#I AM DEAD DECEASED SOBBING

[inkykeiji]

As sad as I'd be if it turns out Dabi/Touya's dead I want him DEAD so bad. Like he deserves it😭 I don't even know if I mean that as in "he's a horrible person and deserves to die" or "he's been through enough and needs to be put out of his misery" but I want him deceased

LMAOOOO i am 100% with you on that anon!! & for me, it’s both—especially since death is what he wants. like he fully intended to die and take his father and possibly brother with him during that final battle. the man wore white on purpose; it was supposed to be his own funeral. in my opinion, the best end for him would’ve been him and enji dying together—this way, touya gets what he wants (to kill his father) and enji makes amends for all of his transgressions (with his life).

[2truehearts]

I LOVE THEM SM

[lo-cinno]

I AM CONFLICTED

[darkpoisonouslove]

Me, about this scene: "If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more."

[givemeuniversalcrossovers]

Please forgive the gif but oh my GODDDDDDDDDDD THE ABSOLUTE FLUFF I AM ACTUALLY GOING TO DIE THEY ARE MAXIMUM EXTREME 1000% FLUFF!!!!!!

You don’t have to; but have you ever drawn a Maximum Floofer of a mew?

Like 100% fluffy boi?

I whipped up a concept where I made the fluffiest possible mew that I could convince myself could still comfortably exist.

And I’ve gotten attached. So we’ll see where this lil guy ends up….

[sentientcave]

Heavy Weighs the Crown

Here we go friends! These chapters just keep getting longer. A larger plot begins to reveal itself to me. I am having a lot of fun here and I hope you are too.

Chapter 3 - Reading Between the Lines

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Contains: Generic fantasy setting, Princess Reader, No Y/N, Some exposition, Reader's dad (deceased) was a real piece of work, Bad memories, A spot of magic, Voyeurism, Reader description kept pretty neutral but I kind of got slightly more specific about black hair care so you're just going to have to live with it.

~6k words

The next morning, it rains.

The pitter-patter of rain against your windows wakes you up, because it sounds wrong. There’s only one small window in your room in Kate’s house, and when weather blows in it’s the sound of water trickling down and dripping off the thatch roof that’s loudest, not the rain itself. Here the sound echoes strangely in the big space, and you wake with a start, disoriented, your heart-hammering in your chest.

It feels like your life in town is the dream, trickling away faster than you can cup your hands to hold onto it. You fly out of bed and wrap a blanket around your shoulders, dashing out into the hallway, bare feet cold on the stone floor. The king’s bedroom is directly across the hall from your own, and you stare at the door, frozen and unsure if you’re willing to risk knocking, breath caught in your throat, chest tight, anxiety squeezing your ribs until they ache.

You’re sixteen and twenty-six both, living two lives out in one panicking body. You no longer belong here and you’ve never been anywhere else. Your father is alive, angry, terrifying, and he’s dead and buried where he can’t hurt you anymore. You are a tossed coin landed on it’s edge, waiting to fall.

The door in front of you opens, and you leap back on instinct, but breathe a sigh of relief when it’s John standing there, looking at you with surprise first, and then concern. “Sweetpea?” he asks, stepping forward to meet you, but leaving space between your bodies, like he knows that it would be worse for him to touch you right now. “What’s wrong?”

You press your shaking fingers to your mouth, holding back a sob. You swallow it down, pulling yourself together enough to speak. “I thought it was a dream,” you say at last. “I thought he was still alive.”

There’s no question who you mean. John reaches a hand out, an offering, and you take it, clinging to him like a life-line. He reels you into his arms, and you lean in, the solid, warm bulk of him as reliable and real as the earth below. “He’s not,” he says firmly. “I put him in the ground myself. You’re safe.”

You nod against his chest, feeling small and silly now. “I’m sorry,” you say, although you’re not sure what you’re sorry for. For showing weakness, maybe, for being lost in your own memory, for needing reassurance.

“It’s early yet,” he murmurs against the top of your head. “You should try to sleep a little longer.”

You’re not sure you could even if you tried, and even though you’re still tired, the adrenaline leaving your body cold, fatigue dragging at your bones insistently. You could maybe sleep against John’s chest, holding onto him, his heartbeat steady and strong enough in your ear to drown out the still-frenetic tempo of your own. “I think I’ll just get dressed,” you say, pushing away. He drops his arms instantly, letting you put a little distance between you.

He shakes his head, smiling at you fondly, eyes crinkling up at the corners. “Sweetpea, the sun hasn’t even risen. Go back to bed. I know just the thing to help. Go on.” He turns you toward your door and nudges you along.

There’s no point in arguing with him— You are tired, and although you suspect sleep will be beyond your reach, it’s cold in the hallway, especially now that you’re no longer pressed against John’s warm chest, and your bed is still warm when you climb back in.

Darkness presses down on you, heavy as grave-dirt, and you lay there, staring at the ceiling. You touch the crystal lamp next to your bed to light up the room, but that’s no better, really.

John knocks, but doesn’t wait for your answer before coming in, a dark wolf with blue eyes trotting in on his heels. “Go on, Soap,” he says, and Soap hops up onto your bed and lays down half on top of you, his head on your shoulder, tail wagging. John pats him on the head like he’s just a dog. “He’ll keep an eye on you.”

It should probably feel weird to cuddle up with a werewolf, since he’s really a man, and you’ll have to face that silly, crooked grin in the morning, but you need someone to cling to, and you’re to proud and cautious to cling to John. “Thank you,” is all you have it in you to say.

“He gets nightmares too. Usually sleeps across someone’s bed. I’m sure he’d be happy to stay with you while you’re here.” John says it simply, without a drop of judgment or condescension, and scratches behind Soap’s ear. “He’s a real good listener when he can’t talk back too.” He withdraws, tapping the light and throwing the room into darkness again.

You don’t even hear the door click shut. You bury your face into the thick fur around Soap’s neck and fall asleep almost instantly.

When you wake up again, it's with a very large, very naked man on top of you.

You yelp, scrambling back on your pillows. Johnny’s eyes snap open at your first movement, on high alert before he’s all the way awake. He scrambles too, and falls right off the side of the bed with a solid thud.

"Oh! Johnny I'm so sorry," you look down at him from the edge of the mattress, trying not to laugh. "I forgot you were here."

"It's alright, lass. I didna mean to startle ye. Ah shift back overnight sometimes. Price didnae remember to warn ye." He sits up and leans against the bed, forearms folded over each other. He looks no worse for wear, and like he slept as solidly as you did, those last few hours. There’s a faint imprint of lace from your nightgown on his face, and half of his hair is stuck straight up, the rest pressed flat. "Are ye feelin' better?"

“I am. Thank you for staying with me.”

“S’nothin’ really. Nicer sleepin’ with you than Gaz, he kicks awl night long. An’ Nox doesnae like me none, so I cannae stay with Ghost.” He grins. “Price lets me stay but he makes me sleep at the foot of the bed like a dog. Sometimes a man wants a cuddle, ye ken?”

You giggle. “I ken.”

"Really livin' up to yer name, aye Sweetpea?"

You laugh again. "Johnny, you know that's not my name, right?"

"No? What is it?" He shakes his head when you tell him. "I like Sweetpea better. Suits ye."

"Me too," you tell him. It has no connections to your previous life. It just reminds you of the pretty pink, purple, and white flowers that grow on delicate, curling vines that you like to grow over the side of the chicken coop.

There's a knock on the door, and Johnny leaps up to see who it is. You have to hold your hand up quickly to avoid getting an eyeful of things you're not supposed to see. He's absolutely shameless-- you suspect he wouldn't think twice about strolling down the hallways without a scrap on. You have a curiousity about men's bodies that you're too bashful to indulge, even if you're pretty sure that Johnny would stand still and let you look as long as you liked. Well, maybe not stand still. But you doubt he would mind.

It's Ghost at the door. He doesn't wait for an invitation to come in, but he has clothes for Johnny hung over his arm, so you don't mind. Honestly, you can bear a few overzealous men who feel entitled to your space for a few days, because after that you'll get to go home and get back to your life.

Ghost positions himself between you and Johnny, just as he had yesterday. "Price said you 'ad a bit of an episode earlier. You olright?"

"Just fine," you say brightly. "No need to worry."

"Och, let him worry, hen. He likes ta do it."

"I'm really fine," you insist.

"You want to visit the mausoleum? Might make it feel more real."

You'd be more interested in going there to visit your mother's grave, if you're going at all, but you think that you'll wait for a sunnier day. A gray, dreary morning like the one outside your windows is no balm for dark memories or old wounds. Sunshine might be. "Not today," you say. "Maybe tomorrow." You get out of bed as gracefully as possible, well aware that you have an audience. "Perhaps the two of you could step outside for a moment while I get dressed?"

Ghost glances behind him, checking to see if Soap is covered up enough for him to move, and then walks over to your closet and pulls out a screen that you hadn't noticed sitting in the corner there, and sets it up. "There you go, Sweetpea. You'll need help with all your fastenin's anyway, won't you?"

You imagine that he's smiling under the mask, more than a little smug about it, but you let it slide. "Very thoughtful."

"Try to be."

The blank face of his mask gives you nothing when you glance over, aside from that he’s looking back. It’s not the first time that you’ve wished for more insight into what he’s thinking, but there’s a gravity to his attention that you swear was never there before, and it prickles at the back of your neck even after you duck out of sight.

You choose a sunny yellow dress today, to counter the deluge outside, and remove the silk scarf wrapped around your head so you can twist your braids on each side from your brow back to the nape of your neck, pinning the lengths into a knot. You’ll have to redo them soon, but without Kate and her wife to help you, you know it’ll take hours, if not most of a day.

You walk over to where Ghost is sitting and turn your back to him so he can button it up for you. He hands you his gloves to hold while he does so, and you run your hands over the detail of white leather bones stitched on over the well-worn black leather, decoration and extra protection both. Idly, you slip one on, but your hands are so small in comparison to his that you have to stretch your hand out just to get your fingers arranged inside it properly. He stands behind you, and leans over you to gently pull them from your hands, as though to underline again how much bigger he is than you are.

The top of your head brushes his chest when you tip your head back to look at him. “Thank you,” you say.

