#I'm going through it - and by it I mean an emotional wound was cut fresh open and I'm bleeding everywhere

[0dotexe]

I feel like when people have the hope that people can change, they don't consider the alternative of the opposite to be true. Sometimes the people who abused/neglected you will never apologise for their actions. They will fall deeper into harmful habits that will make everyone around them miserable. They will fall into the pit of escapism instead of tackling the problem head on, making all problems around them grow.

If I learned anything from this trip, it's that my family, especially my mother, will never change. If she won't in the almost 30 years I've been alive, she won't until she's on her deathbed. So be it.

Not the first time someone important to me has disappointed me time and time again. But she was the first to do it, so I guess that just stings like a knife to the chest, twisted ever so slightly every time I'm reminded of other families. Especially when I hear about other people's parents getting better and realizing that their behaviours were fucked up and are starting to apologise. I'm happy that some people get to experience that, hell, even my husband is with his mother. But I know personally I will probably never get that. And I've made peace with it.

Just have to keep moving forward. Have to keep realising that I will not be many people's first, second, or even third choice when it comes to wanting to talk. True loneliness sucks and I don't wish this on anyone.

Not even my mother.

[suguae]

Haunted

part one - part two

જ synopsis. After months of longing and uncertainty, you reunite with your ex-boyfriend Toji and his son Megumi at a nearby diner, where the warmth of their presence fills you with hope for a fresh start and a renewed sense of family.

જ pairings. T. Fushiguro x Fem! Reader

જ a/n. You thought I'd give you guys the silent treatment for month again, probably. But I'm back and I'm going to try my best to upload normal again, keyword TRY.

Six months had passed since the last echo of Toji's voice had graced your ears, each day stretching into an eternity of longing and uncertainty. The memory of his deep, resonant tone lingered like a gentle caress against your skin, stirring a tempest of emotions within you. As you navigated the labyrinth of your thoughts, one question loomed larger than all the rest: was Toji doing okay?

Was he still grieving over his dead wife, or had he begun to heal? And if so, was he ready to love you anew, to embark on a journey of rediscovery and redemption together?

The piercing ring of the phone shattered the fragile sanctuary of your thoughts, jolting you back to the stark reality of the present moment. Your heart quickened its pace as you glanced towards the source of the sound, the glow of the screen casting an eerie illumination in the dimness of your tiny apartment.

Toji's name flashed boldly on the display, a beacon of light cutting through the darkness of the night. A surge of emotions welled up within you—surprise, anticipation, and a tinge of apprehension—all swirling together in a tumultuous whirlwind.

It felt like a sign, as if he had heard the silent echoes of your thoughts reverberating through the ether. Could it be mere coincidence, or something more? The very idea sent shivers down your spine, igniting a flicker of hope within the depths of your soul.

With trembling fingers, you reached out to answer the call, the weight of uncertainty heavy upon you. Was this the moment you had been waiting for, the chance to bridge the chasm that had separated you two for so long? 

You brought the phone to your ear, the anticipation hung thick in the air, each heartbeat echoing the rhythm of your longing. You couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, fate had finally decided to intervene.

Thoughts of Megumi danced on the periphery of your consciousness. Were you guys finally ready to confront the demons of your past and embrace the promise of a brighter future?

The word slipped from your lips like a fragile prayer, carrying with it the weight of all the unspoken hopes and fears that had lingered between you two for so long. "Hello?" you repeated, the sound hanging heavy in the air, waiting for Toji's response to break the silence.

For a moment, there was nothing but the steady thrum of your heartbeat echoing in your ears. And then, finally, a soft exhale on the other end of the line, the faint rustle of movement as Toji gathered his thoughts.

"Hey," his voice came, soft and tentative, yet infused with a warmth that washed over you like a gentle wave. The sound of it sent a shiver down your spine.

you held your breath, waiting for him to continue, the anticipation mounting with each passing second. And then, with a quiet resolve, you spoke again.

"It's been a while," you said, the understatement hanging heavy between the two, a testament to the distance that had grown between you both in the wake of your shared pain. "How have you been?"

The question lingered in the air, pregnant with meaning, a silent plea for honesty and vulnerability in the face of the uncertain future. And as you waited for Toji's response, you couldn't help but wonder if perhaps, just perhaps, this conversation was the first step towards healing the wounds that had long divided you both.

Toji's words hung in the air like a delicate melody, each syllable carrying with it the weight of a thousand unspoken truths. "I miss everything about you," he confessed, his voice soft yet filled with a longing that echoed in the depths of your soul. The vulnerability in his words was palpable, a raw honesty that stirred something deep within you.

As his plea washed over you, you felt a flood of emotions surge to the surface—love, longing, and a flicker of hope amidst the shadows of your past. The ache of separation had carved a chasm between you, but in that moment, his words bridged the gap with an unspoken promise of reconciliation and renewal.

"I need to see you," he implored, the urgency in his tone resonating with the echoes of your own heart's desires. The longing in his voice tugged at the strings of your soul, igniting a spark of courage within you.

With a steady resolve, you met his plea with a whisper of your own, "I need to see you too." The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all that had been left unsaid, yet brimming with the potential of what could be.

Toji's insistence reverberated through the phone, his words a fervent plea for connection and reunion. "We can meet up, somewhere… anywhere, baby, just tell me," he urged, the desperation in his voice pulling at the strings of your heart. The prospect of seeing him again, of bridging the chasm that had separated you for so long, filled you with a heady mix of anticipation and apprehension.

And then, as if a beacon had been lit in the darkness, he spoke his name—Megumi. Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of him, a rush of emotions flooding your senses. He wasn't your child, not biologically at least, but the bond you shared transcended bloodlines. From the moment you had met him, he had nestled his way into the deepest recesses of your heart, filling a void you never knew existed.

The thought of seeing Megumi again, of wrapping him in your arms and showering him with the love he deserved, sent a surge of warmth coursing through your veins. He was a constant presence in your thoughts, a beacon of light in the darkness that had enveloped your life.

"Yes," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, "Yes, let's meet." The words hung in the air, heavy with anticipation and the promise of a reunion long overdue. And as you made plans to come together once more, you couldn't help but feel a sense of peace settle over you—a quiet reassurance that, no matter what the future held, you would face it together, as a family.

During the aftermath of the breakup, you found yourself spiraling into a dark abyss of self-destructive behavior. Drinking became a crutch, a futile attempt to numb the ache that gnawed at your soul. Overworking became a distraction, a way to bury yourself in tasks and responsibilities to avoid facing the gaping void left by Toji's absence. And as the days stretched into weeks and months, the toll of neglecting your own well-being became painfully apparent.

It was all too easy to place blame on Toji, to cast him as the villain in the narrative of your shared pain. But deep down, you knew the truth—it wasn't his fault, not entirely. You had chosen to entangle yourself with a widower, knowing full well the complexities and challenges that came with loving someone who was still grieving.

Yet despite the turmoil raging within you, a glimmer of clarity began to emerge amidst the chaos. The realization that no amount of self-destructive behavior could mend the shattered pieces of your heart, nor could it bridge the chasm that had grown between you and Toji.

Slowly but surely, the bad habits began to wane, replaced by a newfound determination to confront the unresolved issues head-on. You stopped reaching for the bottle as a temporary salve for your pain, recognizing that true healing could only come from within. You eased up on the relentless pursuit of productivity, learning to prioritize self-care and introspection over the relentless pursuit of perfection.

It wasn't an easy journey, fraught with setbacks and moments of doubt. But with each passing day, you grew stronger, more resilient in the face of adversity. And as you looked back on the tumultuous path that had led you to this moment, you realized that the key to finding peace lay not in blaming others, but in taking ownership of your own happiness and well-being.

As the agreed-upon time approached, a sense of anticipation and nervous energy coursed through your veins. The prospect of seeing Toji again after months apart filled you with a heady mix of emotions—hope, uncertainty, and a tinge of excitement. The void that had loomed large in your heart in his absence now seemed poised to be filled, if only for a fleeting moment.

You arrived at the nearby diner with a fluttering heart and a whirlwind of thoughts swirling in your mind. The familiar sights and sounds of the cozy establishment offered a sense of comfort amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead. The soft glow of the lights, the gentle hum of conversation, and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped you like a warm embrace.

As you stepped inside, you scanned the room anxiously, searching for Toji's familiar figure amidst the sea of faces. And then, there he was, sitting at a corner table, his gaze locked on yours as if he had been waiting for you all along.

Sitting next to Toji was the little toddler, his bright eyes sparkling with excitement at your appearance. You couldn't help but smile as you caught his gaze, feeling a warmth spread through you at the sight of him. Megumi reached out eagerly towards you, his tiny hand outstretched in silent invitation.

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[greenwitchfromthewoods]

still fresh l Joel Miller

Summary: another expedition in search of supplies, this time with company

Warnings:  fluff, maybe a little bit of jealousy, two infected, a few shots, generally boring

A/N: I'm trying to use my days off. sorry if I'm boring.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

short stories from life. [masterlist]

"You should be more careful."

Shane winced as you pressed the alcohol pad to the palm of his hand. The large cut had stopped bleeding, but it still needed a bandage.

"You have very delicate hands." he murmured, smiling at you.

"Thank you." you reached into your backpack for a bandage. "Maybe we can do without stitches."

"I think I could survive if you did it."

Someone cleared his throat loudly and you both raised your heads. Joel stood over you with a rifle slung over his back, looking around the area.

"We should go now." he mumbled, frowning.

"I'm almost done." you replied, tying a bandage on Shane's hand.

Everything was still fresh. Not only Shane's wound, but you and Joel as well. 

It had only been a few days and you had already gone on patrol together. You had the impression that you were getting along better than before, but when Tommy asked Walsh to accompany you to check out buildings outside your normal area, you saw Joel's face darken.

Shane walked ahead and now he was directing you to the indicated location. The area was peaceful and the sun was pleasantly warming.

"I don't like it when he looks at you that way."

You turned around and looked at Joel walking next to you.

"And how does he look?"

"Oh, don't pretend you don't see." he sneered, raising his eyebrows. "I probably looked the same way."

"You're not looking anymore?"

"That's not- That's not what I mean." Joel snorted and you giggled.

Your fingers found his, much larger than yours, and intertwined. Everything was still fresh. Even though you had known each other for a long time, you had the impression that you were learning each other all over again.

It wasn't just about sleeping in the same bed, because that seemed almost natural to you, but about being together on a completely new, emotional level.

Joel felt like he was learning everything all over again, he had the feeling that you saw his helplessness and it scared him, but your presence was soothing. 

And God, he loved your closeness. Not just in bed, when you were lying close, or when you made love, savoring each other's bodies, but also in everyday activities. Just coming home and thinking that someone was waiting for him - he missed it.

You rummaged through cabinets and drawers, looking for something valuable, something that could be useful at the clinic in Jackson.

"I've got some bandages."

Shane threw you a bundle, and you quickly stuffed it into your bag.

"Needles would be good. Or syringes." You mumbled, opening another drawer. "Or some antibiotics. I'll take anything."

Shane peered into one of the drawers. "Dead mouse?"

"No thanks." You laughed. "But I appreciate the effort. Where's Joel?"

"They're checking the room in the back."

You nodded and looked around at the empty cabinets. You didn't find much, but you didn't want to give up so easily.

"I think I saw a sign for the storage room." You said.

"Yeah, I passed it. Do you want to go there?"

"Maybe we'll find something."

The pharmacy building you entered was quiet and peaceful. Too quiet and too peaceful. Years of experience told you that if nothing bad was waiting for you in the first room, it was definitely lurking in the last. 

You adjusted your grip on your gun and followed Shane. You could count on him. Joel knew you were safe with this man and no matter what he said or think about Shane, he couldn't deny it - Walsh knew what he was doing.

The heavy door creaked but opened smoothly. Dim light shone through the windows placed high under the ceiling, the shelves were already cleared out, but there were still many packages lying on the ground.

"What a fucking mess." he muttered, pushing a container with his shoe. "Ready for a shopping spree, sweetie?"

You smirked and entered the first aisle. After a few minutes, you already had some antibiotics and penicillin, gauze and a few more bandages in your hands.

"Painkillers!" Shane threw a few boxes your way.

Your bag was slowly filling up. You stood up and adjusted it on your shoulder, then glanced at another door in the back.

"Maybe they have medical equipment there." You said, Shane looked at you from behind the shelves.

"Be careful."

You touched the cold doorknob and gently pushed the door. The room was dark, there were no windows and you could barely see anything inside.

"And?"

"I think it's..."

A sharp screech almost paralyzed you. The silhouette of an infected man appeared from the darkness. You raised your gun, but when you took a step back you slipped on some empty packages and fell hard to the ground.

"Shit!"

A second monster appeared, they must have been hiding in the warehouse for a long time. You crawled as fast as you could, trying to reach your weapon.

"Hey, asshole!" Shane's scream distracted them and they stopped for a moment.

You noticed your gun lying under the cabinet and quickly crawled there. The first shot was fired and something fell to the ground with a thud.

"What the fuck!?!"

"Joel!"

Attracted by the noise, he ran into the warehouse and aimed at one of the infected. The shot was accurate and the creature's head splattered on the wall behind him.

