#You can tear things apart and rearrange them and still see them for what they are in their original context

[ozuzo]

I really do wonder why people can't call their headcanons a headcanon instead of pretending their projections/preferences are textual in any way in the source material?

I seriously don't get trying to rewrite canon when you can just... play around with it!

[skzstoryvault]

Relax! Take it easy <3 (Hyunjin, a bit spicy)

F! Reader x boyfriend Hyunjin

very short read

one-shot

Hyunjin is sick and exhausted and needs a bit of persuasion to allow himself some time to recover

Hyunjin is also super cute and very whipped for his girl

This story contains some lazy, sleepy sex

This is in no way meant as a commentary on the real persons depicted here. They all deserve the world.

Please be kind.

Please do not report this post. If it's not your thing, just scroll away.

If you're underage, please scroll on, there is nothing for you here.

If you enjoy this story and are reading along, I would love to hear your comments in the replies, reblogs or DMs - however you feel most comfortable.

Hyunjin has been having a bad luck streak lately. First, his voice began to fail him, then his joints and muscles started acting up. He’s had his wisdom teeth extracted and went to a fan event right after and now? Now he has a bad shoulder that hurts with every movement he makes. It comes and goes, the pain, and his doctors don’t know what the cause is or how to treat it just yet.

“Jinnie, you are exhausted, that’s why it feels like you are falling apart. You need to take it easy for a bit. Get a few days of back-to-back rest and good sleep so your body can have the chance to recover...” You tell him, watching him sit curled up miserably at the top of your bed and putting his favorite blanket of yours around his shoulders. “I can’t, Stay will mind.” 

“I’m a Stay too and I say I want you happy and recharged, and if I had a choice, I’d rather not see you for a while than see you crumble on stage or dance with tears of pain in your eyes.” “You just say that because you love me.” “Yes! As would anyone who knows you. Jinnie, please. Please rest.” “But Channie-hyung will be upset, and so will Scheduling.” “I’ll make the calls, okay?” “We don’t have anything for Friday and Saturday, maybe I can rest then?”

“I will still call, so they don’t see the free slots and book you anyway.” “Thank you.” Hyunjin says, looking wretched and small from his blanket cocoon. “You know I love you? You care so much, and look after me so well.” “I love you too, Jinnie. A lot-lot, you know?” You give back, leaning in to smooth the hair from his forehead and kiss the clammy skin. On the phone, Chan is, of course, understanding and concerned. The people in Scheduling are a bit more neurotic about the news, but even they are aware that Hyunjin is no good to them in his current state. 

When you return to your boyfriend’s side, he is napping with his nose buried into the blanket you gave him. You approach to tuck him in more securely, and he sleepily reaches for you. 

“Don’t go, please.” His voice comes out as a creaky, pitiful whisper. 

You relent immediately and lie down next to him. He sleepily rearranges himself around you and spreads the blanket over both of you. Not a minute passes before he takes his nose out of the blanket and buries it in the skin at the side of your neck, moving it up and down and side to side, managing to tickle you. “Hey now, rest first. We can horse around later.” You gently chide, running a hand through his hair and scritching his scalp to help him relax. He huffs into your shoulder in protest, but behaves. It’s evening when you wake up, having fallen asleep next to Hyunjin as well. The first thing you become aware of is how hard he is under the thigh you have flung over him. The second is that he’s at least partially awake and covertly rubbing himself against your thigh, holding it in place with one of his hands. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thigh almost desperately, like he’s afraid you will turn to smoke and escape him if he loosens his hold the slightest bit.

He has so much on his plate, your baby. He is trying to please so many people and he neglects himself so much. So him wanting to get off even while still mostly asleep, and wanting to use you to help, softens you to the extreme.

“Baby? Are you with me? How are you feeling?” You ask, lifting your head so you can start peppering sloppy kisses to his lips and around, moving on to nibble on his jaw and neck. 

“Sleepy… and hard.” He says, pouting. “Wanna hit.” “So why don’t you? I’m right here. You can just… “ “Mhhh yes, yes. Thank you.” He whispers. “‘m lazy.” 

“Shhh, I know. Let me.” You make quick work of his and your underwear, lying back down half on top of him and nuzzling the warm skin of his neck before seeking his lips for a kiss. Your hair falls between you like a curtain, sheltering you from the rest of the world and you blindly, but with sure moves, take him inside you, hissing at the way his cock spreading you open feels. It never gets old - that first breach, the shock to your senses. This time it’s accompanied by a scarily intense spasm of your womb, and that’s undiluted arousal and anticipation on your part as you take all of him in. “Awh, fuck. So deep.” Hyunjin’s voice rings strained. “So… tight. It’s always like the first time with you.” 

Another spasm deep inside you, stronger this time, makes you scrunch your features  - it’s the same part of you that’s trying to kill you once a month, letting you know you’re aroused off your tits and giving you a spasm of pleasure so intense it nearly swings into pain, making your features contort from how intense it feels. This has nothing to do with how big Hyunjin is inside you or how harsh his thrusts are. It’s just a deeply human, almost petty satisfaction at feeling how good he’s making you feel and that he and not someone else is giving you this much pleasure. 

“What was that? Did… did I hurt you? Angle change?” He asks, immediately concerned for you although just seconds ago he was lost to his own enjoyment, eyes closed and head pushed back into the pillow. 

“No, no, keep going, it’s just… sometimes some other organs join in my feeling good.”

Hyunjin gasps and indulges your request. You push yourself up with your hands on his t-shirt covered chest, sighing at the change of angle adding yet another layer of sensation. But you don’t sit up straddling him all the way, needing the closeness to get the friction against your clit. “Oh fuck… hell, no!” Hyunjin panics, looking at you apologetically. “I’m- I’m g-g-go… aghhh, fuck-” His losing his composure to how good it feels to be inside you, fucking you, also throws you over the edge. You lean back down, wanting to kiss his moans and unhinged whines into yourself, feeling like a succubus thriving off the stolen pleasure of your willing victim. 

All through his high, he keeps his eyes on you, watching you in this absolutely rapt way, reaching up and touching your lips in awe, caressing your cheek, then tracing the gentle contours of your boobs through the fabric of your shirt. 

“How are you real? How are you mine?” He whispers, his voice still hoarse and betraying how gone he is. “And you let me come inside you… I feel like I’m desecrating a temple every time.” 

You smile, liking how awed his little ramblings get when his mind is completely switched off. 

“I’m not complaining. But if it makes you feel better, you can think you’re an ancient Greek. They used to bring erm... seeds as offerings for their goddess of the harvest.” “I want to give you something you can actually use!” Hyunjin says, smiling like the best inspiration ever just struck him. “Soon as I feel better and get up from here… I’ll make you a nice kimchi with no fish guts… and the fattest kimbap roll you’ve ever seen, with the yummiest filling. Maybe even some hotteok too, if I manage. Mhmmmmm. You will have the happiest belly in all of Seoul.” You laugh softly. He’s slipping into a restful sleep, and even now, all he’s thinking of is how he can please you more. “Oh you’re on, mister. Don’t think I won’t hold you to that… but for now, just focus on feeling better.” 

[jasmineoolongtea]

i wish i hated you - geto suguru

"wish there was worse to you, i wish that you were worse to me"

contents: geto suguru x gn!reader, lovers to exes, angst, hurt + comfort, hurt + no comfort, following the events of the hidden inventory arc, gojo and shoko appearance as well

summary: it's been a few weeks since your seemingly happy relationship with geto came to and end in the blink of an eye, leaving you reeling from the aftershock. now tasked with cleaning up your dorm for graduation, you're sent down an unfortunate trip down memory lane of your and suguru's relationship and end after his departure.

wc: 2.4k ish

a/n: inspired by i wish i hated you by ariana grande. even though i do like writing fluff, my true passion is actually angst, especially writing gut-wrenching angst to sad music. hope you guys enjoy this one and any likes, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <33

A clean breakup. No tears, no snot, no painful begging to rethink the other's actions or to fight for whatever was left of the relationship. "It was better this way." He said, "We're not like those other couples, we're better than that." All you could do was nod as the knot at the bottom of your throat began to constrict itself into a weight that felt like it was going to drag you down with it.

What if you weren't better than them, you would think to yourself late at night. It wasn't like you were asking for a massive breakup fight like one straight from the movies, screaming and crying at each other through a thunderstorm, broken plates being tossed around haphazardly with you two spitting venomous insults at each other. You just wish that at least it ended like it was something, rather than nothing but even in your dreams, all you can find yourself doing is repeating the mistakes of your past as you stand there frozen in place, watching as his silhouette fades into the foggy recesses of your mind.

No matter where you went, it felt like you were constantly haunted by his presence, or whatever remained of it at this point. Hell, even your room didn't feel like it belonged to you anymore. You were a temporary guest that drifted through its old walls that echoed the haunted past of happier days, where you would lay with Suguru under the blankets, whispering sweet nothings, until both of you fell asleep. Every single thing in that room had been touched by him, in both a metaphorical and literal sense, to the point where if you closed your eyes hard enough, you swear you could feel him hovering in front of you. In times like those, you foolishly reach out to see if you steal back a few seconds of happiness, to see if you can experience his touch for only a fleeting second but are only met with nothing but the cold, empty silence around you.

If it was up to you, you would take nothing from your room when the time came. Ideally, it would become a time capsule, perfectly preserved to the point where you could still see the shadows of a not-so-distant past dance across the walls once the sun had set. Maybe once in a while, you would find yourself there again, making your way towards the bed that barely smells like him anymore and curl up to the memories of days when you and him would plan your futures together.

"Suguru," he hums in response, his back towards you as you card your fingers through his raven locks from the mattress behind him. "What are your thoughts on getting a pet together?"

"I could see us getting a cat together in the future." He replies, leaning his head against the mattress. "Actually, I could see us doing a lot of things in future."

At his words, your attention was immediately peaked as you let go of his hair and rearranged yourself on the cramped bed to lay on your stomach, arms wrapping around his neck as you silently implored him to continue on. He smiles softly at your antics.

"I could see us moving out of this dorm and into our own apartment where we could bribe Satoru and Shoko to become our very own moving company." You giggle to yourself at the thought. Good for you guys that your friends were so transparent with their wants. "Maybe in a few years down the line, we might decide to take the next step and at our high school reunion we would show off our matching rings." You murmur a few words of approval at his vision of the future. You could see it, stretching your left hand out in front of you as you envision a delicate ring resting upon your ring finger, a constant reminder of the love between you two. His gaze lands upon your outstretched hand and reaches up to intertwine his fingers with yours. Suguru starts rubbing circles around your ring finger as if testing how it would feel to be met with the coolness of a metal band around it instead of just the softness of your skin. Gently, he brings your hand up to his lips, placing a chaste kiss against your interlaced hands that elicits a shy giggle from you.

"A few years more, we might even have kids." He says suddenly, looking off into the distance through your dorm window.

You raise an eyebrow at him, curious about where he was planning to go with his vision. "Oh yeah? How many?" You question. It wasn't like you were necessarily thinking about having kids when you were barely on the border of adulthood. However, if you ever were going to raise children with anyone, you think you would want it to be with Suguru.

"I think 2 would be nice. Both girls." It sounds like he's thought a lot about this, considering how resolute his response is. You choose not to comment on though, despite feeling your cheeks grow with warmth at the thought of him taking so much care to plan his future out with you down to a detail like this. Sensing that you were starting to get lost in thought, he gave your hand a slight nudge. "What do you think?"

"I think it'd be nice." You respond back, leaning further forward to rest your head upon his shoulder. Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Suguru gives your cheek a soft kiss before standing up from his position on the floor. Your hands are still interlocked as he hovers above you, pointing towards you on your bed. He always does this. Ever since you guys started dating and even before this, he always asked for permission to enter your space. He does this with 3 knocks on your door when he wants to come into your room, a shy tap on your shoulder when he wants to pull you closer to him and a point towards your bed whenever he wants to clamber in with you. You've told him before that he doesn't need to do this. To you, your space is basically his space at this point and he's always a welcomed guest. He only brushes off your comment with a simple smile and a brief kiss against your lips and continues on with this habit. Even now, with everything that had transpired, you think you would still let him in no matter how long it was since he came knocking.

Using your grip on him, you pull him down onto the mattress with you, shuffling back to the point where your back is against the wall as he rests his head against the pillow. Suguru opens his arms, inviting you into his embrace which you gladly accept with your head now resting against his chest. His arms encircle your figure as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heart lull you into a sense of security. In this room, between these papered walls, is a sanctuary that the two of you had carved out for each other with your bare hands. Though you had only known Suguru for 3 years and were only dating for 2 of those years, you don't think you could ever fall asleep or feel even as safe without hearing, feeling and sensing the steady drum of his heart right next to you.

You knew first-hand how draining the world of jujutsu and curses was, even more so for those who were first-grade or special-grade sorcerers, and so it always warmed your heart knowing that Suguru was comfortable enough to relax around you. You could physically see how his shoulders would sag with relief every time he saw you safe and sound and you let yourself believe that with every brush of his hair and every soft touch, you were pulling away all the tension and stress away from him. It wasn't enough as you would soon come to find out and maybe, it would have never been enough.

The memory is only temporary. Like all memories are really. Just a recollection of the past and its ensuing ghosts. Holding out for a second longer in this state of limbo between reality and your mind won't make the memory last longer. You know this, but it doesn't stop you from trying to squeeze your eyes shut just a bit tighter hoping that you might be able to grasp onto its tendrils for just a bit longer. Eventually, you give up on trying and get up from your curled-up position on the bed. The sheets are crumpled but there's only the indentation of you on its surface, the usual presence of the second one now long gone.

As you begin to undertake the arduous task of cleaning out your closet, it dawns on you how much stuff that was left behind by Suguru. Prior to this, you thought that it would be you and him spending a lazy afternoon here cleaning it out before you moved into your shared apartment, reminiscing on the glory of your high school days together. Hell, you even entertained the idea that Suguru might have ransacked the room for his belongings when he decided to up and leave that night. It would have spared you all this pain of dredging up old memories. You never thought that it would be you who was cleaning it up alone.

If this was a normal breakup, you would pack his things up into a tidy little box and ship it off to wherever he was in the world with a note wishing him the best for his future endeavours. Out of sight and out of mind, you would think to yourself as you did it. Or maybe if you were more the vengeful type, you would throw a match onto it and watch with a cheap can of beer from the convenience store, the ones that you would always complain tasted like nothing but foam, in hand as the flames burned away remnants of the past. You could even picture Shoko taking a sip with you as you two both sat in silence. But you could never do that. No matter how badly you wanted to, even if it was a small mercy you could have afforded yourself.

A lot of this would be easier if you would dare to take that more permanent step of trying to erase him from your life. It would be a lot easier if you could understand why he chose to do this, breaking up with you days before he went to that village. You thought you two were happy, at least on your end you were. You think about what you've heard about how he ended things with Satoru. Why did he have to be so good with you until the end? When you broke down crying on that day, he turned around in his step and sat with you on a bench while you melted into a blubbering mess. He didn't need to do that. He wasn't your boyfriend anymore. He wasn't even your friend anymore with how he worded his goodbye. "It's better for us if we don't talk after this." was what he said. Yet, despite all of that, he still remained with you, rubbing soothing circles on your back whilst you sobbed against his chest. The next thing you remember from that day was waking up in your bed, eyes red and swollen, a dry throat and tucked into your bed with a glass of water on your nightstand.

It's not like you haven't tried to be angry at him. You think back to a few days ago when you tried to destroy some of the origami cranes that Suguru folded for you and left on your desk. According to Shoko, she said that stuff like that could be "cathartic for the soul." though you're pretty sure she stole that quote from a poster advertising a rage room. When you asked him why he did that late one night, he was as cryptic as ever, only sending you a soft smile as he started to fold another one right after finishing the first. You later found out from Satoru that he was planning to fold a thousand of them as he wanted to wish for your happiness and safety, he only got to about 20 before he left. It only took ripping up the first one for you to immediately regret your actions. Whatever anger there was in you dissipated the second you saw the shredded and butchered remains of the crane in your hands. Apparently, when Satoru and Shoko came to check in on you, it was already sunrise and you were still sitting there at your desk, trying to glue together whatever was left of the paper at that point.

All emotions felt manufactured to you when it came to Suguru. If you couldn't be angry at him, then you thought that you could be annoyed but that was a failure as well when you realised that it was a fault of your own that you didn't speak up when you had the chance to voice your thoughts to him. Regret wasn't an option as well because if anyone would ask if you regret meeting Suguru then your answer would be a resounding no. You wouldn't trade your time with him for anything. Trying to be happy could never work when you felt like there was a gaping, empty hole in your chest from where someone had ripped out the Suguru-shaped piece that managed to worm its way into there. Every time you put on a smile, it's like a failed imitation of what one pictures a smile to be, making you out to be a fraud amongst the sea of people who were still intact.

In all honesty, all your problems would be solved if you hated Suguru Geto. Then, just maybe, there was a sliver of a chance that you wouldn't feel burdened by all this pain and yearning for what once was and what could have been. It would be easier if he was worse, but that could never be that because that wasn't who he was. He was someone who cared for those around him with every beat of his bleeding heart, too much if you asked those close to him to the point where he would try to shoulder the weight of their world tenfold. Just like how there could not be worse things about him, you could never hate Geto Suguru despite everything.

[otakuworks]

❛ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑. reborn au

feat. Zhongli x Reincarnated!GN!Reader | PART II | wc. 5.4K

Based on 'See You In My 19th Life' webtoon | overview. This Webtoon follows the story of a woman who somehow can remember all her past lives.

sum. You were running too fast in life, so fast that no one could catch up, not even Morax who left you to fend off with your curse. Just when you thought you'll slip and fall, a certain consultant came behind and caught you.

cw. mentions of extreme emotion breakdown. cttro 双niarss on Twitter for the art below.

main m.list genshin m.mlist

PART I < PART II

THEME SONG; Slump by Stray Kids (English Version)

There are five stages of grief; Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. All in order.

In your case, it was the other way around. You have long accepted Morax will lay on his deathbed one day, every living thing will eventually cease to exist, mortal and immortal alike

You, out of all people know the in-depth concept of death.

And yet, no amount of tutelage or experience can prepare you for the real thing.

Now you understood what Morax felt when you died.

Your chest feels raw like there's a sudden gash wound that has manifested in your heart. It was painful, too painful that you wouldn't wish it upon anyone, even on your worst enemy.

Scratch that. It's not just pain. It feels something more destructive, demanding and insatiable, crueler than sorrow. Not even death can appease this feeling.

It was agony.

Impale your abdomen with a spear hundred times. Sever your limbs every lifetime. Suffer for all eternity hiding behind Morax and watch him love with someone else over and over again— you'd take them all and say thank you.

You'd be grateful and endure each of them just to trade whatever horrible feeling that's tearing you apart.

Confusion, terror and fright blanketed your mind as you slumped on the floorboards, desperately gasping for breath.

The acrid smell of snarling lightning crackles in the stale midnight air, sharp enough to singe every nerve of your body, rendering you cowering in overwhelming emotions— agony, pain and grief.

Inazuma was bustling with the news of the Geo Archon passing away recently. You could only imagine how Liyue is digesting the cruel twists of events.

The news spreads fast enough for foreign people to sympathize to Liyue citizens, some even offered prayers to the Raiden Shogun, some pay their respects by wishing the late Archon to rest in peace, some never bothered to care.

But none of them mourned in the confinements of their four walls as you did, the Celestia above knows the quiet sobs that wrecked the very core of your existence. The horrors of every shitty lives you went through cannot be compared to this day.

