#what have you done to solance | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thefreelanceangel · 3 years

Text

Shadowbringers Is Finally Ended

With Patch 5.55 and the official end of the Shadowbringers story, setting up now for Endwalker in November, there are now a few months ahead to grind gear, finish content and reflect on the most recent expansion.

And, without any hyperbole, I can say definitively that I have never in my life been as impressed with a game's writing as I have that of Shadowbringers, both the original expansion and a lot of the patch content. I have... thoughts.

I'm a bit of an outlier; I skipped Stormblood (oops) and went straight from completing Heavensward (which greatly impressed me at the time and still does) into Shadowbringers because I wanted to get a max level character already.

Within the first few cutscenes of Shadowbringers, I was absolutely hooked.

First, let me just say that "monstrous angels" is 100% My Thing. I ADORE the reinterpretation of the standard "Renaissance art angelic figures" into something closer to incomprehensible beings taking on twisted, terrifying appearances. The human mind is a finite thing and comprehending an angel would be as difficult as comprehending infinity; these are things so alien to our experience that assuming they'd be easy to grasp and familiar feels disingenuous to me.

So the sin-eaters and the Lightwardens? SLAP.

Also, the intent behind the usage of "Light" in Shadowbringers was deliberate and purposeful. Our Lord and Savior, Yoshi-P, stated this clearly in his Forbes interview.

"The inception of this idea was very simple: in recent fantasy works, the perception that light equates to good and dark equates to evil is very set in stone, we wanted to shake this up a bit.

"Until this point in Final Fantasy XIV, our players have been Warriors of Light: the hero. However, with Shadowbringers, we leave the Source and embark on a journey to the First, and through this I want our players to discover the truth of the world, as well as think about the real nature of light and dark. That is the theme of Shadowbringers.

"In any case, a light too strong could potentially become evil. Darkness and night are also necessary for the world to maintain its balance; that's the kind of theme we will be shedding light on."

And the themes in Shadowbringers had such an amazing resonance that they were both painfully clear and masterfully executed. Not only was the theme of "balance" clearly executed in the "returning Darkness to a world flooded by Light" goal, but the desire for players to "think about the real nature of light and dark" showed in a multitude of ways.

The Warriors of Light (who we met as the Warriors of Darkness in Heavensward) are, in their home world, reviled. They directly caused the Flood which nearly destroyed their home and although they were able to save it with personal sacrifice, the populace at large is unaware of that sacrifice. The motives behind what the Warriors did is essentially lost to history; all that remains is the perception of their actions and the results thereof.

Motives, however, which you (player and WoL) are privy to.

"At long last, you see. To save our world, we gave our lives. We were just adventurers trying to make our way. An odd job here, a favor there—we never aspired to be Warriors of Light. But word of our deeds spread, and soon people were calling us heroes. They placed their hopes and dreams on our shoulders and bid us fight for all that was good and right. We fought and we fought and we fought...until there was no one left to fight. We won...and now our world is being erased from existence. We did everything right, everything that was asked of us, and still—still it came to this! You of all people should understand! We cannot—we will not falter. We brought our world to the brink of destruction, and now we must save it."

You had that fight with the Warriors of Darkness. You heard Ardbert explain exactly what happened, how they came to the point where they faced off against you, and you saw what happened when they were given the choice to hold back the Flood. And you were there when the one favor Ardbert asked was for the Warriors of Darkness to be taken home.

You see how the First remembers them and it's stark contrast to the heroes you met who were fighting desperately to save people who now spit on their names. History quite clearly has two sides and which you believe is dependent entirely on what information you have.

This becomes even more of a clear theme when you meet Emet-Selch and learn more about the Calamity which led to the entire Zodiark/Hydaelyn duality. Here, your previous experiences with Ascians has painted them solely as "villains." They are established enemies, manipulating events and people in order to attain goals which, to you, are nothing but Calamities.

And yet, as you learn more about the original Source and the Amaurotines that once lived on it, these goals are painted in an entirely new light. Instead of merely seeking to wipe out "the world" for no apparent reason or, at best guess, greater power for their deity Zodiark, the Ascians were striving to repair the damage done by the original Sundering. They, in a manner of speaking, were doing what the Warriors of Darkness were. What you, the Warrior of Light, have been doing. They were trying to restore what was lost.

Which leads into another of Shadowbringers' major themes: grief and loss.

The earliest touches of this are in Alisaie's questlines where you learn about what happens to people tainted by the Light. Families are destroyed, people are transmuted into sin-eaters and those who avoid that fate must stand by and watch as their loved ones fall to something far worse than death. "A Purchase of Fruit" shows you exactly what the end result is while also highlighting something very specific: with no hope of removing the Light's taint, knowing that all that awaits the tainted is a painful transmutation and existence as a sin-eater, those untainted make the best they can of those last days and end the tainted individual's pain before it begins.

