#// he may smile sometimes but you can't get anything from those dead eyes

[nyt1ba]

Adam  ||  Raphael.

Face expressions.

[simpjaes]

idk if u would like this but. idol!jake fingering idol!reader while he reads out loud what people online say about her when they sexualize her / write smut abt her😂

i don't typically do idol aus but i literally haven't stopped thinking about this for like...days. wc: 706

"look how tight they think you are." Jake coos in your ear from behind, arms that were once wrapped around you in a warm hug now holding you against him just so he can keep up the pace under your shorts with his fingers. "imagine if they knew they were right."

you can't help the warmth that fans your cheeks. you'll never get used to it when he does this with you, always eager to read and see what people have to say about you online, only to end up hard and touchy after looking a bit too into it.

you know what you signed up for regarding this career path. there would be smut, there would be comments, there would be all sorts of pornographic materials made about you. that's something you came to terms with before you even made this decision, but realizing that Jake, a man within this same career path, ignores his own smut just to read yours?

you'd argue he may be one of the anonymous accounts writing it in the first place given how he reacts. sometimes he's jealous, other times he's reminded that he's the one who gets to do these things to you.

just like right now, as he recites specific passages from some raunchy fan fiction he said you had to hear about. you were gonna ask him how he found it, and why he's already read it, but you didn't really have to.

considering that warm and endearing hug from earlier absolutely included his cock already hard and probably leaking in his pants.

"pretty skin, all swollen from the bites." Jake continues to read, whispering in your ear as he starts dragging his teeth down your neck. "tight cunt, dripping and needy." he continues, scissoring his fingers open to remind you of just how well these fans must know you.

"Oh, look babe," Jake smiles, angling his fingers just right to have you rolling your eyes. "how come you say all sorts of dirty shit here, but you're too shy to do it for me?"

you can't turn to look at him with a quirked brow like you wish you could, but you're aware that he probably knows the dumbfounded look on your face.

"tell me to fuck you." He dead-pans behind your neck with a breathy whispers, moving to the other side to nibble against your ear. "Be like her, tell me how deep you wish i could be in you right now." ah, the flush is back and your cheeks are on fire. You've never been much of a talker in bed, but having to live up to the half-truths some horny fan wrote is...well.

both hot and creepy. You'd never have paid these websites a single glance if it weren't for Jake consistently reading them out to you.

you can't bring yourself to be like that for him, as you dip your head against his arm and shake your head 'no.' jake smiles at how cute you truly are, sliding his fingers out to circle your clit, reminding himself that he's got the real girl right here. "just say it once baby, please." Jake says playfully, kissing your jawline as he feels your hips move up and against the pads of his fingers, aiming your clit right where you want it. "You'd sound so pretty- just like they said you would." something inside of you cringes, but another part of you ignites at how into every version of you Jake seems to be. You take in a breathe, releasing a slight moan from the pressure below as you sigh out for him. "fuck me, jake." ah, he's so proud to be the one to hear those words. So, so fucking proud to be the one to get to do it to you. And fuck, he'd give just about anything to rub it in those chronically online loser's faces. After all, that's his girlfriend they're writing about. No matter how hot, no matter how much Jake would love for you to be just like the version of you in some of these fics, he'll be fucking damned not to love you how you really are. So pretty, so sweet, so willing to indulge him.

[cod-sins]

could you write cod hcs for a female reader who's 5"9 and a bit chubby? thank you <33333

.ೃ࿐ Format: Hcs

.ೃ࿐ Paring: König. Ghost.

.ೃ࿐ Reader: Female. Chubby.

.ೃ࿐ Ratings: SFW. A bit too fluffy on Simon's part.

[A/N: FIRST FEMALE READER REQUEST LET'S GOOO! Also I'm 6'0-6'1 so to me anything under that is short LOL.]

KÖNIG

Oh my god he's so in love with you.

König may be a 6'10 killing machine who wouldn't hesitate to end a person's life but he's absolute putty in your hands. He treats you like goddess always spoiling you with whatever items you want.

He isn't all that into PDA, he'll hold your hand or maybe put an arm around you if he's feeling particularly antsy/jealous but at home he's a completely different person.

He loves to lay in bed with you, on his side while you just talk about your day. His eyelids would be low and there would be a soft smile on his face while you were talking. If you asked him if he was paying attention he would repeat back every single word you said—not missing a beat.

Thinks your chubbyness is cute. Thinks your whole body is cute to be honest.

König can sometimes get really cheesy and mushy over you but he refrains from taking action because he's scared he'll come off as overbearing.

He loves to softly tease you. Thanks to the hot weather he'll walk around the house shirtless flaunting his body and calling you out whenever you stare.

"And that's how Horangi and I were able to defeat an entire squadron without taking a single hit!" He says proudly while looking at you for a reaction. You however were to busy staring at his abs to notice.

"Maus." "Huh?" "My eyes are up here." He says with a dumb smirk on his face. He watches as you as shift positions—to flustered to look at him.

König closes the jar lids way too tight, he doesn't do it to be annoying he's just adamant on keeping his food fresh and preserved. It wouldn't be a problem until he's deployed and you can't open a jar of jelly to make a sandwich.

He also does this with things in the pantry/cabinet. König is still not use to living with a person who's shorter than him so you'll have to remind him to not put things on the tallest shelf.

He loves to pick you up and twirl you around.

GHOST

Ghost loves to loom over you. Even if you're doing mundane tasks such as washing the dishes or folding laundry, he'll lean on the wall or just stand right behind you watching. He notices every little detail in what you do.

He thinks the height difference between you two is cute. He loves when you wear his clothes because they're always too big and they manage to swallow you whole. He never comments on it he'll just stare at you admiring you.

His favorite dates with you are quiet ones. Like picnic dates on a sunny afternoon away from other people or driving to a diner that he really likes [they have those in the UK right?].

If you guys are watching TV together he'll nitpick everything the characters do. "He didn't even turn the safety off." "His gun still had bullets left why did he toss it away?" "If they were on the field they would be dead." Remind him that it's fake and he'll temporarily shut up.

One of his favorite memories of you was on a short weekend. It was right before he was deployed and he spent it with you, laying in bed, drinking and eating a bunch of takeout that you two ordered. You spent that night just holding him and playing with his hair, softly rocking back and forth while he had his head on your chest listening to your heartbeat.

Ghost fondly remembers every word you said to him even if you don't he still thinks about it when he's on the field or when it's early in the morning and you're still asleep.

Ghost loves the way his body engulfs you whenever you hug him. Sometimes he'll squeeze you just a little bit too tight to make sure you're real and not some beautiful illusion his mind made up.

Requests are closed, but you may still send them in.

Feedback is greatly appreciated!

[ovtsakaramel]

Colors

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

TW: death, mentions of forced prostitution

note: tried to match some things to Colors by Halsey bc I listened to Badlands while writing it, probably didn't turn out perfect lol

You take a glass of wine from the waiter. The bittersweet, a little tart taste from the drink washes over your mouth. A wave of shiver goes through your body. You've always hated the Capitol parties, especially the more "classy" ones. All those people smiling and talking like they had no worry in the world. And they probably didn't. Not as much as you, at least.

You ran your fingers over your dress. Glittery and shiny, the lights mirrored on the black diamonds covering it. It made you shine, it made you be seen. The long dress was hugging your curves perfectly, leaving not a lot to the imagination. Normally you would like the way it made you look beautiful, but almost nothing in the Capitol makes you feel anything but dirty.

It was all too much. All the stares, all the flirts, all the disgusting Capitol people eyeing you like a piece of meat, like just a doll for their entertainment. You rushed to the door to the small balcony and opened it quietly. Hopefully no one would find you here. Just peace and quiet. Peace.

You light up a cigarette and look through the window. Being on the higher floors of a skyscraper, the balcony was pretty high. You could see the whole region, filled with even bigger buildings, windows lit up like second stars. You could hear people talking, mostly gossiping from the party, the cars outside and the crickets singing peacefully. You let out a breath you didn't even know you were holding.

"What you doing out here, Satan's spawn?" Finnick, the victor of the 65th Hunger Games comes behind you. You look him up and down. Today he was wearing more clothes than usual. A white button up, the upper buttons undone, and dark sea green pants, matching his eyes.

"Your stylist felt generous to land you some clothes this time?" You ask, pointing at him with your cigarette

"Yeah, lucky me. I had to get on my knees for this." He goes next to you, his back pushed to the railing. He takes a sip from his own wine. "Why aren't you at the party?"

"Even you need a break, imagine me. Just needed some peace and quiet, that's all. And you and your pretty face came to ruin even this." He chuckles and rolls his eyes

"That's what I'm here for. To drag you from the darkest place of depression to irritation."

"Yeah, and you're doing a damn good job." You chuckle back. Only if he knew how much he helped you. You may sometimes seem annoyed by him, but everytime he smirks and tries to anger you you relax, really relax. He's the only one who could make you feel like the games didn't happen. Like Snow didn't happen. Like... You didn't happen. At least not the most of you.

"Are you doing well? I heard about your little tragedy..." Ha. Little tragedy. Everyone you loved was dead. Snow invited you to his office one day. Offered you to please his precious Capitol elite, for the price of keeping your loved ones. You said no. You couldn't give him the satisfaction that he had some control over you. He, in fact, has. But you could at least pretend. The very next day you were alone. Your family members bodies were still in your house, their throats slitted. Some of their eyes were still open. It was quite the sight to come home to.

"I'm... Just gonna deal with it. I still can't believe that they're actually dead. I feel like my parents are going to lecture me any minute now about how I dress like a slut, or how I look demonic. And that my baby brother will crawl on top of me to pull my hair and spit on me." You shake your glass. The dark liquid looks sweeter.

"I know you didn't have the best relationship with your parents, but they were still family... I'm sorry."

"It would have been worse if I said yes. Not all of us are that strong to deal with it. And you sure are. If I was in your place, I'd probably kill myself." You trow the cigarette out the balcony. "Hope it falls on top of some Capitolites head..." You think to yourself. They could at least get their wigs burnt if they were gonna torture you.