Rex Lapis, who is— was widely known for many names, mostly as the Geo Archon, God of War, God of Contracts, Former Prime Adepti, the Stonebreaker, God of History is now reduced by dust with his people carrying the legacy he has passed on.

To you, all this time, he's still... Morax the petulant child who leans on you for comfort, who politely demands you to sing a lullaby as kids. You're already sold to the idea no one would ever believe you if you told them what embodiment of mischief he was in the ancient times, the exact opposite of the Archon they knew about.

Nostalgia hits you in particular days you can't find traces of the young Morax, but Pride would caress your heart every achievement he succeeds as you watch the people love him.

Similar to a lone planet, you desperately search for a star to orbit around, to give you a source of energy and strength. Once you find one, it'll be difficult to rearrange your position after you have settled down, you're attached until the star loses its amber glow.

And now the star is gone. Gone with the cosmos after a supernova.

Destroying the neighboring planets, including you.

You were the closest in its orbit, you're the one who had to endure the scorching flames morphing you into ashes until you're reduced into cosmos particles for no one to remember.

Morax left you to fend off with your curse and face adversities alone.

Mortals would succumb to these adversities and would choose to sever their connection to the living to escape from everything. You've seen a handful of them and can't ever get enough of it.

If there's anything you long to have other than having Morax beside you is a swift escape.

Every mortal is capable of such thing, you are too, but it's pointless if the pain will cling to you in your next life. It's fruitless to cry when you know every affliction won't be forgotten even if you tried.

Just why?! Why do I have this perpetual curse of reincarnation? I abhor you, Celestia! Not only you cursed me, you even took away Morax from this land!

You shake your head as the anger surge took over your sanity. You thought you can just go live your merry life, unbeknownst how dependent you were to Morax.

Your will to live is solely operated by the fact you have someone you want to protect. But now he's gone? What's the back up plan? Clearly you can't just follow him in his death knowing you can die, but your memories will remain with you.

Was it out of selfishness to protect him to have someone accompany your lonely soul? Because he's the only one who actually remembers the real you?

Rain began to pour from the desolute atmosphere as you heard disembodied voices theorizing Morax's death. The muffled thundering of the storm only growing louder, reminding you of today's unsavory news. How convenient, the sky is sympathizing.

No, make it stop! I don't want fo hear any of it! Morax is dead, that's how nature works. I'm griefing because it hurts, not because I have nothing to live for.

You lived in that illusion for minutes until. . .

*drip* *drip*

. . . the dam broke.

Hot tears streamed down your face, and you squeezed your eyelids shut in the hope the pain would stop, just numbing it would be fine too. Your choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time, and sat there unmoving.

There's no see you later's anymore, for Morax has left you. Today has marked your first Goodbye to him.

For an indiscernible amount of time, there was only a black void and it could have been as if you didn’t exist and you had never existed.

And then you felt each of your cells that had been ripped apart within seconds be sewed back together just as quickly, and your eyes met nothing but a blinding white light.

Have I reborn again? You're not aware which is which anymore. You lift your numb hand and reality crashed over your head, you haven't died out of grief, yet.

Your mind is in havoc, you don't know what you want, not that you have any choice.

Dying won't help you escape, forgetting is not an option, loving. . . can't heal an open wound.

No words can equate the absolute devastation you feel.

❖ ── ✦ ── 『 6000 YRS AGO 』 ── ✦ ── ❖

This is stupid. Utterly ridiculous!

What kind of mortal would go in the mines in the middle of the night where monsters lurk in the shadows to hunt for preys? Yeah, that's a question he would like for you to answer!

He flies twice the speed he usually exerts, his mind running rampant of all worst possible scenarios.

He doesn't know what compelled you to do such ridiculous act, but all he knows is he has get to you before any monsters do.

Landing unceremoniously, he gulps at the sight before him. He was never a fan of darkness, it never fails to instill fear in him, the fear of the unknown.

The only time he feels comfortable in the night is whenever you're around him. You don't fear the night, and it somehow influenced him in a way that there's nothing that should be afraid of as long as you're with him— as his human shield.

Young Morax finds himself slowly withdrawing, the fear overpowering his will to come and save you.

"Morax? What are you doing out here?" Saved by the gracious voice of yours, young Morax nearly broke his neck with how fast he looked at your direction.

Your face is contorted out of concern for him, he's sweating profusely and his breathing is ragged.

Just seeing you all in one piece with no signs of injuries made hin slumped on the ground, sighing in relief.

You were at his side seconds later, subconsciously caressing his cheeks. Celestia above! He's shaking like a leaf!

"It's alright, let's get you out of here." Your soothing voice appeased his troubled mind as you helped him get back on his feet. He clutches the fabric of your shirt and wordlessly launches himself on you, arms and tiny tail entrapping you in an embrace.

You waste no second reciprocating the gesture, you've known him for months to be comfortable with physical sentiments. Though you can't say the same to him as he would always flinch away when you initiate it, but has no problem when he does it.

And it seems like he needs your comfort to even give a damn.

"Whatever it is, it can't hurt you now okay?"

From that angle, he peered from below you as if confirming the validity of your words, amber eyes looking like someone has kicked an innocent puppy, it's no wonder you have a soft spot for him.

Both of you strayed away from the caves leading to mines, "I-I thought you l-left me." He meekly mumbled, almost incoherent.

That baffles you as he continues, "I overheard f-from your village that m-monsters are increasing in the area and you're probably..."

"Shh... I'm here now, aren't I? I'm sorry you have to hear that, I can assure you I haven't encountered any marauding monsters during my little excursion." You sighed, guilt pooling your conscience.

He sniffled, "So, you're not going to leave me?"

"Can I even go anywhere when you have a sharp sense of smell?"

"I'm a dragon, not a wolf." He whined, though you could still see the glint of dubious in his eyes, "Can I trust your word?"

Words never served him better than actions, you ought to show him you honor your word by affirming it through gestures.

Smiling, you offered your hand to him.

"How about you hold my hand on our way home? Will that help?" He stares at you and literally contemplated before he relented.

It's warm, much similar to your hug, but like a form of hug that has been reduced to a smaller fraction. It's still a paragon of comfort.

Surely enough, it did help his mind to be at ease. If you ever feel like he's cutting off your circulation, he is cutting your circulation by intertwining your fingers as if trying to tangle it so it won't loose.

"I'm sorry, you must think I'm stupid for cowering away just because of some stupid dark cave." He lowered his head in shame.

He's a Dragon who has greater strength than most beings, and yet he lets his fear consume him as if they can hurt him like how—

"Nonsense! Don't ever think like that or I will personally be the reason why you should fear humans." As stern as you sound, your eyes tell a different story.

Young Morax deduced this as concern, which resulted a flustered and heartwarming reaction from the boy. You were worried for him.

It shouldn't be something he's supposed to feel happy about, but your fretful intentions warranted warmth and security in his mind.

"I didn't know how oddly. . . pleasant it is to hold hands." He mused, and you responded with an amused giggle, "Here I thought only couples do this stuff, but it's really reassuring."

"It does, doesn't it? Sometimes the solution to your conflicts is in a form of validation."

Too wise for a kid, he inwardly complained, ". . .Meaning?"

You hold his other hand and stood to face him with a sequined smile, "No matter how minuscule or massive your fears are, you'll still find comfort when someone validates your feelings; to let you know that they care. It may not be the solution in some cases, but it's better than being alone in times of your vulnerability."

You leaned slightly closer, "Can I ask you a favor?" Your gaze pierced right through his soul and he can only nod absently which resulted for you to grin.

"If you see someone, friend and stranger even enemies, looking so vulnerable that they actually might cry. . ." You lifted your intertwined hands with his, ". . .Make them feel significant."

A cold midnight wind whisked past the both of you, your eyes shone brighter than jewels and stars alike as you spoke those words that made a huge impact in his life.

". . .Even if my enemies are about to cry because I'm about to end their miserable lives?"

What a way to ruin the moment.

"You know what I mean, Mora." You deadpan, preparing to let go of his hand, but his grip is much stronger and it only tightens once he feels you're trying to detach.

"I'm afraid you have to elaborate further, Y/N. And please, I only have two syllables in my name. What's so hard in including the X?" In contrast to his words, he quite enjoys hearing his nickname.

"The X is not even a syllable, Mora."

That time, young Morax found peace.

He's always on the hunt for something new, something glimmering, something incredible, something undiscovered and something bedazzling. That's how his childlike brain thinks and he seizes anything outwardly beautiful.

But he never knew how amazing it was to see something— or rather, to see someone's beauty on the inside.

Perhaps that's what draws him to you, because of your voice, patience and understanding. He would never admit it though

To him, you're beautiful inside and out, almost perfect, even your flaws are easy to love.

He can't deny he wasted a few immortal years just mourning your death, you'd probably scold him.

Within those years, he's only reliving the memories and wise words you have with him. He wanted to come out as a better person after your death, take it as an honour of your passing.

You made him for what he is.

If he hadn't met you he'd still be the intolerable, impatient and disrespectful person as he grows up.

He'd still fear the unknown, never having the courage to take risks and accept whatever outcomes.

Everything he does always brings him back to you, his actions always correlates to something that's relevant about you. It had always been you.

He prays the Celestia to let you know you will always be apart of his person. Yes, you died, but every lingering piece of you still remains intact in the deep recesses of his mind.

He has moved on, but you remain the person he loved the most. Not even the sands of time has the capability to change that.

"How disastrous. People can be really simple-minded." Morax rubbed both of his temples once he heard the speculation of him and Guizhong plausible relationship.

"I apologize on their behalf, it never crossed my mind they'll be quick to make assumptions." The fair Goddess bowed in shame.

"You have done nothing wrong to spark such rumors, Guizhong. If anything, it is I who should seek forgiveness for I have tied you down with such unpleasant gossips."

She meekly chuckles, "If we're going to paint ourselves as the culprit then we might as well work together to quell the rumors."

His perfectly lined eyebrows knitted, which didn't go unnoticed by Guizhong, "What seems to be troubling your mind?"

A few seconds ticked by before he let out a whisper that only Barbatos can only hear thanks to his wind. For Guizhong who has keen sense of hearing, "If Y/N was here I'll gear up for another war just to extinguish this spreading rumors." She stifled a laugh.

Oh, she knows alright. She knows you. She knows the person who captivated Morax's heart, it's all about he talks to her in their leisure time and you're not a secret between their comrades.

Most people would find it dull to listen about someone's life unless it held any merit to pass onto the other mouth, she would too. But Morax describes you like a protagonist of a fairy tale, like some mythical being, caught between two worlds, a miracle of existence that racked his existence— which makes you an interesting person

She was so eager to meet you, it was rather unfortunate that you've already passed on uncountable years ago.

"Where are you going?" She inquired as the Geo Archon whisk passed her, "Out to visit an old friend. I won't be returning until tomorrow dawn."

She sighed, a corresponding smile soon follows as she took over his job for the meantime.

Morax walked through the barren areas in Mt. Tianheng, it became part of his leisure activities during the day when his mind needs to detach itself from reality and let himself be swayed by the memories he tucked in the deep recesses of his mind.

Memories of his late comrades who perished in the horrors of war and the most painful but nostalgic one; Y/N.

He ruefully sighed at the thought of you. Even in death, you have full grasp of his heart and shroud his head with your image.

Filtered beams of light accented the spaces between the ancient trees that twisted like spires from the undergrowth. Golden leaves littered the forest floor as Morax appraised the trail of mycelium path, one leading to a particular tree.

His expression remains unchanging, at least that's what he thought, any stranger sees him they'll stop to ponder what made this godly man smile so fondly.

A single maple leaf flow with the breeze, swaying in inconsistent direction until it falls in his gloved hand. The rich color of autumn and texture brings him back in his youthful days.

[ cttro papercider on Twitter ]

"Ah! All I do is reminisce to pass time." He muttered to himself as he let the leaf get carried away by the zither winds once again.

"It certainly has been awhile, Y/N. I was but a petulant child since I've visited you. I now stand here as the Geo Archon." It has been a habit to come back to this specific tree and treats it as his home.

It's a sacred place he's closely attached to, he can perfectly picture his young self failing to spy on you. He grimaced at the memory when he was caught in the act.

"I still have no idea why you let me trail your shadows, you weren't least afraid that I'm a dragon. You told me you're fascinated, but. . . was that the only reason?"

Only the breeze answered for him with nothing, "If you hadn't allowed me to do so I do not know what kind of person I would be as of today." He steps closer and pulled off his hood.

He let the silence hang for minutes, maybe even hours. Just standing there as he appreciates what nature has to offer in the place where his story began with you.

"Are you proud of me? My comrades claimed they were more than proud to stand alongside with me, but I doubt the veracity of their words when I led them to their demise. Is it that prideful to have me as a friend when I bring nothing but misfortune?"

He finally sat down between the roots of the tree, relishing the blissful comfort as the sunlight accentuates his godly features.

"I met a boy who was being manipulated by an evil god who only desires power and selfish gains." He began.

"He was a fierce warrior, strong and capable, the manipulation only fuels him to be at his strongest form. I was thinking of eradicating him, but his eyes already looked so dead. It reminded me of. . ."

He holds his tongue and shuts his eyes as he's in pain, "It would be one of my greatest regrets if I had impaled my spear into him."

"I thought of you that time. Hadn't it been to my promise to you, I wouldn't have gained a new ally. Xiao is his name."

The wind blew stronger, ". . . I forgot you can summon him just by calling out his name." He chuckles to himself.

Green statics cracked into the air and quickly revealed a masked man with his polearm readied for any danger.

"Settle down now. I apologize, your name slipped in my mouth." The young Yaksha visibly looked confused even under the layers of his mask.

"I was narrating a story to my old friend Y/N."

Guizhong couldn't have been more right.

By the end of the day, Xiao now knows every detail there is to know about the person called Y/N. It's what Morax ever talk to him.

"Mr. Zhongli is in a very elated mood ever since you told him Archon knows what, Traveler." Hu Tao, the Director of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor finds the situation quite absurd to look at, but never impossible. His mood just feels out of place.

Who looks at mournful families with an eccentric smile on their face as they consult them about their loved one's death?

"Why does Paimon feel like you're pointing finger at the traveler?" She puts her tiny hands on tiny her hips like a mother hen.

The Traveler let out a nervous laugh, "I wonder what exactly brought him in such high spirit with my words."

"Ooh... Paimon thinks it's about Y/N. Isn't it obvious by now?" Hu Tao furrowed her eyebrows, "Y/N? You mean the Adventurer?" Both heads snapped at her direction, "You know them?"

She reluctantly shrugged, "Only at acquaintance level. They showed interest in business and I taught them a few things." She smiled at the epilogue of her statement.

"If they ever come back, my hunch tells me you'd find them in Wangshu Inn, they frequented there before." She added before turning her attention to a new customer.

Zhongli, who's been eavesdropping, perked up at the claims. Perhaps he should visit Xiao tonight and totally won't inquire if he ever met you before.

Midnight falls and Zhongli bid his farewell to the traveler before heading towards the Wangshu Inn.

For some unknown reason, Zhongli could sense the foreboding feeling that's nagging his instincts as he gets closer to his desired destination, yet he doesn't stop. What's worse is that he doesn't know if it's for the good or bad.

All of a sudden, a harsh breeze blew past his face as if the winds attempting to convey a message that's only for his intuition to decipher, for him to meander.

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his statue glowing bright blue, but that wasn't what caught his attention. A hand reached out to touch the stone statue.

A mop of [H/C] facing him backward bowed down in respect of the late Rex Lapis, but Zhongli could feel a much more intense feeling.

Something stirs inside him, he remembers this situation— when he watched Y/N with such fascination from above the tree, not knowing what they look like, yet they never fail to express their feelings through threaded words he finds so wondrous to hear.

In contrary to that, the person appears to be. . . forlorn. He stepped closer until he's only less than five meters away from them.

All of a sudden, he feels skittish around the person. It's as if he doesn't want to leave a bad first impression, he's suddenly self-conscious of his looks, and Zhongli never cared about his outer appearance.

Then they spoke, in a solemn voice.

"See you later, Mora. I hope you found your eternal peace."

There are times when you wish you'd forget Morax, some that you don't. But still, in the birth of new beings, you will find Morax in his next life. The prospect of being alone is a phobia you can't ever overcome unless you have Morax.

What a joke. It should've been a farewell. Your final goodbye to your old friend. Not a hopeless see you later.

It took you months to come with that mindset, only to end up saying what's the exact opposite.

It was difficult to come back in Liyue, every step adds a new pile of memory that drags you further into the depths of agony. Every where you look reminds you of the late Geo Archon. Each encouraging word in your mind gets trampled on by his image.

You consider it as an achievement to stand tall in front of his statue after his death, and a failure that you didn't get to bid your final words to him before you depart from Liyue.

You're still clinging to a nonexistent hope that you'll actually get to see him even after your death. Old habits die hard they say. It couldn't have been more relatable than now.

Sighing in disappointment, you retracted your hand from the statue and briskly turn around when you felt the disturbance behind you.

A gloved hand suspended in the air seems to be trying to reach out to you. As you raise your eyes to meet the oh-so-familiar glowing amber eyes that you grew to love. . .

You offered the stranger a faux smile, seemingly naive to the person standing in front of you with an aghast expression.

You failed to realize Morax as Zhongli just as Morax failed to realize you in your different lives.

"Hello. How may I help you?"

Oh, how the tables have turned.

Time has stopped, both hands of the clock moved counterclockwise, bringing him back to the time he first laid his eyes on you— so unsuspecting from what's about to unravel after a sweet hello.

His broadened eyes are solely fixated on you, it ingnited a feeling he couldn’t immediately identify, a sense of a certain and long-forgotten familiarity fogged his memory.

From the color of your eyes, skin and hair. The subtle furrow of your eyebrows and the upturn of your lips. The gentle facade that compelled him to indulge his curiosity towards you.

Y/N. . . Are you the Y/N the traveler was talking about?

But you bare no resemblance to the Y/N he knew, yet he can tell how it is your soul residing in the mortal's body. It is you. Your eyes aren't the ones that welcomed him as new friend. It feels different.

You're smiling while your eyes are grieving.

Your eyes failed to conceal your weeping soul and could only hope the last bits of its strength will keep it standing until someone reach a hand to put back the shattered pieces.

Behind that gleeful stare was a mountain of pain and extracting it would bring instability to the person who would dare to climb. Yet come what may, you're always worth any risk.

He lowered his hand to shake yours, his lips upturned into an enigmatic smile.

Your heart went erratic and the usually dormant butterflies imploded in your stomach. You haven't felt like a teenager since. . .

You felt your breath hitch in your throat when suddenly, with a mere handful of strides, the beautiful man was standing right in front of you, his amber eyes searching your face intently, trying to find whatever it was he was seeking.

"My name is Zhongli, I'm a consultant in Wangsheng Funeral Parlor." Your [E/C] eyes blinked surreptitiously before accepting it. What a beautiful name, you thought almost immediately.

Under normal circumstances you would've strictly reprimanded the man with his incongruous advances, but you felt something else, something so powerful it overshadowed your senses.

It was a need, an unyielding need to be close to him.

Rather than pushing him away, something inside you stirs awake and begin to implore to coalesce with his existence.

"I'm Y/N L/N, an adventurer."

So it is really you.

He briefly looks down to their intwined hands.

For countless nights, the image of your bloodied hand reaching out to him as you take your last breath plagued his every dream. The tender, soft hands that will no longer bring him comfort. The hand of the person whom he loved so dearly, whom he failed to protect against the wicked ways of the world.

The intense urge to hide you away from the prying eyes that shared similarities to his kept his mind in shambles.

Which what led him to mumble to you what his thoughts are repeating like a mantra.

