#and I wish I could draw the tiny smaller but I literally can’t

[chaosduckies]

Nose Hugs ❤️

Whattt these two again? (I can’t stop doodling them I love their dynamic so much help-) Again, I think the tiny is going to be smaller, but I can’t draw that small, nor am I an artist sooo… TwT

The tiny’s wings finally healed up after months and is just grateful that the human he’s lived with took care of him for so long. :3 (Or is that it?…)

[darter-blue]

Read it here on ao3

Or part one, two, three, four , five , six and seven on tumblr

Bucky

It’s a little like whiplash, one minute Bucky is in Steve’s arms, pressed against the elevator wall, getting his mind blown by Steve’s giant hands on his bare skin and his giant dick rutting into Bucky’s, hips rocking into Bucky’s, and the next minute there’s a crash and Steve is gripping Bucky tight and shielding him with his body.

Bucky could be mistaken, he is a little hungover, but it looks like Iron Man has just landed on the roof of their elevator. Presumably to save them from the terror of being trapped at the very high height between the first and second floor.

Except Iron Man - Tony Stark, even Bucky knows who Tony Stark is - is looking at them both with a very pleased expression and seems to be leering in at them through the service cover.

'Well well well,' Stark says, shaking his head, 'I leave you alone for five minutes.'

Bucky may be having a hullicinatory episode.

‘Tony, I mean,’ Steve looks down at Bucky, at the pink ‘groom’ t-shirt and the ring on his finger - down at his own much smaller, matching blue ‘Elvis said we do!’ t-shirt - and then back up at the superhero peering in at them. He steps back and carefully lowers Bucky to a standing position, but keeps one giant hand on his waist. ‘I guess this is actually exactly what it looks like.’

‘Oh I know,’ Stark says, boosting himself up by his rockets (wowowow, Bucky is four feet from the most advanced piece of mechanical engineering in the United States right now) and hovering through the hole and into the elevator, ‘it’s all over twitter, genius.’

‘Oh shit,’ Bucky says, ripping the phone he had put on silent (because fucking Darcy would not stop texting him) and sees way too many missed calls from his sister. One from his mother.

The texts from Darcy are still rolling in.

‘Twitter? You flew all the way here because a bunch of people twittered about this?’ Steve’s voice had dropped to a tone that Bucky doesn’t recognise but oh, he likes it.

‘Tweeted,’ Stark says, shaking his head.

Steve narrows his eyes, and the sweet open face that Bucky has been staring at all morning suddenly morphs into something much more menacing.

If Bucky hadn’t just come in his pants he'd be in trouble - as it is he can feel his heart rate picking up again at the effortless authority Steve is exuding. Okay fuck, now that’s he’s thinking about it, his dick is perking up and no, no, no. This is not the time.

Please do not let this situation get any more weird than it already is.

‘Tony, what are you doing here?’

Iron Man - looming huge in his suit in the tiny elevator - takes a small step back from Steve, and doesn’t seem confident when he answers, ‘Rescuing you?’

‘From what?’ Steve asks, ice cold.

‘From being stuck in a broken elevator?’

‘Bullshit,’ Steve says, less cold, more heat this time.

‘Uh, okay, look, full disclosure, I flew here in the quinjet to make sure that Thor hadn’t addled your brain with his god juice and left you to get yourself vegas married to a gold digger,’ he looks over at Bucky, whom Steve tightens his grip on, moving his body further between Stark and Bucky with zero subtlety, ‘seems like I maybe underestimated how literally you would take my advice to do something crazy.’

Steve is shaking his head in a sharp, hard, definitive no.

Bucky is letting him do all the talking, having a… not a great memory of what had gone down the night before (flashes of images, feelings, sounds. An overwhelming sense of comfort and happiness. Contentment… but no real basis from which those emotions have stemmed) and also this is Tony Stark, Iron Man… and Bucky isn't really sure what to do with that.

Just staying out of it seems like the wisest course.

Steve, in lieu of using his words, chooses to reach past Bucky and depress the emergency button.

‘Woah, hey!’ Stark says, grabbing at the wall as the elevator starts to move.

‘Don’t you have something rich and important you should be doing, Tony.’

‘Okay, I’m getting the impression that you’re not that happy to see me.’

‘Gee, you have some real keen observational skills,’ Steve snaps.

‘Look-’

‘With all due respect, Mister Stark-’ Bucky starts.

‘Mister Stark was my father kid,’;

‘Mister Iron Man,’ Bucky says, heavy on the sarcasm, ‘This has nothing to do with you.’

‘Listen Kid,’

‘Bucky,’ Steve corrects him.

‘Bucky?’

Bucky doesn’t bother to nod, he lets Steve’s glare do his talking.

‘That’s a name?’ Stark’s lip is raised in a grimace.

‘It’s a great name,’ Steve has his shoulders squared and his Jaw lifted and he looks suddenly one hundred percent a man not to be questioned.

Bucky can’t help the smile spreading across his face. Doesn’t even want to.

‘Steve, you can’t be serious about this.’

The elevator comes to a stop on their floor and Steve’s grip on Bucky loosens as the doors open.

‘Excuse us, Tony.’

‘Steven Grant Rogers you are trending. There’s photos of you in this ridiculous T-Shirt all over the internet. We need to do damage control!’

‘What’s wrong with his T-shirt?’ Bucky asks, hands on his hips as he lets Steve lead him out of the elevator with a gently hand on his lower back. ‘Are you being self righteous about Elvis, or about the fact that Steve married a guy?’

‘Hey now,’ Stark says from the elevator, ‘I’m mad that he didn’t know you yesterday and today you’ve got matching rings on your fingers.’

‘And?’

‘And that's… Not normal!’

Both Steve and Bucky turn around at Stark’s words.

‘When, Tony, in your entire life, have you ever aspired to be normal?’ Steve asks, standing to Bucky’s right and crossing his lovely arms over his very large chest.

Tony Stark has his mouth halfway open, his eyebrows pinching into a ‘v’ over his narrowed eyes, standing in the doorway of the elevator as the doors move in and out like a concertina at the obstruction.

‘Am I a grown man, Tony?’ Steve asks.

Stark rolls his eyes at the question.

‘Have I ever once interrupted you or questioned your life choices in the middle of a romantic interlude.’

‘Interlude? Steve, come on.’

‘Have. I. Ever?’

‘Okay, no-’

Bucky’s phone rings for the thousandth time - his mother again - and, as fascinating as it is to watch Tony Stark get his ass handed to him by a man that might really actually be Bucky’s husband - his husband - they probably do need to take a step into reality for a second.

‘Steve?’ he says, interrupting the argument and drawing both sets of eyes his way, ‘I think maybe we need to, maybe have a quick chat and ah… make some decisions?’

Steve’s face freezes, then smoothes out to as close an approximation to expressionless as Bucky has seen it all morning.

It looks wrong. It looks… like a mask.

Steve nods his head slowly, his shoulders creeping up before he forces them back down, taking a deep breath.

Stark starts talking before Steve can say a word, ‘I think that’s wise, Kid, I have some questions-’

‘Not you,’ Bucky says, shaking his head at Stark, ‘If we need you, we’ll call you, Mister Iron Man.’

Stark lifts a finger to point it at Bucky, his suit suddenly receding like magic and shrinking into a cuff on his wrist, ‘Listen-’

‘Give us some time please, Tony.’

Stark looks between Steve and Bucky and back again. He narrows his eyes at Steve and then nods once. ‘Okay. You have ten minutes.’

Steve glares at Stark again but doesn't protest. He turns away and leads Bucky the few steps back to his room and opens the door for him.

‘Should we… did you want to sit? Or…?’

‘We can sit,’ Bucky says, sinking down into the couch in the lounge area of the suite.

‘Are you… can I…’ Steve looks so lost as he takes a seat next to Bucky, mirroring Bucky’s slight angle, their knees facing towards each other.

‘I want to ask you something,’ Bucky says, palms on his thighs, swallowing awkwardly. Wishing he had a clean pair of pants to change into.

Steve just nods, his mask slipping further and further away as his face pales and he shrinks into himself.

‘How much of this is real?’

Steve’s face cracks, he winces, something like pain, and it cuts into Bucky. Slices at him. He doesn't know this man - at least… he doesn’t remember why he knows him, or how he knows him, but the pain on Steve’s face reaches in and pulls at something in Bucky and it hurts.

‘For me?’ Steve asks.

Bucky isn’t sure that’s what he was asking, but he nods, because he wants to know the answer regardless.

‘All of it,’ Steve whispers.

Bucky has to take a deep breath. Has to steal himself.

‘I want… I want it to be real for me too.’

Steve’s eyes snap up to Bucky’s.

‘I mean, it feels real.’ Bucky twists at the ring in his finger. Feels the texture of the metal, solid against his skin.

Real.

‘It feels like… not a mistake,’ Bucky says.

He’s trying and maybe failing to explain this right. But whatever he’s doing, it might be working, because Steve is staring at him, not breathing, not moving, but there’s colour back in his cheeks, and he starts leaning slowly closer and closer as Bucky continues.

‘I woke up and thought, you know, maybe I’d just gotten lucky enough to spend a night with the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life... and then,’ Bucky looks back down at his ring, ‘and then I saw this, and I thought… fuck. I thought I’d won the lottery maybe, or somehow dreamt my fantasies into reality. And you…’ Bucky looks back up at Steve and his eyes… His eyes are so cool and blue and limitless. Everything Bucky ever needed or wanted is reflected there back at him. ‘You feel like home to me.’

‘You feel like home to me too, Buck.’

‘And you… you want to stay married to me?’

Steve nods.

‘Even if it turns out I’m a complete disaster?’

‘Especially then’ Steve says, a smile spreading across his face, reaching his eyes, crinkling them at the corners.

‘No, I’m serious, I’m awful.’

Steve shakes his head and Bucky nods, emphatic.

‘No, listen, I’m a mess. My refrigerator is full of cheap beer and canned cheese, and one jar of twenty year old mayo.’

Steve is laughing but Bucky won’t have it, he needs Steve to understand the total dumpster fire that he has unwittingly attached himself to.

‘No, Steve, my bed is so covered in bike parts right now I’m sleeping on the floor.’

‘I sleep on the floor every night, Bucky.’ Steve has reached out and stopped Bucky’s hands flying through the air, is holding them, bringing them to rest against their knees between them.

‘You do?’

‘I do,’ Steve says, fond and sad all at once, ‘first time I’ve slept in a long time was here with you last night.’ He looks over at the rumpled sheets on the bed, the bed where Bucky and Steve woke up wrapped around each other.

It hits Bucky that, if they’re married, are they supposed to move in together? Where would they even live?

‘I live above my shop, Steve,’ Bucky says, panic making his voice squeak.

‘It’s not a problem, Bucky, we don’t have to work everything out all at once.’

‘But I… It’s like two rooms and a toilet.’

‘My apartment is just an empty space Shield gave me to live in because I had nowhere else to go.’

Bucky’s body is moving before his brain even realises. ‘Baby, no,’ he says, pulling one of his hands free and reaching up to cup Steve’s cheek, ‘your apartment is a shitty walk up over a bike mechanic with no space and the kitchen from hell.’ He runs his thumb over Steve’s perfect cheekbone. ‘We just need to move your stuff in.’

‘I’m a terrible cook anyway,’ Steve says, huffing a laugh.

‘See?’ Bucky says with an exaggerated sigh, leaning his head in to rest against Steve’s forehead, ‘it’s meant to be.’

‘I know you’re joking, but I honestly believe that.’

‘Who says I’m joking?’ Bucky smiles as Steve laughs. ‘So what do we need to do to get all this finalised? I’m gonna need to call my mother back at some stage.’

That snaps Steve into action, he sits up straight and pulls Bucky with him, so that Bucky is almost sitting in his lap.

‘We need to get the paperwork off Mavis, we need to get our stuff, and then I guess we need to figure out whether the license is even legal outside of the state of Nevada.’

‘Well,’ Bucky says, moving himself fully into Steve’s lap and swinging a leg over to straddle him, ‘I can think of one way to make it legal.’

‘You don’t have time for that!’ Stark yells from outside the door.

‘Goddamn it Tony!’ Steve yells back.

Bucky is laughing, he can’t help it. And Steve is laughing with him. Bucky’s head falls onto Steve’s shoulder and Steve rests his palm against the nape of Bucky’s neck. Safe and familiar and blanketing him in warmth. It feels like the kind of comfort that Bucky has spent his whole life searching for.

‘We better go.’

Bucky nods his head as much as the limited space will allow. They both pull away slowly, reluctantly. But they’re smiling now. The air around them is full of promise.

Happiness.

Even Tony Stark and his ugly tracksuit and his disapproving glare can’t dampen it.

‘Where now?’

‘To the chapel,’ Steve says, pulling Bucky along by the hand and smiling ridiculously wide.

‘To file for annulment?’

‘No Tony.’

‘To pick up the wedding album,’ Bucky says with a laugh. He’s not even sure where the thought came from, but it’s vivid, a hot pink vinyl album cover, Bucky can see it. It has to be a memory.

Steve is looking back at him and smiling, somehow, impossibly wider.

‘Jesus Christ on a cracker,’ Stark says, rolling his eyes, feet shuffling to keep up with them.

They all ride down the elevator together, Steve and Bucky practically glued at the hip and Stark shaking his head at them the entire way.

It’s objectively hilarious. Bucky is holding back his laughter, but the smirk is surely stuck fast to his face.

They make it to the Casino floor, wind their way through the mostly empty gaming rooms and dance floors to a familiar set of swinging doors under a garish ‘Wedding Chapel’ sign, where a strangely familiar man is leaning against the wall only to jump up and shout as he sees them approach.

'Cap!'

'Scott,' Steve replies, much more subdued.

'Hey, Bucky,' he says, looking Bucky's way, then doing a double take as he spots Tony Stark. 'Hey! Iron Man!'

'Who is this?' Stark asks, turning to Steve, 'Steven, who is this?'

'Hey, I'm Scott,' Scott says, reaching out a hand for Stark to shake, then pulling back with a shrug when Stark makes no move to accept it.

'Scott was our best man, Tony,' Steve says, smug and smiling.

Scott looks a little like he might faint at the title, but he pulls it together, nodding along like an excited puppy.

'Oh, Bucky, I sent you the video like you asked. And then I saw all the internet stuff this morning and I thought, well I just thought, you know… did you guys need anything? A getaway van? I don't know. I know a guy, you know?'

'We're okay,' Steve says, calm and relaxed in the face of Scott's exuberance. But Bucky’s too busy checking his phone to hear anymore.

A video.

Of the wedding.

He finds the text from Scott (whose contact info he must have entered as ‘Scott - Cap?’ last night). Opens the video file and watches it like a starving man staring through the windows of a restaurant as the images load and it starts to play.

He can feel Stark leaning over his shoulder but he doesn't care.

It's there. In colour.

Steve and Bucky, at the altar. Elvis between them, Scott filming from the side, a woman Bucky recognises - Mavis, his brain helpfully supplies - beautiful blonde beehive and rockabilly skirt and everyone is smiling. Laughing.

And Bucky remembers.

He remembers standing there next to Steve. Remembers reading his vows from a tiny scrap of pink paper, remembers Steve saying Bucky was his fate, sliding the ring onto his finger.

Bucky looks down at it now, touches it reverently. 'For we are but two halves,' he says, remembering the inscription, the way it had felt so perfect. He looks back up at Steve, who is watching Bucky, waiting for something, eyes shining. 'Together whole.'

And Steve crashes into him, clutches at Bucky, pulling him close and pressing their lips together.

'You remember,' he says between kisses, running his nose against Bucky’s nose, cupping his face in his hands, 'You remember.'

And Bucky just clutches him back. Kisses him back. Just as desperate, just as joyful. 'I remember everything, Steve-Steve Rogers.' He presses his hands against Steve’s chest. Against the beat of his heart. The most beautiful part of him. 'We danced together. We've been dancing together from the very beginning.'

'Always,' Steve says. Oblivious to their audience, to Scott's squeals and Stark's scoffs.

To the crowd gathering around them.

'Forever.' Bucky whispers it. Barely a word. But he knows Steve can hear it. Knows it will thrill him.

Means it, as crazy as that seems.

They both do.

And they have the rest of their lives to make it the truth.

[hearteyes-candyskies]

Houseplant

yandere enji x reader

summary; since enji took you, you’ve only really missed one thing; your houseplants. no, wait, not the houseplants themselves. you miss the control you had over them.

a/n; for @neroesecuzioni. thank you for supporting the blm global network! read the sequel here

tw; kidnapping, dub-con, nsfw

word count; 3.4k

🌱

Before Enji took you, all you had for company were your houseplants. Some hanging from the ceiling, spilling over the terracotta pots, other taller than you were with broad, glossy leaves. Some of them were tiny little succulents, pointy and dainty and smaller than the palm of your hand. All of them healthy and fresh and most importantly, alive. Alive by your hand and love. You miss them, the products of your hard work and love.

“Enji?” He grunts out a sound of acknowledgement, though his eyes don’t leave the laptop screen in front of him. 

“What happened to my houseplants?” At your question he finally looks up, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

“What?” You fidget with the phone in your hand, debating whether or not to drop the subject and go back to pinning ideas for house decor. Something masochistic in you urges you on.

“My houseplants. You know the ones I used to have all over my apartment? Are they still there or?” You let your question trail off, tone light and neutral, but you can see a muscle in Enji’s jaw twitch. He doesn’t like talking about your life before him. Sometimes you forget you had a life before him.

“The movers probably threw them out. Just put it on the card if you want to buy more.” His gaze is already back on the laptop screen, and while you wish he would’ve said more you can’t expect the number one pro hero to pull himself away from his work to answer your silly questions about some plants. 

You busy yourself with picking out the perfect plants to keep in a bathroom, imagining how cute they’ll look hanging from the ceiling and juxtaposed against the white tile of the shower wall. Leaves falling on the bathroom floor shouldn’t be a problem, but even if they do? Well, you do have to leave your mark in this house somehow. How else would you let Enji know that you’re living here?

