#I’m not saying there isn’t a light at the end of the tunnel. I’m just saying it isn’t easy getting there and sometimes it feels like

[tristinian]

“There’s light at the end of the tunnel” yeah well there’s a snake pit between me and the light at then end of the tunnel so I’m allowed to be a little doom and gloom about it

[moonstruckme]

Apple pie with spencer read and qn airport terminal qt midnight

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of bad eating habits, mentioned unease around germs

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 729 words

“Spence.” Your voice is soft, your fingers combing through his hair even softer. Spencer’s head rests heavy on your shoulder. You shield his eyes from the harsh lights with a hand, hoping to rouse him gently. “Honey, wake up.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow. Or, one does, the other already squished towards furrowing by the way it’s laying on your shoulder. You hate to wake him—Spencer tends to have a hard time relaxing at airports, what with all the germs—but your window to get something to eat is closing. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” you ask him, coaxing. 

“No,” he mumbles, but he’s blinking awake, looking up at you with soft, sleepy brown eyes. “Are you?”

You give him a sheepish smile. “A little. Sorry, do you mind if I get up to go look for something? Everything’s closing.” 

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I almost made you miss dinner.” Spencer sits up, stretching his neck. He pushes his shoulders back lazily, and you can hear his bones crackle. “I’ll go with you.”  

You protest half-heartedly but ultimately capitulate, picking up the heavy backpack before he can and leaving your boyfriend to tow the suitcase. At this time the airport is near empty, the only people to be seen the sad band of vagabonds sitting at your gate waiting for your plane to arrive. You’ve been delayed two hours by the weather. Spencer will have to wake up four hours from when you get home to go to work, you only a half hour later.

You realize as you walk that you may be too late. While the websites you’d checked had said their airport locations would be open until midnight, the employees are already cleaning out machines, wiping down counters, pulling metal gates closed over their entrances. 

Spencer makes a worried oh sound, realizing the same thing.

“There’s an Auntie Anne’s down there,” you say hopefully, starting to walk faster in case they’re closing, too. That glowing yellow sign is your light at the end of the tunnel.

Spencer speeds up with you, but protests, “A pretzel isn’t a meal, sweetheart.” 

“It might be my only option,” you point out. “Also, I saw you eat a bag of salt and vinegar chips for dinner last week. You don’t get to talk.” 

You hear a soft, slightly petulant huff behind you. You might give him shit for it if you weren’t in a rush. 

You try to order as quickly as possible, feeling guilty for making the employee serve you just before close. But then the cup is in your hand, warm and smelling of cinnamon, and you think you probably would have vaulted the counter to get it yourself had she refused you. It’s heavenly. 

You wait until you get back to the gate to start eating, wanting to savor every bite. When you do, you have to close your eyes, forcibly smothering a moan. They’re everything you wanted and more. You shovel them into your mouth faster than is probably safe and definitely faster than anyone’s mother would approve of, and it’s not until you’re more than halfway done that you notice Spencer’s stare.

You give him a wry look. “So now you’re hungry?” 

“What?” He looks startled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re practically drooling.” 

“No, I’m not,” he says, though you notice him tighten his lips as though checking to be sure. 

You sigh, holding them out to him. “It’s okay. Have some.” 

“No.” Spencer frowns with his eyebrows. “They’re yours.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you say, more genuinely this time. “I’d hate for you to miss out. They’re really good.” 

He can only resist temptation for so long. He takes one, and his reaction is nearly the same as yours had been, expression going soft at the perfect, delicious warmth of them. 

“In exchange,” you suggest as he reaches for more, “can I take a turn napping on your shoulder for a while?” 

“Yeah, of course,” says Spencer, managing to sound smitten even though a mouthful of cinnamon pretzel bites. He settles back in his chair, trying to give you as comfortable a pillow as possible. 

“Thanks.” You sigh through your nose as you lay your head down, pulling your legs up onto the chair with you and closing your eyes. “I can’t believe we have to go to work tomorrow morning.” 

“This morning,” Spencer corrects you. 

You groan. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn't go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: get ready for the hate.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The tunnel lights up ahead of you, revealing the cubic rock walls as you plant torches in your stead. The eerie soundtrack of night time and the ominous groan of zombies looming somewhere in the cave have you uptight. Silently, you press on, digging and mining mindlessly, fingers mashing the buttons on your controller. 

“Hey, where are you?” Jacob’s voice startles you. 

You nearly forgot you’re playing co-op. You sniff and shake your head, cursing aloud as your shock has you succumbing to the arrow of a sneaky skeleton. You sigh as your possessions scatter and you spawn back in your bed. 

“Back home,” you say glumly, “just ate it.” 

“Ah, damn,” his deep voice rolls in your noise-cancelling headset, “sorry, hope that wasn’t me.” 

“No, I wasn’t paying attention,” you hum and sigh.  

“Ah,” he accepts and lets silence linger before he clicks his tongue, “what’s going on? Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you put the controller down, your avatar sitting on the geometric bed, “I just...” you stretch your neck and massage your scalp around the thick band of the headset, “got a lot on my mind.” 

“Right. I thought you were all done exams,” he says. 

“I am, but... packing. Going home. I called my old boss and turns out I’m not gonna have a job this summer. Gotta start over,” you yawn and rub your eyes, “what about you? Final exam tomorrow?” 

“Uh... yeah,” he hesitates as if he forgot. You do wonder why he isn’t cramming right now. You could never play minecraft all night the day before a final. “Easy stuff. I’m not worried.” 

You scoff. You wish you could say the same. All you’ve done is worry those last two weeks. Exams, getting home, getting a job. Your grandmother won’t very happy to find out you’ll be slumming it for a while. At least you tucked away some money through the semester. 

“Hey, if you need a few bucks...” Jacob offers. 

“What? Are you crazy? No way,” you exclaim, “really, no, I couldn’t. I’ll be fine. I just... I hate looking for jobs. You know how it is. Friggin awkward.” 

“It’s not a big deal. My dad sent me my birthday money so...” 

“Uh uh,” you deny him again, “that’s way too much. I couldn’t-- we haven’t even met.” 

“Mm, yeah, about that,” he exhales into his microphone, “I, uh, got an extra ticket to this Con. I figured out that’s it like the midway point between us so...” 

“A con? Oh, wow--” 

“Yeah, but I get that it would be expensive so maybe I could pay for your trip?” 

“Jacob,” you wiggle the controller restlessly, “I can't accept that. It’s so nice but... it’s a lot.” 

“I wouldn’t offer it was too much,” his voice is soft, meek, and defeated. You feel bad but you would feel worse taking advantage of his kindness. “We’ve been talking all year. I just figured it would be a good chance to meet up. It would be in public and something we both like so...” 

You scratch your neck as it speckles with heat. You don’t know what’s more insulting; yes or no. 

“Can I think about it?” You ask thinly. 

The line is quiet. You look at the screen and it goes dim from your idling. You hit the analog stick and fix your headphones. 

“Jacob?” You murmur. 

“Sure, think about it,” he says, his voice raspy and rocky. It’s strange. You’ve seen him in pictures and his voice doesn’t really match his appearance. He sounds a lot older than he looks. “It’s next month so lots of time.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cringe. “I just wouldn’t want to waste your money.” 

“Trust me, it wouldn’t be a waste,” he insists, “this last year has sucked. So much. You got me through it all.” His microphone scuffs, “studying, exams, all that stuff. It’s tough making new friends. Seems like everyone here knows each other from high school.” 

“Yeah, totally,” you agree.  

You’re not exactly the most popular person. You have people you know in each class but not too many friends you hang out with outside the lecture hall or library. So far, not too many people want to spend hours mining digital gold or racing cartoon characters around a rainbow track. 

“Well, you should probably get some sleep,” you yawn, “you got your big exam and... I gotta keep packing. Gotta catch the greyhound tomorrow night.” 

“Sure, uh, yeah, right,” his disappointment is potent, “hey, will you text me when you get home? Just so I know you made it.” He snorts, “god, I sound like my dad right now.” 

“Oh, of course,” you chirp back, “I’ll try to remember. Might be late.” 

“That’s fine. Just as long as you let me know.” 

“Don’t worry about me,” you assure him, “not ‘til I have to face my grandma. Ha.” 

“Yeah, good luck with that,” he says, “well... er...” 

“Good night,” you finish for him, “let me know how the exam goes too.” 

“Will do,” his timbre gets even lower, “night.” 

You sign off and shut down the console. Another yawn flows through you and waters in your eyes. You should sleep, you got a long day waiting for you, but you know it won’t be easy. Not with so much on your mind, not least of all, Jacob’s invitation. 

🎮

You text Jacob as you get on the bus, to make sure he doesn’t worry. It’s so sweet that he does, even some of your girlfriends don’t bother that much. Not that you mind the ‘hey, bitch’ Janet sends you every now and again to make sure you’re still alive. 

You fall asleep on the bus. You’ve never been one to sleep while travelling but you’re exhausted from a night of anxious tossing and turning. After spending all day packing up the last of your things and scouring your dorm room, you’re beat to hell. 

It’s midnight as you get to your grandmother’s house. She’s up reading another Stephen King classic in her rocking chair. She’s always been a night owl and a voracious book hound. She grumbles at you but doesn’t bother to ask how your trip was. 

“Hey, grandma,” you hike up your bag and smile.  

She growls again, eyes not leaving the page. You should know better by now not to interrupt her. You shoulder on and head down to the spare room where you spent most of your high-school career. You shut the door gently as the old hardwood floors creak with your weight and you drop your bag on the squeaky bed. 

You fish out your phone and plug it in as the battery flashes red with only two percent left. You leave it on the night table and stretch out, not bothering to change out of your hoodie and jeans. It’s not long before you descend back into the same dreams that marked your journey home. 

You wake up to buzzing. Your phone shakes the nightstand, rattling it against the bed frame. You groan and roll onto your side, reaching blindly for offending object. You hit the side button to dismiss the call.  

You blink away the bleariness and focus on the screen. Along with the missed call are several text messages. You squint as you expand the notifications. Jacob! You forgot to message. 

‘Hey, you home?’ 

‘Checking in. Must be busy getting settled in. Just let me know when you’re safe.’ 

‘Not meaning to be weird but everything okay?’ 

‘Please answer me. I’m worried.’ 

You drag your thumb around the keyboard, letting it predict your words; ‘sorry! I was so tired. Home now and safe 😊' 

Three dots pop up then swoop away. You frown as the same thing happens several times before a response appears. 

‘Was really worried. Thanks for finally answering. Been up all night.’ 

You’re stunned by the terse response. Yeah, you forgot to answer but he doesn’t need to worry that much. You frown and shift onto your side. 

‘Srry again. Tired. Talk in morning. Night.’ 

You turn your phone on silent and plug it back into the cord. You do feel bad but you’re too exhausted to let it keep you up. Besides, you need your sleep. You have lots of job hunting to do in the morning. Not to mention, your grandmother to face. 

🎮

You let Jacob cool down after your return home. Rather, he doesn’t text and you’re too distracted to do the same. As much as you’d like to sit around and game, your grandmother was as disappointed as you expected with your employment status, even when you gave her the money you had left in your emergency fund. 

After a week, you finally get a bite. It’s nothing special. There’s a seasonal ice cream shop in a booth shaped like a vanilla cone that needs a cashier on weeknights. It’s less than full time hours but it’s better than nothing. It will be strange working with high school juniors but you can’t afford to be picky. 

‘Game tonight?’ The text interrupts your first shift. You don’t have a chance to answer as a family approaches the window to order. 

You get them the soft serve and take their payment, bidding them a good evening with their vanilla points already drooping in the summer heat. You glance around at the mostly empty picnic tables. Soccer practice will end soon and you’ll be overloaded with eight-year-olds. 

‘Srry. New job. 1st shift. Maybe tmrw.’ 

‘New job? Congrats. Why didn’t you tell me?’ 

You sigh.  

‘Time got ahead of me.’ 

‘Same. Catch up tomorrow then. Minecraft?’ 

‘Sure. Tmrw.’ 

You slip your phone away. A mother and daughter approach and ask for a sundae and a banana split. As much as you love ice cream, working with it hasn’t tested your cravings very much. In fact, you might be falling out of love with it. The smell of vanilla and overly sweetened strawberries is kind of gross when it’s all you breathe. 

As you watch the happy customers walk away, you smile. Maybe it will be good to get some mining done. It will take your mind off of everything else. Hell, it might even make you feel like you’re doing something useful. 

🎮

“Shit, oh, sorry,” Jacob corrects himself. You always think it's kind of funny how he doesn’t like to swear. “My diamond armor.” 

