#-me want to cry almost as much as nine dying.

[many-gay-magpies]

[lov4gor3]

A Dragon is Born

TW- childbirth, talks of death,and the stranger himself💀

RHAENYRA POV

“ ARGGH YOU CUNT “, she hears herself scream hoarsely, a sound that was came from deep within, so far yet so close. Her body burned with pain and agony, terror visible in her face as she breathes through her nose and exhales through her mouth. She swallows, terror now replaced with determination “ I will not end up like my mother “ she swallows the lump in her throat so thick as if she is choking on a rock.

Rhaenyra was incredibly nervous and terrified of giving birth, of dying like her late mother, those memories still ached into her memory forever ingrained into her mind. she wishes her mother was here to soother her, to guide her through the pain. But she is gone, of ashes and dust and she will never meet any of her grandchildren and that pains the princess deeply.

she continues to push and breathe, every breath like flames in her lungs, just like she was told and the pain…. oh the pain …… agonizing. The child bed is our battle field, her mother had one said. How Wise Queen Aemma was….. and how brutal she died.

Rhaenyra so deep in her thoughts didn’t feel the pressure between her legs,gone… empty, she opens her purple eyes, shrill screams of another…. a babe…. her babe… her firstborn.

There is still pain lingering in her body, but without a babe clawing there way out, the pain almost immediately subsided and she was grateful for it. She cries when she sees her babe, oh how beautiful her darling girl was, her babe being wrapped in a cloth and placed in her arms.

oh this feeling… this is what her mother always tried to tell her and there was nothing like it….. oh a mothers love for it is beautifully haunting. She looks down at her little one, her girl, her heir. There is a small tuft of white hair on her head and her skin is dark but a bit lighter than laenor but certainly darker than hers. This makes rhaenrya want to cry and scream with relief and accomplishment, a heir of house Velaryon and House Targaryen.

So enchanted by her babe she barely registered the midwives calling the guards to call for her husband and father. her cries have quieted down the long she feels her mothers warmth causes Rhaenyra to coo at her.

You will understand how much I love you when you have your own children, her late mother once said to her. In her younger years she scoffed at her mother claiming them to be foolish terms for she thought she would never have children, but now she understands the words of her late mother. It only took one look at her daughter to realize what she would do whatever it cost to make sure her babe was safe, unharmed, happy.

“ You little one have caused me a great deal of pain, but how can I scold you for when I’m so in love with you my darling girl. My little dragon i see it, you were born for this world to conquer it like our ancestors, to lead men into armies, to make them kneel and obey. my sweet girl you will show this world that women can be anything they put there mind to. “

Rhaenyra brings the babe to her chest cherishing this moment, peaceful and quiet, looking at the babe she carried in her belly for nine moons, so beautiful…

When she looked up she realized the sky was clear and the sun shone directly on her babe, creating an ethereal look... something inhuman... something dark....

"The Dragon has been born and they shall foresee a great prophecy in which the Prince that was promised shall fight in the war of death and darkness. For they shall bring the light-bringer and the Prince that was promised together to foresee and defeat death. For they are the most important piece in the game." whispered the stranger, looking down at the babe in the arms of her ethereal mother.

to be continued......

[girly-interrupted]

when he says i love you but sid vicious said:

“every day without nancy gets worse and worse. I just hope that when I die I go the same place as her. Otherwise I will never find peace. Frank said in the paper that Nancy was born in pain and lived in pain all her life. When I first met her, and for about six months after that, I spent practically the whole time in tears. Her pain was just too much to bear. Because, you see, I felt Nancy’s pain as though it were my own, worse even. But she said that I must be strong for her or otherwise she would have to leave me. So I became strong for her, and she began to stop having asthma attacks and seemed to be going through a lot less pain. I realized that she had never known love and was desperately searching for someone to love her. It was the only thing she really needed. I gave her the love that she needed so badly and it comforts me to know that I made her very happy during the time we were together, where she had only known unhappiness before. Oh Debbie, I love her with such passion. Every day is agony without her. I know now that it is possible to die from a broken heart. Because when you love someone as much as we love each other, they become fundamental to your existence. So I will die soon, even if I don’t kill myself. I guess you could say that I’m pining for her. I could live without food or water longer than I’m going to survive with out Nancy. Thank you so much for understanding us, Debbie. It means so much to me, and I know it meant alot to Nancy. She really loves you, and so do I. How did she know when she was going to die? I always prayed that she was wrong, but deep inside I knew she was right. Nancy was a very special person, too beautiful for this world. I feel so privileged to have loved her, and been loved by her. Oh Debbie, it was such a beautiful love. I can’t go on without it. When we first met, we knew we were made for each other, and fell in love with each other immediately. We were totally inseparable and were never apart. We had certain telepathic abilities, too. I remember about nine months after we met, I left Nancy for awhile. After a couple of weeks of being apart, I had a strange feeling that Nancy was dying. I went straight to the place she was staying and when I saw her, I knew it was true. I took her home with me and nursed her back to health, but I knew that if I hadn’t bothered she would have died. Nancy was just a poor baby, desperate for love. It made me so happy to give her love, and believe me, no man ever loved a woman with such burning passion as I love Nancy. I never even looked at others. No one was as beautiful as my Nancy. Enclosed is a poem I wrote for her. It kind of sums up how much I love her. If possible, I would love to see you before I die. You are the only one who understood. […] all I can say is that they never loved anyone as passionately as I love Nancy. I always felt unworthy to be loved by someone so beautiful as her. Everything we did was beautiful. At the climax of our lovemaking, I just used to break down and cry. It was so beautiful it was almost unbearable. It makes me mad when people say “you must have really loved her.” So they think I don’t still love her? At least when I die, we will be together.I feel like a lost child, so alone. The nights are the worst. I used to hold Nancy close to me all night so that she wouldn’t have nightmares and I just can’t sleep without my beautiful baby in my arms. So warm and gentle and vulnerable. No one should expect me to live without her. She was a part of me.

Nancy, you were my little baby girl and I shared all your fears. such joy to hold you in my arms and kiss away your tears. But now you’re gone there’s only pain and nothing I can do. and I don’t want to live this life if I can’t live for you. to my beautiful baby girl our love will never die.”

[thetorturedbuckydepartment]

chapter nine: truth, dare, spin bottles

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER EIGHT: TWENTY STITCHES IN A HOSPITAL ROOM

warnings: language, self-deprecation, negative thought and talk, fatshaming (past experience, not Bucky), alcohol consumption, mentions of injuries inflicted in ch8

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter  @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: YAY this was an amazing chapter to write -- the last scene in this chapter was what I had in mind when I named this series! I love every single one of u who have reblogged, liked, commented. it means so much to me. also, the instance of fatshaming mentioned in this chapter is almost verbatim a very real experience that happened to me, so pls don't be horrible about it, its literal trauma I carry with me. anyways--enjoy! next chapter is the fluff filled, sexual tension at its peak, chapter that'll be the most coveted and awaited!

“Bucky!” You exclaim as quietly as you can, trying to not disturb Nat who’s just gotten some well earned sleep. The rest of the infirmary is empty, and you’re glad that means nobody is around to witness your incoming breakdown. The waterworks start again, flowing down your face in relief. He’s not dead, he’s not in a coma. He’s your Bucky and he’s safe and alive. 

“Hey doll, come on now. No need to cry, is there?” It kills him to watch you sob, and he raises a hand to brush those tears away, but winces. Something is restricting him, and then he looks down and remembers. The blood, the bullets, the metallic taste still coating his mouth.

“Yes there is! You almost died on me.” 

“How could I die when I have such a sweet woman trying her best to give me a praise kink?” He smiles then, and even though he looks tired as shit, you can tell he’s on the mend. The poison was potent but its effects were definitely reversible. 

You laugh at that, taking his vibranium hand that’s closest to you and pressing a kiss to it. “Well I had to stop you dying somehow. If I can turn you on, maybe you could focus on your raging boner instead of wanting to sleep, right?” You laugh again, wiping your tears as his hand cups your face, stroking your cheek in pure adoration.

“Did—Did I really have a boner, doll?”

“I’m not sure, love. I was a bit more focused on the gallons of blood you were losing.” His gaze travels down your form, and you know he’s checking for any injuries as you stroke the inside of his wrist in reassurance.

“I’m alright Buck.” Then he sees your hand, and the taste in his mouth sours as he remembers it’s origins.

“Your hand…I did that. I did that to you.” He retracts his hand, pulling himself away from you and into his most familiar mindset, where he’s convinced he’s a monster and a murderer. You have to pull him out again, you need him next to you.

“Bucky.” You keep your voice firm. “Bucky, no. You didn’t do this to me. It was necessary, the situation called for it. And I’m completely okay. I got it looked at, and it’s not that bad.”

“How many stitches?”

“Buck—.”

“How many stitches?” You can see him shake, horrified at what he’s done. But he hasn’t done anything wrong.

“Six.” His eyes water, and you try to wipe them away.

“No, don’t touch me. Doll, I hurt you, I’m a monster, please don’t touch me.” You know he’s not, you want to bring him back. Back to the Bucky you know, and love. Your heart aches at his words, knowing he’s depriving the both of you some much needed comfort.

“No, you’re not. Bucky, look at me. I love you. You’re my best friend. You were in pain, you needed to be stitched up, and based on the level of poisons in your system, you couldn’t have dealt with that level of pain, especially because of the antidote already kicking your ass. We didn’t have any towels or clean cloth for you, which is my fault, I should’ve checked it before we left. You’re not a monster, Buck. You never have been. You never will be, not to me. You’re not a monster.” His eyes soften and when you reach to dry his tears, he doesn’t stop you. All he needed was reassurance from you, and his resolve quickly crumbles.

You’re gentle, well aware of his vulnerability. You decide to change the topic, speaking in a much more hopeful voice.

“Once you’re better, me and Nat made plans for all of us to go out for drinks and celebrate, because we got what we needed. You did good, love. You just saved the entire nation from God knows what H— that organisation had up their sleeve. You’re a hero. Well, you always have been. But you’re a damn hero, Bucky, and I’m so damn proud of you.” He begins to sob and shake, and you hold his hand. “Would you like to go out with us?” He nods, and you smile.

“Come here, doll. You need to get some rest, you’ve been so busy tending to me, and crying.” He shuffles over with a smile, making room for you in his cot. And you can’t deny it, can’t deny the heavy exhaustion taking over your body at even the mention of sleep past his lips. “You’re my safe place, you know that? I couldn’t sleep a wink without knowing you were okay. I think this is why they don’t let us treat our loved ones back where I’m from. Because the sight of you broke me so bad I almost couldn’t do anything.” You curl into his side, eyes closing as one hand rests on his chest, the other tucked around your own middle. You head rests comfortably against where metal meets flesh, and you absentmindedly press a kiss to one of his scars there. His hand brushes across the bandages, and it feels like if you were to unwrap them, your hand would be good as new. This is what his golden touch does to you, and you’re sick of denying it. Maybe when you go out for drinks in a couple of days, you’ll make your move. Or at least, express your interest.

“You’re my safe place too. I hope you know that. And that there’s nobody else I would’ve let touch me anyway, especially if you weren’t there to oversee it.” His scent grounds you, and you missed being able to feel the vibrations of his chest when he speaks. You miss him like you’ve not seen him in years. 