🌱

You can’t stop thinking about your old houseplants. You know it’s stupid, especially when you have access to a virtually unlimited credit card and so much more space to fill in the new home, but still. As stupid as it sounds, you formed a connection with the plants you brought home. Home. This house is your home, not the cramped, slightly outdated apartment you used to live in.

You remember what it was like before Enji took you in and decided that you were going to be his wife. You lived lonely and unseen, just like your quirk, blending into corners and shadows. It was certainly convenient for your job and superiors, who were thrilled to have someone who could slip into just about anywhere. Needless to say, it didn’t work out great for your social life. 

You’re surprised that Enji even noticed you in the first place, a wallflower of a person. Maybe he has just been the first person bright enough to illuminate the depths of your personality that no one else saw. 

It’s strange. In a way, you feel more seen when you’re with him, like the light that he emits both figuratively and literally has finally allowed you to bloom. God, your life fucking sucked if you think being kidnapped did wonders for your mental health. Not to say that it hasn’t but still, it’s the thought that counts.

Enji loves you. That’s the only thought that counts.

🌱

“What made you notice me first?” You play idly with straw in your drink, trying to contain your anticipation at hearing something wonderful about yourself that you never noticed. He gives the slightest shrug of his shoulders. 

“I don’t know. You were pretty enough. Lonely. Quiet. You seemed nurturing enough to be a good mother.” Your fingers still.

“Oh.” You’re embarrassed that you can’t hide the disappointment in your voice, but even worse, you’re embarrassed that you even asked. What romantic response were you expecting from a man who kidnapped you? Enji gives no sign of noticing your crestfallen face, and you quietly excuse yourself to go and shower. 

It’s when the warm spray of the shower head hits you that you finally start to cry. What a naive foolishness to think that Enji had been the first to notice how remarkably lovely you were, to appreciate all of your hidden little quirks and oddities that made you indescribably beautiful. 

You’re a lonely, quiet, forgettable wallflower whose only gift for mothering is to do any job and be too timid to complain about it. Enji chose you because you were convenient and because he was lonely. That makes it two of you, you suppose. You clasp a hand over your mouth to try and stifle your sobs, but deep in the back of your mind you know that the sound of your cries wouldn’t be enough to draw Enji from his work. Not that he would know how to comfort you. You get the feeling he’s never had any positive interactions with his family before.

You can imagine exactly how it would go down if you confronted him right now, hair dripping wet and eyes puffy and red. He wouldn’t open his arms to embrace and soothe you, no, he would stand awkwardly with an almost comical look of alarm on his face before you approached him and only then would he gently pat your back until your crying subsided. Then he would avoid you for the next couple days. 

Enji doesn’t notice how quiet and withdrawn you are later that night, snuggled up to his side as the two of you watch the news. To be fair, even if he did notice he would still say nothing. It’s with that thought that you realize you’ve just traded one miserable, deeply lonely existence for another. Only now you have the privilege of being ignored by the one person who’s supposed to love you more than anything else. The one person that you thought you might have loved.

Except, you know that he’s never truly loved anyone before, never experienced any sort of love that would allow him to recognize the sensation and verbalize it. You don’t think that he felt anything more than neutrality towards Rei, who he put in a fucking mental hospital after she cracked under his abuse, and he sure as hell didn’t love his children, least of all Shouto, who you’ve seen interact willing with him a grand total of three times. 

When he first kidnapped you he promised never to hit you, never to raise his voice or threaten you. He just wouldn’t let you go. He told you he was trying to be a better man, a better husband, a better father. The last part had scared you in the beginning, back when you still believed you would be able to leave one day and continue your career. Hero-work has no place for kids. 

But now? That fear has grown into complacency, your original wariness of Enji into something similar to affection. You never fought him, ever, because, duh. You’re not stupid, you know exactly how it would end. This strange sort of begrudging attraction though? It’s a new annoyance, something that has you dying for his approval and only kept in check by your remaining pride. After the disastrous attempt to find out what he ‘loves’ about you though, your pride is pretty much gone. 

You...don’t know how to retrieve it, and the thought scares you. If you can’t have Enji’s love and affection, or your pride intact, what do you have? You know the answer, even if you won’t admit it.

You have nothing.

🌱

The copious amount of clothes you have astounds you; you knew that Enji had picked out quite a few basics before he took you but you forgot to factor in just how many things you had ordered since coming here. As you paw through your bin of socks and underwear you feel soft lace brush against your fingertips and out of curiosity you yank the piece of clothing from the bin. As soon as you realize what you’re holding you feel your cheeks flood with warmth and embarrassment. 

Cherry red lace and mesh stare at you, wrapped around a tangle of satin and lace in the same shade. You vividly remember buying this, a robe and underwear set that you had drooled over for months while living alone in your sad, cramped apartment. It had remained in your shopping cart for weeks; you just couldn’t justify dropping a little less than a grand on some scraps of fabric that no one would ever see. Once you remembered it and had access to Enji’s credit card, however… 

You don’t hesitate to try the set on, something you were too scared to do when you first got it. As you tie the robe closed with a pretty bow and do a little twirl you feel a girlish sense of enjoyment like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You run your hands up your thighs, finger lifting the hem of the robe seductively before you cup your breasts, cradled in concoction of satin and lace. You look good. 

Then you remember why you bought it and immediately want to rip the whole ensemble to shreds. You had bought it back when you were still under the delusion that Enji was wildly and fantastically in love with you and despite the fact that he kidnapped you with no regard for your say in the matter you were convinced that you were going to surprise and seduce him in the outfit. 

That being said… A half-baked idea forms in your head as you gently take the set off, folding it carefully before placing it in the top drawer of your dresser, easily accessible should you need it. You know Enji likes it when you sleep in the same bed as him at night, so what if you...surprised him? He would love it. He has to love it, he chose you for a reason so for him to reject you- 

You can’t even think about it, the distress in your chest building as you try and push the thought out of your mind. Yes, Enji may have ripped you from your life before him but that doesn’t mean you can’t have a life here. You know Enji likes to read to wind down before bed, so you’ll just catch him then. Yeah. You still have it in you. You can still make him love you.

🌱

Enji barely looks up from his book as you approach, head peeking around the doorframe like a child asking for a bedtime story. You suddenly feel extremely self conscious in your skimpy lingerie, seized by a desire to run back to your room and change and admit that you were wrong, you don’t have it in you to seduce him and even if you do he’ll never love you for it. 

But this is the only thing you can hold onto, the only part of yourself that you can regain control of. You steel yourself as you take slow, measured steps to the bed, heart pounding as Enji sets aside the book and takes in what you’re wearing.

“What are you doing?” His voice cuts through the air, sharp but not unappreciative, and rather than answer you crawl as seductively as possible on top of the bed.

You clamber on top of his broad chest, legs on either side of his waist. He’s paying attention now, eyes trained sharply on your face as large hands wrap around your waist, whether to hold you in place or move you off you can’t tell yet. You don't think that Enji even knows what he wants to do. Enji doesn’t know what he wants.

The silk of his boxers are thin enough that you can feel his growing arousal against your ass as you grind down, hands spread prettily across his chest. His hands tighten around you, and you take it as your cue to let out a breathy sigh. 

“Fuck me, Enji. I want you to fuck me so hard that I can feel it for days afterwards; I want you to cum inside of me so much that I can feel it dripping out of me afterwards.” Your fingers curl, nails digging into your palms as you gaze at Enji through half lidded eyes. More out of nervousness than an attempt to be sexy, you drag your teeth across your bottom lip, watching as his gaze darts straight to your mouth.

“What are you doing? Where is this coming from?” He sounds wary, guarded even, and you can’t blame him. In however long you’ve been here you’ve never tried to initiate any sort of sexual encounter, merely going along kind of lifelessly every time Enji wanted sex. It’s ironic that the very man who kidnapped you to be his wife is now being cautious about fucking you.

“I want to fuck you. I want you to fuck my pussy with your cock until I can’t take it anymore and then I want you to keep going until I can’t tell you to stop.” One hand travels downwards, toying with the waistband of his shorts. He looks unconvinced, almost like he knows that it’s not normal for a captive to want to have rough sex with their captor.

“Please, daddy.” You bend forward and whine into his ear, bucking your hips against his as you nip at his earlobe. It’s your last resort, and it works. Enji growls, honest-to-god growls against your neck before flipping you onto your back in an impressive show of power.

“You’re a fucking whore, coming onto me like that.” You’re already shrugging off your robe, flinging it across the room in an effort to salvage it. Enji burns the straps off your bra before yanking the panties so hard that they rip right off of you. Damn. There goes five hundred dollars. 

His lips are on yours before you can think of anything else, harsh and demanding as he cups the back of your head with a large, warm hand. For someone as aggressive as he is you’re surprised he doesn’t use teeth. Enji’s other hand reaches between your thighs, finding you almost embarrassingly dry. He doesn’t seem to mind, shoving two thick fingers in your mouth and groaning softly at the way your tongue swirls eagerly round them. He presses deeper, taking pleasure in the way your throat spasms around them as you gag.

“You’re so beautiful. I knew from the second that I saw you that you would be mine.” That’s the first time he’s ever called you beautiful, or even complimented anything about your physical appearance. The praise goes straight to your head in the form of blood rushing to your cheeks, and Enji laughs at the way you squirm against him, pulling his fingers from your mouth.

“You can ask me to fuck you but you can’t take a compliment?” He doesn’t let you respond, instead brushing over your clit with his thumb before working his fingers inside of you, curling and seeking out the rough little patch on your walls. You’re glad for the way Enji captures your mouth again, relieving you of the need to decide between fake moaning and laying in uncomfortable silence.

He goes until the sound of his fingers squelching in your slick is all you can hear, and your stomach starts to clench every time his hand moves. Enji hasn’t deliberately touched your clit throughout the whole process, but the pressure of the heel of his palm is enough to work you quickly to orgasm. Much like the overachiever he is in his job, Enji doesn’t stop playing with your sloppily wet pussy until your thighs are tensing around his wrist, one of your own hands reaching down to stop his. 

“Enji- Enji, oh, oh, Enji, stop-” Your moan is practically pornographic, the pleasure quickly becoming unbearable. His fingers finally stop, and he raises them to your mouth.

“Suck.” You comply without hesitation, reveling in the way that Enji can’t seem to tear his gaze from your mouth. You let go with a ‘pop’ before pressing a small, soft kiss to the calloused pads of his fingers. 

Strangely enough it’s this relatively meaningless action that brings the most emotion to Enji’s face; desire, guilt, and regret all flash across his face before he attacks your neck, sucking what you know will be dark bruises into your flesh. 

You can feel him grabbing his dick and positioning it so that the head is right above your twitching hole and-

“Enji!” You practically shriek as his hips surge forward, burying himself deep within you in one go. Your legs wrap tight around his waist and squeeze, arms coming up around his neck as you let out pathetic little gasps and moans. The sensation of what can only be his cock nudging against the opening of your cervix has your legs squeezing tighter until Enji growls and grabs both your calves in his hands before hiking them over his shoulder and pressing forward.

The new position has your legs twitching as Enji knocks against your cervix with every thrust, and you draw his head in closer as he churns up your insides. The sound is obscene; you’re the one producing it and you’re still embarrassed. 

Enji finally has the sense to reach between the two of you and rub at your clit, peeling back the hood with a surprising dexterousness before flicking gently upwards with his thumb. You feel yourself clenching down harder and harder each time he does it, until you’re finally spiraling into your second orgasm of the night. 

The feeling of your cunt clenching down on his has Enji murmuring sweet nothings in your ear as his thrusts speed up and the force behind them becomes almost punishing.

“Mine, you’re mine, mine, mine-”

“Tell me that you love me.” Your voice is breathy and whiny and you sound so desperate but Enji takes no heed, chasing his own orgasm.

“I love you, god you’re going to make a beautiful mother, you’re mine, I love you,” the rest of his words trail off into incoherent babbling as his body stiffens and you feel hot cum flood your insides. Despite your less than positive stance on having kids right now, you can’t bring yourself to care, replaying Enji’s words in your head. He loves you. He wants you. He loves you. He needs you.

He collapses on top of you, rolling onto his side to avoid crushing you but still gathering you up in his arms. You bury your face in his chest, hands trapped between your bodies, and sigh. Enji’s silent, blue eyes watch your face with something akin to warmth before reaching a hand out to brush hair away from your sweaty forehead.

“I can uh, I can get a birth control pill for you tomorrow if you want.” Part of you screams to take him up on an offer that you’ll likely never see again, but the other part of you can’t help but think how much a child would tie him to you. If you gave him a dual-quirked son? Enji would have no choice but to love and cherish you. You’d be giving him what he’s always wanted.

“Mm.” You make a non-committal noise, snuggling further into his body heat and leaving him to awkwardly tighten his embrace.

“Is that a yes?” This is the most uncertain you’ve ever heard Enji in your life, and knowing that you’re the cause for it sends an immeasurable amount of satisfaction coursing through your veins. You make him so weak. 

“Can we talk about this tomorrow? I want to cuddle.” Your voice is soft and sweet, and you glance at him through your lashes. His face is uncharacteristically open, allowing you to read every bit of uncertainty that flies across his face.

“Ok. Let me get a towel first.” You say nothing, just scooting back so that he can get off the bed. He returns with a warm, wet towel, wiping down your inner thighs with a tenderness you’ve never seen before throwing it in the laundry hamper, turning off the lights, and settling in beside you.

As you drift off to sleep, Enji holding you like you’re made of glass, you feel him press a light kiss to your forehead.

“I…” he seems to be searching for a way to express his affection, something he’s almost certainly never had to do before, “I enjoyed tonight.” You crack an eye open, observing how the iciness of his gaze has melted somewhat. A small smile creeps across your face.

“I enjoyed it too. Goodnight, Enji.” He runs a warm hand up and down your bare back.

“Goodnight.” A pause. “I love you, y/n.” You feel drunk on power at the sound of your name from his lips. 

“Love you too, Enji.” 

[skeletal-kitt]

The big three kids and their magic items: hear me out

This turned into a story about that one time Hades enchanted Nicos skull ring with similar powers to the helm of darkness. (TOA cannon, takes place a couple weeks after Apollo left camp for the quest, slight mention of Solangelo).

So Percy has a pen that turns into a sword and had a wrist watch that could turn into a sheild at one point.

Thalia has a mace canister that turns into an electric spear and a bracelet that turn into Aegis the sheild.

It would be pretty cool for Nico to have a magic item like that.

I know he already had a Stygian iron sword but I’m talking about something to help him with his powers. Something kind of like Hades’s helm of darkness that Nico could draw power from instead of having to use his own.

I’m thinking about that skull ring with ruby red eyes that he twists around his finger a lot. He seems to always be wearing it. (I think Bianca gave it to him or maybe Hades I can’t remember wich).

Hades enchants the skull ring as a birthday present for Nico. (He’s trying to be a Good Parent’TM). Except he wants it to be a surprise and it’ll take a few days to enchant it so he takes the ring while Nicos sleeping and he has no idea.

Nico wakes up and immediately feels like something’s not quite right. He’s not sure what it is but somethings off. He goes through his morning routine and gets to breakfast. He talks to Will and tells him how he feels.

That’s when Will says “is it because the skull ring you always wear is missing?” He’d been holding Nicos hand and noticed the ring was gone. Nico is shocked because yes that’s exactly why he feels weird but how?! He never takes the ring off he sleeps with it on!!

So Nico goes back to the Hades cabin and looks all over for it. He tears apart the bed thinking maybe it fell off and got lost in the sheets. He looks in every drawer in his room and bathroom. Rifles through the laundry looking in anything that has pockets.

Nico searches every nook and cranny of the Hades cabin for that ring. After a couple days he gives up on looking for it there. Maybe he left it in Apollo cabin, he spends a lot of time there with Will, Kayla, and Austin. He can’t find it anywhere there either.

At this point he’s asking random people he runs into if they’ve seen the skull ring. Campers start making jokes about it, saying Nico treats the ring like a lost pet. Someone puts up wanted posters with a drawing of the ring and quote “ if you found this ring please return to Nico di Angelo “.

Nico doesn’t even care. Let them make all jokes they want, at least it’s something harmless and kinda funny this time, not like all the jokes they used to make about him being creepy, a scary loner, or an oddball outcast.

Anyway Nico ventures into the underworld to look for the ring in his room in Hades’s palace. He runs into his dad in front of the doors and asks him if he’s seen the ring.

Hades literally has the ring in his hand behind his back, he just got back from Hecates place to finish up the enchantment, but Nicos birthday isn’t until tomorrow and he can’t blow the surprise so he makes the split second descision to reply “no I haven’t seen any rings but I’ll keep an eye out for it, hope you find it”

So Nico continues to his room to look for the ring and Hades sits at a drawing desk writing a note to explain the enchantment of the ring and a small apology for not letting Nico know he was going to take the ring for a few days and wishes his son a happy birthday

Nico can’t find the ring in his room wich means he’ll have to search the whole palace. But he spent most of the day traveling through the labyrinth to get to the passage to the underworld so he’s a little tired.

He texts Will (let’s pretend they have phones) that he’ll be spending a few days in the underworld to search the palace for the ring and to tell Chiron he made it there safely. They say goodnight and Nico goes to sleep.

Hades leaves the note and ring on the nightstand for his son to find when he wakes up.

Nico finds the note written in Ancient Greek and the skull ring and he’s ecstatic to have it back. The note explains the rings powers. It’s basically like Hades’s helm but to a smaller degree.

It can shroud Nico in shadows at his will like he’s practically invisible. The ring has its own power source connected to the underworld so Nico can draw some power from it for shadow-traveling and raising the dead and doesn’t have to use as much of his own power. That’ll come in handy when tired or drained.

It does kinda have a time limit though, if all the rings power is used in a short period of time it has to wait until at least an hour after it gets dark to get its power back. The ring charges it’s power better in darkness by absorbing the shadows.

Hades, Nico, and underworld creatures are the same way, theyre all more powerful in the mortal world at night.

Nico was surprised to read the slight apology from Hades for taking the ring (Hades rarely apologizes for anything, especially not for small misunderstandings like this), and for the happy 15th birthday. Nico had forgotten about his own birthday.

