#I didn't want to go into heavy depth because then I get too lost in what I'm trying to say

[dittobooty]

Thinking a lot about how in One Piece there's a continuing theme of self sacrifice that often doesn't meet its end (I won't say always because there are some characters who have eaten shit for a cause). But I just think about how easy it would be to just accept their sacrifice but the narrative won't allow that. Robin, Zoro, Sanji, Jinbe, they've all tried to give their life for the sake of others but they can't because they really don't have to. I think about Robin's "I want to live" regularly. It's so easy to die for someone but it's so much harder to live for them. And living for them gives back so much more than dying for them does. Dying is just a moment but living lets you have more moments and more time to show how much you care and lets you do so much for others. I feel like a lot of other shonen show dying as one of the bravest things you can do but One Piece is so different because it shows you that living is actually the bravest thing.

[comicaurora]

Hi! I finally got the chance to read Aurora a bit ago. It's a wonderful story--all I was expecting and better! I was particularly amazed and delighted by the artwork and visual mechanics used to tell the story, so I wrote a post to yell about how cool it is and break some of it down. (No criticism, just praise.) I'm mostly a hobbyist, so I'm hoping I've done it justice.

That said: zero pressure to read it or respond to this ask. Normally I wouldn't send it since I tagged, but I know Tumblr's notifs are a mess and things get lost very easily. I've been in both the "one (1) word of praise will feed me for a year" and the "oh gods don't talk about my writing/art because anything that seems Off will break my brain" modes before, and I absolutely don't want to push or make you uncomfortable!

If you are comfortable, however, I wanted to ask about your use of what I'm assuming are Screen and blending modes in sound effect words. (I'm only guessing that's the technique, though, so I could be totally wrong about how it's done! I'm mostly experienced in image manipulation in Photoshop.) Making them semi-transparent over the actions is genius :) What inspired you to do that, and are there specific techniques you use to make it work?

Same questions go for using specific colors to distinguish different characters' words and actions. I really noticed it in the cave sequence with Falst and Dainix, since their colors are so vivid in the dark (ex. Falst's little swats and Dainix's swooping kick at 1.20.9). It lends excellent clarity to busy scenes.

Thanks! Have a lovely day, enjoy your break, and happy holidays <3

You're correct about the technique! "Screen" is the blend mode I use most often for sound effects. I stumbled on it mostly through trial and error - I love how sound effects add depth to a comic panel, but it's very easy for them to obscure the art in a way I find counterproductive, so "Screen" lets me put the sound effect directly over the origin of the sound while still letting it be visible through the word. Early chapters didn't have it as much-

Most of the sound effects in early chapters are just solid colors with reduced opacity if I'm feeling fancy. But I started figuring it out around chapter 8 and 9, because Falst is kind of a sound-effect-heavy guy, especially in his fight scenes.

In order to make sure they don't impede the visibility of the action, I'll often soft-erase the top or bottom half of the SFX to reduce its opacity while still leaving it readable.

I'll usually double that up with an outline on the SFX so it's still readable. This is an especially important consideration if the SFX goes over an area of the background that's very bright or glowing.

Color-coding the speed lines and SFX to the character or force causing them isn't a hard and fast rule, but I like using it (in part because it's a habit from the OSP illustrations, where every character has a single pop of color in their lineart) mostly because it sort of codes every sound to make it clear where it's emanating from, or the general feeling of the sound. Since I normally do character-colors for SFX, something like this stands out more jarringly-

Which it's supposed to, but a big lightning strike doesn't register as anything too worrying because it's just Tess up to her usual shenanigans.

It's also very useful for magic effects, because each form of magic has its own associated palette.

And when I had a very complicated fight scene in a dark environment, I used the texture pattern I'd already made for the monster to color its SFX, so when I Screened them onto the panels they didn't obscure too much while still communicating "this is something else."

Changing the weight, lined-vs-not-lined, and opacity of the SFX words also helps to communicate that not every sound has the same feeling. A strong motion is solid and aggressive, but a crackling, unstable sound is more ephemeral and staticky.

It's definitely been a process of learning as I go - looking back at the earlier chapters I can actually see when I first tried various tricks I now use regularly, like doubling and distorting an SFX to produce the effect of a camera-shaking impact. I haven't really seen any other comics that do it like I do, probably because most other comics follow a more traditional production pipeline where text bubbles and sound effects get locked into the composition early, before the inking stage, because traditional physical comics don't have digital-art layers to play with. Adding sound effects to a page is almost the last thing I do before exporting them, and that only works because digital art and layers allow for a ton of flexibility.

[animehideout]

LOVE IS THE MOST TWISTED CURSE OF THEM ALL

PART 11

Check out part 12 here

Gojo Satoru X Fem! Reader

warnings ⚠️: not proofread / abuse / SA just something vague not detailed.

a/n : I truly apologize for this late update, I was really unmotivated to rewrite it and I was struggling to find inspiration again, I'm sorry if this part didn't live up to your expectations but I read hope you like it though, I tried to make it longer but I ran out of ideas 🥹.

Music Suggestion 🎧

Satoru stood tall, alone in the balcony, his gaze fixated on the sky, lost in the depth if his own thoughts. The weight of regret hung heavy upon his shoulders, a burden he could no longer bear.

His mind played your last fight that night on loop, making him hate himself even more. He remembered his harsh words, actions and disrespect towards you. Forcefully shutting his eyes to make those images and voices that's been haunting him go away.

Unwelcomed thoughts yet impossible to ignore. Blaming himself over and over again for what happened to you, torturing himself to madness.

"It's my fucking fault" he muttered,

In all that darkness, the image of your face in his mind was the only source of light. The delicate curve of your smile whenever you were around your students etched in his memory. He remembered the way you slept, features softened by the gentle embrace of your slumber, your passion for teaching and your daily excitement to show your students a new weapon and new technique.

You were a vision of peace amidst the chaos he was living. He realized then how life became emptier after your disappearance, the void your absence had left in every bit of his life. He realized how much he fell for you, he realized that hatred was deeply buried by the birth of his love for you.

With a heavy heart, he bowed his head, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. For three days, his eyes wide open, unable to sleep without you under the same roof as him, cuddling a piece of your clothing every single night to take into your scent, to pretend that you were there, next to him.

Clutching his fists, his knuckles turned white , whispering a plea for forgiveness, a forgiveness he might never receive.

"I'm sorry Y/n.."

. ..

"Satoru?"

"Y-yaga sensei?" said Gojo wiping his tears away,

"Can I join you?"

"Y-yeah sure"

"What's on your mind? Still blaming yourself?"

"Do I have anything else to do except blaming myself?"

"I'm sorry for your loss Satoru" said Principal Yaga apologetically,

"I didn't lose her, she's still out there, somewhere! I know it, I'm sure of it, I can feel it"

"Pain is eating you up Satoru, you know you should let go already–"

"Let go? Easier said than done. How can all of you let go so fast as if she never existed?" he said in annoyance

"The higher ups orders, to not distract the sorcerers' focus from their daily tasks"

"Bullshit, –"

"Satoru I understand your pain"

"No you don't, none of you does! I did this to her, I built the wall between both of us brick by brick till it collapsed on both of us, she got abducted by Toji and here I am suffering everyday.. I just wish I can turn back time and undo the damage I had done"

"Is this because of regret or something else?" asked Principal Yaga

Gojo looked down, not sure of what to say, mastering the courage he finally spoke,

"I– I love her, sensei! I love Y/n so much, I just hope it's not too late to realize this because I really want to fix everything–"

Yaga sensei looked at Gojo with a reassuring yet sad smile, deep down, everyone accepted that you died except Gojo., and he didn't want him to hang on fake hope.

"Satoru–"

"I know what you're about to say, but I won't let go, I won't give up even if the higher ups chain me down.... I thought she was a curse when we got married but I think I am her curse, I was her curse while she was my blessing–"

"I hope you're right Satoru, I hope she's still out there as you said, I hope you get a second chance to be a real family"

...

*In Mei Mei's room*

"Look at this" said Maki her eyebrows frowning in confusion,

"Who's that in the picture?" asked Nobara as confused as Maki,

Both of them examined the photograph, their eyes flickered between the picture and each other in silence. In the picture a woman smiled serenely as she cradled a baby in her embrace.

Maki shrugged equally perplexed,

"I have no idea, do you think it's a family member?"

Their senses were on high alert as they scanned every corner of her room for any sign of wrongdoing, something out of the ordinary. They found that picture tucked under her bed after they flipped the mattress while searching for anything suspicious.

"And this stack of money? Didn't know she's got all of this cash here" added Nobara.

"And this box as well"

Intrigued, they opened it. As they lifted the lid of the box, a firegun revealed itself, its metallic surface gleaming ominously in the dim light.

"A g-gun?" started Nobara as she looked at Maki in shock, "what would she use it for?"

"Definitely not hers, why would a sorcerer with a jujutsu technique depend on a gun" she pointed out.

"Good point, so if its not hers then to whom does it belong to?" asked Nobara

"There's only one way to figure it out, but now let's take the gun, the damn photograph and get out of here" said Maki as she put he mattress in its place again.

.....

"GOJO-SENSEI" called Nobara out as she caught a glimpse of Gojo in the balcony "Sensei you need to see this"

"Hm? Nobara? Maki?"

"Gojo" said Maki as she saw Gojo with principal Yaga in the balcony "We found something–"

but before she could finish her sentence,

"Any news?" interrupted Mei Mei as she stepped in the balcony out of nowhere..

Maki and Nobara exchanged quick nervous glances, their eyes darting between each other as they attempt to maintain composure. Hiding what they took from her room behind their backs. Their expressions strain with the effort to appear nonchalant, but a subtle tension lingers in the air. Lips pressed into strained smiles,

"Nah nothing new" said Maki while Nobara nodded in agreement.

"Hm you sure about that? I thought I heard you said you found something, is it about Y/n? " asked Mei raising her eyebrows,

"What if we did? Is it really your concern?" exclaimed Maki offensively, only to get elbowed softly by Nobara,

"We found nothing important Mei Mei sensei, of course if we did we'd tell you" exclaimed Nobara, chuckling awkwardly.

"Oh alright then girls," she said luckily not giving too much important to the girls, then paused and drifted her gaze towards Gojo, "how are you holding up Gojo? I hope you're in the process of moving on" she added

Gojo's eyes burned holes in her soul, but he tried to remain calm,

"I'm fine"

"That's what all of us would like to hear, glad you let go" she said and then excused herself to go to her room,

Then moment she left, Maki ran towards Gojo and Yaga, showing them what they found,

"We found these–"

"WHERE THE HELL DID YOU GET THESE FROM?" snapped Gojo unexpectedly, his eyes widened as he snatched the gun and photograph form Maki's hands,

"Damn Satoru what's got into you, relax!" exclaimed Yaga-sensei,

"W-we.." stuttered Nobara

"How did you get these? they were well hidden"

"Well hidden under Mei Mei's bed?" asked Maki in confusion

"What? what did you just say?" said Gojo and Yaga in union

"We found these under Mei Mei's bed, the gun hidden in a box , tucked beside that photograph and a pile of cash, do you possibly know to whom it belongs?"

"These belong to Toji Zenin" said Satoru

Maki and Nobara froze in place, trying to process what Gojo just said,

"T-toji?" they said in disbelief,

"This gun was used by Toji to murder Riko Amanai, and these in the picture are Megumi and his mother–" explained Yaga sensei

"It can only be one thing" expressed Gojo through gritted teeth, "She must be behind it" he added and started walking away, thinking about confronting her,

"GOJO STOP!" yelled Yaga sensei, holding Gojo in place, "What's happened to your common sense? vanished?"

"We can't assume anything now sensei!" said Nobara

"So all of this isn't enough to assume that she's got some dirty work with Toji Zenin going on behind our backs?" said Gojo aggressively

"Okay you're right, it is suspicious but we need a plan! a proper plan, do you think she'll admit it if you confront her? she'll find a lie and you'll never find the truth, not out of her! We need to know more about her first" explained Maki

"Know what?" asked Gojo impatiently

"I mean, Toji has nothing right? not even a house, do you think if he'd take Y/n to a hotel room after abducting her? Mei Mei must have provided a place for him" she added

"So if we can't ask her, how would we know?" asked Nobara,

"We ask her best friend" Suggest Maki shrugging,

....

"Is it ringing?" asked Yaga sensei,

"Yeah shh it is" said Gojo waiting for her to pick up the phone, "–Oh hello" he said through the phone

"Gojo? Hi what's up calling me late at night, is everything okay?"

"Utahime, yeah everything is fine, we just need you here, if it's possible can you make here in one hour at least?"

"Well I can, but is it an emergency?"

"Um it's– it's about Mei Mei, we're preparing a party for her and we need your help"

"A party? It's not even her birthday yet–"

"It's for her service, it's a habit here in Jujutsu High to hold a party for a teacher to honor them, and this time it's Mei Mei, she did a lot for us and for the school, besides it's the higher ups orders so..."

"Oh the higher ups? sure then I'll be there in an hour"

"Don't tell Mei Mei that you're coming though, it must remain a surprise, now we don't wanna spoil it"

"So should be meet outside the school?"

"Sure yeah, you can come to my house?!"

"Oh alright then, I'll be there"

With that they hung up the phone,

"She'll be here in one hour, I hope we can get her to talk"

"I hope she's not part of Mei Mei's plan though" Said Nobara.

"Don't you think we must tell the others? Maybe we need some backup?" suggested Maki

"Yeah, but some of them need to stay here to keep an eye on Mei Mei" said principal Yaga

"Alright, I'll go and tell them then,"

*Time skip, at Gojo's house*

They sat there, Gojo, Nanami, Maki and Megumi waiting for Utahime's arrival.

"You've got a nice and big house" pointed Maki

"Yeah but never a happy house" mumbled Gojo to himself,

"Do you think she'll tell us more about her?" asked Megumi and suddenly the bell rang,

"I guess we'll find out now!" said Nanami,

...

"So Utahime, I hope you corporate!" started Gojo not wasting any precious second,

"Corporate? you make it sound like if we're discussing business, and not preparing for a surprise party! it's a p-party right?"

she chuckled nervously,

"Not really! you need to tell us more about Mei Mei, some information that we don't know about"

"wait? what?" she asked nervously

"Is she meeting someone? did she tell you about something?"

"Gojo wait! why are you asking about this? I mean she lives there in the school dorms as well, so I guess you know more than I do"

"I don't think so, she's you're best friend she must have told you something about her plan?" said Maki

"Plan? what plan?"

"Ah come on Utahime dont play dumb"

"No for real! what plan, I thought you had a plan with her , Gojo to push Y/n away!"

"What? NO. I'm talking about her dirty plan with Toji"

"Toji? wait what's going on?" she said truly confused

"STOP LYING AND ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION, IF YOU'RE PART OF HER DIRTY GAME I'LL END BOTH OF YOU" exclaimed Gojo angrily, making Utahime step back, growing more and more impatient.

"Hey hey Gojo calm down, what's wrong with you? I understand you're frustrated but that's not the right way to find answers!" said Maki and the others nodded in agreement,

"Megumi please take him to the balcony while me and Maki handle this, he needs to calm down" suggest Nanami,

Megumi did as he said and took Gojo to get some fresh night air,

"Geez, you really developed anger issues, you were more laid back even in risky situations Gojo" started Megumi

"Not anymore, people change and I've changed"

"Y/n sensei is dear to all of us, so I am eager too to know where she is, and I truly understand how you feel"

"No Gumi, you don't, you don't understand because I'm not just sad, I'm feeling extremely guilty, because it's my damn fault"

"I'm feeling guilty too" said Megumi lowering his head,

"Hm? what for ? you're pretty close to Y/n and you're good friends not only a student and his teacher–"

"It's my father, he's the one who abducted her and only God knows what he's doing to her, I don't wanna even think about it. Is there any greater shame than this?" he said his voice cracking,

"Hey Megumi! look at me, your father's actions has nothing to do with you, he's the one who abducted her not you! you've always been nice and kind to Y/n. Sometimes family does things that we are ashamed of and completely in opposition of it but it doesn't mean we're like them just because we're related by blood, you are what you're truly in here" he said and pointed at Megumi's heart "And I know well what's in there Megumi! I raised you and I've seen you grow up to be a loyal, strong and kind hearted man! you're the complete opposite of your father so don't ever compare yourself to him again" said Gojo with a smile,

"If it's his fault, then why are you blaming yourself Gojo?"

