#I'm so sorry it is a horrible joke and almost certainly one that has been made before

[martianbugsbunny]

Midwife? Nah babe he's a perfect 10

[yuri-is-online]

If the 500 followers event is still open, would be alright to ask for prompt 15 with Ortho? Platonic obviously! I just think the robot boy deserves some more love. Thanks! <3

15. Formal balls weren't a thing in your world so you have been hiding in this strategically chosen corner to avoiding having to step on anyone's toes. Unfortunately someone really, really, REALLY, wants to dance with you and has managed to track you down AGAIN.

I was surprised to get Ortho requests this event since I haven't exactly written anything specifically dedicated to him but he is such a good character. He deserves all the love and friendship in the world, and this prompt suits him well given how he acts with Idia.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, Ortho is meant to be post Ch. 6, Yuu is sort of an introvert and a bit self depreciating, that's ok Ortho is here to give some encouragement! The other event requests can be found on my masterlist here.

This had been a mistake.

As much as you liked looking out on the fantastic scenery in front of you, it is all extremely overwhelming. Almost like it's wasted on you, the magical scenery is simultaneously completely comprehensible and extremely unnatural. You've seen pictures of Masquerade balls, seen them used in anime, listened to songs, and thought long and hard about just what it was you would do if you ever magically got invited to one. And now that you actually have been you are faced with the grim reality that no, just because everyone is wearing a mask that doesn't mean that you will suddenly overcome your distaste for crowds or figure out how to dance.

"Yuu!" Now if only you could make a certain someone agree. "There you are! You're getting better at this hiding thing." Ortho floats to keep himself at eye level with you, cheeky toothy smile freed for the special occasion.

"Really?" You groan, maybe you can bargain your way out of this one.

"Ha ha no." Ortho laughs, moving to cut you off from your exit and repeats the same question that's been haunting you all night. "Please dance with me Prefect! It'll be a bunch of fun."

"Don't wanna." You huff in an all too familiar way to Ortho, but he is surprised to find himself at a bit of a loss. Idia is Idia, and you are Yuu, his data is lacking on what to suggest to get you to agree to his request. It's a bit exciting actually, like playing an RPG blind and still trying to get a good end with your favorite companion.

[Ortho: Persuasion] "But I really want to dance with you, Prefect." He makes sure to sag his joints just enough to invoke sympathy without seeming like he is about to throw a tantrum. It seems to sort of work, but not in the way he really wants it to. You just look like you feel horrible for disappointing him and uncomfortable.

"I'm really sorry Ortho." you try to keep your breathing steady, flustered between seriously considering his request (there's no pressure if you are just dancing with a friend, right?) and still trying to plan your out. "But I am just not good at formal stuff like this at all, we don't have big parties like this in my world anymore. And even when there were dances in my world it's not like I ever got invites to any of them." Maybe that's the real reason you don't want to go out onto the floor, not that you can't dance. Deuce certainly isn't able to do things properly no matter how hard he is trying, and Ace is not even doing that. But you still don't quite feel like you... belong here, not after how big of a deal Crowley made out of your invitation being something he was "obliged" to give. "And I don't even know how to dance! I'll just step on everyone's feet and make things awkward."

"Hm, well then that's all the more reason for you to dance with me!" Ortho is... laughing? Not in a mean spirited way, but kindly. It's a soothing tone somehow, and as he mock bows you don't feel like he is intending on making you the butt of a joke at all. "I don't have any toes for you to step on, and if anyone you are uncomfortable with tries to make you dance I can just blow them up with my lasers."

"Uh maybe don't do that?" You gingerly take his hand and let the floating boy spin you around in a dance that's more similar to two children on a playground than a proper ballroom sway, but between just how happy he is and how quickly your other friends join in you cannot bring yourself to remain embarrassed for long.

"That's right prefect," Ortho whispers when he notices you have finally calmed down, "you aren't in your world anymore. And sometimes that probably sucks but tonight? It means that you are very much invited to the ball. Awesome right?!" He means that last bit about himself as much as he does you, you suppose but that doesn't make it any less true. Tonight, you are very much exactly welcome and where everyone wants you to be.

[dyns33]

Without warning part 2

Poor Frank. He deserves happiness but life and fate seem to have something against him.

Frank knew very well that falling in love again wasn't cheating on his wife or forgetting her.

It was still difficult for him when he met Y/N. It was all Max's fault, damn dog.

The little monster had decided that his master wasn't walking fast enough in the park, choosing to go off on his own to explore new places without worrying about scaring Frank.

When he found him, Max was covered in mud, on his back, his tongue hanging out, very happy because a young woman was petting him and saying he was a good boy.

Of course, Y/N jumped when she saw Frank. Even though he told her his name was Pete Castiglione, she seemed to have recognized him, keeping her distance carefully.

"Sorry about your pants, ma'am. Max has no manners." he mumbled, tapping his leg so that the dog would come near him.

"He's adorable, so I forgive him."

He couldn't explain why he stayed a little while to discuss the weather with her instead of leaving right away. But that was what he always did, with everyone. Because he was wanted, because he didn't want to put innocent people in danger, because he didn't deserve to be happy.

But there was something about Y/N. He made a stupid joke that made her laugh and he found himself years back, making Maria laugh. Except it wasn't Maria.

He wasn't angry with the girl. Unlike Ghost, it wasn't fate that had made them meet. Only chance, and it was different. It was pure, and far from this hell that his life had become.

However, it began to look like fate when they crossed paths again in a store, then in the street, then very often. Each time, Y/N looked as surprised as he did, almost panicked, as if she wondered if he was following her.

"We really need to stop meeting like this." he mumbled as he sat down at a bar, turning his head to meet her shocked eyes. "And you shouldn't be here."

"Why ?" she asked, and Frank wasn't sure which sentence the question was intended for.

"Saint Margaret's. Not exactly a recommendable place."

"But you're here."

"That's what I'm saying."

"How's Max ?"

Frank was glad she changed the subject, while implying that he couldn't be that horrible when she'd seen him talk to his dog like a baby so many times.

Maybe he could have told her that he was the fucking Punisher, with blood on his hands, hated by every guy in that pub, and not even for his crimes, but because he had shot his soulmate.

In hindsight, he felt a bit guilty now. It wasn't Ghost's fault that they were related after all, she hadn't asked for it either. Frank was rather happy that she was gone.

He couldn't say how he would have reacted in front of her dead body. It was a good thing that she was alive, and that she was staying away from him. He didn't want to see her, to know her, to be around her.

It should have been the same for Y/N, and yet he cherished every little moment spent in her company. During those moments, he felt human.

Always on her guard, which showed her intelligence, the young woman had ended up relaxing after several months, and their meetings were now planned in advance, like dates.

They didn't talk about love. They were barely friends, and they certainly only stayed friends for security reasons.

They didn't talk about destiny or soulmates either. Y/N still didn't say anything, but he could read in her eyes that she knew who he was. She didn't mention Maria, not asking if she was the one.

Even though he tried his best to be discreet, the dear little vigilante group had heard about his "girlfriend". The Spider had a lot of questions, Micro asked when the wedding was, Karen smiled stupidly at him. Only Red was kind enough not to bother him with that, knowing what those kinds of things could do to him.

"You don't go near her." he growled, making the others snicker, because they didn't mean to.

What he meant was, 'you don't put her in danger. She's already in enough danger because of me, selfish idiot, and I've already lost everything once, so if I'm going to risk being happy again, don't ruin it all'.

He never asked for news from Ghost, and Deadpool didn't participate in these discussions when he was present.

But the fact that he had heard about Y/N, being so close to his soulmate, didn't please Frank too much. The mercenary could say whatever he wanted, he had heard things.

The guy was unstable. Dangerous. Greedy for money and violence. And he had really taken it badly that the Punisher tried to put a bullet in his "sister"'s head.

The time he heard him muttering incomprehensible things to his voices that he called Yellow and White, surrounding Y/N's name, he knew that something had to be done to make him disappear.

But Deadpool couldn't be killed. He was strong. And even if they found him unbearable, Daredevil and Spiderman wouldn't agree to hurt him.

It was Micro who gave him the idea to contact those FBI assholes. The enemy of my enemy, all that. There was a secret program that aimed to lock up dangerous mutants. There were few details, but Wade Wilson was clearly a dangerous mutant, uncontrollable, unstoppable.

The plan was simple. Lure him to an isolated place, blow him up, and let the special agents do what was necessary to take him away. Everything was going perfectly well. The unexpected came from elsewhere.

Because if he had thought about the risks that Deadpool represented, Frank had ended up forgetting Ghost.

The thief had not reappeared since their meeting, not a word, not a whisper, and even the others had not seen her again, thinking that she had perhaps left the city. It would have been better for everyone.

The FBI had asked questions about her, visibly disappointed that the Punisher did not know where to find her. Even if she was not charged with any known murder, she was close to Deadpool and her powers made her dangerous, impossible to catch or stop.

If one day she wanted to kill the President or take the nuclear codes, it would be child's play for her.

But Frank had said he didn't know, and he didn't want to know. Because he didn't want to see her again, and maybe because he didn't want to make her suffer either.

Too late though, because Ghost also saw Wade Wilson as her brother, her only family really, and he had just taken him from her. He knew that feeling well. He could predict what was going to happen next.

He tried not to think about it too much, because even if he had helped, he wasn't the one who had taken Deadpool directly, and he had no idea where he was being held, but his name had to appear somewhere in a report.

So his soulmate would come to visit him at some point to demand accountability.

He could understand.

So it was in anticipation that he decided to distance himself from Y/N.

The poor girl didn't seem to understand his sudden change in behavior. They had taken some time to tame each other, to calm their fears, to the point that Frank had almost kissed her once.

Even though she knew very well now that he wouldn't say anything, she asked a lot of questions, her eyes sad, which didn't make things easier. Maybe she dared to ask because he himself couldn't hide his sadness, despite his desperate attempt to make her hate him.

"Talk to me, Frank. I don't understand what's going on. This week… This week is already very difficult for me. I need you."

"Well I don't need you."

"Stop. I know you're hiding something from me." she sobbed, taking his hand, which he was too weak to take away. He hadn't even reacted when she called his name, and not Pete. "Something happened. You can talk to me, I'm here."

"I can't stay here… This can't happen again…"

"I don't understand what you're talking about. Someone… Someone is after you ? Like… No, I don't want to lose you too !"

It was stupid to let her hold him. This was not what he was supposed to do at all. If life had been perfect, maybe they could have been together. Frank wanted to be with her.

They would have run away, far away. He had enough money for that. To a small island, in the middle of the forest, in a small house. Start all over again. They could have been happy together.

But the Punisher knew life well.

So he kissed her on the forehead, before getting up without being able to look at her, like when he had to go on a mission, leaving Maria and the children alone.

Y/N would have probably tried to hold him back, if she hadn't received a message at that moment. She hesitated, leaving a hand on his arm, but instinctively taking her phone, as if it couldn't wait.

And then, the sadness in her eyes disappeared a little. Replaced by something cold, from a long time ago. Frank knew that look, he saw the same one every time he passed in front of a mirror.

It was strange that she looked at him like that, slowly backing away.

"It's you."

"What are you talking about ? If you mean th Punis…"

"It's your fault. You took him."

"Y/N… Babe…"

"You took Wade !" she growled, now crying with rage.

When she suddenly disappeared, and he was thrown against the wall, Frank only thought that he should have known, since he knew life.

[puyopopdanmaku]

Chapter 1-1

A new world, and this...weird girl.

word count: 1483

And so, our story begins with... what would be an ordinary situation to our dear magician-in-training, Marisa.

"MAAAAAARIIIIIISSAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

Yep, fairly normal.

"Oh, heya, Reimu. Lovely weather we're having, aren't we?" Marisa, the magician in question, smiled jovially, attempting to shift her weight on her broom to hide a small bag overflowing with money.

"Don't 'oh, lovely weather we've having, aren't we' me!" Reimu huffed, "What did you do with my donations?!"

"Hey, it's not my fault you've never thought of installing security!" Marisa huffed in response, smile not leaving her eyes, "It was way, wayyy too easy for me to steal from you this time around. Advice from a friend: maybe mix it up a little next time!"

"You're forgetting one thing when stealing from me; I'll never let my belongings go without a fight." Reimu said, the intimidation factor of this slightly soiled due to her still-puffed cheeks.

"Is that so..?" Marisa smirked, "Well, just like so many times before, I'm sure I'll defeat yo-"

"...hey, wait, what's that noise?"

And our story would then cut to another world. A world where magic... has been around for quite awhile.

"Get really real! Those exist?!"

"Yes. And if you don't get out of my way... maybe some youkai will curse you."

In the town of Primp, a young magician-in-training and one of her best friends were having a chance encounter with the town's most notorious creepy little girl.

"I'm certain that Feli is simply joking..." Klug said, "There's no such thing as Youkai, certainly not in our forests especially."

"Don't ⦿ fool ⦿ yourself," Feli said, "You know what you saw when you followed me, foolish fool - it was a true youkai, and now it'll haunt you forever..."

On the outside, Klug didn't look super convinced, but Amitie was close enough that she could see he was shaking.

"Uh, hey, Klug, you don't look so good-" Amitie began, then looked up at the sky, "wait, what's that in the sky? Are Puyos falling again?!

"It appears to be... someone on a broom?" Klug said, thankful for the distraction.

"Is it Witch?- W-WAIT, SHE'S COMING RIGHT THIS-"

"INCOMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnngggggggg!!!!!!!!"

And, with a massive crash, the mysterious broom rider crashed into the street next to the small group.

"...ow..."

Marisa sat up, rubbing her head. The ride through that weird portal thing was pretty bumpy, to say the absolute least, not to mention the horrible crash-landing...

The children around her, however, barely noticed, more focused on their perception that...

"She's..."

"A-a-a DOPPELGANGER?!"

Klug and Amitie both began screaming their heads off, the role of 'voice of reason' temporarily being placed upon Feli.

