#and i remember being unable to tell them what exactly bothered me of all of that. what was the thing that i couldn't get over

[erraticroses]

.

[hyunebunx]

what if i said 💚💞 with hyunjin... oh my god im just imagining it i must lie down

˖˙ ᰋ ── 💚- 'a deep, slow, and deliberately intense kiss filled with passion and desire' & 💞- 'a longing kiss shared after being apart for a while'

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. word count: 1k

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: been looking forward to writing this since you requested it >.< so i really hope i did it justice haha. enjoy!! <3 and thank you sm for making me delulu with this!!

The most time you’ve spent apart was two weeks. And even so, they proved to be the longest two weeks of your life. With how clingy and attached to the hip you and your lover were, even the idea of being separated for a prolonged period terrified you beyond belief. Unfortunately, your nightmare came to life when Hyunjin got busy and suddenly, you weren’t spending all of your free time together, but had to squeeze in a call or two, if you were lucky, throughout the day between his shows. Time zones were never your best friend but now, they have become the number one enemy.

Not having him there, next to you, whenever your heart desired proved to be the most difficult thing you could go through. Hyunjin shared the sentiment, often getting emotional on your late night or early morning calls, crying, and being unable to comfort each other properly.

Longing for your beloved was a daily occurrence, even while he was near, but now it became almost painful, consuming your every thought.

Thankfully, your suffering came to an end on a day like any other.

You weren’t expecting it, just returning from a long day at work and dragging your feet around to get ready for bed when the sound of the front door opening caused your heart to stop beating momentarily. Nobody other than you and Hyunjin had the keys to the apartment and still, your mind froze like not being able to wrap itself around the possibility of him returning so soon. Has it already been three months?

Without thinking about it, your feet move automatically, following the faint sounds coming from the living room, eager at the prospect of seeing your one and only again.

You come to a halt when he appears before your eyes, looking the same way he did when he left, just a tad more exhausted.

“Baby?” He asks, voice soft and filled with concern when you don’t reply, or react for that matter. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Overwhelmed with emotion, you hurry towards him and flung yourself into his arms, with him dropping the bag he was carrying to catch and hug you close, lifting your feet off the ground with ease.

“I missed you so much!”

He giggles, spinning you around once before responding, still not letting go. “There is that sweet voice of yours. I thought you were going to give me the silent treatment for the whole night.”

“I should.” You say, hiding your face in the crock of his neck and tightening your hold on him. “Since you didn’t bother to tell me you’d be returning today.”

“I wanted to surprise you!”

When he finally sets you down, Hyunjin stares deeply into your eyes, fondness and love swirling behind the familiar brown, causing your heart rate to pick up. Without warning, your arms are around his shoulders again, only this time, they help you bring him into a long awaited kiss you’ve been dreaming about for months on end.

As expected, your boyfriend responds in kind, circling your waist to pull you flush against him with such an urgency that could only signal his fear of having you slip through his fingers, disappear like you’re nothing more than a fragment of his rich imagination. Even if rushed, his lips are as gentle as you’ve come to know them, softly loving on yours exactly how you remembered.

Hyunjin could spend hours kissing you – just kissing and stealing your breath away like it was his to begin with, seizing everything that made you the person he adored.

Backing you against the nearest surface, stumbling through scattered bags, he pulls away to chuckle against your lips when your back meets the cold surface of the fridge.

“Surprise.” He runs big hands up and down your back, to soothe any possible discomfort he might have brought forth.

You shake your head, lips curling upwards against his as you reach up to pinch both of his cheeks, causing him to wince and groan lowly. “What if I started bawling my eyes out, hm?”

“Why would you?” Being so close, you manage to understand him even as you move to squeeze his cheeks together in your palms, making him pout involuntarily.

“Because I missed you so, so much and was overwhelmed with emotions?”

He makes to respond but finds himself unable to, furrowing his brows and giving you a pointed look. You grin, breathing him in and finding comfort in his familiar scent, thankful he didn’t seem to run out of your favorite cologne in these three months. When you stop holding his cheeks hostage, Hyunjin opens his mouth to start babbling but you beat him to it by going in for another kiss, not getting enough the first time around.

He relaxes instantly, eyes fluttering shut as he deepens the kiss, slowly sneaking his tongue past your lips to finally taste you after so long. One of his hands dances under your top, kneading at the skin just like a cat, pushing his body more onto yours, simultaneously pinning it against the refrigerator in the process.

All of your movements are slow, set on enjoying the moment for as long as humanely possible. In your mind, parting from him was never an option, but in reality, you were two individuals who unfortunately could not survive on kisses and hugs alone. 

Reality was cruel, you’ve come to learn the moment you fell for Hyunjin and realized you couldn’t always go where he went, stand there and drink him in like you were a moth and him, the flame. Fortunately, it didn’t burn when you got too close.

One of your hands is in his hair, pulling lightly as he nibbles on your bottom lip, needing more and more – to feel more of you, to hear more. You could never get enough of each other.

When Hyunjin pulls away, breaking the kiss but remaining as close as possible, you’re both breathing heavily, flustered, lips swollen and slick with each other. You’re giggling again when your eyes meet, high off of reuniting and being together again after so long, with your boyfriend pushing his long hair out of his face with both hands, visibly shy.

 “I missed you too. So fucking much I almost went insane.” He confesses, voice husky from stealing most of the air in his lungs.

“Next time, I’ll pack you in one of my suitcases and take you with me.”

Your eyes widen comically. “You plan to leave again?!”

That suitcase better be comfy.

[heartfullofleeches]

hhhrggrhrgrg NL Darling feeling a sort of kinship with mono right off the bat because oh?? not human?? metal bits?? all alone??? :)) friend

Mono 🤝 Nightlight Darling

Lonely Bots with a space theme who long for someone to hold- [just gonna use this ask to slap on the full blurb I made with these two cuties]

-

Mono finds Nightlight abandoned in a scrap yard on what would've been their last evening on earth for some time - searching for the perfect item to bring with them until they returned. Throughout their travels, Mono had developed an affinity for collecting souvenirs from the planets they stumbled upon. Though its time was often brief - Mono felt a certain homesickness for every planet as they no longer had a home of their own. When they reached earth, their little hobby gradually escalates to a borderline addiction. So many treasures left for grabs in places like junk yards or antique shops simply because humans no longer see their worth.

If it were up to Mono, they would've taken everything they set their eye upon, but all that weight may not be good for their ship. They needed to find the perfect treasure to bring back with them..

And so they did.

"H..he....hello?"

When Mono found Nightlight - the poor android was in a terrible state of repair. Their dominant arm was nowhere to be seen, body covered in dirt and small scratches. Mono knew from the moment it saw Nightlight they'd do anything to fix them. Never had they'd seen such gorgeous craftsmanship from humans - only for them to be abandoned in cold, awful place like this. Mono carries Nightlight and the blanket they found the android in to their ship. What Mono thought to be a final gesture of kindess from the humans who cared for them would later be revealed as the cruelest act by far.

"They didn't even bother to shut me off properly... My last owners... They just put me in a blanket and made sure my solar panels were covered...I still remember...everything..."

The energy draining from their body. The loss of mobility in their limbs, unable to move even if they tried after being left in idle mode. Their former owners couldn't even give them the mercy of powering them down completely or wiping their system.

Nightlight isn't their usual self when they first meet Mono, but it isn't long before they're back to their cheerful self with how considerate and caring Mono is. Hints of their former self presented whenever Mono offers to leave their former owners to rot in filth or to rip off the arms of thieves who stole their arms. They haven't known them long, but they can tell Mono would never hurt they soul which they wouldn't.....at least not in front of their new crewmate. It's also hard for Nightlight to feel down when they can see earth right outside their bedroom window.

"Whoa! Is that earth?! It looks so small from up here... Look, I can hold it in my hands!"

Nightlight's energetic self is exactly what Mono's ship needed for it to finally feel like home to the alien. The android's lights are quite useful when the light surrounding the ship are on the fritz again as well. When it's time to repair nightlight's arm, Mono sneaks in parts of their metal into the limb during its construction. Unbeknownst to Nightlight, in Mono's culture that means they're already lovers.

Tiny human sized nightlight rides around on Mono's shoulders or clings to the larger bot's arms, legs, or hip whenever they're exploring. Anyone they meet along their journey can see how quick to iteration Mono is without their Starlight hanging off of them.

As some may know, Mono's native language best translate to Morse code. What some may not know - and something Mono was clearly unaware of is that Nightlight can understand them perfectly-

-

"Wow....I knew stars were beautiful, but seeing them up close... it's amazing."

"It is true they are a marvel to see in person...."

Mono trails off, sliding their fingers over the collar around its neck.

"-… ..- - / .. / -.- -. --- .-- / --- -. . / - …. .- - / … …. .. -. . … / -… .-. .. --. …. - . .-."

"Oh! Are you talking about me? You're so sweet, Mono - i think you shine bright too."

".-- …. .- - ..--.. -.-.-- ..... You can understand me? How long have you been able to..."

"Forever? You talk a whole lot in your sleep, y'know. It's cute... I love you too by the way."

The embarrassment may temporarily shut Mono's systems down, but hearing Nightlight reciprocates their feelings is what kills them.

[Translations: But I know a star that shines brighter, What?!]

[that-vexaholic-cryptid]

I find the Section 31 stuff within Deep Space Nine fascinating. When you remember they exist, and that this is a serialized Trek, it makes you look at things differently

At the end of Bashir's evaluation, Sloan argues that sometimes the end does justify the means, that patients Doctor Bashir saved wouldn't care about him lying to get into Starfleet, that Section 31 "bends the rules" in order to protect them.

When Bashir returns after refusing Sloan, Sisko acts frustrated by being unable to confirm S31 existing, and tells Bashir to accept the next offer.

This puts Bashir in the position of being a double agent, of compromising his values, immediately. Whether he likes it or not.

...

And then what is the very next episode? "In the Pale Moonlight." Where Sisko wrestles with doing EXACTLY the same thing, lying and being an accessory to assassination to get the Romulans into the war, to save untold amounts of lives. Garak says "I call that a bargain," and Sisko concludes the episode by convincing himself that "I can live with it. I can live with it." before destroying his confession.

And this isn't even the first time Sisko bent the rules, by his own accord he bent the rules and destroyed a Maquis settlement just to get Eddington, and did so without Starfleet approval.

The next time Sloan appears, Bashir goes along with him. He eventually figures out this scheme too, and confronts Admiral Ross with the same upstanding morality he did Sloan, to which he responds with "in times of war the law falls silent." Again, bending or breaking the rules to protect lives... lives that Bashir correctly states died in order to protect those rules.

Who is Sisko's superior and confidant in many episodes? Admiral Ross.

I honestly believe Ross and Sisko were fully aware of Section 31 the entire time and were key to trying to get Bashir involved.

And then, after all this, at the very end of the series, Bashir is the one to manipulate Sloan, expose Section 31's attempt at genocide, and SAVE lives by adhering to the rules he swore to protect.

You can see within the show how desperation and the need to preserve power can corrupt anyone, that those tasked with protecting values can so easily become the greatest threat to them. This is brilliant writing, and it bothers me to no end how an idea was pitched to have Bashir join S31 after all. And even more it bothers me how S31 is treated in Into Darkness and Discovery as unambiguous, tropey, necessary evil, and how so much of Trek fans have embraced S31 as that necessary evil because it's "realistic." When was first introduced, fans were very much on Bashir's side, sending in angry letters decrying Section 31 as heresy.

It is realistic. And that's the problem. That's the commentary. First you lie, then you kill, then you're plotting genocide. Every time you bend the rules you become more likely to break them until your efforts eventually become self defeating.

Section 31 exists in DS9 as a criticism, NOT as an endorsement.

