#and i get it. ive been dying before. ive wished it was just over before. i know not everyone wants to stubbornly survive despite it

[mejomonster]

despite any bad shit happening, i refuse to succumb to thinking we're doomed. there's always been bad stuff happening in this world, and good stuff. there will continue to be. i make myself stay alive, i fight to keep myself alive, and i keep trying to contribute to the good things. whether that's small or big, just being kind to those around me or if i have the ability to do more. the world will not just 'end' and release people from suffering, it's pointless to want intense destruction, someone will survive that destruction and have to deal with the pain it causes, and death doesn't guarantee you'll be free from the pain (and even if it did - why push for destruction that everyone still alive would have to keep suffering in? why not just want LESS suffering in the world?). it's never the 'end', it's never 'over'. Every day you're alive, it's getting up in a world that's got good and bad, and existing despite the bad, your existence adding to some relief in kindness and safety and care for yourself and others.

[mothusband]

don't know how a picture of a silly bear can make my evening go from fairly okay to me being absolutely devastated so fast. i've been feeling a lot of complicated things about childhood lately but this is just. yikes.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

When You Call Them Clingy| Hyungline Pt2

Hyungline x Gn! Reader

(sorry this took like forever lmao ive been going through it in life unfortunately💀💀💀 )

Bangchan

The hum of the studio was still present, but now it felt different- less like a comforting embrace and more like static electricity prickling your skin.

The once-warm atmosphere had turned cold, muted, and the silence stretched like a chasm between you and Chan.

He didn’t ask if you needed anything anymore. He didn’t look at you at all.

The first hour after your slip-up had been the worst. You’d sat there, staring at the screen of your phone, scrolling aimlessly to avoid looking at him. But your thoughts betrayed you, circling back to the look on his face when you’d called him clingy- the hurt in his eyes, the faint slump of his shoulders, the way his movements slowed, as though your words had drained the energy out of him.

This is almost unbearable... You thought to yourself. I've never been uncomfortable around Chris before, rather the complete opposite...I don't like this.

You had apologized in your head a dozen times already, running over how you could bring it up without making things worse. But every time you glanced his way, you found yourself frozen, the words dying in your throat.

I was harsh...I'm feel horrible...

Chan wasn’t usually one to sulk, but this was different. He didn’t seem angry-he didn’t snap or lash out.

Although you wished he would have. It may have been better than this thick tension.

But instead of yelling or cursing, he buried himself in his work, shutting you out completely. His usual hums and absentminded muttering as he worked were nowhere to be found. The tapping of keys and the occasional adjustment of a dial were the only sounds that filled the room.

It felt unbearable.

After almost two hours of sitting in silence, the tension was too much. You shifted in your chair, swallowing the lump in your throat as you finally spoke up.

“Chan,” you said softly, your voice hesitant.

He didn’t respond immediately. His fingers paused over the keyboard, but he didn’t turn to look at you.

“Yeah?” he said, his tone neutral- too neutral.

You winced. “I didn’t mean to sound so harsh earlier. I-” You rushed out.

“It’s fine,” he cut you off, his voice tight, clipped.

But it wasn’t fine. You could hear it in the way his words came out too quickly, the way he immediately went back to typing as though he hadn’t just brushed you off.

Serves me right...

You tried again. “It’s not fine. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He let out a breath, finally turning his chair to face you. His expression was guarded, a carefully constructed mask of calm, but his eyes gave him away.

“Look,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “I get it. I was being overbearing. I just…I thought I was helping. I'll ease up from now on."

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. He wasn’t trying to defend himself- he was agreeing with you, accepting blame where there wasn’t any to take.

And you didn't want him to agree.

“You- you were helping,” you said quickly. “I was just… overwhelmed, and I didn’t think before I spoke. I-I don't want you to ease up...I love you the way you are.”

Chan nodded slowly, but the way his jaw tightened told you he wasn’t convinced.

“Sometimes I overdo it,” he said, a small, self-deprecating smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “I don’t know how to…not worry about the people I care about. Or love.”

Your heart sank. He wasn’t just talking about you. He was talking about himself, about how he carried the weight of everyone’s needs on his shoulders, even when it wasn’t his responsibility.

“And I made you feel like you couldn’t breathe,” he added, almost to himself.

“No,” you said quickly, leaning forward. “That’s not what I meant. You’re always so thoughtful, Chan. I just…” You trailed off, struggling to put your feelings into words. "I...uh...damn it..."

He tilted his head, waiting for you to continue, but there was a distance in his gaze now- an invisible barrier you hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re doing something wrong,” you said finally, your voice trembling. “Because you’re not. I was just having a bad day, and I-”

“Don’t worry about it,” he interrupted again, standing abruptly. “It’s getting late. I should wrap this up anyway.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift in his tone.

It wasn’t angry, but it was dismissive.

Final.

“Chan-”

“Seriously, it’s fine,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You should get some rest. I’ll finish up here.”

The dismissal stung more than you expected. You stood up, hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should push further or give him space. But the way he had already turned back to his desk made the decision for you.

“Okay,” you said quietly, your voice barely audible.

You grabbed your bag and made your way to the door, glancing back one last time. Chan was hunched over his keyboard, his back to you, the soft glow of the monitor casting shadows across his face.

“Goodnight,” you murmured.

He didn’t respond.

As you headed out he called out.

"Y/N."

You turned towards him, hopeful.

"You don't have to come tomorrow. Ji...sung-ah and...Innie-ah are supposed to be here to work on something with me."

You sighed and bit the inside part of your lip. He was terrible at lying.

Then a small rush of unrighteous anger hit you.

"Thats okay, I had plans anyways." You shot back, leaving. You almost missed the surprised look as he lifted his head from his bag.

The walk home was a blur. The guilt in your chest felt heavier with every step, suffocating you until you could hardly breathe.

But now that guilt stemmed from also saying something to purposefully provoke him.

Why would I even say that? I have no reason to be mad- but he...he has all the reason to be.

You thought about texting him, but what could you say? Nothing you typed out felt like enough. Apologizing once wasn’t going to fix this.

And you were too prideful to admit your pettiness.

It's embarrassing...

When you finally got home, you dropped your bag by the door and sank onto the couch, burying your face in your hands. You replayed all the moments over and over in your head, wishing you could go back and choose different words, wishing you could make him understand how much he meant to you.

But then your anger driven words hit you. You just loved digging yourself deeper graves. So, you pulled out your phone and shot a text.

Deciding that if you were at a standstill with each other, you at least wouldn't lie to him.

——————————————————————————

Minho

The next morning, you woke up feeling a mix of guilt and lingering irritation. Sleep hadn’t come easy, your mind replaying the events from the previous night like a broken record. You had lashed out, hurt him, and now there was this gnawing uncertainty about where things stood.

You debated texting Minho to apologize, but the thought of his cold tone from last night stopped you. The memory of his quick, hollow kiss on your temple was like a dull ache in your chest- a reminder of how much damage had been done.

You sighed as you reached for your phone, jumping when you see a text from Minho.

Minho: Dori didn't even wait for me to finish preparing his breakfast before eating Soonie's. Such a menace.

You stared at the text for a long moment, unsure of what to make of it. It wasn’t unusual for him to send updates about his cats, but this felt like an attempt to return to normalcy without directly addressing what had happened.

Should I respond? Should I apologize? You wanted to, but the thought of putting your emotions into words felt daunting.

Instead, you liked the message, telling yourself you’d figure it out later. But as the day dragged on, and you found yourself unable to focus on anything. By the evening, your phone buzzed, breaking you from your thoughts.

Minho: Did you eat?

The question was simple, almost routine, but it held a strange weight. And you were unsure how to respond.

Was this his way of reaching out, or was he just trying to check a box out of habit?

You hesitated before typing back: You: Yeah. Did you?

His reply came almost immediately: Minho: Mhm. Chan-hyung made japchae. Ate while working. Minho: Also, three cups of pudding.

You couldn't help but let out a little giggle. You could picture him in his studio, his face reflected in a the mirrors, as he sat crisscross on the dance floor, scribbling choreo ideas, spoon in one hand and a cup of pudding beside him. The image tugged at your heartstrings in the way only a lover could do.

You: Busy day? Minho: Always.

You sighed and rested your head on the back of your couch.

Short. Not necessarily clipped, but there were no teasing or playful jabs. No emojis. Just facts. It felt so unlike him, and it hurt more than you wanted to admit.

You could feel the awkwardness as if he was sitting in the room with you.

You: I’m sorry about last night. You typed out a response, then deleted it, then typed it again. Finally, you settled on: You: I miss you.

The three dots signaling his response appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared. You held your breath, waiting.

Minho: Yeah...

You: I'm sorry.

Minho: It's fine.

It wasn’t fine. You knew that. The lack of warmth in his reply was enough to confirm it.

You: It doesn’t feel fine. Minho: Maybe it’s not...

There it was. The crack in the veneer. Your chest tightened as you stared at his words. You wanted to fix it, to make it right, but you didn’t know how.

You: Can we talk? Minho: Not right now. I’m tired.

The conversation ended there. You stared at the screen long after his reply, the words “I’m tired” echoing in your mind. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion he was talking about. He was emotionally drained, and you were the reason.

You: Okay, goodnight. I love you. Minho: Night. I love you too.

Over the next two weeks, things didn't get much better.

You hadn't seen him in person, and only had a few video calls where anytime you tried to bring up an apology, Minho deflected the conversation.

It felt like more of an awkward and intimate friendship interacting rather than a couple. And you needed to change that. You couldn't handle it. You missed your boyfriend.

Minho had always been steady, a constant in your life. You hadn’t realized how much of a lifeline he was until you cut it with a single careless word.

Clingy.

The way his expression had shifted when you said it- it haunted you. Minho, who rarely let his emotions crack the surface, had been hurt. You’d seen it, felt it in the way he pulled back from you. And you wanted to pull him back towards you.

That’s what brought you to his house a few nights later, your chest tight with desperation and dread. You didn’t have a plan, just a need to be near him, to try and fix what you’d broken.

The porch light cast a faint glow as you arrived, the sight of it familiar yet unsettling. You hesitated at the keypad, your fingers trembling as you entered the code. For a moment, you feared he might have changed it, but the lock clicked open with a soft, mechanical hum.

The sound felt louder than it should have in the quiet night, and your heart ached with the thought that you still knew this house so well.

You stepped inside, the warmth of the entryway doing little to ease the chill in your bones.

“Minho?” Dori was the only cat by the door, immediately rushing to you to rub up against your legs. "Min?"

Your voice was soft, tentative, as you slipped off your shoes and into slippers, but it went unanswered.

The faint murmur of voices reached you from the living room. You moved toward the sound, your footsteps hesitant.

And then you saw them.

She was sitting on the couch, her laughter carrying easily in the stillness of the house.

Minho was beside her, close enough that the space between them seemed insignificant. His expression, one that had been so cold and was open-relaxed in a way you hadn’t seen in minute.

Your stomach twisted painfully, the scene before you crashing down like a tidal wave.

You must have made a sound, because Minho’s head turned sharply in your direction. His eyes widened, surprise etched across his face.

“Y/N?”

The girl followed his gaze, her expression a mix of confusion and mild curiosity.

You froze, your pulse hammering in your ears.

“I-” The words caught in your throat, your mind scrambling to come up with an explanation for why you were here, standing uninvited in his doorway.

“Y/N-ah, wait-” He said, scrambling up from the couch, tripping over Dori who had decided to join the party.

But you were already backing away.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” you said quickly, your voice cracking as you stumbled toward the door. You knocked into the cats water bowl, soaking your feet. The lump in your throat threatened to choke you, but you forced the words out. “I’ll just- go.”

Minho reached for you, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Don’t-”

You didn’t wait for him to finish, pulling away. The door slammed shut behind you, the cold air biting at your skin as you stepped into the night.

You didn’t realize you were still wearing the house shoes Minho had bought for you months ago until you were halfway down the street, your steps uneven on the pavement. The absurdity of it made your throat tighten, but the tears came before the laughter could.

Your vision blurred as you walked aimlessly, the weight in your chest pressing down until it felt hard to breathe. You could still see her face, hear her laugh. It was seared into your mind.

There is no way he could have moved on in just two weeks...right?

Could he have...no. Never.

But had he?

You didn’t know either way. And you couldn’t bring yourself to stay long enough to find out.

Back at the house, Minho stood frozen by the door. Doongie let out a soft mew, as if speaking.

"I know..." Minho said to the cat.

His jaw clenched as he stared at the space where you’d been, staring at where your shoes were left, your sudden departure leaving a suffocating silence along with them.

“Minho?” the girl called hesitantly, her voice breaking through the tension.

He turned to her, his expression unreadable.

“You should go.” he said finally, his tone flat.

Her brows furrowed in confusion, but she didn’t argue. She gathered her things quickly, giving Doongie a quick scratch, the sound of her footsteps fading as the door closed behind her.

Minho sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair as he leaned against the wall. His gaze fell to the floor, and for the first time, he noticed the trail of damp footprints leading to the door- proof of your hurried escape.

You hadn’t even waited to hear him out.

He wanted to chase after you, to get an explanation for why you’d come in the first place.

But he didn’t move. Instead, he stood there in the silence, the weight of your absence pressing down on him; and he was stuck wondering how something you caused had now become a snowballed issue he needed to resolve.

——————————————————————————

Changbin

You sat there frozen, the echo of his quiet, defeated tone playing on a loop in your mind. It wasn’t like him to leave like that- without a fight, without reassurance, without trying to smooth things over. He had always been one to want to ease conflict in the calmest manner.

Your eyes drifted to the coffee table where his phone sat, screen dark and mocking in the dim light. He must’ve forgotten it in his rush to leave, and the realization sent a pang of guilt straight to your chest. You couldn’t even call him to try and make things right.

With trembling hands, you picked up his phone, turning it over in your palm. It was a small, insignificant thing, but it felt like the only connection you still had to him.

The weight of Hyunjin’s text was heavier now, replaying in your mind like a cruel taunt.

He had planned to propose tonight.

And you had ruined it.

You pressed the phone to your chest, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. You couldn’t stop picturing the way his face had fallen, the light in his eyes dimming with every word you’d said. The warmth he carried with him, the energy that filled every room he walked into, was gone. And it made you feel terrible.

Your hands tightened around his phone as you leaned back on the couch, your thoughts spiraling. Changbin wasn’t just a boyfriend- he was your safe space, your biggest cheerleader, the person who always knew how to make you laugh when you wanted to cry.

And tonight, you had been the one to make him feel small.

You let out a shaky breath, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over. There was no way you could let things stay like this.

So, you got to work.

--

Changbin’s car coasted slowly down the street, the low hum of the engine the only sound in the otherwise quiet night. His mind buzzed, replaying every moment of the evening- your harsh words, the hurt in his chest, and the sudden shift in the air between you two. He could still feel the weight of your gaze, and your frustration.

He had tried so hard.

Maybe it is my fault...

He wanted to make the night perfect, make it something to remember. A sweet cute, relaxed proposal. Soft and warm and everything that represented the love he had for you.

But now he was left uncertain, second-guessing everything. The familiar streets blurred as his thoughts swirled, mixing with the disappointment and confusion still lodged in his heart. His grip tightened around the steering wheel.

As he pulled into his driveway, he killed the engine but didn’t immediately move. He sat there for a while, the headlights casting long shadows across the pavement. It was cold, but he didn’t feel it. Instead, his chest was heavy, a knot of frustration and sorrow gnawing at him.

I need to apologize. Maybe then-

Reaching for his phone, he noticed a slight tremor in his hands.

Is that the best thing to do though...what if Y/N-ie is still mad...

He spent the next couple minutes thinking about texting you- even though he hadn’t done anything inherintantly wrong.

But the thought of sending an apology and admitting to a fault he didn’t deserve seemed like the easiest way to get things back to normal.

He swiped the phone screen on, but his stomach dropped when he saw his empty hand. He reached to pat his pockets.

He didn’t have his phone with him.

