#and i need to avoid falling back into the pit of despair i was in yesterday

[thegoblinwitch]

(currently playing: 'Let's have a satanic orgy' - Twin Temple)

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 9th - Breeding (Papa Emeritus III x Female!Reader)

Tags: Established Relationship, Breeding, Mentions Of Miscarriage, Hurt/Comfort, Rough Sex, Praise, Light Body Worship, Multiple Orgasms, Cunilingus (Terzo Is A Munch), Fluff And Smut, First Person POV

My knee bounced up and down in anticipation, sat on the edge of the bathtub, waiting impatiently. When it's time, I gulp, anxiously looking down at the tiny test in my hand. Negative. Again. Tears start to brim in the corners of my eyes, but I quickly brush it off, taking a deep breath to self-regulate. I was used to the disappointment.

Me and Terzo have been trying for a baby for nearly a year, to no avail. I've seen dozens of negative pregnancy tests, and even the ones that appear positive at first, I end up losing that pregnancy soon after. I try my best to keep my head high, but the more negative tests keep building up, the bigger the pit in my stomach grows, swallowing any and all hope I've held onto. It was like a sick joke, the dream of having a family being just out of reach.

I toss the test in the trash, stepping outside the bathroom with a sigh. Terzo, who had been pacing around the bedroom with his hands clasped behind his back, stops in his tracks when he hears the door creak open. His head immediately snaps up, gaze nervous, expectant. "Well?" He asks tensely. I say nothing. I don't have to. My expression says all that needs to be said. Terzo frowns.

"Oh, amore..." His arms immediately encircle me, engulfing me in a bone-crushing hug. My heart ached as soon as I heard him speak, clearly trying his best to be strong for me, yet I can hear the disappointment in his voice. My throat grows tight as I choke back a sob, my hardened exterioir starting to crack.

"I thought... I thought it would take this time..." I sniffle, unable to hold back the everflowing stream of tears stinging my eyes as they cascade down my cheeks. "I don't u-understand... What's w-wrong with me?" I wept uncontrollably into the crook of his neck.

"Shh, shh... Nothing is wrong with you." Terzo reassures firmly, stroking my hair, his chin rested on the top of my head. "These things just take time, tesoro..." I pull away from his embrace, practically pushing him off me, remaining inconsolable.

"How much time? How much longer do we have to wait?" I heave frustratedly, my voice raw and cracking painfully with every word. Terzos eyes glazed over, powerless as he watched me break down. I know he hated seeing me in such despair, over and over again, while also feeling equally as devastated. I hardly consider the fact that this is destroying him, too.

Terzo swallowed harshly, rubbing his eyes before the tears even dare to escape, trying to remain stoic. "We'll keep trying." He croaked calmly, sounding as if he's trying to convince himself that everything's going to be okay more than he's trying to convince me. "We'll keep trying..."

My bottom lip quivers, my eyes already red and puffy, snot building up in my sinuses, no doubt looking like a hot mess. "I... I need to be alone right now..." I whimper hoarsely, overwhelmed and needing time to wallow in my sorrows by myself. Terzo nods understandingly, even though I can tell he's reluctant. I avoid looking him in the eyes, for fear that it would send me over the edge even further.

"Let me know if you need anything, amore." He murmured. "Just don't keep yourself locked away for too long, si? I love you, tesoro..." And with that, he left the room, gently closing the door behind him, granting me the space I asked for. I immediately fell onto the bed, burying my face into the pillow to sob hysterically.

-

I can't pinpoint when exactly I managed to fall asleep, but I woke up suddenly to a delightful smell. Opening my eyes, I see Terzo, holding a plate of my favorite food in one hand and a bottle of wine in the other. "I knew you'd be roused awake as soon as I brought your food in." Terzo grins, admittedly relieved to see me up.

"I thought this would make you feel better." He says, placing the dish down on the bedside table. He shakes around the bottle of wine enticingly. "And this is here to make me feel better. But you're welcome to have some too, of course..." He kneels down beside me, brushing strands of hair out of my face, gazing into my eyes sincerely. "How are you feeling, tesoro?"

"Terrible." I chuckle humourlessly, my nose stuffy and voice slightly nasaled. I feel nothing but numb at this point, empty. Terzo smiles weakly, squeezing my hand and gently stroking the skin with his thumb. He'd seen me in this disheveled state a hundred times before, but this time it was different. I felt so defeated, resigned, and to Terzo it seemed like I was giving up, which terrified him. "I know." He acknowledged, smile fading. "Me too..."

We sit together in silence for what feels like hours, halfheartedly picking at the food he brought me with a fork, my appetite lacking. Terzo lay down in the bed beside me, an arm wrapped securely around me as he takes a swig of his wine straight from the bottle, neither of us so much as looking at each other, devoid of our usual energy.

"We will have a baby." He declared, his brows furrowed with a look of unwaivering determination. "One of these days, it will take, and we'll have a little one of our own in our arms, filling our life with joy and stinky diapers. But until then, we will keep trying. It's not hopeless, cara mia. You need to know this." I couldn't help the faint smirk that grew on my face. It always warmed my heart to see his determination and resilience shine through, even in the hardest of times.

I nod in silent agreement, but he tuts, setting the bottle of wine down to use his spare hand to grab me by the chin, gently maneuvering my face to look at him. "I want to hear you say it, amore mio." He insists, gaze unwavering. For some reason, his face so close to mine, his commanding tone, sends a shiver down my spine and a fluttering sensation in my chest and... somewhere else. I breathe in. "It's not hopeless." My words came out a bit shaky, but still resolute. "We will keep trying."

Terzo takes notice of the subtle shift in my demeanor, cocking an eyebrow. He can feel my breathing starting to pick up, and he's immediately on guard, eyes flicking down towards my lips briefly; I know that look. "Who knows," he purrs. "Perhaps the one that takes... Could be conceived tonight?" He suggests, half-jokingly. His usual confidence waivers, unsure if he should be suggesting that kind of thing while just hours ago I was in such a fragile mental state.

My body is hyper-aware of his proximity, the scent of him surrounding me, his gloved hand trailing down from underneath my chin to caress my neck. "I wouldn't mind trying." I shudder, my breath hitching audibly as he leans closer, lips ghosting mine. Heat pools in my core, the idea, the hope, that tonight might be the night, that maybe we could finally get what we'd been wanting for so long. It sets my blood on fire.

He closes the gap between us, lips pressing together, exchanging kisses, sweet and tender at first, but they quickly build to be more passionate, desperate. Our teeth clash together from the force, but we are both too wound-up to care, our tongues intertwining and sloppily fighting for dominance. His hands slide over my body, slipping under my shirt to grope my bare breasts in a firm, possessive hold. "Get on your back." He whispers lowly, leaving no room for questioning.

I do as I'm told, excitement rushing through blood, causing a full-body shiver of anticipation. Without another word, he rolls on top of me, trapping me between his body and the mattress. He licks his lips hungrily, wasting no time tearing off my pajama pants and my underwear with renewed vigor, lowering himself down to press his face against my sex. "Need to get a taste of your cunt before I stuff you full..." He gruffs before delving his tongue into my hole, lapping up as much of my slick as possible.

I clench, my hips gyrating against his face, in need of friction on my clit. I let out a noise between a gasp and a moan, obnoxiously loud and needy. He knows exactly what I crave, and runs his thumb across my slit, up to the little bundle of nerves that so desperately needs attention. He puts pressure on my clit, rubbing it in slow, circular motions, as his tongue delves in and out of me, devouring my pussy as if it was his favorite meal.

Terzo, with his impeccable skill, has me cumming on his tongue within minutes, greedily slurping down every last drop of my juices. My vision is blurred from the intensity of the orgasm, my body tingling in a daze. Before I can come down fully from my high, Terzo has already hoisted himself up over me, swiftly taking his throbbing cock out and plunging deep in my walls. Hes always loved fucking me after making me cum with his mouth, claiming I was all the more wetter, warmer after a good, hard orgasm.

Usually when we were intimate, he was gentle, loving. We made love, sensual caresses and sweet nothings whispered into one anothers ears. But tonight, he was fucking me. His hips snapped brutally against mine with reckless abandon, giving me no time to adjust, which in return only made me squeeze tighter around him. There's no time for softness now, only a deep and primal urge to breed.

"F-fucking good girl. S-so tight, fucking milking my cock. Satanas!" He growls, his eyes trained on the way my body bounced and jiggled as he pounded into me, especially my belly. He rubbed his hands up and down my torso, gripping the supple flesh appreciatively. "You are going to look so beautiful when you swell with my child. Seeing this fucking stomach, all round and full of me... I won't be able to keep my hands off of you, tesoro."

This was a side of Terzo I've never seen before. Desperate, greedy, borderline animalistic, like he was addicted to my cunt and was using me as a means to get his fix. He was filthy, starved, and filling my womb with his seed was the only way to satiate his hunger. He thrusts harder, faster, till it's almost too much for either of us to handle. Almost. Terzo has always pleased me so good every time, better than anyone else ever has, but this time was incomparable. I was so embarrassingly wet, creaming on his dick, watching the white foamy mess encapsulate his member below, making a mess of his well-trimmed pubic hair.

My head is spinning, another orgasm brewing within me once again. The coil in my abdomen tightens with every thrust, ready to snap. "Are you ready for Papa to breed you? Are you ready for me to make you a mother? Cum on my cock, cara. Let's cum together." His words are exactly what I need to hear to cause the dam inside me to finally break, indescribable pleasure sparking throughout every nerve ending in my body, forgetting everything I've ever known, nothing remaining in my mind but pure bliss.

He finishes soon after me, a final rut into my tight walls as he spills himself impossibly deep within me. I welcome the comforting warmth of his seed filling me, feeling so close to him in more ways than one. For a moment, we are one, truly one, and there is no moment in history more beautiful to me. Dick softening, he pulls out of me, eliciting one last whine from him. He drops to my side, chest heaving, the both of us feeling boneless and tired.

"You okay?" He murmurs, compassion and concern etched in his voice. I nod, my mind too far gone to speak properly. The only thing I can focus on is the blobs of his spend leaking out of me and dripping down my thighs. He is warm and secure, and I've never felt better or safer than I do right now with him. Of course, I do hope his seed will take root, but the idea of getting to be fucked like this more often makes me hope we will have to keep trying, again and again. I don't ever want to go an evening where I'm not stuffed full.

-

[yanderes-galore]

Hmm how about Junko enoshima from danganronpa with prompt 4. From your yandere prompt list

Sure! I hope I depict her well in this....

Yandere! Junko Enoshima Prompt 4

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Sadism, Junko likes to hurt you both, Blood, Implications of darling dying, Extremely dark themes, Forced "relationship".

"Don't you want to hurt me?"

The question sounds genuine... yet taunting. You don't comment at first, too busy on the scene in front of you. A metallic smell overwhelms your nose... causing you to shake.

Corpses... all of the faces you once knew... from acquaintances to close friends... They lay in the classroom like butchered meat with stab wounds in their flesh.

"Please, you didn't expect them all to live, right?" Junko muses, "It's so much more fun if none of them live. You cared about them too much... made me quite upset, actually."

You remain silent, bile building in your throat as you look at the scene. You collapse on your knees as you look it over. Junko had dragged you to a classroom to show you a scene she no doubt created herself. Blood coated the walls... barely hiding the corpses of those you once knew alive.

Why...?

Because it hurt you... and that was cute to her.

"Ohhh, don't act like I don't see that look in your eye!" Junko coos, big blue eyes staring down at you as she seats herself in front of you. Blood, in its nauseating color, coats her clothes as she gives you a Cheshire grin.

"You want to hurt me~!" Junko chirps, "You want to hurt me back because I broke all your precious little relationships... let's be honest, honey... the only relationship that matters is ours!"

"We don't have a relationship!" You bark, causing Junko to howl in laughter.

"Ouch... that makes me so sad... seeing you deny me like that hurts... I love it...!" Junko purrs with a grin. "You look so cute when you're deep in the pits of despair... They must've meant a lot to you."

This was the game Junko always liked to play. Junko only ever loved despair. It's an emotion she lusts after, while others try to avoid it.

You have a speculation what Junko feels towards you... isn't love. No, she doesn't genuinely love you. She's obsessed with you... but not entirely you as a being...

She's obsessed with causing you anguish... because it makes her feel the same way.

She loves you in her own twisted way. She both loves yet hates it when you hate her back. When she successfully manages to make you act out against her... She feels despair.

Making you fall into despair drags her with you... like you're both chained together.

"It hurts, doesn't it? To be so deep in despair? To know you're all alone except for me...?" Junko pouts playfully, coming closer to kneel down in front of you. "Don't you hate me?"

She cups your face, nails digging into your skin as you violently try to pull away.

"There's no need to hide your hate, sweetheart. I see it in your eyes." Junko hums, slowly grinning as you glare at her.

"My heart belongs to you, I'll adore anything you do to it." Junko admits. "I want you to hurt me, to make me feel pain and despair... I want the person I love most to despise me... know why?"

