#and then it turns out they were shattered into dust; lost to time; AND taken by the diamonds to be tortured.

[swagging-back-to]

and then of course you have garnet's breakdown... which is always heartbreaking.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 99)

She pulls herself out of the console feeling dazed, N has his tail wrapped around her, and the scorching heat of his flamethrowers filled the room as the ground itself rumbled around them.

The ground had been disturbed…

Tendrils of black surrounded them on all sides, inching closer despite N's best efforts. On his visor was displayed an ‘X', a gradient of red and yellow as he protected Uzi with his life.

Uzi yanked out the linking cable, stuffing it back into her pocket and allowed a feral hiss to claw out her throat. Using the solver, she manipulated a sharp peice of metal to spin rapidly, chopping up whatever it came into contact with into tiny black peices.

N and Uzi were back to back, tails coiled around each other to ensure their other half was still there. She grabbed onto his shoulder.

“Fly!” She shouted, a command that registered instantly in N's system and had him taking off before she could even finish the word. Ignoring the ceiling, he burst through it. Throwing dust, snow, and shards of concrete flying in every direction as he rocketed upwards, a flood of angry tentacles followed him up, climbing and squirming on top of each other to see which of them could reach him first.

Uzi grunted, feeling her body strain as she threw the spinning metal down, slicing up the pursuing appendages even as they continued to reach for them.

N growled as he aimed an arm downward, firing off a missile that finished them off- by turning them to mist. He covered Uzi's mouth and clamped his own shut just in case.

There was no time to rejoice however, the ground groaned and shifted, opening up to swallow the building they were just in as well as the rest of the communication dishes.

As N watched, he noticed yellow light deep within the planet, shifting in waves, arching with primal energy, filling the flesh surrounding it with a hunger that couldn't be satisfied- and a deep, untamed rage.

They looked at each other, trying to find comfort as the sinkhole continued to grow, new, blackened appendages were spat out to replace the one's they'd just destroyed.

“L-Lets get out of here…” Uzi said after a prolonged period of silence, well after the last of the building was lost underneath the hungering flesh.

N nodded, tucking her into his shoulder before taking off in the direction of the bunker.

Deep down below, something watched them…

The sun was coming up quickly, and despite how fast N was flying, he knew they weren't going to make it to the nest in time, much less the bunker.

He dove into some long forgotten apartment, just in time for the early and deadly light of the morning to break over the horizon.

His arms remained looped around his girlfriend as the snow melted off both their frames, panting from the stress of the day.

“Did you get what we needed?” He asked after a moment of recovery, looking into purple eyelights, still refusing to let her go just yet.

“Yeah, I mean, it's not the best choice… probably gonna have issues with wildlife but… it's what we got.” She replied, leaning into the warmth he gave off in contrast to the freezing atmosphere around them.

“It'll have to do. I'm just glad you got something.”

He finally let her go, allowing them both to look around the room they'd taken shelter in.

Everything was covered in dust, and sharp shards of glass covered the floor from where the windows had shattered. There was a full sized bed in the center of the room- well made and completely untouched by anything other then the forces of nature.

A wooden chair, a closet, and a two bedside tables also inhabited the room, though the light and subsequent fan on the ceiling had long ceased functioning.

“Guess we're spending the night here…” Uzi sighed, rubbing a hand over her distended stomach- mostly because the rubber had become thin and slightly painful and she was trying to soothe it.

N's hand hovered over her own as he held her from behind, resting his chin on her head and swaying them softly.

“Really the time to do this after we just got chased?”

“Perfect time to do it. We're safe now, and we have to relax.”

“You have to relax" He amended, wrapping his tail around her and nuzzling into her shoulder, his purr was a given.

She hummed in contentment, closing her eyes and letting N rub small circles into her belly- it was a comforting feeling. Right up until the baby kicked their hands and made a pained whine escape Uzi's mouth.

“I felt that too. You good?”

“I want this little shit out…” She whines.

He laughs, “They just wanted to say hi.”

Uzi just growls in response, “So do I! In person! With them out of me!”

N just chuckled, walking off to remove the several years worth of dust from the bed so that they could sleep comfortably…

A few hours later they were curled up on the bed, N taking to running his fingers through her hair, satisfying the urge to preen.

“Mm. Athena.” Uzi said, they had been brainstorming names while trying to fall asleep.

“Oooh, I like that one, definitely. If they're a girl.” He replied, his tail wagging behind him as Uzi sat in his lap.

“You have a boy name?”

He thought for a moment, turning over his thoughts in his head.

“Bishop? Like the chess peice? We played all the time at the manor.” He explained. “I always lost, but I liked it.”

“I like it. It's also a tank, so you know I'm down.” She snickered mischievously.

“Of course you know that.” He replied lovingly, kissing her cheek as he settled down to sleep. “I think that's it then.”

“Yeah. Athena if it's a girl, Bishop if it's a boy.” Uzi agreed, shifting down to lay against him, happily absorbing his warmth.

“Tera says boy.” N hummed, wrapping himself tightly around his mate, protective pride rising in his core.

“Tera isn't even a year old.” Uzi snapped back; resting her hands on his chest and burying her head in his coat fluff.

“Still, she said it. There's gotta be a reason.”

“She wants a brother?”

They both laugh, N nuzzles the top of her head, taking in her scent. Her lovely, citrus scent… and… apples.

The apple portion was new, and he somehow subconsciously knew that it was his child that he was sensing, so he nuzzled deeper.

…

The next dusk they were off again. Neither one noticing the strange figure following them home…

Next ->

[beansmack2021]

Oooh idea if you’re interested! Husk taking in Alastor’s daughter reader when Alastor leaves for 7 years?

He Stayed (Platonic!Husk x Alastor's Daughter)

She was 10 when she'd been dropped off at Aunt Rosie's one night. Alastor told her he'd be back soon, and that she needed to behave herself and be a respectful young lady.

"Okay! I love you, Daddy!"

He was gone quickly, swept away by his own shadow. Y/N hummed a happy tune that she'd heard on her father's broadcast earlier in the day while she played with her stuffed raccoon. She played for hours, not really grasping how late it had gotten until she heard a knock at Rosie's door.

She assumed it would be her father, ready to whisk her away and take her back home. Instead, she rushed to open it and greet him, and was met with the face of her father's servant, Husk.

"Oh! Hi, Husk! Is Daddy here, too?"

Husk shook his head, clearing his throat.

"Listen, kid. Your old man asked me to look after you for a little while. Why don't we go back to my place?"

Young Y/N tried not to get too upset. Surely a little while just meant a few more hours, maybe a couple of days, right?

Wrong. Y/N didn't see her father for another 7 years after he'd left her in Cannibaltown. She'd spent her time with Husk, who taught her how to keep her poker face from wavering. She'd clean the bar for him occasionally, but he usually took that task on by himself.

"Oh no. Your old man would kill me if you even went near the stuff on that shelf. Sorry, kid."

Y/N stiffened whenever he'd mention her father. She really didn't care much for the man who chose to abandon her. She'd do whatever she wanted, including chugging the most expensive bottle on the shelf, but she worried too much about her father finding out and punishing Husk for her own decisions.

Late at night, she'd wonder what her father would think of her now. She'd mourn the time lost before she realized that he'd chosen to rip that time away from them, and then she'd just get angry. She'd be angry for a while. She threw the framed photo of the two of them on the ground and watched the shattered glass fly across the floor. Then she'd pick up the frame, dust it off, and hold it close to her chest as she cried.

Alastor was terrible. She hated him for leaving her. Still, she couldn't help loving the man she'd known before he abandoned her.

When Husk would hear her sobs through the walls of their home, he'd knock on the door of her bedroom and come in with a bag of chips from the bar and a few cans of soda.

"Hey, kid. What's all this crying about, huh? Why don't we play some blackjack?"

He always knew how to cheer her up. Sometimes, he'd show her some neat tricks that he could do with just a bit of magic and a deck of cards.