He trailed his eyes at the empty seat next to him, hoping maybe it was there, as the realization hit him harder than it should’ve.

His phone was still on the couch at your place. He must’ve left it there in the rush to get away.

"Shit," he muttered under his breath, the frustration and anxiety rising again.

He shifted the car back into gear, pulling out of his driveway and heading back to your apartment. As he drove, he let out a deep sigh, trying to shake off the weight pressing on him.

He didn’t know what to expect when he saw you again. He didn’t even know what he wanted from the rest of this night.

Back at your place, you were busy, but not in the way you had planned. You paced the living room, biting your lip as you nervously looked over the decorations you had hastily thrown together. You had wanted everything to be perfect for him, the way he’d promised it would be tonight, but now… you were the one fixing things.

You were the one putting the final touches on a proposal- his proposal.

Your heart flipped over and over in your chest, as you adjusted things anxiously.

You had to scrounge through a ton of different leftover decorations from previous events and holidays; and it looked like the spirit of every celebratory occasion had thrown up over your living room.

You had tried so hard to get it right, to show him how sorry you were that your nerves and selfishness had ruined everything.

When you heard the distant rumble of his car approaching, your heart skipped a beat. You quickly fixed your hair and wiped your hands on your pants, as if trying to make up for everything all at once.

You hadn’t planned this, hadn’t thought through how you were going to apologize. You just knew you couldn’t let him walk away- couldn’t let him leave the night without fixing at least a small part of it.

The doorbell rang, and you froze, your pulse quickening in your throat.

You opened it, and there he was. Changbin. Standing there with an unreadable expression, his eyes flicking over your face before he looked down at the phone in his hand.

You didn't know if you imagined his red rimmed eyes.

“I-” he started, but the words faltered. He opened his mouth again, as if trying to say something, but nothing came out. "I left my phone."

You handed it to him, and he stood there awkwardly turning it in his hands.

"Bin, come in," you whispered, stepping aside to let him in.

He hesitated for a long moment, his feet still on the other side of the threshold, as if he were debating whether to leave or stay. You could see the tension in his shoulders, the uncertainty in his movements.

But then, with a deep sigh, he stepped inside.

You led him to the living room. His eyes stayed on the floor. He didn’t sit down, didn’t speak, just stood there.

"Y/N, I'm sor-"

"You don’t need to apologize," you said, voice barely audible as you walked toward him. You didn’t know how else to start. "I’m the one who messed up tonight. It wasn't you. It was all me."

Changbin shook his head, though it seemed like he was trying to process what he was feeling. He opened his mouth again, his voice hoarse. "No, it wasn't you. I…I didn’t mean for-"

"Changbin, don't fool yourself." You said with a sarcastic chuckle. "You know it was all my fault-"

"Y/N I was the one who was-"

"-I ruined your proposal. Of course it's my fault." You finished.

Your words stopped him. He closed his eyes for a moment, the weight of everything hanging in the air between you.

"So you knew..." he murmured, his voice cracking just slightly.

"Hyunjin texted. I saw it on your screen."

Changbin sighed and then looked around, seeing the decorations.

"What..."

"Since I ruined your proposal I thought I could fix it. As an apology."

The air between you thickened suddenly.

"I-I know it's not the best or the prettiest, but I thought—"

His voice faltered as he looked up at you, eyes filled with something unreadable. Shock, confusion… and then something softer, something heavier.

"What…what did you do?"

You froze. Your heart pounded.

He was staring at everything—the decorations, the candles, the careful details meant for him to present to you.

"I thought… I'd throw something together," you repeated, your voice small. "To fix your proposal."

"Fix it?"

And in that moment, you realized just how wrong that had sounded.

"N-No! I meant fix the night. Not your proposal—nothing was wrong, I just—I ruined the moment, and—"

You were scrambling, desperate to explain.

"Binnie, I—"

"I understand, Y/N."

His quiet chuckle sent a chill through you. It wasn't warm, wasn't teasing. It was sad.

"You made another opportunity," he said, his voice steady but distant. "You set up a proposal."

"Yes! An opportunity, not-" But then you saw it. The rapid blinking, the slight shift in his expression. The way he swallowed hard, as if forcing down words he wouldn't let himself say.

And suddenly, it clicked.

He wasn't upset about your wording. He wasn't even upset that you'd tried to make things right. He was upset because you'd taken this from him. Because he had wanted to be the one to do this for you.

When you had called him clingy earlier, you had let your stressors guide you to insult what you loved most about him.

How he wanted to do everything for you.

His love language towards you always tended to be acts of service.

And while a proposal wasn't necessarily though, it made sense that he wanted to do this for you. One of the biggest acts of your two lives.

He wanted to gift it to you, and you took it away.

For a long, suffocating moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, without another word, he stepped back. His hands curled into fists, then relaxed. He exhaled, gaze flickering between you and the scene you'd set. And then he turned.

You barely processed it as he walked past you, his presence fading with each step toward the door.

"Binnie, wait-"

But he didn't stop. The door opened, and before you could find the right words, the ones that wouldn't make everything worse—

It clicked shut.

——————————————————————————

Hyunjin

The moment Hyunjin you shut the door, you felt a wave of regret crash over you. You stewed in your regret for a while before you succumbed to it.

You couldn't stand it.

You rushed out the door, hoping to catch up; even if it had already a bit since his departure. But you knew him, and he probably hadn't made it far, taking his long legs for granted and dragging out his journey.

You wanted to stop him, to explain, to make him see what you couldn't say- but your pride had already built a wall too high. The words you had snapped at him stung, but there was a fear settling deep within you, too. Fear of rejection, fear of the misunderstanding spiraling out of control.

Fear of losing him from a quick yet grave mistake.

The street was quiet, and your footsteps echoed in the empty space. You turned the corner, but in your rush, you hadn't paid attention to where you were going.

It seemed you had taken one wrong turn after another, and suddenly the comforting glow of the familiar streetlights was replaced with unfamiliar darkness.

Panic rose in your chest. Your phone buzzed in your pocket, and you fumbled to pull it out, only for it to die before you could see.

You cursed under your breath. Of course, it died. Why wouldn't it? Your mind was foggy, and you could barely focus on anything, let alone figure out where you were. The tightness in your chest felt suffocating, but you pushed through it.

You wandered a little until you found a cute little convenience store, stepping inside, letting the warmth encapsulate you. You decided to grab a snack while you charged your phone, the clerk so graciously allowing you to charge it behind the desk.

You figured while you ate you could figure out what to say to Hyunjin, to mend whatever crack you had caused.

--

Meanwhile, Hyunjin still felt the sting of your words settled deep in his chest. His jaw clenched as he shoved his hands into his pockets, walking briskly down the street.

It wasn’t fair. He had done nothing wrong, yet you had pushed him away like he was too much. Like his affection- his need to be close to you- was suffocating.

Me? Too much- HAH. As if.

You were just being bratty because you were in a bad mood...right?

I'm not actually too much am I?

And maybe it was dramatic, maybe it was childish, but he wanted you to chase after him. To call out his name, to grab his sleeve, to do something to prove you cared as much as he did.

But the street behind him remained quiet.

His throat tightened. His steps slowed.

You weren’t coming.

Hyunjin scoffed, shaking his head. Fine. If you weren’t going to run after him, then you could suffer.

He would make you grovel, make you look at him with those wide, guilty eyes and apologize.

Beg a little. Then - only then - he’d pull you into his arms, stroke your hair, kiss your forehead, and tell you it was okay.

Because at the end of the day, that’s all he wanted.

To make things okay again.

With a sigh, he turned back around, heading toward your apartment, already playing out how he’d drag this out just enough to make you squirm before giving in.

But when he got to your door, his smirk faltered.

The lights were off, but the door was cracked.

His brows knitted together as he stepped into a completely empty home.

You were supposed to be here. You were supposed to be sitting inside, stewing in guilt, waiting for him to come back so you could apologize properly.

His fingers twitched as he opened your bedroom door. He went to the bathroom and knocked.

No answer.

He knocked, a little harder this time.

Still nothing.

A flicker of unease crept up his spine. He pulled out his phone and called. It rang twice before going straight to voicemail.

Hyunjin swallowed. His throat was dry.

His mind raced through every possibility. Maybe you just went out for air. Maybe you ran to the convenience store. Maybe-

But his gut told him otherwise.

His gut told him something was wrong.

His fingers curled around his phone, knuckles white as he sucked in a sharp breath. His frustration, his plan to make you beg, his need to be dramatic- all of it evaporated, replaced by one single, overwhelming thought.

He needed to find you.

Now.

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

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha @iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric @panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee @shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin @whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun @ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael @skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads @jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld @kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9 @minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg @leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon @night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz @rockstarkkami @emilyywhyy

taglist specific:

@darling-imobsessed @changbinismymuscledaddy @artist2181 @minniesverse @monbrigh @20staaa @aeri-skzver @noannah @skysole @chanssmiles @depressedarlling @

[hatsukeii]

hey girllllll i’m here at ur cafe cause exams have been kicking my ass… i need a comfort drink RN !! can i get an oolong tea with pumps 19 and 20 from the sugar free menu :) ive been EYEING that customer in the corner right there.. yeah the blonde haired red eyed one— he’s called bakugou you say? fuckkk, set me up pls, sister? 😁😁

ps. good luck for ur exams hattsun! we can do this :p

hello hello:)) thank you for the wishes and good luck on your exams too!! i've got your order up! (why! would you put yourself through extra bitter tea!)

to kill a god / prohero!katsuki bakugou x reader

ingredient(s): angst<3 (you asked for it baby), pro hero katsuki x terminal patient reader, soulmates to dead idk, major death! major character death! anguish! pain! just straight up agony tbh

disclaimer(s): terminal illnes + major character death warning!! also like i think i used a hc that pro heros don't reveal their names to the public idk why, scarce use of y/n like once or twice, ending is! a little rushed but i hope it hits anyways, they are the embodiment of "are they lovers?" "no, worse" so...

wc: ~3.0k

drink profile: absolute defiance, hospital walls, luck and chance

Katsuki Bakugou, at six years old, declares that he wants to live forever. He wants to blow villains up for the rest of time, expend the nitroglycerin in his sweat glands until the world ends one day and everything is reduced to atoms. He lives out his childhood with his chest puffed out, like he cannot- no, will not die.

Even as his limbs weigh heavy on his teenage body, and he can feel himself hit concrete ground as whips of black shoot through his torso, he tells himself he is not dying. He's not fucking dying, because he has lived and fought like a god.

By the time he graduates from UA, Katsuki is certain that he has to, one day, meet his end. He pretends like he can live forever anyways.

When Katsuki meets you for the first time, it is in a hospital courtyard on a sweltering July afternoon. Hours of greeting and running around with children finds him sitting on a bench, away from the commotion that is contained within the hospital white walls of the pediatric sectors. His skin boils beneath his suit, and he tries to wipe his sweat-slicked forehead with a gloved hand. From beside him, a paper towel appears beneath his nose, slipped between an index and middle finger. Katsuki stares at your palm, eyes travelling to the IV drip inserted into your wrist. When he looks up, he isn't sure how you've gone unnoticed for so long, with your IV pole by your side, donned in a sterile blue hospital gown. You look not a day over twenty.

"Dynamight." Your voice comes out as more of a croak than a youthful chirp.

The towel is swiped into Katsuki's hands swiftly, before he pats at his forehead. "Yes?"

"Are you afraid of dying?"

He scoffs, slipping the dampened towel into his pocket. How absurd. Dynamight? Afraid of dying? Do you think he fights because he's scared of dying? Turning to you, Katsuki comes to realise that you might be dead serious, dull eyes boring into his skull. He could see nothing behind them. The IV drips, and drips, and drips. You stare. He isn't sure what to tell you.

"Hell no. But I don't wanna die." He leans into the hardwood bench, spreads his legs a little further apart. He doesn't know that he's lying, even when his stomach stirs and the wooden bench begins to cool, and coarsen into concrete ground and blood. He should look away before it all feels too real again, but you're looking at him like a child, twenty years too old, searching for answers in the face of what power means in this world. Katsuki hates it.

"Of course not. You're a hero after all. All the power in the world."

You stand, and leave him sitting there alone. That night, pro hero Dynamight waits for backup at a villain sighting for the first time.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou promises to give you a taste of power when he meets you a second time at the same hospital, the next week.

He's not sure how his patrol shift has brought him here again, but he never got to stand up for himself. It's not his fault he's a hero, not his fault that he enjoys power in the spark of his palms, or that he isn't afraid of dying because he's clawed his way out of it so many times. But he knows what it's like, he says, standing by your bed. Knows what it's like to never die, even when everything is pushing him to. That's power, he tells you, absolute defiance. And you're sitting in a hospital bed surrounded by two palliative care workers who have to shoot you up with anaesthetics every four hours. So he leans down close, so close that he can sense the wariness coming from your stony eyes, see the hairs on your skin stand helplessly, and he frowns.

"D'you think you're weak?" His question is uttered to a husk of a human, who needs the wall to keep them upright. You wince painfully in response, unsure of what he wants to hear from your chapped lips. One of the workers doses you with anaesthesia, and you pinch your eyes shut. It still hurts, even after all this time.

"I'm just waiting to die, call that what you want. Weak, sure." You swallow at the thought, because you're fucking terrified. Katsuki takes it that you are scared of him.

"You're just fuckin'... waiting to die?" Vermillion eyes squint in disbelief, and you swallow again, this time at his question instead. He hates spineless quitters. He hates them more than he can imagine. Some part buried deep inside him wants to refuse death on your behalf, because he detests nothing more than the notion of going out helplessly, bound at the mercy of a hospital bed and anaesthesia. There has to be someone out ther with a quirk that can save you, and Katsuki isn't sure why but he's hellbent on finding them. Call it civil service. A hero's duty to save.

"If you're going to come here, Dynamight, at least make this easier for me, and don't act like I asked for it."

Right, Dynamight. That's what people call him, and you are no different, so he's not sure why he expected otherwise. When one of the two palliative workers approaches you with a syringe, Katsuki doesn't think he can bear the sight of another dose of chemicals worming its way into your veins. You're just another chickenshit defeatist, poisoning themselves in a hospital room.

He turns on his heels, and leaves while you hiss in pain.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

No one at the hospital is quite sure of what is going on between pro hero Dynamight, and a terminal patient. They watch him return, week after week, sometimes consecutive days in a row. When he steps through the automatic doors, he shoots every single worker that passes by him a curt nod, then hikes up the stairs to room 203. The only people in the room would be two palliative care workers and yourself, and the rest of the hospital staff is sure he's brokered a deal with the two workers to never let a single word out of 203.

Nobody else ever enters 203 while Dynamight is here.

But everybody talks.

They make rumours, pick up on singular words through the sliding door, then say he's grown weak. Soft. Pro hero Dynamight, no longer the first at the scene of a crime. Pro hero Dynamight, falling back from combat on live television. Pro hero Dynamight, visiting a terminal patient, day after day. He must have too much free time on his hands. Maybe he's had enough of hero work. Maybe he's gone mad.

What they conveniently fail to understand, outside the barrier of 203's white door, is that Katsuki Bakugou doesn't know what is going on between himself, and you either. He comes back every day not because he particularly wants to, but because he can't help himself not to. He finds you again, and again, and again, just to listen to you talk about hospital food, or how you've just watched him back down on live television, scrutinised by millions of watchful eyes.

Then, Katsuki asks you how long you have left, to which your answer is always decreasing. A year the first few times, then halved, and by this visit, his seventeenth, you tell him, "three months."

"That's a quarter of what you had five weeks ago."

"Tough luck." You stare at the IV drip in your wrist, watch the liquid seep into your veins through the thin tube.

He wants to promise that he can help you, even though it holds no power. He is not a doctor. Everyone else in this hospital is. But Katsuki Bakugou has almost died about a hundred times, and still he lives, so he thinks he must know something that they don't. Absolute defiance.

"Nothing is luck." He sits on the bedside stool, grinding his foot into the squeaky hospital floor. "It's all a wretched fight."