He neatly folded the note and put it in his jacket pocket and put on the ring. It looked as though it had been recently polished. The silver was shinier and the ruby eyes gleamed at him brightly. (Nico later finds out that the ruby eyes glow in the dark now).

He tried looking all over the palace for Hades to say thank you but he had vanished. He was probably busy with running the underworld. Nico sent a text to Will telling him all about the ring and that he’s coming back to camp now.

Later that night at dinner in camp, Nico sacrificed a whole meal of Hades’s favorite foods to him as a thank you.

Nico had his favorite food for dinner. Will, Kayla, and Austin had made him a huge chocolate birthday cake. It was a little lopsided and the icing was uneven. But Nico didn’t care about that. He was happier than he’d been in years for his birthday. Will led a sing-a-long at the campfire and Nico told scary stories afterward.

He slept over in Apollo cabin that night. They stayed up and talked and giggled for hours and built a giant blanket fort and watched Disney movies. Nico felt happier than he’d ever been, surrounded by his best friends, twisting the skull ring on his finger and knowing his father was watching out for him. He dozed off during The Lion King cuddled up with Will and slept peacefully though the night.

(No shut up I totally did not cry writing this, you probably cried reading this you big sap).

Now a little bit about how Nico uses the ring:

When he’s on mini quests he tries not to use it too much because he doesn’t want to be totally dependent on the ring and doesn’t want to use up all its power in one go. He only uses it in emergencies when he’s fighting and getting drained or already used up too much of his own power.

When he’s just chilling at camp and nothing much is happening he casually uses tiny bits of its power to mess with his friends or get out of awkward conversations or for playing hide and seek or sneaking into the Apollo cabin or playing pranks on campers or stealth tactics for capture the flag.

The ring always recharges fully at night, there’s no harm in using tiny bits of it throughout the day. Nico isn’t as tired as he used to be and doesn’t have to take as many naps. And no more passing out right after shadow-traveling.

Well that’s about it. I just wanted to explore the possibilities of Nico having a magic weapon like Percy and Thalia.

[hyuckshaze]

Drowning in the Distance | Chapter XIII

✩‌ haechan ‌x‌ ‌fem!reader‌ ‌|‌ terminal illness au! series ✩

SUMMARY‌ ‌⇾‌ confined to a life of detachment from the only people on earth who understand them, the patients of saint evangeline’s can only watch as those around them drown in themselves, in more ways than one, while they themselves drown, in a much more literal sense. haechan is tired, tired of moving from place to place with no real chance of getting better. y/n is tired too, tired of living solely for the purpose of staying alive. maybe, just maybe, despite the space that separates them, they can guide each other to a life worth living.

WARNINGS‌ ‌⇾‌ ongoing theme of terminal illness (cystic fibrosis); talk of christianity, the afterlife, heaven/hell, death; ongoing mention of surgeries, scars, medications, drug trials etc.

CHAPTER WORD COUNT ⇾‌ 3.96k

CHAPTER MASTERLIST

XIII | Y/N

✩‌

I hold Junnie tightly to my chest, a quiet sigh leaving my mouth as I look from my mum to my dad as they sit on either side of me in my room. They both give me a thin-lipped, half-hearted smile that doesn’t quite reach their eyes as they avoid each other’s gazes and we sit in awkward silence. I glance over at the picture of all of us, all four of us, pinned to the back of my door. Stupid smiles plastered across all of our faces as we look at the camera, the barbecue sizzling in the background and the joyfulness of the day lingering in the air. I can’t help but find myself wishing that I could have those parents back, the ones who reassured me, who held my hand and kissed my head, who told me that everything was going to be okay, even if that didn’t seem likely. Taking an attempt at a really deep breath, I suppress a hacking cough that threatens to panic the two of them, while my dad tries to make some good attempts at small talk. Whilst extremely uncomfortable, it was better to have small talk than no talk at all. He holds up the green sheet that they send around to all the rooms with the daily specials down at the cafeteria every day, a smile pulling at his lips as he looks at me.

“There’s gonna be sweet potato soup tonight for dinner. That’s one of your favourites, Y/N!” His voice sounds excited, something that I find endearing and somewhat comforting, but I can’t stop the thoughts that come drifting in at his words. That means he’s expecting me to come out of the other side alive. He’s counting on me to come out of this alive.

“She won’t be up for eating right after surgery.” My mother snaps at him, the happiness on his face disappearing in an instant at her words. I try to sound as animated as possible when I speak, trying to cheer them both up.

“If I’m up for it tonight, I’ll definitely get some!” My dad sends me a tiny, barely-noticeable, grateful smile at my attempt to lighten the atmosphere. I’m about to open my mouth to fill the silence once more when there’s a knock on the door and an orderly walks in, wearing a surgical cap and a pair of blue latex gloves. At this, my parents both seem to wake up from whatever delusion they were in that this wasn’t really happening. They stand, my dad reaching out a hand to take my smaller one in his own. It takes everything in me to steady it before his skin touches mine, trying to seem as calm as possible, when in reality, I’m more scared than ever.

“See you in a few, hun.” My mum just about whispers as both of them give me hugs, which linger a little too long. Their words swim around my head once more. I don’t know what I’d do without you. The place is great, and I’ve got you and I got to put up all my guitars! What else do I need? I grimace as my painful G-tube rubs up against them, but I hold on as tight as I can, not really wanting them to let go. When we inevitably part, the orderly pulls up the railings on the sides of the bed, locking them in place with a loud and harsh click, polar opposite to the familiar clicking of the door latch of the rooms on the third floor. I stare at Yeji’s drawing on the wall as they roll me out, the healthy, blooming and blossoming lungs calling to me, screaming for me to claim them. I wish I could. I really do. But what I wish more than anything, is that my older sister was here with me now, holding my hand, singing the song. The stupid, stupid song. The orderly, who had now introduced himself as Taeyong, begins to roll me down the hallway of the third floor. Jaemin stands in his room, door open so that he can stand a safe distance away from my bed in the centre of the hall. I quickly ask Taeyong to stop, just for a second, and he obliges. My best friend stares at me, decked out head to toe in pre-op gear.

“Sexy.” Is the first word he says. “You going for lunch lady couture?” Even in my stressed and terror-struck state, I burst out laughing.

“You know it. Linda the Lunch Lady ready to serve, both looks and shitty meatloaf.” He joins me, our laughter echoing around the entire floor. Jaemin never fails to cheer me up, even in my worst moments. Our giggles fade as we stare at one another, eyes scanning the other’s face and etching the image into our memories. This was another pre-surgery tradition, for the both of us. This one, though unofficial, is one that, in this moment, I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful for.

“You’ll do great. I love you, Y/N.” He says, his big brown eyes slightly cloudy. I feel my own eyes prickle with tears at the sight.

“I love you too, Jaem. I promise.” I say. We continue to look at each other for another minute or so, before small smiles appear on both of our faces and I nod to Taeyong. The orderly’s eyes crinkle, so I know that, even under his mask, he’s smiling too. He continues to wheel me down the hall and as the elevator doors slide shut, I allow a few tears to slip past my eyes.

 Jaemin and I made a promise when we were nine years old, a promise that would stay with us for all of the years to come. After a near death experience during one of my surgeries, he cried for two days straight and refused all of his treatments until he saw me, alive and well. He didn’t get to see me before that surgery, to say hello… Or goodbye. From then, for both of our sakes, Doyoung, Irene and Dr. Moon allowed us to see each other before any surgeries that either of us had to get. The surgery that followed was mine; a fairly easy procedure but something that had to be done under general. I remember staring at Jaemin, who stood in the big doorway, staring at me with those big brown eyes from six feet away, his small hands clutching a plush of the South Korean national football team’s mascot. His voice was shaky when he finally spoke.

“Promise me, Y/N. Promise me that you’ll remember my face. Promise that you’ll remember me. So that if you… If you go to heaven today, you can recognise me when I get there too.” He whispered, lip trembling. The tears start to pour as I stare at the closed doors of the elevator, the memory flooding my mind. It became an unspoken rule, something that had to be done no matter how old we got, no matter how many times we came out of procedures completely fine, bar a few scars to tell the tales. I can’t look anymore, not at the closed metal doors, not at Taeyong, not at anything. I close my eyes. I picture his face. His stupid face. God, I wish I could hug him right now, or ever. To feel his arms around me is something that I’ve always wanted the comfort of experiencing. To never touch the only people on earth that truly understand you… It’s a form of slow torture. I remember how I stared back at him, my own eyes becoming cloudy with tears as I clutched Junnie tightly.

“I’ll always remember you. Even if I go up there, even if I’m not down here anymore, then just know that I’ll wait for you. And… and when you get there, I’ll give you the biggest hug in the world.”

“A hug worth a lifetime of hugs.” Jaemin affirms, nodding his tiny head at me, a smile tugging at both of our lips. I waved as Doyoung began pushing me down the hallway, not stopping until those same elevator doors closed in front me.

 Taeyong sends me a sad smile, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a fresh pack of tissues. He pulls one from the pack, pressing it into my hand gently. I sniffle, giving him a nod of appreciation, not finding it in myself to smile back at him. The metal doors ding and they slowly open, the familiar hallways whizzing by, everything seeming suddenly too bright, too uncomfortably whitewashed to make out anything in particular. We push through the heavy double doors into the preoperative area, wheels whirring along the tiled linoleum floor, and then into a room about halfway down the hall. Taeyong pushes the bed into place, in the middle of the small and empty room, before speaking.

“Do you need anything before I head out?” He asks, big eyes wide with ill-disguised concern as he looks down at me, at my tear stained cheeks and the unused tissue clenched tightly in my fist. I shake my head, trying to take a deep breath as he sends me one last reassuring smile and leaves, the room becoming completely quiet, excluding the steady beeping of the vital monitors that seem to surround me. I lay and stare at the ceiling, trying to push away the mounting panic that seems to be eating away at my insides. As childish as it may seem, I can’t help but think that it isn’t fair. I did everything right. I was careful and put on the Fucidin and even the Bactroban, I took my medication at the scheduled times, and I’m still lying here, in a pre-op room, about to go into surgery anyway. All of my obsessing over my regimen for nothing. It’s not fair that Haechan got B. cepacia and was ripped from the transplant list, with no real prospect of ever really being cured of it. It’s not fair that all three of us, Haechan, Jaemin and I, are confined to a life of isolation from each other, under the guise of protecting us. I scoff. It hardly feels like it’s protecting us. It’s fucking suffocating. And that’s why I think I get it now. Why Haechan would go onto the roof. Why he’d not want to do any of his treatments. Now I see it, what he’s tried to get me to see in the viewing room, in the yoga room too. Life isn’t fair. We don’t all get a happy ending. I’d do anything to clamber up from the lumpy bed and run as fast as I can, far, far away. To Hawaii. To Vatican City to visit the Sistine Chapel. To all of the things that I’ve avoided in my life, the things I’ve dodged out of fear. Fear of getting sicker, fear of leaving my parents alone, fear of myself. But here I am; I lie here regardless of all the things I haven’t done, all the things I’ve sacrificed, about to go into another surgery that I might not come out of. In my overwhelming sense of anxiety, my fingers latch firmly around the railings of the bed that Taeyong had clicked into place on either side of me just moments before, my knuckles turning pale as I tighten my grip on them, willing myself with every ounce of energy in my body to be a fighter like Dr. Moon thought I was, like everyone thought I was. If I want to do all of those things that I hadn’t yet done, to tick all of those things from my master list, I need more time. I have to fight for it. If I…If I die, then I’ll die fighting for the chance to live. I’m snapped away from my thoughts when the door slowly opens. I try to calm my rushed breathing, the monitors beeping faster behind me as a moderately tall, thin person steps inside. They’re wearing the familiar blue scrubs, surgical face mask, goggles and blue gloves that the pre-op nurses wear, but wavy brown hair peeks out from under a clear surgical cap. Their eyes move over to look at me, those familiar brown eyes meeting mine as I gasp slightly, my grip loosening on the railings on each side of the bed.

“What are you doing here?” I murmur, eyes following as Lee Donghyuck scoots the green, plastic chair as far back as he can get, making sure he’s a safe distance away, and sits down on it.

“I thought this was the bathroom, honestly.” He says, mock confusion plastered across his face, seen through the furrowing of his brow and the crinkling of his eyes. A laugh tumbles from my lips. Of course he would say that. He chuckles and then his eyes become more serious as he stares at me. I’ve never felt less attractive, kitted out from head to toe in surgical gear: a cap covering all of my hair, an ugly blue hospital gown, the bands upon each of my limbs that display my name and hospital number, the obvious sleeplessness from the night before, my bloodshot eyes, my swollen eyelids and my darker-than-usual under-eye circles. He doesn’t seem to mind, looking down at me the same way he did in the yoga room that day. When he’d drawn me, complimented me. “It’s your first surgery without Yeji.” He explains, and with those words, a new emotion that I don’t recognize fills his eyes. It’s not teasing or comical, it’s entirely open. Sincere, even. I swallow hard, trying to stop the feelings that come spilling to the surface, tears clouding my vision. My voice sounds hoarse when I speak, though I try my best to sound confident, or at least less terror-struck.

“How did you know that?” I ask, blinking back tears. How did he know that? I hadn’t spoken to him about my surgeries, and the only time we’d spoken about Yej… Well, I didn’t tell him that.

“I’ve seen all your movies.” He announces, a massive grin evident in both his voice and face, as his eyes narrow with glee. “Some might say I’m your biggest fan.” He drawls, wiggling his eyebrows at me, to which I roll my eyes. All of them? Like, all of them? Even the most humiliating videos from when I was younger, with the shitty cuts and the cringe intro? Ew. “So, I really hope that I don’t mess this up. Even though, it’s totally plausible that I will.” He clears his throat as he pulls a sheet of paper from his pocket. I stare at him, bewildered. Did he prepare a speech or something? And then he starts to sing. His voice is light, almost jovial, as his eyes trace over the lyrics.

“I love you, a bushel and a peck-”

“Oh my God. Go away. I’m being stupid.” The tears that clouded my vision begin to free-fall at the first words of the song, sliding uncontrollably down my cheeks.

“A bushel and a peck and a hug around the neck.” Yeji’s song. He’s singing Yeji’s song.

“A hug around the neck and a barrel and a heap.” I wipe the tears away with the tissue clenched tightly in my hand, shaking my head and breathing a laugh as he continues. My heart swells as I watch his deep brown eyes twinkle under the dim light of the pre-op room, so focused on reading every single lyric off of that tiny, crumpled piece of paper, his messy handwriting scrawled across it. I feel like my heart might burst, I’m feeling so many things at once. “A barrel and a heap and I'm talkin' in my sleep about you.” He finishes. We stare at each other for a moment, smiles upon both of our faces, neither daring to break the comfortable silence. I send him a teary gaze, one that says ‘thank you’.

“Our Granddad used to sing that to us before bed. I never really liked it, or found it particularly interesting, but Yej did.” I comment, my voice quiet as I mop up the tears with the tissue that Taeyong gave me in the elevator. He lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head.

“I had to look it up online and, man, it is old.” I laugh with him, the tears subsiding as I nod at him, the memories of the song from my childhood flashing behind my eyelids every time I blink.

“I know. I think it’s from the fifties... I mean, what on earth is a-”

“Barrel and a heap?” We say at the same time, the both of us giggling at the ridiculousness of the phrase. His eyes meet mine as he chuckles, those deep brown orbs making my heart pound inside my chest, the heart monitor just next to him beeping increasingly fast. The smile fades as he leans forward, ever so slightly, toeing the line of the ruling distance between us.

“You’re going to be fine, Y/N.” His voice is low. Soft. It’s right now that I know. Right now as we stare wordlessly at one another, eyes and souls connecting across the six-foot gap, I know that, even though it could not be more ludicrous, that if I die on the table in there, I won’t die without knowing the fluttering, weightless feeling of non-familial love.  

“Promise?” I whisper. He nods gently and stretches his arm out as far as it’ll go, holding up a gloved pinkie across the ocean of distance that separates us. I reach across, ignoring the pain in the stretch of the skin surrounding my G-tube, interlocking our fingers. The smallest contact, the tiniest connection between us, but the first time we’ve ever touched. And right now… Right now that doesn’t scare me. We break apart, torn from the peace of the moment, as footsteps echo down the hallway, eyes darting over to the entrance as the noise comes closer and closer to my door. Dr. Moon pushes the door open, stepping into the room with a surgical doctor, one who I recognised from my previous procedures as Kun, trailing behind him.

“Ready to get this show on the road?” He says, sending me a grin and a thumbs up. I nod shakily, my head whipping back around to the chair where Haechan was sitting as he talks with Dr. Qian, fear gripping my chest and striking me breathless. It’s empty. The chair is empty. How is it empty? My eyes dart around the room, searching for a way he could have escaped. There’s no other way out than the- and then I see him, tucked just behind the grey curtain, his back pressed up against the whitewashed wall. He holds a gloved finger up to his lips and pulls his face mask off to smile at me. I stare at him, studying his tanned skin, the moles along his right cheekbone that trail down to his neck, forming what looks like a constellation, his lightly dimpled cheeks, his plush lips, strong eyebrows and his glittering eyes. I look back at the ceiling, so as not to alert Taeil and Kun to his presence. My lips remain quirked upwards as I close my eyes and take a deep breath, beginning to picture him the same way I picture Jaemin, my parents, Tzuyu, Karina, Yeji. And as I do, I start to believe his words.

I’m going to be fine.

  No more than ten minutes later, I’m lying flat on the operating table, the room ill-lit and overcast except for the blinding light directly above my body. I shift uncomfortably as masked faces form a ring around me, eyes glancing anxiously to the surgical tools to my left and the anaesthetic machine to my right. I try to calm my breathing. I try to remember what Haechan said to me. ‘You’re going to be fine, Y/N’.

“All right, Y/N. You know what to do.” A voice says, Kun’s voice, breaking the echo of the brown haired boy’s words in my head, holding up a silicone mask in a blue latex covered hand. ‘You’re going to be fine, Y/N’. My heart begins pounding nervously against the wall of my chest, the vital monitor’s beeping speeding up. ‘You’re going to be fine, Y/N’. I turn my head to face him, meeting his reassuring gaze as he puts the mask over my nose and mouth, securing the strap around the back of my head. ‘You’re going to be fine, Y/N’. When I wake up, it’ll all be over.