During one of their later nights, Husk was simply holding Y/N as she cried. Then, out of nowhere, they appeared in this rustic looking room. Directly before them stood none other than Alastor, her father.

His ears perked up a bit and his pupils narrowed as he saw his daughter's tear streaked face for the first time in nearly a decade.

"Husker, I trust that you're not the reason my little girl is crying right now. It would be very unfortunate for you if you were."

Alastor's head turned at an odd angle and his sound was filled with more static by the second. Y/N stepped between her father and the man who'd taken care of her for seven years, anger clear as day on her face.

"You can't hurt him. I won't let you."

Alastor perked up again.

"Oh come now, dear. He's merely the help."

Y/N's back straightened, and her expression changed to one of defiance.

"No, Alastor. He's not just the help. He's the one person I care about most in Hell."

Alastor's permanent smile widened.

"Oh, Y/N, even more than dear old dad?"

"Much more, because unlike "dear old dad", Husk stayed."

Alastor hadn't really been prepared to be hit by such a damaging statement. His smile almost faltered. Almost. Y/N's rage didn't, though. Not even a bit.

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

We'll Meet Again - Charles Leclerc

<word count - 1933>

warnings: dead body (kinda)

The day the world ended.

It wasn't a day you, or anyone else, thought you'd have to live through, but here you were. Here you were, sitting amidst it all, unsure of what to do with yourself, or how to move on from the position you were in.  

There wasn't much left, as you looked around. There was the crackle of broken electronics and the faint buzzing of the neon signs that were still lit in shop windows. How long they'd stay illuminated? Only time would tell. 

Well, when I say not much left, I mean of human society. The minute the sky had turned cloudy, almost dusty in colour, and the ground had started to shake, you thought that you'd be lost to the disaster like everyone else around you was. 

Yet here you were. 

The world looked like something straight out of a futuristic movie or video game, but it was as real as it could be for you right now. You had wished you could move your head from the screen, and you had naively tried it, but it was all the same. 

The worst part was, surprisingly, the stillness. There was no breeze, intensifying the clingy summer humidity. Nothing moved, nothing stirred, nothing shifted apart from the rise and fall of your chest and the occasional blink of your eyelids. 

The ground was set still, just like it was before the earth practically caved in. There were a lot of things still the same, but they all looked vastly different as you sat on that park bench. 

The sky was a dusky yellowish-cream colour, but you couldn't tell whether it was actually the sky, or dust kicked up from the disaster, or oddly coloured clouds that you had just never noticed before. Nevertheless, it made the whole scene seem more sombre somehow. 

Rubble collected in piles all around, some bits crunching under your feet as you moved them every so often, just to check that you were actually alive and you could still move. A few of the taller buildings were cracked in half, since they were demolished nearly as easily as a twig underfoot. 

The top halves had come crashing down to the floor, their bricks and blocks shattered and smashed. There were a few still standing, poking up from the ground like they were breaking through the horizon.  

Their once prominent lines and features now blurred by the nearly smog-like haze that had taken the place of the clear, sunny day that you were once living in. The clear sunny day that had turned into the day of calamity.  

How long it had been since that very cataclysm? You didn't quite know. It could've been minutes, it could have been hours since you had been sat there, on that same park bench that you had hid under as a final attempt at survival. 

All you knew was that there was no way out of it. In some ways, you wished you had gone with everyone else, so you'd be able to escape the feeling of pure lostness that you were experiencing. 

You didn't know if there was anyone else out there, or if there was anyone else that you could even find. Was it just where you were? Or was it the whole globe? You'd probably never know. 

You cast your mind back to the day that you were having, trying to forget about the monstrous aftermath. You and Charles were going on a walk, a light stroll in the sun. Maybe you'd stop off for some lunch while you were out, maybe you wouldn't.

It was one of those kinds of days. A day with no set purpose, but you'd make one along the way and be fulfilled with it. But that day did have a set purpose, and you were living that purpose as you sat there, on that park bench. 

You'd lost Charles as you were both running hand in hand to try and find some semblance of safety, which didn't befall him as it did you. You remembered the exact moment you felt his hand slip from yours, your head darting around the crowds to find him. 

But, you lost his in a thousand other faces of strangers. You lost the eyes of the man you loved between the countless others you were seeing terror in. 

Your vision became hazy, but not from the mist that you were surrounded by. A few salty tears dripped down your face as you thought about him. About the man you adored and everyone else who you held near and dear. 

Everyone who you'd lost. 

In the distance, you heard a voice. Well, you thought you did. You looked to your right, and you could have sworn you'd seen a figure in the shadows of a building. What more did you have to lose? 

That was what you thought as you stood from your space on that park bench and soldiered over to the building. There was no need to use the door as you stepped over the small level of wall that was the base to the gaping hole in the side of said building. 

There it was again, the shadow. To your right. The door to the room you were approaching was hanging off its hinges, and you could hear a faint noise coming from the other side. You also thought you heard footsteps. 

Peering around the split doorframe, you saw the shadow of the figure cast onto the crumbling wall. But, the most prominent thing was the old record player, on the floor after sliding off a table that had lost two of its legs. 

It was still quietly playing, on loop somehow. You couldn't make out the tune, but it skipped out every now and then. You couldn't quite make out the tune at first, until it clocked in your head and more tears barraged your eyes. 

'We'll Meet Again', Vera Lynn. How ironic. The only other human voice you were probably going to ever hear again, and it was telling you how you'd meet again, but she didn't know where, and she didn't know when. 

Your attention quickly focused back onto the silhouette on the wall. It stayed still, like a statue. Stuck to its place and firmly rooted in like stone. Just as you were going to walk around the door to see what it was, you heard something, and your blood ran cold. 

"Darling?" 

That was... his voice. Charles' voice. He was here? He was stood behind the door? But why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he coming to scoop you up in his arms and tell you that he was here now, and everything was going to be alright?

"Charles?" you quietly said, voice so faint it was like a whisper that could have easily been carried away by any kind of breeze. Your ears were greeted with the same silence you had been coping with all day, bar the still playing record on the floor. 

You frantically looked around, hoping to see him somewhere, standing and waiting for you to notice him. But, the scene around you was frustratingly the same as it had been for the past God knows how long, and how it would be for the rest of time, presumably. 

"Charles?" you said again, this time slightly louder as your voice cracked. Radio silence. Bar the still playing record on the floor. "Charles? Please? Say something, Charles. God, please, anything!" you cried, your voice slightly echoing around you. 

You kept repeating similar demands over and over, like saying his name was going to bring him back. Like his name was a prayer, as if someone out there would hear it and give him back to you. 

Rounding the door frame, it was like the shadow disappeared, and it twisted into a black smudge on the wall. Just ash and dirt and dust from the days events. No Charles, no other person, no hope. 

"Charles, this isn't funny," you sobbed, sinking to your knees onto the floor, clutching at your heart as it hurt. You wished that this was all some big, practical joke and everything was fine and this was just a prank. 

But that wasn't reality. Your mind was showing you what you wanted to see, producing what you wanted to hear. And he never responded to your calls. And he never would. All there was was silence. Bar the still playing record on the floor.

You didn't want to hear the damn record anymore, you already had the lyrics burned onto your brain with a branding iron, but it was the only time you'd ever get to hear someone else's voice apart from your own. 

"Charles, please... I don't want to be alone..." you choked out between sporadic sobs. Out of the corner of your eye, through the tears, you saw something else. A pinkish, fleshy something else. 

Wiping your eyes, you saw a dusty hand jutting out of the rubble. You had already seen enough dead bodies to last a few lifetimes, so it didn't strike you as any different. But, something inside you told you to go closer. 

Now that was when the world really ended. It didn't take long for you to notice the watch on the wrist connecting to the hand. The face was smashed and cracked, the hands no longer ticking in perfect harmony. 

It was reflective of the earth, in some ways. Unbalanced and broken. 

The watch hands were frozen, supposedly at the time he'd left you. You knew those hands so well, you'd be able to tell them apart from any others at any given time. And now was no different.