"Yeah, for you it can be." You laugh dryly, wiggling your wrist and watching as the IV tube sticks up in odd angles. "But luck's all everyone else has got."

A pigeon smashes into the glass window, and drops to the balcony floor outside in a flurry of feathers. One of the palliative care workers leaves to pick the mound of grey from the floor. Katsuki looks away when the other one shoots you up with another dose of anaesthesia. Something hums in the air, inescapable, like the time he woke up in a hospital bound in bandages, circulating oxygen from a new, pumping heart. His hands spark, and for once, he wonders if he just got lucky.

"Let me touch your sparks."

You finally speak again, a hand stretching out weakly to point at the crackles and pops of Katsuki's palm. Gingerly, he extends his gloved palm towards you, careful not to touch the equipment that surrounds your bed. When you take his hand in yours, something twists in his chest, and sparks thud at his suited torso instead. They're weak enough to do little damage, yet as he tries to ignite sparks again, they misfire a second time, scorching the dead pigeon pinched between the palliative care worker's fingers. Katsuki Bakugou has never been afraid before, but he jerks his hand away from you, yanking onto the IV drip and rattling the pole that wobbles at the force. He may as well be quirkless in your wake. Powerless.

"What the fuck was that?"

You shrug. You've always wanted to be a hero, watching their escapades from your bedridden world. You just got unlucky.

"Luck. That's luck. I wanted to become a hero with it."

You would have been a great hero, Katsuki thinks. You should have been a great hero.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou doesn't realise that he has never called you by name until his twenty-third visit. He sits by your bed, gives you his hand, lets you do as you please with soft sparks that tickle and prick at your skin, as he has for the past four visits. He's figured that you would smile when they redirect to the spot just between the two of you, like fireworks that stutter and pop into flowers. Some part of him hates to admit it, but he's enjoying this much more than blowing villains up.

"You're getting better. That's the third in a row in the right place."

"All luck."

He swallows thickly, because he hasn't asked the question yet. How could he, when he's giving you exactly what he promised- power? He floats images in his head: IV drips, surgery, growing tumour, operation room, flatlines. They cover your body in a shroud of inevitable dread, and Katsuki would blow them apart if he could. But he's given you his quirk, and you're making fireworks with it.

"Are you scared? Of dying?" The fourth spark hits a mug on a desk across the room. It jolts off, and shatters on the ground. You shrink into the bed, pulling his hand into your chest, and his gut drops. There's a sort of bitter taste that worms into his mouth, but he lets his hand lie flat against your sternum when you push it closer to yourself, and it dissipates. Your chest rises, heavy and slow, like every breath is laboured. When you look up at Katsuki, he isn't angry. His cheeks are rounded, soft eyes watching your fingers around his hand, lips slightly pushed apart by his sudden question. It occurs to you that he might be asking more than just yourself that.

"What does it matter to me?"

"Should I be?"

He stares back at you, and you freeze. Pro hero Dynamight faces death head on every day like it's nothing, but some sick part of you wants him to be afraid too. It will take three weeks to catch you, maybe a few more decades until it chases his tail, but death finds everyone eventually, and that should be terrifying.

"You can choose. Do you want to be scared?"

He should defy this, just like he has so many times before. Dynamight has a fake heart, fake name, fake recklessness, it's all fucking bravado. Katsuki's been tasting blood in his mouth every night since his old heart stopped pumping at sixteen years old, his bed is bloodstained concrete ground when he wakes up in a cold sweat. He can choose, but can you do the same? And even if he did not have to choose, if he could be immortal, would he still pick a side? What good is being a god, if he can only live to watch death take you from above? 

Your hair covers your face, your fingers ghost across his gloved ones, and he swallows the question of how long you really have left. 

"What's your name?"

"Y/n."

He holds his breath, letting it out only to utter, "Katsuki." You hold his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I wouldn't be scared if I knew I could move on from this." 

"Don't use me to make your choice. You have to move on from this. And you have to be okay with that."

At thirteen years old, Katsuki Bakugou is publicly asphyxiated for approximately one minute and twenty seconds, until Izuku Midoriya arrives on the scene, trying to wrench him out. At sixteen years old, he is pronounced dead in battle, until Edgeshot turns himself into his new heart. It has never been about defiance, and always about people being in the right place, at the right time. His life has been dangling from the promise of luck since the day he was born with a quirk that lets him pretend to be a god. So no, maybe he shouldn’t let somebody else make this choice for him.

"But I'm still scared, y/n. I'm still so fucking scared."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Pro hero Dynamight breaks down on live television one week later, following a close call with a criminal syndicate. Millions of eyes glue to their home televisions, watching him scream profanities into a Juko News microphone outside a hospital. Parents cover their children's ears, angry commentators press backspace on their "dy-no might" comments, 6pm rush hour stops to stare at angry Shibuya billboards, but nobody changes the broadcast.

"You motherfuckers have no idea how fucking lucky you are to be alive! When have you ever, ever! Had to count your fucking days?" Spit shoots from Dynamight's mouth, and they think he's deranged, unhinged. He stands in front of the hospital- your hospital, and forces the retreating cameraman to redirect the lenses at his angry spew.

"Gone soft, weak, no might, quit the shit!" He points at the hospital behind him, right at the window of room 203. If you aren't hearing him from your bed, Katsuki is ready to grab the microphone, and yell it from the balcony for everyone to hear.

"You will never understand what it's like waking up to fucking hospital white day by day. I have seen it, people in there have seen it." He jabs a finger at the camera accusingly. "If you want heroes to die fighting so badly, I suggest that you fuckers try it for yourself."

Turning to 203, Katsuki stops for a moment. Reporters snap photos behind each other, yet nobody says a word. Have you made him soft? Made him weak? Have you killed Dynamight? When he remembers the fireworks between your noses, and the choice he's made for himself, he thinks the opposite.

"I will not apologise for wanting to live. I will not apologise for trying to live. And I will not fucking apologise for being scared of dying. Not when I get to wake up, and choose to be scared."

Katsuki throws the microphone to the ground, and stomps on it, storming into the hospital. Comments flood the broadcast. Coward. Fake. Spineless. Ungrateful. His PR team scrambles to get the footage deleted.

He hikes into 203. To hell with the news outlets, and the reporters, and the spineless keyboard warriors, because he's watching you take your dying breath if that's what it takes for him to move on from you. He slides open the door, and you're bedridden, breathing through an oxygen mask. You smile at him like you've saved him from something you don't know. He smiles back, because you have.

"I'll only move on when you do."

"Two weeks, Katsuki."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When pro hero Dynamight arrives at the hospital again, nine hours have gone by since his public meltdown. He returns to rubble, and dust, and a dozen rescue heros scrambling on their feet at 3am. They say that there's been a gas explosion, that the past few maintainence checks have failed to detect litres of propane seeping into every crevice of the institution, all while flipping through piles of concrete for signs of life. They tell him that more heroes will be here soon, and that he should focus on breaking open larger pieces of debris. As he sends explosion after explosion into deconstructed hospital walls, Katsuki wishes he could pretend to care about the mangled corpses crushed beneath what once was a hospital. He doesn't.

People all look the same when their heads are crushed between asphalt and concrete. Hundreds of IV drips are littered around the wreckage. It has been one hour, and even with backup, they have only found seven survivors. Dynamight cannot save people here, all he can do is blow rubble to bits, hoping to find beneath it one more person whose lungs haven't been crushed already. He is no hero. He couldn't even save one person.

Three hours of searching concludes with twenty-two survivors, all hauled into helicopters and stretchers, and flown away to someplace Katsuki doesn't care to know. Rescue heroes never confirm the death count, and can only give an estiamte of approximately three hundred fatalities, and twenty-two casualties. They never find your body.

Katsuki stands on broken rubble, and he thinks he has been killed again, two weeks too soon, all in the name of misfortune. Tough luck. He swallows his pride, because in the face of death, absolute defiance has never been his vice. As he gapes at this massacre of pure chance, his gloved hands can barely form sparks. How did you ever turn them into fireworks?

barista's note:

hi do you guys still love me<3 double pump of sugar free you were ASKING FOR ITTTTTTTT i do apologise i rushed the ending because i have more requests and i want to get through them but i am physically! incapable of like multitasking on writing like i have to finish one to start one or nothing comes out i fear... i hope the ending hit the vibes right anyways though because idk what i was thinking while writing this i think i was kinda just vomiting onto the page whatever felt right LMFAOOAO

tags: @catsoupki @laughingfcx @wishi-selfships @fiannee @chuuya-brainrot @zzwon @akaakeis @hiraethwa @bakery-anon @wyrcan @bailey-reeds @hiraethwrote @kuroppiii @kongkhoi @staraxiaa

[hellodropbear]

like she used to (VI)

alexia putellas x sister

part I, II, III, IV, V

~~~~~~

When I asked, Aitana told me there was nothing wrong when she followed Alexia outside. She told me that Mapi hadn't been out there and that she really did need help with her dribbling. 

It was a lie, of course. I am not naive. 

She told me that I was staying at her house tonight, and tomorrow she will call Alba. They were not lies, that much I could tell. 

I don't want her to call Alba, but I don't think I have a choice in that decision.

Aitana and Mapi don't think I should be alone at the moment. Apparently, I have not been taking good enough care of myself to be trusted by myself in my own house.

Their thought is supposed to make me feel comforted, loved. But really, all it makes me feel is frustrated. Weak.

Weaker than I already am.

I am almost 16, I should be able to take care of myself.

I don't tell them that I miss Mami, or that I wish she didn't work until late every night, because I don't want her to pull away from her job. She loves it there, it gives her time away from her children and she can earn money for her future.

I don't tell them that I wish Alba would realise that something is wrong, without having to be told. I can't pull her away from her friends, her job. Her life that doesn't really involve me anymore.

So I don't tell them anything, falling back into the silence as I get into Aitana's car, ignoring her eyes that seemed glued to the side of my face.

"I miss you, Elena."

Her words are almost silent, and if I hadn't strained my ears I wouldn't have been able to hear them.

I know what she means, she misses the person I used to be. I don't know how to tell her that I miss her to, but I just can't seem to find her anymore.

For some reason, her words trigger a sudden swirl of anger, of frustration within me and I am replying before I can even think about what is coming out of my mouth.

"Then leave me alone!"

Aitana recoils and looking back, I can recognise that my words were too harsh. Too harsh to one of the few people who had actually been looking out for me.

But my sadness has morphed into concealed anger over the past few days, a raging fire inside me that is fighting to escape, fighting to explode in the worst way possible.

There is not enough water to put the fire out, my weak attempts only making it grow and grow.

It is just unfortunate that Aitana was the one who had to witness the explosion. If you can even call it that.

Because the tsunami wave is growing, I can feel it building inside of me. It is only a matter of time before it crashes and I feel tense as I wait for the inevitable destruction.

"Elena-" Her voice was soft, too soft. Too kind and too even.

They always were. Mapi and Aitana were always too nice, too caring and too nurturing, even when all I wanted was for someone to scream at me. Someone to yell, to tell me this was all my fault just so I could have someone to blame.

It is too hard to blame Alexia because I love her too much.

It is too hard to blame Alexia because I have been grieving her like she is dead. You do not blame a dead person for dying.

I want to be punished, to be screamed at. I want someone to tell me that I should be like this, to tell me that this is all my fault. I want someone to watch as I cry, to allow me to just release every single thing that is inside of me so I can stop feeling like this.

Stop feeling the sadness, stop feeling the hurt, stop feeling the anger, the loneliness, the isolation.

Stop feeling at all.

Because it all hurts so much, feeling hurts me so much and I want to stop hurting. I want to be safe, comfortable. I want to be loved, to be warm.

I want to be held in Alexia's arms like she used to.

Her hand combing through the knots in my hair, allowing me to fall asleep in her lap.

They were the times I felt most comfortable, right there on the couch, in her arms.

Because she was the sister I went to when I needed comfort, when I needed to cry about all of life's problems. To be frustrated, angry. When I didn't want to be cheered up, when I didn't want to be positive.

To just be miserable.

But it was hard to be miserable when I was consumed by her smell, her touch. The love I could only find in my sister.

And I wish I could get that same comfort from Alba. From Aitana or from Mapi. From anyone that was willing to give it to me.

But I don't think it is that simple.

"I just... I can't do it any more."

Aitana frowns, as if debating inside her what to do.

"What do you need, Lena?"

Her voice cracks. She doesn't know what to do anymore. Similar to how Mapi didn't know what to do with me.

All I need is Alexia, her love and affection. But it is one of the only things I can't get.

So I don't respond, because I can't give her the answer that I want, but there is nothing else that will suffice.

"I don't know why I asked that question. You want Alexia, no?"

I look out the window as I nod.

"Of course I want Alexia!" A tear falls from my eye, although my words do not sound sad, they sound angry.

Because I feel angry, with everything.

But I also feel everything, every emotion giving me whiplash as I finally feel myself breaking.

Aitana hesitates, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, Elena, look at me."

I don't turn my head immediately, first trying to shrug her hand off my shoulder but giving up when her grip stays firm, her hand not even budging.

A strangled cry leaves my mouth and I slowly turn my head, my eyes meeting her wet ones.

"What is wrong with me?"

We are in a car, so it is difficult for Aitana to hug me, but she tries her best, reaching over the centre console and wrapping her arms around my trembling body.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Elena. You are going through such a hard thing, but there is nothing wrong with you."

"Why does she hate me so much?"

I whisper through my tears, but Aitana hears me loud and clear.

"She doesn't hate you, not at all. She loves you so much but sometimes it is just hard for her to show it."

"It shouldn't be so hard, it never used to be like this."

~~~~~~

August 23, 2012.

Papi's office door has been closed for too long.

A few months ago, Mami told me that he had died, that he was never coming home. I didn't believe her, so I sat by his locked door, waiting for him to come home and play the piano with me.

But he never did.

Things changed a lot around the house too. Mami started working more and Alexia also started playing more football. Often, it was Alba and me alone at home.

I would sit by the office door, Alba would lie on the sofa, staring at the tv. I don't think she was really paying attention to what was happening because, like Ale and Mami, Alba has not really been doing much at all since Papi left.

But now he has been gone for ages. A long time.

A time that has been so long that I find myself believing Mami. Papi will never come back from heaven.

They say that heaven is a good place, where everyone is happy and everyone gets what they want.

But Papi is in heaven without me. Does that mean he is happy without me? He doesn't want me any more?

The thought crosses my mind over and over, day after day. But I do not tell Mami, because she misses Papi too. I don't want her to think that Papi doesn't want her anymore.

Because why else would he stay there without us.

Alexia cries when I tell her my suspicions. I am sat in the back of her car as she drives me to her training after kindergarten, but she pulls over when the words spill out during my long ramble about my day.

I had been telling her all about the arts and crafts that we had been doing, what I ate for lunch and how I couldn't sleep at nap time. She asked me why, and I told her that it was because my brain was moving too much and I couldn't get the wriggly creatures out and get to sleep.

"What were you thinking about that was so wriggly, pequena?"

She had glanced at me through the rear view mirror, so I could see her frown. I saw it deepen as I explained the reason and watched her indicate and pull over to the side of the road.

She was quick to get into the back seat with me, easily pulling me into her arms and allowing her fat tear drops to fall onto my head.

"That is not true, Elena. Heaven is not a place people want to go to. They only go when they have no choice. Because if Papi had the choice, he would be at home with us. At home where he belongs, teaching you to play the piano, giving you cuddles and kisses, giving you baths, feeding you dinner, singing you to sleep. He is not happy without us, without you, but he is always up there, watching us and making sure we are all happy, making sure that we are all ok."

That was the moment that I realised what death meant, and that was the moment that I started to cry.

"Papi is gone forever? He can not come home, Mami said. But why, Alexia? Why can't he come home?"

Her arms tightened around me and she exhaled quietly before speaking.

"He was sick, p, very sick. His body couldn't handle the sickness and one day it stopped working. You can't live without a working body, so he went to heaven. He died, Elena, and we can't do anything to bring him back."