[hannahssimblr]

How did you improve so much in a year at building and taking screenshots?! Forever in awe

hahah thank you so much! I'm so happy with my improvement - the answer is ~magic~

nah, really, it's just that when I started Lucky Girl back at the end of 2022, I knew absolutely none of the screenshot tricks - I only ever got ts4 as a way to tell the story, and hadn't played it at all in the years prior. I ended up trying to take screenshots in a game where I didn't even know how to work the teleport function - and you can tell, I fear.

I was also using another platform to share my story at the time, and a lot of the content there kinda looked the same - vanilla, screenshots taken with plumbobs on and the walls down etc. I wasn't using Tumblr so I didn't have any inspiration. Coming here really pushed me to be better and taught me a lot of tricks and new things to add to my game to make it look better - the short of it, is that I just really didn't know better, and I just wanted to write the story. The screenshots felt secondary. I look back and cringe tbh, but I distinctly remember not really bothering that much with them, and thinking that 'just okay' was good enough.

Since then I've learned so much!

The first was how to teleport, and use MCCC to get sims to do couple poses off the lot

I got TOOL and figured all of that stuff out - including to create the illusion of varying heights etc.

I added in more details to the sims, changed any hair and skin issues, and added in skin details galore

I use WW for posing whenever I need something a bit more complex

I got over my fear of having too much CC in my game and just got so much build/buy cc - this made it possible to create the kinds of houses and rooms I imagined in my head - also, experience building helped a lot. In the beginning I was so intimidated, and frankly, unable to make things looked good that I relied on builds from the gallery 90% of the time.

Weirdly, even though I studied film in college, I never applied my knowledge of composition to the screenshots - I just started doing that, and generally trying to think more cinematically.

I got more use to using photoshop to fix screenshots, mix them together and crop them to be more compositionally pleasing. I also did that tutorial about changing the BG of a scene - I do that as a last resort, but it really works.

RESHADE - this was the biggest one. That DOF really changed my screenshot game - there's a point in lucky girl where I started using it, and you can see the instant difference.

Lighting mods - I use sunblind, and I also use the ghibli replacement clouds. I have a few others also to fix the shadows and lighting in general

Being more intentional with poses. I got a bunch of new ones with more subtle expressions that I felt suited the tone of my story better. I think the exaggerated ones are super cute, but they always seemed too much for my story. I also got animations for even more natural movement in scenes. Sometimes I'll make my own, too, if I can't find exactly what I am looking for

The eye trick was a huge gamechanger - I use it almost every single shot, and truly couldn't live without it.

Relight is a recent addition to my game - I only figured out how to use it around the end of part 2 of Lucky Boy. I don't use it a lot, but it was great more some of the dramatically lit festival scenes, and whenever I want some lamplight on a character (Or to just balance out a dark part of the shot)

camera mods have helped me gain more control of my scenes, along with the CTRL 5/6/7/8/9 camera saving trick. I use this a lot too, especially when I need to characters to look at each other with the eye trick and they won't do it at the same time (recent example below)

All of that is basically how I did it! It was a whole process but I'm so pleased because I look at the old screenshots and just think, damn, I've come so far!

More examples of the same scenes redone, because it's fun

[dira333]

Father and Son - Spock x reader - part two

part one

“I’m having a feeling. How do I make it stop?”

“What?” Spock junior looks at you and you laugh, stretch out your hand to muss up his hair.

“You look very good in your new uniform is what I’m saying,” you tell him and smooth the small blue shirt he’s wearing.

“It’s just a uniform,” he mumbles but you put a finger under his chin so he looks up at you.

“Don’t tell me that. I can see that you’re happy about it too. There’s no shame in being happy about something like that…”

“Do I look like him?” He asks instead and you realize what this is about.

“Very much so. But you have your mother’s nose, I believe.”

“Do you look like your parents?” He asks with interest and you ponder your words carefully before answering.

“I do believe that I look like them, but you can’t really narrow me down on the parts of me that look similar to them because after all, I’m more than that, you know? You’re not just your nose or the color of your eyes either.”

“I understand,” he agrees and you turn towards the door when he doesn’t say more.

“Let’s go get something to eat before we get to work,” you tell him.

Three steps out the door he slips his hand in yours and you can feel your heart swell for this little boy.

-

“Lieutenant Y/N,” Commander Spock approaches you during Alpha shift, “On a word?”

You look over to Uhura who nods, telling you wordlessly that she will cover your shift. You get up and follow the Commander outside where he leads you down the hallways.

“Is everything alright?” You ask him, switching to Vulcan when you notice how tense he is.

“You made great progress this week,” he tells you stiffly, “But I’ve decided to send my son back to New Vulcan.”

He pauses, giving you the chance to properly process his words. They hurt more than they properly should.

You’ve made a mistake, it seems, you’ve let the kid get closer to you than you should have. But as unprofessional as it is, you know better than to let him go through with this.

“With all due respect, commander, but that would be the wrong decision.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Remember your own childhood,” you tell him, as calmly as you can, “Do you remember the presence of your parent?”

“Yes.”

“Who do you remember more?”

“My mother,” he answers after a moment of hesitation.

“I’ll take a guess and say that she was there more often. Now I know that you want the best for him, but do you want him to know you as his father or as the man who provided him with a good education? A father is there with him.”

“Are you insinuating that I should leave the Enterprise to care for my son?”

You stop cold, trying to catch your breath and a clear thought.

“No,” you tell him then, “Not… not exactly. I’m advising you to stay with your son-”

“Which I would. The education he can get on the Enterprise is nothing in comparison to the schools on New Vulcan.”

“But your family is here,” you tell him.

I am here, you think, but do not dare to say it out loud.

“I assume you are referring to the crew. There comes the time when every single one of us has to grow.”

Your mouth runs dry and you nod stiffly.

“I understand. If you’d excuse me now, I’ll go back to work if there’s nothing else you want to discuss.”

He raises an eyebrow at you but says nothing and you don’t wait for him to change his mind about that, but turn around and leave.

-

Gamma Shift has ended half an hour ago. You’ve gone back to your room immediately, unable to go to mess hall and act as if you have no worries at all when the worries you have are trying to drown you.

There’s a sharp knock on the door. You don’t bother to get up from your bed, just call out for the computer to open the door while staring up at the ceiling.

The door opens with a whooshing sound followed by quick steps and then a small body flings itself onto the bed and onto you.

You pull him into you by instinct as he is clutching to you with all the strength a Vulcan already has at his age. You fear for your ribs and rub your hands over his back, calming him down enough that he loosens his grip on you the slightest bit.

“Talk to me when you’re ready,” you tell him softly.

It takes him a bit to calm himself down and you realize that he did not only inherit most of his father’s looks but the emotional instability the former had suffered from as a child.

He had told you about that in one of those rare moments you had felt like more than just a friend and subordinate to him. Moments that felt like nothing more but your own heart imagining things, now that you knew of his secret son and the fact that he felt like he had to grow out of your friendship, out of the family bonds of the Enterprise.

“I don’t want to go to New Vulcan,” his son tells you eventually, still clinging to you.

“Why?” You ask and he keeps silent for a long time before he answers.

“Because you won’t be there.”

-

“Commander Spock,” you address the man when you step into his ready room, “Could I have a word with you.”

He looks up from his PADD. “Is it about my son? I’ve already taken notice that he went to you immediately after his outburst.”

“It is. I am going to tell you something and I want us both to be completely honest-”

“Vulcan’s do not lie.”

“But they could. And it’s not so much about lying but about keeping information to yourself because you might think that you should not say it in this moment. This is the right moment to share them. But let me start.”

He keeps to himself whatever comment he had wanted to speak out and nods, beckoning you to continue.

“The past years I had assumed that we were friends, even more than that on more than one occasion. I would be happy if I were right, even though then I would have to ask you why you’ve kept a secret as big as your son from me… Regardless of that,” you take a deep breath, “I’d be happy to stay by your side, if you leave the Enterprise or stay, as long as I can stay by your son’s side too. It’s his wish too.”

“Why would he wish for that?”

“Because, as he has told me today, he has already lost one mother, he does not want to lose another.”

“You are not his mother,” Spock reminds you, his usually monotone voice adding a sinister tone to his words.

“But we both feel this way about it anyhow,” you tell him, swallowing thickly right after you have spoken.

He shakes his head. “I can’t take you to New Vulcan with me. There is no need for a Communication Officer there.”

“I’d happily scrub toilets if that would allow me to stay with you.”

“If you care so deeply about him, why did you tell me to stay with him? You could have easily taken my part as his nanny.” He asks and you step closer to him and put your arm against his to let him feel how deep your feelings go.

“Did you not listen?” You ask him, “I told you that I had assumed we were more than friends. I have to correct myself. I had hoped, not assumed. I apologize if that had been foolish.”

He raises his arm until it does not touch yours anymore and you want to turn when his hand takes yours instead, your fingers entangling. It’s not a Vulcan kiss, but not just holding your hand either.

“Do not apologize. I was the fool for holding back the feelings I had for you as well, hoping they’d pass before you’d take notice of them.”

-

“What is going to happen?” The boy asks, pressed against your side on the bed in your room where you had found him awake when you had come back.

“What do you mean?”

“Where are we going to go? Are we going to leave for New Vulcan?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

You wait for the deep voice of his father to speak the rest of your thoughts.

“You are capable of deciding your own destiny. If you want to go to New Vulcan, we will come with you. If you want to stay on the Enterprise, we will keep you here and give you the best education there could possibly be.”

For a moment there is only silence and warmth. You’re lying in the middle, your head heavy on Spock’s chest, his son’s body pressed firmly against your side.

A human in between two touch telepaths.

“Y/N?” The boy asks then, his voice thick, telling you that sleep is already pulling him back in again.

“Yes?”

“Why did you tell me the story about the moon?”

“Because I’m Franklin the toad,” you tell him, whispering as if it’s a secret between the two of you, “And you are the moon. And wherever you call home, I will be with you.”

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

i wrote this mostly because, if these two really sat down to talk after everything, i think the name and pronoun situations would be extremely fucky on multiple fronts and i think that's fun.

so, i present to you, a fragment of a draft in which harrow and paul have a heart-to-heart.

-

Paul sat at the table while she worked. She could feel their eyes on her, and she got the sense that they wanted very badly to say something to her. They were reminding her of Teacher—of John—almost, that way he had of letting his thoughts build up in the air until she could almost raise a palm and catch one, like a spiderweb. She had hated it when he did that. But he had been her God. Paul was only her housemate and, theoretically, her friend.

"What?" she asked, not turning around.

The answer was delayed by several seconds. "Nothing."

"I am sick and tired of being lied to, Sixth, and I think you are, too. You've been staring at me for weeks. I cannot take this anymore."

"You…remind me of someone."

"The B– Alecto?"

"No. I mean, yes. But no."

"I don't understand."

"I don't suppose we ever told you the whole story. About her." They paused, seemed to steel themself. "She wasn't…she wasn't like you knew her. She was– She needed help. We had to care for her."

Harrow thought of the Alecto she had known, the goddess-thing who had been so ancient, so raw, and yet so distinctly inhuman. So unable to pretend to be human. She thought of her own body, which had been inviolate for so many years, so carefully distanced, so brutally maintained. She felt a bit sick. "What kind of care?"

"She wasn't accustomed to the shape of a body. She didn't know quite how to manipulate it, at first. And she didn't understand certain things. Why they were done, what made them necessary. The maintenance, you know. Eating, exercising, bathing."

"Bathing?" Paul was looking at her with a frank, doctorly sincerity. They were not embarrassed or ashamed, and Harrow didn't know if she wanted them to be. They had helped Alecto bathe. They had helped Alecto bathe her body. She hated how much it bothered her.

"We weren't sure how to tell you. Pyrrha and I, I mean. The extent of it."

"I see."

"I'm sorry about the staring. I didn't realize I was doing it. It's just been difficult, you see, to stop. For months we were trying to get her to eat, and putting her to bed at a certain time, and reminding her to bathe. It's been hard to watch you. To know that I have no right to say anything."

