#I cannot imagine what could be causing me to feel like this in the year 2023.

[thursdayg1rl]

one of the dramas from the wedding was one of the grooms cousins (on the other side not mine) just not wearing the clothes we had made for her specifically

[strangenessbooks]

At the stage of my life where I read fanfiction and just think it's too silly to enjoy. I use to enjoy silly fanfiction.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

dinner prep engagement ♡

a/n : aaaand its finally here, the final part of the ring pop proposal miniseries after decades !!!! im sorry it took me so long to write this final part yall, i just finally felt enough inspo to write it and im super happy w how it came out ! i hope yall do too ! lemme know if you wanna be added to the taglist ! much luv xx

fem reader, literally pure fluff between mama n son, katsuki gets emotional very quickly bc i believe he does and you cannot make me think otherwise, a lil emotional but pure sweetness, mentions of making dinner, lmk if i missed sum else !!

this time, mitsuki has no idea what her son is planning. sure she’s had her hopes for years now, and her suspicions, but nothing truly concrete.

that is, until she gets a call in the middle of the night.

"katsuki..hello ?" she answers groggily, heaving a sigh and rubbing at her eyes. she checks next to her to make sure she hasn't woken her husband up, her eyes dart over to her digital clock " 'ts one in the morning."

"uh..hey." her son's gruff voice sounds over the phone, she raises a brow at his hesitant tone of voice, but she let's him continue "yeah, i know. sorry.." he mumbles out.

the older woman shakes her head affectionately "it's fine..is there something you wanted to talk about ?"

it's silent on the other end for a while until katsuki mumbles something. "katsuki, you know i can't hear you if you don't speak up." she scolds lightly, causing him to growl under his breath.

"not..not right now, no--just..can i come over tomorrow ?"

taking in her silence for hesitance he continues " it's nothin' bad..i just--feel like it's something i needa say face to face, i guess.."

"okay..yeah, of course. you know you can come over whenever you want." she urges "is yn comin' along ?"

"no, she isn't." she can practically hear his eye roll and it makes her smirk "she'll be busy tomorrow anyway so, not this time. i'll tell her you said hello though, since you're always tellin' me to."

she's about to retort when katsuki speaks again, only not to her. she hears what she knows is your voice quietly chatting with him as he reassures you that he'll be right there with you and for you to go back to bed. the soft tone in his voice makes her eyes soften.

never could she ever have imagined her katsuki ever speaking so softly to anyone, because her katsuki is, despite having calmed down over the years, still quite the brat. (she's pretty sure she knows where he gets it from now..) he's still temperamental when interviewers and journalists get on his nerves. he's still awfully moody , but he's different now. he's just a little bit gentler with the way he handles kids or older women who's cats have gotten stuck in trees. complaining that this isn't his damn job but still doing it anyway with utmost care as the kitties sink their sharp claws into his skin or cling to him for warmth.

he's a still a little rough around the edges but it's the thought that counts. he's different than when he was younger, but he still is the most different with you. his rough and gruff voice that he uses to bark out orders and complain, complain, complain, he uses so softly around you, keeping you as calm and sleepy as possible. it's not perfect, but he manages to usher you back to your room to sleep, and that makes the thought count so much more.

"m'gonna go now." he warns, his mother hums in agreement, telling him she'll see him tomorrow and he reciprocates the goodbye.

"night, ma."

"night, kiddo." she grins, a happy sigh leaving her when she hangs up the call and lays back down. cozying herself up next to her husband.

she's had her suspicions and her hopes for a while now, but she can't be too sure what her son could possibly want from her tomorrow.

katsuki comes back home like he's never left.

the day goes like any other day would've went a few years ago when he was still living in the family home. mitsuki almost expects her son to run off upstairs to do his homework.

he greets his dad with a half hug, and is forced into a tight embrace by his mother, which he grumbles about. grumbles turning into a growl when she grips his cheek, scolding him for not greeting his mother properly.

it's a lot of catching up from the few months he's been busy with hero work. talking about his latests achievements and his quick climbing of the hero ranks, accompanied with barely suppressed smiles and softened eyes when you're brought up. mitsuki remembers how nervous he'd been when he'd told her he was planning on asking you to move in with him, so she's happy to hear from the both of you, since she has your number and you like to catch up every now and then, that everything was going well. though she already knew it would.

katsuki volunteered to help with dinner, his mother happily agreeing saying she could use some help. it makes her a little bit nostalgic and she wills herself not to get teary eyed at how much her son has grown.

but she sees that the opportunity has presented itself to bring up the topic that's been on the tip of her tongue the entire day now.

"so.." she sings "you wanted to talk about something, right ?"

katsuki stiffens like he'd forgotten, although his expression stays the same besides the slight squint of his eyes. the rhythmic cutting of vegetables has stopped and it takes him a moment before he speaks quietly like he's revealing a secret.

"i wanna ask yn to marry me."

oh.

so that was it.

"oh." she breathes immediately. a broad smile slowly grows onto her face and she beams "took you long enough, ya brat !" she exclaims, slapping her sons muscular arm. he growls lowly at her, leaning away from her though she remains undeterred. poking at his sides while he tries to smack her hands away.

finally, she relents "when are you gonna ask ?" she asks excitedly. katsuki huffs, eyebrows still heavily furrowed from her earlier attack. he turns back to the cutting board "soon. i arranged my schedule and we'll both be free, so in two weeks from now."

"you already have a ring ?"

he grunts in agreement. and mitsuki besides being proud of the fact her hunch was right, feels her heart warms at the burst of nostalgia of her little boy. her katsuki, kicking his feet in the backseat of her car. tightly gripping his bag of ring pop candies he'd give to you the next day. her little katsuki, who'd proudly claimed he was going to marry you when he grew up in that very same car, exclaiming that he'd proposed to you with those very same candies he'd almost had a tantrum over her not getting.

her little boy, who'd gotten oh so big, and so, so much more enamoured with you.

"good." she utters sweetly, voice just a bit wobbly "good. that's great, katsuki."

he nods to himself " i've thought about it for a while now..long while." he scoffs to himself, eyes focused on the cutting board in front of him. "got the whole day planned out too."

"yeah ?" he nods. her eyes soften as he speaks mostly to himself, he's had this little self hype up habit ever since he was a boy. trying to calm himself down and reassure himself. it's a smart move, but as strong and mature as he is, katsuki is nothing more than human. and anxieties can creep up on the best of us.

she's seen it before, and she sees it again when he bites his bottom lip in thought, and she smiles softly.

and again, she coaxes him into it " that sounds nice, looks like you got it all planned out, huh?"

and he nods again. but it doesn't take him, long before he breaks.

"..what if she says no ?"

and mitsuki wants to laugh. she really does, because the thought of you ever saying no to him sounds absolutely ridiculous to her. she snorts. shaking her head while her son looks at her incredulously.

"katsuki.." she tuts, chuckling to herself before she looks up at him. "you've got absolutely nothing to worry about. you've got it."

his eyes widen, then her son's expression drops as he raises a brow "how do you know that ?" his words make her smile widen this much more and she really wants to laugh.

how does she know. she scoffs

she knows because she knows him. she knows her katsuki better than anyone else, he's her son. she knows he's rude, rowdy, quipy, temperamental and everything else. he's all of that and so much more.

and yet you still love him. you're still so incredibly patient with him, you still offer him all of your kindness despite him once confessing to her he doesn't understand how you do. despite all of the times he's messed up, the times he's fallen down, you stay by his side you care for him, you care about him.

she knows her katsuki is absolutely infatuated with you, he always has been. from tantrums about being separated in class and knowing your favourite ice cream flavour to him being overly protective over you when you were paired up with your lab partner that ended up not being him and to him wearing the stupid stuffy tux mitsuki tailor made for him to take you to prom.

you've always been his number one best friend, but he's always been yours as well : he loves you, but you love him just as much.

and so mitsuki smiles "call it mother's intuition. and, not to brag, but i think most of my hunches have been right by now" and it widens when katsuki scoffs and rolls his eyes at her boasting, another bratty little habit he has that he's practically mastered over the years. she sighs, spreading her arms out towards him "well come over here. you've gone and gotten so damn tall, i can't reach you myself !" her son rolls his eyes again, but he scoffs softly to himself and with a shake of his head, he closes the distance and hunches over to hug his mother. she wraps her arms around him tightly and he grumbles when she squeezes but he doesn't try to get away.

"there's nothing for you to worry about, katsuki. absolutely nothing." she repeats, rubbing his back. "you love each other, and that's more than enough. just be yourself, it's been working out for you this far..somehow." she jests. katsuki scoffs indignantly but they both end up chuckling about it. after a few more seconds they pull away and mitsuki pats her son's chest with a sniffle. right on top of his heart that she knows, she's seen, has gone through oh so much.

but still remained entirely yours throughout all the years and still so so so enamoured with you.

gripping onto his shoulders, she whispers "you got this." the glossiness in his eyes is impossible to miss, he's always cried very easily. but she guesses she mirrors his expression exactly. her son is the spitting image of her after all. she places a hand on his cheek and he leans into it.

"thanks, ma" he whispers sincerely. and mitsuki feels her heart soar.

"any time."

during dinner, katsuki announces the news to his father. who after getting over his shock immediately wraps his son into a hug. congratulating him and encouraging him with teary eyes, she knows where katsuki gets that from, before they all settle down to have dinner before katsuki leaves a few hours later. waving off his mother's insistence to pass you a greeting with a grumbled acknowledgement.

she shakes her head as her and her husband watch him drive off but her heart is full of pride.

"we raised a killer son didn't we ?" she giggles looking back at masaru, who agrees with a smile as they share a laugh.

and the next time you both come over, you're giddy. unable to keep your excitement in check as you keep excitedly looking back at katsuki, who finally relents with an affectionate sigh and you happily show off you're ringed finger with a squeal.

mitsuki squeals right back, wrapping you up in the tightest bear hug she could. masaru takes his turn hugging you, sweetly congratulating you both. of course, they'll tell you they both new in advance, but that was all for later.

sure, she didn't know what her son was planning in advance, but she had her hunches and her funny feeling from all those years ago that you'd be sticking around. she guesses it's good enough that she was the first to be told.

she sends her son a proud and teasing smile when they make eye contact. he rolls his eyes, but the smile on his face doesn't fade as he watches you talk with his father. she doesn't have to say a single word for him to know what she's saying.

i told you so.

taglist *if your name is pink i unfortunately couldn’t tag you :(( : @73isthebestnumber @gold24fish @m-inluv @katsuisbaby @teddiiursulas-ink @moonbabysstuff @brandydel @queenpiranhadon @chuugarettes @starieq @aishio14 @andysdrafts @hyunorue @touyasprettydoll @itsfiive @annoying-bitxh @h0nestly-though @atinytiredpanromantic @mikalame @itzjustj-1000 @deepressed @evam23 @erenstitanweave @m-0ona @chaoticgay13 @lotusstarr @koreluvsspring @giannitaa @waterstarz @nayeonsdoormat @the-crazy-star-12 @kovu-bunnbunn @kvk6433gkcigv @coolgirl458 @beekeepingageissome

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

No offense but it feels like absolute torture living as an extrovert who processes things by talking and has a base need for social interaction when you have no outlet/source for that