"Because I'm the reason she left that night! I've said too many hurtful words, no one can handle to hear, no one deserves to hear but I was too agitated, too overwhelmed by my mixed feelings, trying to push her away from me over and over again–"

"Why? why'd you push her away from you? couldn't you have tried at least? maybe after what you've been through you were destined to finally find happiness with her! "

"My heart was a messy place to make it a comfortable place for her!"

"Was? so what changed now?"

"I want to try to make it comfortable for both of us, I want t-t to– nevermind! I have to find her, I have to make it up for her"

"I understand and we will find her, Y/n is strong I'm sure she's safe wherever she is" reassured Megumi, trying to lift Gojo's spirit again,

....

"So Utahime, we really need you to corporate so you better put that bestie thing with Mei Mei aside cuz this is a life or death matter!" begun Maki,

"D-death?"

"Toji escaped and we think that Mei Mei had a hand in this" added Nanami

"No way! Why would Mei Mei do that? I mean you know what Toji had done to the Jujutsu world!"

"We know, but we know that when people are full of hate are full of unexpected things!"

"Nanami what's wrong? what happened?"

"It's Y/n! Toji abducted her, and we found Toji's gun under Mei Mei's bed, even though it was well hidden.. do you still think she's got nothing to do with that?"

Her eyes wide open in shock and disbelief, her mouth hanging open, sad expressions drawn on her face,

"W-what? I didn't know I swear to God! I've – I've never thought it will go that way, I've never thought she could fall this far" she expressed her feelings, her heart crushing, she's never expected her long time best friend would do or be part of such thing, to betray the Jujutsu community.

"That's why we need your help! You know how important Y/n is to our world! we can't lose her" said Nanami "So please if you know anything, any place she owns, any small details tell us, we really need to know"

With a deep breath, she started thinking, trying to remember if Mei Mei told her anything,

"I remember she bought a house! but that was weeks ago!!"

"A house?"

"Yeah, she said she might settle in Tokyo if things went well between her and Gojo–"

"She's truly delusion" interrupted Maki rolling her eyes,

"Where is this house?" asked Nanami

"I'll take you there" said Utahime determined to help.

Despite being best friends with Mei Mei, her morals were more important! she's too loyal to the Jujutsu World and committed to the greater good, she knows about the prophecy and she can't afford to witness another loss on the Jujutsu community part.

"I'll go and tell Gojo and Megumi then– maybe Y/n is there"

.......

[ Kill her, and I'll bring your cash tomorrow when I see her lifeless body ]

Read Toji through the message that he received,

"See! I'm ordered to kill you now! How much trouble did you cause her for her to free me from the prison just to torture you and kill you" he said with a smirk

"F-fuck you and fuck her" you said through gritted teeth as you were thrown on the floor, your body hurting from the chains that were tied around your wrists and feet.

your lips and nose bleeding after hours of tortures,

"And you still got that attitude, after being beaten up? If I were you I wouldn't act so brave.."

"You'll never be me Toji! we're both considered inferior in the Jujutsu world but I learned how to be the real me and not what others want me to be, I didn't let others to order me around and kill people–"

"Are you trying to save yourself? and convince me to not kill you"

"no, I know I can't be saved, not just now but for a long time ago, but you know the funny thing is that we actually have something else in common beside being monkeys" you joked offensively trying to get on his nerves, you're going to die anyway so why'd you not offend him, you were tired if being stepped on so why not talk back.

"what?" he said in anticipation as he kneeled down,

"Both our families are disappointed in us, I disappointed my parents and you disappointed your son, Megumi, nice kid he's nothing like you–"

"M-megumi?"

And you struck a sensitive nerve in him,

You started laughing when you saw his face dropped and his expressions changed, your stomach hurts whenever you laughed he probably had broken some of yours ribs.

The you paused,

"Do it Toji. Do what you were assigned for, no one will come to my rescue anyway, do it, kill me" you said in a serious tone,

"Change in plan, let me have my fun with you before I take the light out of your eyes"

"You still have time for fun? the dawn will break soon–"

"Oh I know princess, don't you worry about it, I know I can't delay the sunlight but I know how to make the night even more darker... and you were right, Megumi's probably disappointed in me but lemme tell you something–" he paused and leaned forward, his face a few inches away from yours "That's who I truly am, a beast that preys on the weak, and you are weak Y/n no matter how hard you try to come off as strong"

he said and he reached to take off your shirt,

Your heart beats quickened, you thought he'd torture you in another way, and not attempt to do something filthy to you,

"No -no! I'd rather die" you said trying your best to break free from his grasp, but his huge body got you pinned down,

"What? you're not a fan of big guys? or your pathetic ass is loyal to a husband who's never paid attention to your existence?" he said looking you deep in the eyes, his huge hands circling around your neck, posing pressure on it,

You couldn't deny the pain and disappointment you felt. You really hoped Gojo would appear and save you, you wished he cared for you. You couldn't deny that you wanted Gojo; your husband to be your first time and not with someone who would brutally kill you after taking what he wants.

You'd die even before he kills you.

"no don't " you whispered, loosing your voice as his grip around your neck tightened, making it hard to breathe.

....

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER"

All what you can feel is the weight of Toji's body being removed from on top of you.

Toji's body forcefully thrown on the ground, your blurry eyes trying to focus on the figure standing right in front of you, slowly approaching you,

"Damn baby what did he do to you?" he said softly, softly brushing his finger over your bleeding lip.

"S-satoru, y-you came!" you whispered, your vision darkening and ears ringing,

"Of course I'm here with you, Y/n! Y/N !!!!!no no Y/N WAKE UP" he yelled as he held you in his arms.

....

Your eyes slowly fluttered opened, your surroundings sharpening into details again, gulping with difficulty.

A serum attached to your vein,

"Sensei" said Yuji "Guys she's awake"

With that all of them circled around the bed you were laying on, their eyes look directly at you, greeting you with sincere smiles.

"How are you feeling?" asked Megumi.

You tried to leave the bed but they forced you to lay back. You looked around scanning the place, you were in the hospital, Shoko must have treated your wounds, everyone was there except your husband, Satoru.

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[diasslim]

PART ONE >HERE<

A/N: I hope this is good or decent

Warnings: Slight suggestive; bad english

2/2

..................................................................................

After going to the beauty salon and doing your nails – and Halie's with a nail polish for kids – you got back home, giggling like a fangirl, thinking about how Marshall will propose to you.

He wasn't home yet. Good. You bathed Halie, made her something to eat and got to the shower to clean your hair – with the right to take another peek at the ring.

You dressed yourself with a cute PJ you found in the depth of your closet, putting a hoodie on top so you could put the girl on her bed before Marshall arrives.

You giggled to yourself one more time, took another peek at the ring before laying down on the couch, waiting for him to come home. You almost ran like a dog whem the door opened. Jumping on his arms as he held you tightly, surprised by your antics you kissed him desperate, as if you wanted for him to pass out and the both of you fall on the floor.

"Wow... Did I forgot any important date because... wow..."

"No. I just wanted to greet my boyfriend. Is that wrong?"

"Only if Halie is awake."

You laughed as you pets his hair. You can tell that he is clearly lost on his own mind – or on your body.

"Heh... Well, thanks for the... presentation, babe."

Three days after your "gift" and no proposal. You are getting frustrated. How he didn't proposed to you? What is this romantic surprise he is planning that is taking so long?

You groan in annoyance as you almost hit a trash can because your minded is flooded by the damn ring and the want to be proposed. You open the door of the house and close it as you enter, dropping your purse on the counter of the kitchen as you walk to the living room. You raise an eyebrow, confused for not seeing Halie or Marshall. Neither on her bedroom. Or on the bathroom. Or on your bedroom.

You get a bit sad of not seeing them. You wanted to be the experiment of cheap doll makeup and get kissed and called "hot" even if you look like you came from a Drag Queen's nightmare. But, it's the first time in days you have to be all alone by yourself.

That means: no bras, the biggest Marshall's shirt you could find, horrendous food combination, and spanish TV Shows with a lot of drama and swearing.

"Get up and fight for your man, Carla!"

You yelled at the TV before hearing the door opening and changing the channel to a more kid appropriate. Halie was with the most big smile she could have on her face and Marshall was carrying some grocery bags on his arms and a big smile could also be seen on his face too.

You look at eachother before he makes a sarcastic comment about your current state.

"Looking hot, babe."

"Wish I could say the same thing about you."

He rolls his eyes and let the bags on the table as Halie runs to your arms, you lift the girl and walks to the bags.

"So, where have you two been?"

He looked at the girl who simply laughed and gave you a playful smile.

"It's me and daddy's secret!"

You fake a cry to tempt her to spill the tea but she refuses so you just sigh and take a peek at the grocery. You see some of your favorite sweets, snacks, and some flowers. Oh my-... Is this for the proposal!?

You passed the night without any sleep. You were anxious, nervous and excited. Oh, how you want to be known as his wife. To have this damn ring around your finger.

The ring. You remember. You get up in silence and goes to the closet opening it, you get the box and opens it. The smaller box wasn't there anymore. The proposal will be soon.

You put everything on it's place and lay down on the bed again, shoving your head agaisnt the pillow and letting out a muffled scream.

On the next morning you were awake by a pair of soft but heavy hands massaging your back under your pajama.

"Wake up, babe. It's already morning."

You groan in annoyance, you couldn't sleep last night and you don't remember why because the sunrises on your face are annoying away all your thoughts.

You sit on the bed and yawns, as soon as you turn to face Marshall he covers your eyes with a cloth, making you be blindfolded.

"The last time we tried that I punched your nose and I was sorry. But now I'm irritated and would like to punch your nose."

"First, I'm not blindfolding you for that. Second, you will get out of that state of annoyance as I let you see what I prepared for you."

He takes your hand on his and guides you the living room, where he asks for you to stay up without taking the cloth out of your face yet. After a minute he finally tells you to take the cloth off.

And you couldn't believe on the scene on display and on your idiot alzheimer ass. How could you forget he is planning to propose to you?

He was in one knee on the floor, holding out the small black box with a ring inside. The ring that would symbolize you are his wife.

The petals of your favorite flower were in the displayed on the floor around him in the shape of an heart. You could smell the scent of your favorite food coming from the kitchen – and a bit of his cologne was in the air also.

"I'm not, and I'ill never be, a romatic person. But when we started dating, Halie liked you, you matched me, I could see that you are meant for me. Even with my mistakes and flaws you still love and help me like no one did. So, (Y/N) (L/N), will you marry me?"

..................................................................................

[missmonsters2]

—Just Last Lifetime

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

Pairing: Wednesday Addams x Fem!Reader/OFC

Summary: You didn't move after Tyler knocked you down, and it would've been over had Enid not come when she did. Wednesday stays beside your hospital bed diligently, hand tracing yours as she plans how to torture you for the rest of her life and how she looks forward to letting you plague her. But the moment you wake up, nothing will ever be the same again.

Warnings: Angst. Sad!Wednesday. DestinedToBeAlone!Wednesday. Amnesia. Flashbacks.

Masterlist | Library Blog | AO3

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Note: wondering if I've lost my touch on angst 🥹 so I hope this makes you all suffer <3 Part 2 will be out next Wednesday!

Count: ~4.6k

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

The smell of disinfecting spray, pine, and bleach filled Wednesday's noise. There are sounds of people briskly walking and doors sliding open and shut. A TV in the room is turned on at a low volume, meant to keep her distracted, but all she can focus on is that her chair is too squeaky. 

The taste of burnt coffee Enid brought her earlier has long been forgotten despite how it lingers on her tongue. 

Wednesday doesn't remember getting to the hospital. 

Well, she does—in bits and pieces. 

One moment, she was being strangled by Tyler in his hyde form, and the next, she was released, and you were on Tyler's back, arms wrapped around his large neck as you squeezed with everything you had and then some. 

But you were so small compared to Tyler, and the second he grabbed your arm and slung you around to face him, Wednesday knew it was over. He crushed your wrist, broke your elbow, and hung you like a ragdoll before whipping you into the nearest tree before Enid came and saved you both. 

Wednesday only briefly had a moment to check on you, to feel your weak pulse before she had to keep going, especially at Enid's wordless insistence that she would take care of you. 

And only because it was Enid that Wednesday left to take care of the rest of the job of killing Crackstone. 

It was only because it was Enid, who adored you nearly as much as Wednesday did, that she knew Tyler wouldn't be escaping mercifully, and Wednesday could go do what only she could do. 

But after that fight? After capturing Thornhill? Wednesday didn't stay to gloat. She turned and immediately returned to you, her heart feeling heavy, weighing her steps down when she found you exactly where she had left you.

Too scared, Enid said. She was too afraid to move you in case there was some serious damage. 

Wednesday doesn't remember the ambulance and the medics. She doesn't remember them carrying you on a stretcher into the vehicle. She does remember vaguely throwing out haunting threats if they didn't let her ride with you. 

Lucky, the doctor said. You were incredibly lucky that your gift of air manipulation softened the blow of your head against the tree, and you didn't die upon impact. 

Wednesday looks at you, how your head is wrapped around in bandages, and covers your eyes. The machines and tubes that are hooked up to you and assist in making your chest move up and down in almost too slow of breaths. She looks at the discoloration of the skin of your arms and legs and wants to scoff. 

Wednesday reaches out, her hand stopping just inches above yours. She hesitates, worried that even the weight of her small hands will hurt you. It's a familiar feeling she has now. 

Worry.

Consideration.

The depth of how she feels it is only meant for you.

Wednesday pulls her hand back, placing it back into her lap, where she holds her hands tightly together. 

It doesn't feel so lucky. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Why do you insist on following me?" Wednesday turned around, glaring at you while you came to a stop to avoid bumping into her. 

"Well," you tilted your head, smiling crookedly at the gloomy girl before you. "Why do you insist on being alone?"

It was already a bad sign that Wednesday was beginning to find the familiarity of your crooked smile something she wanted to keep for herself. 

Wednesday knew then that she should make you go away, that she should open her mouth and say the most horrific things that she knows could shred your heart and pride into nothing more than cuts of misery as a reminder you should stay away from her. 

But Wednesday didn't.  

"I'm meant to be alone," Wednesday warned you, Goody's words flashing through her mind as a warning—a condemnation. "I prefer to be alone."

"I don't think so," you shook your head. "I mean, I've followed you this far along. I think you've grown used to my presence."

"Growing used to something doesn't mean I'll miss it if it's gone."

You quirked your brow at Wednesday. "Do you want me to go then?"

Wednesday's eyes flickered away from your face, staring into nothing with her blank face before she looked back at you. 

Your crooked smile returned, and Wednesday clenched her jaw.

"No."

"Then, shall we continue on to investigate...wherever you're taking us?"

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

The days drift and bleed together. Wednesday is a girl used to strict routines. Still, she's finding something rotting about her monotonous day that starts with waking early, getting her hour of writing in the morning, and attending classes (because Weems has bargained her attendance in exchange for a car to take her to and from the hospital every day after class and whenever she wanted on the weekends), sitting in the hospital chair for hours by your bedside, returning home, playing the cello, and going to bed. 

The silence has never bothered Wednesday before, but the lack of your voice—the way you teased her and laughed—Wednesday wants it back. 