You don't bother answering, watching with disgust as Junko lets you go to retrieve something from a corpse.

"It causes me great despair to be the cause of your pain..." Junko confesses, pulling a large knife from a corpse. The blade drips the tainted substance of blood, making you gag. "I love it. I love it as much as I love you... if not more...."

You freeze when Junko approaches with the knife, the blade wet with its past kills. Junko grins down at you, toying with the blade as she ponders what to do next. A shiver runs down your spine.

"Seeing you glare at me, hating me... To see that come from someone I care about to the point of infatuation... the amount of despair I gain is euphoric." Junko shudders with a deranged giggle.

"You could do anything to me..." Junko smiles, circling you like a hungry shark who just smelled blood in the water. "You could hurt me in any way... and I'd never stop loving you... I'll just keep coming back for more."

Junko then goes silent for a moment, pausing in front of you to look over the knife. She appears to be in deep thought before an idea comes in mind. You go to weakly pull yourself off the ground, only for Junko to lunge.

You fall to the blood soaked wood of the classroom. Junko is quick to straddle you as she presses the blade to your chest. She stares down at you with eager eyes... your fear is delectable.

"You know..." Junko trails, looking at your quivering form as you try to move. She stops such attempts by pressing the knife's edge to your throat. "The ultimate feeling of despair would come from us killing each other...."

Your heart picks up, staring at the girl in fear as she grins wickedly. She's serious....

"Don't you know how much it would hurt? How much it would pleasantly ache to have to kill the one I love? That, or have you hate me enough to bring me to the brink of death? You know how much DESPAIR that would cause us...?" Junko continues, practically salivating at the thought.

"It would be the ultimate conclusion to our love, sweetheart! The ultimate way to show that you're mine and we were always meant to be!" Junko sighs dreamily, toying with the blade again. "So... what do you say?"

Junko then grabs your hand, wrapping it around the handle of the blade as she still holds it.

Her gaze is hypnotic, evidence of her spiraling into despair at the thought of you hurting one another... and your fear only adds to the feeling.

"I want you to hurt me."

[georgichan]

would love to see a one shot of someone (either villager or farmer) comforting a drunk shane and not forcing him to get sober immediately, just being there for him when he needs it. kind of angsty fluff ig

Of course Anon! <3 Always love a good bit of Shane angst so thanks for the request _________________________

The rain.

It never seemed to stop.

Ever

He ran his hands down his face, before slumping forward a little. Eyes growing so heavy, he took another sip before tossing can to ground. Without really thinking, the sound of a can opening and he was already taking another sip of a freshly opened beer. The perfect taste, it slid down like water. Nothing better in this world, just the last one for the day. Can stop anytime after all and it was fine of course. It always was. Surely?

He looked up at sky and tried to contemplate how he got to this place, how his feet had towed body to sit on the edge of abyss. He was fine, he was always fine. Joja as usual in the morning and everyone deserved a break after a long day. This was just that and he took another sip. Etching down throat, the feeling laced with the numbness that followed. Chasing that feeling of drowning. Chasing away the thoughts that edge away at each passing hour until he couldn’t think anymore.

Crunching can and tossing it to the ground without really thinking. Thinking never helped much anyway, it was better for such things to be avoided.

What a touching idea that was.

He wished he could stop. Stop thinking about where he would be in the morning. Thinking that he was a failure. Thinking that he would let down Marnie and Jas again and again…

And again.

Another sip, he leaned back into sodden grass. Eyes taking in the grey covered sky and he simply pretended this was okay. This was justice, it was right. All he would have to do is slip and it would be the end. Falling alone, how fitting.

Eyes seemed to fall shut, can clutched in hand. This could be it.

…

…

“Shane, is that you?”

Fuck, of course it was them. The entire town and it was them.

The Farmer.

“just leave me alone-“. He tells them plainly, eyes looking anywhere but at them.

They don’t say anything, they seem to just stand behind him for what felt like too long. Then he heard steps of them inching closer. He heard the rustling of the grass, till it was clear what was happening as the farmer sat down next to him. Time began to blur and the farmer remained. Sitting with Shane as the rain continued to fall and he couldn’t fall out of his pit of despair enough to pay attention.

As the rain got harder, he wondered why they didn’t just leave. It’s what he deserved.

Then the silence was broken again.

Strangely enough by him.

“I don’t get it, why don’t you leave?”

“Why would I leave?” A quick response by the farmer.

Shane hiccupped, struggling to sit up to look at the farmer. He knocked over cans as he did and the world seemed to spin as a result. “Because it’s what I deserve. To be here, just me, some beers and that cliff-“. He felt so defeated, he couldn’t even hide it. All he could think about was rolling off that damn cliff, hoping it could at least look like an accident. Hoping people didn’t realise just how damn pathetic he was.

“I’m not leaving-“. They tell him, and he can feel the sincerity from their eyes alone. The farmer reaches out, hands outstretching to lightly touch his shoulder. He doesn’t have the energy to push back, he doesn’t have the energy to deny that such a gesture felt nice.

He went to retort but the farmer gently squeezed his shoulder.

“Can I tell you a story?”

“A… story?” He can’t help but look at the farmer in disbelief, but he nods at them, giving them permission to continue.

“You know before I moved here, I used to work in the city. Some stupid office and for Joja of all people”, The farmer didn’t meet his gaze as they spoke, simply staring off the edge of the cliff.

“I used to wake up and feel such a sense of dread each day. I used to think it would feel like that forever. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I was wrong”.

“That doesn’t mean anything to me-“, Shane offers in response.

“I wouldn’t have held onto to such things either, but it is true. Whether you believe me or not-“. The farmer finally met his gaze again, eyes so gentle.  “But I’m not expecting grand gestures. I just want one thing”.

More confusion to follow and he looked at the farmer without even trying to hide it.

“What?” He finally asked, eyebrows raising in confusion. It was hard enough to stay conscious, let alone to think.

“Just don’t tell me to go away”

For once he didn’t fight, he simply nodded.

The farmed inched closer, a comforting presence.

They would both have to go soon.

He would have to accept some consequences of surrounding metal.

Yet looking at them, he felt butterflies.

He didn’t feel alone. (Also posted on AO3)

[ipromiseimawriter]

anyone who knows me well knows that i tend to run on spite. for me, it's like if hope got its teeth knocked out a hundred times and got up for a hundred and one. one more round. one more throw. it's indignance. anger. baring my teeth. it's my father's fault for handing me his anger. because even through my fear and caution and cowardice, i became something he can't avoid - someone who gives a fuck about other people.

whatever you run on -- use it to fill your tank. provide for your people. reach out to your community (and yes that includes people you don't know, people you can help overseas and next door).

i can't pretend like i know what to do. there are genuinely helpful posts circulating around in terms of supporting yourself and getting medical appointments and doing the fucking work. i'll get those around too. like a lot of people, i'd hoped this would change things. but now that it hasn't (and it has, and it has), there's so much fucking work to do. i know there's a lot of that for myself, too.

last night i couldn't help but despair, even before the election results fully came in. body keeps score, etc etc. november is a weird personal month for me as is, and then the election happens. i don't need to get into that rn, we all know.

the world doesn't revolve around me. never has, never will. but i felt the pit fall and i felt myself slipping off of a precipice i've hooked myself onto. i'm not proud of that, but i can't hang onto that guilt. i know so many people were/are feeling fragile and grievous and like they're out of options.

but i went home after work and laughed with my friends. i talked to my roommate. i paced around my room and listened to music all night before bed, and woke up with something a lil newer and angrier. a new shard on my shoulder. i hope you can tap back into what moves you. i know you will, actually.

the grief isn't over. there are people in danger, all around the fucking world. but everything else continues.

[ghostlyfeelings]

july

a doe eyed baby sometimes felt a women. i was her and she was me. i was the care taker. child taking care of her mother. this isnt really something new but has been a consistent theme even as i have become older. family became a prominent subject. one i don't touch very often. all for good reasons but sometimes the universe shoves it at you all at once. i tiptoed around my house in avoidance. didn't want to rock any boats or have mine rocked. again, this is something i am familiar with. then came the phone call that will have an everlasting effect on the rest of my life. to let me know my nanny died. my mother and aunt screaming at eachother hours later was the cherry on top of an already shitty cake. i fell into a big black pit of despair. i stayed there. i felt all of the emotions until i felt absolute nothingness. spent one night getting black out drunk and throwing up. on the streets, at the bar, in the designated smoking area. got into a fight with a girl. apologized days later. gave myself two weeks of sobriety after that. to process and feel and heal. felt really proud of myself. then the life in my eyes finally started to come back. felt high on the beauty of nature. felt connected to it all. saw two dragonflies in one sitting. could feel my grandmas energy. wrote her a letter that i will never get to send. so i silently and knowingly sent it up to her in heaven. felt a lot of gratitude for the friends i have. for my pets and the universe. for the past versions of me that got me here. began to rescue bugs from drowning in the pool. began to feel and think deeply about their lives. wondered if they have other bugs waiting for them somewhere and if they don't return, do they feel their heart break too? went on my first date since the breakup. he gave me a rose. ended at the strip club three guys later. gave me a boost of confidence. went home and still wished it was my ex holding me. felt like something strange was going on in the cosmos. had a nice dose of the reality that my body is older by needing an entire day to recover from that hangover. found a lot of joy in spending time with myself. feel happy knowing i don't need a relationship to fulfill something lacking inside of me anymore. that i can fill my own cup, that i can talk myself down. held myself through it all and it felt different from when i would ask someone to hold me so that i didn't fall apart. i talk to my plants and the trees and the bugs too. just the way i do when i imagine child me, doe eyed and looking for gentleness. i commit fully to breaking this generational curse. i commit fully to not being cruel. im ready for some change and a nice thunderstorm or two. to believing in love and allowing myself to feel that i am loved too.

[ladybellissima]

Finding Love Katakuri x Reader Part 27

Slowly her eyes opened and (Y/N) found herself on the cold hard floor, while the morning sun shone brightly across her beautiful form. Her look wandered to Katakuri's vivre card and let her quickly got up from the floor. Weakly she made her way out onto the corridor and walked straight to the only person, who could help her right now. Pushing his office door open, (Y/N) was relieved to see Oven at his desk, but not only him. Brulee, Daifuku and other siblings were discussing something on high alert.

"What are you talking Oven! We have to leave immediately.", Brulee shouted pissed and smacked the table out of anger.

"Brulee! Don't get the wrong idea, I want to go too, but think about it. We have no chance. It would lead us into our despair! First Mama would never allow us to leave whole cake unprotected. Second there are sure High ranked Admirals. Do you believe that running in our death would help?", he growled back pissed and the next moment he fell silent after noticing (Y/N) 's presence at the door. Brulee turned around and shut her mouth bitterly after looking down to the beautiful woman.

In an instant (Y/N) could see by their shocked and uneasy expressions that they sure had some news about Katakuri.

(Y/N) didn't need to ask anything. Since Katakuri left, it was the main topic of their talks, the moment she stepped into his office. Oven was still progressing what he heard from the daily news. His whole body was a trembling mess. And out of all people (Y/N) came into his office. The only person he wished to avoid at all costs. How should he explain his brother's situation? How should he tell her that she was losing him?

"Good morning (Y/N)… There are no news. We are just discussing something important.", he lied bitterly to get time to think. Brulee and the others gave her a pitful look full of sadness. Narrowing her eyes about his awful try to lie, she watched his struggling. Sighing deeply about the fact that he really tried to hide information, she stepped before his desk with a serious expression.

"Tell me Oven. What's going on with my husband.", she spoke with pleading eyes. The look which always took his soft spot. Frustrated he avoid her strong gaze and stayed by his words to know nothing new. He just couldn't tell her. It was so unbelievable. It couldn't be real. (Y/N) could see how he was fighting with his inner self. He seemed helpless and it let herself get a shaken mess of fear. Brulee brushed through her hair in a lovingly manner, while tears brickled at the corner of her eyes.

"I know that Katakuri is in trouble….", (Y/N) started and placed her husband's vivre card on his desk. Confused he looked down and gave the piece of paper a closer look. After noticing the burning end and the powerful presence of his brother everyone gasp of shock.

" That's.. That's his vivre card. You have Katakuri's vivre card?", he spoke  surprised and took it in his hands like a trophy.

"And most of it is still intact.. That's a good sign more or less in his situation..", he blurted out and stopped in his tracks after feeling (Y/N) 's strong look. He knew it would break her. And he knew that she had to face the awful truth sooner or later. Meeting her gaze he got up from his seat and walked around his desk to reach her side. His moves alone worsened her terrible feeling. Taking her hands she couldn't stop the tears to fall.

"(Y/N)… We heard from the early news that Katakuri got caught by the marines."

Gasping she could imagine what this meant for her husband. Oven hugged her small form and rubbed her back in a comforting manner.

"He is alive but … They will bring him to the marineford base G-1 and lock him away, till he will be… God damn it… Executed.", he spoke seriously and bite his lip of hearing the desperate cry of (Y/N).