When he spoke the promise he'll show you what's up at the highest altitude his wings could go, he was mostly speaking out of his selfish desire to hold onto your hand and fly you away to the farthest place no living creatures have ever stumbled upon.

He had to learn it the hard way; that the greater you wish for something, the crueler fate can be. Maybe if he hadn't been so greedy you could've live your mortal life.

Now that you are standing in front of him, shaking your hand, he can amend his mistake by straying far away from you before he repeats history itself, before he could inflict pain on you again.

And yet, looking at you attempting to shoulder the boulders of life is what all it takes for all the wisdom he garnered for centuries to be thrown out the window.

He can't imagine himself distancing from you when you're suffering and have no one comfortable enough to share your burdens with, no one to validate your feelings, no one to embrace you in your vulnerable times.

You taught him to be compassionate, to not disregard emotions, and he's about to set that in motion. You were there when he needed you the most, offered your shoulder to vent out his feelings, it's about time to let him do what you always did for him.

It became abundantly clear he's not willing to let you go through anything alone just like he had gone through without you.

"You claim you're a consultant. Did you perhaps think I'm a potential customer?"

He let go of your hand as much as he loathes being away from your warmth for even just a second, he's still convinced you can be taken away from him at any given moment.

"Indeed, I couldn't stand idle and watch you grieve alone." He watches how you averted your eyes as if hiding the pain would appease your mind.

"I appreciate the thought. . . though, I highly doubt it'll be effective."

He mentally chuckled at the irony. He, too, was once amazed of what simple gestures can bring to a downhearted person.

"Hmm. An old friend once showed me how to console a person. Allow me to share their insights."

Your eye brows perched in curiosity, this man speaks like he's in his 50s or something, ". . .If you insist. I could use a company for now."

Morax experienced eons of desires to attain what he wishes to, though he refrains from being blinded by those greedy thoughts as he had witnessed how cruel fate can be when he once desired to have you. Will history repeat itself?

Zhongli chortles in response, but his expression soon turned nostalgic, "I may not know what adversities you're facing nor do I know who you are, but know that you're never alone."

His smile never left his face as he takes off his glove and held the palm face forward to you, he watches how your eyes glisten with unshed tears, "W-What is that supposed to convey?"

You didn't even notice how much gap he closed just to increase the proximity between the both of you. Archons! You can smell the lingering scent of Osmanthus Wine mingling with his breath!

Is he a drunkard like Venti?

Perhaps this man is drunk to comprehend his actions, perhaps he won't remember this the never next day, perhaps he has mistaken you for someone else, perhaps—

"Wherever you wish to go, I'll keep you company. I dare ask if I may hold your hand along the way, Y/N?"

Perhaps there's hope you can cling onto until your aching heart is at ease.

Your hand found its way to his, almost too desperate to not let this moment of comfort vanish. Just this once, you thought to yourself as the man smiled with absolute glee that it puts the sun in shame.

Out of reflex, your fingers laced with his, wanting nothing more than to relieve in the warmth of his hand. His expression soon turned into a priceless one as if he's in disbelief that you actually just did that, and that alone made the realization struck you harder than Raiden's lightning and fried your nerves with embarrassment.

"I-I'm so-sorry! I didn't mean to get too comfortable!"

You're a stranger to him, and you acted as if you've been a longtime friends. He must have been feeling uncomfortable, you nervously thought as you quickly tried reel back your hand in an attempt to salvage whatever budding acquaintanceship you have.

Keyword; tried.

Your action prompts him to retaliate by locking his fingers in place, keeping your hand sealed with his and shot you a reassuring smile.

"Do not fret. I'm delighted to know I somehow earned a little fraction of your trust. It's only fair to mirror the trust you gave me."

As if to spell out his point, he held up your intertwined hands just below your chin. His eyes blazed with a newfound emotion you couldn't decipher. He almost looks eager. He was gripping your hand, not too tight, but firm enough give emphasize of something.

His action wasn't fruitless as it gained a reaction from you. Your eyebrows twitched, there's something too familiar about it, but your memory refuses to give you that answer.

Instead, you could only mutter weak responses, "I-I understand, but if you feel uncomfortable in any way then don't hesitate to point out what I'm doing wrong."

Whether it was a satisfying answer he wants to hear, his emotions betrayed to even give you a brief answer and his face only lit up as he turns away from you, "You could never do anything wrong in my eyes."

Did he just say something? "What was that?"

"Nothing. Are you new in Liyue? I could give you a tour if you'd like to make you familiarize with the environment."

Your lips turned into a genuine smile, it didn't reach your ears but something tells you this man will lengthen it until you're the happiest person alive, "I'd love to, Zhongli."

As the wind blows to the East, a new chapter has began with a new retelling of their unfinished story. Until the last maple leaf falls and the oldest standing tree drought, two souls will always find their way to rekindle what has been lost.

>> PART III

─ 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. @itsyourgirlria @shizunxie @elsoleil @cherlynono @slzarr @katsuissus @tartarsaucechi1de @spyanya @tikitsune @shoujishu @useless-potatho @chimsblogg @xiamuyi @lemonlimesocks @belletifeshyl @alexon-mars @multifandomvoyage @malt-rants-and-stuff @jameineliebe @angelkazusstuff @orginiallyann @eissaaaa @beezgobuzzbuzz @towos @kamukayakmonyet @atsukawolfcat @sunflowers1970 @yamtwt @avery-needs-more-fics @angstylittleb1tch @bigcandlesmolbrain @lxmine @imk1ra @fauxizs @islxisl @chihawari @bishishbored @yuuki4646 @sunsethw4 @princeabomination @alexiris @chocolateneapolitan @ayra2452008 @akaritenchi @sophiee-bush @ittosoneandoniwife @alatus2716 @almighty-raiden-shogunate

(it's my first time doing tags so pls inform me if it's not working, idk why the others are white, did I do something wrong??)

PS. if you want to get tagged for the next part or be removed then simply comment it TAGLIST is for the readers who want to be updated for my future genshin works.

─ 𝐀/𝐍. Can you all smell that? *sniff sniff* I smell a Xiao ver. of this 👀👀 Fr, I didn't expect the fic will be loved that much as I initially thought, I received many appreciative comments and messages which is what motivated me to write part 2, and possibly part 3 (just for the fluff) since this was supposed to be a series but I crossed that idea out until everyone broke my expectation. Thank you💜💙 and merry christmas everyone ❤💚

[ladylooch]

The reason Timo is on Liv about her and Luca. Is he’s scared he doesn’t want his babygirl to grow up and not need her dad anymore. And he opens up to Liv about and she’s like your my dad I’m always gonna need no matter how old I am.

Liv’s event night was perfect. But there was still more to mend with her dad.

Timo picked Liv up at her apartment and they walked to a local French Bistro for brunch after the group returns to New York. Emma and Timo rearranged their flights to stay for a few more weeks, now that things seem to be trending upwards.

“Did you have a good night on Saturday?” Timo asks after they both order cappuccino’s to drink.

“I did.” She nods, smoothing her hand over the paper menu. Timo folds his hands together and places them on the table. 

“Did mama give you my letter?” He asks.

“She did.” Emma had brought the letter to parents weekend. Liv had cried for hours, reading and re-reading her dad’s sincere, lengthy apology. Her tears made inky circles in several places from dripping off her chin. “It… helped.” Liv nods encouragingly.

“I’m glad. Well, I want to say again that I was out of line in August. I said things to you that I did not mean and I know they hurt you. I am very sorry. I…” He sighs, licking his lips. “My priority as your dad has always been to protect you and I let you down that night… and many nights before that.” 

“Can you tell me why you acted that way?”

“Livy, I don’t know what came over me. You were so defiant to me that night and that’s okay. You don’t have to listen to me anymore. And I was wrong. But there was this scrunch on your face that reminded me of mama and I felt so unimportant. At the same time, it felt like such a disrespect to see what you two were doing so openly.”

“I didn’t know you were home.”

“I know, baby. I know.” Timo reaches out, squeezing her hand. “But also, when you’re a parent… if you want to be a parent… you’ll know how bad it hurts to see your babies grow up and not need you anymore. To me, that is what happened in August.” 

“I’m always going to need you.” Liv murmurs after the waitress sets their drinks down.

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. When you were little, you used to cling to me. All my dress shirts had wrinkles where your fists would clutch the fabric because you didn’t want me to put you down. Lio was kind of like that, but when you came along it was next level. That made me feel like the most important man in the world. Well, and mama, but I miss that. And I guess I’ve always had a hard time with you growing up. Not the boys, you.” 

“Okay, but that’s not fair to me.”

“I know.”

“I deserve to have life experiences without wondering what the guard dog thinks or how he will react.” 

“And you want those with Luca Fiala?”

“Yes. He’s perfect for me. He gets me… like no one else has ever even tried to. I hope you can find a way to want that for me.” 

“I do, Livy. I want you to have that once in a lifetime love. The kind that still gives you butterflies two decades later.” 

“You and mama have always inspired me.” Liv smiles gently. “I talked to mama about when she knew you were the one and… when she tried to put words to it, she couldn’t. It was just a feeling. I know what she means.” Timo smiles, remembering that feeling with Em vividly.

“I’m happy for you. Honestly.” Timo squeezes her hand again. “And I’m really sorry. I hate what my actions did to our relationship. I understand if it takes time for us to be okay again. I want to earn your trust back.” Liv gets up, tears poking her eyes. She throws herself onto Timo, bumping her butt on the table in the process. She’s pretty sure she spilled his water, but once her arms are around his shoulders, she can’t let go. She missed him. Her first and fiercest protector. After several minutes, she settles back into her chair, both of them wiping at fresh tears.

Liv scans the menu for her meal choice, having no incling about her dad’s private, dinner plans with the love of her life.

[ador3rin]

2:46am | what once was

pairing : kenma kozume x f!reader

tags : angst, hurt no comfort, empty relationship, post break-up

wc : 1281 words

you were never a big fan of games really, well, you were never a big fan of multiplayer games, to be precise. you were perfectly content with spending your free time roaming around the cozy landscapes of stardew valley or animal crossing, both which supplied you with plentiful in game friends. that was until you met kenma kozume. all of a sudden you found yourself booting up first person shooters and spending late nights attempting to improve your horrendous aim, with kenma in your ear trying (and failing) to help guide you through the tumultuous learning process. 

the late night gaming sessions with discord as your mediator soon turned into shy lunches together in the food court besides your university, which then led to hours spent besides each other in internet cafés, and before you knew it kenma began to monopolize both your spare time and your heart. then there was the one night spent in your apartment, where the line between friendship and something more had been blurred past recognition and the both of you shared a clumsy first kiss to the soundtrack of howl’s moving castle in the background. 

you can still recall talking him into starting his twitch streaming, playful boasts about how you could “impress the masses” with your gameplay and help his channel blow up, and blow up it did! kenma captivated the audience with his calm personality and intricate gameplay techniques, even sometimes letting his fans catch a glimpse of his softer side when he’d have you on as an occasional guest. of course tetsuro constantly begged to be featured, but he was always shut down immediately much to his dismay. something along the lines of how his ‘uncouth’ behaviour would get kenma in trouble, is what he’d get told. your heart swelled with pride, watching your beloved boyfriend do what he loves and succeed? there was nothing else in the world you could have asked for. 

so when did things start going wrong?

there was no major concerning issue within your relationship with kenma, but rather an accumulation of small things that continued to pile on until you were both suffocated under its force. he’d stopped saying ‘i love you’ as often, claiming that you knew so why did he have to tell you? your appearances on his streams became more and more spaced apart, until you just stopped appearing altogether. he barely had time for you in his schedule despite you rearranging anything and everything you could for a chance to see him whenever he’s free, and if you were able to make plans he started making a habit of blowing them off. on the rare occasion whenever you managed to get together, the littlest things seemed to strike a nerve and sour his mood, cutting the night short. you aren’t sure when, but at some point you were constantly walking on eggshells when it came to kenma. 

it’s fine, he’s just stressed, he’s tired, he has too much on his plate, i’m being too clingy, were the excuses you began to repeat to yourself over and over again like a mantra, desperately clinging onto what was left of your first love. at some point they stopped working. you stopped fighting. what hurt the most though, was it were as if he didn’t even notice the shift in your behaviour. maybe you weren’t as important as you thought. what remained of the relationship crumbled on one particularly chilly night, but you had the heat from the tears streaming down your cheeks to keep you warm. he left your apartment without glancing back. 

warmth encompassed your body from head to toe, a subtle hint of sandalwood invading your senses as you slowly arose from your slumber. your drowsy vision was met with golden feline-esque eyes pooling with adoration, “morning sleepy head.” kenma’s voice called out for you, a faint whisper as soft as the breeze that swept in through the window that was left ajar. the ghost of a gentle kiss brushed against your forehead, luring you back to the land of the conscious. “ken?” you murmured brows furrowed, an uncomfortable pit beginning to form in your stomach. with fluttering eyes you struggle to focus your sights onto the imperceptible silhouette beside you. 

“wait, why are you here?” your lips echoed the thoughts swirling in your foggy mind, unable to logically grasp at your current situation. he shouldn’t be here. “kenma?” you called out once more with intent, a cold chill shooting through your form as you abruptly sit upright rubbing your eyes with desperation. the previous warmth had all but vanished, and the lingering scent of sandalwood still playfully wafting around you as if to mock as you sat in your bed, alone. 

everything was a reminder of him–or rather, the lack of him. you were haunted by the memories of what once was, and even though it was cruel, you couldn’t help but hope he was tortured too. the stack of games you’d purchased throughout the course of your relationship now sat abandoned, collecting dust in some corner of your living room as you couldn’t bring yourself to enjoy them anymore without the one who’d introduced you to them. 

you no longer ate near campus, opting to reclude to your apartment with this week’s bag of cup noodles and other various microwavable meals. perched on the floor with your laptop set up on the coffee table you aimlessly scrolled through netflix for something to fill the silence surrounding you. it has been almost two months since you broke things off but he still frequented you mind, as you often found yourself wondering about little things, has he dropped out of that one class he hated?, has he reached his subscriber goal yet?, is he doing okay or is he just as much of a mess as you are, or, has he found someone new? you shudder at the thought and your heart pangs.

switching tabs as you fall victim to the curiosity, your search bar autofills and you’re met with kenma’s familiar streaming profile, looking the same as it always had since the day you helped him finalise the colours and overall aesthetic. a selfish part of you was glad that he left things relatively unchanged, for it served as proof of your previous presence in his life. there’s a red blinking button besides his username, signifying that he is currently live and you stare at it for a split second before clicking without a second thought. you make eye contact with your reflection on the black screen as you await with bated breath, once the screen loads you’re met with his face. 

this isn’t the first time you’ve let yourself peruse through his socials, but it is the first time you’ve been able to catch him live, able to glimpse at him in real time from the safety of behind your screen. he looks good. he’s smiling, ever so slightly, eyes cast down presumably at his phone. there’s a hint of tenderness in his expression that you’re sure only you can pick up on, as you were once the sole recipient of such soft looks, despite the fact that you were unable to recall the last time he had looked at you so intimately. suddenly your appetite escapes you as he addresses the audience, his golden eyes boring into yours as he announces that there will be a special surprise guest on next week’s stream. you foolishly hope with all your being that he had finally given in to tetsuro, as you shut off your laptop avoid finding out. you immediately regret snooping, as your miserable mind begins to run wild.

# mew’s comments :

omg? me? posting on tumblr? insanity.

this is a really old draft, i'm trying to get around to finishing my old work so i apologise if im a little rusty :')

but yay! hi! i'm kind of back, i've missed it here!

[aerialsquid]

FFXIV Write 2024 Day 20: Duel

"They get their money and they leave. All of them. It's all they're ever here for. Same as you." The twin voices were eerie enough, but now both sounded on the verge of tears. The side door trembled, creaking open a few inches as the massive body on the other side leaned into it. Martyn saw one of Dollmaker's long-fingered feet scratching at the floor just at the edge of the cracked door. 

Martyn sputtered. Wasn't he supposed to be the victim here? Why was the monster the one crying? 

"Easy for something with all the money it wants to call me greedy," he spat back, trying to regain the moral high ground. "I have bills to pay. You can do anything you want with that money. This is Ul'dah, after all."

Dollmaker let out a low, burbling growl. Martyn could hear its fingers scratching angry furrows against the door.

 "No, you can do anything you want.  No amount of money will let me drink tea and smoke hookahs in the Platinum Mirage, or browse the stalls of the Sapphire Avenue Exchange. No amount of money will ever l-let me wear a pretty dress to the festivals." Dollmaker took a long, shuddering breath, pulling the door a little more closed.

Was it stuttering? It was stuttering. The unmitigated gall.

"All I can do is play pretend," Dollmaker moped. "And gil is the only thing that means any of you will stay just for a little while, just long enough to build up the illusion. So gil I acquire, and gil I pay."

Martyn flinched at the crashing of coins onto the floor, as the armoured doll flung the coinpurse in his direction. "Take your money and get out, doll," the doll snapped. "Greedy creature."

"Now look here, I'm still the wronged party!" The siren call of grocery bills took over and Martyn snatched up the heavy purse, cradling it with his free arm. 

"I'm only taking this because I'm owed recompense for you trying to bite my arm off, see? It's hazard pay, and compensation for violated contract agreements, and, uh. Duress." Those were words you used in contracts discussions, yes. "But paying me off is hardly going to settle the matter!"

"Get out before I rip you apart and devour you whole."

Martyn really wanted to point out those two things were a paradox. "No, you get out here, before I cover your entire doll collection in morbol breath. And let me warn you, that smell does NOT come out easily."

"What do you want, you cringing little creature?" Dollmaker shrieked. 

"I—uh." Martyn hadn't thought that far. "Well, an apology for starters."

"An…apology."

"You do know what that is, right?"

"Yes, of course I've heard of an apology, I've read books."

"And not from this fake thing, I want it from you personally. So get out here and apologize."

The door cracked open again. Martyn saw Dollmaker's pale mask peer around the corner, eyes glowing sad and soft.

"Why would you want to look at something monstrous, doll?"

"Well, I'm no peach myself. Isn't that why you keep rearranging me every time I'm down here?"

"Not the same thing," Dollmaker said, sniffling a bit despite its lack of any functional nose. The voidsent slowly oozed its way back into the room, head lowered, limbs curled in tight like a cringing dog.

[theflowerofthecommonwealth]

Power Armor Punch Part Forty Seven

Masterlist

Curie: Do tell me what happened, my love? I do not like seeing you so… *motions her hand in a cycle in front of her chest while searching for the word* Downtrodden.

Lucille: Nick’s gotten pretty protective of Jasmine. I can’t even make a simple observation without someone getting pissed off. So I’m just going to stay out of it.

Curie: I see. Have you said anything about this to Monsieur Valentine and Jasmine?

Lucille: Why should I? It’ll just cause more problems than it’ll fix. They don’t need me around- pretty obvious to see.

Curie: That’s quite an assumption- do you really believe it’s true?

Lucille: Jas never talks to me and Nick’s lately giving me the cold shoulder. That’s plenty of proof, Curie.

Curie: *softly* I see…

Lucille: Unless it’s for good reason, I’m not going to go where I’m not wanted…

Nick: Excluding the time of you probably being frozen alive, you’re still young. *scratches the side of his head* You must not scar easy- some people just don’t at all. *chuckles* Guess you’re one of them. *pets her head gently*

Jasmine: (Frowns a little. That’s true, but she’s not getting scars or marking even from the worse things happening, her body just snaps back to normal after a few days) (Quietly) “You would think after all they have done to me I would at least have one mark…” (Glances where the bruising is from Nick had grabbed her, there being more horrible bruising there at one point and even some third degree burns) “But no- not a mark…” (Smirks and scoffs to herself) “I suppose that is a good thing in the end.”