Grief, yes. Loss? Absolutely. And yet, this is a loving, compassionate thing that those in Amh Araeng are doing. They face their own grief and loss. Rather than refusing to accept the actuality of their circumstances or refuse to weigh themselves down with taking a decisive action, they make the choice to face their grief and loss directly, even willingly taking on the guilt of their actions rather than leaving the tainted to suffer.

Magnus in Twine lost his wife and son, which immobilizes him. He can't find solance in anything save alcohol and brooding over their graves. It takes outside interference to pull him directly from his grief, to help him see past the loss of his family and look towards the future where life might once again be worth living. His struggle with grief is painfully familiar and so very, very close to many real life struggles that it's extremely poignant.

This struggle with grief is the fight the Ascians are, without question, losing. Let's set aside the "tempering" argument when it comes to Emet-Selch and Elidibus for the moment, largely because it's actually quite true that grief can spur people into committing horrific acts either as a desperate attempt to assuage their own pain (revenge) or make 'things right' in some way (vengeance).

Emet-Selch does not, in fact, properly grieve for Amaurot and the Ancients he knew. He clings to them, as Hythlodaeus tells us, weighed down by an aching sense of loss.

"And though he may carry himself with a certain glib ease, Emet-Selch is not a man to bear his burdens lightly. In fact, I imagine they have only grown heavier with every passing century. ...T'is truly a terrible weight he has chosen to carry."

Quite significantly is the word "chosen" in that. Grief is a process that involves, eventually, letting go of the pain and living with the memories of what was loved and what no longer is. Emet-Selch chooses not to do that. He does not grieve for Amaurot and his lost loved ones; he refuses, no matter how often he mentions his loss, to admit that what is gone is gone.

Elidibus, rather similarly, refuses to accept that the duty he took on when called upon to become Zodiark's heart is finally at an end. That the world he and Emet-Selch originated from is gone. Although he admits that he can barely remember why he's set on this path, he refuses to turn away from him.

One won't forget, one can barely remember--neither will grieve and let go.

Even the Ascians' characteristic arrogance and disdain for what they consider "lesser beings" is easy to read as their long-lasting struggle with grief. Considering the Sundering, all the beings that the Ascians are so disdainful of are, in fact, echoes of that which they once knew. If they acknowledged that, accepted those beings as what they are and perhaps even admitted they had worth... well... Rather like realizing abruptly that you've spent a whole day without thinking of someone recently departed, it feels like a betrayal.

To find value in the worlds as they currently are, to turn away from the duty they were asked to uphold, to choose to lay down the memories of the past are all, in essence, choices the Ascians will not make because to do so would be to let go of what's lost, to move into the acceptance of grief and that can feel like betraying those whose memories are slowly fading.

Emet-Selch's end--"Remember us."--is directly tied to his refusal to forget. To let himself have even one day without hoping for an eventuality that's highly unlikely regardless of effort, without remembering the Sundering and the Final Days. He remembered, forcefully and tenaciously, and wishes that legacy to live beyond him.

While Elidibus, in remembering, unable to deny failure any longer, finally expresses grief and loss. "My people. My brothers. ...My friends. Stay strong. Keep the faith. At duty's end, we will meet again. We will. We will. The rains have ceased, and we have been graced with another beautiful day. But you are not here to see it."

And coming from villains, quite specifically from villains that have been largely indistinct "puppet master" figures throughout the previous expansions, these story arcs were a punch to the gut. (Yes, I had to pause writing this to cry helplessly over Elidibus again because my gods, that last line just...) Villains are at their best in fiction when they're relatable. When it's so very easy to see that thin line between villain and hero.

Faced with the loss of everything you'd ever loved, with the faintest possibility of getting it back, what would you do? What wouldn't you do? Yes, the Ascians did terrible things and that's undeniable. Stopping them was necessary to save hundreds of thousands of lives. And doing so, being victorious, didn't feel like a victory and that is such a rare, rare thing in media. The Warrior of Light does the right thing, but in doing so, must face the fact that those they've been fighting have hopes and dreams and feelings and pain as real and as motivating as theirs.

And Shadowbringers does such an impressive job of turning those standard tropes around. Heroes are a dime a dozen because if you just awaken them, as Elidibus did with the starshower, well, there can be dozens of Warriors running around. Villains have heart-wrenching motivations and relatable reasons for their goals. History is multi-faceted and no one person knows what the "truth" truly is. Grief can spur people to helping others (i.e. the tank Role Quest ending) or it can fester and go unhealed and create nothing but more destruction.

