#(being aware of being trapped is taking a toll oh him)

[equill]

The Warden

Panel: No escape.

Ok, now just some silly ideas to share (playing around with the au)

Comic 1: Invading dreams

Extra: no thanks.

Comic 2: Unwanted attention

[hkruu]

“LOVE ME!” — hkr

// slightly delulu reader , soft yandere , implied stalking , he can be fixed , implied suggestive thoughts , mentally ill oc , he does get a little silly , EN IS NOT MY FIRST LANG. \\

The moment Cilian step foot into your life, it has never been the same. At first you didn't mind his presence, you'd always thought he was a nice kid since he helped you with your academics and research.

Though, on a particular day (Valentine's Day), your dynamic hasn't been the same. That is, from your point of view, for Cilian it's been the best decision he's made his entire life, it didn't matter if he already won so many awards from Karu Academy, what mattered was your acceptance to his little letters that he wrote just for you.

On said letter, Cilian talked about how he appreciated everything and anything you did for him (even though it was the complete opposite), it was sweet and short. You often admired writers, just the thought of someone sending you a love letter makes you feel butterflies.

Of course Cilian knew that.

Cilian knew everything about you the moment you asked for his help, he knew you were going to ask for his advice, his lead, his words. Ah, he could write a whole analysis on you and he'd finish it in 26 hours and 34 minutes, not like he didn't do that before but oh well.

That letter he'd sent you on Valentine's Day was only half of what he felt for you, he had been deeply obsessed with you since that time from the playgrounds. It was unfortunate that you didn't recognize his name but people often forget things from their childhood don't they?

Only his true feelings were spoken in his drafted letters that he hadn't read to anyone but himself. Cilian was aware that no one will ever get what he feels for you, no one will get how he loves you more than he loves himself. If anything, being your enemy was more than enough, thankfully that didn't happen.

Cilian's innocent visage was a gift from the heavens above, he swears that it works like a charm. With a face like this, manipulating comes easy in his hands, blackmailing is as easy as sending an email to a teacher for inquiries, trapping people were as easy as trapping an ant inside your palm.

Just one glance of his pouty expression was enough to get everyone to take pity on him and take his side, including you. You were the only one to approach him with a genuine request, each and every one of the students only came for him because of his purity and innocence.

You were sincere, someone that was easy to warm up with, your skin was perfectly smooth, your hair glistening in the sun, the way your lips move as you ramble about the latest drama online. It's all perfect, the one that Cilian deeply admired.

How he wishes to take your lips into his, to taste whatever gum you ate earlier, to make your hands wrap around his body and hug him with all your might, to make your skin's touch with one another. Cilian would take your favorite pen and write with it with you in thought, even if the things he wrote were a little weird.

If anything you are the reason why he's always at the top. Cilian had always strived to be your exact type, one that you need and the one that you'll never leave. After all, he's seen the countless relationships you've been through, the messy break ups, the talk with your friends..

Your type, your favorite smell, your favorite food, your fashion sense, your manners, your hobbies and even your tinest gestures that you'd make when you're nervous.

It was worth the mental struggle that he had to deal with, even though it took a hard toll. It was worth it in the very end, you as a person were more than enough. You admired writers so he became one, you wanted to go to Karu Academy and so he went there too. Whatever you choose he'll always follow.

(Even if it ruined him mentally.)

He had worked hard to be able to be on top of any situation, it was all worth it if you always were by his side. It was worth it if you'd greet him with a genuine smile, a little hug on the shoulder, it was worth it to pretend that he was only a friend, someone that could support you from the sidelines.

But Cilian knew that one of these days, he'd get you to admit to him. After all, his charms are no joke to everyone, including you. Cilian was aware of the inner struggle you had with labeling him, was he a friend or something more?

Really, it was amusing to see you grin happily when you first read his letter. Cilian could repeat that scene again and again and he would never get tired of it.

The only thing getting in his way was the fact that he was in fact not ready to date, hes all bark but no bite, he flirts but he's easily flustered. The thought seemed a little too much but you're a willing exception to that, he'd try just for you.

"Cilian, you really dress well.. teach me your ways!" You exclaimed in awe as you saw Cilian come out of his dorm room, styling the Karu uniform and wearing glasses. "You.. you look good in glasses.." You murmured, gripping the strap of your bag tightly as you glanced towards his collarbones.

"It's too early in the morning to stare at me like that don't you think?" Cilian grinned like a cat, humming playfully as he offered his arm. Your jaw dropped and hit him in the arm, though you still took his arm as you both walked towards campus.

While you were having your inner turmoil about being close to Cilian since you weren't used to holding his arm, Cilian could only hum in joy with a grin. "Maybe I understand the girls in our class now.." You mumbled, realizing why the girls loved him to an insane extent and for the first time in awhile, Cilian let out a genuine laugh.

\\ this is js an intro post for my acc I wanna expand on Cilian cus uhh I love writers like omg pls feel free to leave feedbacs cus I wanna improve my writing pleasssddssssssssse//

[revisitingfandoms]

Idea 14- Bride of shadow Milk

“I bet no one would ever love a monster such as him.”

“I bet he wouldn’t even treat his partner well.”

He would feel his annoyance and distaste and perhaps even anger grow at those comments before it came to him with a wild grin, “A bride”

Elder Faerie’s face went ghastly as a number of others in the area paled, White Lily only half aware replied, “A bride?” 

Shadow Milk grinned, almost looming, “A bride, they neither have to be a woman or just anyone of the female spectrum, I say Bride because it is the best word to describe what I want, and that is a willing bride to marry me.” The escaping giggles only dimming the atmosphere more, “And note I say willing, not interfering with the choice of who makes the decision. Oh, and I won’t take any of that sacrificing bullshit.” He lets out a little whistle, “Toodle~!”

Before disappearing. 

In the remaining chaos with numbers of fairies willing to volunteer to act as a sacrifice for the greater good- all against what the beast had spoken, one blonde contemplates and makes a silent decision. 

He doesn’t speak to any of the others of his decision, he knows what they speak, they would seek to dissuade him in his choice- but..

(He was the former holder of truth and its greatest liar, and he is oh-so familiar with the light of truth- with shadow milk.)

(Whether or not the beast remembers or recalls or buries in the back of his mind- Pure Vanilla knows things- secrets that the beast had whispered in moments of silence and solitude.)

(This is not an act of sacrifice- not an act of giving up everything to be a protector as everyone else would have called it- nor was it an act of redemption as some would have you believe.)

(No this was act of truth- of pure vanilla instead of burying himself with hurt and pain and deceiving others, he sought his other half to speak in whispers of truth.)

(He sought for the truth of actions- to find out what they were to each other- if they are enemies, replacement and replaced, hero and villain, Jester and king, healer and destroyer.)

(He wishes to seek if he can break these roles.)

Of all things, shadow milk had considered, for some reason he’d never thought- never consider Pure vanilla would be before him in his newly reclaimed territory. 

He’d specifically put a barrier around the area- trapping those damned faeries who thought they would be a sacrificial bride- yet of all people, its the one who he damn well knows would give his life in the first choice. 

Oh pure vanilla, just how much more interesting you have become.

He grins as slanters down from his throne to the waiting blonde.

(He didn’t come dressed in that king attire of his- no pointed cone crown-hat, no long white robes or waffle shoulder bearings, Pure vanilla doesn’t even bring that staff of his- No the flower is curled around the man's wrist as he walks in.)

(The outfit he bares- the tattered brown robes tided with rope, blonde hair halfway messy, stumbling and tripping and-)

(Something shifts instead him as the realization comes over him- no lies, no hidden agendas.)

(Pure vanilla came for the truth- no shields, no barriers and no differences.)

He less vicious as he comes down the stairs, “I see now, I’ll admit, I was caught off guard when you of all people arrived here first.” He touches pure vanilla check as the other tenses at the sudden touch. 

He leans over and whispers into others ear, “Now then, my dear, my bride, my pure vanilla.” He interlocks a hand forcefully with the other, “May we bound to the flames of the oven. I do my dear.”

The bell rings its toll, whether it be in celebration to union or the mourning of the actions taken this night is unknown.

But the whisper of Pure Vanilla is all the more damning.

“I do.” 

Is the whisper. And the beast grin only widens.

(Sorry for the late post! I've had exams, being sick and a bunch of other bullshit to deal with :p)

(But anyways- your bride of shadow milk.)

[sjbattleangel]

Public Service Announcement: Please, stay away away from HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro, Chadfarsight*, KK4EverStuff, and Cohore.

*I'm aware Chadfaresight doesn't speak to HellYeahHeroes anymore but she's still responsible for spewing the very same toxicity.

HellYeahHeroes/HellYeahTeenSuperHeroes, Ubernegro, Chadfarsight, Cohore and others are the most vile, most pettiest, most hateful people who have no right to call themselves "comic fans".

[Trigger warning for screencaps in the links] They will personally target comic writers using hyperbolic, personal attacks on them: Disgusting insults, making horrible assumptions of them like calling them "Hacks" multiple times, along with "Pussys", "eugenists", "homophobes", "perverts", "mysoginysts", "sex offenders", "cowards", "rape apologists", "fascist sympathizers", "Nazi apologists", "dog f***ers", telling them to "lick goats" and more.

The way they talk about writers like Jason Aaron, Jonathan Hickman, Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenburg, Dan Slott, Donny Cates, Brian Michael Bendis, James Tynion IV, Scott Snyder, Joshua Williamson and others, it's clear that they hate them solely as people. In fact, they have held a deep personal hatred for them WAY before they read any of their works. Yet they will happily mask what is clearly a bloody vendetta against people ,who never harmed them, under a smokescreen of "criticising crappy writing" and wanting their favourite characters "treated with respect".

KK4EverStuff has gone on to send death threats and wish harm upon creators, it's very possible HellYeahHeroes, Ubernegro, Cohore and Chadfarisght have done so too.

Please, report and block them. They are the most hate-filled toxic people to ever exist in the comic fandom.

Eventually, My friend Samasmith23 and I bumped into @Majingojira and told him HellYeahHeroes and co.'s behaviour since he is their friend. Because of his more chilled, open-minded attitude, we thought he would listen to us and condemn this behaviour but instead...

...he just kept shifting the goalposts; using whataboutisms: Like "Oh, HYH doesn't talk about comics anymore", "KK isn't a member of our group", "That was old stuff", "he (Samasmith) should hold SJBattleAngel to a similar standard", "Screencaps as ammunition is a C*micsgate tactic" and others.

He then suggested that I "fabricated" the screenshots.

But worst of all?

He made excuses for their abhorrent behaviour towards creators. He dismissed our calls for acountability as "tone-policing", being "puritanical", operating under "Tumblr Morality" ect.

He even excused HYH and co's attacking of comic writers by saying: "Complaining about insults towards creators is rich when creators themselves are generally okay with its existence. Just don't do it to their face."

NO.

Calling for innocent creators to be fired is NEVER "okay"!

Telling them to "lick goats" is NEVER "okay"!

Attacking them as "perverts", "eugenists", "fascism apologists" is NEVER "okay"!

Encouuraging harrasment against them NEVER, NEVER "okay"!

Sending them literal death threats is NEVER, NEVER, NEVER "okay"!

Majingojira turns a blind eye to toxic fan harassment and, by doing so, enables it. Stay away from him.

I've wrote to multiple comic/nerd/fandom blogs on Tumblr, telling them about HellYeahHeroes's and his friend's toxicity; asking them to shame this sort of behaviour. But most never reply back. They probably think I'm some sort of "troll" trying to "start drama". And I don't blame them, HellYeahHeroes, Majingojira, Ubernegro and others are some of the most beloved, well-respected comics/social justice bloggers on this website, I understand looking up to someone thinking they could never do any wrong. I know because I was once one of those people.

You know, this takes a toll on my mental health: Trying to tell people that some of the most revered members of our communities are actually horrible pieces of work, but they don't believe you. It's like being trapped in a room all alone, with no door. You scream the truth at the walls, hoping a door will appear. But it never does, and you're stuck forever with no-one to hear your cries. And it hurts. This pain of never being believed.

I hope you all understand.

I just want our community to be safe and healthy. Please, believe me.

Dear @Hellyeahheroes, @ubernegro, @farsight-the-char @Cohore,

The way you targeted and demonized creators like Dan Slott, Tom King, Donny Cates, Jonathan Hickman, Ed Brisson, Matthew Rosenburg, Grant Morrison, Jason Aaron, Brian Micheal Bendis, Adam Glass, Tom Taylor, Scott Snyder, James Tynion IV, Joshua Williamson, Rian Johnson, Neil Druckman was just disgusting and horrible. You have every right to dislike their work but to personally attack and vilify them is unacceptable! They are not "misogynists", they are not "creeps", "they are not "racists", they are not "antisemites", they are not "eugenists", they are not "fascist sympathizers", they are not "Nazi apologists", they are not "closeted Neo-Nazis" but most of all: They are not "hacks!"

To @Hellyeahheroes, @ubernegro, @farsight-the-char, @Cohore,: Seeing your disturbing parasoical hatred of creators like Slott, King, Cates, Hickman, Brisson, Rosenburg, Aaron, Bendis, Snyder, Tynion Williamson, it's clear that outside of comics, way before you read any of their work you've always held a personal vendetta against them as people.

Why? Did they personally hurt you or your loved ones? Did they ruin your lives? Even if they did, that gives you no right to email them countless death threats!

I don't know what you think but personally attacking these writers and sending them death threats will not magically undo the likes of One More Day, Robin: One Year Later, Avengers Academy: Arena, Avengers Undercover, Heroes In Crisis! No! Your actions are the very reason people see nerd fandom as a toxic cesspool of bullying and entitlement. And you're just proving them right!

Apologise, do better or leave.

Tell Lily Orchard, CinemaSins and Mr. Plinkett I said hi.

[izumi-07]

PUPPET - 1

Yandere!Stepbro Sakusa x Yandere!Brothers Best-friend Atsumu x brown coded Y/n

TW! : emotional manipulation, power dynamics, obsession, dark themes, emotional abuse, isolation, degradation, intimidation.

Sometimes it’s better to be silent in the face of adversity, when no ones in your corner it’s hard to stand against storms without being pushed down easily my stepbrother was that storm. Sakusa Kiyoomi the prodigal son, first in everything he pursued it was like he was praised for merely existing, and I would love to say it’s an exaggeration, but it wasn’t people fawned over him like it was a competition to earn his favour the few minutes of his notice was like it’s own reward to most. Kiyoomi was bashful in front of the people that mattered in terms of opinion and who could be useful to him, always a front with the humble golden boy exterior, too shy to string his appreciation together and oh did people eat it up, he was cruel too in a strange, unsettling way when it came to the people he loathed, I was one of those people. At least I assumed I was.

Kiyoomi's father was the old money wealth, people always dream of becoming but this was the sort of thing your born into and when you marry these sorts of men you just know that leaving them isn’t an option anymore be it your own greed or self-importance it didn’t matter what made you stay only that leaving was stupidity, the new diamond shackles they sung songs around your head where so strong that it was a matter of a year to a few months since he managed to swoon my mother into his arms, he had that same look his son had completely hungry when he watched her, slowly he became obsessed with my mother they married when I was just old enough to understand he would be taking us away from our home, we would then leave for Japan for good, new culture a fresh start in his domain of control, they started out as online friends and then he coincidentally happened to be the same philanthropist investing in my mother’s old companies new technology he then just so happened to be staying in our country for a while longer then usual, he knew too much; all her tells and favourite things she was dancing happily into his arms in record time.

I was young and had survived a horribly isolated and desolate childhood of course I had been happy enough to see my mother laugh more than she ever had when we had been in that house with my father and his family who had dominated every second of her life prior to divorce who always had something terrible to say about both of us I needed this promise of peace even if it wasn’t real. Maybe that’s why I was so weary around Kiyoomi before the emotional abuse and minor attempts of physical harm started, he reminded me of my father, cruel and precise he did everything meticulously and every time he did it, he’d get away with it and I’d be left to endure the reality. Mom used to believe everything I said she was my defender, protector and had fought so long and hard to keep us safe for so long I had to understand that kind of endurance took its toll on her and she slipped into the web of lies Kiyoomi trapped everyone else in, over time she grew to love him more than me and I didn’t even feel like faulting her for any of it anymore of course I was angry I was so angry for so long but I knew how Sakusa men worked I had a feeling my step-father was about as worse as his manipulative son both of them lorded over the household neither had any tolerance for my opinions. 

Volleyball was a common topic at home, he was one of Japan’s rising stars after all why wouldn’t it be spoken about? and because no sport or activity I ever did could compare Kiyoomi liked to 'playfully mock' how lazy and stupid I was. I never laughed at the things he said the way my mother and step-father did he knew I was aware of his insults too and I guess that irritated him even more he could never get me to break. He’s four years older than me so during high school all I’d ever hear were things related to Kiyoomi, it made sense he was the ace of his team for any high-schooler any in with the popular crowd was a good chance to widen connections why would they pass up the opportunity to approach any siblings of said popular kid and Ace to get in his good books? If only they knew it didn’t matter how hard they sucked up, Kiyoomi had a select group of friends, and he was anything but kind to outsiders poking around where they didn’t belong.

