#also my brain is like 'you need to lose more weight for the next time you see him'

[whsprings]

I love reading the notes doctors leave in mychart like buddy,, we never talked about that,,, and that other thing is just blatantly wrong,,, you clearly are really paying attention to me

[grandline-fics]

Unconscious Protector

DESCRIPTION: When you suddenly lose consciousness 

WARNINGS: Descriptions of fainting and sleep walking

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Killer, Marco | Luffy, Zoro | Law, Sanji, Ace

WORDS: 2,247

A/N: Here's another part for this prompt that you guys voted for my belated birthday and 2k follower milestone event. I'll probably do another one of these with other characters at some stage but I hope you all enjoy this version with these characters.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

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SABO

When Sabo needed a sparring partner there was no-one he sought out more than you. You both made it gruelling and challenging but also fun in equal measure. Your sparring sessions could last as long as you both could stand or until someone else came along in need of either of you for a meeting or a mission. Some people would have called your long bouts impressive which he’d agree with. But when they’d call it excessive, Sabo would disagree. Because of the busy schedules you both had and missions now taking you both longer and further away from the base it meant the sparring was really the only opportunity he had to make spending time with you plausible without fearing a rejection had he just asked you out like a normal person.  

Sabo walked through the base, his eyes searching and bright as he looked for you. He slid to a halt and whipped his head to the side when he finally spotted you out of the corner of his eye. Excited he turned towards you and called out your name, grinning when you immediately turned and beamed when you smiled at him in greeting. When he approached, his grin hardened and he closed the distance, throwing his arm out which you managed to block with your forearm. Obviously he wasn’t going at full strength or speed and neither were you. At this point it could be compared to two normal people saying ‘hello’ but then again, you and Sabo’s relationship never could be defined as normal. 

You never could say no to Sabo and his requests to train. It was how you could selfishly have alone time with him. Most of the time the sparring sessions were more fun than gruelling and you didn’t realise you’d been training until you felt the effects the next day. Now had you used your brain a little more instead of thinking about your crush on the Chief of Staff you should have declined this sparring session because you were already exhausted having just returned from a mission. You should have just done the smart thing and said 'maybe tomorrow’ or even 'maybe later’ instead you all but raced him to the training room. Now you were truly suffering for you lack of thought. Attacks you could have avoided with ease took greater focus than normal. You were still holding your own but now you could feel the extra weight on your limbs and noticed the sting in your eyes. The exhaustion was mounting but you still couldn’t bring yourself to stop sparring.    

Sabo caught your wrist when your threw a very obvious attack at him. Quickly he spun to knock you to the floor but his confident smirk feel into a horrified expression as your body went slack and eyes fell closed, unconscious before you’d even hit the floor. Frightened for a moment he’d went too far even though he knew you’d both fought each other with more ferocity in the past, Sabo quickly checked you over, desperate to make sure he hadn’t actually hurt you. When he was assure by his own observation that you’d just fallen asleep he finally let out the breath he’d been holding and slowly lay down to settle beside you on the training mats. He wasn’t going to count this as a win in the long running and very balanced tally of wins and loses between your spars.

Instead he tucked a hand behind his head and closed his eyes. If anyone came by they’d just think the two of you were both relaxing together. Sabo also used the time to let his own body unwind, realising that maybe he was putting his own body under too much strain too, it would’t have been good if he fainted in the middle of training too. Silently he was grateful no one was around to see this and was able to enjoy spending the chance to rest peacefully alongside you. Now Sabo began to think of other ways he could spend time with you. 

KILLER

The Victoria Punk was always loud and energetic. On days when the crew were navigating fierce storms and engaged in explosive battles, it followed the same code as it did when things were peaceful and fun; the louder the better. For two days straight you and the rest of the Kid Pirates sailed through one of the worst storms you’d encountered in a long while, yelling out to each other and shouting acknowledgement to Kid and Killer as you hurried through the rain and crashing lightning and rolling thunder that you’d heard their orders. Then came the explosions of canons and gun fire when a Marine ship appeared through the darkness and heavy veil of rain, launching their attack when they thought your crew’s attention was distracted by the weather but they soon learned the chaos was what you all thrived on and met the challenge with wide grins and drawn weapons. 

The Marines engaged with you were relentless, you’d give them that much but ultimately they were overconfident and their weaknesses could be exploited by you and the others with ease. When the storm died, so did the fight, the Kid Pirates the victors over both encounters and your cheers filled the air as the night skies cleared. Now that the waters were calmed the only thing on all of your minds now was the thought of an all out celebration. With everyone’s duties completed, you all cleared room on the deck and dragged out the barrels and bottles of booze and anything that was or could loosely resemble something to sit on. As the ship’s doctor you had to tend to those hurt-with thankfully just minor injuries- from both the storm and fight and were last to find somewhere to sit. You grabbed your drink and scanned the area already loud and infectiously in good spirits. Your gaze zeroed in on a spot and you closed the distance, sitting down on the deck and settling your back against Killer’s leg. 

Beneath his mask, Killer briefly glanced to see who was using him as an improvised support and couldn’t help but tense slightly to see it was you. You and Killer had a casual back and forth with each other. A flirty comment here, an affectionate touch there. Never anything heated, usually just the brush of fingers against the other when helping out in the ship’s duties or a brief placing of a hand on the other when either of you needed to get by in the usually bustling and hectic hallways and deck. Killer usually favoured his hand on your lower back and you favoured your hand on his upper arm. For you to settle against him shouldn’t have been a surprise or anything new by comparison but still Killer couldn’t help but be aware of your presence. Even while you were talking away to Wire and he joked with Killer it was hard to fully ignore how effortlessly comfortable it was.

Further into the night, you shifted slightly to get more comfortable, lounging back instead of just sitting, and lay your head back while you continued the conversations. The second you adjusted though, Killer’s hand instinctively settled against the back of your head; keeping you in your comfortable position and began to absently play with your hair. Kid faltered mid-sentence with his second-in command to glance briefly down to see you had already all but melted into Killer’s touch, your eyes growing heavier as you tried to focus on your conversation. Unfortunately in a matter of seconds you were out like a light and your nearly empty mug dropped with a dull thunk which caught Killer’s attention your way. 

Across the deck two other crew members burst out into loud laughter at their own conversation causing you you stir slightly. Swiftly Killer grabbed an empty bottle and threw it at their feet with precision that ensured they wouldn’t get hurt but definitely caught their attention. Nervously they looked towards their vice-captain who rose a finger to his mask in a clear signal to shush. Effectively everyone on board lowered their voices to a more respectable level which for anyone else would still be pretty loud but so long as you continued to sleep soundly, your unintentional guard dog of the night was content.

MARCO

Everything was calm on the Moby Dick as it usually was. As an Emperor’s ship as noticeable as his, practically everyone with any sense in their skulls left Whitebeard well enough alone. Night watches were merely a formality and mostly to keep an eye out in case a freak storm hit or another Emperor felt inclined to cause trouble out of boredom. Marco used the quiet of night to go over his medical stock and see to any last minute tasks that he couldn’t get to when the ship was rowdy in the day. In the middle of writing his list of what medicines and ingredients he needed to replenish, Marco stifled a small yawn. 

Not wanting to stop and leave the remainder of his duty for another night he decided instead to pause and go to the ship’s kitchen. As much as he tried to avoid drinking coffee after a certain time of the day he knew the caffeine would help. When he stepped out onto the deck he heard a yelp from above and lazily glanced up to see one of the younger and newer additions to the crew peer out over the top of the crow’s nest. They let out a shaky sigh of relief to see it was just Marco staring up at them blankly. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you've seen a ghost-yoi.”

“I did!” The crewmate hissed, casting a nervous glance out onto the large ship’s deck. Marco tilted his head curiously and looked around the darkened deck. The moon was completely shrouded in cloud so the lack of light and chill in the air could be eerie to some, easy to let the mind play tricks on itself at this hour especially when alone. The pirate in the Crow’s Nest could feel Marco’s skepticism and bristled defensively. “I know what I saw! You have the powers of a mythical creature, you can't tell me ghosts don’t exist!”

“Didn’t say they didn’t” Marco chuckled with a lazy shrug. He’d seen enough strange and crazy things on these seas to encourage an open mind even after all of these years. Still though, a ghost on the ship was a new one. Holding back a yawn, Marco stretched his arms out and smiled calmly. “I’ll take a look around. If you see the ghost, just call okay?”

Without waiting for the response, Marco continued towards the kitchen, pausing by the door when he heard a faint creak against the floorboards. Slowly Marco looked behind him and around the corner seeing there was no-one there. Letting out a small chuckle, he shook his head and pressed inside only to suppress the curse in his throat and hold back the urge to jump in shock when the outline of a person was standing in the corner of kitchen. Flicking on the light Marco let out a small breath to see that it was you. “You’re playing the long game waiting in here and trying to scare someone-yoi.“ He teased lightly only to become concerned when you didn’t respond. Instead you remained in the corner. “Hey, you okay?”

Marco approached slowly and only saw now that you were asleep, eyes heavy lidded as you stared emptily at the wall. Now he saw you were sleep walking. Knowing better than to wake you, Marco approached carefully and gently set his hand against your wrist, lightly coaxing you to turn.

“Time for bed.” He instructed softly, smiling when you seemed to react enough to his words. Slowly you walked towards the door and Marco could see now why your movements could have been mistaken for a ghost on board. Marco’s smile twitched when you made the wrong turn after leaving the kitchen, needing him to softly redirect you with another subtle touch which thankfully set you on the right route. “There we go.”

For the entirety of the confusing, winding and slow paced journey you took through the ship Marco remained your vigilant protector. In your sleep induced state you seemed determined to veer in every wrong direction, even getting close to walking straight into one of the canons and potentially hurting yourself which you would have had Marco not been there to stop you. Finally he managed to help you into your sleeping quarters and assisted you into your bed, your body relaxing instantly. Exhausted Marco rubbed his eyes and headed straight for his own bed, managing to catch a couple hours sleep before the sun rose. 

