#*like thros up and dies*

[flovverworks]

was looking up how to care for my new baby plants. thought about akira & plants. took a minute before i rmbrd theres an entire EVENT about that. akira overwatering their plant iiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

[toestalucia]

good morning i thought about the latest story update a second too long again

[celaenaeiln]

Is Dick's tendency for self-destructive habits really as bad as some fics make it out to be?

oh interesting!! In some way, yes actually.

Batman (2016) Issue #689

Dick and Alfred!! The duo make me so happy <33

But anyway, it's weird that someone who's so effusive with his affection so often and readily "deflects a moment of genuine emotion." Which is also one of the reasons why Dick Grayson as a character is so fascinating because he's never what people expect him to be. He's like a puzzle box where every time you think you solved, you just opened yourself up to a hard, even more complex one wherein the process repeats on an endless cycle.

He's incredibly self-destructive in the way he drive a burning car off a bridge and he'll know it's on fire, he knows where he's going, but he'll do it anyway because the car has a bomb and it's safer with him than the civilians behind him.

You know what? I just realized he deflects intimate conversations because he wants to keep the focus on the other person. Since he was Robin, Dick has been purposefully neglecting his feelings in order to take care of Bruce's. Right after his parents died, he bottled up his sadness and sorrow because he was worried that Bruce would blame himself and he didn't want Bruce to do that.

It's always been "Tell me what's wrong, Bruce." He's been so busy raising his guardian, his friends, his siblings, his teammates, that Dick has sunk into the role of a performer - the spotlight's on him but the audience is the focus.

I didn't realize until writing this ask but self-destruction is just such a normal thing with him that it's become a part of his personality. In fics it's very obvious when he's being self-destructive or neglecting himself or etc because he's very aware of it but Dick in canon has just made it his thing. It's actually the Titans that realize this and yank him out of it because Dick has no idea what he does to himself.

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

The New Teen Titans (1980) Issue #28

He's not self-destructive in a way that he's conscious of it but his habits and his lifestyle don't really give him a choice. He literally works himself sick.

The Titans (1999) Issue #9

"Maybe it's too much. Dick --have you considered that? You're working Bludhaven, even joining their force, you still clearly intend to come here to Gotham every time he calls you -- working so hard you're making yourself sick,"

"No. It's not the newness that's the problem."

People are literally telling him to calm down and he's like 'No! I'm perfectly okay. This is fine, let's continue.'

And this isn't even going into when Blockbuster blew up his life and Dick kinda lost himself to hunt him down and make him pay. People understand that Desmond burnt down the circus but Dick was still connected to the people in that circus, like he used his contacts there to sometimes inquire about things going on Bludhaven. The people at the circus raised him along with his parents so killing them was like killing Dick's aunts and uncles and friends and childhood. What happened then and after the SA was catastrophic. To Dick self-destruction has just become a part of him because he aims for perfection in every aspect of his life.

Like Donna said, "He works with the Titans, on his own, goes to school, and then he works alongside Batman..." and so on. Usually people struggle to maintain even one area of their life like just school or family but Dick's juggling, his work, his family, his friends, his relationship, his teams, and is still on call for Justice League incidents.

Titans (2003) Issue #6

He literally dropped everything to come over and break up the Titans (OF WHICH HE IS NOT EVEN A PART OF RIGHT NOW BECAUSE HE'S IN THE MIDDLE OF DEALING WITH THE OUTSIDERS) and the Justice League full on fighting.

He's not self-destructive in the way he doesn't want to get out of bed or that he isn't clean, it's just that Dick Grayson is a machine. He's got ice in his veins and he just powers through everything. Everything he does has to be top notch, so sleep and social life and happiness can say goodbye because he's too busy for that. This is why the Titans are so important to him and for him because they realize this toxic trait of his and do their absolute best to yank him out of this bad habit because Dick certainly can't stop.

So self-destruction has become part of his personality but unlike in fics, it's conducive self-destruction. It comes from his refusal to feel any emotion that isn't for others because Big Brother Dick Grayson and Best Friend Dick Grayson are always there for everyone but the second he's asked to help himself or someone tries to help him, he flakes. He's the best at helping others and being there for them but he's allergic to getting help or talking about himself.

[artiststarme]

Death Waits For No One… Except Eddie Munson

Warning: Temporary Character Death

Could be read as Part 2 of This Post

Enjoy!

~*~*~*~

Eddie dies. He knew it was coming, felt it as soon as he’d stepped foot into the sordid little town as a puny and pale eleven year old. There was a grim acceptance that he wouldn’t survive long enough to leave. He spent his years being as authentic and genuine as possible; loud, eccentric, world-devastatingly handsome with awesome hair, and completely and utterly metal.

He spent his adolescence in Hawkins being true to himself, being someone that he could be proud of. However, there was always an undercurrent of danger. Being different in a small town where everyone else is the same is a hazard and Eddie wondered things everyday.

Would this be the day it ends?

Would Hargrove, Hagan, or any other small minded jock choose today to bash his head in?

Would the cops make an example of the weird “devil-worshipping”, rock n’ roll, high school fiend today?

Sometimes death was the cost of being different and he had accepted that.

Eddie, and unfortunately Wayne, had seen it coming for years and were not so eagerly awaiting his demise. Whether it be a beating from a bully gone too far, an overdose like his Ma, or a fiery crash, they lived each day in tentative hope that he’d escape death’s clutches once again. Neither one of them expected him to die in a haunted parallel universe in pain, cold and alone, with blood in his mouth and holes bitten through his flesh.

Eddie watched Dustin grieve him through teary eyes as the cold set in, warm blood leaking from his wounds and a numbness settling in his bones. He distantly heard Steve screaming for the both of them and maybe even the uncoordinated footfalls from Robin as she ran towards them. He tried to hang on, gripping the last dredges of life with both hands. Eventually though, his eyes closed with the weight of the world and his heart sluggishly slowed its beat.

The last thing he saw before his eyes were forced closed was Steve shoving a crying Dustin aside with determined eyes and a frown on his face. He felt a vague pressure center in his chest before everything faded to black.

Death wasn’t the peace or nothingness that he expected. It wasn’t bright lights or past memories flashing in front of your eyes. He was conscious, worriedly wondering if his friends had made it home from the Upside Down and how Wayne would take the news, if the Party could even tell him anything.

His death was a nightmare to him, everything he hated; darkness, silence, and too much time to ruminate on his thoughts. There was nothing to see and his feet were getting cold in an inch or so of standing water. Wonderful. The only noise he could hear was the blood from his deepest wounds dripping to the water at his feet.

He didn’t know how long he was there. Standing there, admittedly freaking out more than a little bit, and doing nothing could’ve taken three minutes or thirty years.

But when he opened his eyes again after a slow blink, he was back in the Upside Down next to his trailer. His wounds still throbbed with each heartbeat and he could feel the stickiness of blood clinging to his war outfit. Upon further surveillance, he noticed his favorite necklace with his mother’s old guitar pick was missing. Those fucking bats probably ate it. He considered rifling through the rotting carcasses surrounding him before letting out a sigh. He didn’t have the energy to perform necropsies.

The next thing that made itself known was the heat. Eddie remembered the Upside Down being cold, a strange mixture of humid and frigid. But now, the air was practically sizzling with heat and it made the stickiness of blood even more unbearable.

It wouldn’t stop Eddie though. He was apparently still alive after facing death once more. If anything could be said about Eddie, it was that he was a survivor. So, he pulled himself up despite his agony and set out on the trek of a lifetime. He climbed through the gate in his trailer, ignoring the cooking of his flesh and the pain accompanying the burns. He flopped onto the unforgiving carpet of his trailer that he really should’ve cleaned when Wayne told him to. Then he went to Steve’s because if anyone could help him, it was him.

He didn’t expect the town to be in chaos or the rippling chasms of fire that lengthened his walk.

He hid in trees when cars passed him but no one paid him any mind. Everyone was too apt to get out of town than they were to pay the walking zombie (so he supposed) any mind.

Eddie walked until he was standing over a sleeping Steve in his room in the Harrington house. He wasn’t sleeping peacefully and Eddie could imagine why.

“Hey, Harrington. Wake up, it’s okay. You’re dreaming.”

Steve jerked awake and started screaming his fool head off. Eddie stumbled back in surprise and hissed as the movement pulled at the worst of his wounds.

“Shh! Harrington, Jesus H. Christ, calm down. Holy shit, I thought you’d be the calm one. Calm down, please god,” Eddie breathed through the pain and calmed him. He probably looked like shit so he understood Steve’s fright. A small part of him, his inflated ego probably, took offense though he wouldn’t voice it.

“Eddie?” Steve’s voice was tinged with disbelief as if he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing.

He beamed, “I see we’re on a first name basis now, Stevie. If I knew this was all I had to do, I would’ve died a long time ago!”

Steve threw himself forward into Eddie’s arms with a soft gasp of pain and Eddie let out an oomph of surprise and pain in response.

“You’re not going to be here in the morning, are you?” Steve whispered into the crook of his neck.

Eddie’s shaky hand latched onto Steve’s shoulder to deepen the hug. “Hell Steve, I’ll never leave you again if you’ll have me.”

Steve fell asleep on top of him in what appeared to be his first restful slumber in weeks. Eddie wasn’t going to ruin that. Instead of treating his wounds or showering Upside Down grime and dried blood off, he ran a hand through Steve’s hair and closed his eyes. It would all be there in the morning, after all. What could a little shut-eye hurt?

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[imraespace]

STREAMERS! ★ ˎˊ˗

..CHAPTER 6 || CHAPTER 7! || CHAPTER 8..

────────────────────────────

Today's stream is quite different.

Instead of in your room, playing a video game, you are right now streaming as you made your way to your friend's cafe.

"We're here!" You said as you turned your camera towards the building then made your way inside.

The smile of your friend was the first thing your fans saw as you enter the cafe.

"Oh you're here!" Mitsuri exclaimed as she saw you entered with your camera pointed towards her.

In the cafe, Mitsuri had already set up a small station for you all to stream at, and actually that's where everyone is right now. Minus Mitsuri.

You nodded as you both made your way in the kitchen.

What are you all about to do?!

Bake!(yay)

The whole point of turning your friends into streamers was to help out with the cafe so you had the perfect idea to bake in the cafe! On stream of course.

As soon as the both of you entered the kitchen, that's when the magic started to happen.

After setting up the camera and a lot of talking, everyone was ready.

"What are we even making?" The boy beside you asked as he stared at the items on the table.

"A cake!" Mitsuri answered Muichiro.

"A what.." He answered back.

"We are all making a cake..?" You asked.

You thought that it were going to be something simple like cookies.

"Yep!" She said with a bright smile.

"That's gonna be alot of cake." You said to yourself.

"It will be the cafe's special when the fans visit." She said.

.

.

It was going smoothly, everyone followed Mitsuri's instructions until Sanemi had something to say.

"Obanai, you took my food coloring." He said as he stared at the man next to him.

"Why would I take your food coloring.." Obanai mumbled as he looked for this food coloring Sanemi claimed he stole.

"Because you're next to me and it's not here."

"..So..?" Obanai eyebrow raised a bit.

They both stared at each other for a bit. It looked like a fight in the wild west was about to start.

"Sanemi is your food coloring that one on the floor?" Shinobu entered the conversation.

"..It is." He mumbled as he picked it up but in doing so he accidentally knocked off Obanai's cake mixture and it fell on the table.

"Oh god.." You mumbled as you stopped stirring to witness the mess.

Obanai was obviously pissed and Sanemi was pissed for some odd reason when he was the one who knocked it down..

"Can your bowl watch where it's going?"

"MY BOWL? MAYBE BEND DOWN SOMEWHERE ELSE."

"Haha bend down somewhere else-"

Your words were silenced by the random shouting of words from both parties that deafen everyone else.

The whole argument had everyone giggling and Mitsuri tried to break it up.

Your eyes made it to the chat on your phone and saw that they were entertained by the comedy fest that's happening so you threw flour at them. For fun.

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU CHILD!?"

Sanemi shouted as the flour hit his face and got into his eyes as he ran towards you but your best friend ever Muichiro! Wasn't having it and threw flour on the floor, causing him to slip but pulled you down with him.

"CAN YOU GET OFF OF ME??"

"I WILL SHOVE FLOUR DOWN YOUR THRO-"

Instead you shoved it in his throat! I'm kidding, you didn't.

No one can see it but you both are now on the floor fighting each other as Muichiro debated if he should dump his cake mixture on Sanemi to save you or save it.

He decided to dump a bit on him, the cold mixture made him let out a surprised noise as you pushed him off.

"LET ME FINISH BAKE MY CAKE." You shouted as he chased you around.

Muichiro gave up and decided to use your mixture and made the cake.

Alongside Shinobu and Giyuu who wasn't in the mess, Gyomei was behind them as Tengen watched the show.

Sadly, poor Mitsuri was now chasing behind you both as Obanai cleaned up his mess.

Wonderful stream!

The commotion has died down and you were now helping Muichiro bake your cake.

Before you both began to bake, you had spilt the mixture and added teal and F/C food coloring in each and baked them.

Now the cake has two layers and covered in white frosting.

"What can we add on this cake?" You asked Muichiro as he gave you candy.

"Add these." He said.

"..Candy on cake?"

"Okay don't add them." He said as he ate some.

"WAIT NO! I want some as well." You said as you snatch the piece out of his hand and ate it.

You both decided to add more decorations on the cake and added sprinkles and boom it's finished.

For the others, Sanemi gave up and Obanai joined in with Mitsuri to bake a cake together.

Shinobu, Giyuu and Tengen already had their cakes made.

Gyomei was here for moral support!

So in the end there was five cakes added as specials for that week and after that, the cakes were going to be added to the Cafe's menu!

STREAMERS!

EXTRA!:

TAGLIST:@deezy12299@s0uldarling@cherryblossomly@boogiemansbitch@delusional-mushroom@ashlovelys(OPEN)

[reidispunk]

TAKE IT SLOW KID

JOEL MILLER x PLATONIC!READER

★⇢ summary; He saves you from the cruel life you’ve had but is it a mistake now after you begin to see him as a father-figure?