[devilfic]

you know what. I think battinson is such an enthusiastic kisser

both his kisses with selina were kind of this dreamy, almost out-of-body experience where selina had him under her spell and he was just sort of helplessly in love with her so he could do naught but follow her lead,,, but I like imagining what it'd be like if HE initiated kissing his partner

like there's the more confident bruce, a few more years into being batman bruce, where he leans in during a lull of good conversation and he's smiling and suave and controlled but like. bruce in year 2? bruce fresh off selina and realizing he could maybe make time for a relationship? realizing how much he missed being touched? somebody call animal control cause this bat is in heat

before he leans in, he watches you like you'll disappear. his eyes are wide open!! he doesn't want to miss a thing!!! I think he's more likely to grab for your waist instead of going for your face or something.... I think he bubbles with the desire to touch you so bad and he just wants to feel you against all of him, and I think he can't help being a manhandler,,, he needs to move you just so because like he cannot let you slip from his fingers when he's aching to kiss you so bad

he doesn't make a lot of noise when he kisses but he breathes Heavy. I think once he's kind of really winded that's when he starts whimpering really low in his throat... nothing too crazy... little grunts and whines but they're so quiet. if he's kissing you and gets disturbed tho I do think he will full on groan and groan LOUD and it's both funny and super attractive because his face screws up in this petulant little scowl like. can't you see he's busy

he 100% leans fully into it which is a lot because he's a BIG man. he's going to have to push you up against something every single time because he is chasing you every time you part for air, almost mindless and eyes half-lidded as he mouths at you. he's so into it that I can guarantee it's gotten you two kicked out of a gala or two when people inevitably find him devouring you in a dark corner or a hallway you both assumed to be empty

if you wear lipstick/gloss he is not wiping that shit off either oh my goooood. don't let me think about you leaving marks all over his face and him proudly walking out into a swarm of paparazzi just. cheeky

it's really hard to just give this man a quick, chaste kiss. everything has to last at least a minute with him. it's why he literally cannot kiss you when he's busy because it'll be a minute and then five and then he's behind on work (oh no..... so sad.... anyway) because he's got you laid on the nearest surface sucking bruises into your neck

bruce will kiss any part of you but I think he's just so obsessed with your lips that it's where he inevitably fixates each time. it is so so hard to kiss him anywhere else because he will be like wow nice. kiss from my lovely partner. not on my lips tho.... and when he turns around for a kiss on the lips you can't just refuse! he's got such kissable lips and oh this is a time loop that never ends isn't it

[jakedoxxenvasion]

dr.lee

fellow doctor heeseung! × resident doctor y/n!

warning: MDNI!, unprotective sex (whops) kissing and more?

not in a million years you would think you will do something like this, with someone that you adore so much.. someone that you look up to as a senior to you, someone that you met everyday and formally call him by his surname instead of..

"h-heeseung!"your sinful lips moaning for his name, "sshhh, you want them to hear you?"immediately you bite your bottom lips once getting that warn from him, he peck your lips and smile. "didn't expect you to be so obedient to me, love. such a good girl."you humming to everything he said to you, trying to not moan out his name.

you know what you did is wrong because you're just a doctor resident and he's your senior doctor, it's totally wrong but you couldn't stop him. not that you can't but you don't want to, having him pounding his cock so deep into you in the small store room in the middle of your night shift, the clock strike 3 in the morning as much as you remember when he call for you to help him earlier.

it's all start with you helping him with sorting out papers, and files of patients records and ending up finding yourself here in this room with him doing things that you could ever imagine in your right mind. "just a little more, does it hurt you, hm?"you shake your head, no he doesn't hurt you but the pleasure is too much.

heeseung smile when he kiss your lips, hips still rutting into you. he could feel your wall hugging him tight at each thrust he make, sending him over the cloud but he know that he cannot be loud. "s-shit, you're so fucking tight, love."he let out a low groan, watching how you try to control your own voices and somehow he like the way you did.

liking the idea of doing this in secret, liking the idea that there's an outside world that you try so hard it keep it out, not wanting people to find out about what the two of you did in this room. "fuck- heeseung i'm close ah-"he shut you up with his lips, kissing you so deep, cock still pounding in and out of you.

your fingers tangle with his hair, he push you against the wall, "cum for me, love."he whisper those once he pull away from the kiss, like a cue you could feel the feeling at the pit of your stomach rushing down. heeseung smile, letting you rode out all your orgasm with you weakly leaning on his shoulder, doesn't have much energy left in you.

he thrust into you once.. twice then he pull out from you, only to shot his loads on your stomach. "oh fuck."you watch those thick white liquid spurting out from his cock, messily on your skin. somehow, heeseung has those proud smile after everything that he had done with you. you look at him and he smirk, he peck your lips before he slowly put you down to make you stand on the ground.

"so fucking perfect, love."he caressed your cheek softly then continue to kiss your lips again. when he pull away, he stare into your eyes, "doctor.."your soft voice call for him, which make him chuckle. "that was not what you called me earlier, ms.y/n."your cheeks immediately turn red as his remarks, he continue to caressed your cheek as he stare into your eyes.

but then heeseung take a few step back, you watch him grab a box of tissue at the top shelf behind him and he rip it open before he help you clean up and get dress again. "so.. do i pretend like nothing happen earlier or-" "unless you want more, you can always come to my office, love."he interrupt your words then wink at you, blush immediately creep up your face.

you slowly nod your head, he pat your head then he open the door after grabbing a random file on the shelf. "later, make sure you keep everything in place again, okay? ms.y/n."he said, know it very well he did that on purpose, you follow him from behind after you fix your white coat. "sure, dr."

heeseung turn to look at you just to give you a wink before he walk away.

should i write a longer version of this? cause i kind of like the plot lol

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Okay, so, the ask about yandere platonic dick cheating and how the reader would react has me wondering; what would happen if the reader somehow found out that Dick didn't actually change and decided to go no contact, because they couldn't trust him or maybe because they just don't want to be around someone like that? Would that cause Dick to spiral more? What exactly would be the consequences of going no contact? (Like a complete cut off, although it'd be a bit hard to do that since they live in the same house)

(I was a bit disappointed to read that he probably wouldn't change, but it seemed realistic to me because habits are hard to break and everyone in the batfam is messed up. Although, I imagine after years of therapy or something similar there might be some sort of change. But, I doubt anyone in the batfam is getting therapy... except maybe reader)

Sorry yeah, i don't like to think Dick is actually a cheater or this shitty. I just like to humor different scenarios i get requested. But you cannot deny that this man is a messy whore. THIS IS THE FACE OF EVILLL

context

Look, cheaters are so sloppy. Even the ones who put the most effort into it are always bound to slip up. I imagine batsis isn't a fool. Like Richard...no way did you just go from being a serial cheater to suddenly being completely cleansed. You're an addict baby boy.

Like i said at first he's actually wanting to get clean for his baby sis and to be a good role model. I think it'd be very obvious to you that he's actually trying. He's irritable and really struggling to cope with the fact he has to put the phone down. You can see him obsessively checking his phone for what you'd assume to be a message or notification from one of his hookups. You can tell he's torn up about loosing his partners because he came clean about his unethical practices....

There's no hiding. This is such a deep seeded issue and it is really taking a toll on him. This is something like you said will need YEARS of therapy to fix.

So now Dick is trying to bullshit you a few days later...right in front of your salad! He's just sooo happy and he's proud about this new leaf turned????? Yesterday he looked like he was about to breakdown in tears because he'd been abstinent for just 48 hrs...and now he's glowing???

Dick, your patrol ended at 2 am last night...you came home at 6 am...please don't play with me rn.

not me getting heated. lol

He doesn't explicitly tell you he's back to his old ways. He's willing to keep lying his way into keeping you and this habit but it's undeniable. You know that his gf only forgave him because he lied to her too. It makes you sick when you saw the text of him telling her that he's busy with family and then left out for the rest of the day to go be with someone else.

Maybe you explode on him about it? Last time you were as nice as you could be about it but you cannot deal with the games anymore.

I liked to think in this scenario you're yelling at him and he's just still gas-lighting you, He throws every card to make you feel bad for accusing him. It absolute drives you mad. He's just so calm while you're are trying not to strangle him.

"Baby bat, i love you. I think you're just tired and are imagining things. You're convincing yourself that i'm still the old Dick because you're hurting...i understand and I forgive you. Maybe we should set up therapy sessions to help you let go of the past? Hmm?"

"YOU MOTHER FU-"

Ugh but i love him he's so fucked

The irony of him suggesting you therapy when he's the one riddles with mommy issues and the most insane coping mechanisms...

Dick isn't going to allow you to go no contact. You cannot go no contact with someone you live in the same house with. You are bound to interact and when you are dealing with someone like dick...it just won't work. The bat kids are extremely resilient and are well versed in making someone crack. You wouldn't be the exception.

More realistically you'd probably just be cold towards Dick. That's the best you can do. Not really responding to him and basically stone walling...

But i imagine this version of Dick to be much more forceful. He's done with your self righteousness. How dare you suggest moving out. That isn't an option because he needs to see his baby sister everyday. You are breaking up the family over this. You cannot cut him off because he's flawed...it's not that serious y/n. None of the other siblings are breathing down his neck. Maybe if you weren't so frustrating..he could actually become a better person. You are the one that is preventing him from being better with all your pressure!!

You packed your bags and are fully ready to walk out of this family for good because there's just too many wrong doings swept under the rug and here comes dick who is FUMING... He's trying to rip your bags out of your hands and grab you up..

You are not doing this to him. Stop being so-

Maybe your siblings step in and help you to leave. They help Dick calm down because they respect that it's your choice to live how you'd life.

Dick isn't stopping once you're gone. Especially if you're still in Gotham. There's a shadow that follows you where you go. Tons of messages and calls from unknown numbers. Even scarily enough..a blue toy bird left at your door with a small note that read

"Missed me, my little birdie? We'll be seeing each other again soon."

[tojikai]

Permanent Mark⁺ : FORLORN

Grateful to @mikeyslvrr for commissioning and for the support~♡

Pairing: Gojo x reader

Permanent Mark Masterlist

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, death, mentions of pregnancy, implied suicide

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this alternate storyline imagines what could have happened if Y/N had faced a different fate.

He's merely a ghost, beseeching to be haunted by your echoes.

I’ll make things right. I shouldn’t be too late, right? My Y/N and I will be fine. The moment she wakes up, I will apologize. I’ll tell her I messed things up. That I made the wrong decision. That I’m coming home with her. That I’ll never leave again. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

We’re gonna make it. 

“She didn’t make it.” 

Satoru’s steps halted. The world halted. He's been pacing back and forth in the hospital corridor. Despite the chaos of the people coming in and out of the hospital, the voices bouncing on the white walls, and the cries of families who want nothing but to go home with their loved ones, the ticking of Satoru’s wristwatch is still the loudest. 

It felt like every second added another boulder on his shoulder, making it harder to drag his feet on the tiled walls. Rie looked like she’d been awake all night when they’d only been here for a couple of minutes. Satoru could almost feel the blood behind his eyes, his nerves waiting to burst and he would be covered in it. 

Covered in blood, drenched in guilt, weighed down by regrets.

The doctor’s words reverberated inside his head. The roof of his mouth felt strangely hot as he heard cries behind him. Then, he was tackled to the ground. He didn’t even try to fight back, he just welcomed each blow that his best friend threw on his face, growling “You fucking bastard,” He could hear Rie screaming and his vision blurring as he struggled to stand up, “Y/N, let me see my Y/N.” It was an incoherent murmur as he tried to get to her door.

He was a bit dizzy from the blow and his knees were too weak to fight back. He felt like a bird with tied wings as two people restrained him from going to the room. Satoru could tell that his nose was bleeding but this is nothing compared to losing you. 

The irreversibility of his mistakes is now staring him right in the face and he has no choice but to stare back.

He can hear Suguru cursing him out while his tears bring forth realizations: Your parents were inside, after a long time of absence and months of separation from you, this is the first time that they’re seeing you again, not even breathing. The last thing you’d remember of them was how they never cared, neglecting you until you lost colors.

And Satoru… the last thing you'll remember of him will be his anger, his hatred, and the pain he caused you by turning your years of love into dust. The last thing you'll remember of him will be how he put someone else above you, even though he was the summit of your world.

The last thing you’ll remember is being unloved. By your family. By the man you love. 

Satoru tried to claw his way past the arms that were holding him back, begging for just a glimpse. He cannot believe that it’s true unless he sees you. But even if he does…his brain and his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe it too. The next thing made everything impossible for him as he lost strength in all of his limbs and eventually blacked out.

“Y/N.” He called out one last time before closing his eyes. 