"Very encouraging." He smiles. His white teeth shine in the darkness. His smile was one of the most comforting things. Not the fake flirtatious smirk he pulled for the Capitol. But his genuine, sarcastic warm smile. It could make you giggle, it make you melt. His smiles were the best drug you've encountered on. Fuck morphling, fuck cocaine. Finnick Odairs smile was what you needed.

You two stand there in silence for a while. The wind blows into your hairs and his loose shirt as you both stare at the moon. It was one of those beautiful full moons where the moon is a bright fiery orange. It had found a place between two tall buildings, peeking from them as if to stare at you. But the moon wasn't like the Capitol. It's eyes didn't make you feel like they knew all of your secrets, every thought you were having, stripping you down to your most intimate pieces of self just with a glance. It's eyes were like a shield from the Capitols. It's fiery color made you feel warm and safe and at home, even though the cold night air and party behind you weren't very cozy.

"It has ways been weird to me how in one second someone could be alive and then the other: gone" he looks at you, the half empty glass in his hand holding on for dear life on the tips of his fingertips.

"Right? What's the meaning of life anyway if you're gonna just die... Like yeah, your children and their children, but you'd be dead. You won't feel the happieness in seeing them happy. You wouldn't even know they're happy. You'd be dead. Nothing would matter. All of this life, gone, just for nothing." His words felt like a deep exhale after holding your breath for years for both of you. You wanted to know that you didn't weird him out and he was like he wanted to talk for so long.

"Why are we even continuing living? Just for the sake of it? Bc maybe tomorrow nothing would matter. We reproduce but the children we make are also going to die one day. And why are we doing things to keep ourselves alive, going through so much pain. Just to keep something we're gonna loose anyways." A pause "When you think about it... Maybe it's not that bad."

"What?" He looked at you, his brows furrowing. His lips parted a bit on the middle, the little wrinkles he got looked cute.

"Killing. It's just death, you know? It was gonna happen anyways. For the person that died it won't matter. They'd be dead. And for their close ones... They're also gonna die one day."

"It's just... Disturbing and dehumanizing. It's bad. Sometimes it feels like we're brainwashed to think it's bad but thinking that you can just discard a life like that, someone who also thinks and feels it's just... It's just sick. No matter if it doesn't have consequences. The fact that someone could do it with no remorse at all, to play God, to think... That they're that important. When it's just sick and twisted." Your eyes met his and he looked away. You look down and he looks back at you, trying to find your eyes again. His eyes were your favorite part of him. They're the most beautiful sea green you've seen... Like all different shades of green but navy on the ends. A little yellow that makes them even greener somehow. Like you were looking at the ocean. Bringing a sense of warmth and a sense of refresh in the same time. The little pieces of very light colour looked like seafoam. It was like waves are actually crushing in his eyes.

"You're right. Some things are just bad, no matter how much you try to normalize them. No matter how much you think it's not that deep... Even if it will all end, just bringing pain is bad. Even if it won't matter and it will be all erased, just for one second bringing something, some feeling like that to someone. It's bad. It's... Just gross." He chuckles. You weren't sure if there was humor in it.

You empty your glass. You watch as Finnick does the same and how the liquid goes inside of him, going through his throat and his Adams apple moving as he swallows. He exhales through his mouth and put the glass on the window. You roll around yours in your fingers, tapping on it with the black nails and then leave it there too.

"Are you could?" He asks, looking you up and down. But not in a weird way. His gaze felt more like protection than danger. Liked the moon that always matched his hair color.

"I'm fine" you say, but he can see how you rub your arms and how you flinch a little when you don't move for some time. He takes off his jacket and puts it on your shoulders. It smells like cinnamon. You expected it to smell like some Capitol perfume that stinks of chemicals, but it smelled like cinnamon. Like Finnick. Most people would expect he smells like the perfumes or salt water. Yeah, he did smell like salt water in district 4. Everyone you knew from there had that little pinch on sea in their natural scent. But Finnick smelled like cinnamon. It was warm and cozy, but still playful. You inhale his scent and almost melt. He moves closer to you. You look at him. He looks lost. He looks blue. You also looked blue. You also looked lost. How could you live without your friends and family? You felt something creeping up on you. You felt all eyes on you, you felt tired and... Pointless. Grey. You felt them in your hair. Creeping up from the stress. Maybe they'll turn into whites. Maybe you'll look like Snow. Maybe you'll be as happy as Snow. Maybe you will rip and not be ripped. Maybe the grey from your smoke will draw a masterpiece on the dark night sky. Maybe that overwhelm will go away. Maybe you'll die.

"No you won't." Finnick says, cold as the air. Unintentionally you said all of this out loud. The anxiety dig it's nails deeper in you and you wanted to scream out the balcony and fall from it. Hoping you'd fall on some Capitolite and kill them. "We may act... Rivalry with each other. But... You bring me comfort. It brings me comfort when we talk with no mocking and just... Talk. It's a nice rest. Your voice is telling me that there are others that don't feel normal. That aren't normal."

"I did not find any sense in your words. But somehow I get them."

"Things maybe don't have to make sense to be ours."

"You don't make sense." You say as a joke and chuckle, you didn't mean to hurt him. As he just stared behind you you apologized. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean t- "

"Then I am completely yours." He said staring at your lips. Desperation was found in both of yours eyes. You both were sad, drank... Well, maybe you drank ymtoo much earlier and you're drunk. You could see in his lost gaze that he is too. Nothing had sense. Neither death, neither why you liked teasing him so much. Neither why you stared at his lips too. Neither why no sense had more sense. Why you two went close enough to feel your bodies touch. Why talking deep with him made everything a little more clear, like a raindrop on a foggy car window. Still blurred but at least now there were colors. Why you licked your lips. There was no sense in why-

Your lips found each other instantly and he grabbed your waist gently but passionately. Your arms wrapped around his neck clumsy but still enough to push his tongue to yours. You felt his warmth, his taste, all of them freeing you from the dark feeling of loss and grief. The sink left overflowing with your mothers body on the bathroom floor. You never saw her smile if it wasn't for others to see she was ok, which no one believed she was. Your little brother who you never appreciated ("Who appreciates a baby?" you thought when he was born and your parents didn't even ask you how you were after your games), sitting in his feeding chair, the light coming through the window and lighting up his face. Wishing you'd forgive him for just existing. Your father who you always lied to, who made you who you are. But he decided that color was not for him so he just yelled. Your blue jeans stained with their blood. You could have kept them if you just decided to take them off. But you took the right decision. Always keep yourself. But now the lips on yours made you wanna keep them and their saturated hope brought back the color in you. Color drained and lost from the lost of their blood. But Finnick's taste filled that white spot.

You two drifted apart for a breath and the emptiness came back again.

"Are you sure?" You asked him. You didn't want a nod, you didn't need silence. You needed his warm voice to fill the void.

"I'm sure. My room?" You nodded. Hypocrite.

You layed back down, exhausted. Your head rested on his chest,the skin to skin contact of your bodies making you overheat but too addictive to let go of. For a moment, you felt full. Full of love. Full of life. Full of warmth.

[emoani]

n/a: I wasn't planning on going back and making this a series but I started writing on wattpad and I will post the chapters there in my language, if anyone likes it I can leave it here too on tumblr, so let's go!

chapter two

Vader looks unsure.

- What it was? You do not want me? -you ask, feeling your heart tighten with insecurity.

Darth Vader leaned towards you, his lips almost touching his. With eyes full of confusion he takes your hand.

- Oh, darling - he whispers - Why would you think that? Of course, I want you.

- You know, we never did anything. And I had to ask to kiss you - you remind him. - And you also know... - he takes a deeper breath - sometimes I still remember her.

- I understand. But I'm a different person, I also want you to love me and remember me for who I am!

- I know, and I wanted to love you so much. But it is hard. I have always loved Padmé. I can't get her out of my head. But I value you, and you are important to me. Understand that I don't see you as a second option. I just... I don't know how to describe what it's like.

He concludes sad and discouraged, knowing that that wasn't the best answer ever. But it was what he could give you at the moment. And you accepted it, because you knew you already had a lot. He never trusted any living being again after the tragedies that happened years ago in his life, you couldn't even tell if he trusted you. Vader was a mystery. A mystery that had been waiting for more than a minute for an answer from him, which never came.

- I swear, I will try - Vader says in his deep voice - Can you kiss me?

You feel sad knowing that Vader doesn't love you in the same way. But as always, you do as he asks. Time seems to pass slowly as he approaches. You hold his face with your hands, caressing his marks.

- I'm here to give all the necessary kisses - you say and join your lips to his, unable to control some tears that fall and mix, leaving the kiss salty. You think about how good it would be if those tears were magic and made him forget everything, all the pain and just love you.

- Do something with me...something you've never done with her - You whisper.

His face lights up for a brief moment and he seems for a moment to have lost the posture of a Lord, becoming embarrassed.

- H-What do you mean, wife? - He breathes nervously - What could I do?

- Anything! You answer him with an innocent smile, and he feels even more embarrassed for having thought about something sexual. Vader takes one of his gloved hands to your head and caresses you lightly.

- I can do anything - He says - And I know I can't give you everything at the moment, but with time I will do everything. I have to be honest, I'm not going to give you the same experiences, because I'm not going to be Anakin Skywalker, I'm going to be Darth Vader.

He's without his mask and you can see his expression full of pain and sadness. His yellow eyes, the color of a Sith's eyes. You dreamed of seeing Anakin Skywalker's blue eyes, but also Darth Vader's. And he didn't care if no one else understood, how could they love him. You didn't care if the whole world was against him, because for you there was nothing else other than him.

- Hey - You remind him - I love you, and all sides of you, Anakin, Darth Vader...

- Please... - He closes his eyes and becomes serious walking away from you - Anakin is dead!

You don't want to make him nervous, so you just decide to get back to the main topic.

- I thought of something now... It may seem silly, but can we hold hands?

- Yes, my wife.

Vader seems a little reluctant, they've never been one to show affection. But even so, he walks towards you slowly, leaving you a little embarrassed but happy. The Lord leaves the room where he was with you, starting to walk through the corridors of Mustafar's castle. The areas are dark and cold. You pass through several gates with Stormtroopers on guard, and several Imperials who don't even dare to look at you.

