#TW: Angst

[ethanbryant1997]

Untitled TOH AU where Luz is a full blooded witch and obtains the Titan's power early on but overusing it strains and overloads her heart

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

"Why?"

That one word sent a shock through Danny's system, like he was back in the portal being electrocuted all over again. Still, he knew what was at stake, so even though that look on Tim's face made him want to fall to his knees and explain everything, he knew he couldn't.

Instead, he raised his gun as the portals filling the sky multipled and merged together as the ghost zone tried to absorb their reality. Channeling his inner Dan, he gave Tim a mocking smirk, What? You didn't think all that was real, did you?"

"You...you're lying!"

Danny tilted his head at an angle he knew would look as smug and condescending as possible, and judging by the burst of rage he felt coming from Nightwing a few rooftops over, it worked. "Tim, you know better." He said in Bruce's voice, It was the exact thing Bruce had told them when they were starting thier relationship.

Everyone had disapproved when he had brought his new boyfriend home a few months after meeting at the skatepark. Bruce hated Danny from the get-go, more suspicious of him than he had been with any of the batkids' previous partners.

Danny opened his mouth to mock him more but was quickly cut off by a punch to the face, not by Nightwing, or by Robin, who was still racing towards him at seemingly Mach speeds. Nope. It was Hood, who looked madder than Danny had ever seen him, surprising both Tim and Danny alike.

"You did all of this just to steal our souls and trap us in some weird afterlife dimension as your slaves?!"

Danny had no idea where the slaves thing came from, but it sounds villainous, so Danny's gonna go with it, "Of course!"

[comatosebunny09]

fever dream | astarion a.

genre(s): fluff, angst

warning(s): language, self-indulgent, sick!reader, astarion’s a little ooc

now playing: the night does not belong to god - sleep token

notes: very self-indulgent because i’m sick and needed some comfort and @nanaoise08squad inspired me to finish this. thank you for reading, lovelies! ❤️❤️❤️

Somehow, the sun shines brighter today. Glaringly so.

You hold a hand to your temple to shield your eyes from its brilliance. Your armor feels heavier, too. Like boulders stacked on your shoulders and chest, making it harder to breathe. You force out a groan that’s gritty like ash. Trudge down the steps leading outside the inn to join your companions, your limbs weighted and achy.   

“I hate to point out the obvious, darling.” Astarion grimaces with his hands curled to his chest in revulsion. He ducks away from the sight of you. Winces as you take a labored step forward, your balance thrown to the hells.

“But you look like utter shit.”

You scoff, phlegm making itself known in your throat.

What a way to be greeted by the love of your life.

“You sure are a flatterer, aren’t you, Astarion?”

You’re sure to drag out the vowels of his name—or perhaps your words are a little slurred due to whatever ailment took hold of you today. Nevertheless, you jab a finger between his ribs, your face twisting into something haughty.

You wonder if it was worth the exertion as your vision and body sway along with the trees, and your head pounds something menacing whilst a wave of vertigo hurtles into you.

“Shit!”

Astarion catches you when you pitch forward, your legs unable to grasp the rhythm of walking. And there are suddenly two of him. Two little ‘starions calling your name, fretting over you, shaking you to keep you amongst the conscious.

You feel like lead. Feel yourself sinking below the surface, unable to return.  

Your lids shutter as if weighed down by sandbags. The muddled shouts of your friends trickle in, each tinged with varying degrees of concern. You register hands all over you, patting and pulling. Register a strained voice yelling stop, and the frantic touching ceases.  

Before you fully succumb to the darkness, there is the sensation of you being lifted up, followed by the earthy scent of bergamot flooding your senses, and it furls around your heart.

Then, there is nothing.

Something savory draws you from the inkiness of your sleep. It curls around your mind, luring you into consciousness.

You caution a sound, your throat rubbed raw from disuse. You slowly open your eyes, and the bleariness gradually morphs into discernible shapes and colors. Somehow, this place feels familiar.

You’re back in your rented room. Nestled in the plushness of a mattress with too many pillows and sheets soft as linen. You will yourself onto your elbows, wincing at the stiffness of your neck. The pain is manageable. Better than it was before, you note, leisurely ingesting your surroundings.

A lone candle flickers on the nightstand, swathing the room in its bronze glow. Moonlight seeps through the curtains lining the window across. The faint symphony of crickets accompanies the murmur of the inn’s other patrons and the groans of the floorboards beyond your doorway.

Bloody hell.

How long have you been out?

On cue, the doorknob rattles, and a slither of light leaks in. The swell of noise outside commands your attention. You stiffen, fingers instinctively twitching for a weapon. But your bones settle as a thatch of white creeps into your vision from the threshold.

“Well, hello there, Sleeping Beauty,” Astarion breathes. He toes the door shut, a steaming bowl of deliciousness cupped in his palms. Takes a few steps forward, rounded eyes flashing amber beneath the candlelight.

You recognize that aroma. The hearty scent which roused you from your sleep. Your stomach gnarls with life as Astarion nears the bed, donning that smug little mask.

“Hungry, are we?”

You nod enthusiastically, garnering a chuckle from the room’s other occupant. Suddenly self-conscious of how eager you are whilst he hands you the bowl, his fingers slinking away from yours as if he’s touched simmering coals.

“Courtesy of Gale,” Astarion supplies. “I can’t guarantee how good it tastes considering—well, you know. Undead and all that.”

His smile is tight-lipped. Guarded as he settles himself on a stool beside you, his spine straight and his ankles crossed. He helps you sit up against the headboard despite the unease permeating the air. Quickly retracts his hands to press them against the wood of his seat between his thighs, surveying your room.

You take some time to study him. Note that his eyebags seem more prominent than usual. Darker. Hair’s a little tussled, skin a bit paler. His shirt sits rumpled around his shoulders, the fastenings of it done all wrong. Worst of all, he has not looked at you for longer than a few beats. Like you’re made of glass and will shatter if he stares for too long.   

A pang shoots through you, searing hot like lightning.

He was worried.

Worst of all, he was worried about you.

You’re no longer hungry, your stomach twisting as you gaze down at the stew bleeding warmth into your palms. You set it on the nightstand with a decisive clunk, quietly receding into yourself. Silently relenting to the smog of self-loathing draping itself across your shoulders.   

“You scared me half to death, you know,” says Astarion, parting the tangled sea of your thoughts. As if he senses you berating yourself. It’s a soft drawl. An attempt at scolding you, but there’s weariness nestled in the undercurrents of it. “That’s saying a lot, considering I’ve already one foot in the grave.”

You peer up at him like a meager child. He watches you from his peripheral with crossed arms, his nose turned up, feigning disappointment. You see through the cracks of his façade, and your lips twitch with the threat of a smile.

He can be incredibly adorable when trying to shroud his feelings.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, your tone barely above a whisper.

Astarion releases a resigned sigh. And the weight of the world seems to pour from his shoulders as he angles himself towards you, reaching for one of your hands.

His expression softens, and he squeezes, his palm frigid yet reassuring. For the first time since he entered, he truly looks at you. Gaze swims through your features as if to commit every detail, every imperfection, to memory. As if he could lose you at any second.  

“No need to apologize, my love. I was just…concerned, is all. I suppose we all were when you went down.”

The recollection makes your face blossom with heat. Poor little darling, taken out by a nasty cold. Causing hysteria among your friends, deterring your journey.

Astarion thumbs your cheek, smiling something genuine at the pout on your lips.

Your tongue burns with the ache of a question, and you shrink, not wholly prepared for the answer.

“How long was I out for?”

“Nearly two days.”

You blanch, evoking another guttural laugh from Astarion.     

“Shadowheart did her best to heal you. There was only so much her magic could mend. So, we’ve been playing the waiting game while you caught up on your beauty sleep. Not like you need much more of it.”

You snort at Astarion’s cheekiness.

Leave it to your little star to find every opportunity to flatter you.

He examines your joined hands thoughtfully, thumb smoothing over your knuckles.

“It’s been centuries since I’ve dealt with mortal illnesses. Honestly, I couldn’t begin to fathom how to comfort you. Other than gracing you with my presence, of course.”  

It’s refreshing to see his humor is still intact despite his beloved pulling a Snow White.

For a while, you sit like this. Basking in the moment’s serenity, holding hands. Grinning and laughing like two enamored fools when your gazes interlock. You can tell that Astarion’s lightyears away, however. At war with himself, lost in the maelstrom of his thoughts, reprimanding himself for not being your proverbial knight in shining armor.

Absently, you scoot over. Relinquish your love’s hand—much to his chagrin—to pat the space beside you. You affix him with a look that’s all too serious as you say, “For starters, you could try holding me.”

Astarion stares at you with rounded eyes. Mouth opens and closes like a gaping fish, forming around words that he can’t quite conjure.   

“Oh. A-Alright,” he finally musters. Dumbfounded, Astarion stands, maneuvering to sit beside you on the bed. He doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands. Never does, unused to being so vulgar, so unabashed with his feelings.

Though, for you, you know he would rearrange the stars in the sky if he could.

So you help him, tugging him closer and falling into the circle of his arms. You nestle against his chest with a pleased hum vibrating your throat. Tangle your legs together, ignoring the surprised sound that leaves him.

He’s a lovely contrast to your still-enflamed skin. Fits like a puzzle piece against you, soft and lithe. He relaxes gradually, tucking you ever closer against him as if you’ll disappear in a plume of smoke if he lets go. He pets through your hair before anchoring his chin to the crown of your head, surrendering a satisfied sigh.

“Well, I supposed this isn’t so bad, now is it?” Astarion husks, stroking soothing circles into the notches of your spine.

You nod offhandedly, your lids lowering, and your body feeling at ease.

Suddenly, your ailment seems more bearable as you sink below the depths of slumber, an unguarded smile cresting over your lips.

The shadows of your conjoined bodies dance along the walls as the candlelight dwindles, and you both surrender to the tranquility of the night.    

masterlist

[arminsumi]

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

© arminsumi

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

[bleedingichorhearts]

“𝐈’𝐦 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐨𝐨 𝐎𝐥𝐝 𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬…” {1/2}

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: How I would think the Primarchs would react to you saying “I’m getting too old for this.” Yandere Primarchs would be a different story…

𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: The “Primarchs” reacting to you saying “I’m too old for this.” Simple as that.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets, @bispecsual, @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan, @sleepyfan-blog.