—---------------------------------

Earlier

You can hear your sobs, and your heartbeats are like loud knocks in your ears. You sped up, vision spinning but this is nothing compared to the throbbing pain in your chest. You want to go as fast as you can, believing that maybe then your wheels would burn and dry all the tears that are running down your face. Everything around you was softened by the pools in your eyes.

Even the setting sun looked like a watercolor painting before you, the second brightest thing in your world.

You bit your lip to control your sadness from spilling out. You want to block out the words he said to you, you want to forget how he looked at you there. How those eyes you still love so much now look at you with such reproach, almost disdainful. Even at that moment, they still look so vibrant, enough to color a town. You let out a strained gasp, grasping your shirt as you come to a realization:

You will be stuck in this monochrome box as he paints someone else’s home. 

Before you knew it, the sun had disappeared and there was only darkness in front of you. You blinked away your tears but it didn’t work. Where am I driving? You asked yourself but it was too late to hit the brakes. For a very short moment—a split second even—your flesh trembled before you heard a loud crash. 

And then there was nothing. The sun was eaten up by that darkness in front of you and engulfed you along with it. Your body doesn’t feel like it belongs to you. You hear voices but the sound is distorted when they reach your ears. You couldn’t move. Slowly, you felt like you were sinking to the ground. The noises were getting faint and you could barely feel your heartbeat in your chest.

You slipped in and out of your consciousness, each time more chaotic than the last. There was the sound of the siren and a white dancing light pointing directly into your eyes. You can barely feel the air entering your lungs. Am I dying? You wanted to ask but your body was too numb. 

If you are, this is going to be your second death today. 

—---------------------------------

“Just let me be with her for a bit, Ma'am. Please,” Satoru didn't stop the tears from coming as he begged your mother. He knows he doesn't deserve it; he doesn't deserve to mourn you but there's nothing he wouldn't do. After everything that happened at the party, it all felt like a nightmare to him; something so unreal that up until now he still refuses to believe it.

His mother was with him during the burial, as he begged on his knees for a last moment. But your parents weren’t as soft as you. Even as he looked into your kind father’s eyes, he couldn’t find an ounce of pity. Why would he feel sorry for the man who tore his daughter apart? Out of all the hurtful things your mother has said, your father’s last words to Satoru are the ones that scarred him the deepest. It will haunt his ghost til its next life:

“I hope your guilt doesn’t consume you as completely as my daughter’s love for you did to her.”

Finding out about your pregnancy was another knife, twisting in his chest. The fact that you never found out was another bullet to his heart. So, you weren’t the only one he abandoned that day. Your heart wasn’t the only one he broke. It wasn’t just your own sadness you were carrying inside you but the unborn future’s lamentation too. 

Til the very end, the people looked at him as nothing but a man with clean hands and a blood-stained shirt. “Come to think of it, even in her last moments she saved you.” Suguru spat at his face when they ran into each other during the funeral. The main reason for the accident was your alcohol intoxication. But Suguru knows too damn well why it all happened.

The only one that wept with him was the sky. The thunders screamed the same accusations at him. The people will see his cries as tears of guilt but no one will understand how his heart died with you in that hospital bed. No one will know how the things he did will forever sleep with him under his pillows, hammering words into his head.

Rie is a strong woman, watching him on his knees, bawling his eyes out as he screamed his love for you to nothingness. She’s a tough woman, entering his room only to hear him label his relationship with her as a mistake, wailing for a do-over. She’s a brave woman who holds him in her arms, whispering her love for him only to be answered with murmurs of I’m sorry’s.

Rie is strong, but a month is too long to stay with someone who will forever yearn for another.

She was hoping for him to stop her, maybe just ask her to give him time, it wouldn’t have mattered how long but he never did. “I’m sorry.” He said, nodding as he traced the mouth of his cup. “Will you be fine?” She asked, first, out of concern and second, to allow a bit of time in hopes that he’d change his mind.

“No, but it’s alright.” He spoke, eyes void of emotion. They almost looked more grey rather than blue now. “Whatever that has happened is on me. I shouldn't have even let it happen.” She knows that he’s not just referring to the accident. His blunt confession of how his relationship with her was a mistake sends a chill down her spine and an ache in her entire being.

How could he so openly tell her that he regrets being with her? 

She guessed it was a small price to pay for taking part in breaking someone’s heart. And the larger bill was outside, lurking as she was faced with whispers in every company she tried working on, the continuous ringing of the numbers she called, and the neverending hours of one-sided conversations with her friends.

The rust of guilt will eat away at her bones as she tries to crawl back to where she came from.

Shoko was never the one to hold grudges. But for the longest time, she couldn’t talk to Satoru. She’d find herself spending most of her free time with you, even if she never got answers. Then she’d leave again like she always did before. If she regrets something, it’d be not being to be with you as much as she should be as a friend. Her job doesn’t allow for much time for rest.

Just like how it doesn’t allow enough time for mourning. 

“You need to start continuing your life. You’re just insulting Y/N being like that now.” She looked away as she lit a cigarette. She called Satoru over to her clinic today, worried about how his mother called her crying when he wouldn’t answer his phone. It’s almost been a year since your passing and she could barely recognize him. 

“Do you know where Suguru is?” He asked, voice hoarse as he licked his cracked lips. Shoko was grateful that his mother chose to take over his business. It’ll only fall down with him like this. He was breathing but barely alive. “Do not try to talk to him.” That’s the only thing she said, but Satoru already understands.

Suguru didn’t want to blame his friend when he was obviously devastated too. But hearing the doctor’s words that day, the first thing he thought of was that if Satoru hadn’t provoked it, you wouldn’t have left and driven drunk. He’d sound selfish if he said he was the most crushed of them all but how else does he cope with a loss of a love that never began?

The last time he’s been to your grave was on the burial day. He never went back again. He thought that maybe if he didn’t see it as much, his mind wouldn’t think of it like that. Maybe his mind wouldn’t remember your death. Maybe he can fool himself into thinking you’re just somewhere far away, working at your mother’s company.

“You don’t get to feel sad. You don’t get to feel sad as much as I do. Not when you already killed her before she even died in that accident.” He pulled at his friend's collar as tears streamed down their faces. “You don’t get to feel sad after what you’ve done, Satoru.” Suguru fears that even after years, he’d still feel resentment for his friend.

“If you weren’t planning on treating her well, you should’ve just let me love her instead, Satoru.” He let his shirt go along with the emotions he was hiding. “If you weren’t planning on keeping her, you should’ve just left her alone.” He whispered, stepping away as he turned his back to him, regaining his composure. This man is grieving too, he reminded himself.

The grief was heavier than the sea of blue in his eyes.

He looked so drained, like he died along with you and maybe he did, because staring into his eyes, Suguru couldn’t find his best friend anymore. When confronted by the uncontrollable materialization of the consequences of their actions, humans deteriorate from the inside.

He wanted to hug him, to cry with him, and let him put some of his heaviest feelings on him but he couldn't. “Live well, Satoru. Y/N wouldn’t want you like this,” He sniffed, running a hand down his face as he turned to his friend again, tapping his shoulder before stepping out. 

It’s so hard to feel bad for someone who brought the tragedy upon themselves.

Years will pass and Satoru remains the same, an empty skeleton of who he was before, a vessel of memories and the love you generously left, a cage of regret, guilt, and suffering that he harvested from bad seeds that he planted. “It shall pass,” The doctor said, passing him a blister pack, “You’ll feel better with time.” It just makes him want to laugh. The man doesn’t understand that what he needs can’t be found in this world.

He would lie awake for hours, with exhaustion gnawing at him but still his eyes remained stubbornly open. Reality was punishing him by keeping him awake, blocking out his only means of escape and portal to you. Drinking wasn’t a solution, it was more of a problem. There was this one time that he drank so much, he thought he was seeing you. 

His mother found him on his knees, his forehead touching the floor as he begged you to come back, apologizing to the air as his tears hit the tiles of his house. It’s no use, you will never come back and even then, his hallucinations of you were inanimate, unmoving, and cold. 

He gazed at a jar filled with wilting flowers on the table—some had lost their color, while others were on the verge of fading. Standing up, he fetched a new one in his jacket’s pocket and cut off its stem before carefully placing it with the others.

These flowers came from the bouquets that he left on your grave. Each time he’d visit, he’d take one flower with him and keep it in this jar. It’s his way of coping, thinking that he still has a piece of you with him. It felt both comforting and painfully inadequate. Satoru doubts that anything will ever change in his life. Even if each person on Earth introduces someone or something new to him, nothing will fill the void.

Satoru wondered if you saw him as others do: merely guilty, not genuinely in love. It’d be another blow to his already beaten-up heart. Listening to the ticking of the clock, his shadow cast on the wall of his room. The quiet was eerie; it had been for years. This house had lost its colors long ago. 

It is during these times when he remembers how you’d spent sleepless nights together, just soaking in the presence of one another. Maybe if he sleeps, he’d dream of how you used to rest your head on his chest. Taking the last of his pill, Satoru stared at his ceiling one last time.

As he closed his eyes, he prayed to wake up beside you. 

Permanent Mark Masterlist

[pillowspace]

HI….👉👈 AM I ALLOWED TO ASK ABOUT YOUR SIBLINGS AU????

sooo so curious if you have an facts or tidbits to share like! whats their dynamic like? is there any Backstory to this oooor just for fun? i am. very very interested ehe

(only if u want to tho!!)

(About this post and this post)

Mmmm! Let me see what I can think of!

Mal's full first name is Maldu. I imagine everyone would call them Mal except for Odile, since she calls Bonnie Boniface, and would presumably call Mal "Maldu."

Mal is like 12-15, I'm not really strict on the exact age. Since Mal would be the second youngest, they would probably like following Bonnie around even if Mal doesn't really know how to "play" or anything. They just kinda... stand there and try to curiously mirror whatever Bonnie does.

Mal is a bit quiet. They can speak, but they don't do so often, and are more likely to speak when they're upset than when they're pleased.

The red star that hangs from their bandana cannot be seen in colour unless Mal is especially upset. Not the most upset of their life like Siffrin, but even just a big cry could cause the star to shine for everyone to see.

Mal is very sensitive and cries easily. Siffrin's grown practiced at calming them down but still gets freaked out by the sudden tears.

Mal likes quietly watching and listening. They enjoy being taught by their allies how to perform certain tasks, and will give that wide-eyed look of a silent "really??" when praised for doing something right. They soak up praise like a sponge due to a perpetual feeling of doing something wrong.

While their right eye spirals, Mal's left iris is entirely white! It's usually covered by the slanted hat, however.

And! I hadn't actually really thought of a backstory until just now, but does this work? I think it maybe could

Siffrin accidentally created Mal through Wish Craft when he had a mental breakdown as a child/teen soon after the northern island's disappearance, though neither of them know this, and they did not meet until a couple years after this happened. Mal's existence slowly came to be with a clear understanding that they existed for a reason, but they weren't sure why. When Siffrin and Mal eventually crossed paths, it was like finding a second half that you hadn't even realized you had lost. Though even after meeting, the two are still unsure of how this happened to begin with. As far as Siffrin's concerned, the two just "clicked," and does not remember the breakdown. Meanwhile Mal's not really sure where they came from or what they are, but they gladly latch onto the protection Siffrin offers.

Mal is simultaneously an extension of Siffrin, and a separate being entirely. Mal was made from Siffrin's soul, even if Siffrin hadn't meant to share himself like that. When one is hurt, the other shares the echoes of their pain. Mal likely severely panicked when Siffrin lost the eye, and the echoing pain in Mal's own head surely didn't help. If ONE panicked kid (Bonnie) wasn't enough, you also get TWO in this AU! Congrats!

Since Mal was created from Siffrin's distraught state, it reflects through Mal in certain ways. How sensitive they are, how timid they are, their unease, their anxiety, etc. Siffrin's helping Mal every step of the way though, and is very protective of them, urging his allies to be gentle with them.

