immediately notice is that it’s a visual mashup of many of the fractals you’ve done before, and this npc dialogue begins kicking off (dessa always commentates on your fractal adventures, but the mysterious voice is New):

Dessa Observation Mode: Amazing. This fractal seems to incorporate energy signatures from multiple fractals.

Mysterious Voice: Wait, where and when did you come from?

Mysterious Voice: No, no, no. You’re going to ruin everything!

Mysterious Voice: I’m warning you-- you don’t belong here. Get out now.

Mysterious Voice: You should know that I have a fully charged diaphanous diffraction randomizer.

Mysterious Voice: Which I will use if you continue to meddle in my affairs.

Dessa Observation Mode: I don’t understand. These instability readings are unprecedented. Where are you?

Dessa Observation Mode: Some new form of chaotic instability emanating from your location is threatening the cohesion of the other fractals.

Dessa Observation Mode: Wait, what could this mean? Was... someone already in there ahead of you?

Mysterious Voice: (sigh) Now’s not a good time to chat. That’s enough from her.

Dessa Observation Mode: There’s some-- (static) radiant chaotic-- (static) this frequency...

Mysterious Voice: There. No more outside help for you. Give up yet?

during or after this text, you kill some npc enemies who first appear as veteran chanters (from cliffside fractal) but as you kill them they turn into the prisoner/experiment mobs from the uncategorized fractal, and then you kill a power core sitting on a table, which looks like a miniature version of the power core from that same phase in uncategorized fractal

the whole area looks like a mashup of these fractals!

[image: the starting area of the fractal is crumbling overgrown ruins similar to the cliffside fractal, but there are randomly some asuran consoles laying about in the rubble as well. a tunnel towards a new area can be seen straight ahead, and a small ramshackle staircase leading up and off to the right]

if you have a keen eye, right upon entering the fractal you’ll notice an object named “lost journal page” off to the side in some rubble and interacting with it progresses the “notetaker” achievement as well as gives you this dialogue:

“Though it takes precious minutes away from my construction, I have endeavored to keep a journal; my genius must be chronicled.” -- Journal Entry 1

before walking into the tunnel towards the next area of the fractal, there’s a small aforementioned jump puzzle of planks going off to the side of the ruins, and that leads to a tiny cave with the second page of the journal:

“My witless subordinates don’t grasp the urgency or import of the project. My design isn’t coming to fruition as quickly as initially scheduled, but I’m confident the results will justify the delay.” -- Journal Entry 2

after that you head through the tunnel into a small jumping puzzle area similar to the uncategorized fractal! the sky changes from foggy daylight to a starry, misty green backdrop as well

[image: all of the players in the party heading up the suspended platforms. there are a lot of asuran building elements as well as some ramshackle poles similar to cliffside fractal. the sky is a misty green nighttime background with many stars]

on your way up the stairs you encounter some golems named “JT-12″ and unfortunately i didn’t get it in a screencap, but these golems have silvery gold plating with white lights and golden wings that are the same model as the golden wings backpack!

past this area, you head through a small tunnel and enter a wider open area still full of mashed up fractal elements, this time with the addition of ascalonian and charr buildings from the urban battleground fractal. there’s a lot of neon blue glowy asuran platforms

entering the room reveals a fairly wide open boss battle like area with several cat golems, and prompts this dialogue from Mysterious Voice:

Mysterious Voice: Pummeling by kitty cat golems.

Mysterious Voice: You deserve this humiliation.

[image: a field of blue platforms resting on ascalon-esque grass. four differently colored golems, named CHOP K1T-A, DOC K1T-A, BLIGHT K1T-A, and PLINK K1T-A are standing lined up in front of a closed door which is also ascalonian in appearance]

you then defeat the golems and a legendary chaos anomaly spawns, with fight mechanics somewhat similar to the anomaly boss in the thaumanova fractal. the mysterious voice commentates throughout this fight, and every time the anomaly loses 25% more HP, the anomaly turns invulnerable and the voice sends in more golems that lessen in number but strengthen each time, eventually reaching champion rank. the golems that you kill first will always respawn stronger, it’s not randomized!

[image: the party fighting the legendary rank chaos anomaly]

battle dialogue:

(after defeating initial wave of golems) Mysterious Voice: Your efforts are only helping me to eventually defeat you.

Mysterious Voice: I’m analyzing your fighting skills and compensating with iterative golems.