Harrow contemplated all the things she could say to that. All the things she may once have said to that. But there was only one thing, really. One important thing. One thing that she couldn't quite figure out how to ask. In the end, with no idea how to achieve subtlety, she was blunt. "Did you love her?"

"Yes." The answer was immediate and firmly punctuated. There was no question in it. "God, yes. I still do. Not like I should've, though. We–they–I didn't love her like she deserved to be loved. It was selfish what I– What they–” They blinked hard. “It was selfish to leave her."

"You talk about her like she was a child."

"She wasn't, exactly, and we all knew she wasn't. Palamedes was the most adamant in not treating her like one, I think. But all of us struggled to remember that sometimes. It was so easy to pretend."

This wasn't right. This felt a little like the moment when Augustine had kissed John at the dinner table, the sudden and violent mundanity. The reminder that the sacred and untouchable was actually imminently touchable and may even like it, and it was similarly alien to her. It was blasphemous and strange and wrong, and it was something else, too. A nagging, needling something else, just beneath her understanding. She wanted to stop thinking about it. She said, "Is that why you haven't been sleeping? Are you grieving her?"

She regretted it immediately, but Paul only got a faraway look in their strange, muddy eyes. It was thoughtful in a numb, sleep-deprived sort of way, a visible turning of gears. "Yes," they said. "sort of."

Harrow didn't want to ask further questions. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. She didn't know the protocol for these sorts of conversations, was floundering without a script. But after a long moment of thought, Paul said, "I– Camilla–” Sigh. “Part of me still isn't used to sleeping alone."

Harrow was startled. "Is soul melange not–"

"What they don't tell you about becoming one person," said Paul, cutting her off, "is that, afterwards, you're still only one person. I wouldn't go back for the world, but…well. I don't have to explain this to you, do I? You of all people."

"I suppose I can understand," said Harrow, and she thought of Gideon, snoring soundly just down the hall, whole and real and autonomous and alive, and she understood completely.

Belatedly, she registered the implications of what they had said.

[acourtofinkandpapyrus]

A Flower With Petals of Flame: Part three (Eris x Reader)

Warnings: angst, mentions of trauma and violence

Part two

Part three

Tag list: open

Eris shows up at the Spring court and finds Y/n alive. Also, Y/N finds out who Feyre is.

“So what, this Amarantha person took your eye and… what?  Why didn’t anyone stop her?” I asked Lucian as I worked on a particularly nasty piece of rotting wood.

After a week or two at Tamlin’s manor, I got sick of the rotting place and decided to start fixing it up.

I would be in the night court by now if my brother had responded to the letters from both Tamlin and Lucian to get his ass over here, but apparently he couldn’t be bothered.

It probably would have been more effective if he knew why he was coming over here, but all three of us agreed that if anyone learned of my presence here…

Well, we all remember what happened with Tamlin’s family.

“It wasn’t exactly like anyone could.”  Lucian said as I finished ripping out the last piece of rotted wood.  I would have to chop down a tree or something to replace it.

“Did Tamlin agree to this?”  He asked, and I rolled my eyes.

“You’re being evasive again Luce.”  I said, and he half growled at the old nickname.

“Amarantha named herself High Queen for fifty years before anyone was able to put her down.”  Lucian said after a moment. And I froze.

“Why didn’t the high lords fight back?”  I asked, horrified.

He helped me gather the rotting wood to take outside.  “She tricked all the High lords, poisoned them really, so they no longer had their powers.”

I bit my lip, trying not to sound too concerned as I asked, “What happened to my brother?”

Lucian seemed prepared for the question, replying easily, “If he ever shows up, you can ask him yourself.”

I let the subject drop, snorting.  “I honestly don’t know how you put up with him if he’s always this obstinate.”

“Oh, he always is, but you learn to deal with it.”

Lucian and I both whipped around to see Eris standing there, looking neatly composed with a bit of a smile on his face.

I tried not to smirk.  He had to have been watching, and the Eris I knew would have taken a moment to freak out before coming out so calm and collected.

“Hello Eris.”  I said, before Lucian could say anything.  “It’s been awhile.”

The corner of his lip twitched upwards, and suddenly Lucian was looking back and forth between us, trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Eris and I had been friends for a long time before my death, before everything happened with Mor.  Before he had to make a horrible choice.

Before Eris could respond, I heard a growl, and saw that Tamlin had shown up, staring down the heir of Autumn.

“Leave.”  Tamlin said with a hostility that almost made me flinch.

Almost.

“I think I have some information you’d like to hear regarding our little lady’s circumstances.  If we can still even call her a lady?”  He asked, and I recognised it more as a question than a taunt.

Game on.

“Well, I think that depends on my brother, if he ever bothers to show up.”  I said, unable to help the smile that spread across my face.

Eris seemed to relax a little bit, grinning back at me.

Meanwhile, Lucian and Tamlin were standing on the sidelines, their confusion obvious.

“I honestly don’t know what your brother’s thinking, especially after Elain’s vision.”  He said, shrugging casually.

“Elain had a vision?”  Lucian asked, stepping in between us.

“Um, even more importantly, who’s Elain?”  I asked, looking between Lucian and Eris..

Eris shot his brother and Tamlin a nasty look.  “You didn’t tell her about Feyre or her sisters?”

Neither of them responded, and I pushed Lucian to the side gently.  “No, they have not.”

Eris’s face hardened, obviously pissed with the other two Males.  “Feyre is your brother's mate.  They have a son.”

I stand there, reeling as Eris smirks at me, less harsh than his usual expressions.  “Their name is Nyx.”

I whirled around.  “You two better have a damned good explanation why I haven’t heard about this yet.”

Tamlin refused to look at me, and Lucian’s jaw worked, looking for a good explanation.

“It’s because Feyre was going to marry Tamlin, and things went horribly wrong and the High Lord of Spring doesn’t want to explain how he kidnapped your brother’s mate and she tore down his whole court.”  Eris said, smirking at Tamlin, who let out a growl.

I took a moment, before sighing.  “That… that’s just- Tamlin, seriously?”  I turned to look at him, more disappointed than angry.

He looked taken aback by my response, just totally stunned I hadn’t… what?  What did he think I was going to do?

“I don’t know this Feyre, and I don’t know what happened.  It’s not my place to pass judgment on events I don’t know about.”  I said, a little pissed that they were all still waiting for me to start a ruckus.

I turned, storming off back to The Manor.

Assholes.  All of them.

Eris winnowed in front of me, far enough away from the others that he lets his mask drop, his face falling into one of worry.

“I didn’t mean to upset you, I’m sorry.”  He said quietly.

His brow was scrunched up in worry, his lips slightly open as his orange eyes examined me with such an intensity I started to blush.

“No, it’s fine.  I guess I’m just sick of those two acting like I’m a ticking time bomb.”  I said, letting out a little puff of air.

He continued to examine me.  “You’ve changed, you know that?”  He asks, teasing just slightly.

I nod slightly.  “Was I really that volatile before?”  I ask in a whispered voice.

He smiles.  “I wouldn’t think of it like that.  Everyone in this land is volatile.”  He smiles at me, his eyes tired.  “Whatever you’ve been through, you’ve come out of it a kinder soul.”

I snort, rolling my eyes.  “Sappy.”

He winks at me.  “You wouldn’t want me any other way.”

[trashyswitch]

Secrets From the Sussy Notebook

SMG3 is trying to write in his diary...But SMG4 REALLY wants to read it! Will SMG3 be able to survive his brother's evil tactics so his secrets can remain safe?

I...am obsessed with SMG4 and the gang... AndImayhaveabitofacrushonSMG3...Oopsie... This fanfic goes out to @lokissed2025 and @anxious-lee-ler. They have been binge-watching SMG4 off and on for the last few days with me...and we have been CACKLING LIKE DOOFUSES! It's gotten to the point where Vel has changed our group chat picture to Mario as Blue, with the name "Chucklefucks" as the group name. SMG4, SMG3, Mario and the cast never fail to make me laugh. And now I've gotten them into the videos too!!! So, I hope you all enjoy!

[Dear Diary…] He scribbled in his purple diary with his pencil. He had only been writing for about 5 minutes before he felt someone watching him. He could see a growing shadow covering his own. He widened his eyes and paused his writing, as he feared who might be standing right behind him…

“Whatcha writing?” The familiar voice asked. 

SMG3 yelped and fell forward, dropping his diary in the process. He gasped with fear before grabbing his diary and holding it against his chest. “NOTHING!” He shouted to his brother. 

“Oh really?” SMG4 asked with a smirk, poking his leg. 

“I said NOTHING!” SMG3 threw him a kick before sitting up and scooting a couple feet away. “Go away!” He ordered. 

SMG4 had crossed his arms, still smirking. “So protective over a little book…” He taunted. 

SMG3 narrowed his eyes. “A little book?!” He stood up and smirked as he showed his brother the diary. “This ‘little book’ is filled with all my plans for destroying the world.” He said, rather proudly as he flipped a page in his book. “Only the true villains of this world can read my special plans for world domination.” SMG3 declared next. 

“Does your ‘world domination’ plan include…” SMG4 narrowed his eyes as he read the notebook title. “taking Egg Dog to the park?” SMG4 asked. 

SMG3’s face turned to shock and fear. “Wha-?!” He looked at his book and quickly closed the book. “NO! You-” He grumbled. “You didn’t read that.” 

SMG4 chuckled. “I wonder what other juicy secrets you like to keep in that diary…” SMG4 asked aloud. “NO.” SMG3 backed up, holding his book as closely as he possibly could against his person. “No one is allowed to read this. NOT EVEN YOU.” He warned. 

SMG4 rolled his eyes. “Like I’m gonna tell the world your secrets…” SMG4 muttered. 

SMG3 narrowed his eyes. “You’re not exactly good at keeping secrets…” SMG3 mentioned. 

SMG4’s face morphed into shock and anger. “Excuse me?! I have kept many of your secrets!” He argued. 

“Oh yeah?” SMG3 crossed his arms. “Like what?” 

SMG4 thought for a moment, unsure at first…

but the man quickly widening his eyes once he remembered one big secret he NEVER spilled to anyone…Mostly because he’s scared of the repercussions, but still…He never did tell…so therefore it counts. 

SMG3 could see the gears spinning in his brother’s head…and he could feel sweat developing on his forehead. “Wha-What’s with that face?” He asked nervously, adjusting his grip on his notebook. 

SMG4 was smirking and snickering a bit. “I have never mentioned how ticklish you are.” He mentioned somewhat quietly, as to make sure nobody else could hear him except his brother. 

SMG3 widened his eyes and felt the fear developing in his gut. “O-Oh-...” He muttered, unable to hide his slight embarrassment. “I…Okay…Okay, that’s true…” He mentioned, feeling his blush deepen. 

SMG4 started to walk up to his brother with his hands behind his back. “But why bother keeping your secrets if you’re not even gonna trust me with your diary?” SMG4 asked, his plan already being put into motion. 

SMG3 gulped as he felt the fear overtaking him. “U- SMG4?” He asked, visibly nervous. 

“Yeeeeessss?” SMG4 replied, walking to his other side, making SMG3 turn his head to the other side to look at him. 

SMG3 could already feel the butterflies filling his belly, making him want to giggle from anticipation alone. “C-Can’t wehe talk about this?” SMG3 tried to offer, backing up from his brother a little bit. 

SMG4 rubbed his chin with his fingers. “Hmmmmm…” He hummed rather dramatically. He looked at his brother as he paused his chin stroking, a smirk slowly filling his lips once again. The man just could not keep a straight face to save his life. “Nah.” SMG4 grabbed the purple diary with his left hand, and lifted it up above his brother’s head. 

Naturally, SMG3 kept his grip on the diary, refusing to let it go. “NO! LET GO!” SMG3 shouted at him. 

