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voraciousvore · 4 months ago

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Giganterra (Chapter 57)

Prologue/TOC | Previous (56) | Next (58)

Content Warning: Vore mentions, vulgar language

Word Count: 2.1k

------ Chapter 57: You're Mine Now ------

“Thank you for everything, Tanya. You’re so wonderful.”

Tanya blushed. “You’re too kind, Ronny.”

“I really mean it. I sincerely believe that you’ve made me a better man.”

“You give me too much credit,” Tanya laughed. “Although I will concede, you’ve made a lot of progress since I first met you. You’re not a big whiny crybaby anymore!”

“Hey!” Ronny protested, but the glimmer of fondness in his dark eyes set Tanya at ease. He smirked as he slicked back his black hair. “Well, you’re not entirely wrong.”

Tanya wasn’t afraid of Ronny anymore. Despite his many flaws, he’d proven himself to be trustworthy. He’d kept his promise not to eat her under any circumstances, and he listened to her when she voiced her concerns. She could tell he was making a genuine effort to purge the worst habits instilled in him by his authoritarian father. The last thing he wanted was to become a clone of the man he despised.

Ronny grew serious when he focused on his reflection in the mirror, as he buttoned up the collar of his fencing outfit. He had daunting expectations to live up to, but not the ones imposed by King Richard. Tanya, sitting on the surface of his dresser, looked up at his towering figure curiously.

“I regret that we had to meet under these circumstances. I hope that when I someday become king, I can make things right for you and the other humans. You’ll help me, right? Having a human ally for proper diplomacy with Minimaterra would make a world of difference, when the day comes.”

“Of course,” Tanya agreed. Ronny gently scooped her up off the desk into his palm and gave her a small kiss on top of her head. His heart warmed with tenderness.

“I’ll be back after my fencing lesson,” he assured her, lowering her down into her home. As much as he would prefer to keep her close, he didn’t want her getting hurt during his physical skirmishes. He closed the roof, grabbed his mask and sword, and walked out. He met Joey outside in the courtyard and started his lesson. He was relieved to find that the squire appeared to be back to normal, and the tension between them had dissolved.

The lesson was uneventful. As Ronny turned to leave, though, Joey piped up, “Wait, Your Highness!”

Ronny turned around. “Hm?”

Joey faltered slightly but didn’t back down. “If I may be so bold as to request an indulgence from you…”

“Proceed.”

Joey gulped. “Um… do you… remember that one human with the long black hair? The one that was in your lemonade that one time?” He lowered his head at the unpleasant memory.

Ronny cocked a brow. “What about her?”

“Can you… do you think I… could... um… see her again?” the squire requested, fiddling with his hands nervously. “I mean, if you ordered a specific human from the kitchen, that would be normal, right?”

Ronny stared at the bashful squire thoughtfully. “I suppose… hmm…” He turned on his heel, examining the courtyard. He inhaled deeply and bellowed, “I REQUIRE A SERVANT!”

As if by magic, two men materialized by his side within seconds. “Bring me a sandwich!” the prince demanded. “Garnished with a specific human. The one with the long black hair. Erm… please.” Joey raised his brows, surprised. He’d never once heard a royal say “please” before.

The prince and the squire strolled through the garden and sat down on an elegant bench near the flowerbeds. One of the servants from earlier returned, carrying a platter with not only a sandwich but a few drinks and snacks. Chester proved the food was safe before Ronny shooed him and the other servant away, so that he was alone with Joey. A furious lump wriggled inside the sandwich.

Ronny flicked off the top layer of bread and dug under the lettuce and tomato to extract the squirming human within. Eren was wrapped tightly in a slice of ham, cursing up a storm. Ronny, with a smirk, gripped the thin edge of the deli meat with his teeth and unrolled it. As soon as her arms were freed, Eren punched his digits angrily.

“Relax, pipsqueak. I didn’t bring you out here to eat you,” Ronny claimed as he munched on the ham. She glared at him, unconvinced. “Actually, this guy wanted to see you.” He plopped her into Joey’s waiting hands.

She spun around, not knowing whose hands she was in. “Joey!” Visible relief showed on her face.

“Eren!” Joey exclaimed. “I worried about you, after… well, you know. I’m glad to see you’re unharmed.” He didn’t want to mention the weapon he gave her in front of Ronny. The joy he experienced, holding her delicate figure in his palm, was better than he imagined.

“That’s sweet of you,” Eren replied, patting his finger. A mischievous grin spread across her face. “I succeeded, you know.”

Joey blinked. “What?”

“I slayed a giant! One of the asshole chefs who tormented me, no less!” She pumped her fist in the air triumphantly.

“No way! Wow…” Joey said, gaping with shock. He wasn’t sure whether to share in her victory or be horrified that she murdered somebody. Although, she was certainly justified considering her position. He was thoroughly impressed by her epic feat.

She looked back at Ronny. She felt bold and untouchable under Joey’s protection, and she couldn’t resist taking a jab at the giant prince. “I was going to kill you instead!” she proclaimed, pointing her finger. Joey gasped at her audacity. “But you got sick that day. Plus, Chester knew, since he smelled the iron of my weapon. He would’ve stopped me.”

“Wait, what?” Ronny uttered, turning a shade lighter. “You’re kidding…”

“Nope,” Eren confirmed smugly, crossing her arms.

Ronny sighed. He was reminded of his precious Tanya as he gazed down at the tiny woman. “I should apologize, Eren. For taunting you and mistreating you. And… eating you. I regret the things I’ve done in the past. I’m trying to do better and make amends, I really am. I’m sorry.”

Joey and Eren gawked at Ronny with amazement. An apology from the haughty prince was unheard of. “Huh?”

Ronny frowned. “What, nobody even noticed? I’m trying here!” He huffed. “I haven’t eaten any humans in weeks either! That’s not an easy thing to do when I’ve been raised on human meat for literally decades! It’s not so simple to just disregard those cravings! But I’m doing it, in disobedience to my father no less! He hasn’t noticed that I slip the humans into my sleeve or hide them on my plate with the scraps. Not yet, at least.” He bit his lip. He hoped that day would never come.

“Hmph.” Eren crossed her arms, skeptical. Lately, Bucky had taken every opportunity to serve Eren to the king, the most vicious of predators, due to his vendetta against her from killing Gore. Thus, she hadn’t interacted much with Ronny.

“I’m serious!” the prince argued. He recognized the absurdity of debating with a human that his past self would’ve popped in his mouth without a second thought, but now he felt a compulsion to justify himself. “When I become king, I’m going to work to make things right. I’ll release the humans and give them rights. And I’ll treat Minimaterra like an allied kingdom, rather than a conquered territory.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Eren commented, although she was heartened to hear the crown prince project a hopeful future. “Besides, that’s a long ways away. How long will it take for the current king to croak anyways?”

Ronny grimaced. “I’m sure he’ll live a long, prosperous life,” he groaned.

Eren grinned roguishly. “Let me at him. Give me the chance, and I’ll kill him!”

“Eren!” Joey gasped. Without a second thought, he clutched her protectively to his body, fearful that she would be harmed for her seditious statement. Eren was startled to suddenly find herself enveloped in warmth, pressed to the soft folds of Joey’s clothing and cupped in his curled hand. In defiance of her pride, she blushed hard.

Ronny felt an uneasiness tug at his bowels. He couldn’t deny that the forbidden thought, unspoken and unacknowledged, had crossed his mind before. However, he wasn’t able to bring himself to seriously consider such treachery. His mind instinctively recoiled from it, a reaction not unlike placing his hand on a hot stove and flinching back from the burn. He feared his father and what he was capable of. The king would find out and erase him from existence, just as he had done with Alessandro.

Even if he did contemplate assassinating King Richard, the task seemed impossible. Ajax guarded him physically at all times, and Chester checked everything he ingested. Even if Ronny requested a private audience, his father was always on guard after the incident with Alessandro. He trusted nobody, not even his own children. His defenses were impenetrable, the weapons at his disposal formidable. He was a powerful and dangerous man.

“Joey! I can defend myself!” Eren argued, jamming her elbow into the boundless plushness of his torso.

“Sorry,” Joey said, his eyes darting back and forth from Ronny to Eren anxiously. “But you can’t say things like that! You’ll get yourself in trouble…”

“Trouble’s my middle name!” Eren retorted with a grin, playfully punching his thumb. Ronny smirked at her cheeky response. He had to admit they were cute together, Joey and Eren. He could plainly see a fondness was developing between them. He stayed quiet and allowed them to banter with each other. Joey loosened up as he noticed that Ronny didn’t take Eren’s aggression seriously.

While Ronny was out in the courtyard, Tanya waited inside her miniature home for him to come back. She was grateful for the amenities offered to her by the dollhouse, with furniture and rooms scaled to her size, but she preferred the freedom given to her by Ronny when he was present. Her heart fluttered when the door opened, but dropped like a stone into her stomach when she saw the giant entering the room wasn’t the prince. It was King Richard.

He had a crazed look in his pale eyes that roved over the room, until they landed on Tanya. A bolt shot through her. She cried out and stumbled back from the glass. The king stretched his mouth into a ghastly leer and prowled over. He opened the roof with deliberate slowness, draping his inky shadow over the helpless human.

“Well, what do we have here?” he purred. Tanya gulped, speechless with terror. The king’s massive face filled most of the ceiling space above her, but she could make out that his shirt collar was stained with blood. “How do you like it, being Ronny’s favored little pet? Hmmm?”

Tanya couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, could hardly even breathe. She felt like an ant under a magnifying glass with the hot sun glaring down in a focused ray. The king seemed to expect this, though, as those large, unsettling eyes of his drifted over her, violating her despite the lack of physical touch. She wanted to sink into the carpet and disappear, but she was stuck, completely exposed and powerless.

“You know, I usually prefer blondes… but you are quite beautiful, with your glossy locks and exotic skin. I bet you’d taste amazing too.” His tongue briefly darted out to slither over his thin lips. Tanya’s skin crawled as if she were covered in spiders. The king, unable to resist her charm, snaked his hand down towards her. Tanya yelped and shot back, but the enormous fingers effortlessly snagged her dress and lifted her high into the air.

“Somebody, help me! RONNY!” Tanya shrieked in desperation.

Hardon dangled her close to his enormous eyes, light blue like a frozen tundra, studying her with delight. “Forget Ronny. You’re mine now.” Tanya’s screams were muffled as the king fully encased her in his fist. She trembled helplessly within the dreadful prison of skin. The king’s thudding footsteps vibrated through her as he sauntered off with his new plaything, underscoring the enormity of his presence.

Her vitality drained away as immeasurable horror clamped down on her. She was in serious peril, and nobody would be able to save her from the clutches of the giant king. Not even Ronny.

Chapter 58

#btw it looks like this story is going to be 62 chapters + epilogue so we are going close to the end folks

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astra-ella · 10 months ago

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𝐙𝐎𝐄𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄 - 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

fandom: haikyuu ship: nishinoya yuu x oc/reader status: complete ao3 link

"I think you're really pretty. Will you go out with me?" That was the first thing he's ever said to her. And needless to say, Amari Chiyo was not impressed. So as promised, Nishinoya Yuu will get to know her better and confess again. And again. And again. And again. It'll take 6 years and 9 confessions, but he'll get there. Eventually.

⌦ content: fluff, light angst, love at first sight, friends to lover, slice of life, haikyuu manga spoilers

⌦ note: stay tuned, because there are two extra stories after this one. an epilogue and a side story!

story masterlist | previous chapter | a side story (coming soon)

The final confession was on the last day of school — under the cherry blossoms after their graduation ceremony.

Chiyo was on her way home, carrying both her school bag and black certificate tube when a soft breeze blew by. She stopped in her tracks, holding her hair back to prevent it from being whisked up alongside the rain of pink petals. Her gaze followed a few flew toward the sun.

The ceremony went by relatively quickly. They walked the stage, sang the school anthem, then the student council president gave a farewell speech as a representative of the graduating students.

When Chiyo went on stage to receive her diploma, she was surprised to see her father sitting at the back of the gym, amongst the sea of parents with the proudest grin she’s ever seen. He had taken the morning off to be present at this major milestone in his daughter’s life. But alas, money didn’t make itself and the Amari family still needed to eat. So after a few heartfelt words, taking a couple of photos and giving her the tightest hug humanly possible, Chiyo’s father was back in the car on his way to work.

Being a graduate meant she also had a half-day of school. So after seeing her father off, Chiyo spent some time with her friends and classmates. They took pictures with the teachers, signed each other’s yearbooks and spent their last hour or so reminiscing on the past three years they’d spent together. In which Chiyo spent most of her time wiping away her friends’ snot and tears with tissues.

Once the midday mark hit, her classmates said their final goodbyes. Everyone made promises that this wouldn’t be the last time they got together. She then went to go find Nishinoya, catching a glimpse of him and the other graduates in the volleyball gym, giving a few last words of encouragement and advice to their underclassman.

She hesitated at first, but in the end, decided to head home on her own. He was going to come over for dinner anyways and he deserved time to say a proper goodbye to the volleyball team he loved so much.

Chiyo squinted a little, holding a hand against her eyes to block out the glaring sunlight. She thought of her classmates and friends – people she’s grown accustomed to seeing every day. Soon, that routine will change and those people will melt into a distant memory. Maybe they’ll be dug up once or two per year to gather and reminisce over drinks and dinner. But otherwise, they will remain just that — a memory. A memory that’ll contribute to shaping who she’ll become in the future.

She then thought of Nishinoya. Unlike most of her classmates and friends, she’s known him for far longer. Sure, he will probably still drop by for dinner every now and then. But without the excuse of school and tutoring sessions, they probably wouldn’t be able to see each other as often as they used to. Someday, would Nishinoya become nothing but a distant memory as well?

A pain began to swell within her chest.

Chiyo took a deep breath. She was about to shake off those nagging thoughts and continue on her way when a familiar voice suddenly called out to her from behind.

“Hey!”

Chiyo spun around, to see Nishinoya sprinting towards her at full speed with his messenger bag and certificate tube. He stopped in front of her, hunching over with his hands on his knees.

“Yuu?” Her eyes were wide.

“You… You just ran off!” Nishinoya panted, wiping some sweat from his chin. “I thought we were going to your place.”

“For dinner, tonight.” Chiyo raised an eyebrow. “It’s only midday. You can go home, you know.”

“But there’s nothing to do at home,” Nishinoya pouted as he stood up straight, readjusting his messenger bag over his shoulder. “We also don’t have any food. Well, we don’t have any instant noodles but you get the point.”

“My house isn’t a restaurant, Yuu.”

“See, you always say that but you end up feeding me anyways,” Nishinoya grinned cheekily.

“Fine,” heaving a sigh, she turned on her heel and began to walk. “What do you want?”

“Yaki udon!” Nishinoya cheered, following after her with a fist pump.

“Alright, alright,” Chiyo chuckled at his enthusiasm. “Can you pick Hotaru and Kaito up from school then? I wanna clean the house before dinner.”

“Yeah, of course,” he nodded. “What are we having by the way?”

“Sushi. Dad said he’ll get some on the way home.”

“Oh, is Amari-san coming home early tonight?”

“Yeah,” a small smile grew on her face. “He was at the ceremony too.”

“Oh, I saw! He said hi to me as we were heading back to our classrooms,” he then stretched his arms upwards with a satisfied sigh. “Man, Eguchi-san’s speech was great.”

Chiyo's face fell.