(chaos anomaly reaches 75% health and another golem wave spawns) Mysterious Voice: Let’s just eliminate that last golem and strengthen the next assault instead.

(chaos anomaly reaches 50% health and the third wave of golems spawns) Mysterious Voice: Ready to meet my latest creations? No? Too bad!

(upon killing that wave of golems) Mysterious Voice: (sputter) Oh, come on. Really...?

Mysterious Voice: You asked for this. I’m incarnating the ultimate killer golem to deal with you.

Mysterious Voice: You will not survive the next encounter.

(chaos anomaly reaches 25% health, final golem spawns) Mysterious Voice: You are obnoxiously persistent.

(the final golem dies) Mysterious Voice: Why are you doing this to me?

(chaos anomaly dies) Mysterious Voice: Your interference is threatening all the progress I’ve made in here.

[image: the chaos anomaly, freshly deceased. an achievement in the corner reads “Kitty Compactor: 1/4 Champions K1T Golems Defeated”. the door the golems were previously guarding has opened]

near the very entrance to this area, to the right as you come out of the hallway, is a platform with a charr tent on it that can be carefully jumped down to without dying (but you need a mesmer or to die and checkpoint to get back up). inside is the third lost journal entry:

“An inexplicable surge of potent magic allowed me to successfully penetrate the Mists! Hopefully these imbeciles will have the lab repaired by the time I’m finished here.” -- Journal Entry 3

as you entered the anomaly room you could see another lost journal entry off to the left on some suspending platforms/rubble which you can climb over to without aggroing the golems. this is the fourth journal entry and my party accidentally got it before the third one but i’m putting them in the correct order as i transcript this

[image: the players standing on a piece of wall reading the fourth journal]

the journal reads:

“My diaphanous diffraction randomizer is the key technological advancement to successful destabilization of the fractals. So long as it maintains a charge, its power is boundless.” -- Journal Entry 4

past the newly opened door is an area with ascalonian walls, jade shards (from solid ocean fractal), and trees and snow from the snowblind fractal. up and to the right is a small jumping puzzle which grants you access to the fifth journal entry:

“A minor oversight in calculations means initial time estimates were slightly optimistic-- the diffraction randomizer’s recharge rate is negatively impacted in the Mists if its charge is fully depleted.” -- Journal Entry 5

you then proceed down some steps into a snowy forest area

[image: players standing on some asuran platforms, looking down at the snow. there’s a burning ascalonian building off to the side]

entering the area prompts some dialogue from the voice:

Mysterious Voice: Sure is getting cold and dark, isn’t it?

Mysterious Voice: Feel free to quit whatever it is you imagine you’re doing in here.

edging in further grants you a special action skill of a torch and gives you a short “warmth” buff, just the same as snowblind fractal. (if you haven’t played that fractal: the area damages you with hypothermia and you utilize the torches to light fires, giving you the warmth buff, which prevents hypothermia) more npc dialogue is prompted:

Dessa Observation Mode: (static)-- you’re hearing-- (static) try following-- (static) light...

Mysterious Voice: Oh no you don’t. There. Was she always this stubborn?

the next area is pretty short and straightforward-- the party runs through the forest. there are four bonfires along the way which you need to light in order to keep warm. as an additional challenge, giant jade maw tentacles (from solid ocean fractal; they are invulnerable to attacks and have a giant knockback move that hurts) and various enemies spawn to try and kill you. all you need to do is make it to the end of the forest to progress the instance

[image: party reaches the end of the forest. the area looks like the snowblind fractal, a dark snowy woods, but with random jade chunks strewn about. half the party is dying and/or dead and i’m sitting there being useless and taking screencaps of dialogue instead of helping them. rest in piece]

reaching the end of the forest prompts some dialogue:

Mysterious Voice: Okay, that’s enough of that. Time to snuff those fires.

(note: same voice/character but the NPC’s name changes as the NPC physically spawns in the boss room as a hologram) Mysterious Asura: Allow me to demonstrate that I’m the one in control here.

before jumping down towards the final boss room, you can backtrack into the forest (which no longer inflicts the hypothermia debuff) to find the 6th missing journal page, off in a corner on top of a jade shard:

[image: me chillin on a jade shard reading the journal entry. the notetaker achievement reads 6/7 journal pages recovered]

the entry:

“‘The sky is the limit’ is a mantra often recited by people of lesser vision. I believe my device will prove the folly of this shortsighted hypothesis. I intend to verify it once we’re finished here.” -- Journal Entry 6

on your way down to the boss platform, there’s the 7th and final journal entry just underneath the bridge!