“Ten.” I whisper, eyes looking past the anaesthesiologist to the calcimine walls in the dimness of the operating room. I can’t look at their face. I picture Jaemin, Karina, Tzuyu, my parents, Yeji, Haechan, envisioning their features when my eyes land on something oddly familiar. Yeji’s lung drawing. How? How is that possible? Am I dreaming, already asleep? And then I know. It’s him. Hyuck. He somehow snuck it into the room. A lone tear slips from my eye and down my face onto the cold metal of the operating table and I keep counting. “Nine. Eight.” The flowers start to swim together, the blues of the branches and the pinks of the buds and the oranges of the petals and the whites of the details, all snaking and spinning and blurring into one, the mess of colours lurching off of the page and reaching towards me, calling out to me. “Seven. Six. Five.” The night sky that the lungs float in suddenly comes alive, the darkness swimming through the flowers, the tiny stars filling the air around me. They twinkle and twirl around me, enveloping me in the warmth of their familiarity. I reach up a hand, directly above my face, feeling the electricity that they radiate as my fingertips brush against them. I hear a voice humming, somewhere in the distance.

“I love you, a bushel and a peck…”

“Four. Three.” My words sound slurred, my head spinning as the edges of my vision start going black, blending with the starry night in front of me, the world becoming more and more obscure. I focus on a single bright star, a single point of light, getting brighter and warmer and more overwhelming. The humming stops and I hear a voice that isn’t my own, far-off and disarrayed. Yeji. It’s Yeji’s voice. She’s here with me, I can hear her.

“… back… don’t…”

“Two.” I try to whisper, not completely sure if it’s in my head or out loud. My vision spins, almost nauseating, as the blackness fades into light. Why is it so bright? And then I see her. I really see her. I see Yeji, right there in front of me, blurry and almost indistinct. I stare at her figure, the colours of her face and hair. I blink, and then her image is entirely clear. It’s like I’m seeing for the first time, my eyes adjusting to the brightness of the place that we’re in. Where are we? She turns her head towards me. She’s here. The same curly hair as my father, the same larger-than life smile as she looks back at me, and her eyes. Her striking eyes, positively swimming with life. I smile back at her, trying to speak her name. Nothing comes out. I try to move towards her, to touch her, but she beats me to it.

“… more… time…” She’s pushing me away. Her hands on my shoulders, she’s shoving me as far away from the whiteness as she can get me. Away from the light. Away from her.

“One.”

 And then, everything is dark.

[lamentations-imaginations]

Hey I was just wondering how the brothers, plus maybe Diavalo and Solomon, would react if out of no where they were turned to kids and MC had to take care of them. Please?

Satan should really label or lock his magic books away, because with one accidental touch and a wish The House of Lamentation had been babified!!!

Lucifer

• The Avatar of Pride as a helpless child. Oh dear, it hurts his ego badly.

• He'd still try to boss his brothers around, but the effect is lost on them.

• He refuses for MC to talk down to him and insists on standing on things to talk on equal height.

• You two compromise on you holding him to talk, saving some dignity he has left.

• Being a kid he can't have his favorite melancholy coffee or poisoned apple, but apple slices and chocolate milk will suffice.

Mammon

• Oh God if he didn't have sticky fingers before, he sure does now.

• If it's shiny it's his now. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. If you try to take it from him he will cry.

• Thankfully he's the easiest to entertain. You put a cookie clicker on your DDD, kids home settings enabled, and he's a happy little camper.

• He follows you everywhere, clinging to your pants leg. He will gladly force himself into any situation where you're praising his brothers for more attention.

Leviathan

• Thankfully he's still enticed by games and anime, but dear God you have to lock most of it away for its less than family friendly ratings.

• Mostly it's My Neighbor Totoro, Sailor Moon, and Ponyo for TV and Super Mario Galaxy for video games.

• You do play Dragon and Royal where he pretends to burn away any knights that threaten to take you away.

• While Mammon has one pants leg, Leviathan has his tail wrapped around the other.

Satan

• Hope you have biker boots, cuz he takes ankle biter literally.

• Tiny ball of wrath having temper tantrums beating his tiny fists against the floor when he doesn't want his nap time.

• Thankfully he loves to be curled up on your lap as you read fairy tales. Sometimes he'll insist on sounding out a page to show off how smart he is.

• He can't have his melancholy coffee either, but a warm slice of pie settles him down and makes him sleepy.

Asmodeus

• Being tiny won't stop him from being the most beautiful of the bunch.

• Sadly he looks like a baby boy who got into his mom's closet and make up drawer. Lipstick, eye shadow, oversized heels, and his favorite scarf.

• He might be the Avatar of Lust, but now he is the Avatar of Pleasure. Wanting to curl up in the most comforting fabrics, satisfying his sweet tooth, and being the center of attention.

• Thankfully you have a lot of devil candies, and let him take all the selfies he could desire.

Beelzebub

• The bottomless pit is now a smaller bottomless pit.

• He and Belphie are never fair apart, often eating Belphies snacks. You have to keep checking on him, making sure he's actually chewing his food. Sometimes even pat his back when he's inhaled too much.

• Out of all the brothers, he's the one you constantly have to clean up after. Hand wipes, wash rags, the whole nine yards. He literally has sticky fingers.

• He might be cranky from hunger, but he's always happy with you.

Belphegor

• Easiest of the brothers to take care of. He just sleeps. No fuss! No mess!

• He's always holding Beel's hand while he sleeps. It's almost a comfort action that gives him peace of mind.

• He sometimes has nightmares of Lilith, so you sing him a lullaby while rubbing his back. It soothes him back into a peaceful slumber.

Lord Diavolo

• Oh thank God Barbatos wasn't changed. He helps you figure out how to handle the Prince of Hell.

• It's truly interesting to see how Diavolo was before all his grooming and training to be the next ruler.

• You can't help but record on your DDD how Diavolo clings and follows Lucifer around with little heart eyes. Even as a child, Lucifer is the most beautiful being.

• He's surprisingly a picky eater. Nothing you offer is good enough. Only if it's from Barbatos will he eat it.

Solomon

• Solomon maybe sketchy as fuck, but at least he's human!

• You're a human, so you got this! For once no unusual powers or magic to throw you off. Just a normal bratty kid.

• He tends to hang out with Asmo, helping him with lighting and angles for his selfies.

• The worst issue is running after him when you catch him drawing in the manor's walls with pens. You only hope Lucifer will forgive you once it's all over.

[banalbones]

The Petite Prince: Chapter 5

Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4, 6, 7, 8

Chapter 5: The Treasure Hunt, Part 2

Summary: Roman is a child. Virgil and Logan lost him, and have been questing to find him for way too long. Remus loves his bro, but is feeling a bit more chaotic.

Words: 2485

Ships: Familial prinxiety, logince and Creativitwins. Eventual familial royality, roceit and DRLAMP  

Genre: Fluff with a side dose of angst

Warnings: A few swears, tiny blood mention, arguing, a mention of being unconscious, a dragon, falling, tell me if there’s any more!

Taglist: @pricklyfish777 @sunflowerblondeuwu  @itriedandimtired @draw-your-perfect-world @cemmy @battlebunnyteardropsinthesun @nonbinary-lizard-2

_________________________

The ‘twins’ were doing karaoke with the birds.

“Love is an open doo-oo-oor!”

The song was perfect for the pair, an adorable ‘love’ song for Roman, and a Disney villain tune for Remus.

Roman was grinning madly, his gap tooth showing, as his sweet little child voice perfectly nailed all of the notes.

“You’re really good at this,” Remus commented, taking a break from the song. “But Elphaba’s better.”

Cue the *o f f e n d e d p r i n c e y n o i s e s*.

“She’s a bi- she’s a bird! How can she be b- be better?”

Remus cackled. Annoying his brother was fun, even when he was a child.

He probably shouldn’t be thinking that, but still.

Quoting Virgil, sometimes I just gotta be me-an.

The smol one wacked his leg with the stick.

(Remus truly didn’t know how he kept getting it.)

“You know,” he said, “We could decorate the stick.”

That was a thing kids did right? Decorating sticks? 

Apparently it was, as Roman squealed in delight and jumped around, whilst simultaneously summoning paint and glitter and smaller sticks and a whole lot of other stuff Remus didn’t bother to acknowledge.

I would have just gotten blood.

_________________________

“Are we supposed to climb this thing?” Virgil asked incredulously.

Logan wasn’t looking at the tower, so much as the dragon. It had shimmering scales, the color of the sea, covering the entirety of its lithe body, with accents of a bright gold littered throughout. The sunset colored wings however, were the things that stuck out most.

The dragon was quite beautiful and had cool wings, in an abbreviated sentence.

It also appeared to be asleep, which was definitely a pro in this situation of cons.

“If we wish to retrieve Roman, I believe so.”

“Well, fuck.”

_________________________

Virgil for all his faults, was loyal. Or so he told himself. Janus (?!?!), when the emo was still a part of the Others, had told him that dark sides were extremely protective of what they deem to be theirs.

So he supposed it made sense that he, the literal embodiment of anxiety, was about to climb a fifty foot tower with no safety precautions, just to save the little prince.

He turned to Logan and grinned sheepishly.

“So, uh, do you want to start?”

Just because Virgil was going to do it, didn’t mean he had to go first.

_________________________

The Dragon Witch smirked slightly as she rested her scaled head atop the tower’s black roof, gazing down at the two sides.

Looked like it was time to drop the ladder.

_________________________

Logan rolled his eyes at Virgil and began to reach for the tower, not sure what he was actually going to do when he touched it, when suddenly a pile of pili fell on his head.

“What the heck?”

The sub-astute teacher looked up to see… a rope of hair?

What?

“It’s like in Tangled!” Virgil said, somewhat excitedly.

“The Disney movie?”

“The Disney movie.” Virgil nodded.

“So what do we do, climb it?”

“I mean I guess,” The Supreme Dark Overlord of Negative Commerce (That’s a throwback) paused, “Because I don’t see any stairs.”

Logan, once again, rolled his eyes.

Might as well start climbing.

And so he did.

_________________________

Roman watched LoLo begin to climb through the fly-eyes. It seemed so fun!

Maybe he could do that one day…

If Remus would let him.

Roman giggled.

He probably would.

_________________________

Remus had wanted to add a thorn bush at the bottom of the tower, to be true to the original, ya know? But the smol one hadn’t wanted them to get hurt.

Again.

So instead, he had come up with an ingenious compromise that Logan would have been proud of.

Put vines at the bottom, but make them look like thorns!

It would be so funny to see Virgil panic and try even harder not to fall, especially with the armor-

Oh yeah!

“RoRo, do you want to give them the armor now?”

The little prince nodded enthusiastically, his face scrunching up in concentration.

And then…

“I did it!”

Little did the prince know that Remus had done a slight flick of the wrist, ensuring that the metal protection would… weigh them down.

He may be my brother, and I still love and will protect him at all costs, but I am always a chaotic rat man.

_________________________

I can’t believe you acknowledged that you were a chaotic rat man.

I can.

_________________________

Patton hummed softly, twirling around as he made the brownies.

He had tried checking on Roman in his room, but the princely side hadn’t answered.

So, he decided to make brownies to give to Roman when he felt like he could talk to him again!

If he ever felt like he could…

Patton shook his head quickly, dismissing the thought.

He would! It was Roman, after all!

Patton swallowed.

It was Roman, after all…

_________________________

Logan was halfway up the tower (and the hair) when he felt a weight be placed on his body. A very heavy weight.

The logical side was now extremely glad he had made Virgil stay on the ground.

Gravity tugged a little too hard on Logan for his own liking, and then he was falling.

And falling.

And f

           a

                 l

                      l

                           i

                               n

                                       g

                                            .

Into a pile of thornbushes?

Logan inwardly groaned. It was like in the Grimm Brother’s version of the fairytale.

The prince fell into a bunch of thorns and got blinded.

I’m already blind enough, come on!

He barely registered Virgil screaming out his name through the rush of air and thoughts.

And then he landed.

________________________

Virgil screamed as Logan fell.

He was gonna die!

Could sides even die?

He didn’t think so, but what if they could?

The emo’s mind was so filled with what ifs, that he barely registered the dumping of heavy metal on his shoulders.

It was like a weighted blanket but five times heavier.

“Oof.” He was pulled to the floor, just as Logan landed… in a pile of thorns?!

How had he not noticed that?

“Holy shit! Logan!”

He heard a groan.

“Ow.”

Virgil breathed a sigh of relief.

At least he was alive.

_________________________

You fell off a tower?!

Yes. I just said that.

How did you survive?

We’re getting to that.

_________________________

The teacher figure groaned as he opened his eyes. He wasn’t blind, and he wasn’t bleeding.

That was a good sign.

It seems I have not, in fact landed in a pile of thorns.

“Holy shit! Logan!”

Logan attempted to move his head. A fall like that could not be good for his neck.

He managed it, if only slightly, to see a raccoon-like side running, well trying to run, towards him.

“Hello, Virgil. Before you ask, no, I do not know how I am alive.”

“Are you-”

“Yes, I am indeed hurt,” Logan interrupted, “I fell twenty five feet, what did you expect?”

“I don’t… whatever. How come you’re wearing armor?”

Logan responded with a dry “You are too,” before craning his neck (ow) to see that he was, in fact, wearing a bunch of bulky metal.

It was very blue. Or indigo, depending on how specific you wanted to be.

“Why is it so heavy?”

“That’s because of Remus,” a very familiar, lilting voice answered, as weapons materialized in the boys hands.

“Oh shit,” he heard Virgil mutter.

Logan looked up (once again, ow) to see the dragon that had been sitting atop the tower flying towards them.

It let out a roar.

To mirror Virgil’s earlier words, oh shit.

_________________________

Roman stood proudly, brandishing his stick for all to see.

By all, he meant Remus and the birds, as they were the only ones left to see it.

(The other forest creatures had to go, they had told Roman, it was almost dinner time for them.)

Apparently, birds had really weird eating schedules.

Big me had a really weird eating schedule too. He only ate during the night.

That, along with the fact big him never slept at night either led to the little prince forming a rather intelligent conclusion.

Big him was nocturnal!

Like an owl!

Wait…

If Big him was nocturnal (or an owl)…

Did that mean ReeRee was too?

…

“ReeRee… are you a- you an owl? Or noc- or noc-tur-nal?��

The Duke turned.

“Also, do yo- do you li-li-li’ my stick? Its glitty-ery!”

The tiny royal’s big brother looked confused.

“No? Why? Your stick is splendiferous, by the way.”

Now it was Roman’s turn to be confused.

(He was happy with the reaction to the stick.)

“Big me is. How co-how come you aren’t?”

Maybe the lack of sleep at night isn’t something that owl’s do.

Oh! Elphaba’s leaving! Byeee!

The petite prince was so caught up in his train of thought that he didn’t see Remus’s concerned gaze.

Bye bye birdies!

_________________________

Virgil stared at the bedazzled dirk in his hand, the onyx gems glinting in the light of the fire.

Wait, fire?

The emo turned to see a large green dragon (?!?!) diving towards him, flames spewing out of its mouth.

A dragon?

Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit

“Virgil! Move!” he heard a voice shouting.

But for a moment he was paralyzed.

Then, in a way that was opposite his regular behavior, he let out a battle cry and leapt towards the reptilian rapscallion (Roman would be proud), brandishing his weapon.

The dragon roared as Virgil threw one of his dirks, the sharp metal burying itself in a shimmering teal scale.

No blood emerged.

One weapon wasted.

“What the fuck are you doing, you inbecile? Run!”

For some reason, Virgil decided to ignore the admittedly good advice.

The dragon swiped at the anxious side, knocking him into the hard brick of the tower.

The scaled beast crept forward.

It poked Virgil’s head, slamming it back into the stone.

And then the world was fading to black.

Well, he knew that wasn’t good.

_________________________

Logan shut his eyes, restraining a groan of frustration.

WHY did people (metaphysical people) never listen to him?

Virgil was the smallest of the sides (apart from Roman, at the moment) and though he was fight or flight, the anxious side really didn’t know how to defend himself, especially against dragons. It also didn’t help that he only had a tiny daggers and a leaden suit of armor to protect himself.

Logan took a deep breath.

…

When the logical side’s eyes reopened, he was subjected to the view of Virgil being yeeted (slang words) into the tower.

Virgil was quickly climbing up the idiot list.

Very quickly indeed.

_________________________

Where am I on the list right now?

The same place as you were when this happened.

Where was I?

That is not important.

What? Yes it i-

_________________________

Remus was concerned. Which was weird for him.

What did the smol one mean?

An owl?

Nocturnal?

Was Roman secretly an owl? Or did his twin have a really unhealthy sleep schedule that led to negatively affecting his mood, energy levels and attention span, making him lash out in even the slightest of stressful situations whilst simultaneously causing his metaphysical human being-like health and mental health to deteriorate?

Nah, he was probably an owl.

And with that (most of) Remus’s concern washed away.

His brother was an owl.

_________________________

Roman was watching the battle through the fly-eyes. Well, battle was an over exaggeration. It was really just VeeVee getting smacked into a wall by a dragon (who looked suspiciously like the Dragon Witch Big him had killed a while ago).

The prince looked to where Logan was.

The nerd looked reeeeeally annoyed.

Probably because now he had to defeat the dragon all by himself.

What’s he gonna do?

Roman watched as the logical side got up, a broadsword appearing in his grasp.

The prince summoned a bowl of popcorn.

He should throw it. Mama should definitely throw it.

Logan threw it.

And missed.

The sword didn’t even get near it!

Come ooooon, Mama.

The dragon roared and pounced on Logan, baring its teeth.

Roman leaned forward, a handful of popcorn nearing his mouth.

This was getting good.

A drop of saliva dripped onto Logan’s face…

Aaaaaannd…

He was whisked away from the fly-eyes view by a pair of grimy hands.

“ReeRee! No fair!”

“Sorry RoRo.”

The little prince pouted, and Remus held something out to hi.

“Look I made a stick!”

_________________________

Did it work?

Did what work?

The stick. As a distraction.

It wasn’t a distraction, I just really wanted to show him my stick!

