#a suffocatingly lonely death

[mostlyfate]

“A Suffocatingly Lonely Death. Only the ash-like snow knows that you were there.” 

FURITSUMORE KODOKUNA SHI YO 降り積もれ孤独な死よ 2024 — dir. naito eisuke, ninomiya takashi

[questintheskies]

[hopkei]

A Suffocatingly Lonely Death - Episode 7

[moronkombat]

Baraka needs some more love for sure. Can I request some sfw and nsfw headcanons please? Thank you again! Super excited to see what you write! ❤️ You can write him however you want!

it is time

SFW

Baraka has lost everything and everyone. He may not have yet lost himself completely but there not much left to lose

Finding a partner after the death of his family not even a thought in his mind

He had come to accept his role as leader of those afflicted with this sickness.

The other choice was to lay down and die and there many moments in the past where Baraka thought that would he should do but never did he commit

Acceptance of his disease the only solace found for a long and lonely time

He'd never dreamed to be meeting somebody like you

It had not been instantaneous, nothing of the sort. Just a chance encounter to slowly becoming acquaintances over time

The two of you work together, trying to benefit the people in the colony he leads

You were the only one willing to bring supplies. Everyone else is far too fearful but you wanted to help

That is essential in Baraka's partner. They must be helping and kind. He has been hated by many so a glimpse of kindness really catches his attention

It is that kindness that blooms his attraction to you but he is reserved with this new feeling

Baraka is very aware of his situation and health. This holds him back from approaching a potential partner and, instead pines for them quietly

He is so touch starved, unable to make contact with anyone really

Then he looks to you and how desperately he wants to hold you in his arms. Baraka wonders what you'd feel like close to him or if you would be worried he's mutations would cut you

Baraka never intends to know as he will not approach his partner first. He would be eternally pining for you in despair

So his partner must be willing to seek out Baraka's company instead and even then there is hesitation

He is exceptionally cautious with his partner, almost refusing to make physical contact with you

It not that he doesn't want to touch you, he very much so does. He wants that more than anything but he is scared

Baraka needs a partner who can validate his apprehensions and truly listen to them

There are many emotions hiding inside him and to have a partner slowly bring them to the surface and then just let him release them is a true gift

Slowly Baraka begins to indulge in those ghostly touches as time goes on

They are very light and subtle, just lightly brushing his hand to yours and this is how things will continue for sometime

His partner must be very patient and understanding with him especially when he apologies for his hesitation

It is during one of those apologies where a first kiss is shared. While his disease has mangled his face, his partner will still find ways to normalize all the typical physical sensations lovers engage in

Baraka cannot kiss you but you can kiss him. Lips places against teeth while hands hold each other dearly

How he reciprocates the gesture is to lay his forehead against your own. He does this to feel close and exposed to you

Baraka is a very caring lover but also shy and reserved in his affections

He does worry about his partner's safety and health, terrified that he will condemn you to death just as his wife and children were

A resilient partner helps settle those constant fears and when he feels your hands hold his and your lips against his teeth, the world feels a bit safer

He is also very protective of you but not suffocatingly so. He would prefer for you not to participate in dangerous situations but just you being next to him could be considered dangerous

Baraka becomes anxious when you are away from him. He worries that you may not return, that something may happened to you. He is so used to losing that it will take him time to accept that you are here to stay

NSFW

He is not immune to the call of pleasure. He too is but a man and one so desperate to feel the touch of another

Yet Baraka still hesitant and careful but he cannot help himself from trembling under your touch

He longs for you, taking in your scent as he holds you close

Wild thoughts circle in this head about what hides from him under those fabrics you wear

Hands seem to grip onto tighter but it is a merely fleeting second before he withdraws from you

Yet he cannot ignore the lust in his loins and so he masturbates quite frequently

He makes sure he is completely and utterly alone, not wanting anyone to discover this indecent sin

He is very vocal when masturbating, grunting and groaning as he hand pumps and squeezes

Baraka thinks of all he wishes to experience with you and how he wishes to explore your body

He will masturbate for quite sometime, going multiple rounds in one setting until finally he is sated

Still, Baraka is quiet about these ever lingering desires. He does not approach you with them

It is only when you catch him pleasuring himself that he can no longer hide

His partner is happy to help Baraka relieve himself, your lips coming to wrap so snug around his girthy length

Baraka is a rather large fan of receiving oral. He cannot get enough of your cheeks hollowed out around him or those gagging noises you make as he thrusts his hips

Prefers to cum on your tongue and face, painting you oh so sticky and then watching as you lick his cock clean

Baraka's tempo in the bedroom tends to shift and vary

He often starts out tamed and even, fucking his partner missionary so that he feels close and intimate with them

It does not last, however. Blood is pumping and his thoughts become so corrupted

He moves faster, harder and with command. The grunts become snarls and his grip on your hips begin to bruise

Baraka's sense of control is thrown to the win, his bestial and carnivorous fury taking hold of his mind

He is fueled to breed you, to fill you up again and again with his seed and Baraka has lost himself

You are fucked like a whore, like a dog, with him driving into you from behind and a hand at the back of your head forcing you down

He finishes inside you again and again, ravaging all that you are

Once he has finally drained himself empty the madness subsides and his senses return

Baraka will cradle you in his arms then, holding you close as you two lay together

[mythicamagic]

Death Comes Knocking

AN: Not finishing projects seems to be the norm right now- so just take this lil 1,000 words of Lobo/Muerte x reader bc he gave me brain worms okay? Puss in Boots The Last Wish was so good you guys omg.

Pairing: Muerte x Female Reader

Rating: T

Summary: She's given a stern warning. 'No more of your kind are allowed' so she extends an offer to Death in return.

---

She’s seen him before, on the faces of those she’d loved. Their eyes would glaze over and become empty, void of all animation, becoming quiet and still as they took their last breaths. There- in the right hand corner of that glassy void in their pupils- the shadow of Death could be briefly seen, passing over and stealing all light.

The silk spinner has witnessed this countless times- from the luxury of these people’s bedsides as they peacefully passed, to freak accidents involving one too many drunken unicorns and a travelling puppet show. The world she inhabited was colourful, vibrant and endless- so it stood to reason that in this world, Death himself could be a real, breathing creature.

She just never expected to gain a personal audience with him.

“You’re becoming lonesome, inmortal.”

The woman jumped, startled so badly she lost grip on the white sheet she’d been taking down. A large hand snapped out to catch it mid-air, slowly lowering it back down to her in offering. It took a moment for her frozen hands to accept it, gazing up at the creature looming over her washing line. His shadow swallowed her whole. He gazed at her with a kind of unblinking- red eyed fixation- the kind that betrayed his identity before the suffocatingly still atmosphere did, as if time itself had frozen.

A wolf had entered her garden.

“Hate to be a bother…but when you get lonely it becomes a problem for me,” he continued in his perfectly polite tone. There was a faint, gravelly edge to his voice, but it hummed pleasantly in her ears rather than frightened her.

Recovering from her shock, the silk spinner folded her sheet and placed it atop a waiting pile.

“How so?” she found her voice.

“Well, you repeat the cycle, of course- the one that led you here,” he wandered around her humble garden, taking care to weave around bird feeders and windchimes without so much as a strand of fur brushing them. He moved on two legs like any human, not an odd sight. The graceful fluidity of his movements was alarming though. Deliberate and predatory. He was looping around her in a lazy circle that was slowly tightening. “It’s only natural…everyone’s predictable in a few certain ways: one of them is the universal truth that when you get lonely, you seek company,” he mused, finally stopping before her. “And the company of mortals just isn��t cutting it anymore, is it? Hm, my friend?”

He stood a good several feet taller than her. Not even attempting to crane her neck up, the woman tidied her basket and lifted it as if readying to walk back into her tiny cottage. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone. They all die eventually, I’m not sure why you’re worried.”

With that said she took a step, only to find her wicker basket snagging on something- a sickle. The wolf practically used it as a fish-hook, turning her back to face him, and this time she had no choice but to gaze down the grey expanse of his muzzle straight into those vibrant red eyes.

“You’re not listeniiing~” he sing-songed in a gentle, cajoling tone full of too much teeth. He tilted his head with a patronising smile. “What cycle led you here?”

As if she could forget. “My creator was…lonely,” she murmured. “So, he made me, and eventually more of my kind.”

“Right you are! And I’m not such a big fan of that. Of your…kind,” a single deadly claw skimmed her cheek in a whisper of steel on flesh. The suggestion of it sent her heart racing. “You’re all so heavy. I can feel you.” All at once the playfulness vanished from his expression, leaving only a quiet sense of malice and frustration in his tight whisper. “The world won’t withstand the weight of too many of you.”

“So you’re here to stop me before I can even think about creating more immortals, is that it?”