Those were the same hands that played the piano in your apartment to perfection, the same hands that held his trophies and hoisted them in the air, the same hands that ran through your hair when you were in search of some comfort. 

But now they were dusty, a few small cuts littered about the surface. Tainting the perfection. Skewing the precision. Ruining the purity. 

This time, you only had the one, but that was more than enough for you. In some ways, it felt wrong to touch it, but your hand was already brushing against it before you had the chance to think it over. 

Cold was what it was. Cold and lifeless. Nothing running through his veins, no blood under the surface that stirred. Completely lifeless. 

The rest of him was there somewhere, hidden under the debris. You wanted to see him, but you knew it would scar you for life. More than this ordeal could ever. He'd be mangled, bruised, damaged to a point of no return. 

Entwining your fingers with his, clasping both of your hands around the one you had, you felt at home for a moment. They still fit together perfectly at the minute, and you weren't going to take it for granted like you had so many times. 

Without realising, you'd began to hum along to the tune that was still playing on the old record player on the floor. That was the only sound you could hear as you leant your back against the pile of rubble, still tightly holding onto Charles' hand. 

It wasn't just a song anymore, it felt like a promise. You'd meet him again, even if you didn't know where or when. But you would, some sunny day. 

And that was how you stayed. Humming along to the last song you'd ever hear, holding the hand of the love of your life on the day the world ended. 

A/N - This is the second of this kinda series, and I've already broken the rule of less than a thousand words. I kinda got carried away, so bear with me. This is based off of this version of 'We'll Meet Again', which is a song I loved anyway and this version makes it a little more melancholy.

Also... CAN I GET A BOOP OR TWO PLEASE?!

Anyway, thank you for reading, drop any requests in my inbox, love you loads, sorry for being so inactive recently, I have been a very busy gal and I hate it 😭💖

|masterlist|this made me feel something|

[lakeofflowerss]

micro fic - 594 words.

My sweet boy

As you know, English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes.

She was kneeling beside him, caressing his sleeping face as she had done so many times before. She arranged the tousled hair that fell over his forehead. It was dirty, he had cuts she hadn't seen the previous time, dust was all over him and the trail of a dried tear ran in a line down his skin until it got lost in his ear.

His eyes closed, firmly sealed, his skin losing all traces of color, his lips turning a terrifying gray, a gray that dictated the sentence. Never again would those lips part, never again would they release the most shameful profanities in the days before the full moon, never again would they release the heartbreaking wails that accompanied the pain and anguish that followed each transformation. Those lips would never be portals to the sweetest words a mother could hear from her son. For yes, he was her son. She loved him and had taken care of everything as a mother would her little boy.

She took his hand, cold at this point, and wrapped it between her own in a vain attempt to provide warmth. Her surroundings were completely silent, only she was left with the sea of memories brought back by the familiar faces of those fallen.

She looked down again and a tear of her own fell on her boy's cheek. She would never have allowed it but the truth is that she could not even feel the burning in his eyes flooded with painful tears that struggled to break through the windows of anguish without any permission.

She wiped away the adventurous tear and without being able to help herself she leaned towards the man. Man who used to be her boy, her child, her little son. She pulled him to her and cradled him to her chest. This time she didn't feel his arms around her body, she didn't feel the tremors of crying or laughing, she didn't hear him murmuring and the most painful thing was that she didn't feel him breathing.

She was a fool, she knew it. But even the hearts of the wisest people hold out hope for miracles. She began humming a sweet melody but now, filled with pain, it felt so bitter.

She closed her eyes and her mind took her to relive the same situation but in a different circumstance. One of the last transformations of the boy in his first year at Hogwarts. He was a very thin and tall boy, yet he let himself be lulled by her as if he were a baby. He was crying, she felt him sobbing under her embrace. His arms were around her as she combed the messy hair, covered with dirt and dried blood. There were cuts on his face that she didn't see the previous time, there were tears rolling down his cheeks, his breathing was ragged from crying.

"My little Remus, my sweet boy, it's time to rest. Everything will stop hurting soon. I will take care of you."

So she had said at the time, and now she repeated it softly though the calm was already a fact that would last forever. Eternal rest and the cessation of pain had come for her son. Son who would live on in her heart even as it was forever shattered.

Madame Pomfrey wept inconsolably in the privacy of her office once the bodies were removed. She had always cared for and protected him, this time it had been too late but at least peace had come to her son.

[awkward-walking-potato]

Wolverine x m!reader who’s mutation is able to control any kind of metals out there. So, during a mission, when the reader tries to use his mutation, he accidentally controls or throws Logan because of his adamantium skeleton?

Magnetic Mayhem

The mission had gone sideways, as most of them tended to. You and Logan had been tasked with taking out a hidden lab in the middle of nowhere — the kind of place where bad things always seemed to happen. It should have been a simple smash-and-grab: destroy the lab, take the intel, and get out. But, as usual, things had gotten complicated.

Explosions rocked the facility, and the air was thick with dust and smoke. You ducked behind a piece of broken machinery, feeling the familiar pull of adrenaline as your mutation flared to life. Your ability to control metal had always been a powerful asset in battle, and you were ready to use it to finish this mission once and for all.

But something wasn’t right.

"Logan, where the hell are you?" you shouted, scanning the chaotic battlefield for any sign of him.

Logan’s growl echoed from somewhere nearby, his distinctive voice muffled by the chaos around you. "Workin’ on it, kid! Gotta deal with this piece of—"

Before he could finish his sentence, you raised your hand, focusing on the shattered metal debris scattered across the floor. Your mutation surged forward, your control over the metal tightening as you prepared to fling a massive piece of it at the last remaining enemy.

But as you released your power, you felt something else — something heavier, something that wasn’t just broken machinery or discarded weapons.

Suddenly, Logan shot across the room like a bullet, yanked by an unseen force.

"Whoa, whoa!" Logan barked, his gruff voice filled with surprise as he hurtled through the air toward you.

Your eyes widened in horror. "Oh, shit—Logan!"

In a split second, you tried to pull back, to stop the force that had taken hold of him, but it was too late. Logan crashed into a stack of crates beside you, his adamantium-laced body slamming into the metal with a resounding clang.

The crates toppled over, and Logan groaned, pushing himself up from the wreckage. "What the hell was that?"

You scrambled over to him, wide-eyed and panicked. "I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to—I didn’t realize your skeleton—"

Logan shook his head, dusting himself off and shooting you a look that was equal parts amused and irritated. "Yeah, well, now ya know."

He stood up, his muscles tensing as he stretched, clearly uninjured but annoyed by the unexpected flight. "Y’know, most folks would just toss the scrap metal at the bad guys, not their teammates."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, and you rubbed the back of your neck sheepishly. "I wasn’t trying to! It’s just... your adamantium, it reacts to my power. I must’ve lost focus."

Logan smirked, clearly enjoying your discomfort. "Guess I’ll have to watch my back more around you."

You huffed, still feeling a little guilty despite Logan’s obvious lack of injury. "Next time I’ll aim better."

Logan chuckled, a rough, gravelly sound that was surprisingly warm. "Don’t worry ‘bout it, kid. We’ll figure it out."

He clapped a hand on your shoulder, his grip firm but reassuring, before turning his attention back to the fight. "Now, let’s finish this up before you start throwin’ me around again."

You nodded, still flustered, but grateful that Logan wasn’t holding it against you. As the battle raged on, you kept a tighter grip on your mutation, focusing your power more carefully, making sure to keep Logan out of your metallic range.

But despite the chaos of the mission, you couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Of course, only you would accidentally use your power on Wolverine — a man literally made of metal — in the middle of a fight.

As the last of the enemies fell, Logan looked back at you with a grin, clearly having shaken off any lingering annoyance. "Not bad, kid. Just maybe next time, leave me outta the metal-slingin’, yeah?"

You laughed, relieved that the mission was finally over. "Yeah, I’ll do my best."