“I’m always ‘appy to ‘elp,” he says. “I’m with you for the mornin’ anyway. Might as well make myself useful, eh?”

“Stuck minding me?” you tease, sweeping around to fold back the sheets on your bed, only to find that one of them had already done it. Ghost, most likely, judging by how neat it is. You touch his arm lightly in silent thanks, and the three of you leave your room together.

Other than insisting you eat breakfast (served in a communal dining hall, where they insist on bringing things to you rather than let you suffer the indignity of standing in a line, and watch you eat with unnerving intensity), they’re content to follow you around as you refamiliarize yourself with the castle, mapping out changes so you don’t get turned about looking for anything. You find a number of familiar faces here and there, and have an perplexingly similar conversation with anyone you know, where they welcome you back cheerfully, and grow a bit quiet and nervous when you insist that you won’t be staying long, and when you try to press them on that, you’re ushered out, told they’re too busy to chat, and that you’ll find time to catch up later.

You suspect that Ghost and Johnny are the source of their nerves, but both of them always seem to be a few paces out of (human) earshot, and minding their own business, talking about something else quietly between them.

"Where's Kyle?" you ask as you're hustled out of the the healer's work shop and back out into the hallway. It’s become abundantly clear, no matter how well they feign innocence, that your hulking shadows are making the staff nervous, and you decide not to subject anyone else to their company. If you can slip away from them later, you might be able to have an actual conversation.

“Prob’ly ‘oled up in ‘is workshop,” Ghost says. “Some weeks we ‘ardly see ‘im.”

“Wizardy shite,” Johnny adds, his tone disapproving. “As if there aren’t a thousand ways ta blow shite intae bits withoot wigglin’ yer fingers. Can blow up flour, did ye know, Sweetpea? In barrels isnae much different than black powder.”

“Still useful to have a little magic,” you say, flipping your palm over and conjuring a flame in the centre of it. It’s one of the few spells in your cache, and you’ve mostly just used it to light candles and the stove. Your lessons barely dipped beyond simple control— You’d been told that magic was no proper pastime for a lady. When you think back on it now, you think it’s more that your father never wanted you to have defenses that he could not control, or that could be used against him. A grim thought, from this side of things.

“Forgot you ‘ave a little magic in you.” Ghost holds his hands above yours, feeling the heat coming off the small flame. “Come on, pet. Let’s find Kyle. Might be enough to pull ‘is nose out of ‘is books.”

You close your hand, extinguishing the flame, and let them guide you through a few corridors and up a spiraling stone staircase.

Johnny hesitates at the door, nose wrinkling at the slight, hard to identify smell of complex magical wards that are carved neatly into the doors. You can feel the slight hum of it in your teeth. Ghost pushes the door open without knocking (you think all four of these men might be allergic to knocking), and steps inside.

You follow, and stop right there in the doorway while Ghost ventures in further. Kyle is shirtless, doing pushups over a heavy looking book. He doesn't look up, doesn't even stop when he turns the page, just continues the exercise one handed. He's in perfect shape, every muscle well-defined, putting even some of the finely-carved marble statues you've seen to shame. He has a frame for wiry muscle, but he's worked so hard that he's gotten bulky too, and although he's not as broad as Soap or as big as Ghost, it's clear that he's stronger than most men. Certainly stronger than men of his occupation have any need to be.

"What do you want, Ghost?" Kyle asks, still focused on his reading. "I'm busy, you know."

"Brought our girl by to see you, and you don't even bother lookin' up."

Kyle’s attention does snap up at that, brown eyes sliding past Ghost’s legs to you, still hovering in the doorway, Johnny a step behind, peering over your shoulder. Kyle scrambles to his feet, sending the book flying with a gesture. It settles on the desk behind him as he steps around Ghost, dusting his hands against his trousers before he takes yours, pulling you more fully into the space. His skin gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, but he's not the least bit out of breath. “Come on in, Sweetpea. Did you come all the way up here just to see me?”

“Of course,” you say. It’s a silly question, although now that you look around the space, you’re gripped by curiousity. The circular room is lined with bookshelves, each full of thick, leather and linen-bound tomes that hum with power. The whole room sings like a chorus, the sound not in your ears, but tickling the back of your mind instead. “I was wondering where you’d gone off to. I don’t want to interrupt, of course, if you’re working on something.” Although, now that you're looking, it seems like he’s working on many things, all at once. He has a carousel of research tomes open next to the desk, and neatly written pages laid out over the desk to dry, a stack of opened and unopened correspondence in a basket hanging from the side, ingredients measured out by a shelf full of bottles and jars of strange and familiar ingredients, and there are unlit candles set around the perimeter of an open area on the floor, a circle of iridescent tile set into the stone, pale and glittering.

“Nothing important this moment. Just studying while I wait for ink to dry. The mind grows dull if you don’t take the time to keep it sharp.” He glances at Johnny meaningfully, and receives a rude gesture in response.

“There’s more’n just books if ye want to keep sharp,” Johnny says, his voice flinty. “Isnae the only way to learn, ye know.”

You glance at Ghost. His mask looks back at you, blank as ever. “There’s a place for books, and a place for practical application,” you say diplomatically. “Wisdom can be found in many places.”

“In a pretty girl, for one,” Ghost says approvingly. “Would be good for you to crack a book once in a while, Soap. And for you to spend a little less time ‘oled up in ‘ere.” His head turns toward Kyle.

“I have a lot to do, you know,” Kyle says. “I can’t just shove everything to the side whenever I please.”

You drift closer to the desk, peeking at the tome he was referencing earlier, the pages opened to a chapter on illusion spells. Curious, you glance to his notes, humming with interest at the first page you glance at. It’s something about setting spells of illusion into fabric, weaving magic into the very stitches. “Are you trying to make a cloak of shadows?” you ask, picking up the page carefully by the edges, still mindful of the mostly dried ink.

Kyle looks over at you and smiles, but it’s all teeth. “Something like that. I didn’t know you were interested in magical theory.”

“She’s got a little sorcery in ‘er,” Ghost explains. “Maybe you should give ‘er a lesson or two. While she’s ‘ere.”

Your ears perk up at that, and you drop the paper back to the desk, forgetting it entirely. “Would you?” you ask excitedly. “I really would love to learn more.”

Kyle slips his shirt back on and beckons you over to one of the bookcases, smile turning sly and conspiratorial. “Can you give me a hand Sweetpea? I need something off the top shelf.”

You look up at the top shelf, which is well out of your reach. “Kyle, I think maybe you should ask Ghost.”

“Sorry, pet, I’m busy keepin’ Soap from pilferin’ alchemical ingredients.”

"Wasnae pilferin'! Just takin' a wee looksie. Isnae a crime."

"Soap," Kyle says pleasantly. "If I find anything missing we are going to have a long talk about it." He shakes his head lightly, sweet brown eyes finding yours, amused.

"D'ye think he means a good rough fuck?" Johnny asks Ghost, not quite quiet enough for you not to hear it. "Or an actual chat? Because that's goan ta change what I do here."

"I really don't think I can help," you say to Kyle, ignoring Johnny's query as much as you can. "Unless you'd like me to climb the shelves."

"Here." He crouches down in front of you and hugs your knees to his chest, other hand a higher on the backs of your thighs to hold you steady, and pops up. You let out a little shriek, and press your hands against his strong shoulders for support. "Don't worry, Sweetpea, I've got you. Now, can you grab that slim blue volume to the right? The one with no title on the spine."

Scanning the neat row of books, you locate the one he means and pick it up. "Ive got it," you inform him, laughing. "Now please put me down."

He slides you down his front carefully, adjusting his grip, your skirts bunching up and exposing your stockinged calves, and he holds you just above him for a moment. You loop your arms around his neck reflexively, holding the book behind him. He looks up at you, so dazzlingly handsome, you're almost surprised that he's real.

"Kyle," you remind him gently. "Please put me down."

“You sure?” he asks, bringing you down just a little more, so that your face is just above his own. “You look a bit tired today, princess. Could just carry you around for the rest of the day if you like.”

“That will not be necessary,” you say firmly. “But it’s a very kind offer.”

You hear a snort from the other side of the room, but you’re not sure if it comes from Ghost or Johnny. “Nothin’ kind about it,” Johnny says, crossing his arms. “Bastard just likes the idea of bein’ pressed up against ye all day.”

“You slept in her bed last night,” Kyle reminds him. “There’s no need to be jealous.”

“Ahm no’ jealous! Yer just bein’ a fandan charmer tryna cop a wee feel, an’ ye willnae admit ta it.”

You look over at Ghost, and he shakes his head. You imagine that he’s rolling his eyes, just as exasperated by the two of them as you are. He comes to your rescue though, carefully pulling you out of Kyle’s arms and setting you back down on the floor. “Thank you, Ghost,” you say archly, shaking your crumpled skirts out with one hand.

“Sorry, Sweetpea,” Kyle says, and you can’t help but note that he certainly doesn’t sound sorry. “If you read the first chapter of this tonight, we can do a lesson in the morning. This will probably be a step up from whatever paltry lessons the old wizard gave you— I know he took offence to the idea of training you at all, the closed-minded old bastard. If you have any questions, make notes, and we can go over it.” He taps the top of the book you hold. “You can write in it, if you like. I’ve scribbled in the margins a few times myself.”

You tuck the book into your pocket. “Thank you, Kyle. I appreciate that.”

“Anything for you, Sweetpea.”

You hesitate, a bit nervous to ask a favour when he’s already agreed to take time out of his day to give you a lesson in something you’re not sure you have enough talent in to warrant. He’s cleary a busy person, and you don’t want to waste his time.

Kyle senses your hesitation, and reaches for your hand, squeezing reassuringly. “Anything,” he repeats, brown eyes oh-so earnest.

Your ears feel hot. Flirting comes as easily to him as breathing, and even though you’re sure he means little by it, by his relationship with Johnny and the claim that John has laid on you, it’s hard not to grow flustered when he directs the full force of that sunshine smile at you. “Did you ever, um, help your sisters with their hair? I’d like to have a bath this afternoon, and wash my hair, but it’ll take me ages to rebraid it alone. I would really appreciate an extra set of hands if you have a spare minute tomorrow.”