- Where are you taking me? - You ask curiously.

- Wherever you want - He says with his voice modulated because of the helmet he put on again, but even so you can feel his affection.

He continued holding your hand during the walk through the corridors. You can hear footsteps echoing through the castle, and every now and then a Stormtrooper or Imperial officer looks over at you.

- I have an empire to command. But I can have a walk hand in hand. We have nothing to do now but keep walking.

You smile and laugh happily, moved by his words. Of course he was lying and had a lot of things to do, but he still left everything to walk hand in hand with you for five minutes.

- I wish I could do this all the time - you speak quietly, almost in your thoughts.

- If I could, I would do it every day too. Who knows, maybe someday we'll be able to spend more time like this, for now this is the most I can offer.

- Lord Vader! Lord Vader! - One of the men from the empire appears from somewhere, panting - Sorry, but his presence is being required at a meeting of the Empire's command.

Vader lets go of his hand as soon as the man appears, because he doesn't want to appear fragile in front of too many people.

- Looks like you have to go.

- yes, unfortunately. I'll have to go - He says, sighing, and looks at you, wanting to give you one last kiss.

But he doesn't.

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

Convenience Store Vampire, part 9

Part 1, Part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8

He pulled at his cheeks. “No,” he repeated, keening. Then he looked slightly further down. “Hey- I'm naked!”

“Yeah, ya are,” Hash agreed cheerfully, accent back in full force. “Ya ain't gonna fit in her old ones, and those are rags anyways now.”

I considered it. “Maybe we could use a towel? You're small enough that it would work,” I offered.

The ghost looked down at himself sadly. “Alright,” he agreed. “I suppose it can't really get any worse. Is my corpse still outside?”

While I rummaged through our stocks, Hash said, “Nah, the coppers took it out after I chased them outta the shop. They prolly brought it in and called it an ‘ccident.”

The ghost considered that. “You know… I don't actually remember what killed me. Is that weird? I remember everything else just fine… But anything related to my death or what I worked on before it's been lost.”

Hash shrugged. “I dunno, little ghostie. Meybbe some thin's are just meant ta be mysteries,” she said sagely.

I hauled out a bath towel from the back closet. I had no idea why it was there, but such was the nature of storage rooms. (Sometimes I wondered if mine was enchanted. It always had what I needed, after all.) Pulling out a safety pin, I handed it to the ghost. “You can try using this to make a toga or something,” I said.

He nodded and wrapped it around his shoulders, standing up as he did so. The towel did not quite drag along the ground, but it was close. “I must look ridiculous,” he said, once he pinned the toga in place.

Honestly, he looked like a little boy pretending to be a philosopher. Hash and I snickered a little bit. Actually, we snickered quite a lot.“I suppose we should introduce ourselves,” I said, once I got ahold of myself. “I am David Troynic, but you may call me Dave.”

“And I'm Hash,” Hash said, in between giggles. “Hash the shapeshifter!”

The ghost gave her an odd look. “I see,” he said. “I am Lieutenant Michael Woods, of the Luxatian Exorcist Corps. Though, if we are to use nicknames, you may call me Mizu. I think I need to go back to my station and report my status.”

I wanted to laugh at that. Go back? They would shoot him in an instant! “Boy, they would not think twice of shooting you. You're a monster now, just like us,” I told him bluntly.

A frown crossed Mizu's face at that. “Is that really what you think of us exorcists? That we hate inhumans?”

Hash laughed and shook her head. “Kiddo, are ya listenin' ta yerself? We jus' had ta fend off yer coworkers. If I hadn't done some quick thinkin', Davie here'd be dead,” she said, a bit of heat coming into her voice. “I've lived in this city fer four centuries, and in every single one I've had ta protect myself from yer people.”

Had Mizu truly not known? The parting of his lips, the hurt that sparkled in his eyes, it all told me so. But it just seemed so… Impossible. The exorcists' hostility was a part of daily life, like dodging the sun and haggling with butchers for some pig’s blood.

He shook his head. “This is batshit crazy,” he mumbled. “It's gotta be a dream. I'm gonna wake up with a bruised head and in my proper body.”

We laughed at that. “But I mean what I said,” Mizu added somberly. “I'm going to go to my office and tell everyone I'm still alive. After that? I guess I'll see.”

Hash and I exchanged a glance. “For the record,” I said, suddenly feeling a dash of regret that we hadn't gone with the spirit's plan, “this is a terrible idea.”

Mizu shrugged. “So? If I die, I die. I'm supposed to be dead anyways. And I'd rather die than not be an exorcist,” he said firmly.

“Fine,” Hash agreed. “If ya insist. But I gotta ‘ccompany ya, even if Davie here can't go anywhere. I feel responsible for ya, what with us two having rescued ya.”

Smiling, Mizu shook his head. “If what you say is true, you probably don't want to be around me when I show up. Thank you anyways, Hash, Dave. Good bye, sirs,” he said, and stepped out into the bright world, bathrobe and pink hair and all. “It is time to face my fate.” 

The solemnity of his tone made me choke down a laugh. We followed his brave march down the street. If not for the sheer ridiculousness of it all, he could have been a prince out of an old story, returning from death to reclaim his throne. 

No, he could be a hero all the same, as terrible a hero as I was a vampire. There was a satisfying rightness of it, of the idea that we both messed up our parts in the grand play of life. I opened my mouth to tell Hash so, when Mizu's words caught up with my mind. “Wait- Face his fate? Does he think he's gonna be killed?” Oh, there was no way the little bugger would die on us after everything we did to save him.

Hash bit her lip, thinking, then said, “I'm following the little bugger. Someone needs to make sure he doesn't get killed, and ya can't leave the shop while it's light.”

I agreed heartily. It would all be alright, if she trailed him. A old troublemaker like Hash had an equal propensity to get herself, and others, out of said trouble. “See you around, Hash. And get a photo of him in the bathrobe at the exorcists' station. That's an image I want to see.”

Laughing, she walked out the door. It swung shut with a little ding. “I guess my life isn't so boring after all,” I muttered to myself, looking at the trail of vaguely grey water Mizu left behind.

With a sigh, I picked up my trusty mop and went back to my job.

Taglist:

@coffeeangelinabox, @dorky-pals, @calliecwrites, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @shukei-jiwa

@thewingedbaron, @pluppsauthor, @cowboybrunch, @wylloblr, @possiblyeldritch @ramwritblr, @urnumber1star, @fortunatetragedy, @bigwipscholar, @ratedn

@vampirelover890, @possiblylisle, @illarian-rambling, @the-ellia-west

@finicky-felix, @evilgabe29, @glitched-dawn, @rivenantiqnerd, @dragonhoardesfandoms

@drchenquill, @everythingismadeofchaos, @owldwagitoutofyou, @dimitrakies, @beloveddawn-blog

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[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Dead by daylight Yandere general HCs on the Oni vs Steve please with a new Survivor reader who cracks jokes a lot

Tumblr thought it would be funny to crash on me with this one too so... here's what I got. Interesting pair, lol ^^

Yandere! Oni vs Steve Harrington

Jokester! Survivor! Darling

Pairing: Romantic - Rivalry

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Murder mention, Blood, Death, Violence, Jealousy, Overprotective behavior, Possessive behavior, Swearing, Steve wants nothing to do with this.

A survivor and killer rivalry is rather one-sided and dangerous.

There's The Oni, a being full of rage.

He's killed many to become the monster he is.

The only thing that soothes him, even if just for a little while, is you.

Steve doesn't hold a candle to the demonic samurai.

He's a nice guy who just wants to step up and help his team.

Although... he is willing to defend those he loves.

They'd both act differently towards a darling of this type obviously.

Let's start with Steve.

Steve greets you, the new survivor with open arms.

Honestly, he knows how scary a realm like this can be.

He used to be a bit of an asshole back at home... but encountering Demogorgons and arriving here changed him.

Steve is the type to fall hopelessly in love with his darling.

He greets you with a smile and by just personality alone you manage to make his face hot.

He feels despite the circumstances you two will get along fine.

He can't believe he likes you already.

Then you start cracking jokes.

Despite the pain you're caused... or the situation you're in... you make humor.

If anything that causes Steve to like you more.

You're like a beacon of light to him.

If he's scared of what a trial brings then he searches for you.

He loves to hear your jokes.

In a place like this sometimes humor is all you need to feel a little bit better.

You'll catch Steve laughing along at your jokes even when he shouldn't.

He's genuinely a good guy deep down.

Steve doesn't want this realm to smother your light...

So, despite his disadvantages, he vows to himself that he'll protect you.

Then, there's The Oni....

That's how his obsession begins.

He wants to be there for you, no one else.

His love life is not the best... yet you may change that.

Kazan has felt nothing but rage for what feels like forever.

These trials only encourage his bloodlust.

He bathes in the blood of his enemies.

He charges like a bull... wishing to crush all who oppose him.

Then he meets you on one of your first trials.

He hears your jokes... he hears your laughter...

Kazan falters for just a moment in his rage.

When he sees you... his rage subsides for a mere moment.

The trial continues and even after your sacrifice, Kazan thinks back to you.

Trial after trial, Kazan grows closer to you.

You're spared more often in what you can only assume is respect.

The Oni does listen to your jokes but doesn't laugh.

You see the beast snarl, tilting his head at how you still manage to be in a good mood despite blood caking your body.

He respects your resilience.

Maybe you even cool the rage in his heart?

That's roughly how the beast of rage is tamed by you.

Then the two meet in a trial....

It goes about as well as you imagine.

Steve gets nervous about you, only to sigh when another joke falls from your lips.

Just when he's about to relax he hears the monstrous roar of The Oni.

When the beast rushes over, eyes glowing a bloody red, Steve yanks on your arm.

The Oni notices you and falters like usual...

Until he sees Steve with an arm around you.

Rage once again fuels the monster with a cry.

That's when it's decided Steve is a threat.

The Oni, or Kazan, feels Steve isn't deserving of your praise.