Nick: *sighs* Doll… *puts a hand on her shoulder* Don’t think of it as a shortcoming. Instead, consider it a sign of how resilient you’ve been to overcome everything you’ve been through. How strong you really are. *gentle smile, brushing a hair from her face*

Jasmine: (Blankly blinks at Nick as the words sink in, unable to think of a good enough response so she just goes back to snuggling close with her head against his chest)

Nick: *rubs her back, letting her stay in this moment as long as she needs. Gives him a moment to relax, too*

Jasmine: (Will lay there for as long as her programming will allow her, which she probably can push for a few hours. It is however, starting to bother her in the back of her mind, but maybe talking about something her head dubs as useful will help) (Quietly) “What do you plan on doing now?”

Nick: Well, after we get maybe a little food and water in you later, I was thinking we’d head out to Far Harbor. See if we can find Donovan for ya. On the way there, there’s a chance we can stop by an old apartment for clues. If it’s not raised to the ground…

Jasmine: “Hm? What apartment?” (Raises her head to look at her Dad inquisitively, still holding onto him)

Nick: *hesitates* It’s… ah… *relents* where Charlotte used to live. I want to find out what she was playing at and just how much of a monster she was beyond leaving you in the garbage. *strokes her cheek softly with his metal thumb* Don’t know what the old Nick saw in her… but if you’re really his kid then I’m glad something good came of it.

Jasmine: (Whimpers sadly when she hears about Charlotte and is reminded of her first abandonment, lowering her head with the top of her thumb in her mouth until he says the final part. That sweet remark and the gesture of stroking her cheek makes her tear up. She scoots up and rearranged herself so she’s clinging to Nick like a baby koala bear again, head resting on his shoulder with her arms around his neck and her leg slung around his waist)

Nick: *slight surprise at the sudden koala bear clinging to him but beams at her and resumes rubbing the small of her back* Love you, Rosie…

Jasmine: (Softly) “I love you too Dad…” (Closes her eyes and nuzzles in the collar of his coat, letting herself doze off a bit. She’s not fully sleeping because she’s still aware of everything and can hear Nicks machinery whirling and feel his comforting hand on her back, but it’s close enough to sleep that she’s getting rest)

Nick: *lets her rest for a few hours more. She needs as much as she can get for the road ahead*

Jasmine: (Sleepily coos when she opens her eyes from her light catnap, feeling ready to brave the big and scary world again. She shuffles in Nicks arms, clinging to him tighter as her mind starts to clear)

Nick: Hey, doll. Ready to get up and get going?

Jasmine: (Quietly) “Yes I am.” (Slowly unravels herself from her Dads embrace, smoothing out her dress as she sits on the edge of the bed)

Nick: *sits up with her, taking a moment to stretch despite not needing to* I’ll get you some more soup. *goes and heats her up a smaller bowl of it and a can of water then offers both to her*

Teshteal: *curled up on the couch now, sleeping as sound as he can despite the nightmares*

Jasmine: (Frowns at the offered food and water, but takes both without a fuss. She cautiously starts spooning small spoonfuls of soup into her mouth that consists of mostly just the broth, taking tiny sips of water between bites. Doesn’t think she’ll be able to stomach much, but hopefully she will not throw the bowl like a picky toddler this time)

Nick: *smiles, happy she’s eating something even if it’s just broth*

Teshteal: *having a nightmare that he’s alone again… this time as a punishment* Let me out- let me out- let me out- *kicking his legs frantically on the couch*

Jasmine: (Barely can sip down one fourth of the bowl before she’s handing it back to Nick, shaking her head while waving her free hand in front of her mouth in a negative motion)

Nick: Okay… *takes it back* Just glad you tried to eat something. *takes the bowl and walks out to put the rest up and comes back* Ready to head out?

Teshteal: *ears perk up and he’s instantly awake at the thought of the group leaving. He rushes down stairs* Are we going?! I’ll come along!

Nick: After Jas gets her armor back on, yes.

Teshteal: Are we bringing Lucille with us? I think Gardio would have wanted me to look out for her*

Nick: *hesitates and looks at Jas with concern*

Jasmine: (Was in the process of digging through her bag for her clothes and armor when the question and hesitation hits. She raises her head and blinks blankly, wondering why Nick is looking at her with concern written all over his face at the question if her adopted sister was going to join them. She assumed that Lucille was coming with them all along…)

Teshteal: So, is she coming or not?

Lucille: *just walked in* I’m not-

Teshteal: Why?

Lucille: I don’t think you guys need me slowing things down. Besides, it’s obvious Nick doesn’t want me around while he’s working this one. *shrugs* Makes sense- especially how easy it is for me to say the wrong thing lately.

Nick: I’m just looking out for Jasmine-

Lucille: I know. I am, too. Which is why I’m staying here.

Jasmine: (Stays quiet and completely still on the bed, eyes going over each adult slowly while she smooths out her dress)

Teshteal: We could use the extra help-

Lucille: Teshteal, I’ve seen what you can do. No you don’t.

Teshteal: Your power armor was very helpful back at the glowing sea. I’m too short to do that even if I used my tail!

Lucille: *gestures at Nick* You don’t need that either- Nick can lift more than the average human.

Nick: Not as much as you lifted earlier. Just how strong do you think Gen 2 Synths are?!

Lucille: Pretty damn strong. Still, I doubt you’re going to need me where you’re going. Especially with anything that has to do with Jasmine.

Teshteal: You don’t know that-

Lucille: Look- Everytime something that has to do with her comes up, I seem to just make the situation worse. Sometimes you just gotta cut your losses and realize some people just do not like you. *turns away to leave*

Jasmine: (Watches her leave with the tilt of her head. While she is a upset with Lucille for the previous events, it does not mean that she doesn’t like the older woman. Plus, aren’t they going to Far Harbor? Nick has gone there sure, but having another experienced person may help. Also, Nick and Teshteal kinda stand out compared to herself and Lucille with her helmet on, or at this rate in general even with her arm and eye exposed)

Teshteal: *crosses his arms* I still think you should come with us. Nick and I aren’t human which leaves Jasmine the only person who can talk down someone with a narrow mindset on what counts as a person. You wouldn’t be helping her by doing this. It puts her in more danger.

Lucille: *over her shoulder* I have a synth eye and arm. That kinda puts me in the “not human category-”.

Nick: That’s different. Those can be excused for prosthetics and a means for survival. You’re still passable as human even with that old right arm of mine.

Lucille: So suddenly you want me to come with you? After giving me the cold shoulder?

Nick: I think you might be confused, Luce. If I wanted to shut you out, you’d know. It’s just some of your comments? About Jasmine? They’re a bit unwarranted at times and that can really affect her. That’s why I’m hesitant.

Jasmine: (Staying silent because she doesn’t have anything useful to add in. She is fine with Lucille coming along if there are no more surprise hugs and needles, slaps or comments. Hell, the comments are not even suppose to bother her, but since its from someone considered close it does)

Lucille: I’ll try not to comment on her situation. However if it’s a life situation I’m going to have to act some way.

Nick: That act better be “get Nick” only.

Lucille: What if you’re not available.

Nick: Get Teshteal.

Lucille: What if he’s not available?

Nick: Then you’ll have to take care of her. Which means you need to be patient and calm unless it’s a dire situation. At least until I can step in.

Lucille: …I hate to ask the obvious but-

Teshteal: What if you’re dead?

Nick: Teshteal’s in charge of keeping her safe-

Teshteal: What if I die?

Lucille: It would be my responsibility, then, because I’m the last resort.

Jasmine: (Tune them out once they start talking about death and stares off in the abyss, her poor tortured soul can’t take anymore of that topic especially if it’s about losing Nick so it’s better if she goes numb….)

Teshteal: Are we going? *pivotting up and down on the balls of his toes and heels rather excitedly*

Lucille: I haven’t seen this much excitement in someone since Dogmeat showed me a crate for the first time.

Teshteal: Dogmeat? Who’s that?

Lucille: A friend. He’s a dog that hangs around and helps people. Honestly if anyone’s his owner it’s probably Nick.

Nick: “Owner” wouldn’t be the word I’d use. More like a colleague and pal. He’s a real expert in tracking down people or things that need finding- puts my skills to shame.

Teshteal: …We are still talking about a dog, right?

Jasmine: (Perks back up at the mention of Dogmeat, the sweet doggy boy who she considers to be her best friend)

Dogmeat: *heard his name and comes bounding in suddenly*

Lucille: *backs out to give Dogmeat more space*

Teshteal: *hisses and starts scrambling to eacape* No! Dog! Big dog! No! *tears his way out of the room and sprints up the loft*

Dogmeat: *slight confused whine but puts his front paws on Jas’s lap and gives her plenty of puppy kisses*

Jasmine: (Also gets confused on Teshteal’s sudden departure but soon is giggling happily at the pooch and starts petting his head while he overloads her with doggy kisses)

Dogmeat: *stops briefly to sniff her then tries to nuzzle under her chin with his big snout*

Teshteal: *cradling himself tightly on the couch. If it weren’t for the fact Dogmeat seemed friendly he would have killed him instantly out of fear*

Jasmine: (Hugs the pup and place a gentle kiss on his head, scratching behind his ears in the spot where she knows he likes)

Dogmeat: *wags his tail and thumps his back foot excitedly, eyes closed abs leaning into the ear scratching*

Teshteal: *slinks back down and peaks his head around the door* Is… is it safe…? *trembling like a leaf*

Lucille: Pretty safe, yeah. Dogmeat usually doesn’t hurt you unless you’re an enemy of one of us.

Teshteal: *withholding judgement*

Jasmine: (Cooing sweetly at the adorable doggy baby, straight up picking him up and placing him on her lap like he’s a chihuahua while continuing to scratch behind his ear. Compared to her small frame, Dogmeat is huge on her lap and his back legs are spilling onto the bed, but she doesn’t seem to care)

Teshteal: You sure that’s a good idea-?

Lucille: She’s genuinely smiling and giggling, any idea that causes that is a great one.

Teshteal: *very slowly steps into the room*

Dogmeat: *just wagging his tail wildly and lifts his head to look at Jas, partly rolling on his side on her lap. He’s a really happy puppy*

Teshteal: *holding his tail nervously*

Jasmine: (A really happy little girl as she snuggles into his neck with another fit of joyful giggles and a beaming smile at the silly puppy. She’s not sure why she’s getting so bubbly and lively right now, it’s just part of her unpredictable mood swings that can go very quickly up or down in a matter of seconds. Maybe that’s why she’s kinda trying to hide her brightness away in Dogmeats neck)

Teshteal: *keeps thinking of dogs being set on him and that doesn’t help*

Nick: Were you always this scared of dogs?

Teshteal: *voice breaks as Dogmeat rubs the top of his head against Jas’s chest and neck affectionately* A little but it’s gotten worse.

Jasmine: (Kisses Dogmeat again, letting herself fall backwards on the mattress so that the pup is laying on top of her while she scratches behind his ears and that other spot he loves that is right above his back left leg. She’s in puppy heaven right now, letting herself enjoy this despite the screaming in her head to stop being so joyful, because lord knows that their trip will be difficult on her…)

Nick: As nice as this is. I think we ought to get going. Dogmeat, you can come with if you want.

Dogmeat: *sits up suddenly and excitedly and softly barks at Nick approvingly*

Lucille: I’m heading to the exit… *leaves*

Teshteal: *eagerly follows*

Jasmine: (Sits up and again smooths out her dress, figuring it’s best to change now that Lucille and Teshteal are out of the room. She quickly puts back on her layers of clothes, ending with zipping on her tactical vest over her jacket and neatly folding away her dress in her bag) (Signing) “Can I have some of my old stuff back? Just the weapons and sewing kit.” (Starts braiding her hair so it’s out of her way. She definitely needs her gun, she threw the other one down)

Nick: Since we’re going back out unto the wastes? Yes… *goes over to the tool box and pulls out her weapons, sewing kit, and bloody book then hands them to her*

Jasmine: (Nods in thanks and properly puts them away, slinging her bag over her shoulder while she pulls on her hood, ready to get moving)

Nick: *leads her out of the Vault*

Dogmeat: *walking with them*

Jasmine: (Follows along while she puts on her mask, shyly reaching for Nicks hand again while they walk. She really should stop this habit of holding her Dads hand so much, it’s probably annoying to deal with her always needing physical assurance…)

Nick: *notices and smiles at her before taking her hand*

Dogmeat: *trotting along next to her happily like the goodest boy he is*

Lucille: *leading the way* Wait. Where are we going?

Nick: Far Harbor.

Lucille: Oh! *everything that happened in Far Harbor hits her like a brick- especially navigating DiMA’s memories and what happened with Tektus. Darkly* Oh… *also remembers how dangerous the wildlife is over there* Oooooh……

Nick: Why the long face? I thought you liked Maine.

Lucille: Do I look like Stephen King?

Teshteal: What’s in Far Harbor?

Nick: An old friend of Jas’s supposedly. Also my… ahem… brother.

Teshteal: Didn’t you have a sister…?

Nick: He’s another Gen 2 prototype like myself. Where related in the sense that the Institute put us together on the same cutting room floor.

Teshteal: That wasn’t what I asked. *flicks his tail in annoyance*

Nick: Yes, Teshteal, the old Nick had a sister. She’s long gone now as far as I know. *realizes they’ve stopped* Anyway, should we get a move on?

Lucille: Ah. Yeah. Far Harbor. *resumes leading the group that way*

Jasmine: (Squeezes her Dads hand, thoughts trailing back to Donovan, her childhood friend, while the adults talk. Honestly, she doesn’t even really want to find him, she’s not the same little girl he knew, she’s changed so much and for the worse)

Nick: *squeezes her hand as they follow along*

Dogmeat: *brushes against Jas’s hand to comfort her after he senses her tensing up*

Teshteal: *staying ahead of the dog but keeping an eye on him at all times. Doesn’t want anymore surprises. He hums a tune idly to distract himself*

Jasmine: (Scratches Dogmeats head and sighs, shoving away her thoughts until later. She can’t be up in the clouds out here, she has to stay sharp)

Lucille: *after a few hours of walking, they end up near Hangman’s Alley. As she passes a small crevice of an alleyway between buildings, her Geiger counter starts to crackle a little. Stops* Radiation… here? *suddenly suspicious*

Nick: *looking around, also on guard* Your Geiger Counter doing cartwheels, too?

Dogmeat: *alert and walking over to the crevice*

Lucille: *raises her gun suddenly when she spots a tall figure in the shadows, their back turned to the road. She barely makes out a coat and a hat*

Teshteal: *blinks. Sniffing the air. Picks up the scents of walnut, old books, and… a very specific cologne from the prewar days. Softly, but unsure* Dio…? No… it can’t be…

Nick: Well whoever it is it’s giving off some radiation-

The figure: *lifts and turns his head, revealing that what they’re picking up is a Glowing One- one the likes of Oswald, still stable enough that he doesn’t look like a humanoid mass of radioactive waste. His voice is mellow and soft but also a little deep* …Nick? *turns and his glowing green eyes widen seeing Teshteal and Nick. Not Lucille because of the powerarmor obscuring her* It really is you, then. *he shuts the book he was writing in*

Nick: *eyes are also wide. He didn’t expect actually finding another living colleague of Nick’s after Teshteal popped up. At the moment he’s at a loss for words. All he can mutter is the man’s name* Gardio Chapel…?

Gardio: I didn’t think… Hm… *sighs in thought, tapping his pencil against his cracked bottom lip and chin* Wait- no. Not exactly you. The original would have died or turned into a ghoul around the time of the bombs-

Nick: I’ll save you some thought, Detective Chapel- my personality is based on the original Nick’s. Without his memories and all the lovely stuff that made him the man he was I wouldn’t be around. Just another ordinary Gen 2 synth.

Lucille: *just standing in stunned silence, listening to her dad’s voice again for the first time in years. Tears prick her eyes*

Teshteal: *also surprised and very tearfully stunned*

Jasmine: (Confused on what the hell is happening that her brain overloads and she just warily slinks behind Nick so she’s completely hidden from who she’s assuming to be Lucille’s father judging by everyone’s reaction. Her hand stays on her gun on her holster while she tenses up, waiting to see what happens)

Gardio: *eyes lock on Teshteal* But you- you almost look exactly like a former partner of mine from before the war-

Teshteal: Dio- *sniffs* Dio- it- it’s me-! It’s- *clutches his head and trying to fight back the memories of all the torture and pain* I’m that same colleague-!

Gardio: *emerged from the darkness and slaps a hand on the little gremlin’s shoulder and flashes him a kind and gentle smile* I know, Linus…

Teshteal: *tears start rolling down his cheeks and he hugs the giant of a man, barely registering his real name*

Lucille: *still in disbelief. Her dad is… alive? This entire time and she never knew?*

Gardio: *actually picks him up and gives him a big bear hug* I couldn’t forget this troublemaker if I tried!

Teshteal: *mutters, tears stopping at the familiar embrace of his former colleague* I missed these hugs…

Dogmeat: *confused whimper*

Lucille: *quietly* …Dad?

Gardio: *looks up, confused at the person in power armor calling him dad. He sets Teshteal down to address her, raising an eyebrow. Skeptical tone* Do I know you…?

Lucille: Dad- it’s me-! *takes off her power armor helmet*

Gardio: I… Lucille? Please take off the helmet. It’s hard to tell if it’s you under that-

Lucille: *removes her Sentry bot helmet to reveal her tear stained cheeks*

Gardio: God- it really is you- *trembling as he lifts his arms at her* My little light… *reaches towards her but pauses* No I shouldn’t.

Lucille: What?

Gardio: You’re still human. Just being near me hurts you. *backs away a little*

Jasmine: (Dematerializes from behind Nick without anyone noticing, figuring that her extreme hostility to Gardio would ruin the reunion. She ends up running to Backstreet Apparel, and by running she means silently leaping from rooftop to rooftop, going full on Batman by perching on the ledge of the store and peering down at everything)

Lucille: *gets out of her power armor completely and pops a rad-x. She runs over and hugs him tightly* I have ways around that, Daddy. *hugs him tighter. Quiet sob* I thought you were dead…

Gardio: *pets her hair lovingly* I understand, sweetheart. *kisses her hair* I understand…

Jasmine: (Tilts her head when she sees a radstag roaming in the distance, eyes narrowing behind her mask as she focuses on it and lowers herself so she is impossible to spot)

Teshteal: *tearing up again, but this time cause it’s so cute and sweet seeing them reunited*

Lucille: *pulls back to look up at him, realization setting in* You must have lived through the bombs… 200 years- and you’re a Glowing One?

Gardio: I did… *affirming nod* I lived through it all. Every bloody part of it. *cups his little girl’s cheek and strokes it with his cracked large thumb tenderly* You look like you haven’t aged a day- how is that possible? Mutation…?

Lucille: The vault wasn’t what they promised us. We were frozen and Nate… *takes a long sigh at her departed best friend and husband* He’s dead. Someone broke in and shot him then kidnapped Shaun.

Gardio: *gasps and his eyes widen at this news about his grandson and son-inlaw*

Lucille: When I found him it had been 60 years since the incident, dying of cancer, and- *scoffs at this next part, whiping her eyes with her sleeve* Running the fxcking Institute. I… he was one of the casualties of the explosion. *voice cracks* There was nothing I could do- the Institute had to go- I couldn’t do anything to make them change- *sniffs* I couldn’t do anything to stop them- God- I murdered him-! *starts bawling* I murdered my son!