There is so much that Shadowbringers did beautifully, I don't have the time to touch on all of it. The lack of "breaking the flawed system fixes everything" trope following Eulmore's liberation from Vauthry and the struggles that Eulmore faces in trying to build a functional, working social order for themselves. Embracing the value of childish dreams and tending to the smallest, most overlooked victims of trauma with the Pixie Tribal Quests. Dealing with a commander whose soldiers died and seeing Lyna's survivor's guilt. Seeing how having a single, unified goal can inspire and rally people into putting differences aside and helping each other.

Shadowbringers has finally ended with Patch 5.55. The story on the First ended with Patch 5.3. And all I can say is that this is a game that I will never forget.

#Shadowbringers #FFXIV #OOC #Yes I had A Lot of Thoughts

12 notes · View notes

schrijverr · 4 years

Text

To be or not to be

Brian has an existential crisis about whether he is real, The Toy Soldier helps him. Later The Toy Soldier is questioning itself and goes to Brian, they find solance in the other.

On AO3.

Ships: none

Warnings: idk, this might not be for you if you are prone to existential crisis. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~~~

Brian was panicking, he didn’t even know why he was panicking, but he was. Well that was a lie, he knew damn well why he was panicking, but the reason only made him panic more.

He had woken up to no sound.

It was very unusual for life on Aurora to be silent, so Brian had immediately become worried. He had hurried out of bed and to the common area, only to find multiple members up and running, shouting and shooting at each other. But he couldn't hear a thing.

The others had noticed him standing there, confused and panicked. They had asked him what was wrong. He had tried to explain, seeing them cringe and lean in as his volume switched between too hard and too soft according to their reactions.

They quickly figured out that a wire had disconnected in his sleep, something that was easily mended, but it left Brian with a sour taste in his mouth. Well, it would have if he’d had any taste buds, which he didn’t, because he was a robot.

He wasn’t real.

And there it was, the real issue that was making him walk through the halls disorientated as he tried to calm down and not spiral. It wasn’t working out for him so far, though.

Brain was about to just sit down and curl into a ball when he ran into The Toy Soldier. It was whistling a tune as it marched, but it fell still when it saw Brian. It cocked its head to the side and asked: “Are You Quite Alright, Old Sport?”

“Yeah.” Brian tried weakly, unsure why he was even lying.

“I Am Not Sure That Is Correct, But I Do Not Think I Can Tell You Your Feelings Are Not Real.” TS replied.

“Maybe you just can, TS. After all why would I be real?” Brian sighed sadly.

The Toy Solider frowned, then carefully said: “I Might Be Understanding Your Tone Wrong, But You Seem Upset About That Fact.”

Brain scuffed his foot on the floor and looked down, before he shrugged: “I don’t know, you know? I feel I should be real, but then my body reminds me how not human I am and it freaks me out and then I wonder why I’m even trying to be real when I’m so obviously not. I mean, my morality is controlled by a little switch, who am I even fooling?”

“Not Being Real Isn’t The End Of The World.” The Toy Soldier said in an attempt to cheer him up.

He smiled and said: “I know that, TS. Sorry, if I made you feel like you not being real is dumb or something, I just want to be real, but I don’t feel like I am, you know?”

“I Do Not Feel, So You Didn’t, Do Not Worry.” The Toy Soldier assured him, “And You Are Quite Real.”

“Really? How do you know?” Brian asked, glad to have someone there to tell him that he wasn’t fake and he existed.

“Well, When I Feel Particularly Real, I Will List Things That Real People Do That I Don’t. You Do A Lot Of Real People Stuff.” The Toy Soldier explained.

“Can you tell me some of them, I kind of need that right now.” Brian told it.

“Of Course.” it replied cheerily, “Here Lets Sit.”

It sat down on the ground in the middle of the hallway, motioning Brian to follow its example. Brian shrugged and sat down next to it as he waited for it to start. It pretended the think for a moment, then began: “Well, For Starters You Sleep.”

“You don’t?” Brian couldn't help but asked confused.

“No, I Tried To Pretend A Few Times, But It Is Dreadfully Boring And I Can Use That Time For Much More Productive Things.” The Toy Soldier said.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.”

“That Is Because You Sleep Like A Real Person.” The Toy Soldier smiled, earning a small smile back, “Another Thing Is Your Eating.”

“I would hardly call drinking oil eating, TS.” Brian protested.

“It Is Something You Consume For Fuel To Keep Your Body Going, Correct?” TS asked.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then I Do Not See How It Is Anything Different From Eating.” The Toy Soldier said firmly, “You Also Feel Pain, I Have Been Told That Is A Very Human And Real Experience.”