“Oh no,” you utter, “where are you? I’ll grab your stuff.” 

He gives his coordinates and you turn around, leaping over the green blocks to make your way there. Despite your reticence at the beginning, you’re feeling better about the session. He wasn’t as tense as he seemed in his texts. 

“So, uh, did you think about the con?” Jacob asks. 

“The con? I almost forgot. When is it?” 

He gives the dates and you hum. Your chest flutters at the thought still. You’re not stupid. Meeting people IRL is not like online, no matter how many hours you’ve mined together. As much as you enjoy chatting with Jacob, you don’t know about meeting up. 

“I get it if you can’t get the time off but my offer still stands to cover the trip. If you wanna stay the night, I’ll even get an airBnB.” 

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot. I’m working now. I could put in,” you offer.  

“Is that a yes?” He asks hopefully. 

“I don’t know... I mean, I’ll have to look into it,” you say evasively. “Talk to my boss and grandma and all that.” 

“Right, right,” he tries to sound unbothered, “makes sense. Of course, no pressure. How about I send you the ticket either way? Haven’t got anyone else to bite.” 

“Oh, well, hold off, I wouldn’t want to take it and not use it,” you collect his weapons and armor from the ground in the game. 

It’s silent as you focus on getting every little thing. 

“Sorry, did I freak you out?” He asks, “I’m really not trying to pressure you, just got excited thinking about it.” 

“I know, Jacob, it’s not that, it’s just... a lot.” 

“Totally get it,” he intones, “let me know whenever you got an answer. Uh, where are you? I’m tryna find you.” 

“Just stay there, I'll come back to the house,” you assure him, happy to focus on the game instead. 

Still, you can’t entirely lose yourself in it. You’re sure he’s a nice guy. From pictures, he’s less than scary, and he’s never been anything but friendly. It’s not like the other dudes you meet online who jump to asking about your bra size and all that. It just isn’t smart. 

Well, maybe if you don’t show up alone. You know what con he’s talking about and Kara from Econ lives near there. You could probably convince her to meet up. Hm, that might work. 

Just like you told him, you’ll have to think about it. 

[lowtaperfeyd]

Hi 🥰 can i request scenario where reader is paul’s sister and feyd’s wife who is all about honor and one day after feyd’s fight she tells him that he’s not all that because he doesn’t fight fare and is coward 😏

Rats Vs. Mice

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

author's note: Feyd is so fine. That's all.

warnings: death, blood, house harkonnen, knives.

wc: 940

(Y/N) Atreides’ father, the Duke Leto Atreides, had a saying, “Respect for truth is the basis for all morality. Something cannot emerge from nothing.” This has always been something both him and his daughter lived by. Because there is no honor in a man who isn’t truthful. Most of the time she didn’t think of this saying often, since she had been surrounded by truthful men. But when she married Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen she realized just how much the Harkonnens lie. She realized the truth did also die with her father. 

“Does he always fight this way?’ She interrogated her uncle-in-law as they were watching Feyd fight in the black and white light of the Harkonnen homeworld’s sun. 

“Yes of course he does!” He quickly responded, feeling a little offended because of the criticism of his heir from his own wife, “What other way is he supposed to?!”  

“I didn't mean to offend, my Baron,” she replied, realizing it was a bad idea to bad mouth Feyd in front of his uncle, “I’m sorry.”  

“Silly girl,” the only thing that came out of the baron’s mouth after that was, “That boy killed his own mother.” (Y/N) continued to watch Feyd fight. 

The way his arm moved through the air in a teasing motion. Like a cat drawing out the death of a mouse. It was complete cowardice disguised by an overconfident nature from many fights against drugged opponents. Drugged opponents who may just stand a chance against Feyd-Rautha. Of course, she did not think he was a bad fighter, just that he was a big baby. 

The fight, of course, ended with all of Feyd’s opponents on the ground lying still and Feyd’s knife rising to the air to show the blood of his kills. Pathetic from a man who won’t even fight a sober man, (Y/N) thought.

As Feyd went back through the tunnel he came out of, (Y/N) turned toward the baron and asked him,

“Would Feyd ever fight against a man who wasn’t drugged?” 

“Why do you ask this?” The baron asked suspiciously. 

“I mean, isn't his birthday coming up? A good present for him would be fighting someone of equal machinery in a sense. You also need to test whether or not he would be good for Arrakis. I know you aren’t happy with Rabban.” 

The baron just mumbled incoherently. 

“Anyway, I must leave,” She said as she got up, “I have to see my husband.” 

(Y/N) began walking through the tall halls of the fortress. Passing grotesque portraits and seeing the black and white fireworks coming from outside of the castle. The fireworks in celebration of Feyd’s victory. Even though it was dark inside the castle the fireworks did light it just enough to where you did not need a glow globe to transverse through the corridors. The air got more frigid as she continued to walk deeper and deeper to her husband’s room. Like walking into the belly of the beast. She got to her husband’s bedroom door and saw two guards outside of it. 

“You can leave” (Y/N) said to the guards. 

The guards just looked at her and nodded. Afraid of what she would or her husband would do if they didn’t listen. 

(Y/N) opened the huge door to see her husband sitting hunched over on his bed. His feet firmly planted on the ground. His knife, still bloody, in his hands. 

“I watched you fight today.” She said cooly to him. 

“I know,” He said equally, “I saw you from the ground” 

“Well congratulations-” She tried to get out before being interrupted by Feyd, 

“What were you talking about with my uncle?” He bit out in a mix of anger and annoyance.

“I don’t know what youre talking about.” (Y/N) deflected. 

“Don’t play coy!” He shouted and moved to stand menacingly in front of his wife, “I saw you two talking and then looking back at me. What was it!”   

“You would be right, Feyd,” She responded, standing her ground, “We were talking about you.” 

(Y/N) declared, “How much of a coward you are,” After saying this she could see the anger lighting up in the cold, black eyes of Feyd-Rautha, “How his youngest nephew only fought people who weren’t able to beat him. And how pathetic it is.” She spat at him.  

“And would you know something, he actually agreed with me.” (Y/N) lied through her teeth, hoping that Feyd would not go and ask his uncle about it later, 

“He agreed that it would be more entertaining if you actually fought people who stab you as easily as you stab them. Have a form of equal bloodshed.” 

Even though his wife was still berating him, Feyd continued to look at his wife, the woman who was not afraid to question him or go against when it came down to speaking, and thought about how pretty she would be with her head on a spike. Red lipstick smeared on her lips and hair all messed up from the blade going across her throat. 

“And do you want to know the worst thing about you Feyd,” (Y/N) continued to push his buttons, “any honor you have earned is false. The only animal one could compare you to is a lazy, house cat; who can only find entertainment in tiny mice, and can’t defeat the rats which actually pose a threat.” 

“You lost all your honor the day you killed your mother.”

"What makes you think you know anything about honor? " Feyd retorted, "Your family is dead and mine is thriving."

[after-witch]

Horrorfest: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito just wants you to have a nice Halloween.

For Horrorfest request: Mahito putting his darling through a House of Horrors.

Word count: 2823

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, body horror and gore, Mahito is his own warning here

Maybe it said something about your inherent ghoulishness that, when Mahito granted you the rare favor of allowing you to pick an activity to do outside the damp tunnel where he kept you, you chose this--going to a haunted house. 

A cheap one, too. One of those kinds that was retrofitted into an existing building during October and then packed out like a cheap weekend carnival on November 1st. The kind that ignored safety violations and tended to hire teenagers who showed up high or drunk or both. 

It was more cheesy than anything else. A series of dimmed rooms with strobe lights and spiderwebs, or people jumping out in mediocre costumes or revving up fake chainsaws. No, it wasn’t really scary… but to be fair, your definition of “really scary” had been completely upended the moment that you were kidnapped by a curse with a penchant for torturing people in ways you never thought possible before. 

But it was still a tradition, damn it, and if you couldn’t get through October without at least one Halloween tradition under your belt, you might just lose your mind. Or what was left of it, considering your circumstances.

Still, did Mahito have to be a spoilsport about it? He’d been grinning at the start, one arm slung around your shoulder, even though no one else could see him. By the time you’d gotten to the third room, he was pouting. Complaining. Whining. 

And now, at the end, as you walk out following one last jump scare involving an oversized doll costume, he’s rambling on and on about how these humans were terribly uncreative in their creation of a supposedly haunted house. Like you were just walking through the park and not a poorly lit room blasting spooky ambiance music as some tired teens tried to make you shriek. 

“I know humans are capable of better than this,” he muses, sourly, as you make your way out of the parking lot and back onto the side streets that will eventually lead you “home.” Not your home, never your home. But the only home you’ve known since he took you, and it’s better to consider it something familiar than to fully face the reality of your situation without a gloss of comfort.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you say, lightly, blandly. “I think you’re being too harsh.”

Mahito sighs, and pulls you closer. To anyone on the street without the gift of sight, you might look a bit drunk. Stumbling now and then, leaning into nothing at all. Mahito likes this, you think, and that’s why he does it all the time on the very rare occasions that you’re allowed out.

“But I’m not wrong!” You glance at him. The almost childish expression of disappointment is stomach-turning. “You didn’t even flinch or scream or anything fun. You weren’t scared.”

You start to answer, then stop. He’s right. A year ago you probably would have shrieked yourself silly, as simple and ridiculous as the haunted house was; but that was a year ago. That was before. 

“I’m… not scared of much any more.” Your words come out slow and carefully considered. It’s a habit ingrained in you by now. Mahito did love to take your words and run with them.

“Oh?” Mahito turns his head to look at you, and you catch the last moment of a grin that he pastes over with a solemn expression as soon as he sees you looking.  

“Poor thing,” is all he says. 

You don’t talk much on your way home after that.

--

“Mahito--”

“I promise, this will be fun!”

“Mahito--”

“Don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles! Not that I’d mind, but I read this book from the 1980s on beauty perception and--”

“Mahito!”

Mahito pouts, puffing his cheeks out ridiculously. When he doesn’t say anything, you sit up straighter.

“I’m just saying this isn’t necessary.” You keep your tone gentle, sweet. You don’t want him to accuse you of being ungrateful again. The last time he did that--the less said, the better. “I already got my Halloween fix at the haunted house, really. And we watched a horror movie the other day, didn’t we? And you got me a book…” 

Your hand gestures ineffectually towards your nest of blankets, where a battered copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary lay. Mahito found it in a box of books someone threw on the curb and proudly brought it to you, like a cat bringing a dead sparrow to its owner.

Mahito’s expression turns sticky, and his voice coos to match. “Ohh, you’re being so sweet, pet! But I want to do this for you. Since you like Halloween!” He resumes setting out a small collection of large bowls, most with mismatched lids, humming a song you don’t know all the while. “I worked really hard on this, you know!”

“I…” You start to protest, but it doesn’t get far. There was never any use arguing with Mahito or even reasoning with him on most things. Curses did not have the same reason as human beings. That much you knew by now.

So you sit obediently on the ground in front of the beat-up coffee table he dragged in here not so long ago--for this very purpose, maybe?--and try to calm the writhing ball in your stomach.

“Where did you get this idea, anyway?” You ask. Your voice shakes a little, from the cold or worry,  you don’t know. 

Mahito hums, setting down what must be the last bowl and surveying his work. “I read it in a magazine of Halloween party ideas! Some of them look pretty fun. Bobbing for apples…” He looks up at you with an almost hungry smile. “Your hands have to be tied behind your back for that one. Humans sure get kinky on Halloween, don’t they?” 

Your cheeks heat up horribly but you don’t answer. It’s smarter not to indulge Mahito in any questions related remotely to sex. 

The line of bowls on the table looks like something out of a sad potluck. You wonder why he picked this idea, or anything in a book about Halloween parties.

You recognized the idea at once. It was one of those old fashioned party games where the host put food in bowls and told everyone it was something gross, like brains or eyeballs. You remember playing this game only once in your life as a child, and everyone thought it was dumb and boring even then.

Well, it was probably the easiest to do with only two of you; you’re grateful, anyway, that he decided not to go for apple bobbing, if what drew him to it was the rope.

“One final touch!” He practically skips over to you and holds out a ragged strip of black fabric. A blindfold. 

Oh, no. Nope, nope and nope. 

“Um, can’t we just turn off the lights?” There were a few flickering bulbs built into the walls--for service workers, you think, back when this tunnel was actually serviced--and Mahito kept a few battery powered lanterns around that he threw out and replaced whenever the batteries died. 

A pout. A shift on his legs, a hand on his hips.

“It’s more fun this way. Ugh, don’t be so boring…”

Ah, boring. The most dangerous word in Mahito’s vocabulary. And you aren’t being sarcastic when you think that, which is why you sigh and blow cool air out your mouth and nod at him. 