I didn't have a response for that. All I could do was cry, sobbing into my sisters arms in the back seat of her car on the side of the main road.

Her keys were still in the ignition, the engine still running as my body wracked with sobs, apparently contagious as Alexia dissolved into quieter cries into my hair.

I think I fell asleep there, because the next thing I knew, Alexia was carrying me into the house.

My eyes stung and my face felt dry, but as soon as we walked inside the house, I knew where Ale was taking me.

The chestnut door had not been unlocked in months, but I remember that the key was kept in the top draw of the shelf in the lounge. I couldn't reach the draw, but I grabbed the key as soon as it was in Alexia's hand, reaching down from where I was balanced on her hip as she walked silently down the hallway.

I could feel her breath catch when the door opened and my own stomach filled with butterflies as she sat down on the piano stall, sitting me right in her lap.

"Do you want to play your song?"

I shook my head. It didn't feel right playing without Papi beside me. His study felt haunted, almost, like he should be right behind me, ready to scoop me us and cover me in kisses once I finished my song.

But deep inside of me I knew he would not be there, yet it would be impossible to prepare myself for the disappointment that I would feel when he wasn't there.

So I curled up into my older sister who easily wrapped her arms around my trembling form, planting a soft kiss on my hair.

"Papi loves you so much, Elena. So, so much. He will always be up there looking out for you and I will help him out by being the one to look after you down here. I will always love every bit of you because you are my best friend, pequena."

I had nodded, responding meekly.

"You are my best friend too, Ale. I love you as well."

I fell asleep in her lap again, but the next time I woke up, it was beside her in her bed.

And I was comfortable, because my sister means everything to me.

She is the person who will be there for me forever.

~~~~~~

I was angry for the next few weeks, despondent when Mapi or Aitana tried to get anything out of me.

But they had gone over me and decided that even though I didn't want to, they would call Alba to at least let her know that I wasn't ok.

I had listened to them on speaker phone to each other from the other room, although I didn't want anyone to realise how much I actually cared. How nervous I was of rejection, of Alba not caring.

But to say she cared was an understatement.

"What do you mean, 'she's not doing well?'" Alba's voice was frustrated, that much was clear. "Is it because of Alexia? The pressure in the first team? She promised she would tell me if she needed me."

It was Mapi who responded, knowing Alba better than Aitana.

"It's everything, Alba. It is obvious when you see it, so we've been looking after her for the past two months."

"Why didn't you call me earlier? I would have been there immediately!"

She was frustrated by them, but I dread her reaction when she is told why they didn't call her earlier. Because it, like many problems in my life, is all my fault, a decision that I made. A decision that Mapi and Aitana did not agree with.

But when Aitana responded, she did not say what I expected her to.

"We didn't realise how bad it was. But she does need you, Alba, please come at some point."

"I am in the car, driving now. Where are you?"

She was clearly annoyed, her voice was very telling.

"We are at mine." Mapi's voice was soft, and I could hear her sigh as Alba hung up.

I sat back down quickly as they returned to the lounge room, not noticing Ingrid's eyes on me from where she was in the kitchen.

"Alba is coming now." Mapi spoke softly, sitting down on the sofa, leaving a large distance between us.

"I am going to go home now." I looked at Aitana as she spoke and nodded. She waved to Mapi and Ingrid, grabbing her bag and heading out.

Alba arrived not long after, practically storming inside, concern etched into her frown.

"Elena." She gasped softly, sitting herself down right beside me and wrapping one arm around me.

"Elena, what has happened?"

I shrug nonchalantly, not volunteering any information. I watched as Mapi cowered under Alba's strong glance, apparently not sure what she should say.

Ingrid was calm as she entered, however, placing a cup of coffee in front of Alba and then her girlfriend.

"Elena has been staying here for a while, some nights she's been with Aitana."

"Have you been sleeping? You look tired. You are also pale, Elena. Why didn't you tell me? Even if Maria and Aitana didn't think it was necessary, why didn't you say something when we were on the phone?"

Alba studies me closely, stress evident in her voice.

It reinforces my decision to not tell her anything until I am ok again, because now she will be everywhere.

I can't live with her because she lives far from the training ground and doesn't have the time to take me to training, but she will be everywhere else.

There is another uncomfortable silence, broken again by Ingrid.

"She didn't want to be a burden on you. She kept saying how you have your own life and you shouldn't have to look after her."

Alba just shakes her head, her arm securing around my waist and facing me more directly.

"You were wrong, Elena! I am your older sister. Just because Ale and you are not getting on does not mean you ice me out as well."

My face remains blank as she reprimands me, barely registering her words.

"Are you even listening to me? Elena! Please, just let me in."

Her voice breaks and Ingrid looks at Mapi, nodding out of the room. They exit and Alba seems glad to have some privacy.

"Why have you not been staying with Mami?"

"Not my choice."

I am embarrassed about how weak my voice is, but I can't muster any more strength.

All of my strength is used up at training, ensuring I am improving, proving my worth. I have to be good enough to stay there.

It is when I get home that things fall apart, so tired, so emotional. It is easier to be emotionless than emotional.

"Was it lonely at home, when Mami was working?"

I nod.

"And when did you start staying with Maria and Aitana?"

I shrug.

"Couple months ago. Soon after the first game. I told Mapi that I felt confused and lonely so she said I would stay with her."

Alba nods, frowning softly. When she speaks again, her voice is soft.

"I wish you would have told me. I am sorry for not noticing. It's still bad with Ale?"

I can't blame her for not knowing, she said months ago that she was going to stay out of our drama.

"We barely look at each other. It hurts, everything... hurts."

I don't cry because I don't think there are any tears left in me.

"And I don't know what to do because she was always the one I went to when I was feeling confused or when I needed things to make sense. You would cheer me up, but she would clear things up."

She nods, looking at me intently, clearly listening.

"And now I can't talk to her and nothing makes sense anymore. I don't understand anything and I just feel so... full. Like I could just burst at any moment but I'm not going to because I don't think I would deal with that very well. And I can't sleep at night because my thoughts won't stop. It's like as soon as I rest my head on the pillow they just start going and I can't stop them and I can't clear them out because-"

She interrupts me.

"Because Alexia was the one who used to get rid of the wriggly thoughts, no?"

I nod and lean my head on her shoulder.

"Have you played the piano much in the past few weeks?"

She knows that it was my way of releasing my emotions.

I haven't, so I shake my head.

"We will change that, ok? I am going to take you home for the afternoon and we'll get some of your clothes, some things you want from home because I do think it is good that you are here with Ingrid and Mapi. And you can play your piano. It'll make you feel better, I'm sure."

I nod, standing up from the sofa and walking out onto the balcony to where Ingrid and Mapi are waiting.

"Alba is taking me home." I probably should have given some more explanation, because Mapi seems confused.

"Her house is too far from here, you can't stay there, Elena."

I nod.

"She's not taking me to hers, she's taking me to my house for the afternoon. I want to play my piano and I need some of my own stuff anyway."

The Spaniard seems to understand. She nods, standing up and pulling me into a hug.

"Call me if you need anything at all."

I nod, rolling my eyes in amusement. She is too good to me. I tap her head when she releases me from the hug and she laughs, moving to sit back down with Ingrid.

"You haven't used it because it's not great, but you can use my keyboard in the study whenever you want."

"Thanks, Ingrid."

~~~~~~

It was weird walking into my bedroom after such a long time not being here. Alba helped me pack clothes into suitcases, telling me over and over that this was all ok, that everything would be ok.

I think she was mainly trying to reassure herself; Alba has always been most effected by anything that breaks our once strong family unity.

But I am only 15. Almost 16 now, but I shouldn't be by myself every night.

Because they were right, I wasn't feeding myself, I wasn't taking care of myself. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy.

And I will never forget the kindness that both Mapi and Aitana have shown me, stepping in like sisters when Alexia wasn't there like she should have been.

I think about them as I play my piano, my fingers easily falling back into rhythms that are like second nature.

I feel my tense body relaxing as the song flows on, transitioning between fast and slow, loud and soft. My head spins with thought, but the tears do not fall.

Despite the emotions raging inside of me, my face remains stoic, focused only on the intricate patterns my fingers are creating as they hit the keys so hard that there is a slight ache in my hands. My song is full of my emotions, yet it feels like they barely skim the surface of the raging ocean inside of me.

The ocean that keeps producing waves that crash and fall at any chance they can get, usually quelled by the piano, by the rhythms that hold the meanings and secrets of my life. The notes that have written who I am and what I stand for.

But today they do not stop, they barely even slow down and the lack of the release I am hungry for leaves me unsatisfied. The song doesn't explode as usual, instead slowing down to a anticlimactic ending, my hands recoiling from the keys as I frown down at my hands.

Because why is this happening?

The piano is supposed to make me feel better, but all it has done is make me feel more confused, more worried about everything happening outside.

And I feel betrayed. Betrayed by the piano, but betrayed by my father.

Because the piano connects me to him, and I always thought that as long as I could play the piano, he would be there watching me, guiding me. My connection with him is why the piano means so much to me; it is why I can release everything into the music and calm whatever negativity I may be feeling.

But today it feels like he is not here. And as my eyes rest on the picture above the piano, all I feel is disappointment.

Alexia told me that he would be there to watch me from above and she would be there to love me from where she would always be right next to me.

And I knew that if I had them everything would be ok.

But now... Now I have neither and my whole world is going to slowly fall apart. Piece by piece until there is nothing left but me and those stupid emotions that I can't stop thinking about.

The stupid emotions that I have begun to detest.

The stupid emotions that have ruined my life.

Apparently, I have a never ending supply of tears, because they begin to fall again, my arm slamming on the keys with a sob.

I always thought I would have my father there in my piano, that I could rely on the simple instrument for that love that I so deeply desired. And he has never once failed me. Not when I needed him, not when I wanted him. He was even there when I just wanted to play, to learn, to perform.

But right now, when I need him the most, he decides he won't be there.

And it must be my fault.

For the first time in months, I feel completely empty, void of any of the emotions that have consumed me for so long.

The air becomes blurry as I cry, my mind hazy and my senses obscured.

I don't know what is happening to me, but I can feel myself slipping away as my senses disintegrate into nothing.

I think I have broken myself. Because everything is all so confusing, things rushing through my mind and out so quickly that it feels like everything is falling out of me.

Maybe the tsunami wave has grown big enough that it is ready to crash. Maybe it is already crashing, washing away everything in it's path.

But I don't know if I dislike it, because for the first time in a long time, I feel peace. I don't feel so confused anymore because there is nothing left to be confused about.

It is just me, none of those emotions that sent me into constant overdrive, exhausting me but simultaneously preventing me from resting.

None of the emotions that I used to feel coming back to haunt me, no memories of what my life once was there to mock me, a heartbreaking illustration of everything I have lost.

It's all gone.

Everything has slipped away from me and I am finally calm.

It's just me, my piano and my tears.

So I close my eyes softly, my body folding over onto the piano as my sobs soften to quiet cries. A broken chord rings through my room as my head falls onto the keys and I allow myself to just sit there.

Just me, my piano and my tears.

My door opens, but I can't hear the voices that enter my room, or the footsteps that move towards me.

I don't register the bodies that sit on either side of me on the piano stall, or the worried words that escape from their mouths.

It all sounds like a distant murmur. My skin is numb to any contact.

I don't even register Alba grabbing my face and lifting it to stare into my tear-filled eyes. I don't register the soft slap she leaves on it and there is no way for me to notice the terror that is painted all over her face, even evident in her posture.

But another pair of arms wraps around me and everything comes crashing down.

Because they are arms that I will never not recognise. A hold that is tight enough to comfort me, tight enough to make sure I can't escape, but not too tight to choke me or make me feel trapped.

I used to say that Alexia's arms had some sort of magical powers, their innate ability to calm me down and set me straight was an ability that nobody else possessed.

And Alexia was right there, right next to me. A tear stained face that likely matched mine, her voice shaky and worried as she whispered my name over and over again, her tears falling onto my head.

But Alexia was right there, and everything that she has done came flooding back to me, so quickly that I didn't even have time to register it before her touch burned me, my body instinctively recoiling and standing up.

"No..." my voice was a raspy whisper but could be heard loud and clear by both my sisters.

"No, Alexia. No!"

I stepped out of the hold that both the piano stool and my sisters had on me, backing up to where my bags were, picking them up and fleeing the room.

Because I can't deal with this.

I can't deal with the tears that stain Alexia's face, the terror that was clear on Alba's.

Because this all is my fault.

And there is nothing I can do at this point to fix everything I have ruined.

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed :)

part VII

[xxcallmemaryxx]

Could I have a HC of IV letting reader wear his jacket?

He’s a sweetie, his intentions are pure. But sometimes you make him a little bit evil. There’s nothing ten bucks can’t fix. :)

IV x GN reader

Under the cut ~ <3

“IV it’s gone I can’t find it-“

“It’s probably in the car, quick let’s go we’re already gonna be late.”

You guys stayed up late last night. IV had the guys over for dinner, they ended up staying back for some drinks and before you knew it, it was 1am. After a long night of hosting you both crawled into bed, dead to the world in mere moments, and didn’t set any alarms for the plans you’d made for the following day.

A text from ii is what woke IV up, something about traffic and it being best if you two took another route. Which is how you find yourself here. Rushing around the house like psychos trying to get ready as quickly as possible. Except your good jacket, which you had hung by the door especially to wear today, is gone. You can’t find it. And you have no idea where it is.

“IV, I’m gonna be so fucking cold if I don’t have it.”

“I’ll buy you a new one when we get there if I have to, just get your cute ass in the car.”

Spoiler: it wasn’t in the car.

And now you’re on your way to the meeting spot you agreed to meet everyone at, pretending that you’re not even bothered by the cold. Of course the gathering today had to be in a nice park, it’s lovely and it’s quiet. But there’s not one part of you that can enjoy it. You're already dreaming of a hot shower tonight.

“You’re a terrible liar, love.”

“IV, just drop it. I'm not in the mood.”

You frown at the ground. It’s damp and it chills your feet through your shoes. You can’t help but silently wish you didn’t come out at all today.

“One day you’ll realise you’re lucky to have me.”

You can’t even question him on his cryptic comments because your thoughts are immediately cut short. He’s draped something over your shoulders, you don’t even care to find out what it is because the only thing you can acknowledge is that it’s warm. The chill in the wind isn’t nipping at your skin anymore. It feels like you can suddenly breathe again. And when you do all you smell is him.

He’s given you his jacket.

Your head snaps to him. Worry immediately eating at your chest.

“Now you’re just going to be cold why did you-“

Oh.

He was wearing two jackets.

“You were wearing two?”

“Yeah. Thought it was going to be colder but I’m just a bit too warm. Was gonna take it off anyways. Lucky you, huh?”

“This whole time? What kind of evil are you?”

He’s smiling at you. He literally doesn’t care. Because you’re wearing his jacket and you look stunning in it.

“The kind of evil that always comes prepared. I remembered two jackets. You didn’t even remember one.”

You’re huffing and rolling your eyes and shaking your head at him, but you’re smiling. You feel much better now, and you feel so lucky to have him.

“Thank you. But in my defence I didn’t forget it, it’s gone from where I left it I don’t know what happened… I was sure I-“

“Don’t worry about it, love. The day is saved. Now go say hi to the girls. They’ve been dying to see you.”

“You’re an angel, IV. I don’t know what the fuck I’d do without you.”

“Freeze to death, apparently.”

He sends you off with a kiss to the top of your head and a swat to your backside. He watches you part ways for a moment, admiring you dressed up in his favourite jacket. It makes his heart swell and his cheeks warm. It empties his brain and fills it with the impurest thoughts imaginable at the same time.

He watches the girls welcome you into their circle, IIs there as well. He’s happy you get along with his friends. He’s happy they love you.

His ogling is interrupted by a clap to the back from III.

“We get it, mate.”

“Shove off, prick. You’re already on my hit list.”

He has the gall to chuckle.

“Mission success, then?”