He grins at that, pleased to be able to help you with something that Ghost and Johnny are ill-equipped to. The scar on his cheek dimples slightly when he smiles this hard, the slight flaw in his complexion more a dashing accessory to his charm than any detractor. “Would be happy to help. Do you have everything else you need? Oil? Curl cream?”

You hadn’t thought to check what was in the cupboard in the bathroom. “I’m not sure,” you admit.

“I have some. I’ll bring them by your room later this afternoon, just in case.”

Ghost offers to walk you back to your room, leaving Johnny behind to discuss something with Kyle, although as soon as the door closes, you hear a crash and a series of colourful swear words. You glance behind you as Ghost ushers you down the stairs. “Should we—”

“No. Trust me, Sweetpea. They’re just fine, and not doin’ anything you want to see.”

“Oh.” The implication warms you from the tips of your ears to somewhere in your belly.

“You’ve got the lads all worked up,” Ghost adds, as though you needed more context. “Competin’ with each other to get a smile out of you. Let ‘em blow off a little steam.”

“I don’t understand why they’re so concerned with me, if they have each other,” you say, trailing one hand over the wall, feeling the bumps of cool stone and seams between the cut blocks as you descend. “And John has made no secret of his intentions.”

He touches your arm to halt you, and moves past, taking a few extra steps so he stands below you, the near-hidden gleam of his eyes on level with yours. The two of you are alone here, where the curve of the stairs create a private universe, a pocket of stone and crystal light casting meagre shadow. "What are your intentions?" He asks. "Are you goin' to just let 'im take what 'e pleases?"

"I intend to go home," you say. "I won't be staying."

"Olright, maybe you do go 'ome. And what'f Kyle or Johnny came sniffin' round to court you themselves?"

"They won't."

"Why wun't they? You're a ray of sunshine sweet girl. You're the only one that don't see it."

"Ghost--"

"No, hush up for a moment, princess. You've got the wrong idea. I personally threatened every man that so much as looked your way. For years. Din't think about 'ow that'd make you feel. You're beautiful. Enough to chase, enough to go to bloody war for." His body is still, save for the slightest twitch of his fingers. “I don’t know why you can’t see it. You make us all crazy.”

The surety that John would really let you go slips as Ghost speaks, something fundamental about your footing in the world shifting uneasily beneath you. You had found comfort in the idea that you were quotidian, unremarkable. That the crown alone was aggrandizing, and you could pass unnoticed without it. Now you wonder if you’ve ever gone unnoticed, or if it was just that you had been too obtuse to see. “It doesn’t matter,” you insist. It’s easier to reject what he says outright, even if Ghost has never lied to you, never given you a reason to doubt his words. The ground settles. “I will be going home in a few days, and once John has my official endorsement none of you will have to keep an eye on me again.”

“You won’t rid yourself of me that easily,” he says firmly. “Keepin’ you safe’s one of the only jobs that I do that’s worth doin’. I promised your mum I would, an’ I don’t intend to break my oath just because you don’t think you’re worth it.”

“My mother asked you to?” You had always thought Ghost’s orders had come from your father, setting the quiet, faceless, black-clad knight on your heels, as close as a shadow, only leaving your side when the king sent him off to fight, somewhere far and away. “Why?”

“Figured she could tell I ‘aven’t got an ounce of ambition in me. Used to, before I came ‘ere. Didn’t do me any good. Can’t trust my own head, sometimes. But if I can trust what’s ‘ere—” He puts his hand to his chest, head tipped slightly to the side. “— Then I know I can trust what’s in there.” He lifts his hand and taps his finger against your forehead lightly.

You blink at him, surprised by how much he’s said all at once. Abruptly, he turns around and continues down the stairs, finished the conversation. You spur yourself back into motion, sweeping your skirts up with one hand so you don’t trip. There’s no doubt that you could trust Ghost to catch you, but the risk of sending you both tumbling down the long spiral staircase has you moving cautiously.

He stays with you for a bit, offering help unbraiding your hair and unbuttoning your dress, and leaves without protest when you ask him to. Predictably, he’s quiet the entire time, as though he used up his daily quota of words all at once in the stairway.

You lay out everything you need close to the tub, and sink into a hot bath, sighing. This is perhaps one of the few things you really did miss about castle life— Hot running water. If you wanted a hot bath in town, you would either have to go to the public bathhouse, or spend a good hour boiling enough water to fill a tub at Kate’s house.

You hum happily to yourself, which turns to singing out loud, the acoustics in the tiled room too good to resist. You sing your way through a number of folk songs as you run a cloth over your skin and scrub your hair clean, hot water and soap washing away what little of the darkness from that morning that company and distraction hadn’t banished, clinging shadows in the corners of your mind scoured clean again.

You pull the plug and let the water start to drain, and stand up, wringing your hair out before you reach over to the towel you’d set aside for yourself, bracing you hand on the side of the tub.

“What are you two muppets doing?” John’s voice coming through the cracked open door startles you. And it startles Johnny and Kyle too, because they tumble through the door onto the tiled floor, landing on top of each other in a heap.

You clutch the towel to your front, unable to keep yourself from letting out a surprised shriek. It takes a moment for surprise to give way to anger, your shocked, wide-eyed gaze traveling from Johnny’s red face to Kyle’s guilty expression to John in the doorway, a complicated mix of stony anger and surprise in his blue eyes. Both emotions fade as his attention lingers on your exposed legs, crawling up slowly.

“I came to drop off— But he was—” Kyle starts to try to explain himself.

“Dinnae try to blame tha’ on me, ye fuckin’ roaster, Ahm no’ a’ fault for what yer doin’,” Johnny cuts him off angrily, shoving Kyle off of him. “Yer no’ better than me just ‘cause ye weren’t here first.”

“I wouldn’t have—”

You level a glare at him that has his mouth shutting so fast that you can hear the click of his teeth. “Get out.”

The two of them scramble up and nearly fall over themselves trying to get out as quickly as possible, mortified to have been caught. They start sniping at each other before they’ve even gotten out of earshot.

John, however, doesn’t budge from the doorway. You direct your fury at him. “John. Get out.”

He doesn’t scramble to obey like the younger men did, as is he has any more right to be there than they did. “Sweetpea,” he says evenly, as though he expects to be able to talk you down from your very justified anger with a few measured words.

“Now,” you snap. “Before I lose my temper.”

He hesitates a moment longer, but the look on your face makes him reconsider trying to have a conversation with you for the moment, and he leans into the room just enough to grasp the door handle and pull it closed behind him as he retreats.

You look at the ceiling for a long moment, swallowing down the urge to scream.

By the time Ghost comes to fetch you for dinner (unsurprising that the other three didn’t have the nerve) you’ve mostly calmed down, untangling your emotions as you do your hair. You hope that John will have news of your cousin’s witness, so you can count down the days. The longing for home has intensified, and all you want is to curl up in your bed in Kate’s house and cry. If it will be weeks, you’ll ask if you can go home in the interim, and come back when the time comes to make your speech.

Ghost helps you button up your dress. You’re so tired of needing help from them. Your ire bleeds over, and you’re snappy with him too, annoyed that you’ve had to spend so much time with men lately. Aggravated that you’re forced to rely on them for something as private as getting dressed, when they shouldn’t even be alone with you in your room to begin with.

You apologize on the way down the stairs, however. Ghost just chuckles in response. “Even when you’re snappin’, you’re a peach,” he says. “Don’t think you missed a single opportunity for a please and thank you. Can’t ‘elp yourself from bein’ sweet.”

“Well, you didn’t do anything,” you say. “I’m not angry with you, I shouldn’t be rude.”

“Think it would be a bit of a lark, you bein’ rude.”

You laugh, and it clears away some of the lingering bitterness, like sediment washing away downstream. You feel remarkably clear-headed when you enter the dining room and face the three sets of guilty eyes.

All three of them start to speak at once, and stop as soon as you raise your hand. “I don’t want to hear it,” you say firmly. “All three of you are grown men, and you should know better than to behave so shamefully.”

John frowns, not happy to be receiving the same share of the blame. “Sweetpea, I wasn’t—”

“I am not finished.” You cut him off with a sharp look. “I know I do not need to chastise any of you. All of you were in the wrong. But I share some of the blame too, allowing you all free access to my space in the first place. So here is what will change. One, I would like a lock on my door. No more popping in without permission. Two, you will all learn how to knock. Three, I would like a lady to accompany me for the rest of my stay here. It is not appropriate for me to accept assistance from any man with dressing, and I do not require shadows following me everywhere I go.”

Ghost shifts beside you. “Now ‘old on,” he says. “You need protection.”

“I need no such thing. I do not believe there are assassins waiting around every corner for me.”

“I should be with you,” he insists. “If somethin’ ‘appens—”

“What do you expect is going to happen?” you ask hotly. You’ve lived on your own for years, and your hiding place was apparently well known to everyone. If an assassin was coming to dispatch you, they would have already come. The opportunities had likely been plentiful.

“Ghost is right. You need to be kept safe.” John holds up both hands when you look at him, half a surrender and half a plea for you to hear him out. You raise your eyebrows slightly, waiting. “A compromise. A fighting woman. Someone that can help you with anything you need, and can defend you if something were to happen.”

You incline your head. It’s a reasonable compromise. “That would be acceptable.”

“Farah?” Kyle asks.

“If she’ll say yes, she’d be the person I trust most with Sweetpea’s safety.” John glances at you, and offers you a little smile, like he’s not sure that you’re entirely done scolding. “You’ll like her. I’ll have her meet you in town tomorrow. Want you fitted for something nice to wear for your speech.”

“There is a closet full of perfectly nice dresses in my room,” you say. “I do not need anything else.”

“Indulge me. Your cousin’s man will be here tomorrow night, and the day after we’ll have you make your statement.” John’s smile widens, turning the slightest, inexplicable bit smug. “Want you to look your best, if it’s to be your last day as a princess, hm? And then on to better things.”

You sigh. It can't hurt to give in on this matter, since you won't have to stay much longer. “Very well, John. Although I think it’s a waste.”

The look in his deep blue eyes is inscrutable, but his smile doesn't slip. “I disagree. Nothing you let me give to you could ever be a waste.”