“Bingo! My work here is done,” the wolf leaned back with satisfaction, and it felt like the garden could breathe again. Air entered her lungs, and the silk spinner shuddered quietly when his shadow drew away, allowing sunlight to kiss her skin anew.

With his silent warning given, the wolf swung his previously concealed sickle up onto his shoulder and happily strolled toward her humble gate, whistling an eerie tune.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she murmured, so quietly it was a surprise he heard her at all. But he halted immediately in his tracks. She could see his hackles rise a little just beneath the folds of his hood. “I’m not afraid, so there’s no reason for me to listen to you- Muerte.”

Death turned and met her even gaze. His silver fur fanned gently in the breeze, his tail flicking with agitation.

“Oho I really don’t think you want to go there,” light glinted off his sharp rows of teeth, the points glinting like treacherous mountain peaks. “True I can’t harvest your soul, but you’ve seen the life flashing before people’s eyes as I’ve taken them.”

He was suddenly there before her again, tilting her chin up with the flat of his blade. Her body automatically tensed, watching as the black specs of his pupils shined white, two moons hanging in a blood-soaked sky. “You were there, just as much as I was. You know- cordera- how painful it can be. How painful I can make it,” hot, panting breath fanned over her upturned face. Those rows of teeth were now inches from her ear as he leaned in close. “You won’t die, no- but are you really prepared to suffer me, over and over again, for breaking the rules?”

She swallowed. It was impossible not to picture the numerous grizzly ways she’d seen or heard people die.

Satisfaction leaked into his animalistic features. “Heh, thought so. Be seeing you.”

But I…I’m still alone.

Before he turned away, Death seemed to notice her expression. “If you’re really that hungry for company, then find the other heavy ones weighing this world down.”

“I don’t uh- get on well with the others,” she admitted weakly, knuckles relaxing from her death grip on the wicker basket. “We’d be living together if we enjoyed each other’s company.”

“Touché.“ He shrugged his large shoulders, resting a sickle on one with a bored look. “Well it’s not my problem, figure it out on your own time.”

Alarm flashed through her chest inexplicably as he finally turned away.

“Wait-“

“Carajo!” he hissed, glaring at her like she’d overstayed her welcome despite him being the one to approach her home. “What is it now?”

“Since you’re the one who has a problem with me creating fellow immortals- but I’m still hungry for company- the solution is right under our noses, no?” She smiled and dropped her basket to spread her arms wide, gesturing to the humble space situated on the mountainside. “You will become my companion.”

It amused her to see his dark features become blank with genuine surprise. His triangular ears perched upon his head flicked and flattened to his skull as if he’d tasted something sour.

“Cómo fue?”

“You are Death incarnate,” she said, confidence filling her tone the more she spoke. Yes- why hadn’t she thought of it before? This was perfect. “You won’t die- and I can’t be killed and won’t age. It makes sense to keep each other company.”

“You want…my company? Mine?” He shot her a look like she was crazy.

“Is that a problem?”

He tilted his head, falling silent for a long, silent moment. His eyes narrowed, sweeping over her frame as he stalked closer. “…You must be starving very badly, if your need has driven you to beg for me to be in your midst. Only the souls of the suicidal and desperate call for me.”

“I’m not quite that far gone in my apathy for life. I’m 500 years young,” she smiled, offering her human hand out to his monstrously large, silver furred one to stop him from baring too harshly down on her, stopping him in his tracks. “But yes, I am…famished,” the admission slipped out oddly breathlessly, though she was uncertain why.

His mouth slowly upturned, sizing her up in an entirely different way from before. Intrigue, perhaps? He looked just as hungry as she felt.

“Well, well. What big eyes you have,” he purred, gazing at her intently with a wicked gleam in his own red hues.

She returned his smile with one full of teeth as her hand became engulfed in fur and warmth.

From that day on, Pygmalion’s immortal bride kept Death’s company whenever he had a moment to spare.

---

End

[nikamuhlstattoo]

in a good way (1)

"i didn't know that i was capable of being happy right now...but you showed me how."

cw: angst, mentions of death/su!c!de, mentions of self-harm, marijuana usage, drinking, explicit language, slow burn (im so sorry), panic attack(??), dad joke near the end, idk what else

a/n: this isn't really my first time writing angst (not on here) buttttt im still nervy. idk how to feel. i spent a dumb amount of time on this and it still sucks!! this series is also gonna be long so i apologize. but its necessary i promise! i just feel like ppl don't write about ellie falling in love enough. all of it. i wanna see and write all that stupid lovey stuff, from the start. idk how to write so be nice (ori'llcry) also listen to this song i love it sm.

you shoot awake, beads of sweat forming on your forehead and your breath quick. in out in out in out in out. for the past month you've been plagued by nightmares, making you wake up hyperventilating nearly every night. earlier this month marked the one year since your best friend passed away.

lucy meyer, the only person who truly understood you, took her own life last year on november 3rd. there's no word in the entire dictionary to express the pain you constantly felt. you tried so hard to cope, therapy sessions after therapy sessions. nothing helped. nothing could replace the comfort of being with lucy, just knowing she existed used to bring you happiness. lonely wasn't even a good word to describe how you felt, it was so much more than that. you felt so empty without her.

you had been doing "good" before now. you made a few new friends, dina, jesse, abby, and you left your house more. but the sudden reminder of lucy's absence sent you tumbling down again. it had only been a year. how were you meant to live a whole lifetime without her? without your best friend? the dull ache you felt in your chest worsened every day without her.

your eyes stung with tears as you slowly caught your breath. you were sitting up in your, almost overwhelmingly so, cozy bed. your eyes blinked quickly and rapidly, your eyes darting across your pitch black room. you eventually shoved the suffocatingly thick duvet off your body and stood from your queen bed. you lumber over to your bathroom, flickering on the warm lights and squinting from the brightness. you slowly adjust to the nearly blinding light, rubbing your tired eyes.

what you see in the mirror looks like a whole different person. you frown, seeing the dark under eye bags and sunken face. your hair's all frizzy and messed up from the terrible sleep you were having, you flatten it with your hands. your weary eyes glance down at the picture frame that sat on the sink, picking it up to get a better look at the photo in the frame. the photo was one of you and lucy two years ago in june, it was a selfie of you both in a pool. her long and curly black hair was pulled up into a high bun on top of her head. her dark blue eyes store into yours as you examine the photo, making you let out a choked sob as a tear runs down your face.

lucy was always beautiful. she was the most beautiful person you had ever met, inside and out. she had fairly pale skin and soft features. some acne was on her chin and left, rosy cheek. she had fluffy, arched eyebrows with a slit in her left one. you remember the day she put it there. she claimed she wanted to "look more edgy" with a giggle as she lifted the razor to her eyebrow, exposing her slit wrists when her long sleeves accidentally slipped down a little.

you set the picture frame back down and wipe the tears that must've fallen from your face at some point. you didn't exactly remember when they did. you quickly piss and wash your hands before you shut off the light and walk back into your bedroom, flopping onto your warm bed. the time on your phone said 4:24 am in a bright white font. you laid on your back in your bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. you didn't fall back asleep that night.

you were so glad you had no classes today, you rarely had fridays off but you just so happened to today. you were fucking lucky too, having something as drastic as your best friend dying happen and being a busy college student wasn't for the faint of heart. currently, your closest friend at the moment, dina, was dragging you to a party with her boyfriend jesse and one of their friends, ellie, who you've never met.

"damn...i'd hit. seriously though, you look hot." she winks at you after you exit your closet, dressed in a tiny jean skirt and see-through, hot pink, long sleeved shirt. since it was fairly see-through, you could see the pink bra you paired with it underneath.

if you were being honest, you didn't want to go to this stupid fucking party. you wanted to stay home, and maybe cry a little. most of all. you wanted lucy. you needed lucy.

while you fix up your hair for the party, dina's phone buzzes. the message was from jesse, telling her that he was there and ellie was gonna meet you guys there. as you stand, dina gives you a wink and playfully smacks your ass as you roll your eyes and walk out the doorway. walking up to jesse's black jeep ranger, you slide into the back seat and dina sits in the passenger seat, dina mumbling a small "hi, babe" with a giggle. jesse smiles at her, pressing a kiss to her forehead before he turns his attention to you.

"yn! you hoe! i missed you, where've you been!?" jesse practically yells at you, making you flinch slightly before chuckling. you really had missed jesse.