As expected you had no memory of your sleepwalking adventure but approached him at breakfast with a bright smile. “Wanna hear what I dreamt about last night?”

“This should be good.” Marco grinned, unable to be in a low mood when you smiled at him like that.

“Dreamt I was lost in a maze.” You began. “No matter which way I went I just couldn’t get out. Next thing I knew, you were there and rescued me. Guess I can always count on you to help me out.” At that Marco’s smile grew. 

“Always.”

——————————————-

TAG LIST (If I’ve missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld , @deathsmajestysworld , @cloudysunset04 , @extremely-ashtridic , @decayingpizza , @liesatemyocean , @ace-for-ace , @nerium-lil , @destynelseclipsa

[sweetadonisbutbetter]

Good day to you, I adore your stories and it would be interesting to read fan fiction about the Hotel Hazbin Adam×Reader | woman| as Adam's third wife who is pregnant with his child, what will be his actions before birth and after, if it seems strange to you, then you can not write or not respond to my request, I will not be offended💗) Have a nice day/evening Sorry for my bad English, I'm Spanish;^

RAHHH THANK UOU SMM ☹️☹️ it’s not strange to me i would love to write this 😁😁 also yr english is perfect!!! i will write this as if they were in heaven, so it’s a little more shocking, and it will be a mix of a fic and headcanons

New Life, even after Death | Adam x AFAB!Pregnant!Reader

Relationship: Romantic Warnings: MENTIONS OF (PAST) ABUSE!! it is a brief mention and doesn't carry much weight but it is there regardless. Mentions of pregancy and birth, light NSFW, Adam being Adam

You needed to check if your eyes were seeing things correctly, or if you needed glasses. After all, there wasn’t any way that you were seeing two lines. You stared at it for a moment, unsure of what to do. After a moment, you snapped out of it before hurriedly grabbing the other test that sat on the counter and using it.

Now you had 7 tests in front of you, all with two pink lines on the little screen. You were holding the last one, waiting with anticipation to see what it would say. However, you knew what it was going to say, the previous ones had the same response. You had to face the reality that you were pregnant.

You are pregnant.

You were wracking your brain as to how this could be possible. You were in the afterlife, there was no way you could be pregnant. Not that you weren't overjoyed, you were elated. In life, you had trouble conceiving, much to your disappointment. It seemed that your husband at the time was also disappointed, killing you after your nth attempt and nothing to show for it. In your final moment, you couldn't help but feel a bit relieved, thankful that you had never had children with that man, in fear that he would do the same to them. After passing with no biological children of your own, you had grown to accept that you wouldn't ever have any.

When you first entered heaven, you were uneasy with how many children's souls there were. However, with time, you grew to enjoy the company of them. Playing with them while on your way to places or when you had the time, before either you had to leave or they were called out too. It warmed your heart and helped heal that small part of you that mourned never having kids. It helped you strive to be better and to experience the joys of being a mother. It was also how you had met your current husband, Adam.

You have no idea how it happened; one moment one of the children was introducing you to the first man, next thing you know, you were walking down the aisle with him standing at the end. You weren't one to complain, he was so sweet and patient with you. He was the first one you told your past to, from your childhood to your trouble conceiving, to even your terrible first husband. He held you tight as you cried and recounted the last half of your life. In turn, he told you of his life on earth. His life was like being married twice, and raising his kids and ancestors. His favorite pastime was watching humanity, the small acts of kindness from one person to another.

Of course, he had his faults, he was human. He would mock and laugh when people did stupid things. When someone he saw as not worth his time, he was known to wave them off without much thought. He would get angry over the smallest of things, and throw small tantrums when he didn't go away. Ever clingy when there was another male, in fear of losing you much like he did both of Lilith and Eve. You could list all his faults and flaws, yes, however, you could also list his virtues. 

All in all, you loved your husband and knew that he loved you in return. It seemed that now, you both would have something to love just as much. You dragged yourself out of your thoughts as you looked down at the test, seeing that it had the results.

You stood in the bathroom that you shared with Adam, holding the final pregnancy test as it showed the same results; the same two pink lines that repeated over each test. Overwhelmed at the prospect of having a child now,  you fell to your knees as tears began to build up in your eyes. You were going to have a baby.

A baby. 

The thought became overwhelming and you sank into a full-on sob. There you were on your shared bathroom floor, crying like a baby as your wings were wrapped around you, doing your best to soothe yourself. Clutching the pregnancy test to your chest, you hunched over so that your stomach was touching your knees. You were so happy, so sad, so confused at the whole thing that once you finished crying, you just sat there for a while, staring at the wall. You were so out of it that you didn’t hear the knocking at the door or someone walking in. 

“Hey sorry to barge in but Adam is looking for yo-oh.” A voice snapped you out. You turn to the voice and see Lute, still fresh in her exterminator outfit. Once she gets a good look at your face, she tenses for a moment, before dropping her weapon and rushing to your side. “Hey- is..is everything alright? What happened?”

Unable to say anything, you pull the test away from your chest, showing Lute. She took a moment, looking at you weirdly before taking it. After a while, her eyes widened as she turned to you.

“How?” She questioned, to which you could only sob-laugh in response. She didn’t say anything, just looking at the test that was still in her hands. You both sat there on the floor for a while, before another voice rang out in the house. 

“Hey, sugar tits. I’m home.” Shuffling came from the front of the house as you and Lute shot up, looking at one another. Both of you scramble to your feet and leave the bathroom, grabbing all the numerous tests and taking the one from Lute. “Damn. Where the fuck is she? She normally runs to greet me.”

Lute picks up her weapon and leaves the bathroom first. She hesitates for a moment, looking back at you with a twinge of concern, to which you nod, assuring her to go ahead. 

“Go ahead. I just…need to gather my bearings first.” She nods and leaves. As she leaves, you hear Adam begin to question her. Now alone in the bathroom once more for a few moments, you do your best to make it look like you weren’t sobbing your eyes out and figure out how to tell him.

You can’t help but think of his reaction. Would he be happy? Upset? You couldn’t fathom the idea of him getting upset, recounting his stories of when he took care of his firstborn. The fondness that was not only in his tone but also in his face showed that he did enjoy being a father. However, it had been over a millennia since he took care of a baby. Would he even want kids? You shake the thought and take in a deep, albeit shaky, breath. Leaving the bathroom and going to the front of your home, there you saw Adam. He stood by the front door, his mask removed and looking entirely bored of the conversation he was currently having with Lute. His eyes lazily move across the room before they land on you, he seemingly brightens before ignoring Lute and running to you. He grabs you by your side, spinning you before pulling you into a kiss. 

Startled by his reaction at first, it took you a moment before you returned the kiss. Placing one arm is thrown over his shoulder while the other flies to his hair, gripping it.�� You make sure to keep the test firm in your grasp and not drop any. Feeling him smirk into the kiss, he begins to nip at your lip, attempting to deepen the kiss. You hear Lute clear her throat, stopping both you and Adam from furthering the kiss. Adam smacks his teeth in annoyance, looking at Lute.

“What? Can’t you see I am greeting my beautiful wife?” He says, squeezing you a little closer to him. Lute rolls her eyes before looking at you at the hand that had 7 tests back to you. You don’t say anything but instead smile softly at her, assuring her she can leave.  She nods to you, taking her leave. With Lute gone, Adam smirks, before looking at you and snuggling his face into your neck. Giggling at the feeling of his stubble tickling your cheek, you pull him away by his hair. He grunts softly, the tug not too painful for him. You spend a moment looking at him, smiling at the look of your husband as you swear he has hearts in his eyes. You opened your mouth with the intent to greet him, however it seemed that your voice didn’t agree with what you wanted. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Once again, it takes a moment before Adam responded.

“What?”

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

He passes out lol

He was not expecting that information after coming back from an extermination

Once he wakes up, you hand him the various tests, all showing that you are indeed pregnant

Very confused as to how you are pregnant like you both are dead? nothing should be working as it would

You both go to the seraphim and ask if they know what is going on

They don't lol

If anything, they are the MOST confused as to how this is happening

After the initial confusion, Adam is overjoyed to be a father again!

Literally tells everyone he talks to in any manner

"HEY FUCKFACE I GOT MY WIFE PREGNANT!" "Adam. That's the mailman." "HE NEEDS TO KNOW-" "Sweetie, no-"

In other words, word spreads fast.

Before you know it, all of heaven is literally congratulating you when you step out of your house

A lot of glaring at Adam, who just smiles and acts all innocent

Now that he knows, say bye-bye to independence.

Of course, he will give you space when you need it, but if you don't say anything he is most definitely hovering over you.

In your first trimester, he isn't as clingy, actually the most laid back throughout the entirety of your pregnancy.

Second and Third are his worst phases, never leaving your side at ALL- literally walked into the women's restroom after you (you promptly kicked him out, stating you just needed to piss)

When you start to show, he coos at your stomach, touches it, and sings rock songs to it.

Also will get you clothing that pronounces your pregnant belly

sure he would get you loose, more comfortable clothing too, but literally is so obsessed with your belly 

Compliments you all the time, rubs you from head to toe when you ask

Coaxes and reassures you that he loves you, even as your body changes 

Speaking of body changing: boobs

He will grow more obsessed with your boobs as they grow bigger from the milk

Will ask you numerous times throughout and post-pregnancy if he can drink from them 

Kinda won’t stop until you cave, he just wants to try it so bad. The last time he dealt with a pregnant woman, was Eve and at that time he didn’t even know it was an OPTION. so seriously heaven-bent on trying it

His other kids, the ones he had with Eve, are elated to have a new half-sibling. 

Because of this, when you throw a parent shower (You and Adam elected to be surprised for the gender), you gain a ton of stuff. Somehow got 3 strollers, a huge chunk of clothing for about the first 1.5 years of the baby's life, and a lot of toys. 