“It won’t be if you don’t keep your fucking voice down.”

“Pay up, then.”

IV huffs with a roll of his eyes, but reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a tenner. Slaps it into IIIs palm and shakes his head.

“You couldn’t wait five minutes, could you?”

III can’t help the chuckle that escapes him, yet again.

“Pleasure doing business, sweetcheeks.”

He saunters off with a smile that screams trouble. Headed straight for you. IV watches him say his hellos to you, compliments your ‘new’ jacket with a sickening smile and seamlessly inserts himself into the conversation you were having with II.

He briefly overhears you asking the tall son of a bitch where he disappeared to last night. He makes up some excuse about forgetting to turn his stove top off. IV can’t help the scoff that escapes him. But he doesn’t have long to dwell on it.

“You actually had him do it?”

Vessel stands next to IV, watching you all cozied up in his jacket.

“I asked him to hide the jacket, fucker took it home with him completely, I have no idea how I’m getting it back.”

“You know he’s going to con you out of another tenner, right? He planned this.”

“Yeah well. I can’t say I’m surprised. Plan worked though.”

“You know, I’ve heard just asking your partner to share clothes works wonders.”

“Alright, enough out of you. Keep your mouth shut.”

Vessel can’t help but laugh at his friend, a big old sweetie pie on the outside with a little bit of something sinister on the inside. Even if it means he ends up with more work in the end.

Vessel claps IV on the shoulder and walks him over to the rest of the group. IV zeros in on you. Comes up behind you and pulls you into his side. You’re in his jacket. You smell like him. You’re surrounded by his friends and you’re glowing.

He’s a very happy man today.

He doesn’t leave your side the whole time. As if you wearing his clothes wasn’t enough, he just needed to keep a hand on you all day as well. You learnt a long time ago that IV gets into these moods, you’d compare him to a lost puppy during these times. He follows you around with hearts in his droopy eyes and a smile that could tell a million stories. He’s so soft and gentle, and listens to every word that slips from your lips. (Except for the ones that tell him to leave you alone.) (You do not need to pee with the door shut.) (You’d think you’d get that by now.)

Sometimes he can reel it in. Like today, surrounded by his friends. But you know just beneath the surface his urges are festering. Every little squeeze of your hand. Or kiss to the forehead. Or quick little cuddles when the wind picks up, are his ways of trying to dampen his own urges to whisk you away, take you back home and bury you both back in bed.

He thought he’d be able to handle seeing you with his name all over you all day. Guess not.

There’s one moment, while you’re out, III was hungry and Vessel wanted a coffee, so you decided to take the short walk to a nearby cafe just down from the park. You and IV hang back, slowly following along but far enough away to be in your own world for a little bit. His hand is intertwined tightly with yours and he’s pulled you so close your arms keep brushing.

“You look stunning, love.”

It’s said in a low murmur, like he wants it to be a secret. A secret that only he knows how good you look. Your nose and cheeks are slightly pink from the chill in the air, your lips are a little bit cracked and his jacket drowns you. But to him you’re just beautiful. The smile you give him almost sends him into cardiac arrest. He thinks if his heart beats any faster it’ll create enough energy to power your house.

He ponders Vessels words. Wonders how you’d feel if he just outright asked you to wear his clothes when you go out together. Or when you go out without him. Or when you’re home for the day. Or when you’re going to bed. He knows you’d say yes, but there’s something about you being so oblivious that gets him all excited. How you unknowingly just let him dress you. Thinking it was pure coincidence, and that you really are just so lucky to have him.

He might tell you one day. He knows he’ll cop a good amount of teasing from you, but until then he’ll settle for watching you feel so at home and safe with him all over you.

____

“What the fuck?”

“What’s wrong, Bub?”

“My jackets back there.”

IV quickly turns to see what you’re looking at. Mid way through tossing his jacket back there now that you’re back in the car, he follows your eyes to the backseat.

And there it is.

Bunched up on the floor like it was there the whole time.

“I must be blind or something, I swear it wasn’t there this morning. Fucking hell… all that and it was here the whole time…”

He turns back to the road and bites back an amused smile.

III might put him through strife sometimes, but he’s clearly not stupid. He makes a mental note to send him a text when you two are home.

Lucky bastard lives to see another day.

.

.

.

Thank you for reading. I love you guys.

[quitealotofsodapop]

"Uh, Monkey King?" MK asked, ducking as a rather expensive pensive looking cloth flew ive this head, "What are you doing?"

"Packing." Sun Wukong grunted, eyeing what appeared to be a ceremonial robe of sorts with a critical eye. MK felt apprehension build in him, remembering what happened the last time he found his master packing.

"Are you... going somewhere?" MK swallowed his anxiety, hoping beyond all hope the answer was no. The gods, however, did not grant his wish.

"Yeah." Wukong sighed, running his hand through his fur, "I got some business that requires me to be gone for about a week. I'll try to keep you updated."

"A week!?" MK parrots back in horror, "But what about my training!?"

Wukong paused, tail flicking, before turning back to MK as if shocked he'd even ask that.

"MK, after everything that happened, do you really think a short break in training would be that big of an impact!?" Wukong asked, legitimately confused by MK's worry, "'Sides, you knot definitely are far enough in your training some self-guided study would be a benefit. If you want i can give you some tasks to do while I'm gone, too."

"But where are you going!?" MK asked, "And don't lie about going on vacation like you did with the whole Lady Bone Demon thing! Wait... is this like the lady Bone Demon? Are you having me behind again!?"

"Uh, no." Wukong grunted, pushing MK out of his face. "I just have some kingly duties to fulfill that require me to take a trip. I'm not going to be gone more than a week, maybe two at most. And Macaque is keeping an eye on the island so if anything happens, he can send a message to me."

MK froze at that, confusion written in his face. He tilted his head as he looked at the other monkey,

"Kingly duties? I thought being the Monkey King meant fighting bad guys and taking naps whenever you want!"

"No." Wukong chuckles, choosing to be amused by his apprentice' backwards comment than offended, "Being the Monkey Kid means fighting bad guys and saving the world. Being the Monkey King is a biiiit more complicated than that."

"...Say what now?"

"Alright, let's just say... I've been kinda keeping a lot of what goes into being my successor a secret." Wukong's paw came up to rub the back of his neck, "With so many major threats popping up all over the place, I'd focused entirely on your training as a warrior, but there's a side I haven't even began to touch. I wanted to make sure you were the best warrior you could be before either tried to add the ksot political and administrative side of being my heir into the fold."

"Politics!?" MK spat out incredulously, staring straight his mentor in disbelief.

"I am the Monkey King, MK. That means I have a whole kingdom to run." Wukong continued, "Any and all of the free time i get is dedicated to training you on top of that! The Counsel of the Great Demon Kings happens every hundred years or so. I hadn't gone to the last four, but since I've made a public reappearance, and with an apprentice at that, I'm expected to go and can't wiggle out of it this time! Believe me, I've tried."

"So like... Are you just up and leaving without me?" MK now looked heartbroken, putting all the puppy dog eyes on full blast, "You promised not to leave me again though!"

Wukong groaned, catching on to what MK was trying to do.

"Kid... you don't want to come with me. It's not going to be fun or exciting at all. You'll be forced to wear uncomfortable ceremonial robes that weigh a ton and have to be quiet and well-behaved." Wukong explained, trying to dissuade MK from his train of thought, "And everyone there is mean! They are dying to sniff out a scandal or two to take advantage of!"

"So? You said yourself you neglected to teach me how to handle politics. This is the perfect opportunity to start!" MK grinned, "I'm sure Tang can lend me one of his robes too."

"First of all, you will NEVER go to one of these events with a stuffy old scholar's robe. I'd lend you one of mine if that EVER happened." Wukong pointed out, eye twitching, "Second, NO! This is a final test sort of deal, NOT a tutorial type of thing!"

hehe! We discussed in the dms about poor Wukong having to attend a political summit for demon kings, and MK getting "homework" for the week.

Pigsy is approving of the homework idea. He's raised MK long enough to know his son needs goals to fulfil or he starts getting into trouble.

[doumadono]

emergency request!

ive been having these just horrible nightmares the past month. i wake up around 6 times a night cause of them, and cant take any supplements like melatonin cause of health issues right now. its horrible. i wake up shaking and in tears. im getting horrible sleep. i keep having the nightmares of dying, being kidnapped, or my mother passing. are you able to write an izuku x f!reader with him comforting reader, please?

sorry if this is too specific. 🫶

In safe arms - Izuku Midoriya x Reader

A/N: nightmares can be incredibly distressing and exhausting. Try some relaxation techniques before bed, like deep breathing exercises, soothing music, or a calming bedtime routine. You are stronger than your fears, and you will get through this!

EMERGENCY REQS - PART 2

You wake up again, drenched in cold sweat, your heart racing and your breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. The images from the nightmare are still vivid in your mind - flashes of dark alleys, sinister faces, and the gut-wrenching fear of losing someone you love. You can feel the tears streaming down your face, and all you want is to feel safe, to feel like everything is going to be okay.

Beside you, Izuku stirs. He must have sensed your distress even in his sleep. His emerald eyes flutter open, and he immediately reaches out to you. "Hey, are you okay, love?" His voice is soft and full of concern, a stark contrast to the terror that had just gripped you.

You shake your head, unable to form words through the sobs.

Izuku sits up and wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. "It's okay," he whispers, his hand gently rubbing your back. "I'm here. You're safe."

His presence is like a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You cling to him, burying your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I... I had another nightmare," you manage to choke out.

Izuku's grip tightens, and he places a gentle kiss on the top of your head. "I'm so sorry you're going through this," he says. "I wish I could take all your fears away."

You look up at him, his green eyes filled with such genuine worry and love that it makes your heart ache. "I just... I keep dreaming about dying or being kidnapped. And sometimes, it's about mom... It's always so real."

Izuku nods, understanding the depth of your fear. "Nightmares can feel incredibly real, but I promise you, they’re not. They're just your mind playing tricks on you." He strokes your hair, his touch calming. "You're here with me, and I won’t let anything happen to you."

"What if I can't get rid of them?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

"We'll work through this together," Izuku assures you. "Maybe we can try some relaxation techniques before bed, like deep breathing or listening to calming music. And if it gets too much, we can talk to someone who might be able to help more."

You nod, feeling a bit more hopeful. "That sounds like a good idea."

Izuku smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always makes you feel a little better. "For now, let’s just focus on calming down." He shifts, reaching over to turn on the small bedside lamp, casting a soft, warm glow around the room. "Wait here for a moment."

You watch as he gets up and heads out of the room.

Moments later, he returns with a glass of water. "Here, drink this. It might help you feel a little better," he says, handing it to you with a reassuring smile.

You take the glass, sipping the cool water, and it does help to steady your nerves. "Thank you, Izuku."

"Of course, my baby" he replies, sitting back down beside you. "How about I read to you for a bit? Something light and happy."

You manage a small smile at his suggestion. "I'd like that."

Izuku grabs a book from the nightstand - a collection of feel-good poems that you both enjoy. He starts reading, his voice steady and soothing, lulling you into a state of relaxation.

As he reads, you find your body gradually unwinding, the remnants of the nightmare fading away like shadows in the morning light.

You don’t know when you fall asleep again, but the next thing you’re aware of is the gentle touch of Izuku’s hand, still holding yours, and the sound of his steady breathing. You feel safe, wrapped in his warmth, and for the first time in what feels like forever, the nightmares don't return.

You wake up to the first light of dawn filtering through the curtains, feeling more rested than you have in weeks.

Izuku has his arm wrapped around your waist from behind. "Good morning," he whispers into your ear, noticing you're awake. His smile is soft and loving.

"Good morning," you reply, squeezing his hand. "Thank you, Izuku."

"Always," he says, pulling you close for a tender kiss. "I'll always be here for you."

[stevie-petey]

ive been feeling a little stug deprived but i cannot for the life of me think of a blurb idea so,, hit me with a blurb you've been wishing to write about stug :3

anon u also stumped me like i KNOW i have blurbs ive been dying to be asked about but suddenly my mind is blank ,,,, pls take this silly thing my brain managed to concoct

enjoy !

"one more loop around the block before i take you home?" steves voice rasps out, husky from lack of use. neither of you have spoke much as he drives the two of you around hawkins. its been at least an hour now; music plays softly throughout the car and the windows are rolled down to let in the early june nights cool breeze.

you lean your head against the passenger seat and listen to freddie mercurys smooth voice as he plays over the speakers. hes become one of your favorite artists thanks to steve. "i dont want to go home just yet."

steve grins, he knew youd say this, and you smile at the knowledge that he knows you so well.

his fingers are wrapped lazily around the steering wheel as he takes a slow turn back towards downtown hawkins. you watch his movements, illuminated by the lamp posts that spill light onto the otherwise dark wooded street. its late, the first monday of june and the last day of your junior year.

it had been steves last day of high school, and all he had wanted to do was spend it with you in his car, driving in circles around your small town.

you close your eyes and allow the moment to seep into your bones. youre in steve harringtons car, there are crickets outside as he drives you around the town the two of you met and grew up in, and youre in the car with the boy that you love and you know that he loves you, too.

"you still with me, angel?"

you hum. "im still here, honey."

"your eyes are closed."

"im enjoying the moment," your eyes remain closed and yet you can feel the smile that steve flashes your way. you can hear it in his voice, you can feel the shift in the air.

the car slows down at one of hawkins only stop lights. steve looks over at you and feels a heavy wave of affection roll over him. youre curled into yourself in the passenger seat, your hair spills over the headrest as you close your eyes, and its rare that he gets to see you so relaxed. "i can take you home if youre tired."

"but i love driving around with you," you mumble, feeling sleep beginning to crawl over you. but steves car is warm and smells like home. "one more loop, please?"

again steve feels affection caress his face when he hears your words. youve only curled further into yourself and your eyes are still closed; steve knows you really are struggling to stay away now. its late, he knows he should get you home soon so you can sleep, yet steve cant bring himself to deny your request.

"one more loop, but then im taking you to bed."

you giggle, happy youve won, but you try to argue some more anyways. no one else has ever been able to match your wit, so you revel in the quips you share with steve. "fine, its the first day of summer. dont be such a grandpa."

steve laughs, his voice is still husky and you can feel it drape over your tired body. "angel, weve got all summer to drive around this stupid town."

weve got all summer.

"promise?"

more crickets chirp and the car begins to drive once more, the stoplight now green. freddie mercury sings about the love of his life and how he doesnt want her to hurt him. your question of a promise joins alongside his pleads, and steve understands.

"i promise." he reaches for your hand and you feel his soft lips press against your palm. hes slow with the kiss, as if hes sealing his promise with it, and your body fizzes at the touch. "now lets get you home."

you bring the hand that hes holding to your face and nuzzle against it, too tired to respond with words. you simply nod your head and keep his hand there as a content sigh escapes you. steve has to bite his lip, scared he'll say the three words that terrify him.

youre everything.

youre his everything.

but steve has all summer to tell you this.

so instead he drives you home, taking the long way just so his hand can rest against the dip of your cheek for an extra few minutes.

[kining-the-evil]

Heyy I was wondering if you would write up some good ole' Greg house angst? His gf didn't make it through her surgery kinda stuff. Make it as heart breaking as possible >:)

Lova ya work ! :D

Whatever You Think Is Best

//Summary// Greg makes a call, but was it the right one?

//Warnings// Reader is dying, being extremely sick, hospitals, brain surgery, death, feelings of guilt

//an// thank you so much anon! I’m glad you like my writing!

House md Taglist: @tuttifuckinfruttifriday

House md Masterlist All masterlists

The first time he met you, Greg decided immediately that you were just like every other person in the world. Completely miserable, but pretending to be kind to everybody. When you started showing up more and more, he considered it a fluke that would fix itself. He’d say something insensitive, and your storm out with plans to never see him again. But you didn’t. You kept coming back, making him actually talk instead of just insulting each other and forcing him to be more, human. At one point, he almost thought fate existed. There was no way someone like you could just accidentally themselves onto his lap. But you were there, holding him up in the best way you knew how during hard points in his life. He didn’t think he’d have to try and repay the favor.