You let out a breath, and let yourself fall into sleep, murmuring “I do.”

He holds you tighter, and follows suit.

                                            ————————

You wonder if this is a bad idea. When Nat was dismissed and Wanda had come back from a weekend trip with Vision, you had organised to go out for drinks. 

And you’ve decided that you’re going to try flirting tonight. With Bucky, and hope he’ll pick up what you’re putting down and either politely turn you away (likely) or finally make the move. And not a quick peck on the lips before he almost dies, a proper, sweeping off of your feet, romcom worthy kiss.

When you’d first arrived in New York, you’d decided to put your beaten, broken heart in a cage, and throw the key into the closest filthy river. And yet, Bucky has bended the metal bars with impressive strength and reached for it. He’s patched it up piece by painstaking piece, and made it good as new. You were content in your self-made captivity, the cage was once just fine, until it wasn’t. Until the winter sprung forth with freedom hues, and your heart was just out of one jail into another. 

But at least the warden is a sweetheart, keeping your heart healthy and well-kept. Your bars are his ribs, and at least you can see the daylight from in here. 

You’ve decided to up your going-out outfit to the next level. A black dress covered in deep red roses, just the shade Bucky likes, that shows off a good amount of your cleavage and emphasises the curves of your body in a way you don’t mind. You pair it with a leather jacket, and heavy, dark makeup. It’s a little experimental, but not out of your comfort zone. You used to wear eyeliner and dark lipstick all the time, on almost-dates and never-fun nights out. 

You’d stopped going all together, preferring to stay indoors, in your house, where no man can passively show you just how much prettier he finds your friends, or how much they’d prefer if you just lost a little weight. 

Safe to say, you haven’t experienced nights out in New York. And you can’t even get drunk at the moment, seeing as your hand is yet to heal. You’re just lucky it’s your non-dominant hand, so you were able to do this makeup look to yourself with a few tips and tricks from Nat. You smooth down the dress while adjusting the bangles on your wrist and the wolf emblem glinting against the very top of your breasts. You smile, dark red lips stretching back at you in the mirror.

You know once you step out of the house, and see almost any other woman who’s put a lot less effort into her appearance and somehow looks ten times better than you, you won’t feel pretty. Not even one bit. You’ll know, that even the way you look with the most effort is a million times uglier than anyone else at their worst.

But right now, you feel good. Pretty, even. You turn, watching Nat and Wanda watch you as they’ve already gotten ready and are waiting for you. Everyone in this room is aware of what your plans are.

“Alright, girls. Do I look good—I mean, do I look okay?” For a minute your past traumas flash before your eyes. 

Adjusting a necklace, turning to someone you love and trust, asking if you look good. They reply with “It’s okay, but it would be better if you reduced your volume.” Cruelly mentioning your weight, and then the whole night spent with tears streaming down your face and having to blame it on allergies. You swallow, even the mere thought of that experience almost making a large lump appear in your throat. Why are you thinking of that? It must be the nerves.

“Okay? Girl, you look drop-dead gorgeous. Hell, if you weren’t so down bad for Bucky, I would’ve asked you out in a heartbeat. Absolute heart-stealer.” Nat grins, eyeing you up and down. You know she’s just being nice, but it makes your heart swell all the same.

“Yeah, and if me and Vision weren’t so madly in love I would ask you to run away with me. Fuck, what are you doing later?” All the three of you laugh.

You have a history with having things like this said to you as a joke, but it’s never been so well-intended. While your self-esteem is mildly intact, you thank the both of them.

“Alright, I’ll see you guys there. Bucky’s taking me on his motorcycle.” You grab your maroon purse and head out to the front. Bucky’s dressed in all black, leaning against his motorcycle. Dear God, he looks so sexy. He’s typing something on his phone looking all angry, eyebrows furrowed. The moonlight paints him in the most glorious shades, of black and brown and glimmering gold. Home. That’s what he looks like, to you. Home. No longer a place thats an ocean and half a country away. This man, this super soldier, in whose presence you’ve felt like you belonged more in these past few months, than a lifetime over there.

Your chest fills with pride, and you can’t stop yourself.

“You showing off that metal arm tonight?” You skip the last few steps, stopping in front of him. You’re lucky you didn’t trip, it’s the first time you’ve worn heels in ages. Another memento of a time, of a version of you long gone.

He looks up from his phone, and his jaw goes slack. His eyes follow your figure up and down, mouth still hanging open.

“Doll—I, um, you—.” You put you hand on his shoulder, drawing his cerulean eyes up and straight on your lips. He licks his own, and everything flies out the window. A hot pressure ties itself to your lower belly, and you feel your face flush. 

You do have his attention after all.

You smile, looking up at him and grinning like a devil. He’s still at a loss for words, even as you squeeze his bicep. 

“Bucky…Should we get going or are you planning to stare at my mouth all night?” Your head tilts to the side, and it seems to snap him out of whatever daydreams he’s been conducting in his mind, so vivid they bring a pink glow to his cheeks.

“I—Yeah. Yes, let’s…let’s go. Where are we going?” You laugh at his stupor, walking over to his motorcycle and running your hands along the worn leather seat. For a moment, you think about all of the other girls that must have sat behind him, gripping onto him and pretending to be scares, when in reality they just want to cop a feel.

You wonder if you’re half as pretty as any of them, to him, at least. “This is an amazing bike, Buck. Incredibly sexy.” When you look up, you notice him watching you. You flash him your signature sweet smile, and he finally approaches the bike, putting his hands dangerously close to yours.

“Not nearly half as sexy as you. You look—Well, you can probably guess by my lack of words, but—You look gorgeous, doll. Truly. I—.”

“Thank you.” His demeanour finally cracks, a small smile appearing on his face when he realises you’re not fighting him. He wordlessly hands you a helmet, and clips it on for you, warm hands lingering under your chin. 

“Hold on tight, doll.” And then he zooms as fast as he can, with the wind blowing in your hair feeling incredible, even though you clutch onto his middle for dear life.

Your favourite part is when he stops at traffic lights to reach behind him and cheekily run his fingers along your knees and the very lower parts of your thighs, and somehow, you’ve never felt more wanted in your entire life.

Always a compliment or a cheeky joke on his tongue the entire way there— it makes your insides swirl, wondering if it truly can be that your feeling are the 10 to his 0.1.

God, you hope so. 

“Hey, Buck, can we talk tonight? After we come back?” You say to him, just as he’s unfastening your helmet and storing it back in his bike, not without admiring you shaking out your hair, running your fingers through it to tame the horrible case of helmet hair you’re sure you’re having.

“Yeah, sure doll. You don’t need to ask.” His voice is so soft, and you almost melt into a fucking puddle at his feet.

Great. That’s when you’ll make your move. You two are the last to arrive, as usual, and you casually slip your arms around one of Bucky’s, gripping him tightly to you like he’s your man, fingers intertwining undeniably. For the purpose of the illusion, your poor heart goes along with it. 

He visibly stiffens and so just before you walk into the dive bar, you stop him and lean in to whisper into his ear. You don’t mean for your voice to drop an octave with your volume, but it so happens. “Buck, darling. I can stop, if you want. All you have to do is say so, you know that, right?” You don’t miss the catch in his breath, the way his eyes flutter closed as he tries his best to retain his composure. 

“Please.” He turns his face toward you, and you don’t anticipate having your faces so close. You can see the golden flecks in his eyes, as pure as his soul and heart. You wonder where it is, knowing yours fully resides behind the bars of his ribcage. 

“Don’t stop,” he all but whispers and it takes a mountain’s worth of effort to conceal the moan slipping past your lips at his words. He’s done it on purpose, you’re sure.

The kiss has changed the fate of you and him, whether that be for worse or for better. You want him either way. 

You glance at his lips, and you notice how some of your lipstick has ended up just to the side of his ear from your sexual whispers. 

“Oh, sorry. My lipstick’s all—“

“Leave it. I want everyone in this bar to know who I’m with tonight.” His eyes find your lips again, no longer perfect from the smear decorating his face.

“You’re with me?”

“Always.” You want him. Desperately. To push him against the brick and mortar and kiss him like the world is ending tomorrow, and it makes your heart pick up. He notices, and you can feel the desire simmering in the air between the both of you. 

“Dear God guys, you can eyefuck each other later, now get in here.” Natasha’s voice distracts the both of you, heads whipping in comical synchronisation to stare at her bug-eyed, feeling caught by her crudeness. 

“We—I— We’re on our way.” You try and cover for the both of you, secretly dismayed by his dismissal of the notion. You try to not let your fears haunt the wonderful moment, even though they stand not too far off on the sidelines, waiting for the change of score so they can step into the limelight.

He didn’t let go of you the whole night. When everyone was a few drinks deep, he let his hand shift onto your thigh, staring at you like you might hate it. You’d grabbed his wrist and stroked the inside of it, knowing it’s his favourite way to be touched by you. 

And then the gang uses an empty beer bottle, spinning it on the tables in a juvenile game of truth or dare. You laugh at it, secretly holding Bucky’s hand under the table. You never got to play this game in school, too busy with work or studying and then getting to that sore age where it just feels So High School(derogatory).

But tonight, you are happy, free. Trying to access a version of you you’ve long discarded.

“Nurse!” Tony calls out, surprisingly sober despite being on his seventh bottle, whose neck is currently facing towards you. 

“Truth or Dare?” 

“Truth.”

“You like someone in this group, in this booth, don’t you?” You freeze. You can’t admit that, definitely not while holding that certain someone’s hand. “Well, it’s definitely not Steve.” Tony laughs, and you feel horrible for the poor blonde, now trying to hide his face in embarrassment. It seems alcohol opens old wounds when in Tony Stark’s system.

“Mr Stark.” Somehow, even fully sober you seem to have an air of confidence about you, mixing with your perfume. “That’s not very nice. How would you like it if someone made fun of when you used to hit on Ms Pepper and she rejected you? You know we’re all good friends here, there’s no need to be horrible to poor Steve, especially not just because he liked someone who doesn’t have the same feelings for him, but still cares deeply as a friend. It’s just not done, Mr Stark.”

You turn to Steve then, apology on the tip of your tongue. “Don’t worry about it, dear. Thank you for standing up for me.” He quickly touches your knee, careful to not let it linger seeing as he’s caught sight of your and Bucky’s intimate contact the second it began happening. “God, how’s she so respectful when telling me off?” Tony grumbles. Everyone’s eyes are on you, and you change the topic.

“I don’t want to complicate things right now, in front of anyone, so I won’t be answering. Dare.”

“Take three shots. I’ve heard you’re a drinker, and you haven’t touched a drop all night. Not fair, is it?” He leans back in his part of the booth, while you try your hardest to seem smaller, squashed between Steve and Bucky. 

You wonder how to answer without trying to seem like you’re chiding Bucky, because you truly do not blame him for your state. Thor replies for you, his voice booming.

“Can’t you see, the fair maiden has an injured hand, Stark. She should not be consuming any alcohol. Not a single drop.” You flash him a smile, even as you feel Bucky pulling away, and you just know the guilt is pulling him away. 

You quickly grab his hand tighter, keeping it on your thigh and making him meet your eye. 