The bruising on your arms is fading into something that's an even more gruesome color. She knows it's a sign of healing, but Wednesday remains true to the fact she hates colors.

Wednesday lifts her hand, tracing the lines of your hand so faint and delicately. If those who knew her saw her now, they'd never be able to believe that she was capable of such gentleness. 

You don't flinch. You never do. 

Wednesday can't tell if she's hurting you or not, but you've always been too capable of hiding your feelings and thoughts—perhaps Wednesday never knew all along if she was hurting you. 

The irony of Enid's words calling her out for her callousness and disregard for others rings so true now. 

Wednesday closes her eyes. If she closes them long enough, she can almost hallucinate hearing your voice laugh weakly and telling her it's not as bad as it looks. 

Wednesday opens her eyes, staring back down at your too-still body. 

But it was. It was that bad.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"Did you fight with Enid?"

"That's none of your concern."

You laughed, and it sounded like the strings of her cello that carry during the late hours of the night. 

Wednesday worshipped the sound of her cello.

"Well, fair enough. I don't know why I asked since it's so clear from Enid's huffiness all day that you two clearly did fight. She's been ranting to Yoko and me non-stop that she's not returning to this room."

The words twinged in Wednesday's heart, plucking at its strings in an unfamiliar rhythm. 

"Good," Wednesday bit out anyway. "This room can finally look more dreary."

You smiled as you sat on Wednesday's bed while she sat at her desk. You hooked your feet at the legs of her chair and began to drag it until it was turned towards you before pulling her closer. 

Wednesday looked displeased, her lips pressed in a thin line, and her eyebrows knitted in uncompromising sternness. 

"Admit it, Wednesday," you said in a sing-song tone that Wednesday detested because you were about to say something ridiculous. "You feel alone, and it doesn't feel as good as you thought."

Your words pricked at her, but Wednesday remained stubborn. 

"Enid wasn't the only one in my company."

It was such a roundabout way of saying it; it made Wednesday want to roll her eyes into the back of her head and slice out her tongue.

You smiled wider. "I suppose not," you agreed with a conceding nod. Wednesday felt victorious, but the feeling was fleeting with your next words. "But every person is different and fills your life in an irreplaceable way. You must admit that Enid can't be replaced by another."

"And why must I admit that?" Wednesday glared, kicking your feet away from her chair. "I don't need Enid. I have Thing, and I have—" Wednesday's nose scrunched in displeasure. "You." 

You seemed adamant about shaking up her life ever since you entered it. Wednesday, particularly, was disturbed by the constant barrage of emotions you keep trying to drag her into. It was becoming a slippery slope. 

Wednesday's assault didn't seem to bother you as you kept your relaxed expression. 

"As flattering as it is to be the only person, with a body and head attached to my hand, that you need—"

"I didn't say I needed you."

"—You should make up with Enid. I know you miss her, Wednesday."

Wednesday said nothing. She wanted to spout curses at you and make you take back everything you were saying. So ridiculous. So...defeatingly correct.  

You grinned at her. 

"Surround yourself with people you appreciate, Wednesday. There's no way someone as lovely as you could be destined to be alone. Ravens are still known to feed with other flocks and play with the wolves, dogs, and otters."

"Did you just call me lovely?" Wednesday's lip curled in disgust.

You laughed. "Sorry, someone as hellishly morbid as you."

Wednesday let a rare smile slip. "Finally, a real compliment."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Now.

It's just another day, but Wednesday can admit it to herself now.

It's easy now when you're unaware of anything around yourself for Wednesday to admit she appreciates you—more than appreciates you. 

Your weeks of silence have given Wednesday plenty of time on what she'll say when you wake up. Declarations that you belong with her and her treacherous heart belongs to you, so you will do well to treasure it. There might be interrogations about how you've managed to do it, but Wednesday knows the answer, even as simple and stupid as it sounds.

Time.

It was merely just time and your consistency by her side that lured Wednesday to you. 

Wednesday's palm lies flat against yours, her fingers slide down yours until they shift slightly to the side, and then she's holding your limp hand. 

Inane.

Waiting for you was entirely ridiculous and foolish, but nothing could convince Wednesday to be elsewhere. For once, she's at a loss at what else she could do besides wait. 

Wednesday's eyes trail over your face, taking in your long lashes pressed against your cheeks like an everlasting kiss. She takes in the bridge of your nose and down to your lips. 

They've been a little dry since the nurses aren't attentive to such things, so Wednesday has taken it upon herself to occasionally apply chapstick to your lips. 

It's such an intimate gesture, one she'd know you'd appreciate. Yet, you were solely unaware of it. 

Wednesday rests her cheek on the back of your hand while she still holds it. Her eyes flutter shut as she mumbles into the quiet room, "Wake up, so I can tell you that everything I am is yours."

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

Then.

"I don't like him."

"Who?"

You gave Wednesday a look with your brow raised. "Tyler, obviously."

"You can join the queue," Wednesday looked uninterested in your words. "There seems to be a long line."

"Shouldn't that be an obvious sign that he sucks?" You sighed but kept your eyes on the barista. "Why do you keep spending time with him?"

"There are plenty of people that don't like me, and I find myself to be far superior to most people," Wednesday flipped the page of her book, not quite paying attention to you. 

You look back at Wednesday with a lopsided smile. "I don't think people dislike you, Wednesday. I think they're scared of you."

"As they should be."

You let out another sigh. "So, I guess there's no convincing you that you should stop spending time with Tyler?"

"Do you have any sound reason other than 'his vibes are off'?"

"I don't like the way he looks at you," you spouted off immediately, looking at Tyler again with a reproachful look he seemed unaware of.

Wednesday scoffed, looking up at you. "You sound jealous." 

The words were meant to make you back off. Wednesday imagined that you'd scoff back at her and deny it in a way that would secretly make Wednesday think about late at night.

But then you looked right back at Wednesday with such a serious look in your eyes that made Wednesday clutch her book tightly in caution. 

"I am."

Wednesday had no idea what to make of your blunt words, so she merely turned her attention back to her book, wishing her braids would cover her ears more as they burned. 

It didn't stop Wednesday from spending time with Tyler, but now she kept thinking about you each time she did.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now. 

Wednesday is at the vending machine, staring blankly at the snacks and drinks. Enid insisted that she should stretch her legs and sent Wednesday on a mission to grab snacks for everyone. The werewolf had shoved money into her hand and practically pushed Wednesday out the door. 

Her own reflection stares back at her, and Wednesday admits that she looks worse than she normally does. It's subtle, and perhaps no one but Enid could tell how her eyes are sunken in a little more than usual. Her braids are not completely symmetrical, and the air around her is stale. 

Wednesday's about to put the money given to her into the machine when the phone in her pocket vibrates non-stop. The sensation of it makes Wednesday grimace as she pulls it out. Her eyes roam quickly over the words before she turns around and takes off back to your room. 

The vending machine was two floors down, and Wednesday ran up the stairs instead of taking the excruciatingly slow elevator. She's by no means unfit in any way, but the anticipation makes her breathless as she enters your room. 

Everyone in the room is waiting with bated breath as you shift in your bed, the air suddenly moving around in the room and creating a slight breeze. 

There's a small groan from your lips, and Wednesday is immediately at your side, grasping your hand in hers. The sudden contact makes the breeze disappear as you settle back into stillness. Your eyes flutter a couple of times before they open blearily. 

The room's harsh light blinds you momentarily, and Wednesday immediately uses her other hand and places it just inches above your head to shield you from the direct light. 

You open your eyes more easily, letting things come into focus. Wednesday watches as you seem slightly confused, and Enid rushes to your side, her head popping into view along with Wednesday's hand. 

Your bedside was slightly propped up, but Enid moved to press the button to slowly recline you up further so that you could see everyone. 

"You're awake!" Enid is half-yelling, trying to keep quiet because Wednesday would kill her if her yelling disturbed you in any way, but unable to contain her excitement. "How are you feeling? Should we call the doctor? I think Yoko already did. Oh my god, you're finally awake. The bruising looks like it's gone away for the most part, but now that you're up, it should get better quickly!"

"Jesus, Sinclair," Bianca drawls with a half-scowl. "Give her some breathing room. She's already got Wednesday up in her space, protecting her from the light like a knight in gothic armor."

Enid turns to glare at Bianca, but Wednesday doesn't pay attention to any of it. Her eyes are focused on yours. Your eyes are looking everywhere in the room, looking uncomfortable. Your eyes finally drift to Wednesday, and while they're undoubtedly your eyes, Wednesday feels something amiss. 

It's you...but not. 

The moment you lock eyes with Wednesday, you finally seem to notice that she's holding your hand, and you pull it away awkwardly. The action makes Wednesday slowly pull both her hands back to herself. 

Dread fills her.

You wince a little at the light fully unobstructed, but you adjust. 

"Enid?" You sound confused as you look at the blonde with pink and blue streaks in her hair.

"Yes!" Enid smiles at you, and you smile back unsurely. 

"Am I at the hospital?" You ask slowly, wincing as you touch your head softly and feel the bandage.

"Yeah..." Enid purses her lips. "What's the last thing you remember?"

You blink at the question, silent as you consider your answer. 

"I...I don't know," you eventually say. "I think at the library? People were making such a racket about the news, and I was trying to get away from all the noise in the quad."

Enid's brows furrow at the answer. That was too vague to determine anything. 

You swallow, turning your head to look at Wednesday, who has no expression, and for once, she knows you can't tell what she's really feeling.

"Um...you're the new girl, right?" You fiddle with your blanket awkwardly. "Wednesday, I think? Enid was excited about you arriving, and she'd finally have a roommate."

The words she's been saving for you die in her throat, leaving something hollow for her to swallow down.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Wednesday knew that the damage to your head was serious. However, she didn't think you'd lose a couple months' worth of your memories. 

Amnesia.

That's what the doctor said, but he couldn't determine whether you'd regain them. He seemed hopeful, and while your parents failed to show up and Weems stepped in as acting guardian, he spouted suggestions on how to help you regain them.

But then he also reiterated that it might not come back.

How utterly useless. 

You would be discharged in a few days, free to return to school, where you'd have to take it easy. 

Your roommate Yoko practically assigned herself to look after you since you'd be stuck in your dorm for a few days to fully recover. 

There was a moment when Enid was about to catch you up on everything, but Wednesday pulled her aside first. 

"Don't tell her about me," Wednesday orders.

"What?" Enid's jaw drops before she whisper-yells, "What do you mean?! I've been pulling my hair out for the last couple of months because of you two and you're finally about to get together and you want me to not tell her about it? It better be because you're going to."

Wednesday shakes her head. "She doesn't remember."

"Which is why we should tell her!" Enid is exasperated. 

"There's no point in telling her if she doesn't remember how she felt," Wednesday snaps back, trying to remain quiet. Her eyes peer past Enid's shoulder at you. You're talking with Yoko, staying cautious about Bianca and Xavier there but not saying anything about it. You look briefly at Wednesday as well, pursing your lips in what she thinks is a smile but can't really tell anymore. It's not a look you've given her before.

Wednesday looks back at Enid. "Just because she'll know doesn't mean she'll suddenly feel it again. The knowledge of it all might burden her instead, and I—" Wednesday clenches her jaw and fist tightly. "I don't want to risk that she'll feel burdened or obligated to me."

The words sting in a way Wednesday's not used to. 

There's no way for her to express to Enid that Wednesday wants you to know every possible way you love her. She wants you to feel it the way you forced her to. 

Despite Wednesday's extensive vocabulary, there are no words to describe the desperation that lingers under her skin, clawing around with desire with how she just wants you to look at her and know. 

Enid takes in her roommate's bitter expression and sighs, relenting. "Fine. I won't tell her exactly what went on between you two—not that I fully know anyhow. I'll just tell her that you were friends. That will at least explain why you're at the hospital."

Wednesday nods stiffly, and Enid lifts her hands towards the other girl's shoulder, hesitating briefly before placing her hand on Wednesday comfortingly. Wednesday allows it briefly before shrugging it away, and the two of them return to your bedside. 

You smile at Enid, eyes trailing over to Wednesday's curiously, and it brings her some comfort.

After all, everything started with your curiosity. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

"So, we're friends?" You ask slowly, taking in Wednesday's stiff sitting posture. There was a distinctive space between the two of you, and you had your legs crossed, slanted away from her.

A couple of weeks have passed, and it was in the midst of winter. Despite Enid regaling the last couple of months to you, Wednesday hasn't had much opportunity to see you. In the same breath, you didn't seem to be seeking out Wednesday's company for answers, either.  

The only reason Wednesday was sitting with you now was because both Yoko and Enid were busy with their after-school activities, and you needed help going to the library to catch up on your studies. 

It became clear quickly that because you didn't remember getting closer to Bianca and Xavier, you were uncomfortable being alone with either of them. 

So, Wednesday was quick to volunteer despite you still remaining uncomfortable at the suggestion. 

"It's fine," Yoko reassured you. "Wednesday excels in all her classes and can definitely help you."

It had felt like a jagged knife slowly ripped across Wednesday's heart that you needed to be reassured to be alone with her. 

It feels like that cut was endlessly bleeding, unable to stitch itself back together while you remained ignorant about her, about yourself, about everything. This heart that Wednesday caged in for so long was finally free and yours…and you didn’t even want to hold it. 

"Yes," Wednesday confirms, despite how the words feel stale on her tongue. 

The library was, for the most part, empty, leaving the two of you with privacy. Wednesday was helping you catch up on assignments and going through lessons until you determined you needed a break. 

Now, you seem to be asking for answers nonchalantly, as if you were only asking because there happened to be an opportunity—not because you were interested in actually knowing. 

"We must've been pretty close if I was willing to tag along with you during these seemingly dangerous investigations, and even willing to take a hit for you," you comment thoughtfully as you consider what you've been told.

"I suppose," Wednesday bites out. 

"Did we do anything else than risk our lives together?" You ask, and Wednesday grips the pen she's holding tighter. 

Sometimes—when you're not talking and focused on something else—it feels like nothing has changed. Or at least, Wednesday can pretend nothing changed. 

But it was moments like these, where you look at her like she's nothing but a stranger and ask these questions, that she becomes acutely aware that nothing has been the same since you woke up.

Wednesday takes a quiet deep breath before she answers. "We studied—like this. You often kept me company while I wrote or played my cello."

"Oh, those are pretty cool hobbies. And I just sat there?"

Wednesday nods. "Sometimes you'd paint Thing's nails."

"Thing?" Your brows furrowed in confusion. 

Wednesday closes her eyes and sighs.

"Sorry," you mumble. "It must be hard for you that I don't remember anything."

You sound genuinely sorry about it, but there's an underlying tone that suggests you feel sorry for Wednesday, not that you're aching to remember yourself. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Then.

"No investigating tonight."

Your voice was firm as you blocked Wednesday's way from the door. The goth girl raised her brow at you but said nothing as she waited for you to continue talking. 

"We have a test and a paper due tomorrow and I know you haven't started."

"I can finish it before you even finish showering," Wednesday drawled. "And I don't need to study. These classes are incredibly rudimentary, and I've learned it all before I even started attending school."

You rolled your eyes, but Wednesday caught you smiling with amusement. "Wonderful, Matilda. That means you can help me study and read over my paper then."

Wednesday narrowed her eyes at the nickname, but you were already walking inside her room, shutting the door behind you. 

"And if I say no?" 

You hummed in thought. "Then I'll hint at Xavier that you want him to ask you to hang out."

"You don't want to live anymore?" Wednesday threatened. 

"If you're going to be like that, I'll have to make it worth my while and tell him you've got feelings for him," you smiled.

"Feelings of aggravation," Wednesday muttered, dropping her backpack with a grunt and walking back to her desk. She looked at you pointedly, and you made your way over and set your things down.

"I imagine even your blunt rejection will make him think you're in denial," you laughed.