"y'know...i have a mysterious reputation to uphold. gotta go ghost every now and then." you jokingly huff out, looking down at your lap and flattening your jean mini skirt. the words them both chuckle out a small laugh, it was comforting to hear that noise again. but you knew dina knew. she always did.

already feeling nauseous, the car pulled over and parked on the street near the house. the cool night breeze burned your exposed legs, making you shiver slightly. people were spilling out of the front door and sitting on the lawn, most people smoking with a drink in their other hand. the base boosted music could be heard from outside the house, making your head hurt already. you felt sick, you needed a drink or something.

walking past loads of drunk young adults, all three of you make it into the house, finding it fairly crowded. jesse goes off to find a place to sit while you and dina make your way to the kitchen, finding it slightly less crowded. dina poured you both shots, which you downed immediately, cringing as the liquid burned your throat. you perk up when you notice a stack of red solo cups, quickly grabbing one and pouring whatever drinks there was out into your cup, making a brown drink that hurt to swallow.

dina leaves you to find and probably make out with jesse, leaving you alone to babysit your drink. bad idea. you never could drink responsibly, finding it impossible to stop once you've started. the warm feeling that grew in your lower stomach and how your mind melted into mush was unbeatable.

"hey, you were lucy meyer's friend right?" a voice rang from in front of you, urging you to look up at the stranger. it felt like you've been here for an hour, your heels aching from the constant standing. "were". your chin quivered at the reminder of your best friend's permanent absence. you look up at the stranger, blinking away the haze in your eyes.

"uh, yeah...w-why?" you mumble out with a chuckle, tripping over your words. while drunk, everything was funny, letting you feel something good for the first time in a while.

"oh, no reason, you just looked familiar. um...sorry about what happened n' stuff.." and suddenly nothing was funny anymore. it was too crowded, too many people. you found yourself overwhelmed and suddenly you felt like you couldn't breathe. constantly breathing in warm, used air, you thought you might choke.

you don't even reply before stumbling away, almost frantically trying to get to the back door. you elbow your way through the crowds of people, not bothering to apologize to the people who curse at you. you quickly slide open the glass door to try and get fresh air. you plop down on the top step of the back porch and attempt to catch your breath, completely unaware of the person who was sitting beside you, curiously eyeing you up and down.

your elbows rest on your knees, your face in your hands as you try not to cry. maybe you were overdramatic, but just hearing lucy's name made you tear up. still unaware of the girl next to you, you sniffle and huff into your hands. suddenly there was a soft tap on your shoulder, making you jump a little as you pull your face out of your hands, looking over to your left at the mystery person.

"hey, uh...you alright?" the girl asks, scratching the back of her neck. you want the world to swallow you, bury you in a hole to never be found again.

you take a moment to take in her appearance. she had auburn hair that stopped a little above her shoulders, the layers made it almost look like a mullet and it was styled in a half-up half-down bun. she had mossy green eyes, the kind you could easily get lost in. the way her right eyebrow was slightly raised made you notice the small scar through it. you immediately thought of lucy. you wonder how she got it. her face was covered in pretty freckles, clusters of them painting constellations across her face. she had a half-burnt blunt in her left hand, her elbow resting on her bent knee.

you stare at her with wide, teary eyes, mouth slightly agape and seemingly out of breath. you blink a few times before haphazardly wiping your eyes -- trying not to smudge your makeup -- and looking away, looking up at the night sky. "fine... sorry, have you been sitting there this whole time?" you ask, your eyes drifting over to her again.

"kinda, yeah.." she responds with a quiet chuckle, huffing a small laugh through her nose. her smile makes a warm feeling flutter in your stomach. even though you literally just met her, you felt sorta comfortable around her. she had some weirdly nice presence. "you look familiar, what's your name? i'm ellie."

ellie. what a pretty name for such a pretty girl... seriously, she was crazily handsome. wait. suddenly it clicked in your head. "ellie? as in ellie williams or...?" you asked hesitantly, snapping your head to look over at her. she was already looking at you, silently admiring the way the moon hit your face.

"yeah... how'd the fuck you know that?" she asks with a laugh, her eyes narrowing at you. she shifts on the step slightly, turning to face you a little more. your knees almost touch, both of you angled at each other. there's a small smirk playing on her lips, a playful glint in her jade eyes.

her smile makes you dumbly smile as you explain, "dina and jesse told me about you, they really wanted us to meet." you're not sure why you're smiling. there isn't really a reason to smile, especially not when you think about the whole reason you came out here in the first place.

"oh shit! are you y/n?" the blunt in her hand was completely forgotten about. she put it out on the spot next to her on the old wooden steps. she shifted to face you even more, her body nearly completely turned. you did the same. you nod at her, a small smile still on your lips.

you both talk. and talk. and talk. for what feels like hours. strangely enough, being around ellie made you forget about everything. all the shit that went down last year, this dumb fucking party. all of it. you felt sorta free. you didn't think about lucy, about what you two would be doing right now, if she was still here. no. none of that. you're in the present for once in your fucking life. you didn't even think about how cold it was outside, you didn't care.

ellie made you feel free. even though you only just met her. thinking about it too hard made you feel a little crazy. 'you only just met this girl, how do you already feel so good around her?' so you don't think about that either. a loud buzz buzz came from your handbag, pulling you away from the conversation you were having. you open your phone to a text from dina.

dee 🩷: wgere tf r u girl

you: outside

you: r u guys trying to leave?

dee 🩷: yss

dee 🩷: hrry my feeet hurt

you look back over to ellie, frowning. "i gotta go."

"aww, you didn't even get to hear the rest of my cool dad jokes."

"i knowww. this stinks."

"can i at least get your number... y'know, to show you all my cool dad jokes?"

you huff a laugh through your nose and wait for her to pull out her phone. you quickly put in your number as you hear your own phone buzz again. dina was so impatient. you save your contact name as "y/n :)"

"can't wait to hear 'em all!" you joke to her as you walk back into the house.

the drive home was fine. they blasted some pop music dina loved, she screamed along to the lyrics, still plastered. they quickly arrived at your house.

you walk up the carpeted stairs to your apartment room, keys jingling in your hand. as you open the door, you flicker the lights on and kick off your shoes. fuck high heels.

home. a lot of people say "home is where i'm happy." or whatever. but its kinda the opposite for you. home is where you allow yourself to feel, where you think. your mind's not mush anymore, you can think and feel again. and all you feel is hurt. that stupid ache is back. the dull feeling in your chest that just won't budge. at home you feel like you're slowly being sucked into a black hole.

you huff and toss your bag onto the table, phone in your other hand. you shuffle to your bedroom, turning off the main lights and on your bedroom lights. you strip from your uncomfortable clothes and into comfy clothes, sleep shorts and a big t-shirt. you flicker the lights back off and flop onto your big bed, letting the comforters consume you.

you sit there for a few minutes until your phone buzzes. it's a text from ellie. she texted you on your ride home so you already saved her contact.

you stupidly smile at your bright phone screen, shaking your head and turning it back off. you plug it in and set it on your bedside table. you lay back in your bed, staring up at the dark ceiling. your hand reaches up and grabs the necklace you were wearing. it was lucy's. you rub the L shaped charm between your pointer and thumb, turning to lay on your side.

that night you dreamt of green eyes and short, auburn hair.

[skygemspeaks]

one thing i love about hive mind is amber's relationship with her strike team. I love how protective they are of her

i can't stop thinking of a time travel au where amber ends up back in her 17 year old body a year before lottery, and with her telepathy still blocked

At first she thinks she's the only one, but then she finds out that forge had broken up with shanna, and he starts hanging out with amber more and more.

Amber, after having gotten used to having the support of her unit, of being able to dip into their minds whenever she needed reassurance, is feeling horribly lonely trapped in the confines of her own mind

And now Forge is paying attention to her, and she doesn't know if she's reading the signs properly, or if elden's imprint is making her see things that aren't there. But she figures she has to give it a shot.

she asks him if he remembers lottery

And forge, who had been under the impression all this time that he was alone, is immediately elated. He picks her up in a crushing hug and spins her in an excited circle

It's hard for them both, to live their carefree lives on teen level knowing just how desperate a situation their hive is in at the moment due to claire's death. But there's nothing they can do about it.

Amber is still lonely, but at least she has one of her strike team members with her.

He's being suffocatingly protective of her though, to the point that shanna corners her one day and berates her for breaking up their relationship.

Amber had already long lost any feelings of affection she'd had towards shanna, but it still hurts to know what her once best friend thinks her capable of.

Over the course of the next few weeks, several members of her strike team slowly start making an appearance.

None of them had known where exactly hers and forge's corridor had been on teen level - all they'd known was that they had been in blue zone. Which is why when Forge and Amber arrive at blue zone's centre-point shopping area on teen level one day, three young men shout their excitement as soon as they step off the belts. Amber has only a few moments to recognize eli, rothan, and matias before they come barreling into her and speaking over each other about how excited they are to see her. They hadn't known how else to get in contact with her, but they'd figured she'd have to go shopping eventually, so they'd each shown up here separately, whenever they had the free time, and had eventually come in contact with each other.