Don’t blame yourself. You silently signal. 

I’ll try. He blinks back and you sigh, resting your chin on his shoulder for a split second in casual intimacy, and it makes him smile.

“Well yes. But also, Bucky’s not allowed to drink tonight either, so I thought I’d join him in solidarity.” It’s not a lie. One of the reasons you’ve been clinging to Bucky all night is to make sure he doesn’t drink alcohol. You know he’s a super soldier, you know you’d gotten him the antidote on time, and you’ve double checked his wounds at least twice in the past 24 hours just to know they’re nothing more than pink marks that’ll be gone by the time the sun rises tomorrow.

But you still worry. You still want to be safe, not wanting to take any risks. Nobody knows what level of poison will always remain in his bloodstream, what the knock on effects of machine produced antidotes are. 

You can’t take the chance. You just can’t. 

“That’s right. Me and my girl are going sober tonight. No shots for either of us.” 

He’s spoken several sentences, but you fixate on four words. Me and my girl. Is it correct grammar? No. But does it absolutely send your mind into a fritz? Absolutely.

“Ugh, all these rules and regulations. Fine then, I dare you to go up there and do some karaoke.” Your eyes widen. How the fuck do you get yourself out of this. “Look, sweetheart. It’s either that or you flirt with the bartender who’s been eyeing you all night.” He tilts his head behind you, and sure enough you’re being watched.

The bartender is not ugly, by any means— tall, brown hair and light eyes. But he’s not Bucky. So what’s the point? That man can stare all he wants, but he’ll never be the one to have you. Not as long as Bucky is next to you, in sickness or in health. 

“Go on, doll. You have an amazing singing voice.” 

“How do you—?”

He leans in to whisper in your ear, sending chills down your spine. “I hear everything you do in your room. When you think nobody’s awake to hear you, or nobody’s listening. I hear everything.” 

And all of a sudden, you’re out of your seat and being pushed to the small karaoke corner and all of the people at your booth get up to stand and hear you.

You know what song you’re going to sing. This isn’t how you planned it, but you suppose you’ll make the most of the situation.

You stand behind the mic stand, and your eyes find Bucky. 

They stay glued on him as you sing Guilty As Sin? By Taylor Swift, imagining all things you’ve never done with him. The way he touches you in your deepest desires, the way he kisses in your daily daydreams. It’s almost too much.

And then you see his face.

Lovestruck, lovelorn, lovesick.

All for you.

NEXT PART

[issa-pheonyx]

Yandere-sub!Dante X GN!Reader🔪🌶️ [DMC3]

𝗜𝘁 𝘀𝗲𝗲𝗺𝘀 𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝗻𝘁𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲𝗻 𝗮 𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗰𝘂𝗹𝗮𝗿 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗲𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝘆𝗼𝘂. 𝗟𝗲𝘁𝘀 𝘀𝗲𝗲 𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗴𝗼𝗼𝗳𝘆 𝗼𝗯𝘀𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗱𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝗺𝗼𝗻 𝗵𝗮𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗵𝗼𝘁𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂~😈🌚

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

-I'm sure you already where this is going. Come on, this is Dante. Son of Sparda and human mother, Eva. Twin brother, Vergil. He's got it all and as much he doesn't want to be reminded by his father from the power he holds...you seem to reflect the human side of his to live life even if it means being a pain in the ass to you LMAO

-Anyways, it is never boring with him nor his affections. He's got that arm around your shoulder walking with you on whatever troll or shit talking he's got going with, the spaces between you is inches away, holding you close when danger is too close to you, shooting all the demons away from you when you are injured (more like a scratch on the shoulder, but whatever feeds your delulu, Dante), and so on

-As much as you want to hate this guy it is impossible, because he is naturally funny that you can't help, but smile or burst out laughing. He is aware of it, obviously, and there are times he is also smiling and laughing with you. He would have to hold onto your arm as he is almost on the floor dying laughing or hugging you down and you're both crying from laughing on the floor. He is such a comedian

-Sure, when you try to comfort him he just brushes it off being the tough guy and funny jokes, but you were the only one to push him out of that barrier making him obsessed trust you and fall for you so quickly. He never had that kind of treatment from anybody besides his mother, but now that she is gone, he sees you as a sign of hope for not only to heal...but, to let him know that the part of him is still human just like you

-He is protective of you since you are a full blooded human. He does not want you to be injured regardless how minor or major it is. He wants you spotless from any pain. At first it was cute, but it got out of hand when he was so pushy about it that you can barely do any patrol killing demons intruding human spaces

WARNING!!! Spicy after this thread [MDNI🔞]

-Listen...actually hear me out, okay? This man does not feel pain. He has taken hits from humans by their punches, kicks-everything (yeah no shit, Sherlock). JUST LISTEN-pain is nothing to him. Fucking slap him in the face when you ride him, pull his hair back when you're breaking his back, spank him and he will give you a fucking devious smile telling you that was nothing just to piss you off

-Seeing you pissed off gets him so turned on, because he turns into a brat and challenge you that you can't do shit to him...cut to him tied up and having ass red and hot from the spanking, gagged that his drool soaks on the rag, his legs malfunctioning from climaxing so much. So, when he is purposely trying to piss you off...just beware of it

-Now he wouldn't make you jealous as he does have his way of trolling such flirty encounters aka Nevan for example, however he is the one who would be jealous. Plus, it is much more worse when he finds out his brother takes a liking of you (that's for another day though~). So, what he would do is have this demon death grip on you and would nuzzle against your skin-wherever it is exposed to let other demons of all kinds that his scent is now latched onto you and they should back off. Your scent on him? Well...he has special souvenirs kept back in the shop safely

-He is willing to breed you or you breed him. He would be more than happy to receive both. Will fucking be on cloud nine that after breeding you or being bred by you that you hover his face for him to clean or you get down to business to clean him up. His arms will be locked on those legs, so don't worry about suffocating him he can obviously handle it. He will grind his ass back into your face to push your tongue in deeper in his hole

-Sucking you off or eating you out is his favorite thing. He wants to gag and choke on your cock that it becomes so sloppy that you just grab his fucking head and face fuck him until you cum your hot nut inside his throat or pull out to cum on his face and the leftovers on his tongue dripping out. Grip on his hair and roll your hips as he is eating your pussy having his long tongue licking the folds, slipping the tongue inside, his nose swiping on your clit like a credit card (SORRY I CAN'T-), and when you squirt your juices that he moves away a little with his tongue out to have it splash on his face and have some land inside his mouth

▌│█║▌║▌║ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ L̳͈͉̅̊ȍ̸̢̢̮͚̐̚v̸̵̝͙͆̈ͤę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ M̶̷̲̊ͥ͋͟ę̷̵̧̖̫̗̆̊ ║▌║▌║█│▌

𝗧𝗵𝗮𝗻𝗸𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴! 𝗜 𝗵𝗼𝗽𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗲𝗻𝗷𝗼𝘆𝗲𝗱 𝗶𝘁. 𝗠𝘆 𝘂𝗽𝗱𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘀 𝗱𝗼 𝘁𝗮𝗸𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲 𝘁𝗶𝗺𝗲 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴. 𝗦𝗹𝗲𝗲𝗽 𝘄𝗲𝗹𝗹~🖤🫣

[moonmeg]

!!TW for panel 3-5// Blood

Seeing him unharmed and alive in his crib was the greatest relief. He was crying but he was alive. With a soft shush she picked the babe from the crib and cradled him in her arms.

"It's alright, little sprout, it's all perfectly fine. Mama's here.", she tried to calm him with a small rocking motion. Her eyes were fully fixated on his little chubby face and the big round tears running down his pink cheeks. It was still a bit surreal to think this was her baby. Her baby that she had carried beneath her heart for almost nine months. Cat started walking around the room while continuing her attempt to calm him. By now she had figured out how to tell his cries apart. His current cry wasn't of hunger, nor did he have an unpleasant smell about him.

"Did you have a bad dream, my love?", she asked and gently wiped the tears off his face, "Me too...". Robyn wasn't a talker just yet, but he was a great listener. While Cat had many great advisors and comforters around her, whenever she started to speak with Robyn, she realized that sometimes all it needs is someone who simply listens. Of course, she knew he doesn't understand her and that he won't remember any of what she's telling him but the idea that he did was nice enough for her to continue talking to him. So she began fighting against Robyn's cries by retelling him her own dream.

"I dreamed about your Papa. He was here and he looked so proud and full of love as he looked at you. We were all together, just as intended. We were happy.", she smiled at the image in her head. How he was standing next to her before the self-made crib he had spent months on. His hand's firm grip on her upper arm as he pulled her closer to him. His warm brown eyes carrying the love he feels for her in just one look. His proud smile towards his son, his soft touch on her cheek and chin. It all felt so real. Cat couldn't help the tear she shed upon the repeating realization that this image will never be a reality. He was gone. No matter how much in denial she wanted to be or was about it.

Caleb was gone.

"Then he appeared.", she put emphasis on "he". Cathy didn't want to speak his name, nor did she want Robyn to ever hear that name. She would rather have that name and the person it was given to be forgotten. That was his biggest concern, wasn't it? He wanted to be remembered as great witch hunter and as savior to humanity. He wanted his name in history books and an everlasting legacy. She figured, she would not give him that.

She knows she can't shut away the story attached to that person. Sooner or later Robyn would ask what had happened to his father and she wasn't planning on lying to him. But if Robyn never hears the name, even if he retells the story of Caleb's fate to friends or perhaps even his own children some day, the name would never be mentioned and slowly be forgotten. It would be "the person" and not "Philip".

Cat paused, thinking of how to continue the telling. The images flashing her mind threw her right back to that terrible day. Right back to the horrifying sight of her beloved Caleb lying in a growing puddle of blood on the floor, clenching his side, coughing...

She had tried her best to push those memories back and instead replace them with happy memories of him. It was too painful a sight to revisit again and again but she wasn't able to push it away fully.

His blood-dyed shirt, the blood strains on his chin and his arm, the pain and sadness in his eyes, the last of his strength he put into a final kiss before he exhaled one last time and lost the life in his body... she was there. She held him through it all.

She feared those moments would now be her steady company in life. They would always return and reopen the wound and she couldn't escape it.

Catherine looked back to her little son, still very much crying, as she decided to not go into detail about what exactly her subconsciousness tortured her with. Both, because it wasn't fit to tell your month old baby and because she could hardly bear saying the required words.

"I'll spare us both of telling what he did. But he did something horrible. And then...he said something so cruel about you.", she brushed her index finger over Robyn's cheek as if he knew what cruelty was said and she wanted to comfort him.

Robyn's cries lost volume but they weren't gone. He noticed he was no longer alone in the crib but that he was held by someone and he noticed quickly it was his mother so close to him. He knew her scent and he recognized her voice. Sometimes that's all he needed to calm down again: mama.

Said mama stared at him in adoration. She loved her little sprout ever since the healers told her she was pregnant. He has grown so much in just eight months and he still was. She was in awe every time anew. That's her son. Her little boy, who surely would grow into a fine young man... much like his late father. Catherine saw the world in this little life and she was proud to call herself his mother.