“You feel pain too, don’t you?” Brian asked.

“No, I Am Made Of Wood, There Is No Nervous System Running Through These Limbs, Old Sport.” The Toy Soldier smiled.

“But I heard you complain when Jonny stole your arm the other day.” Brian was still a bit confused about this new revelation.

“Just Because I Cannot Experience Pain, Does Not Mean It Is Not Uncomfortable To Function With A Limb Less.” TS explained.

Brian shrugged and made a ‘that’s-fair’-face. He had calmed considerably in comparison to earlier, his shoulders had relaxed and the fans in his chest weren’t working on overdrive to keep him cool and functioning anymore.

“Thank you, TS. I really needed that.” he smiled to the wooden soldier.

“No Problem, Old Sport. Here To Help.” The Toy Soldier saluted, standing up, helping Brian up as well, before it went on its merry way.

After that life had continued with only to normal, minimal amount of existential crises from Brian and he was quite happy for it. He would replay parts of the conversation he’d had with The Toy Soldier to make him feel better about himself, which usually worked.

Then, about a week or so later, he got woken up in the middle of the night by a frowning TS. He knew it had stayed behind with Jonny and Ashes, who were playing cards and being mean to their own health, which was something for another day, but he had no clue why it would be here.

“What happened?” he therefore asked, groggily and confused.

“I Am Questioning My Fakeness And I Would Appreciate Input Of Someone Who Has More Understanding Of The Topic Than Ashes Or Jonny.” The Toy Soldier explained.

Immediately Brian was more awake, he sat upright and blinked the sleep away, before he asked: “What caused this?”

“Jonny Insulted Me And I Pretended To Be Upset, Before I Had Realized, I’d Done So. Now I Am Questioning If I Am Even Fake Or If I Am Faking My Fakeness.” it told him.

Brian thought about that for a moment. The Toy Soldier had been there for him during his identity crisis, so he would be there for it. Then he said: “That just means you’ve gotten good at acting, TS.”

“But It Was So Quick, Almost Like It Was A Response.” The Toy Soldier replied.

“Well, some actors start to become so used to playing their role, if they have for a while, that they start thinking and acting like that character, since they absorbed them so much. It is probably the same for you.” Brian reasoned.

“Isn’t That Different? They Already Have Emotions, Those Can Change.” TS tried to debunk Brians argument.

“No, no. You’ve been playing real for centuries now, some reactions were bound to become instinctive after so much time. It’s just a well trained reflex.” Brian was becoming more sure in his thoughts as he went on, “You aren’t about to fall over and sleep or eat or do other real stuff, right? It was just a reflex, like starting to walk when someone does, that doesn’t make you real.”

That seemed to cheer The Toy Soldier up as it chirped: “Thank You, Old Sport. You Are Quite Right, I Have Merely Mastered My Craft.”

“Yeah, you did.” Brian smiled, suppressing a yawn.

“Oh, Right. You Need Sleep. I Should Be Going.” TS said apologetically.

“It’s alright, TS. I don’t mind.” Brian said, but The Toy Soldier was already backing away, saying a quick thanks as it saluted before it disappeared out of the room.

And after that it had become a ritual for one or the other to appear whenever they were sad or not feeling like their reality fit.

Brian learned all the reason The Toy Soldier was fake because every difference made him real, while The Toy Soldier did it for the opposite reasons. And Brian was not going to lie, having TS use him as a case study of what real people did, was pretty fucking validating.

He didn’t know if the other had caught on to the new camaraderie between the two of them and frankly he didn’t care. The tea parties with inedible cookies and the late night talks about philosophy TS would back out of when it got too much by claiming it was something for real people and it was done pretending for the day, made life bearable.

It made life good.

TS could be fake and Brian could be real and both could exist together, because even though they were opposites, no one got it better than the other.

On the days when TS didn’t feel like pretending, it could be fake in Brians presence and he would make sure none of the others messed with it, while on days when reality felt beyond Brians grasp he could rant to it about being real or fake and it would listen and not complain about him making its head hurt.

It was nice, Brian decided, it was nice to be understood.

#RR writing #The Mechanisms #the mechs #drumbot brian #the toy soldier #theyre buddies #existentialism

20 notes · View notes

fairyshuuu · 7 years

Text

Solance

Demon AU ~~ Exo Kai Length: 4.1k

The black figure doesn’t say anything, but bends down to you. You want to see it’s face, but a large hood is covering it.

You don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t tempt me, buttercup.

You can find the Writing game Masterlist here.