[nyoomerr]

SY as a disciple on another peak? It's just very amusing to imagine LBH desperately scrabbling to get onto THAT peak, clearly there's been some sort of MISTAKE, he's supposed to be over there!!

lbh would just keep showing up like a stray dog, lmao. here's some qian cao peak disciple!sy taking care of little binghe!

---

As a reader, Shen Yuan had been under the impression that everyone knew about Luo Binghe nearly immediately. Shen Qingqiu and Liu Qingge fought over him at the disciple selection, only for Shen Qingqiu to treat the poor bun like shit, thereby causing a whole separate fuss as Yue Qingyuan unjustly defended the abusive actions of his scum shidi. That sort of thing was basically begging to be treated like hot gossip - surely, in a sect full of teenagers, news of Luo Binghe would travel nearly as quickly as he arrived on the peak!

So why is it, exactly, that the first Shen Yuan hears about Luo Binghe is the demon invasion that takes place years after Luo Binghe’s arrival?!

Was there no gossip after all? Are Qian Cao disciples really that busy that they don’t hear the gossip?! No, no - Qian Cao would obviously get the most gossip; every other peak visits Qian Cao regularly, and half of them end up high on pain meds while here, unable to filter most of their thoughts! If there had been gossip about Luo Binghe, Shen Yuan would have heard it first! He had been listening the hardest!!

In front of him, Luo Binghe shifts awkwardly. “Um, Shixiong…”

Shen Yuan feels like he’s been struck by an arrow. 

Ah! Shixiong!! He called me ‘Shixiong’!! Luo Binghe’s Shixiong!! I could be Luo Binghe’s Shixiong!!!!! …Wait, no, the seniority of the peaks -

“Shixiong, is something wrong?” Luo Binghe asks hesitantly.

A second arrow!!! Shen Yuan is going to keel over and die, right here in the middle of the medicinal peak, because Luo Binghe keeps calling him ‘Shixiong’!!!

“Of course not,” Shen Yuan says, before gathering all his strength to tack on: “Shidi.”

Fuck the seniority of the peaks, to be this golden bun’s Shixiong is to ascend early!!

“Oh,” Luo Binghe says. He shifts again, looking around the small triage room they’re in. 

The triage room he’d been directed to because he’d just finished fighting an unfair battle against a demon elder. Right. That triage room.

Shen Yuan clears his throat, smiles awkwardly, clears his throat again, and promptly begins treatment. The best pain medicine Qian Cao offers, the most expensive healing ointments, a tincture for general strength and wellness, a tea for good sleep - so what if Shen Yuan has to pull some of these things out of his personal stores? That’s Luo Binghe, and he’s bearing far more injuries than those that came from his battle with the demon! 

He does his best to keep up friendly chatter the whole time, too - asking after Luo Binghe’s studies, backpedaling immediately and telling him what a good patient he is, asking after Luo Binghe’s friends, backpedaling again and telling him what a sweet boy he is - 

Normal bedside manner. Shen Yuan is very good at that sort of thing, as a senior disciple of Qian  Cao. 

Unfortunately, Shen Yuan eventually runs out of injuries to treat. He very badly wishes there was some sort of medical sanctions he could pull out of his ass to keep Luo Binghe on Qian Cao - something about the injuries on his back looking more like whip lashes than normal training injuries or wounds from the demonic invasion, something about the injuries looking like abuse - but Shen Yuan already knows there isn’t. 

Only the peak lord could pull that sort of authority over Luo Binghe’s own Shizun; if Shen Yuan tried to do anything himself he’d end up in a diplomatic battle over it.

In the end, all he can do is pat Luo Binghe’s head a few times (and then a few times more, his hair is so soft now that Shen Yuan has carefully washed it out under the pretense of medical necessity for cleanliness!) and send him on his way.

Still, Shen Yuan cannot tolerate letting Luo Binghe suffer on Qing Jing, now that he knows Luo Binghe is there. He’ll have to find some excuses to run errands over there, or -

“Shixiong,” Luo Binghe calls from outside the disciple halls, looking shyly over at Shen Yuan.

Or, Shen Yuan thinks, more than a bit surprised, Luo Binghe will just show up for treatment on his own…?

Shen Yuan scrambles over to Luo Binghe, gently patting his head and turning his face this way and that and carefully running his hands over his shoulders, trying to figure out what’s wrong. 

“Ah, Binghe, did I miss something yesterday? Shit - I mean, uh, shoot, you’re too young and cute to be cursing just yet, you hear me?”

Luo Binghe nods obediently, then shakes his head. “Shixiong didn’t miss anything,” he clarifies.

“Oh, good,” Shen Yuan says, letting go of some of the tension in his shoulders.

Shen Yuan of course put his best foot forward when treating Luo Binghe the other day, but he isn’t the peak’s best healer - he’d chosen Qian Cao to study poisons and rare flora and spiritual plants, not actual healing. He’d only been helping treat patients the day of the demonic invasion because half their best healers were missing! 

“If Binghe’s alright, what can this -” Shen Yuan breathes deep, savors the feeling, “- this Shixiong do for you?”

Luo Binghe glances up at him shyly, big wet eyes peeking out from long lashes. Ah, the pinnacle of perfection, for a cute little boy!! 

“I… tripped,” Luo Binghe says hesitantly. 

Shen Yuan blinks down at Luo Binghe. Luo Binghe swallows thickly.

“On my back,” he adds. “And bruised it like - like the bruises Shixiong treated yesterday.”

“Bruises,” Shen Yuan echoes incredulously, which he thinks is a rather restrained response to hearing the sweet baby protagonist talk about lash marks as if they were mere bruises.

Luo Binghe nods, still looking up at Shen Yuan pleadingly. Shen Yuan sighs; it’s better to be able to treat Luo Binghe’s injuries than not to, even if Luo Binghe himself is going to downplay them even as he asks for help.

The Luo Binghe of Proud Immortal Demon Way had never asked for help from Qian Cao, now that Shen Yuan thinks about it.

…After he’s taken care of Luo Binghe, he’s going to figure out which disciple would’ve treated Luo Binghe in the original, and he’s going to put chili powder in all his tea, ah!!

---

Luo Binghe keeps coming back. Small injuries, larger ones, keening whines about how Shixiong, I’m scared of qi deviations, please help me cultivate safely!!

Shen Yuan is torn between feeling relieved that Luo Binghe has found a Shixiong (Shixiong!!) that he feels he can trust, and feeling absolutely terrified of Luo Binghe’s general health. The original Luo Binghe of PIDW had never felt this worried, he was never in so much pain over simple scrapes! Had Shen Yuan’s doting somehow turned the protagonist’s bones to glass??

Regardless, Luo Binghe spends more and more time on Qian Cao. He even shows up to some of the lessons Shen Yuan teaches, which - protagonist, you don’t need to know healing!! Your blood will do it for you, eventually! When that fails, a large-bosomed woman will take care of you!!

“I can’t help but feel bad for how often I bother Shixiong,” Luo Binghe whines when Shen Yuan tries to shoo him out of the Qian Cao beginner lessons. “Isn’t it better for me to learn how to take care of myself?”

It’s better for this Shixiong to take care of you, ah! Shen Yuan very much does not say, but he does begrudgingly let Luo Binghe stay.

Except the lessons go too late, and it’s dangerous for Luo Binghe to be wandering between the peaks after dark, so he ends up having to bunk with Shen Yuan for the night, and Shen Yuan offers him some of his old Qian Cao disciple robes to sleep in, and Luo Binghe never takes them off -

Shen Yuan stares at Luo Binghe, happily calling him ‘Shixiong’ and dressed in Qian Cao robes and without even the smallest of bruises or scrapes on his person, and -

Well, this is probably a good a way as any to rescue Luo Binghe, ah!

[fatuismooches]

More Dottore and Fragile Reader voice lines, except it's your turn this time. A part two to this. Previous voice lines are here.

About Prime Dottore:

"Zandik. My one and only… words cannot express my tenderness and love toward him. I refuse to forget any moment I've spent with him. Not once has he given up on me, despite the times I’ve given up on myself. And he has always taken care of me, not once faltering in over four hundred years. I- I don’t know what to do sometimes when faced with that information. I wish I could be… less of a burden on him…”

About Omega:

"Omega, huh... he is the only segment where I always spend time with completely alone. See, he's not prone to sharing, just like Prime. I don't mind much, honestly, it's nice to get away from all of the noise and be with him. He always coaxes me to be more selfish too... is it a good or bad thing he's influencing me?"

About Alpha:

"Yes, the grumpy cutie I met all those years ago, the start of it all. He says that my presence is a hindrance and it only disrupts his work, but we both know that's false. Often, I like to sit by him as he writes his notes, pointing out all the errors caused by the atrocity of his handwriting... Sometimes, I feel bad using him as a reminder of the past."

About Beta:

"It always baffles me that Beta was once how Dottore acted. I mean, have you seen the difference between 'Mega and Beta? Anyway... he's always such a fun segment to hang around! Even when his assistants cower behind me in fear! Oh, and whenever he goes 'he-he-ho-ho', it always makes me giggle. Please don't tell him I did that impression of him though."

About Delta:

"Oh, Delta's... pretty mean. A really big meanie, if I do say so myself. He never laughs, never smiles, never entertains my shenanigans, always sees right through me... so rude. Huh? Don't worry about me, I'm allowed to talk about him like this. I still love him, after all."

About Zeta:

"Zeta's always so elusive! It was such a pain to track him down at first, he was always avoiding me. I thought he hated me... but once I got a hold of him, he is always so attentive to me! However, it greatly saddens me that he thinks he "failed" me... and yet he doesn't know how much it hurts me more that I've caused him to be like this."

About Zandy:

"Have you met my son? He's the sweetest little thing, isn't he? I remember how shy he was in the beginning, but he quickly grew to be such a dear. Always so excited and eager for attention. I can't help but wonder if Dottore's life could have been different if more people were kinder to him as a child."

About Pierro:

"I will always be indebted to him and Her Highness for taking me in. He is pretty scary to be around, but I feel sort of bad for him. I can't imagine how much responsibility he has... I once promised him I'd work for the Fatui once I'm better, but he didn't react much. Hmph, I'll show him how much I can boost Dottore's efficiency!"

About Capitano:

"The only thing I really know about him is that he's incredibly strong and well respected, at least from other people. The single time I met him, I also learned he was quite well liked by animals too, but it's hard to get any more information when he's so quiet..."

About Columbina:

"Bina is the best friend I've always wanted. I'm glad she's always there for me whenever things go bad. Although I can never predict what she's going to do or say, which is pretty strange, considering who I'm with, that makes her company all the more fun. Still, the amount of embarrassing situations she's tricked me into with Dottore... makes my head hurt."

About Arlecchino:

"I wish we could be closer, but I don't think it'll ever happen. I can't really blame her though, the relationship between her and Dottore is... not the greatest, for reasons I understand. I wonder what she thinks of me, the person who still stands by his side despite his sins?"

About Pulcinella:

"Oh... the little grandpa? I've always wondered how he's the fifth rank, but there's probably more to it than I know. Regardless, I didn't expect him to be so kind to me. I only see him once in a while, but every time he seems to know how I'm doing. And then, he proceeds to give me the best advice, exactly what I needed to hear at that moment, even when it has to do with Dottore. It's kind of scary..."

About Scaramouche:

"Ah yes... the Balladeer. He always wants to start up something with me whenever we cross paths, which is why my patience runs very thin around him. I hope the next time he goes into the Abyss, he gets stuck there."

About Wanderer:

"Who?"

About Sandrone:

"Her research sounds so cool! I've seen some of the things she can create, and it's completely fascinating. I too once had a love for machines back when I was a student. It's just a shame she never comes out of her lab... there are never any chances for me to talk with her. Well, I can always talk with Alpha and Beta about their research at least."

About La Signora:

"I've barely ever seen or spoken to her, but she has my respect. I heard what happened to her husband. If I ever lost Dottore, I'm not sure if I'd be able to go on... or at least be as half as strong as she is."