"He's just so wrong about you. He said you were never supposed to exist...", her brows furrowed in confusion. If Robyn was never supposed to exist, clearly he wouldn't be here now and clearly, Caleb and her would've never been able to conceive him in the first place. If, by Philip's logic, this child was the aftermath of a so-called "sin", if not a "sin" himself, surely that almighty person Caleb and his brother believed in would've not allowed Robyn to exist. She barely understood any of that topic and yet still even regarding that human belief, everything speaks *for* her baby's existence, not against it.

Robyn made a noise, striking his fist in the air as if in protest of the statement. His cries having ceased under Cathy's rocking-while-walking.

"Yeah.", Cat chuckled and validated Robyn's reply, "He's absolutely wrong.".

She paused for a moment to take the blanket from the crib and wrap him up in it. He was calm now again and it wouldn't take long before he dozed off again. So she hoped at least. Once wrapped up, she adjusted him and placed him over her chest, his head in the crook of her neck, where she was shielding it with her hand.

"You're a gift. The most amazing, wonderful, beautiful gift. And we love you more than anything else. Your father and me.", Cat smiled and turned her head to kiss his crown. She kept her lips pressed to his forehead as the clear night sky caught her attention for a while.

"I wonder what traits of yours he picked up, sweetheart.", she pulled her head back to examine her baby's face once again. There wasn't much of Caleb in Robyn's face but that's to blame on Robyn being a baby still. Of course his facial features are to grow over the years and he wouldn't have a sharp angular jaw as infant but so far Robyn has picked up more from his mother than his father.

"Maybe his hair will stay this light? Maybe his eyes are a warm brown? Or maybe it's something completely different?"

She would welcome any resemblance to her lost love and she would lie if she denied the fact she wished he looked more like Caleb sometimes rather than her when Robyn's older. She'd have her beloved's face back. She'd have his blond locks back. She'd have his beautiful brown eyes back. She'd have him back at least somehow.

Then she noticed Robyn's pointy ears - a trait definitely from her - and further spun the thoughts.

Robyn could grow into her long face and pointy chin. His dirty blond could grow into the brown of her's over the years. He could have her piercing teal eyes. He could be the spitting image of her just as much as he could be of that of Caleb.

"Maybe he barely looks like you when he's older...", she frowned upon the conclusion.

Turning away from the window, she drew a circle in the air and the curtains closed. She got back into bed, holding her infant son tightly as she still lightly rocked him back and forth. She kissed his head again. Whichever traits he picked up from Caleb and whichever from her, in the end her baby was beautiful and perfect just the way he is. He was a gift. Caleb's most precious gift. One she will protect from harm with her life. Her little sprout. Her little Robyn.

[brookiewriting]

Hiii I was wondering if you could do one of Peeta losing it after you get attacked by one of the tributes and he almost kills them out of rage, but you try and stop him while also reassuring him that ur ok bc you remember he said he didn’t want to kill anybody?? Thank you!! <33

PANIC—

peeta mellark.

summary: reader befriends a little boy, and peeta overhears you fighting for your life. it goes wrong once he sees you're hurt.

notes: holy fuck i suck at endings. can someone genuinely give me advice or criticism??? LMAO

also i posted this last night but it flopped so let's try again..

warnings: angst, death, slight gore.

"peeta!"

your screams were shrill and made the hairs on the back of his neck raise. the screams were consistent, each cry becoming more and more rampant.

with every call of his name, peeta panicked more.

fuck. i don't know what to do.

he wasn't a fighter. everyone knew that. peeta was a baker. an artist. not a fighter. and definitely not a killer.

even now, when you needed him more than anything, he was hiding. a small cavern in the side of a ledge, barely big enough for him to squeeze into /let alone one of the bigger tributes/ was a perfect hiding spot. he was invisible. he could win in here.

another scream, and peeta was rocking on his heels, unsure of what to do. his hands covered his ears.

i can't do this.

☾ ☾ ☾

you really weren't hoping to run into peeta once you were in the games. god, what were you going to do? you couldn't kill him. no, you wouldn't.

you remember the anxious look he gave you on the first day, his hands clinging onto you as much as he possibly could, like you were going to slip out of his touch and be gone for good.

"peeta. look at me." you recalled, your hands holding his cheeks firmly, before moving your index finger to direct his chin up. panicked blue eyes met yours, his brows were so tightly knit together that it made your heart ache. in the years that he'd been your friend, you'd never seen him look like this.

his eyes were studying your face, gaze switching from your eyes to your tucked away hair to your nose and back.

you rested your forehead against his. "win for me. go back to your little brother's, 'kay?" you pleaded, and you noticed his fingers shaking as he pulled away from you. he swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded solemnly.

after that first day, you were quickly separated. you couldn't be in an alliance with him. you couldn't watch him die or have him watch you die. you wouldn't do it. neither of you were overly strong— and you'd hold him back. you'd be okay with dying only if he was the victor.

peeta was safe after he joined an alliance with the careers. at least for right now. he was smart, but physically? he was the weakest link. he led cato and his group to where he thought other tributes were hiding, and as much as he tried to stall them, his intuition was usually right.

you were fine with hiding. you helped out a younger boy from district nine, and you two stayed off of everyone's radar. in fact, most tributes might've thought you were dead or dying in a ditch somewhere. for some reason, being in an alliance with this younger boy was less painful than one with peeta. maybe because deep down you knew you were both going to die.

by day ten, the air was cold. the temperature dropped low at night. you were hidden by an assortment of bushes. you two changed spots often to find food and to make sure no one spotted you.

the little boy shivered; his jacked ripped earlier that week, and since then, it seemed his health was decreasing.

you took off your jacket and wrapped it around his shoulders. his head drooped onto your shoulder. poor baby was exhausted. he was too young to be here and too young to fight.

"you'll be okay." you reassured him, and you didn't know if you were assuring him or your own selfish thoughts.

his brown eyes look up at you, and you rub his back. under those lashes, you could see days of lack of sleep. he'd lost all of energy from when you'd first met him. snow ripped him from his childhood and you from reaching it to eighteen.

"i wish i had a big sister like you." he whispers. "if i don't make it, can you tell my mama that it'll be okay?" the district nine boy closes his eyes on your shoulder, and his words truly shatter your heart.

you don't respond— if you did, you might start crying. you couldn't let him see you like that. he keeps talking.

"mama would be a mess if i did. i do all the chores." you frown as you look at him, and you're shocked to see that he's smiling. it's a big toothy grin, and you notice that he's missing a tooth. even in a killing arena, he had the strength to smile. it made you think of peeta.

you squeeze your eyes shut and squeeze his shoulder. "you'll be going home to see her shortly, alright?" you're almost snapping at him, angry that you wouldn't be strong enough to protect him.

"my mama makes the best cookies around. i'll bring you some when we get out of here. how's that sound, hm?" you nudge his elbow, and you swallow hard in order to smile at him. be strong, you kept repeating in your head. for him. he needs you.

he's quiet for a minute. you notice just how young he is. he can't be older than thirteen. nobody's ever won that young.

"you look sad." he whispers, and you can only nod.

"there's not much to be happy about," you pause, you're still smiling at him painfully.

"keep thinking about your mama for me. think about how happy she'll be to see you. think about how amazing that first night backs gonna be."

you tell him a story about your mama and about running through the forest barefoot in district twelve. you tell him stories about her teaching you how to hunt. your heart twinges thinking about her. you'd know she'd be okay without you, though. this boys mother wouldn't.

he doesn't respond, and shortly after, you hear the soft snoring of the boy. maybe you bored him to sleep. your arm doesn't move off of him. your eyes look up at the sky, bright, twinkling stars bouncing off your irises.

"i don't know if i can do this without you, peeta." you're speaking to the sky, as if someone can hear your prayers. despite knowing each other for a short period of time, you grew attached to this kiddo.

when you closed your eyes /which you hadn't meant to/ you dreamt of the boy coming home to his mother. she had carmel skin just like him and the same bright brown eyes with the same matching toothy grin. his mama embraced him in her arms tightly, followed by his dad, sobs errupting from the both of them as they were reunited with their baby boy. you were invisible to them, but you felt their love and their warmth.

the figures shifted into different people. it was now peeta hugging his baby brother's, his tear stricken face buried into their little shoulders. he was grabbing them so fiercely that it made your stomach drop. you called out peeta's name, tears rolling down the side of your face. nausea was creeping up into your stomach.

why did you always have to be strong for people? why couldn't you be the one held?

your voice quieted as you realized it was just a dream, and he couldn't hear you. the scenery fizzled into white.

you felt a pair of hands shaking your shoulders and you woke up in a hot sweat.

"there's someone here," the boy spoke in a hushed whisper, and you noticed that pinpricks of tears were in your eyes. you wiped them quickly so he wouldn't see.

"stay here." you demanded quickly and exited from your shelter of bushes. he was right; you could hear footsteps surrounding you. even in the pitch black night, you could sense that someone was watching you.

unfortunately for you two, it was two careers from district six.

the male was big, twice as big as you, and scored a ten just thanks to his physical strength. the girl was quick on her feet.

your stomach dropped. you weren't going to make it through this. maybe you could help the little boy survive though.

"run!" you screamed to him, and before anyone else could move, he was on his feet with a start and began running, running, running as fast as his little legs could take him. the boy immediately ran after him, and you felt nauseated.

did i just send him to his death?

you thought about chasing after them, but your feet failed you in time, and the girl tackled you.

"i'm sorry," the girl spoke, his knife raised at your chest. she didn't want to do this. none of them did. "i'm sorry."

"no. no, please don't kill him! please! he's just a kid, please! his mama's waiting for him!"

you cried out, feeling sobs bubble to the surface of your chest, thrashing from underneath her weight. you punched him, scratched her, clawed at her sides, anything to make her get off and let you chase after him.

you screwed your eyes so tightly shut that you saw white. maybe he could outrun him. maybe he'd live.

you were going to die. and memories were flooding your mind. you saw peeta.

you saw him waiting for you at the edge of the forest, the way he used to when you two were small. his eyes were squinted, and the sunlight made him look... warm. and that smile, oh, that smile that could've given you the strength to keep fighting if he was here. he was all dimples and creased eyes.

why were you thinking of him right now as you were about to die?

your thoughts were interrupted by a chilling scream of a boy. it must've been enough to startle the career too, because she dropped her knife. it was enough for you to grab it and drive it into her shoulder. blood began to drip onto your white tee.

you didn't want to kill her. but you needed enough time to get away.

"i'm sorry—" you whispered to her, and the girl was withering in pain. she was repeating that she didn't want to die and you immediately felt guilty.

you couldn't stay to help her, though, so you jumped to your feet and headed towards the direction of the scream.

please don't be that little boy. please don't be that little boy. please don't be that little boy.

you were met with a horrific sight. the boy was covered in a pool of his own blood. there were three open stab wounds on his chest. this prick stabbed him three fucking times. his eyes were glossed over, but you could see the gentle rise and fall of his little heart still beating.

"mama?" he asked, his hands reaching for you, his voice shaking. his eyes were glossy, and he couldn't barely keep them open. he was still cuddled around your jacket.

you didn't have the heart to tell him no.

"it's okay baby, i got you." you cooed, trying not to cry. your hands applied pressure on the open sites, but it wasn't enough. blood was already staining your palms. you gave up and helped sit him up against a tree.

with the last bit of his strength, he put his hand into yours, the size difference crushing you even more. he was so little.