Joel immediately looked at you and then at Shane, who was breathing heavily.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

You nodded. Shane nodded as well, and then carefully entered the room the infected had come from.

"You should have waited for me." Joel said quietly, approaching you.

"They surprised me, but I'm fine. Look." You opened your bag. "Look how much I found."

"If you had paid for this with your life, it would have been worthless."

"I'm fine, really." You tried to smile, but it didn't seem to convince Joel because he just shook his head in helplessness.

That was Miller - caring and protective to the extreme. Ellie would sometimes remind him of that, but that was how he showed his feelings towards others. He knew you would handle it, but he preferred to keep an eye on you. Especially now, when it was all so fresh.

"Sweetheart?" Shane's call reached you from the dark room, and you immediately noticed the look Joel gave you - "Sweetheart?!"

"Do you have anything?" you asked, ignoring Joel's face.

"Yeah, something you really want."

When Shane brought out the containers with syringes and needles to you, you almost jumped for joy. It turned out that the two infected were good at deterring other snoopers from entering this part of the building, and you only gained from it. 

The bag you were carrying was full, and soon you put some of your things in Shane and Joel's backpacks too.

All of you wanted to get back to Jackson before nightfall so you just ate something in a hurry and set off. 

Joel looked at you as you walked ahead. What you found clearly improved your mood and despite your tiredness you walked briskly forward. He didn't even notice when Walsh caught up with him.

"That was a good day," he said.

Joel nodded "Yeah, it was."

They took a few steps in silence. Finally Shane cleared his throat.

"Listen, I like her." he said pointing at you walking in front of them "She's a great chick, if you know what I mean."

Joel knew, he knew perfectly well. However, he wasn't sure what Shane was getting at and decided not to say anything until he revealed all his cards.

"I know you're living together again so I assume you and her..."

"Mhmm." Joel grunted.

"You're lucky, you know that?" the man smiled "No offense, but if I didn't know she was totally into you, I wouldn't hesitate to steal her from you."

Joel still didn't say anything. His gaze went to you, you were adjusting the strap of the bag you had slung across your body.

"You have nothing to worry about, Miller. She's safe with me. I'm keeping an eye on her because I like her, that's all."

Joel cleared his throat. "Thanks for today." he finally said "If you weren't with her..."

Shane nodded and smiled "But I was, so don't think about it that much."

It was already late when you reached Jackson. You ate a late dinner at Tipsy Bison and feeling the whole past day on your shoulders, you went back to your place.

"I need a shower." you mumbled, taking off your jacket and shoes "Ellie's probably staying at her friend's again, huh?"

"Yeah, looks like it." Joel replied and before you could escape him he wrapped his arms around your waist and snuggled into your back.

You sighed quietly and reached back to run your fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry..." you said quietly as warm lips brushed your neck "I'll be more careful next time."

"I know." he whispered in your ear, turned you around and put his forehead against yours "Damn, I've wanted to kiss you all day..."

"Oh, that's long!" you chuckled.

"Mhm. Too long."

You took his face in your hands. His beard tickled your skin pleasantly, his strong body pressed against yours. Maybe it was all still fresh, but you felt it was right.

You kissed his soft lips. You missed this too, all day.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

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[moonselune]

Hey ! First at all I love your blog and I'm so glad I discovered it ☺️

I have a silly idea about Minthara, what will be her reaction if she said something that hurt her tav, cause I love her but I'm a crybaby 😭

Thank you ! And sorry if my English is bad

Your english is great dw! Oh how I love to write for our lord and saviour miss sexy drow lady

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara x reader | Crybaby

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The argument had started out small—just a disagreement over tactics during the last skirmish. You had suggested a more cautious approach, one that would spare as many lives as possible, while Minthara, ever the warrior, had insisted on a more aggressive strategy.

But what started as a discussion quickly escalated. Minthara's patience wore thin, and her words became sharper, cutting deeper with each exchange. Her voice, usually controlled and commanding, rose in frustration as she dismissed your concerns.

“I truly didn’t think you could be so naive,” she finally spat, her tone dripping with disdain. “You don’t understand what it takes to win and at this rate, you never will.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. The implication that you were somehow weak, that you didn’t understand the cost of survival, cut to the core. You felt your throat tighten, a familiar sting in your eyes that you fought desperately to suppress. But the hurt was too much to contain, and before you knew it, you were storming out of the tent, not wanting Minthara to see how deeply her words had wounded you.

You made your way to the lakeside, your footsteps heavy with emotion. The cool evening air did little to soothe the turmoil inside you, and the soft lapping of the water against the shore seemed to mock the chaos in your heart. You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring out at the dark water, your tears finally spilling over.

You hadn’t been out there long before you heard footsteps approaching from behind. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was Minthara. Her presence was unmistakable, a mixture of strength and authority that seemed to fill the space around her. But right now, it was a presence you didn’t want to face.

“Leave me alone,” you muttered, your voice trembling as you tried to keep the tears from spilling out any further. “I don’t want to talk to you right now.”

Minthara didn’t respond immediately, but you could feel her hesitating, torn between giving you space and not wanting to leave things unresolved. You heard her take a step closer, and then another, until she was standing right behind you.

“Look at me,” she said softly, her voice stripped of the harshness it had held earlier. You shook your head, your back still turned to her.

“No,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Just go away.”

But Minthara wasn’t one to back down, not when it mattered, not when it came to you.

“Please,” she insisted, her tone gentler than you had ever heard it. “I need you to look at me.”

There was a long pause, the tension in the air thick and suffocating. Finally, with a heavy sigh, you turned around slowly, your eyes still fixed on the ground. But Minthara wasn’t having that either. She reached out, her fingers gently tilting your chin up until your eyes met hers.

Your vision was blurred with tears, but you could see the regret in her gaze, a sorrow that mirrored your own pain. Minthara’s strong features, usually so composed, were softened with an emotion you didn’t often see—vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

The sincerity in her words broke through the last of your defenses, and a fresh wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. Minthara didn’t flinch; instead, she reached out, her thumb gently wiping away your tears. The touch was so tender, so unlike the warrior you knew, that it made your heart ache even more.

“I was angry,” she continued, her eyes never leaving yours. “I didn’t think before I spoke. I’m sorry for what I said—it was cruel and unfair.”

You took a shaky breath, the weight of her apology easing some of the hurt. But the pain was still there, raw and aching.

“You think I don’t understand?” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I know what it takes to survive. I know the cost.”

Minthara’s expression softened further, a look of deep regret and understanding crossing her features.

“I know you do,” she said quietly. “I was wrong to say otherwise.”

There was a silence between you, heavy with the unspoken words and the lingering pain. But in that silence, there was also a sense of healing, a recognition of the love that bound you together despite the harsh words.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” you murmured, your voice still trembling with emotion.

“I don’t either,” Minthara replied, her voice steady now, full of conviction. “I never want to hurt you like that again.”

She pulled you into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around you protectively. You leaned into her, resting your head against her shoulder as you let the last of your tears fall. Minthara held you close, her hand stroking your hair in soothing motions, her own heart aching at the sight of your pain.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice filled with a tenderness that she rarely showed to anyone but you. “More than anything.”

You held onto her tightly, feeling the sincerity in her words, the warmth of her embrace melting away the last of your anger and hurt.

“I love you too,” you whispered back, your voice barely above a breath.

Minthara pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, her arms still holding you close as the night slowly wrapped around you both

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Awwww this was so sweet to write and I hope you guys enjoyed it! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[auraisereigh]

"One chance"

chapter ten

Brennan Sorrengail x Riorson reader Blurb: When finally reunited with her brother Star finds herself overwhelmed by the state he is in. wc: 5.3 ☆ SPOILERS FOR THE EMPYREAN SERIES. Wounds/injury. Yelling, False accusations? Uses pronouns: she/her. i use Star as a nickname as y/n sounds weird, and i'm awful with names.

I am working on the requests you lovies put in but I'm currently extremely stressed and busy with school. ☆

Masterlist ☆ Dragon guide ☆ Star's story ☆ Empyrean guide ☆ Support me

I look at my brother for the first time in over than two months. He looks almost the same as before but he has visible bags under his eyes, and the way he's leaning against our father's throne is tense, like he's in pain.

Aethan pats my back before leaving us alone. The nauseousness is my stomach turns to pure relieve. He's alive.

"Xaden." I whisper. "Star." He responds but even his voice holds a note of pain.

I walk closer to him. I go to hug him but his hands keep me at a small distance. "Don't." He says. His voice is breaking. My worry skyrockets. "What's wrong?" I ask, my face twisted in worry. "Tell me." I urge. I need to know what's wrong, I need to help him.

"It's my back." He responds and his voice wavers as I see a tear fall. I frown and walk around him. I grab a hold of his shirt and the sweater he's wearing and slowly pull it up. I make sure to be gentle, what's on his back must hurt a lot of he's on the verge of crying. I never see my brother cry, the last time was when mom left.

When I lift the shirt and first see his back, I gasp, covering my mouth in shock. My body trembles, the sight overwhelming.

It's covered in cuts.

I lift his shirt up higher, almost to his neck. His entire back is covered in cuts. Some look fresh as if they were reopened, some actually look like they're healing. I lower his shirt carefully. i take a deep breath, calming my own emotions.

"How?" I whisper. "I made a deal to ensure the safety of all the rebellion children. At the age of Twenty we have to go into the Riders Quadrant. I took responsibility for all of them. If they do something that's against Navarre, my life is forfeit." He explains through the pain even though I can see he's trying to hide it.

Damn him. Damn his deal. This moron, I swear. For the love of the lord. What was going through his mind. Yeah sure, let me take responsibility for all those children.

"Each cut… it represents one child. All 107 of them." What? I blink, trying to get my mind to cooperate. "Who did it?" I ask, my voice cold. I have an idea, I just hope it isn't that person but deep down I know it is.

"General Sorrengail." He says. My mind turns to pure cold ice. "Get to the healers. Now." My voice leaves no room for discussion. "I'll find you after that." That's the last thing I say before I walk out the room, my anger visible on my face as I walk past by the assembly members.

I make up to the third floor. I don't even bother knocking, I just hope it's unlocked. I push the door open and slam it behind me.

Brennan flinches from the sound. "Your mother is a wretch. A cruel wretchful woman." I bite out as I restrain myself not to yell. He frowns and he gets up from where he sits on his desk chair. "What do you mean?" He ask softly. Why is he always that soft? Does he also think I'm that fragile that if you bite back I'll tremble and shatter?

"Your mother dragged a knife hundred and Seven times through my brothers back!" I scream but there's more pain in it than anything else. His hands go to my shoulders to ground me. "Don't touch me." I brush his hands off. "I didn't know, I swear." He assures me, letting go of me and giving me some space. "She burned down my home, my city, my people. She executed my father, my family. She cut into my brother a hundred and Seven times! For you! She did that for you. Her son, who she thinks is dead. She's willing to wipe my culture, my home off the map, for you! To avenge you. And for what? For a son who just ran away, who's not even dead." Most of it is pretty much true. All of this was not his intention, but it still happened.

"Why don't you go back, huh? Go home. To your mother. Tell her she did all of that for nothing. Tell her that Fen Riorson shot you with an arrow. Tell her you survived and that you didn't go home because you don't stand by what she does. By the lies she tells. And maybe, in one go, tell her that Fen's daughter is alive so she can come and kill me too." I yell the last part. I put all my pent up emotions in those words. I can feel my eyes glow their red hue.

I'm so tired. Of all this, every little thing that goes wrong pushes me into an even darker corner. Where there's good, bad usuals follows. When I want to open myself up to him, this stuff happens, which seems to backfire all the progress I had made to even get to the point of considering opening up to this man.

He takes a step back and my heart aches. Where there's good, bad follows, Xaden is back but now Brennan is further gone.

I take a step back myself, until I lean against the door I slammed not even five minutes ago. I slide down the door till I hit the ground. He also takes a seat on his chair again. We don't say anything for a while. It's just a quiet, tension filled room. But then Brennan speaks up.

"I didn't mean for any of it." He says quietly. "I didn't know what my mother would do when she'd found out I was....gone." He explains. "But she hurt you, in more than one way. And even if it's not my fault, you wanna take it out on someone, and the closets to her is me so that makes it understandable that you'd yell at me but do not think for a second that this is something I wanted." His voice is soft but he holds a stern tone at the end. That's fair, to defend himself.

I don't respond, I don't see the point. I've said what I wanted to say.

I sit drained on the floor, completly exhausted by emotion "yeah... Fair." I mumble. I don't even have the energy to argue with him anyway. He holds a fair point, none of this is his fault. All of this is weirdly connected in a way he could have never guessed was possible. Then why does it hurt so damn much? Why does it all have to hurt so much?

I grab the door handle to help me stand up. Once I stand I lean against it before standing back on my own legs now that they don't feel like jelly anymore. I rub my temple, a rough headache forming, my throat dry and aching from yelling.

I open the door when he speaks up. "Where are you going?" He asks, getting off his chair and walking to me. "I have to help my brother." I mumble, headache pounding.