***

Image credits: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Divider by CafeKitsune

[houserautha]

honestly don’t really remember if you’ve done this trope already BUT “who did this to you?” WITH FEYD?? I NEED

I haven’t but WHY HAVENT I??? IT WORKS SO WELL FOR HIM

My instant thought is that this would fit well with a mini fic I’m slowly working on, where Feyd acquires a Fremen wife after killing her husband in an Amtal Rule fight.

TW: mention of abuse

“Who did this to you?”

The darkness, thankfully, obscures your face from him. Yet you still turn away.

“It doesn’t matter,” you say softly.

“Tell me.”

The tone of his voice suggests that you ought to listen. Your throat works as you swallow, doing your best to curb the memory of your deceased husband’s hands on you. “Drafir,” you tell him.

Feyd stiffens behind you.

You had been perched on the edge of the bed together when he reached to loosen your stays for you, the protest that formed on your tongue dying before you could even utter it — Feyd’s fingers were deft, confident, and it had taken no time at all for him to undo the laces. And as the dress fell away, you clutching it to your chest, he got a glimpse of the crisscross of scars on your back. You had avoided any opportunity to see the aftermath of the abuse, but you supposed there was no hiding it now.

A sob catches in your chest when you feel the feather-light brush of his fingers across the raised surface of your scars. There’s no lust in his touch, not that you can detect, just quiet curiosity.

“If I would’ve known, I would’ve made his death much, much worse,” Feyd rasps finally.

“It doesn’t matter,” you reply, attempting to subtly cover yourself again. You suddenly feel too exposed, too vulnerable, like a kangaroo mouse under the gaze of a hungry vulture.

“Don’t hide from me,” Feyd says, firmly but not unkindly nudging your hand away. “I want to see what he’s done. I want to see every strike that I should’ve given him in return.”

“You don’t have to avenge me,” you tell him. “Like you said before, I am not your wife in any matter but tradition. My pain is mine alone to bear.”

Feyd launches to his feet and at first you believe him to be angry at you, which is paralyzing. But then you realize that the cause of his pacing is Drafir, the dead man, the one that he had killed but apparently not violently enough. He stops abruptly, standing before you, indecisive and torn but ultimately sinking to his knees at your side.

His hands are large, warm, enveloping yours, rough with callouses but surprisingly gentle. “I know this is not the life you wanted to live, but I do not regret killing him. My only regret is that I didn’t make him suffer how he deserved.”

[demidolll]

SPOILERS

holy fuck act two came to kill.

MADDIE AND CAITLYN??? CAITLYN YOU WHORE

jinx saying "you kind of remind me of her (vi)" just broke my heart.... but also proved my first prediction half right(?)!

JINX IS DEAD????

ambessa saying "how could i not secure the scientists" honestly is so life changing to me bc before she was all around strategy and combat... but looks like she can also think about them. maybe it's more "how could i not secure the only people that know how to use hextech (the weapons i want to use)" but it's still nice to see she values brains just as much as brutes. + it shows self reflection skills and i think that was important for everyone to see — no, she DOESN'T think she's always right (like it kind of seemed in s1), she can see and admit when she was wrong

also wasn't rictus the traitor? i'm pretty sure that got revealed/foreshadowed hard in episode 3... maybe this is just a prediction and i'm just tweaking though (this is being typed as i watch the episodes, so if it's revealed in act 2, it's after i type this). + we've seen lots of misdirection in season 1 so it wouldn't surprise me if it was teased and then it ends up being maddie or something

jinx using >w< on one of her inventions is something i didn't know i needed but absolutely needed. yes girl go kaomoji queen !! it girl shit, iconic.

IT WAS ISHA PRETENDING TO BE JINX???

"why is peace always the justification for violence." 1) this is so accurate to our current real world and i'm so surprised (in a good way obviously) that ARCANE of all people said it before anyone else. and 2) the ambessa & mel / ambessa & caitlyn parallels are SOOO. like i expected it, it was a pretty common (as far as i'm aware) prediction, but ughh.

"so i'm thinking—" "NOOOT your strong suit." i'm deceased someone send help

also it's been 28 minutes since the episode came out and i'm only 15 minutes in because i keep stopping to type these ... choices have been made and i regret none of them

"you want a symbol?" *flips her off.* *sees she has no middle finger TO flip her off.* *groans*

how did that even heal??? girl???

hi at the part where caitlyn visits her mom's statue or whatever WHY is a CANDLE treated with MORE care than a ZAUNITE???

omg they added ekko to the wall and set down candles because they think he's dead arcane do not make me sob. i will

ohhh the hallucinations are BACK FUCK YEAH this is my favourite part of arcane and it's so much better now omg

ROAAASSSTTT OH MY GOD "YOU EXPECT ME TO BELIEVE JINX, THE MASTER CRIMINAL, WEARS PANTS LIKE THAT?" OH I'M OFFERING UP MY SOUL CACKLING WITH HYSTERIA THAT WAS A WORK OF ART. (also that was pretty miles morales coded icel)

"powder?"

i am deceased. no one contact me. i will not be recovering for the next eternity.

notes! what the fuck!

(i'll be watching episode 5 now, I'll post again when i finish that one)

[sunsetsandsunshine]

AUUHHGGGFGHEHW DUDE THANK YOU SOSOSOSO MUCH 💖💕💞✨🫶🏾💝💕💖💞💓💗?????????

AHHH I'm so happy youre back to writing! I felt like the Rottmnt tickle community was dying there.

Been dying for a lee! Mikey Ler! Big bros fic.

~ 𝙿𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚐𝚊𝚒𝚗… ~

❤️💜🐢💙🧡 𝙵𝚒𝚌 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚋𝚢: 𝙰𝚗𝚘𝚗 𝙽𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 ❤️💜🐢💙🧡

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙾𝙷 𝙼𝚈 𝙶𝙾𝚂𝙷, 𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽 🥲💔⁉️ 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝙱𝚁𝙾𝙺𝙴 𝙼𝚈 𝙷𝙴𝙰𝚁𝚃 𝚆𝙷𝙴𝙽 𝙸 𝙵𝙸𝚁𝚂𝚃 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂??? 𝙰𝚜 𝚕𝚘𝚗𝚐 𝚊𝚜 𝙸’𝙼 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚝𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚖𝚗𝚝, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚁𝚘𝚝𝚝𝚖𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚎 𝚏𝚊𝚗𝚍𝚘𝚖 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚕𝚕 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚆𝙸𝙻𝙻 𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚢 𝚊𝚕𝚒𝚟𝚎…𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚏��𝚛𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚝🩷💝💕˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*＊·̩̩̥͙

𝙶𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏

𝚆𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝟸,𝟼𝟹𝟸

𝙻𝚎𝚎: 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 🐢🧡

𝙻𝚎𝚛’s: 𝚁𝚊𝚙𝚑 🐢❤️, 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 🐢💜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙻𝚎𝚘 🐢💙

𝚂𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙳𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚒𝚎 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚛𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝙼𝚒𝚔𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 (𝚘𝚛 𝚒𝚗 𝙻𝚎𝚘’𝚜 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍𝚜: 𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚛 𝚕𝚊 𝚋𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚊). 𝙱𝚞𝚝…𝚒𝚝’𝚜 𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚍𝚊 𝚑𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚘 𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚘𝚗𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚘 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚗 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚍𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚢 𝚑𝚊𝚟𝚎 𝚝𝚠𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚏𝚝 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚝…

(𝙰/𝙽: 𝚈'𝚔𝚗𝚘𝚠 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚍𝚛𝚒𝚕𝚕. 𝚃*𝚌𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝙺𝚒𝚗𝚔/𝙽𝚂𝙵𝚆 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐𝚜 𝙳𝙽𝙸!!!) 

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚜: @shut-up-jo @veryblushyswitch @someone1348 @pocky-dragon

@danineedshelp @jamiesgotchu @saturnzskyzz @savemeafruitjuice

@my-l0v3r-v3rse @mythica0 @titters-and-tingles

𝚆𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: 𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙲!!! 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝙰𝙱𝙾𝚄𝚃 𝚃𝙸𝙲𝙺𝙻𝙸𝙽𝙶!!! 

𝚃𝚆: 𝚃𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚌𝚞𝚜𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐, 𝚜𝚒𝚋𝚕𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚒𝚌𝚔𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐/𝚝𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚐/‘𝚋𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝚒𝚗𝚐’ 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜 𝚘𝚏 𝙶𝚎𝚗 𝙰𝚕𝚙𝚑𝚊 (😵)!!! 𝙸𝚏 𝚊𝚗𝚢 𝚘𝚏 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎𝚜 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚏𝚎𝚎𝚕 𝚜𝚘𝚖𝚎 𝚠𝚎𝚒𝚛𝚍 𝚝𝚢𝚙𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚠𝚊𝚢…𝙸 𝚜𝚞𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚗𝚘𝚝 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 😅…

𝙰𝙻𝚂𝙾 𝚆𝙰𝚃𝙲𝙷 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚅𝙸𝙳𝙴𝙾 𝙱𝙴𝙵𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙵𝙸𝙲 𝚃𝚁𝚄𝚂𝚃 𝙼𝙴 𝙾𝙽 𝚃𝙷𝙸𝚂 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙶𝚄𝚈𝚂 𝙸’𝙼 𝙳𝙾𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚈𝙾𝚄 𝙰 𝙵𝙰𝚅𝙾𝚄𝚁

𝚂𝙺𝙸𝙿 𝚃𝙾 𝟶:𝟷𝟿– 𝙸𝚃𝚂 𝙱𝙴𝚃𝚃𝙴𝚁 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙼𝙾𝚁𝙴 𝙵𝚄𝙽𝙽𝚈 🕺🏾✨ 

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙴𝙽𝙹𝙾𝙾𝙾𝙾𝚈𝚈𝚈𝚈˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

“MOVE YOU’RE HIPS, MIKEY!!!” Donnie yelled at his orange cladded younger brother. 

“I’M TRYING!!!” The box turtle yelled back, “DOES IT LOOK LIKE I’M SHAKIRA?!”

“WELL, YOU’RE HIPS DEFINITELY DO LIE BECAUSE I SEE NO FUCKING MOVEMENT!” The elder yelled in return which earned a loud snort of amusement from Leo in the peanut gallery; the slider enjoying the chaos and banter between Mikey and Donnie. 

It was a nice Saturday evening and the four brother’s spent the day just…casually hanging out, for no exact reason in particular. The brother’s just truly wanted to chill (for today…).

They did karaoke, binged movies, and y’know…just chilled. That’s what Summer was about: relaxation. 