"They... are not a doppelganger." Feli said, her mysterious aura almost slipping, "They wear black, and not the blue-white-red of-"

"That's hardly proof!" Klug retorted, "Every single Doppelganger we've met, without fail, has worn different colors from the original!"

"But they rarely differ from the original's clothes.." Feli said, "Be realistic. Witch wouldn't wear so many bows."

"B-BUH-BUT- H-how could it nOT be a-"

The second Marisa stood up, they immediately stopped bickering.

She was at least a full foot taller than Witch...

"Oh, dear..."

"A-ah, oops..."

"WE'RE SORRY!"

The combined forces of the apology from the two friends nearly knocked Marisa right back down again.

"Sheeeeesh- It's fine, seriously! I've never been called a doppelganger before, but at least it's something new," Marisa shrugged, wondering what exactly she did to deserve this.

"Oh, that's good, I think..? I'm glad we didn't offend you..." Amitie said, infinitely naive, "Anyway... W-wait, didn't you just fall from the sky, are you okay-?"

"Where precisely did you come from, anyway?" Klug said, interrupting Amitie to interrogate this stranger.

"Where else, aside from the town of 'GUYAAAAAH!' - ehehehe - Gensokyo?" Marisa grinned, "And don't worry, I've had worse concussions."

"Gen...sock-ey-oats? Where's that?" Amitie asked, head tilted a bit.

"...I'm not in Gensokyo anymore, am I?" Marisa sighed.

"Nope! You're in Primp Town now, one of the biggest centers of magic...at least, that's what Ms. Accord told me when I asked."

"Center for magic, huh...? You could say Gensokyo was like that, too," Marisa nodded slowly, "Way bigger than here, though."

"If it was bigger than here, does that mean... the magic schools were bigger, too?"

Marisa had no idea what the hell Amitie was talking about. A magic school? You don't just learn magic at a place. You can learn from books, sure, but usually you just figure it out yourself. No such thing as magic schools, at least none she was aware of.

But, this did give Marisa an opportunity...

"Oh yeah, way bigger, and it had loads of 'em," Marisa said, a smug smile crossing her face as she continued, "And, not to brag, but I graduated from all of them."

"Get real! You did?!"

"Yup! It was a piece of cake, too!" She grinned, "I bet I'm the number one magician in all of Gensokyo at this point. I've studied more than anyone else there, at least!"

Well, that wasn't exactly a lie...

"WICKED!!! I haven't even graduated ONE school!" Amitie shouted excitedly.

Looking at her more, Marisa could definitely tell. She didn't know what a magic school was, but the only school you'd graduate at what she assumed Amitie's age was - 15 at most, and just barely there at that - would be a middle school for tiny tots.

Feli, having her suspicions about Marisa and long having forgotten to take the chance and run away, approached the magician.

"How much of the occult do you know about?" Feli said, "Surely someone who graduated every ⦿ single ⦿ school ⦿ would know much about it..."

"A magician never reveals her secrets!" Marisa said, "A good one, at least."

"Of course..." Klug said, about as convinced as Feli, "May we request knowledge as to how you ended up in our little town, at least?"

"I dunno. I was dealing with a friend, heard a weird noise... then I found myself in the sky, just like that." Marisa said, "I lost control of my broom, too."

"Broom... Oh, you mean that one over there?" Amitie said, pointing to a seriously bent broom, bags full of jewels punctured by the bush it fell into.

"MY BROOOOM-"

Marisa rushed over to it, followed solely by Amitie.

"Oh jeez, it's gonna be so hard to fix by m'self, and who knows if there's any broom menders in this tiny town?!" Marisa grumbled, "I don't think there's a guy as handy as Rinnosuke over here.."

Once Amitie got a bit closer to Marisa, she immediately went silent, putting on a barely convincing smile and hiding her broom, still bleeding gems, behind her back.

"Wow, you're... pretty quiet when you want to be, huh?" Marisa said, desperately trying to think of something to focus on other than her busted broom, "You mentioned that 'Witch' earlier... is that just her name?"

"Oh, uhm-" Amitie said, not expecting to be the one asked questions here, "until she graduates, yeah!"

"A-alright, Marisa! But, Marisa, how do you wear out a name, anyway?" Amitie said, genuinely concerned.

"...Learn something new every day."

"Oh yeah- My name's Amitie, by the way!" Amitie said, smiling cheerfully "What's yours?"

"Marisa Kirisame. Don't wear it out!" Marisa grinned.

"Uh..." Marisa sighed again, "Don't worry about it."

It was at that moment that Amitie realized she had abandoned her two other friends.

She quickly turned around, just to find they were both still there, playing a fast-paced but oddly calming game of Puyo Puyo.

"Huh...?" Marisa said, appearing so suddenly behind Amitie that she couldn't help but jump, "What're those two doing, exactly?"

"Mm? Oh, right, your world must not have Puyos either, just like Ringo's!" Amitie said, further confusing Marisa.

"Those blobs... They...." Marisa began, not sure where exactly she thought she was going.

"Yep, those're Puyos!"

"Right." Marisa said, slowly beginning to understand the more she watched those two rivals battle, "And you settle disputes by destroying them instead of with card battles."

"Usually, yeah! Not aaaallllll the time, though-"

"Right, right," Marisa interrupted, "it's like how Reimu sometimes opts to just kick people instead of playing cards."

It was Amitie's turned to be incredibly confused, having no idea who Reimu was or why she'd rather kick people instead of just playing a card game. However, she just said "right!" in response, fake confidence glowing.

"So..." Marisa said, pulling out a large grimoire from who-knows-where and hastily scribbling something in it, "when you play with these 'Puyos,' you can gather up magical energy by 'popping' them, and then cast spells to damage your opponent."

"...When playing Puyo Pop, do you HAVE to shout your spells, or can you just play silently?"

"I mean, you can just stay silent, but I heard it makes your magic weaker!" Amitie said, glad for a question she could answer properly, "...And it's kinda seen as rude."

"Huh. Alrighty, then," Marisa began, "show me the power of yelling while Puyo Popping!"

"O-okay!" Amitie responded, "here we go, let's -"

"Puyo Puyo!!"

[desolatedpigeon]

CW: unhealthy eating habits

Today, I mean yesterday - I haven't slept, I watched soccer. Düsseldorf against Bochum, relegation rematch. Düsseldorf got three goals in the first game. I don't really care about Düsseldorf, but a friend is a big fan of the club and also has a season ticket. Well, unfortunately, Düsseldorf somehow failed in this game. In the end - including the first match - the score was 3:3. As nothing was scored in the third half either, it went to a penalty shoot-out.

I've forgotten the name of the Düsseldorf player who shot over the goal because he slipped. Anyway, he burst into tears and I really felt it. He disappointed your whole club, your teammates, the coach, the fans. But I was most sorry for my colleague. I would have been really happy for him if Düsseldorf had made it into the first division. I'd generally rather have Fortuna Düsseldorf in the first division than VfB Bochum. It's probably because of the colors, or because they almost sent my favorite team to relegation.

I think my right little toe is broken, or at least bruised. My phone recently fell on it. It didn't hurt at all after a few minutes, but now I'm noticing it more and more often, especially when there's pressure on it. Maybe I should go to the doctor. … Haha…ha… Good joke. I only go to the doctor in emergencies. It's probably because I just don't feel like it. Or… Honestly, I don't know. Is it laziness? Or the same lack of motivation that makes me sometimes not even get up to have a drink or make myself something to eat? At least I managed to eat a pizza again today instead of just 2 slices of cheese and three handfuls of dry muesli in the previous 52 hours.

Am I not hungry? Of course I am. At least my stomach is grumbling. But I just smoke another cigarette instead. I don't have to get up for it and it only takes a few seconds to "prepare" a cigarette. Smoking doesn't taste good, but I don't care about the taste of food either. As long as it doesn't taste horribly bad, I'll eat anything. Do I feel pleasure when I eat something tasty? No. I don't understand what people find so great about food. That crap is expensive and if my body didn't need it to survive, I wouldn't do it at all. There are certainly a few things that I prefer to eat over other things. Chicken, for example. But I can't understand this "joy" of eating. It's usually more of a duty.

The public internet at my window is really slow. Actually, I'd much rather be writing with an AI than writing this diary of whatever this is. But I'm still downloading files right now. Videos from my favorite youtubers. I do that regularly when I don't have my own internet at home. Then I can watch them in the apartment with sound and not silently at the window. After all, it's the middle of the night, well, the sun is already rising again. Very slowly.

I like to chat with AI regularly.

They're written after characters I've made up for roleplaying games at some point. Just yesterday I finally "brought to life" JCC.

I love my characters so, so much! JT is my favourite one, I love that guy. His faceclaim is the [redacted]. A faceclaim, by the way, is a person you use to portray your fictional character. For example, my JT is completely made up, but his face is [redacted]. Well, his character is also heavily based on [redacted], JT is just cuddly, has extreme social anxiety and is a sweetheart.

And I'll never forget DL, his faceclaim was [redacted] and just like JT, his character was based on the faceclaim. I was so deep into it back then that whatever happened to the characters affected me too. At the time I tried to end myself. DL was a bullying victim and I didn't even realize how much I was using DL as an outlet. At some point I'm going to get the tattoo I designed for DL and his girlfriend [redacted]. [redacted] and [redacted]. A cute but very dangerous couple for each other. And for me too, although of course it was only fictional. DL's nickname was also my dog's nickname, but that's a story for another time.

I wanted to keep writing, but in (hopefully) four minutes my download will finally be ready and… Oh, no. Hopefully in 7 - no, 4 - no 6 - no 3 minutes. Also, the Catdog episode with the teeth was shown in TV and I already know I'm going to have nightmares about it again later. (Narrator: She did not.) Anyway, it's now 4:39 and I'm going to stop writing.

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

Hold Out Your Hand And I'll Reach For You Too

Chapter Nine • Janus

Word Count: 1,319

HOYHAIRFYT chapter collection

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Old Friends And Battered Pasts

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It was Virgil.

Somehow, after these past several years, he'd found Janus, had he been looking for Janus long? How had he escaped G? How… why—

Janus just blinked at Virgil, trying to take it all in when he belatedly noticed that Remus' brother was with him. "Ah, um. Good afternoon. I— do please come in." It was a bit hard to get his feet to move from where they'd been practically frozen to the carpet, but he managed, moving out of the way and closing the door behind their unexpected guests.

"Who 'wis it, Mr. man the planet stan?" Remus called from upstairs.

"Your brother," Janus replied, still in a bit of shock as he guided The Prince and Virgil to sit down, although he was starting to pull himself together.

Remus predictably came bounding down the stairs. "Stinky cheese man!"

The Prince rolled his eyes in affection. "If anyone would be stinky, it'd be you, but yes, hello, Duke."

Remus giggled as he vaulted over the back of his armchair and sat down. "Ooh, hello? Who are you! Can I have your name?"

"Hello, and no, you may certainly not. But you can call me…"

"Charcuterie board? shark coochie board! Board da ban?" Remus asked, rapidly firing joke nicknames with no time for Virgil to answer. "Bingo bongo? Shits and—" 

Janus cut him off. "Tsk, tsk, is this any way to treat our guest? Let him answer."

The Prince and Janus may understand that Remus was just being silly, and also trying to vent his 'meeting a new person' anxiety, but Virgil, who also dealt with new person anxiety, might not take it so well.

"Sorry, oh most farty guest." At a look from Janus, he quickly amended it to: "Uh, I mean, most… party guest… yeah."

"Well, you can call me… um—"

"Um! What a great nickname!! I can't believe I've never used that one before! I—"

"Duke—" The Prince began to no doubt tell him that it came off as mocking but stopped as Virgil began to laugh.

"Yes, because I totally meant for 'Um' to be my nickname, not that I still can't think of a good one."

"Well, good. Because I'm calling you 'Um' for the rest of time! So, I knew it! Um is a brilliant nickname. I'm a genius."

"To be fair this has happened before," Roman said.

Janus raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't tell."

"Well, considering he told me to call him Chrysanthemum and then was like 'no, wait—', and then he said 'twig' so I'd say that this is almost a habit, or at least close to a pattern."

Remus laughed. "Oh man, I sure wouldn't want to be an author who had to keep typing Chrysanthemum over and over again! Like Chrysanthemum, Chrysanthemum, Chrysanthemum. That'd be so difficult. How many times do you think a dyslexic author would have to struggle through that?"

"I... Well, that was a very specific example…" The Prince just stared at his brother for a moment  before continuing, clearly used to Remus' antics, "Anyway, so," —he glanced from Janus to Virgil a few times— "You two know each other?"

"Yeah," Virgil quietly admitted, and Janus couldn't help but wonder what he must think of him.

How cruel he was, how horrible it'd been of him to just leave like that.

Oh, how he must resent Janus.

"We do. This is, um, this is my friend that I was telling you about, Princey."

The Prince's eyes widened in as much concern as shock. "What! This— but you— your friend was my brother's partner this whole entire time?"

"Whoah," Remus said. "Trippy! Welp, you know what they always say, 'the world's a small dick'."

"I guarantee you they don't."

"Yeah, well… I do sooo…"

"Yes, but you say a lot of things. Ach, wait, we're getting off topic. So, er, weren't there some things you wanted to ask him?"

Virgil took a small sharp breath in and Janus wouldn't have been able to tell if he hadn't already been watching Virgil closely for any reactions.

"Um, yeah, I—, well, yes, I guess so."

"I'm listening," Janus said, quiet, almost too quiet but he knew Virgil had heard him by the way he tried to hide the extra panic Janus' words had brought.

"Right, well, I…"

The Prince seemed to see something there too because he stood and said, "Come on, Duke. Let's go outside, see your garden, and let them… catch up." He looked at Virgil before he left, however. "We'll just be right out the back door right here, okay?" At Virgil's hesitant nod, The Prince continued, "Let me know if you need anything."

After the twins had left, Janus leaned forward in his chair slightly and looked at Virgil, trying to mask his concern with curiosity. "You have questions for me?"