+@c-u-c-koo-4-40k.

TW // Slight Angst.

|°ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪꜱᴛ ᴀᴘᴘʟɪᴄᴀᴛɪᴏɴ°| |°ɪᴄʜᴏʀ’ꜱ ᴀᴏ3°| |°𝕄𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣𝕃𝕚𝕤𝕥°| • {Part 2}

The Emperor; “Revelation:”

He hears your words through your soul. He doesn’t need to be in front of you to hear you say you’re “too old” comment to yourself, and he feels… indifferent about it, in a way. Sure, you’re his counterpart, but he has always expected you to eventually fall to the hands of death before him. It was inevitable. He was a proclaimed god, and you? A simple human. A human that reminds him of too much true humanity itself despite his title…

Lion El’Johnson; “The First:”

Is also indifferent about it and expects it. He knows the consequences and prepares himself for it, or at least tries to. His face is voided of emotion, but his eyes stare and that means a lot than what many lead on. He won’t show it, act or even acknowledge it, and perhaps… he doesn’t want to.

Fulgrim; “The Phoenician:”

Gasps at you from like a 5-mile radius (maybe more) before coming to where you are leaning down to sweep you up in his arms. Kissing you on the cheek and forehead, and it’s very much to your confusion. Your hubby is being very affectionate with you randomly. Well, until he praises you on your age and how remarkable you look do you piece together what happened to get such lovin’.

Perturabo; “Lord of Iron:”

Pretends not to care, but he does give a very low hum of acknowledgement. Is somehow better than his first brother as he at least acknowledged your words. (From a far radius as well.) He’s a bit… hurt? At your words, but he knows it’s inevitable as well. Though, that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t change something within his workplace to make you more comfortable and less eligible to say those words again.

Jaghatai Khan; “The Warhawk:”

Would pick you up, kiss you on the neck before giving you to the other wives of his sons. Requesting them to pamper you for the day, and if they can’t? He will, and he’s surprisingly good at it. It’s nothing much compared to the thought of your aging death, but he can at least make it more comfortable, right?

Leman Russ; “The Wolf King:”

Plays excited and happy, but is… gloomy on the inside. He doesn’t like your words, you should prosper, hunting with him and his sons forever. Yet he is not oblivious to the acts of death: slow and fast. Though, maybe hunting with his sons in the… afterlife would be more enjoyable? Lasting? He doesn’t like to think too much on it, but he’ll try and spend his time with you more often. (Not like he already does.)

Rogal Dorn; “Praetorian of Terra:”

Gives you a voided stare like his first brother too. Though, he also doesn’t really acknowledge it either, with words anyway. He may act though, doing the same thing his 4th brother does. Trying to provide you with a much more comfortable environment. Stop complaining about his quarters being enough. He must ensure structure.

Konrad Cruze; “Dark King:”

Stares at you too, but is like… worse than Lord Dorns stare. You think he’ll do anything for your uttered words? Thats right, he won’t. If he let himself die to the hands of an assassin? He’ll let you suffer your age. He feels indifferent about not killing you himself however… He may or may not offer extra human bones to you.

Sanguinius; “The Angel:”

Looks at you for a second: up and down before giving a low hum, and gracefully walking to your side. Inside, he doesn’t like your words and he knows his sons around him don’t like it either. It’s one of the many things they think they can’t live without: you. He’ll cover you with his wings as everything seems to get painfully quiet, but he’ll praise you as if nothing happened.

Ferrus Manus; “The Gorgon:”

His legion would simply not care, but him? He’s affected by it. Yes, he likes your humanity, but please. Don’t say those words. He doesn’t wish to think upon them. He doesn’t wish for you to… possibly be like his sons. He’ll keep you more close to him than usual after that, keeping a good eye on you. He won’t say anything, but he’s… there.

[intotheelliwoods]

I just want everyone to know that they asked for this, and I cried twice making it

This is part 1! Part 2 can be found here~

Context, along with more comics can be found on my blog!

[matadede-good]

TW: Drowning (he's not really drowning but just in case)

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fuckin Count angst is one of my favorite genders

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

POV: You are five, and are playing hide and seek with your papa. He always beats you in the game, but you are determined to win someday! Right now, he is counting to ten, so you are sneaking around in the hidden tunnels to find a hiding place. You wait for him to come. And he finds you...except it's not your papa. This...person, he looks like your papa, but he's not. Your papa always looked at you with tender eyes, but in this stranger's gaze, you see nothing but demented glee. You don't know why, but you can feel the fright slowly creeping on your back. And then he moves.

Hide and Seek

Summary: You always loved your weird papa. But you didn't know that one day you would be truly scared of him.

Warnings: yandere, kidnapping, dubcon, angst

Word count: 1930

Author's note: It took me a long time to finally reply to this ask. But damn, I'm so glad it didn't get lost on the page. And I was able to figure out exactly how I wanted to write this drabble.

Tag List: @druidwolf21, @kit-williams

And also I want @passionofthesith, @lemon-russ, @moodymisty, @beckyninja, @solspina to see this. Sorry guys, no horny atmosphere. Only fear and angst.

You lived in softness from the moment you were born. The entire floor was covered with warm and plush blankets, pillows. Not to mention the two beds. The entire room was covered with soft cute toys, with which you fell asleep by your side. Even your mommy, a kind and quiet woman, slept with toys in her arms.

You didn't see the world outside the ship. Mommy said that it was very dangerous there. She herself was from a planet that did not want to join the Imperium (you still didn't understand what that was). But daddy came and told them how to live correctly. He fell in love with mom at first sight and immediately took her to his place. To a safe place.

You always thought it was a romantic story. Although mom told you it very quietly. Sometimes she looked sadly at the ceiling and you wondered if she remembered her home planet? Perhaps she missed her parents, but now she has a new home. You and daddy.

Daddy didn't come around that often because he was a primarch. Papa told you that meant he was the most important. He had pale skin, black eyes and slightly dirty hair. His teeth were clawed and he always smelled of something metallic. Daddy said it was blood.

He looked a bit scary, but Mummy said it was because he worked a lot. But thanks to that, you and she lived so well. Your cozy room was soft and warm. Daddy always washed himself before coming in here. He didn't want to "bring dirt into his little paradise," as he liked to say.

He often played with you and had tea party. He told you stories. And he was always touching Mummy. Hugging her, kissing her. One time you woke up in the middle of the night when you realized that strange sounds were coming from the bed. Papa stroked her hair, saying how much he loved her, how obsessed (what does that mean?) he was with her. For some reason, Mom cried.

In fact, you didn’t see the whole ship from the inside (you didn’t even know what it looked like from the outside). Your whole life was concentrated in one room. And yet, when you turned four, daddy started taking you “to a separate compartment”. Especially just for the two of you. You didn’t know why he did it until he told you to hide and you happily ran to explore the territory. You just recently told papa that you and mom often play hide and seek. But there’s so little space that you quickly finish playing.

Then he quickly found you. And the next time. And the one after that. He was so fast and secretive. As if he was born in the dark! But you so wanted to defeat him one day. To hear the cherished “I can’t find you” and proudly come out of hiding.

Now you’re five. And before the next game, you thought about where exactly you would hide this time. In one of the tunnels. When you saw the black depths, you were scared of it and burst into tears. You were still afraid to go there. But… it’s such a good chance to win. Papa will never guess where you decided to hide.

***

It's very dark and creepy in the hole. In other hide-and-seek places, you sometimes giggled in anticipation. But here, you don't want to. It's very dark. And scary. You want to escape from here as soon as possible, but you endure it. You want to beat daddy at the game. And even though you haven't seen him, you felt like more time has passed than usual. But he still hasn't found you. You almost won!

A sudden rustle from behind interrupted your happy thoughts. Your heart pounded and goosebumps ran down your spine. You swallowed, trying with all your might to stay in place. No, you have to win. You can't leave this hole no matter how scared you are. But another rustle makes you squeak in fear. You turn around sharply, hoping to see nothing behind you. To overcome your fear and understand that you can survive this for the sake of victory.

You wanted to scream, but you couldn't make a sound.

There was complete darkness. And yet the black eyes and pale face stood out brightly, as if there was a ghost in front of you. The clawed teeth spread in a smile from ear to ear. The man himself was sitting on all fours, like a dog ready to pounce. Ready to tear you to shreds.

It was papa. No. It was papa's face. But it was not him. He no longer looked at you with gentle and kind eyes. His face was not sad as usual. He was beside himself with delight. Saliva was ready to flow from the corners of his lips, and excitement splashed in his eyes. And something else. A bad word that mom said in her sleep, when she had nightmares. Madness.

“Found.” - the monster whispered softly, as if trying to calm the girl. To make contact with her. To make friends. Before sinking his teeth into her throat. You saw, you saw this desire. It wanted to eat you. To absorb you. It wanted to take you into the darkness of the tunnel and never let you go.

And then it moved.

“PAPA, SAVE ME!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, closing your eyes, feeling tears streaming down your cheeks. You were sobbing like a little child. You were a child. Defenseless and abandoned to the mercy of a monster. Which immediately grabbed you in its arms and ran away laughing into the darkness of the tunnel.

Tears and snot ran down your face in disarray, you cried at the top of your lungs. But you didn’t even think about opening your eyes. You didn’t want to see this monster wearing your dad’s skin on its face. And yet, you couldn’t ignore the suffocating embrace of the monster’s stomach. How it giggled at your fear. It enjoyed it. Enjoyed your fear.

At some point, the monster slowed down and you felt it rise on two legs. Imitating a human. You weren't screaming anymore, your throat was hoarse. But you were ready to start bawling again, just so daddy could hear you. He had to hear, he had to save you.

“Here we are, home.” - the monster cooed in your ear. You trembled, but as soon as you heard the familiar creaking sound, hope appeared in your heart. - “Come on, delicious. Come to mommy.”

You slowly open your eyes and see your paradise. Your soft, toy-filled room. Books with children's fairy tales. Star-shaped lamps. And a little scared, but mostly sad mother. She sobs and stretches out her hands to you. Gentle, caring hands that always stroked you before bed.

"Come here, darling. Don't be afraid." - and her voice is gentle too. She looks only at you. Tries to ignore the monster.