Gardio: *pulls her back in to hold her, saddened by the news of his grandson. Despite this he softly consoles her* You tried everything you could to save him from himself…

Nick: Not only that, you saved a lot of people back there by sending that evacuation order. *sighs and puts a hand on Lucille’s shoulder reassuringly* He was very sick, doll. And, from what you told me after it was all said and done, he chose to go down with the rest of the ship.

Lucille: *she lightens up a little at both of their kind words, sniffling*

Nick: Then he tried to give you a second chance in the kid synth he made of himself…

Lucille: It’s not the same…

Gardio: Back up… “kid synth”? There’s a copy of my grandson the original made? *confused*

Lucille: *laughs softly despite her tears and pulls back to look at her dad again* Yes- despite everything you still have a grandson. He won’t ever age but he’s a sweet and really smart kid.

Teshteal: Oh- that kid in the blue and white shirt? He kept looking at me when we were in the same room together in Vault 88. It was like he was studying me or something-

Gardio: *looks at Teshteal* You have glowing horns and a tail. Not common, might I say.

Teshteal: Ah. Still kinda weirded me out.

Lucille: He was just curious-

Gardio: *eyes widen again when he notices her left eye finally* Your eye- it’s…

Lucille: A gift from a good friend after got reckless in a fight… right arm’s completely gone, too. Good thing about gen 2s- the parts make surprising great prosthetics.

Nick: Yeah, just don’t go losing the bits that matter. I can’t spot you a new heart or liver.

Lucille: *chuckles* We’ll just have to find a way to download my brain into a robot at that point. Or maybe a gen 3 with a botched memory transfer-

Nick: You mean like we did with Curie?

Lucille: Exactly… *darkly* Only more dire.

Gardio: *lost again. He’s missing context of the situation but he does smile at the familiarity his old friend has with his daughter*

Jasmine: (Stalks to the edge of the building, finding that a trio of raiders have come poking around to check out what’s left of the store)

Raider One: (Looks up and squints at the little figure glaring down at them) “What the-…”

Jasmine: (Jumps down from the building, landing right on top of them with her dagger out. She pulls them upright with her and jabs it into their throat a few times, waiting for their gurgle of death to ring out before letting their body drop)

Raider Two: (Yells out when his friend goes down for good, scrambling to take out his gun and aim it at the girls head)

Jasmine: (Lunges at him before he can shoot, jumping on his back and wrapping her legs around his neck so she’s choking him, using the momentum she gained to send them both to the ground with her still in control and pinning him down)

Raider Three: (Rushes to save her friend with a switchblade, unable to shoot at Jasmine due to her being so close that she may accidentally shoot her friend by mistake)

Jasmine: (Stabs her in the kidney when she gets close, then pulls her down by the neck to stab between her eyes multiple times, making blood spill everywhere. She gives the same treatment for the raider she’s pinning down, blinking at how simple that was)

Teshteal: *sniffs and notices Jas is gone, simply as if he’s a kindergarten student telling on a classmate* Detective Valentine, I think Rosie went on a raider killing spree just now.

Gardio: *finally pulls away from the long embrace of his daughter* Rosie? Who’s that? Also- how can you tell what she’s doing?

Teshteal: My sense of smell got really good. Like a bloodhounds. *sniffs* Getting hints of a mildew laden clothing store and the scent of 3 different people- dead- and obviously raiders from the way they reek of booze, chems , and gore. *waves his hand in front of his nose, scrunching up his face*

Gardio: Sounds like Backstreet Apparel.

Nick: I better go and get her. I don’t like it when she wanders off like this- things always get a bit dicey.

Teshteal: I think I’m quicker. Let me. *crouches and sprints off on all fours*

Gardio: Did he-?

Nick: Run on all fours like a monkey? Yeah.

Gardio: …At least he didn’t have some sort of snack in his mouth.

Nick: *hands on his own hips* Give him a bit. He’ll do it.

Jasmine: (Free climbs back up the building with ease, leaving the bloodied mess behind her without looking back down. When she gets to the top she enters the store through a hatch in the roof and starts digging around for anything that could be useful. There’s not much to see or scavenge, the place has been picked through recently)

Teshteal: *finds the store very quickly thanks to Jasmine’s tenacity to keep herself clean. He climbs in through the same hatch and drops down* Hey, looking for scrap? *smiles cheekily*

Gardio: So who is this girl Linus went after…?

Nick: Well, I should tell you that Linus doesn’t go by that name anymore. He went through a lot in the vault he was in- it’s Teshteal now. *rubs the back of his head* I wouldn’t even say his real name. He breaks down quite a bit over it.

Gardio: *frowns sadly, dreading what he could have gone through to associate his own name with terror*

Nick: As for Rosalinda, best if you just stick to calling her Jasmine for now. You already strike fear into most with your size, Chapel.

Gardio: *huffs wryly* Add glowing one to the equation and suddenly that prewar nickname makes sense.

Nick: Quite. *shifts a bit on his feet* Anyway, some more things you should know about her- Jas, I mean… *starts relaying information about the vault, her fear around new people because of the vault, where she came from, his current case, what happened in 88 with Lucille- everything that seems absolutely pertinent*

Gardio: *listens thoughtfully and intently to him, nodding along*

Jasmine: (Already heard Teshteal coming so she’s not shocked when he spoke from behind her. She turns around and nods with a tiny sparkle he can’t see due to her mask, waving her hand in a negative motion in front of her throat to show she can’t speak as she approaches him)

Teshteal: Oh- you can’t speak again. Did Dio scare you back there? *smiles, reminiscent of his friend* He scared me, too, the first time I met him. He was about half a foot taller than he is now. But it seems like he’s still the same loveable softy he was before the war. *crawls around carefully, trying not to get cut on anything* Can I help you with anything? *finds a dress and smirks. Jokingly, posing with the dress drapped in front of him as if he’s trying to sell it* Oh- how about this stylishly torn dress? The mildew is tastefully scattered over the printed flower pattern and the dirt really sells the “lying in a compost bin” look. Absolutely fabulous and only 1,000 caps! What a steal! *grins like the little jester he is*

Jasmine: (Tilts her head, smiling under her mask at Teshteal and his goofy skit. She reaches into her bag and shows off a pretty 1950s blue party dress that she made out of some quality fabric she found, gesturing to the moth chewed clothes around them to point out the difference between those and her well kept ones)

Gardio: Thank you for the information, Nick. I’ll be sure to keep it in mind. As for your case, I’m assuming you wouldn’t be telling me all this if you didn’t need a little help.

Nick: Sure would make Far Harbor easier to manage. Besides I know you’re real handy with a pistol, loaded or unloaded. Plus the fog there might give you a bit of a pick me up.

Gardio: Irradiated fog? Might do me some good. I’ve found I can store reserves of radiation and fire it back in concentrated bursts- could be useful on raiders.

Nick: Very. Shame you don’t have the ability to raise ferals from the dead-

Gardio: Nick, even if I could I don’t think I would. Let them rest… they’ve suffered enough.

Nick: In a pinch it would help.

Gardio: *shrugs* I’d have to be desperate.

@lucilleandherrobots

[wokeup-inadaze]

Favorite Lyrics From Heartbreak Weather

Heartbreak Weather:

You, that's what I've been missing/was tangled up and twisted/now all the clouds been lifted.

Black and White:

I can't promise picket fences/or sunny afternoons.

Dear Patience:

So, this song, THIS SONG. Has too many.

1 - Dear patience/Can we share a drink and let go of the pressure?

2 - Just me and the stars can get lonely

3 - Hey can you show your face/Can you see that I'm anxious/Can you hear what I'm saying, saying/Hey, cause I fall to fast/and go down blazing

4 - If I pour my heart out can you keep a promise (hmm)/Cause the situation/is like a mountain weighing on my conscience

(yeah ok the whole song)

Bend The Rules:

And I pour myself a glass/it won't be the last/just all medicine for now

Small Talk:

Oh, you see the fool in my mind/Can't run and hide/With your stare on me

Nice To Meet Ya:

I want your number tattooed on my arm in ink, I swear/cause when the morning comes/I know you won't be there

Put A Little Love On Me:

yeah this one is trouble for me too

1 - Is it wrong I still don't know my heart?

2 - Another Friday night tryna put on a show/Do you hate the weekend 'cause no one is calling

3 - I've still got so much love hidden beneath this skin.

4 - We wrote and we wrote/ 'til there were no more words/we laughed and cried/until we saw our worst

5 - Last night I lay awake/stuck on the things we say/and when I close my eyes, the first things i hear you say is/put a little love on me , yeah

6 - When the lights come up, we're the only ones dancing/I look around and you're standing there asking/you say, you're the only one I need

ok, again, the whole song

Arms of a Stranger:

If we're not going to do this honestly/Baby, won't ya give me back what you took apart

Everywhere:

The ground beneath my feet's a bit colder/I see your face in people I don't know/Feels like the world is twisting in slow-mo/And I'm stuck in one place

Cross Your Mind:

You keep talkin, I'll just listen/Daydreaming 'bout where your lips' been/pull my heart right out my chest, drive a train through/still get up and forgive you

New Angel:

Each time I close my eyes/she's in there running wild/I'm hoping you get her out of my mind.

No Judgement:

Even though we both know we'll move on/I'll keep your secrets safe/until that time we find ourselves alone again

San Francisco:

Drunk dialing/Full dive in/Don't you tell that it's too late now/Cause I'm pacing/I keep breaking/Is there a way to make it up somehow?

Still:

hahahaha a few lyrics she said to herself once

1 - My mind is complicated/Find it hard to rearrange it/But I'll have to find a way somehow/Overreacting lately/Find it hard to say I'm sorry/But I'll make it up to you somehow

2 - And I just don't know why/The stars won't shine at night

3 - Tell me you want it/A thousand miles away from the day that we started/But I'm standing here with you just tryna be honest/If honesty means telling you the truth/Well, I'm still in love with you

4 - Did I miscalculate this/Let's just go back to basics/Forget about what's come and gone/'Cause I hate to see us like this/Breaking up on nights just like this/We should be shooting for them stars of gold

Yeah, all in all that is the whole song.

Dress:

I'm calling 'cause I'm nervous/I know that we don't talk/I know that it's on purpose

Nothing:

What turns the sky from black to gold?/What sends my tears up in flames?

[wreywrites]

Tiger Shark

Part 5: The Net

Chapter 28

Marius puts me in a knee-length, sea-green dress with glittering wave patterns sewn on in opalescent sequins. And he gets the six-inch heels back out.

“Nothing but the best for my Tiger Shark,” he says, tying the same complicated pattern as last time.

Like last time, my makeup is simple but my hair complex. Finnick, who is weirdly wearing a very comfy-looking old-school-fisherman-style cable-knit, ties my seashell necklace around my neck.

“What’s yours?” I frown at him in the mirror.

He winks. “It’s a surprise.”

Then Dalia hurries in carrying a briefcase. “I got them!” she pants, grinning at Marius.

“Good. Everyone else?”

Dalia nods eagerly.

A smile splits Marius’s face. “Excellent. Let them see what happens when they try to take our victors.” He takes the briefcase from Dalia, sets it on the table, and pops it open.

“That’s a bold move,” Finnick says. But he leans forward and lets Marius settle the ten-year-old crown on his head. The black metal sits in stark contrast to his lighter hair. He stands a little straighter, and it’s one of those rare moments where he isn’t playing for anyone. Right now, Finnick Odair is just himself, smiling confidently at his reflection.

Marius turns to me next. I don’t know how they did it. They must have snagged them before we left for the reaping, because my crown sits on a desk in the upstairs study. But here it is.

Marius settles it amongst the braids, rearranging a little here and there, before giving me a nod and a real smile.

Behind him, Casca says, “There’s our Tiger Shark.”

Marius moves me to the mirror next to Finnick and even before I can fully see our reflections, I feel my smile growing.

In this moment, I’m not playing for anyone either.

The shining silver flashes in the light as I turn to look at Finnick. “Thank you.” I smile. A real, genuine smile, not to win him over or tease him or get something out of him, but just a smile.

He smiles back and pulls me into a hug. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Dalia is sniffling behind us.

After a minute, we pull apart and look back at her.

“Dalia-” Finnick starts gently.

She lets out a heartbroken sob. “I always thought you would be such a beautiful couple if- if-”

Preps 1 through 3 are crying now too, and two-thirds of Finnick’s prep team.

It almost makes me want to tell her.

“If you both weren’t so stubborn!” Dalia sobs again, then hauls in an enormous, shaky breath. “I’m sorry!” She turns to Marius. “But it’s true and you know it!”

Marius takes a deep breath. Then, in the most human thing I’ve ever seen him do, he hugs her. It seems like a long hug too, but then he lets go very suddenly, and Dalia’s eyes widen.

“Oh.” She looks back at Finnick and me. “Oh.” She nods once, sharply, eyes still full of tears. “Well, I just want you to both know-” The little chime sounds, signaling it’s time for the tributes to line up. Dalia takes another huge breath, steeling herself. She looks at Marius, who shakes his head just the tiniest bit, then she says, “You have always made me smile.” She leaves hurriedly, both of our prep teams trailing behind her in various states of distress.

Marius nods, almost to himself.

Casca clears his throat and says, “You’d better get going. My tributes have never been late for Caesar Flickerman, and I’m not about to start now.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

In the line, word passes up and down of what everyone except Haymitch and Katniss did in their one-on-one with the Gamemakers. We were all true to our word and hilariously harmless. Unbeknownst to each other, Seeder and Cashmere both whistled, but Seeder is terrible and Cashmere can whistle to rival an orchestra.

This year, I try to really listen to the others’ interviews. I remember regretting not knowing Zalea could juggle eight oranges until after she was dead. Now I’m here with friends, and I promise myself I will not go into the arena having missed something like that about one of them.

What I didn’t notice, when we were all lined up backstage in the dimly-lit hallway, is that Finnick and I weren’t the only ones to show up wearing our crowns.

Cashmere is charming and beautiful in a bright copper crown as she sheds a few tears with Caesar, talking about how the people of the Capitol have come to be part of her family, and she will always love them.

Gloss is steadfast and gorgeous with a shining golden crown. He shares his sister’s sentiments, and says he wishes, he will always wish, he could have had more time with his Capitol family, and how it is simply too bad that we, the victors and the citizens of the Capitol, are all going through this horrible tragedy.

Enobaria has a rose gold crown, and she is vicious.

So is Brutus, in a crown so red bronze it looks like blood.

Then comes the first half of Nuts and Volts. Wiress, in a crown I would swear is made of opal, speaks in trailing half-sentences of the injustices of man-made laws.

Beetee follows her, his crown dark like Finnick’s, talking about how the Games could be changed. They’re only man-made, after all.

And then Caesar’s joyous voice calls, “And now, our favorite Tiger Shark, Annie Cresta!”

I pull in a deep breath, rolling my shoulders back to stand as tall as possible, then walk out onto the stage. Already I can tell the crowd is torn between adoring cheers and heartbroken wails. I smile at them, letting it be just tinged with sadness at how much I will miss them.

Caesar gestures me to my chair and perches on the front three inches of his. I follow his lead.

“Tell me, Annie, how is it to be back in the Capitol?”

“Well, Caesar, the cream cheese rolls were waiting in my room and let me tell you,” I pause and smile conspiratorially at him, “I ate them all. Wait, no. I ate all of them that Finnick didn’t. We may have resorted to violence over the cream cheese rolls.”

Caesar and the audience laugh, then Caesar sobers the tiniest bit, though he is still smiling. “But isn’t there a rule that you can’t fight other tributes before you get into the arena? I don’t want you to get in trouble, you know, you are my favorite Tiger Shark.”

Now I laugh. “Caesar, Finnick was my mentor and now he lives across the street from me. We have game night on Thursdays. I think he knows me well enough without us fighting before we get to the arena. Joke’s on him, I know all his secrets too.” I let that hang, hoping Caesar will play along.

As always, he delivers.

“Oh?” He leans forward, eyes alight. “I don’t suppose you’d care to expose one or two of them?”

“Well…” I look around at the crowd and their imploring faces. I grin. “All right!” I lean toward Caesar and stage whisper, “He cheats at marbles and cards.”

Caesar gasps and the crowd howls.

“And he says he can hold his breath for seven minutes, but his record is only six minutes and forty-three seconds.” I take a page from Gloss’s book and pick at one of my fingernails nonchalantly.

“Typical man!” Caesar snorts. “Always exaggerating our abilities, aren’t we!”

“At least you’re self-aware, Caesar!” I laugh.

“Oh, you know me! I’m nothing if not honest with all of you!” He sweeps an arm toward the crowd, who cheer appreciatively.

Caesar sobers substantially as he waits for the crowd to rein themselves in. I’m a little concerned by this, but I don’t let it show.

“Now, Annie,” Caesar says, “District Four has the curious distinction of being one of two districts where a mentor and mentee pair are this year’s tributes. What is it like, knowing that this time tomorrow you’ll be competing against Finnick?”

I laugh. I lean back in my chair and I really laugh. It’s all I can do, in the face of this ridiculous thing. The laugh doesn’t go all the way to my eyes, and I’m glad, because when I turn to Caesar, I see that I have unnerved him, just a bit, just enough to be perceptible.

“But that’s what you want, isn’t it?” I direct my mirthless shark eyes out toward the audience. “You want us to go in and kill each other. That’s what these Hunger Games are and you all know it. You want me to kill Finnick? Gloss? Cashmere? Johanna? Will you still love me when I kill them?”

When.

The audience is recoiling, leaning back in their chairs like me. But theirs is horror, and mine is calm determination.

“Because I will. I will win.” I turn back to Caesar to see exactly what I hoped to see on his face—this interview has not gone the way he thought it would. I was supposed to be fun. Not tonight. Tonight I am vicious. “I will take them all away from you if this goes on.”

If.

Unprompted, I stand. Then I turn back to Caesar. “Remember, I’m a tiger shark, and you don’t mess with those.” I look directly into the camera, letting my gaze burn into it, then stride to my seat.

For all my confident fury, I can feel myself slipping. I muscle through Finnick’s interview as he recites a poem for his love. About a hundred people in the audience swoon, but it’s for me. It’s for me and I can’t react. The only thing keeping me upright in my chair is the restless tapping of his fingers on his knee. Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me… To anyone but a few of us in Four, it looks like a nervous tic. To me, it is everything.

Johanna is furious in her golden crown and Alvan in his silver crown is disappointed and Katniss is in her wedding dress and then she’s on fire and then she’s a mockingjay, and Haymitch… Haymitch doesn’t use even the front three inches of his chair. He stands and goes on a tirade, biting and sarcastic and whip-smart and he must have practiced it and timed it over and over and over because he finishes by waving an arm at Katniss and practically screaming, “And now you send a pregnant newlywed into the arena?” He throws his arms up in frustration and the gong sounds and he walks to his seat next to Katniss, leaving Caesar in shocked silence, having not said a word for the whole interview, as the audience explodes.

On one of the big screens, I see Katniss grab Haymitch’s hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. With the other, she reaches for Chaff. This is all I need. I lace my fingers between Finnick’s, his hand already stretching toward me. On the other side, I take Beetee’s hand, and before the screens cut to black, I see us, all twenty-four of us, the Capitol’s crowns on our heads, hands linked in a final show of solidarity.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

After they run off us the stage, Finnick beelines for Katniss and Haymitch, dragging me along behind him. Several yards away, Johanna is trying to do the same thing, but we are blocked by technicians and cameramen and the elevator doors close on Haymitch, Katniss, Peeta, and the woman who must be their Casca. Finnick’s head spins around to Johanna. He looks almost lost.

But Johanna shakes her head and shrugs, and Finnick and I end up in an elevator with Nuts and Volts.

Beetee is cleaning his glasses on the hem of his shirt. “It was worth a try,” he says to no one in particular.

“Yeah,” Finnick says.