The seraphims even went and gave you a personal gift for you and you alone.

Even with all the preparation, when your water broke, Adam was NOT prepared in the slightest.

Panicked and forgot all the important stuff while you were hunched over, holding your tummy as you waited to be fully dilated. 

You had a private room to yourself to give birth, Adam by your side the whole time, a worried look on his face. He remembered when Eve gave birth, the pain and fear on her face mirrored that of yours.

However, in the end, everything was alright.

After squeezing the life out of Adam’s hand, most likely cutting off all circulation in it, you gave birth to a little girl.

Adam was beyond elated, loving his little girl so much even though she was covered in vernix, blood, and mucus.

Having mainly sons, anytime his daughters just existed in front of him, he couldn’t help but be elated at their existence. 

Couldn’t wait to hold his daughter and feel her tiny hand wrapped around his finger

Not that he wasn’t checking up on you the whole time, he was.

When the doctor and nurses who helped deliver his daughter whisked her away to clean her, his attention was solely on you

Murmuring against your skin, telling you how great you did, how lovely of a job you did, and overall praising you and making sure you were okay.

─── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───

“She’s okay?” You say, panting and entirely exhausted. He nodded and kissed your forehead. 

“She is perfectly fine. What about you mamas? How are you?” He asked, wiping the hair that clung to your sweaty forehead. You could only nod as you tried to catch your breath. He smiles, relieved that you are okay.

You both stay there for a while while waiting for the doctor to come back. While waiting, you can’t help but think of how surreal this all was. You were finally having your baby, after your whole living life of wanting one, praying, and getting nothing in return. But now? You were watching the door for the doctor or nurse to walk in at any moment with your little girl, as your husband held your hand and stroked your hair. 

Eventually, a nurse entered the room, with a small bundle of pink and purple. Adam stayed by your side as the nurse made his way to your side, handing your baby to you.

“She is perfectly healthy. Just wanting mom at the moment.” He says before leaving you, your daughter, and Adam. Holding her in your arms was a type of bliss you couldn’t help but tear up over. Here she was, your joy, the love of your life, your world, planet, and stars. Tears slip out as you kiss her forehead, the feeling of her wispy hair tickling your lips.

“She looks like you.” Adam softly says after a moment. You look at him and see he has the look of utter softness and love on his face. You smile in return, tears still running down your cheek.

“What? She just came out? I don’t think she looks like anyone just yet.” You say as Adam presses his hand against your cheek, wiping away some of your tears with his thumb. 

“I know. But if she is anything like you, I just know she is going to light up the whole afterlife.” 

You sob a little more, putting your hand over his and close your eyes. 

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I think I am the one that got lucky,” Adam says, causing you to open your eyes. He leans in to peck you on the lips, you lean in turn. After the kiss, you rest your foreheads against one another, relishing in the bliss of the moment. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

RAHH AND THATS IT!!! I HOPE U ENJOYED IT ANON AND ANYONE WHO READ THIS FAR-

i went into this not an adam lover, and i came out one as his no. 1 fan. i love writing characters i wouldn't normally. lets me think about them more than i normally do LOLL I wanted it end it off on the sweet note, so if there is more that was wanted i apologize but regardless, i loved loved lovedd writing this super soft and fluffy

i just checked my word count how is this almost 3k words what the hell

[deafsignifcantother]

alastor just being weird

♥ summary: alastor wanting you solely for the fact that you smell delightful so he starts searching your room ♥ relationships: alastor x [deaf] woman reader, deafness not a major point ♥ word count: 600 ♥ notes: reader wears makeup, she likes photography, she also doesn't really gaf about alastor being snoopy and weird LOLZ

Now that you're not in here, he can look around. He's welcomed himself into your empty room, eyes roaming everywhere except the attached bathroom, of course. He's immoral but not indecent. Where should he even start?

As the hotelier, it is his job to meet and make the guests comfortable. To be able to do that, he needs to know more about you, which is out of kindness and does not relate to how good you smell or how he would enjoy making you his next meal, most be mistaken.

Your dresser's drawers are a good start.

Just a standard assortment of socks and underwear, some salacious as any demon would have, neatly arranged. One pair of fishnets, a small collection of photos, a camera, a notebook. Do you always keep things like this? Or did you develop a new habit after the sudden move-in. He is hoping to find a clue as to who you are, and notebooks have saved him a lot of times before. He lightly picks it up and flips it open. Blank pages. Do you write in invisible ink? His claws finger through the pages one at a time before he bends them and watches them fly by. There's nothing.

He's wasting time. He places it back and lifts up the photos. The red sky above. One is a long shot of the pentagram with the Hazbin Hotel in the center.

In the next drawer there are no clothes, only a single makeup bag and accessories. Mismatched earrings, it seems you have a habit of losing one of every pair and then stashing them away—in case you find the other?

Alastor opens the drawer closest to the ground. Empty except for what he can only guess is a miscellaneous drawer. The brush smells like you from the multiple hair strands wrapped around it. His nose twitches; how delightful. He reaches for it slowly, brain rocking back and forth in his skull. But by the time he grips the handle, it's too late to stop. The bristles meet his nose, and he takes a whiff, savoring the pleasant fragrance that fills his lungs. He puts it back before he gets carried away.

Your room has a lovely and quite large wooden wardrobe. As he expected, when he opens it, there is space needing to be filled. His smile twitches at the soft gust of your smell; the scent assaults his hunger.

His index claw drags down a long sleeve, wrapping around the material and bringing it up to his nose. Even when clean, you've corrupted the cotton.

The moment the door opens, he fades into the shadows. He stands before the bathroom door as you step out in a robe, fresh out of the shower. It's the robe he gifted you, a welcome gift. He'll never tell you it's for capturing the soapy aroma of your wet body.

You look behind him, eyes flickering back. His smile tightens. Ah, he left the wardrobe's door open.

Alastor straightens his suit, shoulders a bit taut from embarrassment. He makes a show of brushing off his sleeves while you stand in the same place; the weight of your stare makes him sweat. "Well, my dear, I'm afraid I must be off, one can't even imagine the things I'm busied with!"

He looks up at you, his monocle hiding one of his eyes, his expression unreadable while he waits for a response. His wavery pupils match the small, excited shake of his hands. He doesn't leave immediately, curious him.

"And 'be off' you may," you walk past him, signing in simple pse to strengthen your point, not acknowledging him further. Your hand rests on the wooden frame, getting a small glance inside the wardrobe before closing it softly. By the time you turn around, Alastor is gone.

[vixenobrian]

Seeing Ghosts

This is the first fic I've written here, so I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

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

"Bradley honey, I'm home!"

No answer.

I sighed, setting down the groceries on the island countertop. I knew he was home, the Bronco sitting in the driveway was a clear indication of that, but I also knew why I had received radio silence.

"How was Mav?" I asked, almost scared of the answer myself.

"Mav's fine hun." Bradley retorted. He must have been upstairs in the bedroom, hiding away from me. I understood how hard this must have been on him, but not seeing my husband run down the stairs and greet me with a kiss when I walked through the door still kind of hurt my feelings. Still, I knew how important his space was after his visits.

"How are you bubs?" I called back. Nothing.

Mav had been in and out of the hospital for months now, more and more parts of his body slowly giving way. For a man who wasn't supposed to live past his 30s, everyone was certainly surprised to see it was in fact old age that did him in. Recently though, it was his brain that was going, and this seemed to be the hardest on everyone.

Bradley had been struggling, badly. Between his parents and Ice, Mav was the only one he had left, and to see him slowly slipping away, losing both his body and mind at the same time? Bradley had barely been able to stand it. Each night he would come home after visiting, crawl into bed, and simply lay his head on my chest and cry. I really wasn't sure what else to do at this point, other than be there for him.

I sighed, grabbing the fancy bottle of wine I picked up from the grocery store, before heading upstairs. We both needed a pick me up, and what better way than a good wine, and a home-cooked meal.

"Roos, darling," I called, slightly pushing open the door to our bedroom. I vaguely caught a glimpse of his figure, but I pushed right past it, wanting to grab the things I knew he needed and was probably avoiding. When he got like this, he tended to neglect his medicine, and I knew if I took a glance at him, I would have too. I grabbed the bottle off of the bathroom counter, seeing it right next to his spread-out shaving kit. I pushed back into the bedroom, finally looking him in the eyes.

"Roos, I have a- oh God!"

Rooster sat on the edge of the bed, his big broad shoulders slumped over in defeat. I could tell he had been crying by the dark red circles around his eyes, but none of this is what concerned me. Above Rooster's top lip laid no mustache, something he had worn with pride for years. He always considered it his best feature and took meticulous care in grooming it. I had never even seen him without it. I knew something had to have been terribly wrong.

I sat down the wine on the dresser, my excitement fleeting with the bottle, before reaching for his face. I brought my legs over him, straddling his lap, before taking his face into both of my heads. Immediately, I began to wipe his tears, while simultaneously peppering kisses to his cheeks.

"Roos, honey, what happened?"

"He called me Nick again."

My heart sank, pulling him fully into my embrace. I felt tears start to fall from my own eyes and the boy beneath me began to sob, shaking in my embrace. His hands clenched the back of my shirt, as I attempted to comfort him in his sorrows.

"Bradley, I am so sorry," I said. I felt guilty. I felt anger toward Maverick, even though I knew none of it was his fault. Still, he had hurt Bradley, my Bradley, and the anger that came with that radiated through me. I took a deep breath, trying to push these emotions down.

"I just want him to see me" He whimpered into my shoulder. My hand found the nape of his neck, slowly playing with his hair there. It was his comfort spot, and I felt him slowly relax into me, letting all of his body weight fall freely as if we were being combined into one. I let him lay here for a few minutes, switching between playing with his hair and rubbing his back, before slowly backing away, and once again taking his face into my hands.

"Bradley, honey, I am so sorry that happened to you, but I need you to know, no matter what happens, Maverick loves you so much sweet boy," I comforted, "and on top of that, I love you so much. So no matter what, you are loved, Bradley."