You should have said no when you had the chance. You should have let him drive instead of you. You should have told him to stop teasing you, so that you could focus. So easy to see what you should have done after the facts occur. The lights coming towards you are going too fast. And you are too distracted to notice in time. You push his hand away and break but it’s too late. The other car smashes straight into yours. There is a heart-wrenching sound and pain. A lot of pain, and then silence.

You look around. Blood. Metal. You scream as you reach for his hand, his large hand that fits so well around your smaller one. It doesn’t move. Your ears are ringing so loud, you don’t know if you are thinking these things or saying them out loud. It hurts. Everything hurts. You look over to the passenger seat, but you can’t see him. The roof is bent down so that you can’t see him. You try to call out but your throat hurts to much, sending you into a coughing fit. You call out for him, or you think you do. It’s hard to know if you are actually calling out for him above the ringing.

Jongdae.

No answer. Nothing from his side. You can now feel thick tears rolling down your cheeks.

Jongdae? This is not funny, Jongdae. Answer me.

Jongdae! Please, answer me. Answer me, Jongdae!

Please, don’t do this to me.

Please, God, please. Don’t take him from me. Please.

You are sobbing, you can feel it. You have to get him out of there. You look around. The car was totally wrecked, but your door was slightly open. You click yourself loose and push against the door. It’s hard because it’s dented in the wrong way. You kick it. It moves. You kick again. It swings open. You push yourself out of the wreck. The wet grass against your face feels nice. You want to lay down here. But you have to get to him first. Then he can lay down with you. You push yourself up and walk around the car. The other car is forming a T with yours. You run around to get to his door. It’s stuck, but you don’t care. You rip it open. You have to get to him. His eyes are closed, and he is leaning sideways. There is so much blood. You reach for him. He doesn’t move. You click him out of seat and put your arms under his. He’s stuck. You pull harder.

Please, Jongdae. Just work with me. Get out.

He does. Or maybe you just pulled even harder. His full weight on your shoulders, but you don’t care. You pick him up and put him down in the grass. He looks calm, the complete opposite of you right now, despite being covered in blood.

Jongdae?

You reach for his hand. His hand, dripping with blood, in yours. The engagement ring is cold against your fingers. You cry. For him, or because of the pain, you don’t really know.

Jongdae. Please, baby. Don’t do this to me.

Please, God, please. Jongdae, please.

You can hear your voice over the ringing now.

‘JONGDAE! PLEASE? FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, WAKE UP. PLEASE.’

‘PLEASE JONGDAE.’

You’ve never heard yourself this hysterical before, not even when you were mad at him.

‘JONGDAE!’

You can’t stop yourself from pulling him closer and letting his tired head rest on your shoulder. You move him back and forth.

‘Jongdae, please.’

Your voice cracks because of your excessive tears. It hurts but you don’t want to let go of him.

‘Please, God, please. I’m begging you. Don’t take him. He’s everything I have.’

You feel cold, really cold. It makes you open your eyes. A black figure in front of you.

It’s time to let go, buttercup.

‘No. You can’t take him. He’s mine.’

Not anymore.

‘Please. Don’t take him. He’s my everything.’

Why should I care?

‘You probably don’t.’

Correct.

‘Take me instead.’

That’s not how it works. He’s gone, so he comes with us.

‘Then take me with him.’

The black figure doesn’t say anything, but bends down to you. You want to see it’s face, but a large hood is covering it.

You don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t tempt me, buttercup.

‘Take me with him.’

Then you want to sell your soul to me.

‘If that means I can stay with him, yes.’

Good. It is done. I hope you won’t regret your decision. Let’s go.

The black figure straightens up and waves his arm. The world around you goes black, and you feel Jongdae slipping out of your fingers before you can protest.

You sit up slowly, the sun falling on your face causes you to squint. You don’t recognise the room you are in, but are too tired to think about it since your mind feels a little dazy. You get up out of the soft blankets and waddle over to where the bathroom would be, only to find a wall and no door. Then, you look around the room properly. The walls were a deep red color, the floor a sort of black marble that you didn’t recognise. The window that woke you is not a real window, or you don’t think it is. You can’t actually look outside, there is just a super bright light coming from the window. You shake your head in confusion and an attempt to get the daze out.

‘Jongdae?’

No one answers, but there is a knock at the door so you run over and pull it open. You don’t recognise the man standing in front of you, but a deep shiver runs through you. He seems to have a cold and dark aura around him.

Let’s go. We’ve got work to do.

You recognise that voice. Suddenly, it all comes back to you. You gasp and stagger back.

‘Where is Jongdae?’

He sighs and runs a finger over his brow before turning around.

I don’t have time for this. Let’s go.