He is no samurai.

He is a coward.

Barely even strong enough to be called a rival.

Steve... doesn't really view The Oni as a rival?

He doesn't care how the beast feels about you or him.

He doesn't want you to die.

Even if death means nothing here, Steve wants you to be happy.

More death would harm that joking spark of yours!

Steve is overprotective and caring, jealous towards other survivors.

But a killer?

He's less jealous and more just concerned for your safety.

Steve could die many times for you.

But he won't let that beast hurt you.

The Oni is the possessive one.

He'd kill thousands, their blood fueling him...

Just to have you in his gaze.

Rivalry is hard to say.

It's more like The Oni wants to have you while Steve is trying to play keep away.

Trials have become harder with this new factor...

In the end you'll have to be with one of them, as death won't keep you apart.

[angelynmoon]

Merlin and Lancelot emerge from their self imposed isolation after three days, Merlin with a skip in their step and Lancelot with a smile that Gwaine called smug.

Hunith handed Theron over with little fuss and no comment on Merlin's change, Effie and Ellie also don't comment except to start calling Merlin mum rather than daddy.

Merlin does refuse to turn the handful of people who ignored their warning back into humans, stating that they needed to learn their lessons about interrupting their time with Lancelot, though Merlin assured Arthur later that the effects would wear off within the week.

Lancelot, while always protective of Merlin, takes it to a new level now that they are carrying a child, he stands guard for Merlin and Gwen both as they talk about what is to come for their pregnancies with Freya, Merlin insists that Hunith stay, they refuse to intertain the idea of someone else delivering their child, and Hunith has assisted in many births, their villiage was very small.

Gaius checks in on Merlin and Gwen, but he has other duties and both are more comfortable speaking with Hunith about woman's problems that crop up.

Arthur is suddenly glad he'd thought to invite Hunith to Camelot, she gave the Castle a softer touch and it was good for Gwen and Merlin to have a mother around, plus all the children adored Grandmum Hunith, even Morgana would only sit still for lessons if Hunith was the one teaching them.

Lancelot is not the only Knight to get more protective over Merlin and Gwen, Arthur knows he has, insisting that Merlin sit whenever possible, and there may be a squire whose only job is to follow his wife with a padded chair for if she needs rest.

Both Merlin and Gwen roll their eyes at him when he offers them chairs, but neither stop him and he's glad for that.

He's worried, more than he thought he'd be, about both pregnancies, his mother died in childbirth, and though no one speaks of it, Uther tried for a spare heir many times, only Morgana survived of his siblings and none of their mothers left the birthing bed alive.

So, Arthur worries and he tries to make life as stress free for his wife and his best friend as he can, he keeps Lancelot in the Castle when he'd normally send him on missions hexd trust to no one else, Gwaine and Percival have taken over those missions, Elyan kept close for Gwen.

But sometimes he dreams, they are not happy dreams, he dreams of blood soaked sheets, of hands pushing a screaming babe at him and of sorrow filled eyes as news of his wife's death are dilivered, the person dead in the birthing bed switches between Merlin and Gwen with no rhyme or reason.

On those nights Arthur cannot bring himself to stay in his marriage bed, it's the bed that would bring his wife's death on those nights and he can't stay there.

The guards make no comment as he leaves his chambers, both of them remaining at the doors as Arthur goes for a midnight walk.

Hunith finds him in his mother's garden, she does not speak, only sits next to him on the bench and pulls him into a hug that he sinks into, he can't help it, it's a mother's hug, something he never got until Merlin came into his life and stayed there.

"Merlin won't let anything happen to Gwen, and neither will Freya." Hunith told him.

"I can't stop dreaming about it, my mother..." Arthur said quietly.

"Your mother's circumstances were quite different, as were all the others." Hunith stopped him, "Your Father banned Magic, you cannot commit the atrosities that he did without consequence, that it came at the expense of other's lives was his own selfishness because he did not stop at the first woman."

"How can I stop dreaming of them dying?" Arthur asked, "I can't stop seeing them die, I can't..., I don't want to have a child at Gwen's expense, and I don't want Merlin to die either."

Hunith looked at him and hummed, "I can give you a draught for the dreams, but it doesn't relieve the cause of them, only a successful birth can do that. But Merlin and Gwen are strong, they have good odds, especially with a Goddess on their side." Hunith motioned to the pond that Freya often lounged in, though she appeared absent tonight,nfir which Arthur was glad.

"It's alright to be frightened, Arthur, I was scared when I realised I was going to have Merlin, I was alone, unwed, and Merlin showed signed of Magic long before I gave birth, it's normal, things will turn out right, you'll see. Now, come on, I'll make you a snack and some warm milk before you head off to bed." Hunith said as she got up.

Arthur followed her, anxieties soothed over for the moment, he was sure to continue his protectiveness but no one was blaming him for that, even Lancelot seemed to understand Arthur's overprotectiveness when it came to the man's Mate and shared the sentiment with Gwen.

Come to think of it Gwaine was extreemly protective of Gwen and Merlin as well, perhaps it was a Dragon thing, either way, Arthur was glad that so many people were looking after his wife and his best friend, even if he still worried.

--

A/n: So, I figured that Arthur might have some anxieties about Gwen and Merlin's pregnancies and this chapter came along to explore them.

[tragantia]

I used to wake up early. Go for a run, have a shower, prepare breakfast. And then I would head to Uni or to work, depending on what I was doing at the time, with the entire day ahead of me. But that is another life, belonging to a different person. I have changed, I think. More than any disease or any bite could have done, it's the world that's changed me. Not even killing has affected me more than the subtle ways in which the gears of life, of the world and its people, shift to suit their needs. I remain, in a way, like a child who has just discovered that there is evil in this world, and I may just be part of it. I wish the night sky would light my eyes as soon as I open them, as if someone had lit a thousand candles in front of an altar just for me. Far behind are the days of prayer, of going to mass at school, of wondering and of mysteries. The mysteries have faded into this neverending dusty road, like an oil spill.

It´s not the night sky what greets me when I open my eyes, but the roof of our stolen RV. The most recent one, that is. When I joined them, this gang, or clan, or whatever they are, I was told the norms were strict, but simple: you gotta kill to stay alive, you can't get caught no matter what, and you need to keep moving. And stay the fuck away from the sun. That´s why no light penetrates the windows of the RV: all have been covered with tape. This is part of the routine. We feed, we destroy the evidence, and then we keep moving, usually changing vehicles. I don´t check the time, I don´t want to wake anyone up. But my internal clock tells me it must be late afternoon or early evening. It's summer, so it´s not dark enough to go out yet, we still have a few hours to spare. Last night we managed to put some good distance between ourselves and the last place where we fed, a crappy roadside motel in the middle of the desert with only a handful of hosts. As if someone was going to miss them anyway. I sigh, looking at the rusty roof of the RV. This was the only option we had when we checked the cars parked next to the motel, everything else was too small for all of us. But the piece of shit has definitely seen better days.

I shift a bit, trying to get more comfortable, but a strong pair of large arms is keeping me locked against the chest of the one who bit me. Severen is all sorts of crazy, but he has been completely dedicated to me since he brought me into the pack. If something can be said about him, is that he is protective. Almost like a jealous, rabid dog. At first I thought it was only an act of territoriality, and sure, there is some of that, but then again there is a softness in his eyes that I can see only sometimes - when we laugh at something silly, or when he kisses me, or when he undresses me when we get some time alone. He's mostly an asshole, and a total flirt who chases anything than moves, but he is also the most loyal man I have ever known. And he can be sweet, and silly, and terrifying, and all of those at the same time. He makes me feel like a stupid schoolgirl infatuated with her first love, instead of a grown ass woman. The bastard. I'm such an idiot, I think, as he mumbles when I shift on his lap. He's still asleep, but pulls me closer to his chest. Thanks fuck our body temperature is basically as cold as the one of a dead body, otherwise I would be boiling. I breathe deeply, inhaling his scent. Musk, leather, cigarettes, and the smell of sex from the previous night. Sweat. A hint of bourbon. I sigh, content. I'm so stupid, even his smell makes me feel safe. He pulls me closer to him, mumbling something incomprehensible in annoyance. I chuckle, turning around to kiss his jaw, and I feel him stirring under my weight, almost like a content feline. He locks his steel blue eyes with mine, now fully awake.

'Yore not goin' anywhare, baby', he mutters.

I smile, leaning into him.

'As if you were gonna let me, you shithead'

I hear him chuckle lowly with that silly cackle of his. I rest against his body, enjoying our closeness until it's time to get up. The night will bring its own terrors, but at least this moment is ours.

- - - - - - - -

This came out of nowhere! Not sure what to think about it yet. It doesn't even have a title. I just needed some comfort 🥴 it's done in first person as I needed that kind of connection. And obviously my religious imagery had to be there because why did I get traumatised in school otherwise 🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️🤷🏻‍♀️ also haven't done any proofreading nor anything so BEWARE

[the-muppet-joker]

Green

Kermit x Joker

Kermit hadn't meant to fall in love.

It had started with the color green, as it always seemed to with him. Fozzy had been watching the show from backstage and pulled Kermit aside with an annoyed look on his face.

"Just so you know, there's a guy in the front row with this real annoying laugh-- Can't miss him, either, he's got bright green hair and some SUPER weird makeup. Break a leg, buddy," he had whispered harshly, "And do your best to ignore the freak."

Great, thought the frog, as if my day couldn't get any worse. He was annoyed at Fozzie, too, for being the bearer of bad news for the second time today, even though it wasn't really his fault that there was so much bad news to bear in the first place.

The first bad news was that their next act had canceled. Which was fine, it was fucking great. No big deal, Kermit would just go out and improvise, like he always had too. It's not like anyone else would step up and save the goddamn show. It was always him.

And now there was some green-haired clown annoying the rest of the audience. Kermit really wasn't in the mood to he heckled.

He stepped out onstage and tried to clear his throat. Tried, rather than did, because at that exact moment his painted, ping pong ball eyes locked onto two acidic, electric green orbs in the front row.