He giggles, and scampers behind you with the blindfold in tow.

“This is going to be so fun,” he says, practically trilling as he ties the blindfold around your eyes. The darkness is quick and artificial and awful. “Have you played it before?”

You hum something like assent. “Just once, when I was little.” 

Mahito presses a kiss to the top of your head and you fight the urge to squirm.

“If you don’t remember the rules, it’s like this: I put your hands in each bowl, and you tell me what you think it is!” 

Your heart begins to speed up, no matter how much you try to tell yourself to remain calm. It was just a blindfold, no big deal. It was just a stupid Halloween party game, no big deal.

It was just Mahito… well, uh, wait a minute. It was Mahito. You were right to worry. 

But you’re trying very, very hard not to--and that was as close as you’d get to remaining calm tonight.

You hear the sound of the various tops being pulled off the bowls, accompanied by little grunts and noises as Mahito perhaps struggled with the lids. 

Someone takes your hands--you jump, and Mahito laughs--and guides them to the edge of the bowl.

Something squishy and a little stiff. Wet, but only vaguely. Round, like bouncy balls. But they feel more organic than that. 

“Grapes,” you say. “They’re grapes.”

Mahito makes a choking sound. Did he not think you knew the tricks of the game? Maybe the first people to play the game decades and decades ago were caught unawares, but the answers were common knowledge by now. Grapes for eyeballs, spaghetti for intestines; some people got creative and made fake brains and stuff, too. 

He pulls your hands out of the bowl and sets them on the next.

Your hands plunge in and find not quite what you expected, but close enough. Instead of strings of spaghetti noodles, Mahito has chosen sausages. You suppose that was more realistic when it came to feel and size, anyway. They weren’t cold exactly, but that was nothing new--there was no fridge around here. 

“Sausages.” When he doesn’t respond. “Like, a whole row of them.” 

Mahito huffs. 

He’s such a spoilsport, you think. Maybe you ought to start guessing around to appease him. Or would he catch on that you were lying and get more annoyed at you treating him like glass? Or would that make him feel good? It was so, so hard to tell what you were meant to do sometimes. 

But he does take your hands, now a little slimy with cooking water, and set them on the next bowl.

This one is… a little different from the rest, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was soft, smooth, but almost sponge-like in texture. Like a gummy or…

”Gelatin?” You’re not quite sure for this one, and it comes through in your tone. Still, your fingers squish the mystery item. “Like, an organ?” You remembered once cooking beef liver for your dad and it had the same gummy, gelatin-like feel before it was cooked. Unpleasant and odd to touch, for sure. You didn't know if it tasted good.

“Yes!” Mahito sighs out the word, and at least he’s no longer acting like a pouty child when you guess right. It makes the ball in your stomach shrink down, just a little. Even if you’re still waiting for something to happen. Maybe he’ll try to jump scare you at the end or something. 

The next bowl is liquid, and you almost jerk your fingers back out by instinct. It couldn’t be water, it wasn’t thin enough. There is even a slight smell to it, almost artificial--red dye. Mahito would dye the fake blood red just to make it more authentic, wouldn’t he? 

“A smoothie, maybe? Or whole milk, or cream…” 

If Mahito cares that you didn’t give a singular answer, he doesn’t let you know. He only lets out a pouty whine and you wonder which of your three guesses was right. 

“Last bowl,” he says, before placing your hands on the edge of the plastic container. 

What in the world?

When you put your hands inside, your fingers are immediately met with a multitude of small, firm… somethings. Your fingers fiddle with one of them, feeling over the grooves. Wood, maybe? Figurines? You’re reminded, suddenly, of when cereal used to come with toys in the box. But you very much doubt Mahito collected a few dozen old cereal figurines. 

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Really big wood chips? Figurines?” 

There’s a few moments of unusually heavy silence, and then Mahito whines. Whines! 

“You’re awful at this game. You only guessed one of them right! I thought you’d be better at it, since you’re into this human holiday…” 

Huh?

You scoff, though you’re not offended. Just confused. And tired. And wary. Nothing new there, when you think about it.

“What do you mean? The only one I wasn’t sure about was this last one… maybe the one before it, but it’s hard to tell the difference between milk and cream or whatever.”

You feel the presence of Mahito leaning over the table, feel his fingers fiddling with the back of your blindfold, and blink as the artificial blackness drops away to reveal Mahito sitting in front of you with a pouty look on his face. 

And then you look down at the mystery bowl, your hands still resting inside, and bile immediately rises into your throat when you realize two hideous truths:

One. The bowl is filled with transfigured humans. Small distorted shapes of horror. A whole bowl of them, piled high, like a candy dish on granda’s counter.

Two. Your hands are red. Not just red, but red with slick, thick gore. Blood. There was no mistaking the feel of it. The second-to-last bowl is filled halfway with blood. Real blood. Human blood.

Your neck turns slowly, like you’re a broken, mechanical doll that can’t quite complete the movement. The acidic bile in your throat reaches your mouth and you swallow, swallow, swallow. But all you can do is cough and hope the real vomit stays down. 

It shouldn’t surprise you, what you see. But somehow your stupid self thought he was playing a party game, a copycat out of one of his magazines. 

The bowls are not filled with peeled grapes and sausages and blobs of gelatin.

The bowls are filled with eyeballs of all different colors, most of them still trailing red optic nerves like tails; with strings of intestines, thick and slimy and pale; with livers in varying shades of brown and red. 

“Oh,” Mahito says, perking up, when he catches you looking at the bowl of livers. “I wanted to show you, look at this one!” He grabs one of the livers and holds it up for you to see. “He had some kind of disease, I think… see the funny lumps?”

You’re only aware that your body is shaking when your neck jerks and twinges in pain. 

“What the fuck,” you mutter. “What the fuck.” 

Mahito quirks his head. You hate that you know the confusion on his face is real. He really is curious about everything, all the time. Especially human thoughts and feelings and behaviors. A mad scientist if there ever was one; but at least a mad scientist had some sort of lofty, if fucked up, end goal. Mahito just was. 

“What’s the matter?” He scoots on his butt around the table, not stopping until he’s sitting next to you. You don’t fight--you can’t--when he takes your hands and holds them. He doesn’t mind the gore being smeared on his own fingers, you’re sure.

You feel like your eyebrows would fly off your head if they could.

“What’s the matter? What’s the--you… you used real human body parts--real people--for this game. That’s what’s the matter! Christ--”

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow.

“But that’s the game! You put all sorts of creepy things in bowls and people guess what it is.” He squeezes your hands. “Are you sure you aren’t just a sore loser because you stink at guessing?” 

How many people are in that bowl, anyway? The thought comes and goes; it would be like playing some fucked up game of “guess how many beans are in the jar!” Only there is no knick-knack prize if you guess right. Just a solid number to the bowl of horrors sitting only inches away from you.

How many were there, how old are they, do they have family, did it hurt, did they scream--

Your lips are dry when you lick them and speak, voice shell shocked and dull. “It’s a party game. You’re supposed to use things like, like--peeled grapes for eyeballs or spaghetti for intestines. It’s a dumb party game because it’s silly and no one is really freaked out by that if they’re older than 7 years old.” 

The game isn’t meant to end with you realizing that you’d been feeling up the organs of murdered people, is what you should say. But you’re not sure Mahito would recognize that for the rebuke that it is. 

“Ohh,” he says, and you can see it all clicking into place in his mind. After a few beats, he grins with pride. “Well, my version is an improvement.”

You must look incredulous again, because he continues. “See, my version is more fitting ” He nods to himself. “I’m much better at Halloween than humans.”

For once, you can’t disagree--not even in your own thoughts.

His version is really scarier than the original

[numinously-yours]

Pick a card: From your Soulmate

Happy Friday! Today's reading is a soulmate reading. Your reading includes: Characteristics of your soulmate & a note from them <3

Pile 1: Ace of Pentacles

I’ve been kicked down in life, but each time I get back up the light at the end of the tunnel gets brighter. I have been trying hard to trust in the universe because I know it’s bringing me everything I could want – and that’s you. You are such a compassionate, beautiful, smart, and wonderful person pile 1. You know how they say to never stop dating the person you’re with? That is my plan with you – to woo you forever. You deserve to be wined and dined. I hope to show you each day how much you mean to me. I’ll bring you flowers. I’ll give you shoulder rubs. I’ll tell you silly jokes just to make you laugh. I will spend our time together making sure you never feel unloved. You are my manifestation and I can’t wait to be with you.

Pile 2: The Lovers

Your love is a breath of fresh air. Being with you brings me mental clarity. It makes me understand that the way I’ve been treated in relationships up until now were not an accurate representation of a healthy relationship. Gosh, it is so refreshing! You may find when we begin our relationship that I am hesitant to make big decisions. Because you are showing me something I’ve never known before, it is going to take a little time for me to be convinced that you’re not going away. But let me tell you, once I am shown time and time again that you show up, it is game over (in the best way). The way that we align will take away all the doubts I’ve ever had about love. And I won’t be able to thank you enough.

Pile 3: The Hanged Man

A lot of my life has been about competition; mainly, competition with myself. I have a need to prove myself. I want to be the best at what I do. And I know that that mindset isn’t always the most productive. With you in my life, soulmate, I am reminded to pause. I am reminded that there are more perspectives out there from my own and that I’m allowed to let go of what I think SHOULD be to open room for what IS. You’re really going to allow me to look at my shadow self and understand why I have this need to be better than the previous version of me. You’re going to help me see the restraints that I’m binding myself with. My competitive nature will always be a part of me but I’m looking forward to the time in my life where I can experience joy just being who I am, where I don’t feel like I need to be constantly winning. My life with you is the ultimate prize.

Pile 4: Two of Cups

I’ve held myself back for much of my life with the fear that I don’t have the tools to succeed. I always think that if I just had that one thing – more money, more confidence, more time – that then I can take the plunge. At times, I also find myself wanting to do everything for everyone. If I put effort into one thing, I feel like I am neglecting the other, and then I stop doing either. I want to be the best RIGHT NOW, no matter how unrealistic. And then you came into the picture. My inspiration, my muse, my reminder that each day is a clean slate. Not only do I know we will grow together, but I know that I will grow personally because of you. You never fail to encourage me to follow my dreams. You have a way of reminding me that, even if I “fail”, I can always get something out of a situation which means I didn’t fail at all. I really hope I can do the same thing for you because you deserve the same, if not more, of the energy you give to me.

[aaizawashouta]

Thirty, Flirty, and Thriving

pairing: aizawa shouta x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

summary: who says you’re old at 30?

warnings: smut - oral (f receiving) 18+, minors dni

a/n: hi. i’m 30 today

“I’m old.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I’m over the hill.”

Shouta sighs from where he sits at the edge of your bed. Good eye on the bathroom door where he can make out the movement of your shadow. Your voice echoes as you mumble under your breath as you do your nightly routine. God forbid you go to sleep without a moisturized face.

“That’s when you’re fifty.”

“Which I am a year closer to.”

“And still twenty away from.” He says with a roll of his eyes, not like you can see anyway.

“I don’t know. Pretty sure I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.”

“Oh my god.”

You pop out of the bathroom, his shirt hanging off your shoulder, face smooth and fresh. Your toothbrush in one hand, the other holding your hip as you stare him down.

“I’m turning thirty, Sho. Thirty!” You stomp your foot, pouting where you stand.

“Certainly aren’t acting fucking thirty.”

You don’t catch on to his tone, another stomp of your foot with an annoyed huff. He watches you as you turn on your heel and head back into the bathroom. He’s not sure what the problem is. He can’t recall freaking out this much when he turned thirty. Given, he also doesn’t care like you do. But it’s not like you haven’t known. You’ve spent the last year being twenty-nine.

A shrill shriek emits from where you are, and he’s up in your space in a blink of an eye. Pushing away from the counter, you glance at him with a frown on your face. Hair pulled back, face finished of your complex routine. A pang hits him as he meets your eye. Fuck, you’re gorgeous. Always have been, always will be. Even when you're thirty.

“What? What is it?” He asks, front brushing against your back.

You turn your gaze back on your reflection. Slightly, you shift your head. Left to right, right to left. Shouta leans in trying to see what you see.

“I’m getting gray hair.”

“Sweetheart,”

You turn around, nipples brushing against his chest through the thin material of your sleep shirt. His eyebrows raise at the pout you wear. Normally he wouldn’t entertain this attitude you’ve got going on, but you look so fucking cute he can’t help but indulge.

“Are you still going to love me?”