★⇢ warnings; angst, violence, mentions of death, slight trauma?,

★⇢ a/n; This is my first tlou fic so bare with me 😭 I hope the story makes sense like it did in my head and sorry if theres any mistakes, english isn’t my first language :)

★⇢ word count; 2,1k

Joel, like everyone else living in this fucked up world had changed after september 26th. His cold, ruthless demeanor had developed after his Sarah had died in his arms. He had convinced to himself that the paternal part of him was long gone and what remained was just a shell of a man, he had swore himself to never getting too close with too many people, or trusting them.

Until he saw you, lying on the ground while two grown ass men were beating you, a teenager, a kid. The feeling he swore would never come out again, he felt it in the pit of his stomach. Suddenly he was holding Sarah, his baby girl again while she bled to death and all the memories, the painful feelings he tried to push down were coming back up again. He needed to walk away, he needed to suppress the feelings away but he just couldn’t, he couldn’t walk away because the painful screams you were letting you were getting to him.

He went to an autopilot, surged towards the men and the only goal was to save you. After he managed to scare the men and he slowly came up to you “hey kid, cmon up” he extended a hand towards you. You shook and slowly lifted your small hand in his, he pulled you up “wheres your parents kid?” he asked after he flinched his hand away from yours.

You knew you probably shouldn’t trust this stranger but he saved you from those men who have taunted you a while. His presence scared you but you felt safe. But after he asked you that question you shut down and he could probably see it. “Don’t know, probably dead. Thanks for saving me I should go-“ you said not wanting to get out of the conversation as soon as possible because you knew that the fedra people would come looking for you. But he stopped you before you could even take a step. “Slow down kid, where are you going to go then?” he asked. “I don’t know, I’m thankful but I can’t stay here” you said looking pleadingly at his eyes. He sighed “You’re a kid, should have a home at least.”

You look at your feet now, painful memories coming up how everyone you loved left you. “I don’t” is the only thing you get out

———————————————————————

“Tess where is the kid!” You hear Joel yell after he came back to his small home. Tess is not here but Michael is who is now holding a knife to your throat, you hear Joel yell your name and you know he’s looking for you.

“One fucking word and I kill you and the grandpa after you” you hear Michael behind you speak. Tears are now rolling down your eyes and you hope that Joel doesn’t come to the room, but at the same time you want him to save you. You want him to protect you from this man behind you but you know you shouldn’t hope that.

“This ‘ain’t funny anymore kid!” You hear his voice and you let out a sob. “Shut the fuck up bitch” you hear from behind you. Suddenly the door is being pushed open and you see him, the man who has saved you now multiple occasions and took to his home, gave you a bed and food. Something no one has done for you.

“Joel” you creek out while tears are rolling down you cheeks, you see the panic in his eyes. You never really cried in front of him before. “Look man I don’t want to fight, I only want the girl. Just let us go and nothing bad will happen” you hear Michael speak behind you. You know he’s scared of Joel but it didn’t stop him from coming for you.

Joel looks at him and sighs “fine” and he steps away from the room. What? No. No no no. He can’t do this to you. You let out a sob “I told you shut up you fucking stupid ass kid” michael says and you feel him move the knife and it makes a small cut to your throat.

He’s pushing you out of the room and you can’t even look at Joel, he’s abandoning you just like everyone else. You thought you could trust him, the times you had to hold yourself back from calling him dad after he took care of you are now haunting you while you walk towards his front door.

“What the fuc-“ you hear that man suddenly speak behind you and hes pulled off you and being stabbed by Joel. You stare at him, in shock. He had said yes- he actually didn’t mean it? You fall to your knees, the panic still tearing your insides. You start to sob, you can’t breathe. Why can’t you breathe? It feels like everything is slowing down. Suddenly you feel someone, a palm pressing down on your cheek “kid, hey everything is okay” You hear a muffled voice speaking.

“look at me, hey! Slow down kid” You finally recognize the voice, it’s dad- Joel. It’s Joel, he saved you, you’re okay. You look up to him now, you see an emotion you can’t quite understand. “Dad?” you say weakly, still not breathing evenly and immediately regret it because you see it in his eyes, the shock and you feel him physically tense up.

Joel never thought someone would be calling him that again, he does see Sarah in you. Whenever you let out a little laugh or you tease him about him he can’t help but think his baby girl. But now you’re shaking because you thought he would let them take you. “It’s okay, everything is okay, I got you” he forces out. He know that you’re smart and he knows you probably noticed the way he tensed after you called him.. that.

“I-i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have called you that I-“ you imminent go back into a panic mode and apologize profusely. Joel says your name softly “its okay, slip ups happen” he says and you flinch but don’t say anything else.

You get up, avoiding Joels gaze and walking back to the room you claimed as yours. You close the door behind you after you hear Joels voice call after you. You can’t, you can’t look at him. It pains you how desperately you want him to accept you as what? His daughter? You know that there was a child, his child who died and you know it pains him so why are you even thinking this? Curling to the bed and pulling the sheets up to hide from the world but you hear joel open the door and step inside.

Tears are rolling down now, you don’t know why and you refuse to let Joel see it so you just hide your face from him. He says your name again and he sits down next to your curled up legs. “Look kid- I’m sorry I had you thinkin’ that I was going to let them take you. I swear that I would never do that to you” He says to you.

You sit up now but still don’t look at his face, you know he can see the tears now, “You- You should’ve let him.” you say to him “I know” you pause and wipe your tears “I know i’m a big burden on you and Tess and-“ you continue but Joel shuts you down “Thats not true. Kid you are no where close to being a burden” he says to you. You feel your head spin and suddenly you remeber the cut michael gave you, and lift a finger to feel it and you see your blood, you look at Joel and he already has the things to treat the wound.

Hes getting up and kneeling down in front of you, “I’m going to clean it first and then bandage it up, okay?” he says and you are just nodding. He does it fast as possible and it doesn’t hurt too bad. Now he’s looking at you “Joel I- thank you. And I’m sorry-“ he shakes his head and says “You have nothing to apologize for kid, I’m sorry for not keeping you safe enough” and that is what breaks you. You crumble and start sobbing, you hide your face in your hands in shame for not being stronger to hold it in. “Oh baby girl, it’s okay let it out” You hear Joel say while hes pulling you to his arms and he hugs you “he was going to kill me and- and” you say “I know, I know, shh” he says and rocks you side to side gently “he said he was going to kill you after me I- dad-“ you sob in to his shoulder not even noticing that you called him that again, but he does.

Joel feels it in his guts, “baby shh, i’m fine. Everything is okay” and he stays there until you calm down.

He notices your steady breathing and he realizes that you fell asleep on him, he sighs and gently places you to the bed. He knows this is not a good life for a kid, he found you when you were about 11years old and he watched you grow right in front of him. You are older now but still a kid, he knows he’s attached to you but he pushes the thoughts down and quietly leaves the room after tucking you in.

——

“Joel!” He hears you scream and he’s up in a flash “dad?” you yell and he bursts in to your room to see you toss in you bed. He walks over to you “Hey kid, wake up everything is okay” he gently shakes you and you don’t wake up. He says your name but you still don’t open your eyes but you’re still panicking about something in your dream “no please no don’t hurt him please, hes all i have” you yell.

Now he’s shaking you again but with a little more force “baby girl” he says and you shoot up and breathe unsteadily. He sees the panic in your eyes while you look at him “hey i’m here, you’re okay” he says to you and he sees you start examining him “you’re okay” you say and then he realizes, you weren’t worried about yourself at all. He has always knew you were selfless and tender hearted like many kids but he didn’t realize you were so worried about him “i’m okay baby, i’m okay” he says and looks at you with gentle eyes. Suddenly you throw your arms around him, he didn’t expect that but hugs you back regardless.

“You know you remind me of my daugher Sarah” he starts and he feels you tense slightly. “You don’t need to talk about it Joel, I know it’s a touchy subject” you say with a crooked voice. His heart tugs and he continues “I want to tell you about her, she had a beautiful smile just like yours and- and she was a snarky girl like you” his voice cracks. All the memories flood back, his Sarah just after she was born, her first day at school and when she repaired his watch for him for his birthday.

“She would’ve liked you kid, and you would have liked her.” he says and puts his palm to the back of your head and sighs. “I would have, she seems like she was a great person” you answer him.

“I had a sister.” you start. Trying to stay calm you continue “She was my best friend, she was all I had after my parents.. She protected me from the world and I owe her everything. She-“ you can’t keep your tears away anymore. Joel gives you time to gather yourself “After we got into the QZ they separated us and put me in the fedra school and she had to work. The first time i saw her after they separated us was when she was about to leave to smuggle something for more rationcards because she was struggling. I insisted that I would come with her because she was all I had, she said yes and we went outside.” You continue while trying to gather yourself “We got stuck in a building and there were so many of them, the- the infected chased us around the building until we found a door and I tried to open it but it was jammed but I managed, I stepped outside and she.. didn’t come out, i heard her say that she loves me and get back to the QZ and I stood there, while the infected were ripping my sister to pieces I-“ you choke up a sob “I listened her screams and I fucking couldn’t do anything I- I couldn’t move, maybe if i convinced her not to go she still would be-“ you couldn’t continue, sobbing to Joels shirt while he slowly rubs your back.

“It’s not your fault.” Is the only thing he says while he tries to calm you down. “It’s not your fault” he says again.

[immeasurablesaladagere]

Bad Math

(note for my followers with requests going, I'm pretty burnt out of House atm. I will get to requests when I can, but getting back into writing for me and also my life stuff will take priority over them.)

-----

Word Count: 3948

Summery: Episode 3 of Double Life. Martyn regresses after accidentally killing himself and Cleo but is afraid to say anything. He doesn't have to, because Cleo can feel all of it.

-----

Cleo jolted up in her bed, a fresh rush of respawn-fuelled adrenaline coursing through her veins. She hissed through her teeth as moving shot painful pulses through the newly reformed muscles of her legs and back. 

“Martyn!” She seethed to no one, “Oh my god, you stupid—“ That idiot had just killed them both! What in the world was he thinking!? The soul string around her finger burned with her anger and she didn’t bother to stifle it. She wanted Martyn to know that her blood was absolutely boiling. She got a dull pang of something like guilt back before he shut that down, because of course he would. She rolled her eyes.

Her joints ached as she stumbled out of bed and out the front door, but she pressed on. Her items would despawn if she wasted time, and she wasn’t going to lose all of her hard work on top of a life. 

The cliff was treacherous, at least a 20 block sheer drop with mobs everywhere, and she cursed Martyn under her breath the whole miserable shuffle down to the riverbed. By the time she reached solid ground her muscles were throbbing and a small hoard of zombies were clawing at her feet. She felt the pinch of phantom fingers on her forearm, Martyn’s silent complaining, and she pinched right back. He’s done this to himself. He was lucky she wasn’t letting these zombies have a little nibble. 

Some of her items were washed up on the rocks, coated in watery pink blood and muck, but the rest were floating amongst the drowned on the riverbed, not worth getting if she wanted to stay alive. She scooped up what she could and began the climb back to the top. Several of her items were missing, her food and armour were lost to the silt, which meant even if Scott could lend her something to wear she’d have to go back to the bloody caves in the middle of the night. 

At the top of the cliff, Martyn’s items lay scattered in a pile where he died. Part of her wanted to leave his things to rot, maybe kick them down into the river, but instead she begrudgingly dumped them into a chest for him to retrieve. She couldn’t have him dying again because his armour despawned, even if the idea of inconveniencing him brought her a sense of sweet satisfaction.

Buzz. Her communicator vibrated against her hip, and she pulled it out. 

<ZombieCleo fell from a high place trying to escape InTheLittleWood>

<SolidarityGaming> WHAT

<PearlescentMoon> OOOOOO

<Impulse> Soulmate kill? O.o

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> You okay?

<Tango> LOL

<Rendog> rip

And of course nothing from Martyn. No explanation, not even a fake apology. Cleo huffed.

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Fine. Got my stuff back

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Most of it. My armour’s gone

Martyn hadn’t shown his face yet, which was probably for the best. She might just beat the stuffing out of him if he came around for the next while. A part of her wondered why she hadn’t seen him yet, if not just to get his stuff back before running off again, his tail tucked between his legs. She stared across the chasm to his heart tower. From where she was standing she couldn’t see him in the windows or moving around on the ground. 

<Smajor1995 whispered to you:> Do you want me to help you mine? I think I’ve got a spare set of boots too

<You whisper to Smajor1995:> Yes that would be great thanks

The walk to their strip-mine was short, but in sopping wet clothes and coming off a respawn  it felt like a slog. Thankfully she made it without running into any mobs, and Scott met her at the entrance to the mine, pickaxe in hand and a concerned look on his face. “You alright, Cleo?”

She ran a hand through her hair and sighed. “Fine, just… frustrated.” 

Scott nodded sympathetically and made an after you motion to the mine. Cleo lead them down the tunnel system until they found untouched rock, which wasn’t too far, and set up a crafting table and a couple furnaces.

They worked in an unusual silence. Typically their time together was comfortable and full of banter, but it was hard to find something to talk about besides the glaringly obvious. She could almost feel how badly Scott wanted to pry and know every little detail, ever the gossip he was, but it was clear that he was determined not to from the near-constipated look on his face.

Cleo smirked. “Out with it then, ask me what happened,” She said, resting her pickaxe over her shoulder and leaning against the wall, “I know you want to. Although, I can’t really say I know myself.”

“Why did he kill you?” And wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “I know we’re not on good terms, but I didn’t think he’d do something like that. Not even Pearl has gone that far! And she’s crazy!” 

Cleo snorted, “I’ll tell you why, because he’s selfish! I don’t agree to a truce and he shoves me off a cliff!” She turned back to her pickaxe, punctuating every angry syllable with a swing. “Because he can’t just survive on his own. Ee’s like a parasite! Nagging on and on, and that weird tower he’s got in the ravine? Oh my gods—!” She was ranting, but it felt good to vent her frustrations to someone who wasn’t terminally dense and obsessed with the idea that ‘he’s your soulmate, you have to make up!’. What nonsense.