"I know you do." He replies softly, putting a hand on my arm. "You don't trust me. Every time you try to something happens that makes you distant. Give me a chance to prove I can be trusted. One chance is all I ask." His voice is soft and pleading. "Why do you wanna know me? I'm not even that special." I question. What is it about me that he keeps trying to know me? "Because Naolin always said you were special. From what I heard you were an amazing friend to him and maybe that's what I want for us." He explains. I can hear the vulnerability in his voice.

"I'm not a good friend." I state, my voice drained. "One chance." He repeats, his eyes look straight in mine. Those same eyes that glowed red not that long ago. "One chance." I whisper.

His eyes light up at my whispered words. "Thank you." His words are sincere, genuine. "I'll come to your room. Friday night, then you can still get some time with your brother, is that okay?" I nod and something in my heart grows fuzzy at the thought of spending time with him.

"Okay, good. I'll see you then." He smiles. I manage to give him a small, genuine smile back.

☆

Taglist: @honethatty12 @smashee0789 @awkardnerd @randomperson1234sblog@bangtanxberm@hyperactive-bookworm-0 @littowl

[girlietips]

Everyone talks about leveling up and healing, but what comes after that?

I feel like I'm in a really good place right now. I've worked through my emotional wounds, I no longer attract toxic people, and I'm focused on making better choices to improve my life.

I've moved past the drama, the gossip, and the unhealthy relationships, and I'm genuinely happy about that. I have no desire to go back to any of that. But at the same time, life feels too calm.

In the past, it was easy to connect with people around me—whether it was bonding over shared dislikes, mutual crushes on unavailable people, or similar family struggles. But now, all of that feels shallow and trivial. If I don’t like someone, I just avoid them. There’s nothing to really talk about or bond over anymore.

What I’m really wondering is how to keep that sense of wonder and excitement from my younger years alive—the sense that everything felt fresh, new, and thrilling.

I’ve outgrown a lot of the chaos, but now I’m left with the challenge of keeping life exciting without falling back into old habits. And honestly, I’m not sure how to do that.

This is a really important question and one I don’t think gets talked about enough. Often time when we begin to remove all the toxicity out of our life we feel as though there is a hole in our life. Or the lack of excitement and connection.

One thing I’ve noticed a lot in my own healing journey is that I had become almost addicted to drama because for my whole life I made a lot of my connections and bonds with people by complaining about crummy situations. That can also make it especially difficult for when you are trying to leave that side of you behind because the people who are close to you might try and pull that side out of you. While I do think cutting people out is a step to healing (not one that is particularly easy) it is important to understand you can’t cut everyone out. There are going to be some people that will bring the drama side of you out that you can’t avoid. But I don’t necessarily think gossip and communicating in that way is necessary bad I think you need to be really honest with yourself when it turns into something ugly. You can always tell people when a simple gossip or blowing off steam turns into something nasty you don’t want to be apart of.

In my opinion the feeling of life being “too” calm can mean one of two things.

You aren’t healed to the point that peace is appealing. This is very real and I notice it especially when I am comparing lifestyles with others. People will call you boring or stuck up because you like to keep your life free of stress and are very disciplined. Even your old self in the back of your brain might be saying “ew I just study and work and haven’t even had any new relationship drama. I am so boring”. I think when these thoughts come into your head you should remind yourself on how exactly it felt when you were “more fun” because yeah it was exciting when I was talking to a bunch of toxic guys, never did my homework, and didn’t care how I treated my body. But was that true happiness? No! it was just adrenaline and too much of that can leave you feeling fried and anxious.

You are not giving yourself fun things to do and talk about with others. If you are just going to school/work and then coming home and you aren’t participating in any hobbies that make you feel fulfilled you are going to have no fun and excitement throughout your day. You can keep your sense of wonder and excitement without slipping into toxic habits and situations!!!! Do something fun with your friends, take a class, learn a new art form, go on that trip you deserve all the excitement because you worked hard for your peace!!

I hope I answered your question. I think it’s a really important topic that I have discussed with my therapist on multiple occasions. Understanding the difference between excitement and adrenaline will help you understand what is worthwhile. Also if you have friends that the only conversation they can have is about drama they have there own things they need to workout and you shouldn’t let them bring you down.

Xoxo 💕💕

[estapa-edwards]

HAPPY - E.EDWARDS

paring: Ethan Edwards x fem! reader

word count: 2k

requested? yes - “I want you to be happy,” “I’m happy with you,”with Ethan Edwards! :)

warnings: use of y/n.

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The crisp Michigan air bit at my cheeks as I made my way to the hockey rink. Memories flooded back as I approached the familiar arena, memories of a love lost and a heartache I couldn't forget. It had been months since Ethan and I broke up, but the wounds were still fresh, still raw.

Ethan Edwards. The name alone was enough to send a shiver down my spine. He was the star hockey player for UMich, with a swagger that could make anyone weak in the knees. But behind that cocky smile was a heart that had once belonged to me. A heart I had walked away from.

As I entered the rink, the sound of skates cutting through the ice filled the air. My heart raced as I spotted Ethan on the ice, his every move fluid and graceful. Despite the anger and hurt that still lingered, I couldn't deny the undeniable attraction I still felt for him. 

The game began, and the energy in the arena was electrifying. The opposing team was aggressive, and tensions ran high on the ice. Ethan was in the thick of it all, battling fiercely for control of the puck and defending his teammates with unwavering determination.

Midway through the second period, a scuffle broke out between Ethan and an opposing player. Tempers flared, and before I knew it, fists were flying. The crowd held its breath as Ethan traded blows with his opponent, both players refusing to back down.

The fight was intense, a raw display of passion and aggression. But as the referees intervened and broke up the altercation, it was clear that Ethan had come out on top, defending his honor and proving his loyalty to his team.

The game resumed, and Ethan's performance was nothing short of spectacular. Despite the physicality of the match, he continued to showcase his talent, weaving effortlessly through the opposing team and scoring goal after goal.

As the final buzzer sounded, signaling UMich's hard-fought victory, the crowd erupted into cheers. Ethan's teammates surrounded him, celebrating their win and his standout performance. 

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I waited for my friend Luca outside the locker room, lost in my thoughts and the memories that the hockey rink evoked. As I scanned the crowd, I felt a presence beside me and turned to find Ethan standing there, his eyes searching mine.

"Y/N, what are you doing here?" Ethan asked, his voice tinged with surprise and uncertainty.

"I wanted to see you play," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper, my heart pounding in my chest.

His eyes searched mine for a moment, filled with a mixture of surprise, longing, and pain. "I've missed you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice breaking. "More than you'll ever know."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I took a shaky breath. "I've missed you too, Ethan," I whispered, the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

He reached out, gently grasping my hand. "Please, Y/N," he pleaded, his eyes filled with longing. "Don't go."

"I want you to be happy," I said softly, my voice trembling with emotion as I looked into Ethan's eyes.

Ethan's grip tightened on my hand, his expression filled with a mixture of love and sadness. "I am happy when I'm with you, Y/N," he whispered, his voice choked with emotion. "I've realized that without you, something has always been missing." 

"You don't mean that. I was never that person for you," I countered, tears blurring my vision as I pulled my hand away, aching from the vulnerability in Ethan's eyes.

Ethan looked stunned, his gaze never leaving mine. "Y/N, you've always been the one for me," he insisted, his voice filled with sincerity. "I thought I could move on, but no one has ever come close to making me feel the way you do."

"I want to explain, Y/N," Ethan began, his voice gentle yet determined. "When I'm on the ice, playing the game I love, I'm in my element. But it's not the same without you. I find myself looking into the stands, hoping to see your face, hoping to share those moments with you. It's not just about the game; it's about sharing my happiness, my successes, and my life with you."

His words touched my heart, breaking down the walls I had built around myself.

"I miss our late-night conversations, the way you laugh at my silly jokes, and the comfort of having you by my side," Ethan continued, his eyes pleading with me to understand. "You make me happy, Y/N, in ways that no one else ever has or ever will." Ethan confessed, his voice soft and filled with raw emotion. "It's not just the big moments or the exciting times. It's the small things, like the way you laugh at my silly jokes, the comfort of your presence, and the simple joy of sharing my life with you. You complete me in a way I never thought possible."

I was overcome with emotion, the weight of his words sinking deep into my heart. A mixture of love, regret, and hope swirled within me.

"Ethan," I began, my voice shaking as tears filled my eyes, "I've been trying to move on, to find happiness without you. But no matter where I go or what I do, I always end up thinking about you. You've always been a part of me, Ethan, and I can't deny that. But I've also realized that I need to find my own happiness, my own path, before I can truly be with you again."

Ethan looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of understanding and pain. "I understand, Y/N," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. "I want you to be happy, even if that means finding it without me."

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I took a shaky breath, the weight of our shared history and the painful reality of our situation pressing down on me. "Ethan, it's not that I don't want to be with you," I whispered, my voice trembling. "It's just that I need to figure out who I am and what I want, separate from our relationship."

Ethan nodded, his eyes filled with sadness but also a deep understanding. "I respect that, Y/N," he replied, his voice choked with emotion. "Take the time you need. And if, or when, you're ready, I'll be here, waiting for you." 

The weight of Ethan's words and the sincerity in his eyes were almost too much to bear. I took a deep breath, gathering my strength and trying to find the right words to convey my feelings without causing more pain.

"Ethan," I began, wiping away my tears, "I can't thank you enough for understanding. It means everything to me."

He gave me a small, sad smile, "Y/N, I'll always want what's best for you. Even if it's not with me right now, I hope that someday it will be."

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The summer had been a whirlwind of emotions for Y/N. After her heart-to-heart with Ethan at the end of the last school year, she found herself unable to stop thinking about him. Every song on the radio, every sunset, and even the simplest things reminded her of him.

She spent her days working, hanging out with friends, and trying to distract herself from the lingering thoughts of Ethan. But no matter how hard she tried, he was always there, in the back of her mind.

One evening, as she sat on her balcony watching the sunset, Y/N found herself lost in thought. The colors of the sky painted a beautiful picture, but all she could think about was Ethan.

She remembered their late-night conversations, the way he made her laugh, and the warmth of his embrace. She thought about the love they shared and the mistakes they had made. She wondered if they could ever find their way back to each other and make things right.

A soft breeze blew, bringing with it the scent of summer flowers. Y/N closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her, feeling a mixture of sadness and hope.

She knew that she needed to talk to Ethan, to share her feelings and find out if there was still a chance for them. The thought of facing him again was both terrifying and exciting, but she knew it was the only way to move forward.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N made a decision. She would go to Ethan's room and tell him how she felt, no matter the outcome. She couldn't continue to live with the regret of not trying to make things right.

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The leaves had started to change, and there was a crispness in the air that signaled the beginning of a new school year at UMich. Y/N found herself standing in front of Ethan's dormitory building, her heart pounding with a mixture of nervousness and excitement. She took a deep breath to calm her racing heart before walking up the steps and knocking on his door.

The door opened, revealing Ethan's surprised yet welcoming face. "Y/N? What are you doing here?" he asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Can I come in?" Y/N asked, biting her lip nervously.

"Of course," Ethan replied, stepping aside to let her in.

Y/N walked into Ethan's room, taking a moment to glance around at the familiar surroundings. Memories of their time together flooded back, making her heart ache with longing and love.

Ethan closed the door behind her, his eyes filled with curiosity and concern. "Is everything okay, Y/N?"

Taking a deep breath to steady herself, Y/N turned to face Ethan, her eyes filled with determination. "Ethan, I've been doing a lot of thinking and soul-searching over the past year. And I've come to realize something very important."

Ethan looked at her intently, sensing the seriousness of her words. "What is it, Y/N?"

"I love you, Ethan," Y/N declared, her voice trembling with emotion. "I've tried to deny it, to push it away, but I can't escape the truth. I love you, and I want to be with you."

Ethan's eyes widened in shock, his heart racing as he processed Y/N's confession. A flood of emotions washed over him - surprise, joy, relief, and overwhelming love.

"Y/N," Ethan whispered, stepping closer to her, "I've loved you since the moment I met you, and hearing you say that now means everything to me."

Y/N's eyes filled with tears of happiness as Ethan pulled her into his arms, holding her close. The weight of their past mistakes and the uncertainty of the future seemed to melt away, replaced by the love and connection that had always been there.

They stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, knowing that they had finally found their way back to each other. The next school year was sure to be filled with new challenges and adventures, but one thing was certain: Ethan and Y/N were meant to be together, and their love story was far from over.

Pulling back slightly, Ethan looked into Y/N's eyes with a soft smile. "I've missed you so much, Y/N. I've dreamt of this moment every day."

Y/N's heart swelled with love and happiness as she brushed a tear from Ethan's cheek. "I've missed you too, Ethan. And I promise, this time, we'll make it work."

Ethan nodded, his eyes shining with love and hope. "I know we will, Y/N. Because no matter what, we have each other. And that's all that matters."

Feeling a surge of joy and contentment, Y/N leaned in and pressed her lips to Ethan's, sealing their love and commitment to each other once more. The kiss was soft, sweet, and full of promise for the future.

As they pulled apart, Ethan wrapped his arms around Y/N, holding her close and resting his chin on her head. They stood there in comfortable silence, savoring the warmth and love of their reunion.

Took a different take to this idea!