Over the next year, they slowly make contact with more and more of the strike team, as well as the liaison and tactical members who are the same age as them

By the time Amber goes into lottery, she's already reunited with half her unit.

[sometilememes]

i've been hit and it was by @wolfythewitch's zombie au

He refuses to believe it. He ignores Phil’s skin as it changes from pink and alive to a pale, pasty gray. He dismisses how Phil’s bones begin to poke through his skin. He looks away when Phil stumbles and groans. He ignores the obvious until he can’t anymore. 

The highway stretches on for miles. Sooner or later they will arrive at a town. With that come new challenges and benefits. First, they acquire supplies. After that, they flee as quickly as they can. The more populated a town was before the more zombies now. A larger settlement means more resources but also more zombies.

It all began to blur. The past months felt like a cruel time loop. Walk. Raid a town. Walk. Raid a town. Walk. Over and over again. Nothing ever changes.

The highway was empty and quiet. It was peaceful and vast; almost suffocatingly lonely. The horizon appears a lifetime away and as he stares at the line, everything begins to fade. 

Until he sees Phil trip.

He’s lungeing before he even realizes he’s moving. His legs and arms move faster than he can think. He blinks and his hand is wrapped around Phil’s wrist. He feels nothing but the freeze of death. No blood pumps through his father's veins. His arteries have been long out of use.

The illusion is broken.

But he can’t let go.

[locketharted]

hiiiii manga recs with mimi time !! i read “a suffocatingly lonely death” and i honestly have enjoyed every moment of it. people have said they don’t like it because of the female lead but i adore kanon, she seems very sweet but obviously there’s something odd about her due to her circumstances growing up. i like how her and the male lead have gotten closer together though because of their connection through saeki’s brother. as of right now there’s only 23 chapters but im super interested to see where it goes from there :)

[tiraviarp]

Where There is Love, There is Pain

(WARNING: this story contains implications of past character death and gender dysphoria.)

It was halfway through the annual Valentione’s Day celebrations, and Arden was in a mood.

Not any of his usual moods, anyway, the kind that would make him scramble for his ideas list and find something to sate his mind. Not a mood where he felt on the verge of exploding, or at least approaching it, and preparing himself for the fallout that would inevitably ensue.

No, it was a particular mood, one that he hadn’t felt since June of the previous year.

It was Valentione’s Day. An inescapable tidal wave of red hearts, lovey-dovey couples, and romantic marriage proposals happening in front of aetherytes for all to see.

He was here, in Gridania, at the heart of the celebrations, strapped to the side of a veritable child to promote the event, because he sucked at money management and he was promised a nice sum to be warm and excited to random people on the street.

Why did he even come here in the first place? He knew what celebration was going on at the amphitheater, yet in this mood of his, his feet took him here anyway.

And it really, really was not helping him at all.

“Valentione’s Day celebrations are being held at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre! There will be costumes and merrymaking and a special congregation wherein participants profess their love! Please join us if you have the time.”

The little Elezen girl, Emilie, at his side was a chatterbox once he’d shown her how to hawk something confidently. Why was he like this? Why was he seen as a good person to do this kind of job? Just because he spoke loud and brashly and was easy to grin, didn’t mean he had passion.

And certainly not passion for this. He was just here for a paycheck. As soon as the gil was in his hands, he was ready to teleport back to his sad little cottage on the edge of the cliff and deal with all these squirming, writhing feelings of frustration (and sadness?) that were threatening to burst out of his chest.

“There’s no shortage of Valentione’s gifts to choose from at the markets. By all accounts, the most popular chocolate is from the Bismarck.”

Because why wouldn’t those feelings take a break for the season? They were always there, fluctuating in strength day by day, and they just had to notice the decorations and clamour all around. Hiroc was never far from his mind, and likely never wouldn’t be.

Would Hiroc have liked chocolate? He didn’t know. He liked savory things, with lots of spices, but that was hard to come by. Maybe chocolate would’ve been too sweet for his diet of hardtack and soldierly rations. Why was Arden, of the two of them, gifted the blessing to even have the chance to know what chocolate tasted like?

And could his mind please give him a break from thinking about him this time of year?

“Are you planning to give a special someone a gift, too? Assuming you have the skills, they say nothing conveys your feelings quite like chocolate you made yourself. And if you’re thinking flowers, a red Azeyma rose never fails to please!”

Apparently not for as long as he stayed in this suffocatingly sweet place, on this job he shouldn’t have taken.

The hilarious thing about how his mind turned over and over the thought was that who was to say what they’d had was love? It wasn’t, at least not to Arden. One lonely rainy night, he’d opened up his tomestone and searched for what is love. Besides the great music that’d turned up (he’d found himself humming along with ‘baby don’t hurt me’ for a few days after that, thinking of all the people like Hrudolf that he’d - well, he didn’t need to think of that, either, and open that can of worms), he’d read through the numerous sites that came up to help poor saps figure out if they were in love or not.

Do you feel charged and euphoric around them? Check.

Do you feel like you can’t wait to see them again? Check.

Do you always make time for them? Check.

Do you idealize them? Check.

Do you mind making sacrifices for them? Check of all checks.

Yet, deep down, he knew he didn’t love Hiroc. Even if all the words were right. Love implied something…else that he didn’t know, and Hiroc and him weren’t that.

“Um…are you okay?”

Love, at least, implied that there’d be a wholehearted attempt at making chocolates and getting special roses. He’d tried, yet everything he cooked comes out as inedible cinders and burnt pans, and all of his Azeyma roses turn out black and dry, never getting the chance to bloom. If he even had the mind to make chocolates to set out at Hiroc’s grave, or gave enough care and attention to grow even a single flower right for someone, maybe that would be considered something, but he never ever had thoughts like that, so that meant -

“Arden…?”

Arden snapped out of his rumination, grunting a single “Aye” and refusing to look down at Emilie. “Let’s get this job done.”

He could practically feel the girl’s nerves return, and all that was doing was rattling around the already-jumbled thoughts in his head. Good Emperor grant him strength and resolve, he was going to have to convince her now that he wasn’t some loveless lunatic stray she’d had the misfortune of picking up off the street.

Ugh.

______________________________________________________________

“A very good day to you, miss! Do you not simply adore this sweet season of ardor and affection?”

Arden recognized that he was a horrible liar. But in place of that, he was a terrific performer, and he was putting on an award-worthy showing of an excitable Valentione’s emissary.

“It only comes around once a year, aye, but it’s such a wonderful time. When else can ya let loose the flames of passion in front of a crowd and not get gaoled fer - ow!”

Emilie’s surprisingly sharp elbow jabbed him in the side, her happy smile dropping into a disgruntled scowl for a moment. “Ignore him,” she said, picking back up her expression for the woman in front of htem. “He’s new to being an emissary assistant, and can get a little lost in the fun himself!”

“Hey, I was doin’ great,” he hiss-whispered, just as the woman laughed, “It’s quite alright! It’s great to see young ones like yourselves having a good time. Now, tell me, are you here about the Valentione’s celebrations?”

“Indeed we are!” Emilie brightened, the chance of reading from the script seeming to smooth over her annoyances. “Over at Mih Khetto’s Amphitheatre, we are hosting a delightful event with gorgeous costumes to try on and an opportunity to speak of love to your heart’s content!”

The thoughts that threatened to rampage all around his mind again, he shoved away into the farthest recesses of his mind as he waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Be a brat, be an annoyance, do whatever it takes to keep his mind in the now - with any luck, the woman would be offended and threaten him, and he’d be able to preoccupy himself with trying to de-escalate her before she called the Wood Wailers on him.

Unfortunately, the woman was a sprightly one, only waving him off and snickering. “Well now, what passionate, dashing, and daring emissaries you are! Thank you for the invitation - and good luck with the festivities!” And then she wandered off, leaving just the two of them.

Where Emilie previously was dragging him about too and fro, a little stammer in her voice as she announced their next target, she was now still and staring off into the distance.

Maybe all of this was done, and she was going to announce that they were done, and Arden could take his pay and leave. If that were the case, maybe he’d actually start believing in miracles and gods watching over people.

Instead, all he got was disappointment. “...Dashing?” she murmured under her breath, sighing long.

“What’s the matter?” he drawled out. “We’ve hawked t’ everyone all around. Ye’ve earned the compliment.”

Emilie turned to him, startled. Did she think that he couldn’t hear her? “I…I know it was said in kindness, but I just…” She shook her head. “No. This is no time to complain - not when Astrid’s trying so hard to do her sister proud.”

He raised a brow. Did she not like it?