“Noooo, you let go~!” SMG4 poked his belly a few times and tweaked his left side a few times with his right hand. 

“aAH! NO!” SMG3 could feel a stupid little wobbly grin forming on his face. “Come on- EEEK!” He curled his body inward slightly, lifting up his right leg to cover up his side slightly. But the man was still holding onto his diary for dear life…and with his precious diary (and his hands) above his head, he was pretty much exposing his vulnerable spots for his brother to take advantage. “Duhude- EEHEEK!” He shrieked almost like a little girl as his brother poked his inner belly. 

“Really determined to keep that diary, huh?” SMG4 asked, both admiring and laughing at his brother for refusing to let go despite the tickles. “Well, I hate to break it to you…” SMG4 brought his open hand back, and wiggled his 5 fingers. “But I know you’re not gonna last very long.” SMG4 reminded him. 

SMG3 huffed and breathed in slightly, trying to calm himself down despite the adrenaline overpowering him. “You- You’re being ridiculous!” SMG3 argued, pulling on his diary. 

SMG4 raised his left eyebrow. “Ridiculous?!” SMG4 reacted. “What are you talking about?! This isn’t even CLOSE to ridiculous!” SMG4 argued, before changing his approach. “But THIS…” SMG4 brought his fingers up to his armpits. “THIS would be ridiculous.” He declared. 

SMG3 widened his eyes as he sensed his impending doom once again. “Ohno…” He muttered, getting even more nervous. Dammit, his brother knew just how bad his armpits were. 

SMG4’s hand made contact with his armpits, causing SMG3 to hitch his breath. 

“Kitchy~” SMG4 said, fluttering his fingers once. 

SMG3 widened his eyes and gasped. “OHGOD-” 

“Kitchy~” SMG4 fluttered them again. 

“eeEEEEK!” SMG3 squealed super loudly. “NONONONO-!”

“Kooooo~!” SMG4 dug his one finger into his armpit more. 

SMG3 threw his head back and let out a big fit of cackles. “GAHAHA- DOHON’T DOHOHO THAHAHAT!” He protested helplessly. 

“Don’t do what?” SMG4 asked him suddenly, stopping his fingers. 

Despite the embarrassing moment, SMG3 was able to pull himself together super quickly. “Dohon’t-...Y-You know…” SMG3 tried to hint at the word without actually saying the word. 

“Don’t do what?” SMG4 asked him. “What don’t you want me to do?” SMG4 was now pretending he had no clue what he was talking about. 

SMG3 groaned and leaned his head back. “You know what I mean!” He yelled slightly. The stupid word always made him jumpy and embarrassed, and he was embarrassed enough as it was. If he could get away without saying the cursed word, then he’d likely be able to survive his onslaught.  “Ihi really don’t!” SMG4 was silently laughing amidst the ‘argument’. “I just want you to explain what you don’t want me to do!” SMG4 argued next, still laughing a bit.

“TICKLE ME, YOU IDIOT!” SMG3 shouted back. 

SMG4 put on the biggest confused face he could. “...You want me to tickle you?” SMG4 asked. SMG3 screeched, realizing what he had said. “NO!” He shouted. “So demanding…” SMG4 muttered with a laugh. “If that’s all you really wanted, then here!” SMG4 declared.  “I’MGONNA- NO, NO-” SMG3 looked at the hand that was sitting dangerously close to his armpit. “You so much as MOVE An INCH-” SMG3 shrieked as his brother’s fingers immediately touched down. SMG3 threw his head back with a huge smile on his face, laughing rather hysterically as his brother destroyed him all over again. “DAHAHAhaha- DAHAHAMMIHIHIHIT!” He shook his head as his feet tapped and kicked. “LEHEHET MEHE GOOO!” He shouted. 

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’m just tickling you like you wanted me to.” SMG4 told him rather calmly. 

“I’MGONNA KIHIHILL YOU!” He shouted amidst his laughter. 

“Nah, you wouldn’t. I know you too well.” SMG4 argued calmly with a smug grin. And just as SMG4 predicted, it only took another couple seconds for his left arm to drop down. He had let go of his diary in an attempt to cover up his armpit. 

SMG4 widened his eyes. “Uh oh! Left one’s covered!” SMG4 reacted, before looking at SMG3 with a smug look. “But it looks like the other armpit is completely freeeeee~” SMG4 quickly went for his other open armpit. 

SMG3 squeaked as he squeezed his eyes shut. “eeEEHEEHEEHEE! YOHOU’RE EEHEEEHEEVIHIHIHILL!” He yelled at him as he attempted to cover up his right armpit with his open hand. But trying to cover up your open armpit in this position, would prove to be an impossible task. 

“I’m evil?! That’s a serious accusation coming from you.” SMG4 reacted. 

SMG3 couldn’t think straight. It was too much! He hasn’t laughed this hard in so long! And it was getting to the point where his cheeks were starting to hurt! 

He had to think fast. SMG4 was really making him choose whether his reputation was more important than his diary. And by this point, letting go of his prized possession was looking pretty tempting. Was keeping his precious diary secret really worth the years of potential babying from others that might see him like this?! HELL NO! 

But right as he let go of the diary, SMG3 felt his knees buckle. He yelped as he felt himself fall backwards onto his back. Though the fall was slightly painful, SMG3 had curled up into a cowardly ball, his giggles still quite audible as he tried to wipe away the phantom tickles that continued to plague him. “Hehehe…hehehehe…” He giggled, hugging his knees up to his chest as he tried to cover up the rest of his stupid giggles. 

God, his giggles were the worst part of this whole thing…The laughter was one thing…the cackling is another…but GIGGLING?! No real villain giggles! EVER! It’s so mortifying! His giggles were too cute to even BELONG from a person like him with a villain complex. Thank GOD these walls can’t talk…

But his thoughts were interrupted by a flash of purple, followed by a little plop sound right in front of him. What the- 

SMG3 looked down at the purple item, and widened his eyes. His…diary? 

SMG3 looked up at his brother. “You’re…not gonna read it?” SMG3 asked him. 

SMG4 shrugged his shoulders. “I was tempted…” He admitted. 

SMG3 narrowed his eyes as he picked it up. “What…was stopping you?” SMG3 asked. 

SMG4 sat down in front of him. “The idea that I’d be breaching your privacy.” SMG4 admitted, looking a little guilty. “And truth be told…” SMG4 picked up his pencil and handed it to his brother. “I don’t want to break our trust.” He finished. 

SMG3 softened his expression. “Wow…” He grabbed the pencil and put his diary into his overalls. “Uh…” He bit his lip. “Thanks.” He said to him somewhat awkwardly. SMG4 was…being really considerate and understanding…it was kinda nice. 

“Besides…” 

SMG3 looked up and froze when he saw his wiggling fingers once again. “Uh oh…” He muttered. 

“I don’t need to read your diary to see how soft you really are.” SMG4 concluded his sentence as he skittered his fingers on his belly.

SMG3 squeaked and dropped his diary, curling up as even more laughter poured out of him. Only…this laughter was less hysterical, and more genuine. “HAHAhahahaha! Ihihi’m nohohot s-sohoft!” SMG3 argued.

“You say in the softest little laughter I’ve ever heard from you today.” SMG4 teased.  “Shuhuhut uhup!” He muttered. But his wiggling quickened almost immediately the moment he felt SMG4’s hands move towards the middle of his belly. “NoHO!” SMG3 squeaked and squealed as he tried to push his brother’s hands away. “Plehehehease stohohohop!” He shook his head, unintentionally knocking off his own hat in the process. 

“Oop-” SMG4 paused his tickling for a moment to grab SMG3’s purple hat. 

“Whahat are you-” SMG3 took in a few breaths before looking to see what his brother was doing.

SMG4 had put his purple hat on top of his own blue hat. “There we go.” SMG4 muttered aloud as he pulled some super cool sunglasses out of his overalls, before putting them onto his eyes upside down. “Feast your eyes on the coolest brother in existence!” He declared, pulling out another pair of sunglasses and putting them on upside down, overtop of the first pair. 

SMG3 had to cover up his mouth with his own fist to prevent from laughing out loud. For some stupid reason, the look of SMG4 with both hats on, plus the 2 pairs of sunglasses on his eyes…made him wanna genuinely laugh at him. He had a feeling it had to do with the tickling making him all giddy…but let’s face it…SMG4 can have his funny moments. 

SMG4 widened his eyes and widened his smirk. “Was that a giggle I just heard?” He asked, lowering his two sets of sunglasses while pointing to him.

SMG3 widened his eyes, visibly mortified. “Wha-NO!” He covered his mouth more. 

SMG4 raised an eyebrow. “Are you suuuuure?” SMG4 poked his side playfully. 

SMG3 heard a squeak leave his mouth, before he could prevent it. “NO!” SMG3 scooted himself away from him. SMG4 is NOT making him laugh like an idiot. NOT AGAIN. It should be SMG4’s turn to laugh and blush now! And SMG3 narrowed his eyes as he knew just how to do it. 

He smirked slightly as he cupped his own hands. “Hey Egg Dog?” SMG3 called. 

“Egg dog?” SMG4 reacted. 

Suddenly, his little egg dog popped out from behind a door. He hopped up to SMG3, letting out a little bark. SMG3 chuckled as he let Egg Dog hop onto his hand. “I have a little secret for you.” SMG3 told him in a baby voice, looking at SMG4 with the biggest shit-eating grin he could make without looking creepy. 

SMG4 raised an eyebrow, visibly confused. “Huh?” He muttered. 

SMG3 took his purple hat off SMG4’s head, and put it onto his own head. “SMG4 is a biiiig fan of neck kisses.” He told him. 

SMG4 widened his eyes slightly. His face went from confusion, to intense worry in only a millisecond. “Wh-WHAT?!” SMG4 shrieked. 

Seeing Egg Dog’s little excited jumps, made him feel more excited too! “Oooh yeah, it’s true!” SMG3 clarified. “And his favorite spot?” SMG3 added. 

“Don’t you DARE!” SMG4 attempted to go for his armpits to shut him up. Maybe with enough convincing, SMG3 might stop. But SMG3 dodged his brother’s hands and quickly fluttered his gloved fingers right on the correct spot. “Riiight here, I believe.” SMG3 showed his precious Egg Dog. 

SMG4 instinctively curled up, letting out the most high-pitched little squeaks. 

Seeing Egg Dog’s excitement, SMG3 smiled brightly. “Isn’t that fun?!” SMG3 asked him, absolutely loving Egg Dog’s reactions. “You wanna give him some love too?!” SMG3 asked Egg Dog in a playful, baby voice. 

Egg Dog barked and jumped even more excitedly! 

“Okay! Go on!” SMG3 replied, letting Egg Dog hop off his hand. 

SMG4 widened his eyes and shrieked as the little dog hopped onto his shoulder. “WAITWAIT-!” He protested.  

SMG3 was trying not to laugh too hard at his brother’s unusually lady-like reactions. “Don’t worry, dude. He’ll be gentle.” SMG3 reassured him.  

SMG4 squeaked as Egg Dog snuggled its ‘nose’ into his neck. 

SMG4’s reaction was almost immediate: A squeal had left his mouth as little high-pitched giggles erupted from his mouth. His grin had turned wobbly and crooked as he recoiled his body slightly, unable to handle the overwhelmingly ticklish licks on his exposed, shaved neck. “EEEHEEeeheeheehee! Hohohold ohon-” He covered his mouth in an attempt to cover up his squeals and little giggles. 

SMG3 let out a rather menacing chuckle. “And you said MY laugh was cute…” He teased. 

“Ihihihi- HAHAHA! Ihihi nehever said ‘cuhuhuhute’!” SMG4 tried to argue. “Heheehee- Ihihi sahaid ‘sohohoft’!” He corrected him. 