The doors open on Level Three, and Nuts and Volts exit. The doors close again.

“Do you think Caesar’s tears were real?”

Finnick shakes his head. “He’ll miss us, but he knows good TV. And this is it.”

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Curled up on the couch watching the interview replay, I glance at Finnick. “You’ll still talk to me when we’re in there, right?”

He snorts. “Of course. We’re allies.”

“I meant-”

“I know what you meant.” He picks at the knot holding my shoe on my foot. “And I will. If I can’t, I’ll get one of our other allies to do it. I’m sure Johanna is full of stories.”

In spite of myself, I laugh. “She’s full of something.”

She’s raving at Caesar in her interview.

“So Johanna, Haymitch, Nuts and Volts… Who else?”

Finnick lets out a long breath. “Katniss. Ten. We’ll see how things play out.” Then he shoots me a grin. “You and me though. Always you and me.”

The broadcast stops when Haymitch reaches his chair, before Katniss can take anyone’s hand. But it’s still a statement. All of us angry, sad, disappointed. All of us in our crowns that were supposed to say we had won and that we were done playing the Hunger Games.

All of us going back to the arena tomorrow.

~~~                               ~~~                               ~~~

Mags wakes me up. For a second, I am very confused because this is not my room. It is, however, the couch in the living area, and Finnick is still asleep on the other couch.

Satisfied that I am awake, Mags moves to Finnick as I walk to the table and sit down across from Beck. Finnick yelps, then apologizes. After another minute, he joins us at the table. Marius and Dalia are there too, and we all eat in silence. When we have eaten, we hug all around, then Dalia and Finnick head up to the roof. Marius and I follow them five minutes later.

This time, I know what to expect when the woman in white approaches and asks for my arm. I try not to tense, but it still hurts when she jabs the needle in the muscle below my elbow.

“Tracker 4B is functioning.”

We land deep underground. I follow Marius into the dressing room, where there is a thin gray jumpsuit with some sort of wide belt and a pair of shoes that are thin everywhere except for the hard rubber soles. I have shoes like that at home. They’re designed for gripping wet surfaces.

“No armor,” Marius says. “No thermal. Should be some protection from the sun though. It’s going to be hot in there, if I had to guess.” He puts my hair in two long braids over my shoulders, then ties my seashell necklace on. He nods. “Keep an eye on Finnick. We all know he needs it.” Then he hugs me again. “Good luck in there, Tiger Shark.”

“Thanks,” I whisper.

“Sixty seconds,” says the voice.

I step onto the platform and the glass tube slides over me.

“Did you tell Dalia?” I feel like I’m shouting, but I need to know.

Marius gives me one last nod, and the platform rises, pushing me up into the unknown.

****

****

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Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider @anakins-ride-or-die

[freddythewatchdog]

@janitorlarry7

(Previous) "I'm doing fine, thanks." Larry spotted a nearby corner and sat down, hugging his own knees. Norman remembered not to get too close to him when he was like this, so he walked over to him and stopped, kneeling down and eager to hear what Larry has to say. "I'm--I'm sorry I messed up the whole laser tag thing." "I wanted to make it up by coming back to play after my quick outburst." "...Grop, I'm such a baby." His voice cracked as he rested his head on his knees, not making eye contact with anyone in the room. "I'm not good with a lot of people around me, a-and I still have these TERRIBLE meltdowns..." "Why did I even come in the first place..?" Larry felt tears form in his already worn-out eye. "I just wanted to have fun and--and try and branch out a little more! I guess that backfired badly, huh..?" "I'm just like a flarping child again. Refusing to talk to people like always. Crying right in front of you guys, like always. Its always the same!" Norman looked on as Larry tried so hard not to cry again. Grop, he felt just as terrible as Larry was feeling as he watched, unable to comfort him physically like this right now until Larry asked. "Larry, you're not a child for having these meltdowns or for not being great at talking to people." Norman said calmly as he sat down next to him, but not too close to him, in the same position Larry was in, just without his head down. "I know you really want to play laser tag with us, but, just like she said.." He glanced over to Cathy for a moment before turning back over to Larry. "...There's always another day in the future when you aren't...like this. I think you deserve a little break for today after everything."

The girls snuck furtive glances at each other as Larry explained exactly what Teddy meant when he said he "wasn't feeling well."

If this was a personal issue instead of a cold or something it didn't seem like their place to comfort him. Especially when the problem was the problem was people. And as much as Freddy had told them about Larry, they were total strangers to him.

Irene wandered off to walk around the field because watching Larry break down was starting to feel invasive.

"Totally! Like, if crying and throwing tantrums made you a baby Peepers would be the big-"

"Cathy!"

"What!? It's not like he's listening!"

Freddy crossed his arms and tapped his foot.

"Whatever. Just... play because you want to, okay. Not because you feel like you have to! And if not, that's totally fine. We'll just get to know you another time!"

After a pause Cathy glanced back. "I should probably go..." Irene had the right idea. If being here was stressing him out then maybe she... shouldn't be.

"...see what Irene's up to! Hollar when you figure out what's up!" With that Cathy jumped over the railing and ran off while yelling,

"Hey Irene! Wanna rearrange? I think we need more obstacles!"

Freddy wasn't completely sure if them leaving was a good thing. But that was mostly because he selfishly saw it as a sign that the group was continuing to crumble apart.

Freddy sat down on the other side of Larry, further than Norman did. He wasn't as much help the other times so maybe he should keep his distance.

"It's like she said. We don't wanna force you to do anything, y'know? You came here to have fun and if you're not... Well, you have enough stress as it is."

"So wanna do something tomorrow instead? Just you and me? ...And if you ever wanna try meeting them again we can do it one at a time."

[nerdneeniya]

The first thing you notice upon waking is how loud and bright everything is. You wonder briefly if you've got a hang over, but you haven't gone out drinking in nearly 15 years and you don't keep any alcohol in your flat. You roll out of bed and reach for your phone. It is then you notice the pale line where your ring should be on your finger and immediately start to panic.

Since being gifted the ring when you were 4, you have never once taken it off. When your powers first manifested you destroyed half a city block and you don't ever want to repeat that.

You scramble from your bed and begin tearing it apart for your ring. You check the floor, then you check your bedding again, and then you check inside your pillow case. And then, though logically, you know it won't be within the stuffing of your pillow, you're getting frantic and the flimsy fabric disintegrates in your fingers, leaving feathers and dust to billow around you. It's not in your pillow.

You go to check the bathroom.

Everyone believes your power is super strength and you've tried very hard to keep up that lie. In reality, your power is much, much more than that. The closest you've been able to categorize it is matter manipulation. With just a thought you rearrange the very molecules around you into whatever comes to mind. But you're not quite sure that succinctly describes it either, since you're pretty sure physics demands an equivalent exchange and last week you turned a small house plant into a love seat because you wanted to redecorate. Maybe reality manipulation is more accurate, though you've never tested your powers beyond transmutation and you're a little afraid to see the full extent of what you could do. You've always been curious of course if you could will a certain different series end into existence or if you could reverse time to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.

Wait, this isn't important!

Pondering the semantics of your power is not what you should be focusing on right now. You stop and take a deep breath and decide to leave your room and bathroom alone for now. You've already checked them thrice and ruined a good portion of both rooms in your haste. You know the ring is not there.

You can feel the building rumbling with your anxiety and grip your finger where the ring should be hard, trying to trick yourself into thinking it might still be there.

It doesn't work.

You head to the living room and try and recreate your day yesterday in your mind. You came home from another fight with your self proclaimed "arch nemesis", Dryad, and went to go make dinner. She hadn't been much of a fight, but then again no one has. And it's a shame really, that you're basically just playing her. You could end her with a thought, and sometimes you really are tempted to. But she's so young, hardly 30, and if you take her out, some other kid will just take her place. Not for the first time you wonder why someone of her skill set turned to villainy. She has a beautiful mastery over plant matter and you think she'd be way happier owning a shop or cultivating a large garden. You wonder if you could somehow ask her to come redecorate your flat with some more plants. You promise yourself you won't turn any of them into other furniture if you somehow manage that.

Speaking of plants turned furniture, you look at your new love seat and sit down. Perfectly plush in all the right places. The sun trickles in through your blinds and you think this couch would be much better suited under the window. You get up and move the furniture around for an hour before you're satisfied with the new layout. You even moved where the window physically was and extended the height of your ceiling just a bit. You think some hanging plants would look nice in the new rafters.

...

Wait this wasn't what you were supposed to be doing!

The ring dammit!!!

Any semblence of being calm flies out your new window and you smack yourself on the forehead and get back to retracing your steps from yesterday. Right, you went to go make dinner.

You step into your kitchen and look at the dishes still piled high in the sink. You give a sigh. It would be so easy to just turn the dishes to water and have them flow down the drain, but you don't feel like making new ones and your ring might be lodged between the dishware. Besides, if the Commission found out you were using your powers so brazenly, and without the ring, you could get into serious trouble. They'd also probably scold you for "stealing" since you didn't technically buy the new dishes you would have made. You hope they don't do a wellness check this month and question where your new couch came from.

Once the dishes are all nicely stacked in the dishwasher and the machine is turned on you turn your attention to the stove. This at least you feel no qualms about willing clean and with a thought it's sparkling. You think it actually might be brand new too. Whoops.

With the sink and stove clean you turn to the counters, and then the fridge. Wow how long has this soup been in here? You throw it out along with some other moldering vegetables.

With a satisfied hum, your kitchen is finally clean. And you only manipulated one thing!

Wait. Why did you decide to clean your kitchen by hand?

Fuck! The ring!

You try not to run to the sink, which results in you doing an odd lurch as if getting to the sink any faster will reveal the ring at the bottom. You will a floating light into existence and peer down the drain. Tentatively you stick your hand in and feel around the garbage disposal blades for anything vaguely ring shaped. All you find is a piece of carrot.

You turn your attention to the dishwasher. You know it's not going to be in the dishwasher. You know this. And yet you're still opening up the machine, water dripping everywhere, and begin taking dishes out, needlessly turning over bowls as if the ring could somehow have been lodged inside. With all your dishes back in the sink, your floor all went, and the dishwasher devoid of your ring, you set to putting all the dishes back.

Next you check all the drawers, and wow is everything unorganized in here. You take half an hour to transmute some silverware into drawer organizers and then another hour to rearrange your pots and pans and change your cabinets so they have sliding platforms. You close the cabinet doors and revel in your "carpentry" "skills". This time you remembered to search for your ring in the drawers, so you can confidently say it's not in the kitchen.

You itch to search everything again.

You don't though, knowing doing so will only rile you up. Instead you head back into the living room and search through it again. You accidentally explode a couple cushions with the irrational thought it could somehow be inside the couch instead of between the cushions. Rational thought has sort of fled you now though. You reassemble your living room and dissappear the dust and feathers.

You stand, tapping your foot and biting your lip anxiously. You think the back wall would look better as exposed brick, and as you turn to go back and look through your room again the building shudders with the change you hadn't actually intended to implement.

Right, your room is a mess. You snap your fingers for dramatic effect and it's all back in perfect order. Not wanting to make it a mess again you decide to float everything up and sift through it in the air. Still not there. You pass your bathroom, also a mess, and decide that it's a problem for later.

You give the kitchen one last brief search and decide that your ring must be outside somewhere. The thought fills you with dread. But the shaking walls, begging to be torn apart in your search, tell you it's time to search elsewhere.

But it's fine! You only went to fight Dryad yesterday so the ring must be at her lair. You'll just pop in real quick and give her lair a little search.

And pop in is quite literally what you do. One moment you're in your flat, and the next your in Dryad's lair.

You didn't even know you could do that.

Calling this space a lair though, is pushing it. It's an abandoned warehouse on the edge of the woods. You remember it used to be an old mill back in the 30's. You take in the damage you did yesterday and wonder how the building is still even standing. Broken lab equipment still lays scattered everywhere, intertwined with dying plants Dryad had used in the fight. You never really figured out what Dryad was trying to accomplish with her experiments, but the Comission said she was up to no good and so you put a stop to it.

With anxiety mounting, you set to picking through the rubble, trying very hard not to disintegrate anything. But after an hour of hopeless search, you're standing in more dust than rubble and you've hardly made a dent in the debris. You huff in displeasure and all the dust blows away. You stare wide eyed at the suddenly clean space. You hadn't meant to do that.

The sun is setting and the last flickers of light scrape the far wall of the warehouse. Without a thought you summon some floating lights, not bothering to see if the electric still even works in the building. You still have more than half of the space left to search and you're hoping the Commission won't mind this small show of power.

The East side of the building is completely collapsed, some large machine lays in jagged pieces and you're not really looking forward to searching through that. Dryad hasn't made an appearance since you've been here, and you're really hoping that means she left and has decided her lair was too compromised to stay.

You can't not search everything though so you set to once again digging through the rubble. You spend two more hours searching before you finally release the scream you'd been holding. It rattles the remains of the building dangerously and sends a flock of birds scattering. You think you hear a tree fall. This would be so much easier if there wasn't so much junk all over the place! But you can't just will all of it to dissappear, your ring might accidentally be poofed with it. It'd be better if the building had just not been destroyed in the first place!

And as soon as the thought comes, the rubble lifts from the ground forming back into the building. You watch as paint unpeels itself, as windows lose their cracks. Even what was already turned to dust reconstitutes itself. You watch in amazement as the building is restored to its original glory.

With the building back together and the floor sparkling, save for the broken lab equipment--which you turn into dandelion seeds because you think its funny irony--you see a single shining metal object on the far side of the room.

It's your ring.

But it's not just your ring.

Attached to your ring is what remains of Dryad. She'd been crushed by the large machine and nearly severed in half. The ring sits snuggly on her middle finger. What's truly horrifying about the whole scene, however, is the fact that the arm the ring is attached to looks as if it was burned. There was no fire during your fight.

You bend down and gingerly remove the ring. Her hand crumbles to dust. You flinch thinking you're about to accidentally disintegrate her too. But nothing more happens.

Without a second thought, you replace the ring back to its rightful spot and give a sigh of relief as everything becomes less. Less loud, less bright. Less powerful.

You stare down at Dryad again, at her arm. You stare at your ring.

You'd never really questioned how exactly the ring dampened your power, just accepted that it did. And now that you have it back on it feels wrong. Like it's not just dampening your power.

You stare down at Dryad again. If you could restore the building, who's to say you can't restore her? It's a leap for sure, but worth a shot. Besides, you'd really like to know what putting the ring on felt like for Dryad and why it burned her arm.

Removing the ring also feels wrong, but once it's off again you feel as though you can breathe easier. You set your hands on what remains of Dryad's chest and will her back to life. It's rather grisly, her flesh rending itself back together, but the process is quick, and not even a moment later she's gasping for air. You remove your hands and retreat a couple spaces.

It takes her a good five minutes to get her bearings and breathing under control. She'd started crying and won't stop patting herself down like she can't believe she's whole again. She hasn't seemed to notice you yet.

You clear your throat and she startles so bad she nearly falls over again. She's staring at you with such an intense fear in her eyes it hurts. You lower yourself on your haunches so you're no longer towering above her and put out your hands in a placating gesture.

"Hey, hey, it's alright I'm not gonna hurt you." You try to be as quiet as you can, but when she starts to scramble backwards you raise your voice a bit.

"Oh woah! Don't move so much! I don't know what being brought back to life does to a person, so stay still for a moment."

She doesn't listen and instead tries desperately to get to her feet. She fails miserably, mumbling incoherent words as she does so. She falls flat on her face. You get up and go to help her out. She's stopped trying to move when you reach her, and instead covers her head with her arms, trembling violently.

"Hey, please, I'm-I'm sorry. I didn't mean for that to happen, I didn't know you were under all that." You try again to calm her down. You're not very good at this. "But you're OK now! Everything is fine. Look I even restored your lair!" You gesture wide and Dryad flinches in response.

You curl your hands closer to your chest. You don't know what to do so you just stare at each other.

After a while Dryad seems to collect herself enough to sit up, "you-I...I was dead?" She says it like a question, but you can see in her eyes she knows the answer.

"Yes", you reply anyways.

She shallows thickly, "how?"

You don't ask her to clarify what she means, "I don't know myself to be honest." You decide to sit down properly, your old knees aren't what they used to be. Though, looking at Dryad you wonder if you could change that. "I just wanted you to be alive again, and so you were."

"Just like that?"

"Yeah, just like that."

She gives you an odd look, like she's waiting for the punchline. None comes.

"I thought your power was super strength?" She says with suspicion.

"That's the official story. It's a little more complex than that," you're not sure if you should tell her what your power really is. The Commission seemed adamant that you keep it a secret lest some villain try and take advantage of you. "My power isn't important right now though. You died because you put on my ring and I need to know why."

Well, she died because she was crushed, but you're pretty sure if it weren't for that, the ring could have done her in just as well. Dryad doesn't correct you though.

She looks down at her arm, rubbing her fingers with the other, "it...it was like my arm was on fire, but also like it was being frozen solid. I don't know what was happening. And then my insides were on fire and it felt like I was having a heart attack and it was so hard to breathe and then the building was collapsing and the machine. Oh God. I was-- it," she presses her hands to her stomach where she was cut in half and starts hyperventilating, "it was too much power. I-I wasn't strong enough t--."

"Oh woah woah, no," you place a hand on her shoulders to steady her, "the ring doesn't give me any power, first of all. So you definitely aren't too weak for it."

She stares at you incredulously, still breathing hard, "wh-what?"

"It doesn't grant me any power," you say again, "it actually dampens it." You show her your naked hand and then manifest a floating light.

She stares dumbstruck for a moment, "that's not super strength."

You can't help it, you burst out laughing. That was not at all what you expected her to focus on, "haha yeah, it definitely is not."

Your laughter dies down as what she told you sinks in. The ring should have dampened her powers like it did yours. But instead it tried to kill her. Her powers aren't linked to her life force or anything, and it's not like she's made of plants. You stare down at the ring in your hand, running it over your fingers. You place it on your hand and shiver as its "dampening" power effects you. You see Dryad lurch forward as if she wanted to stop you from wearing the ring. Whether because she's afraid you're lying and it will grant you more power, or whether because she's afraid your arm will burn off, you're unsure.

"Huh" Dryad suddenly says, when the awkward moment of silence had stretched on a little too long.

"What?" You ask.

"You look like you got older just now."

"What?" You ask again. Because, what?

"I can't explain it, it's actually more like I feel like you got older? That doesn't make any sense. I mean, I guess if it's a power dampener you would have less vitality. But-"