“She was hesitant about the dress - said that such attire doesn’t become her - but she donned it anyway in order to be like Lisette. And she positively shines in it, don’t you think?” The girl smiled almost wistfully, picking at the cuffs of her tuxedo jacket. “It was to help her shine even brighter that I decided to wear this suit. I believed it would serve to provide contrast when we’re side by side onstage.”

Ah. He had an idea of where this was going. Something unpleasant prickled at the back of his mind, but he shoved it away.

“But this - this simply isn’t me. I’ve always preferred to look ladylike. Adorable. And being called ‘handsome’ and ‘dashing’ reminds me of how far from myself I am right now. I need to persevere, I know this. It isn’t the time to be selfish. And yet -”

Ah, there is was. Of all the times for dysphoria to rear its ugly head, it had to be now, too? Not only a big festival dedicated to love, but now gender presentation was a thing he had to deal with.

This was the worst holiday. And the worst part was that he couldn’t just leave her like this, as much as he wanted to leave and deal with his mind suddenly remembering oh yeah, you have a problem with that too!

“Yer allowed t’ wear whatever ya want, y’know? If it feels better t’ wear a dress, wear it. Hells, go swap with what’s-her-face - I’d bet she’d be thankful.”

Emilie blinked slowly, staring up at him. “You…think so? But what about our roles? It’s always been a ladylike lead, and a gentlemanly assistant. Lisette created Valentione’s in the image of herself and her partner.”

“People aren’t gonna get excited about a holiday if the leads are sufferin’,” Arden snorted. Would logic appeal to her? “Just go and offer t’ swap. I know I’d be excited t’ swap on my bad days.”

“...you too?”

Shite. That is not what he wanted her to say. He knew he was a master of digging himself into holes on purpose, but this was not the time to enjoy climbing out of it. The only way this could be worse is if he saw his reflection in a pond on the way out and see himself looking like this, instead of what he really looked like in the past and in his mind’s eye, and, ah hells, now he was intimately aware of the fact that he wasn’t feminine enough for his tastes switching at just that moment.

If only she could just go home and change into something that would feel right and get him the right type of attention. People would just see him as some stray, feral guy right now, and people like Emilie would see him as some stray, feral guy that preferred feminine to masculine, and neither would be right in this moment because nothing could ever settle down in his brain, could it? Always hungry for ideas and stimulation, always thinking about Hiroc and what could’ve been, always jumping around between different presentation styles as if it had to matter. It didn’t have to matter, if only his body actually performed right and did what he wanted it to do. It didn���t have to betray him, now did it? And it didn’t have to betray him in such a simple, way, no - it had to be extra, just like he himself.

He often wondered if this was his ultimate punishment. Never knowing what to expect and never feeling comfortable, always looking at the past for the comfort he’d never have again. It popped up in all sorts of unexpected ways - first Hiroc and this stupid festival filled with red hearts and people feeling passionate about each other, now being reminded by a tiny Elezen girl of what he lost and what she still could have, if only she would just take it.

“Yeah,” is all he said in a clipped tone, crossing his arms. “I ain’t talkin’ about it with ya, though. Go talk it out with her. I’m goin’ fer a walk.”

Without waiting for Emilie to reply, he turned on his heel and stalked away. He needed to vent some steam, quickly, before he boiled over.

______________________________________________________________

When Arden returned to Mih Khetto Amphitheatre a bell later, sweaty and undignified with thunder still tingling his fingertips, he saw that something had changed.

Obviously, the two Elezen girls had swapped clothing. At least, he thought so - even if he couldn’t remember which was which, they both looked happier, which he doubted would be the case if Emilie didn’t speak up. But there was also a different vibe around the stage, an expectant one.

Of course, the expectant vibe was pointed directly at him. He saw it in the ways both girls locked eyes before waving him over. Well, the good thing is that he’d be out of here soon, whether they liked it or not.

“I’m here fer my pay,” he said before they could say anything first.

“Arden, you’ve returned!” said the one he thought was Emilie, now dressed in an adorable suede leather dress. “We were worried about you, you know. 

“Haw? Nah, ya don’t have t’ be worried about me. I take care of myself plenty fine.”

“Do we need to be worried for the Hearers?” the black-suited one said, eyeing his still-crackling fingers. He quickly shook them out. “I hope you didn’t disturb any of the elementals.”

Arden rolled his eyes. “Just because I’m a thaumaturge doesn’t mean I go around destroyin’ things, kid. I was just tossin’ a lightnin’ ball around.” They didn’t need to know that the ball was ready to explode at the slightest touch, and that he was flinging it around trees and beasts to keep his mind occupied.

Emilie coughed into her hand at the resulting silence, offering him a small sack. “W-Well…we’ve got your pay right here. Thank you for all your help! I wouldn’t have learned to talk like an emissary if you weren’t there. Were it not for your encouragement, Astrid and I might have continued to be miserable, trying to be someone we’re not. You helped us be true to ourselves.”

“Good, good,” he replied without much thought, reaching for the bag. It felt like a nice sum, more than he’d been promised. They’d thought he’d done a good job, then, which was fine by him; that just meant he could save more for that nice ring he’d found -

“...Actually, before you go, we’d like to propose something.”

Arden stopped his motion to pocket the bag, raising an eyebrow at the girl called Astrid. “...Ya’d better not be askin’ me t’ do more.”

“We were, in fact!”

Oh, for the love of - Would this day ever end?

“Why?”

“Because I told Astrid what you told me,” Emilie declared. The traitor. “About how you felt similar to us. You didn’t say how you felt, but your words inspired us to have a conversation. As emissaries of love, our duty is to help people embrace their hearts - but how were we to do that if we didn’t embrace our own, and didn’t love ourselves and pursue our own happiness? That is what led us to swap clothes, in the end. But do you love yourself and pursue your own happiness?”

“I can’t fit into yer tiny clothes, kid, so I don’t know what yer talkin’ about -”

Emilie continued as if he hadn’t spoken at all. “I wasn’t blind to your frustration while we worked together. First it was the festivities itself that you clenched your teeth at, especially when I asked you if you had someone special in mind. Then, you got frustrated with my nerves about asking Astrid to change, saying that you felt similar.”

“We aren’t asking you to make you madder,” Astrid placated with arms outstretched. “We’re asking because the best way to learn about and understand something is to work with it, rather than hide away from it. You’ve lost someone special to you, haven’t you? And you still struggle with feeling comfortable in your own appearance?”

He could feel all that frustrated energy he’d spent time working out building back up, writhing and seething. More than that, though, a memory was bubbling to the surface, one that he unashamedly clung to as soon as it appeared:

“Yer not gonna get any better if ya don’t try, Hiroc,” she said, towering over him lying on the ground. “Don’t ya wanna be a hero? Get up - they won’t accept ya as one unless yer good.”

Hiroc closed his eyes, heaving a slow sigh. “I want t’, aye. But we’ll have t’ hurt them. I know I signed up fer this, but…”

“They’ll learn. As long as yer gentle and let them learn, they won’t see ya like they see the Garleans. Ye’ll be the bridge between Ala Mhigo and Garlemald, and they’ll thank ya! And ye’ll  be famous!”

“We’ll be famous, Arden. I’m not taking the title all for myself.” Hiroc’s eyes snapped open, and as he went to sit up, she backed up. “If I’m going to be a hero, ye’ll be right up there with me.”

“Aye, aye. Fine.” Though she rolled her eyes, she was grinning. “I’ll be the sidekick. Happy?”

And Hiroc smiled right back at her. “More than ye’d ever know.”

“Valentione’s isn’t all about being a festival of romantic love. While it can be, and it can be very passionate and bold, it’s about all forms of love. Romantic, platonic, and anywhere in-between, a love for life or something you’re passionate about…and as we’ve just remembered, a love for yourself. By working our festival and talking with our guests, we think that you could benefit.”

Which of the girls was speaking? He couldn’t tell. As he shook off the memory, his vision was a little blurred. All of that pent-up energy was suddenly gone, leaving him feeling drained.

“Not to mention, you wouldn’t go empty-handed! You’d earn a nice sum each day, plus have access to our wardrobe. You could wear whatever style you’d feel comfortable in, and switch whenever you want. You’d have time to explore that part of yourself, too, in a comfortable environment. You already know you aren’t the only one who’s felt that way!”

It was all ridiculous. A week-long event filled with red hearts and passionate professions of love everywhere was affecting him more than an entire month and a flag he’d hidden under the broken couch at his cottage, and certainly more than the technical research he’d done about himself.

Why? Why was it this way? 

“O-Of course, we wouldn’t want to pressure you into making a decision now,” said the one in the dress. Emilie. Right. “You’re welcome to think it over, or even decline outright. We won’t think less of you.”

Arden sighed long and heavy. “...Gimmie time t’ think.”