"i don't want to die," he's crying; you don't know what to do anymore other than hold his small figure, rocking him back and forth. your face is buried in his hair, and he still smells like fresh bread.

"i know it hurts. i know. you're not dying on me," yet you know it's too late. his body is limp in your arms, but you can't bear to let him go. if you let go, then it'll be real.

your chest is heavy, and it's hard to breathe. sobs are making your throat swell. tears seep into his hair, and you're still rocking him back and forth.

why didn't he kill you instead?

the larger male must've heard your pained screams, and he drug you off the dead boy. you cried as he pulled your arms off from around him.

"you can join 'em." the boy grunted, using the blade of his hunting knife to cut a thin line down one of your sides. not enough to draw more than a few dots of blood, but enough to make you exhale sharply.

with the last of your strength, you screamed one last time for peeta.

☾ ☾ ☾

peeta wouldn't let you die knowing he didn't do anything to help you. the whole reason why he was okay with being here was so he could die protecting you. just to pussy out at the last second?

how fucking lame was that. you were fighting, possibly dying and he was hiding. he was going to let his best friend die because he was scared.

how pathetic.

self-deprecating was enough to encourage him to move. it was well into the night now, and if he wasn't so used to running through forest clearings, he absolutely would have tripped.

following the sharp screams from you, he ran as fast as he could despite having a bum leg from cato. all because he wouldn't reveal where he thought you were hiding and what your strengths were.

please hold on a little long for me.

when he reached you, a brunette boy had his arms wrapped around your chest, and a knife was directed at your knife. as he watched you from behind a tree, his stomach dropped.

he was taunting you.

"your little boyfriend won't help you now," he mocked, pressing the blade further into your skin, enough to make blood be drawn. peeta watched you wince. "i already killed your friend."

when the boy had his back turned, peeta ran out to him and shoved him hard. hard enough that his head hit a rock with a sharp crack. that wasn't enough for him.

"how dare you put your fucking hands on her," peeta snapped, picking the boy up and grabbing him the front of his shirt.

god, you were glad to see peeta again but you'd never seen him this angry before. it scared you. you were frozen in place.

crack.

peeta threw his head back against the bark of the tree. blood was spotting and creating a mess of his mousey hair.

"peeta..." you whispered, approaching him slowly, your hands outstretched to him. he wouldn't kill him... right?

crack.

the boy was unconscious now, his eyes rolling to the back of his head so only his whites were visible.

"peeta." you repeated more firmly this time. you were suddenly aware of how heavy your tongue felt in your mouth. your eyes were glued to the sight of his head being bashed in.

crack.

"peeta! you're going to kill him!" you screamed, your hands tugging at his arms to get him to stop.

he did, and thank god. peeta let go, and the boy's body slumped to the ground.

peeta looked at you, to the body, and back to you. his gaze softened incredibly, before looking down at his blood stained hands.

"i didn't mean to— i didn't want to kill him. oh god, i'm so sorry—" his voice broke mid sentence and he pulled you into a tight hug. he was holding you to make up for all the time you two spent apart.

"i'm okay. he barely hurt me. it's okay peeta." you breathed into his neck, feeling as his hands held tight to the back of your head. you could feel his body shake and quiver as he cried into your hair.

you stayed like that for a very long time. you let your body relax into his.

for the first time since the games started, you felt safe.

☾ ☾ ☾

by the next morning, the sun was raised above them and rising in a beautiful ombre of orange's and pinks. you hadn't seen anything as beautiful since you'd gotten here. you thought that was the little boys way of saying that he was with you still.

that night, you'd buried the two boys as best as you two could. you left your jacket with the boy from district nine. you couldn't wear it anymore.

peeta's hand was in yours as you two looked at the graves. you'd never seen a grave that small before.

"he was a sweet boy."

"i figured. he had to have been to be with you."

you weakly smile at peeta's comment, but it falls rather quickly.

"it's not your fault. you know that, right?" he speaks so gently with you, like you'll break if he says the wrong thing. you might.

he pulls you into another hug, his chapped lips pressing kisses into anywhere he can reach. your cheek presses against his chest and he's warm. you listen to the sound of his heartbeat. it's oddly reassuring.

"it's not yours either." you quip, looking up at him. "thank you for saving my life."

"i really wish i could've saved his too. both of them."

"i know. maybe it's for the better. he'll never have to live like us anymore. he'll be free from snow."

maybe. maybe you should've told him to keep hiding. maybe then he would be alive to see you kill coriolanus snow.

you move out of the hug, but peeta is still holding your hand. he's silent, and you can tell he's thinking hard about something— his cheek is hollowed and he's biting on it.

"only one of us will be able to win." peeta mentions, and you smile. he's confused: at a time like this? he doesn't mention it.

"may the best hider win."

you smile, but you know that you'd die for him. you'd be okay with dying if it meant seeing peeta return unharmed with his family. you just prayed that death would only show you your happy memories.

[obliqueblade]

End of Season 9 + health update (kinda)

So, I finally got a chance to watch most of the Hermits videos about the end of season nine, just finished with Grians, and I was not anticipating that I would cry.

I did. An embarrassing amount.

Something that I haven't talked about in a while, is the recent really bad health crisis I had a few months ago. For those unaware, or who don't remember, I was diagnosed with a form of Lung Cancer almost three years ago.

A few months ago, one of my roommates, allowed her partner into our apartment knowing that they had Covid and didn't tell me or our other roommates. I got sick. Really sick. I don't want to go into too much detail, because it is not pleasant, but since then my doctors and I had to change almost everything about my treatment plan, but the major thing we were unsure of was how would it affect one of my upcoming surgeries.

Originally, this was set for mid-January, but my doctors wanted to run some more tests and make sure that I would be strong enough to undergo it. At the time in late October, they told me they would know for sure by December. And, a few days ago I got the call to go and meet with them.

I'm not strong enough.

Which, essentially means that without this surgery, all they are really going to be able to do is keep me comfortable until I pass.

Obviously, this sucks, and not at all how I had intended things to go. I've not told any of my family, mainly because I don't really know how to at this time. Tomorrow being Christmas it feels wrong to do it now, so I'll probably wait till after the holidays.

Do not worry, I am still making progress on the fic, as it isn't strenuous to do.

Anyway, I felt that I needed to write this with the end of the Hermitcraft season. I had only started watching Hermitcraft during season 8, not long after I had gotten my diagnosis. So season 9 was my first time watching a full season- start to end.

I think that might be one of the reasons I got so emotional towards the end. Realistically, depending on when they start season 10, I won't be alive to see it, let alone the end of it.

Obviously, I'm not saying "they need to start the new season now because I'm dying, and screw how burnt out you guys might feel". That would be ridiculous, and not the point I'm trying to make.

The Hermits introduced me to so much joy, such much creativity, and so much strength. The days I felt like were the end, were made so much brighter, because of the Hermits.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I probably wouldn't have made it through the past two years without them.

So, in the only way that I hopefully can with the time I have left, I want to complete this fic. I want to attribute something back to this amazing community, and the people that got me through so much.

Thank you, Hermitcraft, for making the last few years of my life feel like they were worth living.

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517 @panicatthediaz @mandriice @nightmareglitter

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve - Chapter Thirteen - Chapter Fourteen - Chapter Fifteen

18+ MINORS DNI because Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie take a shower together, but nothing really sexual happens.

Chapter Sixteen

Steve was openly crying as he and Eddie held an unconscious Chrissy in their arms. He didn't understand what the fuck just happened, only that they almost lost Chrissy for a second time. She had powers? What the fuck? Steve wasn't sure his heart could take it anymore. It was too much. They deserved to have a quiet life now.

"Son, I think the cops are coming," Wayne said. "Let's get out of here. Chrissy has your keys."

Steve could hear the sirens coming closer, fully aware of them now. He fished his keys out of Chrissy's pocket and moved to pick her up into his arms. He groaned, and Eddie made a disapproving sound before pulling Chrissy in his arms.

"We have to get you to my dad," Vickie said. "You're bleeding!"

"No hospitals," Steve said as Nancy took his keys from him.

"Okay, well, we'll get you to my house, and if he's not there, then we'll call him," Vickie said.

It was a tight fit with only two cars. Max sat on Lucas's lap in Wayne's truck while Dustin squeezed in beside them. Nancy climbed into the driver's seat while Eddie took the passenger's seat with Chrissy. Gareth was pulled into Jeff's lap while Frank politely offered his lap to Vickie. Robin crawled into next to them and pulled Steve into her lap.

"This isn't the first time that Steve’s sat in your lap?" Vickie asked in amusement as they drove off.

"Nope!" Robin and Steve exclaimed.

When they got to Vickie's house, her dad's car was in the driveway. Matthew came walking out of the house, having heard them pull up. He looked frantic.

"Vickie! Thank God! I was just about to call the police. Where the hell have you been? You know, I don't have a lot of rules, but I do ask that you call to make sure that you're not - what's going on?" Matthew rambled.

Vickie and the boys had climbed out first. Nancy helped Eddie out of the car with Chrissy while Vickie helped Steve out. Wayne walked up behind them.

"Let's get everyone inside, and then we'll talk," Wayne said.

Steve clutched Robin and Vickie, suddenly very tired as they moved him inside of the house. He just wanted this all to be over with. Matthew guided them toward the kitchen and pointed him to the kitchen table with the light hanging directly overhead. Was it really just the other day that they were here having breakfast together?

"You really should go to the hospital," Matthew frowned.

"No, no hospitals," Steve said.

"Why?" He asked.

"Jason and his friends are hunting us," Vickie replied casually.

"What?!" Matthew asked.

"They think Eddie is the one who broke Chrissy's arms with the power of his mind and that he also killed Patrick and Fred," Vickie said.

"Well, that's ridiculous. It was principal Higgins who killed those two. I always thought there was something off about him. Me and a couple of other parents tried to get him fired," Matthew said with a sigh and a pause. "It was Higgins, wasn't it?"

Steve watched Vickie look at her dad and then looked at Nancy. Nancy shook her head at Vickie.

"I can't lie to him," Vickie said softly.

"Tell me all about it while I patch up Steve," Matthew said with a sigh as he went to his med kit.

Vickie started telling him everything from the night Chrissy broke her arm, to them being hunted, to Fred dying, them being cursed, and to now, when Chrissy's powers had been unleashed. . .closing the gate. It was perfect timing, really, when Vickie finished and Chrissy woke up with a gasp. Steve was lucky that Matthew had been done stitching him up.

"What's going on?" Chrissy asked. "Uncle Matthew?"

Suddenly, Matthew was by her side and checking her eyes.

"You okay, sweetie?" Matthew asked.

"I have a little bit of headache, but I'm fine. I'm a little tired," Chrissy said as she sat up in Eddie's lap.

Matthew was about to open his mouth to speak when there came a pounding at the door. Steve watched as Wayne went to the door. The gun Nancy had given him was held carefully in his hand. Steve hopped off the table, wincing at his sore feet. He moved over to Chrissy and Eddie, wrapping an arm around them both. Wayne hid the gun behind the door.

"Can I help you?" Wayne asked.

"My name is Agent Ellen Stinson, I'm here to help," a woman with short dark hair said.