"You must want Xavier to die," Wednesday deadpanned. "You can simply ask me without making disturbing threats."

"I thought you liked threats," you smirked. 

"I'm both revolted and delighted by it," Wednesday admits with a sigh through her nose. "At the very least, delighted you know how to make them."

Wednesday pulled Enid's chair from her desk across the room and offered it to you. "Since you've decided to be a nuisance in my investigations tonight, we won't be done until you've gotten every single practice question correctly and I can be assured you'll be getting 100% on both your test and paper."

You grimaced slightly. "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?"

Wednesday smiled in a truly wicked way. "Let's begin."

Wednesday didn't say anything about how your calf rested against hers the entire night, and you said nothing about how she didn't move away once. 

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷†⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷ 

Now.

The days are passing by again, drifting and bleeding together. Instead of watching your motionless body and waiting for your recovery, Wednesday watches you walk about, carrying on with your life...without her. 

You seem fine if you have to spend time with Wednesday, but you don't seek her out on your own. It was becoming apparent you were uninterested in her. 

The knowledge of it is something Wednesday can't admit because it feels like abandonment. The idea of it has crescent-shaped dents pressed into her palms from clenching her fist so tightly.

You're content to spend your days laughing with Yoko at the cafeteria, finding comfort in the vampire as the only thing that seemed to remain consistent as your roommate and friend. 

"Don't give up," Enid encourages when she stands next to Wednesday, who is watching you from a distance. "She's just...anxious. She won't admit it, but she's scared. Everything around her has suddenly changed; the only thing that's remained the same is Yoko."

It was annoying. If anything, it should be a testament that Yoko experienced no growth during the hectic months.

"I'm not giving up," Wednesday said, unable to remove her eyes from you.

Wednesday can't give up on you. You've invested far too much time into her, and everything you've done to her is irreversible now. 

You're unaware of it, but Wednesday loves you...that wasn't going to suddenly change. 

And just as you've used time and consistency to lure Wednesday towards you, she would do the same. She just needed to jumpstart your brain into remembering. But even if you didn't, she just needed to redo it over again.

It was still possible. You were still hers, even if you didn’t know it. You had to be because the alternative—

"I'm not giving up," Wednesday reiterates. 

"What are you going to do?" Enid asks unsurely. 

A plan starts to formulate in Wednesday's head. 

"Recreate the memories."

Part 2

[hwajin]

— i just wanna ride, get high in the moonlight

⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ✦ :: han jisung | 4k follower event

genre: smut

pairing: jisung x fem!reader

warnings: smoking and being high!! also idk if any of this makes sense since i've never been high before but i just went with it, hope you like it!!

req

Heavy smoke drowing the room in deepest blue, hues upon hues of intoxication laying upon you, taking possesion of your lungs, your minds, your bodies.

Normally, under different circumstances, your legs would have been numb, your body tired out, your whole utterly exhausted and frustrated; of waiting, of anticipated pleasure, of the final destination taking so very long to be obtained - though tonight you basked in it. Basked in the feeling of everything moving in slower motion, of every ounce of satisfaction filling your senses so very intensly, that sweetest release and approachable high let you wait, let you work. You felt light on your legs, nearly floating, your body numb though not in ways negative - you felt everything you wanted to feel, every good thing, everything he provided you with, yet immune to cramps or stings or otherwise humanly feelings; you didn't feel at all, or were too high to care. You wouldn't complain about either.

Jisung grabbed onto your hips in hopelessness, waves of his hips meeting yours above, slow, sensual, soft. His hands and eyes had been so very lost from the moment you had hovered above him, so intoxicated with you from the beginning it nothing but overwhelmed him, his body. He was under your mercy entirely, squealing out when you engulfed him within your depths, seeing stars additional to the ones that'd been occupying his vision prior, searching for a place of stability. Stability that presented itself as your body, the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist. The small of your back, the dimple he could feel there when you arched into him. Your tits, moving in sync to your hips, to the rest of your body, hopping up and down in soft motions, in fluid waves - he moved to dote on them, to love on them, touching to his liking, groping flesh, pinching buds; it was you under his mercy, gasping out at the feeling, at the pleasure he provided despite being so far gone, so otherwordly in laying with you. And he provided it as did you, with every roll of your hips, with ever inch you took in deeper; because both your minds were foggy yet pleasure was the only thing running through them, and taking the other to your own destination stayed a priority.

You felt full, you felt light, and Jisung with you. He felt himself in the pits of your stomach, consistently doting on that gooey spot, elliciting whines and moans, sighs and staggered breath. Sounds most pretty to his ear, more melodic than any song he's ever heard. His hand wandered down your body, passing breast and belly, coming to a halt at your tummy, pressing down to create pressure, or maybe to feel your body closer, to have you more intensly. You gasped out momentarily, causing breathy laugh to leave his lips - hips moving faster, chasing that new-found feeling, and suddenly all patience disappeared.

It had only taken his hand on your tummy and you were frustrated, eager to release and more urgent yet to feel him spill within you. Hips clashing down his thighs, sounds of skin against skin in a symphony to your sounds, gasps for air and huffs densing the room, making you speechless. As though your minds were robbed of any words except the other's name, only able to repeat it frantically, needing, mantra-like; until your eyes shut close and your head fell back, neck giving out and body going limp, clenching around Jisung in manners prone to end the man, and he spilled within you, eventually, fingercups drawing prettiest shapes on your skin, darker in colour, dared to stay for a while.

Body on body, laying in exhaustion, in growing desperation, blue smoke further intoxicating and not planning to ease your minds off soon.

@tangylemonade @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @a-cute-french-fry @felixinameadowandthesuniswarm

[wasawattpadkid]

Housewife

Part - 19

Summery: Billy and Stu have been planning these murders for quite some time. Everything is going to plan until you show up. What happens when they meet someone who is just as mentally deluded as they are?

Pairing: Poly! ghostface x fem!reader

Warnings for this series: murder, blood, smut (will be more in depth on smut chapters), power dynamics, a dash of sexism, knives, stalking, perverse behavior, cheating,

Part 1

Dewey looked at the boy with pity. Billy's right hand was wrapped in a white cast. He had spent an hour in the hospital setting his broken hand back in place. It was way worse than getting stabbed according to him. The officers on duty all thought the boy was hilarious. The makeup paired with the outfit he was a walking joke. Dewey only made matters worse. His coworkers almost died laughing watching the deputy sign his name on Billy's cast.

"I hear Batman is getting released," Todd said leaning on Dewey's desk. "Yes, Billy is being released I already called someone to pick him up." The deputy left his seat on his way to talk to the inmate.

"Stu said he's on his way," Dewey said taking a seat outside of the holding cell. Billy hadn't spoken much. The few times he did it was to give his statement on what happened or ask if you were okay. He didn't care about anything else. Billy was too busy planning on killing the fucker that laid his hands on you. "Did he say how Y/n was doing?" The boy's gaze stayed glued to the moldy ceiling. "No, just that he'd be on his way to pick you up. I told him about your hand." Billy looked at the deputy with a scoff. "That's great."

"What did you think he's going to miss that when he shows up to get you?" Billy had begged the doctor just to set his hand and leave it be. Turns out they can't do that. Now he was stuck with a heavy cast with Dewey's name on it. He didn't even agree to that the deputy just grabbed a marker and did it.

"I know seeing that mask set you off. That and what happened to Y/n. Look, you're not in any trouble. If Daniel decides to press charges the county won't prosecute you. It'd be a waste of time. You were protecting her and after all that's happened you don't need to worry about this." Dewey's change of heart confused Billy. Every time he's run into the officer he's been met with nothing but disdain and hostility. Now Dewey wants to act like his friend. "What happened to you? You hated me just days ago." Billy sat up on the bench making eye contact with the man.

Dewey realized what you said that day in the office was true. The three of you needed to look out for each other. At the end of the day, he felt bad for all of you. The ghost of the massacre would follow the survivors for as long as they lived. They were just kids. No one deserved what happened to them that night. Dewey hated himself for living through it and he was sure the three of you felt similarly. Survivor's guilt they call it. He read a book about it.

He pulled off his hat sitting it neatly on his lap. "It's been 26 days since I lost Tatum... Even less since the funeral. I can still hear her sometimes." His eyes focused on his shoes as he talked. "I couldn't save her. For a while I blamed Stu. How could her boyfriend who loves her let that happen? I know that Neil was the one who took her but I guess I needed someone else to blame." Dewey leaned forward looking up at Billy through the bars.

"I care about Y/n like I know you do. I treated you and Stu poorly because I saw what happened to the people you loved. That was messed up, I get that now and I'm sorry. I don't want her to go through what my sister did. You did a damn good job of taking care of her tonight."

Billy sat in silence. He didn't feel bad about what he did to Tatum. Neither did he feel bad about what he did to Sydney. It was necessary to move on with his life to start over. He felt It was fair considering what the Prescott family took from him. Maureen's choices shouldn't have fucked up his whole life but they did. Billy just leveled the playing field.

Listening to Dewey's sob story almost made the boy sick to his stomach. He didn't feel bad about what he did rather he felt horrible that he didn't care. Dewey wasn't his friend or his brother, he shouldn't care about his feelings. Yet here he was feeling sorry for the officer. "I can't lose her," Billy spoke in something akin to a whisper. His voice was broken almost as much as his hand.

"You've got a good head on your shoulders. You won't. After the stunt you pulled tonight I'd say she's in good hands." Dewey did think it was odd that Billy was able to move on so quickly from Sydney. He guessed that the boy was trying to fill the hole that abruptly appeared. Dewey couldn't blame him. He was doing the same thing. Where did that leave you though? After all of this, he didn't want you to get more hurt than you already had been. "You think so?" Billy asked loving the idea of protecting you. What he did at the party felt good. Feeling that fuckers bones crack beneath his hand was exhilarating. Of course, he wished he didn't have to do it. He hated the fact he let it happen. The details of your attack were lost on Billy. All he saw was the masked boy pining you to the wall as his hands pulled at your dress.

"I do. Just maybe take it easy for a while?" Dewey smiled lighting up the conversation. "I'll try." Billy nodded. "Deputy, Can I speak to you for a moment?" Another officer called Dewey away leaving Billy alone in the cell.

Billy looked down at his cast trying not to pick at it. He didn't like having it on. It was a nuisance to put it lightly. The doctor told him he'd have to wear it for at least six weeks. Frankly, he didn't think he could make it that long mainly because of the name written in black ink on the cast. "Billy?" Dewey spoke walking into the room. His keys jangled as he opened up the cell door. "Stu's here to pick you up."

Once all the paperwork was done and signed Billy was finally allowed to leave the county jail. "Oh, she's going to kill you," Billy said looking at your car in the parking lot. Stu was upset. Billy hadn't said one word to him. Not a "thank you," "glad to see ya," "go fuck yourself," nothing. "Me? What about you?" Stu spat getting into the driver's seat.

"What about me? I saved her from that creep." Billy thought he was your knight in shining armor. You kept him fed and he kept you safe. After all, that's what you wanted right?

"You told the whole town you two were dating. Billy, you knew she wanted to wait." Stu drove while Billy rolled his eyes. "They were going to find out eventually. Everyone already thinks you two were fucking behind Tatum's back." Stu kept his eyes on the road. "Don't talk about her." After his talk with Dewey, Stu felt differently about a few things. "Jesus, what crawled up your ass tonight?" Stu hit the brakes making Billy's head hit the dash. "What the fuck!" The boy yelled holding his now bleeding head. "It's four in the morning. I just had to drive across town to pick you up from jail and you haven't said thank you. I begged Dewey not to call your dad to save you from the fight that was bound to happen and still, no thank you. Do you give a shit about me at all? Cause lately I feel like the only one you pay attention to is little Miss Betty Crocker. If I have to put on an apron for you to give a fuck I will. Is that what it's going to take?"

Billy's head pounded and Stu's yelling didn't help. "I'm sorry. Is that what you want to hear? My fucking hand is broken and you're upset that I didn't say thank you? You didn't even give me the chance. Where were you when she was getting attacked?" Stu's demeanor changed as he seemed to shrink. "You told me to get water-"

"That's right you were getting her water because you just had to give her alcohol. If you would've just gotten me and you a beer none of this would've happened. Don't jump my ass because all of this is your fault." Stu's face was red as tears weld up in his eyes. He gassed up the car driving in silence. The streetlights were smeared by his tears making it harder to see. This was his fault. That was what he told himself over and over. He was the one being selfish. He hadn't even noticed the bright white cast covering his partner's hand.

While Stu beat himself up over something he had no control over Billy cursed himself for yelling. "I'm sorry for shouting." Billy broke the silence. Stu sniffled trying to compose himself. "I'm sorry for jumping your ass." He responded quietly.

Billy turned towards the driver sighing at the sight. "It's not your fault. If it's anyone's fault it's Daniel's." Stu rounded the corner sending a glance to Billy. He didn't know his partner knew your assailant. "Daniel?" Stu asked. "Daniel Lawson. I heard Dewey say his name when talking to some other asshole." Stu looked over at his friend seeing that gleam in his eyes he hadn't seen for a while. "What are you thinking?" Billy smirked already having a plan. "I'm thinking we're about to have one less student attending Woodsboro high school."

By the time Stu pulled into the garage both men had smiles on their faces. Stu was happy to have his partner in crime back. It was probably unhealthy that the time he felt closest to Billy was when they were planning a murder. This was something only the two of them shared. Billy didn't want to include you because he saw you as too innocent to partake in such a depraved act. Even after what you did that night at Stu's place. To put it simply it was men's work.

Stu didn't want to include you because he had Billy to himself. It was their little secret this time. Stu would make sure you wouldn't find out about it. It was a win for everyone involved. Your attacker would disappear and Stu got to spend quality time with his boyfriend. It was a win win scenario.

"I'm going to take a shower and get something to eat before I head to bed." Billy pulled his boots off sitting them by the door. Stu stood behind his lover starting to kiss his neck softly. All the planning had stirred something inside of the short-haired boy. "Stu..." Billy warned not really in the mood. That didn't stop him however as his hand slowly slid down the front of Billy's outfit. "I'm tired." He spoke trying not to hurt Stu's feelings. His hand slipped underneath Billy's pants making him pull away. "Enough, alright? I'm tired and I'm hungry. I'm not in the mood right now."

Billy's hand was still killing him and his stomach was fighting for attention. Not to mention the throbbing headache he now had thanks to Stu. The last thing on his mind was sex unfortunately for his partner. Billy didn't mean anything by it. It wasn't personal but Stu took it as such.

"Whatever I'm going to sleep. You'll probably have more room on the couch than the bed." Stu walked upstairs leaving Billy with a headache. He was used to Stu's mood swings they happened ever so often. That along with an occasional manic episode. If he was lucky Stu would wake up in a better mood. Billy rubbed his face stopping halfway realizing too late he had makeup on. "Fuck..." He cursed.

Billy walked into the kitchen fixing himself a sandwich. He decided he would eat first and then take a shower. It was a funny sight. The man covered in makeup and blood stains was sitting at the kitchen table trying his best to eat a sandwich with his left hand. Once it was gone he put his plate in the sink, he'd wash it later. Billy decided to use the downstairs bathroom not about to suffer Stu's wrath once again.

Showering was more difficult than anticipated. The more he struggled to get his shirt off the more aggravated he got. "God damnit!" He cursed a little too loud. "Stupid..." He whispered to himself. With a couple of deep breaths, he went into the kitchen grabbing a pair of scissors. It wasn't an easy task to cut the shirt from his body. The doctor at the hospital cut the duct tape and the sleeve of his shirt off leaving room to put on the cast. Funny enough he left Billy to suffer with the rest of the fabric. His hand fumbled with the scissors struggling to get them to cut anything.