About Pantalone:

"Oh, Lone's one of my good friends! He always has such unique ideas for me to get back at Dottore, and listening to him talk about his theories quite reminds me of listening to Dottore. He's helped me a lot, dealing with this man. Still... as he does with everyone, I'm kept at arm's length. It doesn't bother me, but I wish I could help him in some way. But I know that'll never be possible."

About Childe:

"Despite being a Harbinger, he's a lot nicer than you'd think. Well, especially compared to the others in the Fatui. He's great at conversation, his family is the sweetest... and he always promises to spar with me once I'm no longer sick. Truly great company. Too bad Dottore's attitude toward him is... less than favorable."

About Furina:

"At first I hated her just like all the other Gods, but after learning the truth, I can't help but greatly respect her. To take on such a burden without having a single shoulder to lean on and succeed in the end... I think I've been through a lot of pain, but at least I've had Dottore and the others to ease it even just a bit. But she had no one, and I admire her will."

About Nahida:

"I try not to waste my time on things that upset me. It's not good for my health."

Sprint Start:

"No, no, I am not running at all. Look, if I get hurt and Dottore finds out it was your fault, you'll be the ones strapped to the table, not me. Hey... I wouldn't mind being in that position, actually."

Chat - Worry:

"I hope that one day he can make peace with himself."

Chat - Old Times:

"Sometimes I wish I was just a simple student again, having no worries other than my grades and pulling all-nighters with Dottore. Actually, that doesn't really sound relaxing, does it?"

Chat - Idling:

"If you're just going to stand here doing nothing, then I'm going to take a seat over there."

When it Snows:

"Would you be willing to distract Dottie so I can chuck a snowball at him? No? How boring."

When the Sun is Out:

"It's a perfect day to have a picnic and listen to him rant again."

In the Desert:

"... Omega, Beta, Delta, I don't care which one of you does it, get over here and make your hands completely ice cold before I faint."

Something to Share - Talent:

"If you ever need help writing something, you can ask me. I wrote some pretty good essays back in the day, you know. Dottore once said I should even write a book! I thought he was bullying me, but he was actually serious, for some reason. Maybe I should get Zandy to draw some pictures?"

Something to Share - Secret:

"Dottore actually has quite a sweet tooth. Well, this probably isn't much of a secret anymore because I accidentally spilled it to the agents, but it would do you good to keep this in mind."

Interesting Things - Foxttore:

"This little guy here? He'll do you no harm unless I say so, so don't worry. He was one of Dottie's failed experiments roaming the lab until he gifted the creature to me! These pufflings too, surprisingly they help me a lot more than you'd think. They're pretty strong, carrying all my things."

Favorite Pastimes - Meals:

"It's time to eat already? No need to worry about me, I'll just wait for a segment. See, it's best for both of us if I have company while I eat. My hands... aren't the most reliable."

Troubles:

"I am very happy that they have a good place to conduct all the research they want, but I wish they paid some more attention to me sometimes. Voicing this complaint over and over again, however, is too exhausting."

Amusement:

"Dottore's fan club never ceases to amuse me. I know every Harbinger has one but... it's completely hilarious. To go so far as creating a handbook about the two of us... well, I appreciate the dedication and the laughs, especially when I update Dottore on their activities. He may not care, but I support them!"

[franzivonkarma]

I desperately need people to understand that Franziska's whipping thing really isn't solely a silly character gimmick. Of course it is to a degree, just like Godot and coffee and Klavier and air guitar in court, but so often I see people dismiss Franziska's whipping trait as an annoying feature that adds nothing to her character and I cannot stand it. This is a bit of a rant and I touch on gender inequality and the way I see a lot of men treat her as a character a decent amount within this because I feel like the fact that she is a woman is actually very important to this element of her character, and her treatment is also a lot of the reason why I feel compelled to talk about this in the first place.

Firstly what you need to understand is that not only is Franziska a woman, she is also laughably young when she becomes a prosecutor. She's a 13 year old girl trying to hold the attention of a courtroom of mostly grown men and be taken seriously. It's no secret that misogyny does exist in the Ace Attorney universe of course (see: Godot), but aside from this, maybe it's just because I've been playing Ace Attorney Investigations recently, but she is just very small all around. It's a running gag in Turnabout Reminiscence that she is short, she's small, she can't see things Edgeworth can - although granted Edgeworth is definitely fairly tall, most estimates I've seen linger around 5'8-5'10 (around 170-180cm). And of course, she is only 13 here, she's not done growing, but it's at this age that she actually did begin to prosecute. Naturally, she'd often be underestimated, and we can see a strong desire to prove herself during Turnabout Reminiscence, even just to her father; I can only imagine that this would extend further into her trials as a young girl. Secondly, she's the daughter of Manfred von Karma, whom she idolises to a godlike status and who teaches her everything she knows about prosecuting, and also a lot about life in general - he's her father. There's a lot I could say about their dynamic, but I feel that much of it doesn't need to be said in this specific post if you're already here dedicated to Franziska enough to bother reading this post.

Manfred's courtroom (and often, regular) behaviour revolves a lot around him taking complete control of the entire courtroom, with him even speaking over the judge, overruling objections he does not like and sustaining his own, and instructing witnesses himself. He also often snaps his fingers to direct attention to himself and his point. Franziska learns this, but how does a literal 13 year old girl follow her father in this regard? Well, by force. Whipping someone is a very clear way to get their attention. Not only the person it hits but the people around - whips cracking are loud, they take up a lot of visual space, and they also obviously cause harm to the person they hit. These are all things you can't really ignore - it forces you to look at her and pay attention to her and gives her control of the room exactly like Manfred. I've also been thinking a lot about the end of Justice For All in relation to this. She's lost to Phoenix multiple times and she couldn't beat him even once just to prove that she was better than Edgeworth as she so desperately wanted to. This brings me to another point about her use of her whip. While I think control is a huge aspect and is my main focus here, I think it falls more under the umbrella of Franziska's own perceived shortcomings. We also know that she doesn't believe she lives up to her father's genius, and that she consistently feels like she's walking in Edgeworth's shadow, she says it herself:

I think at least some part of the reason her whip is so important is because she believes she could very well be less than equal to others in the room in terms of certain traits. She sees her father as a genius, knows she isn't equal to him, and internalises this (whether she is actually less intelligent or not I personally don't know what I believe, I haven't played Justice For All in over a year and a half and I would have to replay it to decide my thoughts).

In having to be perfect, there are many expectations she cannot live up to, and this leads to many ways in which she falls short of what she believes she should be. By using her whip, again, she can account for her perceived shortcomings in other areas - control, her intelligence, her ability as a prosecutor. I think this last scene of JFA actually introduces us to the idea that Franziska is somewhat self-doubting in some ways and compares herself a lot with others, not just Manfred, but also Edgeworth, which we see more of in Ace Attorney Investigations during Turnabout Reminiscence, where we see her at 13 attempting to prove that she can "out-logic" Edgeworth for the entire case, and essentially, that she is "more perfect" than he is.

But to come back to her whip, control, and the end of Justice For All.

She is left with little of who she was before and doesn't know how to move on - everything she was taught to be from the moment she was born, she no longer is. She is 18 here, prosecuting for 5 years already and desperate to be prosecuting for even longer. As far as her life was set out, this was basically it for her - become a perfect prosecutor and prosecute perfectly just like Manfred - the ideal prosecutor in her eyes.

A Von Karma is perfect, but she is not - she lost, just like Edgeworth, whom she shamed for the same thing. She gives up her whip here, and I feel that it's truly symbolic of how she feels like she's completely lost control of herself, her life, her relationship with her father and most obviously her occupation as a prosecutor. How could she continue being a prosecutor when she no longer lives up to the idea of it that she's had her entire life? What use is her whip if she will not need to hold the court's attention any longer?

I'm sure a million other people have thrown their coin in the pot on this exact topic, and I'm sure many have said the same thing as me and many have said something different, but I needed to write my thoughts out about it because I couldn't stop thinking about her. This is one big reason why I feel like I see a lot of men who don't understand Franziska and see her as very annoying, gimmicky, and my least favourite - a "female Edgeworth." She is a woman who steals attention and space forcibly; both from characters in-game, and also from the player with her animations that take up time in trials and a lot of the visual space. Of course this makes her unpopular with a lot of men. I'm not saying that if you dislike her or the whip it comes from a place of misogyny, I am saying that I think her whipping trait is reduced to a stupid, annoying gimmick more than, say, Godot and his coffee, because a lot of people don't really care to see that there is intention behind it that reveals a lot about her character, just like how Godot's coffee problem is relevant to his backstory.

[maeofthenoldor]

The mithril shirt makes me so emotional. The way that Thorin gave it to Bilbo out of an act of love, even when he was deep in the gold sickness. It represented what they could have had. When Thorin and his nephews die, Bilbo leaves with the shirt, the only reminder he has of him. He then donates it to the Mathom-house, because he cannot bear to see it, again, a reminder of the terrible ending of his journey. When he departs from the shire, he brings with him the mithril shirt for his last adventure. 

He never even knows how valuable the armour truly is, how it was worth. And the FACT that Gandalf never told him probably leans to the idea that it would only remind Bilbo of what happened on the adventure. (We see how Bilbo's way of grief is denial, he never tells the true story, only child-versions of it so it doesn't feel real). Many years later, he gives it to Frodo, in hopes it would protect him, in a way that it didn't for him. Bilbo sent him off to a perilous journey and prayed that his wouldn't end in tragedy like his. 

 But It saves Frodo's life, and god the PARRELS of Thorin failing to save his nephews, but saved Bilbo's nephew.  In the the Tower of Cirith Ungol, the mithril shirt causes the orcs to fight over it. Remember, it was borne out of an act love, and orcs hate everything about light, so it was almost like an act of vengeance that they only saw the value in the mithril, and not how Bilbo saw it (love) which causes them to kill each other. This allows Sam to save Frodo and THIS is the most emotional scene about the mithril shirt for me. Thorin and Bilbo's story ended but it allows Sam and Frodo's to continue.

The mouth of Sauron takes possession of it, and mocks the remaining fellowship. Imagine how Gandalf must have felt in that moment. He knew what it meant already. How he would have to tell Bilbo that the mithril shirt, the one that already invoked his mourning now held the only thing left of his beloved nephew, who he loved like a son. The regret he must feel, for the both of them. No wonder in his wrath, he retrieves the mithril shirt.

Of course, Frodo is alive and the chain mail is returned to his possession. By then the shirt has saved his life twice. I think that Bilbo's thoughts on the shirt shifted, no longer a reminder of what he lost, but what has been saved. Now we dont know if it goes to Valinor with them, I’d like to think it did, but another idea is that Frodo gave it to Sam. It goes in full circle like Thorin giving it Bilbo then Frodo giving it to someone he loved.

it becomes a family heirloom and is passed down through the family, through the Gamgee's descendants. A final act of love.

Maybe I look to much into things and this is just a string of ramblings. Maybe this was a pointless analysis with a clear bias to my favorite ships then an actual true interpretation to the text. Either way, the mithril shirt makes me feel a sense of loss, love and hope. There is something more then a piece of armour that saved the protagonist. One cannot deny how valuable it is to the story.

[star-girl69]

Cowboy Like Me

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!Reader

—-

Part One - The Last Time

Part Two - Cowboy Like Me

Part Three - Tomorrow Never Came (coming soon!)

Part Four - Living Legend (coming soon!)

Part Five - Pretty When You Cry (coming soon!)

—-

synopsis: 15 years later, you’re still climbing into clarisse’s arms and knowing she’s gonna leave.

a/n: personally i love life but idk about y’all and creds to @nvirskies for helping me w bits of this 🫶

Cowboy Like Me - Taylor Swift

warnings: y’all already know what’s happening

—-

“And I… I’m scared.”

You hum, adjusting yourself in your seat so your heart doesn’t break.

“It’s okay to be scared. I’m scared all the time.”

Jane is one of the sweetest kids you’ve ever met since becoming the Camp Half-Blood therapist thing. After your traumatizing years, watching Clarisse come and go, years spent in her bed- you found yourself wanting to tell someone.