Well…they were relaxed.

Until their nerdy scientist brother found a TikTok video that he quote on quote ‘Had to learn to get with the trendy trends for his likey likes.’

His words, not mine.

And so, he dragged Mikey into it because the dance required about two people (and Donnie wasn’t trying to make it seem like he was lonely). But sadly and not surprisingly, the young scientist has been trying to teach the youngest the choreography for about…3 hours.

3 hours. 

Let that sit with you for a second. Let that marinate. 

And let’s just say…Donnie’s patience wasn’t exactly the best. Especially when it came to dance. Plus, this dance wasn’t even hard! All that was required to do was move your hips and do dramatic hand movements like some stereotypical blonde ordering an overcomplicated Starbucks order!

In conclusion: not hard at all! 

And Donnie knew he wasn’t raised with a piece of cardboard! Mikey knew how to dance…!

…To an extent, anyway…

“It’s not my fault I’m stiff!” The youngest whined which only caused the second oldest to simply scoff, rolling his eyes with sass, “Well it’s gotta be someone’s fault.”

“It’s probably Draxum’s.” The slider suggested. 

“I concur. It is probably Draxum’s fault.” Donnie agreed, “Anyway, stiff or not stiff, I need you to learn how to do this dance.” The box turtle groaned again at the comment, “Why me though? Why can’t you just do it with Leo or something???”

“Me and Leo already learned the dance!” The softshell huffed proudly, “We learned, practiced and recorded it all yesterday.” 

“Twin type shit.” The second youngest added on, sending Donnie finger-guns. 

“Twin type shit.” The purple loving turtle amusedly agreed, not doing the same hand movement but just doing an awkward thumbs up which Leo couldn’t help but giggle to. 

Raph, who was sitting next to Leo on the couch scratched the top of his head a bit, pondering slightly. “Why don’t you try doing a different dance?” The eldest suggested, “Y'know…maybe one that doesn’trequire so much hip movement…?”

“Like The TikTok Rizz Party dance!” Leonardo happily suggested, standing up excitedly which only earned hard glares from all of his brothers. The second youngest rolled his eyes at the looks, putting a hand on his hip, “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You gotta admit: it’s simple to learn.”

“It’s not a dance— it’s a freaking demon ritual.” The snapping turtle deadpanned. 

“Same difference...” Leonardo huffed, sitting back down next to his older brother. Raph sighed impatiently, rubbing his temples like a single Mom that worked two jobs (sorry not sorry for that reference), “I’m too young for all of this bullshit…”

“Raph!” The youngest suddenly wailed, “Aren’t I moving my hips???” Mikey whined impatiently, demonstrating the dance which got a small stifled giggle from Leo. The leader in blue got up, covering his mouth to try and stop himself from laughing as he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water. 

The eldest turtle grimaced, trying to hold back his laughter as well, “You’re…You’re moving something…” 

“He’s moving his fucking chest and shoulders…” Donnie explained, “Which are nowhere near your hips.” 

“Again: The Tik Tok Rizz Party is still an option.” Leonardo happily said as he went back to the lounge area and started to do the quote on quote ‘Tik Tok Rizz Party’ dance. The purple loving teen inwardly cringed as he watched his slightly younger brother’s antics, sighing sadly as he covered his face. 

Of all the individuals he had to be twins with…

“Sit your hyperactive ADHD ass down.” Raph demanded as he grabbed Leo’s shell with his hand, forcing him to sit back down.

“Anyways. Angel, I want you to move with your hips!” The softshell emphasized again, going behind Mikey and squeezing his hips to demonstrate how and when the youngest was supposed to move them (since the box turtle was apparently having an issue separating his chest from his hips).

Y'know, stiff people problems. Something Donnie couldn’t possibly relate to nor understand. 

“EEP-!!!”The youngest suddenly squealed, his face morphing to one of giddy panic, “D-Deehee! Noho stahahap!”

“I am helping you with your atrocious dancing, you buffon! Now stay still!” The second oldest huffed, squeezing the shortest turtle’s hips again. 

“You’re 'helping' tihihickles!” Mikey complained, holding onto his scientist brother’s wrists in a small attempt to stop him. Which didn’t…obviously. But it was worth a shot. An A for effort some might call it. 

Donnie tried to stifle his giggles, raising a confused brow, “Oho, my helping tickles, now does it? How is that even possible, my dear younger brother?” 

“Wahait w-wahahait dohohon’t— *squeal* nahahaha!” Mikey laughed, throwing his head back on Donnie’s shoulder as his knees gave out, trying to retreat unto the floor but his older brother only followed him as he did so.

“Don’t? Don’t what~?” The second oldest turtle asked incocently, scribbling his fingers against the other’s sides. The box turtle curled in on himself on the carpeted floor, kicking his legs back and forth. 

Donnie snickered, “Dude, I’m genuinely asking! What do you mean 'don’t'~?” 

Michelangelo just hugged his middles as he squirmed and screeched, giggling his small little heart out as his older brother tickled him. The young scientist sighed dramatically, sitting on the youngest’s legs as he stopped tickling him for a moment. 

“Hey, guys?” Donatello said as he turned to the red and blue duo sitting on the couch, “I miiiiight need some help over here. I’m feeling ignored by this one— he’s not answering me.” He deadpanned as he jabbed the turtle below him in the side, causing the youngest to sound like a overpowered drill screwdriver fusion. 

“Say less.” Raph grinned, going over to the PB&J duo as Leo quickly followed right behind. 

Okay…well, this hang-out-with-your-brothers-just-because-you-can hangout was turning left veryquickly. Perhaps that’s what Mikey gets due to the fact that he was spinning left and Donnie was spinning right…

Even though the purple banded turtle told him numerous times to turn the other direction, the youngest didn’t feel like listening. I guess he now knows how the second oldest feels when Mikey doesn’t pay attention to his 4 hour yap sessions.

As one smart, tooootally not demented 21 year old said: Karma’s a bitch. 

The box turtle squealed loudly as his other brother’s approached next to him and sat down. The youngest immediately retracted into his shell as panicky giggles from him echoed around the lair. 

The three older brother’s collectively groaned, knowing they’ve alllll danced this dance before. “Ugh…I hate when he does that…” Leo complained dramatically as he crossed his arms across his plastron. Raphael cracked his knuckles, his grin widening, “Don’t worry, boys. I got this.” The red banded turtle put the Mikey in his lap, blowing a raspberry directly on the youngest’s stomach. 

The reaction was almost like the speed of light as the orange banded turtle immediately erupted into loud mouse cackles, trying to wriggle his way out of his older brother’s iron grip although now that he was caught in the lion’s den…his attempts of escaping were now futile.  

“WHAHA— *squeak*?! NAHAHA?!?! *Squeak* RAPH RAPH RAHAHAPH!!!” Michelangelo giggly sputtered out, his laugh raising a pitch as Raphael refused to take any breath’s on the raspberry and just continued and continued. 

And Mikey knew Raph. For heaven’s sakes, that was his brother. The paint loving turtle knew (definitely NOT from experience) that Raph would not take a break unless the orange banded got out of his shell. 

“WHYHYHYHY???” The orange banded turtle cackled, his limbs and head coming out of his shell as he tried to glare at his brothers, which they all couldn’t help but awe to. “Awe, there you are~! Now this is definitely a fair fight!” The gentle giant happily exclaimed, removing his head from Mikey’s stomach. 

“ThIHIs ihis ahan ahamBUHUSH!!!” 

“Same difference.” Leo shrugged, squeezing the box turtle’s ankles repeatedly. “NAHAT THEHE FEEHEEHEET!!!” The orange banded turtle cried, kicking his legs around to try and make Leo dislodge his grip on his ankle. “Jeeheez…I didn’t eheven doohoo anything yehet!” The slider commented smugly.

“Guess it tickles that bad, huh, Mikester~?” The blue banded turtle teased. 

“BEEHEE QUIHIHIET YOHOU AHAHASS!!!”

Leo dramatically gasped at the rebuttal, gently pulling his little brother’s toes back and scribbling his fingers all over his arch. “That is no way to talk to your beloved older brother!” The slider lightly scolded. Donnie, who was next to Mikey nodded in agreement, his fingers pinching all over his littlest brother’s ribs, “I think someone needs to be taught a lesson…” 

“NOHOHAHAH! IHI DAHA— *squeak* DOHOHON’T!!!” The box turtle protested, swatting his hands on Raph’s arm like a drunk jellyfish. “And hitting too?!” The blue banded teen announced, “Your reeeeallyasking for it…” 

Raphael raised a hand, wiggling his fingers near Mikey’s neck. The turtle in question paled, “NAHAT THEHE NEHEHECK!!! YOHOU GUHUYS IHI ACTUALLY CAHAN’T DOOHOO THIHIHIS PLEHEHEASE—“

“Your neck? Oh, what a great idea!” Donnie smiled sweetly, one of his hands dancing around the right side of the fake dancer’s neck as Raph dipped his head in the other side. “IIIII…gitchie gitchie gotchu~!” The gentle-giant teased, rubbing his face back and forth in the crook of the youngest’s neck. 

Mikey let out the most inhuman screech to ever exist in between his cackles, shaking his head and scrunching his shoulders desperately, “LEHEHET MEEHEE GOHOHAHAHA!!!” He squeaked. 

“WHYHYHY MEEHEEHEE?!?!” The box turtle whined despreatley through his laughs, unable to do anything but just lay in Raph’s lap and just take the tickles at this point in time. 

Speaking of, WHY was he getting tickled by his big brothers in the first place again??? What the hell did he even DO to deserve this torment? They all just basicslly jumped him as if he had money on him or something!!!

And for the record: Mikey in fact did not. This time at least. 

He borrowed some cash from April last week but immediately put it inside of his piggy bank the second he got home. Since he knew either one of his greedy grubby hand brother’s would snatch that cash cash money cash cash right away…

But…wait.

What was Mikey pondering about again???

“Because you’re the youngest.”The blue loving teen simply said, “Aaaaand we just gotta tickle the heck out of you ‘cuz you’re just so cute~!” Leo cooed playfully, his hands squeezing and prodding at Mikey’s knees. 