Logan’s smile lingered for a moment longer before he turned to head back to the Blackbird. And as you followed behind him, you couldn’t help but feel a little more confident, knowing that despite the mishap, you and Logan made a damn good team.

Even if you did accidentally throw him across the room

[lady-eris]

Thank you for answering my question, so obviously my request will have manga spoilers. But if you wouldn’t mind, could you do readers reaction to when Sukuna takes over megumis body and eventually (or most likely) kills megumi.

Now, I don’t know if you knew about that, and if you didn’t I’m extremely sorry you had to find out this way😭

BIG MANGA SPOILERS AHEAD, Spoilers about his sister also angst.

TW: slightly Descriptive writing about death? Manga spoilers, tells you about Tsumiki? Reader is hinted to die

do not worry as i had already known about this, as well as about his sister and ect. (All the character's i love are just Rengokued)

also Me, as i try and find some music: Searches "Playlist your lover is dead"

Does anyone recognise, the inspiration for this?

The smell of death, was thick. You knew it was bad if you could smell it so strongly, after Having gotten used to it with curses, It was almost a common occurrence to ignore the deceased; For some strange reason, however you couldn't. The tension was so thick, every time you tried to inhale it was as if you were choking?

"MEGUMI!" Shouting a loud, frantically trying to find him. Everyone else, you had lost them all. Your friends, Your mentors, Everyone you cared for they had all died. Nobara and Nanami, Mai and Gojo. Kokichi Muta. They had all Died, or were unknown. You couldn't let hi go, not Megumi. Anyone but him.

Dust appeared, as you halted running scraping your shoes as you spotted the familiar black hair. What was odd however, that instead of having a similar hair style to Gojo, it seemed to defy gravity. Pausing, as you took the back of his appearance in. You could tell from the depths of your soul, the man you was looking at wasn't Megumi

"You're not Megumi"

The Man turned around, a sick and cruel expression on his face. One Megumi would of never had. It was one a sadism, clearly enjoying the enraged and desperate expressions, you made as you quickly came to the conclusion what had happened. Sukuna Ryomen had taken, over the body of Megumi.

It hit's You, The fast realisation. The tear's stinging your eyes, as you secretly pray that it's a cruel nightmare. That it'll be over, and you'll wake up with him kissing you.

It wasn't real.

"Finally"

His gruff voice makes you look up, The denial slowly chipping away. Megumi Fushiguro was gone, Sukuna; The King of Curses had taken what you held the most dear.

"Perhap's i'll keep you for a bit, Then when The brat's at his lowest kill. Properly Shatter his spirits, after I kill his sister. Or would you rather I kill you first?" He asked His hand reaching to your face.

[softquietsteadylove]

could we possibly get a little angsty mermaid au action? missing that one! thank you for continuing to share your masterpieces with us!

I almost didn't recognise you, it's been so long.

Thena blinked, the only time needed for her friend to go from being a speck in the distance to right in front of her. She sighed, bubbles rising from her mouth. Sorry.

What's wrong? Makkari asked, despite her feelings about Thena spending more time on land than in the water, these days. She swam around her friend, resting on a sandbank like a beached whale. It must be bad for you to leave your precious human.

Thena snarled her lips, letting her fangs poke out. She turned over in the sand, her tail dusting it up around them. "Leave it alone."

Makkari swam around to her other side, though, real concern on her face now. Hey, it was a joke. Is there something I should know?

Thena's lip wobbled. If she were on land, her eyes would be pouring salt. They had done so a few times, like when she was sick, or when she watched a heartbreaking movie with Gil that felt very much like how they had come to fall in love.

But underwater, the vacuum of it swallowed her sorrows. Her gills expanded and contracted with her heavy heart. "We are quarrelling."

You and the land walker? Makkari tilted her head a few times, the gold charms she liked on the ends of her hair floating with the motion. What did he do?

Thena swiped at her eyes, another human habit she had picked up. She sighed again, adjusting herself on her sand bed. He didn't do anything. I...I learned something.

Makkari - against any mer's instincts and natural inclination - also settled herself on the sand. She rested her chin on her arms folded in front of her, the red sparkle of her scales reflecting on the beautiful tone of her skin. She raised her brows.

Thena smiled at her friend. There was nothing about the ocean she missed quite so much as Makkari. We were out walking in town. A woman approached Gil, and he knew who she was. They spoke for some time, and he introduced me. She seemed nice.

Makkari nodded along with her very factual recounting of the story. She was used to it with her, after all. She would ask her questions as they came.

I asked Gil who she was when we got back to the boat. Thena blinked, laying her head on the sand again like a pathetic guppy lost in a strange reef. She was his mate.

Makkari shot up again, her tail swishing and her hands poised as if she had the human man's throat there for the strangling. His what?!

Thena nodded, feeling the rush of foolishness and resentment and anger and envy all over again. Humans don't mate for life. Apparently, it is not uncommon for them to have numerous partners.

It wasn't that it was impossible for mers to have multiple mates. Sometimes things didn't work out, that wasn't so incomprehensible. But it wasn't something taken lightly, to become bound mates at all. Certainly it wasn't common to encounter someone's past mate and strike up pleasantries.

She nuzzled the sand, pressing her temple to it in a poor substitute for the soft but firm feeling of Gil's chest under her. He said it was a long time ago. That they had been young and parted amicably. That they were 'still friends'.

Makkari watched the way she punctuated his verbatim statement. She lifted her lips around her fangs. That sounds like a clown who wants more than one anemone.

She agreed. It was hard to communicate that to him, though, when all she had felt was rage. Anger with him for smiling at his past mate wit her right there, on his arm no less! How dare he greet this woman so normally as if they hadn't been entangled from the inside out?!

She knew it was normal for them. She knew Gil didn't mean to hurt her and she knew that she shouldn't have thrown herself right over the side of the boat to avoid him. But just the sight of him made her want to shatter coral right off his thick skull.

Humans actually had very thin skulls compared to theirs, Sersi said.

What else did he say?

Thena shook her head. The sun moved above them, or a cloud did, and she lost her comforting warm spot. She let herself drift off the sand and listlessly ride the currents around them.

Hey, Makkari nudged her arm as she began swimming next to her. I never thought I'd see the day you were limping around because of some bull.

Nor did she, in all honesty. But she had never felt quite like this, either. She let herself drift down and down until some shelves of coral made themselves known. Her tail flopped limply after her; the tail Gil said was so beautiful.

Makkari swam to face her again. Now I'm really worried.

"Sorry," Thena squeaked out. She couldn't help it. She wanted to be in a bed and to tug the covers up over her head. She wanted to run a hot bath and fold herself up in it, letting just her tail hang out in the open air.

Okay, Makkari also sighed, moving to lean against the edge of her coral refuge. I may not be the biggest admirer of your...human. But I know how much you care about him. Are you going to go back to him?

Of course--of course she would. She just came to get out her feelings. The question of going back or not was not even an option. But maybe that was part of the problem. Thena looked at her oldest and dearest friend in all the seas. Kari, I can't leave him. We're...

Makkari's eyes widened. Perhaps she'd had some inkling of things, but this was a damning admission nonetheless. She waved her fingers. You, and him, you're...you mated with him?!

Thena pursed her lips, tempted to roll over again as if she were in bed at home. "You don't have to make that face."

How is that...how? Makkari concluded, rather mildly all things considered.

How humans do it, Thena sufficed to say. She didn't have to go over the gruesome details.

To her credit, Makkari restrained herself from further reaction. She crossed her arms again. Do you feel different?

She did, but she also didn't. She had never taken a mate of her own kind, but she had never even desired to. With Gil...it had happened so naturally, come of natural events. Perhaps she had experienced new mate-hood, in which she had become so infatuated that she had nary desired to leave Gil's side.

But then she thought of the human woman again, of her hanging on Gil's arm, and kissing him and eating his food. And it made her stomach clench like when she had fallen ill with a human 'bug'.