"But then why did it try to kill you?" You interrupt.

You both stare at each other. You look down at the ring and tear it off your finger. All at once a heaviness lifts from your shoulders. You can't believe you'd lived all your life with that pressure. You close your fist around the ring and apply way more force than necessary, reducing the metal to dust.

Dryad stares at your hand as the dust floats away. You both don't say anything for a long while.

Eventually, the kid speaks up, "so, what are you gonna do now?"

You stand on sturdier legs and offer Dryad a hand up, "well, I think I'm going to pay the Commission a visit."

You are a superhero known for wearing a signature ring. While everyone believes it to be the source of your powers in reality it actually dampens them, allowing you to safely use your powers. Today you woke up and could not find your ring.

[amazinggraciegurl]

Expect the Unexpected (Chapter 2: Eyes)

TW for death (not graphic)

Wednesday December 2, 2020 (day of Dexter’s accident) As Apple sits, her arms wrapped around Raven, tears soaking her shirt, she closes her eyes, swept back in time to two years ago.

Monday February 18, 2019 (freshman year of college) 9:08 pm She sits in a chair, her fingers twisting together in her lap. Raven is slumped next to her, Dexter’s arms wrapped tightly around her. She lies her head on his shoulder, still and silent. Her face is pale. Her eyes are bloodshot, ringed by purple circles. Apple glances at the clock overhead. The black numbers blur against the blinding white backdrop. She needs her glasses. Squinting, she can just barely make out the time. It’s eight forty something. She looks through the window at the dark sky. They’ve been waiting for over three hours now, and still no news.

She’s just about stood up to go talk to a nurse when Dr. Kent walks over, his silver spectacles reflecting the harsh fluorescent light. “Raven,” Dexter murmurs. Raven’s head shoots up. She jumps to her feet as Dr. Kent approaches. She walks across the hall to meet him. Dexter and Apple quickly follow. They stand around him as he nervously adjusts his glasses. He rearranges his clipboard before turning to Raven. His face is strained. “Raven, dear,” he says gently. Apple’s stomach contorts. Her breath goes still in her throat. She quickly glances over at Raven who is standing, stiff, her hands trembling at her sides. “I’m so sorry,” Dr. Kent says. “We’ve done everything we can, but your father isn’t going to make it. He probably won't get through the night.” Apple gasps. Her heart climbs into her throat, pounding hard. She looks at Raven who is still frozen, her eyes glazed. “Raven?” Apple whispers, taking the girl’s cold hand. “Baby, talk to us,” Dexter murmurs, kissing her forehead. “We’re here for you. Just let us know what you need.” Raven shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, her voice hoarse. “No, I can’t.” Can’t what? Apple thinks. Tell them what she needs? Deal with this horrible situation? She wishes more than anything that she could see into Raven’s mind right now, find out what she needs to be okay, and do it for her. “I’ll leave you guys alone,” says Dr. Kent. “Please let me know if you need anything.” He hurriedly walks away, his black shoes tapping against the floor. “Let’s go sit down, sweetheart,” says Dexter. “Come on.”

He and Apple slowly lead Raven back to the chairs, taking a seat on either side of her. Raven looks down, her hair covering her face like a shroud. Apple grabs her hand, gently squeezing her fingers. “We’re here, sweetie,” she says softly. “You’re not alone.” She doesn’t know what else to say. What can you say to a person whose world is crumbling around them? Raven’s breath begins to grow rapid. She squeezes her eyes shut, her nails digging into Apple’s palm. Apple winces, her heartbeat increasing as Raven’s panic ascends. “I can’t breathe,” Raven croaks. “I’ll get some water,” says Dexter, jumping to his feet and hurrying down the hall. She looks at Apple, her eyes swimming with tears. Apple’s heart shatters as she sees the pain glistening in those violet eyes. “I can’t breathe, Apple,” Raven says, the desperation in her voice shaking Apple to her core. “Oh, sweetie,” Apple whispers, tears rolling down her face, “I know.” She pulls Raven into her arms. Raven presses her face against Apple’s shoulder, sobs ripping through her. All Apple can do is squeeze her tighter and tighter against her own body, terrified that she’ll somehow shake apart. Crumble into dust-no different than the ashes her father will soon become.

Smell is the first thing Raven’s hazy mind registers as the panic finally releases its vice grip on her. Although her thoughts are sluggish, she immediately recognizes it. The smell of Apple. The scent of apples and cinnamon, but also the girl’s natural odor, the one that Raven had hungrily inhaled as they lay in bed side by side one day in high school.

November 12, 2016 (junior year of high school) Apple’s eyes were closed. Light puffs of air exhaled from her pink lips. Raven lay next to her, flush against Apple’s warm body, breathing in the scent that seemed to emanate from the fair girl’s very pores. Apple mumbled sleepily. Her eyes fluttered slightly. Her brow furrowed. She must be dreaming, Raven mused. I wonder if it’s about me. The thought surprised her. She blinked, shaking her head slightly. I’m sure she’s dreaming about Daring, her Prince Charming, she reasoned with herself. Why would she be dreaming about me? I’m not her true love. Daring is. She glanced down at the sleeping girl. Her face drew Raven in like a magnet. She couldn’t look away. She stared, her eyes wide, her mouth agape, at the round, pale face, the plump, pink lips, the thick, dark lashes. A rosy hue covered her snowy white cheeks. The only thing obstructing the perfect image was a blond ringlet that framed the girl’s face.

Raven had a sudden urge to move it. Before she could wonder why, her hand reached out, slowly moving forward. Her breath caught in her throat as it tentatively rested upon Apple’s cheek. She tucked the lock of hair behind the girl’s ear, but her hand lingered. She stroked the girl’s cheekbone, a soft, white petal against her thumb. It’s smoother than she ever could have imagined it would be, like white silk, the most exquisite fabric money could buy. Unconsciously, Raven’s head moved forward until Apple’s breath was hot upon her face.

It wasn’t until a few minutes later, when Apple stirred, that Raven was able to figure out the girl’s real scent. Not just the smell of her shampoo. Apple’s eyes fluttered open. The sudden presence of her bright blue irises startled Raven. She backed away slightly. Apple blearily gazed at her. She yawned. “Raven,” she murmured sleepily. “What are you-” she yawned again-“doing?” She blinked languidly. Raven opened her mouth to reply, but her suddenly tight throat could emit no decipherable sound. Apple gave the girl a soft smile. “Come here,” she mumbled, her arms motioning for Raven to lie down. Raven blinked, pulling herself out of her stupor. Apple smiled, pulling the blanket aside to make room for the girl. Raven flopped down, slowly scooting herself over to lie a respectable distance from Apple. Not enough to be considered weird, but not close enough to be suitable for cuddling. Apple draped the blanket over Raven before snuggling closer to the girl. Before Raven knew what was happening, Apple wrapped her arms around Raven’s shoulders, pulling the girl tightly against her body. This is definitely cuddling, Raven thought. Apple seemed to be enjoying it, though. She sighed contentedly, giving the girl a squeeze, tight yet not suffocating. Raven thought it was perfect. She lay still for a few moments, stiff in the embrace, before finally deciding to give in. Apple’s body radiated warmth, and she hadn’t been held this way in so long. The last time anybody had cuddled her was when she was a little girl, no older than eight.

January 4, 2008 A thunderstorm was raging outside, and Raven cried out in fear. Panic immediately coursed through her. What if her mother heard her? She’d be outraged. Evil queens don’t cry, she’d say. And especially not over something as silly as a storm. Thankfully, it was her father, the Good King, who heard her yells and came to check on her. He entered Raven’s room to find her a blubbering mess. He took one look at his sobbing daughter before lowering himself onto her small bed, lying down beside her. He embraced her. “It’s okay,” he murmured. “It’s just a storm. Everything’s alright. Daddy’s here.” Raven snuggled close to her daddy, pressing her face against his chest. He smelled like the woods. He held her in his arms until she fell asleep. She woke up the next morning alone. But the storm was over.

November 12, 2016 That’s what Raven did now. She buried her face in Apple’s chest, pressing herself as close to the girl as she could. Apple sighed appreciatively, squeezing her tighter. Raven closed her eyes, breathing in Apple’s scent. It wasn’t apples and cinnamon anymore. She didn’t know what it was. It was something that humans couldn’t define, she decided. Sunlight, rainbows, white, fluffy clouds. That’s what Apple smelled like. Endless possibilities stretching on the horizon, like a never-ending sunset. She inhaled the scent, greedily, desperately trying to soak it in, so it would stay with her forever. Even if Apple couldn’t.

February 18, 2019 Raven starts as she’s pulled from the memory. As she begins to comprehend the meaning of her senses again, she blinks. “A-Apple,” Raven chokes out. Her throat is raw. “I’m here,” Apple murmurs. “I’m not going anywhere.” Her voice is the most beautiful music Raven has ever heard. Raven squeezes her friend tightly, burying her face deeper into the fabric of her shirt, where she can only smell the natural scent of the girl. No shampoo. No antiseptic. No death. Apple gently kisses her temple.

Raven feels a sudden surge of panic. “My dad! I need to see him!” she exclaims. She jerks out of the embrace, rising shakily to her feet. Apple stands up, taking her hands. “Stay calm, Raven,” she soothes. “Dexter, can you go get Dr. Kent please?” Without responding, he runs down the hallway. Raven sighs shakily, her left foot tapping impatiently against the floor. Apple grips her hand, squeezing tightly. Dexter slides on the white tile as he returns. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees, breathing heavily. “Dr. Kent will take you to your father’s room,” he pants. “Here he is.” Dr. Kent strides over. Raven stands, walking over to meet him. She turns around, slowly waving at Apple and Dexter. They wave back. She turns, following Dr. Kent down the white-walled hallway.

They come to a halt outside Room 224. “Thank you,” says Raven. Dr. Kent nods, giving her a sympathetic smile, before turning on his heels and stalking away. Raven breathes deeply before walking into the dimly lit room. Raven slowly approaches the bed where her father lies, disturbingly skinny, his sallow cheeks a green-gray hue. He’s covered in wires and tubes. Green lines rapidly move up and down on a black screen. A steady beeping rhythm fills the still air. Raven moves forward, setting herself down in a chair beside the bed. Her father’s bald head glistens with sweat. His eyes slowly open, twinkling blue orbs traveling around the room until they rest on her. He tries to speak through the tube in his throat, but all that he can emit is a garbled, strangled noise from deep within his throat. Raven reaches out, gripping her father’s cold, bony hand. She scoots her chair closer. “Shhh. It’s alright, daddy,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to talk. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He relaxes, a faint smile gracing his gaunt face. Raven squeezes his hand. She clears her throat, swallowing down a sob. “It’s almost summer,” she says, her voice low. “Four more months, and we can go visit Cedar and Pinnochio.” She pauses, reaching a hand up to swipe across her eyes. She can’t cry right now. “We’ll take your boat and sail across the ocean together.” She closes her eyes, envisioning her words. “We’ll play card games together, like Canasta. I’ll always try to go out concealed, and you’ll always win.” A laugh bubbles in her throat, coming out more like a sob. Her father smiles warmly, squeezing her hand back weakly. Raven can feel his pulse slowly beating beneath his skin. “And we’ll play our guitars around the campfire together,” she continues, her voice raw. “We’ll play ‘Stars Like You’ as a duet together, and we’ll sing, our voices melding together in perfect harmony.” She shakes her head, squeezing her eyes shut. “You know we were made to sing together, right, Dad?” Her voice cracks. He slowly nods, his head scarcely lifting off the white pillow. Raven sniffs. Her eyes burn like flames. She reaches down, stroking the pads of her thumbs over his cold, pale cheekbones. His eyes gaze at her, blue as forget-me-nots. “I love you,” she breathes. She leans over, brushing her lips against his forehead. Her lips linger as she inhales his woodsy scent for the last time.

A high-pitched beeping suddenly pierces the air. Raven's eyes dart open. Her father’s eyes are wide. Raven’s heart crashes like a broken elevator. “Dad!” A hoarse wail erupts from her chest. “Daddy!” She leans down, kissing his forehead frantically, over and over again. Please, she thinks desperately. Can True Love’s Kiss work just this once? The numbers on the black screen lower. As a blue 0 lights up the screen, an alarm blares. Voices fill the room. Raven continues to pepper him with kisses, his temple, his nose, his cheeks. She doesn’t know how much time passes before she feels a large, cold hand on her shoulder. “Ms. Queen,” a man murmurs. “He’s gone.”

The next moments register in flashes. She’s guided back down the hallway, the reflection of fluorescent lights against white walls blinding. She feels warm arms wrapped around her. She can hear a heart rapidly beating as she lies her head against somebody’s chest. She hears the motor of a car start. She smells apples.

Wednesday February 27, 2019 9:52 pm Raven sits, slumped, in the black chair before the laptop. Her eyes ache from the glare of the screen. Se winces at a sudden burst of pain that radiates through her cramped neck. Resting an elbow on the oak table, she allows her eyes to slip closed. She strokes her thumb in circles along her temple, silently willing the splitting headache to recede. Tiredness washes over her in fuzzy blackness before her shut eyelids. She can feel her head slowly slipping from its position in her hand, lower and lower and-just before it hits the table, she snaps her head up. She yawns, rubbing her knuckles across her eyes. “I can sleep after the funeral,” she tells herself. She shakes her head from side to side, hoping to relieve the heavy grogginess pressing against her skull, but to no avail. The sleepiness remains draped over her like a quilt.

“Okay,” she mutteres. “What do I need to do now?” She exits out of her email. “Alright, I need to get napkins and paper plates for the food.” She picks up a pen, scrawling it upon her list. No ink appears on the white paper. She furiously scratches, adding more and more pressure until the point of the pen stabs a hole in the paper. She curses, throwing the pen onto the floor. Her hands tremble. “Calm down,” she says to herself. She closes her eyes, taking a deep breath. She relaxes slightly as her lungs fill with oxygen. Her head feels clearer now, like scribbles of ink have been removed, and it's now a blank slate. A sudden thought occurrs to her. “I should get the plates and napkins in Dad’s favorite color, which is…” Her voice trails off. Wait a second...Dad’s favorite color. The oxygen is sucked from her, like a flame has been lit within her lungs. Her heart begins to pound, crashing against her ribcage. The only sound she registers is her own breath gasping in her ears.

She's unaware of any time passing before she feels a warm hand rest on her shoulder, and everything zooms back into focus. Her head sluggishly turns to see Apple standing beside her, concern etched upon her delicate features. “Raven,” she breathes, her voice scarcely above a whisper. “Why don’t you come lie down?” Raven opens her mouth to speak, but her throat closes up. All she can emit is a strangled sound that seems to worry Apple even more. Apple takes her hand. “Breathe, Raven,” she urges. Raven stares at Apple, gazing intently into her cerulean orbs. They’re so beautiful, she thinks, her voice distantly echoing in her head. She focuses more and more closely on the eyes until all she can see is blue. Until she's floating on an expanse of glittering sea, her eyes closed, her chest rising and falling in rhythm with the gentle waves.

“Raven.” The softly uttered word sweeps Raven back to the present. She can suddenly see all of Apple again, the mane of curly blond hair tumbling over her shoulders, her round, pale face, her rosy cheeks, her light pink lips, her creased brow. Placing her hand on her chest, she realizes she's breathing normally again. She looks up at Apple. “I don’t know my Dad’s favorite color,” she croaks. She feels as if she’s been punched in the gut as the words leave her mouth. She shakily exhales. Apple reaches out, gently tucking a lock of hair behind Raven’s ear. “Come lie down with me," she says, her voice calm and inviting. She holds out her hands.

Raven allows herself to be pulled to her feet. She nearly collapses as she stands, her legs numb from hours of sitting. Apple wraps her arm around Raven’s shoulders, supporting her weight. Slowly, she guides her to the bed across the room. They climb in, sitting side by side. Apple pats her lap, smiling softly at Raven. Raven takes the silent invitation. She lies on her side beside Apple, resting her head on the girl’s lap. She sighs with relief as Apple begins to caress her forehead, her fingers gently massaging. Raven closes her eyes, finally allowing herself to relax. Apple’s fingers are soft and warm, and man-where had she learned to massage like this? Quiet minutes pass. The only audible sound is Raven’s deep breathing as she relishes the sensation of Apple’s tender strokes.

Gradually, the terrible throbbing in her head is reduced to a mild twinge. She opens her eyes slightly, gazing blearily up at Apple who stares straight ahead, a thoughtful expression on her face. ”I mean, I know your favorite color,” Raven mutters, breaking the stretch of silence that had enveloped the room. Apple whips her head around to look at Raven. She gives the girl a gentle smile. “Yeah, light green like a tasty sour Granny Smith apple,” Apple says, her tone light. She mentally curses herself. Why would she use humor at a time like this? Raven is devastated. She needs to say something encouraging. She sighs, her heart pounding. Why is she so nervous? Slowly, Raven’s facial muscles turn up, a faint smile briefly replacing the sheen of gloom that has recently shrouded her pale features.

Apple exhales, releasing a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding. Raven has smiled for the first time in weeks. It was small, pained, fleeting, but it was a smile. The leaden weight that has been pressing gradually harder against Apple’s stomach for the past three weeks suddenly lightens. She allows herself to smile, too, if only for a moment. Raven’s face quickly darkens again, though, the reality of her situation weighing her down again. “No,” she says. “I know your favorite color is red. Red like a Red Delicious apple. Cerise’s is red, too. Dexter’s favorite color is blue, as is Maddie’s and Darling’s.” Apple gazes at her, her lips parted. Raven’s tangled hair surrounds her face like a silky, purple curtain. She sighs before continuing. “Briar’s favorite color is pink-hot pink, to be exact. Ashlynn’s is green. And so is Hunter’s. See? I know all the details of my friends’ color preferences. I never bothered to learn my dad’s, though.” Her voice breaks. She bites down on her lower lip, kneading the flesh between her front teeth. Tears well in her eyes.

Apple sits, frozen, her eyes glued to the girl. She sighs softly, desperately racking her brain for something comforting to say. “It’s okay, Raven,” she murmurs. “You loved your dad so much. I mean, what his favorite color was is trivial in the grand scheme of things. You took care of your dad when he needed you most. You showed him so much love and compassion. You are an amazing daughter, Raven.” She grips the girl’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Raven smiles warmly, despite the tears pooling in her eyes. She sniffles. “Thanks, Apple,” she whispers. “That means a lot.” She clears her throat. “I know it doesn’t mean I’m a bad daughter. I’m just really sad that I’ll never get to know. I’ll never ever get the chance to ask him.” Her voice grows gradually more hushed until the last word is barely audible. Raven squeezes her eyes shut, knowing there's nothing she can do to block the flow of her tears. She throws her arms tightly around Apple’s waist, weeping into her lap. Apple’s heart clenches. Tears prick at her eyelids. She strokes Raven’s hair, the smooth tresses sliding between her fingers.

When Raven's sobs finally calm, she slowly rolls over to lie on her back. She gazes up at Apple, her face slick with tears. As she blinks, her tear-laden lashes glisten. Apple reaches down, gently cupping Raven’s wet cheeks. She strokes her thumbs across her face, wiping away the trails of tears. She reaches down, tenderly pressing her lips to Raven’s forehead. They linger as she breathes in Raven's warm, fruity scent.

Raven, grabbing a fistful of Apple’s wrinkled shirt, hoists herself into a sitting position. She dries her eyes and sniffles, looking disconsolately at the laptop across the room, as if she can't bear the thought of any more planning. Her eyes flicker, rapidly shifting between open and closed. Apple places her hands on Raven’s shoulders. “Come here,” she murmurs. She reaches out and Raven slumps into her arms. Apple holds her close, cradling her head against her chest. She closes her eyes, resting her cheek on the girl’s head.

Minutes of peaceful silence pass. Raven grows heavier in Apple’s arms, sinking deeper and deeper into the embrace. A sudden thought that pops into Apple’s head is on the tip of her tongue before she can even process it. “Raven, isn’t your favorite color purple?” she asks quietly. Raven shifts slightly in Apple’s arms. “No,” she murmurs against Apple’s chest. “It used to be, but it changed. It’s blue now.” “Really?” Apple asks, surprised. “Wow. I always assumed it had stayed purple. What made it change?” “Your eyes,” Raven replies simply. Apple’s breath catches in her throat. “My-my eyes?” Her voice is scarcely more than a whisper. Raven gazes up at Apple. “Yeah,” she breathes. “They’re beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous. They remind me of the ocean, calm and peaceful, but at the same time, mysterious and formidable.” Apple's face breaks out in a huge smile, her cheeks flushing at the compliment, said with so much conviction and love. She wonders fuzzily how Raven can still be so articulate when she's this exhausted. Raven buries her face in Apple’s chest again. Apple squeezes her tightly.