But you are scared. And as soon as the stranger puts you down on your feet, you immediately run into the woman's arms. You hide in her chest, trying to ignore the evil giggling. The monster leaves you, locking the door. But you still hear his terrible voice.

“My girls.”

Your mommy gently rocks you on her lap, continuing to stroke you and kiss your forehead. You are still anxious. You want to forget this nightmare. And you calm down, surrounded by the care of a kind woman. Perhaps that is why daddy fell in love with her. Daddy…

“Mom.” - you finally raise your head and look at the woman with red, tired eyes. - “W-who is this man? Why does he look like papa? And where is papa himself?”

Your mother was always as quiet as a mouse. Neat and gentle, she did not attract attention to herself. She was often sad, especially when papa came. But there was light coming from her. Light that warmed and calmed you. You could always rely on her. But now she was silent. And this silence was tense.

You looked into her eyes and to your horror, you saw exactly the same fear there. Sadness. Despair. She was desperate. You hugged your mother tighter, rubbing her skin with your palms. Maybe she got cold? Maybe she needed to be warmed up?

“Mommy?” - you call her softly and she finally looks at you. But it doesn’t make it any easier.

“Oh, honey.” - your mom took a deep breath and you flinched at the way she said those words. As if she had met that person before. And not for the first time.

“You see, it’s… another papa.” - your mom explains to you softly, continuing to stroke your head. - “He doesn’t come often. I’m sorry you saw him like that. He didn’t mean to scare you.”

The woman said the last words so uncertainly, which made you press yourself closer to her.

“Does he hate us?” - you still remember his crazy look. His grin. How he giggled while you cried and called for papa.

“No, honey. He loves us. But he loves too harshly. Sometimes cruelly.” - you hear a quiet sob and understand that your mom is trying to hold back her tears. - “He’s just very lonely. And in pain. So he wants someone to share his pain with him. To calm him down.”

“And he can’t leave? "He can't leave us with our papa?" - you ask naively, expecting your mother to say the cherished "yes". That these are just temporary problems and daddy will cope. He is the primarch, he is the best.

But your hopes are shattered.

"No, dear." - your mother's voice sounds so quiet and hopeless that you want to hug her. To calm her down as she did you. - "This is your papa too. You will get used to him."

A sudden creak of the door scares you to the point of trembling. Your heart starts pounding like crazy and yet you turn around at the sound. You can't help but do it. You can't help but look because it seems to you that if you don't do it, he will get angry.

Absolutely black eyes are full of such universal sadness that a little more and you will suffocate. Papa did not smile and yet you knew that it was him. The ghost that haunted you. Who wanted to swallow you up and never give you to anyone. You wonder, maybe this is the real papa, and you saw daddy so often because you were little? Because he spared you? You didn't see him as often as mom.

And then it spoke.

"Are my sweet ones scared?" - you want to scream, you want to run away, but mom hugs you tightly, kissing your temple. You need to survive this meeting. And he will leave, leave. - "Well, it's okay, daddy is with you. He will protect you."

Night Haunter enters the plush room and carefully sits down with his two girls. He hugs you tenderly, but you want to cry. Daddy always smelled of blood, but he smells of death.

"Papa" - you squeak like a mouse, trying to reach daddy. Strange and sometimes frightening, but careful with you. Who smiled as if you and Mom were his whole life. Who had goodness in him, at least for the two of you. But Daddy is silent. Instead, a monster answers, a terrible creature who loves you just as much, which makes it even scarier.

“I'm here, delicious.”

[mothiepixie]

Motti, do you ever miss your original home? When you were human.

"Maybe I don't want to remember..."

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[merakiui]

애인 in anthill.

floyd leech x (female) reader cw: violence, blood, death, murder, unrequited love, angst note - if yellow is the color of insanity, then blue is the color of tragedy.

Laid out on the ice, blood swirling through the cracks, Floyd looks up at you and grins something wild. His eyes are blown wide with adrenaline. A vermillion snail trickles from his nostril, landing plip-plop in tiny drops. Standing just a few feet in front of him, clutching a thick-paged dictionary, you eye him with frigid disdain.

Like the strange boy he’s always been, Floyd says, “You’re fun.”

“You’re not going to hit back?”

“Nah. I don’t hit girls.”

“What if I wasn’t a girl? What if I was something else?” you press, fingers curled tightly around the book’s spine. “There’s a word for creatures like you. Masochist—someone who takes pleasure in receiving pain.”

“That right?” He tilts his head at you and lifts himself up on his arms. Gingerly, he wipes at his nose and sniffles back the clotted blood. “You throw a mean punch.”

“And you’ll never throw at all.”

“So what? I ain’t gonna hit a girl just cuz she’s itchin’ for a fight. I was always told it’s not right to hit girls.”

“Even if they hit you?”

“Especially if they hit you. Someone used to say that if a girl hits me it’s prolly cuz I deserved it.”

“You did,” you agree, sifting through your words carefully. “You’re a miscreant.”

He blinks at you, unfazed. 

“A malefactor.”

“Hmm? That come from your book of big words?”

“It did, in fact. I have another one for you: delinquent.”

He throws his head back and laughs. Blood spurts from his nose in a liquid arc. “You got a word for the end of the world?”

“What? An apocalypse? Worldly annihilation? Catastrophe? Disaster? Cataclysm?” Before he can reply, you scoff. “That will never happen.”

“We’ll be dead by then, won’t we?”

“What does it matter? You never answered my previous question.”

He rises to his feet. You’re taller than him. He’s insisted before that once he hits his growth spurt it’ll be over for you. Even with the height difference, you doubt that would stop Floyd. He’s always pestering you, be it for answers to daily assignments or for snacks. Weirdly, despite the fact that he is a quotidian nuisance whose devil-may-care attitude goes against everything that encapsulates your character, you humor him every time.

“What?”

“If I wasn’t a girl, would you hit me?”

“You’re talkin’ like you wanna get hit.”

“You shouldn’t let the fact that I’m a girl stop you. If someone hits you, isn’t it fair that you hit them in return? An eye for an eye—that is one of the foundations of Hammurabi’s Code. It was a very human concept, you see. So then, disregarding the concept of gender, would you hit me if I was anything besides a girl?”

“Anything but a girl… Like what?”

“Like an insect.”

“You wanna be a bug? Ain’t that too easy? All I gotta do is crush ya and—”

“Then it would be revenge repaid.”

“Sure.” He smiles lazily. “If that’s what you wanna go with.”

“You’ll never get anywhere with that mindset. What if—”

Cracks spiderweb through the ice, splitting it apart in chunks. As it thaws and melts, revealing the floor beneath, Floyd trots towards the door. You follow after him, gracefully stepping out of the ice rink with your dictionary held close.

“Even if you were a bug, I’d put ya in a little locket and let ya stay safe forever. That way, even if someone wants to punch ya, they’d have to get through metal first.”

You stare at him and his broad smile. “That makes no sense… I would suffocate.”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yes! Do you realize how—hey! Get back here! I’m not done speaking!” You storm after him, fuming from your ears. 

Both of you forget that there are no insects here, just as there is no surface world to be salvaged.

There are monsters in the deep sea.

The types that latch on with lithe limbs, curling and coiling. The types that kiss you farewell before bodily destruction. The types that offer sugary daydreams before the nightmarish end. Some of them are bright and brilliant, sparkling like stars in the black void. Some of them are not, choosing to camouflage and dwell in silent stealth instead.

But all of them must feed. That is an irrefutable fact. Very raw and grotesque.

Standing at the grand window, you watch your classmate sink into the clutches of a beast. She drowns with a whimsical smile, her eyes rolled back in ecstasy and her body peppered in sucker pinches.

Floyd whistles behind you. “You trying to get transferred?”

You eye his reflection with a frown. “I’m trying to test a hypothesis.”

“Lemme hear it.” He leans against the window and folds his arms over his chest. He’s taller now, so much so that he’s more limbs than torso, and all of his teeth have grown in. They’re sharp like knives. Sometimes you wonder why he refuses to use them.

“If you are predatory in nature, you will fight. If you are not, you will submit to the role of prey. In other words, if you are raised on feeble ideals, you will always find yourself cradled in the arms of Death before you can start your life.”

Floyd casts a cursory glance at the waterlogged corpse. “That why you killed her?”

You gaze at the defensive scratches on your arms with clinical indifference. “The experiment failed. I’ll try a different approach next time.”

He hums. “Sounds tough.”

“Science is not easy.”

“If you’re gonna get moved to Worker Level—”

“Azul tells me they’re overpopulated. The Throne is open.”

Floyd worries his lip between his teeth. “They’re doin’ a purge down there—another Queen of the Colony. You aimin’ for that?”

“I’m not just aiming. I will secure that position for myself.”

“And then what? You become Queen and leave the rest of us up here? Don’t you wanna stick around?”

“Why should I? I’m at the top of our class. I only stay because it’s easy and I don’t have to work.”

“We’ll miss ya. Jade and me. Azul, too. He won’t have anyone to compete with.”

“Like there’s much competition to be had.”

“He thinks you’re evenly matched.”

“Of course he would. We have nine brains.”

Silence wedges itself between the both of you, creating a cavernous gap. Floyd rests his head against the glass and sighs. You watch your classmate as she’s dragged further into the dark until, eventually, she disappears from your sight.

“At least stick around for another month or so. Courtship’s comin’ up.”

You raise a brow, suddenly suspicious. “Since when were you interested in Courtship?”

“I’m not.” He smiles blithely, but you see the pink in his reflection when he turns away. “Just thought it’d be cool to go. Eat good food. Let loose and dance.”

“I don’t understand the point of Courtship.”

“Neither do I.” Floyd’s hand twitches towards yours. He pulls away, his arm hanging limp at his side. “We could find out together.”

“Just us?”

“Just you and me.”

“Why?”

“Why not?” He swallows thickly. “I… I think it’d be fun,” he adds in a whisper.

“If I agree to go, will you hit me?”

His brows pinch together on his forehead. “You’re still set on that? It’s been years.”

“Will you do it?”

“Course I won’t. I’m not gonna hit ya for no reason.”

“Then I’ll give you a reason.” You roll your sleeve up, revealing the identification code on your wrist. Floyd has one just like yours, only his string of symbols is different and it’s branded on his neck. “Will you do it then?”