High-school is where I met the only person I could ever trust he was probably the only person I ever felt safe enough to relax around, Katsuki Mitsunari sleep deprived Mitsu who had met me in the clinic when Kiyoomi’s girl friends of his little inner circle took a joke too far and I’d gotten hurt enough to cry trying to fight off the pain, Mitsu who patched up my knee and offered me his energy drinks and went straight back to sleeping in one of the cots bundled up like a cat. He knew about Kiyoomi and was blunt about the situation he warned me that it would only get worse the more I stuck it out and that if he were me, he’d find a way to leave for good and quickly. Eighth grade had been so long ago and I’d called him silly saying it wouldn’t be this way forever that Kiyoomi was just having a hard time accepting the new changes, it’s only now at eighteen on my final year in high school did I realize nothing was going to change the more I endured the more hurt I was going to get and by the way Kiyoomi has been behaving I knew something terrible was going to come from waiting this long to finally leave.

"Did you apply for college yet imouto?", I lift my head up from the plate of food I’d been mindlessly pushing around while the conversation carried around me, I hadn’t expected to actually participate today in whatever was being spoken about, Kiyoomi was home after all why would anyone even ask me anything? "y/n your Oniisan's asking you a question are you purposely ignoring him?", I gave my mother a look of confusion that got an eye roll in return to which Kiyoomi and my step- father laughed lightly at her words, “Obaasan you shouldn’t be so hard on her, y/n’s always been a bit slower than most", more laughter I resumed eating quietly and could almost feel his stare on me the entire time, “Well I just hope she manages to get into your college Omi, she’s been so set on the others when ideally she could save herself so much trouble if she just moved to were you were studying", of course that’s what my parents were hoping for it would give Kiyoomi more control over me if I studied in Tokyo with him, the thought of being isolated and dependent on Kiyoomi was terrifying, “We’ll just have to pray you get in the right imouto?", I nodded like I always did I didn’t want to meet his face didn’t need him to see the disdain in my eyes that I could never hide.

The next day I had expected to come home to an empty house, when Kiyoomi was home he never was present during the day when my parents were at work which I was grateful for what I didn’t expect was to hear voices and see people I didn’t know crowding around the living room there was the smell of food from the kitchen that made my stomach growl as I’d left early to not have to have breakfast and ruin my morning. "Oi Omi-Omi! There’s a chick at the door I think you forgot to ditch from Kuroo-sans party and she followed you home!", the cackling blond was familiar to me seeing an identical black haired twin walk out of the kitchen with Kiyoomi refreshed my memory of the Miya twins, they hadn’t gone to my high school but once when Kiyoomi had forced me to attend one of his games I’d been awe struck at the raw athleticism performed by the duo brothers on the opposing side.

“That’s my step-sister idiot like I’d ever be stupid enough to give some random whore my parents’ home address", when I was younger I’d been intimidated and easily frightened by the way Kiyoomi spoke when my parents backs were turned it was like the threat of violence without any direction, now I don’t even bother being surprised by anything he says, “Your home late, what are you waiting for standing there like a house plant come say hello", it’s a demand not a suggestion his friends where probably on his college team or old friends from his glory days in high-school, all of them looked at me curiously and some grinned in a mocking sort of way like they knew exactly who I was.

"I actually seem to have forgotten I have extra classes today, I’ll be back in an hour or two so-", I hastily began slipping my shoes back on every second I wasted was another he’d find a way to make me stay, maybe humiliate me and there were strangers in this house men I didn’t know or wished to know. "Y/n come here", no I didn’t want too, the silence was deafening and I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard him, his heavy footsteps slap against the wooden floors as I count his steps to the erratic speed of my heart banging against my chest, “Are you ignoring me imouto?", my hand was gripping the door knob he was right beside me it was just a matter of who was faster and even if I did make it out the door he was a fuckin volleyball player I had no chance outrunning him, it was enough to make me cry I didn’t want to be here stuck with the worst person in my world. "I can hear your heart from here Y/n what’s the matter? Is something wrong did something happen Y/n? Are you scared?", his fingers began to shackle around my arm long slender digits grip harshly and pull me away from the door and into his chest blocking me from everyone else’s view.

"Take your shoes off and come inside if you run, I’ll just catch you and tell mom and dad what you did how you embarrassed them it’s honestly so annoying how you act like someone is going to fuckin kill you every time your around us, I just wanted to spend time with you is that so fuckin hard? Do I disgust you that much?", there had been times I wanted to make the stupid attempt to try and understand him, why did he insist on hurting me what did it gain him in the end? Some people didn’t need some life changing reason to behave the way they did some just did it and some were just born with that twisted intent to seek out something, somewhere, someone to take the anger out on what Kiyoomi had to be angry about just didn’t make any sense to me he’s perfect he’s loved he’s seen and yet I still, like an idiot heed his words slip off my shoes and make the embarrassing walk across the living room to the corridors leading to my room.

Spending time with Kiyoomi and his guests just meant being the in-house maid, I’d been washing the dishes since I was pulled away from my homework after an hour passed and I didn’t come out of my room and honestly it could have been worse he could have made me entertain his friends and that would have been even more embarrassing. This would have been an easy thing to do in order to avoid having to interact with him had I not had the unnerving feeling of the blond Miya twin currently watching me while his spoon scrapped the bottom of the bowl every few minutes. He’s been leaning against the back of the counter opposite me his height a little below Kiyoomi’s and yet still more than enough over my own, he was staring at me, and it was creepy like something slimy crawling up my shirt. "Yer in fifth year aren’t yer?", I nodded and plunged the dish into the soapy water on one side before rinsing it in the other, “Omi wasn’t kidding you’re an actual mute? Are you that dumb is that why you can’t talk? Yikes yer parents must be in debt trying to put you through school aye sweetheart?".

Heard it before, Kiyoomi’s friends sort of picked up the confidence to push me around like he did it made sense someone like Miya Atsumu wouldn’t have a problem pushing around someone his friend deemed as insignificant. He leaned in to my space taking me by surprise and dropping his empty bowl into the soapy dish water his face right in front of mine as his big hand took hold of my soapy one gripping the steel surface. "It’s okay though if yer kinda dumb with a face like yours bet you’d get by if yer gave up yer ass for a couple bucks", this had never occurred to me that even if Kiyoomi said hurtful things and pushed me around in general that I’d ever feel like I was in real danger if his friends decided to take it to the extreme would Kiyoomi even help me? "What’s going on?". He gives me one last long stare and licks his lips grinning and leaving my side hands in the pockets of his jeans as he walked away towards Kiyoomi who side eyed him I turned away as they exchanged a few words I couldn’t hear and I tried to finish up so I could head to my room I hadn’t eaten yet either and with people around especially Kiyoomi and his friends I doubt I’d be able to take anything that was left without getting bullied out of eating at all, I didn’t care what him and his shit friends would say it still bothered me despite there being no truth to it. "What were you talking about?", "School", he snorts and I feel a painful flick to the side of my head, “He must have done most the talking never shuts up that one but maybe you could learn something from him people like him because he’s got a good personality and he’s not a dead brained idiot who does everything’s he’s told", the smell of fruit scented air expels beside me in thick white visible waves enough for me to choke by the sweetness of the smell, he doesn’t use the pen when our parents are around but he always smokes it when he’s home sometimes he’ll force himself into my room and blow out enough air in my enclosed space for me to choke on it.

"Finish up and come join us I said I wanted to spend some time with you I meant it.....you know that right?", I nodded and he laughs again I resist the urge to gasp when he stands behind me pressing into me his hands come from beneath me and guide my own towards the hand wash, “When we were kids I’d help wash your hands just like this, you’d always smile while I helped and back then you were just learning how to speak Japanese your accent was so cute but do you know what word I loved hearing from you the most?", he squeezing drops of sticky pink washing soap into his hands before taking my own and gently threading his fingers through my own, I was crushed against the sink it’s too close, too much, “Oniisan you’d say it when you were upset, when you were happy whenever you saw me that’s what you’d call me and then you just decided to stop one day", he put pressure on my hands till I began to fidget and then he stopped going back to soaping bother our hands up, “You just woke up one day and decided to be an idiot you just stopped listening to me and I let it go on too long but that’s okay because soon you’ll go back to being that cute little imouto you just need to do well and then once you get accepted I’ll start taking care of you again away from all this nonsense that’s gotten into your head".

I don’t cry till he’s gone, and I feel like scrubbing skin raw......

[captain039]

Tastes like heaven

Werewolf!alpha!Obi wan x omega!human!reader x alpha/omega!vampire!Anakin

Obikin

Warnings: vampire things, ABO, werewolf things, light gore, possessiveness, sexual, smut, threesome, poly couple, mentions of needles, oral f receiving, hand jobs, filth, utter filth, emotions, struggles with the force and code

You hadn’t expected to be here, locked in a maker forsaken pit in the middle of no where. It didn’t help that Anakin was getting blood lust, it didn’t help you were trapped with two alphas. Obi-Wan seemed the only calm one, standing by the rocks stroking his beard.

“Master with all due respect can’t we just blast our way out of here” Anakin was loosing patience’s and you were loosing your control. Obi-Wan didn’t answer and he growled loudly making you tense and whimper softly. The effects of your morning suppressant seemed to be wearing off, whatever they did was taking a toll.

“Master” Anakin gritted.

“Anakin please” you begged softly and he went rigid eyes wide.

“Just- stop fighting” you muttered body shaking.

“Master” his voice was worried eyes on you while Obi turned his attention to you also. Obi-Wan muttered curses stepping in front of you when Anakin went to move to you.

“Don’t give into your nature” Obi-Wan warned making Anakin whine himself. Anakin was half alpha half omega, Obi-Wan was an alpha and you were an omega.

“I’m fine” you whispered seeing Anakin’s blazing eyes and Obi-Wans overly tense shoulders. Obi-Wan growled, his inner beast showing and Anakin backed away.

“Just-“ he turned to you eyes gold and nose flaring.

“Force sake” he muttered as you sensed people.

“Enjoying your time?” A woman said head tilted.

“What do you want with us?” Obi-Wan asked sternly.

“Oh nothing, just to watch” she grinned and disappeared. Anakin’s eyes kept going from red to blue, his fangs now clear and his body trembling also.

“Master” you muttered to Obi who sighed loudly. Before he could speak Anakin had pretty much teleported to you, using his vampire speed and wrapped himself around you. He shuddered against you and held his nose to your neck, breath hot and heavy on your neck. You were to nervous to move as Obi-Wan approached cautiously, hand reaching for Anakin, Anakin snarled by your throat and you closed your eyes.

“Anakin” Obi-Wan soothed his voice calming you both.

“If you must feed do so on me” Obi-Wan said, but Anakin just panted on your neck.

“We need to get out of here” you said.

“I’m aware” he said best to hold his emotions in tack.

“There’s about 100 people here, some not human” Obi-Wan said. It made sense why he was quiet for that time he was feeling everything through the force.

“We’re jedi” you said though your mind failed to believe any hope.

“Anakin is driven in blood lust, you are coming too quickly off suppressant’s and I’m having trouble keeping myself together!” Obi-Wan yelled for the first time shocking you both. Your body reacting on its own to calm the alpha down, Anakin’s own calming scent mixing in. Anakin moved from you to the alpha werewolf, he ran his flesh hand through Obi-Wans hair before embracing him. You were trembling, your master was right, your body couldn’t handle coming off the medication this quick, you would go into a horrid heat. You leant against the rocks, legs struggling to keep you up before Anakin beckoned you over. Obi-Wan shifted and somehow sandwiched you between him and Anakin. You felt your body relax instantly at being pressed against them, your back against Anakin, you front almost pressed against your masters. Obi-Wan rested his forehead against yours while Anakin rested his head on the back of your head.

You heard blasters and chaos going on above realising the clones must’ve finally found your location. You felt relief flood you, before pain flooded you. You cringed painfully, Anakin’s arms holding you up while Obi-Wan forced the bars off the top of the pit.

“Generals, over here!” One of the clones greeted before shouting.

“You’re alright” Anakin muttered against you but you were most defiantly not alright. You tried to hold onto the force, your jedi knowledge but you were failing horribly.

“Master” Anakin called his voice worried.

“I know Anakin” he said.

The clones managed to get you out and back onto a ship, you hadn’t left Anakin’s side though while Obi-Wan dealt with the formality’s and information. You were too hot and too cold, stomach churning and clenching horribly, your inner thighs scorching at this point.

“Where’s Obi?” You weren’t thinking straight as Anakin practically carried you to the med bay.

“He’s coming, just hang on” Anakin said his own eyes flickering between baby blue and blood red. You were laid on the med bed and groaned, lying on your side and curling in on yourself.

“Where’s the medic!” Anakin yelled loudly at the poor guards by the doors. He snarled stumbling over to the cupboard.

“Where’s the synthetics?!” He snarled again collapsing against the wall.

“Anakin” you whined wanting to help him.

“Med bay sir!” You heard a clone say outside before Obi-Wan ran in. You were sort of rolling off the med bed before hands grabbed your hip and shoulder, tugging you back onto the mattress.

“Stay” Obi ordered while he went over to Anakin. He was mumbling to him softly holding his wrist to his face before Anakin finally feed.

You heard your master hiss his other hand cradling Anakin’s head. You were hit with another wave of pain before a healer came in.

“Alright” she said and you glanced to her worried face.

“Master Kenobi?” She called.

“I’ve got Anakin” he breathed and she nodded turning her attention to you. You felt your heart clench in pain, you couldn’t help, your alphas were too busy for you. You quickly pushed those thoughts though surprised by them at the term ‘yours’. A hand pressed to your forehead and you whined basking in the physical contact of the beta.

“It’s too late to put her back on suppressant’s, she’s going to go into a fast heat” she said.

“Do something for the pain!” Anakin snarled and the poor woman tensed. Anakin stood along with Obi-Wan and staggered to you. He had blood on his chin his eyes back to the normal blue. He held your hand tightly while the healer injected some meds without you realising.

“Apologies healer, you may go, I’ll handle this” your master said and she nodded leaving. The medication worked quickly and you sighed in relief body relaxing, but the need and ache never leaving. You gripped Anakin’s hand while looking at your master.

“I’m sorry” you said and his eyes narrowed.

“Don’t apologise this was not your fault” he said hand resting on your head. You closed your eyes breathing both of them in.

“You look gross” you said to Anakin who chuckled and wiped his mouth the best he could though the blood was now dry.

“We’re on route to the Jedi temple we’ll be home soon” Obi-Wan soothed petting your hair gently. You nodded mind hazing a little bit at their scents, it was getting a little harder to focus now that there was no pain to distract you. You let go of Anakin’s hand and moved away from your masters hand.

“Padawan?” Your master asked while Anakin frowned.

“I think-“ you shuddered a bit and Anakin took in a breath, eyes turning red. Obi-Wan had done the same eyes fleeting from gold and blue.

“You should leave” you muttered looking away from either of them, becoming increasingly embarrassed. Anakin’s scent was now aroused, his breathing heavy while your master held his control.

Anakin had stormed out, the ache filling your heart again as you let out a soft sob. Your master took a shaky breath but you still didn’t look at him.

“We’ll be home soon little one” he muttered and left the name going straight to your core.

Getting off the ship wasn’t ideal, you were struggling, the healer by you offering to wheel you out on the bed or wheelchair. You felt stupid though, a jedi not being able to walk.

“Please” she said softly as you were fighting with yourself. She held the wheelchair nearby and you sighed getting up shakily and sitting in it. You hated the wet sticky feeling between your legs and looked at your lap with embarrassment. You prayed there weren’t going to be many people on the temple, though it was never your case as you entered. Some younglings training in the middle of the big room making you curse.

“The rooms are down there” you pointed and the healer nodded pushing you along. You put your hood up, hiding your face before making it to your room. You rested your hand on the pad and your door opened.

“I’m sorry to drag you from your post” you muttered as she wheeled you in.

“Nonsense general, it’s quite alright” she smiled lying down a bag on your table.

“There’s pain medication and some things that may help” she smiled sadly and you nodded moving to your couch awkwardly and collapsed.

“Thank you” you muttered curling up on your side as she said her goodbyes and left.

Next part ->

[everafterkeiji]

hello!! may I request chifuyu, baji, mikey and draken what they would be like when their crush is on her period? I'm not sure if ur requests are open atm but if not u don't have to! :) thank you in advance

hiii ~ thank u so much for requesting and i apologize for the delay once again!! have an amazing day (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎 𝐒/𝐎 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐃

PAIRINGS: Mikey, Draken, Baji, & Chifuyu x gn! reader

GENRE: comfort, fluff, humor

♡ 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘, through the help of having a younger sister, he's got this but he will still poke the fun out of you with a few limits especially when he doesn't want to face the wrath of the outcome of abdominal pains.

- When you're showing signs that the torture week was ready to pounce on you, he's making mental notes and tries to do a check list if his little assumptions were right but that doesn't reach your line of awareness, the magic or rather cursed words just answer it for him. "My period is coming."

"Yes!"

"What do you mean yes?"

"Oh I mean—that's absolutely tragic."

- The morning you wake up, on the very first day of your lady's week, he didn't even give away that he was going to visit that early so when you woke up and open the door to leave your room, there stood a half conscious blonde with a paper bag in hand which startles you. "Mikey! Why—school doesn't start until 8."

"Eh, I thought I'd help out by this." He gifts you the bag and all that you saw was packs of napkins, tampons—from different variations while you sighed in relief. "Oh my god, thank you so much."