Liesssss.

It was also a distraction.

_________________________

Patton was becoming concerned.

Roman usually would have come out by now.

Maybe he decided to talk to someone else.

But who?

Definitely not Janus, for obvious reasons. Maybe Virgil?

I should check. Just to see if he’s okay.

I’ll bring the brownies.

Just in case…

And so the walk to Virgil’s room began.

_________________________

Do it for the child.

That was the mantra that Logan was repeating in his head.

He truly did not appreciate being carried through the sky in a dragon’s claws, especially since it had caused his glasses to fall off of his face.

For the last time, I’m already blind! Why is it always me?

It also didn’t help that every single part of his body was aching.

_________________________

Do it for the bean.

That was the mantra that would probably have been repeated in Virgil’s head at this moment, if he wasn’t unconscious.  

_________________________

Patton frowned.

Virgil wasn’t there.

Maybe Roman and his dark strange son were with Logan!

And so the walk to Logan’s room began.

_________________________

Remus giggled.

RoRo had forgotten about the fly-eyes almost immediately, being too distracted by the glowing stick.

He waved his hand.

A visitor (or two) was about to drop in.

_________________________

Patton furrowed his brows.

Logan wasn’t in his room either.

Were they all together?

Who else could they be with?

Remus?

It was worth a shot.

And so the walk to Remus’s room began.

_________________________

Back in the dragon witch’s claws, a fully healed, very confused Virgil awoke, and Logan felt all of his physical pain disappear, along with the stupid heavy armor.

And then they were thrown through the window of the brick monstrosity,

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

As Patton twisted the door handle,

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

As Virgil and Logan crashed through the floor of the tower,

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

As Remus looked up to see the ceiling falling in,

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

As Patton pushed open the door,

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

As the left brain boys fell into the Duke’s room.

Oh boy.

_________________________

Roman looked up from the stick to see ReeRee grinning like a madman (That’s pretty normal), VeeVee and Mama sprawled on the floor (Yay! Why’s the ceiling broken?), and Da- Patton glancing around the room with a plate of brownies in his hands (ohnohonohonohonohonoh).

The petite prince was feeling slightly overwhelmed.

“Wha?”

_________________________

Thanks for reading this chapter of the Petite Prince!

(And by the way, at the time of the stick distraction, Roman is around five. If you’re confused, don’t be scared to ask.)

Any and all feedback is appreciated!

[ndragoon]

Seems like it's one of those nights.

I don't know. It feels like I need to get so much out of my head, but every time I try to put any of it into words it just ends up as some rambling word salad. None of it makes sense, or else it is just something I've probably said here a hundred times already.

I hate myself. I hate everything about myself. I hate how I feel like I must have done something horribly, unspeakably awful to deserve a punishment like this.

My brain doesn't work. I can't think, I can't remember, sometimes I just can't think anymore and my brain needs to do a full reset before it can start doing anything again. Typing, speaking, walking, you name it. I'll just stop in the middle, stare off into space, and then need to take a moment to reorient myself and hope that I can find out what I was saying or doing so I don't look like a massive idiot.

My thoughts feel like a bunch of clashing gears all struggling to keep the mechanism going. Sometimes they manage to coordinate enough to get something done, but it feels more like sheer coincidence rather than actual intention. It feels like if I can't do something on mindless autopilot, then it requires 150% of my maximum brainpower while I can only run at a strict maximum of 40%.

Memories, but especially names, escape me. Not just people names, but names of objects, places, and whatever else. I need to describe them or their use. It's difficult to talk to people about my special interests without making a complete fool of myself, because I can tell you the underlying mechanics and storyline, but then I have to describe items, cards, gems, weapons, characters, places, you name it. It makes me feel like a failure because others with special interests can tell you every single detail of every single thing using all the names and they can just recite them like an actor would for a play.

I need to stress the memory part more because I used to practically have an eidetic memory for some things, like how I could draw maps of places after only being there once (assuming it wasn't some kind of sprawling complex where every single room and hallway and nearly identical). Now, it's just a fog or a haze and I can only remember things roughly at best for places I've been multiple times.

It feels like having gripes about my appearance are so...superficial? Shallow? It feels like I'm supposed to like myself and every bit of my exterior unconditionally, and wishing anything was different is just something that people who only care about their appearance are supposed to do.

I don't mind my gut, surprisingly. It's smooth and round and doesn't have all the folds and rolls that some lighter but bigger people have that I dislike the look of.

I do dislike how thin and sparse my body hair is. I do have some traces on my thighs, belly, forearms, underarms, and my pubes - though they are all so thin and sparse you have to actually look for it because it barely counts as hair. I do have a single tuft in the middle of my chest, though, for whatever reason. It's the thickest, darkest patch of hair anywhere.

The only traces of facial hair I have is a thin line of hair on my upper lip, 5 tiny and short hairs right below the middle of my bottom lip, and a bunch of thick, wiry, and obvious hairs on the area between my chin and neck. It's a patch the size of my palm and stays consistent.

One of the things I envy about most other overweight men is the fact that their penis is external all the time. Even flaccid, it just dangles there for all to see or to play with. Meanwhile, even when I'm hard mine stays hidden. It was small from birth, stayed small through puberty, and got even smaller for whatever reason since then.

I hate saying anything about it because just mentioning it comes across as your typical "shallow male complaint" of "I wish my dick was bigger, 7 inches is too small". But I can't top because of it, and nobody wants to touch it because they all expect something much larger.

Recently, I've been dealing with one of those infamous anal fissures. They are so dang painful and perpetually bleed so much. It just adds to the strictures (basically scar tissue on the sphincter) my doctor said I had, and looking them up just told me that I basically either take a few years to manually stretch things out to get at least some stretchiness back, or forsake doing things back there entirely. I'm more inclined to just forsaking things entirely since just going to the bathroom after taking my meds for a few days was enough to cause a tear.

And this part is less shallow.

I was doing some thinking, because even though it is difficult to recognize and point things out as they happen, sometimes you can realize it after the fact. My exhaustion and easy fatigue have been around for a while. Putting it lightly, of course. I had realized I showed signs for years now, albeit nowhere near as bad as now.

Giving a bj to my fourth ex, G, was difficult because even though I greatly enjoyed it, my jaw started to hurt and ache so incredibly quickly. We chalked it up to inexperience and I tried to practice, but never got another chance to try with him. When I got to my eighth, J, I was having the same issues. Except I also had issues with my hands, where my arms would ache and become incredibly weak to the point of uselessness before I could get him to climax. No matter how many times I tried, I never got or felt any better and it was a point of frustration to him. Even though he never reciprocated (except for once, but that was a nightmare) I don't blame him for feeling that way, I'm frustrated with myself because I get that way just taking care of my own thing. Plus, even just eating is enough to make my jaw ache and feel swollen anymore.

And another thing is the whole vacation bit I mentioned in another post. When I was working, I always thought that it felt like I'd go to sleep at the end of the day, and instead of being fully rested my batter would only be at 99%. And then the next day it would only be at 98%. It wasn't always a literal day between, but that's how it felt. Taking a week long break didn't make me feel any better, I felt like I was at a permanent 75% regardless of how much sleep I got during that week. Even talking to a buddy, he told me that staying awake for two days and then sleeping at a normal time makes you feel like a god, but it just made me feel even more tired and worn out.

But now, I feel like I'm at a permanent 25%. All it takes is anything more than just one quick trip to the local small store to wipe me out for the whole day. If I spend a day with friends (don't bark at me, only two of them work, one is tested almost daily and the other refuses contact because of the high risk of their job, the rest stay at home all day) then I come home feeling like I just ran a marathon and need to sleep. Taking a walk around the grocery store takes me out for the rest of the day.

And I just...I don't know. None of the docs are willing to cooperate because I don't spend an hour a day exercising, because I have this junk food diet that they assigned me upon first sight, because I'm not working.

I'm socially dead because I'm not working. Every time I talk to someone, it's about where I'm working, what job I moved to, what I'm doing now that I'm not still stocking shelves. If I say my health declined and I'm trying for disability, they always just give me this look like I'm just one of those lazy kids who want to work the system and that's that.

My head is just so cloudy and it's getting difficult to think. So I think I'm done writing and rewriting and rewriting and rewriting this. It's already a massive essay that nobody reads, but at least I have a written record, albeit anonymously, of how things went down so at least someone can see my body when it fails someday and know my history and what I went through up to this point. I don't want it to be a huge mystery to everyone just because my family discounts how I feel and try to pretend nothing is wrong.

[davidmann95]

Finally, Crisis on Infinite Earths?

Let’s dispense with any pretense right up front: CW’s Crisis on Infinite Earths is thoroughly dopey, punishingly cheap, and unselfconciously corny in the most heavy-handed ways. It is also, similarly in the spirit of wanting to be direct, probably my favorite live-action DC thing other than The Dark Knight. It’s pure, uncut, unapologetic dork superhero joy injected right into the jugular, every single ambition that a primetime network television soap/procedural/mini-MCU homunculus adaptation of the biggest comic book event of all time could have ever conceivably achieved and far beyond. Not in question that I substantially prefer it to the source material, and it’s if nothing else worth regarding as the singular achievement that it is and will remain: when the movies get around to a Crisis someday, the shared ongoing TV/cinematic universe paradigm means there aren’t going to be fistfuls of actors from past interpretations to draw from the way this could for much longer. This was in all likelihood the one shot to do this in the way everyone wanted it to be done, and it held together.

Not that much in the way of deep analysis to offer, and I already discussed the first three episodes, so let’s just get into it:

* Malthus! Low on the totem pole of shock DCU minutia, but I was mighty pleased.

* Not nor have I ever been much of a shipper, but “Do you trust me?” “With every cell in my body.” is the gayest thing I have ever seen, my lord.

* Literally everything with Lex in here is solid shining gold.

* For all the elements I had assumed were givens that didn’t happen - not that I was bothered by much of it other than I really do wish Danny Trejo had been here - Ezra Miller putting his money where his mouth is was in my dang joke category of stuff that was obviously never going to happen. What an absolute delight, and moreover I had thought in the first place “This scene really feels deliberately structured such that it would fit as a scene in the Flash movie, especially given this is where this version has the idea for the name? But that seems so unlikely!” and then Guggenheim confirmed that the CEO of WB specifically asked for that scene to be included, so I guess the Flash movie is going to be a covert sequel/companion piece to the friggin’ CW Crisis! Even if Gustin’s possibly only in the one bit though, I do hope this means Tom Cavanaghhas at least a cameo.

* The killer dumb as hell line aside, Oliver vs. the Anti-Monitor was conspicuously the best special effect in the whole thing, they clearly blew a lot of the budget on that.

* Wolfman got to be the one to tell them the Earths had been merged! And kudos to him co-writing the Arrow episode, which was probably the best of the lot from a pure storytelling/dramatic standpoint; when I say this was leaps and bounds better than the original Crisis, that’s not a knock on him.

* BEEBO. And Sargon the Sorcerer! But BEEBO. Hopefully him appearing at the height of all this and being a thing the non-Legends have to deal with is a sign of the weirdness continuing to be upped across the board.

* The final plan to defeat the Anti-Monitor is the most beautiful Silver Age nonsense, to the point that I’m fine with the last battle basically being in a Vancouver back alley the way I’d said they’d written themselves out of being able to do a year ago. And while there’s an argument to be made that from an in-universe perspective it should have been Flash to deal the final blow given this has been built up on his show since day one, it feels right that Supergirl as his biggest classic casualty scored the win. Either way, the idea of a teeny-tiny Anti-Monitor bein’ all grumpy in the Microverse for all eternity is a delight. Apparently some complained that he was a boring stock villain in this, but folks, I got some bad news about what they’re drawing from.

* Heat Wave is living his best life and we should all be so blessed.

* Given his backseat role as essentially the most important of the non-central characters, all I was truly rooting for with Hoechlin’s Superman in terms of strutting his super-stuff was getting one good hit in against the Anti-Monitor, and then it turned out he was one of the only three (or four if you count Oliver) who did out of the 50+ or so superheroes in total here, so I was a happy camper. And itty-bitty Superman was funny right away, but even funnier when I realized that was basically making Hoechlin an Atom to go with Routh’s Superman. Can’t wait for the show.

* I assume that as I’ve seen others suggest Earth-12 is meant to be the HBO Green Lantern series and they simply used the related footage they had available, but that movie of all movies therefore getting a shout-out in here is both hysterical and somehow perfect: everything has its place.

* Routh lives, in what might be a brighter rewritten timeline! This could easily be his sendoff and it’d be a perfect one, but I’d of course be more than pleased for him to fill a Kal-L role in Superman & Lois.

* “The first of our heroes”? Did Green Arrow precede Superman, which would be a change in at least one of their timelines? Wasn’t Black Lightning a hero awhile back? Or is this just in the sense of him being the first public human hero? The real answer is that it’s an acknowledgment of his real-world role as the guy who kicked all this off and the logistics don’t matter.

* Justice League! Justice League! Justice League!

* Wonder what the next crossover’s going to be? Easy answers would be something with Superman in the lead now that he’ll be fully in the fold (I understand the 90s crossover Panic in the Sky! was meant for much the same purpose of positioning him as a leader in-universe), or a Dark Nights: Metal adaptation with Batwoman center stage, but the producers have been adamant that the next entry will be something smaller. Maybe a set of mini-crossovers of two or three shows in blocks, or a subplot building across multiple shows that culminates in one or two big episodes with the League banding together. I’d love for their first adventure as a formal team to be fighting Starro (he could emerge as a Lovecraftian threat ala how Morrison treated him in JLA, only for J’onn to link them up to his mind and he turns out to be the hilarious doofus bully from Metal, but the first big crossover was already an alien invasion that involved a bunch of superheroes being mind-controlled, so there is the concern that it could come off as redundant. I’m still in favor of it though, as it could get us a live-action Jarro.

So there we go, there was a live-action Crisis on Infinite Earths. Whereas its source was dopey junk food in service of tearing down a lot of cool stuff, this was dopey junk food in service of delivering and setting up more cool stuff to come, so I’ll stand by this being the better of the two. What a start to the decade; I grew up with 2020 as The Year Of The Future in the same way I know many did with 2000, and nothing could be more of a signifier that we live in a changed world as far as superheroes’ place in mass-media from when I was a kid than this.

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Internal Disputes ch.5 (baon)

Summary: Something strange is afoot. Edge isn’t sure what, but he can guess he isn’t going to like it.

Notes: The angst bus is still chugging along. As you read, just keep repeating that ‘by any other name’ always goes with the happy ending. We just have to get there first.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

or

Read it here!

~~*~~

Later, Jeff would be ashamed that his first instinctive reaction was to drop the damn grapes and run. Not that he was afraid of Red, well, mostly, but that grim expression made him think of spy movies and the Godfather, the whole, ‘I’d tell you but I’d have to kill you,’ schtick.

Was the whole alternate universe thing that big a deal, he wondered wildly. He knew about Stretch’s lab, knew that Monsters could heal humans, was Stretch telling him about the other side of the mirror what finally tipped him over into a safety issue? Or maybe into a ‘get buried in an unmarked grave’ one; somehow that was all too easy to believe with Red looking at him like that.

Jeff swallowed hard, saying croakily, “Look, I know what you’re thinking, but I won’t tell anyone.”

It was a shameful relief to see that grimness flash briefly into confusion before circling back. “dunno what you’re talking about, kid, you ain’t a security risk, but i don’t have time to play games around figuring it out right now,” Red said, bluntly. He took one of the fruity bowls out of Jeff’s hands and set it right into the yard, snagging the other to do the same while Jeff only watched in mute confusion. ”i need your help, so let’s go.”

“But—"

“right now, before someone else beats us to the punch.” The snap and urgency was not at all what he was accustomed to from Red. He always seemed to ooze a sort of lazy confidence, but that agitation was dredging up the same in Jeff. Something was wrong, he realized, with sudden, sinking dread. Something was really wrong.

Okay, well, he’d promised that he’d pay the Monster community back for everything they’d done for him. Here looked like a good way to start. Jeff squared his shoulders and braced himself for what was to come. If Red was trusting him with this, then he could get it done. “Where are we going?

“to see stretch.”

Oh. Jeff sagged in confusion, “I was just there!”

“yeah, i know, and we’re heading back. listen to me, now.” Red reached up and caught the front of Jeff’s shirt in a clawed hand, hauling him down until they were looking at each other, socket to eye, “what i need you to do is when we get there, you get a hand on him," Red said tersely, ”you hear me? and i don't give a fuck if it’s his pinkie toe, ‘cause if you're holding him, he can't shortcut away without dragging you with him. his attention is gonna be on me when we get there, i guarantee, so you're the best shot for getting a hold of him. stretch ain't stupid, he's not going to let me get within two feet of him, not in his own house.”

“What’s happened?” Jeff said, slowly. That dread was congealing heavily in his stomach, fuck, this...this sounded really bad.

“i ain’t explaining twice and we need to go. c’mon.”

The world suddenly blurred around them and that was familiar, but going through felt nothing like Stretch’s shortcuts. His felt like a pop and a fizz and you were there, wishing for a puff of sulfur to complete the Nightcrawler cosplay. Bubblegum-sweet in comparison, this was like getting dragged for a tiny eternity through the cold, endless nothing. Jeff wobbled on his feet for a second, shuddering, because holy fuck, that was awful. For a second, he thought he might vomit on his shoes and Red waited impatiently as he swallowed back his nausea, wiping away the sudden cold sweat on his forehead with his sleeve.

Once Jeff nodded, Red headed straight for the door. He caught Jeff before he could knock, hissing out, “no, you fucking idiot! just go in, you first.”

Element of surprise, right. Jeff nodded shakily and opened the door. Stretch was in the living room headed towards the kitchen with a bowl of grapes in his hands and he jerked in surprise as Jeff walked in and right towards him.

“andy? you’ve only been gone a few minutes, what—red? hey!”

He didn’t allow himself hesitate and took a firm hold of his upper arm. Even through his shirt, Stretch’s bones were narrow enough that Jeff’s fingers almost circled it completely. He held on when Stretch automatically tried to pull away, his mouth twisting into a frown when Jeff didn’t let go.