"No… No…this isn't true..please we have to help him… ",she cried and fell onto her knees.

"(Y/N).. There is nothing we can do..", he spoke frustrated and had to surpress his own tears.

"But Oven… We can't just do nothing..there has to be a way.", Flambe cried bitterly beside (Y/N) and hugged her tightly. It was the first time that she was this close to her. But that wasn't important. Nothing was important right now. Only her husband was on her mind.

" Flambe… I already told you. What should we do? We are known pirates. Leaving the territory and attacking the marineford would be the death of us. There are Admirals out there, which are more than dangerous…and more than happy to kill one Charlotte after another. And whole cake would get attacked as well if we leave it unprotected. Plus Mama would be furious if we just leave everything behind and go… We already suffer from her punishment…", Oven spoke frustrated.

" I have to agree. It seems that we have to face our big brothers death… ", Daifuku spoke with a blank expression. The others gasp of his words and were shaken.

(Y/N) fell silent. Her look was focused onto the floor. Her whole body felt numb, while her mind was racing. She knew that things seemed helpless, but what was her life worth anymore without the man she loved? The answer was simple. Nothing. She would rather die while trying to save him, than giving up in the first place. But how? What could she do?

"Then let me go..", she whispered coldly.

Shocked everyone's look fell on (Y/N) while Oven took her hands to get her attention.

"(Y/N) what are you talking about? It's way too dangerous out there. You have no ability to fight. And there is no way that you will be able to get inside this place.", he tried to get her back to her senses, but her angered look let him stop.

" How do you know? Compared to you and everyone else here in this room, I am a person with no bounty on my head.", she shot back and took him off guard.

" But (Y/N) you are still a Charlotte. You are married to Katakuri.. This made you a pirate as well.. ", Brulee tried to cut in.

"Yeah and? Even if they know that. It was a political marriage. I am not a Charlotte by blood and did nothing wrong.", she spoke seriously. Looking into their surprised faces she knew that she got a point.

"I can't go on without him. I can't. Please give me a ship with a small team and let me sail to Katakuri. Even if they kill me with him. He won't be alone. I would be by his side. It's better than endure this nightmare here without doing anything..", she spoke frustrated and let the others cry of the thought to lose her too.

Suddenly a loud clash echoed through the room. Gasping they looked to Oven who broke his desk with a powerful punch in two.

"Stop it now (Y/N). It's enough. You will stay here.", he shouted and let everyone fell silent.

"Katakuri wouldn't want that. He wants you to be safe. I promised him to keep an eye on you, not letting you go to kill yourself. Those marines are bastards. You can't imagine what they are able to do. Just give up already. ", he watched her crying form bitterly.

Getting her husband's vivre card she left his office without another word and ran full speed back to her room. Smashing the door shut she pressed her body against the door and cried out desperately. Frustrated she grabbed a backpack and pushed everything she was able to inside. Never would she accept that. Never would she let him get through this alone. She had to be by his side.

"Oven…was that really necessary to shout at her.?", Brulee asked angered. Sighing deeply he gave his sister an annoyed look.

"Now I know why Katakuri was so restless all the time. She is way too reckless with her life."

"She loves him…"

Brulee's words took him off guard and let him fell silent. It pained his heart that (Y/N) had to go through that, but what should he do? God damn it he would gladly go on a rampage at the marine base. For a moment no one dared to say something.

"She won't run away or will she?", Daifuku cut through the uncomfortable situation and got everyone's attention. Eyes widened Brulee rushed out to get to (Y/N) 's room, which looked like it exploded. Clothes and other items were scattered across the floor, but the most important thing was that Katakuri's wife was nowhere to be found. The others catched up with their sister and looked into the empty room shocked.

"Quick look for her. She sure is on the way to the bay!", Oven shouted and everyone started to look for their beloved sister in law.

(Y/N) knew that they would soon find out about her leaving and sure would look for her by the ships. Hiding in her bath tube she slowly got out and left her room as well. Her silent steps reached the cellar of whole cake chateau.

" Luckily Pudding showed me everything in our free time.", (Y/N) whispered relieved and stopped before a bookshelf. Getting a key out of one of the many books, she thought that maybe Pudding did that on purpose that she would have a possibility to leave if something would happen. Like her current situation.

Opening a big double door (Y/N) stopped before Mama's special submerge candy I. Pudding showed her the high tech vehicle which looked like a big bonbon. The main room was the center, while the ends of the candy was used for the motors. Quickly she jumped in and get herself ready. It wasn't surprising that it was full of high tech equipment. There was everything she needed for this troublesome journey before her. A computer with a map, a small sleeping place, utensils to get herself cleaned up and even a bag with a high amount of bonbons and other sweets to eat. A pink bag got her attention with a familiar handwriting on it. With the words "use wisely" (Y/N) gave it a closer look. There were different colored balls inside and a small note.

"(Y/N) if you find these, then it means that you are in trouble and have to leave whole cake. I swore to myself that if Katakuri isn't there that I will look over you. This underwater ship is the fastest one of Mama's and the map shows you every route you want. The pink ball is a healing bonbon. It is able to heal your body in an instant. The blue ones are for supporting your body and strength. Use them wisely in need. Please be safe out there till Mama got back to her senses and Katakuri is by your side again.

Pudding. "

Gasping she felt a tear roll down her face. It really was on purpose if she got in trouble with Mama. Balling her fists motivated (Y/N) started the engine and tapped the name of the marine base into the computer. In an instant it showed her through a navigation system where to go. (Y/N) was grateful for the hours of lessons about maps and geography back then as a child. It always was annoying and boring, but now more than useful for her.

With full speed she left the chateau through the underground and quickly reached the open sea.

"Master Oven, servants heard some ruckus from the Underground.", some servants called out and let him froze in the spot.

"This can't be!!"

Getting back to whole cake with full speed they were watching the scene with horror.

"She took Mama's submarine ship!!!!", Oven and the others shouted shocked.

"How on earth was she able to do that! No one is allowed to touch it. It's her most expensive and loved ship!", Brulee cried terrifyed, while Pudding smiled weakly.

"Pudding? Did you….", Oven growled pissed, but stopped after seeing her tears.

"How unfortunate. How could she find the keys?", she awfully lied and left the others heartbroken. There was nothing they could do now. No ship would be able to reach her in time. And it would only cause her more trouble if they follow her and get everyone's attention.

" Please (Y/N)…. Don't die.."

xxx

At that very moment a horrible feeling washed over Katakuri's body, but he hadn't the time to think about it. Beaten up badly he was transported to the marineford and pushed before the doors. His wounded body met the dirty ground. Blood trickled down his forehead and let his vision got blurry. The doors opened and a tall figure stepped before his awful state. Gasping was heard and he noticed the marines around him bowing before this man.

"What do we have here…Finally we got someone from the Charlotte clan… On top a sweet general. A very known general I have to add.", the man spoke in a mocking tone. Lifting his head he was met with the intimating aura of Admiral Akainu.

"Admiral Akainu. It's a pleasure to meet you. It's a honor that you come all the way here for this scum.", Leutnant Zotto spoke frightened.

"Sure I had to see with my very own eyes that he is now in our hands. Good job Leutnant. I will think of a reward for your brave action.", he spoke and let the man smile brightly of proudness. Bowing respectfully Leutnant Zotto stepped aside to give his superior enough space. The Admiral got before the big mom pirate and watched his wounded body amused.

"How is it going Katakuri Charlotte? The man with the highest bounty. I hope you enjoyed your travel."

"Skip this nonsense and come to the point.", Katakuri spoke angered and watched the man without any fear, while the others gasped of his rudeness.

Chuckling he heated up his hand with his devil fruit power and slowly pressed it onto his back to push him down to the dirt. Gasping of the immense pain on his back he growled frustrated.

"We will have much fun together. After hearing the news I came all the way here to see you, Charlotte brat. I won't give you the pleasure to die here and now. You will talk. Tell us everything we want till we are satisfied. Then maybe I give you the sweet release of dying.", he spoke with a smirk, while Katakuri growled pissed.

" Don't waste your time. I will never betray my family and tell you bastards anything.", he spoke coldy and got another hurtful touch of the Admiral.

" We will see… We have all time in the world. "

[walksonstars]

Kind of obsessed with this idea of Merlin being the reason Arthur and co. comes back.

That merlin waits, and waits, and waits then breaks. He fall into a pit of despair at the lost of them at where he went wrong and somehow manages to scrape himself back together and takes a step forward.

He moves on and he has a life he makes friends and falls on love and in some lives its peaceful their happy-- but he outlives them. Again and again and again.

Sometimes its wars, a stray bullet that he couldn't stop or a car on a twisty road, health condition, robbery gone wrong, natural causes and old age.

Both are worse. Age so long with them only to lose them in a way you can never follow that you always want to follow. Accidents, accents that he can never stop that he wasn't there for or was to late to avoid.

Lifetime after lifetime with his first family's death never healed and after a particularly hard life (a valid argument could be made for nearly anywhere in the 20th century) he snaps. Has some wanda vision-esque episode where he pours his magic into the earth and refuses to let people die or something.

Maybe he works around the rules of exchange and tries to put the world to sleep. Eternal life as long as they dream. But the rules of dreams are so different it doesn't fit the form of real life its not where people belong stuck going forward in a place with no up or down.

(Good place for a sandman crossover tbh)

Or maybe he wants to burn it all down. That if there's no earth he can't be tied to it trapped in what should have been his corpse a hundred times over.

Maybe he wants to be the reason. Maybe Arthur is the only one that can kill him.

And Arthur and co come back but Merlin... merlin isn't okay. Merlin can't be ok because merlin needs to rest and he can't.

I think he would be to broken to fix. I don't think he want to be.

I think that finally Arthur would be able to lay him to rest and Arthur and co would have to live a lifetime without Merlin constantly feeling his loss.

But they can die and this time the reincarnate together and so does Merlin. Arthur and co remember first and Merlin knows but doesn't. There's so much pain in remembering and they understand and they don't push and slowly they build a new future together, all of them with a few memories scattered in but not weighing them down not making them copies of who they were just embraces of who they are at their core.

Anyway thats my thoughts on it.

Insane Merlin AU

Hear me out, hear me out!

What if, instead of waiting for Albion's moment of greatest need, Merlin brings it upon them?

Like. After years of desperately waiting, Merlin would be like, “Arthur needs a catastrophe to wake up? Well, I'll do one.”

To the point of what if he is the one responsible for the destruction of Camelot?

And Arthur actually comes back then, only to watch in horror how Merlin turned, and it would be up to him to save Merlin this time

Holy shit

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 13: Quiet

SATURDAY - SPRING 27

It had seemed like forever ago when Emily had invited Achilles to her birthday party at the saloon—in fact, despite jotting it down in his planner, in his present condition, he would have forgotten about it completely had it not been for Shane. 

The three days following the Flower Festival had been rough, to say the least. Desperate to find something to do, to plan a new project—or, at the very least, brainstorm a list of things to do Next (with a capital “N”)���he had plunged himself into “work.”

And by “work,” he really meant (if he were actually honest with himself) immaterial, made up chores to ward off the restlessness barging at the gates of his antsy brain. At this point, Achilles could have likely won Zuzu’s annual Home & Garden Landscaping contest with how polished his grandpa’s old property was. But although Achilles firmly believed there was always room for improvement, in this specific scenario, one could only realistically polish something so much before it reached its maximum shine. 

Somewhat unsurprisingly, his anxiety could see through the sham of odd tasks and disingenuous jobs—it didn’t matter how many DIY shelving tutorials he watched or how often he scrubbed the floors. How many times he moved the garden gnome or how many one-sided conversations he was having with the junimos, who were now visiting him with increasing frequency.

Or perhaps he really was now going mad. 

With each day, he could feel that itchiness, that irritating, antsy static, begin to creep further and further into his skull. The voices in his head asking asking over and over and over again, louder and louder What’s next what’s next what’s next? The only thing that managed to keep it somewhat at bay was his morning jog, which was becoming increasingly longer with each day. Didn’t someone on some TV show once say that, really, as long as they kept moving and kept their mind occupied at all times, they would avoid falling into the bottomless pit of despair? Well it was true, although for Achilles it was more anxiety right now than depression. 

He had even considered braving his anti-group-fitness-stance and heading back to Zuzu for another class at Orange Grove for this very reason (well, among others)—it would give him something to focus on. But with the commute time, he just couldn’t make his mind see it as immediately “productive” in the wider scheme of things, as stupid as he knew this was. But anxiety wasn’t logical and thus, he abandoned the plans. Besides, Alex didn’t need to see him sweaty and anxious… 

So instead, he had continued to invite Shane over for breakfast, under the pretense that he was simply getting farming advice to pass on to prospective buyers. But he knew in his heart it was mostly just another flimsy excuse, especially as he found his jittery self lulled by the man’s silently sullen disposition into chattering at length on nonsense completely unrelated to farms. 

“You wanna come to Emily’s party tomorrow night? I don’t think she’ll care if I invite you, just sounds like you need a distraction,” Shane had finally grunted, which honestly was the politest way Shane had ever asked somebody to shut up. 