"How can you do that?" Wayne asked with a snort. "What is it that you think we need help with?"

Steve didn't blame him for not trusting the woman, especially given all the stories he had been told.

"Well, we know that the gates are opened again, and from what I just saw, you have someone else with powers on your side. You have every reason not to trust us, but your friend El, she's chosen to work with us to give you guys a fighting chance, and you need backup. She said that we should tell you one thing: friends don't lie," Agent Stinson said.

It was Dustin who pushed himself to the front of the group.

"Alright, where are we going?" Dustin asked.

"You're not going to like it," Ellen said.

"Hawkins' Lab," Nancy muttered sourly. "Well, it's not like we have anywhere else to go."

"Chrissy, Vickie, go grab some clothes. I'll go grab some clothes and medicine for you guys," Matthew said.

"You're coming with?" Chrissy asked.

"Of course," Matthew said.

When Chrissy and Vickie came back, they had a couple of back packs over their shoulders. Matthew came back in with a bag in one hand and a shotgun on his shoulder.

"Daddy!" Vickie exclaimed. "I didn't know we had a gun."

"I took an oath to do no harm when it comes to my job, but when it comes to protecting my daughter and my niece, I took no such oath," Matthew said.

"Your uncle is awesome," Steve said to Chrissy.

They didn't have to sit on people's laps this time. . .well, except for Eddie being pulled into Chrissy's lap when she crawled into Steve’s passenger seat. Steve didn't argue with Nancy when she wanted to drive and slid into the back with Robin and Vickie. Jeff, Frank, and Gareth rode with Ellen and her partner. Pulling up to Hawkins Lab, and suddenly, Steve was more scared than ever before. He wished he had gone to the hospital. For some reason, he felt like he was back in Starcourt in the underground Russian bunker. When he glanced at Robin, she was thinking the same thing.

"I'm grateful that Erica isn't here. I wish the other kids weren't here either. I wish . . . ," Robin whispered to Steve as she helped him out of the car.

"I know," Steve said softly.

"This place creeps me out," Chrissy said as she looped her arm through Steve’s.

"We should burn it to the ground," Eddie said.

"Definitely," Nancy said.

"I have a friend who works in construction," Wayne said.

"Is this the friend who likes to call you - "

"Edward," Wayne said sternly.

"No, that's my name, Uncle Wayne," Eddie grinned.

Steve and Chrissy giggled. Eddie was such a little shit but then again, so was Dustin and the other kids. Steve watched Wayne ruffle Eddie's hair affectionately much the same way that Eddie does with Dustin sometimes. He grinned at the pair of them, but the grin quickly slipped off his face when they walked into the lab. Dustin, Max, Lucas, and Nancy were rooted to the spot in the lobby as Ellen flicked the lights on.

"What?" Eddie asked.

"This is where Bob died," Dustin frowned.

"Bob Newby," Lucas said.

"Superhero," Max said.

"He gave Joyce and Hopper enough time to get out with Will," Nancy said.

"Then the demodogs got him," Steve frowned.

This place was haunted, Steve could feel it in his bones. He squeezed Chrissy to his side, his fingertips brushing against Eddie's shoulder.

"There are rooms back here, along with some bathrooms and showers," Ellen guided them after their moment of silence. "There are some more medical supplies left behind that should be good to use."

"I do need to check all of you out," Matthew frowned. "Steve, you need to get cleaned up, especially your feet and your road rash. All of you need to get cleaned up."

"Do we really smell that bad?" Dustin asked as he smelled his own armpit. "Oh! Yep! That's ripe!"

Eddie and Chrissy insisted on helping Steve shower, receiving no complaints from Steve. Matthew handed them some clothes, bandages, and ointments for Steve to use.

"I also got you some socks and shoes," Matthew said. "Hopefully, they'll fit."

"Thanks," Steve said.

"I should be thanking you for looking after my girls," Matthew said, clapping his hand on Steve’s shoulder.

Eddie and Chrissy led Steve to one of the showers. There was a small bench nearby, and Chrissy dragged it over to the shower stall, directly under the shower head. She turned it on, letting it warm up. It was quiet as they helped Steve carefully undress and set him on the bench. He sighed as he sat under the warm water, letting it wash over him. He closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. Eddie and Chrissy were undressing each other quickly until there was nothing left between them except for Chrissy's wrapped cast. They were both so perfectly pale and beautiful. Steve couldn't stop staring at them, particularly at the tattoos on Eddie's body. He wanted to reach out and touch them, the way Eddie was touching Chrissy's arms so gently. His gaze wandered over to Chrissy, his eyes roaming over her body, the swell of her breasts, and her soft stomach that led to her dark tufts of hair that was tucked safely between her legs. That's when he spotted the tattoo on her hip.

"You have a tattoo?!" Steve exclaimed.

"Of course, I have a tattoo. Where have you been, Steven?" Eddie asked.

"No, Chrissy," Steve scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"What?!" Eddie asked and glanced down at her hip. "A dandelion?"

"It represents freedom, survival, and rebellion. It's a plant that refuses to follow the rules. It also represents hope and healing," Chrissy said. "At least to me."

"Sexy," Eddie grinned and then he leaned down to bite her tattoo.

"Eddie!" She giggled.

"Sorry, couldn't resist," Eddie grinned. "You can bite one of mine. Go ahead."

Chrissy giggled again before she bit down on the tattoo above Eddie's nipple. Steve laughed at both of them. Chrissy grabbed the soap and shampoo they had given them and walked over to Steve. She slid behind him, letting the water wash over both of them. Eddie grinned and put his hands on his hips. He shook his waist, wiggling his dick in their direction. Steve and Chrissy laughed at the sight.

"Get over here, you idiot," Steve said.

Eddie joined them under the spray and let Steve place his hands on his waist. Steve stared at him, and he could feel his eyes growing dark.

"I don't think we have time to play, big boy," Eddie said. "Hmm. . .an apt nickname."

Chrissy's fingers curled into his hair, and she pulled his head back gently until his head was resting against her naked breast.

"Let us take care of you, okay?" Chrissy said in a soft but seductive voice.

"Okay," Steve replied, and she kissed him.

It was so intimate, the way that Eddie and Chrissy washed him carefully. They were very gentle and caring, making sure that they were careful with his stitches. Once they were done with them, he watched as they washed each other, and they were just as gentle as they were with him. They dried and dressed each other first, then did the same with him. Before dressing him, they rubbed ointments into his wounds, including the ones on his feet, and wrapped them. Once they were done, Steve stared at them fondly.

"What?" Eddie and Chrissy asked in unison.

Steve pulled Chrissy into a deep kiss before doing the same with Eddie. Once everyone was done cleaning up, they found their way to a mess hall.

"What's the plan now?" Eddie asked.

"We go into the Upside Down, and we kill Vecna," Nancy said.

"I don't think there's anything that I'm going to say or do that will stop you, is there?" Ellen asked.

"No," everyone in the room said.

"It's just as well. With Miss Hopper still trying to get her powers, she's not going to be back in time to put an end to this monster. I hate the idea of it, but I'm afraid that it's going to have to be Miss Cunningham, who has to step up," Ellen said.

"No!" Steve and Eddie exclaimed.

"Nope! Nope! No!" Eddie yelled.

"Yeah, that's a fucking hell no," Steve said furiously.

"Steve, Eddie. . . You know that she's right. No one else in this room has the power to stop him, do they? This fucker has to be stopped and it has to be me. I have to fight, not just for everyone I care about but for myself too. This is my choice. My choice," Chrissy said softly.

Steve sighed, his eyes prickling with tears. She was right. It was her choice, and there was nothing that he could do to stop her.

"I'm going with you," Steve said.

"Me too," Eddie said.

"No," Chrissy said softly.

"Our choice, remember?" Eddie asked, and Chrissy cursed.

"We're going have to do it while he's remote traveling like El," Dustin said.

"And you're going to need bait," Max said. "Which means using me to call him out."

"No!" Lucas yelled.

"My choice, Lucas," Max said softly.

Lucas deflated instantly, his shoulders sinking. Steve gave him a look of sympathy.

"You're going to need a distraction while you're in the Upside Down, and we're going to need weapons," Nancy said.

"That won't be a problem," Ellen sighed. "We'll figure the rest out tomorrow. Until then, get some rest. There's a room down the hall with beds."

Eddie and Steve watched as Chrissy pulled Max into a tight hug. It lasted a while before Chrissy was pulled into a hug by her cousin and uncle.

"We're not going to let anything happen to her, right?" Eddie asked, slipping his hand into Steve’s.

"Right," Steve promised.

His stomach churned as he watched Chrissy laugh at something that Vickie had said. Why did it feel like it was a promise that he couldn't keep? They could save the world tomorrow, but Steve and Eddie could lose Chrissy. No, he wasn't going to let that happen.

Chapter Seventeen

[blamemma]

maxiel?! (lol)

3am - DRAMA - Cause you only call me when it's 3am in California // I been drinking all day and I’m tired of, Waiting on you to make the first move, I’m waiting on you to notice - 502 words, max/daniel, hurt no comfort

"I think maybe Daniel you should stop being so cruel." Max speaks into his sim room his voice shaking, his phone on loudspeaker.

He'd ignored the first call, watched as it came through whilst he was driving around Spa on the sim, a new time to beat that Gianni had set. The second call came a minute later, and as his phone had lit up again with the name Daniel, his phone screen flooded with a photo of them sat thigh-to-thigh on a yacht in Monaco Vlad had taken. Max scrambled for his phone, hoping. He'd continued driving, the screen in front of him a distraction of the pain he'd been feeling all through the summer break.

Listened as Daniel had told him how much he missed him, how he wished Max was in LA with him right now, how he wants to kiss him everywhere, how he's dying to taste him again.

"Max, come on, don't be so difficult." Daniel's voice doesn't sound right through Max's speaker, sounds distant and far away, all traces of any softness gone, but then Max reminds himself it could also be the alcohol. Then he also remembers Daniel doesn't love him. "Tell me a bedtime story."

"Ok Daniel," Max counters, crossing the start line to begin a new lap. "how about the one where a guy tells the idiot he's been dating for 4 months that he loves him, and instead of that guy saying anything back, he leaves the apartment he's practically moved into and hops on a flight straight to Los Angeles the next day. Would you like to hear that story Daniel?"

Max is seething; it's been days of this. Of Daniel out with his friends all day riding dirt bikes or hiking trails and Max searching for crumbs of him on social media at all different times of day, and then like clock work, most days since he left, 3am in California, 12pm in Monaco, Daniel calls him, drunk out his mind, a full bottle of wine probably in his system.

"I don't like that one," Daniel slurs. Max grips the steering wheel in front of him hard, bites his lip to stop himself from screaming Neither do I. Tries not to imagine Daniel all hazy eyes and tousled curls, sprawled on his crisp white bed in LA, nothing on but brightly-coloured boxers.

Instead, he focuses on how he's perfected Les Combes, aced the first sector, how he's edged ahead of Gianni's sector two time by mere tenths. If he can beat this -- a small win.

It's almost comical that Max knows exactly what's coming next. Knows what question Daniel's going to ask; it's been the same one for the past nine days. If he doesn't laugh at the joke of it all, of their situation, he'll cry.