“And now we’re down a life, and I’m going to be stuck picking up after him because it’s always me, isn’t it? And it always will be! He’s just going to go running about willy nilly and I’ll have the consequences!” She swung her pick down with more force than was probably necessary, crumbling a pocket of lapis into dust, “He’s like a toddler!”

Suddenly, speak of the devil and he shall appear, there was a tug on their soul bond. It wasn’t ticks of damage like usual, it was an emotional tug. A ripple of nervous butterflies fluttered through her stomach, and she paused. Strange. Not the feeling itself, but the fact she’d felt it at all. The both of them had been stubbornly careful not to let their feelings slip through their bond ever since they’d officially split off in the first session. Probably a close call with a creeper.

Finally, after what felt like the thousandth poke-hole in the rock, she hit a pocket of iron. “Aha!” She exclaimed in victory, “Finally! This should be enough for at least a chest plate and some trousers. Come check it out, it’s massi—“

She faltered. There it was again, stronger this time. Her stomach twisted with what was definitely fear, and something else, too. It was fuzzy and hard to grasp. 

“Cleo? You alright?”

“…Yeah, I just… Martyn’s doing something. He’s probably caving.”

Scott hummed, sitting cross-legged on the ground and tossing a few pieces of raw iron into the furnaces, “Is he taking damage? You looked kinda scared there for a second.”

He hadn’t, but Cleo checked her health bar anyway to find it perfectly intact. “Nope. He probably just got ambushed by a mob or something, clearly he’s not the most careful man on this serv—“

It was then that it crashed over her; the string on her finger tightened and a wave of crystal-clear and suffocating sadness flowed through it. It startled her just how fast her eyes welled up and her chest squeezed, nearly winding her. “What on earth..?” She gasped. Her pickaxe clattered against the stone floor as she stumbled back against the wall. 

“What’s wrong!?” Scott clambered to his feet and rushed to her side, “Do you need food? How many hearts are you on?” He demanded, shoving a piece of bread against her hand.

Cleo quickly straightened, gently pushing the bread away, “No I don’t need food, I— I’m fine, just—“ What was Martyn doing?

Part of her wanted to ignore this. Whatever this was, it wasn’t her circus or her emotional monkeys. Physically they were fine, so it was fine. She scrubbed the tears out of her eyes, only for them to come right back, blurring Scott’s fretting expression. 

But the other part, the stronger part, told her that this wasn’t normal. Something was wrong with Martyn and she couldn’t help but be worried. Outside of the game they were still friends, and she still cared about Martyn’s wellbeing even if he was being a terrible partner right then. 

“Something’s wrong with Martyn.” She said. Well obviously, well done there Cleo, very observant. “I don’t know what but it’s… a lot.”

A thick, hazy feeling settled behind her eyes like molasses. It felt gentle, like it should have been pleasant, but it only amplified the swirl of emotions rushing through her. Tears slipped down her cheeks and she sniffled. Deep in her chest something was crying out for comfort, and she had to stop herself from instinctively reaching out to grab Scott’s hand, even though he probably wouldn’t have minded.

Scott took a deep breath, tapping his fingers quickly against the hilt of his pickaxe. “Right. Not much to go off of, then. What does it feel like?”

She struggled to get her thoughts in order as wave after wave of emotion came through their bond. It was overwhelming, flooding every corner of her brain like tar. “Goodness gracious, keep it together, Martyn…” She mumbled to herself, trying to at least keep her vision clear, “Um… It’s like, heavy? He’s definitely sad, scared I think… My head’s all fuzzy.”

After a moment of looking deep in thought, a look of dread suddenly dawned over Scott’s face, “Oh no…”

“What? What is it?” Cleo asked, voice creeping on desperate as the storm inside her slipped into her voice, “Don’t just say “oh no” and then stand there with that look on your face, it’s stressing me out!”

Scott looked at her, eyes wide. “He’s not regressed, is he? Surely not.”

All of the pieces were suddenly falling together to make a terrifying picture. The hiding, the suffocating fuzzy feeling, all of the emotions flowing through their bond, the crying— Martyn was little. 

Cleo’s mind raced. There was a child running around in the middle of the night during a death game, scared out of his mind and most likely defenceless. It was a miracle he hadn’t taken any damage yet. Heck, it was a miracle they weren’t dead yet, came a sobering thought, it was a miracle he wasn’t chased down by a hoard of zombies, backed into a corner a slaughtered. Ex-soulmate status be damned, she needed to find him and soon. She fumbled with her belt for her communicator and quickly typed out a message with shaky fingers.

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn where are you

To her surprise and slight relief, it didn’t take long for Martyn to respond.

<InTheLittleWood> i’m fine

<BdoubleO100> ?

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Sure. What’s wrong? Are you regressed right now? Also you’re in main chat

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Fine. Not small. Dw boutt it

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Martyn. Stop messing around, where are you? Don’t make me get Grian, I’ll make him stop the session right now if I have to

The fuzzy feeling increased, and she blinked hard. If the rampant spelling errors in his messages weren’t enough to convince her he was small, that sure was.

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> Spswn

<InTheLittleWood whispers to you:> spawn

<You whisper to InTheLittleWood:> Stay there, I’m coming to find you

“I’m going to get him.” Cleo said, pocketing her pickaxe and equipping the iron boots Scott had given her. Her shield was shoddy at best, but they hadn’t had enough time to make her anything else and they didn’t have any to waste now. It would have to do.

Scott stopped her with a hand on her shoulder, “Do you want me to come with you? If you give me a sec I can make a new shield and—”

“No, it’ll take too long. Besides, I think it’ll just freak him out more if you’re there with me.” She rubbed at her eyes and gave him what she hoped was a reassuring look.

“Alright, I’ll catch up, then. Just… be safe, okay?”

“I will. I’ll be quick!”

The run to spawn was a gauntlet, and the burning in her chest and throat wasn’t helping. Thankfully the tears had slowed and her vision was clear enough to dodge mobs as they appeared from the brush. By the time she arrived the sun had begun to crawl over the horizon, but the mobs wouldn’t be burning for at least another hour, which meant they weren’t safe just yet. 

Martyn hadn’t sent any more messages and he was nowhere to be seen at spawn. Anxiety rolled in her gut as she scanned the tree line for Martyn’s obnoxiously bright outfit. She was just about to message the group and rally a search party when she saw it.

A dirt shack. Built up at the base of a scraggly oak tree was a small dirt box, just big enough for one person to be huddled up inside if they really squeezed. She approached cautiously, noting the uptick of nervousness inside her as her footsteps grew closer. She carefully dug away the wall, and there was Martyn. He was curled up tight, red-faced from crying and snot dripping from his nose, staring up at her with eyes blown wide.

Cleo couldn’t help but wince; he was certainly a sight. They stared at each other for a beat before Martyn simply dissolved. He began to cry once more and the tears in Cleo’s eyes returned with a vengeance. He curled impossibly tighter into his little ball and began mumbling something. Most of it was complete nonsense, but she was able to make out one word, over and over again. ‘Sorry’.

A weight dropped from her shoulders and she let out a breath of relief. She schooled her expression into something softer and tried to bend down to his level, but Martyn tucked his face between his knees.

“Martyn? Are we maybe feeling a bit little?” She tried her best attempt at a comforting tone.

“‘M sorry!” he babbled, sniffling loudly, “Didn’ mean t’hurt you, I was joking, I didn’t mean it!” 

All this trouble for a joke, of course.

“I’m not angry with you, I’m just glad you’re safe. This server’s dangerous for a little kid, yeah?” Her assurances didn’t seem to make anything better. In fact, Martyn only seemed more upset. 

His fists clenched into the fabric of his jeans and his head shot up, “You are angry!” He cried, “’Could- ‘could feel it! You’re angry at me an ‘m sorry! I didn’ mean it!”  

Cleo sighed. He was right, she was angry. Buried underneath Martyn’s hurricane of emotions there was still anger for him, but that anger was for adult Martyn. Stupid, shortsighted adult Martyn who got them both killed, not the blubbering child in front of her.

“Martyn, look at me.” He whined stubbornly and turned away, and Cleo rolled her eyes. Oh no, she wasn’t in the mood for this game. “Martyn.” Teary yellow eyes peeked up nervously at her.

“I am angry, alright? I’m angry we died, but there isn’t anything we can do about it now, is there? You didn’t mean to kill me, but we’re still yellow. That’s that.” Martyn sniffled, and Cleo could see a fresh line of tears forming in his eyes. “But, just because I’m angry doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. I want you to be safe, and I’m certainly not going to leave you all alone while you’re little.” Martyn seemed to consider that, scrubbing clumsily at his eyes. 

She reached forward and gently adjusted his headband from where it had begun to slip down into his face. “There we go, no more crying now. Would you like a hug—? Oof!” Martyn in her arms in an instant, crushing her in a death grip. He buried his nose into her shoulder and sniffled wetly. 

“Oh, gross buddy. Just getting snot all over my shirt, hm?” She chuckled, patting him gently on the back. He squirmed to be nearly cross-legged in her lap, slightly awkwardly because of the height he had on her, but she accommodated as best she could.

They stayed like that for a few minutes in silence, only broken up by the occasional sniffle. The golden string wrapped around Cleo’s finger felt pleasantly warm, the knot loose and flowing instead of suffocatingly tight, and she wondered absently if this was what the bond was supposed to feel like. Comfortable and soothing.

So soothing that she heard the rattling bones of a skeleton behind her just a second too late. 

Martyn gasped, “Cleo there’s a—!”

A sharp pain shot through her shoulder and she yelped. Martyn squeaked, and she curled defensively around him. The mobs.

She pulled out her shield and propped it behind her, and a second arrow lodged into the splitting wood with a thunk. “Martyn, can you run?” Martyn only blinked up at her, wide-eyed and open-mouthed like a fish. She grit her teeth, “Alright, up we go then!”

Ditching the shield she hoisted him up under his thighs and prepared to make a run for it. Just as the skeleton drew back another arrow, it was smashed into a pile of bones by an out-of-breath Scott.

“Run! I’ll cover you!” 

Arrows whizzed past her head and zombies turned to follow her as she ran through the woods, and she prayed to admin that none would connect while she was toting a grown man on her hip. She could hear Scott not far behind cutting down anything that got too close, and thank the Admins for Scott Smajor.

Cleo liked to think she was strong, but Martyn wasn’t exactly a featherweight. By the time they all made home and the door was shut firmly behind them she was panting and her arms felt like jelly. 

“You, alright, Martyn?” She huffed, leaning him back to get a look at his face. He nodded and gave her a shaky smile. “You’re very brave then, aren’t you?”

“The bravest.” Martyn muttered, letting his head bonk against her shoulder. She winced. Now that she had a moment to breathe, she could feel the arrowhead grinding against her shoulder blade and the trail of sticky blood running down her back. Martyn was probably a similar story. It was a wonder he hadn’t started complaining about it yet.

“Cleooooo,” Came a whine in her ear, “M’arm huuuurts.” 

There it was. She chuckled. “I’m sure it does. Let’s get patched up then, hm?”

“I’ll see what we’ve got.” Scott said, sounding rather winded as well.

Cleo set Martyn down on the bed and dropped down beside him with a groan. She could be helping Scott find first aid, but she was pretty sure she’d earned a break at this point. Scott returned from the chests with a half roll of gauze and a meagre amount of instant health in a bottle. 

“We don’t have much potion left, but I think we have enough wool for more bandages if we need.”

“Oh, we will need. Hand me those, I’ll get started on Boy-Wonder, here.” 

“Arrow first.” Scott reminded, and oh right, the arrow. “Fast or slow?”

“Fast.” She said, then reached over and grabbed Martyn’s hand. “This is gonna hurt for just a second, okay? Squeeze my hand real hard.”

Martyn nodded nervously.

Scott set one hand on her back for leverage and grabbed the arrow with the other. “Deep breath, you two. One, two… three!”

Cleo grit her teeth and Martyn whimpered as the arrow came out, squeezing her hand like he was trying to pop a balloon.

“See? Not so bad, was it?” She said tightly, but it was hard to look convincing when Martyn’s tears were welling in her eyes. “Now, bandages. C’mon, shirt up.”

After taking a moment to collect himself Martyn tried his best to wiggle out of his shirt, but of course he didn’t take his bag off first and before Cleo could even attempt to correct him he was already tangled and giving her the most pitiful look. 

“You know what? That was my mistake, let me help you with that.”

Mirroring her own, there was a small puncture wound in his right shoulder blade bleeding sluggishly down his back. His wasn’t going to be nearly as bad as hers, but the emotional damage probably made up for it.

“This’ll make it feel better, alright?” She uncorked the bottle and dumped what was left of the potion over the wound, and watched as it began to stitch itself back together. By the time the potion was done, Martyn was in need of little more than a band-aid and her back felt a lot less on-fire than it had a moment ago. With the help of a bit of slime, she secured a layer of gauze over what was left of the cut and helped Martyn wrestle his shirt back on. Was it completely hygienic? No. But it worked in a pinch.

“Now you.” Martyn said, making a grab for the gauze.

“Ah-ah, nooo thank you.” She said, “I think Scott will help with that.” Not that she didn’t trust a toddler with her medical care, but he’d probably make a mess with the slime and she’d had quite enough of bath time for one night.

He pouted. “But I’m your soulmate! I wanna help!”

“You are, but you’re also quite the tiny thing, and I like this shirt. Scott gets it, don’t you, Scott?”

“Sure do.” Scott took the slime and bandages from her and in less than thirty seconds the job was done. 

Even though the day had only just begun, Cleo was absolutely knackered. She glanced out the window at the rising sun and blinked blearily. “We should probably let Grian know to call a break, shouldn’t we?”

“Noooooo…” Martyn whined, before letting out the world’s biggest yawn.

“Yep, on it.” Scott pulled out his communicator and sent the message, and a few seconds later the break message went out.