Green hair. Green eyes. Wild makeup, insane smile, and bright, colorful clothing that all but screamed "danger" to the frog. In the animal kingdom, bright colors meant trouble. They meant poison. But to the frog with the frog in his throat and poisonous monarch butterflies shuddering in his felt-lined stomach, those eyes meant something different entirely. Something Kermit didn't quite have time to name as time started up again and he had to address his expectant audience.

"Uh... uh, ladies and gentlemen," he stammered, "I don't know how to tell you this, but uh, frankly, the next act can't make it." He gulped. "Anyhow, I don't have anything to replace it--"

Kermit was cut off by the curtains opening behind him, revealing a blank set. A spotlight found him and thr lights dimmed.

"Oh, boy." He mentally cursed the stage crew for setting him up like this. At this point, it would be more awkward to announce an intermission like he'd planned than just perform something.

"You may have noticed that we're not terribly well organized around here, and..."

Hundreds of blank, dead eyes in the audience, pinning him like one of his kin to a dissection table in a high school classroom. "And, tonight I'm just barely making it, I don't know..." Kermit was a performer. He didn't get stage fright like this. God, he hated having to improvise.

"...sometimes it's very difficult."

He felt them. One hundred soulless eyes boring into a frog damn near his breaking point. He glanced into the front row, desperately wondering what the fuck he was going to sing, or dance, or what stupid jokes he could tell to get him off of this stage the fastest.

Green. Looking right back at him. Paying rapt attention, looking for more than just hollow entertainment. He cocked his head, curious but not mocking, despite his stretched-too-far grin.

The others in the front row had scooted as far away from this man as possible, like his freakishness might infect them if they got too close. His obnoxious laugh, his intensity, so clearly off-putting to those around him but clearly not giving a damn, with his hair proudly dyed a vibrant green that almost made Kermit feel proud of his own dull, dingy color.

Kermit knew what he would sing. He cleared his throat and tried his best to clear his mind as he croaked out the first warbling notes...

"It's not easy bein' green..."

[masterofrecords]

Angstober day 10: Can't Go Home

One of those Angstober prompts I really wanted to do. One of the really fascinating NPCs I've come up with for the campaign that I was really curious to explore more.

Lost

They didn’t question him for very long, at least, not about anything serious.

In fairness, there was little he could tell him, but in his – admittedly limited by the imperfections of his memory – experience, that rarely mattered. He had a feeling that the big guy – the one that had stayed on the lower floor fighting the constructs until he dropped near-dead – had stepped in for him.

Maybe these guys weren’t too bad. They even returned his hat.

That said, he didn’t quite get the point of some of the questions.

“So you don’t remember anything about yourself? No documents? Family heirlooms, perhaps? Letters?” The scary-looking lady in white kept drilling him. Still, her voice was a lot gentler than when she’d been talking to his… colleague? Captor?

He really wasn’t sure about anything.

He just shook his head, and the lady pursed her lips, clearly unhappy.

“May I take a look at your head?” she finally asked.

He was torn.

He had vague memories of the masked man inspecting his eyes, his forehead, fingers firm and painful. Whenever he tried to probe his mind further than that, he stumbled into the usual fog, but unlike most other attempts, in this case he mostly felt relief.

Granted, he was quite sure the masked man had never asked.

These people also didn’t have to ask. He was their prisoner – he’d attacked them, and was defeated. He didn’t even try to explain how memories sometimes became clearer in the fighting, how it wasn’t out of malice, but out of desperation.

For some reason, he felt like saying it out loud would be – was? – bad.

So he nodded.

Her fingers were warm and careful against his forehead, almost pleasant as they parted his hair and lightly probed at the skin around the crown of his head, testing the unevenness of the skin going all the way around. He waited, as patiently as he could, for her to finish.

Then she sat back and was quiet for a while. He didn’t interrupt, despite feeling antsy and itchy. He fiddled with his hands and the rim of his hat and tried not to think too hard about anything.

Finally, the lady sighed. “Oh, I really don’t know what to do with you…”

After some consideration, she looked around and finally addressed him once more. “Do you think you can find an address by yourself? Do you remember much about the city?”

Asking what city felt like the wrong move, but he must have hesitated long enough for the lady to shake her head, “Never mind, I’ll find someone to take you.”

Take me where? he again didn’t ask, but it probably wasn’t jail if she’d considered letting him go there alone.

She eventually returned with a young woman wearing leather armor and an appallingly white jacket.

“Okay, Cara, there he is.”

“Are you sure you don’t need me here?” the girl asked. She seemed harmless enough, very young. She flashed a smile at him and he couldn’t help but smile way.

Yes, he decided he didn’t mind going with her.

“I don’t think there is much you can do,” the lady waved the girl – Cara – off, and then added as an afterthought. “Oh, and while you’re at it, after you drop him off, stop by the headquarters and see how everyone’s doing there. I’m still worried about the aftereffects of mind control.”

Cara nodded and looked at him. “Well, shall we?”

She had a lovely, unthreatening spring in her step even as they exited the building. He looked back – it was a tower, a large clock at the top.

So that was where all the clicking came from.

“Miss Maisie said you don’t remember anything?” Cara asked, but before he could get embarrassed or angry about it, she added, “So do you want to take the scenic route? We can always find a cabbie, but I thought you might like a walk.”

That… didn’t sound bad at all. In fact, when all he could remember were the tight walls of that tower and the dim lights poking through the small, dirty windows, a walk sounded downright heavenly.

The weather was quite lovely, too. It was warm, and the trees were a striking green of young leaves. Cara kept talking the whole way, pointing out the things she found interesting and explaining the history of various buildings to him as if he was a tourist.

It would have been sweet, if it wasn’t tainted by the knowledge that he would likely forget it come next morning.

Finally, after quite some time of wandering around, a warm loaf of bread and an apple, Cara announced, “Well, we’re finally here! Sorry for the short tour, but there’s still that other stuff Miss Maisie asked me to do. If we had more time, I would have shown you the menagerie!”

They were in front of a tall fence with a set of ornate gates, wide open but still intimidating. On top of the gate, in equally ornate letters were the words:

The Laswestry Hospital for Ailments of the Mind

His steps slowed down.

Cara kept prattling on, not noticing he had fallen behind. “You’ll need Dr. Price, that’s who Miss Maisie said to talk to, we can probably find out where she is at the… hey, what’s wrong?”

He didn’t know.

There was a smell in his nose, stifling and sharp. White, too much white. Pain around his skull, reverberating in his temples and behind his eyes.

Someone’s voice, whispering – promises, threats, platitudes.

He took a step back.

“Hey, hold on –”

He took another.

And then he turned and ran, pushing through the passers-by, ignoring Cara’s alarmed shouting.

He ran, and ran, until there was no more sound of a chase behind him, until he had no idea where he was.

He took his hat off and hugged it to his chest. The hat felt important – the only thing that did.

Beyond that, he had no name, no home, no past.

If he had a future, only time would tell.

[karmas-chameleon]

For the writer asks, 4, 22, 25?

Thanks for the ask! :)

I'm gonna put this below a cut because it got kinda long lol

4. with dialogue i'm proud of

That's gonna be this snippet from my short where my S/I sees Manfred's scar for the first time:

“What happened?” I asked softly.

“I had…a particularly difficult case. The longest trial of my career. And I have this scar as a reminder of it.” His voice lowered, so quiet I could hardly hear him. “Those who pursue justice do so knowing the dangers they may face. Forty years of prosecuting criminals comes with its price, Miss Martin.”

My eyes were wide with fear. I hadn't imagined he'd ever face that kind of danger in his job - he was just a prosecutor, not a police officer, not an investigator, surely he would be safe. But he wasn't. I grabbed onto his shoulder again, not to inspect a wound but to hold him and keep him with me.

“Manny…stay safe, please. I…I don't want to lose you. I can't.”

Finally, Manfred looked at me, and saw my worries. He placed a hand over mine, and forced a smile. “You don't need to worry. The one who did this has been dealt with, and I don't anticipate any future…confrontations.”

I frowned at him. “You're sure?”

“I'm certain. It's been long enough since that incident that I can assure you nothing else will come of it.”

I love it because basically every sentence Manfred says means something different to each of them, and my S/I misinterprets his words exactly how he wants her to without him technically lying.

From her point of view, she hears this: Manfred had a tough case, and got shot at one point. He knows that his job can be a dangerous one, and it made him some enemies among the criminals he puts to justice. But the guy who shot him is either dead or in jail now, and he thinks he'll be safe.

What Manfred is actually saying: He had a tough case, got a penalty and got shot (and in my headcanon he thinks it was Gregory who pulled the trigger). He then shot him back, and is trying to justify it to himself - the one 'pursuing justice' was Gregory, and he knew that he could get hurt, didn't he? Miles had to know that his father's job could be dangerous; Manfred wasn't the only person who could've done him in, right? There's a price for forty years of success, and Gregory was the one who paid it. But he's dead now, and the statute of limitations has expired. He knows he's safe.

22. that is so blissfully self-indulgent

Honestly all of chapter 9 of my story is probably my most self-indulgent (SFW) thing I've written, but I'll just post my favorite bit:

“There's no need to apologize.” Manfred lay his hand over mine, squeezing gently as I held onto his snot-filled handkerchief. “There never was.”

“I-it's just-” I sniffled, “a lot. Everything is.”

“Hmm?”

“When…whenever I touch you, it's- it makes me feel a lot of…stuff. And when we talk, and when I look at you, and everything- and it's just,” I wiped at my eyes, “...too much, sometimes.”

“You’re overwhelmed. Overstimulated.”

“Uh-huh,” I nodded.

“Is there anything you need? If there's any way I can help, I will.”

“I just need…time, I think.” I slumped against Manfred's shoulder and closed my eyes, finally capable of taking a deep breath.

I focused on the sounds around me. The birds chirping in the trees and the wind whistling through the branches calmed me, while the sound of nearby human activity made me worry about just how many people may have passed by in the middle of my meltdown. And it still wasn't over, not quite. I could feel myself cooling off, but I wouldn't be back to normal until I got to my apartment, turned off all the lights, and took a long nap. Even then, ‘normal’ would still be painfully relative - my normal, but not the normal. Such a quality was out of my reach.