“Even a writer of my undeniable prowess can’t adequately detail the genius of my breakthrough in the detail it deserves. Perhaps I’ll test the thumper’s destructive capabilities on this subpar journal.” -- Journal Entry 7

...thus apparently the mysterious asura used this ‘thumper’ gadget on his journal and sent the pages flying across the fractal. what power!! after that, it’s boss time

[image: party standing on the platform just before the boss area. the boss platform is basically a giant disco dancefloor on top of a big floating rock. various elements from various fractals are suspended in the air around the platform, including an aetherblade ship and lava rocks]

the boss NPC is a charr called the “legendary brazen gladiator” and it has a special buff on it called shielded, which reads “Immune to damage. Aether grid attacks disrupt the shielding.” if this wasn’t enough to allude to mechanics, approaching the platform kicks off more dialogue:

Mysterious Asura: (sputter) Don’t stand on the active grid-- that shorts out your shield!

Legendary Brazen Gladiator: Yeah, yeah.

the fight is pretty straightforward, you pull the gladiator into the lit up pink tiles (which light up in different patterns and the pattern can change) to disable his shield so you can damage him! the tiles will damage you a bit and daze or stun you (can’t remember which; i think stun).. the asura periodically pitches in in the form of dropping weights onto the field (the same thumper weights from molten facility fractal) or summoning waves of golems to harass you

[image: the fight in progress]

there is various battle dialogue!

(upon first entering the dancefloor) Mysterious Asura: Calibrating the diaphanous diffraction randomizer...

(phases afterwards; some while changing floor patterns, others when sending in golems etc):

Mysterious Asura: Watch your step!

Mysterious Asura: Let’s make this more exciting, hmm?

Mysterious Asura: (sigh) Looks like my support is required here.

(this happens again-- his dialogue seems to be randomized, not perfectly scripted) Mysterious Asura: Let’s make this more exciting, hmm?

Mysterious Asura: Sending in some backup.

Mysterious Asura: Let’s try an alternate pattern.

upon killing the gladiator, the fractal is considered stabilized and you get your chest and the prompt to go back to the observatory! if during the fight you hadn’t noticed the mysterious asura standing up on a floating platform nearby (albeit as a hologram), you probably will now as he has some last words for you

[image: NPC titled Mysterious Asura sits grumbling up on his little floating platform. you can’t tell from this picture but the platform is a floating rock (likely a piece of a model from the underground facility fractal) that’s off to the right side of the DDR platform when you enter the room. he has a hologram visual effect on him but his model is selected so you can see what he looks like without the aura]

the dialogue:

Mysterious Asura: (growl) You’re undoing all of my hard work!

Mysterious Asura: I’d destroy you for this, but it seems my DDR is out of energy for now.

Mysterious Asura: (sigh) I was so close, too...

Mysterious Asura: If and when our paths intersect again, I plan to make you regret this.

(the hologram of the mysterious asura disappears)

Dessa Observation Mode: (static) Hello...?

Dessa Observation Mode: Okay, you should be able to hear me again. Thought I’d lost you back there...

Dessa Observation Mode: Some unexpected interference, nothing a bit of linear frequency modulation couldn’t overcome.

Dessa Observation Mode: Let’s get you back here so I can debrief you on your subjective observations.

and that.... ends the fractal!! it’s a relatively easy but pretty fun fractal to run and that’s the introduction to the fractal storyline that ran parallel to living world season 3! the next fractal in the series is nightmare, followed by shattered observatory, which i’ll do write-ups for as well! (+ one retroactively for uncategorized when it becomes relevant enough i can explain story implications) keep your eyes peeled as well for me uploading more photos and whatnot to my blog so you can see more of the visuals of the fractals without me cluttering this post up too much more

that’s it, i hope this transcript helps some folks out, reminder to not put spoilers in the tags or reblogs (for both my sake and other peoples’) and feel free to hmu ingame (im Oneiroid.9245) if you need any help/teaching with fractal scales 1-20!!