“Especially that part about how life is like a song, except it’s all jumbled up. And graduating is getting the melody straight so we can spend the rest of our lives figuring out the lyrics. It’s such a great, erm…” He snapped his fingers. “What’s the word for that again?”

“Metaphor.”

“Yeah, that!” Nishinoya nodded. “Anyways, it was great! Super inspirational. But I guess that’s the student council prez for you.”

Chiyo’s eyes flickered to the ground. She stayed silent for a moment longer before finally asking, “So, what are your plans now?”

“I told you already, didn’t I?” Nishinoya raised an eyebrow. “I’m gonna keep working at gramps’ bike shop for a while to save up money.”

“I mean your travel plans, dummy.”

“Oh, that!” He laughed. “Right, I haven’t told you where I’ve decided yet. My first destination will be…” He rolled his tongue for a bit to imitate the sound of a drumroll. “... Peru!”

Chiyo dropped her school bag.

“South America?” She stopped and stared at him. “That’s… pretty far.”

“Well, I figured I might as well strike big on my first step, you know?” Nishinoya stopped a little ahead of her, glancing back with a huge grin. “Go big or go home!”

There was a brief pause.

“...Sounds exciting,” when Chiyo finally spoke, her voice was quiet yet honest. “It’s very… you.”

“Thanks!” Nishinoya then turned his attention toward the blue skies above and let out a deep sigh. “This is it then, huh? Like Eguchi-san said in her speech, it feels like the end of an era.”

Chiyo’s lips parted.

There it was again - that pain in her chest. That nagging fear that one day, Nishinoya would grow out of her reach, like the fleeting pink petals caught in a breeze. Her hands clammed up around the plastic certificate tube.

“I like you.”

The words came out before she even had the time to process them and Nishinoya’s eyes went wide.

“What?” His words were barely audible as he turned to face her fully.

“I said I like you.”

“Chiyo-”

“I know,” before he even had the chance to respond, Chiyo cut him off and covered her face. “I know this is selfish of me. And I know it’s unfair 'cause you’ve asked me out so, so many times but I just…” She could feel her nose sore. “I don’t know…. I just… I didn’t think I deserved all that time and energy you wasted on me all these years.”

“And I also knew you wanted to travel the world and that just… it just wasn’t in my plans for the future,” she crouched down, trying to hold back the tears that stung at the rim of her eyes. “I was supposed to stay in Japan for the rest of my life. Get into some big corporate company and slave away until I die. So we would’ve been long distance. Like super long distance… I just… I can’t handle that. But now things are different and I…” she choked. “I can’t imagine a future without you.”

The cherry blossoms rustled as Chiyo pressed the base of her palms into her eyes to stop the tears from leaking out.

“It’s okay if you don’t like anymore,” she whispered. “It’s okay if you’ve moved on. I just want you to stay in my life, even if it’s-”

But before she could finish that sentence, a pair of arms were thrown around her neck, toppling her over as she gasped in surprise. Chiyo tensed at first, only to relax when she realized what was happening.

“Yuu?”

“Say it again,” he murmured into the crook of her neck.

“Huh?”

“Say it again please.”

Chiyo blinked as a tear rolled down her cheek. Did he not hear her?

“I-It’s okay if you don’t like me anymore-”

“No, not that part,” Nishinoya shook his head, pulling back to stare her dead in the eye. “That part’s irrelevant. Never gonna happen. I mean how you feel about me. I wanna hear it again.”

A surge of heat rose to her face as Chiyo realized what he was implying. She dropped her head.

“I… like you,” after a moment of trying to calm her rampant emotions, she finally managed to squeeze those words out as she met his gaze once more.

“I like how outgoing you are…” She continued to speak as Nishinoya pressed his palms to her cheeks. “I like how kind and funny you are. I like how you can cheer anyone up, just by being yourself. I like how you always do your best to help other people. I like how you can always push forward with a smile,” her eyes crinkled. “I really really like you, Yuu-”

Through her rambling, she failed to notice Nishinoya slowly leaning in with every word. But once she finally did, his lips had already crashed against hers like a gentle wave. Chiyo’s eyes grew wide with surprise as warmth blossomed in her chest.

Nishinoya smelled faintly of sweat and oxidized metal. And combined with the smell of sulfur from his shampoo, it was almost dizzying. His lips were wet and a little stiff, but before Chiyo could fully process what was happening, she let her eyes fall shut and kissed him back.

After what felt like an eternity, Nishinoya slowly pulled away. “That’s good,” his voice was barely a whisper. “Cause I really really like you too.”

At his gentle words, Chiyo’s heart swelled. Her nose was all stuffed up and she could barely breathe, but this was the most exhilarated she’s felt for as long as she could remember. Her blue eyes started to water once more as she pursed her lips.

“Hey, hey,” Nishinoya’s face flooded with panic once he noticed the tears brimming the corner of Chiyo’s eyes. He jumped back, letting go of her and holding his hands in the air as if he’s done something wrong. “Oh god, I’m sorry. Please don’t cry. I don’t know what came over me, you just looked so cute so I wanted to kiss you and-”

“No, you idiot,” Chiyo laughed a little between hiccups, rubbing the moisture away with the sleeve of her uniform blazer. “These are happy tears.”

“Really?” Nishinoya blinked, relaxing a little once she nodded. “Alright. Cause I was gonna ask if I can kiss you again.”

Chiyo glanced at him. For a moment, her gaze wandered from left to right, as if she were afraid to be spotted by someone on this secluded street. But she then bit her bottom lip and turned to face him straight on. She rested a hand against his cheek and guided his lips towards hers for another kiss.

This time, it was soft and chaste. Perhaps Nishinoya had already gotten used to the sensation and adapted accordingly. There were no sparks flying or booming fireworks like in the movies or mangas, just a simple spring breeze that weaved through her hair. But to Chiyo, it was more than enough. It was simple, sweet and intimate.

It was all she could’ve asked for.

When they separated, Nishinoya leaned forward to rest his forehead against hers. And to her surprise, his cheeks were dusted a light pink like the cherry blossoms swaying overhead.

“So what’s the plan?” He placed his hands over hers on the concrete roads. “Did you wanna come with me?”

Chiyo nodded. “I’m thinking I wanna become a food journalist,” she said, studying the faint twinkle in his brown eyes. “I want to travel and write about all the different kinds of delicious food the world has to offer,” she paused for a bit. “Then someday, when I’m older, I want to settle down somewhere. Maybe in Japan, maybe somewhere far, far away.”

She hesitated a bit but Nishinoya squeezed her hand as if encouraging her to continue.

“And I wanna try maybe opening a… restaurant.”

Nishinoya’s entire face brightened.

“That sounds like a great plan,” his response was as swift and sincere as ever. “It’s very you.”

“Thanks,” Chiyo chuckled but her face quickly fell as a looming sense of anxiety took over. “Do you… think it’s possible?” She asked nervously and Nishinoya shrugged.

“Who knows,” he hummed, slowly standing up and dusting off the dirt and flower petals that stuck to his pants. After making sure they were clean, he then extended a hand down towards her with a smile that rivaled the shimmering sun.

“But we can find out. Together.”

Chiyo’s eyes widened.

Growing up, Amari Chiyo always thought she had to have the answers to everything. It was drilled into her head as a child and enforced upon her by herself as a teen. She was the eldest daughter. It was her responsibility to lead by example and live a well-planned and stable life.

But when Nishinoya walked into her life, it felt like a hurricane tearing through a perfectly organized stack of papers.

And for the first time, she began to look forward. She began to have hopes and dreams of a future. Not a future for others, nor to set an example, but a future for her and her only.

And while it was still scary to not live by a perfectly planned script. For the first time, she was okay with that.

Placing her hand in his, Chiyo smiled as he pulled her up to her feet.

“Yeah,” she grinned. “That sounds great!”

She was grateful to Nishinoya. For calling out to her after school, for helping her find Hotaru on that rainy afternoon, for getting to know her so wholly and sincerely, and for encouraging her to follow her own path.

She wondered how she could make him happy. Someone who was so aware, yet oblivious at the same time. Perhaps a simple hug and kiss would do, or perhaps she could try and gift him the mountains and oceans they would one day travel together.

“Come on,” still holding her hand, Nishinoya pointed in the direction of her house. “Let’s go home!”

But for now, she knew a large bowl of her homemade yaki udon would do just fine.

story masterlist | previous chapter | a side story (coming soon)

#haikyuu #haikyuu fanfiction #haikyuu imagine #hq #haikyuu x oc #nishinoya #nishinoya x oc #nishinoya yuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #nishinoya x reader #nishinoya x y/n #nishinoya x you #nishinoya yū #hq x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x y/n #hq x you

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satansapostle6 · 6 months ago

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Lovers and Liars | Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, both determined and resourceful from reputable houses, find themselves at odds in the name of love.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six: Pride And Ignorance

“I don’t get it. It’s not working!”

Draco scowled as he stood in front of the Vanishing Cabinet at Hogwarts. He and Lorelei had snuck into the Room of Requirement on the seventh floor first thing after dinner, hoping to begin mending the broken cabinet. But naturally, things did not initially go as the two had hoped. So far, they had already been working for at least several hours.

“Patience, darling,” Lorelei reminded him, “The repairs will take a while. Remember?”

“We don’t have ‘a while’,” Draco Malfoy spat as he tried to diagnose the problem.

“We have an entire school year. That should give us enough time to call it a night for now, don’t you think?” she attempted to reason with him.

Draco huffed dismissively. “I need to figure out which parts are defective.”

“Well, we’ve already found three,” Lorelei supplied patiently, “I think that puts us ahead of schedule, don’t you?”

She frowned as Draco refused to listen.

“No.”

“Draco,” Lorelei stopped him, turning him around.

He looked at her with genuine frustration in his eyes. She found that, if she hadn’t whipped him around where he stood, he wouldn’t have looked at her at all.

“We’ve been at this for hours. It’s late. We have school tomorrow; we’d best get some rest. We can come back here the minute classes are over; we still have plenty of time,” she said soothingly, his face in her hands. “Please. Let’s just go to bed.”

Lorelei kindly waited a while as her words began to sink in, and Draco’s expression finally softened.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” she assured him.

“I need this to work, Lorelei,” Draco looked at her with a scared, broken look in his eyes. “We need this to work.”

“I know,” she whispered, sympathetic as he dropped his head on her shoulder.

Lorelei frowned as she gently stroked his hair, allowing him a proper cry as he began to panic.

“If I can’t kill the old man, we’re done for,” he sobbed, “Don’t you understand? If I fail, our future, that we want, our family, is in jeopardy!”

“Nothing’s in jeopardy yet, my prince,” Lorelei Morrigan whispered faithfully. “So far, we’re doing great. You’re doing great. Soon enough, the Dark Lord will have faith in us, and we’ll be back in his good graces. Your father will come home, and everything will be just fine.”

“How can you be so sure?!” Draco asked as he stood up straight, unable to calm himself.

“Because, together, you and I can face anything,” she insisted. “We’ll destroy anything that stands in our way. With our two minds put together, nothing will stop us. You’re brilliant, Draco, and you know I am, too.”

He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to make of his current predicament.

“I can’t thank you enough,” he sniffled, a sense of bitterness in his tone. “Everyone else around me’s failed me… Except for you.”

“You know I want nothing more than for the two of us to succeed.”

“This is no way for us to live… I want to live in the universe where we have a proper life,” Draco mused, “We could have a proper wedding, and a proper family. You’d be my wife, and we’d have the Manor, and children. We’d have it all.”

“Yes. We will,” Lorelei promised him, taking his hands in hers. “In this universe.”

Draco looked at her with uncertainty, hardly able to imagine that his deepest desires could someday be realized. “You really think so?”

She nodded. “Yes, Draco. I do.”

“I love you,” he said finally, tears in his eyes. “More than anything.”

“I love you,” she sighed, holding him in her arms.

“I have to keep you and Mother safe… You’re all I have,” he sniffled, face hidden in the crook of her neck.

“You’re all I have too,” Lorelei said, thinking of her parents hiding away most likely on some other continent.

As Lorelei and Draco snuck out of the Room of Requirement, the door becoming a normal wall once again, they noticed too late that they weren’t alone in the hall. Waiting there right outside the door was Professor Snape. Draco’s jaw clenched the moment he saw their Head of House.

“Mr. Malfoy,” Snape said coolly, “Miss Morrigan. What are we up to this evening?”

“None of your business,” Draco said stiffly, straightening his jacket.

“I think it’s entirely my business, Draco.”

“I think you’re a trifling old codger who can’t mind his own business,” Draco retaliated impulsively.

Lorelei’s eyes widened as she tried her best to save him from himself. Unfortunately, that never seemed to work with Malfoy men.

“Draco!” she hissed, mortified. “I’m sorry, Professor, he’s in a bad mood!” she glared at her boyfriend.

Lorelei half expected Professor Snape to light the both of them on fire where they stood, but he seemed uncomfortably even-tempered instead. Lorelei watched as Snape slowly stepped forward, his large black cloak flowing beneath him almost like a Dementor. There was no discernible emotion on the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor’s face as he towered over Draco.

“Given your current circumstances, Malfoy, I will allow you one instance of insubordination. You’ve just used it up,” he warned, cold beady eyes fixated on Draco.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Draco maintained.

Lorelei turned to look at him in disbelief. “You’re not?” she said through gritted teeth.

“No,” Draco said coolly, not taking his eyes off of Snape. “And I have no idea what ‘circumstances’ you’re referring to.”

“Sure you don’t,” Severus Snape disregarded his lies, “Now, Mr. Malfoy… You and I both know that this year at Hogwarts, you’re in over your head as far as extracurriculars are concerned. But, if you allow me to, I might be able to help lighten the load, provided you pay me the respect that I deserve.”

Lorelei immediately understood what Snape was offering, fully aware that Draco was, in fact, in over his head, and needed all the help he could get. But unfortunately, Draco was the only one who seemed unaware of this.

“Professor, believe me when I say, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, and even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t want any help from the likes of you,” he insisted on angering the former Potions Master any way he could. “After all… who would want to be in cahoots with the Dark Lord’s double agent?” he challenged.

“As usual, Malfoy, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” Snape provided, “But because I seem to have to, I will prove to you once again that I am a friend to you, relatively speaking. I will not only allow you the kindness of ignoring every single one of your insolent attempts at being domineering, but I will also advise you not to fall victim to the many arrogant pitfalls that seem to plague the Malfoy men. Need I remind you, Draco, that pride is a sin we all must overcome?”

Lorelei watched as Draco drew his wand, seething as he backed Snape into the wall.

“Don’t you dare talk about my father,” Draco hissed, war ready.

“The very fact that you assume that that was my intention speaks volumes,” Snape retorted, almost sounding bored. “Now, stop playing these childish games and tell me what it is you’re doing so that I might shed some light on your current predicament, Malfoy.”

“Why should I trust you?” he demanded again.

“Are you stupid?” Snape snarled.

“Why should I trust the Dark Lord’s least faithful servant?” Draco spat.

“Might I remind you that, in civilized society, alignment with the Dark Lord isn’t necessarily favorable?”

“Excuses. You’re all nothing but excuses,” Draco snapped. “When I succeed, when… It’ll be on my own, because I paved my own way. None of you will have had any part in my success, and it’ll be that much more enjoyable to watch you all watching me from the sidelines. The honor will belong to no one but me, and Lorelei. Goodnight, Professor,” Draco concluded, as Lorelei silently followed him as he stormed off.