"You should thank Emma."

"Why?"

"That's all hers."

"WHAT?"

- He notices how you were two sided at school—one persona was the typical you who was simply living through the boredom and the other version of you that kept pursing his lips and resting your head to the desk from the ache so he'll propose to massage your lower back from the times he'd seen Emma do it to herself and it takes a toll on you at how he noticed.

- He's seen too many quiet breakdowns from Emma so he's just going to pat your head or try to get your mind out of it by actually placing his own head to yours when you're about to doze off.

"Hm, Mikey?"

"I'm right here, just keep sleeping."

- When you're home alone together, it seems like there's been a switch of bodies. Instead of you being the one whose going to be tied to the bed to catch a break, what happens is that he's the one whose pouting and impatient because he somehow needs more of your comfort than you do. "Mikey, what's wrong?"

"I'm on my period too."

- He would be surprised by the amounts of coffee intake you have. He's just watching how you're on your second round, a cup in hand beside him and he wonders if it truly works wonders for the feminine body and the more he sees you do it, the more he'll make the coffee for you whenever you needed it.

- He's used to the favor of being asked to grab a pad/tampon so when you forgot to bring one when you're already in the shower, he's just bringing it to you but of course, he tampers with you. "Did you bring me the ones with wings?"

"Yeah and I hope your blood flies away with it."

"Manjiro."

- Would think about how that entire week was just the comfiest he's ever been. He didn't mind if he had to hug you or go to the store and binge eat while watching a series with you—everything just fell into leisure even if you were still going through cramps because he's there to grab whatever you need since he's beside you most of the time.

- Doesn't have a single filter when it comes to talking about your period. Mans will just open up a new napkin and investigate it until he's sticking it to his forehead. "They're so big, you think I can use this as a bandage?"

- Mikey would look at you from afar and when he sees the mounts of tissues on the trashcan, assuming it was from you, he just lends his ears to you while you cry about what you watched that was the cause for your tears or he offers his arms for you be trapped in as he tries his best to comfort you.

- Cramps, aka every girl's menace, would also be something he hates. He doesn't like to see you tuck yourself in with hands clutched to your stomach or when you're just standing and suddenly your upper body slightly drops at the wave of pain that shocks you that makes you rush to the nearest couch to embrace a pillow to add pressure. He'd panic a bit when it gets too overwhelming so he'll dash of to the nearest store to buy anything that could help you.

- His specialty is to assist you in any way possible was to make you laugh or at least give as much as he can for you to feel better so when you were finally over with your period you swore to give back those packs of napkins from Emma, that's why you're both stood in the same aisle to restock her pile.

"What was that? Getting diapers, babe?" Mikey teases, while you fought the invitation to leave him then and there as people began to stare.

"I'm sorry my boyfriend has loose bowel movement. "

"Y/N?!"

♡ 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐄𝐍 is perfect for this. No hesitation—he's seen it first hand and he was surrounded by woman all his life because of where he lived so when you're on your period, you're just going to receive it from the best of the best.

- Right off the bat, he'd keep track of your period if you forgot to do it for yourself or when he hears the groans that comes from your mouth just for him to see your arm wrapped around yourself, he just knows which is his cue to ready himself for the next few days.

- The day before you even got your period, Draken already dropped off some things to your place and you were thankful of course but a part of you knew it'd at least subside for now. Not until you woke up with blood and you felt like he hit a jackpot at the perfect timing, too exact that you can hear him say, "I told you so."

The minute he sees you and there's a frown present on your lips, he shakes his head when you plop down on your chair to hug your bag and mourn over the pain. "Did you take the painkillers?"

"I forgot."

"Well well well, that's just karma."

- Throughout the day, his eyes are on you, observing you from where you are and will take the time during lunch and recess to comfort you. He'd buy the lunch for you so you wouldn't have to move and he'd get you extra loads of snack because sometimes your appetite is drained and it's just being replaced by the pain that was consuming you so he'll make sure you at least finish half the bowl and he'd eat the rest.

- You don't even have to ask him to check from behind because he's doing it already and he'll just pat your shoulder and say that everything is fine. If you do have a stain, he's up on his feet to cover it with his jacket and hand you a napkin so you can change.

- There's always going to be a lingering hand to your back when you're beside each other for him to run it through and he would help you stretch, used to how the other girls in the brothel would ask him to do it to them.

- He'd also do the same to your head when you have a headache or give a rub to your abdomen. He'll always let two fingers pressed to your temple while he'd often ask you which parts hurt the most and he'd put extra attention to it.

- It does surprise you when he's just embracing you from behind and he suddenly stretches your shoulder and a cracking sound resonates.

"How the fuck did you do that?"

"With care, babe. Otherwise you could've died."

"Wait really?"

- When he's at your room, he insists that he'd do the dishes or work on whatever chore left for you to finish. He'll come back and drape his jacket on you as well as readying a heat compress for your stomach and your heart couldn't help but enlarge at his help.

- You don't need to tell him twice about you need—he can see right through you anyway. When he sees you drowning in your blanket without any motivation to move out of it, he'll get out of your bed and bring in two packs of your favorite chips along with some beverages you prefer that day.

- Hugs and cuddles galore. He'd be the type to hug you without notice when you're hurting too much and his hands would always reach for the inside of your shirt so he can press his fingers to your stomach.

"Does this hurt? Let me know, okay?" He whispers, slowly putting more pressure to it while you sigh. "Keep going, its fine, Ken."

- Bring kisses into the mix as well. Forehead, cheeks, shoulders—you name it. He will give it as much as he can just so you know that he'll be with you.

- He knows that a bit of excercise can help relieve some of the pain so he'll try to bring your yoga mat and do a mini workout even if you weren't in the mood.

"Lift those arms, babe."

"Stop staring at my ass then."

"They look nice, new leggings?"

- A real life alarm. Even if you set it yourself, he'll just knock on your door or tap your head and he just says, "Go. Painkiller time."

- Your personal cry buddy. When you're watching or reading something that just makes you tear up from, there's already a tissue right to your eyes to wipe it but if you look to your side, he's also covered in tears. "Draken, why are you crying?"

"They deserved the best."

- Well, if you do show some attitude he's just staring at you with arms crossed and an amused smile.

"Sorry."

"No no, it's fine. At least you're back now."

♡ 𝐁𝐀𝐉𝐈, my lovely boy, is a mix of being domestic and forgetting that your actually on your period.

- His enemy is the sizing of your napkin/tampon. He just doesn't understand how it goes, why the wings? Why the comparison between how long you can wear it without leaks? Why everything? But still, he will try and seek help from Emma in a shy but stubborn way.

"Okay Edward, what day is she now?"

"It's Tuesday."

"Dumbass, I meant the day she started her period and how many days has it been since."

"I don't know shit!"

"Fucking hell, I'll just talk to her on my own. Give me her number, Baji."

- Once he does drop by your house and you open the door with eyebrows furrowed and a tight lip expression, he feels slightly threatened.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Huh? Babe no."

"Oh.. right."

- When he gives you your period necessities, it does shock you at how many it was but of course, Baji doesn't just has that. Behind him, there's a stuff toy he got from an arcade, it was actually quite big so he was thankful for his competitiveness that he won it specifically for you. He pulls it out with a bright grin tugged on his lips. "Here you go, loser." He says with the stuff toy upfront.

"THAT IS SO CUTE."

"That's the being an amazing boyfriend for you."

- The half chaos begins but be sure that he'll be there whenever you need him. It does worry him a heck lot when you're in different positions, clutching your stomach from the couch and he's just looking at you wide eyed.

"Hey! What do I-what do I need to do?" He stammed through his words because of how distraught you were. You raise a hand now that you let out a loud sigh when you found a spot where it doesn't hurt as much. "I'm fine for now."

"You were dying—what about that was fine?"

- He settles to figure it out for himself when he embraces you. Like Draken, he has arms around your bare stomach, feeling around where he thinks it hurts so when he presses his fingers to your lower sides, you sighed at how it felt. "Shit sorry, did that hurt?"

"A little but it's okay to continue, Kei."

"I thought you moaned for a second."

"Quiet."

- He'd volunteer to give you some cup noodles and make you whatever food that was available in their house. You insisted that it wasn't necessary since you just ate but he'd still offer it to you.

- He's going to distract you for the rest of the day. He'll opt to pick a movie and consume heavy hours from it or he'd ask you if you wanted to go out on his bike and circle around the city just so your mind was occupied by the calmness of the night but when you come home up and the cramps resurface, he's stuck thinking about how it's gonna go away.

- He would also massage you and he'd be very cautious about it because he doesn't want to hurt you even more. He'll always check up on you when he does it so he can keep track of how he's going.

- You're never gonna run out of cuddles. He's going to hug you when you need him, held sweetly in his arms as he babbles on about his day just for a topic to open up and once you fall asleep, he'll place a kiss to your forehead and awe at the sight of you hugging the stuff toy he gave you.

- He's seriously never going to get used to how your facial expression is different from the usual. A subtle frown or there's just that drop to your eyelids that he always notices so he'll prompt up a couple of jokes for the sake of you changing your mood.

- At school, after all those activities of yours, you would ask him to look back on your skirt and he's going to do it but he doesn't realize what's it for which slightly makes him flustered that you just flat out told him to gaze at your butt.

"So?"

"It looks pretty good to me."

"Thanks, Baji. I thought it would leak."

"Leak? What exactly am I looking at here? I mean your butt looks great to me."

"Kei—I meant if you could check if there's a blood stain on my skirt."

"Oh—well there's none."

- If you do have a stain, he'll say it to your to your ear and he's going to hook his jacket to your waist and insist that you both go home so you can change and feel comfortable. If other kids find out about it and grimace at your skirt, he'll personally let them bleed—for other purposes but you stop him.

- When he gets comfortable for another time you wanted him to check, there's going to be three pats to your butt and he just smiles and sends you a thumbs up.

- When you get home, his specialty is that he likes to ready the bath for you. He learned it from Emma at how she enjoyed a warm bath so he'll do that for you and you're thanking him endlessly.

- The type to be curious about how tampons work and when you show him, he simply looks at you dazed.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be, Kei?"

"That? Is up your—that does not hurt?"

"Well to me it doesn't, I just don't want it to get suck."

"If it gets stuck—do you yank it out?"

"That sounds painful."

- Lastly (half kidding), he would occassionally ask you if you want to set a car on fire if the pain is too infuriating and in the end, you both are having the time of your life. "I feel like I could never handle periods like you, babe."

"How come?"

"Give or take, I'd probably set everything on fire."

♡ 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐅𝐔𝐘𝐔 is a combination of Draken and Baji. He's watched enough movies and read enough manga to figure a few things out. In his mind, he's used to seeing how a tub of ice cream and a movie marathon somewhat the solution, he'll settle on that for now, just buying you one before he visits your house but when he was greeted by your groans and complains of how shit painful it was, his mind refreshes and he panics and asks you if you were okay.

- Mans would be confused about it when you ask him if he could get some napkins from your cabinet. He feels like he's on a million dollar question about what to pick. There's a tampon on his left and a napkin on the right, one with wings and one without. His head is flicking back and forth which was the better option. One look at the tampon he already knows he's not going to pick that because he has no idea how that feels for you so he opted to pick the one that had wings but he's still hesitant.

The result just ends with him picking all three of them and he knocks on your door then he speds off to run away when you received it, not wanting to hear if he got any of them correct which actually makes you laugh so you'll have to tell him whichever you prefered.

- As promised, he does buy you that tub of ice cream and observe what you could possibly need next but when he sees you cuddling Peke, he sort of forgets to do it because he just loves to see you two.

- Will binge watch dozens of movies and series with you. He figures it'd be better to have you rest on your period so he's also going to make some coffee for you and make it a priority for you to feel as cozy as possible.

- He'll be careful when he holds you, he doesn't want to trigger another ache to your lower abdomen but you assure him it was fine.

- There's going to be an endless cycle of him letting you borrow his hoodies because he notices how you just engulf yourself in it so he's always handing one to you and god you are lucky because it smells just like him, even he's smiling with a flush to his cheeks at how adorable you looked.

- Chifuyu would stare blankly at you when you're in different positions just trying rid off the pain. He's wondering how you're lying down on your stomach then the next you're sitting up with knees to your chest and then another shift happens but he'll rush to your side when you've given up and he's patting your back.

"What can I do, bub? I don't wanna sit here and do nothing."

"Warm compress can help."

"Hm, okay I'm on it. Wait for me."

- He researches about ways to reduce the pain so he's pampering you through a massage, couple of naps together, and yes—the hot compress. He saw how kisses would make it better out of a skeptical website but he's going through it, kissing your forehead where it hurts, your cheek, even your hand.

"That's sweet of you, Chi."

"They said it helps with the cramps."

"Oh really now?"

- When you're at school, he tries to check on you by sitting beside you even if it wasn't his designated seat. Every recess or every break, he's just going to ask you if you needed something because he is very much prepared. In his backpack he has a kit just for you, it contains a napkin, tampon, tissue, even his perfume because he knows you like it and there's a couple of hairties too, along with some chocolate bars. He prepared it the night before school to make sure you could catch up with class.

- If you ask him if he could check your skirt, he denies it, which makes you stand out of bemusement. You're urging him to do it but he's just shaking his head. "I-no I can't look into your skirt! That's.. perverted!"

" Chifuyu, I'm asking you if there's a stain please. I didn't tell you to check me out well—whatever you thought of."

"OH! Sorry, my bad but uh, there's nothing there, bub."

- Once he catches the sight of a red hue on your skirt or pants, he'll have some trouble trying to tell you because he doesn't know if it'll make you feel bad or you'd be glad. He sets himself straight knowing he was becoming too stupendous so he just tells it to you but his hesitation still peaks through. After he lets you know, he'll take his jacket and circle it to your waist and he's giving you his kit so you can change.

- Okay now, if you sneeze and that torturous flow happens and your eyes widen at him, he's standing up from his bed wondering what the fuck just happened but you just purse your lips and he still can't declutter his thoughts about what was so bad with sneezing.

"I hate sneezing on my period, sorry."

"How come?"

"Lots of blood..comes out."

"How do I make you stop doing it?"

- He definitely feels intimidated when there's a new expression to your features. If it's your second day, please—he's going to be in a fit because he can't read you. You told him you weren't mad at him and how the second days are always the worst, that part he understands but he marks it as a reminder.

- Would also be your personal cry buddy. He's going to resemble a therapist whose just nodding and comforting you throughout whatever you were feeling and how annoying it was to go through it every damn month but he'll just cuddle with you until you've calmed down and once you wake up, there's lunch beside you because you missed it and Chifuyu walks into the room with Peke.

"Aww, Chi, did you prepare this?"

"Yeah! Well I didn't want you to wake up with nothing so—oh right, it's time for your painkillers anyway."

- You'd celebrate the end of your period week with the three of you sleeping together with Peke in the middle and Chifuyu smiles now that you were feeling a whole lot better.

TOKYO REV : @strawberrieas @kwrg @raya-sano @kimrena-stuff @heavensbeloved @rosewood1999 @beezebub @l-luci @bekky06 @keiisukebaji @manjiroarchiviste @smileysmileysmiley @tendo-shairdye @toshiswifey @thispenguinrocks @kleesboom

OVERALL: @stesphy @itsmeaudrieee @crapimahuman @meguroshi @floydenai @dai-tsukki-desu

[reverseblackholeofwords]

No pressure, but do you think you would write something for in space with markiplier or are you officially retired(tm) from mark egos content? Ik I'd read a new story if you felt like writing it.

I wouldn't be opposed to writing a story if some inspiration sparked! I really enjoyed iswm and all the nuances that make it a very Mark kind of story, I think more than anything I want to get my grubby little english major hands on it and over analyze Mark's writing styles and motifs. There's such an oddly fatalistic sense of hope to his story-telling that I find really distinct and interesting. Actually I might just... do that now... I apologize in advance.

If we think back to the ending of wkm, it wrecked me emotionally. I remember being struck by how depressing it was, this sense that as soon as those characters entered that house there was no hope for them. They were going to be warped into these caricatures of themselves to become plot devices in a larger story that was out of their control. They lost Everything, even themselves. It's not *bad*, it's powerful in a way, but it's pretty hopeless. But, in the context of the greater story, it's a perfect way to begin.

Then there's freaking wmlw where we see how this spiral of nonsense and half-remembered stories has taken its toll on both Wilford and Abe. Will chooses to embrace the madness - as is crucial to his character and something I've always loved about him - and accepts it. It gives him his power and agency, it makes him a reality breaking disco dancing anomaly, and it's great. He's a tragic character who either doesn't know he's tragic or can't be bothered to care because he'd rather be having fun, and I Love that. Abe on the other hand, is genre aware and not only plays into it but is almost a slave to it, but when Will offers an alternative, at least for a while, Abe accepts a chance to step out of his role. It's the beginning of this idea that hope persists even in a world gone mad.

Damien, then, offers a much more... Violent approach to the same concept when Celine yeets an ax at Actor, and I love her for that. I think we all do. Celine tries to spare her brother of the knowledge of what's happened to them, and by doing so, she traps him in a similar way that Abe was trapped in wmlw. It's only when the dam breaks and it all comes flooding back (pun intended) that we see Dark take agency in a grim sort of hopeful(?) vendetta. It's a darker (heh) version of the tone set by wmlw, and it works for telling the story of our would-be villain. I like that it sets a contrast of how these characters respond to the hopelessness of wkm, and they are somewhat of opposing ends of the spectrum that we can measure our own response by later down the road.