You don’t want to go anywhere with him, so you plant your feet in the ground and put your arms over your chest. He doesn’t wait up for you, he just flicks his hand. You look at him in confusion as he walks backwards, coming closer to you. Then you look down at your body. He was not coming closer to you, you were walking after him. Your body was just not listening to you whatsoever.

‘What the-’

He sighs and waits up for you. You want to punch him for making you move without consent but you sadly can’t lift your arm. It’s as if only your head is still listening to you.

‘Let me go. I want to see Jongdae.’

This ticks him off. His facial expression stays completely neutral, but you can hear it in his tone.

You can’t. You asked to come with him, so here you are. This is as much an inconvenience for me as it is for you.

‘I highly doubt that.’ You mumble. ‘This isn’t what I asked for.’

It is. If you can’t make specific demands, you shouldn’t sell your soul to the devil.

You want to answer that but he pinches his fingers and your mouth now refuses to open. What a dickhead. He chuckles lightly, though you don’t know why. You are just forced to observe as you walk behind him, through halls that are a deep red color, like wine. You wonder if this is actually hell. It seems a lot … calmer than you would expect it to be. The halls are silent apart from the sound of your footsteps. The man … or thing doesn’t make any sound. Strange. He sighs deeply.

Do you always talk so much?

You frown at him. What was he talking about? You didn’t even speak. You then wonder it he can hear your thoughts. You’re a dickhead. He smiles. Okay, so he can hear your thoughts. Great. You decide to bombard him with questions. Where are we? Where are we going? Are we going to see Jongdae? What are you, are you the devil? Is this place hell then? Why is it so quiet? Why do I make sound but you don’t? Are you a ghost? Do ghosts exist? Does God exist? If you are the devil, then there must be angels as well, right? Oh my God, do you have wings? He sighs deeply and turns to you.

I’ll answer one of your questions. Choose wisely.

Where are we going?

We are going to see the big man himself.

You frown at that. What, God? Or Satan? So you are not the devil then. What are you?

I said one question, buttercup. I’m a patient person, but if I were you I would shut up when we walk through that door. He doesn’t like to be interrupted, most definitely not for a stupid matter as a meek little human offering her soul.

Then why are we going there?

Because you did offer me your soul. He’ll decide what to do with you.

You want to ask more questions, but he turns to the front and his expression turns cold as a big black door comes into view. It seems like a normal door, but you can feel an icy pull as soon as you see it, stronger and stronger the closer you get. It is almost painful, and you want to get away, but can’t. The man opens it and the both of you walk inside. The room is dark and pressing, and way to hot. You look up. There was a man in front of you, eyes darker than what you had ever seen on a person, and bright red, fiery hair. He was tall and slim, slumped in his seat as if he would rather be anywhere else right now.

He probably does want to be anywhere else but here. As the two of you enter the room, his eyes find yours straight away. They are terrifyingly beautiful. Like an ice-cold lake in the middle of winter. His face looks young but grim, as if he’s seen so much already, at such a young age. Well, technically so did you. He doesn’t acknowledge you and instead turns to the man … or thing standing next to you. You’re still not sure about what the hell he was all about, beside from being dangerously perfect. The man in the seat speaks, his voice way deeper than what you imagined it to be.

To what do I owe this honour, Kai?

I’m sorry for bothering, Sir. I just have a tiny matter for you to judge.

Who’s your little friend?

She offered her soul to me, Sir.

What for?

Another human.

So predictable. To bad.

He turns to you and with a flick of his hand, you fall down on your knees in front of him. An invisible finger lifts up your head to him. It felt cold and unnecessary and you glare at him, your mouth pressed into a tight line. This makes him chuckle. At least this one seems to have a sense of humour, despite it being a fucked up sense of humour.

She’s got some fight in her, this one, I can feel it.

He flicks his hand again, and suddenly you’re in control of your body again. You want to burst out at him, but bite your lip instead. You didn’t know who this man was, but you didn’t want to get on his bad side, that much was clear. You do fall back on your butt however, and look up at him. He looks you over, before looking back at Kai.

Do you have one yet?

Kai sighs softly, looking down at his feet. If he wasn’t so painfully neutral, you would say he seemed upset.

No, Sir.

Take her. She’s yours.

You look back up at the man in front of you in shock. What was yours supposed to mean? Who did this egotistical-

‘Who are you?’

The man in front of you smiles. It seemed full of joy a long time ago, but now it was an empty gesture.

I have many names. My favorite one is Your Worst Nightmare.

He blows you a kiss and it is as if you can feel it coming over to you, a cold tingling on your nose and spreading through your face. It was painful in a way you couldn’t really describe. It felt like what you imagine being electrocuted feels like. You want to scream but your mouth stays shut. He smiles again, but this time it doesn’t look like an empty gesture. It looks like a smile that’s filled with hate, darkness and despair, and you have no doubt it is.