"If I come home," Home. Max aches and aches and aches. "Will you forgive me?"

"No." Max lies.

He misses the breaking zone at Stavelot and crashes into the barrier.

[akkrosu]

Thank you, @recentadultburnout, for tagging me and asking for my nine favorite TV shows! I might have gone a little overboard because I haven’t been tagged a lot before, but please indulge me.

This is going to be limited to QLs, if only because I couldn’t think of a single piece of Western (or straight) media I love and/or remember well enough to be able to put on this list. The ones I have chosen are below, in no particular order.

1. The Untamed

This one belongs here both for being a fantastic story and for being the reason I even discovered any of the other series on this list. My entire “obsessed with Asian queer media” thing started all because a friend once told me, “Let me show you what I’ve been watching recently.” What can I say, drunk Lan Zhan got to me.

2. Moonlight Chicken

One of the most beautiful, thought-provoking and mature series I’ve ever seen, QL or otherwise. P’Aof is a genius and I would have to hide in shame if I didn’t have at least one of his works on this list. He created a narrative of six real people trying to figure out life and how to be happy and there is so much strength in every single one of them.

3. Not Me

With at least three watchthroughs one of my most-watched BLs. I mean, OffGun and the social commentary and political action and the queerness of it all and the characters. Ugh, I love this show. Plus, the music and musical editing were phenomenal.

4. Where Your Eyes Linger

Probably my favorite Korean BL ever? Also the KBL to really get me into KBLs, so it already deserves a medal for that (I was missing out on so much). I’m a sucker for good yearning and forbidden relationships, and this series gave me everything I wanted. And, again, the soundtrack. The instrumental of See U playing as Kang Gook storms Tae Joo’s dad’s house lives rent-free in my mind.

5. HIStory 3: Make Our Days Count

Yes, it’s the other HIStory 3, the one everyone ignores because ‘he went out to buy salt’. Look, don’t judge me, I own up to my love for this series. It’s not the show’s fault all anyone ever remembers is the tragic ending. It’s also such a beautiful story about a total dork falling in love with a lonely nerd and defying all odds to be with him. Plus, the best sibling relationship ever. And (spoiler) said dork dying doesn’t invalidate everything else the series tells us. Yes, it was sad, but I can deal with the sadness. And sometimes, the sadness is as much part of a show as it is of life.

6. The Eclipse

This series haunts me to this day. I was obsessed with it, and I still am. Akk is one of my favorite characters ever written, and First portrayed him beautifully. So did Khaotung with Ayan. The sheer existence of P’Golf baffles my mind to this day. These 12 episodes gave me everything I’ve ever wanted.

7. The Eighth Sense

I take back what I said about Where Your Eyes Linger. This is my favorite KBL. I’m not even sure I can explain why. It’s just so honest. And so, so queer. It made me cry so many times, and the storytelling was magnificent. Plus, it’s one of the few full-length KBLs we have.

8. We Best Love

The cups in my profile picture are the ones Yu Zhenxuan and Pei Shouyi drink out of in the flashbacks of the second season, so... yeah.

This was my very first QL that wasn’t a bromance, and so I’m very biased. I’m almost mad at myself for making this my first one, because sometimes it feels like nothing else could ever live up to it. I admit to having a special love for season 1, even though season 2 seems to be the one people talk about a lot more. It’s just perfect, everything about it. Especially Gao Shide’s mom.

9. My School President

What a phenomenal show. I remember how much I was looking forward to Fridays during the time this was airing, and each week it gave me everything I wanted. Gemini and Fourth are fantastic actors, the friend groups made me cry all the time, it’s one of the cutest things I’ve ever seen, and there are some absolute bangers in there, musically speaking. Gun and Tinn will always have a special place in my heart.

Some honorable mentions because it’s really hard to pin down exactly nine:

Never Let Me Go – I spent a lot of time debating whether to put this or MSP in this list because I love them both equally. And because they aired around the same time, they are sort of irrevocably tied together in my mind.

Big Dragon – I loved this significantly more than I ever expected to, and I can’t be impartial about Yai to this day, because I love him with all my heart. This was such a messy, weird, chaotic show, and yet it somehow gave us such beauty and sappy people in love.

Step by Step – It doesn’t get to be on the list because it hasn’t finished airing yet, and so it could still fuck up, but if it keeps going like this, it is definitely going to become one of my favorites. (Same with Be My Favorite, honestly.)

I don’t know many people around here, and certainly not many I wouldn’t feel awkward tagging, but I’ll just be awkward anyway and kindly ask @ellaspore and @biochemjess if they feel up for it. I wanna know! (No pressure, though.)

[zestyaahbutler]

if nobody fills your inbox like i’m gonna fill heinkel’s ass, they’re not doing it right

HAD TO ASK MY FIRST QUESTION: since i want amulya away from those crusty white men for a minute, how do you think she is as a mother? and what was her brief relationship with integra like?

love your writing so much btw<3

Thank u sunslept, I will provide u with enough Amulya content as you ask for. I salute u in your Heinkel endeavors!!! I be going crazy at the fact that I have such a dedicated fan. Your comments and interactions have made me smile a bunch. I felt soooo bad for not getting this out the day you sent it in. I shall include a doodle for the inconvenience:

Fuck them old guys >:)

Amulya’s relationship with Integra

TW: mentions of suicide, questionable dynamics, mental illness, average Hellsing lore

Amulya was extremely happy to become pregnant with Integra. She first became pregnant with Integra almost 2 years. As I said before, her pregnancy was relatively normal. Her mental state has never been the best but it was at least manageable. 

However, when the full scope of what the organization was revealed to her and Arthur mentioned Integra being designated as the eventual heir, Amulya was very much against it. She was dealing with a ton of emotions and hormones so finding out near the end of her term. For Arthur to lie about her and give her such big news felt like a huge betrayal. She didn’t want Integra to be involved with an organization that dealt with such heinous creatures. Even if it was for the good, she wanted Integra to be normal and grow up to be whatever she wanted. It felt too soon to expect their daughter in a leadership role. As worried as she was, she tried to understand Arthur’s views on the matter and suppress her own opinions. 

Integra was born on October 27th, 1977, at 7:43 in the morning. Fortunately, she was a very healthy baby. Both Amulya and Arthur were ecstatic about Integra coming into the world. It was surreal for her to hold and get to know someone who had been growing inside her for nine months. Even as happy as she was, Amulya developed post-partum depression. She couldn’t say why she felt as sad and guilty as she did but it was an overwhelming amount. She would often cry about how she felt horrible for bringing such a pure human being into the terrible world. She wanted to leave that terrible world and would feel even worse. She was scared of holding Integra herself. Amulya couldn’t bare the thought of somehow hurting Integra. Amulya was also terrified of being alone with her. For months, she relied on nannies, maids, or Walter for helping with Integra. She had a routine of having them hold Integra while she sits next to them. If she ever hold Integra, it was for short amounts of time. 

Amulya felt like an inadequate wife and mother. She had difficulty sleeping. Integra would wake up at odd times at night which didn’t help. She was scared of Integra possibly dying in her sleep. While she trusted everyone to look after her and had more help than she could’ve asked for, there was still always the feeling something could happen. The worst times for her were when she would walk to Integra’s room at night sleep deprived and just look at her. Nothing in particular would happen but she would be thinking about taking Integra and leaving, strangling Integra so she wouldn’t have to live in such a world, or taking her own life. She never acted on hurting Integra but those thoughts were the ones that made her too scared to hold her. 

Arthur was supportive and tried to ease Amulya’s mental state as much as he could. One of the steps he took to help was using one of the organization's psychologists to help Amulya process the information on the organization much better. This was an older woman who had kids herself and was plenty experienced with helping victims with trauma regarding the supernatural. This woman played a massive part in Amulya becoming more comfortable with the organization and keeping her spirits up. 

Arthur was always a very busy man. He always loved Integra since she was born. There were just not a ton of opportunities for him to take time off.

After almost a year, Amulya was able to hold Integra on her own. She even had Integra sleep in the bed with her. Due to her less-than-stellar start to motherhood, she tried her best to make up for it by spending as much time as possible with her daughter. She designated time for herself and for her hobbies but spent the majority of her time raising and doting on her. Amulya wanted to be there for every milestone. Not that Arthur would ever want to break her heart, but Integra’s first word was said around him. Amulya and Arthur were both present when Integra took her first steps. Amulya felt more and more whole seeing Integra growing up. She even saw bits of her personality forming. Integra wasn’t too needy but when she was set on something, she would throw a bit of a fit. It didn’t help that Amulya would give in. These fits were mainly Amulya putting her down for more than a few minutes or not being able to give Integra to Arthur while he was working. This resulted in Amulya spending some days in the office with Arthur while holding Integra. She even had a couch put in his office so she would have somewhere comfortable to sit. 

Amulya adored how Integra looks. Her looking so much like Arthur was the best to her. Integra’s hair was blonde to her surprise. She doesn’t have a clear idea on how the genes were that strong but she wasn’t ever unhappy with it. She was excited to get Integra her first haircut but was destroyed at some of her beautiful hair being cut off. She styled Integra’s hair in bows and clips. She dressed her in fancy outfits and hats. The accessories would come off while Integra was playing but was sure to take pictures of her before they did. Amulya was very excited for the holidays so she could dress Integra up for parties. 

Amulya was picky choosey on who she allowed around Integra. She never had a good experience around Richard. He wasn’t allowed alone with Integra or even hold her. She was convinced that he always had a different motive than getting to know his niece. 

She was ore than happy to show off Integra to the members of the round table. If there as a meeting, there was a chance of Amulya popping in for a brief distraction to announce that Integra had woken up from a nap. 

While she was a very caring mother, she still dealt with depression and anxiety. This might be a little weird to say but just because she was very happy doesn’t mean she never had intrusive thoughts or episodes. The times that she was really bad were impulsive decisions. She never regretted Integra, she regretted being the one to be her mother. Ultimately, she felt like she was too weak and too much of a burden to the people around her.

Just me talking: I hope that helps! <3 If anyone has any more questions, drawing requests, or story requests regarding Amulya, let me know. I apologize for taking a while to respond to this. I got a little too passionate about my small story with her and Walter.

[the-ironic-monster]

You asked for gushes so here:

OMG SONIC PRIIIME

okay number one: SONADOW SO REAL omg i love how touchy the writers/animators let them get this season its eye candy. alsooo like the DESPERATION from Shadow is SO played up i was DYING i was like HES GONNA MAKE IT BUT SHADOW!!!!!!!

number two: DREAD! Dread got GOOD character development! And Black Rose is Captain now!! Im actually SO excited abt this like yay!

number three: ROSE SISTERS aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa they were so cute i love themmm!!

number four: Rusty Rose's speech about her emotions and the flicky I wanted to scream and cry that was beautiful. And her little face towards the bird when it landed on her hammer i almost died for the 18th time

number five: Sonic and Nine! they did so goood!! Their little hug! and Nine almost crying when Sonic tells him to give up made me want to cry i almost cried like just tears. Nine is so traumatized, give him a found familyyyyyy

number six: the lighting. ah. so goood this shoow is so preeety

number seven: hooooooo Mangy and Sails were very cute! Mangy making 38% better efficiency was golden

number eight. NINE WTF YOU TRIED TO KILL YOUR OTHER COUNTERPARTS???? WHY DID YOU DO THAT???

number nine (haha reference)-Chatter: blllllllerrrrrgggg auuuughghghghgh hoooooaaaaaaooo wow. wow. knuckles was cool, renegade knuckles, shadow smashing sonic, wtf, edgelord to shadow's face was just HOOOO! GOOD! the goofyness of sonic joking apon the face of death dude cant catch a breath. WILL WE GET EXTRA EPISODE??? broooooo.