Following that, ahwm seems the hardest to pin down. There was less of a solid story arc in that one as Mark was clearly trying to achieve a different goal with that project. It was his first big series backed by YouTube and needed to draw in a larger audience who might not have background knowledge of his prior storytelling projects, so it seems to stand alone as far as tone goes. Of course we get that hallway of all the wkm character portraits and then Dark does his usual monologuing, it introduces the idea of taunting our apparent freedom in the choices we are given, but they're all choices handed to us by Mark. I'll also mention Yancy and this concept of not wanting to be free. Of course it's played mostly as a joke, but I think it's probably one of the more on the nose metaphors for this overarching concept. But at this point, we've fully defined this concept of being relegated to a role within a story we don't have *real* agency in along with the choice of choosing to remain in that role or to break out, and that's the important part.

Because OH BOY iswm flips that on its head. I've watched part of Mark and Amy's watch-through/discussion of iswm (not all, i don't have that kind of time, so if anyone wants to fill me in on any important lore dumps mark gave, feel free), and I like that Mark made the point of forcing us to make our first decision alone. It hits the nail on the proverbial head that this project is about choice more than any other before it. Creating a better stream of storytelling by always driving us forward rather than forcing a restart every time we "die" is Genius, and was executed spectacularly in part one. Our choices are always thrown back at us, whether good or bad, the underlying message of "Don't give up" is beautiful when paired with the foreknowledge of previous stories.

Our role as Captain puts the weight of our decisions into start relief. "The universe is littered with the corpses of your failures" like calm down, edgelord, but also, yes, it is. Our choices matter because they effect the people around us within the story. The way that we meet Lady for the first time at the *end* of our story, the way that we see so harshly how our choices change them, that's forcing us to take responsibility for how we play the game with the role that we've been given. So it's not the "role" itself that's the bad guy, is it? Wilford is at peace with his role in all this, Abe hasn't changed when we run into him briefly, and our small glimpse of Dark sure seems in-character for him. It's not the role that's the problem, it's what you *do* with it.

So here's my big point. The thing that gets me, and most people I would assume, about iswm is the way Mark reacts throughout the story. He's our touchstone. We're used to this nonsense, same way Wilford is when we come across him, but he's accepted it, he's moved on. He offers us a break from the decision-making because he sees that as the kindest thing he can do. We're largely unaffected by the weirdness mostly because we're a viewer, outside of the story and with the ability to walk away at any time. But whether walking away or ignoring the choices, that's not how we save the day. You save the day by choosing to keep going and to hold on. Mark, on the other hand, has been going and going and going and failing all the time, the monotony of failure and loneliness, of being relegated to this fate of repeating this catastrophic loss, that's PAINFUL. It's poignant, and like every other character who has faced a similar issue, he breaks under the pressure.

But unlike wkm, unlike wmlw, unlike Damien, it doesn't *end* with the character breaking, compromising on their morals, or giving in to the madness of it all only to be continually swept along by a story that doesn't care, by choices that only make things worse. It ends with us holding on to Mark, putting an end to the cycle, and giving these characters a truly happy ending. It's so beautifully hopeful, and I haven't been able to get it out of my head since I saw the ending to part two. Genuinely, I cannot say enough about how much I love the storytelling in this project and what it says about the power of the choice to hold on.

TLDR: iswm is very good, and if given the opportunity, I will continue to rant about it. The world is a broken and depressing place, but we are not trapped in the story, we are free (and often chaotic) agents who can choose to keep going and holding on and I have to believe that if we do, something good will come of it.

Also, thank you anon for letting me get this rant off my chest!

[redrobin-detective]

Delayed Mourning

Going Angst Day 5: Death

_________________________________________

It was 3pm when there was a knock on Maddie Fenton’s door. She huffed and set down the meal she’d been working on. Of course the one day she had time to pre-plan a nice meal from her family was the day she’d get interrupted. 

“Yes? May I help you?” Maddie asked, opening the door. She had expected a salesman. Possibly even a neighbor coming to complain, again, about the noise or the smells that came from Fentonworks. Instead she found a small woman who couldn’t have been much taller than 5 ft with dark brown hair tied up in a tight bun. She was wearing a sharp white shirt and suit jacket with a matching white skirt.

“Mrs. Fenton, hello,” the woman gave a polite little head nod. “I’m from the the Government Institute of Interdimensional Warfare though I hear the locals like to call us the Guys in White.” She said with a knowing smiling, “of course, as you know, it’s not only the guys who are interested in ghosts. May I come in?”

“Oh yes, hello,” Maddie blinked, opening the door to let the agent in. The petite woman stepped inside, her heels clicking on the hardwood floor. Her small frame, her oversized glasses and soft nature seemed so at odds with the meatheads Maddie usually found in the GIW. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Perhaps,” the agent demurred. “It’s more there was something I wanted to inform you of. If you’re not too busy, may we sit down and talk? Your husband and children are not home.” Maddie thought that last statement was a bit odd, framed as a statement of fact rather than an inquiry but moved on. 

“Yes, Jack’s out of town visiting a relative and my kids won’t be back for a little while,” Maddie said. “Let me just finish putting this roast together, I’m almost done. Can I get you anything? Water? Tea?”

“No, thank you,” The woman said quietly. “And please, continue while you’re doing. Let me give you a little bit of background.” The agent adjusted her large glasses with her tiny hands. “Let me introduce myself, you may call me Agent S. I work primarily out of Washington for the Institute but sometimes I am deployed on site for... special cases. And, as I’m sure you’re aware, your town is very special.”

“Now, as you may have noticed, I am not particularly built like the normal Institute agents you have probably come across. That is because I do not work in the field but behind the scene in Investigations. My job is study the history and happenings of hauntings and spectral entities.”

“Oh that sounds fascinating,” Maddie beamed as she finished with her final preps and put the roast in the over. She looked over her shoulder at Agent S while she washed her hands. “Jack and I dabble a bit in history and folklore but we’re more versed in the hard sciences of ghosts.”

“Yes, I’ve read some of your papers, you and your husband truly are the frontrunners in the field,” Agent S nodded. Maddie preened at the praise and sat down, delighted to have a sophisticated conversation with someone in her field who she wasn’t married to. If more of those GIW agents were like Agent S then Maddie would get along a lot better with them. “So, Maddie, may I call you Maddie? What date and time did your portal start working?”

“It was August 28th,” Maddie said proudly. “It didn’t work at first when we first plugged it in. I’m afraid I don’t have an exact time it started up as we weren’t here. Jack was convinced one of the electrical conduction pieces wasn’t fully connected and was preventing ectoplasmic distribution. We ended up driving 4 hours to Springfield and back for some specialty parts only to find the portal working when we returned.”

“I can help you there,” Agent S said with a soft smile reaching into her white briefcase and pulling out several thick folders. She laid them out gently on the table and Maddie was unnerved by some of the information: schematics of Fentonworks, past and present financial records, transcripts of public statements. Her shoulders tensed when she saw Jazz and Danny’s names on some of the files. “Toll camera captured your vehicle on the Jane Addams Memorial Tollway at exactly 1:26pm on August 28th. We can confirm you and your husband’s vehicle traveled to Springfield and back via video feeds and credit card statements at 10:45pm that same day and were therefore out of the city all day.”

Maddie suddenly felt very trapped by the woman’s sharp grey eyes as she plucked a piece of paper and pressed it towards Maddie. 

“At 3:18pm, the majority of the residential power in town went out for a period of 2 and a half hours. The cause was determined to be from a massive power surge that blew out the transformer. You may recall being blamed for this outage given your history with previous outages but the news that you were out of town settled that argument. However, I was not convinced.” She pulled out another piece of paper and Maddie bristled to see it was a Casper High attendance sheet.

“Your daughter, Jasmine was at her final summer cram session which ran from 2pm until 5pm. I spoke to her tutors and she never left the whole time and, in fact, stayed late to help a fellow student work through her study materials. But what about your son?” Agent S asked with with a curious smile but her eyes belied the fact that she had her own answers. 

“How dare you spy on my family, on my children,” Maddie hissed, crumpling one of the papers in her fist. “Get out of my house, I will sue the pants off of your organization for this invasion of privacy! Get out!”

“Now Maddie, don’t you want to know how your son started up your Portal?” Agent S asked coyly, that drew Maddie up short. Danny? No, he couldn’t have possibly. He had no interest in their work, in fact, now that she thought about it, Danny had been sick that day. Agent S pulled out a set of blueprints for the Fenton Portal. Some small component inside the Portal was circled.

“You left at approximately 1pm and your daughter presumably left not long after. Phone records indicate Daniel called both Tucker Foley and Samantha Manson. Your neighbor, Mrs. Benson, saw them coming into your house not long after but before the 3pm power outage which I was able to triangulate did in fact originate from your home.” Agent S tapped the circled part of the inner portal mechanisms. “Now did you happen to push the on button in the Portal before plugging it in?”

“On button?” Maddie asked with a dry mouth, overwhelmed by the amount of information being thrown her way. All she could think about was how Danny hadn’t seemed sick when they’d left that afternoon but had looked awful when they returned. Would he have really gone downstairs and messed with the Portal? Had he gotten hurt? Been contaminated down there? Images of Vlad’s sickly visage after his accident flowed through her head. She should have paid more attention but she’d been so excited about the Portal working...

“It’s right here in the blueprints you submitted to the patent office, buried under dozens of other hardware bits. Its small, such a little thing compared to all the moving parts required to open up a dimensional portal. Daniel was a bright boy, his middle school records prove it. A bright mind, friends to impress, no parents around to chastise him... I think you can see where I’m going with this.”

“No, no,” Maddie said, burying her hands in her hair. “No, I’m not. You’re saying -what? - that my teenage son turned on the Portal when we were gone? No, my Danny wouldn’t lie to me about that... Why wouldn’t he say anything?”

“I don’t blame him for not mentioned in because, if my hunch is correct, he was inside the Portal when it turned on, killing him instantly,” Agent S said with a carefully neutral face. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news but I’m afraid this haunting has gone on long enough.”

“My child is alive!” Maddie screeched, standing up in her chair. “Danny is alive and healthy and he is not a ghost!”

“I will admit the evidence of how he died is circumstantial but the fact that Danny Fenton is deceased is not.” Maddie fell back into her chair as he legs gave out underneath her. 

She watched the agent put paper after paper in front of her and detailed all sorts of data about her son that Maddie, who lived in the same house as him, had missed. Unusually high ectosignatures picked up by GIW (and their own) detectors, Danny being spotted in some form before most ghost attacks, faked signatures of hers getting him out of nurses’ visits. Maddie barely felt alive herself as she stared at a red light camera photo of her baby sitting atop a light post late, late at night. His eyes were a toxic green color.

“I know this must be distressing as a mother but your child never left that basement, never attended high school and will never achieve his dream of working for NASA.” Agent S said with carefully measured sympathy as she gathered up her papers and put them back in her case. “But you are a brilliant scientist, unlike your husband, you should be able to look past your emotions and see that your child is gone and the ghost he left behind is dangerous.”

“My husband?” Maddie asked blankly, running a finger down Danny’s unnatural photograph.

“I approached Jack two days ago, mistakenly believing he would be the most understanding of you both. He refused to believe the evidence and was, in fact, going to warn your son’s ghost that we planned on taking him. He is safe but he presently being held at one of our facilities until the capture is complete.” Maddie should feel outraged at her husband’s kidnapping but all she could think about was the fact that her son was dead, dead, dead, killed by her own invention over a year ago and she never noticed. How could she not have noticed?

“Daniel’s ghost is extraordinary, not only able to pass as human so accurately for so long but immensely powerful. We need to make sure he doesn’t harm anyone else. Think of his friends who are probably being forced to aid him and keep his death quiet. Think of your husband, your daughter, living in the same house as a dangerous ghost.” Agent S dropped some of her professionalism and plucked the photo of Danny out of Maddie’s hands and replaced it with her own tiny hand. 

“I know this is impossible thing to ask but I must do it anyway, will you help me capture what remains of Danny? There is a chance with his charade exposed, he will be able to move on and so will you. You have been wronged, Maddie. You have been denied the right to process and grieve your child by his own ghost. But a delayed mourning is better than none. Danny’s death is a tragedy but please don’t let it become someone else’s.”

“Maybe he’s not-” Maddie’s breath hitched, “he’s never shown any signs of aggression. Jasmine spoke of benevolent spirits... maybe-” Agent S sighed roughly and retracted her hand to grab another photo from her case. Maddie was surprised when she held up a picture of Phantom. 

“Ignore the glow,” Agent S instructed. “Change his white hair to black, his green eyes to blue. Think of how often Phantom is spotted in your neighborhood, around Casper High. Remember how he always has his hands on your technology,” the agent frowned. “Think of how he grins when he sees you, like he knows something you don’t. Like it all just a big joke you’re not a part of.” Maddie felt like she’d been slapped.

“Your son is dead,” Agent S said more forcefully, throwing the picture of Phantom next to the spooky one of Danny. “And his ghost has taken his place, taunting you, stealing energy from your family, from the portal that killed him. Phantom’s power is increasing too rapidly and soon we won’t be able to contain him. It’s why I was brought in to identify his haunt so that he could be stopped before anyone else died.”

“I will state this plainly, I am giving you the chance to participate in putting your child to rest but you are not required for this operation. If you refuse, you will be confined with your husband until Phantom is taken down. Do not let this monster with your son’s face trick you any more. So I ask again, Maddie Fenton, will you help us stop Phantom from making a mockery of your son’s memory?”

XxX

“Mom! Jazz! I’m home!” Danny announced, kicking off his shoes and grabbing a paper out of his backpack as he walked into the kitchen with a grin. “And I have a present! Jazz’s tutoring paid off, look at this A I got on my history test! Well A- but a solid A-!” 

“Oh... that’s great,” Mom muttered quietly. She was sitting at the kitchen table, not cooking or tinkering with some gadget. Just sitting there quietly, twiddling her thumbs and not looking at him.

“Is everyone okay?” Danny asked, dropping his bag on the floor and walking over to his mother. “I saw Jazz at school but is Dad okay?”

“No, everything is not okay,” she said turning and looking at him with tear-filled eyes. “Someone died, someone I love dearly and I’m not ready to let them go,” she sniffed and wiped at her eyes. “But they've been gone for a long time, even if I’m just hearing about it now. I’m upset but it’s better to know and be grieve than to go on in ignorance, living a lie.”

Danny was about to ask who had died when something was jammed into his neck and he was shocked within an inch of his half life. His body spasmed to escape but his mother was gripping his arm to hold him in place. He transformed unconsciously but that only made it worse. He fell to the floor, ectoplasm leaking off his form as he could barely hold himself together.

“Mom,” he croaked, reaching for her despite everything. She stomped on his hand which was practically goo from such a vicious, destabilizing ectoplasmic shock.

“Don’t you ever call me that,” she hissed through angry tears. “I didn’t want to believe it but the proof is right in front of me you horrible, selfish ghost.” She kicked him in the side and half of him ended up on her boot. “How dare you, how dare you impersonate my son! How dare you string me along all this time, make me look like a fool who had to told that her own child was dead! I bet you just laughed and laughed at our stupid, human ignorance of what your were!”

“‘lease,” he begged through the ectoplasm in his mouth. “I’m still your....”

“My son is dead and he has been for a while,” Mom said, throwing the ecto-taser away from her. Danny vaguely heard the door being kicked in and in his rapidly diminishing vision, he saw black boots and white suits. “With you gone, I can finally come to terms with it and not be tormented by an inadequate replacement.” She turned her back to him. “Get that filth out of my house, I never want to see it again.”

“Of course,” a quiet feminine voice said as his goopy arms were restrained with ghost proof cuffs. “I know this is hard, Maddie but you made the right choice for your family and Danny’s memory. Jack will returned to you within the hour. I spoke to my superiors, for your cooperation, the Institute will take care of declaring Danny dead as well as covering costs for your boy to be laid to rest, the first step in moving on.”

“No, the first step will be removing that duplicitous monster from my home. It’s stolen enough of my baby’s life. Now please leave, I have - I have a funeral to plan.”

[cdyssey]

Need

Summary: After Nick arrives at the beach house, Frankie escapes to her studio to process her emotions. Post 7x04.

A/N: I've had such Grace and Frankie brain rot these past few days that I figured I should put it to good use and write another fic. It was really fascinating to try Frankie's POV. Lily Tomlin imbues her with a lot of subtle pathos that I totally wish the show would explicitly explore more.

AO3 Link

—

Frankie excuses herself to the studio for dinner, so she can process her very big, astonishingly inappropriate, and entirely overwhelming emotions without resorting to calling Nick a “wavy-haired, Pierce Brosnan wannabe douche canoe.” 

As delightful (and totally true) of a turn a phrase that it is, even she knows that saying it aloud would be trespassing a boundary that she’s sworn herself never to cross: Grace is married.

Unhappily married, maybe. 

Complicatedly married at the very least.

But until the day that they mutually say “I do” to divorce papers, there isn’t enough room for three people in the Skolka marriage, however much that Grace—bless her increasingly unthawing heart—tries to ensure otherwise. 