She silently glanced back at Professor Snape, who only stared at her as she went off with Draco to bed. They retired together to his singular dorm room as Slytherin Prefect, trying to sleep but not necessarily succeeding. Eventually, it seemed that that night, she and Draco definitely hadn’t been great at ensuring they had gone unseen. The next morning, Lorelei had a headache trying to justify Draco’s execution of the plan.

Throughout breakfast at the Slytherin table, neither of them could enjoy any semblance of peace. They both sat silent next to one another, lost in their own world of worries and bitternesses as they gingerly sipped juice and irritably picked at plates. Blaise had of course picked up on this foul disposition the moment he sat down to eat his breakfast, beginning to question his choice in seating as well as friends. But it wasn’t Blaise that Lorelei had to worry about that morning. It seemed that once again, an old foe elected to rear his ugly head.

“Malfoy. Lorelei.”

Draco and Lorelei stopped in the middle of the corridor on their way to their first class of the day, already in a sour mood before Theodore Nott even made an appearance. Lorelei silently prayed this wouldn’t end in fisticuffs.

“What do you want, Nott?” Draco questioned, already confrontational. “I’m not in the mood.”

Theo smiled as he approached the couple, determined to show Draco up with his nice uniform and silver rings.

“This won’t take long, then,” Theodore nodded. “Just thought I’d inform you two that I know what the Dark Lord has entrusted you with, Draco,” he said brazenly.

Lorelei looked around, paranoid, as Draco stepped up toward him, refusing to back down from nothing.

“Congratulations,” the blond scowled, “You hear that from your mum over fucking tea?”

Theodore chuckled softly. “Your wit, Draco, is unmatched. Truly. It’s no wonder Lorelei’s so taken with you.”

It was Lorelei’s turn to scowl as she stood by Draco’s side. She hated how easily angered Draco could be, but she refused to allow Theo to undermine their dynasty that they had sought out to establish.

“I’m unmatched, Nott,” Draco promised him, “Make one more crack about my girlfriend, and the next thing to crack’ll be your skull.”

“Ooh, not very friendly,” Theo teased. “Seems unfair you immediately go to threaten me, when all I have for you is a friendly warning.”

“Oh yeah?” Lorelei spoke up. “What could you possibly have to warn us about?”

The question seemed to only encourage him. Theo smiled as he looked into her cold blue eyes, before landing back on Draco.

“I’ll tell you one last time, Malfoy. Lorelei will be my wife. That’s not a threat, or a challenge, or whatever your poor excuse for a mind will fathom it to be,” Theodore continued, “It’s simply a fact.”

Lorelei glared at him with a spite that she knew was older than herself, or anything else, for that matter. It was an age old anger instilled in her by forces she knew she would never understand. Never again would she stand by Theodore Nott’s side. Never again would she stand in the shadow of a man less brilliant than she was.

“Lorelei, you may refuse to see it now, but I am the one who can give you want you want,” Theo insisted. “At my side, you could be a queen.”

“At your side, I’m nothing,” she assured him.

“You know that’s not true,” Theo said softly. “You know I can give you so much more than he can. You know, deep in your heart, that you’d much rather marry me,” he argued.

“I will never marry you,” Lorelei vowed with hatred. “And I don’t say so out of spite. I say so because I’ve grown. I will never again be stupid enough to think you truly love me, Theo. You don’t know how.”

“You might be right. Perhaps love isn’t my strong suit,” he offered. “But revenge is.”

Draco huffed quietly as he stood in front of him in the empty corridor, begging for a reason to use his wand.

“Your destruction is coming whether you see it or not, Draco,” Theodore ensured passionately, “But where you happen to be when it comes is entirely up to you, Lorelei.”

She listened to his words, silently pondering whether or not he was worth an Unforgivable Curses.

“I hope that you would have the foresight to see Draco for the lost cause he is,” Theo confessed, “But, honestly…”

There was an ugly gleam in his eyes as he looked right at Lorelei, practically gazing into her soul with the ugliest parts of hair

“I also hope that I’ll get the pleasure of destroying you both,” Theodore Nott mused with a sadistic grin on his face. “I will find out what you two are planning, and I will rain on that parade. The Dark Lord will know my name; and yours will fade away into nothing but whispers.”

Theo’s face was now only inches from Draco’s, and Draco could see every bit of madness in his enemy’s eyes. Of course, Theodore Nott was an obsessive, conniving individual, but Draco knew that he would sooner die than allow him to have the last laugh.

“Trust me, Nott. Those whispers will haunt you forever,” Draco murmured, eyes dark with malice. “You can plot against me all you want, but I’m still the one Lorelei chose.”

Theo laughed in his face. “There are more important things to me than some girl.”

Draco could hardly contain himself.

“I’ll kill you, Theodore. Don’t think I won’t.”

“I’d like to see you try,” Theo said lightly.

“He won’t have to if you come after us,” Lorelei finally spoke up, stepping up beside Draco. “If you get in our way, I will end you myself. Goodbye, Theo.”

Lorelei walked off, and Draco followed angrily. He glanced back at Theo, glaring before he placed his hand on Lorelei’s back, silently praising her undying loyalty.

Chaoter Twenty-Seven

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thegreatyin · 2 years ago

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~ ✧ ~ COMMISSION INFORMATION ~ ✧ ~

Hello! I’m Yin, he/she/they, and welcome to my part of the hellsite, except with a lot more angels and monsters running amok. I’m primarily a hobbyist artist and writer, though I do aspire to get a proper job in either (or both!) professions someday. I’m a big fan of video games, cartoons, and just generally all that cringe fail nerdy stuff. If you want a more detailed introduction including nitty-gritty boundary information, links to and information about personal projects, and what few other social medias I have, you can find all of that stuff just below the cut. You don't have to read all of it, but it's all there if you want to see it.

Don't be afraid to tell me if I need to warn (or be reminded to warn) for triggering content, I am always happy to do so!

~ ✧ ~

~ Do not interact: ~

The title of this section is a joke. I don't actually have a DNI. What I will lay down is a before you follow:

• I am not comfortable with sharing my personal information on any public social media! Please respect this. I am comfortable disclosing that I am professionally diagnosed with autism and ADHD, and identify... somewhere on the LGBTQ spectrum in both orientation and gender. I'm still trying to figure out where, mind you, but definitely somewhere!!

• I am very violently queer and use the word very liberally as a form of self-identification. If this is a serious, major problem for you, I'd recommend you just block this blog and move on.

• This blog is a SFW space and, while I may reblog or post the occasional dirty or suggestive joke, I tend to avoid any and all truly explicit content. Blogs of any caliber are welcome to interact, just be aware my own space will always remain PG-13 at worst. This rule varies when it comes to artistic nudity- generally I will avoid reblogging it here, but if I ever do so it will be tagged appropriately.

• My official stance on any and all shipping discourse is that I prefer to not get personally engaged and keep my own opinions to myself. While I do have personal takes, viewpoints, and to an extent a clearly-defined side on the whole thing, I am not privy to publicly sharing any of these and will ignore any and all inquiries about the topic. I would greatly prefer to be treated as a neutral or otherwise outside party by both sides of the debate, because I do not wish to get involved in any discourse, and earnestly request that everyone respect that to the best of their ability. I'm just a simple hobbit in my own corner of the internet, and boy am I not willing to carry the ring to Mordor anytime soon.

• I write and draw what I want to write and draw. I am an insufferable multishipper and a majority of my works deal with incredibly heavy and graphic topics. These will always be tagged and properly warned for. I will never drop something violent or gory on anyone's dashboards without the appropriate content warnings and disclaimers. As stated near the top of this post, if I ever forget anything, please feel free to remind me about it!!! Other's comfort will always take priority over my own hubris.

• I greatly enjoy eldritch/biblical angel aesthetics and religious horror themes, and they play a prominent role in a good chunk of my personal works. Similarly; body horror, existential dread, various kinds of abuse, struggles with nihilism, and mental health issues of all kinds are either common or at the very least notably existent in virtually all settings I create. If any of this makes you uncomfortable, I would earnestly recommend blocking most of the tags relating to my work.

• This should go without saying, but this blog is open to all sorts of identities and peoples regardless of origin. Short of literally being a crime, I am happy to let people identify however they wish. If you disagree with this statement, please be aware that I block liberally and I block often.

~ ✧ ~

~ Personal Projects and Settings ~

Acts, Promises, and Faith (commonly abbreviated to "APF"): My main ongoing original fiction project, with a clearly defined cast and setting and (almost!) a clearly defined overarching plot. Set on an artificially magic-infused planet known simply as Mimue, it follows a catgirl shapeshifter as she struggles to deal with love, loss, the baby(?) eldritch spider that crashed through her roof last night, and the most powerful person to ever exist taking a personal interest in her journey to bring that spider home. The main story is not currently published, and will likely not be for years, but I do hope to make it into a webcomic someday. Or a book. Or a game. Or just... something.

Outside of the main protagonist quartet, the setting as a whole has an abundance of side characters (and not so side characters), most of which feature in some shape or form in the official stories I have published on Ao3! These side stories also contain major insights into the lore and overall status of the world at large, and I always have ideas in the back of my mind for how I can make more stuff like this in the future. Just make sure to read the content warnings on all published works, and know that none of those were published in anything close to chronological order 👉😎👉

It is also important to note that you should treat all of those aforementioned stories as you would expanded universe material for an already-existing show or franchise- with the incredibly notable exception of one reoccurring character in particular, a majority of the cast given focus in the Ao3 fics do not star or otherwise provide a major role in the plot as it's written right now. I'm essentially constructing this universe backwards by first introducing everyone to Glup Shitto instead of Luke Skywalker. But that's okay, because now you can have both as your blorbos in the end! Everyone wins!

I am always accepting asks and inquiries about this world, because I love it to death and I love my blorbos to death and Rigel is my favorite character I've ever made ever.

Overall genre: Urban... ish fantasy character drama, leaning slightly towards low fantasy in general. The technology level in most of the world is equivalent to America in the early 60s, and magic originates from an outside force/gift in this setting, but is also pretty much seamlessly integrated into society by the modern day. While the story and themes are closer to darker melodrama than light-hearted action adventure, the world is distinctly not grimdark and the plot is mainly motivated by and through character actions and beliefs throughout the narrative.

Notable Content Warnings: Depression, allusions to suicide, drowning, burning alive, occasional gore, PTSD and C-PTSD, unreality and hallucinations from the prospective of the primary protagonist, body horror

Main Tag: #apf for general content, #apf info for more specific information about the world (these posts are not up-to-date most of the time, upfront worldbuilding questions are always preferred!)

Where to read it?: The APF anthology collection on Ao3 currently contains every published story I've ever written in ideal reading order! You definitely don't have to follow it in the slightest, it's just a suggestion due to how many fics there actually are. This setting also has its very own discord server, but for security reasons if anyone wants to enter it they'll have to DM me personally. Go on, give it a shot, I certainly won't mind!

~ ✧ ~

"Above": A work-in-progress name for a mostly sandbox (no clearly defined plot) setting about various gods, angels, and demons getting up to mischief across time and space. Dramatically darker in setting and tone than APF, and far less grounded to boot.

The world of "Above" is currently split between two eras- the "past" era, where a newly-born Seraph named Reguel tries their best to follow the wishes of their god, and the "present" era, where the King of Demons campaigns to end a millennium of torment from his cruel patron deity. At its core, it's a science fantasy setting that ends up focusing 99% of its attention on the duo of god-created fantasy races and very little on the already scarce sci-fi elements. Outside of lore about the gods and their creations, the rest of the world is merely a backdrop to demon and angel tomfoolery. To this effect, the actual "main cast" features funny jesters, friendly demon kings that use emoticons every five sentences, murderous malewives intensely in love with their giant goth girlfriends, and one (1) very sexy butler. Truly, some treats for everyone to enjoy.

Also, demons in this setting are floating mood ring space cannibals. That's really just something you have to experience for yourself to understand.

While there is an ongoing askblog based on this world, the events of that blog are not strictly canonical and will probably never be declared as such for spoiler-related reasons I cannot get into... but I'm also not saying the blog isn't canon. Just like APF, I'm always happy to receive and answer asks about this setting, so feel free to send any when you feel like it!

Overall Genre: The past era is a fantastical tragedy, while the present era is largely a nobledark adventure story. The world of the past is seen only through the eyes of an unreliable narrator, while the present is told through many different perspectives across many different species and locations.

Notable Content Warnings: Everything in the book. Psychosis, self harm, cannibalism, gore, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, PTSD, C-PTSD, parental abuse, parental neglect, abusive relationships... this is a dead dove setting, through and through, and it does not pull its punches. Particularly in the past era, but the whole world in general is a dove actively dying inside a paper bag.

Main Tag: #above.

Where to read it?: As this is largely a sandbox freeform setting, there's far fewer defined ways to access information about the setting and lore. The most notable proper story is God Have Mercy on Them, God Have Mercy on Me, a work-in-progress epic set in the past era that describes Reguel's early life and the choices that led them to where (and who) they are today. It has an absurdly slow update schedule because I write in my free time and it's insanely long, but many of its twists and turns are truly something else. One day I will finish it, and on that day it will be my magnum fucking opus. Probably. Maybe. Who knows, really.

The other option is @xx-hail2theking-xx, a currently ongoing roleplay blog centered around King Paimak and his merry band of cannibals. Unlike all other blogs I've managed in the past, it has a clearly defined act structure and is planned to end after a certain point, but that point is still far off. You don't necessarily need to read through the entire blog to jump into the plot at this point in time, but it certainly wouldn't hurt!

Also I've worked on it for like a year and made a bunch of art and writing just for it and it's kind of just my homemade self-imposed summer art project now. In a wacky demon sort of way.

~ ✧ ~

The Omniverse: Technically not just my project, but deserves to be included here anyway! This is a set of Undertale Multiverse roleplay blogs I participate in during my off time, although currently they're on indefinite hiatus due to unfortunate life and scheduling reasons.

The simplest way to explain the overarching plot- the very loose, very improv-based plot- of both blogs I run is essentially that there are two concurrent stories running back-to-back. In one, a recovering drug addict struggles with terrifying concepts like "having morals" and "caring about people", while in other the self-proclaimed King of Darkness and Everything Evil has to contest with a madman that wants to wipe out all of reality and build it anew and has already done so once before.

Oh, and the recoverer is the brother of the King's spouse. There's a truckload of complicated roleplay lore associated with each and every character from this setting, and it's almost impossible for me to single-handedly cover it all- especially considering I don't own half of the major cast.

Nothing is currently being done with them right now, but rest assured at any given moment I am rotating Caeru in my mind like a rotisserie chicken.

Overall Genre: Darkly comedic character introspection drama, and grimdark action adventure with a heavy focus on worldbuilding and characters.

Notable Content Warnings: Addiction, drug abuse, excessive violence, PTSD, C-PTSD, self harm, suicidal tendencies and thoughts... okay, maybe this one is kind of a dying dove too.

Main Tag: #rp stuff dwbi for primarily general RP content, while #hag for Hood and Greylu's verse in particular (the King of Darkness' verse)

Where to read it?: @official-saltbag and @darkness-regins respectively, however the quality of my old (and I do mean old) writing found on these blogs is inconsistent and contains many plot points and characterization choices I'm not sure hold up well today. While I hold no lingering resentment or specific apprehension about the blogs in general, I would much rather someone read my current work if they are genuinely interested in my writing style... and also they both completely lack a chrono tag, so good luck properly reading through them without a saintly amount of patience.