He pulled me in the back of my neck, planting a sweet kiss right on my lips. The lack of hair felt foreign to me and caught me off guard. I pulled away, still holding his face in my hands, when I noticed his cheeks turning a color red.

"So, how bad is it?" He asked genuinely, causing me to chuckle.

"You are still the most handsome man in the world Bradshaw," I told him genuinely, "but how long before it grows back?"

[tetsunabouquet]

Loved the interpretation and writing of my last request! If you dont mind, here's a new one. Tw! Anorexia

Gom with a reader suffering from severe restricting eating to the point where they passed out in public or private, your choice. Again, sorry if this is triggering.

A/N: Thank you for the compliment! Trigger warnings for the readers up in the request

Akashi

-Don't expect this guy to be surprised. He has been suspecting it for a while. -When you faint in front of him, his heart sinks in that ultimate, 'Oh no,' moment. -Actually has a minor panic attack. -Flashbacks to his mom. -He'll do everything he can to wake you up. -Once you're awake, he'll have food arranged for you and he's guilt tripping you to eat it. -"Don't make me lose another person that I love."

Aomine

-Has actually told you before about how you should gain a little more weight as he notices the thinness but doesn't has the intellectual brain capacity to suspect something like an ED. -When you faint, it still doesn't registers in his mind but he does immediately recognize that you needed something to eat. -Momoi is the one to tell him she suspects your disordered eating, and Aomine's heart honestly breaks at the news. -He is demanding you to tell him which stupid idiot convinced you that you were fat, so that he can beat them up right now. -You are honestly touched to see him be so angry and upset on your behalf, he is so pure with his praise and love for you. -Demands that you eat with him at the Maji burger at least once a week and that you try to finish the meal he buys for you.

Murasakibara

-Like Aomine, he doesn't has any suspicions regarding the behavior itself but he does notices you don't eat enough. -Murasakibara just cradles you confused in his arms as Himuro tells him what to do next as well as mention his suspicions about your restrictve eating. -Murasakibara honestly stares at you like you're an alien creature as he has to process the idea that people can hate food that much, thank god you're unconscious and you can't see his face. -He makes up his mind to be the person to cure you of that hate. -Dumps pretty much all candy and snacks he has on him on you the moment you wake up all the whilst giving you a look as sweet and pure as the candy itself. -He increases little habbits like feeding you, because clearly you need it.

Midorima

-Has been taking calculated notes of how much you eat, but is afraid of coming off too strong so he refrains from daring to ask the question. -When you faint he has the most perfect response ever, and manages to stay calm even though he is breaking down on the inside with worry. -Confronts you sternly but lovingly once you wake up, he only wants the best for you. -Reads multiple books on how to be a supportive partner. -Honestly he's adorable with how hard he tries to be there for you. -After the event, he prepares you a bento in the theme of your lucky item of the day, always. Even on the days you can't bring yourself to eat it, he doesn't minds and just hoped carrying the lucky item themed lunch brought you courage in different ways.

Kise

-Knows. Immediately. -As a model, he has far too much model contacts not to know about that dark side of the industry so he knows all the signs. -Is the only one to have confronted you about it before it got to the fainting stage. -Honestly he bawls like a baby when you faint in front of him, because this was exactly like he feared. -He manages to get the number of a great treatment program from another model that is combatting her own ED after you woke up again and got him to calm down. -Tries to feed you all the time whilst acting as cutesy as possible, full idol mode. Because he hopes it will do the trick. -He tries to uplift you by talking about his own insecurities, as being under the limelight does also open him up to scrutiny way more then the average person.

[maaarine]

My PMDD hell: why I went abroad to have my ovaries removed (Sarah Gillespie, The Times, Nov 27 2024)

"For six years, from my late twenties, I have lived with a condition called premenstrual dysphoric disorder, or PMDD.

Due to a genetic quirk, I have a brain sensitivity that makes my body intolerant to its own hormonal changes.

Instead of becoming moody and irritable, as with PMS, I become catatonic and racked with pain.

Dysphoria blooms in my brain, making me depressed and paranoid. I binge on carbohydrates, needing 3,000 calories a day just to function.

This happens for 7-14 days every month, during the latter half of my menstrual cycle, as hormone levels plummet.

On the third day of my period, the fog lifts and I feel normal again. But relief is soon replaced by dread as I survey the destruction.

There are relationships to repair, overdue bills to pay and excess pounds to lose.

It is the life of Sisyphus: every month, I roll the boulder up the mountain only for it to roll down again. (…)

PMDD is surprisingly common and, according to World Health Organisation data, affects 5.5 per cent of women of child-bearing age — about 824,000 women in the UK.

Of these, more than a third have attempted suicide. Yet hardly anyone’s heard of it.

No one knows the cause, either, though scientists generally agree that it’s genetic — hence why psychological therapies can’t fully fix it.

It was only in 2019 that the WHO added PMDD to its international classification of diseases and related health problems (ICD-11), legitimising it as a medical diagnosis (though there are still medical professionals who dispute its existence). (…)

After diagnosis, women with PMDD are put onto a ladder of treatments ranked from least to most invasive.

But as the body ages and hormones become more erratic, PMDD gets progressively worse.

So even when I found a rung on the ladder that worked, I never got to rest there for long.

First, there were lifestyle changes: diet, weight training, high-intensity interval training (HIIT).

Then supplements: chasteberry, evening primrose, magnesium, calcium, L-tryptophan, vitamin B6. Then antidepressants: fluoxetine, sertraline, citalopram.

Then contraceptives: Evra, Yasmin, Eloine. Finally, there was HRT: Utrogestan, Estradot, Estraderm.

I climbed that ladder for five years. Only HIIT and fluoxetine worked, for about nine months each; the rest worked for two months, if at all. (…)

After all this, only one rung was left on the ladder — one with a 96 per cent satisfaction rate, the closest thing to a cure.

This last-resort treatment is a bilateral salpingo oophorectomy: the surgical removal of both ovaries and fallopian tubes.

Upon their removal, all hormone fluctuations would stop, my hormone levels would drop to almost zero and I would enter menopause.

I would need to take hormone replacement therapy (HRT) until my fifties or risk the early onset of osteoporosis, heart disease and dementia. It would also make me infertile. (…)

Getting approved for surgery on the NHS requires a trial period in a reversible “chemical” menopause: monthly injections that would shut down my ovaries, end my suffering and “prove” that I had PMDD.

That was the idea, anyway. Instead, the injections threw my hormones into chaos, resulting in a PMDD episode that lasted for 11 months.

Deprived of even the monthly breaks in my symptoms, I languished in bed.

My attention shattered; I spent countless days scrolling my phone. I gulped down painkillers and sleeping pills like Skittles.

My finances were collapsing. I gained more than two stone in weight.

“It should be working by now,” the gynaecologist said after three months. “Have you tried eating more vegetables?”

The next gynaecologist was no better. “If it hasn’t worked, that suggests it’s not PMDD,” she said. “I should probably refer you to a psychiatrist.”

After months of my pleading, she agreed to write to the surgeon. But her letter was an act of sabotage.

“Sarah has diagnosed herself with PMDD,” she wrote, ignoring my GP’s diagnosis.

“She is on many help groups and accessing a lot of support from other PMDD sufferers online.” In other words: “This hypochondriac is spending too much time on the internet.”

Yes, I was on the internet, but I wasn’t talking to help groups any more.

Instead I’d been digging into scientific papers to find studies on chemical menopause.

Eventually, I found one — a meta-analysis of five clinical trials published in the Journal of Clinical Psychiatry.

It stated that chemical menopause treats PMDD in “upwards of 70 per cent” of cases — but not 100 per cent, as the NHS doctors had said.

The International Association for Premenstrual Disorders (IAPMD) backs this up.

On its page on chemical menopause it says, “In rare cases [chemical menopause] does not fully suppress the cycle and there are breakthrough symptoms… If this was the case, you may still respond well to surgical menopause.”

Two months later, I was in Lithuania. Feeling desperate and unable to afford the £10,000 it would cost for private surgery in the UK, I had googled “gynaecology surgery Europe”.

This led me to Nordclinic in Kaunas, which treats about 2,000 British patients annually.

I sent my medical records to the surgeon, who agreed to perform the surgery. (…)

Though it’s early days, I still can’t believe how well I feel. My future unfurls before me without interruption.

I have so much time: time to write, to see friends and family, to travel, go on dates, paint and sing and read and run.

Time to cook, as I can now handle knives without fear. Time to sit and do nothing and burst out laughing from sheer wonder — for life without PMDD is so, so wonderful and I will forever be grateful for it.

That said, I still need to reckon with all the time taken from me over the past six years.

My trust in our healthcare system is broken and will probably never be restored.

I need to kick away the crutches — food, phone, pills, alcohol — that have held me up and rediscover better ways to cope.

But this time, I don’t need to keep starting again and again and again every month.

Yes, the scars are still red and raw. But by next summer, they’ll be gone."

[jenniferjareauwife]

Hi!! So this just popped into my head... Reader and JJ aren't in a relationship but there are feelings... So things get heated during a girls night when they play twister (you can add Emily and Garcia in the girls night if you want).. Also please add smut

Twister

pairing: jennifer jareau x fem reader

category: smut

warnings: fingering r receiving, clit play jj recieving

word count: 962

summary: girls night gets heated 😏

"Ok...right hand red." Emily announced from the couch. I groaned and reached under JJ, my body spread out across the whole mat. My whole body was aching but this wasn't a bad position to be in. JJ's boobs were in my face and I wasn't complaining. "Left leg green." JJ lifted her leg up over me so she was straddling my back.

"Fuck." I whispered.

"What?" JJ asked.

"Nothing." I replied quickly.

"Anyone want a margarita?" Garcia asked from the bathroom counter. JJ and I were the only ones remaining. Penelope and Em had gotten out towards the beginning. I swear I remember JJ pushing Emily off the mat a bit.