SMG3 tsked and crossed his arms. “You know, I was gonna let Egg Dog do all the work for me.” He admitted. “But since you’re being a smartypants…” SMG3 swiftly slid up behind his brother. “I think I’m gonna go for it too.” SMG3 gently took Egg Dog off his brother’s neck. “Here you go.” He put Egg Dog onto his shoulder before picking up SMG4 and skittered his fingers all over his upper sides. 

SMG4 guffawed and doubled over, feeling a lot more free to lose his composure once Egg Dog was off him. “NAHAHAHA! AAHAHAHAHA! JEEHEEHEESUHUS!” SMG4 shouted, collapsing to the ground. 

SMG4 and SMG3 had at least one thing in common when it came to tickling: They both weren’t very good at keeping themselves upright when being tickled. SMG3 could keep himself up at least a little bit…But SMG4 couldn’t even do that! And SMG3 knew this well. That’s how his brother was…and the best thing SMG3 could do was follow him down towards the floor. 

“You don’t mind if I just…” SMG3 brought his fingers up to SMG4’s neck and started off fluttering them against his chin. 

“eEEEEHEEEK!” SMG4 scrunched up his shoulders and curled up into a ball as much as he physically could. 

SMG3 sighed with a smile and let his brother go. He knew SMG4 couldn’t handle much more, and he didn’t really wanna kill him. Not today, anyway…

With SMG4 laying on the ground in a ball, SMG3 picked up his diary. He opened it up and flipped to a new page in his diary. Picking up his pencil off the ground, SMG3 started to write something new down. 

It only took about 10 minutes for SMG4 to get back up and see his brother writing again. “What are you doing now?!” SMG4 asked. 

“Oh nothing…” SMG3 giggled, continuing his cartoon drawing on the page. “Just writing about your most embarrassing little secret.” SMG3 admitted. 

SMG4 widened his eyes and gulped. “U-Uh…W-Which one?” SMG4 asked awkwardly. 

SMG3 smirked and laid himself onto his belly, actually providing SMG4 one single chance to see what he was doing. SMG4 hesitantly walked himself up, took one look at the drawing he had made, and gasped. 

Oh- 

“NO!” SMG4 tackled his brother to the ground, trying to take his diary from him. SMG3 held onto his diary as tightly as possible, while poking and prodding his brother’s most vulnerable spots. 

“What is going on in-” Someone called, before gasping slightly as she saw the purple notebook fall right onto the ground right in front of the person. 

“Meggy!” SMG3 yelled out. 

“MEGGY?!” SMG4 shrieked. 

But SMG3 tackled him back down. “Meggy, read it!” SMG3 told her as he went right for his belly. 

“NODON’T- aAAH!” SMG4 shouted. 

Meggy raised an eyebrow. What were they doing?! 

She awkwardly picked up the journal and flipped it the right way to look at the new page: It was a cartoon drawing of SMG4, with labels pointing to certain spots on his body. 

Meggy narrowed her eyes as an excited smile quickly grew onto her face. “Ohoho~ Is that so?” She mumbled to herself, lowering the book.  “NonononoNO!” SMG4 screeched and kicked his feet. 

SMG3 smirked as he poked his brother’s belly button. “You wanna help?” SMG3 asked, looking up at Meggy. 

“YES! Count me in!” Meggy reacted, closing the book and placing it aside to help SMG3. “Any spots you recommend I go for?” Meggy asked. 

SMG3 chuckled evilly, eager to get started. “I suppose a little lesson is in order?” 

[jedimaesteryoda]

"Petyr Baelish loved me once. He was only a boy. His passion was a tragedy for all of us, but it was real, and pure, and nothing to be made mock of. He wanted my hand. That is the truth of the matter. You are truly an evil man, Lannister." -AGOT, Tyrion IV

Catelyn looks at Petyr's feelings for her, and tries to convince herself that it was just a kid's crush, missing that it was something darker and more problematic. He challenged her betrothed Brandon to a duel for her hand. Note, he didn't even bother to ask Catelyn herself for her hand, let alone what she wanted, he just went and challenged Brandon for her hand as if she were a prize to be won. He also didn't take the hint when he asked for her favor and gave it to Brandon instead. Petyr himself believes he loved Cat, but in truth, he didn't actually love her, he confused infatuation and obsession with romantic love. Actual love is exemplified by Mr. Darcy to Elizabeth in Pride and Prejudice: "If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are not changed, but one word from you will silence me on this subject forever." Darcy made it clear to Elizabeth that if she didn't want to be with him, he would respect that. That is love, it involves respect for the other person and treating them as an equal, even if their choices and wishes are not in line with yours.

Rather than love, Littlefinger's attitude is more male entitlement, being possessive and treating Catelyn as his property. He also plots her family's downfall in part due to being denied her.

"I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold."

He even liked to think of Winterfell as a cold, dark place, because he wanted Catelyn to be miserable in her marriage to Ned. He didn't wish her to find happiness, because he didn't want to imagine the possibility of her being happy with someone else. The only image of her being happy had to include him, which speaks to his vindictiveness and selfishness.

He repeats it with her daughter Sansa. Cersei remembers "Petyr Baelish had offered to wed the girl himself, she recalled, but of course that was impossible; he was much too lowborn," to which Petyr saw as a reliving of his past of Cat's hand being denied to him over his lowborn status. He reacted with the same vindictiveness, manipulating Joffrey into beheading Ned to screw Cersei despite knowing it would clearly hurt Sansa. He brought Sansa to the Vale where she is effectively his prisoner as she has nowhere else to go and nor will he let her. It's exactly the kind of relationship dynamic he wanted with Cat: one where he has all the power and control in the relationship and she is compliant, serving at his side and being the object of his desires, unable to reject his advances.

Littlefinger for all his purported genius, has a pattern of recklessness when dealing with Tully/Stark girls. He challenged a more experienced and stronger fighter to a duel for Cat's hand, and forces a kiss on Sansa in the godswood where Lysa sees. He also wasn't the lovesick romantic Cat hoped he was, but an entitled, vindictive abuser who only wants a relationship where his desires are the only ones that matter and he has the power.

But like with Cat, he will learn that women often have desires and wishes of their own. He won't win over Sansa any more than he could her mother.

[nc-vb]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧

note -> pls accept this little Scaramouche/gn!reader blurb from last year as an apology for being bad at updating? it was part of the original version of Heartstrings, but the plot has since changed anyway, so... ya.

warnings -> none; takes place after the delusion factory chapter in Inazuma; reader is a Fatui executive under Scaramouche with a vision that can heal...

words -> 1.9k

“You…” Your hands having risen instinctively at his appearance, you swallow thickly awhile trying to come up with a not-so-suspicious greeting. “Lord Scaramouche, sir, I-I… What are you doing here, sir?”

Arms crossed, chin raised, and eyebrow cocked, “I’ll have you answer that very same question for me. What business did you have at the Grand Narukami Shrine after dealing with the Traveler?”

“Er… being in Inazuma has left me feeling more spiritually inclined than normal, sir, so… I-I’ve decided to take up on religion,” you mumble flatly, immediately inwardly cursing at yourself for spouting such a shitty lie.

“Funny. Try again.” You sigh at him.

“I’d heard once… that you had ties here in Inazuma,” you start, your tone quieter than usual. “Rather than bother you with my questions, I… initially came here to check on the Traveler’s condition, but then… I ended up… speaking with Guuji Yae, but…”

Scaramouche shuffles his hands to his hips, looking almost pleased by the idea of you being turned away. “Oh, the fox woman wouldn’t tell you?”

You shake your head. “Not exactly. When we started speaking of… other things, I decided I’d rather chance waiting for you to want to answer me, yourself, if I ever asked them. If you ever wanted to answer me.”

Scaramouche’s hard gaze seems to linger on you from beneath his hat, something that leaves you warm, cagey, and a little concerned that just maybe, he doesn’t believe your ignorance to be false, after all.

“I simply… was worried about you,” you add.

“Worried,” he parrots, sounding almost offended. “Why would I need you to worry about me?”

“If you’re suddenly seeing things as if I’m making you out as weak or as looking down on you, that’s not what’s happening here, sir.” Past him, you look to the cliffs you knew would eventually bring you to a lesser shrine but a moment after feeling the sharp crawl of electricity creep up your back. “Could we walk and talk, sir? The Electro energy the mountain channels is starting to fry the hair off my arms…”

“… fine.”

And so, you lead the way, trapped between the quiet of a promised conversation and your nerves, unable to speak and walk at the same time. It’s a surprise to you, just how patient the Balladeer is being. Perhaps in your constant busyness, with your typically need to leave your Harbinger stress-free from these menial duties, you’ve never truly noticed just how differently the man walking beside you treats you. How much more patience he has for you versus the rest of his underlings. It didn’t even have to do with you being his second-in-command, because if it were anybody else in your position, this conversation might not have gone so non-aggressively. At the very least, what’s mutual knowledge between the two of you is that your relationship has always been one of respect, and not one drowned for fear of him like the others have so easily admitted to.

Finally, having descended the rest of the mountain, now far away from the crackling and sizzling of its natural Electro pond, you lead the Balladeer to the front of the abandoned shrine, to sit at its steps and take a large breath. Scaramouche remains standing, arms at his sides, eyebrows now pinched.

“S-So… I just… recalled,” you clear your throat, eyes flitting up to meet his briefly before flying back down into your lap, “that you had a look on your face when the Tsaritsa gave the order to have us come out to Inazuma. I remember you once saying that you were from here, and I was only wanting to be prepared to help you in any way I could. And then, the next look on your face when you were given the Gnosis by Guuji Yae…”

“And so, your first choice of preparation was to go and gather intel on me from that fox envoy?” he queries.

“I-I suppose,” you murmur. “I didn’t want to overstep or… um…”

“Or what?”

“… or make you sad.” You finally look up at him, not in sudden confidence, but of the pure desire to simply look at him. As per usual, his impassiveness shines clear as day in the night air, illuminated by the lanterns glowing along the shrine’s engawa. “Lord Scaramouche, Lady Guuji Yae did not tell me of your history by my own request. Instead, she helped me reach a certain point of clarity of myself regarding you… That the reason I sought her out to speak about you was more b… because…”

“You’re burning the midnight oil, here, ______.”

You huff at him. “It’s because I’ve grown extremely fond of you,” you finally blurt. “Romantically, if that wasn’t clear. I-In other words, I believe I’ve fallen in love with you, Lord Scaramouche.”

… there is a moment of silence that leaves your heart aching. At the very least, you’d expected a retort, or a comment of disapproval for bothering him with something that might’ve seemed so trivial to a man like him, but in his wordlessness, he simply stands before you, eyes trained hard in your direction.

Throwing his foot up against one of the steps to your left, you find yourself suddenly trapped between him and the railing, the air in your chest swirling. And everything happens all too quickly – his hand finding the crown of your head to tilt it toward him; his gaze rising and falling between your widened eyes and your parted lips; his subtlety in wetting his own dried lips, tongue darting carefully past his teeth to soften them, before leaning into you and pressing them firmly against yours.

You can’t control the noise that escapes you, nor your instinct to brace yourself against your surroundings — the porch, the step beneath you, the railing, his chest — in your attempt at registering the Sixth Harbinger’s actions.

He is unmoving in them, indigo eyes half-lidded as he studies your face, your reaction to him. When he just barely moves his mouth upwards, his lower lip slotting between the two of yours, and carefully moves his hand to fall to your nape, he catches your flinch of surprise, feels your fingers tighten around the sleeves of his shirt. In pulling away, he hears your small noise of disappointment, and takes in the heat resting upon the apples of your cheeks.

“L-Lord Scaramouche,” you pant, and from the corner of your mouth, you lick away the bit of saliva that remained. Was it yours? His? He’s not sure he cares.