That grimness surrounded Red like a fog, staining his expression and his voice as he said, “i ain’t good at sugarcoating, so you’re gonna have to take it straight. there was an attack on the ambassadors, an explosion of some sort and that’s literally all i know yet.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them; their meaning took longer. All the dread in Jeff’s belly rose up like gorge in his throat and he could only watch helplessly at the dawning realization on Stretch’s face.

The bowl slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor and sending grapes scattering, rolling out and splattering juice across the carpet in an ugly, staining spray of purple. Jeff could only watch and hang on, oh, god, all of them, they were all there, they--

Then he didn’t need to hold Stretch’s arm because he abruptly collapsed, his knees giving out, nearly folding to the ground before Jeff grabbed onto him frantically. He wasn’t heavy, but his height complicated things and Jeff was barely able to keep him from falling to the floor, struggling to keep him semi-upright and Red was at his other side, but they were both too short to handle him.

“i can’t breathe,” Stretch whispered, a bare thread of sound. His sockets were staring emptily, his eye lights snuffed, and the blackness within them seemed deep and endless. He clawed at the neck of his shirt, wheezing out, “i can’t…i…”

“sofa,” Red said curtly. Between the two of them, they dragged Stretch back and sat him down. Red climbed right on the cushions, boots leaving muddy smears as he firmly pushed Stretch’s head down until his skull was between his knees.

He was gasping, short, desperate pants, his arms hanging limply. It didn’t seem to help, he was sagging, nearly sliding off the sofa cushion. Jeff watched in mute horror as Red slung an arm around Stretch and gave him a rough shake, barking out a sharp, “breathe, damn it!”

Horrifying, but it worked. Stretch sucked in a wheezing breath that rattled through him and he coughed it back out with words, a frantic, incoherent babble, “i didn't even tell him goodbye, i was so mad at him, i didn't--"

Jeff could only sit there uselessly, his own tears streaming down his face. There was nothing he could say, nothing that would change the fact that his best friend’s entire world was collapsing. All of the Ambassadors, all of Stretch’s family, Edge, his brother, Sans and Papyrus, all of them were in some kind of danger and all the help he could offer was sitting on his ass, pointlessly rubbing between Stretch’s shoulders while he shuddered and whimpered, quaking so much that the uneven clatter of bones echoed in his ears.

The sofa creaked as Red shifted back to sit on the cushion next to them. He fumbled into his jacket pocket for a cigar and lit a wooden match with a flick of his thumb, holding the flame to the tip until it glowed. The smell was foul and Jeff dared to give him a glare, but the attempt faltered.

He’d always thought they looked like skeletons, their appearance tempered by the fact that they were clearly alive. Their eye lights glowing, joints flushed with magic and they could smile, laugh, they all had expressions. Sans and Blue with their smiles

(Blue, oh, god, was he okay, was he)

and Stretch’s easy grins. Never before had any of them look so much like a representation of death as Red did in that moment, and Jeff swallowed hard, unable to look away. His skull was colorless, those sharp teeth clenched on the end of his cigar. His eye lights were lit, but there was none of the life that usually reflected from them. Instead, they were like dull, burning coals stuck into hollow sockets, glowing with banked heat.

Edge was Stretch’s husband, but he was Red’s brother. Red sat there smoking in silence and Jeff didn’t say a word.

Stretch suddenly sat up. His face was awash with tears but his eye lights were flared to life, flickering wildly as he turned on Red. The wild strobing made him think of that night outside the Chinese restaurant and Jeff had to look away, fresh nausea welling.

“why aren't you on your way there?” Stretch demanded. His voice was raw, cracking, “why didn't you go with them to begin with!”

Red didn't flinch from that anger. He only took a puff from his cigar and smoke filtered out from around his teeth, streaming thinly out of his sockets. "don’t matter. right now, i’m exactly where the boss would want me to be."

Something about that made Stretch falter, his eye lights dimming, “he hates it when you call him that.”

“why do you think i do it?”

A bubbling giggle escaped Stretch, watery and close to hysterical, and before Red could scramble away, he turned to latch on to him, reeling him in and wrapping both arms around his smaller body. It made a hysterical giggle well up in Jeff’s throat, choked off because Red was as stiff as a cardboard cutout, his mouth curled into an ugly, grinning snarl. But he didn’t struggle, only allowed Stretch to cling to him.

They sat like that for some time, Red relaxing in glacially slow increments. Until he sighed, finally, heavy with unspoken emotion, “yeah, okay, kid. here.”

It took a little coaxing for Stretch to let up on his stubborn grip, but eventually, Red managed to draw him down until his skull was settled into Red’s lap. Still smoking that foul cigar, but his spare hand drifted to rest on that pale curve of bone with uncommon gentleness, sharp fingertips stroking with precise care, tracing the coronal sutures. The last two members in a cobble-together family, offering and taking whatever comfort they could.

Jeff shifted uncomfortably and started to move, maybe he should sit on the floor or one of the other chairs. Before he could though, a strange heaviness settled in his chest, pulling him inexorably down. A quick glance left him gaping at the soft blue glow coming from his chest, right where he knew his soul was. That tug was like a painless hook yanking him in and when he was settled against Stretch’s other side, it let up.

“ain’t goin’ anywhere, handy andy,” Red said, and a mirror of that blue glow faded from his fingers. “you go on ahead and stay awhile.”

Even if he’d wanted to protest, Stretch shifted to wind an arm around him, pulling him in closer and clinging with desperate force. Yeah, okay, he wasn’t going anywhere, didn’t want to, closed his eyes and settled in against Stretch’s bony side, wishing he could do something else.

~~*~~

He couldn’t do this.

Laying here where he never dreamed he’d ever be, curled up on the sofa while he settled half into Red’s lap, Stretch didn’t feel like a resident in his own head. More like a ghost floating around it, trying to settle into his skull but getting blown away. He wanted that, wanted to go away, wanted to stay as that little unfeeling ghost. The light scrape of Red’s sharp fingertips against his skull that never quite tipped over into pain kept him rooted here, but most of his thoughts were still faint and faraway, and nowhere near as unfeeling as he wished.

Instead, his foggy mind settled on replay, repeating memories over and over again. Their wedding day, a year ago tomorrow, and how fucking gorgeous Edge was wearing that tailored suit, his expression when he caught sight of Stretch at the altar. Their first kiss, the real one, not the painful, heartbreaking sham of one, but that first press of mouths, clumsy and yearning, the way Edge’s hands trembled as they cupped his face. And the stoic pain that Stretch ignored in his expression yesterday, reflected in the soft crimson of his eye lights while Stretch yelled at him and didn’t tell him, oh, he didn’t tell him he loved him, didn’t even answer that last hopeful text, filled with fucking emoticons that Edge only used because he knew it made him laugh.

He couldn’t even think of Blue, the unreality of having seen him die so many times before, only to wake up the next day to find him alive again. He really couldn’t do this, his soul was aching, throbbing erratically and he wondered at it dully. It had endured so much over the years, was this finally too much, too much to bear, and he almost giggled aloud, picturing it exploding into dusty confetti like a party balloon.

That laughter swallowed into a sob, and he shuddered, pressing his face deeper into Red’s lap. He smelled like cigars and the sharp sting of mustard, layered overtop his magic, spiciness that was reminiscent of Edge. But not quite the same, the difference between brothers too obvious to ignore, not allowing him even the pretense. At his other side, Jeff leaned heavily against him, both of them caging him in and he wanted it tighter, he wanted to be surrounded.

Stretch hadn’t prayed to the Angel in years, whatever dim faith leftover from his childhood collapsing in on itself when the resets started. But he prayed now, prayed that his family was safe, all of them, bring them back to me, please. Give you anything, everything, please, please don’t take them away.

Even while he prayed that bitter little voice in the back of his head sneered, because had he ever really believed this was his forever? He didn’t get to keep the things he loved, only wound up teased with it endlessly, chasing that carrot on a string, he couldn’t handle this, he really, really couldn’t, couldn’t--

The sudden shrill siren that was his current ringtone made them all jump.

Stretch fumbled automatically in his pocket for his phone, pulling it out to see the screen showing an unknown number. He started to swipe it to answer and Red shifted to grab his hand, saying warningly, “stretch—”

“i know,” he said, low and racking. He knew, he fucking knew exactly the concern. “and i don’t care if it’s the press, i won’t give them any soundbites, but if they have info, i need it.”

The phone shrilled on as Red stared at him distrustfully, but his hand loosened, let go, and allowing him to answer the call.

He could hear the crackle of static, nothing else. “hello?”

"Rus?"

He closed his sockets, refusing to give in to the brief, ecstatic thrill that went through his soul. He knew that voice even from only one ragged word, his own name. "edge?"

Next to him, Jeff and Red both reacted, jerking to sit up straight and leaning in, but he couldn’t pay attention to that now. Static again, loud and anxious, then low, fading in and out, and Stretch had to strain to hear, "Love you. Need you to know that."

"oh," Stretch whispered, brokenly. He could feel the hot slide of tears starting again, Red and Jeff sitting silently next to him, waiting, "oh, don't, please." He tried ineffectively to wipe the tears that were spilling from his sockets, but they were falling too fast, pooling down to drip from his chin, and they tasted heavy, salty-sweet on the back of his tongue.

"’m sorry I left you behind," the words were loose, slurred, falling free into the static, "You are the most wonderful thing in my life.”

“please, baby,” He couldn’t listen to this and couldn’t let go, clinging to every word. “edge, please--” A crashing sound suddenly came through the line, making him wince, “edge? edge??”

He could only listen helplessly to the sound of arguing and clattering before the static cleared and someone else spoke.

"Papyrus?" Another voice he knew well, though usually never so exhausted, and it still held motherly warmth.

"tori?" Stretch asked, desperately, “tori, what’s going on, please!”

She sighed tiredly, crackling through the line, "I am so sorry, I should have realized he'd find a way to sneak a phone. I'm sorry we haven't contacted you, they're afraid of word getting out about the situation before it’s safe. Listen to me, he's going to be all right, do you hear me? He is hurt and he's a very woozy, I'm working on him and a few others here, but he doesn't have so much as a new crack. Everyone is going to be all right. You can see him as soon as we get him transported, dear. I'm sure it would do you both some good to be with each other."

All right, Stretch clung to those two words, repeating them faintly. “all right, everyone is all right.”

The tension surrounding him seeped away like a broken dam, Jeff and Red both sagging back into the sofa cushions as one.

“Everyone, yes,” Tori repeated forcefully, “everyone. We’re all coming home, soon.“

“home, you’re coming home,” Stretch echoed. He dredged up words of his own, tearfully, “thank you, tori, you’re an angel.”

“Oh, darling," she said sadly, "You don't need to thank me. Your husband saved my child's life. I'll get him home to you, I promise." More static rose, her words breaking, “I need to go, we’re getting transported right now.”

“okay, tori. tell edge--” The line went dead, his last words sitting sourly unspoken behind his teeth. tell edge i love him.

It didn’t matter, he was going to tell Edge himself, and fuck the voice in the back of his head. He wasn’t listening to it today.

Stretch sagged back against the sofa cushions, his phone hanging limply from his hand. “tori said they’re all okay, she said they’re coming home.”

“Oh, thank god,” Jeff whispered, fervently and when Stretch fumbled to take his hand, Jeff quickly took it, fleshy fingers squeezing his own.

Red only nodded, “yeah, figured that out.” He started to stand, shifting to slide to his feet, “that means i got work to do.”

“don’t go yet,” Stretch blurted. Even knowing Edge was coming home to him, his soul still felt like a heavy, wretched ache in his chest. All that leftover fear was swirling around a clogged drain inside him, unable to sluice free.

“problem needs taken care of out there. this is what i do, honey bun.” Stretch didn’t think he’d ever seen that expression on Red’s face, didn’t know what could be showing on his own to cause that fleeting softening. It was gone so quickly he might have imagined it, but Red sat back again, saying gruffly, “you got fifteen minutes.”

“thank you,” Stretch whispered gratefully. He sank back down, settled his skull into Red’s lap and those prickly-sharp fingers returned. Reaching out blindly earned him Jeff back against his side, surrounding him again. This, he needed this, even if only for fifteen minutes.

Over his head, Red was humming softly, a song that Stretch vaguely remembered singing to his own brother so many years ago. He tipped his head into Red’s stroking hand, whispering the words along with that quiet melody, about angels with snowy white wings, carrying them safely away.

~~*~~

TBC

[extrahorribledynne]

starscream huh....

alright doggo hot take time, please be nice i’ve been thinking about this for awhile

i kind of wish writers of tf media would maybe... not... with the abuse subtext between megatron and starscream. not because it shouldn’t be written, or it can’t be explored- but because no one seems to know what to do with it????

like, honestly, i’m not even sure if i want a redemption arc for starscream written into a show, because i just don’t think it could be done well. i genuinely feel like dinobot is the closest thing we’ve seen to a genuine ‘starscream’ redemption arc? i know he’s not... starscream, and ss technically does show up in that show but i’m counting him, because he was the bastard going NO I WANNA BE LEADER ok.

G1? i could hardly call ‘abuse’. the show’s too doofy, everyone is a fool, and honestly it reads more like bojack horsemans parents bitterly refusing to get a divorce than a relationship of power imbalance and abuse. they’re both on pretty equal playing fields of size and firepower. the imbalance just isn’t there. and, again, i can’t take G1 very seriously.

TFA does the best thing possible by just, totally doing away with this subtext. it’s barely there at all- and starscream spends nearly the entirety of the show fucked off being EVERYBODY’S problem. the WORST that happens between them occurs in the first episode when megs grabs starscream’s wing and crumples it a bit, and killing him later in the first season- which doesn’t matter because starscream is literally immortal and afterwards keeps throwing himself at megatron in bids to kill him anyways, clearly not at all traumatized or bothered. and, like G1, the power imbalance isn’t there. starscream is a bit smaller than G1 compared to this megatron, but even still, in terms of abilities they’re on pretty equal terms.

TFP easily gets the most... shall we say... grumblings about this. because the show just goes balls deep with this subtext. its barely subtext and is basically text. starscream is tiny, one of the shortest robots in the show period. he’s also the twiggiest decepticon. megatron thwacks him across the room like he weighs utterly nothing and lets be real, in a fair fight this starscream would stand absolutely zero chance against this megs. tfp scream flinches, jumps, shivers, at sudden movements and gestures made at him. it’s certainly... there.

but he’s terrible, he’s utterly nasty, and again i come to a halt where i have to ask myself- would i want a redemption arc?

i just feel its odd that tfp draws lines in the sand of which war crimes are redeemable and which ones aren’t. -stares at predacons rising. keeps staring. and staring-

because, hey, he’s a villain. he does terrible things and likes doing them. and i dont think he’d want anyone’s pity. but when someone moves suddenly, he’s flinching away. and writers just don’t have the time or ability, within the realms of children-tween oriented shows at least, to really... explore this. and then you get RID15 and it’s trainwreck of starscream literally saying he was abused and wants to fuck up megatron in revenge and having your good guys have to say, without a shred of irony, “no we cant let you do that”

lurking in a weird corner, leaving us viewers cringing and confused, and for some even angry, because its just, never addressed. it’s there. like a ghost.

and i really want to wave it away with incense because its there out of obligation and it can’t be explored outside of fanfiction

[syubology]

How to Start Writing

A lot of questions I’ve gotten over the past few years have been to do with actually starting to write, putting those first words down. Sometimes it’s people who used to write and are daunted by the task of getting back into it, other times it’s brand new writers, just tiny word-gremlins brimming with untapped inspiration, lacking the cynicism induced by years.. decades of having your life ruled by imaginary creatures.

At the end of the day, the only tried and tested tip for starting to write is WRITE, but I will try to provide you with a few others for the sake of appearances.

🌙

1. Start Small.

Maybe you’re incredibly imaginative and you have this entire fantasy series in your head just ready to be put on paper, but... try not to rush into it. When I started writing first, every idea I had was for a novel, but I didn’t actually have the skills (and still don't) to complete a novel, so this led to a string of failed projects, which is not good for the delicate soul of a tiny word-gremlin.

If you do have a big idea you love, I would suggest writing smaller stories, with simpler plots, based in that universe - for example, you could use a prompt list/generator (Google them, they’re everywhere) and adapt those prompts to your universe. If your story is some epic sci-fi horror series and the prompts are about funfair dates, it could make for quite an interesting time. These exercises will allow you to work on your characters and your world, while giving you time to build the skills you need to one day develop the story into something bigger.

If you want to work on fan-fiction specifically, fluffy drabbles are your friend. You can start NSFW if you really want to, but I don’t advise it. Some people find smut comes easiest to them, but for me - and most writers I know - sex is one of the hardest things to write. Again, you can try prompt generators (like this OTP one here) or check places like Twitter for AU ideas - although, if you’re planning to post/share your story, do not use other people’s AU ideas without their permission!

2. Read! Watch! Consume!

Consuming other media is literally one the most important things for writers and new writers in particular. Watching/reading casually is a great way to spark some inspiration, but if you find something you really love, something that makes you think I wish I wrote this, then I suggest going over it again with a more critical eye. Focus on the character development, the plot, the aesthetics - try to pinpoint the aspects of it that really make it resonate with you. Low-stress exercises like this will also help you learn more about storytelling in general without actually putting much effort in, so it’s win-win.

3. Adjust Your Expectations.

Understand that creative writing, especially on the scale of a novel, is a skill which needs to be developed. Just because you got good grades in English class does not automatically mean you’re going to be an excellent writer, and just because you’re not an excellent writer now doesn’t mean you never will be. No one picks up a paintbrush for the first time and expects to create a masterpiece. Artists of all sorts work hard for years to hone their craft and develop their style, and writers are no exception to this. You will not be good overnight and half the stuff you write in your first year, you probably won’t be able to read by next year because it will make you cringe so hard - but that’s not a bad thing! This means you’ve improved so much that even you can see it and getting a writer to acknowledge their own growth is no simple feat.