Thena blinked as she felt the touch of a hand on her arm. Makkari gave her a sympathetic look. Mers were not the type to exchange physical gestures meaninglessly, and they in particular were not partial to it. But she smiled, "thanks."

Makkari patted her arm before fiddling with the gold on her fingers (also stolen little trinkets). Well, you'll go back, you said. When?

She was asking if Thena would stay in the water for some time. But she hadn't considered it. For all she had done to storm off and leave poor Gil all alone in the small motorboat, she hadn't considered staying past the height of the moon. For how miserable she was feeling, she still wanted to return to his arms to sleep.

How foolish mating with a partner made someone.

I don't know, Thena answered more properly. She at least lifted herself from the coral. I wanted time to think clearly.

Makkari shrugged. Bulls--what can be done about them?

Thena offered a somewhat sardonic but genuine smile. She was inclined to agree, but she still wished to return to her bull in question. I promise I will return soon, and in better spirits.

Makkari followed her as she began swimming upward again. As soon as she had tossed herself from the boat, she had swam straight down, desiring nothing more than getting Gil out of her sight. Does Ikaris know?

Thena rolled her eyes. No, and he never can. I had to worry about him drowning Gil before they had even met. This will not help.

Fine, but I can't say I'm completely against it, Makkari offered neither her complete support nor condemnation. But it was support either way, and Thena appreciated it.

Thena eyed the bait that was hanging in the water. They weren't deep enough for mers yet, but it was deep enough that most wouldn't be fishing with a regular manual rod in such an odd spot.

Makkari beat her to it, of course, swimming right up to it. There's something tied around it.

Thena floated next to it, undoing the strip of cloth tied around the line. The ink was already being eaten at by the salt, but the sloth was scrawled with a very sad SORRY on it in horrific lettering. "Oh, Gil."

Has he just been sitting here? Makkari asked, looking up at the bottom of the boat.

That was exactly what he had been doing. Because that was Gil; he wouldn't have gone home without her. Even if she had, she would have discovered he wasn't back and come to find him. So he had stayed put, cast the line with a message for her to come back to him, unable to come after her properly.

Okay, fine, he's not bad for a human, Makkari conceded with minimal eye rolling. She gave Thena's fin a friendly smack with her own on her way past. Come back another time you don't want to just cry about your boyfriend and his legs?

Thena waved to her friend's swiftly retreating image before Makkari truly put her power into her tail and shot off with blinding speed. She did owe her more visits, and it was nice to truly swim completely uninhibited for a time.

She poked her head up slowly, the water lapping around her. It was dusk, and soon would be completely dark. She rose until she could peek over the side of the boat.

Gil was tearing another strip of fabric off his emergency canvas, writing the word over and over and over to get the ink to penetrate the cloth properly.

Oh, her sweet, sweet human man. Thena sighed, once again feeling the air in her lungs, even with her gills in her neck. She brought her hands up to the boat's edge, "Gil?"

"Th-Thena!" he startled, but his head whipped up to her. He had been crying. "Angelfish!"

The boat tipped dangerously as he rushed over to her. As much as she could get them back home, she wasn't strong enough to tip over a boat by herself. "Gil!"

He stopped his rush to hug her, or lift her out of the water and back onboard with him. His shoulders sagged, "oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry. I should have explained more--a-about my ex. I didn't mean for you to find out that way."

She still didn't enjoy the concept of Gil and his ex-mate, doing mating things. But she pulled herself up and into the boat for herself, settling on the bench, still with her tail on. "I know you were put in a difficult position, Gil. I...I shouldn't have swam off."

He plunked himself back down to the other seat by the motor. "No, I don't blame you for being mad. I probably wouldn't want to find out about any ex of yours by running into him on a date."

Yes, exactly! She had her vindication, which did soothe the stubborn part of her. But she split her tail into legs again, leaning forward. "Gil."

He let her lift his chin, happy to accept her kiss. He slipped his fingers into her hair. "I'm sorry, Angelfish. I didn't want you to get hurt like that."

It had hurt, in an odd way. Humans had such interesting concepts of pain--so internal and self reflective. But Thena smiled, running her thumb over his cheek, "I know."

He accepted her acceptance. He wasn't forgiven, but he wasn't asking for that. He reached behind him, putting his jacket over her, "let's get home, okay?"

Thena nodded, pulling the jacket up and zipping it. It was cold in the air, even as the salt beaded off her skin. "I'm sorry, I don't know where the dress ended up."

"It's okay, Cuddlefish, we can get you another one," he smiled, eager to maintain their lifted spirits. He held his arm out, inviting her to sit next to him for the boat ride home.

She obliged him, settling herself in the crook of his arm. She pressed her temple to his chest, finally soothed after the sand failed where he was succeeding. "I want that seafood stew you make for dinner."

What he called 'Jjampong' was one of her favourites, not only for the seafood, but for the pleasant spiciness it possessed.

He kissed her hair, speeding ahead and back to their home, on the island, with Titania waiting for them at the dock. "Anything you want, Thena."

She wanted him to swear to be her one and only mate from now on. But dinner would suffice for now.

[just-here-with-my-thoughts]

Welcome To The Outpost: Part 2.5 - Betrayal

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: CT-9904 Crosshair, Clone Commander Mayday, Lieutenant Nolan Word Count: ~1640 Read Here on AO3

Synopsis: As Mayday’s life leaches out into the snow, Crosshair takes a stand.

Read Part 1.1 - Frozen Read Part 1.2 - Rise From The Ashes Read Part 1.3 - Lost Battle Read Part 1.4 - No Way Out Read Part 1.5 - Rock And A Hard Place Read Part 2.1 - Last Chance Read Part 2.2 - Broken Read Part 2.3 - Swept Away Read Part 2.4 - Grief

The hum of a shuttle soaring overhead was the first sign they were nearing the depot. Then the cargo transports came into view, flying in formation, scattering a nearby spiral of ice vultures which screeched in protest at having their serene airspace disturbed.

Crosshair kept his face upturned to the sky long after the shuttles had passed beyond the mountain ridge, tracking the sound of their engines. He heard the pitch of their engines change to a high whine, knew they must be landing.

Which meant they were almost back at the outpost.

Mayday had slumped so bonelessly against his side when he stopped, that he had a hard time jostling the man to movement again.

“Mayday… come on. We’re almost there.”

Mayday groaned as he staggered forwards two steps before stopping again, shaking his head.

“I can’t.” With a tremor that shook his whole body he crashed to his knees, sliding through Crosshair’s grasping arms before the sniper could catch him. For a moment he teetered, knelt up high, before slumping forwards into the snow.

Crosshair was at his side instantly, rolling him over, lifting his shoulders to cradle him against his chest. The commander’s body was leaden, barely able to take his own weight.

“Sorry to let you down, lad.” Mayday’s voice bubbled wetly through the vocoder, choked with remorse.

“You’re not letting me down.”

He wasn’t sure if it was a reassurance, or an instruction. From the way Mayday huffed a pained laugh, he guessed the commander had taken it as the latter.

Crosshair stroked his shaking fingers across Mayday’s helmet, dusting away snow until he could see clean plastoid. “Come on. Just a little bit further.”

This time he gave his rifle to Mayday, letting the man use it as a crutch. It wasn’t like it was needed for its real purpose right now.

A terrifying, yawning pit inside him wondered if he’d ever raise a rifle for the Empire again.

*

A cacophony of cries greeted their appearance as the two clones gained the edge of the hard-standing.

“Over there-”

“Look! It’s them!”

Crosshair’s gaze slid across the clean, white armour and blank black visors that stared back at him. Almost half the Imperial troopers had abandoned their tasks, gravitating towards the returning clones.

Mayday’s heartache at being forced to strip his armour paint echoed in Crosshair’s mind. The clones had fought so hard for their individuality. And here were the Imperial soldiers, disparate men from disparate worlds, all lining up to be subsumed; to dress as one, act as one, to turn their free thought over to the will of the Empire.