~ ✧ ~

Mistakes, Curses, and Mockeries: APF's semi-sequel, but only in the sense that Deltarune is technically a sequel to Undertale. Set in the same world and continuity as APF, but decades into the future- with a completely separate cast and story structure to boot.

One year after the death of his family at the hands of a mysterious robotic "red devil", a young noble named Equuleus comes to the horrifying realization that he's stuck in a year-spanning timeloop. And in every loop, no matter what, widespread disaster and chaos runs rampant by year's end. Potentially at the very same hands that led his family to ruin.

And thus Leus makes a vow; Force a future where everybody lives, or die trying.

...naturally, it turns out "die trying" can be taken very literally in this exact scenario. Things only spiral from there.

Overall Genre: Fantasy mystery adventures, with a touch of character drama and time shenanigans for spice. Steampunk-magitek-medieval-fantasy mixing pot of a setting with the occasional downright cyperpunk jumpscare. Keeps threatening to become a psychological horror and I keep having to bat it with a stick so it chills the heck out already. (It is doing the exact opposite of chilling the heck out.)

Notable Content Warnings: Major character death, dehumanization, dissociation, existential terror about forgetting everything that you are, insufferable nihilists, potentially even more insufferable fatalists, colonialism

Main Tag: #mcm.

Where to read it?: well first you get a shovel and second you start applying it directly to my skull to get the brain out for advanced noclip telepathy strats... is what I'd usually say, but there's actually a singular fic set in this setting now! I know, I'm shocked too.

~ ✧ ~

~ Contact information / socials ~

Tumblr is and will forever be my main social media platform, and I rarely consistently maintain accounts on other sites. You can, however, nonetheless find me below:

• @TheGreatWritingYin on Ao3

• @luminxlumina on Twitter

• @TheGreatYin on Cohost

• @TheGreatYin on Artfight

• @TheGreatFrostingWind on Flight Rising

• @TheGreatYin on Pixel Cat's End

• @Yinsie on Fallen London

• ...and that's literally just it!

If you successfully scrolled and read to the bottom of this, congratulations! Have a celebratory cookie. (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ 🍪

#info #i won't tag this as anything much bc it's my pinned post but uhhhh. it's long.#ta-da! yin finally has an intro post! it only took him like what #6 years?

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everythingsinred · 1 year ago

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Let's Talk About NatsuMikan: Mikan (pt. 38)

Yeah, yeah let's just commence with this so we can get the ending over with and I can forget these last chapters ever happened again in peace. There's not much of substance to analyze here anyway since this ending is so sloppy and devoid of meaningful resolution.

<- Prev Next ->

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Three

It’s Hotaru’s time for a farewell.

Mikan leaps out of bed to embrace her best friend, instantly in tears. She’s been worried about her for weeks so she’s relieved that Hotaru seems to be in a healthy state, finally there to say a proper good-bye. She instantly asks about Natsume, too, who Hotaru left to take care of. She pleads with Hotaru to take her to Natsume, but Hotaru regretfully tells her that she can’t tell her anything. She still promises that Natsume will find her again someday, and not to give up her belief in him.

It all just doesn't mean anything. I'm so tired.

She’s here to say good-bye, because she knows everything already.

I think Hotaru’s holding back of information here is reminiscent of Narumi’s back in the beginning of the story, when he couldn’t tell Mikan much about her situation but still requested her faith and trust that he had her best interest in mind. She chose to trust him and he did indeed work for her best interest. The same is true of Hotaru here, who can’t tell her what’s going on but is still doing her best to help Natsume.

She tells Mikan to be strong and to accept this hard fate, because it isn’t so bad. She promises Mikan that even if she forgets, even if they never see each other again, their bond is eternal, like it’s always been.

Mikan is disturbed by that comment, though, arguing that Ruka promised he’d find her after graduation so Hotaru shouldn’t give up on her so easily. Hotaru pretends to be sleepy and instead insists that chasing is more of Mikan’s thing, that she herself doesn’t like to make promises she can’t keep. Thus, seeing each other again is on Mikan again. Mikan argues and complains about this, but she’s still in high spirits. Even if Hotaru is being mean, Mikan has always understood her friend better than anybody else. She knows that Hotaru is just like that sometimes. She’s just happy to be reunited after so much worrying.

So she decides that this can be their own lesson in memories. Mikan can’t choose a favorite memory, so she brings up a whole bunch of precious memories together, moments she will soon forget. No matter what, Hotaru has always been there for her, and she’s happy that that’s still the case, that Hotaru came back to say good-bye.

It's so hard coming up with captions when I'm just not vibing with the content. I'm not funny right now, just bitter.

“We’re two hearts beating as one,” she says. Hotaru has always been one of her most important people, someone she’s always willing to chase after, to go the extra mile for, to defend. She believes Hotaru that their bond is eternal, that it won’t be shattered by something as insignificant as erased memories.

And Hotaru finally shares her favorite memory of Mikan--when she found out Mikan had followed her to the academy, her happiest memory. Mikan is--again--touched and saddened by this. She doesn’t want to say good-bye, to be parted from her best friend. So she hugs her and cries, until Hotaru knocks her out with an invention.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Six

Mikan wakes up alone. She has to leave the academy and say good-bye to everyone she knows and loves and forget them forever. Today’s the day.

Hotaru is no longer there but Mikan is intent on finding her before leaving. But that’s not a possibility. Time has run out and it’s time to go.

Still no Hotaru.

Still no Natsume.

She wanted to see them just once before forgetting everything, but it seems like even that small dream has no chance of coming true.

It’s not entirely a sad event though. Almost the whole school is gathered in the courtyard to say good-bye to her. Though I think it’d be bold to claim Mikan made a personal difference in everyone’s lives, I think her grander sacrifices, like when she agreed to be locked up in the labyrinth to save the school or when she stole Luna’s alice from many students’ bodies, made an impression. She did do a lot of good here. She’s certainly not the only one, but things wouldn’t be the way there are now if she hadn’t made those choices, which we know weren’t really choices at all. Mikan always does the right thing, on instinct, because it’s the only thing she can think to do.

This is also meaningless. Yes, I'll explain in the next part. Even everything in these few chapters leading up to her losing her memories is pretty much meaningless. Nothing matters at all and these chapters are a waste of time.

The whole school promises to remember her, to keep her memory alive no matter what. She thanks everyone for all their help and support and friendship. Even despite her tears she swears she loves them all. She promises the tears she’s shedding now are tears are happiness, not fear or sadness, though she undoubtedly is feeling that too. Mikan is choosing to focus on the positive right now, on saying a heartfelt good-bye even though none of this went the way she wanted and dreamed.

She’d wanted to spend her school years with her close friends, friends of the quality she’d never had before. Mikan doesn’t remember her village friends, and I speculate she hadn’t been too close to them to begin with. Her first real friend was Hotaru, but joining the academy led to making many new special friends, people she truly loved and connected with in a way she never had. She genuinely does love them all (though the last chapter disagrees and ruins everything).

Narumi tells her this is a graduation day for her, that he’s proud of her, that he has faith in her that she’ll thrive even after she leaves these gates. “Congratulations,” he tells her, “on your graduation from Alice Academy.” Mikan embraces him and he implores her to smile, to think of this as a happy occasion rather than a sad one. Kazumi also swears to always watch over her as her uncle and relative, and Shiki promises the same as her guardian. When they meet again, they won’t say good-bye.

Uh huh. For now.

The only person she hasn’t said good-bye to (other than the dead kid) is Bear, who stubbornly shunned her and now hasn’t even bothered to show up at her farewell.

But he is here, packed away in her suitcase, waiting to leave with her. He didn’t want to say good-bye because he wasn’t intending on being parted with her to begin with. Kaname left a note with him that he is gifting Bear to her, to watch over her after she leaves the academy, so that she will care for him.

Mikan starts to cry, loathe to say good-bye too, but regrettably reminding him that she can’t take him with her. She hugs him and he finally lets her. Their relationship has been as consistent as any other, a bond lasting since the very beginning. Just like with Natsume, Mikan had to put in a lot of effort into getting to know Bear, to seeing the sweetness that lies deep inside. Bear is her precious friend now, someone who kept her company when she had nobody else in the labyrinth.

But Kazumi has Bear swear to not reveal that he’s not an inanimate object to others from now on. He cannot move in front of others but will always be a loyal friend to Mikan. Can he keep that promise?

Bear nods.

Perhaps the saving grace of these last chapters is Bear's development, which is consistent with previous chapters and showcases the growth of his relationship with Mikan. But I don't know... everything else seems meaningless and every time I read these chapters I cry a little less. But never any less for Bear's scenes. They still feel just as powerful each time.

Mikan won’t be leaving this place alone. She’ll have someone to stay by her side, to act as a reminder of her time here, even if she forgets it all.

Chapter One Hundred and Seventy-Seven

It’s time to leave.

She still hasn’t seen Natsume or Hotaru.

She’s nervous about leaving without seeing them again, but her time is quickly running out. She can see the person who will take away her memories at the gate now. Her only hope now is that they will appear at the last moment to alleviate her grief and worry, but they never show up. Each passing second concerns her even more, but she can’t stop the inevitable from happening.

Some students have put together a graduation ceremony of sorts for her, singing the Alice alma mater, with Sumire leading them with her violin. Apparently, this was all her idea, to give her the special graduation she’d been so excited about experience with everyone else before. Sumire has tears in her eyes and an angry expression on her face, but even that can’t hide the love in this act.

The reason I hate these chapters so much is because I might actually like them if the last three chapters didn't exist. These chapters demonstrate how many people love Mikan and how much Mikan loves others, how important all her school bonds are, what a difference they've made in her life. In these chapters, classmates like Sumire and Koko and Iinchou matter. Her bonds with Natsume and Ruka and Narumi and Tsubasa matter. The last chapters completely undermine that and as a result these chapters are cheapened.

So she cries.

And everyone cries.

And I cry.

Maybe you cry too.

Mikan smiles. It’s time to go. She’s led to the gates and Ruka cries out that he will definitely see her again. She grins at him and thinks back on Hotaru’s words, her reassurances that she will see Natsume again, and even though Mikan hasn’t seen either of them today, she chooses to have faith in her best friend one last time. She will see them both again, for sure.

She’s ready to go, now. So she waves and beams at the crowd. “See you!” It’s not forever. Love doesn’t die, surely.

She goes through the gates with a smile, accepting her fate like Hotaru told her to. She never even sees the face of the man who takes her memories, but she doesn’t fight him. She closes her eyes and trusts, accepts her destiny.

Sigh.

Good-bye, Mikan.

Conclusion

Isn't it funny how this "saying bye to Mikan" arc lasted some nine or so chapters, all ramping up to her losing her memories, just to have the last three short chapters undo all that and tell us that nothing we just read mattered at all? Why did Mikan have to lose her memories just to end up getting called back anyway? Her memories were erased for her protection and yet she still ended up in danger, something the Academy staff should have predicted because to not do so is idiotic. So what was the point? There was no point!

This final era of Gakuen Alice sucks so much because it's all about bringing out cheap emotions in the audience, making them sad about Natsume dying or Mikan losing her memories or Hotaru getting lost to time, and then shrugging and ending the story without any character resolution, just a bunch of characters smiling on a beach we didn't even know was a hope until recently. It's all just so sloppy, both in concept and execution. Boo!

We all deserved a better ending, one that is maybe a little less insulting. Too bad!

In any case my family just finished watching Never Have I Ever and I'm really psyched to continue writing my fic subjectives because of the rivals to lovers inspiration! If you know that show, feel free to guess my lane... I feel like it would be pretty obvious.

<- Prev Next ->

#gakuen alice #alice academy #ga #sakura mikan #mikan sakura #natsume hyuuga #hyuuga natsume #my meta #ga meta #ga meta: nm #ga meta: manga #ga meta: manga nm #let's talk about natsumikan #let's talk about natsumikan: mikan #i dont like these chapters bc of how much the final 3 chapters suck. they truly ruin everything #those three chapters are literally so AWFUL dhgawefegHJDAGJSFHGJHGJH #it inspires rage in me. this story was SO FUCKING GOOD i am so LIVID.#well. its fine. i have several alternate endings in my head that i care way more abt and #as a result i forget that ga ended this way. my future headcanons have little to do with higuchi's ending so if u ask me abt them #dont be surprised if they seem far removed from those three chapters or even from kageki. its bc its not real to me godbless #nm: m song of the day is....#to die for by the birthday massacre #this is a complete throwback really bc that song has been in my head for mikan since these chapters were coming out #like i was 14 listening to this song and thinking 'omg this is mikan abt natsume rn.... crazy'#'I'll love you forever.#I'll try to remember.#I'll try to hold on.'#also for your widow!mikan needs...#i think 'long ride home' by patty griffin is quite a lovely song abt loss and grief #love yall and i appreciate ur patience with my bitterness! im trying not to be so negative but it is rly hard!

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lovenojudgement · 2 years ago

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Posted: April 01, 2023 12:33PM

Written: May 1, 2022, 7:47AM

Someday.

A blog that I might not post now nor soon, but we’ll see.

To you whom I gave a part of my heart to but chose to break it instead, I hope you get to realize how deeply broken I am now.

For the past days that we are not talking to each other anymore, I was able to think about things in a bigger and a clearer picture. It took me a long time before I opened myself up to love again. The short-term mutual understandings that took me months or even years to move on from. I tried to evaluate myself because I might be the reason why things did not work and why it just had to end like that. I then chose to be as honest as I can be. Thinking that life might be a little bit fair for me someday. That I would be able to meet someone who would partially give the same level of love and honesty back to me.

I told you every single story. All the good and the bad, whether it be happy or sad. I got tired of taking time in revealing the real me inside and out that was why I opted to let it all out that early. I thought that if I did that, you would already have a hint if you would pursue me or not. Whether you would take the risk to hold my hand or not. And most importantly, so that you would know how to lift my fragile heart gently. But why does it feel like it gave you an idea on how you would be able to manipulate me instead. Because you knew how delicate I was.

Was I really loved? Or was I fooled? You knew the state of my heart. Did that really make you fall for me. Or did that open your mind that it will be easier for you to navigate my heart in any direction that you would want. Simply because I was vulnerable.

I have been asking God for someone who would fit my heart best. You then came and I thought that it was you. You made me believe that it was you.

I thought I revolved in a perfectly imperfect love story, and I was okay with it. But I think it is a lot more proper to think that I revolved in a man-made love story. I gave everything, my whole being even. I gave my complete trust to you. I loved you more than everything else including myself, but you chose to throw them away. You chose to make me live in a life full of lies. I accepted everything about you. I always made it a point to make you happy. I was contented in seeing you smile. I always thought of you first before myself. Even though I was hurting, you never felt it. I continued to love you until the very end.

Making me believe in all your lies because you did not want to lose me was the most selfish act that somebody has ever done to me. Creating mistakes within mistakes were a lot worse. None of your reasons will ever be valid. You again thought of yourself first. You never thought of me. You did it because you wanted a fun experience for yourself.

Have you been really in love before? Do you have an idea of how it feels like to fall deeply and madly in love with someone? Have you ever been heartbroken? So broken that you could not function in a day. So broken that you do not see your life worth living anymore.

I felt your genuine care. But maybe you must think about it if you really love—loved me. When you love someone, hurting them will be the last thing that you would want them to experience. I always told you my thoughts. Anything that I had in mind even though I know that you might get mad at me. Even though it might ignite another fight. There were a lot of times that I cried my heart out to you. You saw me broke down, down to my knees even. You made me believe that everything was okay. And I trusted you wholeheartedly.