______________________________________________________________

The next day, as the sun was just beginning to rise over the Shroud treetops, Arden returned with bitten-up lips and a sobering look. Astrid and Emilie watched as he made his way to the stage.

Well. Here goes.

“...Gimmie the heart stencil”.

[pulausemakau]

i know it’s been a year but does anyone still randomly get mad about random little aspects of s2 that aisling fucked with for no conceivable reason 

like i’ve ranted multiple times about the irony of aisling claiming that the show at its core will always be “about two sisters” when she literally decided to skip past the conversation aine and shona presumably had in 2x06 that led to them lying on the floor in vish’s living room... i once compared it to basically if she hadn’t shown us aine and shona’s fight in 1x06, only their heart to heart in the bathroom at the women in wealth event afterwards 

and like?? asking us to believe aine “i’ll fucking kill her” o’keefe, who screamed at shona right before her big event because shona rejected vish’s proposal and betrayed her confidence to charlotte, wouldn’t lose her mind over shona’s confession that she was fucking the woman who told her ex-boyfriend about her mental health issues? 

and like i’m so 100% behind canon braine if s3 ever comes out now, but now it’s been a year i’m just heartbroken that she made the choices she did about richard’s character

like... in s1, richard isn’t freddie’s foil. he’s shona’s. 

shona loves aine unconditionally, codependently, suffocatingly. she willingly takes on that responsibility to hover endlessly over her baby sister. someone she perceives to be weaker, more helpless, who needs her. richard is a very lonely person, who is entirely on his own, who is not naturally nurturing, who has a child foisted upon him in a situation he did not expect nor for which he was prepared. shona loves so much she gets it wrong. richard has no idea what he’s doing. his idea of care is getting etienne an english tutor, giving him books with themes of death and crime, and asking him to dinner like he’s hosting a black tie event

and it translates over to aine? richard is the only character in s1 with any meaningful screen time to hold aine truly accountable for her actions, for her self. richard has no patience for her fuckups and for her crossing any lines. richard respects her as an equal but doesn’t coddle her. 

like, the whole of s1, that’s what aine’s struggling to get. shona doesn’t respect her agency or her time. vish doesn’t respect her presence, her intelligence, or her importance in shona’s life. eileen doesn’t respect her feelings. tom and freddie don’t respect her boundaries (freddie is cheating on his girlfriend with her, he doesn’t respect anything about aine). to an extent, even brad (and emma) don’t respect her space. richard gives aine all of that, in his quiet subtle way, while also asking aine to give him that basic respect he deserves as well. he doesn’t ask her to change for him, and neither does he change himself just for her.

and above all, my fucking god, the thing about richard in s1 is that HE LISTENS!! not just to aine but to etienne! and that is the whole point!! why do aine and freddie have such shit sex? why do shona and aine end up having that explosive fight in 1x06? why is aine so frustrated with eileen and conversely why doesn’t eileen understand her youngest daughter? the entirety of s1 revolves around communication, the lack of it, and how that lack poisons every relationship we see in the series. love is nothing without communication. love is nothing if you can’t hear what the other person is saying. charlotte, at least, listens to shona. but NOBODY listens to aine. until richard. 

and i just still can’t believe that, in s2, with one single awful out of character line -

“i can’t stop her talking”

- aisling would throw all of that away.

and for WHAT?! 

[mostlyfate]

A Suffocatingly Lonely Death. Only the ash-like snow knows that you were there.

FURITSUMORE KODOKUNA SHI YO 降り積もれ孤独な死よ 2024 — dir. naito eisuke, ninomiya takashi

[questintheskies]

[courtlyharlequin]

A Spring Without You

Warning(s): gender neutral reader, reader death mention, suicide mention, angst, grief, post-death scenario

Summary: One year. One year since that fateful day yet Leona Kingscholar finds himself unable to move on from you, his dearly beloved as the snow melts and the buds bloom into blossoms.

A/N: Uwahhh! New blog alert! This is my debut fic hehehehe. Well, on Tumblr anyway. This was a self indulgent fic but I hope you enjoy regardless ! Shoot me a request to help me start up this blog >~<

They say that spring is the season of new beginnings. They say that the colder the winter, the warmer the spring. They say that a life without love is a year without spring. The latter holds true for Leona Kingscholar.

Spring has officially sprung in Twisted Wonderland. The botanical garden is lush with foliage and flowers in full bloom. On any normal day, Leona would have claimed the area as a napping spot. But these days were far from normal. He could not bear to see the sight of the garden— the garden where he met you. Leona could not bear the sight of any viridescent foliage, really. He avoided the greenhouse at all costs. Anything and everything related to the garden painfully reminded him of you.

You who had stepped into his darkness and not only accepted his inner demons, but also made acquaintance with them. You who had shed light into his abyss of ugly emotions. Emotions like jealousy and sadness meant nothing when he was with you. Your naive nature was endearing; it was refreshing compared to from all the things Leona experiences. Your smile was blinding. You who had thawed the winter’s frost in his heart and embraced it with the mellow tenderness of springtime. You were the sun, so pure and full of life. What’s more is that you adore spring for the sole reason of flowers. You loved them. Perhaps more than him— not that he was willing to admit it. But for Leona, he loved you more than anything in the world. He loved you as much as you loved Eastertide— if not more. He loved how you lit up his monochrome world, how flowers were only beautiful if you were dressed in them. He loved your unconditional love. Since when had he received such an endless stream of affection and affirmation? It was a flurry of positive yet unknown emotions. Everytime he was with you, he would feel it. It was as if a surge of flower petals engulfed him in their intoxicatingly sweet scent.

Just like that day. The memory of you frolicing a vast flower field haunts Leona to this day. One year ago, you smiled. You smiled for the last time that day.

Your laughter rings in Leona’s ears every now and then. You were unusually giddy that day, having the gall to drag him through the mirror to an undisturbed meadow tucked away behind a range of rolling hills. His nose was immediately flooded with a soft fragrance. His eyes were met with thousands of flower buds, ready to bloom in the next few days. Some had already bloomed. He stood with his mouth agape only to become the subject of your teasing.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”  you asked before taking his hands to, quite literally, waltz among the budding florets.

It was surreal. You were a hopeless-beyond-help romantic and Leona would occasionally indulge in your cliche fantasies. Because he found it charming. Because he loved you. Because never wanted his own darling princess to come to anything but a happily ever after. Because being with you was like a fairytale, a daydream that Leona hoped to never wake from. But as they all say, all good things must come to an end.

Those days were gone. The days where you gifted him with dozens of flower crowns, the days where the two of you would dilly dally in the garden, the days where he kissed you slowly to awaken you from your slumber just to make you feel like the love you two shared was true love. They were all ignorant bliss. They had painstakingly passed. Summer’s heat was unbearable, but winter was the worst. The season brought harsh chills along with a sense of numbing anguish. Winter rendered everything he learned and loved about you meaningless. When the snow finally melted, his heart was encased in frost once more. Nowadays, Leona finds himself bedridden and cold without the warmth of his sun yet time still flies, waiting for no one. Spring was coming.

Leona was blind. You- his beloved, his darling, his princess- was just as broken as he was. You were lonely, feeling incompetent as the significant other of prince. He should have picked it up sooner. There was rarely ever the occasion where he asked you if you were alright. Your worst moments were dealt with elsewhere and rarely did you ever dare to trouble him with your own feelings. If he was simply a better partner, if he had put more effort into keeping up with his half of the relationship, then perhaps you would still be here as the person who broke his walls, lit up his world, and ignited so many foreign feelings within his heart. If he had taken one moment, just one, to ask: “how are you?”, would have it been any different? You always asked him. You always listened to him, but he had never done the same.

Was it because he found it to be a hassle? Not quite. Leona certainly did not find your sporadic story times troublesome. He found them amusing. You always get worked up over the silliest of things. You were like a child. Leona could not fathom at the thought of someone so vivacious having their own inner demons. The idea shook him to the core.

He frowned at the thought. Was the reason why he ever asked you: “how are you?” was because he was afraid to face the monsters in your head because he had his own? And that they were larger than his own? Leona grunted in annoyance. The fragments of you left inside his mind were all so vivid. It’s as if you were still there. Still happy.

What were your final moments like before you breathed your last breath in that same flower field that you both waltzed upon? Did you show him that field for him to find your lifeless body on a bed of your favorite flowers days later? Are you truly that cruel? These conclusions gnaw at his head while his own heart throbs with a feeling that can only be known as regret. The heavy weight of guilt keeps Leona forever awake, tired and too tiring. He sprawled across his sheets, sighing pensively. You plague his dreams, claiming his peaceful pastime of napping as your own. There was no joy in the things he enjoyed. Napping was a death wish and not even Cheka was able to raise his spirits.