The silence returns, thicker this time, lingering palpably in the air. Moments turn to minutes before Apple opens her mouth, daring to convey what she thinks to be true. “You know, Raven,” she says softly, “I think your dad’s favorite color was purple.” Her heart pounds as Raven remains still and silent. Moments pass, and Apple feels that she ought to open her mouth and say more, when Raven shifts in her arms, looking up at her. A wisp of a smile flutters like fairy wings over her face. Her purple orbs glisten in the dim light. “I think so, too, Apple.”

[suhnshinehaos]

❛ clean up crew ❜

pairing : joshua hong x gn!reader genre : fluff, non-idol au, drabble wc : 0.68k

it’s already past midnight, the remnants of a new year’s party very clearly evident in your apartment. finished bottles of beer, boxes of pizza and half-empty bowls of chips cover your kitchen counters, stray cans of cola and colorful confetti litter the wooden floor, and golden streamers are hung up high on the ceilings.

a sigh escapes your lips, black trash bag in hand as you look around your home, landing on the only other person there, “you didn’t have to stay.”

joshua simply shakes his head and offers you a small smile, as well as an empty can of cola, “don’t worry about it…it’s the least i can do after my friends completely trashed your place. i’m really sorry about that by the way.”

you chuckle, letting him throw the can in the trash bag you held, “don’t apologise, it’s partly my fault for inviting them in the first place…but you really should go. don’t you have work in the morning- uh actually, later?”

he raises a brow, “trying to get rid of me, yn? i’m hurt.”

joshua then places a hand over his heart, stumbling backwards to really sell the idea of pain. the tiniest pout forms on his bottom lip, shoulders slumping and pretending to blink back his tears. you try your hardest to maintain an unamused expression, but you can’t help but crack a smile at his antics.

seeing you smile makes him smile, the undeniable tugging of his heartstrings getting harder and harder to ignore. joshua prays you don’t notice the warmth that spread across his cheeks, making its way to the very tips of his ears. he lets out a fake cough, “you’re not getting rid of me, okay? let me help you.”

your breath gets caught in your throat, just from the way he looked at you. there’s a warmth in his gaze, a softness in his voice that made you rooted to the ground beneath your feet. of everyone that could have stayed to help you clean up, why him? then again, he’s always been the sweetheart. always been the gentleman. you shouldn’t be too surprised.

“fine.” you huff, rolling your eyes. it’s pointless to even argue with him once he’s already made up his mind. your heart threatens to beat out of your chest, ringing in your ears as you attempt to place a teasing tone in your words, “but you can’t complain if you get too tired.”

he laughs, throwing his head back ever so slightly, “i won’t.”

nodding, you decide to play some music to fill the silence as the two of you cleaned around. the speakers in your living room let out a light, upbeat song for you and joshua to hum along to as you sweep the floors, pick up the trash, and rearrange any pieces of furniture that may have been misplaced over the course of the party.

eventually both of you plop yourselves onto the couch, looking around the now spotless apartment. exhaustion from the party finally catches up to you, crashing into you all at once as you let out a heavy breath.

joshua turns to look at you, “tired?”

“mhmm.” you hum looking back at joshua, eyes widening when you notice how little space there is between you and him. startled, you immediately look away, “thanks for helping me, shua. i hope you at least enjoyed the party.”

“i did.” joshua mumbles, still looking at you and voice only growing softer, “there’s one thing i wish i had done though.”

“what is it?”

you feel his hand on your cheek, touch as warm and as gentle as ever, forcing you to look back at him. the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, lips parting then closing as he summons all the courage within himself to let out his next words, “i really wish i kissed you at midnight.”

instinctively you lean in, stopping just as your face are a few inches apart. finding your own sense of bravery, “can’t you kiss me now?”

without another word, joshua presses his lips on yours, grateful that he insisted on staying.

from reese, with love <3 belated happy birthday to shua and a happy new year’s eve to everyone who reads this! i hope you have the best, most wonderful time :D third time’s the charm if this still doesn’t show up in the tags i will scream and just give up

[scaramouche-bully]

THAT POST ABOUT OVERSTIM MADE ME REALIZE HOW MUCH I WANT TO DESTROY CHILDE HELP. CAN U WRITE SMTH WHERE HIS S/O USUALLY BOTTOMS BUT WANTS TO TRY TOPPING HIM AND HE JUST KEEPS TRYING TO FLUSTER HER AND TEASE HER AND SHE GETS SO ANNOYED THAT SHE JUST FUCKS HIM STUPID 💕💕

— ☆ Wrecking T*rtaglia headcanons

Includes: Childe

[ Top ] Female reader

Contains: Overstimulation, bratty sub, mind break, sub space, aphrodisiacs, anal gaping, dacryphilia, degradation, size kink, slapping, choking, cock-stepping, humiliation, rough sex, stomach bulge, multiple orgasms, masochism + sadism.

— ☆ Overstimulation headcanons - Xiao, Childe, and Scaramouche 🐏 [ GN ]  

— ☆ Bratty Sub headcanons - Kaeya, Diluc, Xiao, and Childe 🐑 [ GN ]

[ masterlist ]

Welcome to the "Bully T*rtaglia" club, we are currently taking applications (u‿ฺu✿ฺ). My original draft was sweet but then my computer crashed and I lost everything. So I'm going to channel all my anger into destroying this man (consensually, I promise the ending is soft.).

— ☆ Childe

When you bring up the idea of you topping him, he doesn't take you seriously but he's open to it. While he thinks it's cute that you want to try new things, he's so much bigger than you, and being on top is actually a lot of work compared to being a pillow princess. Are you sure you can handle it?

One of the big issues that came up during your first times was Childe's competitive nature and how fast his recovery time was. He could have came three times and then suddenly flip you on your back and fuck your brains out instead.

Even when he had the patience to be the sub, he would constantly taunt you and be an insufferable brat. Constantly disrespecting you and trying to fluster you. Always reaching down to finger fuck you even when he was stuffed full.

So the next time you brought him a drink, you decided to add something extra. Sitting patiently as he thanked you and downed the entire cup. It only took a few minutes before he began to squirm in his seat.

Childe's face was slowly growing redder and redder, soft pants breaking through the quiet office, his eyes darting to you before settling on the ground. It was amusing seeing him be so quiet rather than running his mouth off every minute. It's only when you start to walk over him in feign concern does he break out of his haze.

Stumbling over himself as he makes wild hand gestures to stop you but as soon as you round his desk, you see his cock straining against his pants, and the embarrassment flood Childe's face. Trying to laugh it off, you're just so pretty he can't help himself, but he's quickly cut off when you prop yourself up onto his desk and step on his cock.

"W-Wait-" Childe groans as his hips buck into your shoe as he grinds against it. Clutching the hand rests of his chair as he leans his head against your knee, soft keens slipping out as you run your fingers through his matted hair as he humps against you. He makes a confused noise when you suddenly tip his chin up, smile sweetly at him, before he's sprawled on the ground as you slap him.

"When did I say you could touch me?" you shot him a cruel look that sent shudders up his spine but also made his cock throb. Whatever you fed him was slowly making him lose his senses until there was just you, you, you. He whines, still on his back, when you take a seat in his chair and dig your shoe onto his dick, randomly applying pressure here and there, his pre-cum wetting his pants as he yelps at the pain. His hands flying up to lift your foot away but he catches himself as chooses to claw his fingers into the wooden flooring instead as he reaches his peak. It's so empowering seeing the man who used to fuck you stupid, whimper and cry as he cums in his pants just from you stepping on his dick.

"P-Please...ah! mm...wha?" Childe looks down confused to see that even after just orgasming, his cock is still hard. His body is so hot that if he doesn't cum again, he feels like he's going to die. He's tries to lift himself onto his elbows and unbutton his pants before you kick him in the chest and send him back down. He's disorientated from the fall when he feels you sit on his chest, cupping his face in your hands to lift him, before slamming his head down. You're almost ripping his hair out with every yank and slap you abuse him with as he yelps like a dog.

"You filthy whore. Did I say you could cum? You ungrateful brat," you spit out as Childe wails in pain, almost knocking you off when he seizes up and shakes. You don't even need to check to know he came again, "Maybe I should gag you and throw you onto the streets. Let everyone here know how much of a pig you are. Is that it what you want?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" his voice is choked up from his tears as he cries over himself. You almost feel bad but he's basically useless in this state, sniffling over himself as he apologizes over and over again. You softly coo at him as you lean over and kiss him sweetly, taking his arms and placing them on your waist as he grips onto you like a lifeline.

"There there Childe. It's alright now, we're going to teach you how to be a good boy. That's what you want right?" you whisper to him as he nods. You pull yourself up even as he grips onto your clothing to stay with him as you unclasp the buttons of his pants and free his cock. Still red and hard in your hands as if he hadn't already orgasmed twice in the span of a few minutes. He's already so wet with pre-come that you don't even need to find lube to jack him off. Ignoring his moans and screams to stop, he's still sensitive, you take him to the hilt in your mouth. Quickly pinning his hips from jerking upwards and choking you, you're the image of content as you swallow around his cock as Childe throws his head back and sobs as he cums down your throat.

“Pl-please, please, mmn- put it in me, please…” he manages to pant you, his mind melted as his eyes blink in and out of consciousness. His body is still burning hot and he can't escape the feeling of being empty. He wants to be filled with your cock, stuffed fill until he can't live without being fucked by you. You've completely ruined him.

"It seems we still have a long way to go. You really are a disappointment Childe," you sigh as you wipe away the stray cum dripping from your mouth as you reach over and feed it to him. He whines low in the throat at tasteing himself but feeling you touch him in some way is the only thing grounding him before you pull away and stand up, "Go on. Finger yourself open for me."

"W-Wha?"

"Childe. I said. Finger yourself open. I won't repeat myself again."

He quickly nods, not ready to disobey you again, as he lifts himself up to get his pants fully off. He knows what you want and it makes the fire in him burn hotter. Using his own pre-come with shaky hands, he reaches over to hold his legs up for you, and circles around his rim before dipping inside. The embarrassment of holding himself open like this and your watchful gaze almost has him cumming again but he can't. He wants to be good. He does his best to spread himself open at this awkward angle but he soon loses himself. He should feel ashamed for getting off on someone watching him but it makes him finger himself deeper and harder. He's taken out of his pleasurable moment when he feels your hand join his. Taking one hand as you spread his ass to see his loose hole. The pre-cum from his cock slowly leaking down. You're absentmindedly lacing your fingers inside him, before pulling both your hands out as you line your strap on to his rim. He didn't even notice you put it on.

"Did you know I had to fake every orgasm because you were such a sloppy fuck? Perhaps I should show you how to fuck someone properly," is the only warning he gets before you grip his hips until your fingernails draw blood, before slamming into him. He throws his head back and chokes on his screams as his cock shoots cum all over his chest.

"Who said you could come?" you spit out as you grip his cock and squeeze harshly as he screams. The overstimulation is too much, it hurts. He's desperately trying to push you away but whatever strength he built is lost. Only able to lay there and take it. He looks down to see his stomach bulge with every thrust you make, the image of you rearranging his insides sends him flying as he tries to cum again but the death grip you have on him, he just can't. He's full-on sobbing as you continue to abuse his prostate, he's going to break, you're breaking him.

"nO! P-PLEASE! STO-" he begging as you continue to pound into him. You push even further, until your cock fully inside him now, and stay there rubbing right up against his prostate. Watching amused as Childe tries to shudder to the large intrusion, the never-ending pressure on his sensitive spots makes him almost feral. You swear he has hearts in his eyes right now.

"Pleasepleaseplease-"

You pull out slowly, just until the tip is inside him, before gripping his wrists as leverage and ruthless slamming into him. Childe parts his hips in a voiceless cry as you finally break his mind and fuck him dumb. He scrambles against the floor as he tries to find anything to ground him, trying to fuck himself back on your cock as he drools all over the floor. His vision leaves him as all his senses focused on the harsh drag of your cock in him, the wet slapping noise that fills the room, and the tears that slip from his eyes down to the floor. His cock throbs with each thrust you force into his body, thighs jerking, as his tongue lolls out.

"Oh!--mh, m-more!" Childe babbles deliriously, he's being reduced to nothing but a warm hole for you to fill whenever you feel like it. Reduced from a harbinger to a whore for you to use. He feels the breath get punched out of his lungs as his abdomen stretches and burns. His hole clenching around your dick that you have to forcefully yank him down to stuff him, "Hahh, you're tearing me o-open."

"You disgusting whore. Can you feel it?" you mock as you take one hand to spread his ass apart, you see his hole is red and puffy, pre-cum from his semi-hard cock leaking down where you're both connected. He shudders that you've fucked him so bad that his hole is gaping. It's when you reach over and clasp both of your hands around his neck and squeeze that he comes crashing down. Wheezing at the lack of oxygen that makes him see white, he feels so warm and content, mind filled with bliss, as he cums. Waves upon waves of pleasure crash into him as his cock finally softens as he relaxes and drifts off into space before slowly losing consciousness.

--- You slowly blink awake to soft kisses being placed on your neck, Childe's lazy form cuddled up to you as you stroke his hair. He's always so clingy the morning after. "Are you feeling alright? I was a bit mean wasn't I?" you ask a bit embarrassed as memories of last night flood your mind. You know you both agreed on what your limits were but you couldn't help but feel a bit worried you may have pushed him too far. Childe props himself on his elbow to smile dumbly at you, you were perfect.

"It was alright I suppose," he chuckles when you lightly punch him in the chest, "I didn't think you would try and drug me like that. You know I could get you arrested for that. " "Ha! Good luck finding someone that will fulfill your perverted fantasies. Besides you're the one that wanted to experiment with them and don't phrase it like that either," you shake your head at him before leaning up to kiss him. When you pull away you take notice of all the bruises and marks you left on him. There's a small part of you that purrs at the claim you made but you quickly shoo it away. It's too early for that. If your back is hurting you have no idea how Childe is faring. "Here, let me get you some water and let me see your head," you offer, pulling yourself up before Childe's arm wraps around you and pulls you down to lay beside him. Placing his weight on top of you so you can't squirm away, even as you swat at his back he smothers you until you give up.

"Stay with me."

"Hah...alright. Just for a bit."

[dvsconocvdo]

Amrita chuckled softly and shook her head. "That wasn't what I meant. In all honesty, I am absolutely enamored by the world around me, so I see magic everywhere. My bunnies are bonded, so I had to adopt them both, and I think it's fascinating that even small creatures like them get to feel that sort of attachment." It was even more fascinating to see bunnies experience that level of bond and friendship and trust when she herself couldn't even as a human. "You have permission to tsk away though. Don't let me stop your fun." She said kindheartedly. "A witch hut? Honestly. That sounds like a dream. Not that people my age can even dream of owning a house, but if by some miracle it happens, I'd love a little cottage in a forest somewhere. Though it'd be less Baba Yaga and more um... Fairy Godmother?" A swift hand came to cover her own face in embarrassment at the comparison.

To love him is to love myself. "What a beautiful sentiment. I'm jealous." Even when Rohan spoke of how mischievous Bustopher may be, he always spoke with so much love filled in his voice. Amrita wondered what it would've been like to have received any form of guidance regarding her powers. Instead, she felt years convincing herself that she was sick and hearing things. It had taken her so long to realize that her mother didn't need to touch things to pick them up or to rearrange them, but by then Amrita was aware of her animal telepathy and earth manipulation. Duplication came to her last in a panic. She hated thinking about that though. "I'm sure he must love hearing praise."

There it was. It was only a matter of time before he asked her about her family and upbringing. After all, if they were related, it would be his family too. But she wanted to hide the truth, wanted to paint a prettier picture than what it was. "No. I didn't grow up around magic. I... I didn't really know for sure who or what I was until one of my last years in high school. My dad told me. He told me about his powers too. You see... I lived with my mom and stepdad in Quebec, but I left after an incident and then lived with my dad in California. My mom. She doesn't really like magic, she was quite terrified of it. And terrified of hunters, so whenever I showed my magic or... spoke to animals... she made sure to put a stop to it quickly, so others didn't get suspicious. I wish it had been different though." Her hands were shaking, so she firmly gripped her skirt to steady them. "If we are related... I think I should apologize because it's probably not what you're expecting. I wouldn't want to be related to them, so I'm sorry." It was selfishness that took her to get tested. Greed to have some family that wasn't as horrible as the one she already had. Rohan was kind, and Amrita found herself selfishly hoping they were family. Maybe some good did come out of their family after all and maybe that good had multiplied in Rohan.

"I noticed my mom's abilities whenever she argued with my stepdad or with me. Telekinesis is quite handy for throwing people or things around, you see." It was a small opening into what her life back ho- in Canada had been like. Still, she held onto the truth. She didn't want to burden him with details of her rather grotesque childhood. But her chest felt tight, it felt like a loose pip kept dripping and dripping, and it was so close to bursting. "Drawing from other people's magic sounds very difficult, so I can see why it would cause issues. I hope I can try it one day." He was so kind, so considerate. Tears began to swell up in her eyes even as her shaky hands reached for the envelope. As they opened it together, she thought she might actually burst. It was so hard to contain herself, the plants all over her apartment began to grow excessively. She was so excited yet scared. As he read the words out loud, the tears escaped her eyes before she hugged him tightly. "I can't believe this. This is real?" It was a dream come true. "You're my brother?" She let him go for a second to see his face before hugging him tightly again. "You're my brother."

"You say that as though there's no magic to be found in the mundane. As a playwright, I'm meant to admonishingly click my tongue," Rohan teased lightly, managing a gentle smile in her direction. "Well, I suppose it depends what movies you've seen. I owe very much to Bustopher. When I was a teenager, I had no...sense of what I was. How could I? I mean, don't get me wrong. I think every teenager imagines what life would be like if they had secret powers. But I was just some kid, and then suddenly, there was this black and white cat telling me the most wondrous things. He awakened every part of me," Rohan explained. "To put it briefly, though, I adore him. To love him is to love myself." The line where his own will ended and Bustopher's began had always been an uncertain one. "And I'd love to have you over. I'm overdue for some spring cleaning, but I like it. It is rather new, though. I can't say that for the décor, but I swear I don't live in an ancient witch hut." Rohan wrinkled up his nose, giving a shake of his head.

"I guess that's right. You grow up out there among humans too. May I ask...your family, did you...practice magic openly at home?" This query was rather obviously for himself. Did our family practice magic at home? Did mine? He wondered, still, how differently his life may have been, and while he would never give up his own upbringing, so full of genuine affection as it had been, he thought maybe he would have needed less time to catch up when he first came to Lunar Cove. He would have been better at potion brewing. "They're finicky. There's...an enchantment to it, you know? It's not just the portions of the ingredients, but being able to draw upon the coven's magic to infuse them with your will. It's hard for me." He sighed. "That's very kind of you. My love language is words, so I'll shower you with every praise. What do you like to bake?"

Rohan's brow shot up. "Oh! Oh, uh...right! Right. Let's do that," he stammered out too hurriedly, evidently more anxious than he had been in some time. But they should do it for the bunnies, he decided. It was less nerve-wracking to focus on the bunnies. "Bandage is right here," he nodded, digging the envelope out his bag.

Holding it up, he moved up beside Amrita, motioning for her to take part of the flap so that they could truly open it together. His hand shaking as the adhesive peeled away, Rohan reached inside to retrieve a sheet of paper. He he held it up, eyes darting away as though he dare not see it. His heart was thumping in his chest, rattling his entire ribcage. But steeling himself, he looked down and read aloud.

"Based on the testing results obtained from the analyses of the DNA loci listed, the probability of of full-siblingship is....99.99 percent. Oh my God. Oh my...oh my God. Amrita, oh my God." He tugged her into a hug. He had a sister. He was hugging his full-blooded sister.