Oh, for fucks sake. He grabs you by the hips and lifts you on to the counter. Your fingers dig into his shoulders from the sudden movement. You're face to face now, eye level with each other. Shouta can see the amusement lighting up your eyes. The present pout starts to lose out to a smirk as it pulls at your lips.

“I’m going to love you for the rest of our lives.” He says as his hand trails up your thigh. His thumb runs over your hip, and groans slightly when he discovers you aren’t wearing underwear.

“Wa-what are you doing?”

You know exactly what he’s doing. Shouta bends at the knee for no one. Only for you is he willing to kneel. Plus, tomorrow is your birthday, what better way to bring in your thirties? His hands grope at your thighs. Strong fingers digging into the flesh, keeping them from closing.

He runs his nose over your center, taking in a deep breath. His hands tighten on your thighs, as if he’s stopping himself from diving right in. You shudder, squeezing your thighs together only for him to pry them apart. You swallow, breathing shallow, taking him in as his large hand lifts one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. Nothing but putty in his hands. Been that way since you met him. You’re still not sure how he knew. Could just see it in you. He could straight out ruin you and you’d thank him. But that’s the point, isn’t it? You give and he takes. Shouta is good, great even, at what he does. He’ll never take what he can’t give in return.

His hand trails up your leg, rough calluses catching on your skin. There is no buildup, his finger running through your folds, a hum as he collects it before sticking the digit in his mouth.

“This all for me, sweetheart?” His voice is smug from between your thighs. “Your cunt tastes so much better, though, isn’t that right?”

“Yes.” It comes out in a sigh.

“Yeah, I know it does.”

You clench around nothing. The forcefulness of his voice. You moan at his words. He gave nothing else before diving in. You whimper, head falling back against the mirror.

“Sweet girl, you going to give me what I want?” he asks.

“Please.” It’s a whimper, it’s a plea, it’s music to his ears.

His tongue is flat as it makes its way through your folds. He’s done this hundreds of times, pushed you over the edge so many times. Everytime feels like the first time. A whimper escapes you.

“Fuck, fuck me,” you murmur, hips lifting to roll against his face.

“Sweetheart.” He says, voice thick with amusement. You squirm at the feel of his breath against you. His thumb rolls your clit in circles as his tongue parts your folds. He slips a digit in before replacing it with his tongue.

You grind yourself on his face, his nose catching against your clit. You whisper his name, it falls from your lips like a hymn. He holds you open like a book he’s been dying to read. Licking up the seam of your sex, you jerk, knee barely grazing his cheek.

“Easy.”

He strokes and teases your pussy. Switching off between his thick fingers and his tongue. He has you quivering, moans spilling out of you. The sounds of you clenching around his fingers, his tongue are obscene and he fucking loves it. You feel like you’re in the sky. Head in the clouds and you aren’t sure you’re ever coming back down. You move with every flick of his tongue. Heel digging into his shoulder when he sucks your clit into his warm mouth. It sends you over.

Waves come crashing down. You’re surrounded by your orgasm, on the brink of drowning. It’s dragging you down, making it hard to breathe. The only thing you know is pleasure, pleasure and the familiar sting of pain. You hear it—hear him. The sound of his voice bringing you back to shore. Can hear him calling your name, feel him kissing his way up your body until his hot breath is tickling your ear. Your eyes flutter open, his steady gaze meeting your glazed eyes. Shouta’s wearing a fucking smug look on his face because he knows you blacked out there for a minute. Groaning, you sit up, pushing him back.

“Just because you’ve got a magic mouth doesn’t mean I’m going to forget I’m getting old.”

He just laughs before pulling you off the counter and ushering you to the bed. “That was only the first one. Sweetheart, by the time I’m done with you, you won’t even know how to count past five let alone to thirty.”

“Alright old man, show me what you got.”

Shouta’s smug grin turns feral. He’s only two years older than you. He’s going to make you eat your words.

[alphajocklover]

You have to help me! I've been trying to get free of this... place for a long LONG time. After some time I've been able to gain back some free will, but it's really hard. Right now, as my "physicall" me picked his phone at the gym between reps, I've been able to log on here and I saw what you published about the Retsam Mirror. You have to help me. I've been stuck in it for years. I was a nerd when i first fell by accident on the mirror and i got sucked in. I can't do this anymore. The new me is a honry bastard and he spends his time getting fucked in front of mirrors, a lot and a lot of them. My reflections are exponentials and i feel every single one of them. Oh fuck he just got a notification from HungDomTop11in. Help m................

A Retsam mirror. You found a Retsam mirror. Another Retsam mirror. For those of you who didn’t see my earlier post, a Retsam mirror is an incredibly rare magical artifact that lets a person switch places with their reflection, which essentially traps the person in their reflection and leaves a very suggestable copy in their place. It was weird enough to hear that one guy had encountered one of those that hadn’t already been shattered, but if what you’re telling me is true… then whoever trapped that poor guy has been trapping people in mirrors for much longer than we thought. I can only guess, and hope, that you were one of his earliest victims. I know you said you fell in but… if that was true then your other self wouldn’t have acted any differently than you. Someone had to have pushed you in, and then used your reflections malleable state to change them. I have to say, as horrified as I am by all of this… I’m also kind of impressed. Not with the jerk who's been trapping people, but with you. It takes a lot of willpower to keep your mind intact while in a reflection. Most people lose themselves in it, not having the ability to choose their movements but still feeling everything. Yet what’s even more impressive is the fact you were actually able to take back control for a bit. From what I’ve heard, that's supposed to be impossible. For you to do that… It's truly incredible. I’m just sorry that it might not be able to help save you.  As far as I know, there isn’t a way to get out of a Retsam mirror, at least not on your own. Either your reflection would have to willingly swap back, which seems unlikely, or the guy who pushed you in would have to switch you again, which seems even less likely. I’ve been looking into ways to help get people out of Retsam mirrors since I first heard they were back, but I haven’t found much yet. So I’m afraid that, for the time being, you’re stuck there.

Don’t give up hope though! You’ve managed to do more than anyone else in your position has. Not to mention, the information you’ve given me may be invaluable to figuring out how to save and protect people from Retsam mirrors. I’ve been messing with a spell that might allow me to use my own Retsam mirror to help people stuck in reflections, or at least communicate with them, so there is light at the end of the tunnel.

I know this entire situation is horrible, but the reporter in me has to admit it’s kind of fascinating. It’s incredibly rare you get to talk to someone who's been inside a reflection, so I had no idea you could feel what was happening inside each and every reflection, even if you were reflected in multiple mirrors at once. That must be very overwhelming, especially if your other self is hooking up in front of mirrors. Feeling yourself get fucked by a a potentionally infinite amount of cocks all at once… As hot as that sounds it must be really intense.

Here's just hoping your other self doesn’t take advantage of it too much. 

[leonw4nter]

I Love You, Without Wax. Forever Yours, Leon

Boyfriend!RE4R!Leon x F!Reader

Leon finally managed to find the keys to the jet ski, making sure Ashley stuck close to him as he fumbled with the slot for the key to try to get it to work. After a few minutes, he managed to get it to run, hopping in first before extending a hand to Ashley to help her get on since she had a slight limp going on. Revving it up, the water mobile got to work and moved them through the murky waters. He amped up the speed, swerving expertly through rocks but a rock he didn’t spot from underneath the water scratched the side of the jet ski, causing it to start taking in some water. They would both die at this rate; the hole wasn’t big enough and the water wasn’t rushing in fast but the weight of two people on the jet ski caused water to do more damage than it originally would. He had to come up with a vital decision: swim to freedom or send one person back home.

“Ashley!” He began. He turns around, locking a stern gaze with the blonde.

“I need you to listen to me and do exactly as I say.” She nods, her expression serious and furrowed in focus.

“I’m going to jump from the jet ski and I’ll just see you out instead. This thing’s taking in water and with my weight added, we’re not going to make it. Since you’re lighter you won’t sink but with me, we will so I’ll get out. Got it?”

Her eyes widened, worry drawn all over her features; no layer of grime and soot could mask the fear in her eyes.

“What? Leon, you know I can’t–”

“Trust me, Ashley. I won’t leave you. Your father trusts me, right? I know what I’m doing. I’ll guide you on your way out of this cave. It’s just going to be like that one time we rode that cart.”

She still looks doubtful,  unsure of what she’s going to do next with Leon just running alongside her in a matter of seconds if she nods her head. Leon’s right: her father trusts him and she does too. Whatever they did, they always made it out alive thanks to him so they’ll make it out of this one as well. With a shaky breath, Ashley sighs and readies herself to take the handles.

“I’ll jump in 3, 2, 1!” He counts down before jumping, barely making it to the docking area of the tunnel and starts running, making sure he’s running alongside Ashley. Ashley notices the jet ski grow lighter and suddenly a little more of the jet ski’s bottom isn’t submerged in water anymore. With newfound encouragement from this, she takes the handles and speeds off. Though she doesn’t exactly avoid the debris in the water expertly like Leon did mere moments ago, she’s still managing to do well and Leon’s sure her chances of making it out in one piece are high.

“That’s it!” He said. “Keep going until you make it out, I’ll watch you from behind!

She didn’t respond but Leon knew she heard him; she was just focused on trying to keep herself afloat and make it out alive from this hellish place. The island was blowing up, both Leon and Ashley knew that so time wasn’t on their side. Leon’s legs were starting to cramp up, having run at faster speeds without a break and running low on water content. Soon, he saw a tiny sliver of golden light at the end of the tunnel but this is where a serious explosion from within the cave was being set off; he wouldn’t make it in time.

“Go, Ashley! Keep going! You’re almost there! Just keep up the speed and don’t take your hands off of the handles!” He instructed, cupping his mouth to amplify his voice amidst all the booming and popping of explosives.

Ashley got to the ramp and sped up, coursing through the air before hitting the salty seawater with a large splash. Had she not held onto the handles, she might’ve fallen out of her seat when she landed on the water. Cautiously, she peeked on the side of the jet ski to look for the hole that formed. Thankfully that splash didn’t cause more damage, much to her relief.

“Leon!” She suddenly remembers. She circles nearer to where she came from, looking at the fiery dock. The dock was going up in flames, black smoke billowing from somewhere inside the island. “Leon!” She calls out again.

She moves a little closer to the dock but there is no sign of the agent. She suddenly recalls how his voice sounded more faint before she got it, which could mean he lagged behind and stayed there up until the explosion. But he’s Leon, right? He can’t just leave her like this, he’s got to come back too!

“Leon! Please, you promised that we’d both make it out didn’t you?” She exclaims as fear swells in her heart and threatens to render her lost and directionless.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

It’s a bad day for you today: paper work is piling up, two department heads have already given you a talking-to over the mistake of the juniors under your team, and your fellow seniors aren’t helping you fix anything or get the other papers done. Sometimes you wished you were a field agent, actually going to places and moving around and fighting stead of sitting in a stuffy office and completing the never-ending load of papers dropped at your desk. Despite the strong urge to switch departments and just be a field agent for the thrill of it, you felt kind of guilty for wanting to voluntarily put yourself in physically taxing situations. Your Leon was a field agent once, until he never came back from a mission; he died making sure the president’s daughter got home in one piece. Even if it’s been well over  a year since his death and you’ve managed to get back to normal, life still feels incomplete without him and his stupidly charming jokes.

“Y/N, we’re all going to hit the clubs later to look for some guys. Wanna come with–”

“Listen, Emerson.” You harshly articulated. “Instead of hitting the clubs to look for the newest hookup this week, why don’t you and the others get to your desks and actually do something productive. I got fucking yelled at by our superiors for shortcomings that was caused by you and the other little fucks but I took the brunt of it instead and you have the audacity to go out and party.”

“It’s not like I knew–”

“It’s not like you’d know because you’re a lazy piece of shit!” You fumed. The entire office falls silent, only the low thrum of the AC being heard in the space. Emerson’s face contorts into disbelief and slight shock, taking offense to your words even if it’s true. Her friends cross their arms and start whispering amongst themselves, shooting you with a disdainful look. With a roll of her eyes and an irritated huff, she takes a small stack of papers in her arms before heading to her cubicle.

“Damn bitch, I was just asking,” you hear her mutter under her breath.

“I don’t ever want to hear about Valentine’s Day, okay? The love of my life is dead.”

Your own words catch you and everyone else by surprise. Everyone, including yourself, had thought that you’d formally come to terms with the loss of Leon but it seems that there’s still a part of you that will forever subconsciously wish for him to miraculously come back. You promised Leon that you’d always be happy every Valentine’s Day, even without him but here you are: acting like the Valentine’s Day counterpart for the grinch. Everyone in Leon’s department and yours knew that you two were one soul in two bodies; inseparable. To see you without Leon was a huge change for everyone, an unfortunate change that you and they will have to get used to.