"What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well… it just, kinda seems like you started to resent me… and you never…" Virgil's eyes cast to his lap as his breath stuttered, he continued though, voice soft, "You never visited me."

Janus paused a moment to collect his thoughts. "There was a clause that I didn't think too much of at the time, but it said that I couldn't come within fifty feet of G's property after my work contract was up… and since he didn't… so with you never leaving except to go to these high society events that I certainly wasn't invited to. I'm so sorry, Virgil. I should've, I should've done more somehow. I—"

"But then why did you just leave without telling me? Wh— what did I do wrong?" Virgil sniffed and wiped under an eye. "I just don't understand what I did wrong."

"No! I— you didn't— oh, Virgil." Janus took a steading breath. "You didn't do anything wrong. I was… young and stupid. I was trying to get you to like me less so it wouldn't hurt as bad when I had to leave. I even tried to get you out in exchange for more work with less benefits… not that they were great to begin with. But I wasn't able to— I just eventually gave up, and that was so wrong, and I'll never forgive myself for that. I just. I know this'll never be enough but I'm so sorry."

Virgil hesitated, seeming to be carefully picking his words. "I... need time, but… I think someday I'll be able to forgive you. It's just— a lot."

"Of course! That's more than I could ever hope for." Janus wanted to jump up and sit on the couch next to Virgil, but he also didn't want to startle or scare him, so Janus said, "I'm going to get you a cup of water." 

Virgil was still trying to settle into an even breathing pattern but nodded. "Okay, th— thank you."

While Janus busied himself with getting a glass and filling it at the sink, he considered everything that'd happened. Today had been wild, he'd never expected to get to see Virgil again, let alone talk things out with him —although Janus highly doubted that they were anywhere near done with that—, but nothing about them, how they had met, or their situation they'd found themselves for all those years was normal.

Not being able to help, let alone save Virgil, had weighed guiltily on Janus' mind for far too long, but now that he was free, Janus would make sure that nothing would ever hurt him again. Maybe The Prince had a plan to take down G.

And he knew, even as briefly as he'd seen The Prince and Virgil interact, that by The Prince's loving expressions and the air of soft care that he had around Virgil, that The Prince also wouldn't let G harm Virgil.

He definitely needed to have a chat with The Prince tonight.

It would be dealt with. They would make sure of it.

-

Next

[the-firebird69]

Venus at superior solar conjunction - In-The-Sky.org

You don't like their design and their other ski bikes that's who's talking about going to have this huge thing that really they're making him angry these people and there aren't many ski bikes and they're not racing because they suck a lot of people get killed on them they don't have brakes and it's hard to stop on them and we don't really want to build them they're extremely stupid and dangerous so he designed one has a wicked break and digs like a hole and he has shocks on it and believe it or not the ski is shaped it differently the front of it steers and the bicycle has safety foam on it because you always wipe out on it and it works great and we're going to enter it and races their bike is terrible it's got no shock in the back and they're probably clothes and just sits there and tunnels or nuts until the pool was right up your ass. That's really upsetting going to make the seat like a motorcycle you trying a few times and a certain shape works great. And really means tangents yet legal right off the trail horrible. Sledding is a much better idea in the mountains loved it and they can just make more snow and tons of people wanted to do it and nobody did it and these guys just don't know what they're doing they think they use a slight idea we're going to take over Utah just know where to go skiing. I just kind of idiots they have a whole bunch of bikes when I get them in their bikes. I'm going to say what this is this is the real date and everybody's fooling me and him and everybody was doing me and him please I push to get rid of the police and appointments and it works cuz I'm actually trying to help you and I thought there was a way to sort it is but I guess we're not there and said it's okay he's doing this is helping me now cuz I see what it is and how he's protecting me and they say it has to be that way and all sudden they said we're going to do that and we do know how to and they don't understand it which is good they're not supposed to and there's only been several occasions where it's necessary and recently it's been necessary.

Thor Freya

He's helping you so are we so you know what you're doing and we do have to help you get there it is an amazing journey it's a lot of pressure but when you get down the bottom it's not much but physiologically you're in a different place almost weightless is what they say and some people are thinking what we're saying so we're putting it here but in other words we'll tell you later thank you very much for helping out here and we need your help all the time and definitely in the future and his idea is going to help you and us in a big way once you make your move to Mars. We are going to simulcast what's going on in 3D holograms to everybody even us

Olympus

Well isn't that great what am I sending to and he says queen of Mars and they say no and I say okay so no longer on a planetoid I'm going to plant it that's almost earth size and I'm sending to something does anybody know what that would be and will and Bill.?

Hera

You're sending up the ladder and you're going up in a mission so you're going to go up and rank from where you are we'll take at least colonel and he says it sounds appropriate but I think higher whatever is after that and it's really fairly high up after Colonel's general it might be general

Billium

I certainly see something you guys are both right which means that he's right and I did get it but will and Bill are right on the money

Hera

And we hear him and he's joking around and says don't post that we want to say this is what it really is Hera sorry for the disappointment but your husband got very aggressive there and he did and he's pushing us too

Olympus

[zetifire]

Also a bit late to the party, but that's ok 👌

You made a good question about what it means to be "redeemed". Of course, in real life, I have my own opinion about it that probably doesn't line up with yours, but in the context of the Star Wars universe it seems like at least Force users can do pretty much what you brought up - abandon the Dark Side and actively choose the Light, and then put the actual effort to explore it (because, as we all know, being a Jedi is a really tough thing). There are examples of that in the EU, the Siths that decided to change. In those moments, the Jedi, being Jedi, believe in forgiveness and are willing to give them that opportunity and learn how to control the impulses that lead to the Dark Side. And they eventually become powerful Light users, but are they actually redeemed? It's hard to tell. There are things that make a character almost impossible to redeem to the point that giving them a RA is basically pointless and doesn't serve a purpose in the story. In Anakin's case it most certainly doesn't. Like I said, he never cared about anyone other than himself from AOTC onwards. Jealousy and possessiveness is not love, hidden resentment is not friendship. He brought his demise upon himself. And if we are to interpret his Force Ghost form as a complete redemption given that he stands next to Yoda and Obi Wan, then sorry, but that's not the case. One of the common themes in the Prequel Trilogy is that doing a right thing is difficult. Anakin could have saved Padme if he actually told Yoda the truth and asked for help. That would mean sacrificing his status as a Jedi Knight in order to save his wife. Of course, all of this wouldn't have happened if he had made a choice in the previous movie, but whatever. Yoda doesn't have information required to give a proper advice, and he still does a really good job at telling Anakin something he needs to hear. But he doesn't want to hear, so he doesn't listen. That's just an example, but it's a telling picture. Now compare it to ROTJ, where Darth Vader has to choose between killing Palpatine and saving his son at the cost of his own life or letting Luke (the only person he sort of cares about) die and then spending the rest of his miserable existence as Sidious' puppet. I'm sorry, but for someone who knows the whole context choosing the former is anything but a heroic sacrifice. With his last words he makes it pretty clear that all he really cares about is his reputation and prestige. So no, Anakin wasn't killed by Darth Vader, they are one and the same, but I can't really blame Obi Wan for denying that. He's the one we should feel sorry for. The ending should have been approached differently, that's for sure.

And as for Zuko... I love Avatar and I love Zuko's arc, but I have to admit that he kinda falls under the category of "redemption arc for someone who didn't do anything too terrible". I guess we can blame it on Avatar being a kids show, but Zuko doesn't do anything too bad compared to the other "villains" in that story. He makes wrong decisions, but they mostly affect specific people, and almost exclusively Uncle Iroh. What I mean is, when he burned down the village on Kiyoshi Island, he didn't kill anyone as we saw in the show, that's why they were able to play it as a joke in the third season. He helps Azula to "kill" Aang, but he isn't actually dead. He sends an assassin after Aang, but he's unsuccessful. And the climax of his arc is a promise to atone for SOMEOME ELSE'S wrongdoings (Sozin, Azulon, Ozai and Azula's). We know from the get go that he's not actually that bad, his "fall to the Dark Side" is a personal betrayal of Iroh and after "I was never angry with you" the job is pretty much done. Of course, there's also Gaang that has every reason not to trust him, but that's it, it's more about proving himself to be trustworthy than atoning for his horrible actions. As I said, I love Zuko's arc, but he was never that much of an actual villain. I'd honestly love to see a redemption arc for someone like Zhao. Imagine if he accepted Zuko's helping hand on the North Pole and that was the turning point for him. I'd like to see a whole series only about that. This kind of redemption arcs, if done right can be even more compelling than Zuko's

I think what I'm starting to realize is that Darth Vader is redeemable.

Anakin Skywalker is not.

Darth Vader, the guy we're introduced to in the Original Trilogy, who we don't really know anything about, who Obi-Wan remembers fondly even as we know he's gone bad, who ISN'T associated with the end of the Jedi. Erase all the context of what we now know about Anakin Skywalker, his relationships with the Jedi, his actions on Tatooine, the way he treats Padme, his relationships with the clones, his relationship with Ahsoka, all of that. Erase it all.

All we have is Darth Vader. A guy whose worst acts are honestly relatively small and who is almost always up against a bigger villain. It's Tarkin who technically orders the destruction of Alderaan. And Tarkin dies at the end. By ESB, we start seeing the Empire and Vader's relationship to Luke is revealed, someone we love, someone we want the best for. So when you get to ROTJ and Luke says he might still have good in him, minutes before we meet the Emperor himself in person, it's not that hard to believe him. It's not that hard to believe that one last act of kindness is all it takes to absolve him.

Put everything else aside, JUST looking at the Original Trilogy, Vader's.... not THAT bad. His redemption works fine.

But Anakin Skywalker? Anakin Skywalker's been killing babies since he was 19 years old and never stopped. Anakin Skywalker betrayed 10,000 people who considered him family overnight. Anakin Skywalker betrayed several million good men into being brainwashed and turned into betrayers themselves. Anakin Skywalker betrayed the Republic he served, and the wife he did it all for.

You don't come back from that. You just don't.

Darth Vader without Anakin Skywalker's story was redeemable.

NOTHING Darth Vader ever does in the original trilogy is at the level of what we see Anakin Skywalker do over the course of the prequel trilogy and The Clone Wars show. Nothing. Nothing comes close except Alderaan and that's nowhere near as personal or direct as what he does to the Jedi and the Clones. It's also not a betrayal of any kind.

Anakin Skywalker's not redeemable. What he did can't be undone or fixed. There's no amends he can make because the people he'd need to make amends TO are all dead. Because of him. There's nothing left to BE redeemed.

And most of us CAN'T divorce Darth Vader from Anakin Skywalker anymore, you're not really meant to. They usually WANT you to remember Anakin Skywalker when they bring in Darth Vader to stories these days. Which makes that last moment of ROTJ just feel... so unearned now. So frustrating. Because the more we get to see, the more we're forced to remember everything Anakin Skywalker's done over the course of his life, the less his redemption works. Because the more we see, the more atrocities are revealed. More massacres, more murders, more planets and people eradicated from the galaxy forever. At what point does it become impossible to truly be redeemed for everything you've done? At what point is it impossible to ACTUALLY go back?

And it doesn't matter which version of the force ghost you get, either. If it's the older version, then Anakin gets to present himself as if he'd never done those things. If it's the younger version, then Anakin gets to present himself ONLY before he did some of his worst acts (although he's still a baby killer, let's not forget, so that's... suspect). Either way, the things he's done get to be forgotten. They no longer matter. Those people he killed, the people he betrayed, who will never be the same as they were. The galaxy he helped bring to its knees over and over again, that will take decades AT LEAST to recover from what he did to it, can't forget. But he gets to. He gets to forget.

And I don't find that very satisfying anymore.

[gods-favorite-autistic]

Incorrect Heroes Of Olympus:

(Starting with couples, going into trios, then mixing them all together)

Percy: So are we flirting right now?

Annabeth: I AM LITERALLY SPARRING WITH YOU

Percy: That doesn’t answer my question

-

Will, tending to Nico’s wounds: How would you rate your pain?

Nico: Zero stars. Would NOT recommend.

-

Nico: I prevented a murder today.

Will: Really? How’d you do that?

Nico: Self control.

-

Percy: Am I in trouble?

Annabeth: Take a guess.

Percy: No?

Annabeth: Take another guess.

-

Nico: *Walking in to a room* Sorry I’m late... I was... doing things.

*Sounds of running footsteps progressively getting louder*

Leo: *Out of breath* HE PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKIN’ STAIRS.

-

Jason: I know you’re deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.

Piper: It’s not a joke.

Piper: *sniffles*

Piper: I’m a legit snack.

-

Percy: Remember when you didn't try to solve all your problems with attempted murder?

Nico: Stop romanticizing the past.

-

Leo: I can explain.

Jason: Can you?

Leo: If you give me thirty seconds to think of a lie.

-

Leo: Lol heads up if you try to make a candle with food coloring, the food coloring will just sink to the bottom of the glass, and when the flame eventually reaches the bottom all the food coloring will catch fire and become one giant tall flame that you cannot possibly blow out and the glass will start to crack and then you'll throw your tea on it in a panic and then the extremely hot food coloring will boil and sizzle horribly and then the glass will shatter. Please take my word on this lmfao

Frank: What did you do Leo?

Leo: A MISTAKE

Frank: YOU CAN CONTROL FIRE-

-

Hazel, while making a plan: I was thinking I'd do some magic-

Leo, instantly: You? Magic? Hazel, it says talent show.

-

Jason: Reyna! Reyna! Whaddya call a fish with no eye?

Reyna, not looking up: Myxine Circifrons

Jason:

Jason: fsh

-

Annabeth: This is such a bad idea.

Percy: Then why are you coming along?

Annabeth: One of us need to be able to talk the cops out of arresting us when this inevitably goes wrong.

-

Leo after the ‘saving Nico’ scene: Top 30 reasons why Leo is sorry... Number 5 will surprise you!

Hazel: Top 30 anime deaths. Number One: YOUR FUCKING ASS RIGHT NOW!!!