[canislupus-exe]

In Your Corner | bill denbrough

>>gif credit to @/beenchillin on tumblr<<

fandom | IT: Chapter One

character | Bill Denbrough

reader | (disabled) he/him (she ver.)(they ver.)

requested | anonymous

warnings | cursing, ableism

word count | 1,131

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | Hi! Could I request a Bill Denbrough x disabled!reader? Where Richie compares (y/n) to a bike and tries to ride their wheelchair while (y/n) is still in it- and bill tells him to fuck off? I just think bill would understand 🥺💕

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

You hummed quietly as you pushed against the wheels of your chair. Approaching your best friend’s driveway was the only way you could hang out with him, seeing how inaccessible his front door was. If you thought too hard about it, it didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, so you tried not to.

You saw him sitting on the floor, sketching in his notebook somewhat mindlessly. Upon hearing your quiet hum, he flipped a few pages ahead to a blank one. Looking up at you, he squinted from the sun shining in his eyes but smiled.

“H-Hi (Y/n). You’re the f-first to get here so we can wait for everyone else.” He said, standing up and moving to the couch his dad had put in the garage a few months ago. He realized how much more inclined he was to hang out there now that he was friends with you.

His parents were lovely, but he started to pick up on the sudden stiffness and overall negative feelings you had when they said certain things. About how they were sorry and glad Bill was so kind, which he was. It was one of his greatest qualities, but it was as if they only thought he was your friend because he was so kind.

“That’s alright. What were you drawing?”  You asked casually, backing your chair into the space of the wall that was just the right fit. You remembered when he moved aside a table so he could sit next to you. It was one of the moments that made you feel your heartbeat in your stomach, as he so often did.

“Oh, n-n-nothing. Just practicing shape l-language for objects.” He replied, sitting on the cushions in a way that made it easier to look at you. 

“Really? What are you trying to learn to draw?” You asked. He shrugged.

“Nothing in p-p-particular. I just think it’s a g-good skill to have.” He replies, closing his sketchbook and setting it aside. You smile and nod.

“Do you know when the other Losers plan on joining us?” You asked leaning on the arm of your chair.

“Right now.” A voice called from behind. You looked over your shoulder to the garage entrance, watching Richie, Eddie, and Stan enter. You smiled and waved, which only Stan returned. 

“What are we doing here? You never told us.” Eddie says, sitting on the far end of the couch. You were never sure why, but he always seemed much more tense. You could come up with a few reasons, but they weren’t good ones, and you hoped those weren’t the case.

“J-J-Just a movie night. I made popcorn and st-ocked the drinks.” Bill replied. You begin to self-propel toward the fridge in the far left corner of the room. You looked inside, seeing mostly cokes and water. You opted for the latter.

“Plus, if we run out, we can hop on (Y/n)’s wheelchair. He’s basically a bike.” Richie says with a snicker, placing both his feet on the back of your chair and causing you to become unsteady. You yelp in surprise, immediately swatting him off. You turn your chair to face him, a look of panic on your face.

“What the fuck Richie?” You shout. He raises his eyebrows.

“What?” He asks, lacking a single modicum of self-awareness. You’re so flustered and upset that you find it difficult to articulate your feelings. Bill stands up from the couch, stepping between Richie and yourself.

“Y-You can’t say shit like that Richie!” Bill exclaims, his ears turning red from anger as they always did.

“Why are you guys freaking out?” He asks, raising his arms in exasperation.

“C-Comparing (Y/n) to a bike? You don’t get why that’s f-f-f-fu-fucked up!?” He shouts, finding it harder to speak due to his anger.

“No? It was a good thing. Bikes are cool and he’d be helping us to the store.” He replied. 

“It’s fine Bill. Don’t worry about it…” You mumble, trying to maneuver around him.

“N-no (Y/n) I am w-worried about it,” Bill says, turning to look at you. There was a look in his eyes that made you feel warm and safe. 

“He said don’t worry about it so I think-“

“Fuck off Richie!” Bill yells as he whips his head around to stare at him, not a stutter in his voice. Richie backs away with his hands up in surrender.

“Whatever dude.” He mumbles, sitting next to Eddie on the couch.

You were thankful Bill was so quick to defend you, but the confrontation still made you uneasy and guilty. You wheeled your chair out of the garage and onto the driveway, stopping when you heard Bill coming after you.

“Where are you g-going? Are you ok-kay?” He asks, walking by your side. You sigh and stop wheeling yourself forward. You say nothing at first trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. Bill walks in front of you, so he can see you while you talk, a simple gesture but something so thoughtful.