“Good morning,” You greeted as Greg walked into the kitchen. You set the dishes you’d been cleaning down to walk over and greet him, but he frozen when you kissed his cheek.

“What did you just say?”

You pulled back, a slight frown on your face. “Good morning?”

He looked down at his watch before glancing back at you. “It’s 4:55. Pm.”

No, that couldn’t be right. You’d gotten up, made breakfast, started cleaning… then what? Your mind seemed to not be sure.

“You’ve also already said that to me, this morning. You did exactly what you just did…” Greg passed you to glance in the sink. “And you were washing the same plate. Let me see your hands.”

You held them out, and the moment they touched them it felt like they had been set on fire. That’s when you realized that they were bright red with blotches of white, bleeding in multiple places.

“Wha- I didn’t, I didn’t even notice.” You hissed slightly at his touch, pulling them back. Now that you could feel the pain, it was awful.

“We need to get to a doctors.”

————————

One week. 7 whole days. That was how long you’d been in the hospital, and Greg was getting impatient. When he checked you in you were frazzled and had second degree burns from the hot water running on them all day, but now he wished that all it was.

You were having episodes of memory loss and confusion, Extrems head aches, vision that went back and forth with being blurry, and your vitals were getting worse and worse. You were dying and he had no idea why.

“Nothing,” Wilson sighed, allowing Greg to snatch the test from his hands. He had forced his friend to test for any possible cancer, even if it didn’t fit your symptoms.

“It can be ‘nothing’” he snapped. “ ‘nothing’ doesn’t kill you!” Before Wilson could think of a response both of their pagers went off, once again dragging them to your room.

“Don’t touch me!” You yelled at Chase while messing with the I.V in your arm.

“What happened?” House questioned, seeing you through the glass door.

“Another episode,” Forman mumbled. He and Chase had gone in to check your IV, and something set you off. “She doesn’t know where she is house, she wants to leave.”

Greg sighed, but walked into the room. When you saw him, you seemed to relax a bit. “Greg! What- what’s happening?” Your voice cracked a bit, and he walked forward to take your hand away from where your IV was.

“Don’t mess with that, you’ve just got to trust me.” He watched as your kind tried to catch up with what he was saying.

“I don’t-“

“House!” You both looked over to where Chase was still standing. “Look at her ear.”

Greg moved your head a bit, reaching up to touch the side of it. He pulled his hand back while you frowned at him. “What is it?”

“Blood, you’re bleeding from your ear.”

————————

“New symptom, bleeding from the ear. What could it be?” Greg write it down on the board that had far to many symptoms on it, in his opinion. After a moment of silence, he turned around to look at the group. “Hello? Am I Talking to anyone?”

“She needs a craniectomy,” Forman finally said. “The brain is swelling, would explain the bleeding and if something is pushing on the brain then it could be messing with her memory.”

“Yes, let’s take off a portion of her skull on the scientific explanation of ‘could.’” He mocked, making a face at Foreman.

“He’s right,” Cameron spoke up. “Any other patient and you would Have agreed.”

Greg took a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. He knew fully well they were right, that if the swelling didn’t go down then their wouldn’t be anything to diagnose.

“Fine, get the forms signed and an OR booked.”

—————

“You want to remove a part of my skull?” You asked the three doctors. Your legs were tucked under you, your right hand handcuffed to the bed, just incase you go off again.

“Just to get the swelling down, then we will put it back.” Forman explained. “All three of us will be in the OR during the surgery, but it is a dangerous surgery. You could, like with any surgery, bleed out while it’s happening. But you could also get an infection in the brain, and given how weak your immune system is right now, that could be bad.”

You glance at each of them, unsure of what to say. “What-what does Greg think?” You finally ask.

“He, agrees this is the next logical step,” Chase said.

“Then I’ll do it,” you quickly decide. “He’s the one in charge of medical decisions if I’m unable to make them, so if he thinks I should then I will.”

“Are you sure-“

“Sign here,” Chase cut Cameron off, handing over the forms. “And we will get an OR prepped.”

You took the paper, quickly signing everything and handing it back. “Could you call Greg for me?”

“Of course,” Forman gave you small smile before all three of them left.

While waiting you glanced down at the cuff keeping you in the bed. Despite how hard you tried to not fight against it, the skin was still rubbed raw. It hurt, but was just another pain to add to the rest of them.

“You agreed to the surgery.” You glanced up to see Greg walking into the room. “With little encouragement.”

“They said you thought it was the right move,” you shrugged. “I don’t know anything about this stuff and I trust you.”

“Why Are You so calm about this?”

“I told you, if you think it’s the best idea, so I’ll do it.”

“No, that’s your reason to do it.” He corrected you. “Any sane person would be terrified to have a surgery like this.”

“Greg, there are moments where I have no idea what is happening or where I am. That’s what scares me. This… just doesn’t seem as bad.” He watches you like your an animal at the zoo, like he’s trying to decipher whatever is actually happening in your head.

“Ok.”

—————

Greg stood watching the surgery, eyes jumping between where you were being cut into and where your vitals were being monitored.

“It can’t be healthy to watch this,” Wilson spoke from beside his friend.

“Just checking on my patient.”

“She’s going to be fine.”

“I know,” Greg quickly snapped. He didn’t like this, the emotional connection to a patient. It’s easier to suggest things like this when you don’t love the patient.

A sudden movement caught his eyes, making him frown. Everyone in the room was rushing around, and when he looked at your vitals he found a flat line.

“Shit.” Greg moved as quickly as he could, even excepting Wilson’s help so that he could get there faster. Just as he opened to OR door, the word ‘clear’ was being shouted followed by a small shock.

“Get him out of here.” Chase pointed over at house, and a few people walked over to led him out.

“Get off me!” He snapped, trying to push towards you. It wasn’t until he hit one’s foot with his cane that he got through, grabbing the paddles from Chase.

“Clear,” a shock.

“Clear” another shock.

“Clear.” Another

“Cl-“

“House, Stop!” Forman attempted to grab the paddles, but Greg would let go. If he let go, it lent you would die.

“No,” he mumbled. His mind was going a million miles a second. “No, I can’t stop.” He was so in his mind that he didn’t notice Wilson behind him until he was being dragged out of the room.

“Don’t,” Wilson snapped after shoving Greg onto a seat outside of the OR and saw him try to get back up.

“I’m not just letting her die!” Greg yelled, but Wilson just stood there, making sure his friend wouldn’t try and run back in. Luckily, it was only around 20 minutes before Cameron came out.

“She’s on Life Support, but is brain dead,” she explained. “Cuddy said half an hour before they pull the plug. So you can say good bye.”

“No point,” Greg spoke. “She can’t hear me. She’s already dead.”

“God damn it, just go do it,” Wilson snapped. “I’m going to, she was my friend. And you need to, or you’ll regret it.”

Although telling anyone who would listen that it didn’t matter, he waited outside of the room you were in. He watched as multiple people walked in to say final goodbyes, waiting until he was the only person left. He had five minutes.

Greg knew what it looked like when a person was hooked up to something like this, but seeing you like that felt wrong. A tube down your throat, multiple needles in your body, all meant to keep you alive for a little longer. He wanted to walk out, but with Wilson’s words echoing in his head he didn’t. Instead, he walked closer to the bed.

Slowly, he reached a hand out to touch your face lightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I should have figured it out, you shouldn’t be here. It’s my fault.” He felt tears burning his eyes, and as bad as he wanted to hold them back, he just couldn’t. “I’m so sorry.”

He just stood there, letting tears fall while rubbing your face. It was cold, to cold. Only a week ago you’d been your normal, smiling self, and now you were here. All because he couldn’t solve the puzzle. A hand came to rest on his shoulder that he immediately recognized as Cuddy.

“It’s time. You may want to step out.”

He made no move to leave, and When Cuddy realized he wouldn’t she just nodded. He wouldn’t look at anything else but your face as the sound of the machines being turned off or the sound of you flatlining. Your chest stoped moving.

“Time of death, 11:45 pm.” Cuddy’s voice spoke. With a nod Greg leaned down, planting a kiss on your forehead and whispering a final apology.

—————

Fungal infection. The autopsy showed you had a simple fungal infection in the spinal cord, which had caused everything. The swelling in the brain was caused by the meds they had given you. A round of anti-fungal would have saved you. If they had figured it out, you would have been fine.

[cleoluvrr]

Smarty IV (Rafe Cameron x OC)

SYNOPSIS: smart girl isn’t as smart as rafe cameron.

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, toxic relationship, domestic violence, verbal abuse, blackmail, jealousy, general violence, manipulative behavior, explicit language, substance abuse & addiction, use of guns, mentions of past crimes, obsession

series masterlist

masterlist

“i wish you could just give me one day, laia…” rafe sighed loudly into to the empty space in front of him, fingers tensing around the steering wheel before dropping to his lap. “just one day where you aren’t being a total bitch.”

a scoff escaped my throat, the sound coupled with a roll of my eyes. it took everything to bite my tongue, memories of the last time i called him a bitch reason enough to do so. 

“because i didn’t want you talking to the bitch–the girl, you were fucking while i was away?” i corrected myself immediately. it was out of character to call other women such derogatory names, but the word flowed so easily off my tongue. “the one that we just argued about a few days ago?” 

“jesus christ, all she did was say ‘hi’! she was working!” 

“she could have been lying on the floor dying of anaphylactic shock, rafe. i don’t give a fuck.” i shoved the car door open and jumped out before turning back to face him. “i told you not to talk to her.”

slamming the door shut, i left my boyfriend in the truck by himself as i trudged down the dock to where he keeps his boat. the sky was a clear blue and the sun was beaming down onto the earth, the warm yellow light leaving a sheen of sweat on my skin that was only amplified by the humidity. it was a beautiful day, calm waves and a stunning horizon in the distance gracing the view of onlookers surrounding the dock, but i couldn’t begin to appreciate it.

i tried giving rafe the silent treatment after finding out about his indecent activities, but he was never one to let that go on for very long. 

after the fourth day of avoiding all contact with him, he made an appearance at my front door with little patience for my attitude. he gave no room to argue when he told me to get dressed and dragged me out to his car a few minutes later. i didn’t fight back because i knew it would make no difference.

he took us to the island club, and that girl happened to be working today. i’ve never been one to be jealous of rafe talking to other girls, but the fact that she got to fuck him before i did enraged me beyond comprehension. the scoff of annoyance that left my body as she greeted the two of us was out of my control. i didn’t notice that i had been mean-mugging here until rafe told me to ‘fix my face’ when she walked away.

the entire car ride after our lunch together was filled with a tense silence; one that remained until we arrived at the dock and was broken by him. 

“i don’t wanna argue with you, laia. i was just being nice.” rafe tried to hold a hand out for me to board the boat, but i paid it no mind. hopping over the gap between the ledge of the yacht and the water, i made my way to the front with my boyfriend dragging his feet behind me.

“i gave you four days of peace, rafe.” my eyes cut him with the sharpness of the hunting knives he keeps in his basement. raising a finger, i point it directly into his broad chest. “you insisted on coming to bother me knowing that i’m mad at you. on top of that, you took me to the place that girl works! so no, you don't get to complain about me being a bitch.”

i take a seat on the right side of the steering wheel, eyes trained on the water in front of us. the blonde sighs loudly, the bass of it filled with frustration. 

we remained silent for an amount of time that i’m sure was longer than necessary, but i refused to be the first to break it. rafe stops the boat a couple nautical miles away from where we were originally, the dark blue water surrounding all sides of us.

“baby?” rafe locks the wheel in place before take a seat next to me. i feel his eyes burning into my figure, gazing hotter than the summer sun beaming down onto us.

“yes, rafe?” the answer to his call was released with a tired sigh. i was genuinely upset about what happened, and hearing him talk was beginning to give me a headache. 

my boyfriend takes a seat next to me, reaching over to pull me closer. he ignores my protests as he sits me on his lap and wraps his arms around my waist snugly, resting his chin on my shoulder.

“you know i love you, right?” the vibrations of rafe’s chest traveled through my back as he spoke. “i didn’t mean to make you upset. i haven’t thought about her in forever, i really was just being polite…”

it took everything in me not to roll my eyes. 

he just told a blatant lie, right to my face.  if he hadn’t thought about her in forever, why did she text him just a few days ago? if they hadn’t been in contact recently, then she wouldn’t have thought they were still on speaking terms. on top of that, there was no reason for him to speak to her–politeness be damned. he knew i was mad–and why i was mad–but chose to acknowledge her anyway.

it was a habit of rafe’s to take me out on dates, buy expensive gifts, and sing praises about how much he loves me whenever i was upset with him. he thought i didn’t notice, but after all this time it was hard not to pick up on the pattern. there’s only so many times shopping sprees and worship will make someone forget why they were upset in the first place. 

“okay.” my voice was edged with irritation. i tried my best to disguise it with indifference, but there was nothing rafe didn’t notice when it came to me.

“okay?” i could feel him turn his head to look at me, the side of my face burning hot from his fiery gaze. 

“yes, okay, rafe.” the reply was snippier than i meant for it to be. “i love you, too–what do you want me to say?”

a puff of air escaped through his nose; a sign of his own temper flaring up. i could feel his arms flex against me for a second before settling in their natural state.

“well; i’d like it to sound like you mean it, first of all.” the sass in his voice was evident. “i’ve already apologized, like, forty times. it happened, laia–i’m sorry that i slept with her. i’m sorry that i acknowledged her existence today. what else do you want from me?”

“you slept with her, rafe!” i swiveled my own head to meet his eyes directly, the familiar sight matching the ocean below us in color. “you can apologize forty-thousand times–i don’t give a fuck! that is so…beyond…i don’t know what you want from me, either.”

throwing his arms off, i rose to my full height before turning to face him with folded arms.

he stood up as well, head towering far above mine. i stumbled forward from being pulled back into his body, a pair of strong hands gripping my hips keeping me in place. there was no point in trying to back away–it wouldn’t make any difference when he would just put me right back where i was.

it was obvious that he was really sorry, but it was also clear that he wasn’t too happy about me not accepting his apologies. usually, i would let things go just so we didn’t have to argue. this time was different–he didn’t like that.

“if i could go back in time and un-fuck her, i would.” the wet muscle of his tongue poked out from his plush lips before returning to its place. “but i can’t. we were on a break that you wanted! it’s in the past now, laia, alright? do you think picking fights and ignoring me is gonna change what happened?”

i blinked up at him slowly. mouth sewn shut, i wasn’t really sure how to respond to that.

he was right; picking fights wasn’t going to change anything. my anger was genuine, but it had dissipated over the days that i’d isolated myself from him. i was mostly trying to make a point on how he couldn’t get away with doing things that hurt me and then expect to shower me in praise to receive my forgiveness.

shrugging as a reply, i turned my head away from him to face the horizon. my head was snapped back in his direction by a set of fingers sinking into my jawline. rafe’s eyes held the same softness they alway did when they held me in their gaze, but his exasperation was clear as the sky above.

“you look at me when i’m talking to you. do you think that’s going to fix things?” my throat bobbed at the scolding, his stern voice covering my skin in goosebumps inappropriate for the warm temperature of the nature that surrounds us. shaking my head no silently, i give him my honest answer. “right, okay…so are you acting out for attention? what are you trying to do?”

i shrugged again. the blond chuckled from above, amused by my sudden loss of words.

“i’m trying to show you that you can't just…say you love me and expect me to let shit go.” i said. “you took it way too far this time, rafe.”

“okay, so you wanna break up?”

i furrowed my brows at him, head jerking back in surprise. the question caught me off guard. he looked down at me expectantly and watched my eyes open and shut rapidly as i blinked away the shock.

“i never said that.” my head shook in denial at the accusation. “if i wanted to leave you, i would have done it before any of this ever happened.”