He looks like he’s considering it, mulling the possibility over in his mind, but then he laughs in your face. “You sure you’re not the masochist here?”

A harsh slap resonates through the empty hall. Backdropped by bioluminescence in the deep sea, Floyd smiles through the sting.

“Wait for me,” he tells you, rubbing at raw skin. “I’ll get down there to see you.”

“That’s foolish. You have potential up here.”

“Doesn’t mean anything if you’re not gonna be here to hit me.”

“So now you play the masochist card?”

“Only for you.”

“I should’ve tossed you out the hatch. Let them eat something promising for once.”

You strut away in a huff.

Floyd pushes off from the window. “You know I’d survive!”

“A most confounding variable, considering your proclivity to waltz right into the arms of danger.”

“It’s funner that way.”

“‘Funner’ is not a real word.”

“It’s gotta be if I’m using it.”

It doesn’t matter, though. You are a threat just like everyone else here. Perhaps what’s most dangerous is the thing festering in his heart. Unlike the octopus, Floyd only has one heart. That’s not enough to house the parasite slowly chewing through his chest.

Still, he follows danger because she’s never looked more enticing.

The collar is hooked around his throat and Floyd is sentenced to Worker Level.

He has three days before he’s cast into the bowels of the Colony. You have one. If you were afforded another day, you’d have made it to Courtship.

Instead, you sit in your dorm and eat fruit.

“Courtship’s gonna be lame anyways,” he declares around an apple slice.

“One night is not enough to foster real love. It’s all physical attraction. Biological imperative.”

Floyd turns his hands over, admiring spotless skin. There was blood on them last week, coating his fingers and drying under his nails, from when he stuffed them into the chest of a classmate and tore his heart free. He had three. Floyd is certain he could have spared just one. But a heart is useless if it is not pumping inside a person, and so he was left with nothing but a lump of organ.

“One night is enough for us.” You turn to look at him, silently bewildered, to which he elaborates: “For you… You’ll die either way, right? You and Azul. That’s why there’s no happy ending for you.”

“It’s why we avoid Courtship. Our internal systems are wired for death after copulation. We become so tunnel-visioned. So…enthralled in the survival of our young that we neglect ourselves. There is no love for us after that.”

“There is—could be.” Floyd bites down hard. The apple slice snaps in half. You lean in to snatch the half from his lips before it can fall. He blinks at you, mystified. “You don’t gotta die…”

“I won’t. I’m going to become Queen.”

“Yeah. Right. Course you will…” Mismatched eyes cloud over.

You chew with confidence. “And as Queen I can choose what to do with my life. I won’t have to worry about the rules up here or down there.”

Floyd nibbles at a strawberry next. He decides he doesn’t want to dive deeper into this subject. “Fruit makes a good last meal, yeah?”

“Mhm.”

He opens his mouth and then shuts it, conflicted. 

“When I’m Queen, I’m going to demand fruit every day. Luxuries like these are uncommon here in Aquarium.”

You suck the juice from another apple slice. Floyd watches it bob between your lips like a buoy on choppy waters. And then, feeling like his world might end in the next second, he covers the distance.

“Sagwa,” he murmurs, closing his mouth around the untouched end of the apple.

You meet his eyes, startled, and allow him to take the slice. When he pulls back, you search his face for answers.

“Read it in a book. A human word with a double meaning.”

“And that would be?”

“You don’t know?”

“If you’re going to be obtuse, I have no interest in learning.”

He giggles and reaches to wipe the juice from your cheek. “It means apple.”

“And the other meaning?”

“That’s a secret.”

“You do realize I’ll eventually figure it out, right?”

“I know.” He leans in again, his arm right by your side. You’re pressed against the wall, cornered like a captured criminal. “Hopefully you’ll let the suspense linger for a bit. Would be a shame if ya got it right before I could tell ya.”

“I can wait.”

“Really? How long?”

“How long are you going to withhold it from me?”

“Dunno. Wanna find out?”

You pluck the final apple slice from the plate. Pressing it to Floyd’s lips, you offer him a lopsided smirk. “Not particularly.”

He bites down. It’s bittersweet.

Floyd opens the assignment envelope, half-expecting another scrap with a small fry. There isn’t any challenge here; he hates it. He’d rather gnaw his arm off than continue participating in what he finds is the easiest culling of his life. Plenty of Workers have been vying for his cell since his transfer, and Floyd’s been keen to defend his place. It’s devilishly good exercise, invigorating and refreshing all at once.

Still, he loathes the lack of stimulation. A challenge isn’t really a challenge until it’s got him turning life and death over in his head. Until he’s faced with a dilemma so devastating it destroys him, body and mind.

Sometimes he misses Aquarium. He misses his brother and Azul. He misses waking up hours before class and pulling Jade from his sleeping nook, in which the latter was purely dead weight. He misses the fights he’d get into—mostly the ones with classmates. He misses scrapping with Azul, bickering back and forth like fry.

He misses you. All the time, in fact. He never doubts your capabilities, of course. If you wanted to kill him, you could. There’s comfort in that—in knowing the things you could do. You could kill him, but you don’t. He likes to think it’s because you care.

Love is a complex thing in the Colony at the bottom of the sea. Like the monsters that lurk in the open ocean, it comes in many sizes and forms. Love is brutal and bloody, cutting down an opponent with enough mercy to grant a quick death. Love is agony and sorrow, bringing forth tarry tears and persistent aches. Love is gentle and soft, a mother’s cradle at birth and stifled laughter late into the night. Love is everything and nothing—insanity and tragedy.

Floyd thinks love is none of those things. For him, it’s sharing fruit in the silence of the dormitory. It’s insisting he’ll never hit you because of a reason he doesn’t want to confess—a reason hiding behind his unusual philosophy. It’s allowing himself to be slapped because, most often, he’s earned it, and what else is to come from his ceaseless provoking if not friendly violence?

But if love is achieved through forgiveness, then he can’t possibly forgive this.

He recognizes the photo. The name. That unsmiling face forever set in grim neutrality. 

It’s you.

Suddenly, he understands.

The outcome of this fight will determine the next Queen.

Somehow, you and Floyd have made quick work of the overpopulation problem in Worker Level. In the year you’ve been here, living in separate spaces, never to cross paths, your fates are intertwined once more.

Only this time he isn’t meeting you at the ice rink, nor will he be there to linger in the doorway of an empty classroom.

Floyd’s heart drops down to his stomach. He traces a claw over your portrait.

“Well,” he mutters, his voice a guttural echo in this little cell, “better a final reunion than no reunion at all.”

He combs a webbed hand through his unruly bedhead. 

If you are predatory in nature, you will fight. If you are not, you will submit to the role of prey. That’s what you hypothesized long ago. Come tomorrow, he’ll prove that it’s nothing but conjecture.

Floyd rests his head against the wall. He watches the bioluminescent jellyfish float aimlessly in crystal lamps. It casts a sickly yellow-green glow over the interior of his cell. 

He thinks he’ll prove something. What that is, he’s not sure. Maybe all he’ll have to show for it are the remnants of what he truly is: a cowardly creature who couldn’t quell the parasite nestled in his heart.

Your spots are showing. Blue rings bleed through layers of flesh, carved on like you’re a fresh canvas. They flash warnings in hypnotic patterns, broadcasting destructive tragedy.

Floyd, a fool mesmerized, could watch you forever.

The bars of his cage are lifted alongside yours. He smiles and waits for you to close the gap. You do, albeit just enough to save space. Tension blankets the air. Neither of you takes the initiative to attack first.

“I couldn’t compete with you up there, but down here we’re about the same.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” You inspect your claws and hum. “You made short work of your assignments.”

“Wasn’t really ‘work’ if ya ask me…” Even though he’s vocally casual, his body language is pulled taut with stress. He is more evasive than he is offensive. It’s in his nature to lie in wait, to strike only when the time is right. Patience isn’t his language, but he’s spoken it for the entirety of his life, toeing the line of too much and too little. No matter what, it’s never enough. “You still set on being Queen?”

“Most ardently.”

He laughs. Even without the dictionary, you’re still the same fry from his youth: erudite to a stuffy level. Sometimes he thinks you’re less fish and more textbook when you speak so humanly.

“You can have it. I don’t wanna be Queen.”

A shadow passes over your face. “I won’t settle for victory by default. That’s not fair.”

“Well, I’m givin’ it to ya. Fair and square.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes, I can.” He sticks his tongue out at you, defiant. “But if you’re not gonna take it, I might as well hold onto it. Bein’ Queen ain’t half bad if it’s something you want.”

“You—”

“Well?” Floyd spreads his arms, palms up, and beckons you closer. “If you want it, take it. That’s what they taught us in Aquarium. You gonna let me keep another thing from you?”

Gritting your teeth, you yank a boning knife from the sheath at your hip. You’re a weapon yourself, yet you choose to cut him down with a blade. In Floyd’s mind, the implication has never been more romantic.

If you are predatory in nature, you will fight.

So then what should one do if they’re cowardly?

Floyd braces his feet against the floor. It’s rugged stone, a pit hollowed in the panopticon that is this undersea prison. In the tower just above, with a view on all sides, the desolate throne of the next Queen waits.

Everyone is watching, even those up in Aquarium. He’s certain Jade and Azul are fixated on whatever screen is broadcasting it, glued to the edge of their seats as they await the inevitable. Perhaps they’ve already guessed the victor of this match. How astute of them. It’s never been Floyd’s goal to please others for the sake of it. He swims at his own pace, unbound by social conventions and expectations. 

Floyd is the definition of abnormal. Not because he’s inherently peculiar but, rather, because he is unabashed in being himself.

“I hope you know my sympathy ends here,” you warn, but he’s only half-listening. Your rings are distracting.

“I know.”

He always has. For a creature with three hearts, you could never hope to use any of them to love him.

“No hard feelings,” he adds with a whistle.

Now let’s make you Queen.

Your grip on the knife tightens. You don’t hesitate, a facet Floyd is most fond of. Even when you were small, you were quick to react—quick to retaliate, lashing out with all of your limbs. He carries the memory of your hands with overwhelming pride—the way they felt on his shoulder and face, a fast brush of flesh. He’s burned your expressions into his retinas—every single one, even those that were brimming with silent resentment.