Crosshair couldn’t remember now which part of him had wanted that so badly. Could barely remember why he had fought – pleaded – demanded that Hunter join him.

He’d had such high hopes when it all began. The Empire promised a bright future for those who proved their loyalty. He was one of the elite, and he was going to take advantage of everything the Empire had to offer.

Him and Wrecker, standing in the newly furnished armoury. Tears glazing his eyes at the promise of the greatness they would attain.

“Step aside, step aside!”

The piercing voice shattered his rumination. Raising his head wearily, Crosshair locked eyes with the blue-eyed glare of Lieutenant Nolan.

The man didn’t cross to meet them. He ordered the Imperial troopers away, then stood and watched every laboured step that Crosshair took – that Mayday took – to draw closer to him.

The rifle barrel skidded on the hard floor, sending the gun sliding out from its position as Mayday’s crutch. The commander sagged and Crosshair barely caught him, managing to hold him upright as he walked determinedly to face Nolan.

He felt lightheaded, his consciousness floating somewhere outside his body. It was like someone had hollowed out his bones and poured a sweet cushion of sedative in there instead. Vaguely, he was aware that it was fatigue and lack of food; but that small, logical voice was lost amongst the suffocating rise of anxiety that swelled in his gut at the Imperial’s cold stare.

Mayday’s feet dragged, then caught on a seam in the ground. He dropped to his knees, plastoid clacking and cracking against the hard surface. Crosshair eased him down until Mayday was on the floor, unable to do more than lay there and pant.

He stayed at his side, tilting his haggared face up to Nolan with eyes squinting against the sun-bright sky.

Nolan merely sniffed, pale nose pink with the cold.

“About time you two returned.”

Crosshair’s breath came unevenly, staccato gasps as his sides burned with acid buildup. He’d been walking so long that now he had stopped, he could no longer silence his muscles’ screaming protest.

Still, he managed to gasp out his plea.

“He needs a medic.”

As if to punctuate his remark, Mayday’s chest spasmed in a weak, sodden cough. For the first time since the avalanche Crosshair brought his hands to Mayday’s helmet, gently releasing the seals and lifting the protective gear from the commander’s head.

Mayday’s skin was ashen, eyes rolling to whites in his head. Blood rimmed the white of his teeth and flecked his lips as another spasm shuddered through him.

Nolan didn’t move. He kept his hands behind his back, toes neatly turned out as he surveyed the fallen clones.

“I see you didn’t retrieve the crates… which means you’ve failed your mission.”

Crosshair braced both hands against the floor, dropping his head briefly between his shoulders. Then he looked up again, pain etched into his features.

“Did you hear what I said? Help him!”

The lieutenant gave an irate sniff. “Certainly not. That would be a waste of the Empire’s resources.”

Now Crosshair dropped his gaze from the lieutenant, unable to stare into those cold, impatient eyes as he spoke. He took two breaths, trying to steady his voice.

It almost worked.

“He’ll… He’ll die.”

He hadn’t meant for the plaintive note to creep into his words, but now as Mayday choked on a bubble of blood in his throat Crosshair didn’t care what the lieutenant thought of them. He leaned down, placing one hand carefully on Mayday’s shoulder and tipping him onto his side until the trickle of blood drained from the corner of his mouth, dripping into his beard, onto the frozen floor.

Mayday’s eyelids fluttered, the faintest of smiles curling at the corner of his mouth.

“Glad I got… t’meet you… Crosshair.”

The Imperial was forgotten as Crosshair pressed his hands to Mayday’s cheeks, bending to rest their foreheads together. He scrunched his eyes shut, mouth crumpling with threatened tears.

“You can’t go.”

“Sorry, lad. These things happen.”

Crosshair bared his teeth in a grimace to bite back his howl, rage at the unfairness of it all burning through him.

The commander’s voice was so faint, Crosshair had to strain to hear the scratchy words.

“Don’t give up.”

Then his breath shuddered out, an exhale without end, and he was gone.

Crosshair clawed his fingertips against Mayday’s beard, choking on a sob. With infinite tenderness he laid the commander’s head against the hard floor of the depot, then turned his desolate gaze back to the lieutenant.

Nolan merely watched him with narrowed eyes.

“He served his purpose as a soldier of the Empire,” he intoned callously.

Wracked with grief, Crosshair shook his head. Words growled up from his chest in a voice he barely recognised.

“You… you could have saved him.”

Now Nolan stepped towards him, looming over the sniper where he sagged on his knees.

“Perhaps you didn’t hear me.” His voice was thin and threaded with disdain. “He is expendable… as are you.” His ice-blue eyes narrowed with such vehement hatred that Crosshair shrank back, positioning himself protectively in front of Mayday’s body. “And if you speak to me again with such disrespect…” His gaze flicked briefly to the dead commander, disgust curling his lip. “I’ll see to it you meet a similar fate, clone.”

Crosshair heaved in a breath, brown eyes wide with agony as his gaze riveted on the Imperial’s.

“Now leave him, and get back to work… whilst you’re still useful.”

And that was it. Nolan was turning away, grinding his heel into the ground, to walk straight-backed towards the cargo pallets once more. Leaving Crosshair alone with Mayday.

Mayday. After all his promises, Mayday still betrayed him. Still abandoned him for the embrace of death.

No. Mayday didn’t betray him. The Empire did.

The lieutenant could have acted. Could have ordered the medics to save Mayday’s life.

Despairing, Crosshair tilted his head back as far as his neck would crane, gazing up into the blank expanse of the sky.

How had he been so blind? With all his enhanced sight, he hadn’t seen what the Empire was about until it was too late. Too late to undo the damage.

Mayday didn’t choose to leave him. The Empire tore him away with their callous disregard of the clones’ lives.

A lone ice vulture wheeled across the sky, it’s harsh call echoing off the mountains.

Galvanising Crosshair to action.

If things couldn’t be mended, they could be avenged.

Briefly Crosshair dropped his chest to curl in on himself, glancing to the side from the cave of his arms to scan Mayday’s face, contorted with pain. No peace in death.

He grit his teeth together at the surge of fury that summoned, and with the last vestiges of his strength pulled to his feet.

“Lieutenant.”

The word was an insult. A demand. Look at me.

The man turned, face already twisting in a scowl.

Crosshair’s left arm raised. A pistol was in his hand, the rarely-used sidearm levelled at the lieutenant’s chest.

Nolan’s eyes widened. Realisation flickered in the panicked dilation of his pupils.

It only lasted a moment before Crosshair shot.

Read Part 3.0 - Epilogue (Return To The Outpost)

Aaaaand we're done! (Well not quite... we all know Crosshair eventually returns to the Outpost, so stick around for the epilogue which will be posted in the coming days)

But we're done with my contribution to the #littlekyberthoughts Angstpril writing challenge! 10 prompts across the month of April, 1 angsty multi-chapter fic... I hope you have enjoyed reading!

As ever big shout out to writing buddies @the-little-moment and @kybercrystals94, Kyber will be providing the final fic of Angstpril tomorrow and then Little-Moment will follow up with a roundup of all our posts.

But the hugest thank you for this fic goes to my awesome teenager! When I was invited to do this challenge I didn't have a clue what to write, and had no idea how I was going to fill even one prompt, let alone all ten. Then my kiddo said, "Can you write a story about Mayday and his squad for the Frozen prompt?" and the rest fell into place! (Sorry kiddo for making you cry with Part 2.4, please forgive me...)

Have you enjoyed reading? Had a favourite chapter? Have you been with Mayday since the beginning, or did you join the story with Crosshair in Part 2? Drop me a comment to let me know your favourite part, I've had so much fun writing this fic and I'd love to know what you thought :)

[awkwardgtace]

Dancing Hug

back in the universe where borrowers meet their perfect partner in a dream. I need to update my master list, but this is a little follow up to Mira and Corus meeting each other.

Corus wants to dance with Mira.