You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. You wanted to feel safe, especially when she was gone.

You wanted to tell someone that you hated Clarisse La Rue’s guts and also you loved her so much you weren’t sure if you could ever get over her.

So, you became that person.

“You’re allowed to be scared, though,” Jane continues. “I can’t. I’m a daughter of Ares, Y/N. If he sniffs out weakness then he’ll never love me.”

Your conversations with Jane have by far been the hardest sessions you’ve ever had. They remind you so much of what you went through 15 years ago. Of what you watched her go through.

“And you’re human, Jane. To fear is to be human. You’ll always be part human, the same way you are part god. That’s what being a demigod is,” you smile.

“It’s just… human?” she says, nose scrunching.

“All of the emotions you feel, the ones you hate, the ones that distract you- those are the ones that come from your mortal parent. Ares cannot take those away, no matter how hard he tries.”

You let the kids spread around the rumors that this room is magical and soundproof. In reality, the Gods just don’t care enough to listen.

—-

It took a long time to get Chiron and Mr. D to see the benefits of having an actual licensed therapist at Camp. They were hesitant, but you insisted, so they gave you a one month trial. It took even longer to get someone to actually come talk to you, but after Jane blew up on one of her siblings and hurt them, she came to you.

She came to you crying, saying she hated being like this, she hated being so explosive. And it was slow, but you helped her, and now she has coping mechanisms and now the entirety of the Ares cabin and a good portion of the camp scrambles for appointments with you.

Jane always comes at 6:30 on Fridays. She eats her dinner quick and runs across camp to your office at the Big House. Sometimes she cries, sometimes she squeezes a stress ball so hard she might actually crush it, but she always talks. She always opens herself up, she learns and she grows.

After that hour, you turn around and lay in your bed, and you think about Clarisse.

You think about when she comes back, you’re not so cold anymore but your heart is frozen over. You cry, she asks you not to cry, not when she’s here. She did the impossible, she survived.

But you see it in her eyes. The thrill. She will do it again and again for him and you will be left there.

And as much as your aching heart tells you to forget about her- she’s yours. You’re hers.

She calls you baby and pretty girl even though years of stress has caused crows lines around your eyes. You are still trapped with her, like some sort of wretched mirror- except you’re gazing into another world where you’re both still young. Where you’re both still happy. Where she didn’t leave.

You think about that alternate reality a lot.

You think about it tonight.

You come to your room and you lay on your cold bed, wrap an arm around your waist and imagine the pillow under your head is her chest. It’s embarrassing. It’s embarrassing to love her so much that you pretend she’s still here. It’s embarrassing that you pretend you have all the answers- the campers look up at you like you do have all the answers, but you really don’t. You know absolutely nothing. But you’re good at pretending.

The first time she visited camp she came to your room, cockily leaned against the door, and said something about how she had to meet the woman all of her younger siblings were gushing about. That night ended with her crying softly against your chest while you ran your hands through her hair.

And before, you went to colleges only an hour away from each other. When you were stressing about exams, when you got a bad grade, when the nights were cold and you missed her- you drove an hour and knocked on her door, and she let you in, into her bed, into her arms. She didn’t have let you into her heart, because you were always there.

When her roommate left for a few days for a family emergency, she asked her friends to take notes for her and drove to you. She stammered when you opened the door, tried to explain that she just couldn’t be alone, not anymore, not without you- and so she spent the next few days waiting in your room while you were at classes. You would sit in her lap while you did your homework, or she would just stand behind you at your desk and play with your hair. And you would spend your nights in her arms.

The second time she visited camp she didn’t say anything when she knocked on your door, and you just let her in. You spent the night laughing and reminiscing until you cried and she smiled sadly and asked you not to, and you tried for her, but you couldn’t. How can she expect you not to cry when she’s the one making you cry? When she’s cried herself over what happened between you?

The third, fourth, fifth, all the times she came to camp she would come to your door and sometimes you would cry, sometimes she would cry- sometimes you both would cry. Because how cruel is it to be held by the woman you love and know it’s not the girl you love? How cruel is it to know change?

—-

It’s not that you choose to love Clarisse. If you could choose, you wouldn’t love her. You would forget all about her. You dream about falling and hitting your head, waking up with a blank slate that’s untainted by her.

You don’t choose to love Clarisse.

Your skin doesn’t love her, not anymore- your cells replace every few weeks. And it’s been 2 months since she last came to camp. It’s your bones that love her. It’s something fundamental inside of you. Loving her is like moving- it takes so many little nerves and neurons to make it work- but it feels like nothing to you. Your bones love Clarisse.

And your bones surround your heart, and they trick you into loving her.

Every time she comes back you’re shocked by the way she isn’t her younger self. She’s older, there’s lines on her face, and she cut her hair a few inches shorter a few years ago. She carries herself different, partly because she’s grown and she’s learned to appreciate life a little more- she walks softer. And almost because you know she hurt her hip years ago, and you’ve spent nights kissing it and saying that she’ll be fine if she just gives it a little longer to heal.

You like to think that the reason she’s still able to go on quests and do everything she does is because of your healing touch.

But you see it sometimes, the way she walks softer, especially now after a long day. Its not that it hurts her, she’s just scared of putting a bit too much pressure on it so it does hurt her.

You watch her from the window. Smaller kids run past her, she’s listening absentmindedly to Abby James, the current counselor of the Ares cabin.

You giggle as she puts her hand on Abby’s shoulder and firmly says goodbye, pushing her off into the other direction- Abby is probably the most social Ares kid you’ve ever met. She’s a chatterbox, not in a bad or mean way, just a fact. Her long black hair swishes behind her as she turns, crossing her arms, and you’re sure you’ll be hearing about it in your next session.

You move back to the small couch- right by the door of your room. You sit there like you’re not expecting her, and you wait until you hear her footsteps up the stares to fix your hair and breathe in and out slowly.

She knocks.

“Come in,” you say, throwing your feet onto the coffee table and picking up a book about the history of psychology.

“Y/N,” she says. The door shuts behind her, she leans back against it.

“Hi, Clarisse,” you say, reduced to a child now that she’s in your presence. Now that you can look at her and see that she’s not her. “How are you?”

She snorts, walking past you and sitting in the armchair you sit in for your sessions.

“I don’t wanna play that shit tonight.”

“Hospitality?”

“Whatever you wanna call it,” she smiles, her feet touching yours on the coffee table. You feel a little breathless. You close the book, you weren’t even reading it, throwing it onto the coffee table.

She stares into your eyes.

“How have you been?”

You roll your eyes, but that just makes the tears more prominent.

“How is that any different?”

“‘Cause it’s you. ‘Cause I like hearing your voice.”

She leans back in the chair and gestures to you, so you cross your legs and sit up. You bite back the tears like a hyena with a fake laugh.

“Uh, I don’t know. The usual. All of my sessions are going good, not that I can really tell you. Why don’t I turn on some music?”

“Sure,” she says, leaning her face into her hands.

You walk past her and towards the bookshelf on the opposite wall, body screaming at the way your bare legs brush against her clothed knee.

It’s an old record player, somehow making the cut as not electronic enough to attract anything bad.

You don’t bother checking what you were last listening to. You just put the needle at the start of a song and hear the organs, the grand piano.

“I like this guy,” Clarisse says.

“Jeff Buckley,” you chuckle, smoothing down your camp t-shirt, adjusting your pajama shorts.

Looking out the door I see the rain // Fall upon the funeral mourners

You stand there for a moment longer, pretending to adjust your bookshelf, because you know you’ll start crying when you turn around and look at her.

So I’ll wait for you, love // And I’ll burn // Will I ever see your sweet return? // Oh, will I ever learn?

“Come back,” she says. She was just watching you avoid her. You could feel her eyes on you. You stiffen. “Please,” she adds, softly.

“It’s embarrassing,” you mutter, wiping the tears away.

“I’m just as embarrassing then, seeing how many times I’ve cried in this room. We cancel each other out.” You don’t turn, you can’t do it, you can’t let her see how much this effects you. “I don’t like it when you cry. Please, Y/N, come back.”

You take a deep breath and turn around, wanting to walk past her again, curious to see if she’ll reach out and pull you into the chair with her.

But she doesn’t get the chance too, because your eyes are blinded by tears, and the place where the rug curls up is always making you stumble. Except on days when she’s here, you’re so drained of everything, so you trip completely.

Your knees slam against the hardwood floor, Clarisse tries her best to catch you, but she was a foot too far to reach you- even with her fast reflexes.

And now you’re on your knees in front of her, crying even louder with burning knees.

“Y/N,” she breathes, and you drag yourself towards her, sobbing like a baby until you’re at her feet, resting your head in her lap. “Hey, it’s okay, it’s fine. I trip all the time.” You both know you’re not crying about that.

You press your face into the space between her leg and the cushion to muffle your loud cries.

You grab her legs, feral, nails digging through her cargo pants- but you don’t even reach skin.

“I love you so much, Clarisse,” you sob. “I love you. Don’t leave me tonight. Don’t leave me.”

She breathes out, it’s silent and you bite your tongue.

“I’ll stay tonight,” she says. “I was always gonna stay tonight, you don’t have to ask, baby.”

“Say you love me,” you whisper. “Say it, please.”

“I love you,” she says, her lips in your hair. “Of course I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

There is a certain desperation with demigod relationships. And you feel it now, you feel the desperate hands and the yearning hearts as you cry at her feet. And you feel your knees burn as you kneel before her. You listen to Jeff Buckley croon about love gone while you cry at her feet.

You can’t be embarrassed in this moment. Part of you feels like this is all just Clarisse’s problem, for being so beautiful you still love her, for leaving you and never putting you first. She has to hold you and fix you, she has to deal with the wet pant leg full of your tears. But really, you just want her to hold you. You just want to pretend she never left in the first place.

It’s never over // She is the tear that hangs inside my soul forever

—-

“Are you hungry?” you ask when you finally let go of her, pushing her away as you wipe your wet face.

She studies you for a moment.

“Yeah,” she says, honestly. “What’cha got?”

You reach under the coffee table for the box of snacks you always keep incase someone gets hungry during a session. You’ve both moved to the couch for more space, Jeff Buckley is still going in the background- you’ll have to get up and flip it over soon, or put on something else.

She rifles through the bags of mortal snacks until she finds a bag of salt and vinegar chips.

“Thanks, baby,” she mutters, tearing into the bag. You lean against the couch and just watch her. It could be like this all the time. If she would just stay.

She tries to feed you one, but for some reason that feels too intimate and you shake your head. She shrugs and eats it, even though it was pressed up against your lips a second ago.

That’s the one thing you don’t do. You kiss each other everywhere, except for the lips. You touch her everywhere, except for her lips.

You cry in her arms and she kisses your head, she runs her hands down your body but doesn’t kiss you.

And you’re scared of it. You’re scared of kissing her. You still feel like you can leave, even after all the nights together, if you just don’t kiss her.

She gestures to the curtain that separates your bedroom from where you see campers. “I like the new curtain. Flowers,” she says.

You rake your eyes over the carefully crocheted patterns, pink and blue and yellow, purple and green and red, all turned into pretty flowers.

“A few kids from the Demeter cabin made it for me,” you smile, thinking of how proud they had been to give it to you. “It’s so beautiful.”

“It is,” Clarisse says, but she’s not looking at the curtain anymore. “Jane was talking about you all day,” she says after a moment. “She really loves you.”

“I love her. If she hadn’t come to me, then no one else would have, and I probably would have gotten thrown out. I don’t even know where I would have gone.”

“You could’ve come to me. You can always come to me.”

You have her address pinned to a bulletin board next to your bed.

“Yeah,” you mumble, playing with a loose thread on the back of the couch. “She reminds me a lot of you, you know.”

“Really?” she chuckles. “How?”

“I can’t tell you, silly. Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Well, you said she’s like me. So just tell me what I’m like.”