“You’re the only one who treats me… Well, normal… Richie always has something to say, Eddie avoids me like he’s going to catch something and I just… I hate it.” You mutter, folding your hands in your lap. Bill sighs as he crosses his arms.

“I w-wish there was more I could do. I t-t-tell Richie all the time to quit his shit but he-“

“It’s not you Bill. You do more than enough. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person I have in my corner.” You say, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiles, his eyes holding that same shine that made you feel so warm and safe.

“Y-You know, that’s exactly how I feel.” He replies. You tilt your head in confusion. Bill rubs his neck bashfully before shrugging. 

“You’re the only one who ever t-tells them to stop making fun of my s-st-stutter. Sometimes it feels like y-you’re the only one in my c-corner.” He replies. You smile, a warm glow rushing to your cheeks.

“We can be in each other’s corner.” You reply, giddily grabbing his hand. It takes you a second to realize what you’ve done before pulling back.

“S-Sorry I was just-”

“No! It’s okay!” He grabs your hand again, this time intertwining your fingers. “I l-like being in each other's corner.” 

“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He chuckles and locks his pinky around yours.

“P-Pinky promise.” He replies.

“Now let’s go watch the m-movie. If Richie says anything else I’ll j-just kick him out.”

“Since when are you Mr. tough guy?” You ask with a giggle.

“S-Since I had to be in someone’s corner. I-it’s a tough job you know.”

[witcherheadcanons]

Should you be worried? (Understanding a witcher’s perception of danger based on actions- or lack thereof)

Having a witcher as a companion can either lengthen your lifespan or significantly shorten it, depending on how fond a witcher is of you and how observant you can be. Witchers are intelligent creatures that may protect you if they grow fond of your company- so always be willing to make friends with a witcher.

Some have more agreeable personalities than others, but be aware that witchers have run into many unpleasant humans that makes them suspicious of all polite contact- expect long days of enduring suspicious and veiled threats before a witcher ‘warms up’ to your presence. Witchers seem to struggle with understanding common folk, so always make sure to watch your actions and tone of voice, just as you would around an unfamiliar hound (a very, very smart and deadly hound). 

There are a few signs to tell how tense witchers (modeled after the infamous Geralt of Rivia, White Wolf) are, in order from he-looks-pretty-calm to I-believe-there-is-imminent-danger. If you are not a companion/friend of the witcher and you notice these signs that the witcher is uncomfortable or ready to fight... adjust your behavior or risk injury/death. 

Does not eat.

It is pretty standard for witchers to avoid eating around others. They will not eat with company unless the witcher knows he cannot get through the day without it. Talking about contracts over meals is hardly ever an option witcher can take advantage of due to the negative public perception of them. To be polite he might pick at his food, but since eating is seen as a personal and vulnerable activity, witchers will not enjoy a meal unless he is around good friends (even though witchers are almost always hungry). It usually takes acquaintances of any witcher numerous interactions before they realized that they have not seen their witcher eat. 

His back is to a wall.

It is a common habit among fighters to keep one’s back protected whenever possible. Having swords across his back offers some protection, but a solid wall is never scorned by a witcher. In most instances, a witcher can get his back to a wall without others putting two and two together and realizing he is eliminating the need to watch for threats behind him. But if you can notice that your companion witcher is keeping his back to the wall, do not immediately panic. It may very well be a habit the witcher has picked up or you are traveling with a very suspicious witcher. (But if a witcher was content without a wall at his back and then moves to find a suitable wall, try to figure out what the witcher is responding to and keep an eye on that person. A tip: a witcher will face where he perceives danger to approach from, so keep an eye out in the same direction your witcher is). 

He has positioned himself to be in a corner to best observe the room.

Picking a corner to reside in is a tactical move that hardly goes unnoticed by anyone who is even somewhat aware of their surroundings. It forces everyone to approach him head on- discouraging many from trying to bother a wary witcher. Your witcher may be uneasy or feeling threatened (but if you know your witcher companion is injured, you might be able to relax. He is just attempting to control who sees and approaches him when he is not a peak fitness). 

Does not drink any alcohol.

Geralt* will drink unless he has slight doubts of needing to fight in the very near future. It usually means he won’t drink anything strong (and for a witcher, a glass of wine or a shot of vodka won’t affect him at all), so to see a witcher turn down all drinks means something is keeping him on his toes. 