You promised me before that you won’t leave me hanging. That you will never disappoint my heart just like how the others did. That you have all the balls to tell me and the world that you loved me. I held on to your promises since the day that I felt that I had feelings for you already. Because I thought I really mattered. You might have appreciated my presence. The things that I did and the things that I can still do for you. But maybe it was not really love. I know, someday, you will see me again, smiling—because someone might have already seen the worth of a withered plant like me in a field full of fruit bearing trees and colorful flowers.

PS: I was cleaning my laptop when I saw this again. Then I thought, this would be the perfect day to post this. First, because I have fully moved on. Second, it's April Fools Day. I was then made a fool but I do not feel like a withered plant anymore. I am one of the colorful flowers from this day on.

DGPS

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shiroi---kumo · 2 years ago

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( @aquaticsoul , for one (1) aamun ) ->

It almost feels as if he is already dead sometimes, or, at least, all the parts of him that matter are.

Someday, his body will follow and really, that scares him more than he wants to admit.

At the same time, he's made peace with it. He's made peace with it many times, the nothingness that will claim him. Just... sometimes, he's still afraid. Sometimes, he's up in the middle of the night shedding silent tears onto the floor over the past and the future alike.

Tonight isn't any different, except for tonight he's decided to do something about it.

Tonight he's gone just outside to solidify a piece of his soul, craft it the best he can into something that isn't a disaster to look at because even if Tiamat and nature and the universe reject his mist entirely when he dies, maybe there's one person who will accept it. Maybe there is one person who will hold this crystalline form of his soul's breath with care and some sort of fondness. Maybe there is one person who will hold it and remember Sielu for who he used to be before all this, because Sielu can't do it himself and this one person promised to find him.

That will be enough for him, and... he's almost sure this will go well. It's the first thing he has been optimistic about since Sydän died.

Once it seems satisfactory and harmless enough, he drags himself back inside, hovering over the far side of the bed like a child who's just woken up from a bad dream.

He is gentle as he nudges his friend, voice no louder than a whisper.

"Aamunkoitto? I'm sorry. I- Could... Could you take this?" he asks, holding out his loosely-closed hand.

There is nothing really for him to have affixed it to aside from a piece of string, and he's waiting to apologize for that just the same, but... they could all die tomorrow, so waiting for a proper chain or closure isn't an option. It is a single crystal tied up in a fraying piece of twine - it is all he has of himself to give back in exchange for the security this man has offered him.

Perhaps, soon, he'll find it in himself to make two more. But for now - for now he is just content to give this one to his best friend. For now he is at peace with this.

·:*¨༺ ✩★✩ ༻¨*:·. The day had been long as it usually was when the three turned four of them now found them continuing to travel through this Wonderland together. That's what the people called it but he still - in all his years here - has yet to find anything wonderful about it. Still there were a few positives now.

Sielu was with them and apparently the prince was alive. They had a goal now. They weren't just wandering aimlessly anymore. No, they were trying to do the one thing that any sane Misterican was very specifically instructed to never do if they valued their life. But sixteen years in a place like this left all of them teetering the edge of their sanity just a little bit. They only needed to do one thing and one thing only now.

Find Svaardzjetrorahm.

If they could find him, then chances were high that they would find the prince. If the posters that Sielu showed them were correct, that meant if they found Svaardzjetrorahm then Valkoinen Pilvi would be with him and then they could get to the bottom of all this. Rumors and what not about Pilvi both abandoned Sielu and committing murder - against his will or not. It was a lot, but Celestial Mother be blessed, at least they didn't feel aimless anymore. At least this gave them some sort of purpose.

So that leaves the four of them exhausted and stopping in whatever crossover town then end up in to crash at what inns they can afford and avoiding the looks of the villagers that always seemed to stare at them in a strange way that produced strange whispers that were hard to avoid with hearing like theirs.

Revon finally fell asleep last, or well so they assumed as he finally allowed himself lay down next to Valo - who had shifted in close to the knight without hesitation or conscious that he was doing so. At this point everyone knew whoever was laying down next to the historian laying down in a trap.

The room fills with the soft sound of snoring as the stars drift away into slumber for several hours until pale hands are pushing against the man of the rose has sharp pink eyes cracking like the dawn. There is a small groan and the sound of his name. Sielu.

Is everything alright?

He's reaching for his glasses that are setting on the night stand in between this two bed room they managed to find at the local inn. Once they're affixed back on his face does the man slowly set up and look over to what the musician is offering him.

A thin piece of fraying twine that looks only a day or so of wear out from snapping if it doesn't have something else to support it's weight with a small gem of an aquatic shine hanging at the end of it. A soul gem. Sielu must not have been able to sleep and as so, he took the time to form his mist into a Soul Gem - just for him.

So gently does the man of roses take the offered gift with a smile creeping on his face hidden behind a mask, he next to never dares to take off in the presence of the others. He's moving to slide down left sleeve of his shift revealing a thin string of beads setting upon his wrist where at the center of them all rests one singular beaded crystal of a glimmering pure white.

Slowly does the morn work to weave the twine into that bracelet so it can lace neatly into the beads and provide both with a little bit of extra support; tying it off so the shimmering aqua now rests hanging just below the glimmering white and he pauses with his wrist raised just long enough for his friend to see his completed work.

"Kiitos, Sielu. This is a treasure, just like you are. I will guard it with my life. Kiitos ystäväni."

#v; precious gems #aquaticsoul #ask || inquires of the dawn #tw; long post #drifting clouds || queue

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cloudstrife-bbs · 1 year ago

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Who Would Cloud Be?

I keep dreaming about White Swiss Shepherds. I had a dream about him some months ago when I started looking for a breeder. He was a small fluffy puppy who laid in my arms and looked up at me adoringly. I also dreamed of walking down the green in town and meeting a person walking their White Swiss Shepherd. I also dreamed of meeting a breeder and going to see her dogs.

The time is coming to narrow my focus on who I hope Cloud is. A breeder will want to know what I'm looking for, so here's my very lengthy answer. I'm sure I'll find a way to shave down the rambling.

What am I looking for in a White Swiss Shepherd / Berger Blanc Suisse?

I want a dog that is suitable to be a family pet. My husband is 40, I am 37. We don't have children, so our dog would somewhat fill that role, like SoCo and AJ did. We are experienced and doting "dog parents", and still recognize that they are animals, not kids, but they bring us just as much joy and love and satisfaction as people-kids would.

I want a dog that is eager to learn and experience life with us. I would do a lot of work socializing him correctly in his most formative weeks, and continue to introduce him to new things all the time through his life. I want him to enjoy listening when he's supposed to so that he may enjoy lots of privileges and places. But, he has to want to have the aptitude for positive and fun training, and not be too headstrong or contrary. I want him to learn manners and obedience to keep him safe, balanced, and under control so that he can be trusted to have lots of freedom and come with us on our adventures, but I also really want to teach him tricks too to keep his mind active. My REALLY fun goal--- I want to teach him how to use Talking Dog buttons so he can learn language! I'm absolutely fascinated by the practice!

I want a dog that will be good at his job: My Emotional Support Animal. I have unfortunately experienced a lot of trauma. I also am neurodivergent and have an anxiety disorder with depression. I want a dog with a great sense of empathy, love, and protection for me. I don't have experience raising Service Animals specifically, but I would like to really learn with the proper network and channels. I'm not expecting a Service Dog, or a Therapy Dog, but if he shows a lot of promise in such tasks, I would promote his talents and take the proper classes so he can can have his fulfillment.

I want a dog with medium energy. I would like him to someday be strong and fit enough to go on hikes through the Connecticut Woods with us. I want him to be a playful, happy boy, who will enjoy the outdoors, either freely playing in the big backyard off leash or walking at a casual pace on a leash. I am not interested in participating in active dog sports like agility, dock diving, protection sports, or rally/flyball. I'm not really competitive or aggressive, and although the sports look fun, I want to make sure it stays fun for all three of us. Some people just kinda ruin it for me. I AM interested in other things that are more like work, like Herding, Nosework, and Obedience. Cloud also needs to be mentally fit enough to come to work with us when he has maturity while we work on building houses. My husband is a carpenter of 22 years, and I am learning the trade now as well. We will teach him to have great manners, and he can have his own tasks to help me at the job site! Carrying, holding, fetching, or just staying nearby.

I want a mellower dog with a good "Off Button". I know this is something that I have to mostly nurture into the puppy, but having a good balanced, calm personality who is content to lounge with us content to be cuddled and chew on a bone, at night, on rainy days and weekends. It takes a lot of work to get a well-adjusted dog like that, but I know some puppies will show a more mellow personality than others.

I want a dog that enjoys being near other dogs. I know this is also mostly on me to properly nurture into him, but some years down the line, we will likely eventually get him a doggy-sibling, probably another corgi, if not, another White Swiss Shepherd.

I want a boy dog with a medium, medium-long coat. I would just like him to be a handsome boy, and have that truly picturesque look and confirmation. I am aware how much they shed and don't mind the work to manage the fur (SoCo was husky/shepherd after all, and even the corgi shed and blew out her undercoat at major points of the year) and I know how to groom dogs that don't need experienced types of haircuts.

Am I interested in Confirmation or Breeding?

No, I don't think so, not unless the breeder he comes from determines he's truly exceptional in physical health and mind. My current plan is to have him neutered (at the latest) by the time he's 2 and fully grown, because he's really only supposed to be my companion and I don't want to stress out his life trying to create progeny and legacy. He's just supposed to be my Good Boy. If my breeder thinks he has show potential, I would need a ton of help and guidance to get him Confirmation titles because even though I've watched dog shows every year on TV (I went to Westminster in 2012 and it was AWESOME!), I don't know the first thing about participating in showing. I would need to have support and make friends and have a mentor! I don't really have the time to travel much with our line of work. But I would be eager to make friends with anyone that wanted to help me learn. I am not planning on becoming a breeder anytime soon, but truthfully, it's not out of the question for me either later on in life. I'm just so doggedly adamant about doing a good job and having excellent dogs that are superior examples of the breed that I'm not so foolish to do it for the wrong reasons. If I did decide to get into breeding someday, my focus would be on confirmation, temperament, and working ability to do the activities that I, personally, am into doing.

I hope I thought all of that out through well enough. I try to do everything for the right reason, and don't want to leap into anything without seeing where I'm going to land. My next entry will probably be about why I chose this breed in the first place.

#dog #dog blog #sunny writes about dogs

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clementines-writing-corner · 1 year ago

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extra content

Hello friends!

As promised, here is one of the extra posts about my original story! A few weeks back, I introduced y’all to Queen Aurora of Sylvanthia, so today I figured I’d introduce you to the special man in her life! ᕱ__< He was talked about briefly in her short character description, but he is one of my 2 main, main characters so I figured I’d better give him his own proper introduction. I also have a picrew of him to share, but hopefully someday I’ll get around to creating my own drawing. Without further ado, however, I’m delighted to introduce ma main boy Kazuki!

~*~*~

Kazuki of Okunseiko [meaning]

Age 18

Human

Rightful Ruler of Okunseiko

He was about to be coronated when sh*t hit the fan and he had to flee with Sascha

His mother was assassinated when he was 12 and his dad got super over protective

When he was 16 his dad contracted the same illness that killed Aurora’s mother

His uncle Kagero took over as pseudo-regent until his dad passed away when he was 18 and Kazuki was to be crowned king

However on his coronation day Kagero attempted to murder him (it was very chaotic lots of explosions and magic) framing it as an outside assassination forcing him to flee

Engaged to Aurora of Sylvanthia

A puppy love childhood romance in which they strong armed their parents into making official by betrothing them

He misses her desperately (it makes Sascha sick)

A very calm, steady individual, it takes a lot to make Kazuki lose his cool (something Sascha seems very good at)

Also quite adept at reading emotions, even Sascha’s, which gets under her skin something fierce

Very artistically inclined

Loves music of any kind

Plays the violin/fiddle himself

Constantly doubts his ability to be a good ruler, but has a very logical and tactical mind along with empathy in spades

Though Sascha constantly complains he is useless he has saved her life more than once through both strategy and his instinctual understanding of others

He is very aware he is mostly book smart not street smart however

His mind is current on worrying for his people, figuring out why his Uncle betrayed him and if there is a bigger problem at hand (like he fears), and making his way to reunite with Aurora after 6 long years apart without getting killed in the process

~*~*~

Sooooo… what do ya think? Not sure if y'all saw my last post, but writing out even this short description of Kazuki was one of the first indicators that I had a lot more worldbuilding to do before I was ready to manuscript anything and also the moment when my main antagonist began to take shape. No spoilers (half because spoiler suck and half because I’m still shaky on the details myself) but I hope yall will stick around with me as I continue to craft this story and find out for yourselves in time. I have a long journey ahead and next week you will be getting a second extra content post revealing some more characters!!

TTYL! (And remember to dot those j’s and cross those t’s!)

~Clementine J. Quincey 🪷

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lavenderrpages · 1 year ago

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an ❛ ooufff ❜ puffed from estella's lips after hearing about tulsa. ten hours. being stuck in ten hours anywhere seemed brain rotting for the woman to think about. confined. judgment shifted to the outcome of alex's story. her posture was loosening from it's proper attire. wine was to be blamed. shoulders curled, an elbow placed on the bar top, fingers nestling in her dark, thick locks. ❛ sounds like one hell of a story. ❜ surely, more to the told words. no one dragged in layover to come out with an 'i heart tulsa' shirt on the other end. right ? ❛ makes me think this bottle of wine has potential for a greater adventure. ❜

❛ truth be told. ❜ began, while a less cautious hand poured the bottle of wine to refill her glass. ❛ i haven't found that place, yet. ❜ her tone was laced in promise that someday she just might. though the magic of such content feelings to be long lasting was deluded. time always aged the good feeling of whatever. estella wasn't ready to give up so empty handed. ❛ i could roam around pike marketplace. avoid them tossing a fish at newcomers. soak up whatever little sun seattle will allow before clouds released rain. ❜ drifting, ❛ have a riot with old broads chain smoking at a glitzy vegas casino. bottomless drinks. people rotting away to chance. ❜ or, ❛ get lost in a museum. anywhere. pretend i know the life of every painting, sculpture, photograph. maybe live in them. be so many people. so many things. have so many lives. ❜

a smirk crossed her lips as alex's fingers trailed delicately over the bar. the comment had, shamelessly, been cast on the end of a fishing pole. there was a slight shrug in one of her shoulders. "you can never fully predict the effect a layover will have," she replied, coyly. "every traveler has at least one horror story of the airport they were left to roost in, right? mine was tulsa. five hours, turned ten." she could speak on it with a certain fondness now that the experience was firmly in the past, but at the time, her sanity had been on the brink of destruction. "i had involuntarily gained a bar mate who became very clumsy as time dragged on, and..." she swept her hands toward her chest. "suffice to say, i landed in são paulo donning an 'i left my heart in tulsa' t-shirt."

people were a fickle breed, and alex was no exception. in these situations, being stuck for longer than anticipated, she had half a mind to balk at any attempt at camaraderie. but then came along someone that turned her head, disrupting her planned solitude. alex nudged the bottle in the other woman's direction, unconcerned with the potential consequence. "give me your place, then," she prompted, angling her body in the chair toward the brunette, legs crossed at the ankles. "where's someone like you drawn to that you're not quite ever ready to leave?"