“Hmm? Oh—yes.” Achilles had taken the hint, gulping down the elderflower soda he was now somewhat addicted to (he did not provide Shane beer anymore, although that hadn’t stopped the man from bringing his own) to give his mouth something to do besides talk. “She actually invited me.” 

“Huh. Even better. Now I won’t get in trouble.” 

Fuck. He had forgotten. But hey, a real something-to-do, if a relatively quick one. After scouring the internet, he had put in a call to his mother who had in turn gotten her contacts to overnight Emily’s gift, which he delicately wrapped in periwinkle tissue paper. 

And so that was how he started his penultimate night in Stardew Valley. It was to be a long one. Standing in the living room, tapping his foot a mile a minute, barely comprehending a word of Joseph Queen’s latest novel, and rubbing circles into his wrist as he fidgeted with the gift bag handle, all while waiting for 7:30 to arrive. 

*****

But at a certain point waiting became too hard and, eager to do something instead of sitting around the immaculately clean farmhouse, he had decided to leave for the saloon early and simply take the long way to town, through Cindersap. It was an unusually cool evening, fresh and breezy, and no signs of rain, thank Yoba. 

He bumped into Leah, dressed for the weather in a beanie and a spritely green jacket that reminded him a bit of his garden gnome. 

“Hey there.” She nodded at the gift bag in his hands. “Going to Emily’s? What’d you get her?” 

Achilles shoved his ear pods into his windbreaker and handed the bag to Leah who promptly removed the tissue paper and peered inside. “Nothing much, to be honest, I wasn’t quite sure what she’d like.” 

“Nothing much?” Leah had stopped, one hand balancing seven spools of thread, the bag, and the tissue paper Achilles had so particularly arranged; the other holding up a 12 pack of markers. “Achilles, these are Tannics.” 

Achilles’ nose twitched. You idiot. An oversight—of course Leah, as an artist, would recognize the brand. What to do… He chose to downplay.

“Ah, they’re the brand my mom uses and Emily’s a fan of her work. I just figured they’d be good.” 

Leah returned the items to the bag, stuffing the paper unceremoniously on top, and they resumed their walk. “‘Figured they’d be good…’ They’re the best. That pack must’ve been $70—and you yourself just said you barely know Emily.”  

“I didn’t say I ‘barely know’ her, we’re friendly—” 

“You pretty much implied it when you said you weren’t sure what she’d like. Who gets a $70 shot in the dark gift?” 

“She likes designing clothes, I grew up around fashion designers. What’s wrong with getting tools you know are nice? At least I know she’ll put them to good use.” Achilles tone was growing sharp as the ants in the back of his brain began to wake at the rumblings of a row. He took a deep breath through his nose, flexing his fingers in attempt to calm himself and the incoming anxiety.

She whipped her red braid over her shoulder and half-shoved the bag back into Achilles’ hands. “Yoba… must be nice…” 

Achilles knew she wanted him to respond, he could feel her eyes on him as they walked, but he resolutely bit back his tongue. He knew it was nice—to have money, to come from money—of course it was nice. 

“Explains a lot, really. Your mom’s in fashion, your dad’s in television, and Elliott says you were a writer before all this?” 

A short, rather jerky nod. “Wasn’t for me. More of a… hobby, I suppose.” 

“Hmm. Must be nice…” 

He took another deep breath. Just one foot in front of the other…

“For sure. I’m very lucky and exceedingly grateful to my parents, I doubt I would be here without them.” 

“Yeah… but you don’t really get it, do you? You know, just… being able to quit your day job and get the fuck out of town for a season to just do something you’ve never done before for shits and giggles? You’re going to, what, sell the new farm for a cool couple million, and then what are you going to do after that? What’s your plan?” 

Achilles new it would be better to stay silent, but the mere presence of ants in his brain was a reminder of the truth, and the words spilled out before he could bite them back. 

“I don’t know.” 

“You don’t know.” Leah shook her head—was she merely irritated or incensed?—and flipped her  braid to her other shoulder. “The fact that you can say that is just… so fucking unbelievably crazy to me. That there’s a world where people just… don’t know. People who don’t need to know.

“Writing didn’t work out for you long term—like you said, it was a hobby, sure, so you went into corporate, and clearly that wasn’t for you either, so you just… moved on to the next thing. 

“Art isn’t just a hobby for me. For Elliott. For Emily. It’s not something we can just abandon and pick up or move on from without a plan. To be able to just… take a break? We don’t have something to fall back on. We have to worry about our literal survival.” 

“Leah, I bought Emily some nice markers for her birthday. That’s it.” Achilles struggled to keep his voice even, even as Leah’s had rose in urgency. “I’m sorry, but I just don’t understand what you want me to say.” 

But even as he said it, as he heard Leah’s sharp inhale as she geared up for the next round, he knew there was nothing she wanted from him, specifically. This was a vent, it was clear as day, and unlucky timing for Achilles, he seemed to have been the unlucky trigger of it all. 

“I just… to be able to blow $70 on somebody you barely know without a second thought while the rest of us are choosing between next week’s groceries and tools… ”  

The pseudo, and mostly one-sided, argument carried them to the saloon where, as politely as he could, he excused himself to the restroom as Leah all-too-gladly made her way to the room Emily had reserved. 

It was a private stall, thank goodness. He stumbled over to the mirror, his hands grasping the sides of the porcelain sink. The gift bag swayed, again chafing his wrist as he leaned into the cold water flowing from the faucet. 

He hated not knowing, he hated the unknown, he had done everything in his power to never have to feel that way for the past six years—but he couldn’t tell that to Leah because the truth was, in the grand scheme of things, it was fine that he didn’t know. That he didn’t have next steps planned, that he wasn’t thinking about making next month’s rent or next week’s groceries. 

He hadn’t had to use his parent’s money since he was 19—that was something he could confidently say. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t, if he needed it—and he knew his parents would help him in half a heartbeat if it ever came to that. And despite what Perry had insisted, Achilles had known that his last name had gotten him his agent much faster than it would’ve taken someone whose father wasn’t the show runner for primetime’s longest running procedural. 

In a way, the pressure of his parents’ success and the career expectations they had unintentionally set were likely what was feeding his next step anxiety. It wasn’t anything his parents had demanded from him, not at all, they had always been nothing but supportive, and for that, he knew he was lucky. But he had always been haunted by the pressure to make a name for himself, to achieve a level of public notoriety, much like his mother and father had. And for most of his life, that idea had constantly sent him running down the road trying to commit fully to all sorts of different projects to find something that he wanted—or, at least, was “supposed” to want. 

The realtor was coming tomorrow, and from his copious research he had deduced the farm wouldn’t stay on the market for long. So really, what was next? Looking back, this “excursion” to Stardew Valley was always going to be a temporary thing. The clock had really been ticking the moment he had quit BRLO and left Hyacinthia. He had just refused to listen to it. 

*****

When he eventually found his way to Emily’s reserved room, he had nearly succumbed to the ants crawling in his head, to the voices penetrating his mind, to the coldness that was seeping into his core, and as he took his third, his fourth, and his fifth shot, he told himself the only way to win this mental battle was to drown them out. 

“Are you all right?” 

The voice, soft but firm, managed to pierce the warm haze of alcohol. There was a hand at his back—Alex, of course, they had been next to each other most of the evening. 

“Yeah, why?” he murmured. He was fine. Totally fine. Better than some of the other folks here, right? His eyes searched wildly for the Shane, desperate to prove to himself that there was someone, always someone, worse off than he was. 

But instead, he found Shane somehow laughing, his hands clasping what must’ve been his sixth beer of the night, sandwiched between Emily and a pink-haired woman who had introduced herself as Sandy. Did anyone in this damn town have a natural hair color… 

Achilles glowered, but forced himself to quickly recover—this was a party, he couldn’t be upset. 

Someone—maybe it was Leah—broke out a deck of cards. 

Why not? he thought to himself, pulling up a seat to join the game. You’re good at these things… 

Not good enough, it seemed. He lost—fast, too. And while he forced himself to laugh (get the stick out of your ass, what will people think), inside, he cursed himself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. So tight he was gripping the handle of his drink that his fingerpads had grown numb against the chilled glass.  

God, why do you care so much about a stupid fucking game. Stop. Just stop. Get yourself together. 

Someone made a joke. He laughed. Someone told a story. He asked questions. Someone stood to leave. He stood to say goodbye, and immediately the world tilted. 

Fuck. It had been six years since he had been drunk, it must have snuck up on him. But it was fine, he just needed a minute… or twenty… 

“Achilles, are you ok? I’m sorry about what I said earlier.” 

He looked up. It wasn’t Alex after all, but Leah. Or perhaps, it had been Alex earlier, and now it was Leah? How much time had passed? 

She took a seat next to him—where had she been sitting before? 

“Achilles, come on, I said I was sorry…” 

He mumbled something indecipherable. 

“Come on, man, let’s get you back.” 

Someone was taking his arm, but he shrugged them off. He was fine, he could still walk for Yoba’s sake… 

“Happy birthday, Emily!” he said as he stood for the door, giving the willowy blue-haired girl a hug. 

“Thank you for coming, Achilles! And thank you so much for the gift, I can’t believe you’d do that for me, you’re amazing.” 

He smiled, glancing smugly at the figure waiting for him by the door—take that, Leah—and see, everything was fine. Emily probably didn’t even notice he was… buzzed. Well, maybe a little more than buzzed…

“Let’s get you some air…” 

In the dim lamplight outside the saloon, he could just barely make out the flash of a green jacket and red braid. Ugh. Really not who he wanted to be with right now, but he wasn’t in much condition to escape. 

He stumbled a bit, but her firm hand held him steady. He considered shaking off his arch-nemesis, as he was apt to calling Leah now as of three hours ago, but the world was already spinning enough, and he rested his eyes half-closed and let himself be guided along the path. She really must be feeling guilty. Not that anything she had said had been false, per se… 

Soon the crumbly cobblestone turned to sand, and whether it was the sudden drop in temperature or overwhelming smell of salt, he wasn’t sure, but he bent over and immediately began to dry heave. 

“Oh fuck.” 

The beach? Of all places… leave it to fucking Leah to choose here of all places… 

She dragged him into the water, despite Achilles’ protests, her hand rubbing his back as he vomited into the ocean. 

“I’m so sorry fish, I’m so sorry.” Achilles groaned. Fuck, he loathed the feeling of nausea, and watching the black tides churn under the weak moonlight only made him more dizzy. He stumbled backwards in the shallow water, trying to make for shore, but his stomach seized again and he had to close his eyes as he bent over to throw up, one hand begrudgingly flailing for Leah’s jacket for support. “The fish…” 

“It’s ok, I really don’t think they mind. But we could ask Willy if you—” 

“Hey now, what the fuck?” 

Achilles looked up from the spray and saw Alex standing next to him, jeans rolled up in the shin-high water. The letterman combined with the red scarf tied loosely around his neck—he must’ve mistaken it for Leah’s red braid. Wow. Perhaps he really was drunk. 

Dulled as his reflexes were now, he still managed to recover (with the darkness’ help) fairly swiftly from this stomach-flipping surprise.

“Better you than her,” Achilles grumbled while simultaneously waving him away. 

Achilles turned and sloshed his way back up shore and onto the boardwalk. The sturdy wood was steady beneath his feet, grounding him as he watched the waves through half-closed eyes. Lulled by their crash, he lay on his back, face up towards the half moon. 

“Hey, let’s get you back up, you don’t want to throw up and suffocate on your own vomit.” Alex was still there, apparently. 

“What the fuck, man?” 

“Sorry, I… saw that on TV once.” 

Achilles managed to clamber back up onto his elbows before painstakingly lifting himself to sit at the edge of the boardwalk. He leaned his head against the post as Alex took a seat next to him. A water bottle was in his hands, as well as a small bag of crackers. 

They sat in silence. Achilles likely would’ve fallen asleep had his doze not been punctuated by two more bouts of vomiting. It splattered grossly into the water ten feet below. The sound really only made Achilles more nauseas… but at least Alex seemed unbothered. Oh, but the fish… 

A half hour after the the second attack, when it seemed like Achilles’ stomach (and most of his mind) had settled, Alex handed him the water and crackers. 

He had little energy to refuse—it was getting colder and he was shivering—and so he accepted it wordlessly, taking a long sip after wiping off the salty spray that had accumulated on the cap. The pressure in his head was building, a dull thrum beating rhythmically with his heart. 

After a minute, he closed his eyes and once again rested his head against the wooden post. Even with nothing to see, he could still feel the world spin. 

In a forced conversational tone, Achilles broke the silence. 

“Well. This has been an embarrassing evening, and I pray thee, never speak of it to me again. Please send dear Emily my deepest apologies for ruining her party. She shall never have to see my face again, for I depart with the Spring.” 

From somewhere on his left, he heard a dry chuckle. 