His yelling had woken you up. You could still feel the effects of the alcohol coursing through your veins. Thankfully it was less aggressive than before. Stu was laying sideways in the bed drooling onto your pillows. "Guess everyone had a rough night." You grumbled pulling yourself up from the bed.

You threw on your robe before heading down the stairs. Billy was home. His cursing and mumbling gave him away. "What are you doing?" Your eyes were squinted, offended by the white light in the bathroom. "Babe thank fuck. Cut this." He held the scissors towards you while you just stood confused. It took a moment for your eyes to adjust.

"What happened to your face?" You moved forward to run a finger over the dried blood. "Police brutality." He raised his eyebrows at the joke which didn't make you laugh. "Your arm..." You noticed the cast branded with Dewey's name. Gently you reached out inspecting the cast. "Don't ask." Billy shook his head at the signature. "How bad did you break it?" Just like that the whole scene replayed in your head. For a minute or two you watched your boyfriend turn into something you couldn't describe.

It was scary. You remembered how he looked when he was chasing you in the mall a few days after you moved. It was that same terrifying look just directed at someone else.

"They said I broke four knuckles, nothing too horrible." It was horrible. Some of the worst pain that boy ever felt but he wouldn't tell you that. You huffed a laugh. "How are you feeling?" He asked running his left hand over your head. Billy's eyes looked you up and down. You knew what he was wondering. "I'm okay. He didn't get that far if that's what you're asking." Billy shook his head. "It doesn't matter how far he got Y/n he shouldn't have touched you at all."

You grabbed the scissors slowly cutting the fabric off his body. "Are you upset that he touched me or are you upset that he hurt me?" The question was asked calmly. Billy didn't understand the difference between the two questions. To you however the difference was great. You seriously doubted Billy would've acted that same way if it was some other girl.

Billy chose his words carefully seeing you had scissors and all. "I'm not upset, I'm furious." His fingers grabbed your jaw lifting your chin. Your hands stopped, waiting for him to say something. Billy's eyes wandered your face his heart squeezed at the thought of anything happening to you. "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you tonight. I didn't know what he was doing. I heard you say my name and I saw his hand under your dress. I blacked out for a second." It was a bullshit excuse. He remembered every thought that flew through his brain. Billy could recite the boy's pained pleas if you asked him to. Now was the time to play up the boyfriend act. As days went on it got easier for him to do.

His eyes softened as he spoke. It was funny how things came full circle. You met Billy because of some bully trying to see down your shirt. That was the first person he ever hit. Now look at the two of you. Both of you were broken but somehow you were looking out for each other.

"You think you embarrassed me?" You pulled away from his touch. Everyone would be talking about it. You knew that, but Billy almost killed a man with his bare hands and he's worried about the scene he caused.

"You're not embarrassed?" Billy cocked his head to one side. You started to peel off the cut up shirt as you spoke. "No. I'm scared, I-I'm worried but I'm not embarrassed. Do you think I'm embarrassed of you?" That was one of Billy's concerns. That after tonight you wouldn't want anything to do with him. He knew if the roles were reversed he'd probably never leave his house again. Fearful of what people might say. You looked the man up and down. He looked broken literally and figuratively. "The guy wanted to see my scar. I think he had more to drink than I did." You laughed trying to make a joke out of the serious conversation. "It was scary, I thought... something bad was going to happen and it might have. I don't know. You stopped him before anything seriously fucked up happened so thank you."

You tossed the ripped pieces of the shirt in the trash almost falling over from spinning too fast. "Baby," Billy said as he grabbed your arm stabilizing you. "Still feeling it huh?" He smiled. "I'll never do this again." You promised but Billy doubted that. Billy knew by the way you and Stu danced that you two would have partying in common.

"I bet." He said turning on the shower so the water could warm up. "Make sure you scrub your face good. You don't want to break out." Billy nodded at your advice. "Are you going back to bed?" You yawned at the mention of sleep. "I'm exhausted. I'll save you a spot in bed okay?" Billy watched you walk into the hallway. "Okay, I won't be long." You shut the bathroom door behind you going back up to your room.

You tried to be normal about it all. Part of you swooned over what he did. In some sick twisted way, you enjoyed seeing him defend you the way he did. It made you feel invincible which was a dangerous feeling. The other part of you however feared the man you began to love. He could keep you safe from everyone but himself. Stu's behavior at the party was unsettling as well. The violence was more important to him than you. He rushed to your side but his shouting didn't stop. The fight was thrilling for Stu.

With a heavy heart and head, you threw your robe over the chair crawling into bed next to Stu. "Scoot." You shoved the boy forcing him to move to the side of the bed. Stu rolled over his back facing you. Deep in sleep, he grabbed your hand pulling your arm over his waist. With a small smile, you pulled him in effectively snuggling up to the man.

You didn't know how things would go. The headache you had could've been the alcohol or your overthinking. You were scared of the future. For too long you had lived on a day-to-day basis. It was nice for a while but eventually, you'd have to face the music. Something had to give.

Billy pulled on a pair of boxers along with a t-shirt before heading to bed. Stu had you wrapped in his arms leaving plenty of room for Billy. Carefully he climbed into bed not wanting to wake up either of you. He wasn't happy with the way things played out. Daniel should be dead not just concussed with a broken nose. Billy didn't give a shit about the details of your attack. That son of a bitch laid a finger on you, the one thing Billy promised to prevent. Daniel didn't know it yet but he was a dead man walking.

Taglist (closed): @katie-tibo @agustdeeyaa @bowlofceral @gonnapermashift @tati-the-fangirl @kozumewhore @tatijoestar @illyanam1011 @c4rved-pumpk1n @msghostface @gojosbucket @sammanna @lokigirlszendaya @reneki @fetusharryluvr @kadu-5607 @pumpk1n-writes @zeysartzone @life-of-music3 @flyestvenustrap @littleblondesoprano @loomiscorpse @nicciekawegosblog @reneemunson @miss-puregotti @ksgsfsgaj @zoleea-exultant @briefwinnerpersonaturtle @mistydreamscape @l4venderia @nex-crowley @ashreblogsnow @brynaa223 @your-desire666 @billyloomiswhore4 @holyladyofsorrows @megluv1 @ellieswifeiya @yoluvrz @forallthstarsinthesky @madsothree @youcantbesirius @lubunnii @captainhowdysseptum @geekygremlin @madneedshelp

[cybervesna]

One hundred-four degrees Fahrenheit

Type: One-shot (Dogtown Nights) Rating: Mature Relationship: Kurt Hansen/OC, Kurt Hansen/Wiosna Blazkowicz

Idk if someone's gonna read it, if so I hope you enjoy it.

Heavy smoke from his cigarette covered his view as he exhaled the substance from his lungs. Despite temporary blindness, his eyes were still focused on one place or rather a person. 

Right in front of him lies the object of his interest. Wires all over, allowing her to get lost in the depths of cyberspace. The netrunner most likely had no idea that she was being watched. Her boss was like an eagle preying on her defenseless body. 

But he doesn't want to hurt her, no. He's admiring and mesmerizing every inch of her. He's making sure that the movement of her cleavage caused by heavy breathing isn't out of order, and that the drops of sweat forming on her forehead evaporate as soon as they appear. 

He inhaled the deadly substance again and kept it in his lungs as he checked her vitals on his HUD. 

One hundred two degrees Fahrenheit. 

It wasn't alarming, yet a little too high for his liking. Two degrees more and an emergency cooling will freeze her. 

This time the smoke escaped through his nostrils, making him look like a dragon whose fire was responsible for the increased body temperature of his prey.

One hundred degrees Fahrenheit. 

Good, he thought. She either moved to lighter tasks or is about to dive out from the cybernetic void.

He observed her, carefully. The steady breathing was like a lullaby to his nerves. Calming, and reassuring nothing will happen, and he's just paranoid for having all the bad scenarios forming in his head.

One hundred four degrees Fahrenheit. 

***

It's hard to describe something that the human mind can't comprehend. Yet, somehow Wiosna could see everything in a simplified way, trying to make sense of the data around her. 

First was the darkness, and from it came light. No. The light was her. Or maybe she was the darkness? 

Lines of code disintegrated with every passing second, yet can she even measure time in such a place? And why is she staring right at herself? There are no mirrors in cyberspace. 

“Interesting. Emotions truly can be transferred into data.” 

She heard her own voice, but it wasn't her who said it. 

“You should vocalize your concerns.” Wiosna’s reflection insisted. 

“You already know what I'm going to say.” 

The vision fractionated into a glitchy matrix of data as it transformed itself into a red mist filling the void around the woman. There was something familiar about it, like an image she had seen before. The red mixed itself with the darkness in a way that resembled the northern lights. 

The entity inside her becomes stronger with every jump beyond the Blackwall. Grows like a parasite inside Wiosna's inner world. If it can take her form now, what else is it capable of doing? 

Being a menace to her for sure.

Wiosna felt how the rogue AI manipulated her code to cause some chaos. Nothing serious, just a few short circuits, and an overheat deamon. In Wiosna's opinion, it was meant to piss her off, rather than cause actual damage.

That's enough. Was the last thing echoing around them before the netrunner went back to the mortal realm. 

***

“Wiosna, for fucks sake, wake up!” Kurt screamed into Wiosna's face as he shook her shoulders. 

All the systems around them turned into an orchestra of alarms, loud enough that he didn't know if she could even hear him in this mess despite being inches away. 

Kurt held her cold, lifeless body in his arms. The drops of water on her face turned into frost because of emergency cooling. He knew that the purple shade of her skin was a result of preventing her from overheating, as most of the electronics in the room burned one by one. Regardless of all the logic, it planted in his head a scary question. 

What if she's already dead? Does life have any meaning without her?

He knows better than that. He's a soldier. There's no time for grieving in his life. 

Put yourself together, Hansen! 

Allowing himself to panic, even for a minute was unacceptable. But those intrusive thoughts were louder and louder in his head, as the mind tried to make a plan for every possible outcome of this situation.

Is that how Wiosna feels all the time?

Kurt remembered how Wiosna tried to describe to him what was in her head. Of course, he read all the reports on her state, but doing it in her own words felt more intimate. He wished she would describe him more. 

She has to, when she wakes up, right? 

His hands cupped her face and he took a moment to look at her once more. The only thing in the world that he cares more about than himself. She can't be dead. Kurt gently kissed her forehead and felt how his warm lips melted the frost it touched. 

“Hm... That made me warm inside.” 

He wasn't sure if he heard it, or if it was just his imagination. Kurt moved his head to look at Wiosna again. Her blue eyes were wide open, staring at him with sparkles between the ocean of blue. And of course a smirk on her face.

This fucking woman…

“I see you missed m-” 

But Wiosna never finished whatever she wanted to say, as Kurt's lips silenced her. At least for a second until she pulled him away. 

“Fuu! You just smoked!” She screamed in disgust. 

“You almost fucking died!” 

“What? I had everything under control.” 

Kurt dropped her face as relief on his face disappeared. 

“Control? Where? Where was your fucking control when your body hit one hundred six degrees!” 

“Please, like it's the first time…” Wiosna waved her hand as if she was casting a spell that silenced all the alarms.

Kurt observed as she sat on her chair and pulled out the plug from her deep dive port. He felt anger build up inside of him, yet at the same time, he couldn't be angry at her. 

“Do I mommy you whenever you go out for a mission? You think I don't worry you will get a bullet to the head? I do, but I'm not stopping you from doing your job. So don't stop me from doing mine.” 

“This is different.” He growled. 

“How so?” 

“I can't fucking protect you there.” Kurt's voice became deeper. Every other Bargest soldier would start praying for their life at the sound of it.

But Wiosna instead just rolled her eyes at him. “So you don't trust me that I can take care of myself?” 

“The fuck? I didn't say that!” Kurt touched the bridge of his nose as he thought about how to explain what he meant. The Colonel reached for the hand of his lover. It was still cold, as if she spent this whole time walking through Siberian snow without gloves. “I guess, I meant that three minutes ago I was freaking out, you're dead and all I could do was just hold your body. So I started to consider if I should kill myself too… It felt like I failed you.” 

Kurt hated that. Those moments of weakness when emotions take over logic. He hated how it only happened with her. Wiosna made him soft. She made him weak. And yet… He never felt better. Never felt stronger than with her by his side. 

He stared into her eyes, trying to catch a glimpse of the emotions behind them. But instead of that, he felt as her hand gently left his grasp. His eyes instantly looked at the place where it left a freezing sensation on his cyberware that he already missed. But he felt it again, this time on his cheek, as her palm guided Kurt to look at her once more. 

Nothing. Wiosna's emotions were encrypted better than the data she worked with. 

Kurt leaned into her touch, kissing the inside of her palm without breaking eye contact. It's when he noticed something. Wiosna's brows slightly went up, and her lips parted as a result of his action. And before he could do anything more, her cold lips were glued to his. 

Wiosna always kissed him as her life depended on it. Kurt learned by now, that maybe the face doesn't show much, but her kisses are a testimony of everything she feels. A language of passion, that she calls “talking without words”. He had to admit, as many lovers as he had, no one saw it that way. But he gets it. Wiosna's kisses are to die for. 

Even now freezing as she is, Wiosna spreads her fire on Kurt, burning everything on its way. And he doesn't want to fight it. Like flames dancing around each other, consuming everything on their way until there's no air. 

“You just complained I smoked!” Kurt gasped in between his heavy breaths. 

“Don't fucking remind me and enjoy this.” 

[thehollowwriter]

Ok so since i love sad but bad boys i'm gonna ask blaze for your event-

How about reader(gender neutral or fem your choice) who is blaze's childhood friend and tries to make him realize what his mother wants is not what he wants

Thank you! (☞ﾟヮﾟ)☞

Hi! Sorry for the late reply! Yaaay a Blaze ask <3

Warnings: None. Word count: 520

(Pls reblog and leave a comment ♥️)

Art by @/moonyasnow

Choose

Blaze sat on one of the rocks closest to the shimmering water of the sea, throwing and catching a smooth, circular rock as he stared at the horizon. It was painted with beautiful purples and oranges as the sun gradually dipped down to welcome the night, giving Blaze at least something to appreciate on this shitty shitty day.

"You should get in," you said to him from your spot within the water, your tail flicking back and forth happily. "The water's wonderful."

"No." Blaze muttered. He didn't feel like changing forms right now. It was such an exhausting process.

An awkward silence reigned for a moment. Blaze kept throwing and catching his rock. Eventually, you spoke. "Your mom again?"

Blaze didn't answer for a while. He stopped throwing the rock and stared at it, turning it over in his hands.

"...I didn't get a main role in our theatre production." He growled out after a while, his voice softer and rougher than usual. "Not even a side character. I'm... 'too wooden'. Mom says she's wasting money and time on me if this is what she gets back for all those acting lessons..." He put his head in his hands. "I'm tyring. I'm trying so hard, but she just doesn't care. Now she wants me to do lessons and advice from Vil fucking Schoenheit."

You didn't say anything for a while. The same string of thoughts you always had every time Blaze mentioned acting flooded through your mind.

'You shouldn't have to be an actor,' you wanted to say, 'Do what you want. Don't you want to choose what to do with your life?'

You rarely did, though. He got so upset every time. But a question on the tip of your tongue escaped before you could stop it.

"Blaze," you said before you could stop yourself. "Is acting what you really want to do? It's more your... your mom's wishes than your own."

Blaze glanced at you, then threw his rock. It skipped across the water before sinking below the waves and into the ocean's depths.

"Of course it's what I want!" He hissed venomously. "I don't even like Alchemy that much. It's just an interesting subject!"

You drew in a breath, refraining from pointing out that you never mentioned alchemy.

"But you don't like acting either." You insisted. "You always hate going to classes. You said you wanted to be in a different club too-"

"Because I hate hearing Vil talk like he's all that when his daddy's money gave him everything! I would like it if that bastard wasn't there!"