So Frankie lets the newly reunited couple have their dinner alone under the guise of a generosity that she doesn’t exactly feel, and she takes leftover pasta into her studio to moodily pick around the bowl until her fettuccine looks less like fettuccine and more like unevenly perforated confetti.

(Woo fucking hoo.)

After a few minutes of this aggressively unconstructive practice, she places her nearly full bowl on a nearby work table and stretches out across her paint-stained couch, staring at the ceiling and resisting the reactionary urge to light a joint. Mary J might help her feel better for the present moment, but tomorrow morning, she’d still wake up and feel invaded in her own home.

Paradoxically, she’d also feel alone, goddammit.

She pulls her shawl more tightly around her shoulders against an invisible and piercing chill.

Frankie hates feeling lonely.

She spiraled when Grace lived in the penthouse. She nearly self-destructed to fill the gaping void that her roommate, her friend, her practical and beloved soulmate left behind. There was a period where she didn’t wash her clothes and ate a lot of admittedly non-vegan takeout. There were nights when she’d lay awake in her awfully huge bed, staring at the empty space where Sol used to sleep, and have the familiar waking nightmare of spending her final years in forced solitude. She was happy with Jack, and then Jacob—sweet Jacob—came around too, and she did something she still feels fucking ashamed about: she hurt both of them, and she lied when she said that she had just wanted to have some fun.

She knows herself.

Intimately.

She‘d been scared of being alone again, so she tried to hold on to two people who were helping her to stave the awful feeling away. Those men wanted her, and Frankie used them. They wanted her, and she pathologically loves to feel wanted because she sometimes and irrationally fears that she might not be needed.

To be fair to her irrational fears, all the people she’s ever needed and felt needed by have hurt her before.

Sol cheated on her for twenty years.

Her own sons stuck her in a nursing home.

Grace just fucking left her.

She eloped in Vegas like a blushing twenty-one year old bride and just disappeared.

She says it was a mistake; she sat across Frankie in a sunlit restaurant and candidly told her that she didn’t like the person she had become when she married Nick.

And to be completely fair to her, Grace has been adamant about not wanting to leave again—so perhaps she never will—but if her husband is here to stay, it's also a distinct possibility that she’ll never have to make the choice to physically leave to… well… leave.

She can perpetually honeymoon with Nick and still call Frankie home. 

It could be a happy ending for Grace… and a fresh new hell for Frankie, who'd just started to feel secure again.

God knows she wants her best friend to be happy, but the big man in the sky must also surely understand that she had hoped that she alone could be enough for Grace, that this unconventional life spent together in the beach house—so crazy, so weird, and so inextricably entangled—would be their shared happily ever after.

But even as she thinks it, the vestiges of her clearly misplaced optimism begin to evade her, dregs now at the bottom of an already drained cup.

She and Grace aren't married.

It’s always been an objective fact.

Tonight, it feels more like an unpleasant reality.

When the door leading into her studio suddenly flies open, Frankie barely has enough time to swipe the back of her hand across her eyes before she sits up to find none other than the lady of the hour.

Her collared shirt popped up stiffly around her neck, a martini glass surgically glued to her right hand, Grace looks quintessentially herself as she walks in, even down to the minutiae of her trademark I'm-angry-at-the-world-and-everyone-in-it expression—brow furrowed and eyes Medusa cold. After all but slamming the door, she stalks over within a few clicks of her practical but unmistakably high heels.

“Well, hello to you, too, Sunshine,” Frankie greets wryly, hoping to hell and back that her face isn’t as red as it feels. 

It’s a tall order, though.

Alas, she was gifted (or equally cursed) with an exceptionally expressive face.

“Frankie, this is nonsense,” Grace says bluntly, using her martini glass like a pointer and leveling it straight at her head. “Come back to the house—your house—and have dinner with us.”

It’s the authoritarian nature of the demand that rifles Frankie.

Frankly, it pisses her off.

She’s always been a rebel contrarian.

“And by us, you mean you and your house arrested husband, right?” She returns evenly. She betrays herself by raising a single and devastatingly skeptical brow. “The man with whom you should be having a very emotionally honest conversation with right now about the parameters of your jacked up relationship?”

Grace shifts her weight from heel to heel and glances away a little too quickly for the gesture to be entirely natural. Frankie had blatantly stricken a pulsing nerve, and the guilt of doing so immediately swallows her. 

She shouldn’t be so hard on her friend.

(She doesn’t know why it’s permissible to be equally hard on herself.)

“Well, I tried to have that conversation, thank you very much, but then I ended up wanting to claw Nick’s eyes out.” The obvious follow up question must shine in Frankie’s face because sighing infinitesimally through her nostrils, Grace adds, “His attorney argued that my advanced age and apparent capability to croak at any moment were reasons enough to grant Nick leniency. They let him out so he could take care of me—whatever the hell that means.”

Her no-nonsense voice never falters as she delivers the brutal words, but her eyes undermine her, seething with emotion, simply roiling. They tell a story of horror and disgust and searing, absolute betrayal; they’re heavy all over with sadness and the indelicate trappings of all her raw and mercilessly exposed fears. 

Frankie understands immediately.

Nick used one of Grace’s deepest insecurities as a get-out-of-jail-free card.

Being eighty-two years old.

But perhaps more accurately, feeling like it.

“Oh, honey,” Frankie melts. She can do nothing else but melt, to be suddenly overcome with fierce, protective, and terrifying love for the woman in front of her. “That fucking bastard.”

Grace immediately laughs, the sound hoarse and watery and a little unhinged all at the exact same time.

“Tell me about it,” she half-smiles and takes the swearing as a rightful invitation to join Frankie on the couch. With a gentle clink, she sets her half-emptied martini glass on the table next to Frankie’s completely full pasta bowl. “I said the exact same thing.”

When she chooses to sit close enough that their shoulders are brushing, Frankie intuitively knows that this is petty defiance against Nick for daring to intrude upon them and the world they've so carefully created together.

She temples Grace’s nearest hand with her own in an attempt to silently communicate that this right here—whatever this is between them—is love.

“So, please”—Grace squeezes her hand back—“please don’t be angry with me… I… I didn’t want this. You know I didn’t want this. I don’t want him to even be here.”

Frankie stares openly at her best friend.

Wide-eyed and hopeful against her self-loathing, self-centered will, she searches her broken face like it's revelatory.

It's stunningly rare that Grace Hanson ever articulates her wants so clearly. Forty years of an emotionally repressive marriage did their number and toll on her. She pedestalized rigid decorum over every conscious desire. 

She played by the rules even if they hurt her.

And drank herself to oblivion on many a night to forget the very fact that she was hurt.

To deny herself the honesty she’d somehow convinced herself that she didn’t deserve.

“… you know this is your husband we’re talking about here, right?” It’s a rhetorical question. Frankie's pretty sure that they both fucking know that it’s insane that this conversation—that this entire situation as a whole—is happening. 

“I know,” Grace replies firmly. “Believe me, I'm well aware. But you’re… you’re my partner, Frankie, and if I can’t be upfront with you, then I don’t know who else I can turn to.”

The very word partner sends shivers down her spine, and the shivers collect like butterflies in her already churning belly.

It’s just a word, she tells herself. 

She scolds.

Grace doesn’t mean anything by it.

It's a label, and Grace doesn't do labels anymore.

“I... I wasn’t mad at you, Grace,” she finally admits. It's easier to do than questioning the extent to which her roommate would give up the world for her, but all the same, her voice is frighteningly weak, a pale imitation of everything Frankie usually projects herself to be: confident, cheerful, unshakeable, unshaken. Suddenly, it hits her that it’s been a very long time since she’s been so openly vulnerable, too. “I'm not even really all that mad at your jailbird husband either. I was just scared, and when I get scared, I skitter like a nervous little bug."

She shuts down.

She spirals.

She tries to put a smile on her face for the people who love her all the same.

And then she lies awake at night, drowning in the sheets of an empty bed.

Thinking about how she should probably tell someone that everything hurts.

But she’s Frankie, and she doesn’t do that.

Grace perpetually convinces herself that she doesn’t deserve honesty; Frankie has come to fear that no one wants her own.

“Were you scared of me?” Grace asks quietly, her grip so tight now that it almost stings.

“Frankie…” She presses when a few heartbeats of silence stagger by, limping painfully on all fours, pronouncing so many unspoken and profound hurts. 

“Of losing you, Grace,” she confesses, the words defeated and scraped raw. She forcefully tugs her hand away from Grace's just to temple her own hands together on her lap, to lick her sundry and shining wounds in a private corner. “I was scared of losing you, of being alone again in this big, empty house… and I don’t like being alone.”

She can’t bear to look at Grace as she says it, staring at the paint-flecked floor without ever really seeing it, her eyes burning.

She wishes they’d stop burning but feels the precise moment when they begin to leak anyway.

It’s all so embarrassing.

And childish.

Frankie is an eighty-year old woman, and she shouldn’t be upset over her best friend having a goddamn life.

She should be happy for her, fucking ecstatic.

And yet, she's—

But before she can complete the miserable thought, her body becomes aware of another sensation entirely—warm arms enveloping her from the side and inexorably pulling her in, turning the space that once existed between two bodies—between them—intangible, negligible.

Grace.

Shock turns into realization, and realization transforms into aching, sweeping relief.

It can only be Grace.

Grace’s soft lips pressed to her cheek.

Grace’s fingertips curling into the fabric of her dress.

Grace’s nose against her neck as she slides her sharp chin across her shoulder.

“I’m not leaving you, Frances Bergstein,” she declares. “Whatever happens between me and Nick, in the end, it’s going to be just you and me in this house that is our damn home. I swear that to you. I’d tell you every day just to prove it to you.”

Oh, these words.

These beautiful, tender, and long-needed-to-hear words.

They’re just words, she could tell herself again.

She could lie.

She could convince herself if she had to.

She could conveniently forget that Grace Hanson uses language carefully, that she employs every sentence with scalpel-like precision.

Or... more complicatedly still... Frankie could believe her.

Frankie could blindly accept these words for what they are, as manifest confirmation that she is loved by another—prioritized and cared for and needed.

She could be Grace’s partner and let that incredible word be electrically charged with so many complex and ridiculous and extraordinary ideas, none of which are traditional, and all of which feel true.

She could believe in her even if belief is not simple, even if belief is a product, first and foremost, of trust.

And Grace has certainly lost her trust before, but goddammit, she's earned it so many times, too.

“Oh, God,” Frankie laughs in such a way that it’s stupidly clear that she’s crying as Grace rubs slow circles into her back with her thumb. “This is all messed up. You’re the one with a house arrested, tax evading husband. I should be the one comforting you.”

“The house arrested, tax evading husband doesn’t particularly faze me,” Grace chuckles, her voice low. “Seeing you hurting and upset does. My priorities are remarkably straight.”

“I’m not sure you know the meaning of that word,” she smiles weakly as they slowly and clumsily begin to extricate themselves from their tangled embrace. 

It’s hard to find themselves again.

To be apart.

“But I do,” Grace protests, emphatic and indignant and maybe even a few shades righteously pissed. “You’re the person I wanna share this crazy life with at the end of the day and every day. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because every day is an incredibly long time to be with me,” Frankie offers meekly, giving her one more perfect and easily acceptable copout, a neatly packaged excuse. 

She can be too much.

She knows this.

“It’s just the right amount of time to be with you,” Grace murmurs, reaching up to brush an errant tear away from Frankie’s cheek, her thumb lingering, her quivering palm. “You’re kind enough to love me, and I’m lucky enough to be loved by you... so let me return the favor, Frankie. Let me be here for you."

And to Grace’s credit in this fleeting moment, she continues to hold Frankie.

It's a promise to never let her go.

[the-golden-ghost]

A Masterpost of Final Thoughts So I Can Stop Spamposting and Go To Bed

While I did LIKE this season we... definitely got robbed of a lot. I was hoping they had time to plan and make this the Finale Season but it seems like they didn’t.

It really just felt like a lull in all the chaos. A nice little slice of Backstory for those paying attention to the train lore, but mostly just a standalone Fun Adventure about two guys with a long history.

Which is why I said before that it felt Season 1-esque. Seasons 2 and 3 actually were starting to delve into the gritty realities of the train - Season 2 covered the denizens and how they’re essentially cogs in the machine; sentient, but with no will and no agency. Just puppets playing out whatever role the train sticks them in and rarely do they ever make it out. Season 3 got darker and basically threw in your face the fact that sometimes the train fucks you up worse than you were before and then kills you.

There’s a lot of stuff similar to that, that could have been covered. And now we’ll never see it and it bites. 

This season really didn’t Raise The Stakes very much. I mean... I was pretty certain (though not completely) that they wouldn’t kill off Ryan or Min. What I was almost expecting to happen was for them to realize they couldn’t get off together because Ryan gave up his exit, and then stay on the train permanently. But that didn’t happen lol

The ending was still cute though! Finally we get a fun IT theme song

Kez was pretty interesting as their denizen, I think she’s the first one we’ve seen that actually had to Grow As A Person along with her passengers. Atticus was just there to save his car and was more an agent of the B-plot in Season 1. I guess one could make an argument for Lake... but I wouldn’t consider her to exactly be Jamie’s denizen. That was Alan Dracula! And Tuba... well.

Not enough Cat. I mean it’s Kate Mulgrew. You got Kate Mulgrew and didn’t do anything with her? Shame.

The fact that J K Simmons was in this season killed me dead though

The voice cast is always so peak

So we get to see The Tragic Fate Of One-One but only in the background. This season judging by a comment from one of the creators about Ryan and Min’s birth year (1966) takes place in 1984. I don’t know if we got a date for season 1 so correct me if I’m wrong but I think it was supposed to be early-2010s. Which means One-One was trapped for over 30 years.

OH LORD. ONE. We got to see him as a brief shadow in season 1 but now we got to see him in his prime if only for like fifteen seconds. He really does seem like what we all expected him to be - a well-intentioned but indifferent force who intends to change these people for the better but is unfeeling and completely aware of the fact that they may die in the process.

Which reminds me of how people theorized that perhaps the train only kills people accidentally because it was damaged in all the seasons we’ve seen? Because Amelia took over and fucked with the coding? Nope! One’s just a bastard

He’s also eerily godlike. He creates everything and watches over it but lets everything play out as it will. It’s even slightly implied that the train controls the creatures in the wasteland outside the train, which means that within this pocket dimension, every denizen is of One’s making and the fate of every being depends on his control. Ominous.

I can’t believe the cute little robot ball from season 1 canonically has a body count. You heard it here last!

Which 1. Makes Amelia’s line “I was trying to keep One at bay!” from season 1 a lot darker and 2. Makes you wonder if any of Amelia’s motives for splitting him and usurping the train was for humane purposes? I doubt it, cause her number skyrocketed and she didn’t seem to be interested in stopping the death toll, only in rebuilding her life and resurrecting her husband. But still

Was that one of One-One’s original VAs voicing One? In the season 1 episode his voice is just an amalgam of theirs, and it’s spooky, but this sounded like a different voice entirely. But he only had three lines so it was hard to tell.

So basically this season’s A plot was “two best friends work out their differences and grow as people” and B plot was “magical bell learns how to stop ruining the shit out of everyone’s life” and C plot was “Amelia Fucking Usurps A Minor God”

[skellebonez]

Monkie Kid Headcanons Part 2: Red Son and Demon Bull Family Backstory

Follow up to this post, with a lot more heavy thinking needed this time. Since these characters technically had backstories in Journey to the West, I wanted to really think over how to work those into what we have in the show (even though it kinda doesn’t 100% work and is really messy if you overthink it since the show throws some stuff to the wayside). This took me multiple days to work out so I hope it at least makes sense.

Warning: This one actually gets very VERY dark with emotional and psychological abuse detailed in the later half, so I am putting all of these under a read more. Seriously. I want you to be aware of this before you click that button. Do not ignore this warning please.

I PROMISE that part 3 will be a lot less heavy. I just wanted to get this out so I could finally move on from it.

First, gonna preface this with the fact we all know Monkie Kid is not 100% accurate to Journey to the West. Characters that are supposed to be dead are alive after all, and Red Son’s existence in the show itself in particular kinda makes no sense when I overthink about him. Red Boy is evil in his first appearance, but comes back redeemed way later in the novel (and with his name changed to that of an actual deity who had already existed outside of JTTW with a completely different backstory).

In reality, JTTW is fiction based on historical events and Monkie Kid is made to be a kid’s show and was never going to be accurate to the novel. Not even adaptations of JTTW are. So basically, I headcanon this: in the show, JTTW the novel exists as a highly accurate and very important piece of historical novelization (a non-fiction novel). But like most examples of real non-fiction novels (like Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood), it is not entirely accurate and there are bits and pieces that do not line up. It is, however, incredibly close to 98% accuracy and anyone in it who reads it is impressed.

That being said, Red Son did study with Guanyin for quite a few years (though he was not entirely redeemed like his book counterpart, he was getting there). He actually did learn a lot and was pretty darn happy to be under her teaching at the time. Mostly because he didn’t know what was going on outside...

Unfortunately, later portions of JTTW confirm that Red Son being taken... completely ruined Monkey King and Demon Bull King’s friendly relationship. So that, combined with other events in the Fiery Mountains, it is incredibly likely that is why DBK was so bent on ruling and taking out Wukong for good. He wanted revenge for a lot of stuff Monkey King did.