With an exasperated sigh, you sit back into your chair and get working. Despite all the tension in the room, you’re thankful that this outburst managed to motivate everyone into doing something for once. With a stretch and a sip of coffee for some energy, you got right into reading reports and signing them for the next few hours until your day ended.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

After a day that seemed to drag on forever, you finally got to come home and unwind. Before going home, you made a quick stop at a convenience store to pick up some junk and beer. Sitting in bed wearing one of Leon’s shirts, you reclined into the pillows and sighed deeply; there were still papers that needed reading and signing but they weren’t a huge load like earlier so you decided to let those wait. Feeling a little thirsty, you get up to grab a cold beer from the fridge before moving to find the can opener. The spoon drawer was near you but you didn’t want to bend your utensils even more so you decided to dedicate some time to look for it. After a few moments, you still couldn’t find it despite opening up every cabinet door and pulling on the cabinets. You remembered how Leon had a tendency to hide things on shelves only he could reach so maybe he decided to hide it on top of the cabinets. Moving your beer elsewhere, you get on the kitchen counter and make sure you’re balanced, one hand holding on to a cabinet door and the other feeling around for the tops. Your hands are slightly sweaty, worried that you’ll take a misstep and fall down but you push through anyways; you’re determined to have that drink. After a few minutes of feeling around, you still don’t find it but you feel something smooth albeit a little dusty. Interested, you pull the smooth something back to you and see an envelope; the envelope doesn’t have any exterior markings and is only sealed by a singular waterproof band aid but with a turn of the envelope you see your name written with Leon’s handwriting. Even more interested than you were, you forgo looking for the opener and drink altogether to opt for reading the letter instead. Besides, you miss your boyfriend with each passing day and today is Valentine’s Day so why not cut the pity party and indulge in some totally-not-heartbreaking reminiscing. Heading to your room and getting into bed, crawling to Leon’s side of the bed you take the letter and gently tear the band aid seal off. You open it up and take the paper out; the letter was written at the back of an old document, blue ink strokes creating texture at the back of the paper.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

04-29 To my pearl Y/N, You’re asleep right now after a pretty lengthy breakdown session (not the dancing kind, unfortunately) so I had to sneak out of bed and look around for whatever to write in. I seriously hope you don’t turn around and drag me back to bed, I’ve been meaning to write this for a long time now. Anyways, I find myself drawn into the depths of my emotions and unable to contain the overflow of adoration that fills every corner of my being whenever I’m with you– when you laugh, when you smile, when you cry. How do I begin to express the depths of my love for you? Will an entire lifetime be enough time to show you all that I’ve got for you? How can mere words encapsulate the boundless ocean of emotions that surge within me whenever I think of you? I’m very grateful that you find solace within me, a sanctuary where you could lay bare your vulnerabilities without fear of judgment or rejection (and vice versa: me being vulnerable around you). When you speak my name, the universe pauses, holding its breath in honor of our bond. When we touch, I feel my spirit lifted to dizzying heights and surrounds me in this happiness that defies description. Your essence, your soul is like a beacon of light from a lighthouse in the darkest of my nights and the stormiest of my seas, calling me to the safety of the shore. You are the gem I consider myself lucky to have love and receive love from amidst the vast chaos of this universe. All those flowery words aside, I’m sorry that I kept something from you while you were having a rough time– I’ll be going on a 3 month-long mission to the other side of the world. I just didn’t want to tell you while you feel like the world is against you and I’m really sorry– I promise I’ll tell you really soon. I really don’t want to leave you but I have to, out of a deep-rooted desire to protect the world and to protect you. Three months will feel like forever but please hold on for me, okay? I’ll get you something from Build-A-Bear when I get back :) Though the nights will feel longer, please promise me that you’ll get some rest and live happily while I’m elsewhere (but still think of me too yaknow). If… If I don’t come home then celebrate every single holiday out there because it’ll make you happy. Do something with your life when I couldn’t with mine. Don’t sulk and wallow in self-pity coz I’d really hate to see that if I somehow get turned into a ghost :/ For the meantime that I’m not yet out for work, I’ll keep holding you close to my heart. Wherever I’ll end up, I’ll still be yours– always and forever. I love you :) Without Wax, Leon :) xoxo P.S. (I saw this at a random Almanac) “Sincerely” came from the Latin word “sin cera” which means “without wax”. Dishonest sculptors with imperfections in their sculptures filled in mistakes with wax and when something was flawless, they labeled it as “sin cera”, which is “without wax”. Basically, what I wanna say is that my love for you is real and genuine :) And also it sounds cool right? x

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“Happy Valentine’s Day, baby. MIssing you so much right now,” you whispered as you traced Leon’s name with a finger.

You smiled to yourself, pressing a feather-light kiss to the closing portion of his letter. God you missed him dearly; what you’d give just to have him back. Folding the letter back and placing it back inside the envelope, you kept it near your heart for a bit before putting it on your bedside table. Walking over to your work desk you pulled out a neat sheet of paper and your favorite pen, getting ready to pen a letter that’ll respond to Leon’s though he’ll never get the chance to read it.

NOTE - I decided to write angst for Valentine's Day but I decided against making it super sad so... yeah. Also I attended a seminar yesterday since every single one of us were required to attend and it was... okay. Like it wasn't super fun but I did speak up a lot and a buncha girls went to me and hugged me ?????? Like that was actually really nice, I need more hugs ( -> touch-starved ). I finished writing this on the 8th and my grades release this Saturday so let's hope I don't die 🙏🙏🙏 Also, I read uhlunaro's fic called "Bone-Chill" and OH MY GOD ?????? IT WAS SO GOOD ???? LIKE THAT THING STUCK WITH ME THROUGHOUT THE DAY-- IT WAS THAT GOOD. GO READ IT GUYS CMONNNN!!!!!! Anyways, I know it's not the 14th anymore but I hope you had a great Valentine's Day and thank you so, so, so, much for reading my fics!!!!!!!!! <33333333

The dividers are made by @cafekitsune , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[justmystyles]

Hi, could you make a fic about something to do with money maybe Harry dating a girl who came from not much and she still isn’t used to the fancy things in life like he is and so when there dating she feels bad ever spending his money.

I’m currently having to sell most of my Harry merch because we can’t afford to fix things in our house and I am very sad over it so I just need some comfort but if you decide not to write this, you’re still one of my favorite writers. Thank you for all the comfort you bring me.

Love Don't Cost A Thing

read my other work here

pairing: Harry Styles x plus size reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: a couple of curse words, but other than that, it's tame.

a/n: to my anonymous requester, i am so sorry for the hard times you have found yourself in. i wish i had something i could say that would help you through. just know that hard times don't last forever, there will be a light at the end of the tunnel, and i am hoping and praying that you reach it soon.

also, thank you so much for your kind words. i am so incredibly honored that you consider me one of your favorite writers, that compliment made more than just my day, i think it may have made my whole summer. i hope this blurb is what you are looking for, and provides you the comfort you need right now.

if you ever need someone to talk to, i am here. i may not be able to provide much, but i am happy to be a listening ear (reading eye?) if you need one. 🖤

tags: @allthelovehes @ameerakane20 @ash-craze @bethanysnow @blue-ballad @brightlightsinlife @creativelyeva @cute-as-ducks420 @fanficismydrug @gem1712 @golden-hoax @gothmingguk @groovychaosavenue @hillzrry @iceebabies @indierockgirrl @jerseygirlinca @jng4kook @jooniesbabie @kaverichauhan @lexiecamposv @mrs-anna-styles211994 @n0vaj3an @rach2699 @ravenclawdirectioner @stylesfeverr @superchrystaldrug @tenaciousperfectionunknown @tiaamberxx @thechaoticjoy @theekyliepage @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @youknowwhaaat

The waiter drops the check at your table, thanking you for coming in and continues on his way. You reach your hand out to grab it, but Harry beats you to it. Again.

“Harry, you don’t have to–” 

“I know, baby, but I want to. I love spoiling my girl.” He reaches his free hand across the table, squeezing yours gently. 

Ever since you and Harry started going out, you hadn’t paid for a thing. Not only that, but the things he’s been paying for have been extravagant and way outside of your comfort zone. The gifts, the meals, the flowers, the flights. He has taken you around the world and back, and has refused to let you pay for any of it.

Holidays and birthdays had been hard too. Harry always gave you multiple extravagant gifts, you could never even come close to matching it. He told you he didn’t care, that your gifts were always so meaningful, and that’s what was important. You knew he meant it, that he didn’t need you to buy him fancy things. He was more than capable of doing it himself. But it didn’t matter to you, you felt an imbalance in the relationship that was only growing with time. And you were sure that the gossip blogs and fans noticed it, talking about how you were just with him for his money. It wasn’t true, you and Harry knew that and it should have been enough, but it wasn’t. 

You didn’t grow up poor, you were grateful for what you had and knew that there were others that were worse off than you. But you didn’t even have half of what you were experiencing now. Your parents raised you to be practical with your money, to save and not to spend frivolously. You always had what you needed, but weren’t always able to have what you wanted. 

Now that you were with Harry, even if you just made an offhand comment about a cute piece of jewelry or clothing, all of the sudden it was yours. You love Harry, and you know he was doing it because he loves you too, but it still didn’t sit right with you. 

Later that night, you were laying in bed together. Harry was talking to you about his schedule for the upcoming month.

“So I was thinking you could come meet me in Paris. We could go to that little cafe we love, do a little shopping.” He suggested with a smile, loving the idea of walking through the most romantic city in the world with the love of his life. 

“Sure,” you agreed. “I could probably swing the money for a round trip ticket.” 

“You’re not swinging anything,” he pressed a kiss to your temple. “I’ve got you, baby.” 

“Harry, I can afford a flight.” You’re not sure you really can. You’ll probably eat canned goods and boxed mac and cheese for a month, but it’s better than the guilt you feel every time Harry opens his wallet for you. 

“I know you can, but you shouldn’t have to. I’m asking you to come spend time with me, it should be my treat.” 

“Yeah, but everything is always your treat, Harry.” You say with a slight bite in your tone. 

Harry looks at you confused, and a little bit hurt. “Angel, are you alright?” 

“No Harry, I don’t think I am,” you confess. “I can’t keep doing this, it doesn’t feel okay.” Harry stays silent, allowing you to say what you need too. “I love you so much, and you have the kindest, most generous heart of anyone I have ever met. I just, it’s just too much. The meals, the gifts. You don’t let me pay for anything, I feel like… I don’t know. I know you don’t see a problem with it, but I do. It just makes me feel… uncomfortable. I’m basically living off of your money, and I don't feel right about it.”

“Baby,” he said as he let out a breath. “I had no idea you felt this way.” He brought his hand up, brushing your cheek gently. 

“I know you didn’t. And it’s a me problem, I know that too.” 

Harry shakes his head sharply. “No it’s not, it’s an us problem. You’re my girl, we’re in this together.” You look down, overwhelmed by how tender he was being with you despite the way you unloaded on him. “Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

You shrug, “I don’t know, it sounds kind of crazy when you think about it.”

“How?” He asked.

“Because, there are girls that would kill to be in my position, who would love to be spoiled and given all these extravagant gifts, and here I am complaining about it. I sound so ungrateful.” 

“Hey hey hey,” Harry holds your face in his hands. “You do not sound ungrateful.” He strokes your cheeks with his thumbs. “I love you, I love you so much and I give you all of these things because you deserve the world.”

“I love you too, but I don’t need all these things, the fancy dinners, the clothes, I just need you.”

He smiles softly at you, the adoration clear in his gaze. “I know angel, and that’s one of the things I love most about you. Your heart is so pure and good. I am so incredibly lucky that you have given it to me to hold, and I don’t ever want you to feel uncomfortable, especially not because of my actions.” 

“I know, and that’s part of the reason I didn’t tell you, I knew you’d feel bad. I don’t want you to feel bad about doing nice things for me.” 

“Tell me what I can do, how I can make you feel better.” He asked, willing to do anything to make you happy. 

You take a deep breath as you try to articulate your needs. “When I offer to pay for things, let me.”

Harry nods in agreement, pulling your face to his and kissing you softly. “Anything you want, love.” 

“And just because I say something is cute, doesn’t mean you have to buy it for me.” You add. 

“Got it,” he kisses you again. “But I can still spoil you sometimes, right?” 

“Sometimes,” you say in a subtle warning tone. “Just not all the time.”

Harry smiles, his brow arching mischievously. “How about I spoil you right now, and it won’t cost a cent.” 