“What?” he says, tone accosting. “Wasn’t that the definition of the “love” that you desired from me? You and I have worked together for long enough to know that that is an undeniable impossibility, and yet you still decided that the best course of action to take would be a confession?”

“I-It’s not so simple like that!” you argue, and you push his leg off the step and stand up, now an extra foot or so taller than the man. “A confession – my confession to you – is not something so fleeting; it’s not some passing emotion I’ve suddenly started feeling because I spoke to Guuji Yae. This is something I know I’ve felt since the first days I began working for you, something I’ve tried to ignore for both our sakes, and for the longest time, it worked. I managed to be good at keeping our relationship professional.

“And you’re right— we have worked together long enough that I could feel safe in telling you my truth. All I could hope for was maybe some understanding, and in a long shot, maybe a bit of reciprocation. Either way, I’d at least have something off of my chest.” You glare down at the man, fingers twitching— “A-And just so you know, I’m going to be kissing you again after that, because speaking frankly, sir, you… are an awful kisser!” – before reaching for his shirt with them and tugging him up and toward you.

He jolts, thrown off by the height difference the staircase offered and by your sudden bravado, gripping at either railing of the shrine’s staircase. Your lips, as warm as the heat that seemed to radiate from you, as soft as he’d experienced them to be the first time he’d touched them, press against his. You can only dare in closing your eyes that he wouldn’t retaliate, but you still half-expect him to push you away and scold you, something said in his flavour of retaliation and ridicule. But his hands give rise to where your hands stretch out the material of his shirt, skinny fingers wrapping tightly around the bones of your wrists to spin you off the higher step and onto equal ground.

Pulling away from you, a smirk crawls onto his visage. “And who gave you permission to speak frankly in the first place?” he asks. You can’t tell if his tone is serious and taunting or humoured and teasing. You swallow when he leans further into you, your heart racing, his lips pausing just before your ear. “Insulting your superior officer,” he whispers to you, a dry chuckle escaping him a second later when he returns to face you. “That’ll get you places.”

Taunting and teasing, you decide shakily.

To your surprise, the Balladeer leans into you once more, his glistening, parted lips slotting between yours, hands slowly moving to take hold of your cheeks in his attempt at keeping you close. It’s sloppy, teeth clacking together at times, and a little wet, but your heart threatens to burst with joy and relief at his effort, his reciprocation being something you wouldn’t have expected him to put any into.

A hand of your own raises to take the smooth curve of his jawline into your palm. He mumbles against your murmurs, and grunts at the wet, wriggling sensation invading his mouth. Their tongue? he realizes, doing poorly to mask his shock at how pleasant he finds the feeling to be. Unpredictable as per his usual routine, he returns the gesture, his own joining with yours to swirl and dance in the space between you. The softest of moans escapes him, and he tears away from you, embarrassed and breathing sharply, his pale cheeks tinted with the softest of rouge and lips tainted by your mixture of saliva.

Your laughter is faint as you lick away the liquid gathered along your own.

“So…” Scaramouche glances at you from beneath his newly summoned hat, barely having time to recover when you’ve shot him a look unfamiliar to him—it’s startling, how warm it makes him feel; how unfocused his mind is when your gazes lock; how impossible he finds it to begin stringing words into a sentence after what he’d engaged in – dazed, your eyelids flutter on incident at him, and in that starstruck, awestruck daze, “Did any of that get me anywhere with you?”

— until these words exit your mouth, that is. Your flippant attitude was not something he’d accounted for in the aftermath, and even worse, you’d caught him in a moment of vulnerability and weakness and decided to deliver them before he could collect himself.

“Something like that,” he says, tone breathy with exasperation, his eyes having rapidly widened at you. You chuckle nervously in response, daring to reach forward and adjust his slightly tilted kasa. He turns on the spot when you’re finished, clearing his throat, and beginning the rest of your descent down from the base of Mount Yougou. “Come along, then. We’ve got work to do.”

© nc-vb/niicevibe 2022-2023 please don’t repost! reblogs & comments are always appreciated.

[mamichigo]

It doesn't take long for Cyno to find Alhaitham across the tavern. He's a strange sight amongst the cluster of chattering people; a lone figure huddled in the corner, nursing an empty cup as if contemplating the universe. It's not often the Akademiya personnel get together like this, but not even Cyno is alone. He's flanked by two of his fellow Matra, each with an awkward grimace on their faces (Cyno wouldn't tell them, but that reaction is exactly why he even bothers telling jokes). 

Although not unexpected, it's still odd to see Alhaitham all by himself. Not many people know him to begin with, and the ones who now recognize him as the Acting Grand Sage are too intimidated to approach.

If Cyno's being honest, it's a bit pathetic.

He murmurs a quick farewell and departs from his subordinates' side, beelining to the almost empty table. It's only when Cyno taps the table and Alhaitham feels the vibration of it that he notices Cyno's presence. Alhaitham is quick to press a button on his headphones, though not without wincing when the flood of sound assaults his ears.

"What do I owe the pleasure, General?" He drawls, just the hint only a slur on his tongue.

Cyno raises his eyebrows as he sits across from him.

"You didn't have to come if you really didn't want to," he comments. "I feel awkward just looking at you sitting by yourself."

Alhaitham blinks once, twice, then shrugs.

"I was invited," he explains simply. "You told me to come."

"I don't remember doing anything of the sort."

Alhaitham looks down at his cup, belatedly realizing it's been empty for awhile now and finally flags a waiter for another drink. Then, he stares up at Cyno and tilts his head.

(Cyno can see the gears turning in his head; they're surprisingly slow today.)

"Lesser Lord Kusanali told me," he starts, "that you said it would be good if I participated. So I am. Participating."

Oh, there was something like that, wasn't there? Cyno had idly said that if it was an Akademiya event, then the Acting Grand Sage should be there. Though, to imagine that Alhaitham would come just for that...

"Are you alright....?" He asks. 

"Better now that you're here."

They watch each other for awhile. Cyno hears someone laughing loudly—a glance tells him it's Kaveh conversing with Faruzan. So that's where the architect went, though it doesn't fully explain what the hell Alhaitham is doing all alone.

Another moment. Alhaitham's words land five seconds too late, and Cyno opens and closes his mouth like a fish.

"...Excuse me?"

"You wanted me to come, so I'm here," Alhaitham explains again, this time slower, like he's talking to a kid.

It only then occurs to Cyno that Alhaitham is more drunk than he looks.

"Right," he murmurs, suddenly at a loss. "Why didn't you approach me, then?"

"You looked busy. You were talking." Alhaitham hums to himself. The waiter briefly interrupts their talk; he sips on his new drink, a strange look in his eyes. "...You were smiling."

"So?"

"I like watching you smile."

Cyno's heart does a disconcerting maneuver in his chest.

"If you had approached me, I would've made time for you," Cyno admits. He doesn't have the excuse of alcohol to be this open, but the intent way with which Alhaitham watches him leaves Cyno unable to be anything other than painfully sincere.

"Would you?"

"Of course."

Then... Then Alhaitham smiles. Not a smirk, nor a sneer. There's no arrogance or smugness in it, no scheming, no unfathomable plan. It's the sort of pure glee Cyno never expected to see on that stony face.

If his heart was going wild before, it's now doing full on acrobatics. Cyno looks around, but no one is paying attention to them. He offers up a hand to Alhaitham, who readily encloses it within both his palms. After a moment of thought, he kisses Cyno's knuckles.

"I missed you," he whispers. "You were in Mondstadt, then you were busy, and then…"

He shakes his head. Cyno inhales through the hitch in his breath.

"Alhaitham," he calls, quiet and reverent. "Come here?"

And Alhaitham does; readily, trustingly. It's exhilarating, it's terrifying. When he reaches for Alhaitham's cheek, his fingers tremble. He kisses the corner of his mouth as a confession. "I missed you too."

Cyno glances at the half filled cup still on the table. This isn't the timing, not yet.

But it could be.

"Take a walk with me,"  Cyno orders, because he'll lose his nerve otherwise.  "The night air will do you some good."

Alhaitham doesn't give it any thought. Like it's second nature, he says, "I'd go anywhere with you."

It should scare him. He wasn't meant to be loved this fiercely. Not like this. But something settles within him, his heart stills, and he knows.

He knows this is it.

As soon as they step out, it'll be just the two of them together, nothing else will matter.

Cyno squeezes Alhaitham's hand a little tighter and leads them outside.

[bil-daddy]

Salutations Mr Bildad, Bildad the Shuhite, Bildaddy sir.

I'm so so sorry to bother you, or be a nuisance, but everything is getting on top of me lately and you give excellent advice.

Basically, the last 12-18 months have been awful - I'm acutely aware that in terms of what's happening in the world I'm pretty blessed 🙏🏻 However within around 12 months experiencing; a miscarriage, 4 bereavements, one parent being rushed into hospital, the other needing surgery (both are doing Ok now thank God 🙏🏻), two surgeries of my own within six months - neither of which have improved what they should have, chronic pain, multiple diagnoses - most of which were unexpected & should have been diagnosed a looonnnnggg time ago, reactions to any& all medications, finding out physio will be necessary for the rest of my life, a very upsetting break up, discovering people who were supposed to be friends can't be trusted...... Let's not forget financial issues due to being unable to work as result of illness etc .... I am losing hope that things are ever going to get better 😔

I'm so so sorry for offloading all this on you but work said they could no longer offer counselling which is infuriating because the counsellor was amazing! Sadly she isn't taking on any private patients for several months so we had to discontinue sessions for the foreseeable 😔

I'm so sorry but I don't really have any other people to talk to right now, my fiancé was my best friend so in a sense it's almost a double loss? Sorry this is pretty pathetic 😪

Yikes. And here I thought @blameless-job had it bad.

So, first off, let me tell you how sorry I am for all your losses. Any of which on their own are extremely painful, but all at the same time? Nobody should have to weather a storm like that. I am so proud of you, just for being here. You're incredibly strong for what you're surviving, even though you shouldn't even have to survive it in the first place.

So don't apologize cause there's nothing pathetic about reaching out for help when you're going through something--or multiple somethings, in your case. In fact, it's exactly the thing you need to do. A lot has been dumped onto your plate, so it makes sense you need to offload it.

I know your former counsellor isn't able to help you at the moment, but maybe they can refer you to someone else, because you deserve a professional (in psychology, not shoemaking and obstetrics) to help you through these tragedies. They might be able to get you a referral.

(If you want to try to find a counsellor on your own, there's NHS Therapy Services in the UK, and SAMHSA National Helpline in the US.)

In the meantime, though, I'll do my best.

If you're worried that things are never going to get better, you shouldn't be. I mean I understand why you are, but the fact is, as dark as this is to say, you might actually be at your lowest point right now. Which means, as awful as things are right now, things can only go up from here.

You got some new diagnoses, which suck to have, especially when they should have been caught earlier, but now that you have a diagnosis, you can start getting treated.

You're six months out from two surgeries and haven't gotten better, but in six more months, or even six weeks, you might start to see some improvement. Plus, once you start the phsyio therapy you now know you need, you can troubleshoot with the physical therapist on how to make more improvements on the issues you had surgery for, as well as the chronic pain. The physical therapist might also be able to refer you to a counsellor as well, if your previous counsellor isn't able to give you one.

But that's just the physical stuff.

It's the emotional stuff that hurts more. Losing loved ones, be it to death, breakup, or just realizing your friends aren't really friends. That kind of pain is even more difficult to deal with.

For the bereavements, it might be helpful remember the good times you shared with these people and the things you loved most about them. They may be gone now, but those memories aren't and they're even more valuable now that they are the parts of your loved ones that are still with you.

And when you're living your life, and you see or hear something that reminds you of them, like a favourite song, or the kind of car they used to drive, that's another way they're still with you.

You might cry the first few, or few hundred times you remember them, but after awhile you'll start smiling more and crying less when you think about them.