A tired, sleep deprived Leona is an irritated Leona. Even Ruggie had kept his distance from him. Or is it the other way around? Leona kept to himself these days. Even Idia Shroud leaves his room more than Leona now. Though if one were to ask Ruggie to see Leona, the perfect is miraculously absent from the scene every time.

Today was a grim day with many inconveniences. Everywhere Leona went to escape his visitors reminded him of you. With nowhere to find peace and quiet, as his bedroom is occupied with unwanted visitors and his alternative hiding spots leaving a bittersweet taste in his mouth, he sought out the garden. The time felt right. It was spring. You always loved this time of year. Perhaps he would love it this time around too.

As soon as he stepped foot into the greenhouse, his nose was flooded with a soft fragrance. His eyes were met with a small patch of flowers. He did not know their genus, but he knew that you would have been all over these twigs by now. His gaze lingers on the tiny field. These blossoms were sickening. Their pungent, poignant perfume was suffocatingly saccharine. Leona crouched before them.

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?” a voice said.

His ears twitched at the sound, turning his neck around at an inhumane speed. A click of his tongue followed shortly in suit.

“What are you doing here?” Leona snapped.

“I-I mean- I tend to the garden occasionally… since y/n would be kind of sad if the flowers wilted…” Epel trailed off, clutching a tray of seedlings closer to his chest.

Sad? You… would...be sad? That’s so typical of you. It humors him. His attention turns to the patch. It looks like Epel had planted daisies. Leona smirked, thinking that this was surely something you would gush to him about for hours. The first day of spring, huh. The season of new beginnings. Was it though? He felt as if he took a thousand steps backwards. He lost it all during the vernal season, the time of year you loved most. He never understood how much he needed you to breathe, to live, to enjoy all the little things in the world. Why did he have to begin without you? A spring without you is unimaginable.

His heart aches, but… you would be sad, wouldn’t you? You would be sad if you saw him in this state then proceed to tell him to cheer up. Maybe drag him to another flower field? Would you cry for his sake once more? He was still mourning but, knowing you, you would want him to move on— not wanting to burden him for any longer.  

With all of these thoughts festering and swelling inside his head, Leona Kingscholar cried for the first time since your death. It was the most gruesome, most anguished, hysterical roar he had ever produced. It echoed throughout the garden.

[overclockedroulette]

decided this fic deserves its own post so here, because i crave attention and am also sad:

Lonely (dsmp!tommy)

It's December 25th, and Tommy is lonely.

He had never properly felt like this before. Sure, after Tubbo's betrayal (the word felt hollow, ringing out in his head like a bell in an empty church; God, he wished he could go to church right now), he had felt utterly alone in the world, even with the ghost of his brother by his side (he knew it wasn't Wilbur anymore, and he still wasn't sure if he preferred that knowledge to the alternative), even with so many people promising to help him (but they couldn't go against Dream, could they?), even when he spoke to the man who had ruined him like a friend (because what else could he do?), friendly banter laced, constantly, with the threat of a permanent death, with the threat of ending up like Wilbur; he had never felt so suffocatingly lonely.

Wilbur, whose coat rested on his shoulders, a well-intentioned gesture (he was cold, back in Logsted), but one that only made him feel even more insufferably alone. Because the Wilbur who wore this coat was dead.

Poor, confused, oblivious, happy Wilbur.

He rested his head against the obsidian, letting out a deep, frustrated sigh. It was cold, too cold for its burning surroundings, but he welcomed the pleasant dissonance. It almost felt like snow. It was snowing back at L'manburg, wasn't it? Wilbur (Ghostbur?) had shown him a picture. It was Christmas, and it was snowing, and he was missing it, and he was alone.

He was lonely.

He closed his eyes and let the cold rock pressed against his back relieve him, temporarily, of that blistering heat. The hum of the portal - now that he was so close - was low and constant, almost melodic in a way, and if he listened close enough, sometimes he could make himself hear the wind, or the sound of animals, of cattle being transported nearby, or sometimes, rarely, and if he visited at the right time, snippets of voice. Of conversation. Never enough for context, not even enough to hear who was speaking, but the telltale rhythm and tonality of language in the portal's harmony, just enough to make him desperate to jump out of the portal and make some stupid, witty joke.

Now was one of those times.

It was louder than usual - more voices, brash and excited, not a word made out but the message blatantly clear. They were happy. They were happy, without him, and they had the audacity to probably not even be talking about him. Because if they were talking about him, alone and exiled on Christmas Day, they'd be sad, right? Or angry? Or... anything other than happy?

The moment passed, and they were gone.

All he could hear was that incessant humming from the stupid, maddening portal that was probably only even there to taunt him, and the bubbling of lava that felt far too inviting to be comfortable, and he felt bile rise in his throat, sickly and acidic, as he stood up and screamed with a raw, visceral frustration as he punched the frame of the portal with all his might. And it felt good. The impact was sickeningly painful and he felt as though he could cry, but it felt good. So he did it again. And again. And again, and again, until his legs felt weak and his fists were numb and he collapsed to his knees in front of the portal, dragging his bloody fist down the side and staring helplessly as the angry red liquid glistened on its black surface.

He tugged Wilbur's coat around his shoulders.

Why was he so cold?

[ellewritesathing]

Faking It  -  V

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist  Prev. | Part 5

Word-count: 2.6k+

A/N: ... so that was some rough stuff. i hope this makes up for it!!  💕

Considering that your relationship with Caliban had been entirely fake from the start, you had no reason to be as pissed off about it ending as you were. But there you were: lonely and pissed off, with all the little trinkets he’d ever given you surrounding where you were moping on your bedroom floor. 

The flower he’d picked from the field and put in your hair? In the shoebox. The ticket stubs from the first movie you’d seen together? In the shoebox. The detention slip you’d gotten when you cut class together that he’d written and drawn all over? In the shoebox. Any and all feelings towards him? In the goddamn shoe box. 

Despite the progress you were making with trashing your room, you and your brooding were interrupted by someone knocking at your window. You pretended not to notice Harvey perched haphazardly on your window sill and started heading out to the hall when Sabrina stepped out to block you. For a tiny person, she could be pretty intimidating when popping out of the shadows like that.

“Open the window,” she said. 

“You can’t tell me what to do. This is my house.” 

“Your house is going to have a dead body out front if you let Harvey dangle out there for another five minutes. He’s not exactly well coordinated.” 

You rolled your eyes before walking over and throwing the window open. Harvey swore as he climbed through and you walked over to flop on your bed. As you settled on your bed, Sabrina dusted Harvey off and checked that he was okay - a very small action that made you feel sick given your very recent single status. 

“So what do the two of you want?” you asked. They looked awkwardly at each other and you rolled your eyes. “Come on, you ambushed me in my bedroom. You want something. Spit it out.”

“It’s not that we want something,” Sabrina said, gingerly making her way over to your bed. She made a spot for herself among all the junk you had piled high around her. “We just wanted to check on you. It’s been a while since anyone saw you.” 

“It’s been a day, first of all.” You waved your finger around as you spoke. “And second of all, that still means you still want something.” 

Harvey mumbled your name and sat on the bed right next to you, forcing you over to the side of the bed with the junk if you didn’t want to be crushed. “Come on. Just tell us what’s going on with you.” 

“Harvey, you were there,” you said. “Both of you were there. You know what’s going on.” 

“Caliban never told us what happened. He left right after you did,” Sabrina said. 

Did he try to come after you? His car was a lot faster than yours so he would've- 

“Did something happen with Lucy?” 

You scoffed and took something out of the junk pile to fiddle with. Did something happen with Lucy? I don’t Brina, what was your first clue? 

“Yeah, something happened with Lucy,” you said instead of snapping. “They were making out and I caught them. The cycle of bullshit continues.” 

“Oh, Y/N,” Sabrina said softly. 

At the same time, Harvey got awkward next to you as he reached for your hand. “I know how you feel,” he said with a small smile. “Fucking sucks.”

You laughed and pulled yourself up to hug him. The two of you had been through a lot together, but this was by far the weirdest thing yet. You had the lucky experience of being heartbroken over the same two people kissing, how many best friends could say that? 

“Okay, you two, stop moping,” Sabrina said as she got up. “We’re going out. You, get dressed. You, help me get Roz and Theo.”

“I’m not leaving the house until I absolutely have to. My plans are to burn that box and watch 10 Things I Hate About You so I can cry over Heath Ledger.” 

And not Caliban. 

“Fine, then we’ll have a movie night!” Harvey said. He sounded too cheery at the thought of being cooped up in the house with you. “Then you don’t even have to get changed, but, uh, you are starting to smell, so maybe you should.”