[kizudnyy]

CRIMSON RAVEN p1

Fumikage Tokoyami's aunt!Y/N

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This will be a series, i think.. (Im only posting this on tumblr bc i still cant make up a title and description so the temporary title will be "CRIMSON RED" Ig???ALSO I JUST FOUND OUT ABOUT COLORS OMGGG !!

INFORMATION: Y/N Tokoyami (Current), an honourable 25-year-old woman who has been in the singing industry for 9 years and very well known amongst the American Pro Heroes, decides to go reside in Japan, Musutafu after her failed marriage with someone (not important) at age 19 and had to suffer abuse and loosing her child at the age of 20, summoning the courage to leave her husband at the age of 22 . This time, Y/N decides to look for a better future at Japan after being targeted by villains, she discovers Keiko, a young boy with broken wings, whom she legally adopts and a certain avian pro-hero who catches her interest.

(Side-eyes you intensively.)

CHAPTER 1: Red wing black birds are are pretty cool too!

Y/N Tokoyami stood on the balcony of her newly rented apartment, gazing out the bustling streets of Musutafu. The city lights twinkled like stars in the night sky, a sight that brought a sense of calm to her troubled heart. It had been a long journey from America, a journey marked with pain and loss, but now, here in japan, she hoped to find peace and a fresh start.

As she turned to retreat into her apartment, a faint of rustling sound caught her attention. Frowning, she glanced towards the source of the noise and froze. There, on her floor ─ was a heavily injured man with feathery, ashy, and unkept blond hair with a pair of a vermillion wings. The winged man kneeled on the ground as he clenched on his abdomen, possibly from a serious injury located there.

Y/N couldn't help but feel sympathy for the unknown man, her heart clenched as she approached him. "Um, hello?" she said gently, her wings fluttering behind her as she crouched down to meet his level. "Are you.. okay?"

The winged man flinched at her voice as he turned around to be met with a pair of red and bloodshot eyes, staring directly at him competently. "I-I'm sorry," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. "I didn't mean to barge in your.. apartment ─ Fuck!" He hissed out in pain as his pair of wings rustled once more.

Y/N sighed, her eyes shifting to his wings, noticing. It is a bit damaged and hung limply at both of their sides, still shaking intensively as it flapped slowly. "I'll- be back." She abruptly spoke, turning around, looking at the winged figure before she ran inside.

Y/N hurried into her apartment, her heart pounding with concern for the injured man outside. She rummaged through her shelves, searching for anything that could help alleviate his pain and tend to his injuries. After a few seconds, she managed to find a first aid kit tucked away deeper within, it took her quite a while due to how it was safely stored. Still, she managed to obtain the kit when she grabbed the handle.

She rushed back outside and kneeled at the winged man's side, Y/N carefully opened the first aid kit and began to assess the extent of his injuries. The man winced in pain as he probed at his abdomen, his breathing coming in ragged gasps as he clenched his fists while staring at the other with the lack of any emotion besides pain.

Y/N noticed the intensifying atmosphere around them as she tendered on the wounds. "It's going to be okay," she murmured softly, her voice laced with reassurance as she faced him "I don't care what happened here, I'm going to take care of you."

The man's eyes widened in surprise at her words, a mixture of disbelief and gratitude shining in their depts. "Thank you" He said whispered hoarsely, his voice barely a whisper due to the blasting noises from the city.

Y/N offered him a small smile as she continued to tend to his injuries, her hands moving swiftly before pausing, her face reddening as she faced the stranger. "C-can I cut your shirt?" she uttered, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I need to-" Her words trailed off as she realized the intimate nature of her request, her hands swiftly making their way to her face to hide her flushed cheeks.

"Your blood is mixed in with the... fabric," she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "And I-I need to wrap this bandage to stop the bleeding."

The heavy silence lingered, awkward and palpable, wrapping around Y/N like a suffocating blanket. She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, betraying her embarrassment. Meanwhile, the stranger's gaze seemed to bore into her, making her squirm under its intensity.

Finally, breaking the tension, the stranger blinked and coughed, as if suddenly aware of the discomfort they both shared. With a nod, he tried to diffuse the situation. "Yeah, sure." He said, offering a casual agreement. "I mean- your the pretty nurse here. You can do anything with me." He chuckled, adding a slick remark which left Y/N completely destroyed and filled with embarrassment

Y/N's heart sank as the stranger's words as a rush of heat flooded her cheeks, her embarrassment now reaching a new peak. She felt her confidence crumbling beneath the weight of the stranger's slick remark, his smirk only adding insult to injury.

"I'm serious..." She whispered, her head facing sideways as she tries to hide herself from the stranger. "I- you know what? I'm just gonna ignore you and focus."

Y/N's whispered response carried a hint of vulnerability, her attempt to shield herself from the stranger's gaze evident in her turned head. The sting of his words lingered, casting a shadow over the interaction as she struggled to regain her composure.

With a quiet determination, she resolved to push past the discomfort, her voice wavering slightly as she made her intentions clear. "I'm serious..." she repeated softly, her resolve firm despite the lingering unease. Turning her attention away from the stranger, Y/N focused on the task at hand, carefully scissoring around the freshly healed wounds as she took a compression bandage and carefully circling it around the strangers waist.

As she finished tending to the stranger's needs, Y/N shifted her head, her gaze steady as she met his eyes once more. Though the discomfort still lingered, she refused to it rush pass her mind and sighed, "There you go," She said tirelessly, her hands still on the strangers waist before pulling back. "Feelin' okay?"

The stranger's response was slow in coming, his gaze shifting slightly as he considered Y/N's question. After a moment of silence, he offered a faint nod, his expression softening. "Yeah, I'm alright," he replied, his voice quieter than before. There was a hint of sincerity in his tone, a recognition perhaps of the impact of his earlier remark. Y/N nodded in acknowledgment, a small flicker of relief crossing her features.

With a subtle nod, she took a step back, giving him some space. "If you ever need anything, just call me," As she turned her head, she realized something VERY important and turned to face the winged man once more. "Do you have anyone I could contact to? A close relative or friend, perhaps?"

The stranger's intense gaze sent a shiver down her spine as he spoke urgently, "Uhh... yeah, can you call my agency? Tell them I need help."

His mention of an "agency" piqued her curiosity, especially paired with the possessive "my." She couldn't help but wonder, "Agency? My? What do you mean?" Her confusion was evident as she raised her brows, waiting for an explanation. The stranger's expression shifted to one of shock as he clarified, "If you meant like a business agency or some store agency-sure, just give me some time. Just know ruthless some of them are, especially with a rando like me!"

"No, not a 'business' or some kind of agency," he insisted, his tone urgent. "Hero agency. You know, like the Hawks Agency?" His words hung in the air.

'Hero?' Her mind raced with possibilities. Hero agency? Was he implying he was a Pro- hero? The notion seemed absurd, like something so unpredictable, not much of a re-occuring event but still possible. Yet, his urgency and the intensity in his gaze made her pause, considering the possibility that he might be serious.

"You're saying you're... a Pro-hero?" she asked incredulously, her skepticism evident in her tone. The stranger nodded slowly, making it seem like he is 'shocked' as well.

"I'm a pro hero.. yeah─ I'm sure you must've heard of me, at least once.." She hesitated, unsure whether to believe him or dismiss his claim as delusion.

"Look, I'm sorry for disrespecting you in any way but I really don't know you nor' believe that you are some kind of pro-hero." She paused. "In my defense! I'm new to Japan and haven't yet adjusted to the Hero Ranking. So sorry if I managed to insult you because, frankly, there's no rule that we all should know about each and every heroes!".

The stranger's expression softened slightly at Y/N's outburst, understanding flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry for assuming. I'm not much of a bad guy in first impressions.." He muttered softly, gaze still fixated on Y/N.

"I guess not everyone knows every hero, especially if you're new here." Y/N nodded, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders at his understanding. She glanced down at her hands, fidgeting nervously as she contemplated her next words.

"So, um, if you don't mind me asking..." she began tentatively, "who are you? I mean, what's your hero name?" The stranger hesitated for a moment before answering, as if deliberating over his response.

Finally, he spoke, his voice low but firm. "I go by the name Hawks," he said, his eyes meeting Y/N's with a sense of gravity. "I'm much known for my red wings- Which is one of the reasons that got me shocked when you questioned about me being a pro hero. I rarely get reactions like that and all."

"Seriously?" She couldn't help but laugh at his given statement. "In my country, there's like two or three pro heroes who have the similar yet totally amazing-than-yours wings. Not to mention your name which is kinda misleading.. I'd say your much of a red wing black bird, but it might just be me."

Hawks chuckled, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Well, I can't argue with that comparison. Red-winged blackbirds are pretty cool creatures too, I guess. But hey, being a bit misleading keeps people on their toes, right?" He flashed a playful grin (to hide off his pride slowly crumbling into ashes. A-hah!)

Y/N sighed, her tone conceding, "I suppose that's a valid point."

Hawks's smile faltered momentarily, but he quickly regained his composure, his gaze meeting hers with a silent understanding. "So," His voice suddenly faltered as he realized his whole situation. "Thank you for helping me today. I could've lost a lot of blood before I could contact the agency. "

"Oh, It's nothing. Although I find it very unfortunate and stressing that I have blood on my balcony right now. You should totally fix that up before anyone finds about it and suspects me of a murderer," She grinned, "Which I am not and will never be. So, I really hope that you tell off your 'agency' to clean up your mess...or just you, because I damn mind my reputation, right now!"

"Well, I would certainly do that." He chuckled, His wings fluttered gently and evenly due to a few minor injuries on his left wing.

"You better be-" Y/N paused, noticing the difference on his wings, well to be specific, the movement of his wings which caused her to raise a brow. "Is your left wing usually like that? Always shaky and shit... Or is it just because of your fallout earlier?" She questioned, arms folding on her chest as she sat beside him.

Hawks hummed, "I lost balance after a heavy blow with a winged-villain. I don't know what they just did, but it certainly gave me a huge load of pain in my main and left wing," He sighed, "Still experiencing the excruciating pain, by the way."

Y/N nodded sympathetically, her expression reflecting concern for Hawks' well-being. "I see. Well, can you tell me your phone number so that I can contact them?" She reached out her phone from her pockets as she waited for his response.

"Uh yeah," he resumed. "Its (--), Just tell them about my situation and where am I, currently." He added

Y/N nodded, quickly entering Hawks' phone number into her contacts. "Got it. I'll make sure to let them know about your situation and whereabouts," she assured him, her fingers typing swiftly on her phone screen.

Once she had saved the number, she glanced back up at Hawks with a reassuring smile. "I'll give them a call right away." She assured.

With that, Y/N immiedtly dialled the number and held the phone on her, patiently waiting as it rang. After a few moments, someone picked up on the other end, which caused Y/N to feel a sense of relief washed over her.

"Hello?" She greeted.

She glanced towards Hawks before launching into an explanation with his situation, emphasizing the urgency of the matter. She provided the necessary details, including their current location ─ which was her apartment on room 342, before concluding the call with a sense of relief.

"Um, yes, uh-huh." She said before shifting her head to face hawks. " Alrighty! They're sending someone to pick you up." She informed as she tucked her phone back into her pocket. "You should be in good hands soon."

Hawks nodded gratefully, a flicker of relief crossing his features. "Thank you," he paused. "I haven't really gotten your name.." He questioned.

Y/N blinked a few times before responding, "Uh─ yeah! My name is Y/N, you can call me whatever you like."

Hawks beamed, "Thank you, Y/N. I really appreciate your help."

Y/N chuckled, waving off his thanks as she smiled. " It's no problem at all. I'm just glad I could be of assistance."

-Word Count: 2200+ (no a/n)

MASTERLIST

[eris-snow]

𝐈𝐜𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝

Tags: bakugou x fem!reader, bakugou x ochaco, angst

Your first love felt as warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace.

Bakugou was your first love.

As warm as the sunshine, and as welcoming as a fireplace, that's exactly what first love was like for you.

The wind picks up speed whenever you see him again, as if guiding you to him...or pulling him away.

Awkward silence engulfs the two of you when you see each other again. He has Ochaco now, and he has a familiar large, protective hand snug around her waist, right where it used to be around yours.

You wish Ochaco's meaner. Wish she was cruel, unkind or even taunting just so it'd be easier to hate her. She's the opposite though. Bubbly, beautiful, strong, all encapsulated in her being displayed like she was an angel from heaven.

You can see what Bakugou sees in her.

You remember the feeling of your heart breaking all too well when you see him dipping her into a kiss at their wedding. You wish you hadn't been invited.

You do your best to feign smiles to ensure the couple that you're over him, over them, but it reaches the breaking point when they start with speeches.

You're not over Bakugou, the wound is still so fresh, and it never really set in for you until you see that dazzling ring on his finger, an identical band around Ochako's on the same hand.

Perfect, smiley Ochako.

It feels a little chilly in here, don't you think?

"I don't deserve you, Ochaco," God, her name sounds so fond when it comes out of Bakugou's mouth. A gentle caress contrasts his gruff, raspy voice that makes everyone coo. "No one here knows what shit we've gone through, the war, the damn PRESS THAT WON'T LEAVE US ALONE!" He emphasises this by throwing a withering glare at the cameraman as if daring him to sell the photos to the internet.