Perhaps that’s what’s so perplexing about love. It’s impossible to see at first, a phantom so silent and sneaky, but when you finally confront it at the last moment it gains vivid clarity and bursts like a supernova.

He can’t say whether every interaction was the product of love. Maybe you simply tolerated him because of who he is. Maybe there never was any love at all. Maybe it was just in your nature to remain at arm’s length, a creature condemned to solitude by biology.

Would you hit me if I was anything besides a girl?

Of course not. Because doing so would only hurt him and bring about his emotional ruin.

Even now, when life and death is put on display for all, he remains unyielding in this.

When you lunge towards him, he’s ready. In your fierce eyes, just past horizontal pupils, determination blazes. You’re going to kill him. He’s made peace with that.

Floyd leaps back just as you swipe at him. The blade cuts through empty space. He’s not fighting seriously when he twirls away from your next attack, his tongue between his teeth. Your footsteps echo in the arena, tapping out a one-sided song of pursuit.

“Quit playing!” you snarl, driving your blade down. It narrowly misses his shoulder.

Floyd zips around you with eerie agility, precise and slippery just like a moray. “Aww. Why? You mad I’m not putting in any real effort?”

“Yes! Stop avoiding it and fight! You’re not prey, so why are you so intent on running?”

“Can’t I have a little fun first?”

“Absolutely not! Be serious!”

He waits for the opening. Three seconds slip by. Just a little longer and then… 

There it is!

He catches your wrist just as you swing with a curled fist. He would’ve been content to let it connect with his jaw, but that could cost him. One error and you’ll tear him apart, meticulous like a scientist, hungry like a monster.

Floyd would know of no greater bliss.

Unbothered by the threat, he tugs you towards him. You stumble, caught wholly off guard, and fall into him. In one fluid motion, Floyd sweeps you into a waltz. The knife falls to the floor in a noisy clatter. Your attempt to swoop down and procure it is useless, for he just pulls you along. 

You look at him next, confusion smoldering in your questioning gaze.

He smiles. “Wasn’t gonna have the chance at Courtship. Might as well do it now, right?”

“You…wanted to dance with me? That’s all?” 

“I wanted to watch some other small fry scoop you up,” he jokes, but the humor doesn’t reach his eyes. “Course I wanted to dance with you.”

“Why?”

“So even someone smart like you doesn’t have all the answers.”

You scowl. “Stop avoiding the matter at hand.”

“Who said anything about that? Ain’t I givin’ the Colony what it wants? A show.”

You try to protest, but it sticks in your throat when he forces you into a twirl. You pull back just enough to break free from his hold, and then you’re lunging for the knife. It’s within your reach—your fingers brush the handle—and then Floyd’s hand closes around your wrist, and you’re yanked back into the dance. He glides to a silent melody, his feet clicking out a rhythm you’re unfamiliar with. In an effort to gain an iota of control, you pull him in the direction of the fallen blade. Though your movements are stilted and awkward, you keep up with his tempo to the best of your ability. Floyd allows you to edge closer and closer to the knife and, just when you think you might finally secure it, he kicks it away with the tip of his shoe.

“You have every opportunity to hit me and win.”

“I do.”

“So why aren’t you doing it?” you seethe, gripping his hands tightly. “Why won’t you fight me?”

“Cuz I’m not predator or prey. I don’t fit in your little hypothesis.”

“But you do. The moray eel is—”

Floyd spins you once and then, while you’re still reeling from the sudden change, drops you into a smooth dip. You cling to his shoulders, your chest heaving—whether from frustration or shock, he’s not sure.

“I don’t wanna hit you.”

“The law of life and death dictates that—”

“Yeah, yeah. That you gotta survive no matter what. No matter the cost.”

“So why… Why are you so… Why won’t you…” You shake your head. The words are jumbled on your tongue. “You’re an enigma. I truly can’t understand you.”

“What’s there to understand?” He lifts you up, keeping you at a proper distance. “If ya pull me out from under your microscope, you might see the things you’re missin’.”

“I’m not missing anything,” you argue with an indignant scoff.

“Sure you aren’t.”

Your retribution mirrors your own disposition: brutal and punctual. You hook your arms around his neck and pull. He lets his body crumble and you, swift like a hatchet, stick your leg out to catch his ankle. He falls but not before he brings you down with him.

It’s quiet like the grave, save for your haggard breaths. Floyd props himself up on his palms and peers at you. 

You’re looking right back, tracing the markings under his eyes like they’re something to fear. “You—” you suck in a shaky breath; sweat dribbles down your cheek— “are the most infuriating creature I have ever had the displeasure of knowing.”

He chuckles. “You like me.”

“What a lofty, baseless allegation.”

“Don’t need proof when it’s the truth.”

You sneer at him and crawl towards the knife. Floyd grabs your ankle and drags you back. It earns him a kick in the ribs, but it’s worth it. You wrestle him on the floor, grabbing at his ear fins and tugging. Still, for all of the pain you put him through, he doesn’t budge.

Finally, you break.

“You’re the worst! I don’t understand… Everything… I’ve done everything and you still won’t fight back. What must I do?”

Floyd chokes on his laughter.

You’re crying.

For the first time since he’s known you, real, raw tears run from your eyes in thick, black globs. Your rings flash, albeit much dimmer than before.

“An utter nuisance… I’ve never understood you.”

He opens his mouth, revealing rows of razored teeth, and he almost says it: I love you.

Instead, he lifts his finger to your eye. You blink at him, paralyzed. You look scared and small, uncertain.

His shoulders slump, but he manages a strained smile. “No shame in bein’ a masochist.”

He waits for the bite of a deadly backhand. You pat his cheek weakly and sniffle.

“I was so rude to you… Nothing but a mean-hearted bully.”

“That’s fine.”

“I gave you some ghastly bruises.”

“You did.”

“And you just…took it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“If it was me—”

“You’d get ’em back, yeah? I don’t work like that. Not with you.”

“So you truly are a shameless masochist.”

Floyd flashes his teeth at you in a gleeful grin. “Only for you.”

“Hah… Right. Of course.” Your lips quirk with wry amusement. “I was never going to succeed, was I?”

“Failed right from the start.” When you don’t reply, he tries again. “You…would’ve hated Courtship.”

“It was lame, wasn’t it?”

“The lamest.”

“Yeah, I had a feeling it would be.”

Silence stretches between you. Gingerly, you reach for his face. Your thumbs trace a path from his jaw to his nose.

It’s over. He’s had his fun.

“Thanks for stickin’ with me all this time. If I’d known we’d be here, I woulda done somethin’ for ya. Gotten a gift or…found ya some fruit. Made ya something artsy—I dunno. Anything to say congrats.”

“You’re strange.”

“I get that a lot.”

“It’s not a bad thing.”

“Yeah?” At your nod, he chuckles. “Good. That means you’ll have a harder time forgetting me.”

“As if I would ever forget you. But if I did, would you come back to hit me?”

“You’re askin’ like you’re not already aware of the answer.”

“Futile as it may be, it was worth a try.”

Floyd takes hold of the knife. It glints in the light, a harsh reminder of what’s to come. Dutifully, he presses it into your hands and remains propped above you. His hands are at either side of your face; you’re pinned beneath his shadow.

“You said one night isn’t enough for real love. Do you think that’ll ever change? Maybe one day you’ll finally—”

Harbor the same parasite as me.

Disregarding the knife, you grip fistfuls of Floyd’s shirt and wrench him towards you. He spies liquid cobalt leaking from your lips just as they connect with his mouth. It’s a messy first kiss, a tangle of numb tongues. You pursue him hungrily, sweet and sour like fruit that’s on the precipice of ripe and not-yet-ripe. In the haze of it all, Floyd forgets to savor it.

He loses the feeling in his throat by the time he remembers to do that.

Your lips separate. A thin, translucent string of saliva comes apart with you.

“That word you kept from me—its meaning—I finally figured it out.”

“Yeah?” he asks, growing hazier by the minute. “What’s it mean?”

Like a beached whale suffocating on land, his systems are shutting down. Amidst the fog, he watches your rings undulate like waves lapping at an eroded shoreline. The sea will always take in the same fashion it gives: suddenly and magically, a rush of salt to sanitize sin. He’s happy, but perhaps that’s just the tsunami of endorphins flooding his brain.

“Sagwa, a human word for apple, also means apology.”

Floyd smiles in his daze. That’s his Queen, always so clever.

“You probably learned it that same night.”

“I won’t confirm or deny that.”

“How long am I gonna have to wait to know?”

“How long are you willing to wait?”

He blinks down at the blade in his stomach. You twist until you find bone.

If it hurts, he doesn’t feel it.

The edges of his world are darkening at a rapid pace. He can only see you and your beautiful, ugly expression. It’s all he’s ever wanted: to behold you at your most primal.

“Forever if I have to.”

“Really? You’d do that for me?” You look surprised. Is it really that startling?

Floyd smiles, and this time the corners of his mouth meet his eyes. It’s a peace he’s never known before. Bittersweet like apples and apologies.

“Only for you.”

And then, like he did at the start of his first pulsation, when his feet touched ground for the first time, he falls.

You’re there to catch him. It’s the first and last time you’ve ever done so.

[satoshy12]

Dc x DP

in the Danny, as Damian, had twin idea.

Most make that he was sent away to protect him from the League or Ra.

Did you not all think the protection was from Damian? and not Ra or similar. Like, I could see Damian before Robin tried to kill Danny to be true Heir or similar.

[ilariyalavorowrites]

Time enough for love (Bridgerton) Part One

imagine: A mission to ensure Kate and Anthony find each other during the social season of 1814. Time travelling into the past to ensure that crucial moments occur. However, you find yourself falling in love with the pair. It breaks your heart when it comes to leaving and returning to the future.

Warnings: Angst with an eventual happy ending, AU, Bisexual Kate, Scandal, such a scandal

Pairings: Kate Sharma x Reader x Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 2,831 words

Universe: Bridgerton

Reader gender: Female

Author: Ilariya_Lavoro writes

Tagged: @agathaharknessfan96 @homie0sapien @a-lil-bit-nuts

Part one of ?

Next

1814 

Night of the Featherington Ball

It was over; the mission had been a roaring success, then why did you feel so damn hollow? You had completed every objective down to the letter and tackled each obstacle as it arose. Yet, you couldn’t shake this heaviness pressing down, refusing to budge. It was as if a lead tonne weight lingering here, chained tightly around your ribcage. A continual reminder of what had been. What could never be.