For the miscarriage, it's a bit tougher, since you're grieving what could have been, rather than what was. But it's still a loss as valid as any other loss of a loved one, so you have every right to grieve it as such. You have my deepest sympathy for the loss of your child. And the miscarriage is why your fiancé and you are no longer together, you have my deepest sympathy for that, too.

It would be easy for me to say "the trash took itself out" when it comes to ex-fiancés and fake friends, but much harder for you to actually feel that way.

You have the right to grieve the friendships and your relationship ending. To miss them even though they hurt you. To feel hurt, and betrayed, and angry, and still love them anyway, even if you can't be around them anymore. It's okay to hate them, too, if you need to. Not forever. But in the short term, it can be cathartic and exactly what you need.

It'll take time for all these overwhelming and conflicting feelings to fade, and it's possible they'll never completely be gone. But you will learn to live alongside them until you forget they're even there.

You will feel better, I promise you. Een if the light at the end of the tunnel looks like a distant star right now, you'll reach it.

So have an ox rib (platonic) for the journey

Hope this helps, even just a little. Mutuals, feel free to send good vibes @ashbunny2027's way

[giggly-squiggily]

Hello! Hope you are drinking enough water! 💦💦💦💦

Can I request lee! TodoBaku with Ler! Hawks? It's okay if not, thank you ^^

Remember to take care of yourself!

Yes yes YES!!! I love ler!Hawks so much!!! I’ve gotcha covered, anon! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist):

@myreygn, @thatbigbisexual29, @duckymcdoorknob, @baby-tickles2022, @cupcake-spice13 @backy-san

“You like him, don’t you?”

And just like that, training got much more interesting.

~~~

Hawks was a simple hero. He did his job. He enjoyed the occasional spicy snack and loved the attention he received from fans and fellow heroes alike. And he loved kids.

So naturally when U-A asked him to come down and train some of the darling ankle biters, he said…yes. Be it a bit reluctantly.

Okay okay, he wasn’t completely against it. He did love the kids, he just didn’t really know what to train them in. His skillset wasn’t exactly “hero approved” despite the No. 3 title, and the only kid he could confidently teach, Tokoyami, is already with him (though that floaty girlfriend of his was pretty fun to practice with).

However- where there were students and practice, there was gossip. Something Hawks shamelessly enjoyed. Tokoyami was fairly tight-lipped on most of it, occasionally sharing a story or two with his beloved mentor, but Hawks was a curious little birdman. He wanted more.

Today was proving to be quite the gold mind it seemed.

~~~

“Huh?” Bakugou started, starting to scowl as the winged hero floated nearby, leisurely watching him. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“You like him. You can’t hide it from me- I see the way you look at him.” Hawks had the gall to wink, a knowing look that made his blood run hot. “Ah, young love. How I miss it.”

“You make it sound like you’re old as shit.” Bakugou grumbled, earning a glare. “And for the record, I don’t! I want nothing to do with that Icy-Hot jerk!”

“Oo, a pet name! See, I can tell you’re into him.” Hawks was grinning now, clearly pleased with the effect his teasing was having on the angry teen. “Tell me- was it all that Todoroki charm that woo’d you?”

“What the hell are you even saying-”

“Oh I bet it was that serious demeanor. They all have that, don’t you know? All stoic and tough.”

“Hawks-”

“Nah, nah. I know what it is. It’s those eyes huh?” Hawks swooned dramatically, leaning into his wings as if he were a teen girl falling into her bed. “Todoroki men's eyes! Icy blue, I could swim in them for days-”

“Shut the hell up!” Explosions rained out, filling the room temporarily with smoke. When it faded, a clearly flustered Bakugou stood, arm still outstretched.

“Feisty aren’t we?” Hawks was unfazed, brushing soot from the end of his coat as he landed beside the other, eyes dancing at the shock on his face. “It’s gonna take more than that to send me flying, kiddo. Now- back to you and your love life.”

“Back to me like hell! I’m not-Gah! Stop it!” Bakugou was about to argue once more when his sides were suddenly jabbed- feathers appearing out of nowhere and poking him. “Get off!”

“No way! Not when I’ve discovered yet another nugget of information!” Hawks grinned, releasing more feathers to dance around the kid. “Okay, spill. How long have you been crushing on him? Don’t bother being coy- it’s just you and me.”

“I tohohohohold you! I’m not into hihihihihim!” Bakugou growled, his voice breaking with reluctant giggles. He wrapped his arms tightly around his waist, unable to block out the tickly projectiles around him. “Cut it ohohohohoohut! We’re supohohoohohsed to be trrahhahahaining!”

“Oh we are training!” Hawks reassured him. “I’m just interrogating you while we do it.”

Bakugou yelped when a feather wiggled beneath his armpit, an explosion shooting off towards the flying hero as he attempted to fight back. “Ahehehehehehe! Get awahahahhhahahy!” He tried to fly across the room, but those damn feathers followed, zapping his strength. “Fuhuhuhuhuhuuhck!”

“Language! Man- feisty and foulmouthed. Where have I seen that before?” Hawks chuckled as he walked over, giving the squirming youth a few prods in the ribs. “So, back to you. How long have you been crushing on him? Mister Icy-Hot?”

“Shuhuhuhuhuhuht uhuhuuhuhuhuhuhp! As if Bakugou could get any redder! Damn this smug overgrown chicken and his knowing looks! “Yohohohohohu soohohohohohund duhuhuhuhuhumb!”

“And you’re not denying it anymore- finally coming to terms with your feelings?” Hawks cooed, easily evading another explosion. “Ho ho, I like you! Endeavor wasn’t lying when he said you were a handful!”

“What about the old man?” Todoroki walked in, brows furrowing upon seeing the chaos before him. “And what’s going…”

“Ah, Mini-roki!” Hawks stood with a grin, temporarily giving Bakugou a break as he flew over, tossing an arm over his shoulders. “Question for you- what’s your opinion on blondes?”

“Hehe..Icy hohohot…run.” Bakugou grunted, too exhausted to move.

“Why do you ask?” Todoroki eyed the other wearily, starting to back up, only for a large red wing to block him in. “Hawks?”

“Just curious! Blondes are pretty neat huh? Especially loud ones?” He waggled his brows, only furthering the other’s confusion.

“I guess…” Todoroki eyed the wings now, leaning away when they grazed his arms. “What are you-”

“Mini-roki, do you like someone?” Hawks asked, going right for the jugular. “A certain loud blonde who I just took down seconds ago?”

Todoroki’s response was lost as an explosion split them apart, Bakugou hot on his trail. “SHUT THE HELL UP CHICKEN!” He raged, sending explosion after explosion at the cackling prohero. “Icy Hot- help me kick Big Bird’s A-AHH Ahehahahahahhahahahaha!”

The feathers were back, going straight for his armpits once more, bringing him down to his knees. “Tsk tsk tsk. Big Bird huh? That’s a new one.” Hawks mock groaned, turning to Todoroki. As suspected, the other seemed frozen, cheeks pink and eyes wide. Ah, so he was right afterall. “Come on, Mini-roki. Aren’t you gonna save your boyfriend?”

“W-What? I-he-Hawks-AH!” The other didn’t get a chance to react before feathers descended on him, brushing along his neck and ears while two others slipped past his jacket, drilling into his ribs. “Ahehehahahahahhaa! Nohohohoohhoo! Dohohoohn’t do tahhahahahahhaht!”

“Ah, young love.” Hawks sighed as he took a seat, his wings doing all the work as the two squirmed and cackled along the cool gym floors. “Brings me back.”

Hawks made a mental note to start filling in for more training days with the kids.

I hope this was good!

[riahlynn101]

"I Should Have Listened" (2).

Chapter Two:

--

For as long as Izuku can remember, it’s just been his mom and him. And that was enough. It had to be, because anytime he asked why the other kids had a dad and he didn’t, her eyes would water up. 

And he didn’t need a dad anyway, especially when All Might came into the picture. His mentor is surely worth ten dads. 

(But the little boy in him whispers, hurt and confused. Who is his dad?)

The war puts a pause on all his confusion. He has something bigger to focus on. 

He saves Tenko, and All for One is locked away. The ones that survived and are able-bodied start to rebuild. 

Izuku tosses and turns after a day-filled with helping civilians and moving rubble. His brain is unable to shut off, in spite of his best efforts. 

The First sits on the floor next to his sleeping bag. His thin fingers comb through Izuku’s unruly hair. “You need to sleep, Ninth,” he says. He always sounds so soft, even when he’s scolding Izuku. 

“Can’t,” he answers, eyes closed. 

First laughs, the sound echoing around the rundown shack. “And why not?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking.”

Another laugh. “About what, little nine?”

The nickname makes him feel tingly. Izuku can count on one hand how many nicknames he’s received, and a majority of them haven’t exactly been kind. 

He considers First’s words. It wouldn’t be fair of him to lay his burdens out. One for All has it’s own problems without him adding to-

First bonks him on the head, which earns a surprised ow from Izuku. He opens his eyes to glare at the ghostly spector. But First looks unfazed. He crosses his arms, and Izuku sits up. 

“What was that for?”

“Don’t you ever worry about being a burden. When I said you are not alone.” First gets closer to him, staring into his eyes. “I meant it.”

Izuku chuckles nervously. He rubs the back of his neck. “Guess I was mumbling again. Sorry.”

“All is well,” First says, backing off. His stormy expression returns to its usual gentleness. “Now, tell me what’s bothering you.” When Izuku takes a few seconds too long to respond, he adds, “unless you want me to get Kudou?”

Izuku shakes his head. “No, no, I’m okay.” As much as the second One for All user and him have started to get along, he would rather avoid the Second’s ire as much as possible. “Um…well, I’ve been thinking about my family.”

First hums. “Your mother is doing alright. We saw her yesterday, but none of us would blame you if you wanted to be with her for a couple days.”

“No…that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh, then Yagi-san? He’s recovering well in the hospital. Maybe you can visit him tomorrow on your patrol? I’m sure he misses your cute face.” To emphasize his point, First pinches his cheek, though it feels less like a pinch and more like an ice cube being pressed into his skin. 

He shivers. “No, not that either. I’m thinking about my dad.”

“Oh,” First murmurs, in a tone Izuku’s never heard before. It borders on pity.

“Oh?”

First sighs, disappearing and reappearing on Izuku’s other side. His face is stormy again, contemplative almost. White eyes size Izuku up, as if considering something. “Little nine,” he finally says. 

Izuku looks at him, waiting. 

“I…” he trails off, eyes suddenly sad. “I’m sorry I’ve kept this from you.” Again, he disappears and reappears on Izuku’s other side. 

Izuku suddenly feels nervous. “Keep what from me?”

“Your father,” he explains. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I promise.”

“My father?” Izuku breathes, feeling even more confused. “Wha?”

First sighs again, steadying himself. “Your father,” he starts, “is my brother. All for One.”

Those words are so ridiculous that Izuku can’t help the laugh that escapes him. First gazes down at him with a concerned expression. Izuku wipes a tear from his eye. “I…hehe…that was funny,” he gets out between fits of laughter. “But seriously, First-san, I…ha he…do wonder who my real father is.”

“Izuku Midoriya,” First scolds him. The severity of his tone makes Izuku snap out of it. “I’m telling you the truth. Your father is All for One.”

It doesn’t feel as funny hearing it a second time. 

Izuku stares down at his sleeping bag. His eyes fill with tears, and his bottom lip trembles. 

“Aw, please, don’t cry.” First settles next to him once again. His fingers stroking his hair. “Little nine, I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know,” Izuku reassures, but his voice comes out strained. “But you have to be wrong. There’s no way that All for One is my…”

First coos over him, trying his best to lull Izuku to sleep. “But I am. From the moment One for All settled into your core, I sensed our connection.” First runs a hand over his eyes. “We are one and the same, you and I, Little Ninth.”