"Left hand yellow." I reached across the whole mat and I could feel myself shaking. It was getting really hard to hold myself up. I shuddered as I felt JJ's pelvis press against my ass.

"How you doing down there y/l/n?" JJ asked with a grin. She knew I was losing it. She put a little more weight on my body and I was a goner. I collapsed underneath her and let out a deep breath. "I'll take you up on that margarita Penelope." She stood up and walked to the kitchen. I looked over at Em who gave me a knowing look.

"Shut up." I whispered to her, getting up to get a margarita. JJ walked behind me, her hand grazing my lower back. My head snapped back to look at her I saw her shit eating grin. She knew what she was doing.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom." JJ announced, walking into her room to go to the private bathroom, giving me a look, telling me to follow her. I spilled a bit of margarita on my shirt.

"Oh shit. I have to go change my shirt." I looked towards Penelope who was focused on something else and Emily who have me a knowing look. I walked to her room and shut the door, taking my shirt off, about to put on another one before I felt strong arms wrap around my waist.

"You have no idea how hot you are." She undid the button and the zipper of my jeans. My heart fluttered in my chest, turning around to face her. There were too many times where we had found ourselves alone in rooms, too close together. We'd kissed but we've never gone this far, never. "Is this ok?" JJ whispered.

"Other than the fact that Emily and Garcia are in the next room, this is everything I've wanted." I breathed out.

"I can tell them to leave." Her hands ran down to my breasts. "I don't want a cock block again...not when I've waited so long for this." Her hands reached up to my face, cradling it. This was tender. Almost too tender.

"I want you." I whispered. "I really want you." She smiled and pulled me down onto the bed with her.

"They can show themselves out." She muttered before bringing my face in for a sweet kiss. I immediately felt my brain go fuzzy, my entire body just melt into her. I've waited for this for so long and it didn't even feel real that it was finally happening. So much teasing, so many ruined moments lead up to this. I needed her so bad.

"JJ please touch me." She reached down between my legs and gently caressed my pussy.

"Like this?"

"More." I groaned. She pulled my underwear down and get how wet I was.

"This is all for me?" She confirmed. I nodded and eagerly, hiding my face in her neck and kissing it tenderly.

I gasped as she slipped one finger into me, her other hand reaching over to her nightstand to grab a small vibrator, holding it against her clit. I moaned at the sight, feeling my abs clench. "You ready for another one?" She asked, looking up at me with so much love.

"Yeah." My head lulled to the side as she fit another finger into me. "Oh God."

"Feels good?"

"So good." I bucked my hips up to meet her thrusts, watching as her body twitched, her reactions to the vibrator. "I-I wanna touch you. Please."

"Ok baby. You can touch me." She took the vibrator off her clit and readjusted me so that I was straddling her thigh, riding her fingers slowly as she laid down on her back. I sunk two fingers into her easily, finding her clit and kissing her stomach, my hips gently lifting and going back down every few seconds. "Y/n...baby I'm close."

"Me too." I rode her fingers a bit faster and blushed a deep red when I realized she was thrusting in time with me, desperately needing to send me over the edge. "JJ...Jayje. I'm gonna cum." I warned her before I released all over her fingers. I felt her walls pulse and squeeze my fingers and I knew she had finished too.

I collapsed on top of her, catching my breath. She kissed my forehead, squeezing my waist before rubbing my back. "How do you feel?" She whispered.

"So good. You?"

"Amazing."

"I've wanted that...for so long." I said between breaths. "You have no idea."

"I've wanted it too baby." She kissed the top of my head. The pet names were making my heart flutter. "You look so pretty." She praised, making me blush.

"You're prettier." I pulled the covers up over us and took a deep breath before resting my head on her shoulder.

Everything felt perfect right now. It was like everything was clicking into place. JJ put her arms around me, pulling me as close as possible to her while kissing my forehead. "We should do that again sometime." I suggested.

"We definitely should.

[aaksuitac]

[02:46] time, and a bomb.

wc: around 1k (wrote this in my phone… srry, idk exactly!)

cw: SPOILERS: SEASON 2, EPISODE 9. heavy topics mentioned (in metaphors, but still). suicide.

a/n: so… can’t say why i ended up with this sad fucker of a post (also first post of the year omg), but after scrolling down ig with so much arcane in my feed, the ‘ekko saves jinx’ scene just kept on showing up and my brain turned on writing mode. and i loooove the line ‘always a dance with you’, i’ll write less depressing timebomb in the future.

she thinks maybe she should sniff, but not only it wouldn’t help, but she thinks it disgusting, almost as yucky as the stupid clog in her nose or the cheeky pain it provides. she can’t really breathe with her nose for that matter, so her mouth remains parted, her body limp, the only motion that happens not conscious, for she can’t control the way tears roll down her cheeks or how her breathing moves her chest with each light expansion of her lungs.

her ears are wet. that, she finds disgusting too, but as stated before, she can’t control the paths that tears carve and follow once they come out. and…. she could keep going, but she wouldn’t know how to keep on describing what is happening. she finds herself a bit lost on that regard.

who is she, again? she can’t fight back the need to sigh. on that regard, she’s lost, too. she loses, again —ironic, maybe—. she can’t stop losing, can she? the attempt to stand up is there, but, then again, why would she? she finds the pattern that the light above her head makes far more interesting. its broken nature resounds with her. or maybe not. maybe that’s not actually a word, but who cares. the light is still broken either way. and so is she.

she doesn’t have a name anymore. not one. which is stupid, because she has more than one name. but then again, she doesn’t. names don’t mean anything? wrong. when you name something, you name it so you can build up something on its place. its the way language is constructed. a table isn’t a table because it is named that way, but say table and you’ll only think of one particular object.

say powder. what comes to mind?

say jinx. what comes to mind?

the tears that have fallen stopped. no more tears come out. maybe she should indulge and grab the glass of water from the table that… —she may as well call that woman by her name, after all those years, but we’re not going to use it now. names never really helped her anyways— that… is there. but she would have to move.

and she has moved enough now. and somehow, after all that, she’s still. her head feels heavy —which is strange, considering the unfamiliar lack of blue weight— and the world is somehow spinning, even if she’s only stopped moving a while back. she wouldn’t know how to make it stop spinning. before, she didn’t know how to make it shut up, and somehow, now, there’s quiet.

she wonders if… if there was someone who had always listened to this type of quiet before —she knew there was (had been). but we are not going to say names. we don’t like names—. she hopes that she liked the quiet.

she found it strange. the quiet, that is. almost as unfamiliar as the hair around her. it was strange to think it wasn’t hers now. sure, it was, but not propperly. almost like a name. like her many nicknames, but mostly her names.

the streaks that the tears left are now dry. there’s a somewhat sticky feeling they left off, and her eyes are itchy. maybe she should take the glass of water from the table and drink it. maybe then she could keep on crying.

was crying going to help? she couldn’t tell. or, maybe she did. maybe it was easier thinking that she couldn’t possibly know just for the sake of crying. for the fact that then she could possibly stand up, chug the water, lay back down and keep on crying. even if her headache worsened because of it. maybe all that was easier than choosing to stand up and picking up the grenade next to it.

or maybe not. a leap of faith is all it takes. but for that, she has to move.

she doesn’t stand up yet. her tired brain thinks, what would she do —she as in herself, not those other names that roam around her head and used to speak up in volumes she couldn’t control—, and it’s a great question. one that she could crack the answer to, but she’s not going to, because she’s tired.

j—no, no names— is fucking tired. tired of everything. tired of the ways everyone speaks. tired of the sound of everyone’s voices, because she’s been around lots of people these days and she hates every single one of their voices. how they speak. their mannerisms. the only one she didn’t hate couldn’t speak— a fact not hard to fucking guess why, leaving other facts behind.

and she’s still tired. tired of how hard she kept on trying. tired of how she thought that for one fucking second, maybe she wasn’t tired. maybe she had been but she had just… stopped being tired. and now, she’s back to being tired, because nothing ever lasts forever. tired of how that fucking fat-handed idiot wants her to keep trying —again, no names—, but, maybe, the thing she’s tired of the most is of how tired she is.

she never wanted to be tired, did she? she tried not to be. others saw her grow tired and never acted out, did they?

his silhouettte flashes the back of her mind. he never got to see her this tired. not for long. just before he… he died. maybe then he deserved to be k… to die. he… he just died.

she hums in her head. dying. staying. not moving. are all those synonyms? perhaps. her eyes grow more itchy as she keeps on still. maybe if she stops moving for a while longer, she could just die, too.

she closes her eyes. maybe dying could be the last ever motion she has to do. maybe then she could stop the cycle of blood that has been shed thanks to her. the endless cycle of vengeance and death with no defendants that keep on falling limp and still wherever she crosses. yeah. if she doesn’t move anymore, maybe no one else will have to die.

she knows. she doesn’t think others are aware of said knowledge within her, but somehow she is. she knows a part of her knows. and she learned it the hard way. no one is ever truly safe, and she knows it. nothing ever happens without destiny’s hands meddling on it.

every action's an act of creation. she doesn’t know where she read that before, but if so, maybe then, she could, for a change, throw away her shot and stop. throw away her shot by aiming her last one directly at her reflection, not to break her mirror —not again—, but to… to break. to break… her. the act that is hold by two useless names she refuses to use, the act that somehow now holds both names and still has none, because this kind of one plus one was never meant to add up and equal two. and, now… to stop… stop altogether.

she hasn’t heard anything in a while, and maybe that is why she hears eveything with more clarity now. as if she isn’t inside of her own body, but merely dictating its every more from somewhere outside of it.

she doesn’t take the glass of water that sevika left a while back. whoever she is now, she picks the grenade. she’s going to do it. and the sentence isn’t to find someone to get her out of it or to encourage herself. it’s a mere sentence. a death sentence like it’s never been.

she hears. the ticking and clicking of the grenade in her hands. the weight that her steps cause on the metallic surface below her that makes it to creak, and how it echoes.

maybe the thought of that word is why, when her fingers graze the trigger, a voice she feels she hasn’t heard in so long —too long?— shows up unexpected.