You shouldn’t be feeling like this; this should have been nothing short of a cut-and-dry race to the finish, straight from A to B, right? 

This was where you meant to jump off, go home, and simply pack away any forbidden thoughts of them. You would report in one last time with your head held high and simply walk away. Never once looking back over your shoulder, in hopes that…

No, you could not think like that. It would not do. You needed to move forward, wading through the muddle of emotions that flooded your senses. You could not let them consume you, regardless of how easy that might seem at this moment in time. How effortless it might be to simply let the rush of a wondrous collection of memories wash over you, allowing the warmth and joy back in. Living in all that had been but no, that could not be.

It was never meant to be your life, they were never yours to begin with. The unexpected result of your actions was just that, a blip in time. A second that would rapidly disappear as soon as the clock hand inched forward. Time moved on without hesitation, and so must you. You had done your job, it was time to leave and return to your own time, to that one cold and barely furnished bedroom flat that you called home.

This might have been the first occasion that you had been called up to lead an operation on the ground. For you had to be part of more missions and operations than you could count but they were nothing like this. 

For this was what you had trained for, the last ten years could and would not be wasted due to the simple fact that you couldn’t put those troublesome feelings to bed. You cursed silently as you began to pace back and forth. 

For you had been able to separate yourself before, view them as objectives to be completed.  It had been a job just like all the others. Nothing was different. Ensuring that fate's designs were painted into being, letting the breath of existence breeze through as the bright colours danced for all to see. It has been illuminating to witness the weaving of the threads upon the loom as it tightened and pulled this way and that until the artistry was revealed for all to see. 

You knew what was likely to occur when you returned to the base. Your superiors would see what was plainly displayed on your face. Labelling you as emotionally compromised and needing to be fixed before redeployment could be an option. A visit to the Doctor. He who haunts and darkens the basement corridors where few would dare to tread.  

His particular set of skills did indeed have their uses but the price was one, so steep that most would reluctantly follow through. Usually only with a gun pressed firmly in one back if not done voluntarily. That high price was relatively simple, you would lose what you desperately clung to. Any memory of this operation would be scrubbed away. Leaving a void where they had once been. A memory wipe, for it would be as if you had been restored to your factory settings.

It would be as if you hadn’t been selected in the first place. The last ten years would melt away, and false memories would be slotted in to create a new narrative—one without this infraction of the highest order. As your internal clock was wound back, all that had been would fade out of existence.

The situation was fraught, you were torn between your professional drive and your own desires. You stood at a crossroads, terrified to turn left or right. Either path would bear a heavy cost. Neither would leave you without a lick of damage in one form or another. You had no choice really. You sighed, resigned to the fact that your fate would be sealed with a click of a singular button. If you dared to press it. 

Your finger hovered over the SEND icon. This was your point of no return, for there would be no going back once you had pressed it. The signal would be sent and the extraction would begin. The very notion of finding a place within their world was next to impossible. The relationship that you longed for was nothing short of scandalous. It would be ruinous for all involved but such desires were pure fantasy.

All you could do now was to burn the bridges that led straight back to Kate and Anthony. In that split second, as you ruminated on your choices and the consequences, weighing up all the little details and avenues. 

There was a path, straightforward and painless at your feet. The true pain would be along in the days that followed as you waited for the Doctor to come calling. As the weight came crashing down upon your shoulders, pushing you further into the depths of despair until you simply could not say no.

For how can a wound of the heart bleed, if it wasn’t there, to begin with?

"All in the name of King and Country…" -----------------------------------------------------------------------------St James’s House, On the outskirts of London 2037

This was it.

You could barely contain the excitement that buzzed through your veins as you marched down the corridor towards the hanger. Your commanding officer would be waiting for you, ready to commence the next stage of the operation. This day had been just over the horizon for more than a few years, as instructions and neverending etiquette lessons were drilled into you.

Your role was vital to the mission but you would not be alone in the field. The others had long since gone ahead to establish their cover within the Ton. Now it was your turn. Your hair was tightly fashioned into what was deemed fit to meet regulation standards. No hair would fall out of place whilst you remain within these halls.

The tiled floors beneath your boot-covered feet gleamed brightly, as the rays of the midday sun shone through a nearby window. The building housing the unit had long since been converted from its original purpose. Most onlookers would have no idea what occurred behind these ornately carved stone walls.

This spacious building had once been a stately home up until the moment that the family who owned it fell into a state of financial ruin. The Department wasted no time in purchasing the land and all the buildings that were a part of the estate. Lining the edge of the expansive ground with razor wire-topped fencing to keep the curious out. Guards and officers posted at the perimeter to enforce the message that this was a military base of operation with a tight security detail.

The illustrious parties that these grand halls once hosted were often the subject of chatter amongst the ranks. One of the ballrooms had been converted into the mess, where more than a few found themselves whisked off into romantic daydreams. Imagining the musicians striking up a melody as men and women paired to dance the night away.

“Captain!” A voice called, pulling you out of your contemplation. There standing a few metres ahead was the source of the voice. Seeing the young private in his regulation uniform brought a soft smile to your lips. This young recruit nervously returned the gesture as you quickened your pace.

“Good afternoon Private” You greeted them, your tone even but tinges of warmth leaking through, trying to calm their nerves. You didn’t bite, well unless you were asked to.

“I was sent to escort you down by General Harkerl” You nodded, confirming and relaying your confirmation of the information. 

“Then lead on Private '' You swiftly responded, as the young recruit turned on their heel and walked away. You followed after them through the hallway, climbing down the metal staircase at the other end which descended into the hanger. You walked in silence as the wide open space was revealed to you. Heavy-duty wires and cable ran the length of the Hangar with various and differing pieces of scientific equipment lining the walls.

The General in all her glory, stiffly stood in the middle of the structure. The stripes that she fought hard for, were proudly displayed for all to see and aspire to. If she could achieve that rank, anyone could. She had always been one of the role models that you held in esteem as you fought to show that you deserved to be here, to be counted amongst the heroes and veterans who have paved the way for you and all who followed.

As you stepped off the stairs and onto the marble floor below, the Private halted before bowing to the General and then making a hasty exit. They had done their job to the letter, a quick escort and delivery mission for one as green and new as them. You could painstakingly remember being given such tasks way back when you had started out.

You had started from the bottom, grunts at the beck and call of your superiors, even small jobs held valuable experience. This recruit would learn this in time. Your gaze turned to fall upon the stern and weathered face of the superior officer and commanding force who had recruited each individual member of the team. 

“Ready to begin, are we Captain?” General Harker, with a cool but professional tone, addressed you. “You understand the parameters of this operation and the consequences should you fail”

A shiver of fear shot through you, as you considered the chance that you might fail. No, you could not dare to believe that failure was even an option. “Yes, Ma’am” You answered, knowing that her gaze was upon you, reading even the slightest expression that might arise. Yet, you remain hidden beneath your well-practised mask, a calm, steady but neutral expression that held even if underneath it all truly you were an utter bundle of nerves.

She curtly nodded, a small smile broke through but it was gone as quickly as it had appeared before turning her attention to the small control booth off to one side signalling them to begin.

“Good Luck Captain, Safe Travels” 

The Department had long since perfected the Art of Time Travel for Operations such as the one, that you were about to embark on. The organisation had been built from the ground up by a few remarkable individuals who had believed that it was possible to travel through time, and who had fought tooth and nail after each failed experiment. Until that one miraculous day when all the pieces fell into place.

You were aware of the existence of the founders but never had been deemed worthy enough to stand in their presence. They were a mixture of creatives, scientists and military men who were the best and brightest in their chosen fields and had long since retired and handed over the keys to the kingdom. However, their influence was still felt to this day.

A crackle of a microphone being switched on alerted you that it was about to begin. The journey through time. You took a deep breath as an unfamiliar voice was projected around the room, echoing and bouncing off the walls.

“Close your eyes, Captain, and Good Luck” Your eyes slide shut, as the familiar sounds of a machine whirring as it surged into life to carry out its task of transporting you through time. How it exactly worked was a highly guarded secret. On a strictly need-to-know basis and you didn’t need to know.

General Adelaide Harker watched from within the booth as you disappeared. The petite, stocky battle-hardened woman was firmly in her fifties. Her body was littered with scars that could pen her story but now all she could do was patiently wait. How she hated no longer being fit for active duty, her body faded with age and numerous injuries that had forced her onto the sidelines.

She had been hand-picked herself by the founders after the last bout in the hospital many prior whilst she was recovering from a lengthy and complex surgery. This had been a new lease of life, a way to serve her Country from the shadows. This operation was one of the few that the Founders had meticulously planned from the very beginning. Nothing had been left to chance. They trusted her to carry their secrets and ensure success with each of the missions.

When she had initially read through the Manila portfolio that was Operation 1814. She had laughed, confused by the need to secure a matrimonial match within the aristocracy. She pushed for answers only once. Only to meet with a gentle almost grandfatherly smile from the most senior of the founders Sir Theodore before he briefly spoke.

His words had stunned her into silence. To this day, she had never truly understood the meaning behind his wise words but she trusted his and other founders’ guidance.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------March 20th 1814

Your stomach felt as if it had been tied up in knots, as the sensation of being pulled through time and space slowly faded away. It was a bizarre and almost impossible sensation to put into words as your physical body was transported from one moment in history to the next.

It never was plain sailing, no matter how many times you had been through it. The nausea would dissipate in a few hours but the headache would linger on. You’d have to push through. Each person who used the method concocted by the Department suffered differently. Some found themselves unable to walk as their legs trembled, reduced to a feeling of being made of jelly. Others collapsed from complete and utter exhaustion, feeling as if they had been drained of all but a drop of energy.

You opened your eyes to find yourself standing in the middle of a wheat field as dawn crept over the horizon. Reds, Yellows and Oranges bled together as if they were upon an artist’s palette being blended for the next brush stroke on the canvas. 

Fragile dew drops clinging to blades of grass which had grown in between each of the shafts of wheat. It was as if you had wandered into a dream or one of the many fine oil paintings hung on the walls of a museum. 