“I'm glad you told me,” Manfred said quietly, “even if you may not feel the same way. I realize it must've taken a good deal of courage.”

I nodded wordlessly into his shoulder.

“And it reminds me how I should treat you.”

My heart sank. This was the beginning - the pity, the babying, the ‘you poor thing’ looks that I'd dreaded.

“With politesse, and chivalry, as a gentleman ought to. Taking things slowly, and always requesting permission rather than assuming. And no more messing around trying to fluster you, as amusing as it may be.”

I felt him squeeze my hand again, and sighed with relief. “Thank you…Manfred.”

“Of course, Miss Martin.”

Years ago when I first started self shipping, and even after that when I started writing for my ships, I never would've written something like this, ever

My self inserts were idealized versions of myself, so of course if I was writing a character that's just 'me but better', that couldn't include autism, right? And I couldn't possibly imagine writing a whole chapter that's just me rambling about my problems, that would be super cringey and weird

But I've mostly moved past that now, enough to write whatever stuff makes me happy and to have my self inserts be the real me, warts and all (someday I might even write something about my S/I's acne scarring which I'm super self conscious about...but I'm not quite that brave yet lol)

Also the comment I got on that chapter from another autistic person who liked it just made me so happy 😊

25. that i consider a favorite

Ok here's a long one

Usually my 'favorite' is a snippet I've either been looking at or working on recently, and I've been looking back at this WIP planning on finishing it at some point:

“Here with someone special, Fräulein?”

“Yeah,” I nodded, smiling as I finally spotted him in the ballroom, next to Chief Gant and a tall, lanky officer.

“Ahh, you're with him?” Gavin said, evidently following my eyes. “Interesting.”

I looked back to see him grinning, and flushed slightly. “You, uh, know him?”

“I've talked to him a handful of times, ja. Not the easiest to work with, but I know he means well. He seems like a nice man.”

I was practically beaming. “Yes! I knew someone else would see it too. He's such a sweetheart when you get to know him, really.”

“You tell Meekins he's a lucky man for me, eh Fräulein? I should-”

“Meekins?” I stared at the prosecutor as he began to stand up. “Wait, who did you-”

“Is this fool bothering you, Miss Martin?”

Gavin froze in his tracks and I turned to see Manfred nearly at my side. I shot him a grin and stood to join him.

“Hey Manfred! Nah, we were just talking. Prosecutor Gavin told me he's in a band.”

“I'm aware.” My boyfriend’s icy glare left the other prosecutor for only a moment to look at me with concern. “Weren't you going to get something to eat?”

“I did. Got one of everything they had, plus an extra pig in a blanket.” I raised said snack up, as it was the only one I hadn't entirely finished. “You want a bite? They're really good!”

“...If you insist.”

Manfred continued to look somewhat intimidating, even as I popped a half-eaten cocktail weenie in his mouth. I turned back to look at the poor man he evidently wasn't friendly with, and saw him gawping at the two of us.

“Um…it's been nice meeting you, I guess?” I said with an awkward wave, hoping it would dismiss him.

“Er, ja, Fr- Frau Martin.” He made an effort to compose himself and left with a wave and a smile.

No sooner had he left earshot than I heard a scoff from Manfred, and looked back to try and figure out why he'd acted as he did.

“Hmph, so it's ‘Frau’ now, is it? I'd bet my entire estate that wasn't what he was calling you before I walked over.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it was something else, uh…something German sounding.”

“Fräulein. I haven't heard anyone use that to address a grown woman since I was a child. It's disrespectful. And this fool thinks he can just throw it into his vocabulary for flavor. Preposterous, really.” He crossed his arms and I smiled at him as he let out a huff, clearly on a roll with his complaining. “Tell me, just how much gratuitous German did he use when he spoke to you? I wouldn't begrudge a man a bit of creative linguistics if it were any other man, butchering any other language. But he embarrasses me by association.”

I placed a hand on his arm, leaning in to him with a grin. “Well, maybe he's doing that on purpose, huh? Not to embarrass you, but to make people think of the best prosecutor in LA when they see him. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, isn't it?”

“He certainly could've chosen something better to imitate, then. My professionalism, or success in the courtroom, not some exaggerated national identity. And if he wants to make something of himself as a prosecutor, he ought to focus on it instead of that silly little band of his. The man splits his time between prosecuting and singing, and I daresay he's worse than me at both.”

I tried to stifle a giggle, and Manfred frowned at me.

“Is something amusing?”

“You're cute when you're mad.”

“I am not mad. I'm merely detailing the numerous flaws of someone in my profession.”

[longeyelashedtragedy]

eyes 👁️

smile 😊

lips 👄

kiss 💋

vagina 🦪

eyes 👁️

“Uggggh!” Mason’s first instinct is to throw his hands over his eyes like a little kid hiding—and so he does.  “Are you gonna answer that?” (couples try new things)

It’s bad enough that she’s a Redknapp by marriage now, and feels it sometimes sinking into her bones.  She’s glad to have an outsider.  Fresh blood, fresh eyes.  (she may not remember me but i remember her)

Jack eyes the expensive watch and the wedding ring. See? Frank thinks.  It's not a date.  (10022)

It suddenly doesn’t matter what good new thing he has going.  It feels like his life is flashing before his eyes.  (tranquilo, amor)

“Granit?”  Agon is snapping his fingers in front of Granit’s eyes.  “Everyone is dead!!!" (dangerous au chapter 8...Spoiler Alert)

Frank’s eyes are blank.  Dead.  It’s never been anything else. (jamie did a bad bad thing...this is not the title btw lmao)

His eyes lock with Frank’s and he mouths.  Wow!  He’s impressed that Frank has two Girls.  Frank impressed Jamie.  Okay.  He can do this. (2008 debauchery fic...the working title is "you rearrange me till i'm sane" but that feels too on the nose lol)

smile 😊

Her mouth twists into a little smile no one but the stars will see as she remembers something said in a different voice maybe a long time ago. (she may not remember me...)

Frank smiles a smile that doesn’t reach his pretty blue eyes. (couples try new things)

His smile is too thin and his face is too pale.  It would look better if he wasn’t smiling. (jamie did a bad bad thing)

Maybe Jamie will call.  He’ll look so handsome even on the video.  He’ll be so happy to see you....What if he knew?  Would he still smile then? (10022)

“No.  Tonight is different,” Mikel says, and he feels like his smile matches one of Granit’s terrible ones.  (dangerous AU, christmas chapter)

lips 👄

“Well.  I guess I should…I’m sorry, Mason, I…” He holds his finger to his lips and then picks up the call. (couples try new things)

“What’ll we do if it keeps raining?”  Frank drinks heavily from his glass of red wine.  His lips are purple, and he leaves an ugly streaky stain on the back of his hand when he wipes his mouth. (she may not remember me...)

Taulant opens his mouth but his lips too are shaking.  And Agon talks instead. (dangerous au chapter 8)

red red red smeared on Franko’s lips and chin and drops of it on his pink shirt what was he drinking what did they give him (jamie did a bad bad thing)

“Hungry,” Justin says, pulling back and looking pleased.  His lips are all wet. (10022)

Rob blows air out through his closed lips.  “I’m not good enough for you anymore, then?” (arsenal crime au...i feel like this hasn't shown up in any of my other searches wtf)

kiss 💋

But he doesn’t mind Frank getting on all fours on top of him to kiss him. (couples try new things)

She kisses Christine while she sleeps, making the kiss soft but not too light—a real kiss.  Not an exploration.  Louise is 37.  She knows what she wants. (🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣🫣 she may not remember me... this is not even what i was talking about with the 770 words of exposition!! what is happening in this googledoc)

So Frank does, and he feels lips kiss each eyelid and then slide down onto his mouth.  The kiss is different than it had been at the bar.  (10022)

Their foreheads bump together and Sergio kisses her, or maybe she kisses Sergio.  Either way, they kiss out of a shared feeling of something.  (tranquilo, amor)

Granit snorts the line like a madman and flops back on the couch.  He doesn’t think you can kiss the dancers, but he’d like to. (dangerous au chapter 8)

The kiss is sweet from the shit Franko likes to drink and bitter from his own tongue (jamie did a bad bad thing)

vagina 🦪

gotta love that clam emoji but i can't see myself ever using this word in a fic!!! unless there's like...A Doctor Scene or something? but what word to use instead is one of those eternal struggles lol

[k-indie]

As your best friend, he hated hearing you name all the things you loved about a man, what he would wear, how he would speak and act and carry himself.

He hated listening to you drone on about guys who didn't meet your criteria, your standards, et cetera. He hated how you'd laugh with your friends about something a suitor would say to you, do for you, as if it was the worst thing a man could ever do for you. But he'd laugh along sometimes so he wouldn't be suspected of anything shady.

He laughed along because he couldn't respond in any other way. He laughed along because he was masking his pain. He laughed along because he hated how stupid it was that he kept screaming at you from deep within himself how everything you said you liked about a man was right there in him, on him, his literal entire personality. And it was all slipping off your tongue so dreamily, so easily, so carelessly. He laughed because it was just the stupidest thing to even think a woman like you would ever notice more in a man like him.

In passing, you'd catch his eye for a brief moment. Soft smiles greeting him in the halls of your university between classes, the occasional quick stop to chat, and more often than not, he'd comment on your social media posts and say things to you that only he could say, that the best friend you'd ever had could even utter half a syllable to you and you wouldn't be at their neck.

You weren't an easy target and he liked--loved that. He didn't like most of the women that threw themselves at him. Well, when he was a freshman, he did eat it up because of various male reasons, but also because he was far more unaware of his feelings for you then.

Now, juniors in college with contrasting degrees in tow, he realized he wanted to act on those feelings. Ever since he was in diapers with you, he knew he harbored something towards you, despite all the times he'd chase you around with little dead insect bodies or live frogs that would occasionally jump onto your head when you'd stop running to catch your breath and not realizing how close he was behind you. All those times he pushed you into the pool just to jump in after you and save you, he only told you, "you can't even swim right, dummy," because how else was he supposed to tell you he liked you?