(* I believe Geralt of Rivia is more lax on drinking around people he doesn’t know, either because of personality or because his different body chemistry to other witchers makes him even less susceptible to the effects of alcohol). 

Declines a seat or stays standing when others sit down but leans against a wall.

If a witcher declines a seat offered, either he is not pleased to be in the current company, or the urge to be ready outweighs the offer. He might, instead, lean against the wall. This may imply to others that the witcher is relaxed if he takes up a casual stance, but if the witcher stands instead of sitting despite one insisting he sits, then his instincts say to be wary.

He stands up from sitting or straightens up from leaning.

A witcher straightening up from slouching against the wall is not always a sign that danger is imminent. Someone important to the witcher or someone of great authority may have entered the room (or is approaching the room- never forget that witchers have very sensitive hearing and will hear someone or something approaching far before you do). However, it could also mean the witcher is preparing to react to something. Standing up from sitting down is either a signal that the present witcher wishes the conversation to end, or he believes there is something going on that is suspicious.

Visibly looks around the area.

If you notice that a witcher is scouting an area that you perceive to be safe, it probably isn’t. Witchers have such superior senses that he is always checking his surroundings as a passive, constant evaluation while you think he is paying attention to something else. So if one can see a witcher repeatedly look around, he has decided that something about his surroundings is concerning enough for him to expend more energy gathering information. Be ready to fight/flee, and maybe you can ask your witcher if you should be on the lookout for anything. (Only do this if you are ‘friends’ with the witcher, otherwise, the witcher will be suspicious that someone is paying close attention to him and will hide everything from you. A good tip to follow is if you are not friends with the witcher, wait until he tells you what he is doing). 

Adjusts his stance for optimal movement.

If a witcher adjusts his stance to look more casual, look again. If you can determine that he has shifted some weight off of his heels, the witcher is expecting a fight. If you are the only one in the room, be warned! Either the witcher believes he has to react to something you do, or something is about to approach.

Moves so he is either closer to an exit or puts a barrier between himself and the direction he perceives the threat. (Or, alternatively, he moves around a barrier to be closer to something or someone). 

Witchers are very quick creatures, with speeds that match one of a halfling’s. (Geralt of Rivia is rumored to have undergone more mutating that other witchers, giving him his white hair. He is quicker, stronger, and hardier that other witchers). If you can notice that the witcher is edging away to an exit, pause and consider the situation. Does the witcher look annoyed or impatient? Then relax, because the witcher only wishes to address something else that has caught his attention. But if he looks serious then your witcher is preparing to flee from something that needs him to be one step ahead.

If a witcher moves to put a table, piece of furniture, or anything else between himself and someone else then he is attempting to slow down an attack from said person. (This kind of movement can be instinctual. A witcher may do it without being aware of himself doing it if he is uncomfortable or feeling vulnerable). Alternatively, if the witcher is moving around a barrier to reach a person, then he is being aggressive. Especially if the witcher does it multiple times as the object of his focus attempts to ‘hide’ or deflect the witcher’s presence again. (A moving witcher is a major indication that the witcher is restless and there may or may not be a need for him to be on his toes).

Stops talking.

You best shut up and pay attention to your witcher companion if he stops talking or responding to conversation. (Of course, check to see that your witcher is not dozing or is ignoring you. Witchers are not terribly verbal creatures and some get exhausted with constant chatter. Be more muted than you usually would if you are a new companion because witchers are used to solidarity on their travels).  A witcher that is silent has decided that talking is too much of a distraction and has forgone it in favor of being even more alert.

There is high suspicion and chance that something will happen so be prepared.

A hand is near his belt, ready to grab a potion, bomb, or his knife.

This can be a threat, letting everyone present that the witcher is ready to fight. Witcher potions are powerful enhancers of a witcher’s senses or abilities. Bombs are thrown projectiles that can cause blindness, poison, or release a cloud of glittering dust that explodes when ignited. Witchers are very skilled in combat, and I personally promise that a witcher always carries more blades than you see. (You have the silver sword and the steel sword, a knife that is used for cutting into monsters for material gathering or for creating trophies, but there are always more knives. Always). 

Depending on the personality of your witcher, the hand-to-belt threat can be subtle to someone in the room if the witcher remains calm. Or, the witcher is staring someone down with those horrifying (but very interesting) cat eyes. If you are the one who is being stared down, take a good look at the tools on the witcher’s belt. Do you want him to use them on you? If not, think about what you are doing or saying to piss off the witcher and STOP. (If you are a companion, then be ready for a fight to break out). 