Everyone laughs good-naturedly, and you're the only one that feels a sting to the heart at every sentence he utters. "I'm not good with words, but I mean what I fucking say. I love you, Ochaco," There's a pause, not an ounce of doubt and it's ripping you apart as everyone around 'awws!' at his bold declaration.

"I'm not gonna elaborate about how I'll catch every star in the universe for you, or whatever poetic Shakespear equivalent you're expecting. I love you. Those words, those three simple words? They prove my fucking point."

He just had to say it again.

Your heart is shattering with every word while you gather up the shards with gloveless hands. Each fragment cuts deep, and it feels like there's a messy trail of blood trickling behind as you hug the splintered memories close to your chest.

"Izuku," You whisper, catching his eyes with a pained gaze. "I can't do this anymore. Could you tell them that I'm sorry for leaving so early? I-I just...don't want to ruin their best night and-"

Izuku cuts you off with a tight embrace. "Go," The hero says, smiling gently in understanding. "I'll explain it to Kacchan."

You thank him profusely, saying that you'd do anything to make it up to him for the trouble but Izuku just waves you off, telling you to have a safe trip home.

You hastily grab your coat from the rack, finding a bench to take your high heels off and exchange them for comfortable sneakers.

"Leaving so soon?"

Your head snaps up so fast you thought you'd dislocate something, and your eyes meet red.

Bakugou.

Your guard flies up immediately, expression guarded. You're not faking happiness, simply a void of emotion, neutral and defeated.

It fucking hurts.

"Izuku told me," He said, raising an eyebrow. "Mind if I join you?"

"No, yes, maybe." You laugh at yourself. "It's been quite a night."

Bakugou never meant to hurt you, and never, ever to this extent. He sits down. "Congratulations." His eyes meet yours, and they're so fucking blank like it's your only way to stop yourself from crying. "Ochaco's a wonderful person. I couldn't think of anyone better suited for you."

Bakugou studies you carefully and watches out for a lie but never finds one. Oh, God, you mean it. Bakugou sees what you're doing. Your self-esteem has crashed into the negatives because you don't even believe you were even worth it.

Bakugou can't help but cave.

"L/n, you know that it wasn't you, right?" He insists. There's an arm's length between both of you like you're afraid he gets too close. "It was me, fuck, I wasn't ready for a relationship. Not when I wanted to be the number 1 hero-"

"I get that." You interrupt calmly. You don't smile, you don't frown, simply keep that dumb sangfroid mask on your face. You've always been too fucking respectful. "I know everything, that's why I need to go tonight. It's painful knowing."

Bakugou wishes you'd show him something. You used to be an open book, full of life whether it was large, overexaggerated reactions or the energetic person that'd always make time for him, but now you look...tired. Subdued, if you will, as if the life got sucked out of you. You're so tensed that it makes Bakugou's eyes furrow because, gosh you seem so quiet now.

Just a sign...a tear forming, eyes misting, a bottom lip quivering perhaps? Or maybe he'd get a hearty laugh and a smack to his shoulder for him being so concerned.

Any second now.

The blank look stays in your eyes. There's nothing.

"You were great out there." You continue, finally averting your gaze to slip off your shoes. "Ochaco's lucky to have someone like you. Your speech spoke volumes. I think she'd like those bentos you make for her on the daily. I remember seeing them on her desk when I got the same patrol shift as her-"

"L/n, listen, I-"

"Your skills really improved," You power through, tying your laces on the sneakers now. "You should keep doing them, you know?" your laugh sounds more like a wheeze, like there's glass stabbing your lungs. "Bet they tasted heavenly-"

"Y/n, stop-"

"Her face lights up every time she sees you, y'know?" You stand up, eyes staring up at the stars. "She loves it when you surprise her, I remember that one time-"

"Sunshine!" yells Bakugou.

Your eyes flicker back to his, finally pausing your rant. "That's playing dirty, Bakugou, I thought you'd never call me that again." You frown.

You're like a different person now, so rational and collected it throws him off. "I just..." He runs a hand down his face, and you look at him curiously, guard higher than ever. You fully expect him to do say something worse, and he hates it.

He was young and cruel back then, he should have handled the breaking-up process better, not just...tell you so out of the blue as if he simply wanted to tell you his hero schedule for the month.

"I'm sorry," Bakugou apologises, soft and genuine. You look as if he just grew another head. "I never got to...apologise. You didn't-you never deserved to be let down like that, I should have done it better. I should have done..." Bakugou's eyes drop down to his ring, shiny and beautiful, just like his life ahead. "a lot of things better."

You catch him staring, and shake your head. "You shouldn't dwell on things so far back in the past," You chide. "What's done is done. I forgive you."

Stop.

Show him something, anything. Bakugou knows, he knows you're breaking inside, knows you want to slap him, laugh at him...he doesn't know but just anything!

Instead, you make your way to the door. "I'll be going now," You bow towards him, the corners of your mouth upturning into a small smile. "Have a good night."

Bakugou's eyes trail to your face, but you've already turned your back onto him. His eyes fall on your shoes, the same, battered sneakers he'd gotten you close to a decade ago back when you were together.

"Good night," He whispers softly, staring at your back a little longer before closing the door.

Your high heels dangle on your fingers as you use another to wrap your hands around yourself, a bitter laugh escaping you as your tears overflow.

It's really cold out tonight, isn't it?

---

End notes:

I don't really know why, but I started to tear up while I was writing Y/n talking about bentos. I was really feeling this story, so I hope it came out well.

[v1trum]

I've been reading lots of whump stuff cus I love it (in a writer way I'm not a freak) and the only characters ik well enough to write this way are tua characters. Only characters I have truly analyzed for probably hundreds of hours. Can't figure out who I wanna write.......

Comic five and Netflix five are very different... There wasn't any crafting of five during his time at the commission in the show, so I assume he didn't go through like. A bunch of pain.

He's probably gotten hella hurt in his 45 years in the apocalypse like . Spraining his ankle a week after getting there and having to deal with that w no medical care (this is sparking it's own fic helpme I love writing ppl spraining their ankles ig???) . Also there's hargreeves' whole tattoo thing making it clear he would make them withstand pain even when they were young so they could withstand it as adults.

So clearly he (and everyone else) have high pain tolerances, but most of them haven't experienced like fully on torture.

Luther got his entire body changed after getting hella hurt in a mission but like he was asleep during a nerve crippling transformation so he'd probably be easy ASF to break, but also, sorry Luther, I don't really wanna write a fic abt him 😭

Diego got shot and didn't gaf, same with getting two fingers chopped off, so clearly his pain tolerance is one of the larger ones and again, LOVE Diego but I kind wanna write a fic abt five or Klaus not any of the others cus I'm BIASED 😭

Allison knows EMOTIONAL pain all too well, but I feel like she probably 'rumor'ed things into not hurting lots of times so she probably doesn't have a crazy high pain tolerance. There was her getting her throat slit but that whole ordeal with how she acted was more "I can't believe I just got my throat slit and I'm gonna die now, also I can't talk" ,not being in multiple different forms of pain all at once. (Not Including emotional pain. I mean like multiple wounds)

Klaus. KLAUS. I reallyyy wanna break him bc he got tortured by cha-cha and hazel and literally didn't give two shits. He also was at war for 10 months I imagine he got some pretty hefty injuries during that. He also has multiple tattoos.

But with cha-cha and hazel I don't feel like they were very creative?? Maybe I'm just a little excessive when it comes to thinking of dif torture methods for characters but like. A few cuts, punches, and waterboarding?? They were in a hotel room so they were limited but holy hell I wanna write him actually getting taken back to the commission and to the torture department (we all know its gotta exist. It's the fucking commision) and getting ACTUALLY dug into. Time doesn't exist at the commission so employees don't age -- but you can very well die there.(As we know from fives little killing sprees with grenades ♥️). Head canon the torture section has like specific rooms where time is so fucked you can be tortured past the point of death but instead of dying you stay in that pain until you heal. (Makes no sense, but plot purposes, ok? 😭). Imagine a character (Klaus in this instance) staying in that terrible amount of pain for days, weeks, months until they heal and they're fresh to be cut right back into. After a while (several months, years for the character [Klaus] bc he was shoved in that room to heal for periods of time every day [commission time, not in-the-room time] to heal until they dug back into him the next day) they realize he genuinely doesn't have the information they want so they throw him on the doorstep of the academy. They would have thrown him there on the brink of death and not given a damn if he died but they were only a teensy but into their torture session when they gave up after months and tossed him on those steps. (Again, plot purposes, I don't want him dying so let's just say he wasn't on the brink of death just mildly injured when they tossed him on the doorstep)

But also I propose another fic where they keep him and have him brainwashed kinda and is forced to be back around his siblings without them knowing anything that happened to him to get information for the commission. If he tells them he's immediately killed but if he even unintentionally says something wrong he's shot with pain through some device they have on/in him so they have control of him like a damn dog with a shock collar . Anyways

So I'm thinking abt writing one of those OR.

Five. Would love to break him as well.

Same circumstances (almost) as Klaus except this is before he ever got back to his family. I also present: this is before he's old. I mean he can be 13 or 25 idc just younger. I'd actually really love to write it as him but like 16. And the commission takes him and has him doing all these things(assassinations and such). But they also like. Experiment?? On him? Like incorporating the whole every assassins genes thing from the comics but more in depth and with my own twist(s). Lets say they have a device that erases what happened to someones body , or parts of it, however much they want (except, for plot purposes five still remembers cus he has time traveling powers that somehow collide with the device making him still remember, but his body is rewound. Makes absolutely no sense but again, plot purposes.) that way they can experiment as much as they'd like without him just being that way permanently or dying. Example; extremely exaggerated like. Body mods? Like seeing what chopping his damn limbs off and giving him crazy cyborg limbs would do. If he would be an even better assassin if he was that way (he would. Obviously)

But I really wanna write him like not breaking at all until they start pulling at the "just one more test and we'll let you see your family" but what he doesn't know (at the time) is that 90% of the time they don't and when they DO it's not him being let free it's them showing him his siblings during their worst moments and him thinking their lives are just terrible and it's his fault and he shouldn't even save them he should listen to the commission and let the apocalypse happen and and and yeah

Okay guys... Erm...h... Also hope I don't get into another car wreck for writing some fanfics (I love milking that LMAO)

[cool-fancier]

Fading Echoes of Love

Synopsis: Bada continually let you down with broken promises, lies, and uncertain behaviour. You approached her, telling her that you were hurt and that you needed genuine change. Bada tried to change a little, but your scars remained. You gave her a chance after she expressed regret and commitment.

You had been let down by Bada in lots of ways before. It was a pattern of habits that over time was wearing down your patience and trust; it wasn't just one a single incident.

With unfulfilled commitments, it all started. She would make promises to support you, be there for you when you needed her, and make time for your relationship, but these promises were often broken. You would eagerly anticipate seeing her at important occasions, only to be let down when she abruptly cancelled or didn't show up, claiming work or other responsibilities.

Then there were the lies. Small ones at first, but they grew more significant and more frequent as time went on. When she was out with friends, she would claim to be stopped in traffic. Even when it was obvious that something wasn't right, she would reassure you. It became difficult to tell what was true and what was fake in her responses.

Her actions had become unexpected and erratic. She would show you affection, love, and attention one minute and make you feel like you were the centre of her world the next. The next, she would be distant, cold, and detached, leaving you to wonder what had gone wrong.

The fact that she was aware of how her actions affected you was possibly the most agonising part.  She noticed your tears, your disappointment, and the breakdown of your once-solid bond. She had apologized countless times, promising to change, but those promises always seemed to fade into empty words.

You had had enough of the emotional rollercoaster and the never-ending cycle of disappointment; you were worn out. Your heart ached, and the idea of any more meaningless excuses was intolerable. Real change, sincere effort, and a dedication to maintaining the connection were required. Action was required; more than simply words.

Bada's expression faltered, and she stared at you, her eyes wide with shock and hurt. In an attempt to react, she trembled and said, "Y/N, I... I didn't mean to..."

But you cut her off, the pain in your heart too overwhelming to bear any longer. "Bada, it's not about intentions anymore. It's about actions. It's about showing me, proving to me, that you're committed to us."

Your voice trembled as you continued, "I can't keep going through this cycle of hope and disappointment. It's tearing me apart, and I don't know how much more I can take. I love you so much, Bada, but I can't keep holding onto empty promises."

The weight of your words weighed heavily in the air, and there was silence. Bada's eyes were filled with tears as she realized the depth of your pain. She reached out to touch your hand, but you pulled away, the wounds still too fresh.

Bada's voice cracked as she finally spoke, "Y/N, I... I understand what you're saying, and I'm so sorry for everything I've put you through. You deserve better, and I promise, I'll do whatever it takes to change."

You couldn't bring yourself to respond immediately. The pain and disappointment had left scars that would take time to heal. You knew that words alone wouldn't be enough to repair the shattered trust between you.

Days turned into weeks, and Bada began to show small, genuine efforts to change. She attended important events, kept her promises, and, most importantly, she showed up for you emotionally. It was a slow and painful process, but you could see that she was trying.

Despite the progress, the scars from the past still haunted you. Every time you looked at her, you remembered the pain you had felt when she had let you down repeatedly. The fear of being hurt again lingered like a shadow.