4. PRACTICE, but maybe not too hard?

There’s no such thing as I can’t write, or I can’t draw, or I can’t ride a bike. You can - with practice. You should know what your goals are with your writing and adjust your practice based on this. Do you just wanna spend one or two evenings a week writing about your OTP/OCs on cute dates? That’s fine, work at your own pace, and don’t force yourself to write if you’re not feeling it. Are you angling for a six-figure book deal? Then you write till your eyes bleed, my fren, you write till your bones are empty and your laptop keyboard is talking back to you.

That said, you do need to know when to stop. Creative burnout (which is a big cause of writer’s block) is real and it is horrible. Practice isn’t always a blast, but it should never be torture. Maybe you need that six-figure book deal more than you need life itself (big mood), but you also need to sleep, friend, you also need to do some things that aren’t writing or you will lose your goddamn mind.

5. Bonus: Write Because You Want to Write.

I’ve used the artist/drawing analogy several times because over the years in fandom, I’ve seen quite a few people start writing simply because they ‘can’t draw’ and writing seems like a good alternative. While I don’t enjoy the common misconception that being a good writer is easier than being a good artist, I’m not saying those people are wrong. Everyone should dabble in the arts and see what their creative side has to offer - this might be how you find your true calling and that’s wonderful. Just understand that while writing comes a little easier to some, it’s not easy for anyone. There is a huge pressure in certain fandoms to create in order to feel included, so just make sure that you’re having fun with what you’re doing and not simply succumbing to that pressure.

A Final Note:

I’m not trying to shit on artists with all these analogies, I swear, I worship them as gods. Each artistic craft has its own skill-set and they can’t be fairly compared, but people to tend to understand how difficult drawing/painting is because we’ve all been forced to attempt it at one time or another; however, people rarely grasp just how difficult it can be to write a good story because they got A’s on their ‘My Summer Holidays’ essays in primary school. So, one last thing to keep in mind is this: artists have an abundance of tools and mediums at their disposal, and they can try their hand at each until they find one that suits them; writers only have words and must build worlds with them.

Thank you for reading! This is my first proper post like this, so I’m pretty nervous and a Libra, so I’d appreciate praise and validation. But! If you have any more questions about this post or suggestions for future posts, please shoot me an ask! You will not be annoying me - I wouldn’t have made this blog if I didn’t wanna help other writers - and there are no stupid questions!

[icedcappujaeno]

100 ways to say I love you.

19. Can I hold your hand?

37. Can I kiss you?

⇥ word count: 698

⇥ for @jackbabewang ♡ 

⇥ also this drabble is kind of related with a hybrid!au fic i read on ao3! if you do have time please check it out, the fic name is beau(tea) written by wokainight! (i’d link it if tumblr’s not f’in up posts :( )

You had Jaehyun for a while now, and truth to be told, living was...very much awkward at first to say the least. But now, you’ve grown accustomed to having a hybrid in your home, and Jaehyun’s company had been very warm. Literally, and figuratively.

It was one night that made your heart flutter more for your hybrid than ever.

The heavy rains accompanied by the flashes of lightning and loud claps of thunder made the electricity cut for the entire night. A lit candle stands on top of your coffee table, the warm light radiating from its tiny flame was not enough to lighten the surrounding area. Not far from the flame, Jaehyun was being your body pillow as your frame rested on his clothed torso, while he rested beside the couch, weight enough to support you both. Your head laid on his shoulders, one hand drawing lazy circles on his thigh while the other was being warmed up inside your hoodie’s pockets. 

Rains continued to pour heavily outside and as there was no light and electricity, you can’t really do anything. You were thankful that Jaehyun was here to keep you company.

“Are you afraid of thunder?” You asked, breaking the deafening silence.

“Not quite,” he replied. 

You only hummed, although not truly satisfied with his response. The sound of his breath with yours along with the raindrops were lulling you to sleep. Jaehyun seemed to notice it and shifted his position, with hopes of making you more comfortable. You did adjust and now you sit between his legs, using his chest as your pillow as you intake the scent of strawberry body bath that you both use.

“Can I...Can I hold your hand?”

He asked in a whisper, and you felt your heart almost skipped a beat. You were sure that your face is heating up and you were so glad that he can’t see you through the dim light.

“You’re warm,” he added. It wasn’t helping your predicament at all and you can’t help but giggle the embarrassment away. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, I mean--”

“Sure. Hold my hand, Jae,” you replied, retracting your hidden hand from your pocket then opening it for him as an invitation. He took your hand in his, his bigger ones entwining with your smaller ones. 

It felt warm and perfect, and you can compare it with a mug of hot chocolate on your hands, if not, better.

On the other hand, Jaehyun’s fluffed ears lowered when his hand connected with yours. Although it felt a bit cold, he was glad that he was naturally warm so he could share it with you. His chin rested on top of your head and sighed -- how he wished that every day could be like this, you in his arms while he keeps you warm while he rests upon your tinier frame.

“Can I kiss you?”

A loud clap of thunder caused you to jump from your position, making Jaehyun a little panic as he held you close. 

“Sorry, I don’t usually jump at those.”

“I-It’s fine,” seemed like you didn’t hear what he said. A part of him was disappointed but it was alright, he guessed. It was an embarrassing question anyway. With a sigh, Jaehyun used his free hand to comb them through your hair.

“You could…” he heard you whisper, but the rest is unclear as your words were muffled by his clothed torso.

“Sorry, what was that?” He asked, looking at you -- well, your crown.

“Kiss…”

Oh.

“So you heard it,” he chuckled nervously, although his hand continued to thread amongst your tresses. “It’s okay if you don’t want to d--”

“I want to, Jaehyun,” you said, finally looking up to him with sleepy eyes along with a grin. “You can kiss me.”

Jaehyun widely smiled, the deep indents of his cheeks appearing as well as the whiskers around his boopy nose. You were so glad you adopted Jaehyun or else it would probably be the biggest regret of your life.

And since Jaehyun is an obedient hybrid, his lips descended to yours, like a lock and its key - it was a perfect fit.

[ignis-scientia-estrogen-brigade]

~ISEB in Japan: A Photo Journal~

If you’ve been following me on Twitter lately, you’ll know that I’ve been traveling through parts of Japan the last couple of weeks with my Ignis Play Arts Kai figure in tow. I posted a few pictures over there during the duration of my trip, but those barely scratched the surface of everything I got to do while in Japan. So I thought I’d put together a blog post of my journey while it was still fresh in my mind, featuring everyone’s favorite strategist in what I’ve been dubbing my Great Final Fantasy XV Adventure of 2019!

[Image-heavy content + commentary under the cut]

A brief backstory: I’ve wanted to go to Japan my entire adult life. For years, I’ve watched friends make the trek while I’ve been stuck at home with a severe case of FOMO. The only thing that ever stopped me from going was money (or a lack thereof), so I made the decision last summer to buckle down and sock away every dime I made to make it happen. My only concern before hopping on the plane was that I had missed the wave of FFXV popularity by about a year, but I would quickly learn that—other than not getting to eat any of Ignis’ recipes at the Square Enix Cafe—I had little to worry about.

Literally the only reason I brought my Play Arts Kai figure was so I could take this picture of Ignis at the Citadel (a.k.a. the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building), which was the very first place I stopped at on my first full day in Tokyo. The building + the surrounding plaza, while not 100% accurate, is a fairly impressive facsimile of the one in the game. It’s located in Shinjuku, which also boasts a lot of similarities to Insomnia. Having finished Episode Ardyn mere hours before jetting off on my trip, it felt like I had stepped off the plane and right into the game!

There just so happened to be an Animate right near the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building, so I popped in to get a feel for what kind of FFXV merch I’d be able to find two years after the game’s release and a year after its height of popularity. Turns out, there was quite a lot of swag to be found! Truth be told, I’ve never been one to chase down official merchandise (unfortunately my job doesn’t really afford that luxury), but I gave myself special permission while on vacation to buy anything I wanted. So I did! Including everything you see above. ^^;;

The next thing I did was take the train to Ginza to meet Lyle/@landscape-gonna  (@landscape_gonna on Twitter), and I simply cannot say enough nice things about her. If you don’t know who she is, there’s a 99.9% chance you’ve seen at least one of her Ignis costumes, and they are A. M. A. Z. I. N. G. We had chatted a bit previously on Twitter before I went full-on stan mode, asking her if she'd be willing to meet up with me (a total stranger) to have lunch and talk Ignis and Final Fantasy. Not only did she say yes, but she gifted me with copies of her incredible cosplay zines and was not the least embarrassed when I busted out my Play Kai Arts figure in the middle of a busy Japanese dessert restaurant haha.

See? Zero embarrassment here.

We even did Noct’s ultimate pose! In public!

I can’t begin to articulate how special meeting Lyle was for me—being brought together from opposite sides of the world to share in our love for Ignis/FFXV is a memory I will cherish my entire life. So Lyle, if you are reading this: どうもありがとうございます ! ٩( ᐛ )( ᐖ )۶

Lyle wasn't the only friend I had in Japan. Another friend of mine, Asuka (who happens to be well-versed in anime/video game culture), volunteered to be my guide through Ikebukuro/Otome Road the next day. Quick otaku lesson: Kbooks is a chain of stores that specializes in the resale of licensed merchandise. For example, if you missed out on some of the limited availability items from the Movic and the Square Enix Cafe collaborations, you might be able to find them at a Kbooks. Otome Road in particular has something like seven different Kbook shops in a 3-block radius, each one specializing in different products (sports anime, idols, cosplay, etc). I, of course, beelined for the video game shop...

...which is where I found this fucking thing:

I’m not gonna lie, I almost bought it. I just didn’t know what I would do with it besides scare the living daylights out of people when they least expected it lol.

Yoooo Adam I found ya boi in Ikebukuro

We popped into the cosplay Kbooks shop since it was right across the street and I found an Ignis costume for sale! Please enjoy this picture of me pretending to come up with a new recipeh (since this is likely the closest I’ll ever come to cosplaying as Ignis).

One of the things Asuka introduced me to was Hanami (picnic under the cherry blossoms, basically). I had timed my trip to coincide with the blooming of the sakura, and the experience of being in Japan during that time was indescribable. I took a bajillion pictures of the sakura while I was there and unfortunately none of my photos ever quite captured the beauty and magic of them in person, but here’s a lil’ pic of a tree in bloom at Yoyogi Park (with the Movic Ignis charm I bought at Kbooks earlier that day).

Another item on my Japan checklist was to stay at a ryokan (traditional Japanese inn) in Hakone, a town famous for its onsen/hot springs. Nothing in Hakone is cheap (at least, not during peak sakura season), and I had spent an absurd amount of money on a night at one particular ryokan with a private bath (shy husband haha). The private bath could only be reserved in 30-minute increments, and by the time we finally rolled into Hakone the bath we wanted only had one slot available for the rest of the night. So what did I do?

If you said, “Waste the first 15 minutes of your 30-minute, super-expensive onsen experience taking the perfect Ignis-in-a-hot-springs photo” then you would be absolutely correct lol.

I actually wasn’t planning on taking a bunch of photos of my Ignis figure on this trip, but after my husband tucked Ignis into my futon while I was in the bathroom, documenting my trip vicariously through Ignis ended up taking on a life of its own. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

I popped back over to Tokyo after my stay in Hakone, which is when I finally got to make the Great Nerd Pilgrimage™ to the Square Enix Cafe! Had the FFXV collab been going on while I was there, I might’ve forked over the cash to eat at the cafe, but I opted to skip out on lunch so I could spend more money in their shop. They still had a small collection of FFXV merch...

...including this acrylic Ignis stand that I wanted but thought I would never own after failing to find it at Kbooks earlier in the week. Huzzah!

Also, I just feel the need to let everyone know that this is what the outside of the Square Enix Cafe in Tokyo looks like lmao.

Our next stop was Kyoto, which we arrived in on Gladio’s birthday (April 2nd). Unfortunately I didn’t have time to draw anything for his b-day, but we did stop for a Nissin Cup Noodle in honor of Gladio!

One of the most memorable moments of my trip was when this boating incident happened, and it requires a little bit of backstory. On my first full day in Kyoto, I attempted to field two of the most popular tourist destinations in Kyoto: the bamboo forest in Arashiyama, and the Fushimi Inari Shrine. Both places have their beauty and historical significance, and I suspect during the off-season are inspiring sites to behold. In my case, both places were absolutely swarming with tourists, which really put a damper on my enjoyment of them. Defeated, I followed a local canal back toward my hotel, which is where I spotted a miniature boat enthusiast controlling a boat that looked eerily similar to the Royal Vessel. I pulled my Ignis figure out with the intention of simply taking a photo of the boat in the background; when the man saw me holding my figure and fumbling with my phone, he flagged me over and gestured for me to put Ignis in the boat. I wish I had documented how it all went down a little better, but as I was literally wheezing with laughter, the above was the best I could capture.

One of the more off-the-cuff decision I made was to dress in kimono for a day while in Gion (Kyoto). As the cherry blossoms were at their height during my stay there, you couldn’t sneeze without hitting someone who was dressed traditionally for the numerous festivals that were taking place throughout the city. As a white foreigner, I initially had reservations about wearing a kimono (for fear of cultural appropriation), but I did everything I could to be as respectful and reverent whilst wearing the garb (and the rental shop was certainly happy for the patronage). It was an amazing experience and I would definitely do it again!

Speaking of being respectful, I made it a point not to take pictures of Ignis while visiting any shrines (because nothing screams ‘douchey American’ quite like whipping out an action figure on sacred grounds), hence why I don’t have pictures of any of the major shrines we visited in this post. I did, however, spot this miniature shrine arch in an alleyway, and thought it would be okay for my equally miniature strategist to pay his respects.

Literally, a tiny shrine in an alleyway. I suppose even alleys have their deities!

Osaka is about 20 minutes away from Kyoto by train, and since I had already traveled all the way out to Kyoto, I went the extra few miles to stop by the Square Enix Cafe in Osaka. They actually had a smaller selection of FFXV merch than the one in Tokyo and I didn’t end up buying anything, but I would’ve never stopped wondering if I had missed out on something if I hadn’t gone and seen it for myself!

My last day in Kyoto was a week into my trip, and I still had five days left to go. After walking ~10 miles every day (no joke, I have the GPS screenshots to prove it!), I was really starting to feel the grind. I’m sure Ignis was also desperate for an Ebony after being lugged around in the bottom of my purse for a week lol.

Back on the Shinkansen (bullet train) to Tokyo!

Weeeeeee (ﾉ^ヮ^)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

Said hi to Fuji-san!

Stopped for a delicious matcha parfait! (Shout-out to my husband who never once got annoyed with me whenever I busted out my figure in public spaces lol)

This was without a doubt the craziest and most unexpected find of any of my merch runs. I had gone to the video game Kbooks in Ikebukuro earlier in the week and had sifted through all their Ignis merch with a fine-toothed comb. This particular Movic charm was one I had been on the lookout for, but it was a rare pull even when they were readily available a year ago, and the only Ignis charm I came across in my first trip to Kbooks was the normal Ignis one (see my Hanami pic). I had no real reason to return to Ikebukuro after I got back from Kyoto, but on a whim I went one last time and BAM—this guy was hanging out there in his lil’ baggie, just waiting for me to get my grubby little hands on him. Jackpot!

All in all, I spent way too much money and I couldn’t be happier for it. The only thing I couldn’t find for the life of me was the Ignis cologne by Movic, but after searching through several Animates and Kbooks, I began to suspect it might be an online-exclusive item that wasn’t available in stores. (Which was probably a good thing for me cause I was already stretching my budget to the limit by this point haha.)

On my last night in Japan, I went back to the Tokyo Metropolitan Government Building—only this time I went at night when it was all lit up! I also went up to the observation deck on the 45th floor (something I didn’t know you could do the first time I was there) and enjoyed a fantastic view of nighttime Insomnia Tokyo. It was the perfect bookend to a perfect trip, and my heart is absolutely overflowing right now with love for both Japan and Final Fantasy XV!

[a-black-pegasus]

Written Love

Part 1

Because Tony Stark deserves love and here it is. Soulmate Au with Tony Stark and borrower Reader

______________________________________________

Tony wrote out an equation on his forearm. Only about two years ago did his "sign" come up, signaling that the freaking universe has suddenly decided he was allowed to have a soulmate.

Yay.

The thing with soulmates was not everyone had one. You never knew knew when, or if a sign would show up on you, or not. People said that if they did appear, that it meant you were destined for something special.

But lots of people who didn't have a sign accomplished amazing things all the time! And up until recently tony had thought he was one of those signless greats.

The pattern on his wrist seemed to scream the opposite. It was a vine, twisted around a needle layed on what could only be his arc reactor.

Whatever, a sign didn't make you anymore special than anyone else. Save for one small thing....

As he wrote out a formula for one of his smaller, more public projects on his arm, question marks began showing up. His soulmate, whoever they were, never had a single clue as to what his notes meant!

Stark loved it! He loved the idea that someone, somewhere was staring down at their arm completely baffled at the meaning of his notes.

He laughed out loud, and grinned. "Well, not everyone can be a genius." Tony shrugged.

The thing with soulmates was that once the sign showed up, whatever you drew on your skin showed up on the other person in the same location, and his soulmate was an artist! They had to be, judging by the things they drew. Flowers from odd perspectives, millions of dotted stars in a few inches of skin, smooth swirls that slowly transformed into cats or birds as he watched...he had to wonder if they were maybe a tattoo artist.

"Love you..." He murmered as he wrote it out on the back of his hand.

He waited a few minutes, and then words came up! Excitedly, he lifted his hand higher, and waited for the message to fully appear.

"...You think you do."

Tony frowned, and wrote back. 'Of course I do, I would even more so, if you told me where you were.' He scribbled out with a black marker.

'...I can't. I'm sorry.'

'Why do you always say that? Why not?' Tony wrote back, a weight growing in his chest.

It was several moments before more words came up, Tony almost thought he had annoyed them away— but then...

'Because it's for the best, and I don't want to talk about it'

Tony wrote back quickly, not wanting them to leave. 'Ok ok, we don't have to talk about it'

Sometimes if Tony pressed the issue to hard, it would be weeks before he heard from them again.

More words showed up. 'Thank you. I'll talk to you later, I have to go.'

He sighed, 'Alright.' and drew a messy wrench. Within seconds, a pine tree grew besides it. At least this means they weren't annoyed.