He wasn't as cocky as he used to be. He wasn't as loud and obnoxious as he once was. Hell, he didn't even do his usual routine ending with the boys at the end of his fútbol games. He always had his eyes on you and the only reason girls started to hate him was because he would never call them by their names during sex. He was a complete asshole to them because they weren't you.

Who knows if he called the girls by your name or not. That didn't matter. What mattered was that he was thinking of you when he was balls deep in a girl who was a similar type to you. He loved dark skins. He didn't discriminate either though. He was just so captivated, so enamored, so thrilled to have a friend as beautiful, intelligently creative, brilliant, and kind as you.

And as sassy as you may have been, he loved that even more. He wanted a girl like you. He needed a woman of your calibre. Sure, he could find another like you. But it would be just that. Like you. Not exactly you.

He hated that idea of finding a different version of you in softer filters, plainer, less elegant, less... You.

He hated that he watched you get your hopes up just to be crashed down for a man that wasn't him. He had to be the one to give to and take from you. He had to be the one to make you happy, make you smile endlessly so, he had to be the one to meet your standards. His were met already. You checked every box, circled every letter, numbered every list, and it goes on and on endlessly.

You were his soulmate. He couldn't sit by and watch you ruin yourself any longer for people who didn't deserve to breathe the same air as you.

How dare you let them.

---

His first thought having you seated across from him at the finest cafe he could find with thoughts of your particular taste and style, was if you were comfortable. Because he most certainly was not.

How could you exist so happily across from him and bring him to his knees with just a smile? How were you his best friend for so long and he was just... that? How did he miss the literal angel that followed him around everywhere? God, was he dumber than a magazine of bullets.

Curiously now, you smiled a little less, tilting your cute head to the side and waiting for him to respond to your question, "are you going to say something or not?"

He chuckled nervously, something he almost never did. It wasn't until he looked back at you from the cup he was lazily tracing a finger over the rim of that he noticed your smile had fallen completely and you had that look that said, 'hurry the fuck up or I'm leaving you here.'

Chewing on his lip for a moment too long, he finally responded with a quick nod, "I'm in love with a girl. She's amazing, funny, and kind. She's the bane of my existence but I can't help how I feel about her. I mean, she just lives to torment me but I can't move on from her. I don't know what to do."

"Sounds like a real problem kid. Have you tried talking to her?"

He agrees with the head again, "I've tried but every time I do, I get choked up and end up saying something completely different."

"Afraid of rejection, I see. Well, that rejection is the least of your worries. Let's say she doesn't like you back, at least you'd know she isn't the one right now. If she isn't the one, just leaves more room and time for you to glow up and show her exactly why she shouldn't have rejected you, and now you're with a new girl and boom! You're married with kids. Happily."

He chuckles at your quick response, shaking his head and leaning forward on his elbows over the table. "Easier said than done."

"Alright, simple route; man the fuck up and just tell her. It's really not that hard."

And he realized it wasn't that hard. He thought too hard on it, too long, and he looks up at you as you're about to slide out of the booth and leave, but he catches your wrist and pulls you to him, standing tall over you now. "I just did."

"That was fast? Did you record it and send it to her or something? I swear I didn't even see you pick up your phone."

He knew you weren't dense. He knew you weren't stupid. But sometimes you both did question it, so he couldn't be that sure. "It's you. Fuck. It's you. I'm in love with you, (name). I'm fucking in love with you. So-shit- please."

Of all the things you knew about this man, the most important thing you knew aside from his never-apologizing attitude, he didn't beg either. He was definitely going insane.

Turning to face him completely with a concerned expression lacing your features, you begged the question, "are you feeling okay?"

Scoffing to himself, he grabs your hands in his, holding tightly to them in both hands and kissing the knuckles just below your finger tips, he shakes his head, "no. I've never felt this before. Ive never been in love with someone before. I've never confessed before. I don't even know how that came out as smoothly as it did. I just- I'm-"

You could tell it was hard on him, and before you could respond, the lady who was waiting your table finally yelled from her position at the counter, "JUST END HIS SUFFERING ALREADY! HE'S BEEN IN PAIN ENOUGH. KISS HIM OR I WILL!"

And you turn back to him faster than lightning on your ass and bring his head down to yours to lay a chaste kiss on his lips.

"I'm in love with you too. I've been in love with you for years."

[qillmhi]

So I'm like... Never a fan of the 'Imma kill my bros for u' kind of scenario especially since I very much love all the turtle bros, so here's my version of an obsessive lover 2012 Mikey!

🖤🧡🐢

Dark!2012!Mikey x Reader

-Michelangelo is the youngest out of the four turtle brothers, so he was easily the most childish and energetic one, much to his older brothers' annoyance.

-He was loud yet small. Just a few inches shorter than you. A social butterfly, but can be oblivious to most things.

-Mikey may not be the smartest turtle, but he does have own way of getting what he wants.

-And he has his eyes dead set on you.

-When he first realised his crush on you, he openly welcomed it with zero resistance. It felt great being in love so why should he deny it?

-He loves expressing himself so there was little to no filter when he's showing you his love.

-"(y/n)~!!!!" Mikey threw his arms around you "I missed you so much!!!!!" He cried in excitement rubbing his cheek on yours.

-You laughed at the youngest turtle and placed your hand on his head "Mikey! I just went for a glass of water!"

-"Yeah! But you took sooooo long so I still missed you!"

-He would be all over you. Wherever you go, Mikey is expected to be following close behind.

-Sometimes without your knowledge.

-Whenever his brothers weren't looking, he would slip by to your apartment to watch you sleep.

-But he did it to make sure you're safe! Don't worry!

-He would always be the first one to tackle you as soon as your foot entered the lair. Then proceed to trap you in a cuddling session with him for hours before anyone could get to you.

-"Oof--!"

-"Dibs on (y/n)!!!!"

-"Ow--Mikey!!" You groaned in protest.

-"No time to talk dudette! Look--" He held up a glowing flower watch "--it's hug time!"

-You squinted your eyes at the familiar looking gadget "Did you force Donnie to make you that hug-watch thing from the Trolls movie?"

-"Maybe~!" Mikey avoided your eyes "So hug time...?"

-Physical contact is his love langauge! Mikey's insides would be all mushy and gushy if you respond to them even the slightest bit. And if you return the favor? This little boy will melt into your arms!

-When you do ask him to let you go, he would just simply say "Nope!" popping the 'p' then proceed to tuck himself below your chin.

-"Awwh come on!!"

-Everytime he feels your soft hands scratching his shell, he immediately starts churring in delight. You thought it was cute, so you'd pat him in the head which made him even more happy!

-He can't help it! Mikey is just obsessed with how soft and plush you feel against his skin! He would definitely glue himself on you if you'd allow him to.

-"You are so squishy~!" Mikey mumbled against your shoulder while hugs you from behind for the nth time today.

-You flicked his forehead earning yourself a small 'ow' "And you are a big baby."

-You didn't mind his clinginess thankfully. It was just Mikey being cute as always. For real how can you resist this baby?

-He's loves it when you give your full attention to him. But if you're talking to someone else, he would just simply have an arm over your shoulders. Silently brooding towards the intruder, giving them a silent warning.

-If the boy isn't hugging you or initiating some kind of physical contact with you, he would be content holding the hem of your shirt or any kind of clothing you own (he may or may not have kept a few in his room that he may or may not have been using as a pillowcase to cuddle). Something that became a norm whenever he's at your apartment and you preparing both of your meals.

-Damn he loves your food! It was then only food he worships other than pizza! He especially loves watching you cook. Like an angel preparing to give him heaven.

-Speaking of Heaven.

-This orange fluff have TONS of pictures of you saved in his phone. If you ever made the mistake of sleeping in the lair, this guy is just snapping pictures of you in every possible angle. Sideways? Upside down? Close up? Bird's eye view? They all made you look perfect!

-His wallpaper is a selfie of you and him enjoying your home made chocolate icecream pizza that you made just for him. Aren't you just the sweetest? He considers that as your first date even though you two aren't official.... yet.

-I mean you made that treat just for him so it must mean that you return his feelings right?

-As time went by, his little crush for you grew into something more.

-You were starting to see his brothers and your other friends a little less and him and little more.

-It was just Mikey. Only Mikey.

-Just the way he likes it

-Everyday you'd wake up and find him cuddled up to you. When you ask him what he's doing he would just look up at you with his innocent baby blue eyes and say "But cupcake! I'm cold and you're suuuuper comfy~!" Cue those puppy dog eyes and you're 100% powerless.

-He would bring you all sorts of goodies like food, favourite drinks, movies, videogames--anything he could carry just for you!

You couldn't say that you didn't like the attention. Mikey is just so sweet especially whenever he brings little trinkets saying "They reminded me of you!" With that adorable freckled smile of his! It just makes you blush every time.

His innocent sweet smile just melts through your heart!

His brothers thought it was weird when he's always out and about after training and patrolling. But hey! The lair is a lot more quiet and Donnie doesn't have to worry about his stuff being broken anymore. Besides they knew you, you were a great friend so they trust you.

After a while you started to miss your friends. Having Mikey around was fun but you wanted to see what the other guys are up to these days.

One day you decided to visit everyone in the lair with pizza and had a great time chatting and playing with the turtle brothers. Oddly enough Mikey wasn't there.

But he was. Mikey was there. Hidden in the dark corners of the lair. Not even his brothers noticed him. His smile was gone. His eyes were dark as he kept himself one with the shadows, silent as a ghost.

He didn't like the way you were smiling with other people. Of course he was fine with letting you talk to his brothers sometimes, but still there were some boundaries to be made.

"Mine..." Michelangelo silently growls.

Although he doesn't favor this image of you with other people, he does take pride in the way your eyes would flicker to his bedroom door every now and then. Good. Very good.

Finally it was time for you to go. He immediately left. Time to take action.

When you got home you saw your favorite orange turtle curled up on the floor sobbing. Your heartached at the sight of the big crocodile tears falling from his face.

-You dropped down on your knees and asked him what was wrong.