“Not too much now, Leo. You’re a baby brother too.” Donnie commented smugly. “By two seconds!!!” The blue banded turtle pouted, glaring at the soft-shell. The soft-shell in question chuckled at the angry face expression, kneading Mikey’s hips mercilessly. “Two seconds that makes you the second youngest. And a baby brother.” He taunted, grinning at the annoyed look that his younger twin was giving him. 

“What are you guys going on about? You’re all baby brothers.” Raph exclaimed.

“So are you!” Leo huffed, “April exists, y’know!”

“GUHUHUHUYS!!!” The youngest screamed, trying to get his siblings attention as they bickered. “Hm? What’s wrong, little bro? Did the Tickle Monster find a bad spot~?” Raph asked, now blowing raspberries at the orange banded turtle’s neck. 

“YOHOU— *squeal* FAHACK!!! GOHOH AWAHAHAY!!!” The box turtle screamed. Leo rolled his eyes fondly, scoffing lightly, “You love this so don’t even, Miguel.” 

“Why should we go away~?” The eldest fake pouted, tickling Mikey under his chin lightly, “Is this a bad spot~? Is that why? Yeah~? Awe, what a shame…” 

“PLEHEHEASE BEEHEE QUIHIHI— *squeak*!!!” The youngest bellowed, “STAHAHA— STAHA—!!! PLEHEHEASE AHANHTHING BUHUHUT THAHAHAT!!!”Mikey purely went into silent cackles, happy tears falling down his face as tiny mouse squeaks followed. “IHIHI *squeal* SURRENDER!! GUHUYS PLEHEHEASE *squeal* I’M *squeal* GOHOHONNA DIHIHIE!!!”

The three brother’s removed their tickling hands, ceasing their attack as the youngest wheezed out remaining laughs breathlessly, “Ihi cahan’t breeheeathe…”

“Considering the fact that you are talking right now (which requires you to breathe), I think you’ll be fine.” Donnie commented, handing Mikey a glass of water which the youngest basically snatched and chugged in 2 seconds flat.

Freaking heathen…

“Did we go too far?” Leo dramatically gasped, going over and taking the orange banded teen from the eldest’s lap, squeezing Mikey in a hug and looking him over like he was a random exotic species specimen. “You're not dead...right? Oh man, Dad will literally kill me if I accidentally killed you…wait. That would make me the youngest. Oh well, I never wanted a younger brother anyway...”

“Hey hehey hehehey! Slow your freaking role! Ihi aham nohot dead!” The box turtle giggled, raising a brow at his immediate older brother’s antics. The slider sighed mockingly, “Had all my hopes up for nothing…” 

The smallest turtle rolled his eyes at the comment before having a moment of realization, “Whahat were weehee eheven doing agahain…?” Mikey giggly asked, resting his head against Leo’s shoulder as the slider rubbed his carapace. “Teaching you to dance.” Donnie sighed sadly, “But, alas, some things were just not meant to be.” 

Mikey glared playfully before landing his eyes on his scientist brother’s phone that was leaning up on one of the tables. “Dee! You were recording???” The box turtle screeched, hiding his face in his shell as the others laughed. “Don records everything, little bro. With or without his phone. So either way you were gonna end up being recorded.” Raph explained teasingly. 

“You never know, Mikejandro, maybe you’ll blow up on Tik Tok!” Leo suggested, “I’d call it: The Disgruntled Demise of a Box Turtle.” 

“Talk about word vomit…” The scientist mumbled under his breath, going to where his phone stood as his siblings bickered in the background. The soft-shell replayed some of the footage as he muted the video, smiling softly (get it? Soft-shell, smiling softly? I’m so funny you guys…) at the shenanigans that unfolded not too long ago. 

The second oldest chuckled softly (still get it?) to himself, putting his phone in his sweatshirt pocket as he went back to where his brother’s were sitting. 

“…Do you guys think I can fit 5 s’mores in my mouth?” Mikey suddenly asked. 

“Michael…please don’t do that. You could choke.” Donnie shuddered.

“Plus, you’re being a coward.” Leo added, “Try 10.” 

“I think 15 is better.” Raph grinned, “But it’s okay if you can’t do it. No one could ever beat Raph’s 25 s’mores record...” The red banded teen huffed out proudly. 

“…it’s ‘cuz you’re fucking rotund, man. No one would or could beat you even if we hired a whole football team to go up against you.” The art loving teen said. 

Raphael blinked confused, “Ro-tuh-wha—?” 

“He’s calling you fat.” Donnie giggly explained. 

Raph’s jaw comically opened wide in awe, hitting his littlest brother’s shoulder, “RAPH IS NOT FAT!!!” He shouted defensively. 

“Whatever you say, Jupiter…” Mikey retorted almost immediately as the twins completely lost it, the three smaller turtles soon descending into loud contagious cackles. The red banded turtle crossed his arms, glaring at them profusely, “You all are my 13th reason…” The eldest grumbled miserably, despite the soft small smile clearly evident on his face. 

·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚𝙵𝙸𝙽˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙ 

(𝙿.𝚂.: 𝙸𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚎𝚗𝚓𝚘𝚢𝚎𝚍 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚏𝚒𝚌, 𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚐!!!)

[kb1301]

My whole thoughts with what just happened for the Act 2 finale:

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

It's just a rollercoaster of emotions at first: worry and concern, stress and caution.

Then it became pain for a moment... and bits of agony as I see Osiris so worried for his love. He had his qualms only for it to be resigned as this is what they needed.

When I fucking got to that pit, and see those portals reminiscent of the Infinite Forest and Mercury, I could just feel trepidation.

So yeah I fought and stuff but I went in... and saw Saint's Tomb. My emotions at that point was sadness at seeing Saint's deceased self there.

Saint came to his Tomb alongside Osiris, and Osiris sounded so hurt or afraid for a moment, like, what would happen to Saint if he proceeds to do this? To connect back with his dead mind and all the things of his past?

He was so scared for Saint T-T. When Saint struggled at first to wrest the flood of memories from his other self, all you could hear from Osiris was worry.

Saint recounts his memories to my Guardian and Osiris... and fuck. Osiris pleaded for him to stop, to just stop retelling what happened to him... And then...

THAT LAST ONE HE RECOUNTED. A MEMORY OF HIM AND OSIRIS.

"I-I am on this slab, but... I have one final feeling. A memory of us, together... I am bringing you tea."

"I watch you take a sip—it is too hot... but you smile."

"That is my last thought... My phoenix."

WHAT IF I SCREAMED. WHAT IF I CRIED. WHAT IF I WAILED AND SOBBED AND THREW A FIT BECAUSE OF THAT.

Afterwards, HE'S BACK TO HIS GOOD OL' SELF! Truly proud and loud, no longer doubting his own identity. Real or not, it didn't matter to him because HE'S HIM! WOOOOOOOOOO

And also big truths are out... I just have to say that.

Anyways. I am happy that Saint has now put his mind's questions to rest, and he's himself.

Osiris and Saint, you will be the death of me.

TLDR - Went through a whole ride that ended with a (hopefully) good end to his problems.

[vodika-vibes]

Ooh. I love it! Ok so...wondering how the repurposed boys would go about finding their s/o, who natural thinks they're dead. On the one hand, there's a lot of risk involved in exposing who they are, and Fox definitely wouldn't appreciate it. But on the other, they probably can't stand the thought of their partner grieving their loss when they're not even dead, and in a time of such change, the boys probably want them more than ever.

So, can I ask for hcs/blurbs about how Tup, Fives, and Dogma would go about this?

Ooh, I can definitely do that, lol.

I'm typing this right into tumblr, so there's gonna be very little formatting, just as a warning. I am putting it under a cut cause it's longer than I planned.

Tup

Of the three 501st vod'e who were repurposed, his cyare is the only one who is explicitly told what happens. With the chip on his brain degrading, he desperately needs brain surgery to even try to survive what's happening to him.

And so, Fox bullies the name of Tup's cyare from Dogma, and he personally goes to her apartment to tell her what is happening and what the plan is. He also escorts her to the clinic where Tup is housed and promises that Tup will have a place in the Guard if he recovers, and if that is what he wants.

If he doesn't recover well from the surgery, or if he isn't inclined to join the Guard, Tup's CT number will be added to a list of deceased clones and passed up the chain. His name will also be added to a list of vod'e that Fox keeps secret from everyone that lists the names and locations of all of the vod'e who have elected to defect.

When Tup wakes up from his surgery, his cyare is sitting at his bedside and holding his hand. And while she might want Tup to defect, she would never ask him to. And, because no one from the 501st knew about her, no one questioned her when she started dating one of the new Corries.

Dogma

Like Tup, Dogma keeps his cyare a secret from everyone who isn't his batchmate, which means, in this case, that Tup is the only person who knows her and who has met her.

Dogma, now called Delta except for when he's alone with other members of the Guard, hates that she thinks that he's dead. But he really isn't planning on telling her what's happening.

Never mind the fact that she's always been the person he's been willing to disobey orders for. Never mind the fact that his old comm is getting increasingly more and more frantic messages, begging him to just say something to reassure her that he's okay—

The truth is, Dogma lasts a week before he's standing in her apartment and telling her everything that happened on Umbara and what Commander Fox's plan is.

She's weepy, but thrilled to see that he's alive, though she does make sure to point out that she's going to have to get used to seeing him in red...and that she's never calling him Delta.

Fives

Fives has the hardest time with this.

Largely because his faked death happened in front of Rex and General Skywalker, and partly because he had never bothered to hide his cyare from his Captain or his General.

Which means, that his older brother and his General went to her apartment and told her, face to face, that he had been killed while trying to assassinate the Chancellor.

Fox doesn't mince words with Fives. He tells him, plainly, that he cannot talk to his cyare and tell her about this. She's too well known to the 501st, and if she gets caught dating a different vod so soon after his "death" any good will the 501st might have had towards her will vanish.

And he's right. He is. But Fives can't not be with her. Being apart from her hurts almost as much as the fake blaster round he took to his chest.

And so he disobeys orders. He sneaks out in the dead of night and sneaks to her apartment. And the moment she sees him, she breaks down sobbing. Fives tells her everything, but he also warns her that she can't be seen around him in public, because he won't be the person who ruins her reputation.

Fox nearly has his head when Fives returns to the barracks, but he's also not surprised. After all, Dogma and Tup did the exact same thing.