A hand is touching the hilt of one of his swords (also doubles as a threat).

Witchers draw their swords extremely quickly (you would know this if you spent time around a witcher). So to see one rest a hand or touch the swords on his back is a very unnerving sign that the witcher is expecting trouble. Geralt of Rivia does not have the habit of absentmindedly touching his sword hilts, but perhaps some witchers have the same habits soldiers do and will constantly assure themselves that the weapon is still there. (If you have not seen your witcher do this often, he does not have this habit and you need to be wary).

Stop whatever you are doing if a witcher is staring at you when he touches the hilt of his sword- unless you want him to use it on you. This witcher is making a visible motion for all to be aware that either his temper is short or he is very willing to respond to any threats with a threat of his own.  

Has drawn his sword

Fucking run!

(Unless the witcher gives you an order, then you should listen to him if you want a chance at living). If a witcher has not told you to either flee or hide and his sword is drawn, pray to your god. Either there are not exits from the threat the witcher is reacting to, or you are the reason he draws his sword.

Witchers are the creature you want to be with if you cannot avoid a monster encounter- only if he is offering you his protection. (Witchers make great guards. It is a shame they choose to wander “their Path” instead of being available for hire for lengths of time).

Sword is drawn and he has taken a potion.

However, if the witcher is facing you and he has consumed a potion and has a sword drawn, you are a dead corpse walking.

The witcher potion is the key signal here. A witcher is already stronger, faster, and more resilient that all humans and some other creatures. If he has taken a potion, it was to increase some or all of these aforementioned traits. It means the witcher perceives the fight to be a difficult one, one that cannot be won without the potion.

Pray to your god, but if you are a companion of the witcher there is still a chance he could save your life. So obey any and all orders given by the witcher to the letter and with the utmost speed.

If you are not a companion, you are dead. Either because the witcher has decided he can live without you (and thus, won’t risk his life for you), or you are what he is planning to kill.

All of the situations in the guide, however, should be dealt with the utmost caution. Tipping a witcher off that you are paying close attention to him will immediately cause aggression. You should also avoid acting hysterical when you believe your witcher is tense. Witchers do not understand stress like humans do. Good witchers live up to hundreds of years because they prepare for the worst. It may be nothing most of the time, but that one time the witcher needs to react to a threat... he will be glad he was prepared.

Another guide will be printed on how to decide if your witcher likes you, so dear readers, be prepared for some more insight into the fantastic creatures that are witchers!

[canislupus-exe]

In Your Corner | bill denbrough

fandom | IT: Chapter One

character | Bill Denbrough

reader | (disabled) she/her (he ver.)(they ver.)

requested | anonymous

warnings | cursing, ableism

word count | 1,131

keys | (Y/n) = Your name

summary | Hi! Could I request a Bill Denbrough x disabled!reader? Where Richie compares y/n to a bike and tries to ride their wheelchair while y/n is still in it- and bill tells him to fuck off? I just think bill would understand 🥺💕

editor | @feliscatus-exe

>> back to prev <<

Keep reading

You hummed quietly as you pushed against the wheels of your chair. Approaching your best friend’s driveway was the only way you could hang out with him, seeing how inaccessible his front door was. If you thought too hard about it, it didn’t give you the best feeling in the world, so you tried not to.

You saw him sitting on the floor, sketching in his notebook somewhat mindlessly. Upon hearing your quiet hum, he flipped a few pages ahead to a blank one. Looking up at you, he squinted from the sun shining in his eyes but smiled.

“H-Hi (Y/n). You’re the f-first to get here so we can wait for everyone else.” He said, standing up and moving to the couch his dad had put in the garage a few months ago. He realized how much more inclined he was to hang out there now that he was friends with you.

His parents were lovely, but he started to pick up on the sudden stiffness and overall negative feelings you had when they said certain things. About how they were sorry and glad Bill was so kind, which he was. It was one of his greatest qualities, but it was as if they only thought he was your friend because he was so kind.

“That’s alright. What were you drawing?”  You asked casually, backing your chair into the space of the wall that was just the right fit. You remembered when he moved aside a table so he could sit next to you. It was one of the moments that made you feel your heartbeat in your stomach, as he so often did.