Before we get into the depressing stuff, I personally headcanon that DBK was actually just. Dead. Completely dead. That is why he went from being covered in floof to being big buff body builder man. Hair does not grow back when you are dead. Removing the staff completely revived him. I needed a silly weird headcanon in here ok?

Since Princess Iron Fan calls him her husband, not her ex-husband as he had divorced her to be with Princess Jade Face in JTTW, I think they either reconciled at some point or PJF... didn’t exist? Since LMK is a kid’s show the later is more likely... but this is my headcanon. Given her personality in the show and book I think it is possible that they mutually divorced due to losing Red Son, DBK remarried, then realized he still loved PIF and wanted to go back to her and she took him back.

We don’t actually know much about PJF so... uh... I like to think she was shockingly chill about it and is just living comfortably somewhere else now. And never wants to see Monkey King again. I hope she is living her best fox spirit life.

Also unfortunately, DBK did not stand a chance and when he was sealed it took a major toll on PIF. She was left alone, her renewed husband either trapped or dead under a mountain and her son kinda sorta still arrested by a deity. This made her more distant to everyone and a lot more cold.

When news of what happened to his father reached Red Son, he pleaded with Guanyin to be allowed to leave her teaching to stay with his mother. He knew what isolation felt like and did not wish for her to feel the same any longer. Guanyin trusted her disciple and allowed him to return to his mother permanently, if he desired. Alone.

This was a mistake. Oh boy was this a mistake. Heaven should have either sent someone else completely or had someone accompany Red Son to PIF to help her because this one decision is why everything in show happens.

At first things go pretty well. PIF is definitely in need of support, but she is ecstatic to see her son again. And that lasts. For a while. Until she starts to project onto Red. She starts to blame him for being captured, for not being strong enough to take out Wukong when he had the True Samadhi Fire, for not being there to keep DBK from leaving her, for not being there to help his father fight Wukong a second time. Everything is Red Son’s fault now.

This simmers for a while before it starts to come forth to the surface. She starts being colder and more distant and giving Red little jabs in their conversations. She says them so sweetly it always takes Red a second to register what she says. 

“Oh Red Son, if only your father were here to see this. Too bad you weren’t there to save him.” “I love you my son, even if you can be useless at times.” “Princess Jade Face would have loved you I bet, but you were far too busy with the celestials to visit. I understand.”

This starts to wear Red down after a while, until he starts to believe his mother. He WASN’T there when he father was defeated, he COULD have taken care of Wukong, he WAS the reason his father left his mother. She was as warm and loving to him as she was when he was a small child when he came back but now? Now she’s as cold to him as anyone else.

She is never outright physically abusive, that is below her in her mind. But other things? Like not having his meals prepared along side hers? Insulting him as casually as saying the sky is blue? Pointing out every mistake he makes when writing or working on a project? Taking his things and “losing” them, only to “find” them days later in a place she told him to look and telling him he needs to be more careful? “Mistakenly” locking Red Son in his room and ignoring his yells and pleas to be let out? Those are on the table.

And this is when he becomes obsessed with getting back in her good graces and starts to push aside his teachings from Guanyin. He just wants his mother back.

His mother does not come back... but his old self does.

Guanyin does not learn of this until long after it is impossible to convince Red Son to leave his mother. She has the kneejerk reaction to just take him back by force but... for some reason she does not. She lets him stay. Perhaps she does not want to make the wrong decision again. Perhaps she feels she taught him everything she could. No one really knows. She does not discuss this.

After a while PIF does lessen her emotional and psychological abuse, once she is certain Red Son will never leave her. She even starts to treat him nicely, like her son who she always loved, like a mother again, even praises and defends him from others again (and Red Son eats it up because this is exactly what he wanted and just fuels his determination to prove himself and stay in her good graces). And at the time the show begins she has come to terms with the fact Red Son was not, in fact, at fault for anything and even regrets this portion of her life.

Make no mistake, however, her treating him less bad, even well at times, now does NOT in any way absolve her of how she treated him in the past. She is still abusive and she has done nothing that could truly set anything right. She still calls him things like “her sweet useless boy” and pulls shit like the racing episode. It’s not really any better. It’s just not actively as bad as it used to be at the moment.

DBK in show did not notice how PIF had changed because in the pilot he was too distracted with being revived and as the show went on he was too distracted with the power of the White Bone Spirit calling to him.

Upon a rewatch he actually seems to be under WBS’s thrall multiple times before episode 10, such as the racing episode where we can clearly see his eyes glowing with possession blue, and I think this affected his personality a bit. Not much, I think he was still neglectful and cold to Red Son from the get go, but WBS probably exacerbated the worst parts of his personality long before taking over completely.

But I think he sure does notice NOW that the thrall no longer has him. Whether or not he does anything about this is up in the air, however. It is entirely possible he falls fully into neglect and does nothing to stop anything.

Red Son knows, very deep down, that his father is neglectful and his mother is abusive. He knows. He just won’t admit that not even demons are like this to their children. Won’t admit that he doesn’t deserve it, that he never deserved it. Because he loved his mother deeply before he left. He loved her when she convinced him he did. And he still loves her, and his father. He’s stubborn. He doesn’t want to give up on that.

It is going to take a LOT for someone to show him that he deserves better. But having his father back has not been everything he had hoped it would be and now... now it may be possible for someone to reach him. At least convince him that SOMETHING needs to change.

[lovely-necromancy]

A Cure for Insomnia CH 15

////TW Deceptions of canon typical violence and a home invasion near the end////

“Yea so the pizza is not only aesthetically pleasing but pretty fuckin' good too.”you finish your rant on why the two of you should drive out to Point Pleasant some time.

“Not gonna lie it seems more like you want to,” he pops his knuckles, “drag me miles away to sacrifice me to some old god.” the popping gets worse.

Shit, Toby's getting nervous. You probably look pretty sketchy right now considering the fact that you've been suggesting the two of you go out to Point Pleasant for the past thirty-ish minutes. Toby had pulled off to the shoulder lane once Connor's barking started up. Alerting the two of you to his incoming tics. It seemed to be a long episode so you offered to drive off the interstate and on to the side of the road instead. Hoping that maybe the absence of the additional outside stimulants coming from cars driving past you two would calm Toby's tics.

Unfortunately you'd gotten caught up talking about your late night escapades having been taken by the fact that Toby didn't seem to mind. He'd actually understood that restlessness you went on about. And when he asked what was the furthest town you've driven to in one night. You kind of let loose and spilled your guts about the Mothman capital.

For half an hour, on an offshoot of the interstate in the middle of nowhere, he was trapped with no where to run. Of course the poor guy was probably scared of you at this point. He was just indulging you out of fear not out of any genuine interest.

Why couldn't you just read signals properly?

“No!” from his jump you've probably said that way too loudly, “I mean sorry I get carried away – Mothman's cool – the town is a nice tourist trap and I thought you'd think it was cool – but then I just probably just seemed weird to you and now I just....ughr none of that made sense did it?”

“Weeell” he drags out as thought he's thinking on it “nope none.”

Looking at his face you can see his red stained scarred lips pull into a sort of smirk and there's a glint in his eyes. He's being sarcastic, he's making fun of you. He isn't weirded out by you just being yourself and ranting about nothing in particular or running around in circles with a train of thought only  to get confused or baffled by the workings of your own brain.

The smug dick. Letting you spiral while he watched on in amusement. This reeks of Brian, has his fuck boy energy written all over it. You'll just have to spend more time with Toby to make sure the sweet man next to you doesn't turn into a menace to society. Or at least not a menace to you.

“Meanie.” you blow a raspberry in his direction, he returns the gesture albeit a lot messier than he intended. Spit seeps from the gash in his cheek and dribbles down the scarred edge of his lips.

Toby lets out a grunt and looks down at his spit in disgust. Whether that's in himself or just his spit you can't tell. Leaning over the console you pop open the glove box to hand him some emergency napkins you had in there.

“Fuckin' Mary Poppins.” you hear him mutter over you.

Choosing to ignore his teasing and take the high road in this you hand him the napkins and relax back into your seat. Watching him run the napkin up and down his arms trying to get any spit that may have backfired onto him, which was definitely most of it.

“You good?” you ask.

“Uh yea 's just spit no big deal.” it's such a simple statement but you can't help the smile that it brings to your face.

You meant if he'd be good to drive yet since you two had been out here for the better part of an hour now. It was nearly two in the afternoon. Neither of you anticipated the quick slushy run turning into an all day event. And while you wouldn't mind driving around for two more hours or so – you're quickly coming to the end of your battery.

“Meant to drive, dork.”

“Hmm...Yea should be now,” Toby says wadding up the napkins before spinning in the passenger seat towards you and gently flinging the wad of napkins in your face, “and 'm not a dork. You are.”

Returning his spit used napkin to him, tossing it just a tad harsher than he originally had, “You're right you're a brat!”

You exit the car before he can throw it at you again. Though it really doesn't matter when he just pelts you with it from over the hood when you switch seats anyway. Picking the napkin up off the ground you hold on to it and place it in one of the empty slushy containers sitting in your console.

The mature course of action. However, you do poke your tongue out at Toby as you do it. He only rolls his eyes as he huffs out a laugh at you.

Toby hovers over the gear shift waiting for either an alert or one of his tics to rear its head. When neither happens he put the car in drive and you two begin your hour and half drive back to Kepler.

Or would've, had it not been for the traffic you seemed to get stuck in not even five minutes after getting back on the interstate.

“You're fucking kidding me.” Toby says incredulously.

After ten minutes of going nowhere, all the while his leg bouncing was shaking the car, Toby abruptly get out of the car and marches to the passenger door flinging it open.

“You're driving.” is all he says.

You don't think there's any talking him out of it. You're good to drive so that isn't the issue, his abruptness about the situation is what stuns you. Wordlessly you get out of the car and take the wheel. Getting buckled in you see from the corner of your eye Toby grabbing you phone and typing away.

He seems to find what he's looking for as static flows through your stereo. The sponsored ads for the white noise “podcast” start playing before fading back into the never ending static. Your phone is placed back under the radio and Toby reclines his seat all the way.

It's tense for a moment as you wait for something else to happen. Whether it's an outburst or an explanation you aren't sure, the anticipation for anything to happen hangs thick in the car. You keep your focus on the road and traffic in front of you figuring Toby will let you know what's up in his own time.

The sound of shuffling comes from behind you as Connor scoots over to his handler to be of assistance. Only for him to be gently waved off. And he goes back to his spot laying down and honing in on you. Since you are currently driving...even though scooting the car up a few inches in the past twenty minutes shouldn't really qualify as driving. Nevertheless the pup remains vigilant in his work.

It's probably an hour or so before Toby finally speaks, breaking the semi silence he put the car in.

“Traffic jams make me anxious.” he doesn't move from his reclined position, just stares up at the ceiling of your car.

A noncommittal hum comes from the back of your throat. You'd assumed it was something to that nature but didn't want to pry. It must be bad if it was something that made him willingly pass the torch of driving, something that also made him wildly uncomfortable.

“Wanna talk – or do you just need silence.”

The answer came in the form of the silence that followed. It was another long hour and a half before the traffic finally cleared. You weren't even aware so many people could be on the interstate going through West Virginia on a Monday afternoon. Since you were at the tail end of the traffic by the time you got to where you assume it started, by the left over debris in the road and fresh skid marks heading into the median, you really couldn't put together what had gone on.

Your eyes didn't focus in on the leftovers of the accident nor did you slow down like many other vehicles. It's not like you enjoy seeing the wreckage of cars or people being lifted into ambulances but you understand most people give in to that base human curiosity. You just hoped everyone involved was safe and okay.

From your peripheral you catch Toby turning his head to face you every few minutes or so. Disregarding it as a tic you continue on driving. While this accident had cleared you don't doubt the power of stupidity to not influence another reckless driver, who might now be late from traffic, to start weaving in between lanes.

“Are we past it?” comes the quietest voice you've ever heard from Toby.

So stunned by the volume it takes you a minute to register what he'd asked.

“Uh...oh yea. We passed it like fourteen minutes ago?” assuming 'it' had been the crash site, though you hadn't been keeping track of time honestly.

No point when the two of you would be getting back to Kepler after dark anyway. You'd ask Toby if he'd want to grab food before you drop him off at the lodge but his continued silence as he fixes his seat up right clues you in that he might not be up for anything other than turning in for the night. Honestly you're at the point yourself, so you don't really mind the silence driving back.

Just like you thought the two of you got into Kepler a little after eight o'clock. Having been stopped by another accident, this one not lasting nearly as long to get situated, had really taken a toll on Toby's mood though. You could practically feel something eating at him as anxiety radiated off his form.

He didn't offer any clarification for his reactions and you didn't pry. Most times when you get a similar way you find it's easier to just let it run it's course than to try and calm yourself. So you're a little surprised when you reach the lodge and  Toby practically volts out of your car, when he gently taps on your window after he's retrieved Connor from behind you.

“Get home safe.”

Those words hit your ears with a bit more weight than they normally do. Maybe because the day's been full of accidents on the road. Or maybe because of the lack of interaction the two of you have had for the past four hours. Whatever the reason it doesn't change how Toby lingers at your side even after your reply. He finally steps away, once again falling silent, and you're able to drive home after a final farewell to him.

The way Toby reacted today never leaves your mind. While theories and ideas toss around in your head you can feel the bubbling weight in your stomach build as cold sweats break out all over your body. Combating the weight in your stomach is its emptiness. Having only eaten the bowl of cereal today and nothing else has left you on empty since you'd gotten into traffic. However, being so preoccupied with Toby's change in behavior you'd forgone food in favor of getting your friend home as soon as possible.

Pausing when you come to the fork in the road making you choose between going straight home and fighting with cooking a meal or running to the mini mart and grabbing something quick and unhealthy. You normally take a bit to decide, but today it seems your gut is telling you to forgo the food and get home. You can't quite place a finger on what you're feeling – not quite fear or anxiety or even paranoia. All of which would be valid considering how weird your afternoon had been. Instead it feels like a little voice is ever so quietly telling you that you should get home immediately.

The voice pipes up again as soon as you gently shut your car door. It seems to warn you that there is danger near by.

'Fuck' is all you can think about as memories of the evidence of your stalker come into play.

It had been so busy lately that you'd honestly forgotten all about the stalker. Hell your bat was still in your room, so you were fucked if your intuition was right about this. You were at least going to be smart about this and pull up the Cowell's home phone contact on your cell before even getting near the front door. If anything happened you'd call and either leave a message or have a concerned Big Jo over instantly.

The house is silent as you open and shut the front door. Not anything new to you but with the tension in the air you're more than certain someone is here with you. Making your way through the house you peer into the kitchen and living room. The coast is clear on those fronts which leaves the hall closet, your bedroom, and the bathroom right across from your room.

Quickly ruling out the closet because of the limited space for a grown adult to hide in. The only options are your bedroom and the bathroom. The bathroom that has the door open at all times and would make a great place to hide and ambush you while you went into you room. Or a good place to lock yourself in to call Jo in case they were in your room, you'd just have to be ready to sprint out faster than they could register seeing you. Then there's your room, multiple hiding spots and the baseball bat you'd left in there. Even if they came empty handed they were the one with the weapon right now, you had to be careful.

As you make your way slowly and soundlessly down the hall way you hear a small beep come from your bedroom just as you stand in the doorway of the bathroom. You don't own anything that beeps. This thought causes you to freeze in place all but your thumb which hits the dial button.

Just in time too, because in your stupor a large figure in a black ski mask opens the door to your bedroom. You barely have time to react to the sudden appearance before they come barreling into you. A sharp pain bursts in the back of your head as it collides with the wall that you are tackled into. Phone forgotten, instinctively you bring both hands to your attacker's face.

They may be wearing a ski mask but it will do little to protect their eyes against your nails. Thankfully they have a stupid red frowny face decorating the mask, giving you the perfect target for their eyes. Not expecting your quick reflexes the attacker pulls away slightly trying to get out of your reach, and get your hands off of their mask. They must be worried you'll find out their identity, and while that would be nice you'd enjoy surviving this encounter a lot more. So you continue your assault on your would be assaulter.

A large hand comes down and swoops both of yours in a crushing grip. Harshly yanking them away from their face. Unfortunately for them they'd gotten one of your knees pressed against your chest when they tackled you. With the new distance between your bodies you're able to lift your leg up higher and kick at them.

“Get OFF of me..you piece of SHIT.” more force exerted on certain words while you kicked them solidly in the chest.

Their grip actually gets tighter on your hands as you knock the air out of their lungs. Aside from that and their pained grunts they weren't giving much of a reaction. You'd be certain you weren't kicking hard enough if it wasn't for a cough that ripped through them on a particularly powerful kick to the stomach.

There's a distant warble that you can't make out, it's high pitched and annoying. Good, that irritating sound will only succeed in pissing you off more and enabling you to unleash your rage on the fucker holding you down right now.

Before you can give another blow pain erupts through your chest as it constricts. You can't breathe and you see black dots forming in your vision as you're slammed into the tile floor of your bathroom. There's a foggy feeling in your head, and that distant warble gets more frantic and higher in pitch. But you can't focus on that you can't focus on anything that isn't the merciless thudding in your chest, the pounding of your head, and the god awful static that is starting to burn your ears like a white hot fire.