“You didn’t ruin her party, don’t give yourself too much credit. She probably didn’t even notice— it’d take more than one drunk little man to ruin Emily’s mood. I mean, she’s friends with Shane after all, isn’t she? Besides, if it makes you feel better, half the people there were more wasted than you…” 

And yet he was the only one Alex had chosen to help? Achilles bit back a lazy smile, though Alex wouldn’t have been able to see it in the dark anyway. The sharp pain in his lip helped clear his drunken cloud for just a second.

Eh. Maybe Achilles had just seemed the most pathetic. That was the more likely scenario. 

You dumb, drunk bastard…  

“Can I lie on my back now?” 

“Do you think you’ll throw up again?” 

“No.” 

“Hmm. I’ll allow it.” 

Achilles bit back another laugh as he collapsed backwards. He was still lightheaded—a peculiar sensation against the incoming migraine—but he loved clouds, and those currently illuminated by the moon were traveling slower than the waves. As he tracked their movement, the world began to slow back to its usual speed. A dull thump announced Alex had lain down as well. 

“You’re going to have a wicked hangover tomorrow, my friend.” 

“Fuck…” Tomorrow. Somewhere between the fifth and sixth shot, he had somehow forgotten. He rubbed his eyes, tempering his groan into a sigh. “Realtor is coming tomorrow morning.” 

“So you’re really going to sell the place?” 

Achilles turned and could just make out Alex’s face peering at his. If he reached out, he could probably just barely touch him, a few feet or so away he was. Instead, he faced the sky again. 

“I’ve been saying it all season, you didn’t think I’d commit?” 

“I just… I guess we all hoped you’d change your mind.” 

Achilles sighed through his nose. “I don’t know what else to do.” 

And suddenly, there it was—the burn surging up his neck, the sting behind his eyes, the lump in his throat. But he refused to cry. He loathed crying—especially in front of other people—so he bit it back as he bit his tongue, stubbornly, mechanically, again using the pain to keep control. But the pressure was too much, and while he successfully fought to keep back tears, words broke through his damn, spewing out in an explosive rush. 

“I didn’t know what to do after I decided I’d stop writing. It was very abrupt. The decision, that is. 

“I thought I had had my life all figured out at 17. Sure, I started in kiddie lit, but I had it all planned out—I had mapped out stories for the next decade, I’d make the jump to real shit before 25, get a film adaptation, maybe win a Pulitzer. Yeah, I know how that sounds. Listen, I was young, dumb, arrogant, and ambitious. Great combanation. 

“Obviously, that didn’t happen… like I said, the decision to stop was… sudden, to say the least. I wasn’t prepared for it. 

“I went to BRLO, eventually, of course. But the year in between—when I was trying to figure what the fuck I was going to do next—was, I think, the worst fucking year of my life.” 

Achilles paused to swallow the catch in his throat. He was sure even the smallest voice crack would invite sympathy, and that was not at all what he wanted. Taking a deep, and only slightly shaky, breath, he continued. 

“And I’m scared it’s going to happen again. The situations aren’t… identical… but they’re similar enough that even just thinking about tomorrow, about what’s supposed to be next, I just want to scream. I don’t what else to do.” 

 It was Alex who broke the brief silence. 

“You once told me you came to Stardew for a fresh start—” 

Achilles cut him off with a scoff.  “And a start was all it was ever destined to be, see that’s my whole fucking problem here. I didn’t leave BRLO with a real plan. And I… I need a plan. 

“You know, I don’t even know what in the world I was trying to achieve at all coming here. The cover of Better Gnomes and Farmin’? Let’s be honest, as I’ve already been reminded this evening, I don’t need whatever money the farm is going to bring in. Looking back, the farm was never going to lead to anything, at least, not anything worthwhile, not anything particularly noteworthy. The farm just… is. 

“I couldn’t admit it to myself until these past few days, but coming here—it was always a distraction. A pretty good one, I’ll admit it, but a distraction all the same to keep myself from, I don’t know, going insane. But cleaning up a farm was never going to keep this feeling at bay forever. There was always an expiration date. This was always inevitable.” 

 He paused again, this time to lightly lick his pointer finger. He had rubbed it raw tracing it against the damp grain of the dock.

“Would you ever consider going back? To BRLO?” 

Achilles snorted. “BRLO… I hated it there from the moment I arrived. But I refused to believe it. I told myself, you’re 23 can you really not handle a 9-5 job? Look at all the other people in the world that have to do it, how pathetic are you? And it was better than doing nothing. So I stayed. 

“To be honest though, looking back, it was probably exactly what I needed after everything with Apparition. The stability of just something… linear, something always present, something I was actually good at, that I could focus on.”

Achilles shut his eyes and paused to chew somberly on a bit of cracker. Alex said nothing. 

“But, as I said, I hated it. I had jumped into bed with something I knew I didn’t love, but by the time I finally let myself take a step back and see the bigger picture, it was too late to just… let myself let go. All sunk costs, sure, but… still.

“You know, I was the youngest executive BRLO had ever had in 50 some years? I won two CLIOs.” 

It felt hollow to say that. He had worked hard, that was indisputable—too hard, really. It was a title he had achieved mostly because he had been willing to give up any semblance of a personal life. Nevertheless, he had always liked titles. Like awards, he found them to be more tangible measurements of success. 

“And how many people actually love their jobs anyway? How many people are actually doing something they want to be doing? That’s what I kept asking myself, day in and day out of pitches and brainstorms. I thought, maybe, if I just really… dove into it all, really committed, I’d eventually find something that I liked. Just something to latch on to that would help make all my success there taste more sweet than bitter. 

“So I just digging myself deeper and deeper into this hole in the hopes that somewhere at the bottom I’d find… something.

“Some people have epiphanies. You hear about those lightbulb moments where they’re sitting in their office and just suddenly realize they’re being crushed by the burden of modern life, they realize they’re spirit is fading, that this isn’t the future life their six year old self had envisioned and they needed to drop everything now and head for the hills that are calling for them and become a farmer and be one with nature. 

“I didn’t have that. That… yearning for something else. Don’t get me wrong, I wanted it—I mean, I still want it, a sign, anything, to just point me in the right direction of what the fuck to do—but I didn’t have it.

“No. I think I just hit a wall one day. Finally hit the bottom of that hole, I guess, and saw that there was nothing there. There had never been anything there. I had a title. I had money. I was doing shit. But I didn’t want it.” 

And how privileged it was that you could just leave. And here you are… ready to do it again. 

“And so I turned in my two weeks notice, and that was it. Leaving was all push for me, no pull.” 

He had eaten all the crackers and was now thumbing the bag between his numb fingers. Alex hadn’t said a word. Perhaps he had fallen asleep. Achilles wouldn’t have blamed him. Nevertheless, the floodgates were wide open now. He kept going. 

“If I had learned anything from BRLO it was that there’s no sustainability in hate. I know it’s obvious. And I know it’s stupid and selfish and entitled, but it’s why I was so against farming, against those fucking strawberry seeds, I didn’t want to waste another six years going down a path that was doomed from the start. I hate worms, Alex. I hate them. 

“I loved writing. I did. And when I switched to advertising, well—I wanted to want to love it. So, so badly, you don’t even know, I think that’s why I was trying so hard. Diving in all the way, full commitment to things, it’s... it’s important, because how else can you make adequate progress? How else can you maximize what you’re trying to achieve? 

“But I think at some point in my life, it became difficult for me to distinguish between being busy and being content. I learned you can’t force how you feel. There’s no sustainability in artificiality either.

“I’ve always just wanted to do something important. Like my parents, just be someone… have an impact, a real impact. Is that pathetic? Probably. Maybe I don’t deserve it.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “Anyway, I don’t know why I ever thought I’d find whatever that is out here painting farmhouses. Regardless, whatever it was, that’s all done anyway, and now I’m at an even bigger loss of what to do because I still don’t know what the fuck is next and I’m… tired.” 

Achilles stopped. The only sound he heard was his own breath, rapid and weary and, he hated having to admit it to himself, whiny. For a few minutes, all was quiet. Perhaps Alex really had fallen asleep… but then—

“Why don’t you just stay?” 

“I just said I’m never going to farm—”

“Well, you don’t have to farm. You just said you don’t need money. You can just… stay. And, I don’t know, wait—”

“—fuck no, waiting is the last thing I want to do. You can’t just wait around and count on success finding its way to you, and besides, I don’t do well with waiting, and I don’t do well with quiet, and that’s two things this Valley’s got going for it. 

“The city—and I mean, the real city, not like Zuzu—it’s loud, it’s fast, it’s always demanding something from you, and I think all that chaos, all those distractions… some people find it draining, but the horns and the yelling and the sirens, I found it all comforting, I think it helped me… focus? Commit? Helped sideline those voices in all our heads that ask us, what else is there? What more could you be doing? What more should you be doing? 

“The Valley here, it’s so quite. So, so, quiet, you all may call it calming, but to me it’s maddening. There’s just too much empty space; anxiety and dread, they thrive here, and it’s like they’re pushing me out. I don’t feel comfortable, I don’t feel welcome.” 

“Everyone here likes you though. Do you not like us?” 

Achilles rubbed his eyes again until he saw double the number of stars in the sky. “It’s not the people that’s the issue. It’s, I don’t know what you want me to say, the general environment? There’s just… not enough here. Just all the voices in my head that are now free to take center stage and tell me that I’m nobody. Let’s be real, Alex, why am I even here? What am I doing here? Nothing. 

“I mean, who knows, maybe I’m just burnt out, and that’s the real reason I’ve felt like shit. But at 27? Again, that’s so incredibly pathetic. And yet somehow, I still feel like I’m running out of time. 

“My parents are so, so passionate about their work, and they’re both so good at what they do—both their careers have long grown to something beyond them now in society. And they both started when they were way younger than I am now, and for them to be so incredibly successful for so long, and here I am just… I don’t know.” 

“You really don’t think you’ve succeeded at anything?” 

“Not in a way that means anything.” 

Achilles immediately regretted snapping at Alex—it was rude, and the kid didn’t deserve it. Needlessly aggressive, much like Leah had been earlier that evening… in fact, Leah’s own words were now pounding in his head, and, after a beat, Achilles continued in a more meditative tone. 

“What do we do with our lives when we don’t have to worry about our survival? What do we choose to do? To work towards? What motivates us? I have money, fuck, Alex, I have so much money. I’m well aware I’m exceedingly lucky to be in a position where I don’t ever have to do anything I don’t want to do for the rest of my life. But I still want to do something. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to want to do anymore.” 

Achilles paused again, wishing he could take back the words, words that reeked of entitlement and privilege. But he attempted a wan joke instead. 

“I know what you’re thinking. Poor little rich girl, what does she know about misery?” 

He tore his gaze from the clouds and glanced towards Alex, but his quote received only a blank stare. 

“Titanic?” 

“…the boat?”

“What—no, the movie. Jimmy Cameron?”

“Haven’t seen it.” 

“Seriously?” 

“Grandpa always said it was for women.” 

“For women—?” 

“Have you ever thought about writing again? You said you loved it…”

“You promised me you wouldn’t ask that.”

“Hey now, I don’t remember saying promise…” 

“I had wanted to be a writer since I was quite young. I was lucky—in a number of ways—to have briefly found success, and it turned into something bigger than me. But then I let it turn into something I did for me. I started listening to the wrong things, to the wrong people, the whole thing just… became selfish. I was selfish, Alex, I know I am. And that, I think, is why it failed. In the end.”

It wasn’t the only reason what had been admittedly quite a strong start to a career had been violently derailed, Achilles thought wryly. Some of the blame ought to go to a Mr. Eddie Bloomsbury—although, if he were really honest with himself, even the consequences of that had really just been rooted in his own selfishness and pride. 

Isn’t that what it all came back to in the end, though? His failed writing career. Staying at BRLO. Leaving BRLO. Even his absurdly intense dedication to fixing a farm he’d never call home. Sure, that was to keep himself busy, but was it also not partly motivated by a nagging self-interest, by his overwhelming preoccupation with controlling how the world perceived him? All in order to—hopefully—find and earn his place in some faraway spotlight. 

Regardless, wherever it was he was meant to be doing, he had surely taken 3 steps back with this silly little detour to Stardew Valley. He lay his hand over his chest, tight with unease, feeling his heart pound through the fabric of his windbreaker. Yoba, what was he supposed to do next… He thought back to his grandpa’s letter, the one that sent him to Stardew in the first place. Honor the family name… Bullshit, with every project he poured his heart and soul into, he still wasn’t on track to honor anything. 

“I think you should stay.” Alex’s voice was soft, but Achilles still jolted with a start. Nearly ten minutes had passed and he had been halfway to finally finding a minute of peace in sleep.  

“I know it’s probably not the same noise you’re used to, but I’ve never found the Valley to be all that quiet. I think you just have to learn to listen to a new kind of sound.” 

Achilles closed his weary eyes again, allowing Alex’s words to settle in the air for a minute before finding himself surrendering to their proposition. 