Dancing Hug

Mira and Corus stood close together in a ballroom. The spotlight on them as Corus led them in a waltz. Music crescendoed in time with each step. The light of the chandelier hanging over them changed colors as they moved. Red, blue, purple, and more. A scene that he’d created just for her. Where the dance lessons he’d taken as a child could finally be used. A thing Mira could-

“Ow!” Corus lost his thoughts as he winced. They’d been at this for hours, maybe hours. He hadn’t gotten a good idea of how time passed in the dreams yet. Mira always seemed to know.

“Sorry,” she mumbled.

“It’s ok, you’re getting better.” He smiled down at her. Continuing to try and lead her steps to the music that played from nothing. “Just follow my lead, we’ll get this.”

“You’ve said that every time we do this.” Mira’s hold on his hands tightened. A glint in her eyes followed by a huff only solidified her annoyance. “I don’t get this. Dancing is just weird. How are you leading me when I can’t even look down at your feet? All of this is just too…”

The silence hung heavy. Corus leaned his forehead against hers. “Too human?”

The pink of her eyes disappeared behind pale eyelids. She didn’t speak, merely let her tight hold on his hands ebb. Eventually her arms fell to her sides and Corus stood with his arms kept up in their poor attempt to waltz. Mira pulled away, creating the distance refused to close. Everything he tried to show her failed. Each time she wound up confused… The worst times she didn’t talk to him, barely slept, for days.

“Mira, I just wanted to show you something I had been taught,” he whispered. That didn’t change the distance. Mira’s hesitance reflected in the world. The music stuttered, constant stops and starts. The nice ballroom filled with cracks. Plaster fell to the ground, even the chandelier shattered into a glittering dust.

“It’s just a human thing. It wouldn’t matter in the real world,” she said while wrapping her arms around herself. A tight hug that closed off the progress the two were making. The life Corus wouldn’t stop trying to build. Times like this she looked as small as her true height.

“It’s not a human thing, it’s a me thing. I have another idea.”

Corus stepped forward and offered his hand. Mira stared at him, but the ballroom continued to fall apart. Eventually it even grew. Shadows came to tower over them. Turning their private dance into a spectacle. The spotlight on them burned his skin.

“Corus I don’t… I’m not going to get it. There’s just too much and I don’t-”

He closed the distance, wrapping his arms around her and placing his lips against her ear. “Wake up with me.”

Corus blinked, happy to see the real world again. The world where Mira slept on the pillow next to him. The precious seconds he could watch her sleep had no match. He’d never give them up. At these times, the stern look on her face disappeared. A soft smile, her brow relaxed, her posture calm. No hint of the nerves she held inside constantly.

Those same signs told him when she started to wake up. Slowly her posture tensed, making her look smaller. A crease he doubted made sense for him to see appeared on her brow. The smile changed into a thin line. Finally the pink eyes blinked open, adjusting to the world before landing on him. Corus used a finger to pet the hair splayed out around her. It caused a spark of fear until she realized it was just him, just the human she trusted… The one who loved her.

“So what’s the plan?” she croaked. The tiny voice always had an edge to it. A warning that she couldn’t be taken advantage of. Corus loved that edge, loved everything about her.

“Give me a second,” he whispered.

He reached over the pillow Mira laid upon to his desk. A few taps woke up the screen of his phone. He purposely left it leaning against the wall so he could do this, just in case. A swipe of his password and the music app appeared. One quick tap to hit play and the same waltz music from the dream started. The small noise from Mira made him smile.

Next he sat up. A few movements to bounce Mira, each made her glare at him. Each made him smirk at her. He climbed to his feet then placed his hand down next to her. If she couldn’t make dancing work in the dream world, he’d make it work in reality.

“May I have this dance?” he asked. Mira shook her head, he knew all the objections racing through her mind. “Trust me, give this dance a try.”

Mira huffed before climbing to her feet. Slow, stiff steps forward until she reached his fingers. A nervous glance followed by, “You may.” Then her miniscule weight landed on his palm.

Corus wasted no time in bringing her up from the bed. He placed her tiny body against his neck, hugging her tightly to himself. His other arm spread wide as though he had a partner. Then he danced, a simple one two movement. Mira stayed frozen for a short period, not long enough for the song to end.

“Corus, what are you doing?” she squirmed as she spoke.

“I’m dancing with you,” he hummed. The song stayed as the only noise for a minute. As it faded to a new one she squirmed more.

“This is ridiculous, you’re just dancing with yourself.”

“No, you’re my partner. Leaning against my neck. It’s the same as when I tried to slow dance with you and held you close.”

“It’s not the same!”

“Is it different because you can’t try to break my toes anymore?”

“No! Just…” The squirming stopped. Corus slowed his own steps. Carefully, he wrapped his fingers around Mira and pulled her into his view. The damp spots on her face were almost too painful. “If anyone saw you they’d say you’re crazy. This… Maybe we shouldn’t be pushing this. We can both walk away still, a borrower will enter my dreams and you can forget about me. Meet someone the human way.”

“Mira, I don’t care what others see, what someone might say. The second we met I knew you were the only person I could love. I don’t plan to walk away from you.”

“I don’t… I’m not-”

“Don’t say it.” He brought his hand up to his eyes. A quick tilt of his palm left her sitting in the open. Just his fingers beneath her prone form. “Whatever it is, I know you’re wrong. You’re the only one I care about. I want to dance with you, the same dances I had been taught. The ones we will share in the dreams as I take you to all the things I want us to experience together.”

“I don’t understand you.”

Corus smiled. The smile turned to a smirk as he pulled his hand close. Mira’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t stop him. She had about one second to object before he made his decision. The hand holding her pressed against his cheek. As much pressure as she could handle. The strongest hug he could give her.

“What are you doing!?” she shouted. No squirms, no fighting, she wasn’t trying to get away.

“Hugging the best woman I’ve ever met,” he laughed. They stayed quietly like that. Corus knew if anyone walked in they’d see him holding his hand against his face. A strange sight for an outsider. That would never matter to him. Mira was more than he could have ever hoped to find.

She knew him. Knew the things he could do. Saw the darkest parts of humans. Even then she gave him a chance. She trusted his words about his anger. Slept next to him without fear. Blushed when he let his own steps grow heavier than they had to be. Worried about his own view of their relationship.

“...do you still want to dance?” she mumbled. Corus moved her away and smiled at her.

“If you’ll be my partner.”

“...I will.”

This time Corus moved slower. Carefully cupping his hand against his heart. Leaving her space to move a bit more, but still hugging her to him. Mira was perfect. That was the only thought in his head as he started to waltz once more with his tiny girlfriend hugged against his heart.

[mlmxreader]

Best Friend At My Side | platonic!Alejandro Vargas x m!reader

@satan-incarnate-666 asked: "Sit still and let me take a look at it" alejandro pls

summary: there's no glory, no victory, no enemy. There isn't any cause worth dying like that for.

tws: death, injury, blood, swearing, graphic depictions of war

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Sent to kill, to watch over a land that belonged to no one, all too aware of the snipers hidden away in rooftops and bushes; fighting for a mile that would soon be taken back again, at the cost of men who didn't even know what they were fighting for anymore.

Shrapnel and debris falling through the air like snow, it was always best to keep your head down low and to try and find a hole to squeeze into; the symphony of destruction raging on as charges were conducted and, ultimately, cost more than what they were worth for either side.

The wounded, if they survived that long, were always left there until dark; their screams snapping through the symphony, yet never making it stop. Shells and guns made up the main part of the melancholic orchestra; rifles and screams made up the backup.

Every bullet that whizzed past had your name engraved on it, that much was at least true.

You had lost so many men, so many friends, to a war that you had stopped believing in before you had even gotten to the front lines; along with those on the opposite side, your will had been broken and ground to dust, forcing you to continue fighting even though every fibre and atom of your being protested against it.

Dreams of home, of comfort and love, had long been shattered; there was no turning back from this Hell on Earth.

There was no life left anywhere.

The once proud and green trees had been stripped down to trunks with jagged sticks, black and grey from being burned by the ever raging shelling.