You grinded your teeth. "Blaze, you've never been happy about anything to do with acting. You don't like acting. This isn't what you want, Blaze, it's your mom who-"

"Will you shut up?" Blaze hissed. "I'm going to be an actor, and I'm to be Vil Schoenheit levels of famous! You can either support me like a good friend should or get lost."

There was a long pause.

"Okay, well," you said, hiding your hurt. You picked up a smooth circular stone of your own and threw it in the same direction as Blaze threw his. It only skipped a few times before sinking. "Best of luck."

A heavy silence reigned between the both of you. You stared at Blaze. You stared at his face, the way his jaw set in a grimace, and the way his eyes seemed to water.

He could do so much more, be so much more, but he didn't want to. Or he didn't think he could. It hurt to see. But you stayed silent.

You disappeared into the water and left Blaze to sit on his rock. Alone.

-End

A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading! Blaze is a bit mean, sorry :(

Tagging: @distant-velleity @br3adtoasty @rainesol @theleechyskrunkly @jovieinramshackle

@galaxies-and-gore @cyanide-latte @cynthinesia @officialdaydreamer00 @krenenbaker

@offorestsongs @kitwasnothere @elenauaurs @boopshoops @inotonline

@1dont-really-know @kazumify @minteasketches @elysia-nsimp @skrimpyskimpy

@casp1an-sea @offorestsongs @tixdixl @poisoned-pearls @the-trinket-witch

@ramshacklerumble @ghostiidasponk @thegoldencontracts @the-banana-0verlord @cloudcountry

@skriblee-ksk @twstinginthewind @lumdays @theolivetree123 @natsukishinomiyaswife

@authoruio @jewelulu @raguiras @honeynclove @moonyasnow

@skibidibabygirl @paperclvps

[desires-of-chain]

Desperate

hello hello! It is I, wizard anon, back from the depths! Apologies for my absence, autumn kicked my ass and currently winter is also kicking my ass, but I finally got the urge to continue writing some good good smut hehe - starting off with the long promised trans Time fic <3 No clue if this new fic is a one off or if I'm finally back in my groove, but nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

I also have some older stuff I never submitted (because it's all afab reader x warriors and I didn't want to submit not gn stuff and for only one character over and over again fjdjsh) so I shall probably also finally send them in.

With that out of the way, on with the show!

- wizard anon

Content: amab reader(gn pronouns), transmasc Time, dirty talk, breeding kink(no ment of pregnancy), one line of cum eating, creampie. Word count: 1345

You have him pinned to the wall. You're shorter than him, but Time has never once doubted your strength - it turns him on how easily you can push him around. The others see him as the strongest, Biggoron Sword in hand and plate heavy upon his back, but he knows the truth: you're the one in charge, here.

They’ve all finally found a suitable place to bed down for the night - Lon Lon Ranch, Talon out in town and Malon far too fond of his gaggle of trouble makers to ever let them stay out and camp in her view. And she apparently saw the same thing in your eyes that has been boring against the back of his head for the past three days, because she got everyone else distracted with outdoor work and told the two of you to go set up the spare rooms on your own. Giving you some much needed privacy to finally do… this.

“I wanna fuck you so bad,” you pepper kisses and nibbles against his neck, “I need you, baby, I need to fill you up. Stuff you full, fuck…”

He doesn't know what’s gotten into you. You’re insatiable, absolutely ravenous. He had to shoot you down last night with a proposal of sneaking off from watch to fuck in the woods, and the way your face fell into moping as he explained it was incredibly unwise to do so almost had him going back on rationality. And from then to now, it seems your urges have only built up even more.

You slide your hand into his trousers and immediately begin rubbing his clit. His head falls against the wall, choked groan on his lips.

“You're so gorgeous, let me fill you up? We’re alone and there's a bed. There’s no better time than now, handsome.”

In all honesty, he doesn’t care to wait much longer either. As much as he loves them, since getting into a relationship with you he has become rather sour at times at the other Links’ near constant presence. Whenever it seems he finally gets a moment alone with you, someone will turn up. Some privacy to indulge in human needs more often would be nice. Perhaps that’s why you’re so worked up - you finally reached your breaking point. He might have, too.

“Yes, please, let’s do it.”

You pull your fingers out from his trousers, and he can't help but buck his hips at the sudden lack of stimulation. Then you're dragging him over to the bed by the tunic, and he follows like a lost puppy. You really are very strong - he’s pushed down onto the bed easily, boots and trousers almost ripped off by your hand. You don’t bother with taking his tunic off, simply pushing it up until it’s bunched up at his neck, chest exposed. Your hungry look as your eyes roam across his breasts and stomach is maddening.

“I wanna breed you so bad…”

Oh, what that does to his brain. He spreads his legs for you immediately, giving you full access to begin opening him up with your fingers - which you get to swiftly, two fingers all the way in and curling just the way he likes.

“You're so wet, you want me so bad, want me to fuck you good, milking my fingers already.” Time moans, your words frying his brain in tandem with how you pump your fingers - three now, pressing against his walls and making embarrassingly hot noises. He’s so worked up already, desperate, and everything that comes tumbling out of your mouth only makes it worse.

A tantalising idea pops into his head.

“Can I ride you?”

The fingers inside him still, before carefully pulling out. You bring your fingers to your lips and clean them up, and Time’s mouth drops open.

“Of course you can.”

He shuffles about on the bed, perching on the corner as you flop down to replace him and hastily pull off your own boots and trousers. He takes the moment to pull his tunic over his head so it's no longer sitting awkwardly around his shoulders and breasts. Now completely bare, he watches you watch him as you pull your cock out of the confines of your underwear, pumping yourself slowly and spreading your precum as a makeshift lubricant. Despite himself, he flusters at your undivided attention while putting on such an erotic display, ears red and pinning up. You catch his eye and smirk.

“Well, come here, handsome. Grab the lube first though.”

Time dives over for their bags, fishing out the jar of lubricant quickly and returning to the bed. You fetch it out of his hand and prepare yourself just as quickly, then he's climbing onto your lap and lining himself up. Your hands rest against his hips, firm and sure.

Time gasps as he begins to sink down on your cock. His chest heaves, pressure and pleasure and heat mixing into an almost addictive cocktail in his head, dizzy and cloying. The way you gaze up at him certainly doesn’t help.

Your hands squeeze his hips, urging him down further, and soon enough he’s taking you in all the way.

He pants. His thighs squeeze against your hips as he adjusts to the feeling of being so full. Every nerve in his body is on fire with pleasure - your hands against him, your cock inside him. He was desperate for this, needed this, for so long. Just as long as you did. And now he has it, it feels addicting.

When you buck your hips into him he moans. He knows you're both supposed to be quiet, but he can't help it. He rises on his knees until just the tip is inside him still, then sinks down onto you again slowly. Repeats this, a few times, until you get impatient and are fucking up into him again. Time picks up the pace after that, bouncing on your cock and letting all manner of noises spill out of his mouth.

You squeeze his hips, shifting your own in tandem with how he rides you. “Gorgeous, beautiful, handsome, I’m gonna fill you up good, breed you, stuff you with my cum until you're full. You want that, right?”

Time nods his head, almost delirious, chasing his pleasure feverishly. He’s close - taken to the edge so quickly, a mix of how long it's been since the last time you've both done this, and how your endless stream of compliments and dirty talk send his head spinning. He chases his orgasm desperately.

“Baby, I’m close…” You pull Time’s hips flush with yours, grinding up into him. He whines, hole full and body tense, on the edge of his orgasm but not quite pushed over the precipice - just a little more, please, that's all he needs…

One of your hands snakes down to play with his clit again, and he’s shuddering around you as his orgasm rips through his body. That’s all it takes for you to reach your end, too - filling him up with your cum, his hole milking your cock as he shakes through the aftershocks of his pleasure.

Time flops down on top of you, burying his face into your shoulder and breathing out a long, exhausted exhale.

“It was too long since we last did this…” He mutters. Your arms circle his back comfortingly.

“I think I nearly went insane,” you chuckle, “Thank god it didn't go any longer, or I would've actually had to drag you out into the woods and fuck you up against a tree.”

Time pushes himself against you even more, this time out of embarrassment. “Let's not plan on doing anything where we can get caught, please - no matter how desperate we get, we cannot traumatise the boys.”

“If they didn’t hear you just now,” you respond, entirely too much cheek in your voice. “There might’ve been a few knocks on the door, but I was too busy with you milking me dry to get up and check.”

Time groans. Absolutely no privacy at all…

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

🧙 ANON, BACK AT IT AGAIN!

also hi, lovely, it been a while 🥺 i hope you're doing okay!

[soursvgar]

could i please request mammon with a reader who has extreme anxiety, so at first they just followed him around like a duckling would its mother and always looked to him out of everyone for help with things?

~generally, theyre just obviously most comfortable with him and favor him most because of it; being more expressive and stuff around him while being more on the reserved, shy side with the rest of his brothers. id just imagine him pretending to be annoyed but secretly enjoying the attention lolol!

"It is the fear of the unknown that makes you stick to what's familiar, a sense of home in a foreign place."

Mammon x gn! reader (ft. Leviachan)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Home is a place for your heart to rest at ease, and in the depths of the devildom— it simply could not. It is quite the peculiar opportunity you were given, living among creatures who are different from you, and allegedly, stay protected. Perhaps even too good to be a real opportunity, but who can blame the human for fearing for their life? It is in fact, a constant worry for the fragile, feeble human race. It isn't a surprise that you had latched onto the nearest, closest form of a warm human connection you could've achieved in the short time upon your arrival.

Mammon is not like the others. Maybe it’s his withstanding patience, or maybe it’s the deep, intent gaze he's wearing every time you express even an inkling of fear, focusing on validating your emotions while simultaneously, assuring you of your guaranteed safety. With him by your side, you had almost forgotten of your whereabouts, and the creatures lurking around the corners, possibly just waiting for a moment you're alone. For this reason, letting him venture on his own, away from your vicinity, is something you are too afraid to do.

"Human, I told you to stop following me. It's too annoying, I have things to get to- places to be. I can't have ya on my arm all day like a lost puppy." Mammon mutters, shaking his head as you request to accompany him on his schedules. "Why don't ya go play with Levi or something?" He suggests, regretting it almost instantly when he notices your eyes drooping with dejection. However, this is a teaching moment for him, as he expects the rest of his brothers to protect you as well, and to develop some sort of a connection, or a sense of responsibility, at the very least. And with a heavy heart, he leaves.

You're unsure of what you're supposed to do; should you wait in your room, alone? Or is that a bit too- pathetic? You didn't want to use this word, but that is indeed the way you feel. You look down the dim hallway, wondering if you should take up on Mammon's suggestion. After all, he is in fact trying to help, right? And you should, eventually, step out of your shell, because it could be fun- maybe. Your legs are trembling as they lead you right outside the door of Leviathan's room, shaky fingers curl before they make contact with the cold, coated material.

"What is it?" The reply is immediate, flustering you as it sounds querulous enough to make you want to back away. Before you do, however, the door swings open, revealing an impatient looking demon- but his expression changes once he figures who's behind the door. "O-Oh, it's you. I thought it was one of my annoying brothers bothering me while I'm testing one of my new games." Say something, come on. You try to urge yourself, but the sounds just barely come out. "U-Um..." You stutter, hoping Levi doesn't shut the door in your face for taking too long to form a sentence.

"Do you... want to come in?" He offers, widening the gap between the door and it's frame as he gestures for you to enter. You thank him quietly and settle inside, the blue tint giving the room a strangely relaxing aura. "You like it? The colors?" Levi questions shyly, noticing your gaze being fixated on the decor.

It's a slightly awkward encounter to say the least, but if you already had to pick a brother to interact with while forcing yourself out of a crippling social anxiety, Levi is most likely a safe beginner's level choice as he's probably just as sheepish as you, if not more. Moreover, as soon as you start engaging with his hobbies, he does a big chunk of the talking, helping you ease into the situation and making you more comfortable around him by the minute. Perhaps Mammon knew what he was saying.

Time passes rather quickly. Engrossed in the flashing images on the screen, neither you or Levi pay attention when the door creaks open; at least not until an audible sigh is heaved, tearing your eyes away from the game the two of you bickered about. "You really are here..." Mammon breathes in relief. Was he... worried about you? No, it can't be, can it? "Not like I care! Or anything..." He quickly adds. "But I figured I'd find you in your room... waiting." Lowering his tone in the last word, he avoids your eyes.

"I was playing games with Levi!" You approach Mammon, full of glee. He offers a content smile and instinctively reaches to ruffle your hair before retracting his hand back, cheeks tinted at his sudden gesture. "Excuse me? It wasn't just games, it was THE game. Exuberant story telling with a cutthroat plot projected in the latest high definition graphics aspects, the animation is so good it feels like the characters are trying to murder us in real life!!" Leviathan intervenes, thankfully cutting through your blundering interaction with Mammon.

Later that night, Mammon finds yet another silly excuse in order to be let inside your room; sprawled on your bed, he watches as you prepare your backpack for the next day. "Did you have fun with Levi?" He blurts out, causing you to avert your gaze back to him and nod in agreement. "But not too much fun, right?" He raises an eyebrow, seating up from his previous position. "What are you talking about?" You chuckle, accompanying him on the bed as you take a seat next to him.

"Ya know I only rejected you so that you can be closer with the rest of my brothers, right? You need to be bustin' it with other demons here so that ya'll can have fun even when I'm not around. But... I mean, you can't get too comfy with them, ya feel? You're still my human, even if its burdensome to take care of ya-" He pauses, waiting for a reaction from you, but only to be met with silence on your part. "Okay... it's actually not that burdensome- or at all. I like havin' you around and I wouldn't mind if you were hangin' with me all day- but I'm doing this for you! You should show all these peeps what you got, y'know?" Mammon gently tugs on your sheets as he speaks, purposely looking away from you. He twitches at the abrupt sensation of your weight on his shoulder, glancing back at you to realize you are laying your head on him. "I know, you were looking out for me."

He grins, encircling his arm around you to pull you closer. "I'll always look out for you, human."