The soft buzz of the fireflies darting about the boardwalk. A cawing seagull or two, back from a late night snack above the roaring waves. Cattails rustling in the sea breeze. He could even just manage to make out Willy drunkenly bellowing late night sea shanties from his cabin, and maybe, if he listened really, really closely, he could hear Alex breathing. Soft, peaceful, steady. Calm. 

[axagar]

01/15/2023

hello, Tumblr. i have missed you dearly. when i deleted my account of like 8 years, i was heartbroken but have come back for another go. life has been weird lately and i need a place to vent in peace. to avoid names, we’ll just use LOML. the LOML is going through a lot and making rash decisions. she’s struggling and i just want to bear hug her and be like “everything is okay” but i am not who she wants. being in love with someone for three years with little slivers of hope may sound pathetic to pretty much anyone. the reason i am in love with her and have never stopped is because i understand why she does the things she does. i know no matter what happens, she loves me. i truly believe we will forever be in love, even if our crazies can’t mix. when we’re both doing good, we’re an unstoppable force. but the same applies for when we’re both spiraling, such as now. our spiraling drags each other further into the pit of despair. i don’t know how to help you. i don’t even know how to help myself. all i want is a reason to live again. i’ve lost hope of ever truly having her and us being together. and she’s my family. she’s the only true love i’ve had in my life. she’s the only person i can actually believe when they say they love me and care about me. everyone in my life makes me feel as though i am just a charity case. the way people act towards me, talk to me, treat me. everything. except for you. you just love me. you don’t make me feel like a burden. you’re the only person that i can be okay when you need space. with everyone else i feel like they’re trying to get away from me. i don’t know what to do anymore. everyone just keeps telling me to let go or move on but i can’t. i know we are meant to be. i will never fall out of love with her. i’ve tried to be with people and i just get consumed with guilt because i can’t stop thinking of her. everything i do makes me think of her. every little aspect of life relates back to her somehow in my mind, and she is always there. i would do anything to have our little family back. to wake up with you and mini you, wrapped in blankets in a cuddle puddle, and just peaceful. i miss falling asleep like your teddy bear. being the little spoon and wrapped up in your arms is the safest i’ve ever felt. you gave me a reason to wake up, a reason to be clean, a reason to get through school, a reason to eat healthy or even just feed myself in general. i have no one and nothing now. with an entire family that hates me and losing my friend group, even though they were shitty and fake, i have no one that even gives a fuck if i wake up in the morning. the loml is the only person that i feel like thinks about me throughout the day. but i am nothing and i’m probably just fading out of her mind. without her i have no one. what’s the point of being alive if you’re constantly alone? it’s suffocating being trapped in an apartment alone, no car or license, and no one to love you or even really talk to. it just feels pointless.

i’m sorry for my rant and welcome to my mf blog lmfao

[waternilly]

Don't Be Afraid of Being Hurt

Fandom: Harry Potter Ship: George Weasley x Reader (Gender, Race & House neutral) Word count: 1.5k Warnings: Angst (no happy ending, just angst) A/N at the end of the text

The Yule Ball was a time to celebrate, dance, sing, and enjoy life for everyone present. But to you, the Yule Ball was your worst nightmare. It had barely been sixteen days since you had your heart broken by the one person you never thought would be able to do this.

You had loved George Weasley dearly, although secretly. His mere presence in a room was enough to make it shine brighter. He always had the words to comfort you, to make you laugh, to change your mind. He gave the tightest bear hugs and the softest forehead kisses.

But it had all abruptly come to an end.

He had asked someone else out to the Yule Ball.

She had said yes.

Then you had been asked out by someone else.

And you had said yes too.

You had avoided him since, despite usually always being attached to his hip.

Now that the ball was mere hours away, you did not know what to do anymore. Would you have the strength to go, and face him? Would you even be able to enjoy yourself? All you could think about was George and this beautiful girl he had asked out slow dancing together. What a shame it would be for your date, and you, if you spent the entire night on the edge of a breakdown because of this.

Letting your head fall into an open book, you sighed deeply. The library was thankfully almost empty, so no one could see your despair. And even if they did, they could easily assume it regarded one homework or the other.

"You okay there?"

Looking up, you recognised Angelina, and smiled at her.

"Hey," you muttered.

She offered you a sympathetic smile and sat down in front of you.

"What's up?" she whispered.

"Nothing, I..."

You let out another deep sigh. How silly of you to lie. Who would buy that you were doing just fine? Especially not someone like Angelina, who was one of your closer friends.

"I'm just nervous about tonight," you explained.

"So is everyone else, you know?" she reassured you. "But we're gonna have a great time, okay? We both got a cute date, we have our friends and we're gonna look smoking hot."

You reciprocated her smile, amused. It was true that Elian, the Durmstrang boy who had asked you out, was really good looking. You had gotten to interact with him quite a few times leading up to the ball, and there was no doubt he would also amuse and entertain you.

"Thank you," you whispered.

"No need."

And with that Angelina walked away.

Despite her comforting words, you could still feel your stomach tingle as the beginning of the ball approached. You tried your best to distract yourself with homework, with a walk on the school grounds, with some singing to yourself. None of it worked for very long however. You could not ignore the pit in your stomach, the best you could do was live with it.

About two hours before the ball were to begin, you went back to your common room. You did not hurry, calmly taking a shower, getting dressed and taking care of any other details, like perfume.

You finished early, but by the end of the entire process, you were the most relaxed you had been all day. The thought of crossing George at the Yule Ball still made your stomach tingle, but at least you felt confident and appeased.

When the time came, you left the common room in company of some classmates and made your way to the Great Hall.

As you walked down the stairs, you met Elian's gaze. His face lit up as he looked at you. He was pleasing to the eyes himself, dressed in one of the elegant red uniforms that all the students from Durmstrang seemed to be wearing.

Once you reached the last step, he presented his arm to you. You accepted without a second thought.

"You look beautiful," he praised.

You thanked him and returned the compliment.

"Fancy seeing you here, Y/N," a voiced piped up from behind you.

You turned to see Angelina, holding onto Fred's arm, walking over to the two of you.

After exchanging the expected compliments that would come with an evening such as this one, Angelina kindly asked you:

"How are you feeling?"

"A lot better," you admitted.

"Was something wrong?" Elian asked.

"Nothing to worry about," you told him. "I was just nervous about tonight, but I am not anymore."

He smiled at you and you mirrored him.

At that moment, you were called to enter the Great Hall, as the champions were about to open the ball. Angelina and Fred led the way, followed closely by you and Elian.

You heard Angelina ask Fred: "Where is your brother?"

"He is with his date, we'll meet them back inside."

The mention of George with his date made your throat tighten, but you quickly gulped to get rid of the feeling.

The champions had opened the ball, elegantly waltzing in the middle of the crowd. Soon enough, they were joined by various teachers and students.

"May I have this dance?" Elian asked, extending his arm out for you once more.

You did not hesitate.

He turned out to be quite the dance partner too, leading you gracefully on the dancefloor.

You smiled. Genuinely. You were having an amazing time.

When the music came to an end, Elian surprised you by placing a kiss on your hand before escorting you off the dancefloor.

You exchanged a few drinks with friends, chatting eagerly about their outfits, the decorations, the music.

Suddenly, a guitar riff resonated throughout the Great Hall. It seemed the rumors had been true. Dumbledore had indeed booked the Weird Sisters for the Yule Ball.

Everyone rushed back in front of the stage. You jumped and danced and shouted. You were spending a way better evening than you had anticipated.

But as all good things, it passed by too quickly. Soon enough, the band was interpreting their final song for the night: a slow.

"May I have one last dance?" Elian had asked cheekily.

He had been an amazing partner throughout the entire evening, making you laugh and dancing with you plenty. How could you say no to his demand?

You put one hand on his shoulder, he put one on your waist, your free hands against each other. Slowly, you started swaying side to side.

"Did you have a good evening?" he asked.

"Yes," you replied. "Did you you?"

"It was wonderful." He paused. "Would you like for us to keep seeing each other?"

You frowned: "In what sense?"

"Would you like to go on a date with me some time?"

He was straightforward to say the least.

"I'm sorry." You let out a sad chuckle. "I don't think I'm ready to date anyone at the moment."

"No need to apologise," he reassured. "Being your friend is plenty enough."

You thanked him with a smile.

He spinned you around.

Your gaze got lost in the decor around you. The white shades of the Great Hall, the magical snow, the clear night sky ceiling.

That is when you met his gaze.

Time slowed down.

It stopped entirely.

You felt every distinct beat of your heart.

And then none.

He was slow dancing with this beautiful girl. Oh, how you envied her. How you wished to be in her shoes. How you wished to be in his arms.

Gulping, you faced Elian again.

Quickly realising your trouble, he wondered: "Y/N, are you okay?"

Instead of answering, you peaked back towards George. He was also looking at you, offering a kind smile.

Then he turned back to his own date.

If he only knew what that smile did to you.

Having understood the situation by that point, your partner offered to lead you back to your common room before the end of the song.

You accepted and thanked him, holding onto his arm as you exited the Great Hall. You vaguely felt eyes following you but did not care to pay attention to them.

You had seen the way that George looked at that girl, the way he smiled at her, the way he held her.

All you kept thinking back about was the moment your eyes met for the first time that day. For the first time in days.

How it had hurt. But how you had missed it.

George Weasley had always been able to make you feel some type of way. He always brought out the best and worst in you. He made you laugh the loudest and cry the hardest. And all of that, he did without even intending it.

Despite not trying to be too pessimistic, you wondered if there was anyone else like him in the world. And if that person may love you one day.

A/N: I know we don't see much of George in this part, but I am thinking about making this into a short series. I just had the Yule Ball scene planned out before starting to write and I loved it so much I did not want to change it. I can, however, still decide what happens to the characters next ;) Please, let me know if you would be interested. Thank you for reading until the end! Hoping to see you for the next chapter! And check my suggestions/request guidelines if you're interested in requesting anything from me/giving me ideas.

[f4nd0m-fun]

I'd like to promote my Loki-Batman AU in which the kids are technically demigods through adoption but they won't know until they or Bruce either die or awaken their godly selves. That or they're reincarnations of Loki's Kids. I feel like they'd have some minor abilities but I need I find where I wrote out who correlates to who... I remember some but not all. Also blurb about the reblog definitely being almost right.

For Bruce, he's mostly just subconsciously changing his face details and some other minor stuff whenever someone tries to unmask him. Once he awakens, that includes some memories, but he'll still need time to train his abilities, from magic to shapeshifting and manipulation skills. Also, I'm laughing at the idea he goes full recluse as Bruce for a bit because he can't get his shapeshifting under control.

Dick of course is Jormungdr (I can't spell). So he probably has a Naga form once he awakens, but a full snake form might not be a good idea, I dunno (be hilarious if Damien is all 'Batsnake!' because he doesn't realize it's Dick until he changes back). Anyway, this just makes his flexibility that much better/worse, and his Naga form moves surprisingly quickly. Also, more of him to hug others, he's gonna love that.

I think Jason would greatly correlate to Hela but I'm not entirely sure on the direction. On one hand, just imagine him scaring the piss out of magical creatures by not only summoning the allblades but also his appearance being half skeletal at that point. And, if the creech is pissing him off enough, he might summon a few of the dead, since post-death knows his truth. Also, Trans!Jason my beloved. Either he has a lil bit of shapeshifting from Bruce/Loki or the Lazarus pits acted like magical HRT. But also might be interesting if he's using glamours instead, with the idea that he's always looked malnourished/skeletal no matter how much he ate, it was just worse before he was taken in by Bruce, because of his tie to Hela.

Tim I keep imagining as Sleipnier (again I can't spell). So just imagine a coffee fueled superspeed centaur Red Robin running on two hours of sleep with 70 awake, a Red Hood with his glamour gone and a large snake/naga Nightwing on his shoulders (none of them have slept in at least two days, and Bruce is trying to corral them, but considering Red Robin already has some kind of minor superspeed even before caffeine... he should probably wait until they crash, either into a wall or just fall asleep). Anyway, goons are just gonna quit if they see that.

But, despite the chaos, the Batfam still tries to pretend to be absolutely human, at minimum around the Watchtower (Diana knows, she was there when Bruce awakened his godhood, they can bond over that stuff).

I'm still trying to figure out if Alfred is mythological in any way but all I can think of is Heimdall or Freya or Frigga, but I think it'd be funny if he's fully human (aside from a minor bout of immortality) and yet he's the one corralling most of the insanity.

Anyway, since Norse Mythology isn't prevalent in DC (I say the Greeks and Romans are allowed their fun as long as they mostly avoid Marvel) Loki isn't well known so they aren't seen as demigods/deities by the populous.

Bruce is ever changing so he's considered more a personification of The People in a sense, due to the fact he never has the same face when unmasked.

Dick tends to be seen as a personification of Hope but also Despair, with the snake stuff being seen as 'a cycle of despair and hope' and 'shedding what once was'

Jason I'm not entirely sure, maybe vengeance or something, maybe more justice, or maybe something like Heart? I'm not sure.