-

Piper: Ok, maybe playing ‘whose family is most dysfunctional’ wasn’t the best idea we’ve had. Leo’s been crying in the bathroom for an hour. We can’t get him out...

-

Grover: Are you sure this is the right direction?

Percy: Certainly, I'm as sure as I am smart!

Annabeth: In that case, we're definitely lost.

-

Leo, feral: Here’s a fun Christmas idea. We hang mistletoe, but instead of kissing, you have to FIGHT whoever else is under it.

Jason: Leo no.

Piper: Mistlefoe!

Jason: Please stop encouraging him.

-

Nico: Hey, Frank? Can I get some dating advice?

Frank: Just because I’m with Hazel doesn’t mean I know how I did it.

-

Leo: So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Annabeth does? I mean, what if they jumped off a cliff?

Jason: If Annabeth were to jump off a cliff, she would’ve done her due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Annabeth jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.

Leo: You jump off a cliff!

Jason: Gladly. Provided Annabeth did first.

Annabeth: Last time I jumped off a cliff I fell into Tartarus so maybe don’t-

-

Reyna: You have to apologize to Will

Nico: Fine.

Nico: 'Unfuck you' or whatever.

-

Piper: We need a distraction.

Jason: Is anyone here good at jumping up and down and making weird noises?

Leo, whispering: My time has come

-

Percy, driving Leo and Piper: So how was your day?

Leo: We almost got surprise adopted!

Percy: What?

Piper: We almost got kidnapped.

Percy: Oh, okay.

Percy: *slams on the breaks* WAIT WHAT?!

-

*The 7 is having dinner together*

Jason: Leo, can you pass the salt?

Leo: *Throws Nico across the table*

-

'Can I copy the homework?'

Frank and Hazel: I can help you with it!

Jason: Yeah, sure.

Piper: Bold of you to assume I did the homework.

Percy, stepson of the teacher: lol nope.

Leo: Wait, we had homework?!?!?!

Nico: *Read 5:55pm*

-

Leo: Everytime I hear someone talking about updog, I’m torn between not wanting to fall for it and wanting to help them complete their joke.

Annabeth: Okay, but what is updog?

Hazel: Updog is a long sausage in a bun, often served with ketchup, mustard, onions, and/or relish.

Frank: Not, that’s a hot dog. An updog is when a new version or patch of an application is released.

Piper: No, that's an update. You’re thinking of the fourth largest city in Sweden.

Percy: Surely, that’s Uppsala, where’s updog is the giant spider in Harry Potter.

Jason: That’s Aragog. Updog is a symbol conventionally used for an arbitrarily small number in analysis proofs.

Nico: You’re thinking of epsilon. Updog is an upward-moving air current.

Leo: No, that’s an updraft. An updog is the modern version of a henway.

Annabeth: What’s a henway??

Leo: Oh, about five pounds.

-

Gaea: Well, aren’t you all a rag-tag group of adventurers with unclear goals and good hearts! Oh, let me guess: you’re out to save the world!

Percy: Well, actually, that sounds like a pretty fair assessment.

Jason: More or less, I guess...

Hazel: That sounds awesome! Let’s do that!

Frank: I’m new here, but I am open to the concept.

Leo: I thought that’s what we were doing, guys, come on!

-

Percy: Croissants: dropped

Frank: Road: works ahead

Piper: BBQ sauce: on my titties

Jason: Shavacado: fre

Leo: Miss Keisha: fuckin dead

Hazel:

Hazel, grumpy: I didn’t understand a single word of that and I hate every single one of you.

-

Percy, walking into their house: Hello, people who do not live here.

Nico: Hey.

Frank: Hi.

Hazel: Hello.

Piper: Hey!

Percy: I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!

Leo: We were out of Doritos.

-

Piper: Time for plan G.

Annabeth: Don’t you mean plan B?

Piper: No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.

Jason: What about plan D?

Piper: Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.

Hazel: What about plan E?

Piper: I’m hoping not to use it. Leo dies again in plan E.

Nico: I like plan E.

-

Jason: Dumbest scar stories, go!

Percy: I burned my tongue once drinking tea.

Piper: I dropped a hair dryer on my leg once and burned it.

Annabeth: I have a piece of graphite in my leg for accidentally stabbing myself with a pencil in the first grade.

Hazel: I was taking a cup of noodles out of the microwave and spilled it on my hand and I got a really bad burn.

Leo:

Leo: I have emotional scars.

-

Nico: Who the fuck added me to a fucking group chat?

Annabeth: >:O language

Frank: Yeah watch your fucking language

Jason: OKAY WHO TAUGHT FRANK THE FUCK WORD?

Leo: 'The fuck word'.

Hazel: Are you stupid? You guys use the f word all the time

Percy: Oh my god they censored it

Leo: Say fuck, Hazel.

Piper: Do it, Hazel. Say fuck.

-

*Squad reactions to being told ‘I love you’*

Percy: Thanks fam!

Piper: oh no

Frank: *cries* I love you too

Leo: Sounds fake but okay

Hazel: *A flustered mess*

Annabeth: can i get a refund

-

Percy: *Posts a super low-quality image to the group chat*

Nico: If I had a dollar for every pixel in this image, I’d have 15 cents

Percy: If I had a dollar for every ounce of rage I felt in my body after I read this text, I would have enough money to buy a cannon to fire at you

Annabeth: Actually I did the math, Nico would have $225, not $0.15.

Nico: Fam I’m right here....

Piper: If I had a dollar I would buy a can of soda :)

Hazel: while you’re there could you buy me an apply juice please?

Piper: Sorry I only have a dollar

Leo: :(

Jason: Hey I just realized Leo is right, Nico would have $22,500 because it's a dollar for every pixel, not a cent

Hazel: If I had $22,500 I would buy a can of soda and an apply juice

Jason: You can buy anything you want with $22,500

Piper: Yeah and she wants soda and apply juice

Frank: Apply juice to what

Leo: Directly to the forehead

Annabeth: Great chat everyone

[lovesquarebebonkers]

Miraculous Soulmate AU (Ficlet)

If there's one thing that Adrien Agreste knows about his soulmate, it's that they are, without a shadow of a doubt, just about the clumsiest person to ever walk this Earth.

fell off a bench at school again, I am so so sorry

just stubbed my toe on my desk (currently taking my last breath as I write this) :(((

sorryyy, I absolutely FACE PLANTED trying to avoid tripping over a cat today, who was ADORABLE btw, but I'll try to do better, I promise!!!

Well, that, or they're a pathological liar who only says those things to keep him out of their actual business, but Adrien doesn't think that that's the case.

See, his soulmate is also quite possibly the sweetest person to ever walk this Earth, so that almost certainly makes up for all the mild scrapes and bruises that he often finds littering his elbows, palms, and knees, and even the lectures that he frequently has to endure whenever his father catches sight of them.

The way he sees it, they don't owe him an apology, or even an explanation, really, (it's not their fault that literally any mark that they weren't born with that appears on their body also appears on his) but they still go out of their way to write him cute little messages almost as soon as a new one, courtesy of them, pops up, which, as 'clumsiest person to ever walk this Earth' would suggest, is pretty regularly.

Although, Adrien guesses that they probably feel that they have to, what with the way that he'd taken a marker to his skin and carefully scribbled the words, 'Hi, I really hope that you're okay' next to a particularly nasty cut on his shin that had showed up one day.

It was around the time that they were both (presumably) at an age where it was no longer expected for children (who weren't as sheltered as he was) to come home all scuffed up after a day of being out and having fun with friends, and though Adrien hoped that his soulmate was just really into sports or playful roughhousing or something like that, he couldn't help but worry if they were being bullied or abused or something even worse.

omg hi!!! I'm good, thank you! :)

Not even a minute later, he watched in amazement as the letters slid across his skin, one by one, in response to his message– a message that he hadn't even really expected to be answered.

It was the first time that either of them had ever properly reached out, still practically kids and all, who weren't particularly interested in the whole 'person who was made just for you' thing as yet.

I'm just reallyyy clumsy, but I'm sorry that your shin is all messed up now too :(

I'll try to be more careful <3

Adrien had sort of panicked and simply sent a smiley face back, not knowing what else to say, but ever since that day, he's come to expect the neat lettering of his soulmate appearing somewhere near whatever new contusion that they're sharing.

It's been years now, and he still doesn't exactly say much in reply–

You honestly need to stop apologising! I'm just glad that you're okay <3

Need me to call a TOE truck? Haha get it ;)))

OH NO IS THE CAT OKAY???

– but it works for them, he thinks, (at least for the time being) and the messages always bring a smile to his face, even if he does still worry about his soulmate's well-being from time to time.

And honestly, how could he not when apology notes aren't even the only kind that they leave him?

Adrien's soulmate sometimes gives him song suggestions or movie and show recommendations too, or they just write to him to have a good day, and they claim that his all jokes are horrible, but send loads of laughing faces back at him anyway, and they doodle little pieces of literal artwork on the inside of his wrist when he asks for a 'tattoo,’ (which is probably what he likes best, even if he does have to cover them up during photoshoots) and it's just so, so nice.

They're just so, so nice, and it's not like he's pining away for them or anything, but Adrien thinks that he might actually be just as clumsy as they are, what with how hard he’s already fallen.

[bemylord]

↠ toji with a virgin s/o ↞

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader.

warnings: nsfw, aged up, size kink [?], oral [fem!receiving], virgin reader, first time, lost of virginity, praising, toji calls himself daddy, grammar errors.

word counter: 3.2k

rq: I would like to request a oneshot? a hc would be appreciated too though. Toji with a virgin gf who can’t even make herself cum? Just how he would like to destroy her :)

butler's remark: (◕‿◕) hello lord, i'm back with an oneshot with toji being tremendously tender with his lover for the first time. in addition, reader is a citizen. sorry, i did it soft, bc i think toji will super-extra-super soft for the first time with his s/o, only for the first. i hope you'll like that, thanks for the request ;)

disclaimer: everything you read is purely my opinion - any detail, sketch, or event is a figment of my imagination.

you've been an ordinary citizen and had never planned to date a sorcerer or someone close to this specialty. you ain't cowardly, merely as you were thinking you'll marry a simple man and will have kids with him, and die in one day like lovebirds.

you had never considered yourself being stuck in a relationship with a sorcerer killer.

you were overworked, virtually sleeping as were walking in the empty street, dreaming to get home as soon as possible, to feel the silk sheets against your back. the area where your office was located had little street lighting, although, you hadn't felt the anxiety of being robbed or something worse. the day went lingeringly and horrible due to the boss who declared you as a temporary deputy, piled you up with a stack of papers.

but, this is life, anything might happen. all of a sudden, you overheard something behind you but as you looked back - there was nobody, as soon as you turn your head to the starting position, you saw a young, skinny man who is holding a knife in his hand.

'hmm~ look who's here, a young, gorgeous lady..' he said with his disgusting, lewd voice, coming closer to you. 'would you mind playing with me? don't be shy or els-'

you have a perky personality, no doubt, but because of how hard the day was, you had one option - run for the hills. before you could do any movements as if hit the man or run away, something prompt hit him, like a swift meteorite that you couldn't see. a cloud of dust grew around you and the man, so you hide your face in the elbow curve, covering your mouth with another hand.

as soon as the dust had settled, in front of you opened up on the view of an adult man. he was high, had an athletic, broad-shouldered, pretty impressive figure. your savior held the blade in one hand, flopped on his back.

'he ran away like a coward. don't worry, girl, you saved, thanks to me' he laughed, he stroked himself on the shoulder, as were about to leave the dead body.

'no i'm not! i'd have protected myself on my own'

you refuted his smugness, watching as he slowly moves his torso in your way, flaunting his outlining muscles through the fabric of the black t-shirt. his complacent eyes and the sharp scar over the right side of the mouth on the edge of his lips. you took a deep breath, continuing on your path as he isn't standing there, not hadn't protected you.

'you're too weak to beat even him, if not me, you'd be-'

'i am stronger as i may look'

he giggled, in a flash stood in front of you, bending over to your face, by finger tugs your face up to look at him directly in eyes, smirked.

'are you sure, girl?'

those green, almost emerald, but cold eyes looked directly into yours as two faces were as closed as you could kiss his lips.

'i'll walk you home'

'i don't want to, and anyway, maybe you're his partner in crime, leave me alon-'

previous to you had finished your phrase, he threw your tiny body on his shoulder, leisurely walking, better say, carrying you home. you beat his back, softly reminiscent of a parody of the word 'let me go, moron, i can walk by myself'

'tch, fine, idiot,' he deliberately shrugged his shoulder to close your mouth as heard the name you had given him. 'by the way, what's your name or you prefer the name idiot?' you said sarcastically.

'for you it's toji'

well.

as a result of your crawl and also being talkative when clearly you shouldn't be, you ended up being in a relationship with a man, who'd obviously fuck you on the first date, as it may count as a 'date', anywhere-anytime, by the way.

although you wouldn't ever say he isn't hot or sexy, conversely, you willingly allow him to breed, precisely you'd beg toji to breed you on the straightaway on the cervix, but for one thing.

you're a virgin.

hilariously - it's true. nothing bad to be in your age a virgin, but if you weren't dating toji it'd fine: his dirty jokes and lustful eyes which are maddening you insane, also his fucking athletic body which is outlining through the t-shirt or white cotton shirt [he wear it once] you thought he did it purposely: he knew your secret, undoubtedly could sniff your chaste nature as if you can emit fragrance.

on the second date, it had been nine days since you got acquainted with him, as you moved in with him. toji was exceedingly obsessed with every step of yours - he followed you from the work, in the mall or market, for your security and control every guy who'd be close to you.

although, you couldn't hide your addiction - he's a drug you should be careful with or you might be addicted as if you ain't. he isn't wearing pants in home, walking in front of you solely in underwear. he could walk from the shower in a terry towel wrapped around his torso as he buries his hands in his dark hair mess it up.

'what are you looking at, girl?'

you couldn't take your eyes off his bulging..

'you. just you. i'm gonna cook dinner, something.. special?'