[eating-you-alive-cutely]

HOLY ASSATRON HOLY GOODNESS GRAVY GRACIOUS SHART ON A STICK OH MY WOR- AAARARRARARARARRAAGGAARRARARAGAGARARAGABARARARRAABRBARBRABRABARABARAVARGQGAVAHGAJABWJWGWJVSMSJWJ HOLY ASS TOON HOLY ASS ASS ASSATRON HOLY BUTTS AND DOOKIE HOLY DOOKIE HOMY WHAT WHAT WHAT WHAT

ROLLING DYING ASCENDING RESURRECTED DEAD AGAIN

HOLY DOOKIE FARTS HOMY BOOTY WHAT OH MY GOSH I LOVE THIS WITH ALL OF MY SOUL HOMY SHIT MARAL IS SO FERAL OH I LOVE IT ABSOLUTELY SLAY YOU PEICE OF SHIT HIMY DOOKIE POOPY OOOOARARRARA MY KIDS ME STUPID DUMB STUPID KIDS OH MY WORD THIS IS BEAUTIFUL I AM STARING HOLES INTO THIS I AM RRRRARARARRARARARARRARARABARBARBARBAR THANK YOU SK MUCH?????? I LOVE THIS W ALL OF MY SOUL???? TYTYTYTY THANK YOU TOON I AM BEAR HUGGING YOUR GUTS OUT BRO - YOU ARE DEAD YOU ARE A SQUASHED GRAPE IN MY GRASP I AM DECEASED I AM GOING BONKERS BANANAS MY KEYBOARD CANT KEEP UP W ME I AM SO HAPPY AAARRRARARRA 💘💘❤️❤️💞❤️💕💞💞💝💞💝💕💞💞❤️❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️💖❤️💖❤️‍🔥❤️❤️‍🔥❤️❤️💝❤️💞💝❤️💞💞❤️💕❤️‍🔥💞💕💕💞💕❣️💗💕💗💕💖💕❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️💞❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️❤️💞💕💝❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💖💝💗💗💞❤️💖❣️💘❤️💖💝💕❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥💞❣️💝

@eating-you-alive-cutely Come collect your children-

[linalavender]

How Tatsuki Fujimoto writes Affection

First of all I would like to give massive credit to Tiktok user @campaign_baby for their Tiktok I saw on this that really made me think of it alot more

I will Bring up Examples from:

Shikaku

Mermaid Rhapsody

Goodbye Eri

Fire Punch

Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Quite a big spoiler in this will give fair warning)

Fujimoto has a sort of strange method he uses to write that a character Loves/cares deeply for someone. And its The character either being willing to be consumed or to provide sustenance to someone, Or to consume the other person. Examples:

Shikaku

After Shikaku confesses her love for Yucel, He rushes to the hospital to offer her his blood, Making her into an immortal vampire just like him. Yucel has also fallen for Shikaku, its basically his confession of love, He wants to live with her Forever.

Its drawn in a way you can tell its such an act of compassion too.

Mermaid Rhapsody

"I loved her so much that I thought, If it was by someone with a smile as pretty as hers, Maybe being eaten wouldn't be so bad."

Toshihides Dad feels the exact same way about his Mom as Toshihide feels about Shijyu. Mermaids eat humans, But that never mattered to either of them.

Goodbye Eri

In Yuutas Movie about Eri, He writes her to be a Vampire, because he wouldnt actually mind to be her sustenance, In his movie, he loves Eri so much. (I genuinely cant read this fucking story without sobbing, Rereading it again just to get this screengrab just made me cry for like 20 min help)

Fire Punch

This one is Pretty straight forward, Agni with his regenerative powers feeds his village by continuously chopping of his Arm so they dont all starve to death. But more importantly he does this to prevent his sister from doing it aswell. He doesnt want her to suffer that pain so he takes sole responsibility for providing himself to the village.

Agni also later feeds his followers with the help of Togata Chopping of the part of his face that isnt on Fire. I think this has more todo with making sure Togata gets fed rather than his followers, To Agni Togata means alot.

⚠️Chainsaw Man Part 1 (Spoilers for the Final arc)⚠️

When Power is about to Die, Power not only offers her own blood For Denji to Drink so he can get back to health, But Pochita also offers a small part of himself so she can come back as a Powerful Devil.

And ofcourse the big one is Denji Eating Makima. He obviously has to and all for the sake of erasing her. But he explicitly says it wasnt an Attack, It was an act of Love.

Its such a fascinating thing that the idea of consuming someone can be concidered something you do to a cherished one, as an affectionate thing. I guess as Denji mentions that you basically become one with eachother in a way if you consume them.

But this is such a Weird thing Right? Where does this idea even originate from? Well ofcourse we can only Speculate but I really think he took on inspiration from his own life here, Because he has actually done this to someone he loved. Yes, Seriously.

Tatsuki Fujimoto eating his deceased Pet Fish

In the Authors notes for "Tatsuki Fujimoto Before Chainsaw Man: 22-26" Fujimoto shares a story from when he was 24:

"Even though we were poor, we had a pet Japanese rice fish. I found it dead one summer. I went to toss its body into the trash like in Parasyte, but my girlfriend said she wanted me to bury it, So off I went to the park, alone. I tried to bury it under this big tree, but the ground was too hard, my hands got all dirty and I had no hole to show for my effort. Out of Options, I figured I would pretend I had buried the fish and left it lying there on top of the ground. As I watched it for a little while, ants found the body and began to carry it away. Im not sure what came over me, but in that moment, love for that pet fish welled within me for the first time. I brushed the ants away, and then Ate it."

You can read the full story here

It has that "Wait what the hell am I reading" Charm to the story like alot of his works, But theres something so weirdly beautiful about this story, Somehow stricken with grief and love for this fish, He ate it. As Denji says, its not an attack, his fish is part of him now and its an act of love. So strange, yet so Beautiful.

Anyways thanks for reading this insanely long post if you even got this far I appreciate it!

[gamma-rae-bursts]

My Little Dove

Emily is grieving the loss of her girlfriend y/n, who committed su*cide a day before Emily’s return from the dead.

Pairing: Emily Prentiss x Fem!Rrader

CW: grief, implied suicide, arguments, swearing (let me know if I missed anything)

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1000+

A/N: This is a pt.2 to "It Was Night When You Died, My Firefly". Big thank you to @storiesofsvu for brainstorming the idea with me! This also covers Katt's Birthday Bingo Square.

Unedited.

The minutes that followed were filled with desperate screams and attempts to bring you back to life. The paramedics arrived at the scene within what seemed like a split second, announcing your death upon arrival.

“Emily” one of the agents dared to break her out of this spiral she fell into, not wanting to give you up “Emily, she’s gone” the pain filled voice sounded again, it was JJ speaking, her eyes filled with tears as the words were leaving her mouth. 

Emily held you in her arms, not willing to let you go, feeling the still-present warmth of your freshly deceased body, already feeling the effects of rigor taking control of your lifeless muscles. Determined to hold onto you.

Her sobs never ceased, overpowering the silence of the room. The heart-breaking sight causing a stream of tears falling from the other agents’ eyes. Her firm grip on your body only tightened as the paramedics attempted to separate the two of you. Her fingertips tracing gentle patterns on your skin as her tears fell onto you, softly pleading for you to come back.

The apartment filled with more and more people forcing her grip to loosen. All the agents watched as the medical personnel transported your motionless remains to the body bag, trying to hold onto Emily and stop her protests and fights. 

“I’m not ready to say goodbye yet”, the raven-haired woman pleaded, her whisper filled with indescribable pain, as you were transported out of the building.

Everyone stayed still, slowly losing the sight of the medics that were now out of the apartment. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this!” Emily cried, raising her voice at the other agents “None of this was supposed to happen! How could you let her get to this point?! How did none of you notice the signs?!”

“Emily-” an attempted response came from Hotch as the other agents lowered their heads, refusing to look the other woman in the eyes.

“No! She’s dead Hotch!” Emily was fuming, not quite sure who to direct her anger at “You are all profilers for god’s sake! How comes none of you bothered to check up on her! And you?!” she turned to look at JJ, the blonde woman’s head still down refusing any eye contact “I have asked you how she was doing! Does this fucking look like alright to you?! You promised you would take care of her!”

There was no reply, just as the heavy silence started filling the room once again Emily's voice roamed through the space.

“Everyone get out of here!” she shouted as the tears kept streaming down her cheeks. “Now!”

And they did. Leaving Emily in her now empty apartment. The place was filled with silence as the woman crumbled under the weight of her grief. Her body trembled with each sob, and her miserable cries filled the air, echoing with raw, true pain. Tears streamed relentlessly down her face, tracing wet trails through the dust of sorrow etched upon her cheeks.

The rest of the day was a blur, the time consumed by the overpowering sense of loss. She could still smell remnants of your presence, the smell of your cherry shampoo combined with your favourite perfume lingering in her nostrils. Every time she opened her eyes, now swollen from the continuous cries, it was as if she could see you out of the corner of her eye, never daring to look that way preventing the illusion from fading. The room grew darker and darker, the capital slowly consumed by the darkness of dust. 

“I’m so sorry y/n/n” a barely audible whisper left her lips as she looked at the photo of the two of you. “I am so, so sorry” 

9th of October

Emily woke up with heaviness weighing on her chest, the feeling of suffocation never seemed to lift. Every breath seemed just a little harder than the previous one. She knew she was awake, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending nightmare that she couldn’t wake up from. There was no escape from it. The darkness still filling the room as she reluctantly began to open her eyes that now held a hollow emptiness, lacking the life that was once present. With her vision blurred by tears she reached out to the other side of the bed hoping to find you there, hoping that it was all a horrible nightmare. But the other side of the bed was cold. Untouched. 

And you were gone, the piece of her that kept her going for the last seven months was ripped away from her embrace as you took your last breath just hours prior to her arrival. A part of her that gave her a reason to live was now gone and it was all her fault. 

Time seemed to cease its passage allowing her to navigate through the labyrinth of her thoughts. The memories of you came like a flood, her trembling hands clutched to her chest, holding herself tightly, feeling her heart shattering at the sight of your shadowy figure sitting at the edge of the mattress, disappearing with a single blink. The piercing pain of her breaking heart echoed with every gasp for air, each sob that left her quivering lips. 