You don’t remember walking out of the room, but you also don’t remember passing out. You don’t remember how you got here either, though you don’t know where you are. The room is dark and small, seemingly made out of black mirror. There is a door behind you, but you don’t want to touch it. It has the same cold glow that the other things here have and you don’t like it. Suddenly, a soft voice catches you off guard. You turn around and feel your eyes start tearing up immediately. Your fiancee was standing on the other side of the glass, his hand pressed against it.

"Jongdae?"

"Y/N? Why are you here? Where are we? Are you alright?"

You nod and run over, pressing your hand against the glass too. His touch feels warm, even though you are not actually touching. “I- I- sold my soul to the devil to stay with you.” His eyes widen to an almost comical degree, but he doesn’t say anything. You can tell he wants you to go on, so you do. “We got in a car-accident, Jongdae. Because I was driving. I- I killed you.”

He shakes his head and pushes his forehead against the glass. “No. None of that is your fault. Accidents happen.” He takes a deep breath before you can feel his warm hand wrap around yours and you close your eyes, pushing your forehead against the glass too. “So- are we… in Hell?”

“I don’t know. I think I met the devil earlier. He gave my soul to the man- thing that came to get you.”

He shudders but squeezes your hand a bit harder. “I think I’ll see you later, Y/N.”

“What? Jongdae, don’t go.” Before you can finish your sentence, the warmth fades and Jongdae disappears, leaving you alone. You want to wipe your tears away, but your hand bumps into something hard and cold. You look down.

Where Jongdae had put his hand, the glass seemed to have bended around his hand, allowing him to reach for you. Now only the shape of the glass was sticking out of the mirror, like a cold hand reaching for you. You don’t want to look at it anymore and stumble back, out of the door.

You must love him a lot.

You turn around to be almost face to face with Kai, so you take a step back. You could feel heat rising to your cheeks but he didn’t seem bothered in the slightest bit. ‘I do. Why?’

You were calling out for him in your sleep. I thought I could let you see him one last time.

You are sure your heart drops to your feet in that moment. ‘What do you mean, one last time?’

Well, you’ll see him again in the far future.

‘What?’

He has 1247 years of purgatory to sit through after all.

‘What?!’

Why do you sound so surprised?

‘So I’ll never ever see him again for the rest of my life.’

Lord, you’re- You sold your soul to the devil, buttercup. You’re stuck here for eternity.

Your head is spinning because of all of the information you have just been forced to swallow. ‘For ever?’

Yes.

‘I won’t see Jongdae for one thousand two hundred forty seven years.’

Correct.

‘I’m going to be stuck in here for at least one thousand two hundred forty seven years.’

Why is this so surprising to you?

‘You probably don’t get it at all, but that is actually really hard to comprehend for a meek human. We usually don’t live past ninety, okay. The thought of any more than that just seems a little too big to grasp.’

Are you upset?

‘Wh- No- Yes. I don’t know. Why do you ask?’

He takes a step forward to you and this time you don’t take a step back. His cold hand reaches up to your cheek and brushes away a tear that you didn’t notice before. You take this as a better time than any to look at him. Kai is very handsome, you now notice. He has pretty almond shaped eyes, as black as the night, just like his hair.

In comparison to the scary tall guy he actually had some tan in his skin. You are reminded of his complexion, pale and cold and dead. Kai looks warm, though his touch is equally as cold. You clear your throat and take a step back, making his hand fall down to hang next to him limply. He looks a little confused.

‘What are you?’

Hm?

‘What are you? You still haven’t told me.’

I told you I’d answer one of your questions, buttercup.

‘Well, when will you answer another one? Tomorrow?’

Sure. We have enough time anyway.

The first couple of weeks are hard. A lot harder than you would imagine them to be, though Jongin tries his best to make them bearable. That’s Kai’s real name, question 6 on your list. Right after

‘What are you?’ A demon.

‘Was the tall one the devil?’ Yes.

‘Why is Jongdae in purgatory? He’s a good person.’ No one is perfect, we all have sins to burn for.

‘Is a thousand years a short time?’ Relatively.

‘Will I ever get used to this?’ Probably, time heals a lot.

After getting to know his real name, your questions dwindled down quickly. Turns out that if you cry all night and sleep through most of your days, they pass pretty quickly.

‘Do angels exist?’ Yes.

‘Do you have to be a dick and answer in one-word sentences?’ This one made him laugh particularly hard. No, but I like to.

‘Do you have wings?’ Yes.

‘Can I see them?’ Not a chance.

‘Are there other demons here?’ Yes, of course.

‘Is Jongdae alright?’ He’ll get through. The first years are the hardest.