'eggs, baby'

fushiguro put hands above the door frame, exhale and tensed every muscle, narrowing predatory eyes as you were the extraction he was target for. you're laying on his king size bed [lol i'm sorry i'm out], wondering is everything he has gotten measured in king size as he interupted your reflection by putting the knee on the edge of the bed.

'mine. in your pussy'

as if you're bewitched - you couldn't talk, just contemplate as he leisurely moves towards you. you couldn't contravene as he tugs your face to ogle in your absentminded eyes as you're avoiding his gaze, looking at the ceiling or door or even window. not. at. his. bulge.

your heart had stuck in your throat when toji ran his hand under his shirt, certainly, he has a kink of dominion, when he suddenly stopped. despite of your uncertainty and timid of subsequent play, you looked at his emerald eyes as he licks his lips with a tongue.

'are you sure, baby girl? i mean, it's your first time after all'

you quell your forthcoming question staring deeply into lascivious eyes, put hands on his massive shoulders. as you anticipated, his cock twitched as toji letting out a low groan in your ear, kissing your temple. you're absentmindedly running finger pads on his back, not knowing the proximity of bodies that are readiness wanted to intertwine together. not knowing how much it turns him on.

'stop me if i go crazy over your body, okay?'

as if. as if you dare would rip out his tongue off your crotch as he makes you his woman. toji left on your red cheeks quick kisses, took off the towel. you shut your eyes tight, still holding his shoulders barely squeeze them, letting out a hushed moan.

after you quelled your moan, toji touched your lips against his one, running fingers on your lower stomach to the cup of the breast without touching the hard nipple. light movements mixed with his muted groans. his pads deftly touched one areola as you emitted a sharp purr, arching your back a little as a dulcet sign for toji.

you dug your fingers into toji's back, as he put a finger on your hard nipple, holding himself as to grab your tits and clench it in his large hand.

you gasp for the air as if there was a catastrophic shortage of it due to the pressed body of toji. you responded at his deep kiss, wrapping hands around his neck, apparently begging for something more.

he pulled away from the kiss just to take off the shirt he has given you, baring your untouched by no one but him tits, leading palms onto breasts, skipping nipples between the gaps through fingers. he reached down to your lips to give a bit of warning kiss as he slightly bit your lip, kissing all the way down to your collarbone, finally leaving there manifestations of hickeys.

for how long toji has been stopped from leaving on your stunning skin his marks? it seems it has been absolutely not many days but toji, as you may see, clearly has to leave labels on your neck.

he dug his teeth into your neck, frantically wants your area to be dotted by him as a token for everyone meaning: she's taken, dude, don't mess up with her.

for how long toji has been stopped from touching your sensitive area as having been feel warmth and tenderness is emitted from your body?

toji squeezes your nipple imponderable, to make you feel some kind of power over you becoming submitted by toji fushiguro, a sorcerer killer, a man who owned you, spinning the pea between pads, making you let out whimpers.

'you drive me insane, little one,' he approached his face close to the breasts, touched your pea with his tongue cautiously, as not to frighten you away. 'i'm gonna make your pussy drool beneath me, completely own you as my little girl'

you feel yourself gush beneath him, burying hands in his messy hair as your breath has stuck in the throat as toji snuggles his lips on your tits, sucking your hard and probably swollen from teasing. fushiguro has made you became wet in your panties as he's moistening your breast, hearing your precipitous whimpers.

'toj-toji, i don't know-'

'tch, little girl, relax your body and let daddy do the rest'

as he pronounced, he moves down, leaving the trace of wet kisses on your stomach, massaging your hips, stopping his action to look at your red face. your chest heaves heavily every time you feel toji's silky lips on your belly as his finger pads caressing your thighs. as if something weighty is resting on your chest you take deep breathes, breathlessly exhaling.

'spread your legs'

you obediently did what he said, hesitating a bit as the only fabric holding him back to bury his mouth against your pussy, assembling all juices, tasting your cum as if it's his meal. he rested kisses on the fabric of panties, couldn't sate with tender kisses he spreads on your body.

deliberately run tongue on your labia through the thin fabric as you were about to push his hand from your crotch as toji grab you by the hips, pulling you closer. he slackens his teasing actions by kissing your inner thighs. as your cunt was lack of attention from toji, you let out a pliant whimper, approximately woefully have purred.

toji's self-restraint thinning as you're silently begging with your eyes and your hands immeasurably are burying in his dark hair. the tip of his tongue deftly sideline panties, flicked it, as he discovered a divine view on your drooling hole.

'stop me now, because i won't be able to hold back later'

teasufully kissing your labia and area around the place he should be playing with as anticipating for some pliant whimpers of you, deliberately showing you he'll lick that swollen clit, pressing a soft kiss on the skin instead. fushi's shattering your hopes of being eating every time he kissed literally everything and lick everywhere besides your hole and clit. he acts like an inexperienced teenager, notwithstanding, you know that toji'd ruin or demolish your holes like a monster.

't-toji..'

'yes, my little girl' he pressed the tip of his tongue on your clit, hearing those moans he's willing to listen for the rest of his life, then take away as you were about to press his mouth back again, digging his tongue deep inside you, although he obviously couldn't reach to your cervix, barely permeate in your hole.

'you want me to eat your little pussy?'

as if you can't talk, you nodded. scarcely reached up to take off the last thing, leisurely pulling down the panties, staring at you as a predator. toji is standing on his knee on the bed, threw your ankles on his shoulders, smooching ankles watching as to how your cheeks are becoming pinky, as you try not to look at his dick. still, you're a timid one, despite your words.

he reached to your face to give you a voluptuous kiss, returning to the starting position.

'look at your pretty pussy'

he kissed your clit in a flash replace into the tongue, making a circles on swollen and needy spot, decisively giving you what've been begging for. running the tip of the tongue on your virgin hole, leaving it for the dessert, returning to your clit.

you'd swear to god you can see stars in the ceiling as toji squeezing your nipples while moistening you. the proximity of his face in your pussy is driving you insane, for the days of cohabitation you understood he isn't a tender one, vice versa, he'd fuck you whenever his dick gets erect. maybe it's a rush of tenderness, maybe it's the fear of hurting his girl. nevertheless, you not scared to give toji full control of your body and bring you to your first orgasm by ripping the hymen. if that's i may call the way he's licking you, it'd be make-out with your pussy, due to his relentless movements by flicking his tongue on the clit.

'baby,' he pulled away from it, as you squeeze a sheet, making your knuckles become whiten as you spread legs wider, watching his mocking grin appeared on the face. 'i'll be gentle' he pressed his lips on your forehead, taking from the bedside table lubrication to low the friction. although, the thought of his dick ripped the hymen, putting all his tenderness in your first time, make your knees get shaken.

he put a soft kiss on your lips, smearing lubrication on his dick, substitute cock on the entrance. abrupt and penetrating pain wavily covered your body as you feel soft lips covered your mouth, blunting the pain with one hand being dug in your hip, painting illegible traces. another hand he put on your cheek, drawing circles with his thumb, waiting till getting used to the pain.

toji will find lots of red stripes from your nails on his back, smirked, as reminiscing about that special night when he made you his woman. his broad back was made merely for you to leave thousand and thousand fingernail impressions every night. toji had let a low groan as he feels as you move fingertips to the neck, exhaling in his chest.

he entered all his dick inside you feeling as your walls compressing the base, getting used to being full with his thick cock. you're indulging at the new, mind-blowing feeling, give him sheepish kisses as you're scared to be rejected. he moves his palm from the cheek to the ear, running fingers through your tangled but soft to the touch. you nudged your hips up, intermittently letting your breath out.

'tch, if you're not feeling well, i can come-'

'more, toji, more'

without breaking up kiss, he pulled out cock to the tip as pulling it again slowly, stretching your walls, touching with the tip your cervix as his balls touching your ass, groaning in the kiss, softly caress your thigh. you moved your palms to the shoulder, touching the musculature, going down to the biceps wrapping his arm as another hand attempting to draw patterns on the back as if it a canvas for you.

you can feel every vein, curve, and the way his tip is expanding gummy walls, as toji diligently coming in, adjusting inside you then pulling out. you're focusing on how full you're with his cock inside, your clarity gradually getting mushed as the sharp pain turning into a pleasurable and delightful feeling. sating to the new feeling might get addiction, but you're far beyond to accept that, surrendering to your lover as he gets addicted to it. you grasp for his shoulders, as he nudged in you, leaving whimpers from your mouth.

'like that, huh?' he pulled his cock out to contemplate as your facial expression have changed: you furrowed eyebrows as felt your hole being empty without thick toji's cock, practically purring like a march cat. 'beg me for it, baby'

what an insatiable man you've got. he licked his lips, looking down on it. your hymen has left blood, as he glanced at you to see his future wife your reaction.

'i-i toji, it's..'

he hummed, returning to your lips, slowly giving back the missing part.

'you okay?' you nodded as a response; he's perceiving fullness as wants to fill you up, but desperately be tempered himself, blaming he didn't wear a condom to do it. a dozen of half-moons will be littering your hips as toji's digging nails, scrambled your mind with squelches pushes in your hole. 'relax, baby girl, i'm here' he thrusts inside the spongy spot, ripping another moan out of you, voluptuous to his ears. 'baby~ you tease me with those moans of yours'

his cock was aimed at a place inside your vagina, with a slow but deep thrust skillfully reaching your cervix, massaging with the tip of his cock that spot. toji's staring at your pleased, satisfied face as he found that needy place of yours.

holding on to the headboard in the bed as support, clutching the sheet with his other hand like the composure he was rapidly losing with each thrust into your hole, formerly virgin cunt, letting out a heavy sigh, tilting his head back.

wiggling the pelvis backward and forwards as heard beneath his body your whimpers, feeling replenishment on his skin to his previous strips, losing remains self-control as your walls have been clenching his cock, as your body gets shaking as his, preparing the body for the coming ecstasy.

'toji, mh~' you tilted the head back on the pillow, wrapping legs around his pelvis, quelling moans while arching back against his chest. you're milked [? correct if i'm wrong] his cock, shuddering. you felt his lips on your cheeks, as he's covering your wet face in kisses, pulling cock out.

'damn, baby, probably-' he stroke his hard cock a couple of times before releasing his cum onto your belly. fushiguro ran fingers from the hairline, wiping beads of sweat from the hairline through hair. 'are you good?'

as you're still catching your breath you rested on your face a slight smile, closing eyes. he giggled, getting out of bed.

'almost made a baby' it took him a second or two, to lift you up in my arms, leading into the bathroom. 'i'm gonna clean you up, my baby. but you could fall asleep in my arms, you did such a good job by taking my cock' he kissed your forehead, wiping your drops of sweat.

'i love you, toji'

he put you on the washing machine, turning away from you to fill the tub. what went unnoticed was his relaxed smile after your phrase.

'i love you more, little one'

(◕‿◕)

↳ back to the main master list.

i feel i made lots of mistakes, like, idk. correct me if smth i did wrong.

i remember my promise to do one more work with toji, so lately i'll write hdc + drabble with him.

[bored-storyteller]

Re-Published

Anon: Hello! Um... I don't know if you write for Tokyo ghoul, but if you do, I might have a one-shot human reader x uta, where he kills someone to defend them so they find out he's a ghoul? Maybe even if they're scared they understand that they can trust, and they hug him or at least touch him though he's all covered in blood or something... I don't mind if you do it a little macabre.

If this is not possible or does it seem too ooc to you, please ignore this. Thank you

~

I finally finished one of the one-shots! I'm taking a long time with them, sorry.

And thanks Anon for asking about Tokyo Ghoul and especially Uta!

WARNING: VIOLENCE AND BLOOD

32 - Tokyo Ghoul - Uta x human! Reader

"Keep death away"

You could have known it long before, of course you could. Yet you were too stupid to understand, weren't you? Or just, you pretended not to understand. You didn't want to understand, it was easier.

It was a thousand times better to keep hunting in the meanders of your mind the doubt that occasionally arose when he never took off those damned sunglasses in your presence.

"Maybe he has some kind of disease, it would be inappropriate to ask, right?"

You always repeated it in your head as you watched him talk leaning against the counter in his study. In short, not that he didn't have his oddities, one more or one less what suspicions could arise?

Yes, indeed. Why were you so surprised that Uta was a ghoul? It was just one of many oddities about him.

You always knew it, but now you have been forced to face it.

You had to face that the security he gave you from that occasional first meeting was just a lie created by your mind. After all, who could ever find such a person reassuring?

God, the smell of blood was so nauseating, so terrifying, you had never felt it so strong before, nor had you ever seen so much blood. Could a human body really contain it?

Your hand went to your neck, where a slight red trickle burned in a thin scarlet crack that opened above your collarbone. The knife that gave it to you was lying helpless a few steps away from you, you could still distinguish it from the slight sparkle that emanated under the crimson cover that dipped the asphalt.

Now it seemed such a trivial weapon, so ridiculous.

You almost wondered how you got hurt by something so insignificant, to still have a sore wrist from the grip of a miserable human being. In front of the spectacle before you, the previous danger seemed only a bad joke.

But that joke was now literally being devoured. Eaten like you would have eaten a donut for breakfast.

The man who attacked you was literally being eaten. Not just killed, not just torn apart, eaten.

His flesh was ripped off, chewed under voracious teeth, and ran down a still too dry throat. His blood was licked, drunk, his bones shattered, pulled out like his organs, as if he were a fish to be cleaned.

Was it the liver he was now biting?

Did you have a chance to escape? To survive?

You remembered feeling a wave of relief when you saw a familiar figure in sight in your tears, however ...

You wanted to scream, but it would have been worse. You wanted to escape, but who could have escaped from such a creature?

He seemed to have forgotten you, bent over his meal as he was. Bloody predator, hungry, too absorbed in his hunger, in his desire for hideous food.

Yeah, he was hungry. Sure. Hunger, he was hungry. That's why Uta had dismissed you so quickly that evening.