Your breath catches in your throat at the implication of his words. “Sure, I guess I’d be okay with that.” 

[nobigsecrets]

H50 Fic Recs

Light At The End Of The Tunnel by bluflamingo Rating: T, Words: 3,191 The first time Catherine meets Steve, he's a voice on the other end of the radio, asking for her help.

Where lies the final harbor? by @missslothy Rating: M, Words: 48,643 Steve and Danny had finally admitted their feelings for each other just three days before the events of Season 10 Episode 7. Can their new relationship survive the fallout from what happened in Mexico and Doris's death? (Coda to 10x07)

Agitated States of Amazement by @emphasisonthehomo Rating: T, Words: 5,823 He meets Stef when he’s like 18, on a sub-reddit that doesn’t exist anymore. She’s kind of a huge fucking cunt. Danny’s kind of in love with her. OR: Sometimes the people you meet on the internet stick with you.

I’m dumb she’s a lesbian (I thought I had found the one) by @five-wow Rating: G, Words: 1,299 Danny waves his coffee around a little more. The lid is the only thing that prevents them from having to dig up a mop. “What’d I do? All I did is tell her you’re handsome and single and free Friday night.” “You were setting us up,” Quinn summarizes. Or: Just another morning in the life of Steve McGarrett, whose best friend is deeply concerned with getting him a date.

COMPETITIVE BY NATURE by alizarin_nyc Rating: E, Words: 2,701 "Oh come on, that isn’t gay," Steve says. "I was in high school. You’re gay, you’re totally gayer than me. Your pants are tight across the ass!” Steve has his little protesty face on and it’s exactly like his earnest, don’t-worry-we’ll-catch-your-husband’s-killer face. It is so, so gay.

Does This Marriage Come With Any Perks? by @pterawaters Rating: T, Words: 3,369 After Danny suffers a life-threatening injury, he finds himself in Steve’s care. He doesn’t remember much about what happened after getting shot, but he’s pretty sure signing a marriage certificate wasn’t something he’d forget.

Sometimes You Just Need a Decoder Ring by kho Rating: T, Words: 2,849 Danny follows Steve into the kitchen and sticks the beers in the fridge. “Actually I’m of the mind that it takes two to tango so I don’t know who started and who fueled but you’re both in this fight, so I’m just trying to figure out how to diffuse this situation so I don’t wind up as collateral damage.” (Mary & Steve centric)

You Move Me by dogeared Rating: M, Words: 486 Yoga, and waffles, and kisses.

Pick up line by kaige68 Rating: T, Words: 100 Prompt from kapuahi, Hawaii Five-0, McDanno, Steve loses a bet with his Navy mates and has to dress in drag Bonus points if someone (Danny) tries to chat up Lady!Steve

Careful, or you'll end up in my novel by kaige68 Rating: M, Words: 2,200 Former Newark police detective, now mystery, writer Danny Williams follows his daughter to Hawaii, and meets his biggest fan.

I Want A Man With A Slow Hand by thefourofswords Rating: E, Words: 6,597 “Can I ask you a question?” he asked on their way to a crime scene, because no time like the present, and Danny believed in ripping off band-aids. “Why not?” Steve replied, eyes on the road. “You’re gonna even if I say no.” “What do you like in bed?” Or: Danny undertakes a very important mission to get Steve laid. For his health. Ahem.

As You Wish by Brumeier Rating: M, Words: 4,077 When Steve comes back to Hawaii to find the man who killed his father he finds much more when he stumbles across a mysterious bottle on the beach.

Just Enough Hope by aries_taurus Rating: T, Words: 2,594 He hopes for a lot of things: that he didn’t make a mistake taking on this taskforce, that the ache he’s feeling in his soul will go away, that he can sleep at night without seeing his best friend being ripped to shreds by bullets, without remembering he left him behind for nothing, or hear a gunshot killing his father over a bad sat connection and he just hopes he wakes up one day without a scream dying in his throat.

All Hearts Come Home For Christmas by @cowandcalf Rating: E, Words: 12,198 Steve debates for four days if he should eat this year's Christmas dinner in the charity Christmas tent organized for the veterans by HPD.

Built For Tough Battles by thefourofswords Rating: E, Words: 20,770 Adam nudges his shoulder, “He’ll find his way back, you know.” Danny blows out a breath. “I dunno anymore about that. The stuff he’s gone through in the last year...” “He’s had a lot go very wrong, very quickly,” Adam says. “I’m sure it feels like he’s slowly been losing parts of his family and when you reach a certain point, loss aversion takes over. It can make you do crazy things…” Or: Danny waits for Steve to be ready to come back.

Friends don't let friends... by kaige68 Rating: E, Words: 2,008 Steve finds a desolate Adam in a bar. (Steve/Adam)

Foreplay by @stellarmeadow Rating: M, Words: 4,305 When sparring isn't just sparring.

[oshawottarchive]

I’m angry so you guys get a bunch of incorrect quotes now <3 might draw some of them later

————

Etho: What is it called when you kill a friend?

Bdubs: Homicide

Tango: Murder

Skizz: Homie-cide

————

————

Tango: I just want someone to take me out

Skizz: On a date?

Bdubs: With a sniper gun?

Etho: Both if you’re not a coward

————

————

Bdubs: A pessimist sees a dark tunnel

Skizz: An optimist sees a light at the end of the tunnel

Tango: A realist sees a freight train

Etho: The train driver sees three idiots standing on the tracks

————

————

Grian: You know, Joel gives Etho flowers every day, I wish you’d do that too

Scar: Okay

*later*

Scar: *gives Etho flowers*

Etho: ???

Scar: I don’t know, I’m confused too

————

————

Joel: I love you

Etho: *not paying attention* What was that?

Joel: I said I’m selling you to the ZOO

————

————

Scar and Grian: McDonald’s! McDonald’s! McDonald’s!

Skizz: We have food at home

Impulse: *pulls into the McDonald’s drive through*

Scar and Grian: YAYYY

Impulse: *orders one black coffee and leaves*

————

————

Skizz: *teaching Grian how to drive* Okay, you’re driving and Impulse and Scar walk into the road. What do you hit?

Grian: Oh, definitely Scar, I could never hurt Impulse

Skizz: The breaks, Grian. You hit the breaks

————

————

Cleo: All in all, a 100% successful trip

Joe: But we lost Jevin

Cleo: Exactly

————

————

Jevin: Will Joe be okay?

Cleo: He won’t be once I find him

————

————

Mumbo: *setting down a card* Ace of spades

Cleo: *pulling out an Uno card* +4

Hypno: *pulling out a Pokémon card* Jolteon, I choose you!

Xisuma: *trembling* What are we playing??

————

————

Tango: *laying in bed* Get out of my room

Zedaph: *standing just inside the doorframe* I’m not in your room

————

————

Pearl: That’s it, you’re all grounded!

Pearl: Mumbo, no adventuring for you! Bdubs, no fighting for you! Scar, no stealing for you!

Pearl: And Joel. . . Is there anything you love?

Joel: Revenge

Pearl: No vengeance for you

Joel: I was gonna say “I’ll get you for this”, but I guess that’s off the table

————

————

Tango and Skizz: *accidentally set the kitchen on fire*

Tango: We need an adult!

Skizz: Tango, WE’RE adults!

Tango: We need an adultier adult, get Impulse!

————

————

Skizz: Dipple-Dop? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds

Impulse: Skizz, I swear to god—

————

————

Scott: *sighs*

Martyn: Are you bored?

Scott: Yeah

Martyn: Wanna start drama for no reason?

Scott: I thought you’d never ask

————

————

Etho: *looking at a map* It’s a barren, featureless wasteland out there, isn’t it…

Impulse: Other side, Etho

————

————

Joel: Pros and cons of dating me

Joel: Pros, you’ll be the cute one

Joel: Cons, holy shit where do I begin—

————

————

Scott: Being gay isn’t a choice. It’s a game and I’m winning

————

————

Joel: I think we should have glowstick juice injected into our bones when we’re born, so if we break our bones, we get a fun little surprise

Jevin: What’s the surprise?

False: Blood poisoning

————

————

Pearl: I’m going to get myself some soup

Gem: Be careful not to burn yourself, it’s hot

Pearl: Pfft, I won’t burn myself

*30 seconds later*

Pearl: Gem I burned myself

————

Expect more… sometime idk

[iloveriddles]

Imaginal Disk Storyline + Lore.

Okay, this is all opinion and my theories.

From What I can tell, “Imaginal Disk” is about two people: our protagonist, True, and a sub-protagonist of sorts, Ghost.

True lives in a house away from town. All she can do in her house is watch TV and journal.

True hates herself, and has never felt loved, or really sees love anywhere. She is very depressed. She can’t bear to look at herself in the mirror, even. She hates the way she looks, as we see on the mirror from imaginaldisk.world in True’s room. Her face is all distorted and swirled if you click it.

She never sleeps because she “spends her days chasing clouds and counting sheep, waiting for the night to creep”.

She does this because in the field outside her house, during night, a mirror appears and in it she sees a person who looks like her. This is Ghost. I am not sure if this happens every single night, or just some, but True seems dedicated to talking to Ghost at any chance she can take.

Ghost sleeps every night well and wakes up to be in the field, opposite to True. At her side of the mirror, it’s daytime.

I know their names because of the journals in True’s bedroom, where the lyrics for Fear, Sex are handwritten with the name “Ghost” at the top, and the lyrics for Killing Time are written on the first page with with the name “True”.

Ghost, to True, is beautiful in every way. She’s pretty, she’s perfect. She is loved and happy, and True isn’t. Ghost is the “Angel on a satellite”, I am 99% sure. True, from speculation, lives vicariously in a way through Ghost. She wishes she could be Ghost, and it kills her. There’s even symbolism here with Ghost’s lover in the Death & Romance video being made of light and featureless. It’s like exactly what True wants, to “be pined for” as she says in Killing Time (“I don’t care if I don’t sleep // but someone better pine for me”), but she can’t imagine by whom because she has no love interest. She just wants faceless love. She wants to feel like she matters in some way, like she is worthy of time. “There’s always time for killing, but never time for me. It only takes a minute”, she sings in Killing Time.

It’s so sad =( she’s right, though. That’s how it feels. People have time to waste and do nothing, but not time to help their close ones when they’re in a low place. It’s neither party’s fault, but still “True”.

True’s room is also the same layout as Ghost’s, but opposite. I think they are maybe versions of themselves from parallel universes or something like that. There is also implication that they start seeing through each other’s eyes in intervals, and we see this a little at the end of the Death & Romance video when she touches the Disk. I think their brains are connected in some way.

As mentioned, True hates herself and is miserable. I think this is why she gets the Imaginal Disk. We know she watches TV, so she probably saw the ad “True Blue Interlude” which is between Killing Time and Image. Image is her getting diskinserted and going to The Doctor. In the advertisement, it seems to be singing to her. It even says her name, “True”. It’s advertised as being a next stage and phase, it’s like the perfect form of escaping for True. She doesn’t want to be herself, she wants to be “Pure” and a “better her”. I also wonder if True Blue Interlude has hypnotic properties in canon, or anything like that. It’s interesting how this changes Image so much if you know the story. “I’m the best you’ve got, *true* or not?”

We are missing music videos so I am not certain about some stuff. They said on Instagram that they’re making one for Tunnel Vision, which I am 90% certain it will be another True song. True’s eyes do the weird blink thing in the Fear, Sex music video. Also, in “That’s My Floor” the camera zooms into her eyes and she LITERALLY has “Tunnel Vision”.

Also from the “That’s My Floor” music video, we know that after getting her disk True wears red like The Doctor instead of her blue, and starts assisting him in diskinserting. There is so much speculative stuff here right now. For example, I wonder if The Doctor is supposed to be True’s universe’s version of the glowing light guy that Ghost is with. I don’t know, but it changes the songs A LOT if you know that the lyrics are in character. Some songs are Ghost songs, and others are True songs.

In “That’s My Floor”’s music video she accidentally kills the people dancing with her indirectly because she gave them the disks (speculation) so she runs away. This lines up with “The Outskirts” from the website. It says to “walk down and atone for your sins”, also also that “the weight of your guilt should be slowing you down more than that”.

I think it’s about True’s guilt for all she’s done with the Imaginal Disk. When it zooms into her stomach camera? It shows what I think is the reality she actually wants. She wants to remove their disks; but she doesn’t. I also don’t know if Ghost is actually there, or if she’s hallucinating/imagining her to be.