You decided to stop after that. You were slipping days, sometimes waking up three or four days later. You never wanted to fall asleep, the nightmares were too haunting, too real. You stayed awake for days on end, crying for Jongdae, crying because of the crippling weight of the guilt pressing on you. You were behind the wheel when you got in a crash, you were the one who caused him to tickle you, you were the one who was angry because he smiled at the waitress, even if you were joking. You were the one who took his life, you were the one who forced him to burn for what seemed like a timespan too long for any human.

Besides guilt, your days were filled with tears of grief. You missed him more than words could explain. His eyes, his lips, his touch, his voice, his laugh. You missed everything about him and it hurt. Every night, Jongin would stand outside your door, but he never came in. You knew he was there because you could feel him there. Jongin was not what you had expected a demon to be. He was gentle and careful, behind the mask of indifference. Well, not really a mask. He was just empty. He had always been a demon, so human emotions were something he couldn’t understand. Though you knew he was trying. After about two months, you were exhausted from crying.

It could have been a couple of weeks more or less, you were not sure anymore. Not that it mattered much anyway. Your heart was done. Broken. Empty. And so, you glowed up again. It was as if you had thrown your heart out, and were now walking around without one in your chest. Like a blooming cherry blossom that sheds one flower for a new one to bloom. You were still waiting for the new one. Months turned into a year, and in the meantime you got to know Jongin a little more. He loved chicken and the sound of piano’s and brass instruments, and hated being called a nerd, though you still called him that anyway.

He loved to brag about having read every book that was out there, ever, so you called him a nerd, which he took very personally for a demon without emotions. You learned about Heaven and Hell, Purgatory, demons and angels and the balance of right and wrong. You would throw pillows at him when he would start lecturing about the importance of the balance. You learned that he longed to be human a long time ago, but that he just wasn’t built that way. You loved to tease him about his obsession with Pokémon and his collection of toy figurines. He loved to tell you you were small and frail, and you ensured him you would beat him up in a heartbeat.

You found yourself more and more comfortable around him, strangely enough. Nights were Jongin got of work (taking souls to hell was work to him) early were spent in front of the television, though you told him to get Netflix. Nights were spent talking and laughing, slowly healing a broken heart. Nights were spent paying too much attention to every small detail of his face. Nights were spent wondering at what point it would be okay to feel fine again. Those nights lasted for about 2 years. This was not one of those nights.

His door was slightly open, so you slip inside. His room was white and black, something that had surprised you when you first saw it, you somehow expected his room to be red. He was lying on his bed, sprawled out like a starfish. You sigh and sit down next to him, the bed dipping under your weight. His hair was messy and sticking to his forehead, his lips parted because he breathes through his mouth. You push his hair from his face. Without you wanting it to happen, your fingertips stay on his skin.

Hey.

‘Hey. Did I wake you?’

Yes.

‘I’m sorry.’

It’s alright.

‘Why won’t you let go of me?’

I want you to stay a little longer.

You sigh and nod, and you feel the invisible grip on your hand disappear, so you let your hand glide off. He sits up a little straighter and pats the space next to him, and you obey. He’s cold, but it is something you’ve grown to appreciate down here. He sits next to you in silence, so you pull his head down on your shoulder. He lets out a breath and leans into you a bit more.

‘Do you need to breathe?’

The shake of his body as he laughs is comforting.

I thought you were done with the questions.

‘I’m not.’

One question a day, buttercup.

‘You’ve already answered two just these past five minutes. Why do you need to make a big deal out of one more?’

You have to follow the rules.

‘There were never rules. So why?’

Because it makes you smile when you can ask a smart question the next day.

‘Jongin.’

Yes.

‘Why do I feel like you care?’

What do you mean, buttercup?

‘Do you? Do you care- about me?’

He looks at you with his big, black eyes before a soft breath escapes his lips. As much as my frozen heart allows me to.

‘And how much is that?’

Enough for my heart to beat faster when I’m around you.

The two of you are close, too close, and your breathing hitches as you feel his breath tickle your lips. ‘Jongin?’

Yes?

‘Kiss me.’

He does. He reaches up, softly pressing his lips against yours, pulling you closer to him with his arm wrapped around your waist. His skin is cold, but his lips are warm against yours. You fit together perfectly. He pulls back with a soft smile, resembling yours.

‘What are we going to do with-’

I’m going to enjoy you for the next one thousand two hundred forty four years at least, before I’m gonna start thinking about any of that.

#kwritersnet #kpoptrashtag #exowritersnet #exo #exo kai #exo jongin #kim jongin #exo fluff #exo angst #exo fanfic #one shot #my writing #exowriting

198 notes · View notes