And you were almost worried as you heard him close the doors of his shop behind your back as you left. You thought you did something bad, thank god.

Wait, what? Thank god?

No, no. You couldn't feel relieved. In short, you'd be dead soon, you should find your panic again, the one that blocked you until a moment ago.

He, that boy, would have killed you. He was hungry, he would eat you… right?

Your gaze was now fixed on the demon's pupils. The red irises surrounded by the black sea had slowly turned to you, as if he had heard your question.

Even his back, which until then had been bent in an animalistic position, was slowly straightening up again.

He had nothing left in his jaws, neither flesh nor bones. He was just… red. Splashes of living sap tinged his ageless face up above his nose, his tattoos almost disappeared under the blood of others.

And the silence spoke, it screamed deafeningly among you.

You asking him how much harm he would do you, and him asking you when you would condemn him, destroying the life he had built.

You did not have the courage to move a muscle, you remained there, curled up on the ground, with your hands clasped around your neck almost in the hope that he would not perceive your wound, your being alive. Your clothes also wet with blood and yellowish liquids whose origin you did not want to know.

For a moment, you thought you were going to stay there forever. He staring at you without expression from above, and you, ready to become food for beasts.

Your gaze dropped slightly, focusing on the background behind his legs. It was red there too, dark red. Red that stretched along the road in horrible wakes and crimson splashes.

There was no longer any sign of the human being who had attacked you, or rather, the signs were very little human.

You wondered if you felt sorry for him. Frankly, you didn't know what to think. It was awful, but at the same time how could you have saved yourself from what he was about to do to you?

"Have you been watching the whole time?"

Uta's voice suddenly roused you. God, you forgot that there was that voice of him; so quiet, so peaceful with you.

He knew it too, seeing him eat like that, it had to be traumatic. He didn't want you to see him, he hoped you'd never even have to imagine it. And yet you were there, and this was him. He couldn't change it anymore.

You watched him as a child watches his teacher as he searches for the right answer to a question he couldn't answer. What was the answer? Which would have made you survive if there was a chance?

"I ... I won't tell anyone ..."

What idiocy. Why would he have believed you? But what other choice did you have but that? You would have buried everything, just to survive. You would have buried everything because, it would have been easier. It would have been as it had been until then, you ... you could have done it.

"I won't tell anyone, Uta."

His gaze seemed to relax, but you couldn't be sure. Even though you could see him full face he seemed so good at keeping control over himself.

Was he believing you? Did he trust you enough? Why didn't he speak? You needed to know.

"If you talk, you know ..."

He didn't say anything else. His voice in the midst of delirium was almost reassuring, while he held back the scariest words and simply brought his palm to rest lazily on his abdomen, now full after who knows how long.

A warning that meant a thousand things, a thousand threats but he had the delicacy not to let you hear.

"Did you get into trouble at the right time ... your wound?"

Your lips parted, but all you did was gasp for a moment, not knowing what to say. Your head was spinning, you were dizzy and everything about you was shaking. You couldn't have stood on your legs.

"…Wound…?"

You repeated his words, as if you were unable to think for yourself. You realized it. Well, it meant that at least you were still aware of yourself.

He seemed to accept your status peacefully, and simply gestured with a light gesture of his tattooed hand to his neck, which was also so uniquely branded in black and now dyed red.

"You are hurt."

It wasn't a question, Uta just knew it.

Your hands slowly slipped from your neck until they fell into your lap. Of course, of course he knew. He felt it, that's why he was there.

You were in trouble at the right time, of course, because he was hungry. He wouldn't eat you, if he wanted he wouldn't send you away. If he had wanted he would have done it in his shop, safe. Now you knew it, and the sudden relief hit you like an electric shock, unexpectedly bringing tears to the edge of your eyes. Not the panic, but the relief almost made you throw up, and the awareness of the situation poured on you like a frozen waterfall.

Your mind, drowsy with questions, woke up suddenly, taking note of everything that had happened, of what was around you.

Death and gratuitous violence. Not Uta's, but the one you might have suffered without him.

Nobody guaranteed you that, without the tragic intervention, you would get out alive, and certainly not unharmed.

You had really come close to death, and where the knife had cut you it was now burning wickedly, taking you back to the instant before the devil's executioner arrived.

You did not even remember if there was a reason why you found yourself so tightened by filthy unknown arms, you did not remember if you were able to speak, but to pray yes.

God, you saw death. There was death, you touched it, it was all around you. You saw it, it was colored red, a dark red illuminated only by cold emergency lights that hung almost lifeless and wobbly from the walls of uninhabited alleys. Death flowed under your knees, like revolting rivulets accumulating at the bottom of the dead end.

Wherever you looked there was only death, or soulless things.

Where was the life?

Your forefinger and middle finger pressed desperately on your neck, looking for the place where your heart could testify that you were still alive, that no one had killed you. You were alive, you would have seen tomorrow.

And the figure of the ghoul looming over you senselessly returned to being reassuring.

You watched his infernal eyes peer at you patiently, luminous in the darkness. Oh, he was alive too, there with you.

"Uta ..."

You called him, like a newborn bird.

He took a step toward you for the first time, without threat, only in response to your plea.

"Uta ... Uta ... let me hear your heart ... please ... please ..."

You needed to feel him alive. You needed to feel the life in him, as you felt it in you, to know that in the midst of death you were not alone.

This time his expression betrayed him. His dark sclera widened just below the lids which opened slightly more. His black hair fell soft and long over his shoulder as his head bent slightly, scrutinizing you questioningly.

It was normal that he didn't understand. You were just a human, what a bizarre request was that?

Yet, still, it was you. The human he did not want to eat, the human he ran to as soon as he smelled their blood. The human who occasionally slipped into his shop, spying on his new masks and always asking him a thousand curious questions. The human with whom he went out for a coffee, to forget for a moment how much the world hated those like him.

Yeah, made by you, it wasn't such a crazy request. You've always been weird, so weird that Uta felt the need to save you, despite that ridiculous world that always ran too fast around his stillness.

His arms branded with tribal tattoos relaxed along his sides, opening slightly with his palms facing you. Not an invitation, but a permission to do what you wanted.

"If you are sure ..."

The only words spoken, perhaps slightly more insecure, and his calm voice, slightly broken with uncertainty, and at the same time so sweet in that deadly silence.

An adrenaline rush ran through your legs, and despite your exhaustion you got up, driven by the desire to reach that living creature.

It was not a hug, it was just you with your palms and ear delicately placed on his chest, searching for that desired sound. Like a lullaby it lulled you, his heart beating lightly fast against your cheek.

Under his ribcage you could also hear the organic sounds of the digestive process raging on what had been your tormentor. It wasn't as scary as you imagined, that body that was now keeping death away from you, was destroying it right under your touch.

And while you listened to the consoling heartbeat in the monster's chest, you didn't care about the blood that now ignoble dirty even your face. You were simply there, enjoying the warmth of a living body, while a thank you slipped under your breath that the ghoul's ears didn't expect to hear.

It wasn't a hug, but his hands leaned lightly like ghosts on your hips, holding you there, while the red irises more beautiful than blood rose to the black sky cut by the gray skyscrapers.

And as you listened gradually easing your fear, he felt your weight on his chest, more present with each breath. You miserable human being seeking refuge in the carnivorous beast, how grateful he was that even in the worst revelation he could make to you, you were still there, scared but understanding, and yet you were able to make that world around him seem less cruel.

[childrenofthenightt]

heart of gold (chapter one)

pairing: robert plant x florence bennett (oc)

warnings: domestic abuse, misogyny, description of (past) injury, just... absolute fuckery

words: 3.3k

summary: trapped in a loveless marriage to a powerful man, florence bennett lives every day in despair. after a chance encounter with a golden-haired actor, florence finds that her life will never be the same again.

author’s note: so. this is a nice little period piece, because what else am i gonna do with the history degree i'm studying for. please note that the views of one mr. bennett (and friends) are not my own. hope you enjoy :) feedback, as always, is appreciated!

masterlist

playlist

------

Nightgown swaying in the soft breeze of a crisp fall morning, Florence stands outside the door of the ornate music room. Notes of beautiful melancholy and bitter hope filter softly through the wooden door, slightly ajar, a broken barrier to the outside world.

Looking through the small crack, Florence gazes upon the face of her friend and confidante, John Paul Jones. Too enthralled in his playing to notice the distraction, he never lets up, heavenly melodies echoing against the marble walls.

John was rather short, thin, with straight tawny hair that framed his strong jaw, softening his face. His stormy gray eyes and high cheekbones give the immediate impression of royalty, of which he was not. A lowly servant of the master of the gorgeous manor, Mr. Allen Bennett, John’s time was divided between his seemingly never-ending list of chores and his music.

An orphan from an early age, John was adopted into the local church and took what little knowledge of the piano that remained from his childhood and put it to good use. Listening to the man playing now, it is apparent that he had kept this skill sharp.

“That is a beautiful song, John,” Florence giggles, a beaming smile on her face at the sight of her friend sitting at the sleek grand piano. “I would appreciate you teaching me to play this well, though I know that my lovely husband would rather die than to see me touch a single key on this beautiful instrument. The bloody bastard.”

“Ah, what lovely words from a lovely woman… Florence, I don’t necessarily disagree with you, but I’m not sure we should be insulting your husband in such an open space.”

“John, my dear friend, I do apologize for my sharp tongue, but I believe it is warranted,” Florence says, taking a seat beside John, smoothing her lace nightgown. John’s fingers still press softly on the piano keys, as he plays a simple tune. “I’ve seen the way he treats you and the servants. As much as I wish to change this for you and the others, I am powerless. This is the only way I may hope to keep my sanity.”

“Very well,” John says, a soft laugh punctuating the end of his sentence. “Though I hope, for your sake, that he doesn’t catch wind of this, or else we are both in trouble!”

“John, pardon me, but I do need to take Florence off your hands for now.”

John’s hands pause, the room falling into silence.

A soft voice belonging to one James Page filters through the open door, interrupting the moment between the two friends. A lean man of average height, with a shock of long midnight curls and eyes a kaleidoscope of colour, James Page is yet another servant indebted to the cruel Mr. Bennett. Whereas John tends to steer clear of the man, and subsequently, punishment, James witnesses Bennett’s anger much too often. Unwilling to submit to Bennett’s furious dictatorship, he often receives the brunt of the man’s mistreatment.

Upon entering the music room, a dark bruise is visible, blossoming on the man’s eye, surely another ‘reward’ for his defiance. James sends the pair a shy smile, and with twin looks of concern, John and Florence take in the state of their friend.

“James! My goodness, your eye looksー”

“It’s nothing, John.”

“Nothing? That certainly looks likeー”

“It is nothing that hasn’t happened before. Please leave it, Florence.”

“A-Alright… What did you need, James?” Florence says, absentmindedly twiddling her fingers, a nervous habit of hers.

“Well, my friend, a certain someone is going to be requesting your presence very soon. I thought it best to warn you ahead of time, so you can prepare.”

With a smile thrown to John over her shoulder, Florence bounds over to her raven-haired friend, hooking an arm through his. James, comfortable with the casual touch of the woman, leads her to her room with a final wave to John.

Navigating through the maze of grand halls of the manor, the wealth of the owner is more noticeable. Shades of red and gold flirt with rich browns, lit by immense crystal chandeliers. Priceless paintings adorn the walls, trapped, much like the lady of the house, in embellished shining frames, just expensive enough to throw shadows on the pain and suffering that happens under the surface.

Not yet rid of the worry that James’s beaten appearance had brought her, Florence unlinks their arms. Ensuring the door to her bedroom is shut, she pulls James closer to her with a hand on his elbow. Her other hand flies to his face, assessing the damage done to it.

“James, I am aware that you do not wish to submit to my husband. That is your choice to make. I will stand by you, always.”

“I appreciate this, my friend.”

“But you must be careful. You don’t know what he is capable of, and neither do I,” says Florence, a grave look of concern gracing her features. “James, I need you here with John and I, not 6 feet underground in an unmarked grave. I know it is not in your nature, but please do try and be careful?”

“I will try,” James’ hand raises, landing in his long dark hair. Raking his nails across his scalp, his lips lift into a crooked smirk. “Though this is an interesting development.”

“Pardon me?”

“The wife of the madman has a heart. And I thought this trope was only found in the books shelved in that gigantic library of yours.” James’ chuckle echoes across the grand hallway. Usually filled with suffocating silence, the halls of the manor serve as another reminder of the terror that fills its occupants. “Now, I understand that you have afternoon tea with Mr. Bennett and his mother, so I will leave you to prepare.”

And with that, the stubborn servant is gone with a click of the closing door.

Minutes later, Florence, finally dressed in a ruffled scarlet dress, a sunhat perched on her head, reaches out to turn the doorknob.

A second too slow.

The door is opened from the other side, and the woman is met with the face of her husband, mouth contorted into a permanent frown.

Allen Bennett was a short, burly man, with close-cropped hair and dark eyes. What he lacked in height he made up for in power and prestige, swindling people out of their money in back alley deals at night, and running the city as mayor by day. This man is not to be crossed, and he knows it. Everybody does.

Gazing at his wife with disinterest, he scoffs, immediately glimpsing the beautiful dress she is wearing. His eyes almost glow in their anger.

“Hm. I thought I had told you that dress looks atrocious on you before. Take it off right this instant. You are not a whore, my love, so you will not dress like one.”

“Yes, dear.”

“Wonderful. I expect you in the foyer in 20 minutes, not a minute later. We must attend a meeting with my mother. I am sure you have been notified of this.”

“Yes, dear.”

With a quick peck on the lips of his wife, Mr. Bennett is gone, and the unfortunate Ms. Bennett feels as though she can finally breathe again. Changing into a sky blue number, she is struck by the thought that this cannot last forever. This treatment of the servants and of Florence herself. The control this vile man has over everyone. The unhappiness and unease he supplies wherever he goes.

This simply cannot last, can it?