#( muse. // estella. )#( estella. x alex. )

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astaroth1357 · 4 years ago

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The Brothers Giving Hugs

I'm having bad cramp pain right now and really want a hug… So excuse me as I write myself some! 😊

Lucifer

Hugs like a protector.

Lucifer doesn't hug often, so when he does it's because he wants to be sure the MC can feel how much he cares for them.

Between his arms and his chest, he can easily envelope most people in even a basic embrace so he takes full advantage of that.

The rare hug from Lucifer is sort of like getting "hugged" by a full-grown lion… but with less maiming.

Throughout the process, they're fully aware that they're in the arms of a creature that could very easily snap them in two for any reason whatsoever, but chooses not to because of the bond they share.

It's a weirdly humbling feeling... One combined with a position of total safety because, really, who's going to mess with whoever tamed the great Lucifer, right?

Mammon

Hugs like they'll disappear.

No. Seriously. Mammon can be a very frustrating man to put up with and he knows it. He has more vices than he does Grimm and all of them have to do with his obsession with the stuff… but he loves MC. He really does.

There’s a part of him deep down that’s terrified that they may someday come to their senses and get sick of his shit like everyone else has… So he really tries to enjoy every moment with them that he can get.

When Mammon’s hugs are like a vice, it’s because he’s always scared that each one will be his last... He's a scumbag and a screw-up, but they've never cared.

He really, truly treasures them for it.

Levi

Hugs like it’s a blessing.

If Mammon is anxious that they’ll leave, Levi is still trying to believe they’re there. Forget leaving him eventually, why are they with him to start with??

Needless to say, hugs from Levi always have a certain level of gratitude because of this. He always seems surprised when they start and usually hangs on a bit too long even after they end.

True, he doesn’t really know where to put his hands nor how to stand and not be stiff - but it doesn’t take a genius to see how much he must love it given how hard he hugs back.

Who would ever want to love an outcast like him…? He still doesn't know, but when MC's in his arms he can pretend at least… right?

Satan

Hugs like a gentleman.

Everything about Satan has a certain class to it, doesn't it? He's had proper manners drilled into him for centuries, so naturally his hugs are just as refined.

Never too hard and never too long, the perfect amount of grip and warmth to leave both parties satisfied. Excellent hugs for comfort!...

… unless he's upset about something.

In the rare case where it's Satan looking for a little attention instead of MC, he just becomes extra needy - hanging around them for long stretches or trying to pull their arms around him if they don’t get the hint...

Is he purposely emulating his favorite furry friends or is this a subconscious thing? Who knows. But either way, the MC should feel honored to receive his more warm (and certainly more compromising) affections.

Asmo

Hugs like a worshipper.

I hope you don't mind roaming hands, but they caress out of love.

As much as Asmo loves skin-to-skin he'll always jump at the chance to get to know MC's body just that bit more, even fully clothed.

From the supple places that give to his touch to the bony ones he has to trace - the rolling curves or running valleys - every part is just another bit of MC to love!

He'll even try to learn what the MC's body feels like under all different kinds of fabrics and in every style imaginable, just to commit them to memory that much more.

It would be fair to say that he loves them desperately. A hug to him is more than a simple gesture, it's just another chance to worship at their altar...

Beel

Hugs like a natural.

Have you ever fallen face first into a comfy beanbag chair? Do you remember that sudden, almost light feeling as the beanbag puffs out then the wonderful enveloped feeling as you start to sink in? That's pretty much getting hugged by Beel.

Just replace the beanbag stuffing with washboard abs but somehow it's still no less satisfying, I promise.

Beel is built for hugs and he loves to give them to MC in particular. Their human body is a lot more fragile than his - he can tell - but that creates the same kind of feeling you get when holding a kitten.

When the person he's holding feels so light, warm, and delicate it feels so honoring to even touch them… Love and trust all in one package.

Belphie

Hugs like he's made of glue.

One could argue that Belphie's only truly content when his beloved human is in his arms. It is, however, not any expression of love or joy on his part. Oh no, it's not nearly that special...

It's just how things should be.

If he had his way, he'd make hugging the MC it's own universal law like gravity or motion. It shouldn't even be thought about, it's just a given. That's where he goes!

The MC has had to go hours of their daily life with Belphie's arms attached to their body in some form. Together. Where they belong. Period. He'll never let go.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me short

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dm-clockwork-dragon · 2 years ago

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Beep Boop

Quietly sets Tip Jar out for anyone who wants to be extra nice

So I won't make a big deal about this, but I've finally gone ahead and enabled tipping on this website. I'll never ask for anyone's money if I can at all help it, but if you like what I do, and wanna toss a coin or two into the dragon's hoard, it's much appreciated.

I know I don't post much new content these days, and I know better than to promise that will change. But I do still put a lot of work into updating and maintaining the homebrew classes and such that I have created, and I'm working towards actually turning all this into a proper setting book someday with custom art and tons of new lore. If you enjoy my stuff, or want to see that happen, tipping is a great way to let me know. But so is just liking, reblogging, and asking questions or giving feedback.

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cometmystic · 2 years ago

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hey!! i dont think youve posted abt this yet so… tell me abt your fav characters!!! :D

im about to ramble and expose some weakpoints on the internet so heres a cut !!! im gonna talk about the three that are in the forefront of my mind at the moment !! maybe this will change if you ask me in a months time,,, maybe not !!! mwah thank you for sending me asks sweetie

lots of history with this girl; soo i found out about her during my first mugen phase ? so like 11-13ish,, there was a genre of character that was modeled to play like smash bros characters, and in looking those up, i found one of this weird woman... hong meiling was her name ? she was related to this weird frog girl whose hat was evil and maybe the mcdonalds song girl ? whatever the case i needed to download her. and i couldnt because the download was down. this sent me uo the wall for several years and implanted her name into my brain,, up until i got into touhou proper thanks to you actually !!

so now im learning about the lore and the characters, and turns out theres more to this meiling than being elusive and pretty !!! so this gloomy, scary place behind one of the touhou worlds most significant battles is guarded by this friendly, easygoing redhead ? and shes fiercely loyal and protective of the mansion as well as gensoukyou, despite being employed by people who almost ate the world right up ? thats so wonderful !! shes so cool !!! and she takes care of flowers, and canonically doesnt like dodging bullets and tries catching them instead, and no one has any idea of what she is...!!!! theres so much to her !!! but most of all, the absolute tragedy of some of her mansionmates getting boatloads of development and lore, while shes,, basically in the same place she started in ? even flan did ! but meiling still gets depicted as just lazying about, despite that trait of hers being in favour of working in the scarlet devil mansion, which people fear and dont visit ? or rather used to... so she should have evolved along with it,, so that sadness also makes me even more attached to her in a way !!

i know shes not the most mistreated character in touhou or anything, far from it since shes a th6 girl and those get Everything and everyone sick of them but... idk !! id love to see more of her shine someday ouo

heres some sprite art i made of her

this character is a whisper in the wind. this character is a shadow in the wall of a cave. this character is the tree that falls with no one to hear. this character isnt real. this character is one of my favourites

like shes drenched, positively oozing with lore and content, and its all so utterly relevant and unique that i cant possibly talk about any of it because i cant be bothered to spoiler tag this,, but like,, reading between the lines of the fiction and uncovering lil things about her and what shes like was the most fun ive had during my dngnrnpa phase, to the point that,, here she is still !! at the tippy top !! and because of things youre intimately familiar with russell, you probably know shes probably gonna stay !! im very sentimental like that

and it wasnt even just lore either, her design kind of instantly drew me to her back when i was part of the original animes speculation circle and,, wow suddenly my sonas attire seems a little um,, familiar doesnt it : ...i promise i had other inspiations for ir too óuo;

heres some pixel art i made of her

finally this girl !! much like is the theme here, some lore to my meeting this one !!! this one predates even meiling, since i think i was 9 or 10,, see there was a broadcast channel here called animax, and its responsible for a lot of my taste even nowadays,, from the name you can guess it broadcast all sorts of dubbed anime all day long, most of which i absolutely should not have been watching at that age, like hellsing and gantz oops... well there was this other one which until like 4 years ago i only had the faintest recollection of,, i think there were demons in it or something,, mostly i remember being infatuated by the blonde girl

well 2018 comes around and the memory of this lady shoots straight into my brain in the middle of a call with you russell, which you might remember ! i describe to you what it looks like and tell you that i think a guy kills her and she has him help kill bad guys or else hell kill him right back ? and you, through intense googling, eventually are able to tell me it was called lunar legend tsukihime. woag ! lore unlocked

i wiki crawl for a while out of curiosity and find out that she has a fighting game that kinda rules, and that everyone hates the anime and you should read the visual novel instead and,, hey were making a visual novel at some point huh russell ? maybe i should study up on this tsukihime thing,, apparently its pretty influential,, and

obviously arcueid is ridiculously charming and fun, and every second with her is a mildly exciting, mildly creepy (fun way) delight, and its hard not to absolutely love her for that alone !! but also like,, much like the love for meiling started like a new phase in my life, arcueid did the same thing, in a very wonderful way ? a phase where were both really into this thing and talking about it so often and making so many new ideas about it together,, were playing higurashi currently and it feels like an extension of this, of her, and like,, its so special

i love what meeting arcueid again after 10 years did for me

heres some pixel art i made of her

and if you stuck with me for this long, heres a lil gift !! a lil happy ending for 13 year old me i suppose !!!

i found her after all ouo

#normalclear

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specialagentsergio · 4 years ago

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all we can do is keep breathing || chapter one

summary: He’s out of prison now, but your boyfriend is very much not okay. When he isn’t reinstated, he spirals down quickly, and you don’t know how to help him out of it. (or, spencer relapses post-prison and goes to rehab)

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

category: angst (eventual happy ending)

content warnings: swearing, drug abuse & addiction, an overdose, substance use disorder, ptsd, mentions of suicide, mentions of/implied sex, references to sexual assault, description of a panic attack/ptsd episode. please read with caution; this content can be triggering.

a/n: honestly, i just wrote this for myself. but it was partially inspired by @zhuzhubii ‘s brilliant and heart wrenching fic i know what’s best for me (but i want you instead). mine takes a different turn, but theirs is amazing as well.

a/n 2: disclaimer that while i have both been a patient at a residential treatment center and currently work at one, i don’t have substance use disorder and we don’t treat it specifically at my current workplace. my experience is also all in adolescent centers rather than adult ones, so this won’t be entirely accurate.

word count: 8k

song: paralyzed by nf

fic masterlist || masterlist

Nothing’s been the same since Mexico.

You weren’t naïve. You hadn’t been expecting things to go right back to normal when he got home from prison. You were prepared for Spencer to struggle. And you were ready to do whatever it took to help him recover from this trauma.

But you had never expected that that dedication would lead you to here—sitting on the couch at 11 o’clock at night, tired but wide awake, waiting for him to return from god knows where. A few cardboard boxes filed with the last of his things are stacked neatly beside you.

Spencer’s six-year sobriety coin sits in your hand. You’d found it in the trash a few days after he got home. You had tried to talk him into keeping it—"you were drugged; it’s not your fault”—but he had refused, leading you to believe there was something he wasn’t telling you. But you hadn’t pushed him on it, as that would just be a surefire way to make him double down on keeping it to himself.

He didn’t want the coin, but you kept it, hidden from his sight, hoping he’d want it back someday.

Now, three months later, you weren’t sure that day was going to come.

He had managed to get by for six weeks. He’d been plagued by nightmares and suffered multiple panic attacks, but he’d pushed through the cravings, gone to all his mandated therapy appointments, and attended refresher courses on procedures and firearms. He did everything the bureau required to consider reinstating him.

The day of the meeting, Spencer had seemed a little nervous, but stable. He’d gotten a good night’s sleep, free of bad dreams, and he had given you a kiss goodbye that felt just like the ones he’d always given you before. Then he walked out the door, and you didn’t hear from him for the rest of the day.

You got the news from Emily. The bureau had decided not to reinstate him “at this time”. They recommended that he reapply in six months, but for now, he wouldn’t be getting his badge and gun back.

Your initial reaction had been relief. Although you had shown Spencer nothing but encouragement, you weren’t sure he would ever be ready to go back, let alone so soon. You didn’t even know why he was reapplying. He’d worked for them for over a decade and become a well-respected agent, but when he needed help, the bureau had abandoned him and refused to help him prove his innocence. You had been so furious you could barely speak when JJ told you their decision.

Spencer didn’t share your sentiment—or if he did, he didn’t want to face it. On some level, you understood. The BAU was his home before you were, and you could imagine that after the chaos of the last three months, he desperately wanted his life to just go back to normal. So even though you weren’t sure that this was the best decision for him to make—especially since he seemed to have barely thought about it at all—you’d supported him. Whatever he needed, right?

You tried calling him after talking to Emily, but he didn’t answer. It didn’t worry you too much at first—Spencer often needed space to process things on his own before talking about it. You wouldn’t be able to have a proper conversation until you were off work anyways.

It was around six when the anxiety kicked in. You’d tried calling him a few more times throughout the day to no avail. You hadn’t even gotten a text back. Then you started getting messages from his team, asking how he was doing and if he was okay. They hadn’t heard from him either.

When you’d gotten home, you had immediately looked to the chair Spencer always left his bag on. It was empty. You’d looked through all the rooms anyways, trying to ignore what your gut was telling you he was off doing.

It was a few more hours before he stumbled through the front door, his eyes glassy and footing unstable. You stood in front of him, putting your hands on his upper arms to keep him steady. When he had caught your eyes, he had started to cry.

He’d been more or less inconsolable for the rest of the night, blubbering out apologies as you guided him through the motions of getting into bed. He’d clung to you and you’d murmured reassurances against his skin and into his hair that you still loved him, that you didn’t think any less of him, that he would be okay. You had truly thought he would be at the time.

But he wasn’t okay, not at all. He quickly became stuck in a cycle of using, promising it was the last time, staying clean for a little while, then relapsing. You had pleaded with him to get help, but he’d become... aggressive when you suggested inpatient treatment.

“Don’t ever say that,” he’d snarled. “I’m not my mother.”

Then later that same night, he had crawled into bed next to you at 2 AM, curled up against your side, and begged in a trembling voice, “please don’t send me away.”

You haven’t had the courage to bring it up again until now.

Four days ago, you hit your breaking point. You’d come home from work and found him limp on the couch, barely breathing, a syringe and little glass vial next to him. You’d dialed 911 as you ran into the bedroom, yanked open your bedside table, and pulled out the auto injectable dose of Narcan you’d acquired a few weeks ago just in case. Thanks to that, Spencer was conscious again by the time the EMTs arrived. He resisted being taken to the ER, alternating between scowling at them and looking at you with pleading eyes.

But you didn’t give in. When he had checked himself out of the hospital an hour later (you had refused to do it for him), you had driven him home, but the entire time you were formulating a plan. You’d realized that you were padding his rock bottom, and you couldn’t do it anymore.

So now here you are, waiting on the couch. You hope it will work this time. About a month ago you had tried staging an intervention with his team, but as soon as he saw them, he’d walked right back out of the room and you hadn’t seen him again for nearly two days.

It’s another hour before he arrives home, and it takes his drug-fogged mind a full minute to process what he’s seeing. His voice is hoarse when he asks, “You’re leaving?”

“No,” you reply. “You are.”

Spencer sways slightly on his feet as he thinks. “You’re kicking me out,” he realizes.

You try to ignore the prick of tears in your eyes and focus on keeping your voice steady. “Yes. I am.”