Tim is is bit harder to place but I suppose he might kinda be 'The Right Time' or something else weirdly specific, somewhat due to the fact he arrived right when Batman started calming down, and also the fact that when he returned as his new self that's when Batman returned as well, and don't get started on how he seems to keep getting faster and faster, as if to always try and be on time.

Feel free to rewrite my ideas on the personifications.

Gothamites knowing that Red Hood is actually the dead Robin brought back to life really isn’t helping the cryptid/eldritch Batfamily rumors. Just saying.

[yumpty-dumpty-inactive]

liar ♡

---

characters included: kazuha ♡

---

warnings: pregnant! female-bodied! reader, angst, abandonment, crying, sadness

---

pronouns: female-bodied reader, but no her or she pronouns <3

---

"kazuha, are you alright?" "hm...? o-oh, yes. i'm fine, love"

he can't shake it. for weeks, this one feeling just hasn't gone away. he feels there needs to be a layer of caution placed upon himself in your presence, a feeling he's never felt, ever. he doesn't yet possess the knowledge as to why this churning in his gut continues to happen, but time will tell, I suppose.

"kazuha, do you, want children? one day, I mean."

the question was harmless and innocent, and at this point, only natural. the two of you had been an item for five years at this point, and were now in your mid 20's. you had recently stumbled upon old friends of yours, who had given birth to their first child. the one thing that startled kazuha, however, was your look. the expression of admiration and envy you wore when watching that child explained everything for itself. he knew, now, what it was you wanted.

"good question, but i'm not sure. I haven't given it any thought."

liar. he had given it thought. much thought. for the past week, that exact thought kept him awake for hours, as he tossed and turned, trying to avoid the thoughts that invaded his mind.

"oh..."

---

he knew it. he knew it the minute you ran up to him, a bright smile engulfing your charming face. the moment you told him you were pregnant, his world crumbled. a family? he'd never had one, and suddenly he had his own? it made no sense.

"you're...pregnant?"

your smile faded.

"y-yes? is there something wrong with that?"

"no, not at all. this is...wonderful news."

"I know right? we're going to be a family!"

"yes, yes we are"

that night, everything seemed darker. the shadows seemed larger, the bed seemed colder, and his mind only ran faster. enough was to be had, and kazuha rose from your shared bed, slipping into his regular attire. slipping out of the bedroom, he grabbed his anemo vision, the glowing orb resting in its case. hand on the doorknob, he sighed, about to head out when he heard your sleepy voice,

"kazuha? where are you going...?"

the sleepy and innocent look in your eyes crushed him, your pure mind completely unaware of what he was about to do.

"just for a walk, love. I'll be back soon"

liar.

"oh, would you like me to come with you?"

liar.

"no...I'll be alright."

liar.

"oh, okay..."

liar.

he watched your form disappear into the darkness, hearing the distant sound of the bed creak, signaling your return to it. he almost felt sorry for you, sorry that he had to abandon you like this. opening the door, he left, not to return.

---

"it's cold..."

that was your first thought. you opened your eyes, only to see his side of the bed empty. the sheets were cold, the warm body of your lover missing. rising from your bed, you searched the whole house, but he was nowhere to be found.

---

it was three weeks later when you received a letter, addressed to you. you opened the intricate envelope, reading the letter:

my dearest (Y/N),

hello, I'm aware that we've not spoken in a while. if you're wondering where I am, which knowing you, you probably are, I shall tell you. I'm away. away on a trip. one I will never return from.

"what?"

I'm sorry I've abandoned you like this, and I know it must hurt. I cannot bear to watch you suffer, but for a family, I am not ready. the chained love that once bound us, I'm afraid is gone. it has faded, and I'm afraid it will not return. like waves on the sea, my mind can change in an instant. I'm sorry it's changed now, of all times.

tears began to spill.

I love you, but not nearly as much as I once did. it's not fair to tie you down in a way such as this, so (Y/N), I'm setting you free.

you sobbed.

you are indeed the last of your kind as I've always told you, and I hope you find someone who realizes that and embraces it, unlike me. before I fully set you free, there is something I want you to know.

when you decide to move on, please, don't let these painful memories blind you. as far as our child goes, please don't reject them. it's not their fault I've left, it's mine. don't let the past remind you of me, let it remind you of better memories.

farewell, (Y/N)

kazuha

you ran. you ran as fast as you could, away. away from everything. from kazuha, from your child, from your house, everything.

you found yourself at the alcor, sprinting desperately below deck into the captain's cabin. slamming the door open, you collapsed, letter in hand, panting desperately. the captain's eyes widened, scooping you up, calling for help while studying your letter.

---

he had watched. he had watched from afar as you opened the letter, breaking down in a state of shock and despair. it hurt him, yes. but he was a liar. he couldn't help it. he was running away. running away out of fear, something he had always done. he was clawing his way out of his pit of despair, only to lose balance and fall into the abyss once again. he told you he'd always be with you, he told you he'd never leave you, but then again,

he was a liar.

[targaryenimagines]

Just Wait

Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1,989

Summary:

Notes: I hope this is all right. 

Dialogue Prompt:  “Try and stay calm, okay? Help is coming.”

The wind was howling through the air. Snow whipping past your face and obscuring your view. All that you could see were the elegant spikes of Rhaegal’s neck. The pebbled scales being the only comfort to your numbing hands. You wince as the winds howls were intersected by the wails of the damned. Glowing blue eyes appearing before your eyes as you blinked. 

Glancing down, you could see nothing but the unending swirl of white in the pitch blackness. 

How many of your friends had already perished below you? 

How many would you never see again? 

How many would you never be able to properly bury?

The questions only cause the growing pit in your stomach to become that much larger. Your hands clench around Rhaegal’s spike. Trying your best to keep your breath steady as he took another sharp turn. Your body pressing against his neck in order to stay upright. Squinting doing little to alleviate the temporary blindness the action caused. 

Craning your neck, you look up in hopes that the moon would be able to guide you to where you needed to be. You were only met by even more suffocating darkness-- even the clouds having lost their glow. Curses fall from your lips as you angle Rhaegal down into another dive. Getting too close to the ground could prove to be fatal but you had no choice; images of Viserion’s lifeless body falling from the sky comes unbidden to your mind at the thought. Your heart breaking all over again as you remember his pain-filled cry. How Rhaegal had echoed it as you both tried to desperately save him. Your gentle boy being swallowed by ice and snow; only to be awakened by the very thing that had cursed him. 

You hadn’t seen Viserion yet but you had heard his roars. The once gentle and calming sound turned ragged. A mournful howl for everything that was lost and that had to continue to be. In the same manner, you hadn’t seen Drogon or Daenerys since the battle had begun. Both you and Rhaegal taking to the outside defenses to make sure there wouldn’t be any stragglers. Even now you couldn’t hear the sounds of Drogon’s mighty roars or the cries of battle. 

You and Rhaegal were completely alone. In the ghost filled sky that promised nothing but despair when it used to offer nothing but freedom. 

That is until a sharp cry from above you caused every hair on your body to stand on end. Your head snapping up towards the sound, even as you made Rhaegal dive to the side, and nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing Viserion. 

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight of seeing him so broken. His scales, once so vibrant, turned ashen and lifeless. 

His gentle face devoid of any emotion except for the mind-numbing coldness that seemed to be in constant supply in the North. 

Once golden eyes, that always reminded you of the sun, turned blue. Fire turning to ice. 

The only thing rivalling the horror you felt at seeing Viserion in such a state was seeing the thing that was riding him. The Night King’s cold eyes were watching your every movement as Rhaegal dipped lower and lower in the sky. Your attention diverted from his icy gaze towards Rhaegal as his wings narrowly escaped the tree tops. His body jolts as he tries to avoid the imminent collision. 

With your mouth pressed into a line, you force yourself to relax and remember everything you had learned over the years with Rhaegal. Every minute movement of his body and what that told you. Even if the Night King could control Viserion, he would never be able to fly like you could. You just had to get to Daenerys, to Drogon, and everything would be fine. 

Chancing one last glance towards him, you couldn’t help the sardonic smirk that pulled at your lips. “If you want me you’ll have to catch me you sick bastard.”

-----

In retrospect, taunting the Night King wasn’t the smartest plan. While you had the advantage of experience atop dragons. He held the advantage when it came being able to see where you were going. Which, in the grand scheme of things, was a very useful tool to have. 

As it wouldn’t be the first, or second, time you had almost slammed into something as you made your back towards Winterfell.

“How did we get so far out?” You hiss as you, yet again, dip Rhaegal into a dive to avoid Viserion’s talons. His disjointed shriek causes the hairs on the back of your neck to stand on end. You didn’t remember flying this far out from Winterfell but as each moment ticked by you could tell that you had somehow gotten turned around. We were only supposed to be a few minutes out at most. How did this happen?

Feeling the sudden breeze of air on your head, causes you to duck. Your head almost collided with Rhaegal’s neck as Viserion made another dive towards you. Feeling the slick feeling of liquid running down your neck, you raise your hand to the base of it. Letting loose a soft hiss as a sharp stab of pain is the response your body gives to the prodding. You know you didn’t have to look at your fingers to see that your glove was stained red. 

Catching sight of the beacon fires almost causes you to sob in relief. Your eyes welling up at the brilliant sight of light after spending so long in near darkness. The sounds of battle resounding out towards you like a choir. 

“Only a bit longer, Rhaegal,” you murmur against his neck. Feeling the way his breaths had gotten deeper. You don’t know how much longer he would be able to last if the pace continued like this. The constant bobbing and weaving through frozen air. Squeezing your eyes shut, you send a silent prayer to R’hllor to get you through this-- to get Rhaegal through this. “You’re doing so well. Just a bit longer and I promise you’ll be able to rest.”

Only a small snort was your response. The reaction caused a small smile to quirk your lips despite the situation you were in. His tenacious spirit hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even as his energy was so clearly waned. That’s my boy. 

Angling Rhaegal into a steep dive, you make your descent towards Winterfell. Your eyes desperately searching for Daenerys. Your breath catching when you finally caught sight of Drogon’s familiar form. His looming black shadow shifting over the battlefield as he and Daenerys dealt with the Wights. The Unsullied fight valiantly underneath their Khaleesi. You think you could even see Jorah shifting about with Jon Snow’s direwolf-- Ghost. 

Viserion’s sharp cry causes you to wince. Your head is already bowing as you twist Rhaegal into the opposite direction. Hoping that you would be able to be fast enough but you hadn’t reacted fast enough. Not as you felt Viserion slam into Rhaegal and press you down against his back. Your breath escaping you in a harsh exhale as Rhaegal tried desperately to free himself. His angry shrieks like daggers through your heart. 

Knowing that there was little else you could do; not when you and Rhaegal were so tired. You call for Daenerys-- hoping that your dragon would be able to get to you. Your eyes search for her violet as you begin your descent towards the snow covered ground. 

“Daenerys.”

------

“Daenerys.”

The sound of her name ripped through the air. Louder than any scream from the undead below her. Louder than any cry of the dying that would forever echo in her head. Louder than even Drogon was at his angriest. 

Her head snapping up in the direction the scream, no plea, had originated from. Her own beginning to form when she saw her mate and son in a spiral. She had known that Viserion was a slave of the Night King’s now but she had never truly prepared herself to see him. 

She had never thought it would be when he was clutching onto Rhaegal’s back. His talons like anchors against Rhaegal’s green hide. Rivulets of red already became obvious as her son struggled to break free. Struggled to protect his mother, his rider, from harm. She could even see your face from here. See the pain that was so clearly etched across your beautiful features. The blood that was becoming apparent through the stark white of your cloak. 

It was a sight that forced her into action. Nudging, Drogon in your direction as fast as he was able to go. Her heart hammering in her chest as Rhaegal let loose another cry of pain. As Viserion echoed it back with one of his own demented shrieks. Her two boys, that were closer than even she could comprehend, enemies because of the vileness that Westeros held. It brought tears to her eyes as Drogon finally got a hold of Viserion. His much larger form easily being able to overpower his brother. Claws ripping and tearing through brittle hide as he was tossed to the side. Little decorum being shown for what used to be his brother. 

Glancing down, Daenerys’s heart almost stops at the sight of Rhaegal’s still plummeting form. His wings weakly trying to keep him afloat but nothing would be able to stop his descent. She could see the wounds in his wings and the way his head was drooping which each second ticked by. Angling Drogon into a dive, Daenerys does everything she can to stop his descent. To stop him from hitting the ground but it was all in vain. 

Her widened gaze watching as Rhaegal was weakly able to run across the surface before crashing down completely. The form of his rider being thrown from his body into a heap on the icy landscape. 

Not thinking of much else, Daenerys jumps off of Drogon the moment his feet make contact with land. Her hand ran against Rhaegal’s neck in a quick search to make sure he was all right; relieved when she felt his heavy breathing through her glove. His steady warmth is still there despite everything.

With that task accomplished, she makes her way over towards the form of her mate. Her knees hitting the ground with preamble and she brought you into her arms. A worried gaze taking in every bruise and scrape that made up the expanse of your skin. Blood trickling down slowly from open wounds that didn’t look to be too deep. A relieved sob leaving her lips when she notices your breathing; while shallow it was something. 