“so if you don’t want to break up, what the fuck are you still mad for?” i wasn’t sure if he was genuinely confused or angry; most likely overcome with both feelings. “tell me what it’s gonna solve when i’ve already apologized and i stopped talking to her before you even came back from school because i knew that i wanted you, not her. it’s not gonna solve anything, right?”

i hate it when he makes points. it made me feel stupid whenever he called me out and happened to be right–like right now. there were no plans for me to leave him; if i wanted to then i would have done it a year ago before i left for school. obviously i wanted us to work out, i loved him. 

it was more of a point to make for myself than him. rafe gets away with most things, simply because i hate fighting with him. if it meant that things would go back to normal, i would let it go–even when it hurt me. i couldn’t let him just walk all over me anymore, that’s what i was trying to prove.

instead, it’s making me feel like i’m being difficult. 

it was embarrassing. it shouldn’t be, but i could feel my skin heat up from the emotion washing over me in a thick layer that overpowered the sun above.

rafe took my slice as agreeance and nodded his head in understanding. bringing his face closer, i could feel his nose brush against mine, the gesture leaving a ticklish feeling in its wake.

“we’re adults, baby.” his warm breath landed against my lips as he spoke in a gentle voice. “that silent treatment shit is childish and you know i don’t like it. it’s over now, okay? just let it be over–let’s just focus on each other. that outside stuff isn’t important; just us.”

closing the minimal space between us, rafe presses his lips to mine. my eyes flutter shut at the familiar feeling. it was short and sweet; he pulled away before it went any further in order to gage my reaction. not seeing any resistance, the blond returns to the contact.

rafe’s lips open slightly, just wide enough for him to lick at the seam of my lips. i follow his lead, lips allowing him the access to slide his tongue into my mouth. the hand at my waist pulls me in so close that you’d think he wants me to live in his skin.

the feeling of his tongue against mine was pure sweetness, the taste of him something i missed more than i thought. nothing about it was sloppy, it was passionate and slow. the way he would pull away just slightly with my lip in tow, low eyes watching as it snapped back into place before he captured it again in a kiss.

rafe groans when try to pull away, the sound followed by the hand resting on my face relocating to the back of my head to tangle itself in my hair. he deepens the kiss, teeth smacking together just barely as allows himself to be a little rougher.

humming in protest, i place a firm hand against his chest to separate us. my head pulls back when my boyfriend attempts to chase after my evading lips.

“just us.” i whisper, repeating the words that left his mouth just a moment earlier.

something in the back of my mind set off alarm bells at the way rafe smiled, the look in his eyes unsettling in the strangest way, but I tuned them out in favor on focusing on the way his lips felt on mine.

[empressdede]

Wip Wednesday - untitled

Thank you for the tag😭😭 @harmshake cause I feel like Ive been lacking with my posts.

Past

"So, you’ll be able to go?" Jada asked, excitement seeping through her voice.

Sorai rolled her eyes. She was kind of regretting the terms and conditions that came with her going to this party. Especially since Sefa kept trying to tease her about her ‘schoolgirl crush’ as he would call it.

“Yeah. I can go but Joseph’s going to be there.” She explained and Jada’s excitement dimmed just a bit.

“How do you know he’s going to be there?” She asked and Sorai let out a sigh.

“He heard us talking a couple days ago about me wanting to sleepover at yours. I’ve been trying to get him to change for the past three days but he’s not budging.”

“Well…. At least he’s not as bad as his older brothers. Like, that could be way worse. Plus, if he goes that means Monica will be there and Monica is going to distract him for majority of the night.”

Sorai rolled her eyes again. Monica. She couldn’t fuckin’ stand her. But Jada was right, if Monica was there, Joseph would keep his attention on his girlfriend instead of her.

“You’re right; She’ll probably do what she does best and open her legs and keep him preoccupied for majority of the night.” Sorai agreed with a nod of her head but that caused Jada to burst out laughing.

“Girl, no way you just called Joseph’s girlfriend a hoe.”

“Only thing that ever comes out of her damn mouth is ‘He beat my shit up. Girl, when I tell you he sat me down and tore my shit up. Who knew Joseph could eat pussy like that.‘

Sorai mocked in a high pitched tone to mimic the girl she didn’t like, letting out a huff of annoyance when she was done. “I wish she would shut the fuck up sometimes, don’t nobody wanna hear that.”

“Sounds like someone’s jealous.” A teasing voice came from behind her. Sorai let out a sigh before she turned around to face the person. Joseph.

There he was with a smirk on his face as he stared at her. She wanted to smack it off of his face.

“Jealous of what?”

“All the experience she gets to have, that you’re dying to gain yourself.” He easily replied.

“Joseph don’t do that. Cause who knows, maybe Cameron will finally put the moves on her -“ Jada started but Sorai slapped her shoulder to shut her up.

But it was too late, the playfulness got wiped off his face as he stared at both girls.

“If I find out that he puts his hands on you, it’s over for the both of you.” Joseph stated, warning tone in his voice.

“Joseph, you can’t keep te-“

“I can.” He interrupted, the glare in his eyes showing he wasn’t playing with her. “The twins don’t got no plans as far as I know, so Cameron better be on his Ps and Qs if he knows what’s good for ‘em.” And with that he walked away.

________________________

No pressure tags: @msbigredmachine @whatdoeseverybodywant @raya-hunter01 @visionarymode

[victoria-vd]

OFFSCREEN POST

Laid to Rest

// tw injury, violence, death, Pokémon death, hospital

Part 1: The Calm

Part 2: The Storm

The hospital room was brightly lit, fluorescent lights shining down on the girl in the bed. Bright red swollen bruises covered the half of Esper’s face that had been struck by Barcelona, and it can only be assumed that her torso below the hospital gown was in much of the same state. She let out a quiet sigh as liquid pumped through her IV, glancing off towards the only other sound in the room: the ticking of the clock. How long had Esper been here already? Could only be but a few hours and yet she was still exhausted from the constant poking and prodding of the doctors and nurses.

But now the doctors and nurses were gone and she had been left alone. Waiting.

There was a quiet knock at the door.

Esper startled a bit at the sound, whirling her head around to look towards the sound. The girl stared at the door for a moment before answering, unsure as to who could be knocking, "Oh! Uh– Come in!"

The doorknob turned and the door was pushed open.

Victoria was the first to step forwards through the doorway. She gave Esper a once-over and nodded to her in greeting.

“Hey Esper,” Jaime waved from behind her. “How’s everything…?”

"Oh! Tori, Jaime!" Esper visibly perked up at the sight of Victoria and her brother, giving the two a small wave before shrugging, "I'm... doing okay? Could be worse, y'know?"

Maple poked her head in. "Yay! You're not dying!"

Aspen joined Maple, poking his head in right above her’s, "Yooo, you're alive, let's fuckin' go!"

"Uh. Yeah. Yay." The girl in the bed gave an awkward thumbs up.

“Geez— Y’all’re too tall for this shit. Move over, Paperboy.”

Jaime looked down and shuffled to the side to allow the voice to pass through.

A short girl with red hexagonal glasses and a gray face mask pushed her way to the front. Hands in her pockets, she stepped forwards and looked Esper up and down. “That Hat did a number on ya, huh?”

Esper blinked, tilting her head at the girl before her in slight confusion before simply nodding, "Uh... Yeah. I guess so."

The girl blinked for a moment, sharing Esper’s confusion, before saying. “Oh. Right. It’s Z.” There was an awkward pause as she shifted uncomfortably on her heels. “In the flesh.”

"Oh!" Esper gasped slightly, "Well, nice to meet you in person, Z. Probably would've been preferable under–" she gestured around her, "better circumstances."

Z clicked her tongue. “Yeaaahh… not the most ideal way to meet someone…” She shrugged. “It’s whatever though. Nice to meet— nice to see— fuck.”

"Nice to meet her in person?" Maple offered

“Yeah. That.” She flipped her glasses down, obscuring her face.

"...Epic!" Aspen said, albeit awkwardly as he stepped further into the room, "Um- Nice to meet you in person too, now that I think about it!" He gave her an awkward grin.

"Same with me!” Maple joined in, “Wish our first meeting didn't involve you getting hit with a chair like WWE, but hey, shit happens."

Esper gave a rather awkward smile, "Same..." A moment of silence lingered in the air as she stared at the others before she very quickly turned her attention to Victoria, tilting her head as she asked, "Are you okay though, Tori? Last I saw you had your own fair share of cuts and bruises."

Victoria glanced aside and rubbed the side of her arm. “Ah, well… It is nothing that I am not used to, Esp.”

The other girl just silently frowned at Victoria, opening her mouth to say something before closing as her attention was stolen by something happening outside her room.

Voices could be heard down the hall, calling out for someone to stop. The clacking of heels on the tile floor grew louder with each quick step.

Zoriah’s head whipped to the door. “Wh—“

Suddenly the door was flung wide open.

A tall woman, dressed to the nines in expensive furs and priceless jewelry, burst into the room with outstretched arms. “VICTORIAAAAAAAA,” she sobbed.

The girl in question flinched as the woman rushed to her and smothered her in her arms.

“¡Ay, mi pobrecita de mi corazoncito!” she wailed dotingly. “I came as soon as I heard!”

Victoria’s voice was muffled behind the woman’s embrace, but her embarrassment was clear in her voice nonetheless. “…Hello, Mother.”

Esper watched the scene before her unfold, her mouth slightly agape in surprise.

She let go of her daughter and put her hands on her hips as she tsk’d at Victoria, albeit affectionately, “Arceus mio, mija, at least pretend like you’re happy to see me.”

She turned to the others in the room, sizing them all up one by one. Though the pearly-white grin never left her face, there was something cold and calculating that seeped into her gaze as she eyed them all up and down.

And then her eyes landed on Esper, lingering there for a second longer than the rest.

“Oh,” Victoria’s mother smiled warmly at the girl. “You must be Victoria’s little friend.” The woman approached Esper, highlighting her massive height with every step. “Este— Esper Hargrove, yes?”

The girl in question had to crane her neck upwards as she attempted to keep her eyes on the taller woman's face as she was spoken too. "Uh, yes ma'am." Esper gave a small nod in response, "That'd be me."

The woman’s perfect grin widened. She bent down to be eye level with the girl and seized her hands into her own. “Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, Esper! I hope my little Victoria has been teaching you well!” Her strikingly bright lavender eyes bore into Esper’s. “Tell me Hargrove, what is my name?”

"Uh..." Esper briefly blinked in confusion before furrowing her brows as if she were attempting to concentrate on something. After a moment or so, she answered, "Reina Velasco-Delgado, correct?"

Reina Velasco-Delgado nodded, eyes lit up with pride. She clasped her hands together and hummed with satisfaction. “Victoria’s a wonderful teacher, isn’t she? She learned from the best, after all!”

Maple fiddles with her fingers awkwardly. "You know, there's other people in the room. We are here, by the way. Just in case you forgot."

Aspen opened his mouth to say something, but closed it, before opening it again. "Yeah, no, um-" He promptly closed his mouth again, deciding he'd be better off if he didn't say anything just then.

“Oh, no dear,” Victoria’s mother stood back to full height, towering over everyone else in the room once again. Her massive hat seemed to blot out the fluorescent light of the hospital room, casting a shadow over the others. Curiously, though her smile stayed wide as ever, the corners of her lips no longer reached her eyes as they once had before. “I haven’t forgotten you, Maple.” With a tilt of her head, she added, “How is your mother, by the way? I’m sure you miss her dearly.”

Maple looked away and didn't answer.

Reina pursed her lip into a sad frown. “Oh, pobrecita. I’ll be happy to tell her I saw you. When was the last time you spoke with your fathers? I heard Venus was stationed in Area Zero. He must be a busy man.”

"He is busy, yeah. I got to hang out with him a few weeks ago though"

“That’s good to hear,” she hummed. Bending down to meet Maple face-to-face, she asked. “Is there anything you’d like me to relay to Ivelyne for you, Maple?”

Maple turned to look Reina in the eyes wearily. "She prefers to be called Ivy."

“Duly noted.” She stood back to full height and looked down at Maple. “Then you have nothing to say to your mother?”

"You already know everything I want to say."

“Pick one.”

Aspen paused, looking between Maple and Reina, beginning to feel like he'd rather not be here anymore, but at the same time, he felt as though he needed to change the subject. He stepped to the side, closer to Jaime.

"Um- well, anyway, um-" He paused, wanting to distract her from Maple, "You haven't met me yet, my name is-"

“Aspen Sharma,” she cut him off without turning to face him. “I know who you are. You went Cyclizar riding with my son on the day of his birthday party.”

She glanced down at him out of the corner of her eye, giving him a once-over. “I take it the two of you had fun? He lost track of time and showed up late to his own birthday, you know.”

Jaime bit his cheek and didn’t say a word.

Aspen chewed on his lip slightly, suddenly feeling the weight of Reina's side eye. "Um- yeah, we did have fun, we didn't mean to lose track of time like that," he said quietly.

“Hm…” The woman studied him, stalking over to circle the boy like a hungry vulture. “Well, I’m glad the two of you enjoyed yourselves.” Eyeing him like a hawk, she hummed and said, “He quite likes you, you know. Though I’m sure you’re aware of that by now.”

He swallowed, looking away from her gaze; he felt as though he was some type of prey Pokémon, about to be ambushed. "I- I am, yeah," he said, forcing himself to look up at her, if only for a moment.

She stopped in front of Aspen and locked eyes with him. Her towering figure and wide hat cast a shadow over him and shrouded her entire face in darkness, and yet the white of her pupils glowed nonetheless.

It had become increasingly clear where Victoria picked up her intimidating mannerisms from.

Aspen took in a sharp breath, glancing up at her, before looking up properly. His gaze was unsure, hesitant, even, but he looked up at her nonetheless. He'd faced down worse, he thought.

Reina silently stared him down for a few more seconds, glowing eyes boring into his own as she raised an eyebrow at him.

After an eternity, she suddenly turned away and simply said, “Don’t disappoint me, Sharma.”

For the first time since she walked in, Jaime looked up at his mother.

Aspen brows furrowed slightly, but he nodded towards Reina. Despite being unsure of what exactly it was he was agreeing to, he had a feeling he already knew what she meant. "I... I won't.

“We’ll see.” She stepped away to the boy next to him.

Reina stared down at her son. “Mijo.”

Jaime stared back. “Madre.”

The two silently stared one another down.

And then Reina’s gaze turned to the proverbial fly on the wall. Her eyes shone with interest. “Oh. It’s you.”

Zoriah’s heart sank as a shadow was cast over her. She didn���t dare to look up.

“I’ve heard much about you.” She grinned down at the girl. “Eh— Z, correct?”

She flinched at the sound of her name falling from Reina’s tongue.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked,” she chuckled. “You knew long before we met, after all.”

Z’s fists clenched at her sides, resisting the urge to look the Devil in the eyes.

Reina bent down, resting her hands on her knees to meet Z in the eye. “Let me ask you a personal question.”

She felt trapped under her gaze. There was nowhere to look but back at her.

“Why the Truman Show?” Reina smiled with a tilt of her head. “You seem like more of a kaiju movie fan to me.”

“I— I’m— I don’t—“

“Madre.” Jaime warned, narrowing his eyes at his mother.

His mother stood up straight and narrowed her eyes right back. “Watch your tone, mijo.”

Esper quietly fiddled with her blanket, rubbing the fabric between her fingers in a soothing motion as she watched the interactions before her.

The sound caught Reina’s attention. She turned to Esper with a warm smile. “Oh! In all the excitement, I’d completely forgotten to ask how you were feeling.”

The young girl seemingly startled at suddenly being addressed. “Oh— Uh— I’m fine!” She answered with a small wave of her hand, “Could be better but could definitely be worse. Just going to be a bit sore and hurting for the next while, nothing I haven’t dealt with before.”

The woman frowned at her and clicked her tongue. "Esper, you do not have to downplay your injuries. My Hatterene hit you full force with a steel chair, love."

Esper simply shrugged, a seemingly apologetic smile on her face, "I'll heal."

She chuckled. "That you will, my dear." Placing a hand on her shoulder, Reina sighed and added, "But you very well could have died because of Barcelona's recklessness, and for that, I must deeply apologize on her behalf."