With the first heavy and heaving breath you're able to take as your assailant presses you into the ground, you feel the rush of adrenaline surge through you. Without any leverage you can do little more  than squirm and thrash under the heavier figure. A brief feeling of vindication showers you as one of your arms is tugged free in your flailing. Your attacker isn't quick enough to restrain you this time and you reach your hand up to their face, this time intent on clawing it up from under the mask. That way some one would know based on the nail marks who did this, and maybe the DNA left under your skin would be enough identify them and save a future would be victim.

God you didn't want to be a victim.

Just before you can hook your fingers into their flesh they are thrown off of you. All adrenaline you had before turns into ice as you stare at their companion. The white mask with painted black features. It hadn't been a hallucination.

They hadn't been a hallucination.

They'd been in your home before. While you were there and blissfully unaware. They'd been so still, so quiet that you'd never even thought they were anything more than a messed up part of your psyche. There isn't enough time to dwell on this feeling of pure terror that spikes through you. But you still freeze in the face of the mask, only to be rewarded with an iron grip locked into your hair pulling you up by the scalp. Then you're bashed against the floor twice.

You honestly hadn't meant to play dead. In your shock it was the only thing you could do to just go limp. That once high pitched warble is now a drawn out moan almost, the static is playing at the edges of your mind as you barely make out the sound of retreating footsteps.

You want to roll onto your back but as nausea hits you at just the thought you stay on your side. Eyes fluttering against your will, this time not a tic but in an attempt to heal your body on it's limited energy reserves. You doubt you'd be able to turn over again if you needed to vomit. Hell you'd be lucky to stay conscious till someone came looking for you.

Would that be in the morning when you don't show up for work? Would it be days from now? Wait did you manage to call the Cowells?

The pounding in your head gets worse with each passing second. You officially can't keep your eyes open anymore. There's no reaction from you when you hear your front door burst open and yelling echo through the empty house. You don't stir from your sleep as someone taps you, not shaking you but just gentle taps careful to not exacerbate your injuries.

When Big Jo got to your home he slammed open your door and had his gun at the ready for your attackers. The house didn't look messed with and nothing was out of place, at least to him he'd only ever been out this far to drop little Jo off once or twice. It was quiet in your home except for a murmuring coming down the hall. So he made his way down slowly, vigilant for any sudden movement if there was anyone other than you here. He'd called your name several times since entering and hadn't received a reply.

As he got closer to the bathroom the murmuring became louder, peering in his heart stopped for a beat. The weathered man has seen a lot of shit in his time but he always hated to see a kid in your condition. Beaten with bruises littering your face and wrists all while being unresponsive as he tried to wake you. The source of the noise became clear when he saw your phone a few feet away slid into the corner away from you.

Dia was still on the line and sobbing now. If that didn't twist the knife that was already speared into his heart. Picking up your phone he spoke with his wife trying to reassure her as he felt for a pulse. You had one, one that was faster than normal. Your body was probably still reeling from what you just went through. But he wasn't a doctor and wouldn't count you out of the woods until one assessed you themself.

Jo wasn't waiting long before he heard the sirens, he went out front to meet the sheriff. After you'd been packed into an ambulance and taken to St. Francis Hospital Jo told Dia so she could meet you there. He'd stuck around while the sheriff and his deputy surveyed the area and came back to him for his statement.

“Looks like we've got most of what we needed Jo...But the kid, they got hallucinations you said?” Sheriff Owens asked.

“Why're you asking Zeke?” now wasn't the time to anger the large man as he was barely holding his normal civility.

“Now I don' mean nothin' by it – 's jus' tha' well we didn' find any evidence of a break in.”

“You think the kid coulda done that to themself? The marks on their wrists are bigger than their hands!”

“Jo, in some cases people sufferin' from delusions can do all sorts a things ta themselves... 'm just trin' ta find out if we ought ta have 'em kept in the ward for a bit.”

“They're fine. They've told me themself that they only get visual hallucinations and they can differentiate between the two.” a small lie on his part, he knows occasionally a hallucination will grab your attention for longer than it should if that were the case but he'll keep you out of the damn ward for now because this wasn't a hallucination. He had heard the struggle going on between you and someone else.

Right now his top concern was getting to the hospital and meeting up with Dia to make sure your condition was stable. If he had to lie to the sheriff to do it, so be it. Not like he wouldn't enlist his own detail to figure out what went down here. He'd let you stay with them while he contacted Lydia about updating security on her property.

Sheriff Owens didn't put up a fight on this, and said he'd swing by the hospital Wednesday to get your statement on the encounter. With that the sheriff and deputy piled into their car and left. Jo had found your keys still in the door and locked your home, a lot of good it did you but at least this way a bear wouldn't get in before they set up the new system.

Jo got to St. Francis and was greeted by his teary eyed daughter and sobbing wife. Dia really wasn't cut out for any type of violence. He's have to make sure she called her therapist this week for an extra appointment or two just to help her through this. Looking at his daughter he sees the worry in her eyes as she runs to him.

A doctor comes up to the family to inform them of your condition.

“Ah Mr. Cowell good to see you. Mx. LN is responsive right now, and in enough of their right mind to complain that we are keeping them awake.” The doctor pauses with a slight chuckle, “We have them set up with an IV drip that's giving them fluids, their pain meds, and for tonight they'll also have a caloric infusion. They mentioned that they hadn't eaten much today. So to ensure their body has the energy to heal we thought it'd be the best course of action. We're keeping them up for another hour or so before they can sleep and then we'll be keeping them for observation for at least two days.”

“Can we see YN?” little Jo interrupts.

��Unfortunately we believe they wouldn't enjoy that right now. Their injuries aren't extensive but they are quite cranky due to residual pain and hunger.” the doctor says with a smile to little Jo. “Now speaking of their injuries the worst of which is their slight concussion again we're monitoring that and they seem to be very receptive to us right now. And then there's the dislocation of their left shoulder that we've already mended and the various bruising and mental trauma they're likely to retain from the incident your wife has briefly informed us about. We'll give a card for a good therapist to you and one to Mx. LN on their departure. When can we expect the Sheriff coming?”

“Owens said Wednesday.”

“Perfect, then that should be all. If anything changes or we want to keep them longer we'll let you know right away. And Miss Cowell if you come back in the morning we're sure Mx. LN will be much more agreeable company.”

The doctor waits for a moment letting the Cowells have time to process and ask a question or two. But when nothing comes up the doctor turns away to continue their work elsewhere.

And with that the very emotionally exhausted Cowell family go home. With plans to come visit you sometime tomorrow. Big Jo does however makes a few phone calls before going to bed that night. It isn't lost on him that he's already had one employee mysteriously vanish, he doesn't like the thought that she was targeted and your next on some hit list.

[twelvedy7]

Twisted - One shot

warning: sensitive topics (drugs). 

I just wanted to write something a bit different. It might be a bit OCC but I thought it might be a great fit for the manga universe.   This story won’t be published anywhere else than tumblr so feel free to save the story if you like it.

Oh and also english isn’t really my native language so sorry if there are incoherences. 

Takano had no sense of self-control. From a very young age he has been a witness of the sheer harshness of his mother and the complete indifference of his father towards their family. Despite how much he tried to convince himself of his difference he inherited from most of their flaws, which filled him with anger every time he thought about it. 

No wonder that whenever he met someone bright, kind, generous and appreciated he became more aware of his whole dark gloomy personality. That was the case with Ritsu he was still viewing today as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago.

No wonder that when he met this bright, kind and generous highschool kid he had become more aware of his dark gloomy personality. He was still viewing Ritsu as the 16 year-old teen he used to be a decade ago and yet he couldn’t understand for the life of him the reason why such a lovable person would waste their time with him rather than finding another likeable person that would be such a better companion than him.

If all the open rejections from the brunette could make him believe he hated him, he was at least smart enough to read between the lines and see what the other tried so hard to conceal under feigned anger and flustered reactions. 

What seemed to be like a bitter-sweet genuine love story from two ignorant teenagers who lost each other from a foolish misunderstanding was driving him straight into madness. Ritsu was constantly on his mind, invading his thoughts at any time of the day, reminding him of the terrible person he was and how he will never be nowhere near enough for him. Even in the poorly credible reality where the younger one would actually build up the courage to admit his feelings, he knew that their relationship was sealed to failure. 

One day Ritsu would mature and realise how incompatible they were and how idealistic they’ve been this whole time before leaving him to find another person that could offer him the support and love he needed. Maybe one day Ritsu would find the man of his dreams, different from senpai in every way, to finally live the blissful life he aspired to. That’s what broke his heart the most: they were not made for each other. No matter how hard he tried, it will never be enough because they were simply not meant to. 

He imagined Ritsu’s soulmate to be fun, social, caring, communicative and considerate which would make him forget all the turmoil he went through for all this time. His parents might be so enchanted by their personality that the fact they weren’t An-Chan wouldn’t even bother them.

The truth is he was physically and emotionally drained. He couldn’t feel a thing if it wasn’t his love for Ritsu and sometimes he felt as if that was his last tie with sanity. There were times where he would shut down his emotions. When it became too difficult to confront their inevitable fate, he would put himself in a semi-automatic mode working up to 15 hours straight without paying attention to anything or anyone, only accomplishing what he ought to.

Over time, he came to accept that he wasn’t able to love anyone without causing them a great deal of pain and suffering. That’s why he decided to distance himself from the few people who actually cared about him in his life and managed to bring him some split meaningful moments of happiness. It was like a lightning bolt shaking him from side to side, making him surrender to the hope of one day being able to spend the rest of his life with Ritsu and recovering from his long-lost friendship with Yokozawa. He hurt them both and didn’t deserve to be part of their lives. 

His phone vibrated. He broke off his thoughts to center his attention on the alias displaying on the screen: “Taisho” along with a message “I’m here.”

He stood up from the floor, came up to the entrance of his apartment and opened the door. A man of average-height in his mid-thirties was waiting for him. At first glance, he gave the impression of being a regular salary-man coming back home to his family after a long day of hard work. However, he came to discover that the man likely had a long history of debt behind him involving matters such as a costly divorce and low paychecks.

Not bothering to greet him, he pulled out 6,000 yen from his pocket and handed it to the fearful looking man who replaced the notes with a small transparent plastic bag containing a white powder. 

“Same thing next week?” asked the anxious black-haired man, his light blue eyes too faithful to be a dealer squeezing behind his oval glasses. 

“Yeah. See you.” 

Without giving him a second glance, he double-locked the door and came back to his dimly lit living room that felt so lonely without Ritsu here. It would take some time, if not forever, to prevent this heavy load in his heart from manifesting every time he would find himself alone without the prospect of his first love joining him any time soon. 

It still pained him… Nao came unannounced in the office earlier in the morning and asked Ritsu out for something that too likely looked like a date. A walk in the city center, a restaurant, and a nighttime exposure. That bastard. 

The rare times he had managed to take Ritsu out for a date was by forcefully dragging him out of his apartment or bluntly lying by message playing the card of ‘emergency’. He remembered the dull ache he felt in the morning as he realised how easy it was for his “best-friend” to take him out to a full outing while he had to prepare a strategy days ahead just to drink a coffee together. 

Opening the tiny bag in his hands, he chased away his dark thoughts and kneeled in front of his coffee table, pouring half of the powder out on its surface and realigned it in two fine lines with the help of an old credit card. He usually didn’t take such high doses in one shot, but tonight he knew that he needed it. The accumulated pain and overthinking were taking a toll on him. Rolling a paper, he brought it to his right nostril and sniffed the first line, ignoring the burning pain in his cavity before passing it to his left one and repeated the action.

A few seconds later he started feeling the tiny molecules flowing through his blood system, noticing the faster pace of his heart beat and the gradual relaxation of his muscles as the drug invaded his mind.

He closed his eyes. 

As always, the thrill was exquisite. The far away sounds of ambient city noises echoed and at some point the only thing he could decipher in the absolute silence was his own breath. His body was soft and any psychological pain he felt instantly disappeared. It was as if someone had covered him with a warm fluffy blanket while stroking his hair with a gentle grasp, providing him an endless feeling of comfort and security he so desperately needed. 

At that moment, everything stopped and all his troubles went away. Nothing mattered anymore. He was back being a young child pampered by a protective mother he never had with an unconditional sense of love. Pleasurable sensations coursed through his body from head to toes until his spirit went numb and he lost any notion of space and time. 

He reached that moment of nothingness that he wished could last forever.

___ 

“Takano-san!” 

...

“Takano-san!” 

Who was it? 

The voice seemed so far away he wasn’t even sure it was real.

“Masamune!” Why would someone try to break the silent darkness that was surrounding him?

For what seemed like hours, he felt himself trapped in-between the process of gaining and losing consciousness. He didn’t want to be drawn from his deep slumber yet.

He recognized some familiar voices in the background but it was hard to put a name on them as they seemed to continuously echo. 

It took him several more minutes to realise that people were present and it shook him. He became hyper aware of his environment.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was a bunch of white blouses around him scampering around the room at a feverish speed. 

His mind whirled. The world seemed to be going so fast but his brain was so slow. 

His golden eyes blinked several times to adjust to the brightness of the room. In an instant he was blinded by the artificial light of the leds on the ceiling. 

In the chaos of all the fast-paced strangers around him, he felt a delicate hand fondling with the hair on the short back of his neck and let out a soft tired moan escape his lips. 

“Takano-san can you hear me?!” 

He groggily stretched out his limbs while burying his head on the petite body frame behind him and looked up to see who was the kind stranger offering him such soft intentions. 

Above him were two wide teary green eyes displaying a worried expression. Despite his blurry vision, he could recognize the refined and familiar traits of the man he loved. It looked surreal, having the both of them like this sharing such intimacy in a restless atmosphere.

Next to him was standing Yokozawa in his usual professional attire. He could only watch them through half-closed eyes all the while trying to figure out what they were doing in his apartment in the first place.

“He’s stable now. Overdoses happen regularly when cocaine and other powerful stimulants are added to the equation. That’s what producers do nowadays to boost the effects”. Said a firm feminine voice. He could see the lady in white gesturing around to her colleagues and immediately realised what just happened. She was staring at him, probably trying to jauge how awake her patient was. 

“You were lucky Takano-san. This could have been much more serious.” 

He saw his friend sitting next to Ritsu, his usual severe expression ruptured by the deep crease in his eyebrows. 

“How did you find me?” asked the raven, his voice so weak he wasn’t sure the two others heard him. 

The brunette brought his face closer to his ear, petting his forehead as he replied in a shaky shy voice: “Yokozawa-san found you like this…” he heard a sneeze. “The front door was unlocked and your phone was ringing without you answering it. You… You stopped breathing.” 

He felt absolutely miserable. 

Trying to shift his position to have a better view of his comrades, he caught the look of utter disappointment and guilt from his older friend. He probably thought that he was long done with this dark hazardous period of his life. 

“I’m… I’m sorry... I didn’t want to…” 

His battle to stay awake was getting harder and harder. 

“It’s okay Masamune. Just rest for now.”

The nurse took a hold of his wrist and stuck the intravenous line with a patch. 

“We’re going to transfer you to the clinic as you need to take several tests. You’re safe now but your body needs to recover.” 

The hand that was playing with his hair resumed and he let his head fall back on his lap. This combined with the liquid in his body led him to a sleep without dreams.

___

When he woke up again, he found himself buried under the sheets of a hospital bed. It took him some time to become accustomed to the artificial lighting of the room. Gathering enough energy to finally keep his eyes open, he gazed at the clock at his right indicating 4:55AM.

The first thing he felt was an atrocious headache that hit him with a massive chest pain undertaking his whole body. He noticed the numerous wires connected to his skin accompanied with the steady regular bips of a machine.

He heard a light snore on his right. Shifting his head, he immediately saw the small fragile figure crawling up into a ball on the couch. A cheap blanket was covering him from toes to his neck. This sight made him feel so terribly selfish. As seconds went by he started getting back to a normal state of awareness despite a fizzy pang at the back of his skull. 

With as much strength as he could gather he sprawled a hand towards him and rested it on the others’ laps. He stroked his thigh lightly with the help of his thumb and stared at his seemingly exhausted resting face. He felt so worthless. He knew he had hurt him badly in the past already and the only thing he could think of is that this was too much.

“I’m so sorry Ritsu…”. 

After reuniting with his first love following the 10 years they had spent apart from one another he had started to believe in fate. Yet he had been too trustful, using it as a justification for every one of his impatient and inappropriate moves towards the younger one. Everything became painfully obvious. This whole thing they had was destructive and that was mainly his fault. It was time to finally respect the distance that Ritsu wanted and deserved. He could not go back to these college years pretending that nobody cared about him. 

Now Ritsu would need him. 

Still, they were nowhere near close from getting into a relationship. Too many mistakes had been made. It was crucial for both men to work on themselves first as jumping the steps one more time would only bring them unhappiness.

That day Takano swore he would stop pursuing Ritsu. He’s forever been broken and finally accepting to get help was a start towards a less twisted life.

“It’s okay Ritsu.” 

One day they would be okay. They would get the life they both secretly wanted. 

[lorewhoresam]

They Didn’t Even Have To Plot

AO3

Relationship: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Tags: Fluff

Summary: Castiel becomes human after losing his grace on a hunt. Charlie comes to visit, and gets Sam to make Dean talk about his feelings. It was easier than either of them expected.