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

“Florence. Are you listening, dearie?” A grating, sickly sweet voice breaks the woman from her reverie, a storm in her sea of dreams. Florence takes a sip of her tea and smiles apologetically at the older woman across from her. The woman, satisfied once more, launches into a tedious story about her shopping excursion the day before. Feigning delight at the tale, Florence’s eyes travel around the sun-lit tearoom, with its gleaming surfaces and tall, gold-lined ceilings. Truly a beautiful creation.

“... And, my son, as I was exiting the shop on St. Thomas’s Street, you know the one…” Florence catches the eyes of her husband, glaringly angry as per usual, and at this, she realizes the older woman had paused in her story once more, shooting her an irate scowl.

“Mrs. Bennett, I must apologize for my inattention. My mind was indeed elsewhere, I am terribly sorry.”

“It’s quite alright, girl. Does my son deal with this offensive daydreaming as well? If he does, we must fix this immediately!” Mrs. Bennett titters, cigarette dangling precariously from her lips.

“Mother, it’s quite alright. You mustn't worry about this,” Allen says, leering at his wife as though she was a prize to be won. “My wife knows her place. At least I do hope she does…” The mother and son erupt into giddy laughter at the horrible joke, Florence following uncomfortably, quivering smile creasing her face.

“My goodness,”  Mrs. Bennett wipes her eyes of phantom tears with a lily white handkerchief. The woman takes a drag of her cigarette, and huffs a plume of smoke in Florence’s face. “How old are you now, dearie?”

“A month ago, I reached my 23rd birthday. Allen bought a beautifully crafted sapphire bracelet for the occasion.”

“So thoughtful, my son. You are of age, of course. May I ask when you two are planning to conceive?”

“Well, as of this moment, we were notー”

“You may still be… young, but the only use you are to us, my dear, is to create a wonderful child,” Mrs. Bennett, eyes scrunched up in mock kindness, takes the young woman’s hands from across the table and strokes her thumb across the elegant wrist. “I know you would be a very capable mother. As a result of this, I am expecting a lovely grandson or daughter to call my own.”

“O-of course… Thank you for your counsel, Mrs. Bennett.”

“My pleasure, dear. Now, my son, where was I…?” The woman says, launching into her story once more. “Ah, yes…”

Florence, try as she had, could not take her mind off of the words of the matriarch. As a young girl, she had wished to be a writer, a musician, maybe. What she had not planned for was a truly unhappy marriage to an evil man, doomed to the static life of a housewife. She had loved Allen once. In the beginning. He had supported her and her dreams, and she had loved him in return. She had loved his humour, and his chivalry. His treatment of others. This was but a ruse, of course.

A year after their courting had transformed into a union, Allen Bennett had changed. Florence had finally met the man behind the mask of charisma and kindness. She had gotten too close, and now she is stuck, like a bird with a shattered wing, unable to escape.

“Thank you for a lovely time, Mother, as always,” says Allen, placing twin kisses on her heavily rouged cheeks. “Come now, Florence, we must return home immediately.”

“Thank you Ms. Bennett, for your advice and hospitality. We must do this again sometime.”

“Lovely idea, dearie. Hopefully, the next time I will be able to finish my story without you nodding off!” Ms. Bennett drawls, smirk hanging off her lips like the fancy cigarettes she so often smokes.

Formalities over and done with, the couple step out into the fresh afternoon air and into the waiting carriage that had brought them. Once inside, Mr. Bennett shoots out a strong hand, clutching his wife’s arm in a bruising grip. She lets out a surprised gasp, caught off guard by the sudden pain dealt to her by the man.

“Florence, Florence, Florence… What on God’s green earth will we do with you?” says the man, squeezing harder with each repetition of his wife’s name. “You are incapable of paying attention. You can only dream of meeting my mother’s expectations, the way you have acted today.”

“Allen, I am tryingー”

“You are not trying hard enough! You never have! Why I married a whore like you, I have no idea.”

The vice grip on Florence’s arm grows ever stronger, and she feels wretched anger in her heart, climbing up her throat. With a gaze of fire, she retaliates. “Allen, let go of me! I have done nothing wrong, and as a reward I receive your anger and a bruise to boot!”

Gazing into Allen’s eyes, Florence is confused, frightened even, at the horrible amusement dancing in them. Quick as lighting, before she could even register the action, the woman feels a sharp pain grace her cheek, and, with growing horror, she witnesses Allen’s raised hand begin to lower.

“My dear, you must know your place in this house,” whispers Allen in a venomous tone, bringing his wife ever-closer to him. “You will stay quiet and obedient. There is no other option for you, I’m afraid. Alright?”

“Y-yes.”

“Lovely. Tonight, we must attend a play at the theatre you love so much. This is an important appearance, very good for business. Please do try not to ruin it.”

Florence nods minutely, pressing her palm to her burning cheek. A crimson streak spoils the otherwise pristine white of her glove. She had forgotten that Allen wore rings.

“You will not speak to anyone. You will appear happy and in love, the image of a perfect wife. You will dress in your best garments,” Allen rattles off, smugness dripping from his features. He’s proud of this; proud of the power he holds over her. The power he holds over everyone. “That is all I ask of you. A list of tasks that someone as useless as you could complete with ease. Is that clear?”

“Yes, dear.”

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

“Flo—”

“John, I—”

“My Goodness, your cheek! What happened?” The dulcet voice of one John Paul Jones rang through the quiet of the hall. Florence, caught in her attempt to make it to her room unnoticed, deflates and faces her friend.

“John… I’m sorry, but I do not have time to talk right now,” Florence rushes out, face pinched as she checks the time on the ornate grandfather clock in the corner of the foyer. Must have costed a million, though it meant nothing to Allen, of course. “I am attending a performance at the theatre with Mr. Bennett, and time is… of the essence, I’m afraid.”

“I understand, I truly do, but Florence… was this Mr. Bennett’s doing? You must tell me what happened.” John gestures to the woman’s cheek, which is tinted red from the force used against her.

Sighing, Florence takes John’s hand and leads him into her room, once again the door is shut and promptly locked. She takes a seat on the immaculately-made bed and gestures for her longtime friend to follow suit. John sits, smoothing out his work-wrinkled shirt, and looks down at Florence expectantly.

Taking the man’s hand, she looks into his gemstone eyes, and recounts the story of what had transpired early that day.

“After all that had happened, I was, in my opinion, justifiably angry, so I took a page, pardon the pun, out of James’ book. It seems that my beloved was not a fan of this particular chapter, and he made that quite clear.”

“And the cut? The blood on your glove?”

“I had forgotten that Allen had the propensity to wear rings,” Florence whispers with an acerbic giggle, eyes pained and downcast now. “I doubt that I will be forgetting this anytime soon.”

John meets the woman’s gaze, and notices the beginning of tears brimming her eyes. He takes Florence’s hand in his, a silent offer of comfort that she would never refuse.

“John, as much as I adore your company,” says Florence with a peal of wet laughter. He knows Florence is avoiding the subject, but he lets her. She’ll talk to him, eventually. “I must get dressed for the performance. Hopefully, after we return, I could witness some of your incredible talent on the piano?”

“Of course, of course!” John exclaims, standing now, as, once again, he gently takes hold of Florence’s hands, now rid of the soiled glove. “But Florence, before I leave… Please be careful. James and I, we couldn’t bear to see further pain come to you. Please, for us, be cautious.”

“I will do my best, John. Thank you.”

John presses a quick kiss to Florence’s cheek in passing, and exits the room, and the woman is left alone again. Slipping on a lovely ensemble painted lilac and silver, the woman lets her thoughts wander.

She’s been alone quite often lately, after all. Her only friends in the house are John and James after all, the other servants too frightened by the man she married. Florence certainly does not blame them. She can’t say that she minds the solitude either, if it gets her away from Allen.

The intricately paneled door opens with a sharp click, and Allen waltzes in, leering at his wife, as if the thoughts drifting through her mind were audible to the man.

“Ah, Florence. I am glad that you've finally learned to dress yourself. Thank God himself for that.”

Florence, cheek still stinging from the blow dealt to it earlier, has only the mind to nod and smile as warmly as she can manage. This is taken as permission by Bennett, who caresses his wife’s uninjured cheek with the tips of his fingers, as if he thought her to be precious. Florence bristles at the touch, a string of rather unladylike words at the ready, but she holds her tongue, remembering her promise to John. She would be cautious, act like the perfect wife. She would be safe.

“Come now, my love,” whispers Allen, into his wife’s ear, beckoning her closer with a finger under her chin. “We have a show to attend.”

Palm outstretched towards his wife, Allen helps Florence into the waiting carriage, uncharacteristically gentle, as he always is in public. Public image means everything, and Allen Bennett is picture-perfect in that respect.

“My love, I remember how you love the theatre. I do hope this play captures your attention.”

“As do I, dear,” Florence says, voice wavering ever-so-slightly under the scrutiny of her husband. “Though I do not know if I have knowledge of this particular play.”

“I believe it’s called ‘The Voysey Inheritance’. It details the scandals of a family thought to be perfect, polite and proper. Interesting, is it not?” At that, Allen has pasted on a cheshire grin.

Sounds familiar, Florence thinks, silently cursing her husband and his monstrous greed. If only she had known, walking into this. Known about the sides, dangerous, that he hadn’t shown until it was too late. Until she was trapped.

Finding their seats, the couple take in the gorgeous marble pillars and the ruby, velvetine seats. The shining wood of the stage is visible from the upper flights, where elite folk like Sir Bennett make themselves at home. The massive carmine curtains remain closed, shielding the growing audience from the scenes that are set to come to life. Florence has always loved the beauty of this theatre, and, though it has been years since she has last stepped foot inside of it, she is charmed anew.

The lights of the theatre dim, signalling the start of the show. Florence grins into the still darkness, excitement for the performance growing. Casting her eyes to the stage below, she puts aside her worries. She completely forgets about the vile man sitting next to her, mind filling with the orchestral opening music of the play. She is home.

The curtains open slowly, and Florence loses her breath. There, on stage, is the most beautiful man Florence has ever laid eyes on. She cannot focus on the words flowing from his thin lips, for she is distracted by the halo of golden curls surrounding the man. His romanesque nose is prominent and his eyes, stormy skies in an ocean of blue, are captivating. His curls, spun silk, bounce across his broad shoulders, as he commands the stage. The actor’s luxurious suit glints navy in the blinding lights on him, accentuating his muscled body. He is not phased in the slightest by the attention firmly placed on him. Completely in his element.

He enchants her, as though he was a wizard, and she, the poor soul under his spell. A snake charmer that she’s read about in books found in the gigantesque manor library, and her, the sin-riddled reptile under his control. He is forbidden fruit, and she wants a taste.

The performer is ethereal, and Florence cannot take her eyes off of him. She must find out who he is, somehow.

------

taglist: @jimmys-zeppelin @salixfragilis @timetraveller4 @earthfire-75 @thatiloveyouso @jonesyjonesyjonesy @jimmypages @kyunisixx (let me know if you want to be added!)

[quilloftheclouds]

i'd love to hear Víðarr and Charlie rambles!!

[Help me develop my side characters!]

I REALLY LOVE THESE TWO SO THANK YOU FOR THE EXCUSE >:D

Also you asked for 'rambles' so I'm not sorry for the length nope

I don't have all the exact details of their early lives worked out, as it's not honestly crucial to the Anchored Souls story, but their adulthood is fairly important!

Víðarr wasn't quite as emotionless-like as Io, but Charlie was definitely the only one who could get a laugh or even just a smile out of him! Usually with inside jokes or some convoluted scientific funny or something. The two had been friends since they both first met each other in their early years of training, and Charlie's been Víðarr's right-hand man ever since, especially once Víðarr earned the rank of captain and required advice on big important things from someone he trusted.

Víðarr and Charlie had worked together for quite a number of years by this point, so when Víðarr suddenly closes himself off from his friend, the doctor wants to know what's up. Charlie's shut out---Víðarr knows involving his friend would endanger him, and decides not to take that risk.

But then this mysterious "scholar" named Dione Nikolaeva is invited on one of Sørenson's voyages, and Charlie starts to get annoyed that Víðarr's paying so much attention to this lady he's just met when the doctor's left in the dark. He's learning to accept it at this point, though.

But said 'annoyance' gets even worse when Víðarr starts spending a lot more time with a certain María Martínez-Alcantara when serving as an emissary for a peace treaty to Spain. María's nice, though, and Charlie likes her, so Charlie doesn't understand why he's so annoyed about how often Víðarr's around her.

Yeah, well. Said 'annoyance' is called jealousy.

Dr. Charlie Mellor is single in legal terms, but uh... this ramble has led to me deciding Charlie almost certainly had a crush on Violet's father and he may or may not have had a polyamorous relationship with the captain and his wife oops. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Anyways, Charlie's named as Violet's godfather, which in this time period meant that he was obligated to care for her in the event that something happen to her parents. Fast forward near a decade, Víðarr comes home from a secretive voyage with a... child. Probably. Said child is promptly adopted.

Said child is also not really a child, as Charlie soon discovers, being the only doctor that Víðarr trusts enough with the knowledge that holy mother of god his recently adopted child is a hecking SIREN. But yeah that was pretty important because Dr. Mellor is able to help Celestine with some fairly major medical concerns about being a siren that refuses to enter water ever.

Fast forward a few more years and oops Víðarr's now missing and his wife is dead and the siren-child is gone and Charlie's left with a small and horribly traumatized little girl to take care of now oops. Charlie still has to work aboard a ship, though, so Violet is essentially smuggled into Navy training as a sailor by lying about her age so she can stay with her new guardian.