One evening, you and Bada were sitting on a bench in the park , Bada approached you with a sorrowful expression. "Y/N," she began, her voice trembling, "I know I've hurt you deeply, and I can't change the past. But I want to spend the rest of my life making it up to you, showing you that I'm committed to us."

You looked into her eyes, searching for any sign of lies, but all you found was sincerity and regret. It was time to make a decision since the importance of your decision was weighing heavy in the air.

You mumbled, "Bada, I want to believe you, and I want us to heal," with a heavy heart. But know that it won't be easy, and the scars may never fully fade"

Bada nodded, tears glistening in her eyes. "I'll spend the rest of my life trying to heal those scars, baby. I promise."

You couldn't help but question if you were doing the right thing as you walked away from Bada with tears flowing down your cheeks. You had been forced to this point by your past suffering, but now that you were faced with the prospect of living without her, it felt like an unbearable load.

Bada stood there, her eyes filled with an equal amount of regret and longing, her voice trembling as she whispered, "Y/N, please..."

However, you couldn't bear to hear her pleading. You had endured too much heartache, too many sleepless nights, and too many promises that were never kept. As you walked further away, the distance between you growing with every step, you whispered to yourself, "Don't apologise if you're just going to keep doing this. Apologize when you're actually going to change."

Both of you felt devastated and defeated after making the terrible choice. The love that had once burned so brightly had now been extinguished, and there was no turning back.

[altschmerzes]

🌹🌹the torture one when they first get tp him? (only if you want to!!)

absolutely!!! it's a scene i spent a lot of time trying to figure out tbh and i like the way it turned out. it's. Pretty Rough emotionally lmao but i'm sure that's pretty easy to conclude logically would be the case. so this is the very opening scene of part 2, under the cut! it's a long one again lmao.

content warnings: mac is in a lot of pain in this scene. it's the very first bit of part 2 so he is in an extreme amount of physical pain and the emotional/psychological trauma is acute and very fresh. also a brief reference specifically to non-consensual touching.

--

When he first registers that the person who has opened the closet door and is now speaking to him is Jack, all Mac can do is cry. He weeps with his face against his knees and can’t stop. It’s like his body knows that he doesn’t have to keep quiet anymore, because Jack is there and that means no more pain is going to come, and now that he knows it there is no hope of controlling himself. When Mac tries to stop, to quiet himself, all that happens as a result is that he chokes on the cloth in his mouth. He tries to cough around it, crying harder at the way it lights his throat on fire and makes him feel like he can’t breathe. Mac’s teeth grind into the coarse fibres and he struggles for breath, unable to stop fucking crying.

“Hey, hey, hold still. Let me-”

At the feeling of someone touching the side of his head, Mac flinches violently. He can’t even attempt to articulate words but he makes a shapeless, panicked sound that nearly gets lost in the cloth. It takes a few moments for him to remember that he knows who the person beside him is, that the hands hovering just out of reach are familiar, and the voice murmuring to him is one he recognizes. It’s Jack.

“I’m just trying to help, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.”

The second time, Mac allows Jack to make contact, to lift his head up with careful, gentle fingers and gingerly pull the self-inflicted gag out of his mouth. The sudden rush of clear air is dizzying.

“There you go, just breathe.” Jack’s voice stays in that soft register and he doesn’t make another attempt to reach for Mac again once the cloth is gone. “It’s alright. I gotcha, it’s alright. That’s better.”

Mac rests his head back on his knees, breathing in open-mouthed pants. He can hear the ragged sound of air rasping through his battered throat, catching and hitching with weak and ceaseless sobs. The removal of the gag has let air through but he still can’t seem to control himself and the pain is immense. Out of the corner of his eye Mac sees someone reach for him and he gives a frantic shake of his head. The movement hurts, and when he tries to say ‘don’t’ that hurts too, even though the word doesn’t make it out in anything resembling a recognizable shape. It all hurts, everything hurts. Mac is miserable and in pieces and he can’t seem to stop crying, and the repeated realization that Jack is here is battering down his defences every time he tries to build them up again.

And, to add to it all, now there’s another kind of ache layered over the top of everything else. Despite the way that it’s a quiet and strange ache, not something that comes from any kind of physical wound or from the exhaustion and cold wracking him, Mac can’t seem to ignore it. And the ache is telling him this: at the same time that he wants to cram himself into the smallest and farthest corner of this closet, hide away from prying eyes and the bright lights of that office, the only thing he wants just as much or maybe even more than that is to lean the other way. Mac wants, so badly that it hurts, to find any scrap of energy or strength left and throw himself into the arms of the person who’s finally found him. At the same time, the thought of being touched prompts a shivering panic to rise in his battered throat, waves of terror accompanying the memory of hands roaming his body and bringing with them pain and sickened revulsion. The two are impossible to reconcile, and Mac turns his head to the side enough to bite down on the sleeve of his shirt, keening into the fabric at the unfairness of it.

“Mac, how bad is it?”

The question is urgent and loud. Somewhere behind Jack there’s the sound of radio static and Mac flinches again.

“I need to see the damage, Mac, I’m sorry. I have to see it. I want to give you the time you need to breathe through it a bit, to sit here just you and me and wait until you’re ready to go, but we gotta make sure we don’t need to rush the medics over here right away, yeah? Do you get what I’m saying?”

[sugarless5]

On Forgiveness, Jamie, and Ted Lasso

I've been seeing a lot of discourse about Ted telling Jamie to forgive his father and I've got complicated thoughts about it too, but I'm starting to see something I've seen in lots of fandoms which is that what starts as a reasonable critique of something spirals into something that seems to have lost all perspective. Ted's not perfect and he's not supposed to be but if I see one more "Ted condones abuse" take I'm going to lose my mind. Totally legit to hate Ted's advice, but I just wanted to throw in my thoughts:

The whole "forgiveness isn't giving the person who wronged you a favor, forgiveness is for yourself" advice is extremely common - it's a classic trope. I spent a long time puzzling over it back when I was a kid (when it was a classic after-school-special kind of advice) because it didn't seem to match up to my definition of what "forgiveness" means to me, but bottom line is: when people give that advice what they're saying is: let go of the anger. Stop carrying all that anger or hurt or resentment around if it's no longer serving you. When you're in a shitty situation, you need those things to get you through. Anger, fueling you, hurt, making you try to shield yourself, resentment, helping you either cut someone off or build up a sort of emotional callus to them. And when someone's hurt you deeply, you'll carry those with you for a while. If you (metaphorically) press on an emotional bruise and you still wince, you're not over it yet. But Jamie's whole crisis is that he felt nothing anymore when he reached for that old hurt to turn into a kind of anger that'll fuel him. When those feelings aren't serving you anymore and you find yourself still carrying that resentment around, you should let it go or, as the common wisdom goes, forgive them.

That's very obviously what Ted is saying in that scene: "if anger at your pops ain't motivating you like it used to, it might be time to try something else. Just forgive him." That advice doesn't men "you should definitely let your abusive father back into your life" and I've always been frustrated by how TV (this show included) blurs that line. He's just saying "stop carrying around that resentment if it's not serving you anymore." And sure enough, when he's no longer hearing his hateful dad in the voices of all of those Man City fans, he can take their jeers as a challenge accepted and go back to being the prickiest prick he's ever been in his little prick life. So, unpopular opinion: there's nothing wrong with Ted's advice.

BUT

Letting go of the resentment doesn't necessarily have to mean letting them back in your life, and I was disappointed that the show had Jamie reaching out to his dad without even knowing he was taking steps to get his shit sorted out. That sort of made it a parallel to Nate - but Nate actually earned his redemption. I think it's better as a parallel to Rebecca:

First, the wound is still fresh, the rage is fueling everything, she keeps getting hurt by news and the bullshit he's throwing at her and she sabotages herself and those around her (season 1 Jamie)

Then she makes amends, starts letting herself connect with people, lets go of some of the rage that had her hurting herself and those around her, but Rupert still has the power to hurt her. The anger and hurt are still there, but they're fueling her in a much more productive way. His news about the baby makes her realize how badly she wants one and she starts to explore her options. So she's in a better place, but she's still hurt. But this time, all of that anger gets directed in one way: Beat Rupert.

By the end of season 3, Rupert has no power to hurt her. That scene in International Break where she can laugh with him is that big shift. She doesn't care about beating him, she just wants the team to win for themselves. She can hang up that expensive artwork again because she likes it and who cares that Rupert was the one who gave it to her. When she meets Rupert in the last episode I think she's genuinely happy for him that both of his beloved teams are at the top. That's what forgiveness looks like. She didn't give anything to Rupert. It actually has nothing to do with Rupert - he's still a prick and I don't imagine them hanging out for fun any time soon. But it means able to approach him without any of that resentment along for the ride.

Which, again, makes that text really annoying. Even if we're going for a second chances, and rehab really is the sign everything is going to change for Jamie's dad, Jamie being the one to reach out to him and put him back in his life was annoying. I'd have even been fine with him showing up at the rehab facility at the end if we didn't have the text.

I think letting go does go hand in hand with reconnecting on better terms. There are people who hurt me very deeply and I think I was legit in my hurt, anger, and attempt to cut them out of my life. But years later, when I pressed on that bruise and it didn't cause me any more pain, I did find myself building connections with them again. But that second part takes time and the show wasn't well served to try to shortcut it.

Tl;dr - Ted telling Jamie to forgive his dad wasn't bad or wrong or anything else. The text was bullshit though.

[samsaraandbeyond]

OC Introduction: Moro

Art drawn by Teh-Ray  

(Half-assed) Intergalactic Engineer.

Design

Art by me, drawn 10/18/2023

Do you ever find a character from a series and think "huh, I like their shape".

Dingodile.

(Crash 4)

Moro is supposed to be some sort of sluggy alien...thing. I couldn't slap a species name to his design if I tried.

Abilities / Traits

Machinery Know-How

Moro knows his way around machines, from construction, dismantling, and wiring. He can identify individual parts quite easily as well.

"Just because I'm a little wide around the waist doesn't mean I don't know the difference between a nut and a nut!" - Moro

Regeneration

Servantes knew working with him would be dangerous. Moro needed to be able to survive.

Blessed by Servantes' Zedan genes, Moro gained the ability to regenerate possible wounds. Thanks, Serv.

"...That wound will heal with time. Do us both a favor and stop crying like a child." - Servantes

Plant-Like Body

Someone so fat would need help getting into small spaces.

Blessed by Servantes' Zedan genes, Moro can bend and twist his bones as if they were nimble plant vines. Useful for getting his fat self into smaller seats or underneath machinery.

"Oi! Look how deep I can fit in here!" - Moro

"Ah yes, now you have more places to cower in." - Servantes

Personality

A bit of a slob that lacks manners yet surprisingly intelligent in his field. If you called him a coward, he'd say he's "pragmatic".

And he isn't too wrong. Moro tends to react with fear to anything unexpected first. He tries to avoid unnecessary fights (mostly out of laziness and wanting to avoid pain) and always attempts to think twice before heading into danger. When thrown into something he isn't prepared for, he prefers to run, hide, and let everything sort itself out.

There are exceptions.

He's so stubborn and impulsive that greed, anger, or curiosity can overwrite any possible fear he's experiencing in an instant. You could have him backed into a wall, begging for his life, you say something that irritates him, and all of a sudden you're begging for your life while he beats you with a wrench.

Its a coin flip on whether or not his decisions are motivated by emotion or logic.

"So I kindaaa deviated from the plan a bit, ain't nothing go too wrong! Sometimes life needs a little improv." - Moro

Backstory

The rogue Zedan alien conquering a nearby planet was all over the news. The commercials on every channel became PSAs on what to do if you encounter one face to face, the best weapons to use against them, if you get infected; please "dispose of yourself" as to not be a part of the problem.

He didn't care, no.

What he did care about was the planet that the Zedan inhabited. Fresh food right from the soil without any preparation, water that just emerges from the earth; that sounded like a glutton's dream come true. The cost of food had been getting a little too high for his liking; if he could acquire some of those homegrown meals from that planet, it would help cut some costs on his bills.

Maybe he could pay the place a visit.

Hopping into his transport ship with some supplies just in case the Zedan wanted blood or needed convincing, he set a course for the unknown planet. As he neared its surface, he received an automated warning from the Solar Guard.

"ALERT: YOU ARE ENTERING HOSTILE TERRITORY. TRAVEL THROUGH THIS AREA IS ALLOWED, BUT-"

He turned it off.

Entering the planet's atmosphere, Moro found a clear field of grass to land his ship on and did so. He searched around looking for the planet's occupant but couldn't make out where he could possibly be. Opening his ship's cockpit, he was immediately grasped by the throat and dragged out of the ship before being tossed into a tree several yards away.

He found the alien!

Before Moro could speak, the alien introduced himself. His name was Servantes. For the past few days, a lot of stupid, ignorant, idiotic, absolutely brain dead individuals had been landing on his planet trying to make demands or trying to end his life. The alien motioned towards his surroundings to show off the collection of corpses, abandoned ships, and destroyed machinery littering the planet. All those things can get in the way of clean water and grown food. He had grown sick and tired of the interferences and was beginning to grow very cranky. If Moro was about to attempt something stupid, Serv wanted him to make it clear right then and there so he could get the kill over with.