Something I wrote for a fic exchange a while back, hope ya like it guys

-----------------

Castiel should have known better.

He should have known a witch powerful enough to capture the Winchesters wasn’t actually interested in money. He should have known it was a trap.

No one that smart ever wanted money.

She knew he was an angel. She knew to pray when they asked him for the ransom.

When he arrived at the place the witch had ordered him to drop off the money, a flash of bright, white light blurred his vision before it went black.

Castiel struggled against the bindings on his wrists, ankles and neck, but found himself stuck, the cold metal digging into his skin. He can’t break free using his grace, so they must have been warded against angels.

“Witch! Let me go, I have your money!”

“My dear Castiel, did you really think I wanted money? I want your power. Your grace.”

She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world, and Castiel couldn’t help but be taken aback by it.

“Where’s Dean?” he hissed, glaring at her.

A smug smile spread across the witch’s face.

“Sounds like I got the right bait. So what’s going to happen now, is you’re going to give me your grace, or I will rip your little pets apart, piece by piece.”

Castiel knew what he had to do. It's not like he had a choice, Dean and Sam would both die if he didn’t do this. Besides, it’s not like he hadn’t been human before, and it hadn’t been that disastrous, even without any guidance. At least this time he would have a home.

“Get these off me. And give me my angel blade back.”

“So you’ll do it.”

“Of course.”

A few hours later, he was back at the bunker, Dean and Sam with him, alive and well, but without his grace, and without his angel blade.

“Cas, you okay? You seem a little out of it.”

Dean sat down next to Cas on the couch and looked at him, obviously concerned.

“Yes Dean, I’m fine, don’t worry,” Cas said, looking down to avoid Dean’s gaze. “Bullshit, but I’ll take it for now.”

Castiel knew he should have told him that he lost his grace, but he just couldn’t. He didn’t want to be a burden, and he knew Dean would blame himself, even though Castiel made that choice himself.

He’s exhausted, and although he has been human before, he’s still not used to it. falling asleep is easier than he remembered, but maybe that’s just because he has a home now.

Waking up is harder than it was before. Castiel fades in and out of consciousness, and he can’t force himself to stay awake for more than a few seconds at a time. Suddenly he feels a hand on his cheek, rough and calloused, but warm. He hears someone murmur words in his ear, but he can’t understand them, and he’s abruptly aware that he’s being held, and he panics for a moment, before the steady rise and fall of his chest let’s him know that whoever it is isn’t restraining him. He turns his head against the chest and drifts back off to sleep.

When Castiel wakes up, he feels the body under him shift.

“Hey sunshine, good nap?”

Castiel grumbled in answer and sat upright, stretching his body.

“Now, you wanna tell me what the hell is going on with you?”

“I lost my grace.”

Dean’s eyes widened in concern, and he gently put a hand on Cas’ shoulder.

“What happened?”

And he told him. And he could see the guilt form itself in his eyes.

“Dean, it’s not your fault. I made that choice. I was the one who did not realise there was something wrong.”

“I know Cas. I just– Fuck!”

Dean punched the side of the couch and jerked Cas towards him, holding him close.

“If you need anything, you can come to me. You know that right?” Dean said, without letting Cas go.

Instead of answering Castiel just pressed himself closer to Dean’s chest and let himself cry. He had considered becoming human before, but he wanted to choose that fate, and do it on his own terms, and now that choice has been taken away, and he didn’t know what to do. He was lost.

----------------- Castiel hid in his bedroom the few days after the incident, only coming out to go to the bathroom or to eat. It was very frustrating, hunger and exhaustion, and it didn’t help that he was constantly fearing the moment the Winchesters would decide that he was never going to be useful again, and kick him out.

His thoughts were interrupted at once by a loud knock on the door.

“Cas, can I come in?”

Castiel got up from his bed to open the door for Dean.

“Hello Dean.”

They both sat down on the bed, and Castiel looked at him expectantly.

“Alright, so Charlie’s here, and we’re going shopping, because you need clothes.”

“Dean, I have clothes.”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, mine. Not that I mind, but it would be nice for you to have your own. And you need to get out of here for a while. See some actual light.”

Castiel sighed, and agreed reluctantly, if that is what it takes for him to stay even a few days longer, he’d do it.

-----------------

It was actually quite nice, browsing through clothing racks, chatting about nothing in particular with people he loved. After a few hours, they decided to go to a diner— mainly because Dean wouldn’t stop whining about how hungry he was.

“So how are you doing Cas?” Charlie looked at him worried.

“I’m fine.”

“Cas,” Dean said sharply.

Cas sighed and rolled his eyes.

“I’m fine, I just… I don’t want to be a burden.”

Dean looked at him in disbelief before hugging him.

“You’ll never be a burden,” he whispered, and pressed a soft kiss to his temple before releasing him.

“You two are so disgustingly cute together,” Charlie said while making fake gag sounds.

Dean and Castiel both flushed and stumbled over their words trying to clarify that they were not, in fact, together. Charlie just raised her eyebrows and smiled knowingly.

-----------------

“So, Sam, what’s going on between those two?”

Charlie sits down on top of the map table where Sam is reading a lore book.

“You know perfectly well what’s going on Charlie. They may be too stupid to see it but you definitely aren’t.”

She rolls her eyes and claps his book close.

“We should do something about it.”

“What do you mean?”

Sam would complain that he was reading that, but this was definitely more interesting.

“Oh you know perfectly well what I mean Sam,” Charlie mocked him, a mischievous grin appearing on her face.

-----------------

“Cas.”

“Yes Dean?”

Dean looked at him worried.

“Come tell me if you need anything at all. You’re not a burden.”

“Dean, I know that without my powers I am useless to you. You don’t need to pretend I’m not for my comfort.”

“Fuck Cas! It’s not about whether you’re useful to us or not, you’re family! We love you!”

Castiel stood there, paralised, when he felt a tear roll down his cheek, and suddenly he was sobbing uncontrollably. He felt himself be enveloped in warm arms and pressed against his chest, but it was as if it was happening to someone else, like he was just a spectator to the scene. He only realised his breathing had sped up when he heard Dean tell him to stay calm and take deep breaths.

“Hey buddy, I’m here, you’re okay, you’re gonna be okay.”

Dean rubbed soothing circles on Cas’ back until he had calmed down.

“I think I just had a panic attack,” Cas said matter-of-factly. “Thank you Dean.”

“Do you want to go get some air?”

Dean stood up and reached a hand out to Castiel.

“Yes, that would be nice.”

He took the hand and stood up as well. To his surprise, Dean didn’t let it go and they walked handed-in-hand into the cool autumn air.

“Maybe we should plant a garden here. What do you think Cas?”

“That would be nice.” Does he know he’s still holding my hand?

“We could put a bench over there.” Does he mind that I’m still holding his hand?

“Hmm.” Does he mind?

“Are you okay, Cas? You look a little pale.” Am I making him uncomfortable?

“I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean gave his hand a light squeeze.

“You’ll tell me if you’re not, right?”

Cas gave him a short nod in response.

-----------------

Sam leaned against the door frame of Dean’s room.

“Hey Dean, how’s it going with Cas?”

“He’s not doing so well, but better than a few days ago.”

“At least he’s getting better. And how are you holding up?”

“Me? You know me Sammy, I’m always fine.”

“Yeah, but this stuff with Cas, it’s got to be taking its toll on you too.”

“I mean yeah, but not any more than on you.”

“Dean. The way I feel about Cas is very different from the way you feel about him and we both know it.”

Dean reddened at his ears and stared at the ground.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he murmured, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at his brother expectantly.

“Yeah, okay, you’re right. But he’ll never feel the same way, so it’s no use admitting it.”

“Dude. You were holding hands an hour ago. And yes, me and Charlie both saw that.”

“Look, I don’t– I don’t think he gets the meaning of that. It’s probably normal for angels!”

“Dude, he literally has every single piece of media Metatron ever consumed in his head, I’m pretty sure he knows what it means. Just please, talk to him.”

-----------------

A few days later Castiel is obviously less miserable than he was before, and he’s gotten used to being human again.

“Hey Cas, do you want to watch a movie?” Dean yelled from the kitchen, where he was making popcorn.

Cas had agreed, naturally, and so it happened they were on the couch together, a bowl of popcorn and a healthy amount of distance between them, and The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly playing on the television.

They were about twenty minutes in when Castiel began to complain.

“Dean you’ve made me watch this movie five times already, how are you not sick of it yet?”

“Dude, you can’t get sick of Clint Eastwood, it’s just not possible.”

Castiel rolled his eyes and grabbed another handful of popcorn. Dean cleared his throat and turned around to face him.

“Uh Cas?”

“Yes Dean?”

“I uh– Sam said– I need to tell you something.”

Cas turned off the tv and turned to him, worried.

“Is something wrong?”

“Uh, no, not– not really. I uh, I just need to get this off my chest.”

Castiel nodded for Dean to continue.

“I uh, I think I–” Dean shook his head firmly. “No, I know I’m uh, I’m in love with you.”

It stayed silent for a while, the air thick with tension.

“Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“If I still had my grace the lamps would be shattered.”

“Cas!”

Castiel gently cupped his face with one hand.

“I love you Dean.”

He moved forward and pressed a soft kiss to Dean’s lips. A warmth spread throughout his body, and he smiled into the kiss.

“I guess good things do happen,” Dean whispered softly, before leaning forward to kiss him again.

“I guess they do,” Cas said after they pulled apart, and he put his head on Dean’s shoulder, smiling in satisfaction.

[itsmydreamlifethings]

First Time Sex After Baby (Henry Cavill X Female Reader)

Warning: Smut and fluff. 18+ Do not post my work anywhere else. Reblogs on Tumblr are fine.) @thereisa8ella Thanks for the prompt, love. Hope you like it! It’s long, but you know....after 6 weeks of no sex taking it slow is important LOL! 6 Weeks. 6 long, damn weeks before you can have sex with Henry after giving birth to your perfect baby. You both love your daughter so much. Henry’s smitten with her and is a devoted father already. But...the sex deprivation between you, especially since you’re used to going at it damn near every day, is killing you both. You both marked this day on the calendar. Six weeks, not one day more, not one less. Tonight, it is on. It’s been way too long, and you both need some physical release. You’ve been stealing lustful glances at each other, and he’s been staring at your full breasts. A great perk of having a baby is the size of your boobs has increased even more.  The only issue is that you’re not ready for a random sitter. Leaving your precious girl at only 6 weeks old is tearing you up. Henry knows this and just like you, he doesn’t want to separate from the little one for long, especially with someone who isn’t family. After many conversations, you both decide to let his mom watch the baby at her home. You both trust her and she has other grandchildren, so she is a pro at it. You drive back from your mother-in-law’s home, and you’re sniffling. This is the first time away from your baby girl, and you’re so upset. Henry places a hand on your thigh. 

“Should I turn back, love?” he asks, concern filling his voice, both for you and for himself. He misses her too already.

You shake your head. “No, she is fine. Your mom adores her and I trust her. It’s just...I am not used to being without her...”

“I know, Y/N. It’s going to be okay,” he says and gives you a reassuring smile. “I think it’ll do us some good to be alone for a bit.”

You smile back and wipe away a tear. “I do miss you, Henry.”

“Me too, baby. I adore how great you are with our daughter. You are the best mother I could have ever asked for my child. But not going to lie, baby...I miss some attention too.” He returns his attention to the road, but leaves the hand on your thigh, stroking it slowly.

You know what he means. You miss your hunk too. And right now, you can’t wait to show him just how much you’ve missed his sexy big muscles wrapping around you, his lips on your neck, and his grunts and moaning when he’s unraveling inside you. The thought alone makes you wet already. You get home and get inside. Henry tells you to wait in the living room and tells you to stay there for a few.

“I thought we’d be going into the bedroom...” you say, confused.

“Just...wait.” He beams one of his smirks, making your knees wobble. 

You wait on the sofa for what seems an eternity and finally, he returns. “Okay, come.”

You follow him to the master bedroom but he leads you into your bathroom. The lights are off but the soft glow of dozens of candles cast a beautiful golden light everywhere. The oversized garden tub is filled with water, and you can tell a bath bomb is fizzing away. Rose petals are scattered around the tub and the tiled floor. You stare in awe. You can’t even remember the last time the two of you had enjoyed a romantic romp in the tub.

“Oh my gosh, Henry,” you nearly weep. “This is so amazing.”

He comes over and starts peeling your top off. His entire demeanor has changed from casual and talkative, to silent and intoxicating. His fingers brush against your flesh as the shirt comes off over your head and it sends tingles over your entire body.

He unzips your jeans and peels them down. You’re aware that your figure is a bit different than pre-baby, but Henry has done nothing but tell you how gorgeous and sexy you are the entire pregnancy and even the last six weeks. The way he looks at you in the black bra and panties tells you he means it too. His breathing becomes heavier and he unclasps your bra. With your bare breasts freed, he begins to caress them softly. “Fuck, baby, I miss you so much,” he whispers.

You moan, already feeling like you could come from his touch and voice alone. He slips your panties down so incredibly slow that the pleasure you feel may kill you. You already want him inside you, railing you, but it’s been a long time and you want to savor this night of freedom you have and take your time. He draws back and takes your hand, then leads you to the tub.

“Get in,” he orders softly. You step into the warm water, heaven filling your pores. You sit and get comfortable, already feeling all tension leaving your muscles. You’ve been devoting every minute to your daughter, who you love so much and would take care of for the rest of your life, but it has taken a toll on you physically or mentally. This bath and alone time with Henry is well overdue. Henry starts undressing. Fuck, he’s been working out, even more, to deal with the lack of sex and his pent up frustration, and his muscles are bulging even more. He’s fully naked, his organ already erect and begging to be near you. He climbs in the tub and shuffles behind you, so that you are sitting between his legs.

He begins rubbing your shoulders, his hands massaging you smoothly. He then trails down your back, kneading and massaging. You moan quietly, the tension trapped in your muscles fading away.

His lips begin planting kisses all over your back, while his hands caress them do your sides. He continues kissing as his arms circle you from the back and his hands find your breasts already. He cups them and begins kneading the nipples, which are sensitive from nursing. He takes his time, really feeling them in his big hands and showing appreciation.

His touch is getting you high, and being this close to him makes you want to lose your mind. You swivel around, your eyes locking. His blue eyes are full of impatient lust and you’re pretty sure yours are too. He pulls you close as you straddle him. His lips crash against yours and his tongue wastes no time. You lean into him, taking his kiss and the roughness of it. He is passionate and all of the build-up of the past weeks is evident as he hungrily bites your lower lip. “Baby, I need you now,” you say, pulling away for air. You shuffle on his lap to align to his hardness.

“So it’s okay to do it...right?” he asks, concern on his features. “Will I hurt you or something?”

You giggle, even as your own breathing is labored. “Wait is a precaution. And we were good.” You kiss him again, the tip of your tongue teasing his lips as you pull back. “We waited like the doctor said.”

“I’ve been a good boy,” he smirks, his hands cupping your ass and pushing you up. You release a whine as you settle right over his hardened tip. “A patient one.”

“You have been,” you coo. “Time to reward Daddy for being so patient.”

As if unleashing all the frustration and lust bottled inside of him, he grabs your hips and brings you down slowly onto his erection, the tip slicing through you and filling you halfway. The new sensation of having him back inside you seems like the first time you ever slept with Henry. You whine loud, already feeling your core grip tightly around his erection. Then he thrusts up, completely filling you to the hilt. You both enjoy this first thrust, just letting him settle there.  Your eyes are closed and your head leans back in ecstasy. Man, you’ve missed this feeling so much. Just having you so deep inside you, your souls mixing, his flesh merging with yours. This is what made your baby. Your soul connection and the incredible way your body just fit together like puzzle pieces.

You savor this moment but the need is too strong and overdue and Henry needs you more than ever. He brings your hips up, his hands tight on your hip bones, but you welcome the pain. Then, he slams you back down on him again, forcing a loud moan out of you. Instead of settling into another long moment, he looks at you with those “Gonna fuck the shit out of you” blue eyes.

You use your knees to ride him, matching the rhythm of his thrusts in no time. It might be a while you’ve had sex, but you reconnect immediately, your bodies reading one another perfectly. Your drape your arms around his neck as he keeps thrusting up, his speed becoming faster and you impaling yourself deeper on him.

“Fuckkkkk,” you scream.

Water splashes out of the tub, and you know there’ll be a flooded mess on the tile. But who gives a shit?

Henry surely doesn’t, because he leans forward, his back peeling away from the tub. He positions you better on top of him, so that he can control your body with each thrust. One of his hands wraps at the back of your neck and he fucks you deeply, pumping you up and down, his grunts filling the bathroom.

You know you can’t last long. You both cum at the same time, an explosion of overdue lust that is now culminating. He releases inside you with a loud groan, You are not far behind and as he gives you another slamming thrust, your walls clench and tingle, till the orgasm takes over.

Minutes later you’re both enjoying the last of the warm water, leaning back as he cradles you into his arms.

“Man, I missed this so much,” he whispers into your hair.

You nod. “As have I....but...”

“...you miss her too,” he finishes with a smirk.

You look up at him sheepishly but he smiles. “I do too,” he replies. “Let’s do it again then go pick up our sweet angel.”