-"I was waiting for you here all day b-but you didn't come home... you left me.." He cried miserably "I-I understand... if you don't want to h-hang out with me anymore... no one really wants to. I p-promise won't bother you anymore.." Mikey sniffed then left before you can get a word out.

-That was three days ago and you haven't seen Mikey since. He stopped visiting, stopped replying to your calls or texts. He was just gone.

-You realized just how much you loved having the small orange ninja around. Your home became cold and lonely. You started to miss him terribly.

-You went back to the lair, ignoring the others as you went straight for Mikey's room and knocked on his door.

-Mikey opened the door for just a crack. His eyes were red from crying. He looked absolutely miserable, but you pushed the door open and pulled him into a hug.

-You apologized to Mikey. You told him that it wasn't your intention to make him sad or feel neglected. That you loved having him around you.

-Mikey hugged you back of course. He closed his bedroom door to give you both privacy while you continued to hold him tight.

-He nuzzled his snout on your chest and told you he missed you too.

-Your soul ached when his shoulders started to shake. You placed your cheek on his head with your hand on his shell to calm your crying turtle.

-Except he wasn't.

-Mikey's smile was as wide as it could ever be. His eyes held a victorious sinister glow as he felt his entire body shake from excitement when he as in your addicting scent.

-Mikey was a good liar.

-He didn't mean to make you this sad. But he had to in order to make you come to him.

-And believe me when I say those three days of not seeing you was torture to him. Sure he had a folder full of your pictures saved on his phone (and his cuddle pillow) but it just can't compare to the real thing.

-But it was worth it though.

-He already had you right where he wanted you. He just needs to give you a little more push for you to confess your love for him and you two will be happy together forever!

-He knew he couldn't keep you to himself. You would surely retaliate if he forces you.

-But that doesn't mean he can't push you into making you claim him as yours instead.

-Oh how it feels so good to be in your love and care again!

-Mikey started churring as he pulled you even closer.

-Yeah Mikey definitely wasn't the smartest.

-But he's definitely the most cunning.

-And he would do anything to have you.

[obsidiancreates]

If I'd Grown Up At Home (Sia RP AU)

"Don't wander off too far, my little shadow." May-Anne puts another iron whistle into Edward's backpack. "Okay? And come right home if anyone you don't know is out there."

"Okay, Mama." Edward tightens his backpack straps. "I'm gonna bring back so many salve herbs."

"I know you are." She smiles and gives him a kiss on the head. "Remember that your father will be back an hour before sunrise, so I want you home by then at minimum. We want him to come home to both of us, alright?"

"Alright, Mama."

And so he sets out into the dead of night, his little eight-year-old legs carrying him deep into the forest surrounding their nocturnal town. He gathers strange plants as he goes. A blooming flower with deep red petals that drip dark nectar and have a metallic smell, a small leaf with razor-like ridges all of the stem they grow from, a large bush with berries the shape of teardrops that have skin too tough to break with your teeth...

Well, normal teeth. Doc bites into one with a bit of effort, his sharper-than-average-but-not-quite-suspiciously-sharp canines slicing through the skin. The berry is bitter but rich, like the chocolate his dad brings home from the city sometimes.

He keeps walking, searching for more, when he hears it.

Snoring.

Not loud snoring like Mr. Newal nextdoor, which sometimes keeps Doc up until nearly noon. Soft, small snoring, like when little Maddie from a few houses over falls asleep at midnight picnics and Doc ignores it so she can get some extra sleep (he knows her dad snores even worse than Mr. Newal some nights, she said so).

But when he follows it, he's pretty sure the Snorer is older than Maddie.

In fact, he thinks the boy is older than him, but it's hard to tell because the boy is dirty and he's wrapped up in a girl's arms, who's also dirty. And skinny. Both very dirty, and very skinny, sleeping in the hollow of a large, very old tree.

Edward sees some scrapes, too. And bruises. Which is no good, because those will get infected for sure. The scrapes, of course. He doesn't know if bruises can get infected. He'll have to ask his dad to get another medical book on the next trip into the city (likely a month or two from now depending on if the wheat keeps doing badly).

He looks in his bag. He's got a lot of snacks... but they're all his snacks. Very high in Iron and Darkness-grown. And they help him be healthy, even if he'll never really be strong or be able to walk for very long or any of that. Even just coming this far, he had to use the shadows a lot. Half-walking, half shadow-moving (he still needs to figure out a good name for it).

But, he knows it can give people who aren't Of Darkness a tummy ache. And he knows they aren't Of Darkness. They have a bit of magic about them, but not very much as far as he can sense. Or maybe they have a lot and don't know about it, Mama told him not everyone outside of town knows about Darkness and Light. Which he can't imagine because it's so obvious, but maybe in the daytime it's less so. Like his Dad says, "There's a reason Light's called Blinding."

He moves through the shadows to get back home. He gestures to one of the many blobs of shadows with eyes that live in the house, and the blob slinks away. It comes back and nuzzle's his leg, and he knows thanks to it that his Mama went out for a minute.

Good, because he's going to take a lot more snacks than he's supposed to.

He gets into the bread his Dad bought from the city last time, some neutral sigils around the paper it's wrapped in keeping it from getting stale (Darkness Magic works better, but it also makes the bread begin to change properties, and sometimes it's just too unpredictable to use with things like Whole Wheat). He finds some turkey in the fridge that's also from the city. His parents used it to show him the difference between those meats and Darkness-Raised meats, and they didn't want to waste the leftovers (but hadn't wrked up the will to actually eat it yet).

He does his best to avoid anything too Darkness-infused, because he has no idea what kids outside of town eat. But he thinks this'll work. Turkey and Bread and some strange juice pouches that his Mama had confiscated from one of the older kids a few weeks ago after they'd snuck out into the city on their own. He's not sure why this "orange juice" is so bright orange instead of the usual deep, almost rust-like color, but maybe Light Oranges are just Like That.

He grabs some bandages too, and water, and a little bit of antiseptic. It's not magic in any way, nor is it from the city. Sometimes non-magic herbs work just fine as backup salve ingredients.

He uses the shadows to get back, and he takes a long stick and pokes the girl. "Hey," he whispers. It echoes. It does that soemtimes.

The girl jolts awake, and the boy wakes up just as suddenly! The girl keeps her arms around the boy and presses further into the tree, scowling at Edward. It softens, and he thinks it's because she realizes he's a kid like her. He'd even brought a little lantern, just for them and their Light-poisoned eyesight.

"Who're you?" the girl whispers harshly.

"It's not safe to give names to strangers, they're really powerful." Doc holds out the plate with the food and juices. "But I brought you this."

"Why?"

"You look hungry."

The two eye him warily. The girl looks at the food, and then at the boy. "... Did you do something to it?"

Doc wonders if maybe he should blink. The other kids say he doesn't blink enough. He tries it. "No."

Either she believes him, or the blink helped, because she reaches out and takes it. She tries it first, and then gives it to the boy.

"I didn't have a lot of city food in my house. I hope it's good."

"Better than we've had in a while," the boy says around a mouthful. "... People live nearby?"

Edward nods. "We have a town."

"Why're you out here at night?"

"Mama let me come looking for herbs for our salves. We sleep in the day instead of at night."

The boy's eyes almost cross in confusion. "Why?"

"Because Darkness."

"... Huh?"

"It's a religion." That's what they say to city people and outsider visitors, anyway.

"Oh."

"I brought medicine too. And bandages, and water. Can I clean your cuts?"

"I can do it."

"It'll hurt your bruises."

"What are you, a doctor?"

"No, but I wanna be. Darkness values Doctors as much as Artists. I'll be really careful, and you guys can keep eating that way."

There's a sheen to the girl's eyes. Yeah, he knew he sensed magic. Whatever instinct or spell she has seems to almost relax her. "... Fine."

He gets to work, using a little cloth and carefully cleaning their cuts. His pale, boney hands work delicately, if a little shaky. He takes great care with what he considers to be His First Real Patients.

"... I'm Sia," she says softly.

"Names have power," he reminds her.

"Okay. But I think... I trust you with it. Sort of."

"People don't usually trust me except Mama and Dad. Everyone else says they do, but I know they don't."

"Why?"

"I freak them out a little. They all admire me, but they're scared too."

"Scared?" the boy shakes his head. "You're so small though. You must be like, six."

"Eight!"

"Eight! You're so small!"

"Evan, stop it!"

"I am, it's okay." Edward shrugs. "I'm sick a lot. It's c... chron... is."

"Chronic?" Sia supplies.

"Yeah, that one."

"... I'm sorry."

"I'm okay." He pats her newly-bandaged cut. "There, now I can do- Evan?"

Evan nods, and Edward gets to work. Evan watches. "... Can we call you Doc?"

Edward doesn't pause, but he thinks it over. "Okay, I like that."

He finishes, and they sit in silence for a bit as he waits to get to have the plate back.

"Are you going to live in this tree now?" he asks as they hand it back to him.

"No." Sia shakes her head. "We need to keep moving. We're... being followed."

"You can come stay at my house. You might be allergic to some of our food, Darkness can hurt people's tummy's if they aren't used to it. But you could stay with us."

"We can't. We're on the run."

"Oh. ... Well, have this." Doc (yes, he likes thta very much) digs into his pocket and pulls out a little stone. "If you rub it I'll know you wanna see me, and I can come visit you or help you. I can move through shadows, don't tell anyone though. Outsiders aren't supposed to know."

"... Um... thank you." Sia accepts it. "... For the food, too."

Doc nods. "Thank you for the nickname."

And just like that, they part.

He gets home an hour before his dad and a few minutes before his mom, and gets the plate washed and dried and the shadow blobs help put it away just before she comes back in.

"How was herb hunting?" she asks with a smile as she cleans some berry juice off his chin.

"Really good. And I have a new nickname now."

"Oh?"

"Doc!"

"I love it, little shadow. And what made you think of it?"

"I'm a good doctor."

"Yes, of course you are. Only the best doctor could collect this many herbs in one night. Now, go change into your pajamas, and I'll make some dinner for us."

"Okay, Mama!"

@jzwicia @sororia04s