“Alright, naptime.” Cleo said, pulling Martyn to lay down on the bed with her and halfheartedly tugging up the blanket. Being able to finally close her eyes after the night she’d had felt like heaven.

Scott smirked and took pity on her, and helped bring the blanket up the rest of the way. “You two sleep, I’ll be across the way if you need me.”

She cracked one eye open as he turned to leave. “You sleep too, don’t think I forgot I dragged you out of bed.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Goodnight, Cleo. Goodnight, Martyn.”

Martyn was already dozing off, but he still giggled and called back a quiet, “Good morning, Scott.”

The door shut and the two of them were left in a comfortable silence. Their soul bond wrapped around them, pleasantly warm and light. Cleo was just about to fall asleep when she felt a ripple of guilt.

“…Martyn? What’s going on in that head of yours, hm?” She mumbled.

“M’sorry, Cleo.”

She rolled her closed eyes and felt around for his hand, holding it loosely. “I know you are. If you really want to make it up to me, you’ll relax and have a sleep. Cleo’s tired.”

“…M’kay. Good morning.”

“Good morning, Martyn.”

[el-moscorrofio-y-el-mercachifle]

Besides my obvious annoyance with the new season because of the horrible character understanding from the writers and their ADMITTED goal to change Gaitán's ending, there are other aggravating issues with it:

1. The pacing:

This new novela knows it's in a rush, but we can tell, too. The first episode seems to attack the viewer with so many different new facts and characters and issues. It straight up starts with: Roberto's funeral, Armando and Betty separated and having been so for years now, Armando's presidency in the gutter again, lots of economic issues within the company again, Mila gone for years and her distance with Betty, a new guy that Marcela is suspiciously protective of and planning together to get revenge, Daniel being dead for going to jail from illegal business practices, etc. And all of this in the span of 1 episode. It just hits you with so much that it doesn't even give you the chance to get to know the characters. We haven't seen most of them in over twenty years, and some of them never, so we basically don't know them anymore! It's going so direclty and straight to the point that it feels more like a badly written fanfiction.

2. Lack of builup for tension

Jesus, there is very, very little tension here for the big things that matter. [SPOILER] In one episode we find out that Ecomoda is in bad shape, and just a few ones later, Armando is turning himself in. We don't see him slowly driving himself insane with his moral dilemma, we don't see him desperately trying everything to fix it, we don't even see him turning himself in! Just one episode ends with him saying he was turning himself in, and the next one starts with Armando's mugshot. That's it. No tension at all

3. Bad editing

One of the things that I loved about the old novela were their transitions. The first episodes were amazing with this: while Betty was looking at the magazine of the collection launch and giving her opinions and commentary, we were seeing the pictures of it and then we're taken to the moment the picture was taken. While Gutierrez, Armando and Roberto are talking about Betty and why Gutierrez discarded her, Roberto asks "why would a candidate so well prepared and qualified only want to be a secretary?" And then we see Betty going "because I'm tired of looking for a job!"

Those kind of transitions were incredible, I loved them so much. Now in this new series it just cuts abruptly to something totally different.

4. Inappropriate setting

They really, really tried to make everything seem so modern, and in their effort, they ended up making it so plastic and fake. The office doesn't look like an office at all, but rather a gallery or the lobby of an exotic hotel. The desks almost seem out of place. Sure, it's a fashion business, but it's just so fake looking. Most offices, even modern ones, still look like offices. This one just doesn't feel like it, and that really takes me out of the story.

Finally, and just as a little pet peeve that, objectively, idek if it should count but I'll include nonetheless because I'll forget to make a separete post about it: the robot and the hacking. It's just so cringy and cheap. Are robots like that even in the market fr? AI robots that follow you around and are in the shape of a sewing mannequin? And the whole hacking thing... ugh. As I said it's a personal pet peeve but I always find it cringy when they make these super high-tech knowing characters that can hack on everything and we see on the screen the codes and all of that. I found both of these elements so tacky and unnecessary lmao why not just hide cameras?? Nooo, let's make Daniel wannabe a finance and hacking genius lmao ((this part isn't part of the list I just wanted to vent because my hubby and I died of cringe watching one episode last night where Mila's AI Moving Robot Sewing Mannequin told her someone was hacking into the cameras and Ignacio is cyber-fighting to hide and we see a split screen of him and another of what he's seeing through the cameras and eventually he just closes the lid lmao)) ((anyway little rant over sorry))

[pixydustworld]

The room was warm, heat sticking to her naked skin. 

The girl beside her was crying, silent wracking sobs, shoulders shaking with effort to keep the sound at bay — the hum of the conversation was too loud, the lights too bright. Hermione inhaled slowly through her nose, bitter air burning her tongue. The collar around her neck was too tight for her to turn her head and that, somehow, was the worst bit. 

What if it was someone she knew? Someone she’d grown up with? Someone she had hated, perhaps. Once, but never now. 

She wouldn’t cry, not here. Not in front of eager vultures, ready to lick the salt from her skin; she would do it later. In the ever-unfolding after. After she was sold, after she was bought, after she was broken in.

After she killed the men who made the nameless girl beside her sob for a life long past, after she killed anyone who knew about what was occurring — after she slit their throat the muggle way, reveling in the mundaneness of their death. After, after, after,

 After she was done, then she would cry.

*

When Harry died, it felt as if a part of Hermione had died, too. A phantom limb, the feeling of something missing, burrowing all the way to her bones. When his lifeless body tumbled from Hagrid’s arms, she felt it like a blow to her chest, knocking her backward, and splitting her in two. 

He’d killed Voldemort. And himself. It made sense, in its own bitter way — in the end, she wasn’t sure if there had been much of a distinction between the two of them.

Then, in the chaos of death, Hermione had run.

After that, everything had disintegrated, crumbling like grand castles of sand, slipping beneath her feet. She had been captured after two and a half years on the run, long enough to begin to believe she could survive, short enough to know she never would. They had cornered her on a cliff’s edge — the churning sea to her back, an unavoidable future to her front.

Without hesitating, she had turned to jump — to be free in death, that would be enough. To belong, unabashedly, to her own choices. 

But, she had never been lucky. Always clever and bright, but never lucky. A Death Eater had caught her in their arms before she’d slipped away into the mist of the sea, arms tightly banded across her ribcage. 

“Not yet.” They had hissed. 

*

“Do you remember your name?”

The girl tensed beside her and then relaxed at the sound of Hermione’s voice, sobs dissipating, floating away like bubbles in the soft evening air of her childhood. “Daphne.” She whispered. “Greengrass. Tori was in your year, I think.”

“Is Tori here?” It felt foreign in Hermione’s mouth, calling Astoria Greengrass of all people a childhood nickname, but it was somehow grounding, too. To be reminded of all the little things that made someone whole. To know that one day (after, after, after) Hermione would be whole, too. 

“No.” Daphne’s voice trembled. “She fought back after the first round of these —” She hesitated, searching for the right word. “Auctions, I suppose we’d call it. Said it was barbaric and cruel. Managed to kill three or four Death Eaters before they got her.”

Astoria Greengrass had always been quiet, standing in the shadows of her more vocal friends — clear memories of her smile flittered across Hermione’s thoughts. Of how her nose had crinkled when she’d laughed, how she managed to wish everyone in their year happy birthday, despite their house.

In fact, the last they had spoken had been on Hermione’s seventeenth birthday.

“We’ll make them pay.”

Daphne was silent for a long time, the noise in the room ebbing and flowing around them. “Yes.” She said finally, “We will.”

*

In the cloudy moments of clarity, Hermione watched from her cell as the world crumbled around her. Unraveling, like a massive trap; a lazy predator, intent on devouring their prey with ease. Sold to the highest bidder for the prize of her virginity. If she’d had enough energy, Hermione might have even laughed — if anyone climbed between her thighs, she would rip out their throat. 

 She still had her teeth, after all. 

An aching routine of Dreamless sleep potions and blurry thoughts, sticky and stretched out, as if her mind was taffy. 

Then one night, he came for her. 

“Do you want to live?”

Hermione blinked until his face came into view.

“I think I’m already dead.” She said, brows furrowed. “Or dreaming.”

“Hermione.” He said a bit more firmly. “Answer me.”

Hermione frowned. “I did.” She whined. 

Draco Malofy was crouched before her, fingers white around the rungs of her cell. He looked concerned. Angry, even, which meant she was definitely dreaming. “I’ve got some Wideye.” He said softly, speaking to her as if she were a cornered animal. “I’m going to give it to you through the bars, alright? Don’t bite me.”

Hermione snapped her teeth at him anyway, biting his thumb. He sighed, as if he’d known it would happen, but let her nip at his flesh until she was content she’d left behind marks. 

“Always so scared of me.” She said, taking the cork off the vial with her teeth, spitting it somewhere on the floor. “Even when we were little. Do you remember? The first day of potions? I brushed your hand and you almost cried. Said I was stealing your magic with my dirty muggle blood.”

Malfoy grimaced. “Drink the vial, please. I can apologize for all that later. But I need you awake now, we have more important things to discuss.”

“Only because you’re pretty.” Hermione told the dream version of Malfoy, fondness that didn’t belong dripping across her tone. “And bright, I think. Like looking at the sun.”

“That’s very nice.” He said. The hand that she had bitten flexed and then reached out through the bars, touching a stray curl. “Drink up, now. Alright? For me?”

After, when she was awake and he was still there, Hermione scrambled away from him, all trembling limbs and furrowed brows. 

They stared at one another, their breath the only sound echoing through the darkness — she didn’t know what to say. Thank you? Why are you here? Come closer so I can kill you?

She settled with: “I know it was you on the cliff.” Hermione hissed, spit and hatred and all the anger she’d ever felt, pouring gracefully into her words. “I’ll never forgive you for that.” 

Someone would’ve caught her in the end, she knew this. An illusion of choice, snatched from her aching hands; it was a bitter thing, knowing it had been him.

“Is this you thanking me for saving your life?” Malfoy tilted his head to the side. “You’re not very good at saying thank you.”

He didn’t deny it, didn’t scramble to invent a reason for his choices — instead he simply looked at her, eyes unwavering. Unafraid of her, it seemed. All the other guards taunted her, nasty and cruel, but they never lingered. Never crouched to her level, never spoke to her, never called to her by name.

“You think you saved my life?” She laughed, feeling a bit unhinged. Feeling like a piece of glass that he’d glued back together, sharp and uneven edges, not the same as she’d once been. Different, now destined to only draw blood. “Leave.”

“No.” Malfoy was still crouching at her level, so calm and even. Had he always been that way? Beneath all the schoolyard taunts and ill-conceived prejudice? “I asked you something, Granger. Do you want to live?” He hesitated, eyes flickering across her bruised skin, the gash in her side, the determined look in her eyes. He knew she’d bite him, and he’d come anyway.

No wonder she had been the top of their class, Draco Malfoy was an idiot. 

“Do you want to make everyone here suffer?” He asked in a low voice. “Make them die slow and painful deaths? I want that. I think you do, too.”

Hermione knew what was coming. In three days she would be dragged out by her collar, forced to kneel naked before a crowd. What she didn't know was why he was in the cellar with her, dirtying his expensive pants, talking to her. “Why do you even care?”

His facade flickered, but only for a moment. She blinked, and he was back to normal, no trace of anger across his face. “Maybe I’ve decided to no longer be a coward.”

Hermione scoffed loudly. “Not good enough.”

Malfoy’s eyes narrowed slightly, looking annoyed. Good. “I want to save you.” He said tightly. “So that you can save everyone else. It’s what you do, right? Free the downtrodden?”

“You are part of the downtrodden?”

“No.” Careless in his admission of wealth and security. “But someone  — ” He flinched, turning away. “Someone I care about is suffering because of my cowardice. I want to be better. Maybe I can. I probably won’t, but I’d like to try. I’ll buy you and set you free. We can get the other girls' wands. Kill everyone involved.” 

Hermione glared at him. Words were pretty, but often empty. Whispering to her in the darkness — that wouldn’t be enough. A lifetime of misfortune had taught Hermione to never ask for more, but here, at this moment in the cellar, in the darkness, at the beginning of the end, Hermione opened her mouth. 

 “Swear it.” She bit out. “Use an Unbreakable Vow. Swear that you’ll free all of us. That you’ll help me until the very end.”

“Alright.” Malfoy responded without hesitation. “Whatever you want.” He turned back to face her, eyes glittering in the darkness. “I’ll ask you again. Do you want to live?”

“Yes.” She was still spitting, still ready to kill him. But truthful, too. Never lucky, but always clever and bright. If he wanted to free her to soothe the ache in his unredeemable soul, she would let him. “I do.”

Malfoy grinned. Soft and slow, like the sunrise, like the beginning of something wonderful and terrible. “Good.” He said. “That, I can work with.” 

And then: “Give me your hand.”

*

A voice was talking, loud and brash, echoing through the room. Hermione felt more eyes on her body, more and more people drinking in her naked flesh — other girls were brought in, kneeling beside her. Through the corner of her eye, she saw familiar faces. Ones she knew, classmates from her year, from her house, even.

This would never work. Panic was beginning to spread across her skin, flames of worry consuming her completely. She should have fought harder on the cliff’s edge, she should have tried to escape again and again, she should have bitten more people — 

Gloved fingers brushed across her skin, tilting her chin upwards. 

Knees trembling beneath her, sore from kneeling for hours — her collar shifted under his touch, allowing her to see him.

He looked different. Not like the man from before, the one in the cell who had promised her freedom. Face lit up only by the glow of an Unbreakable Vow. In his place was the mask. A creature who wore his face for comfort; almost unrecognizable, cold and distant.

“Hello, pet.” He said. His thumb smoothed circles along her jaw, a light trace of leather on her skin. Somehow grounding her, all at once. Trembling breaths crashed through her chest, heaving and unrelenting, finally remembering how to breathe. “Don’t you look pretty.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. His eyes were warm on her skin, hotter than the room; he pushed his thumb slowly into her mouth, the taste of his leather gloves heavy on her tongue.