Looking out of the open window her eyes were fixed on the brightness of the moon, the only source of light filling the space, just like she used to do with you. Always getting lost in the mindless conversations, the plans for the future, the life you wanted to build together. Being snuggled in the comfort and safety of each other’s arms. 

Leaving you never seemed right. The excuse of it being for the greater good was not enough anymore. 

Could she have prevented this? If she only reached out, left you a clue that she was alive and would be coming back to you. That she never truly left. There was not a day she didn’t consider that, not a day you didn’t fully occupy her thoughts. Even going as far as purchasing a little white dove figure, just like the one you gifted after a particularly hard case, with a sweet reminder that no matter how things go you’ll always love her. Did she give you enough love? 

There were so many things she wanted to tell you. Apologise for. Experience with you. 

But it was too late now.

Taglist: @nightmarish-fae @storiesofsvu @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @venromanova @maybe-a-humanbean @section-chief-prentiss

Join my taglist here!

[igotanidea]

The Fear : Jason Todd x fem!reader part 6

A/N: DRAMA TIME!

part 1

part 2

part 3

part 4

part 5

***

„Y/N….”

„Hi, Jace.”

„You’re not real.” he stated coldly, stern expression on his face. He let go of her hand the second he realized he was holding it.

“I can assure you I am.” She looked down, saddened. She knew this would hurt, but even the knowledge could not fully prepare her for the amount and intensity of it.

“No.” he shook his head “You’re not. You left. This is not happening.” he jumped to his feet, as far away from her as possible leaving the girl sitting on the floor, watching him walk in circles around the cave. “I don’t believe you!”

“Jay…..” she stood up drawing level with him, once again reaching for his hand but he took a step back, his hazy gaze fixed on her face.

“Stay out of my way!”

“You know I can’t.” she whispered, rooted to the spot. Any move would only make the situation worse.

“I don’t want you here!”

“I know.”

“so why are you haunting me!?”

“Haunting?” she raised an eyebrow at him “haunting, Jay? I’m still alive. Out of everyone in the world you should know how to spot a deceased person.”

“You are dead to me. You were dead to me from the moment you walked out of the manor’s door. The second you gave up on me. On us. “

“I gave up?” she hissed her eyes narrowing “you sure about that?”

“I…….” he hesitated, his eyes slowly becoming more aware, clear sign of getting back in touch with reality and Y/N decided to suppress her anger to the benefit of making hay while the sun was still shining.  

“Focus, Jay. Just for a second and then I’ll leave you alone. What happened? What do you remember?” she took a step forward“tell me…” she whispered moving even closer, within an arm’s reach and much to her surprise, Jason reached out, grabbed her waist and pulled her into his chest, holding so freaking tight. “Jaybrid?”

“It’s really you….” he whispered hiding his face in her messy hair breathing in her scent “you are here…..”

“I am….” Her voice broke when she embraced him back “And you’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.”

“I missed you. I made a mistake when I let you go. Fucking mistake. Can you forgive me?”

“It’s in the past, Jay.” She patted his back, a bit awkwardly and pulled away making him wince from the lack of contact. “How are you feeling? Are you fully back on Earth?”

“Yeah, I guess so. I mean, now I remember what happened. Is Jimmy safe?”

“Who’s Jimmy?” she frowned but realization came upon her “you mean, the kid you were saving?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it saving.”

“Whatever.” Y/N shrugged “and that’s the question you should be asking your brothers. I wasn’t at the scene how the hell would I know.”

“Why did you come? You wanted out of Gotham so bad and now you’re back.”

“Dick asked me for help.” She said out loud even if everything inside her was just screaming the truth. I missed you. I missed you. I missed you. She couldn’t confess to that though. Not since she was the reason of their break-up.  Or at least, she believed herself to be the reason.

One month ago

“What the hell?!” Jason burst through the door to Dick’s room, angered and worried. Y/N was laying in his brother’s bed, asleep, her face reddened, her nose swollen, clear signs of sobbing that happened not so long ago. Said brother was sitting on the edge of the furniture holding her hand, rubbing soothing circles onto her palm, making sure she was calm and no nightmares were haunting her.  “What happened?”

“She went through a mental breakdown.”

“What? Why? How?” Jason kneeled next to bed, putting loose strand of hair behind her ear, caressing her cheek. “Why didn’t she call me?”

“She did.” Dick corrected “a couple times actually. And so did I. You were obviously unavailable.”

“What? I didn’t…..” Jay reached for his phone. 10 missed calls “Fuck.”

“Yeah, that’s a good word. She couldn’t reach to you so she just came here. The best thing to do. She was shaking and sobbing like never before when Alfred opened the door and let her in.”

“Why….?” Jay panted “Did someone hurt her? I swear if anyone had the audacity to even come close I will …..”

“Hold it Jason. She never said it, but it was clearly visible it was because of you. She was worried, stressed, scared and tired. She broke down because you were ignoring her. She had no idea where you were and whether you were alive. I guess she was just as lonely as can be.”

“Fuck. She never said anything ……”

“Do you even know her?!” Dick finally snapped at his brother “of course she didn’t. She’s tough. She spend half of her life in belief she’s a burden to everyone and you did nothing to put her right! She was feeding on the scraps of your attention for weeks, Jason! Weeks! And what's even worse, she though she deserved it for being too clingy!”

“I never wanted that. I never considered….”

“Exactly. She’s too good for you, you know. She deserves so much better.”

“And you’re the one to give her that, huh? Nightwing? Of course you always think the best of yourself. You just can’t let any girl walk past you without some hookup, can you?!” Jason hissed, his voice filled with venom.

“Watch your words now, brother.”

“Or what, huh? What. Will. You. Do?”

“Don’t test me.” two vigilantes were  now standing face to face, eyeing each other, ready to strike upon slightest offensive word. They were both in love with the same girl, and even despite the fact that Dick’s feelings were purely brotherly-like, Jason was still jealous. Maybe it was because of his own insecurities and complexes. In this state, they might have really hurt one another if it wasn’t for the quiet, confused voice coming from the side of bed.

“ Guys?” Y/N lifted herself up and rubbed her eyes in a child-like manner, still a bit in a fog, from her anxiety strike and the unexpected, forced nap “what are you doing?”

“Y/N!” Jason rushed towards her, fast enough to outrun his brother “Are you all right?” he fell on the bed next to the girl, grabbing her hands in his, trying to make up for his fuckup.

“A bit dizzy, but apart from that…..”

“Do you need anything?” Dick asked, caringly

“Thank you, Dickie” she smiled at him and Jason fight the urge to clench his fists on his brother’s throat “you’ve already helped me so much.”

“Anytime Y/N.”

“I think you should leave, Dickhead. I’m here now, she’s in good hands.” Jay hissed, hugging Y/N against his chest, closer than Dick would ever be able to get.

“Y/N?”

“I’m good, Dickie. I’ll talk to you later, all right? That is, if Jace won’t crush me, cause at the moment I can’t breathe…..” she tapped on Jason’s shoulder lightly urging him to lose the grip.

“Sorry, baby” a light kiss on her forehead “You got me scared that’s it.”

“I’ll be next door, Y/N” Dick stated “if you need anything just call me, all right?” Y/N smiled and nodded and oldest Wayne left.

“Finally.” Jason sighed

“Jace!” the girl scoffed him lightly “why are you acting like a lunatic? This is your brother. And one of my best friends, so it happens.”

“But you want to be more than friends with him, don’t you?”

“What are you talking about?” she frowned and crossed arms over her chest, sitting up. The possessive attitude Jason was showing a second ago was now turning into anger. “We are friends.”

“And that is why you are sleeping in his bed?”

“Jason…..” she warned narrowing her eyes

“What? You can’t deny the facts, Y/N!”

“Maybe if you were there for me, I would be in yours!” she exclaimed “but guess what, you weren’t! Who do you think I needed most when my head started spinning and my legs gave up on me to the point where I almost fainted?! You, you dumbass! I needed you!”

“So what, now it’s my fault!?”

“YES!” she yelled and it got him by surprise “It is your fault! I never asked for anything! I never asked you to change, to stop your vigilantism! To quit getting yourself hurt. Because I knew how important it was for you. That helping people, whatever your definition of helping may be, was your thing. I just needed you with me. At least sometimes. But …..” she shook her head

“Finish it!”

“Fuck you Jason!”

“Finish that fucking sentence!”

“YOU SHITED ON ME!”

“And Mr. Grayson was here to pick up the pieces of our shattered soul, wasn’t he?!”

“YES! YES HE FREAKING WAS!”

“Well if that’s the case maybe I should just remove myself from the picture. Good luck building your life with him!”

“Wait. You are breaking up with me?!” the sudden rush of anger made her jump out of bed and face him. It was a bit funny how small she looked in comparision to him and yet, how combative she acted.

“You bet I am!” he snorted disparagingly, venom dripping from the words that burnt a bridge built between them and that he couldn't take back now.

“Oh, no, no, no, mister Hood!” she took a few steps towards him and started hitting his chest repeatedly “If anything I am breaking up with you. Not the other way round.”

“As you wish. You know, I could smell this whole relationship deal crumbling for a while now. Good thing you crashed completely. Now you only have yourself to blame. I’m out.”

“You are a bastard, Jayson Todd. But you are right, go back to Artemis. I bet she missed you so damn hard.” Y/N started shaking with both anger and pain.

“I…” he turned on his way towards the door “there is nothing between us.” he grabbed her wrist pulling her closer to him looking her straight into the eyes “Y/n. you hear me? Nothing. “

“Just like there’s nothing between me and Dick and yet you didn’t believe it. You didn't believe me.” she whispered not looking at him, and struggling free. “I think you should go now, Todd.”

She did not call him by his nickname…..

“Y/N…. I…. I’m sorry…..” the realization of everything he just said and how he acted slowly dawned on him.

“Yeah, I am too. Now, go.”

"Y/N.... Please......"

"JUST GO!"

He fucked up all along the line.

They never spoke about that situation again. After two weeks of silence on both parts, she said her goodbyes to Dick, Tim and Damian and left Gotham, and after making a promise to keep in touch moved to the neighboring city to continue her work and experiments in some other lab.

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