“wait!”

ekko’s voice echoes. it’s a funny sentence, but she has no time.

she blinks away whatever his voice attempted to awaken from her insides, she forces herself to not look at him, but at the grenade. there’s a breath that she holds from whatever it was that remains awake because of his presence.

“get out of here, ekko.” she hasn’t spoken in so long, her voice feels like she maybe should’ve taken the glass of water. too late for that.

“i- i just wanna talk to you pow… jinx.”

those are the wrong names. its a stupid sentence. why would he call her powder after all this time. why would he, of all people, slip up like that, after the many, many times she corrected him?

maybe… maybe that’s why. maybe it’s because he knows… she isn’t none of those names anymore. maybe it’s because he’s always known. because it’s always been him.

her fingers keep gripping the grenade, and weirdly, she feels like the trigger has been pulled several times before.

“always a dance with you,” ekko pants.

the boy saviour. that is funny. maybe names suck, but she really is good with nicknames.

she never thought words could fix things. after all, one of the things she does is breaking, not mending.

guess now she owes him a dance.

~k.k. (☆) try out the little game below!

a/n 2: sad topics aside, to make this somewhat less depressing, game time! find the spiderman: into the spiderverse reference. not hardcore enough? find the hamilton reference. harder challenge? find the tears for fears reference. more, you say? find the reference to ekko’s ‘you ever want to just stay in one moment?’ line. dm me or send an ask if you want clues. if i get bored or you guys actually indulge maybe i’ll reblog this with the answers. and maybe make these games with my other posts, because it’s funny sneaking references. welp. have fun!

aaksuitac, january 2025 ©

[winonaparadise]

short story 💯

wrote a very quick story about a class i took in college. if you like my writing in my videos you may like this

Five years ago today I was clawing through state university. I had switched majors in an effort to come away with something more material from my college experience – but I was also trying to earn as many credits with as few courses to keep my schooling short and cheap.

I took a heavy weighted class in “media law.” A subject notoriously as intricate as it is absolutely fucking stupid. Anything you could learn, Disney will change tommorrow. The professor was an adjunct, splitting his time between the humble basement where boys with Pulp Fiction posters in their dorms fiddled with cameras and the actual law school where he was employed some miles down the road. I have never seen Pulp Fiction, but I’ve fiddled with enough cameras and enough of the boys who own them to have reviewed it twice. This is not a problem to me now.

Then I was stupid. Twenty. And basically friendless. I spent all my time trying to make something the same way the universe spent billions of years pouring hot soup into holes and hoping life would bubble out. I studied Japanese during quiet matches of PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds. I never got a win, and I never got an “A” in Japanese.

Weeks of school went by as I skimmed textbooks, got high, and thought about talking to literally anyone. Academic words danced around the edges of my brain like sand. I wrote essays on the same autopilot I write today. Feverish. Flowing. Fantasizing about what it would be like to go out with someone instead of texting a girl who now lived in Japan and making ramen noodles while listening for footsteps in a digital warzone.

I did all my work. I submitted it on something called “canvas” that the muscle memory in my fingers still types in search bars to this day. I never checked my grades. I knew they were bad.

Classes dragged me through the week on a bungee cord. I lived a block away from the bulk of them and found myself drifting in halls of buildings I’d never attended just to keep myself from meandering back home to draw a bad comic about a girl who lived in hell. 

I knew nobody. I went nowhere. I struggled to do classwork alone on outdoor benches dreaming of someone speaking to me. I needed to live in hell instead.

My media law professor was late the weekend after our first term essays were due. I don’t know what mode of transportation he took to get from one school to the other but today the Carolina sun had drenched him sweaty. We were chilly waiting for him to begin.

“Just about every single one of you failed.” He spat and chugged coffee through the entire period. “While I first was grading I thought I was the one who failed.”

He didn’t let the moment of respite last. “But I also did something I’ve never done before.” He paced like my father did when a restaurant was closed early. “I gave out my first perfect score. Which prevents me from grading on a curve.”

He huffed, he assigned a new reading, and he rushed out like he had lit dynamite. “Do better!” “What an asshole.” The girl who sat next to me in every class spoke as if she had been holding her breath. “Fuck him and fuck whoever got that hundred.”

“I know right!” I launched in on her anger, feeling it too. Back and forth we complained. We walked off campus together. She had long blonde hair and towered over me. I had felt ugly and mousey next to her, but today I felt like her equal. It felt good to bitch.

“I got a fucking 50. What about you?”

“It wasn’t pretty.” I recalled how I stayed up the night before the assignment was due. I milked bullshit into a puree. I got a rush of adrenaline from killing someone with a shotgun through a door in an abandoned house on the outskirts of Pochinki. I was probably close to being expelled. “This class is too fucking hard,” she smoked and shook her head by a bus stop on Tate Street. “I’m not about to lose my freetime over it.”

“Right.” I imagined her at parties. Black silhouettes against colored lights and deafening music. Like The Social Network. “We should be partners for the next assignment,” she got out her phone and passed it to me for my number. I typed it in. I waved her off on the bus. We did the assignment together. We texted each other about our studies. We joked about finding the guy who got the perfect score and beating him senseless. I thought about talking to her about my art or what we were making in other classes, but never did.

Towards the end of the semester I had to plan the next. A whirlpool churned in my stomach as I clicked on “grades” on my campus’ online portal. I had an A+ in a single course. 

Media Law.

My friend from class texted me that she was dreading the final. I texted her that if we failed I would kill Mr. Perfect Score. She texted “lol.”

She passed the course. I got my degree so I assume I did too. We stopped texting.

That professor emailed me asking me to take a course at the law school down the road. He said he would let me sit in and see if I wanted to change majors a third time. I never replied.

A law degree would just make Mr. Perfect Score a hundred times more punchable.

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Morning after

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles, day 10

Prompt: First time

Rated: E

CW: Alcohol; Dirty talk; Sexually explicit language; Nudity; One slight mention of BDSM

Tags: Established relationship; Tongue fucking (referenced); Service mouth Steve Harrington; ADHD disaster Eddie Munson; Idiots in love

Eddie wakes to sunlight tickling his nose, limbs heavy with the warm weight of sleep - the kind induced by alcohol and exhaustion.

Memories of last night's gig trickle into his mind. The packed location. Strobing lights, bodies moving to their music. Steve beaming up at him from the front row, deliciously disheveled, eyes sparkling with adoration.

It's funny. A year ago, he was hiding from an angry mob in a dilapidated boat house. Now, one interdimensional war, a near-death experience, and a lot of hush money later, not only is Corroded Coffin finally taking off. He also got himself a hot sweetheart of a boyfriend who loves tagging along to his shows and gets ridiculously turned on by his stage performance. Life is finally looking good for Eddie Munson. 

Until he turns and finds himself at the receiving end of a death glare that would even have Vecna quake in his non-existent boots. 

Eddie yelps and tries to jump to his feet, but last night's leather pants are bunched around his ankles for some reason, so he ends up face-first on the carpet, naked ass exposed to the cool morning air. 

"Ow, son of a- Stevie?" he mutters. "Everything okay?" 

Steve is still in the chair next to the bed. He's still glaring. 

"Oh, wow," he says while Eddie scrambles to his knees and tries to inconspicuously shrug out of the pants. Why do these motherfuckers have to be so tight? "You actually need to ask after what you did?" 

Eddie blinks. His nose is stinging from where it hit the carpet. 

Steve huffs and snaps his magazine shut. Eddie has a sneaking suspicion he picked it up purely for dramatic effect. 

"So you don't even remember, huh?" 

"I, erm …" Eddie says, desperately rifling through his brain for a shred of a clue. "I'm sorry, I don't-"

Steve throws the magazine. It hits the carpet with a less-than-impressive flop but it's the gesture that counts, Eddie guesses. 

"I can't believe you," Steve seethes. The chair topples as he jumps up.

"Wait, wait, wait," Eddie holds out one imploring hand. Steve stops halfway to the door and regards him with a wary look. "Lemme just …" 

He screws his eyes shut, wills himself to pull images from the blur that is his memory. 

Getting crushed in a full-body hug the moment they got off stage, Steve's arms and warmth and scent all around him. 

Celebrating the successful gig, the lingering touches and looks and smiles.

Loading the equipment into the cars, saying goodnight to the guys. 

Getting slammed against the side of the van, Steve's hands under his shirt, against the curve of his ass. Steve's tongue licking over his lips, warm and wet and eager. 

"Woah, big boy. Maybe ask before you shove that tongue down my throat?" 

Steve's smug smile as he leaned closer, voice husky and low. 

"Let's get you home… and I'll shove it somewhere else." 

Throwing himself into the car, because hoooly shit! They've tried a lot of stuff in the months they've been together, all of it great, all of it mind-blowing in fact. Eddie’s had plenty of opportunity to witness that skilled tongue at work, but this? This was gonna be a first.

He remembers nearly vibrating out of his own skin on the way home, remembers grinning like a maniac as they pulled into the driveway, Steve's hand sliding up his thigh. 

Remembers tumbling into the bedroom in a flurry of limbs and moans and kisses, toppling onto the bed, hands tearing at clothes, teeth scraping over skin …

… only then, it gets decidedly more fuzzy. 

"Um, I-" he mutters. "We were … You were gonna … and I-" 

"You fell asleep, you fucking asshat!" Steve blurts. His face is doing that thing where he loses control of his bottom lip and it gets all pouty and quivery. An adorable, flustered blush is creeping out of his shirt collar and up his jaw. "You fucking fell asleep while I was about to- Jesus Christ, I don't believe this. This has never- why are you laughing?" 

"Baby," Eddie wheezes, and by some miracle manages to stagger to his feet and shuck off his pants. "Stevie. Darling. Light of my life. You realize that this is our first fight?" 