These few precious moments were always when you could simply stand and enjoy your last moment to breathe and enjoy the stillness of the world as the sun rose to greet the day. A warmth seeped through, caressing and embracing you, the golden rays of sunlight danced through the treeline off in the distance. What a most wonderful morning indeed.

Remembering what you read before heading off to the hangar, you knew that the lead scout would meet you upon the hour of your arrival. Still dressed in your most comfortable combat fatigues, it was time to make a move before you were discovered by another.

The sound of approaching hooves alerted you to the small fact that you were no longer alone in the middle of nowhere. Was this a stranger or the scout? Concern rose within you but hearing your name shouted was enough to settle your nerves.

As the figure drew closer astride a chestnut brown mare, you tried to make out the finer features of what seemed to be the face of a scowling man beneath the hooded cloak. His dark gaze and blonde locks were barely hidden by the fur lining of the hood. He was dressed mostly finely for an early morning ride through the countryside and could easily mistaken for one of dime a dozen gentlemen just riding through but you knew better.

This was Lieutenant Commander Edward Wren, formerly of His Royal Majesty's armed forces. You had only met a handful of times but he was known for his dry wit and relentless professionalism. He could cut you to shreds with only a few words or a single look. This was not something you could easily forget. “Come, we have a few miles to ride and no time to waste” 

Once he was finished speaking, he leaned forward in the saddle, offering a hand to help pull you to be seated either in front or behind him. You reached to take his hand, ready for whatever might lie in store. This would be thrilling, no matter whatever waited for you down in good old London Town.

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

You know something we don't talk about enough?

Cujo.

More specifically how Cujo came to be.

The episode he debuts in shows Valerie's dad showing off a new fancy high-tech security system and showed a bunch of recently emptied kennels where the security dogs were.

This actually implies that he got rid of the dogs, which mind you are very expensive to house, feed and train. Which means he stole thousands of dollars of company assets AND automated his OWN JOB. Like, there was no way he was keeping his job after this even if the inspector guy gave him a pass on whatever check he was doing.

It's been a while since I've seen the episode, but as a kid, I got the implication that Mr. Gray euthanized the dogs, which is a super dark origin story for Cujo

[animatorweirdo]

Imagine being a Telerin child, and accidentally getting taken to Middle Earth

You were a child of a telerin sailor. You and your father were preparing to return to your home island until the darkening happened and the kin slaying followed. Your father hid you, but then you had to watch as he was killed right in front of you. You then get accidentally brought along to Beleriand by the Noldor after they stole your father's boat.

Warnings: Heavy angst, kin slaying, blood, seasickness, starvation, burning of the ships, Tyelpe being the only one nice to you, you technically become an orphan and get adopted by the murder family.

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

-  You remember that night like it was yesterday. 

- You and your father were walking across the harbor of Alqualonde, hand in hand, returning from a celebration. You were holding your plushie and a bag of candy after convincing your father to buy you one. He had always been more lenient in getting you candy than your mother who was more strict and insistent in eating healthy food. He had always been a huge softie for you, and you loved him for it. 

- When you were talking about what you wanted for dinner, everything suddenly became dark. The streets were lit by the street lamps, but now the only thing that lit the sky were Varda's stars. You didn't comprehend what was happening, except that it caused a lot of panic and that you heard that something had happened to the two trees. 

-Your father took you to his boat when you started to get scared by the darkness. The cabin was filled with lights, and you were no longer scared when your father comforted you. He tried to explain what was happening and assured you that you would go home once the valars did something about the darkness. 

- You then remember falling asleep. You were tired after playing a lot in the celebration and your father encouraged you to rest, deciding to help those in need at the harbor with his crew in the meantime. 

- You did not know how long you slept, most likely a few hours, but you remember waking up to strange sounds.  Something was happening outside the cabin since you heard loud yelling, and what sounded like metals being hit together. You became scared when you heard someone scream and fall into the water. 

- Your father then slammed through the door. His eyes were filled with fear and you noticed a deep red stain on his arm. 

- You asked what was happening when he suddenly picked you up and told you to hide beneath the floorboard. You did what he asked and he then said that no matter what you had to stay hidden. 

- You heard someone banging on the door of the cabin. 

- Your father closed the floorboard and you heard someone burst through the door. You heard talking and pushed the floorboard just a little to see what was happening. You saw your father and another elf, who was holding a long sharp-looking weapon. Your father pleaded but the other elf then swung the sharp weapon at your father. You slapped your hand against your mouth when you saw your father fall to the floor, motionless and lying on his own blood. 

- You closed the floorboard, and for a moment you thought the elf heard you. You heard him walk above the floor, and you kept quiet despite the tears that fell freely from your eyes. You heard him stay near the floorboard before walking away.

- You held on to your plushie while crying. You kept quiet when you heard more elves walk in, and a voice, telling you to take your father's corpse away. You then listened to your father being dragged across the floor, making you cry harder. 

- You wished this was a bad dream and hoped your mother or anyone from your father’s crew came to get you, but no one came. 

- You did not know how long you were there, but you heard the voices from outside quiet down and many footsteps step on board your father's boat. 

- They said something about sailing and after minutes you felt the boat move. You felt scared since the elves were stealing your father's boat. You did not know what to do and remained quiet for half an hour. 

- But soon you heard the ocean sing in fury and felt your father's boat sail through a furious storm. Your father's boat managed to endure, but you grew sick from getting tossed from side to side. It might have been because you ate too much candy, cried for many minutes, and witnessed your father's death, but you then vomited from the continuous sailing. Whatever these elves were doing, they did not know how to sail a boat.

- Your father never feared storms when Ulmo and one of his maiars became angry, he actually made you fear it less, but with these elves, you felt like you were going to die. 

- After surviving through the storm, you felt sick and thirsty. The smell of your vomit did not help you. 

- Your body felt cramped after so much hiding, so you dared to take a look above the floorboard. You remember your father storing some clean water bottles in the cabin, so you had an idea that if you could sneak in and grab one of the bottles, you could quench your thirst.

- You kept quiet when you saw three elves in the cabin, talking about something. One of them seemed like a kid by their voice. They said something about a curse and the boy wanting to be back with his mother. The elf, his father, said that they could not turn back now and told the boy it was the end of the discussion. You quivered when you realized the elf was the one who killed your father. 

- You saw the two elves leave the cabin, leaving the kid on your bed. You took the chance to quietly climb out and crawl toward the cabinet where the water should be. 

- However, you did not think the elf kid would notice you so quickly and found you hiding behind some boxes. 

- In panic, you tried to crawl back to your hiding place, but he was quick to calm you down and assure you that he was not going to hurt you. 

- He was soft-spoken, so you did not feel immediately threatened. He looked similar to the elf who killed your father, but in his eyes, he held gentleness and barely looked a few years older than you. He handed you your bag of candy, assuring you he did not take any, and since he had a feeling it belonged to you. 

- His presence felt somewhat comforting and when he asked if you were sick since you were pale and still had some spots of vomit on your clothes. You told him you had been hiding beneath the floorboard and puked when they sailed through the storm.

- You half expected him to laugh at you since puking through a storm was seen as pretty embarrassing, but he instead apologized since his kin were not very good at sailing and gave you a blanket to keep you warm and water when you told him you were dying of thirst. 

- After chugging down the water, you asked if they kidnapped him too. 

- He looked ashamed and then told you he was not being kidnapped. His father made him come with the rest of their family.

- You then tried to ask why his kin killed your father and stole his boat, and where were they sailing. 

- He looked even more ashamed and then told you what had happened to his great grandfather and that the dark vala Melkor stole something important from his family. However, he did not know why his grandfather and father decided to harm your kin. 

- You felt scared and asked if they were going to kill you too if they found you. 

- The elf boy seemed startled and quickly assured he would not let any harm come to you. He might not be able to go back home, but he will not let his father and family hurt you. 

- You doubted his words a little but felt comforted. You two then became friends and you learned his name to be Tyelperinquar. It was a bit hard for you to pronounce so he allowed you to call him Tyelpe for short. 

- Tyelpe gave you company and comfort, staying on guard when someone was coming to the cabin and telling you to hide when you had to. You honestly felt more safe with him, and even grew to like him enough to share your candy with him. 

- But then the sailing came to an end. You had reached the land called Beleriand. You stayed hidden when Tyelpe's father and uncle came to fetch him and told him they were going to camp outside on the beach. 

- Tyelpe agreed to go with them and left the cabin, leaving you hiding beneath the floorboard. You didn't dare to peak outside, so you tried to wait for Tyelpe to come back. 

- But after such a long night of hiding and sailing, you fell tired, so you grabbed the blanket and slept under your bed to stay hidden. 

- You did not know how much time had passed but then you woke up to someone gently shaking you awake. You were startled till you realized it was Tyelpe. 

- He told you most of the things had been taken to the beach and that he sneaked out when he had the chance. He said you should come with him to another hiding spot because you had not eaten the whole night. 

- You wanted to reject the thought but your stomach gave an audible answer, crumbling painfully. You could not then deny that real food would taste good. You were kinda getting sick of eating candy. 

- Tyelpe gave you his cloak, telling you it would hide your face and make others think you were just one of the Noldor kids brought along. You felt fearful but agreed to the idea. He gave you his cloak, which was slightly too big but did the job of hiding your features, and then led you outside.

- You were shaking when you saw the Noldor unloading boxes and raising tents on the beach. The idea of them hurting you haunted you as you were not one of them, just an accidental stowaway. 

- Tyelpe helped you out of your father's boat and then led you to his tent. He was able to convince his father he was big enough to sleep on his own, thus he was able to bring you somewhere alone and have warm food without suspicion.  

- You were usually picky when it came to plain bread, but this time it tasted better than candy. You would not have complained if you got your mom's terrible fish soup.

- After having a proper meal, Tyelpe allowed you to sleep on the same bed as him because then he would be able to hide you beneath the blankets if anyone came to see him. You felt tired and thanked him for being a good Noldor instead of a bad one. 

- Tyelpe tried to comfort you when you remembered the moment when your father was killed and even apologized for his father doing something so cruel.

- You said you did not hate him because it was his father who had hurt your dad, not him. 

- Tyelpe then assured you that he would look out for you and not let anything or anyone hurt you, not even his father. 