He had to say something convincing very very soon.

Moro introduced himself, said he had no interest in killing Servantes and was interrupted by Serv going through Moro's ship and finding the assortment of weapons he had brought along.

By the look Serv was giving him, he had to say something convincing NOW.

Cutting to the chase, Moro quickly excused the weapons as something he always brings along with him because space travel is unpredictable hahahaha anyway, he could help Servantes get rid of these bodies, the machinery, the ships, and could maybe even help Serv get his own base going.

That piqued the Zedan's interest. All Moro asked in return for his services was the occasional meals he could bring back home and maybe a shelter here so he could stay away from home if he needed to.

Servantes was hesitant on the first request and disgusted at the second. This pink and teal slug thing was already wide around the waist; who knows how much food he could put away.

AND SHELTER? SOMEONE ELSE LIVING ON HIS SECLUDED PLANET? EW. He already hated people.

So Moro compromised. He'll play clean up here, cobble together some neat electronics for Serv, and then re-propose having a little second home here after winning Serv over. Servantes reluctantly agreed to this.

Moro was in business! Needed a few more tools from home to clean up this mess though.

He informed Servantes of what he needed and told him he would need to head back home for the supplies. Servantes, wanting to make sure he would come back, relieved Moro of the supplies he had stashed in his ship beforehand.

"Wouldn't want you breaking any promises, now would we? Try not to get into any intergalactic firefights."

He'd be going home defenseless...no biggie, hopefully.

Moro got into his ship, set the coordinates for home, heard a weird noise come from the back that he disregarded, closed the cockpit, and took off.

There he was, cruising in space, when he received a video call from the Solar Guard. To Moro's surprise, declining the call wasn't an option and the face of a Solar Guard captain appeared. They had seen that Moro landed on the planet, spent a good amount of time there, and was still alive, so they wanted to know why that was. Moro gave the respectful and mature answer of "your mother". He tried hanging up the call only to find out that was impossible too.

His ship must've still had SG brand parts installed.

They informed him they would speak to him personally once he returned home before ending the call. He didn't know what that would entail and he was sort of scared.

He arrived home to find the landing pad surrounded by SG troops. They demanded him to actually land and not attempt to fly off because they DID have missiles trained on him already.

Moro asked himself two questions.

Would they really shoot him out of the sky and risk his ship crashing and harming innocents?

The answer was yes.

2. Who would he rather face the wrath of, the Solar Guard or Servantes?

Solar Guard.

Damn, he had to land it.

Moro opened the cockpit and got out of his ship, getting his arms pinned behind his back by soldiers the moment he did. The captain he had spoken to before made an appearance and approached him directly. They asked again; What was he doing on that planet? Moro once again declined to respond because he was stubborn and he was kind of pissed about that call situation. Someone else decided to answer though.

"I'm afraid that's none of your business."

To everyone's surprise, Servantes emerged from the ship's cockpit, having climbed on-board as Moro was leaving the planet. Serv admitted that he had a feeling Moro would get into shit for being involved with him, so he decided to tag along. The Zedan was all but ready to explain to Moro what he was doing from the start, but when he realized Moro hadn't even noticed him get in, he decided to stay quiet because that was kind of funny.

Servantes told Moro to get his tools, prompting the soldiers holding him back to let go, then dared all of the Solar Guard present to attack Moro or himself, as in his words:

"If I hear even a knife being drawn, everyone here is going to have a very bad day."

Everyone backed off. Serv added on that he knows where this place is now; he can easily fly here if Moro doesn't show up for work. And they wouldn't want him to come visit.

Moro went inside, putting together all his tools and loaded them into the ship. No one said a word or tried to stop him. As he got the last of his necessities the Solar Guard captain grabbed his arm and told him that he's playing a very dangerous game. Moro responded by blowing a raspberry.

Tools in hand, Moro (and Servantes) got back into the ship and took off. Seemed like Moro secured his position as Serv's personal engineer!

A position that may be hard to leave...

"Can you believe my luck!? Got a banging job playing technician with a Zedan who has no problem protecting me from the rabble! Bringing food to the table without the ridiculous prices! I'm living the good life, see; all it took was a lil' curiosity." - Moro

[some-messed-up-writing-for-you]

"Can you write one where Hero is in an abusive/toxic relationship with SuperHero but thinking it's normal while Villain is worried and tries to get them out of the said relationship? (also Villain does have feelings for Hero in this)"

Request #7

Warning: toxic/abusive relationship, physical & mental abuse.

This was a fun one! Definitely gotta write a part two later!