Steve scowls at him. "Maybe. So?" 

Eddie can't help it, he breaks into laughter - full-blown, body-wrecking guffaws. "And it's because you didn't get to eat me out? Oh my God, I can't- only you, sweetheart!" 

"Fuck off," Steve grouses, but he doesn’t pull away when Eddie reaches for his hands, and the corners of his mouth are twitching the tiniest bit. The blush has reached his cheekbones. "Do you have any- I was down there, all ready to go and you started snoring! Nobody has ever fucking fallen asleep on me!" 

He's looking positively mortified now, one hand freeing itself from Eddie’s grip to run through his hair, eyes wide and confused - like a scolded puppy that doesn't understand what it did wrong. 

"Aw, honey," Eddie coos, cradles Steve's face in one hand, slots their bodies closer. He's still very much naked from the waist down and he can pinpoint the exact moment this dawns on Steve. The way he licks his lips. "I'm sorry. That gig was a lot, and I guess I just … crashed? You just make me feel so warm and safe and cared for." 

Steve hums reluctantly, but his chest swells with the praise and he doesn't protest when Eddie slots himself into his arms, starts to slowly undo his belt buckle. 

"How about you take revenge on me now? We've got all day, so … you can go for however long you want. I won't complain, and if I do … you know where we keep the gag, huh?" 

Steve's pupils blow wide.

The rest of the morning passes in a haze, but sleep has nothing to do with it. 

All my holiday drabbles

[thezombieprostitute]

Dragonfly - Part 4

Summary: Steve has just about everything he could ever want in life. He's got you, a baby on the way, and a successful Family. No one would dare interfere with that. Right?

A/N: Reader is female, pregnant. No other descriptors used.

Warnings: Death threats, Implied violence, Pregnancy. Please let me know if I missed any!

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Steve quietly approaches you as you're sitting on the couch, feet propped up, snacking on your favorite ice cream. You see him and smile, making him sigh, "how are you so damn gorgeous?"

You roll your eyes and chuckle. "So how was the meeting with Bucky? It felt pretty quick."

"That's because I may have figured something out," Steve hesitates. "I want you to know I'm already having everyone double check, triple check my idea but, I think I know who Dragonfly is."

That gets your attention. You set the ice cream to the side and sit up, gesturing for Steve to join you on the couch. He sits and pulls you into his lap.

"Do you remember the night we first met?"

"How could I forget?" you scoff. "Wait...what's his name? The guy who drugged Monica?"

"I think it's him."

"That would certainly explain why I was targeted."

"After he got caught, rumor has it Kent's men made an example of him. Left him permanently scarred and dropped to the bottom rung of the group. Used him as a courier. Serious cut to his income, among other things."

"And he got caught because of me," you whisper.

Steve nods. "And with Kent's estate in a kind of limbo, he can't afford to keep an eye on all of his underlings so Walker is taking advantage of the lack of oversight." You shudder at the thought of that man walking around freely and Steve holds you tight. "I promise I'll keep you and Jack safe. No matter the cost, you are my priority."

"Don't say that," you scold. "There is such a thing as too high a cost."

"Not for you and Jack," he asserts.

"I don't want to lose you," you argue. "I've made peace with the fact that your job is dangerous but this man isn't stable! Promise me you'll keep yourself safe as best you can! I know you don't always think before you act when I'm in trouble."

"Do you blame me? You're the best thing to ever happen to me. I'm allowed to go at least a little feral when it comes to protecting you."

"A little, maybe, but I need you to not rush into danger like a damn honey badger! We need you."

Steve deflates a little as he rubs your belly. You hate seeing his beautiful blue eyes so clouded but you're not backing down on this.

When he finally faces you he says, "I can't promise to not do anything stupid." You shrug and nod your acceptance of that. "But I promise I'll listen to the advice of others when it comes to getting this guy."

You hug your arms around his neck and bring him in for a kiss. "Thank you for that."

The next week is spent with focusing on the baby's arrival. It's coming up soon, just a few more weeks or so, and you're both relieved and scared.

It doesn't hurt that baby prep is also a good way to distract Steve. More than a few times Bucky and Sam have thanked you for keeping him busy so they can actually do their work and not have to worry about him personally following every lead. You're able to keep him distracted with setting up the nursery (he insists on painting and assembling everything himself) and with taking care of your physical needs. Ever since he learned how much it helps you to have him hold up your belly, alleviating a lot of the weight from your back, he's been willing to drop everything else to do it again.

For his part, Steve is also grateful for your distractions. Trying to keep his brain focused on all of the upcoming parties and meetings, your due date, security, not hunting down August himself, and more would likely leave him too frazzled to do anything. You help give him focus, directing his angry energy into productivity. He swears his admiration for you grows with each day.

He's in the middle of rearranging the nursery to your liking when Bucky knocks on the door frame, "we got the confirmation. August Walker is the guy behind the Dragonfly contract. Financials confirmed he'd wisely held onto his savings after his fall. Added to it hear and there. But then a huge chunk got spent. The amount is an exact match for the down payment on the contract."

"Do we know where he is?"

"Not yet," Bucky shakes his head. "But all soldiers have been notified that, unless he's in one of our legitimate businesses, he's shoot-on-sight. If he is in one of our legit shops, he's to be reported and either stalled or followed."

"Good call," you add. "Make sure Sam's side of things stays clean, doesn't get investigated."

"Exactly," Bucky gives you a thankful look. He knows Steve would prefer to just have the guy shot on sight. Having your backing will help temper Steve's response.

Steve grunts, "fine. Just make sure I'm kept informed of every sighting."

"Of course," he nods before heading out.

Stepping out of the rocking chair you go over and hold Steve from behind. "I'm proud of you," you whisper.

"For what?"

"For not immediately storming out and burning down the city looking for him."

Steve grumbles, "only because you don't want me to."

"I can still be proud of you," you smile. "And I know you can feel little Jack moving around. He's proud of you, too."

That gets Steve to chuckle and you feel the tension in his body ease up a bit. He gently breaks your hold on him and turns around to embrace you.

"What more could I possibly ask for than my wife and child being proud of me?" he gently asks with a kiss.

Part 3 -- Part 5

Series Masterlist

Tags:

@alicedopey; @aryhyuuga; @cynic-spirit; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jamneuromain;

@jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @ktficworld; @leryg0; @rayofdawnworld; @rebekahdawkins;

@ronearoundblindly; @talesofadragon; @texmexdarling; @thiquefunlover63

[blackstarregulus79]

I'm going to ramble/character study about Rogue and the Doctor because I have brain-rot now...

btw nothing negative about their relationship in here, I love them.

It all traces back (in my head) to the 12th doctor (I could go back further but In an effort to keep this as short as possible I will not) when he has that last night with River. This is the last big loss the doctor feels because he knows he can't save her because she died before he even knew her. This left the doctor with a lot of feeling he never learned what to do with, and all of his companions after that never had a loss like this so how could he tell them and get any reaction other then 'yeah that sucks' none of them had been through that.

But Bill reminded 12 how to be happy and young and joyful which in my mind led to him being more forgiving of Missy and learning to trust her again but he thought in the end that she betrayed him leaving him another emotional scar.

That leads him to 13 who is so scared of loosing her companions and feeling that hurt again and that betrayal that she doesn't talk to any of them. She is too worried about opening up and sharing that side of her that she would rather hide everything then feel that pain.

But her and Yaz begin to fall into that trope of 'I want to love you, I just don't know how to any more' which breaks 13s hearts. So when she regenerates she is so tired of losing, hiding, and hurting so much that she regenerates into her old face trying to make her next self stop and take a fucking break.

That is when we get 14 who reigns he bond with Donna (one of his heaviest losses) and he starts to contemplate stopping and resting for one second but the guilt he feels towards everything he's done and how he feels that he owes it to his past companions to keep going.

Then his soul rips in half, and he can do both.

(I know this had been said before but stay with me)

And because of this 15 can express and feel what he is feeling (that is why he has been crying so much this season, because he is finally letting himself). But his companion, no shame on her or anything, can't really do anything but listen because she has never travel the universe with someone grow to care about them more then anything just for them to be gone.

And having a shoulder to cry on is nice and everything but sometimes it is nice to know other people have felt pain and loss like this, and to be told you are not alone. Make you feel like you are not crazy.

Then he meets Rogue. A man who has traveled with and lost someone, who can feel the weight of it, who is also somehow trying to figure out how to live with lose even though it is so fucking difficult. And the doctor gets told about how Rogue lost someone and he tells Rogue how he lost everyone. This is one of (if not the first) in a very long time who can says 'I have been through that to I know exactly how you feel'.

And even though the Master travels the universe they do it alone, they don't feel the lose of a companion like the doctor does.

And that is why they move so fast with each other, even getting engaged the first day they met, because they don't know when they are going to lose again. Their scared and want someone they can relate to.

And Rogue knows the pain and doesn't want the doctor to feel it again so he takes Ruby's place on the trap. But the doctor feels the pain anyways because he could see the potential with Rogue, and sometimes when you are that close to something you wanted it hurts just as bad.

SO WE NEED TO BRING ROGUE BACK SO THE DOCTOR HAS SOMEONE HE CAN RELATE TO, TO TALK TO!!!!! 15 JUST NEEDS SOMEONE TO HEAL WITH NOT FOR!!!!

Anyways thanks for listening to my ramble. I know the doctor could relate to Jack about this kind of thing but I think they have way too much history for the doctor to open up to him.