His father, his grandfather—hell, even his great grandfather, none of them had soulmates; but he did! It was incredible, and amazing! If only he could see, or talk to them face to face. He would just have to be patient.

One day he would find them.

***

You sighed as you read the writing, and finished up drawing your pine tree. Your soulmate was a human! It was almost unbelievable.

Within days of your mark showing up, enough words and equations to fill a book had spread over your body! It was ridiculous! Numbers wound around your arms, and comments spread down your legs, questions dotted around your torso— even a few doodles covered your face!

(You quickly, and rather irritatedly put a limit on where he could write after that)

What gave it away were the words he wrote. They were things only a human would ask.

'Whats your number? Did you go to college? Whats your favorite type of coffee? Do you like the beach? Did you see the new movie trailer for Jurassic world? Hey, wanna meet up and go biking?

His name was Tony. No last name, just Tony apparently. He seemed to be a math teacher, or some sort of engineer if the math jumbles scrawled out on your arms were anything to go by.

You almost wished you could meet up, just to see what he looked like, but the best you would have to settle for would be writing or drawing to him.

You had to admit you were getting good at it. You had never been a big talker, so you tried to put some effort into your scribbles. It was mostly just flowers, stars, or animals you escaped from on an almost weekly basis.

But putting that aside, It was time to borrow some much needed things; Having recently moved indoors due to the coming cold seasons, you needed to make stores of things like food, water, and bedding. Really anything you could get your hands on.

As you exited the hole, you looked around to check if the coast was clear. Hopefully this place would have fewer animals than outside.

Once you deemed the room clear, you ran out from the wall. The hard wood floor felt alien against your bare feet, and without the grass to offer cover you couldn't help but feel exposed, as if you were already seen.

Suddenly the very ground rumbled. Stumbling, you whipped your head around to look for the source. The ground never shook outside! Unless their was....

A human!

The smooth floor trembled more than any dirt ground! It was a struggle just to make it under the couch in time. Once there you let out a sigh of relief.

You were safe!

***

Tony's jaw dropped.

Had he really just seen....? No. He couldn't have! Could he? Clearing his throat Tony spoke.

"Um,... Friday. Am I drunk? Or did I really just see a tiny person running under the couch?" It was a bit early in the day, but hey! There were worst things he had done.

"Yes boss" Friday confirmed. "Do you want me to replay you the security footage on your tablet?"

"Huh, and they say seeing is believing." Stark waved his hand. "Ah no. No that's not necessary." He said, stepping over to the couch. Getting on his hands and knees with a sigh he looked underneath.

"Whoa..."

***

You shrieked, and reeled back. His face filled up the space in front of you. You drew your needle.

"Stay back!" You demanded shakily. "I'm warning you don't come any—Ah!"

His arm reached out, and grabbed you! You plunged the needle into his knuckle, but he didn't let go.

He gasped in slight pain, and winced. Standing to his feet he went over to a bar, and grabbed a cup. You could tell where this was going.

"N-no...No! Pl-please!" You cried.

"Calm down." He said putting you down. You scrambled to run away, and slammed into glass after only a few steps.

"Look," he grunted, pulling out the needle. "I'm gonna go make sure this doesn't get infected, and then uh... we'll talk. Name's Stark by the way. Tony Stark. Welcome to my house." He said sarcastically before putting a heavy ceramic bowl on top of the cup, and leaving you alone.

***

"No...no, no no no no!"

Tell leaked out of the corner of your eyes as you slumped against the glass. You curled your legs up tightly as you waited.

On your hand words formed.

'You'll never guess what happened. I just got stabbed with a needle!'

You could have laughed at the irony. Digging around in your bag, you took out a felt marker tip, and unwrapped it.

Rolling up your sleeve, you wrote. 'Wow, I literally just ran into Tony Stark' You waited for him to write back 'haha' or 'seriously?' To which you would have replied that you were just kidding, but that's not what happened.

Instead, Tony Stark came running back into the room, and slid to a stop in front of you. Wiping away your tears, you shoved your marker back into the bag.

"Show me your arm." He demanded.

You quickly rolled your sleeve back down rebelliously. "Why?"

Tony moved the bowl off the cup, and lifted the cup. You toppled back, but before you could even stand to your feet, Tony pushed you down flat against the counter with his fingers. Holding your arms out on each side as you struggled, he pushed your sleeves back.

"L-let me go!" You nearly screamed, trembling. What did he want? What was he doing?

Imediately his eyes widened as he read the tiny words on your arm, and saw the tree. Letting you go, he backed up, and ran his hands through his hair, mumbling under his breath.

You pushed yourself back till you bumped into the small counter rise. Frantically you looked for an escape as Stark rambled incoherently to himself.

After some moments he turned to look at you. "It's you..." Tony said loud enough for you to hear.

"M-me?" You stuttered.

Tony's hand darted out, and wrapped around you, bringing you closer to his face. You threw your hands up to protect your head only to feel something soft and somewhat prickly pressed against your side briefly.

Cracking your eyes open you saw his lips, and a peppered beard....did he kiss you?!

"I can't believe it! You're my soulmate.... you're... It's you!" He said absolutely ecstatic.

You flinched at his loud voice. "Wh-at? No. Not you! I..." Your voice trembled. This couldn't, not him! A million thoughts raced through your head of the things he could do to you for money, more fame, or I the name of science.

Tony couldn't keep the hurt from his eyes. "Not me?" He thought. Then he saw your face, you weren't just shocked or surprised, you were terrified.

Of him.

Gently, he set you back down, and let you step back. "I... I'm sorry, I just.. I just had to see if, and then you were— and I was so happy to finally meet you. Your Y/N right?"

You nodded. You had given your name on a whim way back, and now you wished you hadn't. "What now?" You questioned wrapping your arms around yourself protectively.

"What now? Er... Well." Tony scratched his beard. "Well now I, I can make you a place to stay if you want...where do you even live?"

Shuddering, you shook your head ignoring his question. You didn't want this. You didn't want to be some prisoner or pet.

"What? Well, well what do you want to do?" Stark asked.

"I..." You bit your lip. How were you going to escape? "I'm hungry." You lied. The last thing you wanted was food, you didn't even know if you could stomach it right now, but it was all you could come up with.

"Food?" Tony tilted his head. "...Yeah, yeah of course. I can do that. What do you want? Chinese, pizza, I can get you whatever you want. Anything at all."

"Do..." You had to think about it, a way to gethim to leave. "I saw someone making soup or something... It smelled good. C-can I have—"

"Yeah of course!" Stark cut off. "That was Happy's chili. But I warn you." He said with a slight chuckle. "It has some kick. You sure you want some?" Tony saw your quick nod. "Right. I'll be right back."

As soon as he left the room you took out your hook, and began climbing down. He was still gone when your feet hit the floor, and as you ran back to the hole.

Free! You were free! And you were never going to see Tony again if you had anything to say about it!

***

When tony came back with a small bowl of steaming chili, you were gone. Completely disaperared!

A stone settled in his chest. They left him.

Wiping his eyes he took a breath. He had only himself to blame after everything he did. Of course they would want to run.

Guilt and fear racked him. Did the universe make a mistake? Was he not compatible with them? No. He had seen the mark on their wrist, and the words on their arms. It was the same as his.

He could find them, He would just have to be patient for a little longer.

______________________________________________

@sammigruber @sammie-skele-turtle @gatlily @nightmarejasmine @misfitsgalaxygt @obwjam @bee-wrecker @nerdqueenkat @tinyliltina @nini116 @queenofconspiracies @dc41016 @jasper-jazzle-zazzle @tiefling-trickery Cross out means it wouldn't find your blog sorry

[ramblingshit]

Jane Eyre - 1934 - 4/5

Vodka-less and tired and very cold, we begin our journey to the very first talkie version of Jane Eyre.

ow my bra hurts. I wish I had vodka. this is so sad. wait i have a rokerdelig brb. depression strikes syet again - i drank it earlier. alright lets get started in the 30s whoop. wow audio quality 10/10 lolol. opening with john reed hunting her down and she's blonde oh no she's been found.  holy fuck he's throwing shit at her - SLAP BITCH GET HIM. nooooooooNOOOO why is it errored. okay fixed. aunt mary? oh damn she collapsed cause he pitched that cup at her what an ass - bessie is reading to her naw. she's cut out of a lot of them and never shown so kind at the time she's actually. oh shit. ahaha 'they're bad and i hate them.' 'since you hate us so much i bet you'll be happy to know i'm sending you to an orphanage.' 'yes i am happy' looool. 'go away! GO AWAY! goodbye!" hell yeah lil Jane you stand up to that bish. not quite the snappy shebang she says in the others but very satisfying nonetheless - a lot braver and more obstinate love it. oh no her curls snip snip. ohh her hair is cute af. and very 30s ahaha what a coincidence. wow she talks back like hey ahah. she's looking down at lowood preacher dude down her nose ahah. didn't say hell? ahahaha omg this is great so far. she's the best lil Jane I think I've seen. ohh interesting way to show passing of time - the flipping book pages and the showing of the top of the next chapter - skipping quite a few ahead. skipped helen? straight to her ahah oh shit -- teaching. she's standing up to brocklehurst like no ones business. 'you're dismissed! get out!' 'I'll get out - gladly!' ohmygod she's great she's so great none of that simpering and passivity she's taking the world by the balls.  'you cruel dingy childbeater!' 'you ought to be tarred and feathered you ugly old crocodile!' lmao im in love with her. she walks off laughing and happy about being dismissed. miss temple loves her and gonna miss her so sweet, brocklehurst was like holy damn wtf. ahaha her drivers a drunk, fukn flying across the road she's like bye m8. she's proud and above him and annoyed she has to walk rather than die in a carriage crash. oh damn now she meets no? yeah she's not even made it --oh fuck that horse FLIPPED. she helps unprompted and isn't hesitant in talking back and speaking up oh my god she just stalked off after helping him up ahaha. ahaha oh shit the drunk driver works at thornfield and when they asked why she walked instead of taking the carriage she covered his ass and said she just wanted to walk through the meadows and he's like oh thank fuck thank you jesus she just rolls her eyes with a smile. she speaks 3 languages and draws and plays - very accomplished. he's adele's uncle? Samuel Poole ey what a g m8. and he warns her out of the blue to keep her door locked at night. that 30s makeup is crazy awesome. round face, rosy cheeks, long brows and dark eye makeup and lips. short hair. Adele gives her the tour. she's proud and self-assured. poh damn they're only allowed on one side of the house - sam is married to grace poole. just dunno why she's blonde? probs cause she's supposed to be like angelic? anyway she's gorgeous and the angles are nice and the lighting is good--andw what era are these dresses jfc there's no way she could afford that dress fuck. and who curled her hair and that's a low bow whats happening it looks like a southern gone with teh wind situation. he's smaller than she is. he's bathed in darkness - the light is dimmer on him than her. she's even got a necklace. they're not sitting by the fire. he was too busy looking at her to notice her giving his tea. awkward sips ahaha. it's got like a diamond on the necklace. he looks like he's squatting on that tiny chair. oh shit she's gonna sing instead of play. yikes i hope she can--she's literally taller than him. oh she's gonna play and sing. she looks like blanche is supposed to look? and of course she can sing - all framed by candlelight and hanging crystals. the audio is crackling ahah wow incredible they can do it at all - one of the first talkies damn. 'lovely' wow she a mary sue? please don't be a mary sue.sings and yeets outta there not even finished her tea. far out that dress is not doing it for me. what world would a governess be dressed like that? she wears nothing but white. and journalling is never a good idea. but my god she's gorgeous---lots of SCREAMINGGG. and they're telling Jane that its just a servant and its clearly not grace poole doing the screaming? Fairfax knows? Jane can't blame Grace? Jane's like not freaked about it - i suppose she's journalling about it. Adeles a 'mischief' lol nice. she's ran from her lesson and climbed a tree and now she's stuck up there and Jane like doesn't hesitate just scales that tree after her 'uncle edward help! my foot's caught!' 'her foot's caught' 'her foot's caught, so i gathered.' he seems so gentle and kind and pleasant. gets adele out of the tree - 'and where would you like this package delivered, miss eyre?' ahaha cute ooh they know when rochester is leaving to london. he's handsome i'll give him that, it's better --wait when was blanche introduced. asking him when he's getting married and he says next month and adele asks if he's gonna marry blanche and he avoids the question and she starts on but is interrupted by a frantically gesticulating Jane shaking her head, and she cuts herself off and skips away all innocvently lol til she slips moron kid hit her knee ahahaha what a dumbass. Jane's helping clean the chandelier? and Adele is helping as well, that's cool. wtf this kids a moron getting herself headdown stuck in a vase and JAne smashes that shit and snaps at Rochester's amused quip at breaking his shit and blanche laughs and Jane turns on her lol what a savage and storms off. dancing around her room to the sound of the music downstairs that's nice and cute I'd do the same thing ahaha. she's all petulant cause brought blanche who hasn't been introduced properly? is she gonna put her fancy dress on? no? i hope not. damn they're in a ball room? nice. blanche has dark hair and looks much older than any other, not a bad thing just different. they call her beautiful and pretty - not even trying to pretend she's plain and simple. he's suddenly all over her staring intensely and accompanying her into the room and now they're dancing no way? no? no. governesses and landowners don't dance? she's down here without adele. he's sad she didn't dress up - she didn't want to appear as anything than what she is : a governess! at least she's proud of it. he's amused. and charmed. she thinks he's mocking her. now they're being introduced - an interesting way of doing things but rather natural compared to immediately knowing each other. Adele's sitting here with some old guy talking shit about people wow that's mean. fkn kids and this lord ingram is encouraging the hell out of her ahaha. but when she taunts him suddenly its not so funny ahaha. blanche is nice but sarcastic? it's a wedding party ooooh? adele m8 letting things slip? it's 2am and she's dreaming of him - and damn she's going straight for the curtains with that candle and its not lighting? then we see an altogether put together lady return with teh candle to the room upstairs before crazy cackling. god Jane is pretty. oh shit the house is on fire. nah just his room. there's no dramatic music - yes! she's the one to tear down the curtains and open the window - she's legit the most assertive main character i've seen - he's woken up and the fire is like already out. she's got this sorted all he has to do is give her a blanket 'why didn't you call for help?' 'I didn't think it necessary...' noice. here have some alcohol - from the same cup: might as well kiss. she burnt her hands and HE KISSED THEM. she's like bye. she is outies not taking any of his affections like she got better things to do, like sleep. he's in her room? he brought her a book. they're standing very close. he wants her to help redecorate the west wing - he's quite sure he's getting married in a month and that she'll have things to suit the lady's taste. eyeyeyeyyy. its a pupppppppppppyyyyy. oh it's adele's room. ohmygod so fuckin cute rochester is putting adele to bed and she's saying that she wants an aunt that she can choose and she wants it to be miss eyre and he says she wont have them and she says he has to ask her and she'll make sure she says yes. 'that'd be very nice'. cute af ma8. 'don't forget to ask her!' he grins happily. she chooses a cutain (?) and rochester jumps in 'we prefer this one!', and ol mate says 'i congratulate the lady on her discerning taste - the room will look delightful!' what a thing to say. she looks fkn miserable lolol she thinks she's choosing shit out for blanche - they're choosing out jewels now. she's fkn despondent. she flees the jewellers, he follows her and she cries and tells him she's off on holiday. he's not happy like did you think that would go well?? she's not even saying goodbye to him ahaha bye adele and fairfax nevermind here he is marching up the stairs weren't you gon' say goodbye????? tajes her bags and back upstairs to show her the room she designed? she loves it and he's happy and taking the coat off - 'it's incomplete' 'incomplete? everything seems to be in its proper place - what's missing?' 'you.' ohmygodddddddd. 'can't you see i've been falling in love with you all of this time?' rochester yaaaassss. she's not about to argue lol. whoops - 'you must never decieve me again' she chides lovingly and he laughs and shakes his head. like duuuuude i haven't forgotten this is Jane Eyre. okay he's very handsome and she's gorgeous what a lovely couple. now she's dressed in enormous dresses and jewels much more fitting now I suppose, though she did just say she didn't want to be lavished and pampered. oh what the fuck lol what 'edward my husband!' ahaha oh shit bertha just popped nicely out of nowhereeeee -'you can't separate me from my husband again! no one shall!' oh shit. oh shit. wow that was so brushed over - 1930s sensibilities??? Jane's like uhhhh what was that explain yourself he's like I love you you make me so happy i didn't want to tell you I was married to a psycho that I keep in the attic and take care of. she almost forgave him then he rushed off to help with his violent wife - what she gon do?? she waiting forever surely not she's better than that. yas ohmygod is she gone? SHES GONE AHAHAHA YAS DAMN GO GIRL. she wrote a goodbye note to Adele but not him ahaha savage I love her. ohh a star wars cut noice. he's just gon sit in his library? took mrs fairfax to be like yo dude she couldn't have gone very far ahah she's hiding from him in the shadows all misery and rain. searching for her in the dark- thornfield's on fire! oh yikes it's seriously on fire.  get out of there ya;ll. it's so odd not to have any action music oh damn he's going into the house to get bertha he's in his tophat ahaha fire effects! fire effects! fire effects! whoo. she's found herself in a soup kitchen very nice Jane you're an angel. she's going to india huh oh damn we speeding through this bit - 30 seconds after we meet Rivers he's proposing ahaha. she looks insulted, thanks him and storms out. she's pouring soup an hour before her wedding to Rivers and Sam's just popped up looking fucked uppp. i think he's just drunk tbh. bertha burned to death. Jane's frantic and upset m8 and yeah Sam's drunk af. so JAne went to him - he's blind and angry and an't see her and she's crying and he's shocked my god he's in the light and he's in the dark and he's reaching toward the light and touching her face - lol she raced back to thornfield in a day. lol you want some tea Eyre, it's nice for you to call. he's convinced ---ohhhhh--- "strange, you pity me when I'm blind and yet when I was worse than blind you had no mercy.' he's sending her awayyyyy noo he literally just told her they never belonged to each other and they never did like damn son that is fuckin colldddddd. she's so emotional and he's like yep I guess. She was awesome, he was handsome and had his fine moments. It was cute af m8 noice.