Victoria squinted and tilted her head at her mother. Apologize...? What was…

"Ah–" Esper glanced at the hand on her shoulder with a look of disdain before she quickly corrected herself and shot Reina an awkward smile, "Really, there's no need to apologize. Things happen."

"Things do indeed happen," Reina nodded with a smile. "What's done is done, Esper. All that matters now is that we move forward and take steps to ensure this does not happen again. And I can assure you that I will not allow this to happen again."

The girl raised a brow in response, "Well, yeah, I assumed you wouldn't want it to happen again after all."

Reina smiled sweetly at her. “You assume correctly." She brought a Luxury Ball out from inside her fur coat. Barcelona's Pokeball.

Jaime drew in a sharp breath. What was she—

Maintaining eye contact with Esper, she patted her on the shoulder and said, "Watch."

She then drew in a slow breath….

…and crushed the Luxury Ball into pieces in her fist…

She clenched tightly onto the shattered shards of the ball in her hands, grinding them into dust. When she was finished, she opened her palm to reveal that Barcelona’s ball was nothing more than a fine sparkly powder. With a smile, she let out a puff of air into her palm, blowing the dust into the air until there was no hint of Barcelona or the ball that housed her.

Maple stared, slack jawed. That seemed... a bit excessive.

Esper clasped her hands over her mouth with a gasp, her eyes wide like a Deerling in the headlights about to be struck by an oncoming vehicle.

Jaime felt a shudder down his spine. Barcelona was her own Pokemon…

Victoria remained stone-faced as what remained of Barcelona was scattered to the winds, shimmering in the fluorescent hospital lights. Her jaw tightened when a few bits of the powder landed on her blazer.

Aspen swallowed hard, his lips pursed and his eyes locked on the glittery dust on the ground. He could feel his hands shake at the sight of it, and he clenched them into fists to get them to stop.

Hidden behind the oversized glasses and face mask, it was difficult to visually tell what Zoriah was feeling. But the fear in her wavering breath betrayed her attempt to remain apathetic and calm.

The towering Velasco woman dusted her hands off with a smile. “There. Now Barcelona will never hurt anyone ever again!"

Esper was too stunned to respond, her hands staying firmly over her mouth as she glanced from Reina to Victoria to Jaime and then back to Reina.

Reina then drew in a sharp breath and lifted her chin, not bothering to turn to Jaime as she said, “Mijo, make yourself useful: escort your friends out of the room and fetch your father for me, por favor. I’d like to speak to Victoria and Esper in private for a moment.”

“But—“

She glared at him from over her shoulder. “Mijo.”

The boy wordlessly clenched his jaw for a moment and drew his lips into a line. He turned his head to look away from his mother, furrowing his brows as he led Aspen, Maple, and Z out of the room.

The door shut behind him, leaving only Esper, Victoria, and her mother in the hospital room, with only the sound of the heart monitor to break the tense silence that hung over them.

———

[Jaime and Z belong to @jaimemes, Esper belongs to @espers-n-espurrs, Aspen belongs to @aspens-dragons, Maple belongs to @yveltalreal]

[johnathancactus]

just putting this here bc im feeling a bit frustrated with myself right now & talking at nobody helps

cw: not eating enough, & thusly not feeling great; general health; body health; venting

i always feel bad about being so concerned about my health when everybody says im healthy bc i know im not--for context: i probably have arfid & have big issues w food texture to the point where i struggle to eat much of any meat/protein & other vitamins

in the past (before i started taking vitamins & iron supplements) i used to always be dead tired. i knew i wasnt depressed but it was more just that i could barely make my body do anything?? it even got so bad once that i couldnt move my arms for like 3 minutes (which was fucking terrifying bc it came out of nowhere). i used to feel like i was hollow--like there was nothing behind my face but skin & bones. i used to feel sick looking at my body bc i felt like i looked more like a skeleton than a person. i lowkey felt like my body was corroding & eating itself--i wasnt dying but it felt like it

so i was like "oh shit" & started taking vitamins & iron (even though my doctor said my blood work was fine??), and stopped feeling quite as much like death, yay! but even still im usually exhausted & feel like shit... like i still struggle to eat enough and its just frustrating bc i dont want to talk to people about it a ton? i have a bad habit of obessng over my health (prob bc i dont usually feel awesome) & i get by enough to where i seem fine? sometimes im not even sure if im just making this bigger in my head (granted, while im typing this my hands are shaking bc i havent been getting enough to eat lmao) but most people think im making it a big deal? idrk man... like i know i get anxious, & my doctor keeps telling me that im fine, but i still usually feel like shit (not like im dying any more, though! win!)... like people tell me i need to stop worrying about my health but like idfk.... its hard to not worry when i feel like im in the lowest possible bit of qualifying as "normally healthy".... ugh

like i qualify as "fine", but if i eat a meal too late my abdomen becomes concave?? like i know this is a Thing, but it happens to me pretty regularly which makes me tweak tf out because like??? is that realy normal????

its also hard because as a woman, people always go "omg ur so skinny!!! ur so pretty <3 <3 i wish i had ur body!!!" (i'm 5'8" & 104 lbs) because i feel so guilty for wanting to gain weight? i should want this right? like so may people want to be like me--even though i feel sick & dead all the time... like you shouldnt want this--or should i not want to change? sometimes i wonder if i should give up bc it took me 2 years to gain 10lbs...

maybe i just should talk to my therapist about it sometime instead of my ocd idfk... i just want to feel Healthy again.. i feel like its been years since ive felt energized and alive... since i havent felt like i could die if i ended up missing a meal... since i havent been able to see my hip bones stick out like im dying (looking at them makes me feel sick to my stomach)... since i havent felt as if my own body was eating itself... ugh

[ddarker-dreams]

hmmm.... i have a question. not really a question, more like rambling actually.

so we know that n darling doesnt want to get attached with blade, she mostly sees him as her fuckbuddy for a bit which i think is funny, hence she is his long term long distance low commitment gf.

but im actually curious on blade's view on this relationship. does he feel mutual about this? i mean, clearly he doesn't, but im dying to know the specifics.

does he not prod on the topic because he knows n darling would ultimately be his anyway? (based on... whatever elio's script says) or does he just... not care for any specifics and just already considers her his gf without said gf even knowing 😭😭 actually both theories sound more or less similar.

im so excited for ch 5, ive been rereading nexus over and over again lol (and of course... ch 3 and 4 has the most reads for certain reasons im sure you know)

me thinking of a way to respond without accidentally delving into spoiler territory GJKJDF

i will say that the answer to this question is different pre and post chapter 4. i can come back and give the latter after chapter five is posted.

OKAY, so. initial impression (after saving n darling from alister's knife attack in ch1), was... nothing really. a slight pull and nothing else. at that point, he knew the specifics of his job, which he didn't view differently from the hundreds of jobs he'd be assigned before. he doesn't usually bother thinking about the greater picture. he considers himself a weapon who will simply do as he's told until elio fulfills his end of their agreement.

for a while after that, he finds n darling kinda weird. he doesn't get why n darling thanked him and made her synalink offer when it's pretty obvious she doesn't like the stellaron hunters. it wasn't clear to him yet that in the same way he considers himself a weapon, n darling views herself an integral organ to eris. n darling's gratitude wasn't so much that he saved her life — but that he saved eris' 'life.'

he didn't actively try to understand her because he wouldn't care to. the sole reason he picked any of this up is just from the sheer amount of time they spent coexisting. it's inevitable he'd become familiar with her to some extent. there's that, and well... n darling is rather stunning. an assignment where he basically gets to stare at a beautiful woman for days on end isn't something he's complaining about.

what served as a turning point is the nectar guide incident.

(i didn't expect for this to get so long good god but here's blade's mental health going 📉 as his journey to tap n darling begins)

when he comes to, the sight he's greeted with is this high stationed individual weeping for him and desperately tearing her clothes in a attempt to stop his bleeding. he cannot recall a time when anyone has bothered to do so, since it's known no matter how awful an injury he suffers, he'll regenerate eventually. that aforementioned slight pull grows stronger.

regarding blade's reaction to n darling poking around in his psyche uninvited, that wasn't what actually upset him. it was the possibility he'd be less attentive to her safety if he were to go around searching for survivors. for some inexplicable reason, this irked him.

then, at this exchange in ch3:

“Can it really be considered a sin if it’s beyond your control?” 

“It won’t always be,” he replies. “Until then, I can’t allow myself to forget. You must get why.” 

You wish you didn’t. 

it finally dawns on blade that he and this diva-who-pretends-she-isn't-a-diva actually share common ground. that they're both stuck in this self-perpetuated cycle of guilt and admonishment for circumstances that weren't entirely their fault. he doesn't know what to do with this information and stuffs it away for safekeeping.

then another turning point goes down:

the dissonance between lear's id and ego/superego culminates to such a degree that n darling goes unresponsive, the psychic backlash is that bad. blade doesn't understand the specifics. all he sees is this woman he's begrudgingly intrigued by collapsing to the ground with blood rushing from her nose, while her noisy friend and quiet friend rush around. eventually, he can roughly piece together what happened from these tidbits: n darling's aversion to physical contact (seen in ch1 when he reaches for her wrist and she freezes up, then once more when she avoids him after the nectar guide incident).

n darling then confirms this: "What you’re referring to is a precaution my mother suggested. In the past, strange reactions have occurred after I came into direct contact with someone."

along with well-intentioned nona's exclamation: "i yelled at him that if he hurt lear you would turn his mind into goop"

blade wouldn't have thought to configure lear into things as soon as he did had nona not given this slip of information. he already had suspicions that lear and n darling had some sort of Situation between them, because lear isn't slick and makes googly eyes @ n darling like nobodies business, but this. this is different. he could write lear's googly eyes off as a crush, which is whatever. but n darling caring for lear to such a degree that she's fine with risking her wellbeing because she likes being around him that much? hence:

You’re so swept up in your thoughts, that it takes you a while to notice how Blade’s been staring at you. This in and of itself is nothing new. He’s been your shadow ever since forced this arrangement. It irritated you at first, but that blistering offense eased into acceptance. His vigilance felt befitting of a guard. Taking in your surroundings, assessing any threats; such is his prerogative. 

How he’s eyeing you now feels different. It’s as if he’s looking through you, not at you. 

“Is something wrong? You’re making such a scary expression,” you joke. 

at that point, blade is Not Happy to an extent that confuses even him (ch5 will go into why).

then he happens to be brooding in the distance, as he's prone to do, when he sees n darling looking absolutely defeated (post the convo with caicias and chrysus). he feels this need to do something about it, remembers how often she drinks that ambrosia tea, then makes some for her. he really was going to just leave it and then give her space, but, alas:

"Your body springs up of its own accord. You balance the teacup in one hand and reach out to him with the other, your fingers fanning out, ready to sink into whatever they can. Everything happens in the blink of an eye. Your free hand succeeds in finding a destination — settling on the abrasive finish of his bandages. 

You feel another texture alongside it. 

It’s smooth, cold, and visible through the interstices of his winding bandages. 

His skin."

this contact quite literally Awakens something in him (👁👁),

"Blade’s gripping your comforter hard enough for his knuckles to turn bone white. He’s leaning forward, as if ready to pounce, yet lucid enough to exercise some semblance of self-control. He reminds you of a starved animal trapped in a cage, salivating over a piece of meat hanging outside the bars. Goosebumps cover your body. This isn’t simple lust… it’s visceral, some primitive desire too overwhelming to be understood.

You’re the one he’s staring at with this unbridled yearning.

Yes, he’s teased you. Pushed your buttons and riled you up. Not so subtly flaunted the strength that lets him maneuver you like you weigh nothing. You might have status and mastery in your given field, but he’s participated in the annihilation of worlds; the end of civilizations that span back since time immemorial.

He should be the one in charge.

Yet as you stand here, witnessing how he tortures himself by not pouncing on you like he easily could, a thought is planted.

He’d really do anything you asked if it kept this from ending."

from this point to where chapter 4 ends, blade's brain is in some sort of caveman mode. he wakes up. thinks about fucking n darling. fucks n darling. waits around impatiently until he can fuck n darling once again. fucks n darling again. goes to (half) sleep. rinse and repeat.

not only is his mara manageable when he's around n darling, but he gets this thrill too? it's a high unlike anything he's experienced in the miserable centuries he's been cursed with immortality. he isn't really worried about the specifics of their relationship, so long as he can keep railing her on every surface around. n darling's body, how she carries herself with such confidence, the way she pokes and prods at him; he's obsessed. addicted. nothing short of feral.

every stage on his hierarchy of needs has been replaced with n darling.

[mihai-florescu]

Putting a message i sent earlier under a read more, it has some thoughts ive expressed before tho. ES, of course

My thoughts as an EichiP... i view ! and !! as different stories in the way they're approached tbh, what i fell in love with enstars for was the character driven storytelling of one event seen through different perspectives, where you see the antagonist in one perspective become a protagonist in another story and can empathize with the entire cast like this. I fell in love with eichi's story of second chances, getting what you want and regretting your actions in the process, redemption, desperation, overcoming fate and asserting one's self into the story, saving a school in a dying industry that saved your life by giving you a dream; i consider it an arc fulfilling to the reader at the end of ! era. But we still had to continue... and it's not like we didnt get inklings of eichi's dreams of idol utopia, the idol soldier idea goes back to main story 1, but !! loses the charm of the original series through expanding the worldbuilding so much and shifting to a plot driven story that opens 10 cans of worms instead of offering resolutions. There's not really room to breathe if the stakes just keep getting higher and higher...

As for the colonisation plotline, it's been here since the beginning of ES2. The SS arc makes it obvious, but i remember even before, the talks about ES taking over from local businesses, trying to be seen as the standard, it was always the direction ensemble square as an institution would take. But the "antagonist in one story, protagonist in another" approach doesnt work anymore with such subjects. The guys responsible for this are your coworkers you share dorms with. I read the stories but cant empathize anymore, so i've been feeling disconnected from eichi for a while. I see enstars with eichi at its core but i didnt care for his center event, i read it, didnt like the ending, and overall felt off. Eichi becoming the villain of ! to attone for the war kind of loses significance if a year later he is a cartoon villain idol colonialist you can't even sympathize with anymore because of the magnitude of events. However i do think !! has done good things for some characters pushing them further or developing them in a way ! didnt. But for others...

I also have my issues with sci fi elements becoming the norm, even taken metaphorically or as hyperboles, when one of the central themes i love about enstars is humanity. Then again, i am a war era fan that relied on manipulating human desires and perceptions, and the fact that there were no monsters or gods, just humans framed as such, playing on people's fears and beliefs, it's a bit jarring to me to have them introduce AIs forming from escaped comatose brains (im minimizing the switch climax rn, i didnt even hate it as a whole, just this resolution im unhappy with)

It also feels like we've lost some of the meta aspects of the writing i liked, a certain awareness of being characters in a story and there being an audience. But im still struggling to word my thoughts on this matter. I felt it present in main story 2, even if it annoyed me at parts in its obviousness ("good thing we're not protagonists, no one would want to read about us" youre right aira you are not interesting to me. And yet i'll read your story to try and empathize nevertheless. I have other thoughts on aira too, perhaps for another time). I wish we explored a bit more what it means to no longer be the central protagonist, from trickstar's perspective...and brought back the successors topic. But i havent read every ts story yet so i'd be foolish to complain before really making sure i've checked everything. To me ! ended satisfyingly with room left for elaborations and imagination, but i dont feel like !!'s ending is really ending anything at all. Not necessarily bad since it's not like the game is shutting down, but overwhelming worldbuilding wise while underwhelming character wise...

Let's see... im not sure how to end this. Just a bit of a stream of consciousness as a ! fan who still loves enstars despite my critiques. Mainly, well, no one's gonna take away the stories that already exist that i do love and impacted my life greatly. And i do think !! had some really good things too it brought, or at least stories i hold dear too. Change is scary and i don't think it's always for the best, but it's also fun to see where it goes next...