“Okay,” you mumble, thinking over every moment you’ve spent with Clarisse, every session with Jane. “Well, you have very big emotions. It’s hard for you to control them. But, you never really feel them. You never get to the root of the problem. So, when something actually happens, all you know how to do is recognize that you’re angry. You can’t figure out why.”

“You’re good at this shit,” she mumbles. You laugh.

“Hm, you forget that being a demigod means you’re half human, too. And you’re very loyal. You’re loyal to the wrong people, sometimes.”

She crunches up the empty bag of chips and drops it onto the coffee table.

“Don’t do that,” she says.

“Do what?”

She rubs her socks against your knees. “I jus’ wanna be here with you, right now. Don’t say anything else.”

“You asked me about Jane.” You scoff and she glares at you, but her feet are still touching you, and you sigh. “I’m sorry. I jus’ wanna be here with you, too.”

She stares at you for a long moment, unblinking. When she finally looks away, she’s rubbing tears out of her eyes. You move to sit on your knees, leaning towards her.

“Clar, don’t cry,” you say. “What happened?”

You take her face in your hands, so she can’t wipe away the tears. Staring into your eyes, she’s forced to let them fall. She puts her hands on your waist.

“Sometimes I jus’ think about how you’ll never forgive me.”

You don’t know what to say to that.

“Let’s not talk about that right now, Clar. C’mon.”

“Is this room soundproof?” she asks, suddenly. You frown at first, not knowing what that has to do with anything- but then you remember.

You let the kids assume it’s soundproof in your early sessions. But eventually, when they ask, you tell them the truth. You tell them it’s not.

And when they get scared and ask if their godly parents will hear them- you put your hand on their arm and say no. No, they won’t hear you. It’s not that they can’t, it’s that they won’t. They won’t care.

“No. It’s not.”

She shakes her head and laughs.

“So, what? You just sit here and tell these kids that their parents don’t love them?”

“Because they don’t. A God’s love is not a human’s love, Clarisse, why-why dont you get it? It’s different. It’s just different. It’s not necessarily bad, it’s just not what these kids need.”

“You make them think that their parents don’t care about them.”

“Because they don’t! Fuck. They don’t, okay!”

She stares at you for a long time after your outburst.

“What is wrong with you?” she mutters, not necessarily mean but more genuinely curious. She truly believes your wrong in your hatred of the Gods.

“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with me? I spend my entire day helping kids. I spent my entire day handing them tissues, hugging them, teaching them coping skills. I have devoted my entire life to making sure no one ever felt how I felt. How am I the bad guy for helping them place the blame on who it really should be placed?”

“How you felt?”

You shuffle, sitting up taller.

“Yes, how I felt. How I feel. You don’t know what it was like for me, Clarisse. You don’t know what it was like to sleep without you and know that you were probably gone-”

“What the hell do you think I did every night of that quest?”

“But I didn’t leave you, Clarisse! I didn’t leave you. I have been waiting for you for years. You are the one who leaves me over and over again. And you- you have someone. I have no one, except for you. No one.”

Clarisse has a father. She has someone to blame, if she chose. She has someone to pray to, to cry to, to guide her.

What do you have? The unclaimed daughter of no one? The only person you belong to is Clarisse. And here she is, staring at you like you disgust her.

The anger falls away, because at your core you’re still a lonely 16 year old who needs her to come back, who needs to be claimed, who needs to be loved.

You’re a licensed psychologist. You know that you have deep, deep abandonment issues. You know that Clarisse is at the root of them. But the part of you that’s just a girl, your bones that will always love her, she’s everything to you. She’s all you have.

“Please don’t make us fight,” you cry, hands pressed to your cheeks. “You’re making me cry, Clarisse. Don’t make me cry.”

You watch her change entirely. It goes from the woman who can’t understand you to the girl who knows only you.

“I hate it when you cry,” she says, softly, a gateway back into her arms.

You throw yourself against her, trying your best not to cry for her, but you fail. Her lips are in your hair, your head against her chest. She smooths down your hair and begs you not to cry. Because for some reason, this feels like too much. For some reason, this hurts her the most.

Clarisse is self destructive just like you.

She helps you to your bed. She touches the flower curtain as you walk past.

Clarisse knows she’s hurting you and she knows you’re hurting her. You know you’re hurting her and you know she’s hurting you.

She takes off her uncomfortable clothes and slips under the blanket with you.

Clarisse loves you the same way you love her. Not by choice, but by nostalgia, by hope. She loves you because of what might be. You love her the same way. You both hope that one day it’ll all work out.

She tucks the blanket around you and cups your face. She tells you she’s sorry and whispers “I love you” one more time. You put your hand on her hip, the other pressing against your chest. You say you love her too. You say you love her so much you’re reduced to this less-than thing in her presence.

Clarisse doesn’t understand you. You don’t understand her. She’s nobody’s son, and you’re nobody’s daughter. You try to go about your day without her but you think about her on you so much.

It’s hard to do well on these nights when you know she’s gonna leave you. So you cry, you pretend, you relish this one night in her arms.

“I promise I don’t mean to hurt you,” she whispers. “I don’t. I love you so much. I want you to be happy, but I can’t let you go.” She traces her nose along your jawline. “I can’t let you be happy away from me.”

And it sounds so horrible and cruel, but the way she hurts you is so beautiful you can’t be bothered. She only hurts you because of love. Because she loves you, because she loves her father.

“I know,” you breathe. “I know everything. I don’t mean to hurt you either, I know exactly how you feel.”

A single tear falls down her face. “I can’t help but hurt you. I can’t help but let you hurt me.”

“I know, Clarisse,” you mutter. You press your lips to her cheek and swallow the salty tear falling down her face. “It feels so good, I know.”

Clarisse is a sadist like you. Clarisse is a masochist like you.

Clarisse is addicted to the pain just like you.

—-

me when i’m in an toxic and cosmically doomed relationship contest and my opponents are clarisse and y/n: 😱😱😱😱😱😱😱😱

let me know if you cried in the comments below! 😘

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish

[writingstoraes]

secret trip 🛫

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: instagram imagine, social media au

notes: this seemed like a really cute idea so! lmk what u guys think 🤍 requests for charles imagines are open btw! pls send some cause my own ideas r betraying me rn lolol

about: the entire grid seems to be going to italy together, fans can't seem to put the pieces together!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, ferrarifan, wagsf1, and 234,110 others

yourusername with love, italy

isahernaez Have fun, babes ❤️

yourusername wish you were here 😣

wagslove SOOO GORGEOUS

charles_leclerc My beautiful angel

yourusername love you, handsome :D

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, carlossainz55, maxverstappen, and 1,334,982 others

charles_leclerc Loving the view a little too much, loving my muse the most.

f1films Charles and Y/N vacationing in Italy is something I never knew I needed

mercgirl I think they're with some of the drivers, check their stories

pierregasly Have the best time 😝

arthurleclerc No picture of me?

charles_leclerc Leave the hotel for once?

carlossainz55 and pierregasly recently added to their instagram stories!

danielricciardo and landonorris recently added to their instagram stories!

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, pascale_leclerc, and 345,892 others

yourusername good food, good times, and the best people ❤️

pierregasly Someone pass the salt

carlossainz55 Why did you feel the need to ask that here pierregasly Why do you wanna know? 🙄

charles_leclerc No one told me Max gets wine drunk...

yourusername i say whoever ordered the wine takes care of him danielricciardo That champagne saving me right now 🤣

ferrarihorse I didn't know all of you were all so close omg this is adorable

charlesfearless italy with my loml and friends... now i want that

yourusername and charles_leclerc recently added to their instagram stories!

Trans: Nothing I'd love more than spending a lifetime with you.

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, isahernaez, and 501,221 others

yourusername the answer to the million dollar question — why everyone seems to have flown to italy, well it's because today, i married the love of my life who also happens to be my best friend and my answered prayer.

i have had the best time conquering the world with you, my love. from the big romantic moments to the small mundane things, you make life more pleasurable. here's to forever 🥂

tagged: charles_leclerc

charlosfan aaaa an intimate wedding! truly one of the best option, congratulations to my favorite couple <3

yourusername thank you love! it really was nice being surrounded by close friends and family ❤️

scuderiaferrari Best wishes, Y/N and Charles! We still remember your first paddock appearance as a couple; time truly has flown!

charlieferrari I KNEW ITTTT MY FRIEND OWES ME 50 DOLLARS LOL

yourusername hahaha thank you for the faith then 🙏

lewishamilton Congratulations once again, you two! What an honor to be there as you celebrate a new milestone in your life together 🎉

charles_leclerc

liked by pierregasly, arthurleclerc, lewishamilton, and 1,982,221 others

charles_leclerc Exactly five years ago, I could not resist asking for your first name just so I could see you again. Today, you took mine.

J'ai hâte de passer ma vie à t'aimer. I cannot wait to spend my life loving you.

tagged: yourusername

pierregasly Haha you weren't best man carlossainz55

carlossainz55 You weren't either?

maxverstappen Time to bring out the wine 🍷

charles_leclerc No landonorris No danielricciardo With love, no

carlossainz55 Overflowing best wishes, mate! You owe me for actually sending Y/N the text of you wanting to ask her out 😁

---------

tagging: @slytherheign, @honethatty12

notes: believe it or not this prompt has been gathering dust on my notes lol lmk what u guys think! also lmk if anyone wants to be a part of my permanent taglist :)

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Wasteland, Baby

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 3.4k

TW: Mentions of Murders, mentions of suicide, discussion of suicide, trauma, emotional turmoil, death, arguing, abandonment issues, commitment issues, Angst, some fluff

A/N: Thanks for bearing with me as I try to get off the struggle bus y'all. here is the highly anticipated part 2 of Stick Season !

All the fear and the fire of the end of the world Happens each time a boy falls in love with a girl Happens great, happens sweet Happily, I'm unfazed here, too

It had been three years since you left the BAU and you had just turned down a job at the FBI from Erin Strauss. You never heard from her again. 

But you did attend her funeral in D.C a week later.

You didn’t alert any of the BAU that you were returning for her funeral, since you could only imagine the pain they were feeling. 

The plane ride was filled with thoughts of what life would have been like if you had rejoined the FBI. Maybe she wouldn't have died. Maybe she’d still be calling you and sending you email after email with job offers. 

You had quickly stopped by the wake, the day before, to pay your respects, and give Strauss’ family your deepest condolences. It was painful, seeing someone you spoke to last week, stiff, lifeless, in a coffin where they will be for the rest of time. 

But the worst part was the burial. 

Blending in at a funeral has never been a strong suit of the BAU’s, except for you. You were calm, respectful, and blended in with the rest of the spectators. 

Until you looked across the circle and saw Aaron Hotchner looking directly at you. Whatever he had been feeling before, was quickly wiped away when you looked back at him, confirming his suspicions that you were here, in the graveyard. The look on his face was replaced with a more somber one as he redirected his attention back to the priest, but you knew you would be unable to just leave now that you had been spotted. 

Once she had been lowered into the ground, Hotch made his way towards you, catching his colleges interested. Where was he going? Who was he looking for?

“Y/n.” 

You smiled at him. It didn’t reach your eyes, but it wasn;t fake either. 

“It’s good to see you Hotch.” 

“I didn’t know you were going to be here today.” 

You nodded and looked over as the rest of the people migrated towards their cars to go to the reception afterwards. “I didn’t make it public information, considering I was planning on leaving after the ceremony. I’m just here to pay my respects Hotch.” 

“She called you.” 

“Yes she did.” 

“And she said you turned it down.” 

“I did.”

“Why.” 

“Hotch, please.” 

He took your elbow and pulled you away from the people, giving the two of you some semblance of privacy. 

“Will you at least think about it?” 

“What is there to think about Hotch? I don’t want to—” 

“I wish you wouldn’t lie to me. I know you miss it Y/n. I’m not just some colleague, and you know that.” 

You closed your eyes and pinched your brow. You knew coming to this funeral was a mistake. But some part of you, one that you had silenced for a very long time, was starting to break through. 

“We can talk later.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

“I cannot believe you’re going back.” 