Enjoy! ^_^

~~~~

"Boss, we're in." - one of Villain's subordinates called from the side as they and a group of others operated the new spy drones the villain had recently got their hands on. The machines were tiny, smaller than a fingernail, and could be easily mistaken for an insect. Equipped with the best cameras around, they allowed Villain to easily snoop for information.

And what better first target to try them out on than Hero? Their hero, their nemesis. They would never admit it out loud, but Villain quite enjoyed the battles the two shared. Perhaps even a bit too much...

"Perfect!" - the villain exclaimed from their chair, excited grin adorning their face, "Let's see what we can find~."

The camera feed came to life on the giant monitor before them, and the sight that greeted them... made their stomach twist into a thousand knots.

"S-SuperHero, please! I-I'm sorry!" - Hero begged, lying on the floor of what appeared to be a bedroom. Their upper body was exposed, skin bruised in so many places Villain couldn't keep count.

SuperHero stood over them, hands clenching and power crackling in the air around them. They looked just about ready to murder the other hero.

Murder? The thought made Villain's heart grip with worry. But why should the villain care? They wanted their nemesis gone, didn't they?

No, they didn't. They knew that they didn't.

"I told you not to fuck this up, and what did you do?" - the superhero growled out, their anger unlike anything Villain had ever seen from them before.

"YOU FUCKED IT UP!" - SuperHero yelled, grabbing Hero and throwing them across the room and into a wall. A pained cry left them, and they could only whimper as their body sunk to the floor. The hero didn't dare get up as the other approached them once more.

"VILLAIN FUCKING GOT AWAY AGAIN!" - a kick to their stomach made Hero cry out in pain a second time. SuperHero grabbed them by the hair and pulled them closer, screaming directly in their face, "ALL BECAUSE YOU'RE SUCH A WORTHLESS FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT! YOU CAN'T DO ANYTHING RIGHT!"

Hero was tossed once more, every part of them screaming in agony. They shook in terror as the superhero moved closer yet again. Their muscles tensed as SuperHero's form loomed over them. Hero prepared for their punishment to continue, for the pain to keep on coming.

Only for their partner to pass by them and go out the door, slamming it shut. The familiar click of a door locking entered the hero's ears as they released a shaky breath.

Villain sat there, frozen. Out of everything they had expected to see, this was not on the list. Weren't these two in a relationship?! Weren't they supposed to- to love each other or something?!

Hero's sobs and sniffles echoed across their lair as the villain silently watched their broken form curl up on the hard floor. Their gaze grew dark at the sight, a tinge of worry drowning in their rage.

"Cut the feed." - Villain said sternly after a moment, voice devoid of emotion. They stood from their chair and immediately went for the door.

"B-Boss, wait! Where are you-" - one of the henchmen tried but cut themself off as their employer turned around. The look in the villain's eyes made their blood run cold. Villain was never a bad boss by any means, as they never hurt or threatened their employees.

But that look... It made everyone in the room tense up. It was like locking gazes with a hungry predator, and it made the henchmen feel like prey. It made them realize...

Villain was out for blood.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hero had been lying on the floor for what felt like hours, and it probably was. They had run out of tears a while ago now. They wanted to move but couldn't bring themself to. Everything just hurt so much. Even breathing was a struggle.

At least the cold floor helped numb some of their pain, but still... Hero knew they deserved this...

They let Villain get away again. They should've captured the criminal, but they failed. They failed like they always do. Hero was such a waste of space. Why was SuperHero even still with them? Hero was truly nothing but a burden on their partner. They always had to take care of Hero, always had to waste their time and remind them how pathetic they were. SuperHero was too good for them. They deserved better than Hero. They should just leave them already. They should get rid of Hero. They should-

The door unlocked.

The hero tensed up, curling up into a tight ball, preparing for the pain as the door was opened, and a pair of footsteps slowly approached them. The person walked in front of them and kneeled down to their level. Hero's breathing grew shakier with each passing second. Why was nothing happening?!

They were about to beg, but before a single word could leave them, they cringed as a hand landed on their head.

Hero was prepared for that hand to roughly grab them, to pull them up by their hair, to hurt them. In their terror, they failed to realize that the stranger was gently petting them, their fingers running through their hair. Only when they spoke did Hero's mind register what was happening.

"Hero?" - came a hushed whisper. That voice... Hero knew that voice. It... It was...

"V-Villain..?" - the hero mewled, voice broken and hoarse. Confusion overtook their eyes as they continued, "W-What are you... doing here..?"

"Shh, it's okay. I'm here to get you out of here." - the villain comforted them or tried to anyway. Their response seemed to have only terrified Hero that much more, their eyes widening with fear.

"B-But- But SuperHero..." - Hero whimpered, their body shaking once more. The villain hushed them again and gently picked them up in a bridal carry. Villain noticed how the other shuddered from their touch but snuggled into their chest nonetheless, their arms loosely wrapping around the villain's neck.

"So terrified of contact... and yet so desperate for it..." - Villain thought to themself, pity making their chest ache. Even they weren't this lonely! And for the hero to be like this... For their Hero to be so ruined...

It was unacceptable.

Villain swore that they would make sure Hero knew what real love and care looked like. They would show them how a real relationship worked.

They would make sure SuperHero paid for this.

Returning to reality, the villain insured that they had a good grip on their hero and walked out of the room. They moved with haste through Hero's house, as they had no time to spare. In their earlier fury and concern, all logic had left them. Villain had just rushed over to save the hero, without even considering that SuperHero might still be lurking around.

"Gah! Why is this house so damn big?!" - the villain thought to themself as they turned another corner, concern starting to eat away at them. They could technically just fly out the window with the help of their powers, but they wanted to avoid drawing attention. The streets were littered with people and other heroes, and Villain would have an advantage if nobody saw them stealing the hero away. Sneaking in here was already hard enough, but now they needed to get out before-

"You... YOU..."

-SuperHero saw them. As Hero's 'partner' began to charge straight at them down the long hall Villain froze at their enraged gaze, but their hero's shaky grip on their shoulders brought them back into reality.

The villain turned on their heel, and just as the superhero's hand brushed against their back, as the air around them crackled from SuperHero's anger, they summoned their power and jumped into the air. They flew through the house, speeding like their life depended on it.

Because, well, it did. Not just Villain's life... but their hero's life as well.

Flying around the inside of a building was already difficult enough, but doing it while panicking and carrying someone in their arms? It was a nightmare, but Villain was determined. They were determined to never let SuperHero lay another finger on Hero.

As Villain turned another sharp corner, they nearly crashed into the wall, barely catching themself just in time. As they regained their bearings, a giant window greeted them at the end of the hall, and seeing as they have already been spotted, Villain decided to just go for it.

They bolted for the window, tightened their grip on Hero, and, at the last second, twisted their body around midair. They winced as they crashed through the glass with their back, shielding the hero from the sharp shards.

As blood dripped from their fresh wounds, the villain ignored the pain and dashed up into the sky, hiding amidst the dark clouds looming over the city. Once they were out of sight, they headed straight for their lair, never looking back.

Meanwhile, down on the ground, SuperHero looked up into the sky where the two had just disappeared, a tiny disabled drone sitting in their hand that they could barely stop themself from breaking into pieces.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hero groaned as they awakened from their slumber. At some point during their and Villain's escape, they had passed out. The hero vaguely remembered the villain taking them high up into the clouds and nothing else past that. They tried to open their eyes and take in their surroundings but only managed to whine as their head exploded with pain.

The hero felt like they were burning up, it was just so hot for some reason. They have been feeling rather sickly the past few days, so perhaps they were running a fever? They tried to pry their eyes open once more but stopped as something gently landed on their forehead and made them flinch out of reflex.

They whimpered as a hand touched their head, petting their hair. However, a familiar hushing sound brought some of their senses back. They finally recognized the coolness on their brow as a wet cloth. And that hand and voice, it was unmistakable.

"V..Vill..ain...?" - the hero tried but only ended up getting themself into a coughing fit. Their throat felt drier than a desert, with some cactus spikes scratching at it as a bonus.

As if their mind was being read, a cup of water was brought to their lips. The hand from before carefully lifting their head so that they could drink. Hero swallowed every drop of the precious liquid, the pain in their throat easing as their head was laid back down.

Finally, albeit with some difficulty, they managed to blearily open their eyes, blinking a few times to adjust their vision. They were lying in a soft bed of what appeared to be a guest bedroom, a fluffy blanket covering their still naked torso. Looking up, Hero was met with the concerned face of Villain.

"Wait... Con...cerned...?" - they pondered, why would their nemesis be worried about them...? And now that they thought about it more... Why...

"Why... d...did...you...?"

"Someone had to get you out of there." - Villain cut in, wanting to spare Hero's throat the struggle. "And before you ask how I even knew you needed help, I happened to be... ah... spying on you at the time."

"H...Help...?" - the hero voiced their confusion, completely ignoring - or perhaps not registering - the 'spying' part as their eyebrows slightly furrowed, "I... didn't need... help..."

Villain frowned at their words. Hero could see the concern on the other's face growing even more as they voiced their own confusion, "What do you mean you 'didn't need help'? They were hurting you."

"No... That's... normal... They were just... trying to... help... me... be better..." - Hero muttered out, they thought this would clear things up, but their explanation seemed to only upset the villain more.

"Hero, that's not- Partners aren't supposed to hurt each other! That's not helping in the slightest!" - in their momentary anger Villain raised their voice too much, and regret immediately flooded them as they watched the hero flinch and cower away from them, fresh tears making their eyes glossy.

"No, Hero- I-" - the villain tried hastily but stopped themself, seeing as their sudden movements only rattled the poor hero even more. Instead, they took in a small breath, did their best to relax their tense posture, and slowed down, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled at you like that. I..."

"P-Please don't be angry..." - the hero whined, scared the villain would suddenly do a one-eighty and hit them. However, to Hero's confusion, Villain's face was only decorated with pain and concern, no anger or rage to be seen. They weakly gripped the blanket covering them in their nerves.

In a hushed whisper, the villain responded, "No, I'm- I'm not angry with you." They gently took hold of one of Hero's hands and did their best to comfort them, "It's okay. I promise I'm not angry with you. Nobody here will hurt you, I promise. You're safe here."

As Villain left a small kiss on their knuckles, Hero watched them, still rather unconvinced, "B-But if you're not angry... T-Then why did you y-yell?" - they whimpered, the sound twisting the other's heart even more.

"I am angry, but not with you, Hero." - the villain's words only confused the hero even more. If Villain wasn't mad at them, then... then at who? Hero was the one who messed everything up all the time!

"I'm angry with SuperHero. They hurt you. They hurt you, and you don't even realize it..."

"B-But..." - Hero tried to argue, but Villain gently hushed them again, putting their hand back down.

"For now, just get some more rest, okay? And when you wake up, I'll have some food ready for you so you can eat."

Hero wanted to protest but found that they were too exhausted to even try. They only whined tiredly as Villain gently flipped the cloth on their forehead over, refreshing coolness spreading through their head once more. And combined with the villain softly petting their head, Hero was out like a light within moments.

Villain stayed like that for a few minutes, watching the hero sleep. Their gaze grew fond as they observed the slow rise and fall of the other's chest. Soon, however, they retreated out of the room, letting their rage overtake their features. They were well aware that SuperHero would come and find them. So, they had no time to waste. The villain had to prepare.

They had to be ready to protect their Hero.

[legguk]

Hi!! So,

it's my ( literal ) first time writing fanfiction, so I'm pretty new at this stuff, but Lady Dimitrescu is all I was able to think about for weeks and I >needed< to do something about it.

( If you want some context, I wrote this thinking “what if Alcina survived?” - Alcina's pov )

———

The fall,

The end of everything you once loved

Ethan Winters.

You woke up... somehow, you woke up. The frigid air hitting your fresh wounds felt like a jolt send by reality, as if one says "you're still alive" -

- and oh how you were starting to hate that feeling.

Laying on the demolished floor of your castle, muscles twitching in pain, mouth open gasping for air... that's how you are, how you will remember yourself from now on. A defeated dragon, a crushed woman, a dead mother.

You should get up, you should let go of your carcass and crawl your way back into the warmth of your home, you should—

—you should be dead, actually. Resting on death's cold embrace along with your daughters.

Daughters.

God, your daughters.

The memories flood your mind with a painful, unbearable reminder; they're gone, dead, crystalized - gone. They're gone. Your lovely daughters, your pride and joy, the main reason you'd open up your eyes in the morning...

...Bela,

Cassandra,

Daniela....

Their names are long cold, not yet forgotten - no, never forgotten - but somewhere else, as they don't belong here anymore; not on your arms, tucking them to bed. Not on your hands, caressing their faces. Not on your lips, kissing their foreheads. Not on your tongue, as you say them.

A raspy scream leaves your throat, it sounds disturbing.

You sob, hot tears trailing down your cheeks and neck, small cries for help find their way into the wind, disappearing with less importance then when they materialized.

You cannot recall for how long you stayed at that very same position, perhaps some hours, perhaps a day, but you are certain that at some point you were overcame by tiredness and collapsed - probably the best to do for now.

xxx

And so, rises the moon and the stars watch upon your limp body, the night howling a merciful wind and singing a melodic song. Grunting, you push yourself up with your elbows, sitting up and facing the sky through the hole you've made on the roof... and the levels above...

A huge carcass sits besides you, it's wings bended on itself and it's big mouth open to whoever would like to have a peek; you probably changed back into your normal body while unconscious... Now that you can see it clearly, you notice the damage that man-thing did to you... by heavens, how were you still alive and...

Oh. The castle. You look forward, taking in the horizon - the stars look exclusively shiny tonight - you breath in, the dusty air causes you to chough a few times. Stretching your neck a bit to see your whole house, you tell yourself it looks.. fine, actually, ignoring the broken windows. The broken windows.

It's cold. You shiver harshly, panting as the air meets your bare back and rumbles through your lungs, making you hug yourself, - you're naked, you just realized - the winter in Romania is truly kind to no one.

Your legs tremble with just the thought of trying to stand on your feet. You don't rush to do it either, let the wintry breeze take in your wounds, make it sting, burn it, freeze it; freeze your body along.

“To die. To die is to live. To live without them, that's torture. To live without their presence, absent of their scents, to not hear them, nor see their faces again, that's worse than death; far, far worse. How could I ever walk into that damned house without the heavenly sounds of their laughs, the tapping of their feet as they walk free, the steadiness of their heartbeats, reminding me that my own still beats.

Beats for them. For them only.

And they're gone.

So who shall my heart beat for? Myself? No, that wouldn't do. I will rip it out from my chest if I must, sacrifice it to any god who may hear me, all so I could spend five more minutes with them. Then I'd die in peace and find them at my arms again at whatever comes after this poor life.

But I'm here.”

You still hold yourself as you stare at a castle's - broken - window, new warm tears hanging the same trail the old and now dry ones did, a silent cry.

Your intrusive thoughts were abruptly cut by a loud noise from the inside of the castle, making you jump up, gathering all your last strengths to stand and walk a few shaky steps closer to home. The more you walked, the louder the noises got; a little rustle became a bang, and your tiptoing became a sprint, you hold yourself as tight as you can, ignoring the bleeding, the cold air spiking your lungs, how insanely fast you heartbeat was. You need to get there, protect the last remnant of them you still have.

The gates felt heavy now, even for you, who would open them with one hand. Where is your strength now? The fearless dragon who'd do anything to protect her house? Perhaps she died on that fall, and now all there's left is a shadow of what you were one day.

With much pain, you open the big doors, leading to the comfort of your house; you don't get in, you throw yourself in. The warm atmosphere engulfed you like a summer kiss on a winter storm, all you needed to ground yourself to reality for now. Grabbing some sheets laying over an old counter, you wrap yourself in it – oh, that's gonna get soaked in blood, but that's not of your concern now – moving incredibly fast for someone as hurt as yourself, you follow the continuous sounds that could not mean something good. The main doors are open, the cellar is unlocked as well, that idiotic man-thing couldn't even close the doors once he finished slaughtering your home? Imbecile.

You stand at the library's door now, suddenly frozen; you know what happened in there... do you really want to get in? Are you truly ready to face it again? Maybe you should take a step back and walk away, it would be the most logical decision to take now.

But what is logic when the heart screams? What is the brain for once your emotions take the best of you? You can't walk away. Put some honor on your name. Save the last bit of your daughter that fate is still conceiving you. Your chest rises and falls completely out of coordination, your fists close around the fabric involving your body; get ready, you're going in; gather the last bit of courage you have inside yourself and blast these doors.

And so you do.

You bring those pieces of wood to the ground, the only barrier between you and the reality you couldn't accept; a guttural growl forms in your chest as you see a lycan approach your child's crystalized body; you're blind with ire, sorrow, protectorship - you name it - and it makes you shout at the top of your lungs as you dilacerate the filthy beasts you'd bat your eye at. A bloody trail of corpses marks your way through the castle grounds, your claws dripping with fresh sanguine fluid - which you can't tell if it's from the creatures or from yourself - the crimson path follows you all the way to the other wing of mansion like a spirit who must haunt you for eternity.

You scream like a feral animal, blood soaking the once white cloth around your form; the scream becomes a shriek, which descends to a yelp, ending as a furious cry. You can feel the anger leaving you, like the waters of a waterfall; explosive, big portions of water falling into a numb, deaden lake. Hopefully those waters will carry you with them, you shall fall and sink at a anesthetizing lagoon.

You kneel, eyes closed, eyebrows frowned; a loud sigh fills the deafening silence in the air, your mind is blank – better, your mind is red, scarlet red mixed with black, ire and grief. Slowly, your head lower itself so you're facing the floor.

The big Lady Dimitrescu,

kneeling on a pool of blood, defeated.

•

“Lady Dimitrescu!”

Who..? The voice was so far yet so close, you try your best to focus on the direction of the calls but your nerves just won't cooperate.

“Lady!”

Who would be calling for you? Is your mind playing tricks on you now? And since when you were laying on the floor? Too many questions for too little answers. You try to stand up, but a sharp pain on your side made you cry out and fall on your back, face knotted in pain – perhaps your adrenaline rush was keeping you from feeling what was really happening with your body, and now you feel like you're betraying yourself for that.

A small figure approaches you in a fast pace, causing you to unleash your claws one more time and snarl at the not-so-possible threat; you were hurt. Vulnerable. Letting someone close was the last thing you wanted now. The humanoid thing backs away a few steps with your aggressive reaction, hands on their chest, visibly afraid – even though your vision is quite blurry, you identify their expression: scared, desperate, sorrowful – they call out once more, almost shouting.

“Please, Lady Dimitrescu, let me help!”

Ah... Help... The now clearer feminine voice washes over you - a wave of compassion - as if hope has found its way to your house again. Well, it better go away again, or you'll drag it out yourself.

“Out.” was all that left your lips, your intense gaze locking with hers, a silent yet not so discrete warning; although you had only said one word, it was well understood by the woman, who stepped away, eyes still meeting yours, a dreadful cast hang on her face.

Still, she didn't left.

Is that girl testing her luck? It can only be. Once again you warn her: “Leave. I will not repeat myself.”

Her posture stiffens, after a moment of silence she looks at the door, truly wondering about leaving or not; her body turns around, her knuckles going white from how hard she was grabbing the fabric on her chest – she's conflicted. But why? Who is she, after all? – A long, defeated sigh leaves her, as if she knows there is no choice left.

“Allow me to help.” A failed effort on trying to sound confident; her voice is full of tears and her tone is oscillating – it makes you wonder if she has been crying – The human walks towards you, trying not to make any eye contact; you can't stand on your feet, you left hand is pressed on your injured side, the other is open and directing your now extended nails towards her.

Oh how funny it is, no?

The predator being cornered by the prey. The dragon being trapped by the rabbit. How ridiculous it is.

Her extremely shaky hands hang in front of her, trying to say she won't hurt you – oh if she only knew it's going to be the other way round. – One step closer.. Her lips and chin tremble; Another. Your claws grow bigger, eyes peering through her soul; another step, your eyebrows frown, her eyes are teary. The last step - your blood is boiling hot, your nerves on edge; you are still the predator. - a slicing sound and a half-scream saturate the air for a millisecond, just for silence to overfill it once more. Red splashes over the room again, on your face, on your chest, but mostly on the floor, where the girl was thrown at.

An agonizing scream leaves her throat - what a miracle, she remains alive - both of her hands cover her face, blood spilling all over her; what a sight, you would most definitely enjoy this very much on another situation. She cries out in despair, making you face the ceiling and close your eyes, a tired look on your face – you just want all this to end, you don't have any more patience for this. You want to crawl back into your bed and starve, you want to destroy this place, make it abandoned ruins of what one day was a home; you want to kill that damned sickening man-thing, kill this foolish girl for perturbing your grieving, and then yourself.

The woman captures your attention once again, she is kneeling, her body facing yours, her right hand presses her ripped face, the other makes its slow way up to you, although she is trembling, she manages to keep her hand steady enough to hand you a little green flask with a yellow-y label; You look closer, 'treatment disinfectant' it says... Oh you can only be joking. You feel like slaughtering the girl right this instant, but takes in a deep breath and holds the flask, her hand immediately falling along with her body. Is she dead? No, her slow yet consistent breathing exclaims that she is still alive – you honestly find it a bit offensive – You should, but you cannot bring yourself to finish the human; you should end her suffering, but now she caught your attention; and besides, she wants to help, doesn't she? then the price she'll pay is staying alive.

———

hahaaa I'm so nervous about posting this,,, ,

and yes! It is a alcina x maiden fic! I do plan it to be slow burn, and if some you liked it and read it till here, please like and/or reblog and I'll post chapter 2!

( posted on Ao3! Name: “The woman in your castle” )

( chapter 2 posted!! )