“Careful, Draco.” A voice from her left said. The one from before, loud and brash. The man in charge. She’d kill him last, elongated suffering and such. “This one bites.”

Malfoy didn’t look away from her face. “Oh, I know.”

*

“I’ll have to.” He inhaled, looking away. “Use you. In front of everyone.”

Hermione thought of the inevitability of it all. A series of choices had led her here, to the cellar, talking about publicly losing her virginity to Draco Malfoy. She could dwell on the missteps for the rest of her life, the moments where she chose wrong, pushing herself off the original path.

But Hermione was pragmatic, even now. She knew, with unmistakable clarity, that she would survive this; that one day, she would return to her beloved original path. That sooner rather than later, she would fix all of this — and it would be because of him, too. Because he was willing to risk his life for her own.

 She glanced up, finding his eyes firmly on her face. He never looked below, not even glancing at her shoulders — they’d taken her clothing in preparation for the evening, and he seemed determined not to notice. 

“Better you than someone else.” She said at last.

His face was miserable, so often he seemed to carefully conceal how he was feeling — but not now. “I’m sorry.” He said. “For all of it.” 

Hermione tilted her head to the side, curls brushing her skin. Shivering in the darkness, watching her only companion, someone she had hated, perhaps. Once, but never now. “I actually think you mean that.” She said softly. “How frightening for you.”

*

The evening was unfolding slowly, yawning to life. Malfoy stood by her side, thoughtfully petting her hair as he spoke to others, fingers tangling through the curls. Despite herself, Hermione felt herself begin to sag, leaning softly against Malfoy’s leg’s. He didn't even blink, simply adjusted to support her weight.

“— You have breed them well.” A Death Eater she vaguely recognized was saying, “Keep them busy and full. I’m sure you’ll have a hard time with this one, but they all soften after a while.”

“I’ll try my best.” Was Malfoy’s flat reply.

Hermione was fighting the urge to roll her eyes when she felt Daphne stiffen beside her. From the way Malfoy was still absentmindedly holding her chin, she could see the room better, see who was standing next to her. 

Theodore Nott was staring down at Daphne, frozen in horror. Hermione had given them detention once for kissing behind a tapestry after curfew. They had run back to the dungeons, hand in hand — the sound of their giggles echoing off the walls; the sweetness of youth, love ever fading. Perhaps it wasn’t all gone.

Despite the terribleness of the current outcome of her life, the swirling dread that permanently held residence in her chest, Hermione felt a moment of relief. Daphne would be alright. She knew nothing about Theodore, about the type of man he was — but she recognized the look in his eyes, understood loyalty, felt it thrumming through her veins, even now.

He wouldn’t leave Daphne behind to the wolves. 

The hand in her hair tightened, twisting gently. “Theo.” Malfoy’s voice was soft, a memory of lifetimes ago, whispering to his friends while Hermione glared at them from across the classroom. “Find something you like?”

Theo didn’t look away from Daphne, still staring down at her face. “Yes.” He said finally, voice rough, trembling around the words. Poorly concealed rage breaking through his throat, dripping across his tone. “I think I have.”

*

“I’d rather you do it now.” Hermione said suddenly. “Here.”

“Here?” Malfoy was blinking down at her in the darkness. 

“You’re going to have to fuck me at some point.” Hermione frowned. This had been his plan, had he even considered the outcome? “And I’d rather it be here.” She had thought of how it might happen — how someone might lay her down on a soft bed, trail their hands lovingly up her sides; someone like him, even. Hermione winced at her teenage crush, blinking it away, banishing it from her mind. This was not the time for thoughts like that — this was real, this was happening. 

Sort of happening. There was still a cell between them and Malfoy was still looking at her like she’d grown two heads. 

“Here?” He said again. Sounding a bit like a broken childrens toy, determined to repeat the same word over and over and over. “Hermione — ”

She blinked away the sound of her name on his lips. “You said whatever I wanted. This is what I want.” Hermione tilted her chin up, determined to win. Like she always had been, unafraid of the road ahead: “And you’re going to give it to me. You promised.”

He nodded soundlessly, agreeing without much of a fight. How much had he changed in the years of her absence? How immune she was, Hermione thought, of the idea of new growth. She watched as he Apparated into her cell, standing before her, looking down at her with a tortured expression.

“Just think about her.” Hermione found herself saying. “The one you want to protect. That’ll make this easier.” She let out a shaky exhale, allowing herself tiny niceties. “I’ll think of someone else, too.”

A lie, but he didn't need to know that.

“You won’t bite me?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Hermione said. “I’d never promise that.”

*

The Auction was a blur of twinkling lights and laughter. A party, Hermione realized, anger pooling in her belly, spreading across her limbs until it replaced the surface of her skin. 

Celebrating the end of the war, celebrating the sale of her.

She hadn’t even bothered to worry about someone else buying her — hadn’t worried about the consequences of the Unbreakable Vow if Malfoy failed. Through glazed eyes, she watched as bodies swirled across the floor, watched as they reveled in their conquest — she watched as Malfoy bought her, voice firm, unyielding. The first sale of the night, the beginning of the entertainment.

Hermione ignored the voices that cooed celebrations, ignored the sharp fingers that tugged her towards Malfoy’s chair, depositing her at his feet. Kneeling, waiting for him to speak — the room had finally grown quiet, blissful in the aching moments before her life would begin again.

Malfoy was watching her through hooded eyes. Slowly, he tapped his lap, soft leather, no emotion. “Come here, pet.”

Hermione blinked up at him, limbs moving at her own accord. Pushing herself up, collar shifting loudly in the silence, golden decorations spiraling across her limbs, pretty and docile, all for him. 

Malfoy’s eyes betrayed the emotion beneath, glistening in the warm light. Watching in her awe, she felt. Watching her as she inhaled softly, breath catching in her throat. To survive, was to change, Hermione reminded herself. Persistent, like a weed twisting through the crack in the pavement, growing beyond expectations. 

He tugged on the chain of her collar, bringing her to straddle his lap, controlling her movement, a puppet on string. “Come closer,” he said, voice too soft for the world around them. “I bought you, didn't I?”

“Right.” Hermione hissed. “Apologies, My Lord.”

*

“Can I touch you?”

Hermione nodded. Her eyes were fixed firmly on the ceiling, unblinking. She could barely see him in the darkness, a shadowy shape of sharp limbs, moving above her. Suddenly, Hermione wished she could see Malfoy, if only to know it was him. A blistering reminder, a terrifying twist of fate, leading her towards a destination she’d always wanted. A blurry future, patchwork quilt of memories — the way he would stare at her in class when he thought she wasn’t looking, the sound of his laugh, how annoyingly clever he was, the way his fingers had felt brushing along her skin in Umbridge’s office —

 And of course, there had been the sweater incident in their sixth year.

“Go ahead,” she had told Harry, bright smiles, willing to give them without care, too young to ration her joy. “I’ll meet you in The Great Hall. Save some pudding for me!” She had known where to find it, hanging on the back of her chair, in its faithful place — but it hadn't been there. Instead, Malfoy had been standing alone in the room, her sweater pressed to his nose. The moment had been strange and soft, a bit like she was intruding. His eyes had lifted when she entered and they had both stood across from one another, quiet in cautious confusion. She had waited for him to toss it aside, to scoff at the belligerent way she had banged the classroom door open. Instead, he had continued to inhale, eyes closing briefly. “Give that back.” Hermione said after a moment, beginning to sense that her sweater was in danger of transferring ownership. “I’ve only got three good sweaters and that’s my best one.” “This is your best one?” His voice had been muffled by the fabric. “You should invest in some cashmere.” “Thanks.” Hermione had said flatly. “I’ll be sure to do just that.” Bravery was built in, wasn't it? She had squared her shoulders, reaching across the space, tugging softly at the sleeve, fingers brushing along his arm. “Come on.” Hermione had said.  “Give me a minute.” He had said. Normal malice lacking, stripped away, only the raw emotion left beneath. “Just one more minute, yeah?” The following week, everything had changed. Dumbledore had died, the war had begun, and, most importantly, before Malfoy had fled, he had stolen her sweater from her dorm.

 Then, as if summoned by her own desperate thoughts, he was hovering above her face. “I need to hear you say it.”

“Oh.” Hermione said. She swallowed the urge to tell him to get it over with, to insist he power through whatever gentleman-ly urges remained in his chest and to just fuck her already. “Sure, alright. Yes. Touch away.”

Cool hands smoothed up her sides, trailing across the surface of her skin. She shivered, involuntary and wanting. He grimaced at the movement, seeing it as something else; fear, perhaps. Trembling limbs at what was to come.

But she wasn’t afraid, never had been. Not of the dark, not of the unknown, and not of this, either.

Brave, like she had been during the war. Brave, like she had been in the classroom, tugging her sweater from his trembling hands. Brave like now, too. Refusing defeat, determined to survive, to kill and to be reborn. 

She could be brave. 

“I used to dream of you.” An admission, given freely. Floating through the air, settling across his skin, sinking beneath the surface. “Of this.” Hermione grimaced. “Well, not this, specifically. There was never a cell involved.” She let out a sigh, her breath fluttering the hair that hung before his eyes.

He had stopped moving, fingers frozen at their place on her skin, spanning her ribcage. “Yeah?” Malfoy asked. Hopeful, a light in the darkness, eyes flickering to meet her own. “I thought of you, too.”

“I know.” Hermione said simply. “You took my sweater.”

“It smelled like you.” His fingers began to move again, trailing down her flesh, tracing patterns across the tops of her thighs. “I still have it. Under a Stasis charm.”

“Does it still smell like me?” Hermione asked, watching as his fingers slipped between her thighs, tracing through her folds, circling along her clit. She squirmed under his touch, frowning when he stilled her thighs with a firm squeeze.

“Yeah.” He said, still looking at her. Memorizing her face, perhaps. Drinking in this version of her, determined to remember every emotion. “It does.”

“It’s you.” Malfoy said suddenly, her bravery contagious, spreading like a fire. “The one I want to protect. I know you don’t need me to protect you — that you don’t want me to protect you — that you’ll bite anyone who gets too close with your sharp little teeth, but.” He hesitated. “I can’t stop the want, Hermione.”

Hermione was quiet, her buzzing thoughts too loud to speak. Insisting to be heard, overflowing like a river swollen with rain; his touch was soft, sliding through the wetness of her cunt, still looking at her with aching conviction. “I want, too.” Hermione said after a long moment.

Malfoy nodded, blinking quickly. “Okay.” He said. “I — yes, alright.” He smiled, unguarded. Beautiful, unbelonging in the darkness of their world. The sight twisted Hermione’s heart in chest. Despite it all, everything, Hermione smiled, too. Fingers slipped through his hair, soft strands, twisting along her flesh.

“I’ll need to stretch you a bit.” Malfoy was saying, sliding down her body. 

“Right.” Hermione nodded, unhurried in her movements. Soft beneath him. Like they had all the time in the world. “Okay.”

His hot breath on her center was the only warning Hermione received before he was licking her, tongue twisting its way inside her cunt, thumb lazily rubbing her clit. She reached without thought, pressing his face closer to her center — he grunted his approval, tightening his hold around her tummy, the vibration of his appreciation skittering up her spine, muddling her mind. 

Then, Malfoy  closed his lips around her clit and sucked, his sloppy noises filling the room. Wetness was dripping from her, sliding across his face, her trembling thighs — heaving breaths were caught in Hermione’s throat, a babbling voice in her head splintering like glitter across her eyes, trapped inside.

He pressed her to his face, fingers digging into her flesh; each time she withered away from his tongue, his lips, even his teeth, his grip tightened, an arm pressed against the flesh of her stomach. When the pleasure became too much, Hermione twisted almost fully out of gasp but he tugged her back, biting her inner thigh.

“That is my job.” She meant to scold him, but it sounded a bit like a mix between a whimper and a moan.

“Don’t worry, baby.” Malfoy said thickly against her clit, “You can bite me later.”

Finally, finally, finally, she felt one his fingers slip across her folds, sliding through the wetness there. A mixture of the two of them, his spit dripping slowly between her thighs. “Alright.” He said, still lazily sucking at her clit. “Here’s two. You can take that, yeah?” He grinned, and she felt it against her skin. “Yeah, you can.”

Hermione nodded, blurry acceptance, willing to sink away into nothing. To take what was given, to live forever trapped in this moment of hazy pleasure. She could take it.

 Malfoy’s fingers were so much thicker than her own, entering her with a bluntness she wasn’t accustomed to, twisting her open. Fucking her slowly, with no clear intention of quickening his pace. 

“More.” She heard herself demand, voice foreign to her own ears. A version of herself she was unfamiliar with — “Give me more.”

“No please?” He laughed softly when she tugged his hair harder than before, twisting at the roots, tugging. “Okay, baby.” Malfoy said, slowly twisting a third finger in, stretching her open. 

He devoured her until she came with a wail, on an exhale, head tossed back. Hermione twisted and twisted and twisted away, but his hold was firm. “Can’t run from me now.” He bit her again, peppering her skin with bruises, with memories of him.

“I could.” Hermione managed to gasp. “I could run and you’d have to chase me again.” She smiled at the thought.

“I’m going to fuck you now.” He said thickly, mouth still wet. “Alright?”

“Yeah.” Hermione breathed. “Alright.”

Pain, but not unbearable. Nothing like torture, but like something else; a stretch of something strange and new, her body trembling around him. Desperate to become as it had once been, but that was the point of growing, wasn't it? Changing? A broken mirror, fractures stretching like spider webs across her skin, but beautiful, too. Like cracks across a frozen pond in the beginning of spring; thawing, coming back to life.

“I’ve got you.” Malfoy murmured along her ear, rocking shallow thrusts inside her. Inching inside, carving a home. She could feel him inside, warm and heavy. 

She felt when he slid all the way in, heat beginning to bloom across her skin, flushed and overwhelming, like the beginning of the summer, like standing too close to a flame; like his body above her.

“I know you do.” Hermione gasped.