[may-escarlata]

The Second World War was the scene of thousands of inhuman and deadly acts, the Jews fought to survive, while the Germans fought to eliminate them, however, there were countless stories, both good and bad, this is one of them. Kagome, a Jewish lover of music and the arts, participates in the scene of this cruel war, going through thousands of situations, experiences, shortcomings, pain and suffering, meeting one of the most bloodthirsty Colonels of the SS, Sesshomaru Taisho. A man with such a violent and atrocious mentality, who was called by his subordinates "The white demon." history 100% Sesshome/Sesskag

~~~~~~~~°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 0 Broken wings

***I love the bearer of light, while the enemy offends me, I wish to carry the bearer of the voice.***

[.]

Pov Kagome

The cold spreads throughout my body, I feel heavy, sore, my head doesn't stop spinning, I can't wake up. Why? Where am I? My eyes don't want to open. I try to maintain control. Since when have I tried to maintain it? I'm tired, too tired to analyze that question.

Have I already lost hope? My body trembles as I hear in the distance how footsteps echo throughout the hallway, they echo in my head, without being able to avoid it I begin to tremble, even in my own depth, I can distinguish who is making those sounds. "Come on Kagome, wake up."

My body rejects my orders, I can't do anything, this is making me desperate, the door opens, I clearly hear it squeak, a start makes me shudder, and an electric shock begins in my knees, leading to the tips of my feet, I feel that They have moved a little, a slight movement, but they did it.

- Wake up.

A voice that I know perfectly well, they manage to do in a second what I have tried to do for a long time, even hours. Move. My eyes open, the panorama is blurry, I try to focus, only visualizing a huge shadow that is close to me, around a very dim light, I think it comes through that window.

— I... — why am I talking?

- you?

- Because? —I article barely audible.

— I warned you — I feel that hand take my chin, squeezing it tightly, I can't help but make a pitiful moan.

- Why are you not paying attention to me? —again the seriousness of his voice makes me tremble.

—I didn't think it would be heard! — I answered, even with the pain in my jaw.

— You're not here to think... are you? —His riding crop rests on one of my breasts, giving small taps that begin to burn. —Tell me, what are you? — He pronounced each word with that voice full of superiority.

— Your... toy — I whispered.

- Don't listen.

— I am... your toy. — I pronounced even louder, my throat hurt.

—So, if you are my toy, why do you insist on getting out of control? Every action you do, I have to cover it with stupid lies.

—I didn't ask you to cover me. - What are you saying? — the riding crop hit my skin again.

— My eyes went to those golden ones, they showed no mercy — I already apologized! —I whispered, despite the pain.

That cruel man took my wrists, I had barely realized that he had left me chained to the wall, the shackles opened, I could finally move even though my arms were numb, I looked at my hands, they were red, there were cuts and bruise marks already old.

—I should cut off your hands.

— I tensed at what he had just told me, raising my head, I looked at him imploringly — NO!.. please don't do that!

— He leaned towards me, lightly touching my cheek with that hand, such a delicate touch, causing me to be impressed by that unusual action, I couldn't help but turn my face away — look at me! —that voice made me tremble again.

- Me please! - I feel so tired.

- NOW!

My eyes quickly went towards him, my entire being was controlled by this man, by this cruel and ruthless general, he grabbed my hair aggressively, drawing me closer to him, my hands rested on his chest, I tried to prevent him from getting closer to me. me, notice how a mocking smile appeared on that impassive face.

He pulled me back, exposing my neck, I closed my eyes at this action, involuntarily moving my legs as I felt his tongue pass over my skin, it was wet, slippery and soft, I pursed my lips, I knew something else would come, Something worse.

A scream came out of my mouth, a bite was burning me, I heard how each tissue of my skin was breaking with the action of his teeth.

He took my waist with his free hand, hugging me between his huge body and the cold wall that was rubbing my back, I tried to move, escape, it's ridiculous, isn't it?

Nothing worked, a few simple movements and I was already sitting on his lap, my breathing was increasingly agitated, Sesshomaru's was slow, wasn't he human? Could his evil be more powerful?

— Leave me! - I begged.

—It's quite interesting that, even though you know what I can do to you, you still try to resist. —He whispered sarcastically near my ear.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♤♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♤♡♡♡♡

To find out more... click on the link History on Ao3

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[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (6/8) umbrella edition: Nayeon

(Please keep in mind that because they never say the name of Ben's mother in the show or on the wiki, I made the name up. And this also applies to the Sparrow timeline as well)

October 1, 1989. Seoul, South Korea.

Nayeon Chay (Eastern spelling: Chae Na-yeon) was a carefree teenager, enjoying her youth to the fullest. She was on the subway, riding with her boyfriend, Minho. They were sitting in the middle of the train, not bothering anyone, just being young and in love. The train lurched forward, throwing them both against each other, eliciting a giggle from Nayeon. She quickly recovered herself, brushing a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

The subway car was crowded, as usual, but Nayeon didn't mind the close quarters. She leaned into Minho, nuzzling her face against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, pulling her close, their bodies pressed together. They were lost in their own little world, oblivious to the chaos and commotion around them.

Nayeon was trained in noble arts such as, flower arrangements, calligraphy, and tea ceremonies. She had great aspirations to go to college abroad in Costa Rica to study these arts in depth. Her parents were very supportive of her dreams and encouraged her to follow her heart.

As the subway car rattled along, a strange sense of foreboding crept into the back of Nayeon's mind. The air felt thick and heavy, and she couldn't shake off the feeling that something was amiss. She glanced around, but everyone else seemed oblivious to the tension that had settled over the car. Her heart raced as she fought the urge to ask Minho if he noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The train screeched to a halt, throwing them both forward in their seats. Nayeon gasped, her heart racing even faster. "What's going on?" she asked, her voice trembling. Minho looked around, confusion written all over his face. "I don't know," he said, his voice shaking.

"Rush hour's always like this," a man sitting nearby offered in halting English. He was Japanese, Nayeon could tell by his features. "Just ignore them. They'll get us where we're going soon enough."

Nayeon nodded, trying to reassure herself. Minho glanced at her, then back at the man, before leaning back against the seat. The train jerked forward again, and the crowd began to disperse, moving to leave the car. Nayeon and Minho stood up, following the flow of bodies, and made their way to the exit. As they stepped onto the platform, she could feel the weight of the station pressing down on her. The air was thick with an almost palpable sense of foreboding.

"Are you sure you want to go to Costa Rica?" Minho asked her suddenly, concern etched into his features. "What if something happens to you while you're there? Your parents would never forgive me."

Nayeon was taken aback by his sudden change in tone. "What do you mean?" she asked, confusion clouding her thoughts. "Why would you say that?"

Minho hesitated, his gaze darting around the platform before meeting her eyes again. "I've been feeling... uneasy about it lately," he admitted. "I don't want anything to happen to you, Nayeon. You're too important to me."

Nayeon bit her lip, struggling to understand why Minho was acting so strangely. She'd never considered not going to Costa Rica. It was her dream, her passion. She wanted to study and learn from the best teachers in the world. "But Minho, I've always wanted to go there. It's my chance to really pursue what I love. Don't you want me to be happy?"

Minho looked away, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed. "Of course I do, Nayeon. It's just... I don't want to lose you. I can't imagine my life without you." He reached out and took her hand in his, his grip tightening.

"Like the grilled squid we had last night, our lives have been intertwined since the beginning, Nayeon," Minho said, his voice tinged with sadness. "And just like how the squid loses its identity when it's grilled, I feel like I'm losing a part of myself if you leave."

Nayeon bit her lip, feeling the weight of Minho's words press down on her. "But Minho, I need to go. It's my chance to become the dancer I've always wanted to be. You know that."

He looked into her eyes, his expression pained. "I know, Nayeon. I just... I can't help feeling like I'm losing you. Like the squid that gets grilled and loses its identity. It's selfish of me, I know. But I can't help it."

Nayeon studied Minho's face, her heart aching for him. She knew how much he loved her, how much he supported her dreams. But she also knew that she couldn't abandon her own aspirations for his sake. "I'll be careful, Minho," she said softly. "I promise to come back to you. And I'll always be your Nayeon, no matter where I-" and then the twelfth hour of the day struck, and the ground beneath her shifted, the world tilting on its axis.

Nayeon felt her heart skip a beat as she registered the sound of Minho's voice. The world around her seemed to slow down, as if time itself was conspiring to grant her a moment of clarity. She looked into Minho's eyes, and in that brief instant, she knew. She was pregnant. Not just pregnant, but nine months pregnant, ready to give birth. The weight of the knowledge pressed down on her, heavy and inescapable.

"Nayeon!? Nayeon!? Are you alright!?" Minho's panicked voice cut through the air as he rushed to her side. The world around them seemed to fade into the background, the only thing that mattered was the woman before him. She was pale, clutching her stomach, her eyes wide with shock and fear. He reached out, his hands trembling as he gently touched her cheek. "Nayeon, what's wrong?"

Nayeon's breath came out in ragged gasps as the pain coursed through her, a white-hot fire licking at her insides. Minho's face, mere inches from hers, was a mask of fear and confusion. She tried to speak, to tell him what was happening, but all that came out was a keening wail. The world around them seemed to fade into the background, the only thing that mattered was the overwhelming need to push, to expel this alien presence that had taken up residence within her.

Other women on the train began swarming around Nayeon and Minho, offering their help, but Nayeon barely registered their presence. All she could focus on was the pain, the burning sensation in her lower back, the tightening of her abdomen. Minho held her close, his face etched with worry as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear. The train lurched forward, picking up speed as it raced towards the next station. Time seemed to stand still as Nayeon fought against the overwhelming urge to push, to give in to the primal instincts that were taking over her body.

Some of the women on the train had already given birth, and they began to offer Nayeon their words of wisdom, their own personal stories of survival. They told her to focus on her breathing, to find a rhythm that would help her push through the pain. As the train sped towards the hospital, Nayeon's water broke, sending a gush of warm fluid down her legs. Minho looked on, terrified and helpless, as his love fought for their child's life.

The pain intensified with each passing moment, and Nayeon felt as if her body was being torn apart. She knew that she had to push, that she had to give birth to their child, no matter what the cost. The women on the train coached her, their voices a soothing balm against the fire raging inside her. They helped her shift into positions that would make it easier to deliver her baby, their hands gentle but firm as they guided her through the ordeal.

Minho was by her side the entire time, his eyes never leaving her face. He wiped the sweat from her brow, kissed her forehead, and whispered words of love and encouragement in her ear. She could feel his heart racing against her own, their bodies moving in sync as they fought against the relentless waves of pain.

The pain seemed to reach a crescendo, and with a primal scream, Nayeon pushed with all her might. The train lurched forward, the motion forcing her body into an even deeper contraction. Minho held her close, his arms trembling from the effort, his own breath coming in ragged gasps. She felt a burning sensation between her legs, and with one final push, their child slid free from her body.

"It’s a boy!" one of the women on the train exclaimed, holding the newborn up for Nayeon to see. Minho's face broke into a relieved smile as he gazed down at their child, tears streaming down his cheeks. The boy let out a weak wail, his tiny fists clenched as if already fighting for his place in the world. Nayeon reached out, her fingers trembling as she touched her son's soft, downy hair.

The women on the train continued to buzz around them, offering congratulations and advice. They wrapped the baby in a blanket they had brought along and helped Nayeon into a more comfortable position. Minho, meanwhile, was still holding her close, his arms trembling with relief and exhaustion. He leaned in to kiss her forehead, his lips trembling as he whispered, "You did it. You're a hero."

Nayeon looked down at her son, tears streaming down her face. She couldn't believe it: they had made it. They were both alive. She remembered the fear, the pain, the desperation of those past few hours, and it all seemed like a nightmare now. Minho held her close, his heart still racing from the ordeal, his face etched with a mixture of relief and disbelief.

She gazed up at Minho, her eyes filled with wonder and love. He looked back at her, his own eyes shining with tears of joy and relief. They held each other's gaze for what felt like an eternity, their hearts still racing from the ordeal, their bodies exhausted but alive. Around them, the women on the train continued to coo over the newborn, marveling at his resilience and their own shared triumph.

Nayeon cradled her newborn son in her arms, her heart swelling with love and pride. Minho sat beside her, his eyes never leaving their child as he ran a trembling hand through his sweat-dampened hair. The women on the train continued to coo over the baby, offering words of wisdom and advice, their presence a comforting reminder that they were not alone in this journey.

Her heart swelled with love as she gently tickled the edges of her son's soft, round belly (where the portal is) with her fingertips. The tiny muscles beneath her fingertips fluttered, and he let out a gurgled laugh that made her heart melt.

Nayeon smiled down at him, "Someone's a little ticklish, isn't he?" She continued to gently tickle her son's belly, watching as his tiny hands fluttered and his little legs kicked in response. The laugh that erupted from him was infectious, filling the cramped train compartment with a joyous sound that made even the weariest of eyes sparkle.

Minho couldn't help but chuckle as well, his gaze drifting down to the newborn's face. "You really are something else, aren't you?" he murmured, brushing a lock of hair away from the baby's forehead. "You've already got your mother wrapped around your finger."

Nayeon smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. "Well, I'd be foolish not to," she said, continuing to tickle her son's belly. "He's just so cute, isn't he?"

Around them, the women on the train nodded in agreement, their faces softening as they watched the baby laugh in response to his mother's tickles. The sound of laughter filled the cramped compartment, replacing the tension and fear that had been so thick only hours ago. Minho leaned in, unable to resist joining in the gentle teasing as he gently tickled the baby's belly as well. "Oh, are we ticklish now?" he asked with a grin.

The baby's laughter grew louder, his tiny body squirming and kicking as he seemed to enjoy the attention. Nayeon looked up at Minho, her cheeks flushed with warmth. "You're really good at that," she said, still stroking her son's back. "I think he likes you."

That night, Nayeon's family was already gawking over the baby as soon as they reached their village. The news of his birth and the miracle that had saved them had spread like wildfire throughout the small community. Everyone was in awe of the newborn's resilience and the strength of the bond between Nayeon and Minho. The women oohed and aahed over the baby, cooing words of encouragement and offering their advice on how to raise him. The men, too, were taken aback by the story, exchanging looks of disbelief and admiration as they shared whispers about the incredible events that had transpired.

Her mother, Suk-Ja, took the baby from Nayeon's arms, gently cradling him in her own. She was proudly showing him off to everyone, telling them how strong he was, how he had survived against all odds. Nayeon smiled at her mother's doting, feeling a newfound appreciation for the woman who had raised her. She glanced over at Minho, who was talking with his father and brothers, their voices low and serious as they discussed the events of the past few days.

"You know," Suk-Ja said, rocking the baby gently in her arms, "you two have been through so much together. It's a true testament to the bond between husband and wife." Nayeon looked down at the ground, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. She couldn't deny the closeness she felt with Minho now, after everything they'd been through.

Suddenly, one of Nayeon’s siblings, U-jin, who had been standing nearby, let out a gasp. "Eomma, somebody's at the door!" He sprinted toward the entrance of the house, leaving the group of women momentarily confused. "Who could it be?" Suk-Ja asked, her eyes wide with curiosity. "It's so late..."

As U-jin returned, leading an unfamiliar man into the main room, the group fell silent. The man was tall and lanky, his hair a mess of gray and black, and his clothes were eloquent in their disarray. He stumbled slightly as he walked, as if he had traveled far and fast. His eyes were fixed on Nayeon, and there was an unmistakable look of relief and determination in them. "Reginald," he gasped, "it's been too long."

Reginald  said something in English that the family didn’t understand. He touches the baby on his forehead and chest, muttering words under his breath. Realizing the family doesn’t understand him, he switches from English to Korean. "How much do you want for him? I'll give you whatever you want." His eyes dart around the room, as if he's trying to gauge the value of the child.

Hearing this asshole wanting to buy her grandchild, Suk-Ja's blood boiled. She snatched a nearby knife from the counter and pointed it at Reginald's chest. "Stay back," she warned, her voice trembling with rage. "You lay one finger on my grandson, I slice you into pieces." Her eyes darted between Reginald and the baby, her grip on the knife unyielding.

The other family members gasped, their eyes wide with shock and admiration as they watched the scene unfold. Reginald's expression changed from one of desperation to one of awe, his gaze fixed on Suk-Ja. Her knife, held steady and sure, was not a threat to him now; it was a symbol of strength, resilience, and unwavering love.

"You're right," he murmured, his voice barely audible above the pounding of their hearts. "He deserves nothing but the best. I'm not here to take him away from you. I just want to make sure he's given every opportunity in life." His eyes found Nayeon's, and for a moment, they held each other's gaze. There was an understanding there, a shared connection that transcended their differences.