“Love Is Everywhere”, is a Ghost song. She says to “look through the holes in the sky” to “find Love”. I also think Cry For Me might be a Ghost song, because she says “Think of Love and you’ll remember me”. I wonder if she’s going to be killed off or something. This would be foreshadowed by “DEATH and romance”. Maybe The solid light guy (whom I assume went into The Cocoon at The Outskirts) dies, so Ghost does too? Not sure. Speculation.

In Angel on a Satellite, a song I believe to be about Ghost, True sings “A thousand eyes turn to stone and monochrome // surprise, surprise // they turn to smile at the same time”

Followed by

“That’s why I don’t look up // That’s why I’m always dancing”

I think this is symbolism for her depression and inability to feel love.

The “eyes” can’t feel; they only watch. They symbolize people around her. They’re “stone” and “monochrome” because they are cold and reflective onto her, these represent people in her life that she can’t show her misery around. Like being depressed and having to hide it from your family, or friends that say “I’m always here to listen” but do not mean it in the slightest. She’s “always dancing” because she’s masking her loneliness and self-hate for those watching her.

True has never left love. We know she doesn’t truly. She sings about it multiple times. I think this part of She Looked Like Me! Is about Ghost

“Her hair lifted as she stood still

Right there in the light And she felt like a dream

I didn't know what to think

She looked like me

We stood mirrored 'til I leaned in And then you know what she did

She shot at me like an earthbound bullet

And then she wrapped her hands around my neck and I felt love

Just ordinary love

Let me hold you in my arms

Oh, love, that familiar old drug”

I don’t think Ghost literally strangled her, but instead it’s more poetic symbolism.

In Angel on a Satellite, True sings “I swear that through your eyes everything is brighter all the time // ‘cause when I see me through your eyes I love me, so don’t leave my side // you always see the sky, angel on a satellite”

Ghost “sees the sky” by seeing and feeling love. She literally “looks up”. She’s optimistic, True isn’t. She can’t look up.

Another little detail I’ve noticed is how in Love Is Everywhere, I presume Ghost sings “Look inside through the sky all around us” in the same melody that True sings “Angel on a satellite, glad you found us” in “Feeling Diskinserted?”

I think that the album will end with True going to the cocoon and becoming her ACTUAL “Purest self”. If you spell “Imaginal Disk” with a “c” instead of a “k” at the end, it’s literally a part of a pupa. The Imaginal disc turns into portions of a bug’s exoskeleton after it emerges from its metamorphosis. So, on a literal level, the real Imaginal disk that changes you was THE COCOON ALL ALONG. Maybe the Doctor is doing a shady internet scam trick where you change the URL by one letter and pass it off.

The detail here is so interesting. Even down to their names True is literally her True self. She can’t be anyone else. It’s reality. Ghost on the other hand is like the Ghost of everything True wants to be.

I also noticed: The Doctor’s laughter from Fear, Sex plays in the bridge of Cry For Me. I bet we will get a music video for it. I wonder what is happening with the Ghost and aliens storyline.

Anyways, I have so much to say about this. I have more even than this. We are missing music videos so I will be back. I also have to talk about the alien observation plot, but that needs more pondering.

[goodlucktai]

Would you maybe do 8 with Leo talking to Usagi? :D

dialogue prompts

8. “Okay. Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”

x

The subway tunnels are dark, half-collapsed, and the purest pitch black. Leonardo’s eyes are hooded white when Usagi sweeps the beam of his penlight towards him. Usagi’s never gotten a straight answer from any of the turtles about what, exactly, they had been genetically modified for in the first place, but he watches Leonardo pass his own light to one of the frightened humans behind him and figures he could add ‘built-in night vision’ to the column of weird abilities he’s seen firsthand proof of. 

The woman takes the light from Leo and passes it to her young daughter, who clutches it like a lifeline. No one from their group makes a sound, hyper-aware that the Krang hounds they barely managed to outrun could make a reappearance at any second. 

“Okay,” Leo says, in that steadfast, fearless tone of voice that made heads swivel from every corner of the room to pay attention when he talked. “Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”

“What?” Usagi blurts, jolting forward. “Leonardo, what?”

He tries to keep the panic out of his voice, for the sake of the humans they had not quite managed to fully save just yet, but he can’t help the way his heart starts to race. Leo doesn’t swear. He never swears. Every time he used to, he would look around guiltily, waiting for his big brother to swoop in out of thin air and scold him— “I don’t care if you’re a hotshot resistance leader,” Raph would say, “you’re still my brat of a baby brother, and I’m still bigger than you.”

But Raph died two years ago, and is no longer around to scold him for it. It didn’t stop Leo’s knee-jerk reaction of looking over his shoulder for him, as if he still might appear. And Usagi knows that hurt him every time. So Leo doesn’t swear. 

For him to break out the big guns, something must really be wrong. Usagi sweeps the light over him, his pulse pounding in his ears, and freezes when he finds what definitely looks like a piece of metal sticking out of Leonardo’s arm. 

Leo tilts away from him, putting the injury in the dark, and says, “Hush, Cottontail. We can’t let the hounds know we’re here.” 

But what was already a tricky situation has become a ticking time bomb. The hounds are nearby, their warbling, high-pitched croons reverberating down the dark tunnels, making it nearly impossible to pinpoint their location by sound. They’ll follow the scent of blood from a quarter of a mile away, like sharks. And Leo’s losing it fast—alarmingly fast. 

He unties his mask from around his eyes and uses his teeth to knot it around his arm instead, tight above the wound. He’s perfunctory and businesslike about it, and when he looks up Usagi knows he’s going to say something horrible.

Sure enough, “I’ll draw them away,” Leonardo says. “Once I do, you get these people to safety. We’re not that far from the safe zone, you’ll make it.”

Only that’s not how it’s going to go. Because Leo’s siblings are waiting for him. Because Mikey still hugs Leo like an octopus any time one of them leaves without the other, every single time, almost thirty years old and made ancient by grief and fear but still very much someone’s baby brother. Because if Usagi goes through with this, he’ll have to look April and Mikey both in the eye when he returns, and he doesn’t have the stomach for that. 

A crooning howl creeps toward them, alarmingly close. The hounds are getting excited, as if they’ve picked up the trail. Usagi shifts one step back, then another. 

Leonardo says, “Don’t. Don’t you dare.” It’s his leader voice, but it doesn’t work on anyone who grew up with him. And they were kids together before the end of the world. 

“Sorry,” he whispers, because he is. If he had a choice, he wouldn’t go. But this—him or Leo—this isn’t a decision that needs to be made. This just is what it is. 

He runs as far as the end of the track, sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles piercingly, and Leonardo’s stricken face, fuzzy and indistinct just within the range of Usagi’s flashlight, is the last thing he sees before he turns and runs for his life. 

They’ve used these tunnels for training exercises more than once, and that’s the only reason he makes it as far as he does, counting on muscle memory as he sprints and ducks and climbs. He crawls into a pipe just barely big enough for a rabbit yokai, much too small for a Krang hound—but not before he feels the drag of claws in the meat of his calf, not before a cry of pain is wrenched out of him, the immediate sting of the alien toxin setting in like a chemical burn. 

There are four of them screeching and digging at the mouth of the pipe with their horrible hands, and Usagi presses as far back as he can and hopes the metal holds. Hopes Leo got away. Hopes he won’t look over his shoulder for Usagi the way he does for Raph, because that would be—that would be so—

The sun comes out, flooding the tunnel with gold. The hounds shriek and peel away. A familiar, powerful force thrums in the air, like the charge before a lightning strike but consistent. 

Usagi thinks it’s strange to see a sunrise underground, and stranger still to see the sun at all when the sky has been overcast with dust and smoke for years, but it’s nice. It’s warm. 

And then he wakes up, which is super disorienting because he doesn’t remember going to sleep. He’s in the infirmary, the one room in the base guaranteed to have working lights and clean linens. The soft pillow beneath his head feels like a luxury he didn’t do anything special enough to deserve.

There’s a pressure on his hand, and when he looks he discovers Leonardo is holding it while he sleeps on the edge of the bed, slumped forward in his chair. Michelangelo is conked out beside him, his hair doing the funny curly thing it does after he uses too much ninpo, the whole of him blanketed in leftover static electricity. 

On the other side of the bed, April is watching Usagi with brown eyes that see everything. 

“That was close,” she says. “I don’t need to tell you that.”

No, she doesn’t. The memories limp and crawl back, and Usagi rips his eyes away from Leo’s face. He looks stressed even when he’s sleeping. Usagi contributed to those lines under his eyes, the chasm between his brows. It doesn’t feel good to know that. 

“I won’t ask you for a miracle,” April murmurs, “because that isn’t fair. But—it feels like I’m holding onto him by a thread sometimes. And I know Angie isn’t gonna let him out of his sight again for at least a week. Usagi, he can’t lose anybody else, okay? He can’t.”

The distress in her voice triggers something in Usagi that just bleeds, all through his ribcage, all through his heart. 

“I know,” Usagi whispers. He really does know. Donatello’s funeral was three months ago, and it still feels like they’re walking through a minefield. They’re balancing on a tightrope. Leonardo hasn’t laughed once since he buried his other half. 

“So just,” April says, “come home, okay? No matter what, make sure you come home.”

“I promise,” Usagi says, and holds his free hand out to her. She clasps it, and her fingers are human, the shape of them entirely different, but they have had a decade to make the gesture familiar and second nature. She’s his sister, as much as she’s Leo’s and Mikey’s, and Usagi would do anything she asked of him. 

So he keeps that promise for a long time. But he doesn’t keep it forever. 

[cultofdixon]

My Sunshine

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • The prison collapse scrambled everyone and Daryl thought he had lost his everything. But when the group got in a bit of a pickle with a stranger community, there’s always a light at the end of the tunnel • ANGST/SFW • TW: Injures / Scars / Canon Violence / Cannibals / Execution / Fire

Requested by: Anon

Everyone has their special someone. Whether that be a boyfriend/girlfriend, partner, or best friend or even a family member. Someone that makes life worth living for.

Daryl had her. His sunshine. His partner in crime. To anybody else looking at the two, Y/N was the complete opposite of Daryl.

The two were similar when it comes to being a more quiet duo. But Y/N was more of the shy, sensitive type unlike Daryl’s intense, thick-skinned type.

The moment he knew he was in love with her was all the way back to their quarry days. She may have been in her own little world while surrounded by others who wanted nothing to do with the Dixons at the time unless for hunting purposes…but she would always try to include Daryl on everything “group related”. Nobody liked Merle. Even his own blood but he tolerated him.

“Hi…” Y/N gently taps Daryl’s shoulder startling him out of his thoughts while he was skimming a squirrel. “My bad…I was wonderin’ if you wanted to sit with us. While we cook and eat what you and your brother caught for us”

“Uh…” Please god just say yes man. “Nah. I’m fine here”

“Oh…okay, well”

Well? Daryl looks up at her with curiosity before watching her walk away as a frown slowly brought itself on his face. I should’ve said yes.

The archer flinches once more when he spots Y/N has brought her camping chair to be beside him and his little campfire set up. As she sat down she went through her pack taking out a protein bar for herself and the man sitting beside her who happily took it.

“Ey, you gonna share with me?” Merle adds joining his brother like usual as Daryl was about to answer for her when Y/N tossed him the one she was holding. “Score”

“Y/N yea—-“

“I have more” Y/N pulled out another one from her pack before leaning back in her chair. She was met with a confused look written on his face. “Glenn isn’t the only one that can smoothly go through an infested city”

With half the bar in his mouth, Merle snorted amused waving the other half toward her. “I like her”

And he did. Well, they both did. But Merle didn’t like her in that way, surprise surprise. He didn’t mess with her except for his usual remarks toward everybody. In a weird way of putting it, Merle gave Daryl the “Merle seal of approval” for Y/N. That she would be good for him. And that’s when Merle was really Merle.

“You should tap that”

“What the fuck, Merle”

Y/N was a part of the Atlanta group and before she left, Daryl expressed heavily for her to be safe and that’s what sparked their mutual flame. Hell when the herd came through their campsite and Daryl came to the mess, he thought he would’ve lost her to. But to his surprise, he watched Y/N ripped the head off a walker that managed to pin one of their own and met its demise when it got too close to biting.

She can definitely handle herself Daryl thought as his heart continued to race watching her stumble a bit. He quickly shot the walker that approached from behind her while she dropped the head and crushed it under her boot.

The human ray of sunshine turned around to find the bolt before whipping back and locking onto Daryl who ran over to her.

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you” and that was the first deceleration in words by the archer himself.

After the CDC and the time on the farm, the two have gotten closer and not only did Daryl take his own bolt but also the bullet…is when Y/N returned the same level of feelings since the quarry.