Here's my Spotify playlist for them if anyone wants it:

[winniethewife]

I know I'll be alright, But I'm not tonight 

(Commander Cody x F!reader)

Prompt: Remembering

Words: 717

Warnings: Angst, Grief

A/N: For my Event Nine weeks in hell and Angstember

Cody stood in the Negotiator situation room, looking around the empty spaces where his general and friends once stood. What was it all for? Can anything really be solved without bloodshed? He had just returned from his mission on Desix, he felt the sweat drip down his brow as he recalled the moment Crosshair had shot the governor. In all his years of fighting he had never felt shaken like this. He looked around the room again and felt the ever stronger absence of the people he had spent his whole life with. Where was Rex? Where were Fives and Echo? Where were Waxer and Boil? Where was General Kenobi? He knew, He knew they were gone. He felt an awful sinking feeling, the Negotiator was scheduled to be deconstructed and used for new ships in the next few rotations, the last place he had to remember everything he had gone though, every person he had cared about, He sighed deeply as he covered his face with his hand. He wondered what he was supposed to do.

“Cody?” a voice called out from somewhere in the ship, a familiar voice. A flash of memories cross his mind. Late nights doing paperwork together, even later nights drinking at 79’s, early mornings over a cup of caf. He turns to see her. Standing with her imperial officer’s uniform jacket slung over her shoulder and a worried look on her face. “There you are, I’ve been looking for you.”

“Sorry, I…I needed a minute.” Cody rubbed the back of his neck. He tried to seem casual about it but she knew him all too well.

“You’ve been needing a lot of time away lately.” She broached the topic carefully, closing the distance between the two of them. Cody’s shoulders fell in defeat, of course she had noticed. He leans against the Holo-       table in the middle of the room, she quickly followed suit.

“Do you…think we’re doing good things here? Are we making the galaxy better?” He was hoping this time he would get a different answer from her than he got from Crosshair. She let out a defeated sound, her head tilted back so she was looking at the ceiling.

“I don’t know Cody…It’s hard to say. I feel like…I have more questions than I did before, and I feel like the answers I get don’t inspire confidence. I feel like I did more on a daily basis when we were fighting in the war then we do now.” She looks over at him. “But…I really have my doubts.”

“I’m…also having doubts.” Cody said relief coating his words as he tears his gaze from her. “I’m starting to wonder, why this happened. We won the war, but we lost…everything.” He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. She gently put her hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently.

“He’s not dead Cody. They’re still looking for him.” She said softly. Cody looked up suddenly, He knew exactly who she was talking about. The General.

“How? I thought…they must’ve…really?” Cody felt like a weight came off his shoulders but an overwhelming feeling of guilt flooded his mind. He felt like his brain was short circuiting as he tried to find the words.  “I…I’m glad…I know I’m not supposed…I don’t…How am I supposed to feel?” He looked over at her, in his eyes she could see the conflicting emotions he was feeling.

“I don’t know. But I do know how I feel.” She scoots slightly closer to him “I spend my days looking over these reports, Order 66, the Jedi council, I can’t help but wonder…” Her voice trails off. Cody shook his head in disbelief.

“I can’t stay here, I want to make a difference, I want my choices to matter.” He takes her hand in his and squeezes it. She looks at him, and nods giving his hand a gentle squeeze in return. They both knew the rumors that had been circulating, about Clones going AWOL, about where they go. She doesn’t want to say goodbye. She doesn’t want to lose him too, and neither does he.

“We can’t stay here…” She whispered softly. Cody’s eyes lit up.

“So you’ll come with me?” He asked hopefully.

“I’ll go anywhere with you.” She confirms.

“Then let’s go…Anywhere but here.”

~

Masterlist

Taglist: : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

[tea-and-secrets]

would it be ok to ask that this one is posted soon? i could use reassurance about it if thats alright? things are just... really hard.

im trying to come to terms with the fact that im going to be disabled for the rest of my life. i accept that im disabled *now,* but i have a degenerative disease, its not going to just stop being there. its going to keep getting worse slowly over time.

its especially hard because... even now i cant do my favorite hobby, rockhounding, because i cant bend without risking falling, i cant get on the ground to pick things up and/or dig because i wouldnt be able to get up on my own, and i cant navigate most off-road areas where the rocks im interested in are most often found.

i also desperately want to be a geologist. but i wanted more than anything to be doing fieldwork, like going out and taking samples from various areas, making maps of what could be found where based on my samples... that sort of thing. but ill never be able to do it and i have to come to terms with that.

it will get bad enough that i will need a wheelchair at some point in my life too. like, at some point within the next five to ten years.

ill also never be able to pick people up again. my whole life ive prided myself in picking people i love up during hugs, spinning them around, that sort of thing. i especially loved picking up my best friend.

they understand that i cant do that anymore and theyve never expressed sadness over it, but i cant help but think about how delighted theyve always been about me picking them up and spinning or wiggling them during hugs, and how they used to ask multiple times each hangout to be picked up and hugged.

and even if they arent upset about it, *i* am. i want to be able to do what i used to be able to. but i cant. and i never will again.

its just hard, knowing ill never be able to reach my dream career, continue my favorite outdoor hobby, continue giving love to my friends in the ways i like to... theres so much i can no longer do, and so much ill never be able to do again.

its just really hard. i dont want to be this way. but i am and i always will be, and it will get worse even if i do things like meds and physical therapy. those would just delay the collapse of my disease.

im just sad. i dont want to have to come to terms with it. but i have to or else im setting myself up for even more grief.

and its all because my mom wouldnt get me treated when i was injured in my teenage years. that injury going untreated for so long is what caused my degenerative disease to start so early. my mom has it too but she didnt start developing it until her fourties.

and then for years after my injury when talking about my back pain she just kept saying it was because im fat and that it would stop hurting if i lost weight.

which of course sparked the eating disorder i had previously recovered from.

which ive been struggling with now again for years because of that. but i was getting better again.

until now. because my body hurts too bad to get out of bed often enough to eat a healthy amount so im rapidly losing weight and my brain is saying i have to keep going and going.

and, the wheelchair thing... all my friends live and are going to live places with a lot of stairs. and *i* live somewhere with a lot of stairs too. and the doorframes in all these places arent wide enough for a wheelchair, nor are the bathrooms large enough.

its just all so hard to think about. i hate it. i want to get better and heal like a normal person would, not be in pain constantly and get worse like my body is going to.

thank you for listening. sorry for how long this is.

if i could get reassurance in tags or replies that would be really nice. this is all just so hard and i only have a few people i can confide in about it.

<3

[shenenenigans]

round 4 | bloom

this is lowkey incoherent sorry. all of sirius’s thoughts in round 4. i spat out words on a page no editing no nothing idk anymore. also warning for typical sirius flower body horror i guess it’s barely there though good luck soldiers

@apriciticreveries @aakaneeee @4listr @rockwgooglyeyes @starry-skiez

@verdantlights @awaggaa @nottoonedin @bluemoonscape @paradisedisconcert

sirius isn’t human. sirius barely exists. barely breathes. when they step onto the stage, they know this is true.

part of their brain knows what they’re doing is wrong. sirius still pushes anyway. for what they want. what they need. even if it hurts.

humans can’t win. humans will always lose. mankind has already lost everything. their power, their love, their gods, their dignity. in this world, humanity can no longer be attributed to humans. humans are pets. no better than those wild dogs from old tales that have since been erased from the universe, gone without a trace.

the aliens on this planet do not dream of life. the aliens on this planet long for death. they long for control, for other races to sink below them. their status rises more and more for every human life squashed by their hands. 

this is why, sirius thinks, that they are not a human. sirius takes and takes and takes. every life taken and transformed by them has become steps of a staircase leading to their newly found authority. the aliens will look up to sirius. sirius could burn them all, alien ashes spread like petals across the ground they walk on.

the world is blurry around the corners of their eyes. every step they take is wobbly, and yet they only turn further away from their opponent. when sirius feels a hand stretch out toward them, they nearly leap to avoid it. no, they won’t be saved. there’s no need to be saved. they’re right where they want to be.

sirius drops to their knees. the song hasn’t ended. the lights haven’t begun to fade. a red flower petal claws its way up their throat, painting the ground as it falls from their parted lips. everything shakes. 

it’s cold. a shiver runs through sirius’s whole body. they spit out more petals. 

and finally, it happens.

their lower back bursts open with vines. stems of flowers explode from where they’ve been implanted into sirius’s body so long ago. it stings, a little bit.

are you happy now? a voice rings in their head. can you feel it now? do you understand it now?

yes. yes, they’re happy. of course. always. sirius is happy. but—

are you proud of yourself?

do you see what you’ve done?

the people you’ve hurt, do you see them now?

our voices, can you hear us now?

deep down, her consciousness speaks to her. she’s afraid.

for the first time in a long time, sirius chokes out a sob. she collapses on the floor, the icy ground striking straight through her heart. she rolls over, gazing up at the bright lights of the stage.

it looks like the sun.

when she turns, she sees the crowd. lightsticks are everywhere.

it looks like the stars.

tears well up in her eyes when she looks at her opponent, dante, after avoiding him this entire time.

it’s over, now. sirius will wake up in noct’s laboratory next. sirius will stare at the dead bodies of helia, hanno, and ambys and she will hear their voices. she will feel the weight of her sins crush at her shoulders.

i’m sorry i’ve been so stupid. i’m sorry i couldn’t see reality. i thought this experiment would fix everything. but what good will it do now? i am my monster. i wanted to create my own humanity. i wanted to own. to control. i wanted to feel. i wanted to create. i wanted the world at my fingertips. 

i got what i wanted in the end, i think. it came at a very high cost. i can’t face you.

will you hold me, if i asked? will you cherish me, if i asked? will you love me, if i asked? it’s cold. it’s empty. it makes me feel alone. i feel so alone. would you look at me? would you keep me safe? would you lock me away? would you kill me? would you destroy me? would you melt me? i can’t do it. i don’t want to anymore. i regret it all. 

i did this. i wanted this. i won. i win. i’ll keep winning. i’ll keep running. i’ll keep creating. 

i hope that in another universe, i’m nothing like how i am now. i hope that i’m happy. i hope that i live for myself. i hope that i have morals. i hope that i apologize. i hope that i forgive.

i hope that i burn. fade into ashes.

and then the lights disappeared.