*

A twist of discomfort as she sank down on him, a deep ache — less painful than before, but still enough to make her wince at the stretch. The room was blurry, faces mixing together, eyes open wide, drinking her full.

“It’s alright.” Malfoy’s voice was soft against her ear. His arms were a tight band around her chest, just like how he’d held her in Umbridge’s office, just like at the edge of the cliff. “I got you.”

He lifted her, movements unhurried, pulling her back down on himself.

Her naked skin rubbed across the roughness of his clothing, his leather gloves were wet — with her, she realized — and the chains from her collar clinked together as he rocked slowly into her.

 Thumb tracing her clit messily, wet circles. He didn't seem to care that everyone was watching, didn’t notice their wandering eyes — only focused on her. On his prize.

Pleasure built steadily inside her until she was twitching, a whimper caught in her throat. His thumb still moved agonizing circles, his cock hitting deep inside her, an explosion of 

Unthinking, she leaned forward and bit his neck, silencing the sounds, eyes closed tight.

“Go on, baby. Use me.” Malfoy whispered against her neck. His cock was still thick inside her, pleasure spiraling across her skin. She blinked back to awareness at the firm fingers on her jaw, tugging her to meet his eyes. 

He pressed a wand into her hand.

*

[dontyouworrydaddy]

I should let you go

Leon Kennedy x fem! Reader

summary: Leon was sure you were dead. He held you till you took your lost breath. So why are you alive now? Why can’t you remember him?

warning: violence, angst, mention of death, blood

“This has to be a sick joke” Leon whispers as soon as he sees you. He doesn’t get it. How can you be alive when you clearly died in his arms years ago?

“Please don’t leave me” Leon desperately says as he clutches you to his chest, refusing to let you go. But you lost way too much blood. You shouldn’t have been so stubborn and accepted help but you wanted to prove yourself. You wanted to show him that you didn’t need anyone to look after you. But this clearly went wrong and now you’re dying. You lost way too much blood and you don’t even know where your left side is. All you can focus on is Leon. You want him to be the last person that gets to hold you and you want him to be the last person to talk to you. But with your last energy you push him away from you since the building is gonna explode soon. He looks at you shocked. “I love you Leon. But please run and live before it’s too late” you tell him and see him standing up. He is clearly hesitating and before he runs off. He kisses you and tells you that he loves you. And then he starts running. You cry now and you’re making yourself ready to face death. But before death can even get you, you feel someone picking you up. And those hands are unfamiliar….

You‘re now standing in front if him, looking very much alive. But there is something about you that makes you look so unalive. Like you’re not really living.

“Y/N. My dear-” before he can finish his sentence, you run and attack him and he is defending himself. He is completely confused. Are you mad at him for leaving?

“She doesn’t know who you are. Well… Maybe she does but she can’t control her body.” The enemy appears from behind you and you quickly get back again, standing next to him. You clearly don’t look human.

“I bought her back to live. And let’s say it wasn’t very… how can I put it in words… pleasant? A few years of torture and isolation. She was very lonely in a room with no windows just her bed and herself for 5 years. That must‘ve been very very shitty.” the enemy laughs and you just stand next to him, not reacting.

“I know you’re somewhere in there. Please snap out of it” Leon yells at you but he doesn’t get any attention from you. You didn’t even blink. You did nothing.

“Well Y/N, I allow you to welcome your friend. Go and kill him and be back home afterwards” he says before he leaves you to kill Leon.

Leon won‘t do anything to hurt you. He will let you hurt him if he doesn’t react close enough. He doesn’t want to harm you.

You’re still the woman he loves. The woman he had his first everything with. The woman he wanted to marry and have a child with. He never wanted to be a father but when he met you… he changed his mind.

As you kept attacking him he tried to talk to you and tell you that you still can control yourself.

“Baby please. Remember the first time we kissed. You were nervous and kept hiding your face with your hair because your face was red” it doesn’t seem to work. Nothing seems to work.

As you push his weapon away, you put a gun to his head.

You don’t talk.

“I love you Y/N. I never stopped loving you. And everyday I keep remembering how I left you there and it was eating me alive. I wanted to die because I couldn’t live without you anymore. I love you so much it was hurting my whole body. I couldn’t eat for days because I kept thinking about you. I constantly threw up because the image of you lying in your own pool of blood would keep popping up in my head. And you know what? I never threw anything from you away. Your clothes? Still sitting next to mind. Your purple Calendar with stars? It’s still on the wall. Your post it that says I love you? Still on my mirror. Even your stuffed bear. I was sleeping with that bear because it smelled just like you. And I didn’t throw away the shirt that was covered in your blood because it was the only thing that kept me going for revenge. So if you shoot me, I‘d die happily knowing it was you but I‘d still be feeling guilty because you’re being help hostage and being used” he confesses and feels ready for you to shoot him. He closes his eyes and waits for the feeling of pain but it never comes.

As he opens his eyes he sees that you’re struggling and your hand is shaking. Your gun falls from your hand and many tears are leaving you eyes.

He sees you struggle and comes to hug you. You hand is still in the position where your gun was a few moments before. He knows you’re trying to fight your way back. You try to control your body again.

You feel the enemy coming again and take all the courage and energy you saved to turn you and him over. Soon there is a gunshot echoing through the huge hallway and Leon jumps. He looks behind you and sees him. He doesn’t waste a second. He takes out his gun and shoots him multiple times.

He has a smile on his face because gets to have you again and continue with his dreams but as he looks down at you, you collapse against his chest. He immediately catches you and now the smile washed from his face.

You’ve been shot. Now you’re leaving him again.

You can’t do that. No you can’t do that to him. Not when he got you again. Not when you’re with him again.

“Please. No” he is whispering now. His heart shatters and it feels like someone is stabbing him. Literally.

“I‘m so happy you came” you tell him. All your life you‘ve been held hostage someone in your body. You knew what you were doing. And it was breaking your heart knowing you took innocent souls. But you were never able to control yourself. Not until now. You tried way too hard. Tried to get out and gain control again. But it never happened.

“I love you Leon. I‘ll wait for you” you tell him with your last energy before you close your eyes. Again you’re leaving him. But this time he‘s not leaving you behind.

He holds you and kisses your cold forehead as he carried you out of this hellhole.

“I love you more” he whispers as he takes you somewhere quite with a beautiful view to bury you. And he doesn’t leave your side. Not now. Not ever.

He disappeared from the world and just lays next to you before he buries you.

You left him again. Twice.

[blueraineshadows]

Heya! 💖

So first of all...I FUCKING LOVE YOUR STUFF!

God, you're a godsend and I really love all your writing. It's all so well written and I can't get enough of it!

So, I dunno if you take any requests, but after hearing this audio (and I think you know exactly what I mean 😏), I can't help but wonder if you'd write a short little FF of Leander and Sebastian getting really drunk or something and they hate-fuck each other, but it's a one time thing and they swear to never talk about it. 🥵

This has been stuck in my head for quite a while and I would love to read it in your style! 💖💖💖

Thank you 💖

Sorry it took a while to get round to it, and I hope this is alright. 🍆🔥🫠 Ao3 link

Sebastian Sallow x Leander Prewett NSFW 🔞

My Secret Desire - Part One

As the last of the customers in the Three Broomsticks began to filter out of the pub, Leander put down his empty mug and yawned, rubbing his face with his hand. His eyes felt blurry, and the alcohol thrummed through his veins. He wasn't usually in the habit of drinking alone, but Garreth was on a date, and Leander was hoping that the dorm would be empty when he got back, Garreth making his moves elsewhere. It was just a reminder of his own failed love life.

It was a long walk back to the castle, and he figured he might sober up on the way rather than take the Floo. As he turned from the bar and made his way to the doors, he almost walked right into someone else and came to a sudden stop, his eyes clashing with a familiar pair of scowling brown eyes. Leander's mouth twisted sourly. "Sallow," he muttered.

He was not in the mood to pick a fight with Sebastian tonight, and made to pass by him, but Sebastian grabbed at his arm, his face leering in close, the stench of whiskey on his breath as he spoke.

"Got a problem, Prewett?" He slurred.

Leander frowned, glancing down at the hand clutching his sleeve and shrugged himself free of Sebastian's grip, an odd shiver going up his back as he did so. "You're drunk, Sallow," he said. He shook his head at him. "You should head back before you get into trouble."

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. "Didn't know you cared," he mumbled. He pushed his hand through his hair, swaying a little on his feet.

Leander watched Sebastian for a moment, his head clear enough to ponder over his fellow classmate. Sebastian hadn't been the same since his twin had left school, and then he had got caught up with the new 5th year student. While the facts weren't widely known, Leander was sure they had gotten themselves into some kind of trouble. Sebastian had been bitter and mean ever since then, but grief did strange things to people, and it was well known that Sebastian's guardian had died.

With the end of 7th year fast approaching, Leander doubted he would see Sebastian again once they parted ways to begin their new lives. Why should he even care? Though, it would be odd not bickering with him in the halls or winding him up in classes. While Sebastian had become a rival of sorts, it would be odd not to see him skulking about. Dare he admit that he would miss their banter.

Leander sighed and got a hold on Sebastian's elbow. "Come on, you can walk back with me."

Sebastian grunted and yanked his arm free of Leander's grip, his cheeks flushing red as he glared at him. "Don't fucking touch me," he hissed. "I don't need your help!"

"Fine," Leander bit out. Frustration tightened his face as he stared at Sebastian, and then he shook his head again. The bloke was like an irritating itch that you couldn't reach. "Suit yourself."

The chilly night air bit into Leander's face as he walked down the cobbled street towards the main path back to Hogwarts. The sky was clear and full of stars, and Leander pulled his collar up a little, a puff of white leaving his lips as he sighed. Some people just didn't or couldn't accept help.

The path was mostly deserted, but Leander still kept a wary eye as he walked, the moonlight glittering on the lake water, the breeze ruffling through the bare trees. Spring was a long time showing its face, and he was looking forward to warmer days.

The soft sound of gravel shifting on the path behind Leander made him tilt his head. He kept moving, and he didn't look back, but his ears pricked up to listen out for more. Perhaps he should have Apparated, or used the Floo, but he was no coward, and he kept a steady pace as he walked.

The old ruin came up on his right, the broken edges of the brick appearing pale as the moonlight reflected off the dilapidated structure. The sound of feet came again from behind him, and this time Leander turned, his fingers gripping the handle of his wand. His eyes scanned the path, but there was no sign of anyone, the walkway empty, the only shadows were those of the trees as they shifted in the breeze.

As Leander turned back, movement to his right caught his eye, a shimmer of a spell hiding a figure in the grass at the edge of the path. With a quick flick of his wand, he cast to his right, hitting the glamour with a quick stun. A grunt sounded, the glamour disappeared, and a figure dressed in black fell into the grass. Leander stood for a moment, puzzled and unsure. He could have sworn... No, why would he?

Leander grit his teeth and stalked through the grass to look closer at the figure sprawled out on the ground, his wand aimed. A sigh left his lips when he saw the mop of brown hair and disgruntled face as Sebastian struggled to sit up.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Leander frowned. "Were you following me?"

"Don't flatter yourself, Prewett," Sebastian groused. He shifted to his knees and planted a boot to leverage himself up. A chuckle slipped from his lips. "Did I scare you?"

Leander rolled his eyes. "Idiot," he muttered. Again, he didn't have the inclination to deal with this crap, and he turned away.

He yelped in surprise as Sebastian grabbed his arm, pulling him roughly back around. "Don't turn your back on me," Sebastian snarled.

Leander shoved him, making him stumble, but Sebastian whipped out his wand, throwing a quick cast. The drink made him sloppy, however, and Leander blocked it with ease. They began to cast at each other, throwing spells through the chilly darkness, moving in a constant circle as they dodged and parried.

Leander was growing tired of this bullshit and was beginning to regret his slight sympathy for Sallow earlier. He threw a spell out and caught Sebastian with it, just wanting this to be over so he could return to the castle in peace. Sebastian stumbled and hit an old barrel that was lying in the grass near the old ruin. He swore as he hit the ground, rolling over with a groan.

Leander stood there, debating going over against just leaving the prick to lie there, a drunken fool. He screwed his nose up, his upbringing winning out as he sighed and marched over to help Sebastian to his feet. He held out his hand, and Sebastian stilled, staring at it.

A war of expressions washed over Sebastian's face as he stared at Leander's hand. Leander felt warmth creep up his neck, the moonlight making Sebastian's freckled face pale, his full lips parted slightly as he breathed quickly. Then, Sebastian lifted his gaze to Leander's face, his eyes glittering in the dark. He reached up and took hold of Leander's hand, a smirk twisting those full lips.

Leander swallowed, the contact felt charged, different, and he almost yanked his hand away. This was too much eye contact. It made him feel strange, hot, as though his clothes were too tight all of a sudden. Sebastian adjusted his grip, fingertips grazing slightly against Leander's wrist, and Leander actually gasped.

Sebastian's eyes widened, only slightly, but enough for Leander to notice, and his cheeks grew very warm, very quickly.

A sharp tug was all it took. Sebastian pulled at Leander's hand, and he stumbled forward, the momentum making him fall to the ground. He collided with Sebastian, both of them grunting at the impact as their legs entangled. Sebastian was as quick as a snake, grabbing hold of Leander and throwing him back into the grass, pinning him down.

"What...?" Leander gasped. But his words were cut off into a strangled, muffled groan as Sebastian's mouth pressed down viciously onto his lips.

Shocked, Leander made to shove back, his hands slapping into Sebastian's chest, but the bloke was surprisingly strong. Their mouths ripped apart as they struggled, Sebastian using his knee to pin Leander down even harder.

"Don't fight it," Sebastian growled through gritted teeth.

Something like terror shot through Leander as his skin ignited into fizzing sparks, Sebastian was writhing against him, trying to pin his arms down, and Leander was growing dizzy with shock. Not at what Sebastian was doing, but at how his body was reacting. Leander lifted his head, his eyes wide and staring as he looked down to where Sebastian's hips were mashed against his, grinding against him.