“You really scared me today…”

“‘M sorry sunshine”

“Daryl…” Y/N brought herself to lay down beside him looking him in the eye as Daryl wanted to reach over and pull her close but they weren’t there yet…until she spoke once more. “I’m falling in love with you…I can’t lose you, okay?” She whispers to him to keep in mind of the sleeping people in the house as Daryl reaches toward her wiping away the stray tear that fell when she said those words.

“C’mere, I ain’t going anywhere” He whispers back, resting his hand on her hip waiting for her to get close enough to wrap his arm around her.

The two had their own little bubble that popped every once in a while, because the world didn’t know when to calm down. Daryl thought he had scared Y/N off when he was enraged at himself for not finding Sophia sooner but she had the one thing he lacked which was patience. She kept her distance but not far enough for Daryl to get any negative idea that she hates him.

One quiet moment from the storm of grief flooding through, Daryl brought himself to sit beside Y/N on the porch of the farm house. No one interrupting the two or wiggling their way into their bubble. All Y/N did was scoot herself right beside him gently taking his hand into hers, letting him know that she’ll be there. Even through all the scary moments.

Their growing relationship wasn’t a secret, but was unexpected to others. When the time going from house to house for a place to stay through the winter, Daryl would always ask Y/N to come with him to go hunting or sweep the near by houses and she would always agree. Extending her hand for him to take and that was the most physical touch they would do. Especially in front of others.

“When did that start happening?!” Glenn questions out loud the second the two left as Maggie laughs.

“You’re blind as hell, Glenn”

“It was obvious” Carol laughs a bit with Maggie leaving her friend even more confused.

“I didn’t see that comin’” Rick adds as Lori rolls her eyes with a smile.

“You didn’t see them hang out all the time before you came back into our lives” She smiles with a little laugh escaping her lips before bringing Carl close to help him warm up.

Walking through the quiet streets as the snow started to fall onto the two. Daryl stops and admires Y/N who parted from him to look up and watch the snow fall on her. A moment of peace he will engrave in his mind the sight before him. Her smile. Her contentment. She was happy, and so was he.

“I love you Y/N” He declares watching her attention from the snow land on him as her smile never faded for a second.

Y/N brought herself back to Daryl standing before him with that beautiful smile of hers as she looks up at him.

“I love you Daryl” She smiles warmly as the archer took his opportunity, resting his hands gently on her face and brought his lips against hers.

Their snowy first kiss is one for the books…

The times at night, Daryl took every chance he got to hold Y/N close in his embrace when most of the group would be sleeping. Not that it mattered if they looked, but he preferred when everyone was asleep so that he could leave small kisses to the top of her head and temple. Cherishing every part of her in the comforts of his arms.

When the prison was their new home, Daryl didn’t like the idea of sleeping in a cell and slept on the catwalk for the first few nights. He didn’t expect Y/N to join him, but she wasn’t ever leaving his side any time soon. Especially when Merle died.

One thing she’ll remember during the moments before Merle’s Hail Mary…

“You’ve always been close to my baby brother”

“I’d like to believe he’s always been close to me and we’ve slowly became comfortable with each other. That lead to more”

“Promise me something?”

“It’s nothing murderous is it?” Y/N teases getting a laugh from the older brother. “I promise whatever it may be, Merle”

“I know how much he cares about yea. He’s always cared about yea. Loved yea even…can yea just promise me…you’ll be there for him even more when I’m no longer here”

Oh Y/N knew in a way that Merle was going to sacrifice himself in some way. He may be an ass and people may not like him…but he loves and cares for his baby brother.

So he did it for him, even if it left a scar on Daryl’s mind…the pain that lingered by leaving the world.

Y/N returned to the prison after spending a few hours in the yard, to be met with a worried Daryl when she reached their shared cell. When the Woodbury folk infused themselves, they decided it was time to move from the catwalk.

“Where you’ve been…”

“Digging. Burying. Uh. Which reminds me…you can’t tell Rick who the other body is”

“Did yea kill somebody? Did somebody hurt yea that yea had to defend yourself?” His panic got caught in his throat that he wasn’t there to protect her, but his thoughts quieted when she rest her hands on his chest looking up at him with those beautiful eyes of hers.

“Merle deserves some respect in death.” She whispers feeling his hands gently place themselves on her face watching her sigh and the tears threaten to spill. “I’m so sorry for your loss, my love”

The archer himself cried for the loss of his brother and it pained him watching her cry. He learned when Merle died that Y/N lost her family in Atlanta before Glenn saved her.

They both lost what was blood.

But now they have a new family. Just the two of them…and one with those they formed bonds with since the quarry

“D?”

“Hm?”

“You’ll always come find me if we’re ever separated…right?”

“I will always find yea, sunshine. But it’s gonna take a lot to pull you away from my embrace”

Even if that thing was the Governor’s return and the collapse of the prison. Daryl never hated himself more in any other moment except for when he escaped alongside Beth…and didn’t find her on the way out. Didn’t find her in the nearby tree line. Didn’t even find her a few miles out.

A part of him was blaming himself and another wanted to set the whole world on fire if he didn’t find her.

The days have past and Daryl found himself sitting outside the car beside Rick while Michonne and Carl slept…blaming himself for everything that happened since the prison collapsed.

Losing Y/N

Losing Beth

The Claimers

When the group made their way to Terminus after reading sign after sign on the matter when following the train tracks. Rick decided it’d be best to go through the side, unexpected and to get an idea of everything. But what he didn’t expect was some of the residences that weren’t their people, wearing their belongings. He didn’t hesitate to raise his gun and didn’t stop his brother when Daryl suddenly ripped the necklace off a person’s neck.

“WHERE DID YEA FIND THIS” He snaps causing them to tremble and step back. He didn’t get an answer and his mind tuned out Rick’s words when he noticed Hershel’s pocket watch.

________

“I got yea somethin’” Daryl whispers to Y/N while she ate breakfast with him at one of the picnic tables.

“You didn’t have to get me anything, my love”

“That’s too damn bad. Cuz it made me think of yea” The archer states going into his pocket to hand her a small pouch.

Y/N set her spoon down brushing her hands off before inspecting the pouch about to make a joke that that was the gift but given Daryl’s waiting excitement for her reaction, she decided against it. She finally opened the pouch pulling out a gold necklace with a charm of the sun.

“You get it right? Cuz you’re my sunshine” he knew how cheesy that sound but watching that already amazing beautiful smile of hers grow.

“Well. Help your sunshine out” She gestures for him to put it on her as she held her hair out of the way for him to clasp it before leaning into her kissing her shoulder and bringing her flush against his chest. “I’m honored to be your sunshine, my love”

________

The four was forced in the train car not knowing what to expect. But Daryl’s mind was on the obvious, that Rick had to ask for him while he panicked.

“What happened to Y/N?”

“No idea” Glenn immediately responds with as Maggie smacks his chest gesturing to the anxious archer.

“She came with us. I was with her since the prison collapsed. Last I remember was her being lead to medical, then things turned sideways and now we’re in this train car” Maggie frowns watching the worry write itself on Daryl’s face. “We’ll find her”

He never expected for this to be the way he found her

Daryl, Rick, Glenn, and Bob were taken to this room that looked exactly like a slaughterhouse. The archer was forced to his knees first in front of this trough with Rick beside him as he noticed Gareth, the one that seemed to be the leader, dragging this unknown person given by the sack covering their head. They were forcefully placed on the opposite side of Daryl who was currently gagged. The two randoms on the other side of Bob were suddenly butchered in front of them, the blood spilling into the trough and they suddenly knew exactly what was happening. Or what was gonna happen.

“Take the fucking bag off her head. I want her to watch us kill the ones she wouldn’t stop yelling about finding her” Gareth snaps as one of the two butchers behind the group grabbed the bag ripping it off her head.

Y/N.

No.

No no NO

Daryl looked at her, scanning her person right then and there. Noticing every cut, every bruise, and taking note of each one that’ll add to a minute the second he gets his hands on the leader to strangle the living daylights out of him for however long the damage done to his girl adds up.

The explosion rang through the facility and the second Gareth left to investigate. Y/N somersaulted backwards driving her foot directly in one of the butcher’s family jewels causing him to fall while Rick manages to break free and stabbing the other butcher then taking care of the other that Y/N knocked off his feet. Rick cut Daryl out after getting Y/N and the two didn’t wait another second before latching onto the other.

His anxiety got stuck in his throat when he tried to speak. He was relieved but still freaking internal as Y/N shook in his embrace trying not to fall apart. They still had to escape.

Thank god for Carol

Everyone regrouped, along with their new friends they’ve meet before the hell sanctuary. Daryl quickly assesses Y/N’s injuries as her eyes were checking his.

“Are you alright, D?”

“I’m fine. You don’t gotta worry”

“Well…fuck…I’m sorry but I just can’t not…” Y/N suddenly started tearing up feeling Daryl’s calloused yet gentle hands take a hold of her face. “They killed and ate people in front of me…and I was mentally dying at the fact that I lost you to that hellish place. I’m not gonna lie and say that I’m fine! I’m fucking terrified!” She cries holding his wrists. “I don’t ever want to lose you. I can’t lose you. I love you. I love you so fucking much”

In that moment Daryl couldn’t contain it inside any longer as he felt the tears fall off his cheeks as his hands moved to her hips. He felt her hands find purchase on his neck bringing him down enough for her to press his forehead against hers.

“I’d be lost without my sunshine”

[ateriblewriter]

A Sign (q.h)

Family is Everything

Series Masterlist

Requests

requested ✅

Enjoy!

Tonight felt different. The whole day felt off. Quinn left earlier than normal, leaving you to deal with a very upset little girl who never got to say goodbye to her daddy. In order to get Hattie settled down you promised to bring her to the game with you that night. And because you couldn’t find a babysitter for baby Beck, you had to bring him too, this was quickly becoming a family affair. On top of that, you wore the wrong shoes and stepped in a puddle and then the check engine light came on in the car. This night could only get better from here. After all, it was a hockey night.

At the game everything seemed to get better. There were no major meltdowns for either child. That odd feeling you had earlier almost completely dissipated, when you felt the little tug on the sleeve, making your eyes snap forward to focus on the game again.

You didn’t see what initially happened to get everyone in your area standing, gasping and cheering for the ensuing battle. You had seen the majority of the game, your main focus on your two babies. So it was a bit of a surprise when you looked up and saw a sea of blue jerseys going on the attack, fists were flying and a brawl was breaking out.

“Mommy, where’s daddy?” You could hear the anxiety in your child’s voice. It always scared her when someone went down, especially if it was one of her uncles or her father. You watched as the trainer was brought over to the player in a blue jersey who was still in obvious pain on the ice.

“Hattie, daddy’s.” You have a dark feeling starting to form in your stomach, your eyes dancing around trying to spot the familiar number 43 on the ice. It was  becoming very evident that he was nowhere to be seen, except for. Oh no.

You could hear your oldest rattling off a million and one questions about the scrum and the player that you were one hundred percent was Quinn. Not feeling bad for one second you drown out the child’s questions.

“He’s not getting up. Why isn’t he getting up.” You whispered hoping no one would hear your trembling voice. Quinn was still sprawled out on the ice. There wasn’t anything you could do about it. Why wasn’t he getting up? He always got up. A dark cloud of what ifs started circling inside your mind.

“Mama?” The scared little voice of your crying daughter brought you out of the trance you were in. Hattie was an empath and could pick up those kids of negative feelings. You quickly bottled your own emotions, to keep her calm.

“Look Trixie girl. Daddy’s okay.” The two of you watched Quinn get up with help and make his way down the tunnel. Before he completely disappeared looked up at you, gave you a slight nod and tugged on his left ear twice, a gesture whose meaning was only known to your little family. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding. He was going to be fine., but it was clear that he wasn’t going to going back into the game.

Towards the end of the game, you got a message from your husband telling you he was still getting checked out and it would be a while and that you just take the kids home.

“Daddy!” Hattie jumped her father as soon as he entered the door to the modest home you lived in. It was late and although her nerves were soothed after Quinn indicated he was okay, the small child refused to go to bed until she had a chance to inspect Quinn for herself.

“What’s the damage? You were down for awhile.” You finally got your husband to yourself once he laid Hattie down for bed.

“I was only down for a few minutes. Nothing major.” He tried to down play the unexpected hit. He just wanted to relax and not talk.

“Quinn.”

“Y/N, darling, my love I’m okay. Just a couple of bumps and bruises. They want me out for a couple of games.” Quinn shrugged wrapping himself around you, wincing as he did so. He would deal with his issues another day.

Please let me know what y’all think! Any thoughts, comments, or complaints! Also if you have any requests for the this little family, request away. I haven’t introduced the third child yet.