I hope my gushing was sufficient. Have a nice day!

yes yes thank you very much for this def felt the gushing pure n true xD

i agree to so many of these. small highlights of

Shadow holding sonic even tighter when he starts speeding up 2. shadow's droopy ears when sonic went limp. wonder if he thought of maria when she collapsed on the ark? xO

3.Mangy def best prism Tails in my book lmao Rose sisters. i wish they got to meet Og Amy. maybe neeext time?

hope so!

[charlottedabookworm]

Dawntrail Day 7+8 (part 1/2)

spoilers up to: lvl100 msq quest Dawntrail

original draft date: 4-5/7/24

scheduled release for: 31/7/2024

working on day 7 so i’m merging these. since i’ve only got a couple hours i'mma do my tribals on picto and then do the instance i stopped at yesterday, hopefully get close to a dungeon/trial unlock but really not got much time. day 8 i'm finishing up msq 100% no matter how long it takes me and then hopefully doing the two optional dungeons!

*

…completely forgot that zoraal ja gave the order to kill all the civilians in solution nine

nice way to start the morning

*

“I have no more use of you, begone”

hmmmm thats an odd thing to say considering you were claiming he wasn’t your son before

fingers crossed nothings up with gulool ja

*

annnnd fade to black with the echoing sound of an execution shot lovely haven’t heard that since shadow ringers

*

pfft that last one!

except i really don't care what sphene thinks ngl

*

otis is back!

yes!

really didn’t want to kill him

*

damn

he was a good guy

*

okay but-

where is erenville?

they wouldn’t kill him off offscreen i know that much but we’d better not find him dying i swear to fucking everything I will-

*

*stares at crying child*

fuuuuck i really hope you're not a trap

*

oh thank fuck he's alive

also sorry your mums dead and has been a probably a long time mate

*

huh

he didn't mention it

why didn't you mention it erenville, what are you thinking rn?

*

no, please

this actually is important information to have

considering your mum is possibly the same sort of endless otis is and she had to end up that way somehow

*

love looking at this ngl

so much easier and nicer doing it as you progress through the zones

*

i made it to the fifth dungeon unlock but since there's almost certainly a trial afterwards and i have barely enough time to do the dungeon if i zoom through it, i'mma wait and do it in the morning

soooo wondrous tails time for picto ig

*

oh

thats just rude we didn't need that

*

ayyy alphi esti and shtola!

only reason theyve shown up just before i should be unlocking a trial is cos it can be done in trust? maybe? pls?

*

fuuuck that looks like a voidgate to me

zoraal ja wtf have you been doing

*

oh?

could it maybe lead to whichever reflection the alexandrian's are from

final zone in another shard? maybe?

*

so ig it’ll be like ‘we beat him he flees we chase’

boom final zone and trial and dungeon?

either that or sphene will actually be the final boss which still wouldn’t surprise me

*

the framing reminds me of hades ngl

like it tho

*

i know you're having a crisis but has it occured to you that you were born because your dad liked kids? like i know your entire existence is like. a miracle and gulool ja ja didn't know he could have bio kids til you were born but that man obviously lived for being a dad

*

this music-

just gonna sit here and listen to this for a bit before i enter the trial lol

*

genuinely forgot that y'shtola used to run around as a conjurer

it feels like so long ago now lol and i half expected them to have rdm healer ali again

*

okay his second phase actually looks cool

and isn't a massive floating head sitting at the edge of the arena which gives many bonus points

*

zoraal ja looks pretty dead to me and we still have a dungeon and trial to go so-

sphene, cachuia, or some third unknown threat? taking bets now

*

yeah it’s sphene 100% isn’t it

‘deliver my people’ huh

*

yeahhhh there we go

*

once again, i agree with ali

how many will you slaughter, sphene, so that your endless (yourself included) will live another day

how many children will you sacrifice so that your may live your hundredth lifetime

*

but they aren't remembered

i'm gonna scream how dare you say that when your system removes the memories of a deceased person from everyone who knew them

how dare you-

*

how dare you bring his mother into this

his mother, who everyone from his village has forgotten because of your system-

i-

*

don't worry koana, it's not the first time

this is basically a tuesday for me i'll keep your sister safe

*

i love him he's so sweet

i'm so glad gulool ja didn't turn out to be a trap

that probably would have broken my heart

*

that graphics update really looking peak on the af gear

wow

look at that metal

(now to time glam back over it)

*

so thw question is

another dungeon immediately?

huh nope

*

ooooooo it so pretty

it has canals

*

cachuia i'm guessing

i see where erenville gets the pretty from

*

oh

oh erenville love you're not going to take this well

your mother is dead and alive (did she get a choice? did they just pluck up her memories adn make her endless?) and she wants them all to die again

*

i love this

but also raha breaking my heart every expansion he's in

love him for that

*

oh so we're continuing to traumatise both erenville and wuk lamat i see

great

wonderful

thank you very much for that square

*

screaming crying throwing up why are you doing this to me

*

"I'm put in mind of Lyhe Mheg"

a tribe quest reference? in my final fantasy 14 msq?

*

this cutscene is legit one of my favourite parts of the expansion

sure we gotta shut down the memories of all these kids but we'll give them something nice before that

*

ayo wtf

those are kriles bio parents

so i see we’re spreading the trauma to krile to join with erenville and wuk lamat

glad she can maybe get some closure tho

*

love raha running up to krile and her parents and just chomping down on ice cream to break the ice between her parents

he’s such a good friend

*

....oh i hit the image cap.

alright part 2 incoming

[philcollinsenjoyer]

movie asks: get back (its on letterboxd, we're in a free world, let's count it....), sleeping with other people, saw X, and se7en

get back : never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece | new one it's more complicated than that

get back you will always be a beautiful normal regular sensible 8 hour long movie to me... the thing is i can't rate it objectively anymore like you're just sat there watching 4 cunts argue for 8 hours until the fungus hits... it's not a film to me it's a friend i'll just put it on for background noise or when i'm cooking or something it's been driving me to madness for nine months and i'll never give it above 3 stars on letterboxd. more seriously i have issues with some of the editing mostly of the dialogue i think it's very hard to understand what exactly they're saying and some of it is the editing's fault because there are conversations that are perfectly palatable in 1970's let it be and complete word salad in get back and i think peter jackson needs to let shots breathe a little cause it gets very annoying after a while to always cut away every 2 seconds esp if you're trying to look at someone's face when they're talking to try to get what they're trying to say (because the dialogue is all over the place)

sleeping with other people : never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

i was so surprised by this one i was expecting to not like it at all and it made me cry like three times it was such a lovely and heartbreaking romcom i love when people become best friends before falling in love it's so beautiful and the scene where she takes his hand before saying goodbye cause she's moving away and he kisses his hand once she's left made me scream like william darcy dead in a ditch rn.... i can almost forgive that dumbass masturbation scene it's that serious

saw x: never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

i was so happy that i got to see it in theaters i had such a blast and i was so happy to be back to a great saw movie in the franchise. i obviously see its flaws but it's so much of what i wanted for a movie with amanda & john. showed the love and showed the manipulation what John is ready to put amanda through and how amanda is getting more and more disullisioned with the ideology . john's constant disregard for addicts, his carelessness. fascinated by just how sympathetic he was being made to be while being absolutely the bad guy. the hello zepp reveal was stupid but when hello zepp starts olaying i'm on my feet no matter what so i did not ! care

se7en : never seen | want to see | the worst | bad | whatever | not my thing | good | great | favorite | masterpiece

the only other fincher to this day i did not care for. i'm not sure what exactly did not click for me but i found it gratuitous and uninteresting not to mention horribly previsible . i didn't know going to it this was the what's in the box movie i really was unaware but the second you meet brad pitt's young beautiful charming blonde wife you know she's dying and she does which just takes away all the emotional core of the scene and i didn't care for brad pitt in it found him annoying and stupid. morgan freeman was good though and i'm still really into the idea of the hellish city where it rains all the time

[the1975attheirverybest]

The subject discussed in the last asks reminded me of a poem by Nayo Jones, about mental health, self-love and romantic relationships.

.......

Healing

I had a therapist tell me once, it was ironic how much love I gave out, 'cause I didn't give much to myself.

She laughed, like self-love was a sick joke.

I chuckled, then cried at home.

I had someone tell me once, I could not love anyone else until I learn to love myself.

This time, I got to laugh.

This time, the sick joke was mine, was me.

Might as well wait forever.

I remember hating myself at the age of seven, journals filled to the brim with criticisms.

By eight, I had enough pages to stitch them into wings to fly close enough to the sun, to see my tears turn to steam, felt the wax burn on my shoulders and mold into thick skin.

I was nine when I wanted to die.

Thirteen when I found a solution, figured if I could cut my legs enough gravity would let me go.

When it didn't, I tied a pillowcase around my neck, twisting like the rope swings I knew so well from childhood, heard my heartbeat pound in my ears like a warning drum, then fade.

I'd almost convinced myself I'd done it.

When I started writing, I smeared my blood on every page to remind myself that everything beautiful has a consequence.

I'd hoped to stall the clotting long enough to give myself to the craft and let myself go.

I have died so many times.

So when I told you that loving you almost makes life worth it, I was not joking.

When I tell you that loving you almost makes me forget how much I hate myself, it is not poetry.

Loving you is taking all of the love I could never give myself and putting it to good use.

It is reminding myself that if someone can love a dying thing this way, can hold the Lazarus of my body and give thanks for the way it holds back.

If someone can kiss the scars, administer the pills, absorb the bad days and wake up smiling next to me, then I can try to breathe again.

Because self-love does not always come first.

Or second.

Or even ever.

But your love be the guardrail on the ledge, be the drawers that hide all the sharp things,

Be the body that carries my collapsed frame into bed, be the flowers you bought,

Because even though they are dying too, they still dance.

Love will not heal me, will not wipe my slate of a body clean - I will always be a woman of wounds, of rope-mark neck and melted skin.

Love will not heal me, but it will hold my hand if I ever heal myself, and maybe teach me a joke that I can stay alive long enough to laugh at.

I love you, enough to want to love myself too

........

As a person who struggles with mental health issues, I can relate. It's not that I'm not able to take care of myself alone or that I don't want to, but it makes it easier on bad days to think that I have someone worth fighting for.

Trigger warnings: the poem above contains mentions of suicide.

This made me tear up. I couldn’t get through it without crying cuz I LITERALLY COULD HAVE WRITTEN THESE EXACT WORDS MYSELF.

And yeah, I know what you mean, when someone else is involved, sometimes out of pathological desire not to be a burden on anyone or not to affect them with my depression or whatever I’ll force myself to do stuff and push through. Which I don’t do on my own. Sucks man. But thanks for being here and for sharing 💗 at least it helps to know we’re not alone.