His bottom lip starts to tremble. “You... you can’t do this,” he whispers.

“No, I can,” you say. You take a deep breath before you continue. “But more than that, I have to.”

For the first time in months, Spencer doesn’t try and hide his tears from you. He cries openly. His back hits the wall and he slides down it, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. It’s unbelievably hard to watch.

You stand and approach him cautiously, almost as if he’s an animal that you don’t want to spook, reaching into your back pocket and holding out a keycard. “I booked you a room for the night at that motel a few streets over, so you can... sleep it off. But after that, you’re on your own.”

He looks up at you with those big brown eyes that you love so much, but they don’t look like they used to. Now they’re bloodshot and his pupils are pinpricks. “(Y/N), please, please don’t do this,” he whimpers. “Please, this is the last time. I won’t do it again, I promise.”

You just shake your head. His words are nothing new. “Your car is already in the parking lot there with the rest of your things.”

It’s like a switch flips, his broken expression contorting into a glare. “Fine,” he practically growls. He pushes your hand away and staggers to his feet. “I don’t want that shitty motel room. I’ll just go stay with JJ. She actually cares about me.”

You expected him to lash out like this, but the words still sting. “You really think JJ’s going to let you be around her boys like this?” you ask quietly.

The anger on his face is offset some by the tears and snot still running down it.. And you know he knows that you’re right. “So this is it, huh?” he says coldly, wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “Six years together, all we’ve been through. It’s just over now.”

You retreat back to the couch, placing the keycard on top of the boxes. “That’s actually up to you.”

His laugh is derisive. “You could have fooled me!”

You swallow around the lump in your throat. “I don’t want this to be permanent. You can stay now, or come back, on one condition.”

Spencer folds his arms over his chest defensively. “Which is?”

“You have to agree to check into a treatment center.”

The look of betrayal on his face breaks your heart. Tears spill out of your eyes before you can stop them; you swipe them away and take a deep breath to try and hold the rest of them off.

It’s a while before he speaks again, and his voice is quiet when he does. “How can you say that.” It’s not a question.

“It’s what you need, Spencer,” you answer. “You’re not coping with what happened to you. Not just prison, everything that’s happening to your mom, too—”

“Don’t talk about my mother!”

You flinch. He’s never raised his voice at you before. It’s the drugs, you try to remind yourself. It’s just the drugs, he doesn’t really mean it.

He storms forward and you scurry out of the way on instinct. He scoffs. “What, you think I’m going to hurt you?”

“You’re scaring me right now,” you admit quietly.

Spencer tries to cover up the hurt with a scowl, but you can still see it in his eyes. “You really think that little of me?”

You open your mouth to speak, then close it again. You don’t know what to say. Spencer would never hurt you, you know that without a doubt. But the Spencer you know, the man you fell in love with... he’s not the same person when he’s using. And with how high and emotional he is right now, you don’t know what to expect. “I... I don’t know anymore, Spencer,” you answer honestly.

He shrugs. “Maybe you’re right to think that. I did some awful things in there, you know.” He says it matter-of-factly, but you recognize it as a glimpse of one of the things he’s using the drugs to escape from, one of the things he won’t talk about.

He gathers up the boxes in his arms; you pretend not to notice him pocketing the keycard. You’re worried about him carrying them safely in his current state and almost reach out to steady him before recognizing from the tension in his shoulders that touching him right now will only make things worse.

He stops at the door and you hurry to open it for him. “I really believed you loved me, you know,” he whispers, the anger falling off of his face.

The words are like a blow to the stomach; it knocks the breath out of your lungs. “I do,” you choke out. “I do love you.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. He just shakes his head and walks out the door.

He doesn’t look back.

---

It’s been the longest two weeks of your life.

You haven’t heard from Spencer since the night he left. You weren’t expecting him to come around to the idea of rehab quickly, but you thought he might try and call you within a few days and try to talk his way out of the hole he’d found himself in.

He didn’t.

All you could do was wait, and hope that that night wasn’t going to end up being the last time you saw him alive. In a way, it was worse than it had been when he was in prison, because this time, you were the reason he was gone.

His team has mixed feelings on what you’ve done.

JJ is mad. She asks, “how could you?”, and, “you really think this will work?” You try to be patient with her—you know she’s so upset because she loves him. She already lost her older sister and now she’s scared of losing the man who’s practically her brother. But when she (perhaps unintentionally) insinuates that you did this because you’d just had enough of him, you snap, telling her she has no right to say that when you know she wouldn’t let him stay at her house while he’s using. She keeps her thoughts to herself after that.

Emily is sympathetic. She was there the first time he started using and had subsequently gotten her head bitten off when she tried to reach out and help him. “I know how hard it is to get through to him when he’s... like this. You just let me know if I can help at all.”

Luke is much the same. He’s had his own struggles with PTSD and understands the toll it takes on everyone, not just the one with it. He’s always happy to offer you some time with Roxy, because he’s right—things really do feel better when you’re petting her.

Rossi isn’t... indifferent, exactly. He just doesn’t seem to have much of an opinion one way or the other. You think it’s because he doesn’t know what an alternative would be. For all his experience in psychology, he’s unsure of how to help Spencer.

You don’t know Matt very well yet, but he’s kind to you, even going so far as to bring you a dish of his wife’s lasagna.

Penelope is an absolute angel with her warm hugs and baked goods. She keeps an eye on Spencer’s cell phone location for you, in the event that he ends up at a police precinct or hospital.

Out of everyone, you like talking to Tara the most. She’s so supportive and understanding. You feel like she’s the only one who truly knows what the past few months have been like for you. She just gets it, having lived with a partner with substance use disorder before. “You’re doing the best you can and that’s all that matters,” she tells you. She even goes to a Narcotics Anonymous family meeting with you.

It’s day fourteen without Spencer, and it doesn’t feel much different. It feels bleak. You go to work and run errands, but you only manage it because it’s habit.

You’re rinsing off your plate from dinner when there’s a knock on the door. Your heart leaps into your throat. You aren’t expecting anyone. You try—in vain—not to hope too hard as you go to answer it. It could just be someone dropping by on a whim, or, god forbid, a police officer with bad news.

Please, Spencer. Please let it be you.

When you look through the peephole, you’re unable to hold back a sob of relief. His eyes are fixed on the doormat so you can’t quite see his face, but you’d recognize that head of hair anywhere, even in its current unwashed and disheveled state. You take a few deep breaths before opening the door, for his sake. You crying all over him is likely the last thing he wants or needs.

He doesn’t look up when you open the door, and you realize he’s waiting for you to make the first move.

“Spencer,” you say softly.

It’s a few more moments before he responds. “I’ll do it,” he finally mutters; you can just barely hear him.

Your breath catches in your chest. “You’ll do what?” you ask.

He glances up then, a look of annoyance flashing across his face.

“I’m not trying to be difficult,” you say, voice shaky from the effort of holding back tears. “I just... I need to hear you say it.”

He sighs and looks back down, tugging on the ends of his sleeves. “I’ll... I’ll go to... to re—rehab.”

Tension you didn’t even know you were holding in your body melts away. You step to the side. “Come in,” you whisper.

He shuffles inside. When you turn back from closing the door, he’s just standing still in the middle of the room. You get a better look at him now. His clothes are rumpled and his hair is an absolute mess, tangled and dirty. It doesn’t look like he’s had a shower or shave for at least a week—you figure he’s probably been sleeping in his car. His face is pale and his hands are trembling; as you move closer, you can see a light sheen of sweat on his face, leading you to believe that he’s currently sober and starting to experience withdrawal symptoms.

You touch his arm gently and he makes a distressed whining sound. You guide him to sit on the couch. When you sit next to him, he looks at you with teary eyes. You open your arms in an invitation and he collapses into you, bursting into tears. “’m sorry,” he stutters out between sobs. “I—I didn’ mean it. I... ‘m so s—sorry, (Y/N).”

You cry too, holding him tight against you. “I know, baby,” you whisper, voice breaking. “I know.”

---

Spencer’s mostly nonverbal for his intake process. Whether it’s by choice or not is something you’re unsure of. In a private room a few hallways away from the main ward, you’re introduced to the admissions supervisor, Susan, whose voice you recognize from the phone calls you’d made to get him into one of the beds here. You also meet Spencer’s new therapist, Lara. She has a kind face and seems to have a good sense of humor. You just hope Spencer will like her.

You’re both given paperwork to read through and sign, as he’s on your health insurance now. Naturally, he’s done with them before you’ve finished the first page. Susan is taken aback. “Oh. Um, sir, we do need you to actually read this paperwork,” she says.

Spencer folds his arms and stares down at the carpet. “I did.”

“He, uh, he can speed read,” you explain. She still looks skeptical, so you add, “I’m serious. He reread War and Peace on the drive here.”

He doesn��t talk again until everything’s in order and you’re given five minutes alone to say goodbye. “I don’t want to do this,” he whispers.

“Is it okay if I touch you?” you ask. When he nods, you pull at his arms gently until they relax and fall open, then take one of his hands and squeeze it. “I don’t want to, either. I’m so tired of being away from you. But...” You take a deep breath. “But I also don’t want to bury you. You know this is what you need, right?”

He shrugs, refusing to meet your eyes. You can’t quite tell what that means—whether he agrees but wishes that wasn’t the case, or if he’s only doing this to appease you. You hope it’s the former. While it’s a possibility that this might not work either way, you feel like that’s more likely to happen if he isn’t doing this for himself as well, if he doesn’t want to get better.

But it’s out of your hands now. All you can do is trust in the people here to take care of him and that they want what’s best for him.

You put your hand on his cheek and turn his head towards you, trying to get him to look at you. His words from that night run through your head—I really believed you loved me. When he glances up, you seize the moment.

“I love you, Spencer. So much. If there’s just one thing you can trust in right now, please let it be that,” you plead.

He sniffles and you think you see a nod from him, but you can’t be sure. And it hurts a bit—you’re not used to him not saying “I love you” back. You can’t dwell on that now, though. You’ve only got a few minutes left before you have to leave him.

You stand, pulling him up with you. “Can I hu—” you start, but you’re cut off by him lunging forward and clinging to you. You comfort him as best as you can, running one hand up and down his back and using the other to cradle the back of his head as he cries into your neck, muttering incomprehensible words against your skin.

When the door opens, his entire body tenses against you. “Spencer,” you say gently, trying to stop your voice from wavering too much. “You have to let go now.”

He doesn’t budge. If anything, he holds onto you tighter. “Baby—“ you start.

“No,” he says suddenly, his voice louder than you’ve heard it in days. “No, I can’t—I won’t—”

Before you know it, he’s twisted around to stand behind you. You open and close your mouth a few times, startled and unsure what to say. “Spencer, what—what’s wrong?”

“No,” he repeats, shaking his head. “I can’t do it again. I—I won’t.” Then he starts to rub at one of his eyes in the way you’ve seen so many times since he came home from prison and it hits you—he feels like he’s getting locked up again.

A glance at the door shows expressions of sympathy on Susan and Lara’s faces. What with the “war on drugs” sending addicts to prison, this probably isn’t the first time they’ve seen a reaction like this.

You doubt any of their previous patients were framed for murder and had their mother kidnapped by a vengeful psychopath, though.

Spencer’s entire body is trembling when you look back at him, and it’s not from the lingering withdrawal symptoms. It’s heartbreaking, but it only affirms your belief that he needs to be here. It’s clear that he can’t tolerate what he feels and what he knows without turning to self-destructive coping mechanisms.

“Take me home,” he whimpers. “Take me home, please. I want to go home.”

You swallow hard. “I can’t.”

“But they’re gonna hurt me,” he cries. “They’re gonna hurt me because I hurt them; don’t you care if I get hurt?”

You think you know what he’s talking about. You don’t know the details—Spencer wouldn’t let Emily or JJ tell you—but you do know he was hurt in prison by the other inmates. You had seen the bruises yourself. And then you’d heard that some of the inmates were poisoned. He’s a graduate chemist—you’d put it together. You don’t know why he did it, but you assume that he hadn’t had much of a choice.

“They’re not here, Spencer.” You try to stop him from scratching so hard at his eyes, but he flinches at your touch. “They’re not here; they can’t hurt you anymore,” you repeat instead.

Lara comes up to your side. “Let us take care of him, okay?”

Oh, but you don’t want to. Spencer’s so upset and you can’t bear the thought of leaving him like this, not when all you want to do is hold him and never let go. It’s what you’ve wanted since the moment he stepped out of Millburn. But isn’t this the whole point of bringing him here? You can’t help him on your own. You have to let him go.

When Lara coaxes you to take a step back, Spencer makes the most awful, wounded noise. “Don’t leave me, please,” he begs. “Don’t leave me again.”

You press the back of your hand to your mouth to hold back a sob. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” you manage to say. “And I’ll visit you as soon as I can.”

“No, it’s not o—okay,” he protests, his voice breaking. “It’s not—I—” He presses his hands into his eyes and backs up until he’s in the corner. He drops to the floor and curls up, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in them.

Susan is able to get you to take a few more steps back; Lara takes a step forward, in Spencer’s direction.

“Um, don’t—don’t touch him,” you stutter out, desperate to help somehow. “It’ll—it’ll just make it worse.”

“I won’t,” she assures you. And she doesn’t—instead she sits on the floor several feet away from him; not close enough to be threatening but not far enough that he’d be completely unaware of her presence. It makes you feel a little better, because that’s what you do for him at home.

You let Susan guide you out of the room and to the entrance. “He’ll be okay,” she tells you as you walk. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened, and Lara’s fantastic. It’s actually a good opportunity to start building therapeutic rapport.”

You just nod as she talks, not quite listening to what she’s saying. You just keep thinking of his face when you took a step away from him, and how small his voice sounded. It’s a storm of emotions inside of you, but among them is... relief. You don’t have to worry about keeping him safe anymore.

Leaving him in that room, terrified, surrounded by people he doesn’t know, is one of the hardest things you’ve ever done. You just hope it will be worth it.

---

It’s Spencer’s thirty-sixth birthday. You have the day off, but the alarm still sounds early in the morning. You rub your eyes and stretch, trying to shake off the sleepiness. You were up late last night, looking through the entire apartment just one more time for anything you could have missed.

It’s something you’ve done half a dozen times since he was admitted. You haven’t found any needles or Dilaudid since the first time, but you keep doing it anyways. For some reason, when you were feeling anxious about... well, everything, it would calm you down.

You can’t stop yourself from checking once more before you leave to pick him up—though not as thoroughly since you don’t have the time. You just check his hiding places—the desk drawer with the false bottom, the pair of socks he hates that stay in the back of his sock drawer, the gun safe (he’d told you the code years ago just in case and hasn’t changed it since, more worried about you being in danger and needing it than you finding things he doesn’t want you to), and the two hollowed out books at the back of two different bookshelves.

You want to believe that even if there were anything there, he wouldn’t go looking for it anymore, but you aren’t there yet. He’s been in treatment just shy of six weeks, and it’s been up and down. Two steps forward has always seemed to be accompanied by one step back.

While he usually thrived on routine, the enforced structure of the treatment facility would remind him of Millburn multiple times a day. It took the better part of two weeks for him to adjust to it. The first time you visited him, he had curled up in your arms and cried about it, saying that he was barely sleeping because he didn’t feel safe and that he just wanted to go home.