"I can give him a home," Reginald continued, "a good education, the best doctors in the world. I can give him a life of comfort and adventure. I know that money can't buy everything, but I promise you, I will love him with all that I am." He paused, taking a deep breath, before adding, "He'll have five siblings (or a brother in another life) who will adore him, and who will grow up together, learning from each other, sharing their joys and sorrows. He'll have the chance to travel the world, to see the beauty that this life has to offer, and to experience things that most people only dream of."

Suk-Ja listened intently, her grip on the knife loosening slightly. She glanced at Nayeon, who seemed to be lost in thought. The grandmother could see the conflicting emotions playing across her daughter's face: the love she felt for her child, the desire to give him a better life, and the fear of losing him.

Until a small dextrous tentacle shot out from the baby's fleshy belly, wrapping around Suk-Ja's finger. The old woman let out a gasp of surprise, but her grip on the knife didn't waver. The tentacle was cold and slimy, and it squeezed gently around her finger, as if seeking comfort or reassurance.

"I didn’t know I was pregnant when I ate that grilled squid!" Nayeon cried, her voice cracking with emotion. "I swear I'd never do anything to hurt him. I just wanted a better life for us, that's all!"

"And you can, Nayeon," Reginald said gently, taking a step forward. "You can give him all of those things. You can give him a life full of love, adventure, and opportunity. But not by yourself. Not if you have to choose between him and your dreams." He placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice firm but reassuring.

Suk-Ja watched the interaction between the two young people, her heart torn in two. She knew that Nayeon was right; their family was poor, and they would never be able to give their child the life that Reginald could. But the thought of losing her grandson, of never seeing his face again, was unbearable.

"But Nayeon, I must warn you," Reginald said, his voice lowering to a graveled whisper. "If you were to attempt to contact the child, to try and find him... You will pay the ultimate penalty. There will be no forgiveness. You must understand that."

Nayeon's eyes widened with fear, her breath hitching in her throat. She looked up at the man, searching his face for any hint of deceit. But all she saw was genuine concern and care. She knew he was telling her the truth.

Suk-Ja watched the exchange between them, her heart heavy with the weight of their decision. She could see the conflict playing out on her daughter's face: the love she felt for her child, the desire to protect him, and the fear of losing him.

"I understand," Nayeon finally whispered, her voice barely audible over the gentle lapping of the waves. "I won't try to find him. I promise." Her eyes filled with tears as she looked at her child once more. "But please, let me keep this," she begged, reaching out to touch the slimy tentacle that had wrapped around her grandmother's finger. "Just let me have this one small piece of him."

Suk-Ja felt her own tears welling up in response. She knew how much it would mean to Nayeon to have something of her grandson. But she also knew the risks. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to be strong for her daughter. "Very well," she said, reluctantly. "You may keep it."

Nayeon let out a shaky breath, her shoulders slumping in relief. With trembling hands, she reached out and carefully detached the tentacle from her son's flesh. As she held it close, the slimy appendage twitched softly, as if it were alive. Nayeon's child cried as the tentacle was severed from his body, and the sound pierced her heart like a dagger. She bit her lip, fighting back tears as she pressed the tentacle to her chest.

"He'll be fine," Reginald assured her, his voice gentle. "He'll grow up strong and healthy. He'll have all the love and opportunity in the world. You'll see."

(If he lives past 17 you’ll be very lucky to see him again.)

Nayeon and Minho watched as the distance between them and their son grew larger with each passing moment. She clutched the tentacle tightly, feeling as though it were the last thread connecting her to her child. The boat carrying them away disappeared around a bend in the river, leaving only the sound of the waves and the cries of sea birds.

[nynnph0]

Hey, I feel really bad because I haven't been posting to this blog at all, as of late. So for compensation, here's a little snippet of a FontRyan fic I've been working on for the past month.

Words: 891

Characters: Andrew Ryan, Frank Fontaine, Diane McClintock(mentioned)

Andrew Ryan, the man who built an entire city beneath the depths of the Atlantic sea out of pettiness, was in a similar foul mood right now. Diane McClintock, his fiancée had called him, demanding.. or more like begging him to give her a single ounce of attention. It had been months since they went on a date. It had been weeks since he had come home to their shared suite on time, instead of working late. It had been days since he said an 'I love you' to her, and she was becoming desperate again. Desperate for his love.

Much to her dismay, he was not in the mood to deal with this, with her. Work has been stressful. Complaints he had to file were piling up. Reports he had to look through and examine were being handed to him a lot more recently, and he was in a more agitated mood because of it. Though, it wasn't like he was ever in the right mood to deal with her plaints and demands for affection, unless they were in public. Then again, in those times, both of them knew not to bicker in the eyes of the people to maintain their reputations.

Lost in his aggravated thoughts against his once beloved blonde, he was silent, both in movements and in speech. It was eerie. Threatening even. A small, quiet man in a big, quiet room. The only thing that pulled him out of his increasingly troubling thoughts, which only existed to rile him up, was a quick glance at the landline mounted to the thick walls of his office.

With a sigh, he got up from his chair, and walked slowly towards the phone. Knees cracked with every step he took due to sitting for so long. Once at the device, he stood there, contemplating if he truly wanted to call a man to save him from his metaphorical cage of anger. After a few, he was realizing thinking so hard on such a small thing like this was idiotic. He decided to shut his mind up and go for it. He picked up the phone and held it to his ear. His other hand worked at dialing the number to the person he wanted to see.

The phone rang, continuously. That same '*ring, ring.. ring, ring..*' echoed throughout his office, and in his brain. Different scenarios played of what was to come when he started to call the man. Then, suddenly, a familiar voice spoke up.

"What'cha want? Make it quick." A man said with a heavy Bronx accent, laced with irritation of his own.

Ryan knew that the man didn't know he was on the other end of the line, so he let this act of disrespect slide. At least for now. „Frank. Can I stop by your office? I need a break.” The Belarusian said in a firm, gruff tone. His Russian accent, that he had a distain for, slipped into his words. He was too tired and upset to mask it.

Fontaine was almost surprised to hear from Andrew Ryan. They haven't met up in private in a month and a half. Sure, they've seen one another out on the streets, or shops, but all they did was exchange glares. They had an image to uphold now. If the public knew what happened behind closed doors, especially considering it was the mid-50s, they would be outraged. Protests would be everywhere in Rapture.

"Oh, it's ya'. My apologies. Well, good news for ya'! I'm off the clock. I'm at home now." The New Yorker said in a cheerful manner, after apologizing for his rudeness. A genuine smile was plastered on his slightly fatty face, as he was happy at his rival and secret lover was coming over to his suite. "Can I ask what's the occasion?"

„Diane called.. complaining about me 'neglecting' her. On top of that, maintaining this city has become more of a burden than a joyous act. Papers are piling up, and they won't stop. I just- ..I need to get away.” Ryan admitted, being slightly embarrassed at opening up. His voice showed it too, becoming more of a whisper now.

Fontaine thought for a moment, trying to figure out something that's both fair to Ryan, and McClintock. "Nights still young, yeah? How 'bout ya' come ta' my suite for a few, cook ya' a meal, and then ya' go back to ya' gal? I'm not gonna steal ya' away from her. She deserves ya' too." He said hesitantly, not knowing if the older man would get mad at this or not.

Ryan, did in fact, get a bit more upset at this, thinking Fontaine wasn't prioritizing his words. But thinking about it more, he realized he had a point. „Fine. That'll work. I'll be by soon.”

And with that, Fontaine smiled even wider, glad a dumb argument didn't come from that. "I'll be waitin', Andy~" was all he said before he placed the phone back on the receiver, and headed towards his kitchen to start the meal.

Ryan, on the other hand, sighed, putting his phone back also. He looked towards his desk, and quickly walked to it. He tidied the area up, before grabbing his suitcase and left his office. Darkness shrouded the room, as the tired, Belarusian-Turkish man locked the door.

[jiminsass-istant]

Bye bye old BTS

This video aged so badly, ngl..

Bighit and Hybe totally went the American popstar way in 2023 for 1 member. Good that they finally cracked into the US music industry bubble. Hope it helps the group as a whole with their 2025 comeback.

(For context, the above Boracity video explains how bts has been always snubbed due to their lack of US label push, lack of radio support, lack of playlist, spotify support, minimum remixes, fewer album versions, chart rule changes etc)

The problem is - they decided as a company (and with scooter) that the only way they can make it into the US gp, was to debut a soloist, with all english tracks (because there's no way US would accept more than 1 soloist from the same korean group singing korean songs).

One thing they got right was that the US GP would not embrace a whole Asian pop group. And releasing english songs is not something BTS would keep doing either, because they clearly have different individual ambitions. When it comes to pop, it's always the solo/ individualist culture in the US. It is much easier to sell one personality than sell 7 different ones to the GP. (the General Public, not army, not people who really get INTO bts and get obsessed).

So, I totally understand why they went for mainstream US popstar way for 1 member only and also because it aligned with his own personal ambitions.

But of course they made a couple of big mistakes-

1) Underestimating the popularity and OG fan power that can give chart ranks and achievements even to non-US promoted members and their music. (BTS have done it before with a korean song and jimin did it again).

2) While they paid attention to heavy promo, charts and playlisting for Golden, they failed to create a connection with the music- which seems highly non-personal and lacking in depth and has a non-interesting concept. The promo did do the work of making jk a common name, showcasing his talents and introducing him to the industry. But for a lasting impact, they have to create better stories with the music. Idc, army are acting too defensive when people are disappointed that he didn't write his songs. It's okay to not write, but the very least singers can do is connect to song meanings and relate to personal experiences during the promos. But thanks to idol culture, jk has never been able to talk about his dating experiences. Even in the interviews, it would have been nice to see him talk about how he related to the lyrics, what the concept was etc etc.

SILVER LINING:

The constant mention of 'ARMY' by JK in all of his US promo stuff. I do see Hybe's bigger plans here. JK is a medium to bring in new fans for BTS's comeback. When they look up JK's past content, they can't do it without learning about BTS. And it doesn't matter if you are a JK solo fan, you will still be called ARMY (BTS fandom). Hybe will still call you army, even if you are just waiting for more Jungkook music and Jungkook shows. But guess what, the next time these new fans get to see Jungkook will be at a BTS CONCERT. Not a Jungkook concert.

More thoughts..

JK concert will come immediately after though. Why do you think they increased the no. of tracks in Golden when the original plan was to release a mini album? It's to collect more songs for his name. A few more releases and he'll be ready to have his own concert.

Okay final thoughts-

Hybe is going the right way from a business perspective. But they have mismanaged a lot of things. Underestimated the power of individual members and fumbled their priorities. BTS are not underdogs anymore. They are big, and whether you like it or not, Hybe is going to move like a big corporation now, revenue being top priority, not artists. If they don't strike a balance between keeping OG OT7 fans happy, the significance of ARMY will be lost. Unless...they want that to happen and do not care about the fandom that moves on its own now.

And before you camp in my asks or comments, saying the same things about sabotage, company fraud etc, I am aware of it all. Please do share your opinions that can add to this discussion.

[notbooper]

Hehe here's some ramblings ab my weird Groundhog Day Price au thing :) this is kinda me laying out a timeline of everything and whatever else comes to mind

Heads up: I don't think I'll ever turn this into one long cohesive fic, it'll probably just be little ficlets and then long ramble-y bits like this

Read my first post regarding this au or else you'll be lost bc I explain a lot of things from my intro that I don't exactly plan to put into in depth writing.

Intro

Cw: I love Price so much so I put him through hell <3, temporary character death, depictioms of death n violence and bodily harm, non canon timeline bc oops and fuck canon (just a bit), this is not written like a fic like the first part, so it's just me rambling, also formatting is terrible ik I'm so sorry I just needed to get this out of my system, Ghoap content

Not edited bc lazy

So uh timeline is funky bc I forgor ab canon and consistency and also despite the fact I've played both 2019 and mw2 multiple times I'm still dumb. N e way:

I assume that the boys aren't familiar with each other at the beginning of mw2 but price knows all of them bc he hand picked them. I assume that they haven't worked w each other b4 those events but we're throwing that out the window here bc I forgot :)

So they had one very brief mission together before the events of mw2, the one described in my little intro blurb, nothing too serious or long, not enough time for team bonding, simply something I made up for expository ab the whole Groundhog Day thing.

Also ok explaining background Ghoap w my fucky timeline bc I totally forgor I wrote some implied Ghoap:

I dug my own grave by saying I wanted to set my blurb b4 mw2 and make that mission quick and they don't even get any time to like bond properly, but we can make this work ok? Ok. I don’t see Ghost as a self sacrificing person despite the fact that he's military and it kinda comes w the job and his status as definitely dead and shit and just his kinda general disposition. I can see it if he's v close w someone but otherwise it usually isn't "practical" bc of how useful he knows he is. In this scenario though ima say that Ghost had been heavily injured in the heli wreck and knew that he wasn’t gonna get too far. Once the heli crashed, he had been the closest to Gaz and had tried to pull him out, for the sole purpose of during the time before he could tell how fond Prive was of him, and because Ghost cares deeply for Price he made an effort to rescue Gaz, that doesn't work obviously and he ends up terribly injured. Later on, once they start taking heavy fire and closer to his death Ghost realizes that he's not going to make it too far and decides that when there needs to be a sacrifice, bc he knows there will, he'll go down.

Cut to Ghost sees that Soap's ab to get fucked up and takes the shot 4 him. Soap's reaction, unlike Ghost's reasoning, is based in vague Ghoap. Soap comes to the conclusion, b4 they even get out of the heli, that the Lieutenant does not like him. Fine, he's clashed w/ COs b4, nothing new. He was hoping that since they were gonna be on this same tiny team that maybe the could be friendly but he supposed not. So imagine his shock when the man who seemed to despise him sacrifices himself for Soap. He's touched, truly, especially bc that Soap will never know that Ghost's real reasoning. That Soap believes in that moment that maybe that Ghost didn't hate him and maybe kinda really liked him but didn't show it. He beliebes that if THE Ghost sacraficed himself for Soap, that he must feel that Soap was a valuable member of the team, maybe moreso than him. That Soap is also in the middle of watching his entire team get wiped out and realizing that it's now him and Price against what feels like an entire army so his extreme emotional reaction to Ghost's death is also in part from that.

There, intro Ghoap explained :)

Explanation of how this Groundhog Day shit works btw:

The first time it happens is in my little intro blurb thing. Price will go through an event where any one or more of the 141 dies, and then he will be sort of sent back in time to varying amounts of time before the events happen so that he can prevent their deaths. Price can't control it obviously. How Price discerns that these aren't weird premonitions and actually events that he lived through is that he always gets sent back with some scars from whatever shit show happened. Like for example in my blurb he would come back with his palms all scarred up from the broken glass he grabbed from the window soap got tackled out of at the end. It's a weird mechanic ik but shhhhh it's for angst purposes. It's there as a sort of reminder for Price for all the times he's "failed" his boys bc I FUCKING LOVE ANGST n e way,

Then the events of mw2 happen ofc. There are different points throughout in which I will kill the boys so here's that death list:

Gaz- something to do with the helicopter bit, obviously, like he gets no breaks, idc if you get tired of how many heli deaths I give this man, I like it. I think everyone gets one death during mw2 events

Side note: one thing I feel like I'm having a hard time balancing is making this compelling by "killing" off the boys and traumatizing Price, and also not making the boys look more incompetent if that makes sense? Like I had three deaths drafted up for Gaz but felt it was too much?

Kate: 110% dies at one point during the whole hostage thing. Gives an extra oof to John's whole apology bit to her afterwards (ome of my fav interactions in the game tbh)

Ghost: this fucker is proving the hardest to brainstorm for tbh. Like if anyone, for any of these parts at all, wants to put in any ideas feel free to, but I just feel like the others have NDEs that I can use as deaths, but honestly I feel like Ghost is I don't want to say better than the others but there's not really a point in mw2 in which I feel like I could take inspo for a death? So ig tldr: TBD but maybe none at all and when the timeline expands to after current canon I give him smtg big to give my boy some attention?

Soap: alone, obviously. This one is more complex then the others. They're all gonna be situations in which John can do something, whether directly or indirectly to change the outcome. I think for alone John cycles through that loop for a bit, not being able to make contact with anyone in Las almas and he gets lucky that after a few cycles we get canon alone events. This will def be it's own little chapter fic drabble thing bc I have so much to say ab this and how it affects Price

Bonus soap thought: I also wanted to do Graves tank fight purely bc that's the part I had the most trouble with in my first playthrough of the game. I had to repeat that section an ungodly amt of time and shaped me into the avid Graves hater I am today. I'm digressing but n e way I decided against the tank bit bc alone was just so much more yummier in my head.

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N e way that's my sort of ramblings for now, small bits and pieces will be on the way, probably