He sounds so convincing that Izuku almost wants to believe him. It must be so lonely having All for One as your only blood relative for centuries on end. It would be so easy to listen and take in First’s words at face value. His supposed “father” is locked up after all, reduced to a slightly younger state. 

But he has never been one to take the path of least resistance. His mind is made up. 

If First wants to claim that the scourge of Japan helped bring him into this world. Fine. Izuku will just have to prove him wrong.  

-x-x-x-

Izuku forces himself not to tremble in front of All for One. He had been stone-faced when requesting a visitation, and everything after that. But now, staring at the very man that brought Japan to its knees (however briefly), makes him start to second guess himself. 

He swallows heavily. 

All for One, even reduced to a mere twenty-something, looks just as intimidating as ever. He shouldn’t, though. Izuku is the one with all the power. One for All sends a comforting burst of energy into his veins. They hadn’t wanted him to come here. To see him. So, it’s nice to know that they still support his decision. 

“Well?” All for One asks, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t have all day.”

He does, actually, this prison - while not as locked down as Tartartus - has even less to do. It’s  underfunded and was vastly underprepared for the influx of villains. 

But Izuku has been raised to be polite. He is the one that came to poke and prod the metaphorical bear. “Right. I have a few questions for you.”

“Yes.”

“What kind of questions?” 

Izuku takes a deep breath. “First told me-”

“Yoichi?” All for One interrupts. 

“Huh?”

He clarifies. ‘My brother. His name is Yoichi.”

Izuku inwardly rolls his eyes. He already knew that, but he became acquainted with First by his number, not his name. It’s hard to switch now, but he would if asked to. 

“I know,” he says, keeping the same cordiality in his tone. “He’s said it once or twice.” More like Second says it ten times a day. “I prefer to call him First, though.”

“How come? Does he not call you Midoriya-kun?”

Izuku crosses his arms, hoping to warm himself up under All for One’s cold, unwavering stare. “He calls me Midoriya Izuku if I do something stupid, but most of the time he calls me…” he trails off. All for One doesn’t deserve to know what First calls him. It feels too personal. 

“Well, he must use your full name a lot.”

The double meaning doesn’t escape Izuku, but he chooses to ignore it. He forces a small smile. “He does, actually. Way more than my mother ever has.” And that’s true. His mother let him explore on his own, so all his misadventures were overlooked. Kacchan certainly never cared if Izuku wanted to do something dangerous. 

“That power,” All for One says, changing the subject. “It used to break your bones.”

“It did,” Izuku confirms. Sometimes, when he bends wrong or overextends himself or the weather is a little too cold or rainy, his bones start to ache. “But it doesn’t anymore.” At least not as much. 

“Why are you here, Ninth ?”

The use of his number within One for All makes Izuku a little angry. He forces it down. “First said you might be my father.” The words are hard to get out. His throat feels clogged. 

All for One cocks his head to the side. “Hm…” He pats the bed beside him. “Sit down.”

“I’m okay standing, thanks.”

“ Sit down, or this visit is over.” Something in his tone forces Izuku to sit next to him. He would blame it on a quirk if not for the way his legs feel like jelly and the quirk dampers built into the prison walls. 

All for One smiles at him. It’s not the nice, gentle smile that First has. Nor the reassuring but confident one that Second has. It’s cold and doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“So?” Izuku asks.

“Am I your father?” 

“Yes.”

All for One takes his face into his hands, studying it. “What…what are you doing?” It takes everything in him not to use One for All (not that he could, but he can feel his predecessors’ panic like it's his own). 

His eyes meet All for One’s, and in the brief second their eyes meet, something shifts. 

“You’re her son,” he breathes. “Inko’s little boy.”

Cold dread washes over Izuku. “How do you know my mom?” But All for One isn’t listening to him. He continues to look over Izuku’s face, appraising every inch of his features. 

“You look so much like her. Same eyes. Same face. But…” he brings a hand up to touch Izuku’s hair. “We have the same hair texture.” All for One traces his jawline. “The same jawline, too.” He laughs. “Your hair and eye color are lighter as well. A perfect mix of both of us.”

Fear grips Izuku by the throat. He stands up abruptly. “No!” He shouts. “No, no, no! I’m not your son! I’m not!”

“You might be,” All for One says, sounding oddly hurt. “Your mother is Inko Midoriya, right?”

Izuku looks down at his shoes, and he knows he’s given it away without saying a word. He silently apologizes to his mother for dragging her into this. “You weren’t supposed to agree with me.”

All for One looks content, even as Izuku falls apart two feet away. “There’s only one way to be sure. A DNA test.”

The thought of being subjected any more of All for One’s unbearable, suffocating presence makes him want to throw up. Izuku shakes his head, stumbling towards the door. ‘No, I- I don’t want to know.”

When All for One speaks again, it’s with the suddenness of a snake striking its prey. His words are sharp and even. “Do not deny me. Order that DNA test, or else.”

If Izuku didn’t have so many people that could be used as collateral, then he would tell All for One where he could stick the DNA test. Alas, he has many people who don’t deserve to be on All for One’s hitlist, so he pauses at the door. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

“Good,” All for One says, pleased. “Very good boy. I’ll be expecting you soon then. Don’t disappoint me.”

Izuku grits his teeth, swallowing his pride, and walking to the warden’s office to talk about ordering a DNA test. 

What has he gotten himself into?

[candied-boys]

Luke's POV x F! Reader - Part 4

Warning: Dark Content!

Including but not limited to references to prostitution, child neglect and abuse, war and death, PTSD, flashbacks, nightmares, suicidal ideation, and historically accurate ages for relations. The dark content is almost entirely drawn from/same as Luke's route.

Themes: protection, hurt and comfort, mutual healing, learning to trust, letting yourself feel, and eventually giving into love. Everything is written from Luke's POV.

Part 3

You noticed it the very first night as you lied there staring into the fire until dawn, but you figured it was because of what she'd suffered the days prior. When it happened again a few days later you simply brushed it off.

It hasn't gotten any better over the last month or so though. Almost daily she whimpers or cries in her sleep — a haunting you're all too familiar with.

You dream every night. They aren't always gruesome, but they are never pleasant. Waking or sleeping your mind is always trying to prepare you for the worst possible scenario.

More often than not, you have to take medicine to fall asleep. The fear of reliving your past in your dreams, of being unable to wake, of feeling keep you up.

No one should have to suffer like that, and since you've tried everything under the sun to rid your soul of the horrors that possess you, the question bubbles up one evening after helping her clear the table. “Y’ have nightmares, don't y’, Honey?”

That fearful shadow crosses her eyes as she quietly replies, “How do you know?”

“What y’ feel in your sleep is just at real as what y’ feel in the day. Y'r body knows no different. If y're cryin’ in y'r sleep, y'r cryin’ — not imaginin’ it.”

“I'm so sorry!” she squeaks in dismay. “I must bother you so much! I never meant to disturb your sleep, Luke!! I must keep you up all the time! I think I cry almost every night… I'm so sor—!”

“Enough of that,” you chide with a thumb to her lips. If there's one thing he taught you it's that, “Y’ can't go ‘round apologizin’ for livin’. Y’ haven't done nothin’ wrong. I'm just worried ‘bout y’, that's all.”

“Oh… Still, I'm sorry for worrying you… it's nothing really. I've had nightmares as long as I can remember…” she mumbles at her feet.

“Is it always the same dream?” you coax gently.

“Not… exactly…” she answers and takes the seat next to you where you pat the bed.

“Do y’ wanna tell me about it? Y’ don't have to, but I might be able to help.”

“You won't think I'm… silly, will you?”

She meets you with upturned brows. You simply shake your head.

“In my dreams… I'm always in danger…” Tucking her knees into her chest she continues, “I'm always running away, trying to escape, or being chased or captured or murdered. Sometimes it's a war I'm running from. Sometimes it's a person. Sometimes I'm trying to escape being kidnapped or imprisoned…”

A perpetual fight for safety…

“Other times, people or animals are being horrifically killed and I can't seem to turn away. I can't avoid seeing it even though I desperately try not to. It's just there. Even when I close my eyes in the dream I still end up seeing it… if I manage not to see it, I hear it all anyway… and when I wake up… it's as if it's been burned into my eyelids… every time I close my eyes I see it…”

I can never save her… not even in my dreams…

“Are these scenes of things y've been through?” you ask when she's quiet for a beat.

“They aren't people or places I know… neither those trying to hurt me nor whomever is being hurt… the places are different every dream and so are the characters… so I don't know what to do about it because I never have the same dream…”

Neither do I most of the time… a different carnage every night… but always the same terror… the same desperation to escape to safety…

“The only dreams where I know anyone are ones about my mother and grandmother… dreams where I try to save them from dying in the invasion…”

“Invasion…?” you hear yourself query like an echo of someone else's voice.

“The one at Espoir… about ten years ago now… In my dreams I know what's going to happen and I try to warn them, get us to leave, anything… but it never works. I always end up watching them die… and it's all my fault…”

Each word falls like rain, one drop at a time, until you can't avoid the downpour and you're trapped.

“Your fault?” another stranger seems to ask from some nonexistent corner of the room.

“I had asked my mother to take me to see granny… I begged and pleaded all winter, but we couldn't visit because of the snow. When the weather warmed, mum and I finally made the trip and stayed a month or two… My father always blamed me for mother's death… if I hadn't asked to go… if she had survived… maybe he wouldn't have lost his mind and started drinking and gambling…”

This past month you've avoided asking her about the darkness that stalks her at night for fear you might discover yourself evoked in the shadows. You never once imagined the genesis of those shadows could be anything but her father's abuse, let alone birthed by the same hellscape.

“Sometimes I even dream of mum coming home… but instead of being happy I'm mad. I feel so upset that she would just leave me alone all these years, pretend to be dead while I've been missing her this whole time… I feel betrayed, and when I wake up I feel even worse because I was angry and I know she would never have abandoned me… The worst part is that I wasted the only chance I had to see her because I was angry… even if it was just a dream…”

To keep yourself from falling apart you make a feeble attempt at changing the subject. “Do you ever have good dreams?”

“Sometimes… I think I can count on one hand the nice dreams I can remember… if I'm lucky, I have one once a year…”

The only marginally pleasant dreams you ever have are when you dream of mundane events like buying ingredients or finally doing something you've been putting off. Then, you wake up confused and disappointed that you have yet to actually compete the task.

“Sounds rough,” you answer as you force your voice to be steady. “Say, I'm still peckish. How ‘bout bakin’ up some of those nonnettes again?”

You aren't remotely hungry. Rather you're extremely nauseous. But she smiles meekly with a nod, and you will yourself to move in spite of the gravity of death chained to your limbs.

You never should have asked.

Visceral as you run through screaming crowds until you find her.

Anguish as you're kicked and stabbed, slashed and beaten.

Bloodlust as you watch the same scene unfold for the thousandth time.

Loathing as you find yourself helpless to stop it once again.

Gasping violently, you bolt upright from the sheepskin on the floor where you slept just in time to throw open the shutters and wretch before collapsing back against the wall.

The sight of your sister's head rolling across the ground burns before your eyes despite the darkness surrounding you on all sides. You see nothing else — not the reality of calm before you, nor the worried expression of the moonlit girl in your room who watches while you compulsively mutter apologies as if each were a drop of dew meant to quench a desert.

Only when a cool cloth soothes your clammy skin do you sense the presence of another. Caught between the remnants of delusion and adrenaline, your body is hypersensitive yet numb. Though her touch is gentle, it feels both too much and almost imagined.

Desperate to ground yourself, to find some shred of reality to cling to, to escape the visions of gore replaying in your mind, your body moves of its own accord.

Against her steady embrace, you feel how sharp and ragged your breathing is.

The damp of her shirt where you bury your face in her shoulder is what tells you you're crying.

Her warm palm rubbing your back and her soft voice in your ear reassure you that…

For the first time, you're not alone.

Part 5