- You two then shared stories to pass the time, giggling at funny things that happened with your families. You even teased him a little as he was nicer than his father. You then fell asleep on the way and did not remember much of what happened after. 

- Except when you heard yelling and saw something burning outside the tent.

- You woke up Tyelpe and urged him to go outside with you to see what was happening. However, when you two ran outside, to your horror, the Noldor were burning up all your kin's boats, including your father's boat

- Tears ran down your cheek, and when someone noticed you standing with Tyelpe without your cloak on, you ran away into the woods. Anything to get away from the monsters that were the Noldor. 

- Tyelpe followed after you, calling out to you and trying to make you stop before you ended up hurting yourself. 

- You didn't get too far when you realized it was awfully dark, reminding you of the darkness that darkened the harbor of Alqualonde. 

- When Tyelpe caught up with you, you cried in anguish. With your father's boat gone, you will never get back home and return to your mother. The Noldor's cruelty knew no end. 

- Tyelpe tried to calm you down, but you were too deep in your anger and sorrow. He had no idea why his family would do such a thing since half of the hosts were still in Valinor. They were supposed to send someone to sail them over so they could face Morgoth together. 

- You asked what was the difference between them and the dark Valar, they were just as awful as him. 

- Tyelpe tried to comfort you, but the moment was short-lived when you two were found by his father and kin. 

- You trashed against one of the elves, who harshly grabbed you and brought you back to the beach with Tyelpe. 

- You called all types of names, even those your parents would have been appalled to hear coming from your mouth.

- You were brought in front of Tyelpe's family and you were ten times more terrified to look Feanor himself in the eye. But your mouth might have run itself in anger and you continued calling them monsters. 

- They demanded to know why you had come along with them, and you angrily yelled how you were hiding in your father's boat before they killed him in cold blood. You didn't dare to try to flee when they came aboard and then stole your father's boat. You were even more upset by how they had burned it along with other boats they stole from your people. 

- Tyelpe's father then snapped at you when you continued running your mouth, and when he tried to touch you or grab you, you bit his hand, making him yell and pull away. 

- When he looked like he was about to hit you, Tyelpe suddenly ran between you and prevented it from happening, pleading him not to hurt you. 

- His father seemed angry when he realized Tyelpe knew about you, and despite fearing his father's anger, Tyelpe tried to stand his ground, explaining he found you when they had already sailed away from Alqualonde and that you were scared. 

- The situation was intense and you couldn't help but quiver while hiding behind Tyelpe. 

- Then two of Tyelpe's uncles, the tall red-haired one and one dark-haired one turned toward Feanor and told him you possessed no threat to them as you were only a child that got accidentally brought along. And since they were in new lands, there was no reason to throw you out. 

- You did not hear much of what they said. You were certain they were going to kill you like your kin, but apparently, they held some restraint toward children and Feanor decided that the issue was going to be settled later. It was more important for them to chase Morgoth as soon as possible. And the situation was left there. 

- You refused to leave Tyelpe's side as you trusted no one, and the constant hurricane of crying and angrily yelling left you tired and silent. It did not help when you forgot where you placed your plushie, holding it would have eased some of the tension. 

- Luckily, Tyelpe's family allowed you to stay with him and mostly left you alone, and since Tyelpe was still too young to join any battles, he mostly tried to look after you. 

- You had met a few nice Noldor elves before but knew nothing else of them except that they were excellent craftsmen and somewhat prideful. You were not used to that, most telerin were friendly and easy to talk to whenever you were at the harbor with your father. Now these hardened murderers, just gave you looks, somewhat filled with pity and you hated it. 

- You strictly remained with Tyelpe or in his tent, hiding in the cloak you were provided. 

- One of Tyelpe's uncles, Makalaure, if you remember correctly, came one time to see you. You were not really eager to see him since he had been one of those who willingly burned the boats, and simply asked what he wanted. He spoke softly to you that he understood that you were most likely scared and this was not an ideal situation, and then he returned your toy after hearing from Tyelpe that you had lost it. 

- You took your plushie back and uttered a silent thanks before refusing to talk any further. 

- He tried to sound comforting and that no harm will come to you, and that you will have everything you need, but you said nothing to them. You simply asked why he would care when it was so easy for him to hurt people and burn your dad's boat.

- He was quiet but did not seem angry. He then left you alone for now. 

- The rest was pretty much a passing thought. You stayed with Tyelpe most of the time and watched how things went. Feanor ended up ambushed by Balrogs and died, his son, Nelyafinwe then became the high king but then he was captured and taken to Angband. Makalaure then became the regent for the time being. It was kinda a hectic, especially when the rest of the hosts led by Feanor's half-brother came to Middle Earth, having traveled through Helcaraxe. 

-The tensions were high for some time, and then one of their cousins went to Angband and rescued Nelyafinwe. 

- His return eased the tension and the high king title was given to Fingolfin. 

- Your issue was then decided. Apparently, Makalaure was willing to take you in and turn you into his ward. You were not delighted by the arrangement, but knowing his other family members, he was a somewhat less bad option.

- Your life in Middle Earth did not start well, especially when you still held a strong resentment for them. King Thingol then found out what they had done and banned the Quenyan language, which forced them all to get new names in the Sindar tongue, including you.

- You were not happy about it, and gave Makalaure, or Maglor, a hard time when he tried to help you get a new Sindarin name. 

- So here you were now, away from the rest of your family, having to watch your only friend go live elsewhere, and now having to give up using your name. 

- You can only hope things will turn out better from there.

[arminsumi]

Seeing ex!Geto again after years

💗 すぐる

note : srry to make y'all cry 👍 this was written from a raw heart lol

summary : oh god, he still loves you. oh god. all of it comes back to him in the moment he sees you. you say his name and it feels like a gunshot wound to the chest.

warnings : angst, kinda hopeful ending, not proofread

playme : my love mine all mine

In the moment you turn to face the stranger, the world stops. Or at least the world between you and him. You always did "live in your own world" when you were dating, everyone pointed it out.

When Suguru sees you for the first time after not talking to you for... what, a year? He's so stricken. His eyes widen. His pupils dilate a bit. The color drains from his face. He doesn't know what he feels, but it's a snapping shattering breaking ruining feeling.

And when you, so shocked as you are, whisper his name with a chip in your voice "Suguru...?" It's like a gunshot wound to his heart. Bang. It kills him. And god it's only his name, isn't it crazy that the effect is so severe?

It has such a hold on him, you saying his name. He can't move; he's stationary, statue-like just like you in the middle of this cafe. He's paralyzed by your voice. The voice that used to sing him to sleep. The voice that used to talk philosophy with him at 2:32 AM on school nights. The voice that was the only thing that calmed him down during his darkest hours.

He stutters. No words come out of him or you, and yet so much is said. So much is said.

"Hey." he chokes out.

"Hey." you return.

Isn't it funny, he thinks when he gets home and slumps against the door after closing it.

How we used to speak until we ran out of breath, until we exhausted all topics possible. And then stared with pure love at each other in silence...

...and yet when you encountered each other in public by chance again, nothing but "hey"? He used to tell you that he was gonna spend his whole life with you. He used to call you baby. He used to cradle you in his arms. He used to love you vehemently. He used to kiss you until he gasped for air and laughed. He used to smile into those kisses. He used to swear he was yours, all yours. He etched your name into his skin, not figuratively; when you were teenagers you were fucking insane and giggled over the idea of etching your names into each other.

Sad. So sad. He feels his whole chest weighted, gravity pulls on his heart like it's pulling him into a grave.

While in bed, he stares at your phone number in his contacts. He blocks and unblocks. He types and deletes. He calls and ends calls. He nibbles his lip and sighs and gives up.

What would I even say...?

The image of a memory from September 21st 2019 flashes in his eyes. Your smiling face. Okinawa.

He snaps. And calls you. And it rings, rings rings rings rings rings —

"...hello? Whose number is this?" you ask, voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Fuck, that voice. That voice... is capable of murder. You kill me, baby. You kill me with your voice alone.

He makes a strangled noise. Tears roll off his cheeks. There's so many tears in fact. So many. Endless. It hurts him to shed every single one. And all his tears are for you.

"...Suguru, is that you?"

How could she know?

He chokes up and stutters, and says the quietest "hey" after clearing his throat.

It's 1:30 AM.

"You're still a night owl?"

There's tense silence............................................then you chuckle and it fucking breaks him. Devastates him. Tortures him so deliciously. Oh he missed that. Oh god he missed that. That laugh. That laugh is so beautiful to him. It's so brief and yet it nourishes his whole soul just to hear your laugh again. Oh god your laugh. Oh god... your voice.

Oh god, you.

"I am, yeah." you respond. "But you're awake too, aren't you?"

I want to hear her say my name again.

"I am..."

Please say my name again.

"You are."

Baby say my name. Say my name. Say my name.

There's silence. He knows, and you know, that the both of you are feeling flashbacks of memories crashing over the two of you like tidal waves. Memories of you and him.

Us.

"...did you ever think of me?" you ask.

"...I thought of you every day from the moment we parted."

You choke up. You laugh to cope with his revelation.

"How dramatic..." he can hear your voice grow hoarse, like you're in pain but trying to be funny. Because... it is funny, isn't it? This insanity we call reality?

"Sorry..."

"I've got to sleep... got work tomorrow."

"Me too."

"Okay..."

"Yeah."

"Hey?"

"Yeah?"

He holds his breath.

"Suguru."

His whole world... god, it's... he just... he...

"Y/n."

The two of you hang up.

A few minutes pass. Then the two of you call each other again. It's you calling him. His heart thumps hard. His chest is so tight.

"...hey."

"...hey."

And then... well, it's... it's just like the old days. But different. But still... that old feeling engulfs you and him during this phone call.

A phone call that starts at 1 AM and ends at 5 AM.

Dawn comes. When birds chirp.

And the two of you pass out while talking, the phone call still going. You wake up and see that he never ended the call after saying he would once you fell asleep.

[arcatsk]

“This is all your fault! You were holding your team back from winning through the entire duel. You let your partner to take the hit. He trusted you enough to sacrifice himself for you and yet you’re WEAK, there’s nothing you can do to save him or the others. Moreover, the pain you feel right now from the loss is the ultimate fuel to the great Leviathan.. it’s all over” – Dartz Cause no whumptober is complete without some Orichalcos arc angst!