“Harvey, so help me God-”

After taking a shower and getting into fresh sweats, you spent the rest of the long weekend curled up with your friends under a mountain of blankets and eating so much junk food that your stomach hurt. Despite your determination to be in a bad mood, spending this much time with them got you to stop thinking about Caliban and lifted your spirits. 

It was still awkward whenever one of them would slip up and mention him before turning very quickly to check that you weren’t going to burst into tears, but it got better. Roz braided your hair and Theo distracted you by telling you all about this kid named Robin that he met. It was the best post-breakup hangout you guys had had yet. 

That perfect little bubble of denial burst when you got into the car to drive yourself to school and found Caliban’s jacket waiting for you in the passenger seat. He’d left it thereafter you convinced him to let you drive him home after one of his boring baseball games.

Once you got to school, you gathered the jacket and everything else you wanted to return and stomped over to Caliban’s locker. He looked a lot more like the pissed off wannabe Abercrombie & Fitch model you met those months ago and less like the softer version of Caliban you’d come to know. You didn’t know if it made you sadder or feel pettily vindicated. 

You faked a sweet smile at him when he closed the door and saw you standing there. “Here’s all your crap.” 

Caliban looked down at the box and took it without anything more than a thank you. But even if he didn’t say anything else, he didn’t make any attempts to walk away. He just stood there, looking at you with those confusing eyes. Was he trying to say something? Trying to figure out how you felt?

Whatever he was doing, you didn’t want any part of it. You mumbled a goodbye before shaking your head and turning to walk away. 

“So that’s it?” he asked. Caliban hadn’t moved an inch when you turned around but he looked … sadder, less angry somehow. Still confusing.

“What do you want me to say?” you asked. “That we both knew this was a bad idea from the start? That I’m the idiot who got emotionally attached? Something like that, Caliban?” 

“Emotionally attached?” Caliban repeated. 

The bell rang before you could curse him out, so you decided to listen to divine intervention for once in your life and just walked away. Every step you took broke your heart a little more because the sound of your shoes hitting the ground reminded you that he was never going to come after you. 

---

A week passed and he still hadn’t come after you. It made being at school remarkably awkward given how your friends had attached to him, but you pushed through it. Until Harvey ambushed you. Meet him by the locker room after practice and you’d get lunch, he said. Bullshit. 

It was suspicious enough that he wanted you to wait for him by the locker room and even more so when it took him twenty minutes to change, but you let it slide. What you wouldn’t let slide, however, was when you came out of the restaurant bathroom and Caliban was seated across from Harvey. In your spot. 

“What the hell is going on here?” you asked, stopping in front of the table and pointing an accusatory finger at Harvey and then at Caliban. “You hate him.” 

“Yeah, but you don’t,” Harvey said, getting up to stop you from bolting out the door. “Just hear me out, okay?” 

“After this, I don’t think I’m listening to you ever again unless it’s to make fun of you,” you said. All your snark aside, you let Harvey guide you into a seat. But then he just sat there, looking nervous and unsure about the situation while you grew restless. “So are you going to say anything?” 

“Yeah. Yeah, totally,” Harvey said. He leaned closer and looked down for a second as he strung his thoughts together. “You guys have been huge downers since you broke up. You’re moping all the time and listening to sad music and you’re racing and getting into fights-” 

“You’re fighting again?” you asked, knitting your face together slightly as you looked at him. 

Caliban had told you bits and pieces about his fighting. He had anger issues as a kid so he’d always been in some kind of contact sport. Between that training and the bullying, he’d learned how to be a pretty decent fighter. And then he got old enough to get a believable fake ID and start fighting underground. God knows he didn’t need the money, but you had the feeling it was the only way he felt anything other than angry and empty.

“Not like that,” Caliban said quietly, looking at you for a moment before returning his attention to Harvey. 

Liar.

“Yeah, well, whatever,” Harvey said, skipping over all the tension. “Point is: You were annoying when you were dating, but it’s even worse when you’re not. Just talk it through, alright? Please?”

You shrugged and Harvey went on for a few more awkward minutes before getting up and telling you he’d be waiting in the car for you. The restaurant felt suffocatingly silent without him, but you didn’t know what to say and Caliban wasn’t exactly known for his emotional vulnerability. 

So you used this quiet time to think about how you’d paint this scene: You on one side of the table, muted colors and soft lines making you up but reds and oranges all around you, and Caliban on the other made up in harsh, black and white lines and blues surrounding him. You’d call it Starcross’d. Fake your death and sell it for thousands on the black market. 

It was the perfect plan, really, if it weren’t for those perfectly imperfect hands on the table. Calluses were starting to form on the undersides that you could only partially see, the knuckles were slightly swollen and red, and his boney fingers tapped the table absent-mindedly as he thought. All you wanted to do was reach out and hold them, a quality you could never capture on canvas. It fucked up your painting just like he fucked up everything else. 

“I’m not sure where to start,” Caliban said quietly. You’d been so busy staring at his hands that you hadn’t noticed him staring at you until you looked up. “I’ve never had this kind of relationship with someone, fake or not. It’s all very confusing.” 

That made you laugh a short and bitter laugh as you straightened up in your seat. “Yeah, tell me about it.” 

Caliban smiled slightly but there was something else there. He was nervous. “I’m not very good at this.”

“Try.” 

He took a breath and shifted in his chair, drawing his hands in and tapping them one more time. “This meant more to me than I expected it to,” Caliban said. “I thought it would be fun for a week or so to mess with Billy, and then when Harvey got so mad at me … He was talking to me again. I gave it another week.”

“Are you trying to tell me that you only liked me because it made Harvey mad?”

“That’s not what I meant.” Caliban sighed and mumbled under his breath about not being good at this. “What I meant is that I like you because you’re the only liar I’ve ever met who can’t throw a punch. You’re funny, and smart, and insanely competitive in a way that doesn’t make me care if I lose,” he said with a short laugh. “And you showed me that Harvey would still talk to me if I didn’t piss him off.” 

He looked annoyingly sincere as he spoke with his eyes avoiding yours. As much as you wanted to believe him, you weren’t sure you could open yourself up to him and his bullshit again.

“Let’s say I believe you - which I don’t - then why did you lie about you and Lucy?”

“I never lied about her,” Caliban said, careful to keep calm. He looked like he was straining to keep his voice even, clearly uncomfortable with talking about himself. “Lucinda was my best friend - my only friend - for many years but she can be … possessive. I went up to explain to her that I couldn’t do it again and tell her that I thought she should leave. She didn’t handle the rejection too well.” 

“It didn’t look like a rejection from where I was standing,” you mumbled. 

“I know, and I’m sorry. Truly,” Caliban said, almost reaching across to you. He took a breath and pulled his hand back. “She kissed me and I panicked like a stupid twelve-year-old boy. You caught the wrong end of it and I just thought … you deserved so much better than me anyway. If you wanted to leave, I wasn’t going to be the one to hold you back.” 

“Bullshit.” You leaned forward and got close enough that he had to take his eyes off his hand and look at you. Your voice was harsher than you meant it to be, but you were still so angry at him. “You didn’t stop me because you were scared, not because you’re some noble knight.”

“Don’t you get it?” Caliban asked, his voice just as harsh as yours. “That’s the point. I didn’t come after you because that’s not who I am. I am not a noble knight. I’m not the person you deserve.”

“You don’t get to make decisions about what I deserve,” you said. You were close enough to him still that you could almost feel him breathing. It made your heartbeat annoyingly fast. 

“I should. You might end up with a good guy,” Caliban said quietly, dropping his eyes to his hands again. They were close to your own now that you’d gotten all up in his face, but he wasn’t moving them any closer.

“Believe it or not, I still think you’re a good guy,” you said, voice just as quiet. “I’m just not sure if I … I don’t know if I can do this again. All the lying and secret-keeping.” Caliban started pulling away and saying something but you grabbed hold of his hand. “So if we do this again-” you said, talking over his arguing “-Then we do it for real. No more lying from either of us.” 

Caliban took a breath as he adjusted to the new position the two of you were in. He started untangling one of his hands and you held tighter before he tilted his head slightly and pulled his hand free. He lifted it to move some hair out of your face.

“I never lied to you.”

“Then you’ve got nothing to lose,” you said with a small smile. 

He shook his head and smiled to himself as he looked down at the table. “Are you sure you want to do this again?” 

Honestly, no. The only thing you were sure about was that your life kind of sucked without that pissed off Abercrombie & Fitch model. 

That, and if you ever saw Lucy again you’d knock her teeth out. 

“Well, it’s either you or Billy, and I fucking hate Billy,” you said.  

At least he laughed at your joke, that was progress. 

“Alright,” Caliban said eventually. He still seemed sad but he was calmer as he looked back up at you. “But you need to let me make this up to you before anything else.” 

You smiled. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out, Abercrombie. And you know where to find me when you do.” 

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