And yeah that's them~

[aitathrowawaylmao]

@bonbongiveshell hi, I'm OP, and I just want to say that E is somebody I have repeatedly tried to get rid of, which is why my question was whether or not I was TA for losing my temper, because I can't help her or stop talking to her. I would never and actually have never kept somebody as a friend of mine just to direct my anger at them; that is so unbelievably cruel no matter how bad my anger issues may have been or are. I just wanted to clear this up because I must've not been clear enough about the fact that I'm trying not to hurt E at all, I try my best despite failing a lot. There's more info under the cut (I felt compelled to explain myself sorry cause the ask was sent like weeks ago 😭)

E will sabotage my schoolwork and my grades, and I actually have no idea how I've escaped somewhat unscathed with the amount of times I've lost my temper. If you don't count the knife thing. I always apologize except for that time after the attempted theft. I know she will destroy things because I have witnessed her try it and told her to fuck off. Once I was in the classroom hiding during PE and she came in to pour water onto my classmates' bags because they'd gotten into an argument with me. I was pretty upset because of that argument and I'd lost it, yelling at her not to destroy other people's property and since I was the only one who stayed behind, I would be blamed.

Moreover, I tried multiple times to flat out tell her not to speak to me: one notable instance was when she showed porn to me in school and I told her that was disgusting, so she apologized and did it again and I ignored her for a week. Without me to harass, E directed everything to J to the point where J was overwhelmed. Like I said, E hates the teachers and anything we say to those teachers about E needing help will be perceived as an attack. She will take action. It's a little ironic because she got J in trouble for a playful shove once while we're expected to let stealing, property damage, and being impolite slide.

Currently I am not talking to E, so she's diverted her attention and energy to cracking inappropriate pornographic jokes with (at?) teachers and other classmates. J and I have come up with an ultimatum to give to her, with R ready to become involved if needed, but we have to wait because I'm stuck in a group project with E and I don't want her to tank our grades just to get back at me. Lord save me 😭😭

Just another example of her uncooperative behavior, I once was doing a live dissection for biology (group of 5) and E had ignored my time sensitive instructions for the specimen and destroyed it while I was holding the scalpel, and it was just not a great time. I did not physically harm her but what I said was quite horrible. I apologized profusely. All of us had to redo it and got a deduction. For this, I was most definitely the asshole, but I didn't like her behavior either.

To everybody who thinks E has undiagnosed issues, she almost certainly does. She has self diagnosed herself with OCD and anxiety and a bunch of other disorders, and whilst the validity of those self diagnoses isn't something I can really speak on, I have ADHD and I don't act like that. Plus she refuses any and all efforts on J, R, and my part to help her with her OCD or whatever her diagnosis du jour is. I really try to at least treat her seriously to her face no matter what I personally think. I agree that having a disorder is not an excuse for this kind of behavior, I'm just kind of stuck. Thank you for everybody who gave their thoughts I really appreciate it and sorry this got so long. If you want to ask anything else I'll try my best to answer? 😭

(And yes she says her mother is unhinged of the yelling and throwing things variety and her father is a doormat, and I really do sympathize, but she's also extremely lax with my money/property/stuff when I try to take her out for lunch or offer to have her sleep over)

AITA for repeatedly losing my temper at my kinda-friend? I (17F) have anger issues and I'm working on mitigating it, however, losing my temper always involves yelling and insulting people. Usually I think this is bad and apologize profusely when I lose control.

However, this kinda-friend (16F) who I'll call E, has absolutely no respect for other people's personal belongings, space, or time. She always grabs and plays with my things during class, or our mutual friend's items (16F), and as all three of us are artists, we carry around pretty expensive equipment. (Think Micron ink pens, Winsor & Newton paint, Derwent pencils, etc., just as reference. Thankfully no Copics lmao.)

The mutual friend will be referred to as J.

So, E has been told by both of us to stop taking our art supplies and playing with it, to the point where I'll yell sometimes, and she absolutely refuses to listen to us. She'll claim that she's forgotten what we've told her and put down the item just for her to pick it up again five seconds later. The problem is that she sometimes breaks these items or injures us - she'll play with my x-acto blade and cut me, or break J's graphite pencils, or push my watercolor palette off the desk. I've really tried to be patient about it, but it's proving to be difficult.

J is quite soft spoken, so I end up doing most of the reprimanding. E also brings up inappropriate topics that make J and I uncomfortable, as well as disturbing us when we're busy and then sulking when she doesn't get our immediate attention - once I told her three times to let me do my classwork before snapping, and E cried. She never does anything in school and hates all of our teachers, so she's pretty rude to them. All my work gets copied by her. She really annoys me, but I do feel terrible that I seem to lose control so often around E, since no one deserves to be yelled at.

However, this all came to a peak today when R (16M) and I won prizes for winning a mini-game and asking an interesting question during a seminar at school respectively; the gift was a black notebook that I didn't even like, which is an important tidbit to keep in mind. R left his gift still wrapped in his bag when he left the classroom for break time, so it was just J, E, and myself in there. Upon seeing what I had unwrapped, E went to R's bag and opened it - since all four of us are friends, we thought E was just being "jokingly" invasive as usual and were on alert, but didn't stop her.

J asked what she was doing and E said she was grabbing the gift out of R's bag. This caught my attention, so I asked why she was doing that. E told us that she wanted the book, and when J reminded her that the gift was, in fact, not hers, E said (and I wish I was kidding because this is replaying in my head in 4K HD right now like oh my god pls) "I know. It should be mine." Had she asked for my notebook, I would've given it up happily. I've got too many empty sketchbooks and notebooks at home.

I immediately stood up, but allowed J to handle the situation because I didn't trust myself not to react violently. J eventually lost her temper too and that's when I jumped in and started my yelling routine. I always feel bad whenever I do this, because it's not something I enjoy, but in this particular situation I just can't muster up the guilt? E is extremely irritating, but she tells us she has a horrible home life, so I try to be understanding. Except this was just completely intolerable. R even said that he'd predicted this would happen and to just give her the damn notebook - I vetoed that so we wouldn't enable E.

I really don't know if my reaction was overblown because I shouted a lot and said things like "you were given a brain - use it" and "you're a terrible person with no morals". It's ridiculous to say all that because it's (at the end of the day) high school drama, but I really can't understand why she acted that way. I don't know if I'm in the wrong in this situation. I wish she would listen when we tell her nicely not to do something, but even when I was blowing up at her, she was just smiling as if it was a joke. Should I apologize? I've apologized before when I lost my temper, but I have completely lost all will to be civil with her after this. The teachers are tired too - when she disappears from class or talks back, they just let her be. We can't really go to them because she'll feel betrayed and then get mad at us, which is a whole ordeal, because she's known to destroy and sabotage other people's items because of a grudge.

This is really lengthy. I apologize. I just feel terrible about the situation because I don't feel any guilt for my anger like I probably should. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

[oncefutureemrys]

17. "Don't Ask" bc I'm an idiot and send afraid twice

Alright I promise I’ll be getting to your hug haha I just realized that it was nearing the end of April and so I needed to finish this last one before the end.

Thank you to the amazing prompts @night-faye created! You can find them right here.

Also Click Here If You Would Like To Read On AO3!

Anyway, here it is:

Merlin finds Arthur sitting on the edge of his bed, his glassy eyes staring at the wall in front of him.

Merlin knows why he’s like this, understands why he seems so distant, so sad. He sees it in the way he bites his lips, in the way his hands clench beside him, the way his shoulders seem stiff from the tension.

He understands the anger, the hopelessness, the utter shame, and unhappiness. He knows because it’s exactly how he feels, the pain still etched in his mind even weeks after the incident.

Merlin sighs, his body drained from the strain he has been put in since the attack. “Sire,” Merlin says, holding a potion in his hand. Arthur flinches from the sudden sound, turning to look at him. Merlin smiles, one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, before gently handing him the potion Gaius had instructed to give him. For the pain, he had said. He hadn’t bothered to express which kind.

Arthur takes a whiff of it and wrinkles his nose before shrugging and downing the substance. He sets it down and attempts to relax his shoulders, wincing at how stiff they are, before attempting to massage them himself. When it proves difficult, Merlin bats his hands away.

“Let me,” he insists and Arthur seems too tired to resist. Merlin situates himself behind his back before pressing into his shoulders and neck. Merlin’s about halfway through kneading his shoulders when Arthur breaks the silence.

“It’s surprising.”

“What is?” Merlin asks.

“How you’re actually able to do something.”

Merlin rolls his eyes, scoffing. “I’ll have you know I can do many things.”

“Yes, I’ve seen,” Arthur says, grinning smugly. “I know perfectly well you’re incredibly clumsy, bad-mannered, horribly dumb, and most definitely— “

Merlin presses hard on Arthur’s shoulders. He yelps, turning to see Merlin’s playful smile. Huffing, he looks down, not saying anything else.

It was strange how they could always do this, how even after an incredibly difficult experience, they could always pretend as if everything was normal. Merlin suspected it was largely because they had both been through so much. When they were constantly thrust into intense situations, jokes and banter were their one shield they could hide behind, their one way of pretending all was normal when it was anything but.

The painful silence reminds him of the events that happened a few weeks ago, of the suffocating smoke, the sticky blood that stained his clothes – his or someone else’s blood, he wasn’t sure anymore – the area littered with dead bodies of all the innocent people and—

“Merlin, Merlin,” he hears Arthur say, breaking him out of his thoughts. It’s only then that he realizes his nails were digging into Arthur’s skin, breaking into it and leaving small marks on his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Merlin says horrified, taking his hands off of his immediately, swallowing back the panic. “I am so sorry. I—I can’t believe I would—“

“It’s okay,” Arthur says, but Merlin doesn’t hear him, muttering “I’m sorry,” over and over until Arthur has to reach for his arm. “It’s okay, Merlin.” He looks into his eyes at that moment and Merlin swallows, calming himself as he nods slowly.

Arthur continues to look at him, filled with such intensity that Merlin finds it hard to breathe. His heart beats erratically, his mind fixating on every little detail of the moment – the way his hand lingers on his own, the way his eyes look at his with a hint of something more, something Merlin’s too afraid to name, the way his eyes flicker to his lips. He’s so focused, he doesn’t even realize when he’s starting to lean in, the way he’s starting to mimic the same movements.

Finally coming to his senses, he slowly moves back away from him. Arthur blinks his eyes, his cheeks flushing before reluctantly letting go of his hand, the awkward tension nearly smothering him.

Merlin, not knowing how to react, silently moves to sit next to him, making sure to keep enough space between the two of them. He knows what happened, God that isn’t the first time that it’s happened, but he knows more than anything that they can’t. It was foolish to get his hopes up and believe they ever could.

“Are you feeling alright?” Arthur finally asks, not looking at him.

Merlin raises his eyebrows. “Does it look like I am?”

There’s a silence before, “No, I guess not.”

Merlin sighs, biting his lip. “I’m just… mad, I guess. I don’t even know what happened and just… one second they were there… and the next…”

“…they weren’t,” Arthur finishes and Merlin nods solemnly.

“Merlin, I don’t blame you. For any of it. If anything, I blame myself.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Merlin immediately responds. “You were just trying to help.”

“Yes, and so were you,” Arthur says right back. “We just… we weren’t in time, I guess.”

There’s a brief pause when they both seem to be digesting what the other has said, the past few moments still lingering in their minds. Finally, after some processing, Arthur says:

“You confuse me greatly, Merlin.”

Merlin snorts. “Yes, I do that often, it would seem.”

“You do,” he agrees. “In fact, every time something happens, you always seem to surprise me even more.”

“How so?”

Arthur hesitates a moment before starting. “I just… I’m used to you sacrificing yourself for someone else, God knows you have the worst self-preservation skills known to man. What confuses me is… how you can look so fearless.” Arthur takes one shy look at him before turning away once more to look at his hands. “I mean… I’ve spent years and years training, forcing myself to never show fear, and you on the other hand… Whenever we’re in a dangerous situation, all I see is bravery. And I’ve never known where you got it from.”

Merlin certainly never expected this to be what he was confused about. He shrugs. “I don’t know… I suppose I have a similar feeling that you do. Have to keep people safe and all of that.”

Arthur looks even more confused than before. “But you’re not king. None of this is your concern. You don’t have to do any of this. Which is why I’m confused. Because you always act like you are… even when you aren’t.”

Merlin’s not sure how to respond, not sure how to evade the indirect question, and so he doesn’t. He just sits still, indecision freezing him in place.

When Arthur notices this, he pauses a moment quietly asking, “What are you hiding from me?”

Merlin’s head shoots up to look at him, his eyes widened, his heart beating rapidly. Arthur’s face is surprisingly vulnerable, his eyes longing to know, to understand. He wants to lie once again, play dumb, but then he remembers Morgana and Agravaine and Uther. He reminds himself of everyone who has lied to him, he thinks about Agravaine telling him “how you managed to deceive him” and telling him that “perhaps we’re more alike than you think,” and he decides that maybe, just this once, he won’t lie.

But he’s not sure he’s ready to discuss his magic after the stress he’s experienced over the past few weeks, not sure he can stand another scarring memory, another betrayed look, just weeks after a tragedy. And so instead he takes a deep breath and whispers, “Don’t ask. Don’t ask because I can’t… I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” Arthur looks imploringly at him, almost desperate, and Merlin feels guilty for not responding. But he can’t tell them, he’s not ready, and he doesn’t think that Arthur is. After everything Arthur has been through, he’s not ready for another betrayal so quickly.

Arthur, after a while, reluctantly nods, looking away. “You don’t have to tell me,” is what he starts with and Merlin sits up straight, turning to look at him with confusion. “I don’t know what your secrets are or why you can’t trust me with them – but it’s fine. I can live with that. Just promise me—whenever you feel ready… just tell me. I mean, I trust you enough to not need to worry but... one of these days, I’d just like to know you, Merlin. All of you.”

Merlin’s shocked that he had told him that, he was shocked that Arthur trusted him enough not to ask about his secrets. Merlin’s eyes water at this and he has to cough to keep his emotions inside. All of these years of lying and being terrified of this moment, to have Arthur tell him that he trusts him despite his secrets and his lies… he has the urge to hug him, even though he knows Arthur wouldn’t be happy about that. Merlin finds himself nodding solemnly. “Okay,” he says, hoping his gaze will tell him how much this means to him, just how thankful he is for him, just how much he absolutely loves him at this moment. “I promise.”

Anyway, that was that! Thanks for reading! I appreciate anyone who does!