Leander groaned, the fight going out of him as his cock began to twitch and swell. "Fuck," he hissed.

Sebastian met his eyes, the intensity of that stare making Leander forget he had lungs for a moment. And then Sebastian was kissing him again, hard kisses that made Leander open his mouth and take the thrust of a hot tongue, the taste of Firewhiskey and Sebastian heady and thick.

As Sebastian moved his lips over his jaw and down to his neck, Leander sucked in a much needed breath and then moaned as Sebastian bit him, teeth grazing his flesh with a sting that made his balls ache and his cock throb.

What the fuck were they doing? Leander went still, laying in the grass as Sebastian kissed and sucked at his neck, his hips grinding against his cock. His mind screamed at him to push Sebastian off, this was crazy, it was fucked up, they hated each other. Right?

He sucked in another harsh breath as Sebastian pulled at his belt, the buckle clinking in the darkness, the buttons popping open. Leander groaned, his hips flexing as Sebastian shoved his hand deep inside his pants, fingers curling over his erection in strokes that had Leander almost choking with lust.

"Seb...Sebastian..." The words were mumbled, almost incoherent as heat pulsed between his thighs at Sebastian's firm pumps.

"That's it," Sebastian said darkly. "You want it. You want me to touch you."

Leander fisted the front of Sebastian's jumper, forcing him a little closer so he could look at him. "Why?" It was meant to be a demand, but it was a strangled plea, his throat working hard as Sebastian tormented him with clever strokes.

Sebastian smirked and chuckled, rolling his bottom lip between his teeth as he pumped his fist faster. Leander stared and groaned, his head falling back, but his eyes still locked on Sebastian. Why was this so fucking hot?

Leander gave up trying to question it, his mind spinning out as lust took over. He relaxed back into the grass, soft moans leaving him as Sebastian shifted downwards, pulling Leander's trousers with him so that the chilly night air hit his hot flesh. Leander shivered and then cried out as he felt soft, full lips take his head in a gentle suck.

Leander had to look, he had to see this, leaning up on his elbows as Sebastian took his cock deeper into his mouth, that messy mop of hair just begging to be pulled as Sebastian fucked him with his mouth. A vibration shuddered through him as Sebastian moaned, his fingers cupping Leander's balls as he spread his tongue along the shaft, swirling over the tip to gather up the seeping pre cum.

Sebastian sucked his fingers and then began to stroke Leander's hole, teasing it gently, and Leander flexed his hips, eyes closing in bliss at the way he touched him.

"Oh fuck," Leander said. He grabbed Sebastian's hair and pulled, and Sebastian almost growled, sucking him even deeper and harder. The intrusion of a finger, slow and teasing, was tipping Leander over the edge, but he didn't want it to stop. Leander's thighs trembled, his breathless moans sounding filthy to his own ears as his hips bucked, thrusting himself deeper into Sebastian's throat.

"I'm going to cum," he whimpered. Sebastian grabbed his arse cheek and squeezed, taking him deep into his throat, and Leander felt the clench, his cock throbbing in the restricted cavern of Sebastian's throat as thick pulses of cum shot blissfully from his tip, his hole clenching around Sebastian's finger.

Leander was panting, jerking with over sensitivity as Sebastian's tongue lapped at his cock. He collapsed against the ground staring up at the starlit sky. He didn't know what to expect next, but it was not having his thighs spread wider. He looked down and gasped as Sebastian bent forward, a harsh sound coming from his throat before he spat messily against Leander's arse.

Leander had never seen anything so filthy in all his life. Cum dribbled from Sebastian's lips as he worked his mouth to spit again, spraying all the release he had caught onto Leander's hole. Sebastian was already sliding his fingers through it, his smirk positively wicked. Leander was speechless, his thoughts crashing into each other as he fantasised about licking the slick from Sebastian's chin.

"You ever been fucked before, Prewett?"

Leander shook his head. "N..no..."

Sebastian chuckled. "Don't worry, mate. I'll be gentle."

Leander hissed air through his teeth as Sebastian slid a finger deep into his hole, the squelch of his own cum and Sebastian's spit making his cheeks flood with crimson. He panted, still twitching from his orgasm as Sebastian worked at him, slipping another finger in.

"You're tight, Prewett," Sebastian said. His gaze was intense, almost feral as he glared at Leander. "I can't wait to get balls deep in there. Roll over for me like a good bitch."

Leander gulped and nodded, shifting to roll over on the grass, and Sebastian pulled his hips up. Leander felt rather exposed, arse up in the air, the cold air feeling strange against his intimate parts. But as Sebastian began to thrust with his fingers again, Leander forgot about the cold, concentrating only on the feel of Sebastian, the burn, and the tingle of each delicious invasion. His cheeks burned at the degradation, it shouldn't feel this good to let Sallow call him a bitch, but it made his cock begin to twitch again, his breath come in pants.

Sebastian shifted, and Leander heard the rustle of clothing, anticipation made his tongue thick in his mouth as he felt the silken hardness of Sebastian brush against his inner thigh. He trembled as he felt the press of a thick head against his hole. A stinging slap to his arse cheek made him squeal, the sound of it loud in the night.

Sebastian edged his way into Leander's arse, a deep groan coming from his mouth that sent shivers down Leander's spine. Leander gaped at the slow, torturous push of Sebastian's cock, stretching him out. His fingers gripped at the blades of grass, his nails digging into the dirt as Sebastian pulled back and then pushed deeper.

"Fucking hell," Leander groaned. He felt his muscles contract around that thick length, and Sebastian's fingers pinched viciously at his hips.

"Such a good bitch," Sebastian muttered. He began to thrust, lazy, teasing thrusts, and Leander closed his eyes, moaning and rocking his hips at the utter bliss of it.

It didn't stay that way for long. Sebastian began to grunt and pant, his hands gripping tightly as he began to fuck harder, his skin slapping against Leander's arse, the noise erotic and loud in the open space.

Leander's eyes rolled, filthy moans leaving his own lips as his cock hardened painfully. He reached down and grasped it, wanking himself in time to Sebastian's violent pounding. His knees scraped the dirt, his mind was spinning, but he was begging, the words pouring from his lips to be fucked harder.

A quick glance back showed Sebastian's face gleaming with sweat in the moonlight, his hair damp at the edges, and in disarray. He was like an animal, his mouth open and harsh sounds coming from his throat, a gleam of saliva dripping from his lower lip. Leander squeezed his own cock and groaned, hips bucking up to meet angry thrusts as he spurted a second load out onto the grass.

As his muscles clenched and contracted, Sebastian threw his head back, a feral sound leaving his mouth as he slammed in deep, grinding himself into Leander's arse cheeks as he found his own release.

Leander shuddered at the pulse of it deep inside of him, leaning forward to press his flushed face against the coolness of the grass, the musky scent of sex mingling with the smell of dirt.

Sebastian slid from him, the heat of him disappearing to be replaced with a chill against his soaked hole. Leander rolled over, panting, stunned, hot juices squelching out onto his inner thigh.

Sebastian was sucking in his breaths, staring at Leander, a satisfied grin on his face. He clambered to his feet, fixing his clothing and pushing his hand through his hair. "You took that well, Prewett. I'm almost impressed."

"Almost," Leander muttered. He began to straighten his own clothes. His legs shook as he stood, and he grit his teeth, not wanting to stumble in front of Sebastian. His arse felt strange, violated, but also tingled with something else. Something he never expected to associate with the irritating Slytherin before him. Pleasure.

Sebastian moved close and Leander tensed. Sebastian grabbed his jaw, having to look up at Leander due to their height difference, but the look on Sebastian's face was pure dominance.

"Open your mouth and say one word about this to anyone, and I will kill you," he said bluntly. There was no humour in that look, just pure command.

"Why the fuck would I tell anyone?" Leander frowned.

Sebastian patted his cheek. "Good boy," he purred.

Leander tried to suppress the way that soft praise made his insides twist pleasantly. He nodded and turned away, fixing his hair a little as he thought about making his move to leave. This could get awkward real fast.

Sebastian chuckled in the dark behind him as he began to walk. Leander didn't look back.

"See you tomorrow, Prewett," Sebastian taunted.

Leander shivered. He wasn't sure if he was meant to be terrified or turned on. The way he was blushing told him it was both.

Part 2

[imperaptorfuriosa]

RUTH'S CHAINSHIPPING FIC REC LIST ⛓️

as requested by @kidwars :)

im still fairly new here so im certain there is some great stuff i havent read yet (my reading list is STACKED) but these are some of my faves so far!!!!! i also went thro and tagged any authors who had their tumblr in their ao3 profile so i could say hi i love your work, but if anyone wants a tag removed (or added) just lmk

rematch by unstuckintime. time-loops are one of my all time favorite styles of fix-it so this fic is literally EVERYTHING!!

sleeping with ghosts by @adrianicsea . my other favorite type of au is a GHOST AU and this one is fantastic!! written by a beloved mutual, i read all 250k of it in like 3 days flat. it's addicting AND not even done yet. BONUS POINTS for trans adam!!!

heaven knows im miserable now by bleakmidwinter. lawrence asks adam to help with his PT/recovery at a remote cabin. adam's artistic side is given some focus. it's so damn good just read it.

to hold you again by TheFamousFireLadyM. IM OBSESSED WITH THIS FIC. i think about it OFTEN. it's all about lawrence's grief/guilt/obsession with adam. short and excellent. (not a fix-it)

Stop Bath by fakebodies ( @2x4swrites ) . adam finds that lawrence has been taking photos of him when he wasnt paying attention. it's so sweet, so good, i love it.

Can You Feel My Heart? by @vixenfur . i love that they are literally both like "wow gay sex feels so good, and that's weird because i'm definitely straight!" LMAO

Family Tree by @general-sleepy. ive read a whole bunch of adam as a step-dad fics and this one is one of my faves....i am a simple man and a perpetual sucker for family/domestic aus and im not apologizing for that.

i'd tell you everything; if you'd pick up that telephone by @whatifwekissedinthesawbathroom . lovely dialogue-only fic. i love the ones where adam and lawrence move in together first, THEN figure out that they are also in love and this fic is one that stands out in my brain from that genre.

you're the one (using me as a muse) by 10pintsofsacrifice ( @angeltrapz ). this one deals with the pressure of the media/press on adam, and ends with the sweetest fluff. it's so good <3

and 2 bonus coffinshipping recs too >:)

Strahm Dies at the End by unstuckintime. this fic singlehandedly converted me to hoffstrahm-ism. HILARIOUS opening. it's very dark but tbh? that's the way this dynamic works for me.

rushed like a dreadful wind by bleakmidwinter. still dark, but does have a happy ending. i know i just said i like my hoffstrahms to be evil and toxic but this fic really hit the spot. what can i say? i love when the 2 guys are chained together LMAO

[demoiselettes]

Hello sabitos wife 🥺

Im taking the opportunity for you saying I could request a Nemi :)

Possibly if you are willing to do it, I’d want some apologetic Nemi. Maybe the situation is that Sanemi became quite distant from the reader (female reader) due to him getting upset over the reader getting heavily injured from a battle.

He kinda freaks out at her for getting injured and calls her weak and she just crys so he leaves and he doesn’t talk to her for a bit.

If the end could be fluff that would be great :) sanemi becomes a lil lonely boy and he apologies and becomes a little soft bean to her 🥺 takes care of her and stuff :3

Thank you once again for being my Nemi supplier. Your a great writer and person. I wish you the best in life 💗

Midday

Pairing: Sanemi x reader

Category: angst to fluff

Warning(s)/note(s): fem! Reader, nemi can’t control that mouth of his

+Hiiiii tysm for the kind words, i hope you enjoy! 💕

Maybe in a small part of your mind, you’d been hoping Sanemi would coddle you, for a lack of better word, upon seeing the blood soaking through the bandages on your forehead. He’d been alerted of your little run-in with that lower moon which had, you admit shamefully, gotten the better of you and leaving you with nasty lacerations. Sanemi had been on a mission of his own, but your crow had come back squawking that he was on the way back to Kocho’s estate.

Your expectations were were drowned out by the slamming of the shoji door when he strode into the room. He was covered in blood, and he looked a disheveled mess but his expression stayed hostile even when he bent down to your height. For three heartbeats, he said nothing, taking in your state, the bloodied bandages on your arms, legs and the square shaped cloth patched to your right cheek.

“What were you thinking, taking on a lower moon?”

You were unable to hide your frown at that. “I was on a mission, all the back-up teams had been destroyed-“

“And you could have been fucking destroyed too. Do you realize that?” You didn’t like his tone; too slow, he sounded like he was trying to make you understand something far too simple, showing a toddler how to walk.

“I know, Sanemi, but i had to help. In our line of work-“

“Our line of work doesn’t suit you, [Name]. You should quit.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but nothing came out. You were far too incredulous at the turn this reunion was taking. You were hurting, both physically and emotionally and needed kind words, maybe soothing silences. You didn’t need your lover rebuking you for trying to save lives. Particularly when he saw no problem with slicing his arm open to lure in demons with his blood. It occurred to you in a small part of your mind, that his being inconsiderate was probably just his concern for you, and he was only having trouble wording it out. But you were egged by his implication.

“Let me get a word in edgeways.” You uttered through gritted teeth. He clicked his tongue and cast his gaze to the ground. “You can’t tell me to quit. I’ll quit when i want to. So i got some cuts, i’m a fucking demon slayer, Shinazugawa. How many of us have died fighting? It comes with the job.” You hadn’t meant to use his last name, and his head shot up when you pronounced it but you were too angry, shocked and betrayed to think straight. The pain that emanated from your wounds helped you not.

« Those who die are weak. The ones that don’t last long are the ones that don’t got much fight in them, that passed Final Selection out of goddamn luck and you’re one of them! And you’re not gonna last long! You think you’re strong enough to take on a Lower Moon after what, killing a couple scrawny demons? And who saved you? Fucking Tomioka. » he was breathing hard now, and his fist came down on the bed beside you, bouncing off the soft mattress. You were trained not to be bothered by such inconveniences, but silence befell the room and you watched Sanemi catch his breath, yourself swallowing thickly, adjusting the pain in your throat while you forced yourself not to cry.