“Oh, n-n-nothing. Just practicing shape l-language for objects.” He replied, sitting on the cushions in a way that made it easier to look at you. 

“Really? What are you trying to learn to draw?” You asked. He shrugged.

“Nothing in p-p-particular. I just think it’s a g-good skill to have.” He replies, closing his sketchbook and setting it aside. You smile and nod.

“Do you know when the other Losers plan on joining us?” You asked leaning on the arm of your chair.

“Right now.” A voice called from behind. You looked over your shoulder to the garage entrance, watching Richie, Eddie, and Stan enter. You smiled and waved, which only Stan returned. 

“What are we doing here? You never told us.” Eddie says, sitting on the far end of the couch. You were never sure why, but he always seemed much more tense. You could come up with a few reasons, but they weren’t good ones, and you hoped those weren’t the case.

“J-J-Just a movie night. I made popcorn and st-ocked the drinks.” Bill replied. You begin to self-propel toward the fridge in the far left corner of the room. You looked inside, seeing mostly cokes and water. You opted for the latter.

“Plus, if we run out, we can hop on (Y/n)’s wheelchair. She’s basically a bike.” Richie says with a snicker, placing both his feet on the back of your chair and causing you to become unsteady. You yelp in surprise, immediately swatting him off. You turn your chair to face him, a look of panic on your face.

“What the fuck Richie?” You shout. He raises his eyebrows.

“What?” He asks, lacking a single modicum of self-awareness. You’re so flustered and upset that you find it difficult to articulate your feelings. Bill stands up from the couch, stepping between Richie and yourself.

“Y-You can’t say shit like that Richie!” Bill exclaims, his ears turning red from anger as they always did.

“Why are you guys freaking out?” He asks, raising his arms in exasperation.

“C-Comparing (Y/n) to a bike? You don’t get why that’s f-f-f-fu-fucked up!?” He shouts, finding it harder to speak due to his anger.

“No? It was a good thing. Bikes are cool and she’d be helping us to the store.” He replied. 

“It’s fine Bill. Don’t worry about it…” You mumble, trying to maneuver around him.

“N-no (Y/n) I am w-worried about it,” Bill says, turning to look at you. There was a look in his eyes that made you feel warm and safe. 

“She said don’t worry about it so I think-“

“Fuck off Richie!” Bill yells as he whips his head around to stare at him, not a stutter in his voice. Richie backs away with his hands up in surrender.

“Whatever dude.” He mumbles, sitting next to Eddie on the couch.

You were thankful Bill was so quick to defend you, but the confrontation still made you uneasy and guilty. You wheeled your chair out of the garage and onto the driveway, stopping when you heard Bill coming after you.

“Where are you g-going? Are you ok-kay?” He asks, walking by your side. You sigh and stop wheeling yourself forward. You say nothing at first trying to figure out how to put your thoughts into words. Bill walks in front of you, so he can see you while you talk, a simple gesture but something so thoughtful.

“You’re the only one who treats me… Well, normal… Richie always has something to say, Eddie avoids me like he’s going to catch something and I just… I hate it.” You mutter, folding your hands in your lap. Bill sighs as he crosses his arms.

“I w-wish there was more I could do. I t-t-tell Richie all the time to quit his shit but he-“

“It’s not you Bill. You do more than enough. Sometimes it feels like you’re the only person I have in my corner.” You say, looking up to meet his eyes. He smiles, his eyes holding that same shine that made you feel so warm and safe.

“Y-You know, that’s exactly how I feel.” He replies. You tilt your head in confusion. Bill rubs his neck bashfully before shrugging. 

“You’re the only one who ever t-tells them to stop making fun of my s-st-stutter. Sometimes it feels like y-you’re the only one in my c-corner.” He replies. You smile, a warm glow rushing to your cheeks.

“We can be in each other’s corner.” You reply, giddily grabbing his hand. It takes you a second to realize what you’ve done before pulling back.

“S-Sorry I was just-”

“No! It’s okay!” He grabs your hand again, this time intertwining your fingers. “I l-like being in each other's corner.” 

“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He chuckles and locks his pinky around yours.

“P-Pinky promise.” He replies.

“Now let’s go watch the m-movie. If Richie says anything else I’ll j-just kick him out.”

“Since when are you Mr. tough guy?” You ask with a giggle.

“S-Since I had to be in someone’s corner. I-it’s a tough job you know.”