It didn’t help that he didn’t get along with his roommate. Spencer found him to be too loud, complaining to you multiple times that he always wanted to talk during quiet time. Apparently he was also working on his GED, and would constantly ask him for answers to his homework. “I wouldn’t mind helping him, but he just wants me to give him the answers instead,” he’d told you. So Spencer had just tried to ignore him.

But his patience had finally snapped a few weeks ago when his roommate drank both his own and Spencer’s shampoo in a suicide attempt, because he’d “read somewhere that shampoo was toxic.” Spencer had yelled at him, calling him a “fucking idiot”, among other things (they were promptly separated). His roommate was fine in the end—he just threw up a lot. But he was permanently moved to a different room, to both you and Spencer’s relief.

Spencer had a meltdown the next night, though, when it was time to shower. He had been given replacement shampoo from the treatment center’s supplies, but he didn’t like the smell and couldn’t stand the texture, so he’d refused to take a shower. That then resulted in him losing points for not following the structure. (Points were given for good behavior and meeting goals, and were mainly how privileges were earned.)

Naturally, Spencer had protested that this wasn’t fair, that it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have shampoo that he could use. He’d been told that these were the rules, and he wouldn’t be given an exception. In response, Spencer had thrown the shampoo across the room, thrown himself onto his bed, buried his head under his pillow, and refused to talk to anyone.

But that night ended up marking a turn for the better in his treatment. He hadn’t responded when shift change happened and one of the night staff, Matt, checked in on him—in fact, he hadn’t moved at all. When he’d said, “tell me if there’s anything I can do to help you feel better”, Spencer had had no intention of taking him up on it.

A couple of hours later, though, when everything was quiet and he couldn’t sleep because he felt sticky and dirty from not showering, he wandered out into the commons area, holding his favorite blanket from home around himself. When asked what he needed, he’d shrugged, because he didn’t know what he needed, besides his old shampoo, and there wasn’t much to be done about that at midnight.

“I heard you had a rough time this evening,” Matt had said.

Spencer nodded absently, looking at everything but the two of them sitting on the couches.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head.

“Okay,” Matt had replied. “Well, you can sit out here with us for a little while if you want. How’s ten minutes sound?”

Spencer had shrugged again, but sat down on the corner of the couch, pulling his legs up against his chest. He pressed his nose into the fabric of the blanket and breathed in deeply. He’d held off on washing it since got here because it smelled like you. It was comforting, and he felt himself relax some. Then, without thinking about it consciously, he opened his mouth... and talked.

He started with the shampoo incident. His voice had raised an octave and hot tears stung his eyes as he talked about how much he hated the replacement shampoo and how he felt that he was being treated unfairly by people who didn’t understand why it bothered him so much. And then he had just... kept going. He didn’t talk about specifics—he said he was framed and wrongly incarcerated, then went straight to everything that had happened since he got home. He talked about losing his job and his first relapse because of that. He talked about how he couldn’t seem to stop going back. He talked about your ultimatum and his two weeks living out of his car.

When he finally stopped, he was breathing heavily and exhausted, but he felt... lighter. It was like the dam burst. The next morning, he started talking, really talking, to his therapist. When you came by that evening to bring him new shampoo, he’d told you all about what had happened, sparing no detail. To say it shocked you was an understatement—he hadn’t been so open with you since Mexico.

The two weeks since had gone well. There were a few bumps, but otherwise he was improving, and he’d been able to earn a day visit for his birthday.

Spencer looks... good when you see him. He’s fully dressed, wearing the cardigan he knows you like the best, and it no longer looks baggy on him. He’d come back from prison a little underweight, and it had only gotten worse since. But he’s been steadily gaining it back here thanks to sobriety and regular meals. He’s got his satchel across his shoulder but he isn’t clinging to it protectively and the way he rocks up on the balls of his feet appears to be excited rather than nervous. It looks like he may have even run a brush through his hair for once.

Then he sees you, and the smile that spreads across his face... he looks like himself again. Your smile back is so big that it probably looks goofy, but you don’t care.

He hugs you as soon as you’re close enough. It’s tight, but he’s not clinging to you like you’ve grown accustomed to over the past six weeks, which you think can only be a good thing—he’s not feeling insecure or unsafe anymore.

“Happy birthday,” you say. “You look really nice.”

“Really?” he asks. “Because I got up a little early to get ready, but I didn’t shave since I’d have to check out my razor and that’s a hassle, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine. I’m not really sure myself—”

“Spencer, I don’t mind the facial hair at all,” you interrupt. “You look great. I mean it.”

He glances away shyly, his cheeks turning a little pink. “Thanks,” he murmurs.

You both sign the checkout paperwork and head out. Spencer insists on holding your hand the entire time. When you get to the car and start to let go, he tightens his grip instead and pulls you closer to him. “(Y/N).”

“Yes?”

He hesitates just slightly before placing his other hand on your cheek. “Can I kiss you?” he asks softly.

You blink, realizing that it’s been a long while since you’ve kissed. And just like that, you’re aching for his lips on yours. “Please do.”

Spencer lets your hand go then. Cradling your head in both of his hands now, he leans in and kisses you so gently. You soak it in, feeling warm inside as something you didn’t realize you were missing returns to you. When he pulls back, he looks more at peace than you’ve seen him in months.

You just look at each other for a bit. Eventually, you place a kiss on his cheek and say, “We should go before we get in trouble for loitering.”

He wants to hold your hand whenever he can on the drive home, and you let him. He tells you how his week has been going—someone in his group therapy is graduating the program in a few days, and they’ve started a new project in art therapy. You knew about the art project already, since he’d spent half of his phone time on Monday telling you how much he didn’t want to make a pottery project because he can’t stand how the clay feels on his hands when it dries. But you’ve always loved to listen to him talk, so you don’t remind him of this.

As you’re getting off the freeway fifteen minutes later, you tap the back of his hand twice to signal that you have something to say. He pauses in his infodump about the history of pottery so you can speak. “I’ve got a few presents for you at home, but I was thinking we could go to the bookstore and you can pick out some more things?”

He makes a happy humming noise. “That sounds great! There’s something I want to read up on.”

He veers off to the nonfiction section when you enter his favorite bookstore; you idly browse your favorite section as you wait. When he returns to your side, he’s holding a stack of five books, all on the same subject.

“Horses,” you say.

He nods enthusiastically, his hair bouncing. “I’m starting an equine therapy program next week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. I hope it goes well.” You don’t know much about horse therapy—seems like that’s going to be what you read about on your phone in bed tonight while you wait for sleep to come.

Spencer’s quiet on the car ride home, content to flip through his new books. He doesn’t notice when you park the car; you have to touch his arm to get his attention.

“What?” he asks without taking his eyes off of the full color spread of a mustang in his lap.

“We’re home,” you point out. With how many times he’s told you he wants to go home in the past weeks, you expect him to be excited, but he’s not. He tenses when he looks up and sees the building in front of you. “What’s wrong, Spencer?”

“Um...” He fiddles with the book’s dust jacket. “There’s... there’s not a surprise party waiting for me inside, is there?”

“Oh. No, there’s not. Just a few balloons and little banner. You, uh...” you wince a little as something occurs to you. “You weren’t wanting one, were you?”

“Absolutely not,” he immediately replies.

You chuckle a little at his certainty. “Well, good. Because I had a hell of a time convincing Penelope not to throw you a birthday party, and I don’t know if she’d ever forgive me if it turned out I was wrong and you did, in fact, want a party.”

That gets a small laugh out of him; your heart leaps at the sound. It’s been far too long since you’ve heard that.

He seems a little apprehensive as you unlock the front door, and when he walks in, he stays standing on the living room rug for a while, his eyes traveling from one side of the room to another, looking over everything. “It looks the same,” he says eventually.

“Were you expecting it not to be?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” he answers, running his fingers across one of the seams of his satchel. “It’s not that I thought you would change anything, it’s more like... I feel so much different than I did the last time I was here that it’s kind of strange to see that everything’s just like I remember it.”

You’re reminded of the last time he was standing still in the living room like this, stick-thin, dirty, and trembling from withdrawals. “Different in a good way, I hope,” you say, nervously fussing with the pile of presents on the coffee table.

He gives you a small smile. “Yes, in a good way,” he affirms softly. He notices the presents and scrunches his eyebrows. “I thought you said you only had a few presents here.”

“Most of these are from the team,” you explain. “Emily brought them by last night. They had to fly out this morning, but she wanted you to have them on your birthday.”

“Oh.” He raises his hand and it looks like he might rub at his eye but he presses his knuckles to his mouth instead. You can’t really tell what’s going on in his mind. You figure his feelings towards his team are complicated. On the one hand, they got him out of the prison, and he’s known some of them for over a decade. On the other, he wasn’t allowed to rejoin the BAU and the whole experience had made him feel humiliated. You think he wants to see them, but he also doesn’t; he’s stuck in the middle and can’t decide.

Either way, it doesn’t matter today. It’s his birthday and you want him to have a good one, so you redirect his attention. You sit on the couch and pat the spot next to you. “Will you show me your new books?”

The corners of his mouth turn up and he pads across the floor towards you. “Yeah. So, here’s what I’ve learned so far....”

The day continues in much the same fashion—quiet and laidback as you simply enjoy each other’s company. Once he shows you all of the books, you move on to the TV, catching up on the episodes of Doctor Who you’ve both missed (you didn’t want to watch it without him). You order his favorite takeout for dinner, after which you bring out his dessert—half a dozen chocolate frosting and sprinkles donuts arranged in a circle around two candles displaying 36.

“You know, it’s not really sanitary to blow all over food before sharing it,” he says.

You roll your eyes fondly. “We go over this every year. We kiss; I’m not worried about your mouth germs.”

“But it’s not just my “mouth germs”,” he corrects, making air quotes with his fingers. “It involves the entire respiratory track, so—”

“Spencer, as always, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you interrupt. You’ve heard this explanation before. “Now make a wish.”

He takes a moment to ponder it, then blows the candles out. You put the plate down and hand him a napkin. “We’re not going to be able to eat all of these before I have to go back,” he says, but the way he bites eagerly into the first one nearly makes you question that.

He gets through two; you only eat one, mostly full from dinner. He wants to go lay down on the bed after, “so we have more room to cuddle”. And cuddle he does, pressing as much of his body to yours as he can. One of your hands settles in his hair automatically. “Did you have a good day?” you ask, running your fingers through it.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Obviously this situation is not ideal,” you start carefully. “But I’m just so happy that you’re still... well, around for your birthday.”

Spencer turns his head into the fabric of your shirt and breathes in deeply. “Me, too,” he says quietly on the exhale.

You lay together in silence for a while, and you savor the feeling of having him in bed next to you again. Sleeping alone wasn’t anything new in your relationship, as his job took him around the country. You’d gotten used to it for the most part, but every night he wasn’t with you because he was in prison was just plain awful. After, you had him back for six weeks, then it became sporadic again as he started using. It’s been so much easier to sleep since he went into treatment, but you still miss sharing the bed with him terribly.

You look at your phone briefly to check the time. “We’ve got about three hours until we have to start heading back. I’m happy to stay like this, but we still have time to do something else if you want to.”

All he says verbally is, “okay”, but the way he squirms against you tells you that he does have something on his mind.

“Just let me know if you do,” you say gently; you don’t want him to feel pressured into speaking. Plus you’re content to lay here playing with his hair and listening to his breathing.

“Well, there is something,” he admits after a few minutes.

He doesn’t continue, so you say, “Okay. What is it?”

He sighs and sits up. “It’s... it’s nothing bad, or—or even that big of a deal, really. At least, it shouldn’t be.”

You push yourself up into a sitting position next to him. “Well, why don’t you tell me so I can help?” you ask. “I can tell that it’s bothering you.”

“That’s exactly the point. It shouldn’t be bothering me,” Spencer complains. “Because I really want to do it. It’s just...”

You put your hand on his back and run it up and down to try and comfort him. You don’t say anything; you just give him time to get the words out.

He takes a deep breath. “I want to have sex,” he says. “I really do, I’m just... not entirely sure I’m... ready yet.”

“Oh.”

It’s not where you expected the conversation to go, because it’s something that hasn’t really been in your life at all since Mexico. He’d... taken care of you a few times during those first six weeks, but hadn’t let you return the favor. Each time he had scurried off to the bathroom and run a cold shower before you could even touch the waistband of his pants. Then on the night he came back to you, you had been helping him undress since his hands were trembling so much. When you unbuttoned his pants, he had breathed in sharply and frantically pushed your hands away.

Clearly something had happened to him, but he’d never even alluded to anything of the sort. And that was okay—you didn’t need to know. You just wished you knew how to help.

“I’m sorry, I know it’s stupid,” he says, running his hands down his face.

“Oh, baby, no,” you soothe. “It’s not stupid at all.”

He just shakes his head. “You deserve more than this.”

“I don’t know about that. But,” you continue, pushing his hair back so you can see his face better, “I do know what I want, and what I want is you.”

Spencer chews on his bottom lip, doubt clouding his eyes. “Look at me,” you implore. He meets your gaze hesitantly and you take his face in your hands.

“I love you, Spencer Reid. And nothing is going to change that.”

His eyes grow wet. He sniffles once, then lunges forward, capturing your lips with his own. You kiss him back just as passionately, holding onto him as tight as he is to you. It may have been a long time since you kissed at all until this morning, but it’s been even longer since he’s kissed you like this.

“Love you, too, (Y/N),” he mumbles against your lips when he pulls back to take a breath.

You press your forehead to his with a happy sigh. But he’s only content to stay like that for a few moments. He bumps your nose with his and tugs slightly on your shirt, requesting permission to kiss you again. You’d love to do that, and you’d love to do more than that, too, but you don’t want him to rush into something he’s not truly ready for.

“You know what we could do?” you ask, running your hand through the curls on the back of his neck.

Spencer’s eyes keep flicking between yours and your lips. “What?”

“A good old-fashioned high school make out,” you say, smiling at him softly. “And I’ll keep my hands above your waist.”

When he visibly relaxes, you know it’s the right decision. “I’d like that,” he says quietly. “I mean, I never kissed anyone when I was in high school, but I get the idea.”

The shy look he gives you before climbing onto your lap reminds you so much of how he was when you first started dating. He’s still there, your Spencer, the Spencer you fell in love with. You never truly thought he was gone, but there were plenty of moments of doubt, moments when you wondered if he’d ever be able to pull himself out of the wreckage, out of the grip of trauma. As much as you wanted to, you couldn’t do it for him.

As it turns out, he could. He can.

It’s far from over. He still has a long way to go. You both do. But for the first time since the day he came home from prison, a return to normal seems possible.

It won’t be the same as it was before. He’s always going to be a little different. But... that doesn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing.

He kisses you, and it feels like it used to, full of respect, adoration, trust, and love. It feels like Spencer.

Despite everything, it’s still him.

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

tell me what you thought here!

if you made it this far, thank you so much for reading. this was very much a personal work but i decided to share it anyways because why the hell not, i'm proud of it. the next chapter will explore horse therapy, a treatment i did and loved, among other things.

i'd like to encourage you please seek this kind of help if you think need it. i see how it changes lives every day at work and it changed my own as well. there's no shame in getting the treatment you need, whatever that may be. recovery is worth it.

if you’re interested in learning more about trauma and the treatment of it, i cannot recommend the book The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk, M.D., enough. it was my favorite book i read last year and i referred back to it several times while writing this.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid #angst #my fic #the shampoo incident is something that actually happened on one of my shifts last august #and yet that's not the craziest thing that's happened while i've been at work lol #don't drink shampoo kids #tw substances #tw suicide

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