Neither of you spoke for the longest time, and even the outside of the room seemed quiet. There was no longer the faint buzz of voices from the nurses, the patients. Had they heard your outburst? When Sanemi got up, it was only to turn and leave without so much as a word of apology to you, a sign of remorse.

Your life, which had never been a smooth current of water, became all the more difficult. Sanemi avoided you for the longest time, taking on more missions, training for longer periods of time. When he’d call it a day, he’d stay out of the room you both slept it, away from you, locked up in his dojo. Night was the hardest time, when there was only silence with neither of you facing each other.

You truly had no idea what this degeneration was coming from, surely he wouldn’t stop talking to you.. only because he thought you were weak? You’d told yourself to give him since you knew he had quite the anger issue, but it’s been too long.

The sky was dull and grey when you’d approached Sanemi, who was chugging water from a bamboo bottle. He’d discarded his uniform top and sweat beads were visible on his face, arms. His sword rested at his side on the engawa. He heard your sandals crunching the dirt path, and his eyes flickered towards you and stayed fix on you as you approach.

“I’m quitting,” you said in one big breath.

He frowned. “You’re quitting what?”

“The Corps. You’re right, i’m weak. If i quit, will you- will you stop being mad at me?” You voice cracked just a little and heat flared up in your cheeks. Arms slack, you gripped the sides of your kimono. For the longest time he stared at you with incredulity, his hand occasionally squeezing the bamboo.

“Hey- wait. You took this decision ‘cause you think i’m mad at you?”

“Aren’t you?” You shot back.

He seemed to hesitate, standing up. “No. Not mad. I could- i could never be. » he took a step towards you and placed a heavy hand on your head. He looked conflicted. « I’m not mad at you. »

You stared at him. « Then why have you been ignoring me? What’s with all the avoiding me bullshit? »

« Thought you might need some time after.. what happened the other day. I blew up. »

You snorted. « Yeah, but don’t you think it would’ve been better to talk to me? »

His eyes darted towards a nearby tree, which suddenly seemed a great deal interesting to him. « I didn’t know how to approach you. »

You laughed for the first time in days and the sensation was something like a wilting plant being given water. Caught in your mirth, you risked a glance at Sanemi to find him staring at you with incredulity, but his lips were twitching at the corners and he looked like he was stifling a laugh himself.

“You’re an idiot,” you breathed out.

His ears reddened. “Shut up. I didn’t fucking know what to start with- i’m sorry for being shitty?”

“That would’ve been nice.”

He pulled you into his embrace wordlessly, his chin resting on your head. “I’m sorry for being shitty.” He muttered. “And you don’t have to quit the Corps just ‘cause of me, you got your own life and decisions. I shouldn’t have interfered.”

“Yeah,” you let your hands rest on his chest, mindlessly tracing a scar. “Thanks for being concerned.”

His hold on you tightened by just a hint. “Don’t die on me.” His voice was still gruff, but there was something so weak with that sentence, like he was pleading you. Pleading you not to leave him, after he’s lost people he loved one too many times.

[trialsofapollofanartcollection]

All The Various Ways Artists Have Drawn Apollo's Promise, Jason's Death, And Its Aftermath

The top panel depicts the scene in the Burning Maze where Jason asks Apollo to “remember what it’s like to be human”, juxtaposed with the scene below it, Jason being stabbed. from @albapetitcon

The scenes from The Burning Maze where Lester stabs himself with the arrow and Jason dies. from @flareon-illustrations

The scene from The Burning Maze where Jason tells Lester, “Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, when you get back to Mount Olympus, when you’re a god again… Remember. Remember what it’s like to be human.” And Lester hesitating, looking down, and replying, “I promise.” from @freeme169875

Six panels of Jason and his loved ones celebrating his life, with Reyna, Frank, and Hazel in the first panel, Piper and Leo in the second, Percy and Annabeth in the third, Thalia in the fourth, Nico in the fifth, Lester in the sixth, and Jason crying happy tears by himself in the last panel. from @furanse

This is the scene from the Burning Maze right before Jason dies. Jason faces the camera, his clothes bloody, the background dark and stormy, while Caligula, riding Incitatus, looms in the background, spear at the ready. from @ianthedebonair

The scene from The Burning Maze where Jason’s speared through the back. The words “Remember, Apollo. Remember.” are in the background. from @inkyrainstorms

Meta comic about a Jason Grace fan who’s talking with her friend about the newest Trials of Apollo book, The Burning Maze, and hopes he’ll show up soon. Then eighteen months later she finally reads the books and cries. from @jamtamtamz

The scene from The Burning Maze where Jason tells Lester about his attempt to intervene with his punishment. from @literallyjusttoa

Three rows of Lester are shown. The one at the top is wearing a Led Zeppelin shirt and a laurel wreath, with Daphne on one side and Hyacinthus on the other. The middle row features Apollo in a CHB shirt with Meg on one side and Commodus on the other. The final row shows Apollo in chains with scars from being flayed, and him chanting “remember remember remember”. Jason is on one side and Crest on the other, both of them with their backs turned. from @moodyseal

The scene from The Burning Maze where Jason shouts “Go! Remember!” and Caligula spears him. from @ophii

A page of comic panels showing the scene from The Burning Maze where Leo comes back and finds out that Jason’s dead, with his joyous scenes of his return interspersed with shots of the tragedy that occurred, and then Leo slowly realizing that something is very wrong. from @samiliart

This is a scene from The Burning Maze, showing Jason bleeding out on the ground. from @sarahinara

A fix-it comic for The Burning Maze, with Jason, Piper, and Leo crying as they all reunite. from @solbabydraws

The scene in The Burning Maze where Jason dies, the words “oh shit. You’re really joking at a time like this. Well well look who’s inside again,” in the background. from @sylver93

Several panels showing characters from the Burning Maze with the lyrics of “This is Gospel” behind them, featuring Lester, then Jason with his eyes closed, then Lester crying looking at the sky, and then a bunch of dust next to a ukulele. from @theoddowldoodle

Two scenes from the Burning Maze, the top one showing Crest dying while clutching the ukulele, the bottom one showing Jason dying from being speared in the back. from @theoddowldoodle

Jason opening his eyes in Elysium and being greeted by Luke Castellan. from @theoddowldoodle

The top panel shows the scene from The Burning Maze where Jason asks Lester to promise him one thing, the second panel shows Jason, dead, with coins over his eyes, the third panel is lester looking scarred and scared, the fourth is Lester struggling against chains while being flayed, and the final panel shows Lester and Meg with their backs to the camera. “Promise me one thing. Whatever happens, remember what it’s like to be human,” is recounted through the panels. from @theoddowldoodle

Jason upside-down, falling, with lightning curled around him, depicting the idea of his death in the Burning Maze. from @whysosearius

[planetpiastri]

💝+ a kiss on the cheek that turns into a kiss on the lips from the a hundred different kisses with bob?🤍

im a big dumby and have had this sitting half-written in my drafts for like a week!! anyways i think this is so sweet and so cute and i hope u enjoy<3 | [wc - 0.8k]

The night air was cold, but you hardly noticed. Bob was warm, and as you hooked your arm through his and intertwined your fingers, heat flared through you, fighting off the chill of the evening.

While tonight might have only been your third date, it felt like you’d been together for ages now. Things had progressed naturally and gradually with Bob, and in the six months since you’d met him, you’d never stopped getting butterflies when he so much as brushed his hand against yours. You could hardly believe he seemed to feel the same for you that you felt for him.

There was just one problem: he hadn’t kissed you yet.

You didn’t mind taking things slow with Bob. In fact, you thought it was pretty sweet. On your first date he had told you earnestly, “I want it to be special,” and you trusted him. With other guys you might have worried that there was some other reason they were holding back, but with Bob you didn’t have to worry about those silly insecurities. It was nice, and it was refreshing.

But you also really, really wanted to kiss him.

Actually, strike that—you really, really, really wanted him to kiss you. 

All these thoughts and more raced through your mind as you left the mini golf course and began to cross the parking lot back to Bob’s car, and you were still lost in thought as he pulled out and merged onto the highway back towards home.

He turned on the radio and reached over, lacing your fingers together, and you smiled. It pulled you back into the present moment, and you were alarmed by how much you liked this man. But then his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and you were right back to that same train of thought as before.

When he pulled up outside your apartment, he turned the radio down and said, “I know you have an early morning tomorrow. I had a lot of fun tonight, though.”

“Hm,” you said, distracted.

He squeezed your hand, his smile nervous and curious. “You okay? You’ve seemed a world away since you beat me at mini golf.”

What were you doing? You were in a car with a beautiful boy who cared deeply about you—so deeply about you that he wanted you to have the perfect rom-com moment you’d dreamed of since you were a little kid. And here you were, moping about it.

You squeezed his hand back and smiled reassuringly. “Sorry. Just thinking about tomorrow. I’m sorry I have to go so early, but I’d love to see you this weekend.”

His eyes crinkled when he smiled. You loved that about him. “I’d really like that.”

“Okay. Okay, bye, Bob.” You squeezed his hand again—god, you wanted to kiss him so bad—before opening your passenger door and getting out. You paused there on the sidewalk for a moment.

Oh, what the hell?

You dashed around the hood of Bob’s car, stopping at his driver’s side door and gesturing for him to roll the window down. When he did, you said, “Sorry. I just—I had a lot of fun tonight. I wanted to say thank you.”

“Oh. You’re welcome.”

And his tongue darted out to wet his lips again.

If he was going to do it, now was the moment. You met his eyes, feeling drawn deeply into them. His fingers fidgeted on the steering wheel. Goosebumps prickled your legs.

And he didn’t kiss you.

With a sigh, you reached out to gently cup his cheek. You orchestrated every moment, hoping and praying that you weren’t about to find out that he actually was holding back for those other reasons. But his cheek was warm, and he leaned into your touch as you tipped through the window and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek.

The words ‘Bye, Bob’ died on your lips as his hand came up to cup your jaw, and as you began to pull away again, he turned his head and captured your mouth with his.

It was fireworks; it was a roller coaster; it was the beach at sunset; it was a run through an airport; it was the special moment you had both been waiting for. It was quite possibly the best kiss ever recorded in history.

He pulled away with a soft gasp and breathed, “I couldn’t wait any more.”

In reply, you wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and kissed him again. He made a soft, happy sound in the back of his throat, drawing a smile onto your face even as your mouth moved against his.

You pulled away, pressing another quick kiss to his cheek before withdrawing from the window, glad to see your own unshakable smile mirrored on his face. Now, finally, you said, “Bye, Bob.”

“Good night,” he whispered.

You forced yourself not to look over your shoulder as you walked up to your apartment, turned the key in the lock, and slipped inside. Your heart pounded in your chest as you pressed your back against the closed front door, letting your eyes fall shut blissfully.

Okay, so maybe three dates was the perfect amount of time to wait for a first kiss.

[dakotac0le]

Should I start listening to jrwi?/gen if so where should I start ?

OH YOOO !!!! I mean yes absoutlyllly jrwi r the silliests ever absoulslty. i started watching and now my brain hurts forever an di have been cursed. Join me dear mutual . Where to start uHHH perosnally id recomend blood in the bayou (bitb) cause rhats the shortest campaign (4 eps) and easily digestable. thr first ep is up on thier yourube and the rest is paywalled by patreon for 5 bucks a month but . Theres always other options . Wink wink nudge nudge to be noted abt bitb tho : Deffo got a lot of horror gore fuckery and drug usage jsut ^^ heads up and whatnot

annother one that exists is the sucking and i have no feelings abt it whatsoever. Or about aurthur bennet resident loser or about shilo residnt loser or about emizel resisdnt badass losser. I love them all so bad and the npcs r . Iconic. So iconic. This is the vampire campaign !!!!! Its peak sillysims ( and also quite a lot of horror esque elements here its the vampire campaign so also blood and gore and whatnot ykyk) The first 5 eps r up on yt for free and the rest r on patreon and theres no other way to watch it at all whatsoverr

BUT !!! If u dont vibe w wiether of those or horror is not ur speed theres a v swag campaign currently running (3 eps in and next ep come sout this sayurday !!) called Wonderlust highly recomend theres a gay frat boy , weird autistic rat and Blink (loser) (affectionite) . Its up on youthbe on thier chanel for free and its very funky fresh UHHHH theres also riptide !! The big one . tbh i havent ever watched it all the way thro cause theres sm eps and its veyr intimidating bUT i hear great things and ep 114 is sick as fuck to watch even w out the larger campign (same w ep 52 and 53) basiscally weird found family pirates love whatver theyve got going on AND that campaign is compeltly free up on thier yoruube

and the one u have probaly seen rbed the most by me is apothieosis aka weird gods lore . religion . canon gay sex . miserable robots. Like . Neon evangelion but WORSE !! (Patreon exclusive but not nessaraly :3) this is proably my favorite campaign its jsut. Brain altered .

AND THE OTHER one that i am normal abt and doesnt . Kill u . Dead. is prime defenders !!! Akaa !!! The one im veye nromal abt !!!!! normalll !!!!! This ones . Ahhhhhh uh hard to get into potentially erm . Theyre quite cringe but take my hand dearest mutual thecringe is apart of it they r cringe loser teenage superheros trying thier best. It also goes from cringe lighthearted cartoon physics to AH FUCK verrry fast and suddenly everything is . Bad. IF u like superheros or discussions on morality of kilkign people or father figures or being . Very . Very sad. I cant recomend enough !!!!!!! I mean i dont and dont watch this this one hurts physically and mentally and spirtually and bibblically and. GRRRR (this ones also technically patreon exclusive)

If u enjoy absousllty any of this i do recomend joining patreon if u have the ablity cause theres a loot of sick stuff up there including a mini campaign called tmk im v obbsesed w . And unforutnalty idk how to pirate thta uhhHh the world of tmk is slowly worming its way up to being one my faves tho and the story is great so !! Yk !!!