You sighed and continued to pack up everything you owned into boxes. You had only broken down the ones from a few years ago–that same part of you had saved them for whenever you had recognized you were ready to be back in Washington D.C. 

“Don’t ignore me. I thought you were done with hunting bad guys and certain doctors with glasses.” 

You slammed your hands on the table, causing Lucille to jump. 

“Sorry.” You muttered and slowly sunk to the ground, deciding it was just easier to sit on the ground and have a breakdown rather than talk it out. 

“I’m not going back for him…I’m going back for me. This…” You ran a hand through your hair. “This is n’t what I was meant to do, Luce. I’m not a teacher. I’m okay at it, but…I was meant to be in the field. Teaching is challenging, but not in the way I need. And fuck, I love my kids, you know that I do, but it’s just…”

“It’s not who you are.” She came and sat down next to you, taking your hand in hers. “I’m gonna miss you asshole.” 

You rested your head on her shoulder and squeezed her hand. “I’m going to miss you so much.” You whispered back to her. 

“You have to visit me. I’ll get lonely up here.” 

A smile spread across your face as a tear slowly tracked down your cheek. “ You have my permission to hunt me down and beat the shit out of me if I don’t.” 

“Oh don’t worry, I will.” 

All the things yet to come are the things that have passed Like the holding of hands, like the breaking of glass Like the bonfire that burns That all words in the fight fell to

Your desk stayed pretty empty for the first two weeks you were back—like you were terrified that if you got too comfortable, life would pull the rug right out from under you again and you’d have to leave. 

It was Garcia who first noticed this, watching as you’d pack everything up into your tote bag each night before you would go home. She didn’t say anything about it though, since you were not the same girl the BAU had grown to know. 

You were different, quieter. You spoke when you had something to add, or to correct somebody, but you never participated in the banter; you never stayed longer than absolutely necessary. If the group had decided to surprise you at your new apartment, they would find it covered in boxes—walls bare, fridge almost empty, only essentials like clothes and toothbrush unpacked. 

But you had never been better. Hotch had you start consulting side cases when you came back, a way to get you used to the routine of being back in the office, back in the FBI. You would consult up to three new cases a day, still helping with those that would call back a day or week later for updates or more help. They watched as you easily solved things in minutes, that might have taken the team hours. 

The first time Morgan called you ‘Girl Genius’ to your face, you punched him in the arm (admittedly a bit harshly). But he wasn’t wrong. You could feel the continuous excitement flowing through your veins; your muscles flexing as you settled back into the thing you were the best at. 

You were different, but better. 

Spencer noticed this too. He watched as you confidently answered every question thrown at you. He watched as you consulted on cases and noticed patterns he had missed. 

Spencer had missed you, badly. He knew he fucked up when he had left that night, needed to go and he spend the night away, thinking about his life; his future. Panic had flooded his body at the thought of you being the one forced to take care of him, forced to deal with his shit history and addictive personality and his annoying ass rambles. He didn’t want to subject you to that. 

But then he remembered the look on your face—the pure excitement and adoration at the thought of being able to spend every single minute of your life calling him yours. And once the panic had subsided, he felt that same joy. 

When he got back to the house, you weren’t there. 

You weren’t at work either. 

You had just vanished, and about a day later, all of your things had disappeared too. 

And Spencer was a fucking wreck. He was useless at work, and he spent so much time trying to find you, but Penelope wasn’t able to find a thing, and by the time she did, it had been months later, and you clearly didn’t want to be found. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

It didn’t help that seeing you again in Vermont made him want to melt on the spot. A great deal of relief washed over him, seeing you were alive and in front of him. But then he felt the anger rise in him. You had abandoned him, you had just disappeared without a second thought. 

Then he remembered the look on your face when he panicked about marrying you.

You had thought he didn’t want to marry you. 

You had no idea that he felt like he was the the problem, and if he told you know, it would just sound like a fucking excuse. 

Watching you walk back into the bullpen and set up at your desk was another slap in the face. It feels like nobody tells him anything, because they don’t. But then he realized that only Hotch knew about it because everyone froze on the spot seeing you sitting at your desk, working. 

At his desk, he would just watch you. On the plane, he would watch you. And he tried so hard to be nonchalant about it, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Your hair, your legs, your arms, your lips—he wanted to take your hand and never let you go, fusing your skin together so he could be with you always. 

He was in love with you. And he thought you would rather die than be seen with him again. 

If only he knew that you felt the same way—you loved him right back. 

And that day that we'll watch the death of the sun To the cloud and the cold and those jeans you have on And you'll gaze unafraid as they sob from the city roofs

After about three months, infinite pining, a few longing glances passed to one another, and incessant whining from Derek Morgan, you and Spencer Reid found yourselves together at coffee one morning. 

After about a month later, you found yourself back in his apartment, lips grazing his, not being able to tell where his body ended and yours started. 

Then, the next day, he told you he loved you. 

He didn’t see you for a whole week afterwards. 

But when he walked into work that monday, and you were sitting at your desk, completely unbothered, he took it upon himself to make you talk to him. 

No one else was around, except for Hotch. But his office door was closed, and Morgan wouldn’t be around for another ten minutes anyways. 

“Where the fuck have you been?” 

You turned around in your chair and glared at him. “Excuse me?” 

“You disappeared for a week, no word about where you were going, not even telling me you were leaving.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Not now Spence.” 

“I love you.” 

“What?” 

“I still love you.” 

Your jaw dropped. “Spencer…” 

“I’m dead serious Y/n. When you weren’t here after you spent the night, I lost my fucking mind. I thought I had lost you—again. And I wasn’t about to go through that again. I had fucked up once before and I—I thought you had realized you didn’t want to be with me anymore and you had left again.” 

You were silent as he rambled on. 

“When you left three years ago, I lost my fucking mind. I sat here, staring at your desk hoping you would materialize out of thin air just so that I could apologize to you. And then when you didn’t show up, I begged Penelope to tell me where you had run off to, so I could go and find you and beg for you to listen to me while I got on my hands and knees to beg for your forgiveness. You thought I didn’t want to marry you, but I was terrified because I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me. I mean I had just gotten sober, and I thought we were doing so well and then you brought up marriage and all I could think about was how it was another way for you to find out how much you could hate me and get sick of me since—” 

You had finally snapped out the shock you were feeling and placed your hand over his mouth. “Breathe.” 

Spencer shoved your hand off his mouth, but stayed silent, taking an over exaggerated breath to prove to you he did. 

“We can talk about this later.” 

“No.” Spencer shook his head. “We’re going to talk about this now. I want to talk about this now.” 

“Spencer…” 

“How do I know that you’re not going to just pack up and disappear again.” 

“Spencer seriously? I don’t—-”

“You don’t do that? Because we both know you do. You’ve done it twice now.”

“What do you want me to say Spence?” 

“That you still love me.” His voice was low, but his eyes were locked in on yours. “I need to know if you still love me.” 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you

The Next Week

Another Day, Another Psychopath Killer. 

Another way for you to throw yourself into the line of fire because you have always had a soft spot for teenagers. 

Someone was targeting suicidal teens, convincing them to end their own lives, merely making him complicit in their deaths. It had sent you (and JJ) reeling. Both of you had lost someone to suicide, and watching as this person preyed on vulnerable kids who deserved to live and be loved took a lot out of the both of you. 

You had a bad feeling about this case when it was first passed onto your desk, but it just got worse and worse as the week went on. If only you had figured out who it was sooner, you might have been able to save this one girl’s life. But sometimes life refuses to relent. 

The jet was silent on the way back, none of you wanting to speak and break the silence. 

Spencer sat next to you on the couch, offering a comforting presence, and nothing else. He knew you (and it bugged the shit out of you). Years of being with one another meant that he knew when you were upset, and he knew that you despised being touched while you were like this, but you hated being alone. 

It bugged you so much, but you weren’t going to say a damn thing because having him next to you while you sat and listened to your music and spiraled was exactly what you needed. 

He only offered his hand when the plane hit some turbulence, and your entire body began to shake unconsciously. It was between the two of you, and all he did was flip it, so the palm was upwards. It was an invitation that you could immediately ignore and refuse if you wanted to. 

But something in you caused your hand to drop next to his and lace your fingers through his. 

God was it so fucking warm, and soft. You wondered if he still used the lotion you had recommended to him all those years ago when he would complain to you about his hands being “gross” and “too dry”. He absolutely did. 

He managed to hide his smile when you took his hand, but he did give yours a soft squeeze, and continued to read his book, pretending that his insides weren’t aflame and his mind was anywhere but on the words in front of him. 

He didn’t turn a page for over four minutes once your hand was in his. 

And I love too that love soon might end Be known in its aching Shown in the shaking Lately of my wasteland, baby Be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking Though quaking, though crazy That's wasteland, baby

That Night

“Thank you.” 

It was the first thing you had said in over five hours, including the plane ride. Once the plane had landed, you and Spencer went back to his apartment, and the two of you had sat in his living room, in silence. He didn’t mind, as long as he could keep an eye on you. 

Your mind was far far away. It was back in college. Thinking about your friend and about the life you could have lived if she was still with you. 

Spencer had left a cup of tea next to you, your favorite, and sat on the couch. You were situated in the chair by the window, staring out into the night, watching as the rain drops raced down the window and as the lights blurred together. 

He was close enough to provide you with some comfort, but far enough away to let you have whatever space you needed.

“Spence?” 

He snapped out of his head, looking towards you. Your eyes were tired, and your body reflected the same type of exhaustion. 

“Sorry. What do you need?” 

“I—.” You interrupted yourself with a yawn, cursing under your breath. “Shit sorry. I should probably go..” 

“It’s okay if you stay.” 

You looked out the window then back at him. 

“I’m not just saying that to get you into my bed—oh my god that came out wrong, I just mean I don’t want you out in that weather and I don’t really like the idea of you being alone tonight, especially after this case because—” 

“Spencer.” 

“---yeah?” 

“I’ll stay.” 

“O-oh. Good. good…” He nodded. “I can uh, take the couch and you can have the bed.” 

You rolled your eyes and smiled slightl;y. “You’re a gentleman, Doctor Reid, but I’m not kicking you out of your bed.” 

“But I—”

“Spence.” 

He huffed, crossing his arms as you just laughed softly to yourself, amused. 

“Why don’t we both go get ready. Together.” 

“Together?” 

You nodded. “Yeah Spence.” 

“Okay.” 

Spencer stood up, and offered his hand to you. 

And for the second time today, you took it. 

When the stench of the sea and the absence of green Are the death of all things that are seen and unseen Are an end but the start of all things that are left to do

And maybe the two of you would never be together ever again. Maybe you would. 

But something about the way Spencer would make your favorite tea, 

or the way he would save you the crossword puzzle on his morning newspaper since he knew how much you loved to solve as much as you could without his help, 

or when he would leave you notes on your desk, making you feel like a giddy high schooler all over again, or when he felt like a good start to something new

or when he would kiss you good morning and good night, promising you he’d be there whenever you woke up

or when he slowly got rid of things in his apartment to create space for your things as you moved in slowly 

or whenever a case was particularly rough for the both of you and he wouldn’t pester you to talk to him about it, instead offering his hand for you to take, and squeezing it, letting you know he was there for you

or the way he would take you on small vacations up to Vermont so you could go see all of your friends and escape from the world of the FBI

or the way he would never storm out of the apartment after an argument, but still give you the space you needed so you could both decompress without getting at each other's throats

or when he whispered every thing he would do for you for the rest of your lives so help him god when he thought you were asleep in his arms

or how he would whispered ‘I love you’ to you as you passed by while you both were working

or when he would never let you run off in the middle of the night because you would panic about whether or not this was all a dream, and one day he would wake up and not love you anymore

or when he got down on one knee and proclaimed his undying love for you, hoping you’d promised to love him forever in the same way he loved you, wanting to be with you, wanting to be near you always

made you feel like everything might be okay after all. 

Wasteland, baby I'm in love, I'm in love with you