Closing her eyes, Daenerys sends a silent thank you to whatever deity helped keep her mate and son safe. Her mouth pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as she pulled you tighter into her embrace. Very much aware of Drogon’s presence wrapping around her. His protective stance warmed her heart.  

“Try and stay calm, okay?” She murmurs softly to herself as she pulls you tighter against her. Wanting to keep you as warm as she possibly could. “Help is coming.”

Glancing up, Daenerys could no longer see the various shadows of war against the landscape. Her heart thudding against her chest at what that could mean. Though none of it mattered if it meant that she lost you. 

Looking down, she presses another small kiss to your forehead and smiles despite the tears in her eyes. “I love you. If you hold on a bit longer I promise I will never leave your side again.” She nuzzles into your neck; needing to be surrounded by your scent. “You’ll be stuck with me. Just wait for help to come.”

Unbeknownst to Daenerys the slightest of smiles curled your lips at her words. You could never imagine not waiting for your dragon. 

[more-than-a-princess]

Sonia hiccuped, then groaned. The idea of facing anyone, much less Gundham, seemed to be an impossible task: almost as impossible as avoiding the churning feeling she was now experiencing in the pit of her stomach. It hurt, but then again, so much already did: it was simply another addition to a never-ending list of why she should've been kept in the Neo-World Program. Murders of her closest friends aside orchestrated by a horrible bear, it was somehow better than reality. If only her virtual self could have known before she'd agreed to press the giant red button and graduate.

"Too late," She muttered, referring to Yaguchi's overstaying her welcome. Alongside with removal of virtual deaths, the transition from the Neo-World Program to reality also had removed her personality pre-Tragedy: when everything that defined her, past, present, and future, was bright and beautiful. From fair, glowing skin to an equally sunny disposition. That, alongside a good amount of the world's population, had died during Junko's reign of despair.

But the woman had several centimeters on her, plenty of more kilograms of solid muscle, and was likely sober: even if Sonia had been allowed a firearm, she'd likely lose. "Fine, c'mon in," She conceded, stepping out of the doorway and back into the dirty, cramped cabin. It wasn't as if Agent Yaguchi would get very far: not with all the Novosonian knick-knacks, empty and broken bottles, and piles of clothes anyway. Sonia wasn't in a frame of mind to ask her to make herself comfortable, though Jabberwock Island didn't really lend itself to comfort in the first place. But expletives, those were a bit more common.

"Fucking hell!" Sonia screamed as she stepped down with her left foot. She'd barely noticed half an azuki bean paste bun that was surely stale on her floor, blood was not likely to be accounted for. Unless, of course, it was fresh and streaming out from between her toes. Hopping on her right foot, tears formed at the corners of Sonia's eyes before she soon lost balance, falling down onto hands and knees. Thankfully, she'd done so towards the bathroom, away from the rest of the broken glass and china. Though that did little to help the shard currently embedded in her foot, deep enough that she'd likely need stitches and a tetanus shot. Alongside an IV for quick hydration and electrolytes: she barely remembered the last time she'd drunk water. "Huuuurts...hurts so muuuch...oh SHIT-"

Agent Yaguchi was now the furthest thing from her mind. If Sonia didn't need Mikan's help before, she surely did now: from the activity to the sharp increase in pain, her churning stomach was not about to settle anytime soon. No, instead it took the last of Sonia's strength and focus to crawl towards the bathroom, grasp the toilet, and begin vomiting up the majority of the contents of her stomach plus added bile. An abundance of alcohol and some partially-digested snacks, Sonia didn't stop until both her stomach and esophagus alike burned and she was in dire need of a toothbrush and paste. And a shower: smell and old clothes aside, she'd let some of her hair fall into the toilet and it had been caught in the crossfire. The sight of it, alongside the searing pain from the fresh cut, was enough to make Sonia begin to sob, turning away from the toilet to prop herself against the wall. The best she could, blood stains and all.

"Yag-cchi," She whimpered, bits of vomit still clinging to the corners of her mouth as she wrapped her arms around her middle in an attempt to make herself small. A soothing technique she used to do when her parents' fighting could be heard through much of Novoselic Castle and all she wanted to do was pretend she was anywhere but there and that she was anything but the princess she was. "I think I'm gon' be sick...."

Babbling through her pain and delirium, it hadn't caught up with her that she'd already had, and had been ill for a long time. But when everyone else was as mentally and emotionally injured as she was, it wasn't as if she could lean on them too much for assistance and comfort. They were all trapped in their own personal hells: the only difference for Sonia was that the one person she'd relied upon to make it worthwhile, the one person she needed to survive it, had declined to remain by her side.

It had been about a month since Tanaka had woken up. Miss Pekoyama had already been awake, albeit in a state of slow recovery, when Shinobu had first arrived on the island, so she hadn't known exactly what to expect from the situation. Certainly, the remnants were busier than even they had been before, with helping catch Tanaka up on things, and make sure he was in a position to regain his strength and take on some responsibilities. Again, it seemed that Hinata made a number of the decisions for the others, and Shinobu caught herself wondering just who, exactly he was.

Beyond that, though, the days had blurred together. Whether it was the justifiable lack of trust in someone who wore Future Foundation colors, or Shinobu's own inability to connect with other people, they hadn't had a great amount of personal interactions with the remnants. When Souda needed an extra pair of hands to lift or carry something, she was there, and when Hanamura needed someone to wash dishes or set a table, she was there. Once Miss Pekoyama had moved out of it, Shinobu had spent a bit of extra time at the hospital - both to have Miss Tsumiki look her over, and also to clean things up when necessary to ensure that everyone had a tidy, organized space to recover in.

Avoiding Sonia hadn't been an active choice, but neither had it been especially difficult. She wanted time with Tanaka, naturally, and Shinobu had no desire to impede that, or cause trouble for either of them. That said, the general solitude wasn't especially beneficial to their own mental health. They'd drawn so many animals that their pens had run dry, and a new shipment wouldn't come until the following week. Some of her old strength was slowly being built back up, but she was still considered an at-risk agent, and thus barred from the Future Foundation on-site barracks where she could have found a bow to train with. It was isolating, lonely even, as the first crop of Future Foundation coworkers had loaded onto one of the boats bound back for Japan, with only Shinobu staying behind.

Now, with Tanaka out and about, but Sonia nowhere to be found, Shinobu found herself worried. It was an imposition, of course, to worry about someone who didn't wish to be worried about, but there was nothing Shinobu could do about it. The other remnants, seemingly, weren't concerned, but neither could the archer bring themselves to ask any of them about her. Instead, she found herself on Sonia's porch after a long day of work, Future Foundation bag still slung over her back, taking note of the cart at the cabin's side and the collection of boxes seemingly dumped out the window, strewn about without any organization for disposal.

She looked like a mess. Even from what Shinobu's sharp eyes could glean from the cracked doorframe, things seemed in disarray, and Sonia herself looked awful. There was an odor, as well, pungent and unpleasant, made up of a mix of things - none of them good - that Shinobu couldn't immediately place. "I regret the intrusion, Miss Nevermind," she said in a soft voice as she gently pushed open the door. "I wouldn't be here if it wasn't important, I promise." A twinge of anger, the frigid fire that had once been the hallmark of the cold prince, sparked inside of them. Of course the other remnants were busy, but did they really think it was appropriate to leave Sonia alone like this?

The shattered glass on the floor, the things tipped over, the stench growing even more powerful... "Familiar, huh, Shinobu-chan?" Anzu seemed to be deeply amused by it all. "Although, your father would have broken every bone in your hand if you'd shattered glass on that tatami. I guess princesses just get away with more, huh?" That's right. The specifics were different, the broken glass, the alcohol, but Shinobu couldn't help but remember her room back at the Yaguchi Estate. Dirty clothing piled in a heap, framed photographs turned down on the bookshelves, circles of black beneath her eyes, bruises and blood on her forearms from dangerous shooting. All from losing the person she'd loved.

Tanaka. It was obvious. He hadn't wanted what she'd wanted, or he'd been unwilling to commit to her, or any number of other reasons. No matter what the specifics, it was clear to Shinobu - that Sonia had hoped for something that hadn't come to pass, and even as Anzu jeered and delighted in her suffering, Shinobu wished, desperately, that it was acceptable for her to give Sonia a hug. Heartbreak was such miserable pain, especially when it left one feeling entirely alone.

"I just came by to check on you." It was pointless to ask if she was okay when the answer was clearly no. "I'll try not to overstay my welcome." Even if she wasn't welcome at all. There was a broom buried in some of the piles, and though Shinobu couldn't immediately see a dustpan, if she could get some of the mess out onto the porch, she could come by and deal with it later. Actually, it wouldn't be a bad idea to speak to Miss Tsumiki and see if she could make time to drop by, as well. Sonia's tolerance was hardly in question, but surely this was detrimental enough to her health to warrant a second opinion.

Looking down as they were, taking stock of what they could easily clean, it was impossible to miss the bits of blood and the fact that Sonia was walking around without shoes, or even socks. "Miss Nevermind, I think you've stepped in broken glass. Would you please allow me to take a look, and clean some things up for you?" Her backpack had first aid supplies, among other things, and she knew enough about field medicine to help. "I know you want to be alone, and if you wanted someone here, it would be a friend and not a Future Foundation lackey. I regret that it's me."

But, it couldn't be helped, especially not if everyone else seemed content to leave Sonia to her own devices when she was clearly in distress. "If you truly hate it, I'll leave, and arrange for Miss Tsumiki to come assist you." They were near-strangers, after all. It was reasonable for Sonia to want little to do with her. "But if it isn't so loathsome as that, I'd like to help you. If you'll allow it, Miss Nevermind." Please, she thought to herself. Please let me take care of you, if only for a short while.

[godlizzza]

can you do "I can't let that happen again" for danbert? Thank you :)

"We need the buddy system," Dan insisted. "It's the only way to stay safe down here."

Herbert just glared at him through a bubbling test tube, the glass warping Dan's cross expression into something cartoonish. He'd been trying his best to ignore him and focus but Dan seemed adamant to have this conversation.

"I've done plenty of work by myself," Herbert said, securing the tube in a clamp. "As much as it pleases me that you're taking an extra interest in our experiments, let me assure you I'm perfectly fine on my own."

Dan gave an aggravated sigh and ran his hands through hair. "How many times do you have to get hurt before you realise you're not safe when you're alone?"

"Every job has occupational hazards," Herbert replied easily. "I know what they are. It doesn't bother me."

"But it bothers me!" Dan burst out.

Herbert jumped in his seat as Dan marched around the work table and grabbed his shoulders. The fierce burning in his eyes made Herbert lean back, his heart suddenly kicking against his ribs.

"Do you know how much I worry about you?" Dan demanded, his voice coming out ragged and desperate. "When I'm at work and you're here, all I can think about is if you're okay, or if you're lying on the floor, bleeding out. I have no idea and it...it tears me up." He ripped his gaze away from Herbert's and bowed his head, as though the weight of everything he'd just said had caught up with him, snuffing out that fierce passion. "I've already thought I lost you twice. And I just- I can't let that happen again."

Herbert blinked at this sudden display of brittleness. He'd always known Dan to easily give way to emotion, his constitution swaying in the breeze of others' suffering. But to see him tired and shaking like this out of concern for him was disturbing in a way he couldn't put his finger on.

With Dan's hands still clamped on his shoulders he tentatively reached out and squeezed his arm in what he hoped was a reassuring way. Dan instantly crumbled at the touch, falling into Herbert and wrapping him up in his arms. Herbert gasped at the pressure of their bodies crushed together as Dan buried his face in the crook of Herbert's neck. Herbert slowly returned the embrace, stroking small circles into Dan's back.

"You don't need to be afraid," Herbert said, his voice sounding shaky to his own ears.

"Yes, I do," Dan fired back, his words muffled against Herbert's collar. "You have no sense of self-preservation. One of us has to be afraid."

Herbert looked at the man in his arms and sighed. "I'll consider it."

Dan pulled his face back but kept his arms locked around Herbert. He blinked as though trying to shake off a mist clouding his eyes.

"What?"

"The buddy system," Herbert said begrudgingly. "I'll consider it."

Dan's answer was a watery smile. The sight dislodged something in Herbert's chest, letting it fall, clunking against his insides before landing in the pit of his stomach. He released his hold on Dan and scooted back in his chair, trying to quell the heat flooding his veins. He turned back to the work table and coughed into his fist, avoiding Dan's gaze.

"Now, if that's all, you can either leave or put some gloves on and join me," he said gruffly, busying himself by fiddling with some beakers.

Dan let out a soft breath beside him then walked away. For a moment Herbert expected to hear his footfalls on the stairs but then he reappeared, tying an apron around his waist. Herbert watched him slip on a pair of latex gloves, and when Dan faced him, his eyes still looked tired but not so despairing.

"Okay," Dan simply said. "What're we doing today?"