The evergreen bushes, so thick and ripe with fresh berries once upon a time, had been ravaged and turned into just thick bunches of twigs.

Buildings had been gutted, their structures and foundations all naked and bare for the world to see.

Mud squelched beneath you when you moved, pulling you into its sinking grasp; men died trying to run through it, their boots getting stuck and giving snipers the perfect opportunity.

It didn't matter what side they were on.

Great puddles had formed in once quiet and peaceful roads, concrete and tarmac smashed to pieces and suffering with great and gaping wounds.

The birds and the insects had long retreated, except the lice and the spiders; anything that was big enough had scattered long ago. Foxes, cats, badgers.

Everything had run off.

Lifeless, the battlefield's scars were all too easy to see; how it wept with each shell and mortar, how it shook with violent sobs, so harsh that the barbed wire fences sometimes fell apart.

You tried to keep your head down low, tried to keep it out of the way of the shrapnel, the debris, the bullets; holding onto your rifle as if it would take up flight and drag you far from the battlefield.

Far from a war you did not want to fight in.

Rodolfo.

Sebastian.

John.

Simon.

Kyle.

All gone.

Lives erased by commands from generals who did not understand what it was like to be on the front lines; you weren't even sure if your best friend was still alive.

You wanted to hope that he was, you wanted to hope that Alejandro was still breathing, but you knew that nothing would come of hope.

Hope meant death.

The drums of the war had truly sounded.

Streets stained with blood amongst the thick and squelching, moist, mud.

The end was near for you, you knew that; your friends were all but entirely gone, there was no reason for you to keep fighting anymore.

You had to face your fate.

You had to realise that you were going to die for a cause you despised.

You could almost hear the whispers of your fallen friends, calling from the other side of the hole you had squished yourself into; resting beside those that they once called foe.

They would never get the chance to see another dawn; no one deserved to die in such a way.

Too many lives had been wasted already, too many men had died for no good reason; dreams and promises all broken and left to rot in the mud.

A charge into certain death, swallowed by the war machine; no enemy, no glory, no victory.

Only friends and strangers rotting and dying in the mud.

Sacrificed for fuck all.

Their memories and legacies that they could have made, pissed on and destroyed.

Just another pile of bones in the dirt.

You were almost hopeful that it had been a shell that hit you when you felt something shake you, but when you looked up, and you saw your best friend, you could only nod.

You couldn't smile, couldn't feel relieved that he was alive.

You tossed your rifle aside.

Even when Alejandro got into the hole with you, sitting with his back against the wet dirt, his hand pressed into his side, and he smiled brokenly; he was breathing heavily, eyes filled with tears and his lips chapped.

You wanted to be relieved that he was alive, but you couldn't find it in yourself as you furrowed your brows, your gaze dropping to his hand, and the dark liquid that was seeping into his skin, staining it.

"Ale?"

"I'm okay," he breathed out. His breathing was erratic, wheezing and rattling in his chest. "I'm okay."

You shook your head. "No you're not."

You went to look at his wounds, examine him, but he gently kicked you to get you to move.

"I'm fine, soldado... you're a good man, but I'm fine."

You frowned, shaking your head again. "Ale, just sit still and let me take a look at it."

But Alejandro was insistent, and refused to let you get close as his breathing picked up and his eyes went wide and wild, like he was suddenly so full of fear. "I'm okay, amigo, just... just get yourself... get yourself out of this Infierno."

"No," you clenched your jaw. "Not without you."

He couldn't move, every breath was too painful and he was aware of the blood that he was losing; he didn't have time to argue, so instead, he made enough room that he could pull you against his good side, clinging to you like a child.

You held on, closing your eyes tightly as you listened to his ragged and pained breaths.

"I'm not leaving," you whispered. "I'm not going anywhere. I've got you. I've got you, you're gonna be okay."

You kept repeating the words, trying to convince yourself more than him.

But his breathing was getting weaker, and he closed his eyes as he leaned into you.

Slumped.

You didn't budge.

You hung your head, weeping.

Sobbing.

Violently.

Your chest heaved.

Your stomach dropped.

The tears were hot.

The gasps for breath were so loud that you couldn't hear anything else.

Sobbing.

Your throat hurt the more noise you made.

Struggling to tell him that you weren't leaving.

Fighting to tell him that you weren't going anywhere without him, that you had him.

Screaming.

Screaming so loud, your ears popped.

Your throat was raw.

You sat by his side, and that's how he died.

With his best friend at his side.

Clinging onto each other like scared children.

[littlemissvenom0]

Title: "When the Dust Settles" pt2 of “For the sake of survival” Peeta Mellark

The rebellion had torn through Panem, leaving the Capitol in ruins and the Games—those twisted, deadly Games—in the past. You had watched from the sidelines as the rebellion raged on, a war fought not only for freedom but for the souls of those trapped by the Capitol’s grip.

And now it was over.

The Mockingjay had taken flight, and Katniss Everdeen had become the symbol of a new world. But through it all, you had only been able to think of one person.

Peeta.

It had been months since you last saw him, since you told him that you couldn’t be with him anymore. The pain of watching him and Katniss in their Capitol love story, even knowing it was fake, had been too much to bear. You had tried to move on, to focus on anything other than the ache in your chest where Peeta’s love had once been.

But when you heard he had been captured by the Capitol, tortured, and used as a pawn in Snow’s games, something inside you shattered. You realized that no matter how far you had tried to distance yourself, you still loved him. You always had.

And now, as the dust settled and the rebellion was over, you found yourself wondering if it was too late to try again. If you had lost him forever.

You were standing in front of your small home in District 12, your hands covered in dirt as you worked in the garden. The world was quieter now, eerily peaceful after so much violence. Rebuilding was slow, but life was returning to your district, piece by piece.

The sound of footsteps on the path behind you made you freeze. Your heart raced in your chest, and you slowly stood, wiping the dirt off your hands as you turned around.

And there he was.

Peeta stood a few feet away, his blue eyes locked onto yours. His face was thinner, pale from the time spent as a prisoner, and there were faint scars along his jawline. But he was still Peeta—your Peeta. The boy with the kind heart and steady hands. The boy who had once loved you more than anything.

You felt a lump form in your throat as you met his gaze. For a moment, neither of you spoke. It was as if the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you standing in the ruins of everything you had lost.

“Y/N,” Peeta said softly, his voice thick with emotion.

You couldn’t move. You couldn’t breathe. Your mind raced with everything you wanted to say—everything you should have said months ago. But all you could manage was his name. “Peeta.”

He took a slow step toward you, his expression full of raw vulnerability. “I’ve been looking for you.”

Your heart hammered in your chest as he closed the distance between you. “I didn’t know if you would come back,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I didn’t know if... if you would want to see me.”

Peeta shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. “I’ve never stopped wanting to see you, Y/N. Even when you left, even when I was trapped in the Capitol. You were the one thing that kept me going.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you blinked them away, trying to stay strong. “Peeta, I thought I lost you,” you said, your voice breaking. “I thought after everything with Katniss... after everything that happened, I thought you moved on.”

Peeta’s eyes softened, and he reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was warm, familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. “I never moved on,” he said quietly. “Everything with Katniss... it was for survival. It was never real. You’re the one I love. You always have been.”

You swallowed hard, your emotions threatening to overwhelm you. “But you and Katniss, you went through so much together. I thought... I thought maybe that changed things.”

Peeta shook his head, his eyes full of sorrow. “Katniss and I have an understanding now. She knows... she knows what we had was never what I have with you. I couldn’t have made it this far without thinking of you, Y/N. I came back for you.”

His words cut through the lingering doubt in your heart, but the pain of the past still clung to you. “Peeta, I... I pushed you away. I didn’t think I could handle it. And now, after everything, I don’t even know if we can go back to the way things were.”

Peeta stepped closer, his hands cupping your face gently as he tilted your chin to meet his gaze. “We don’t have to go back,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “We can start over. We’ve both changed, but what I feel for you hasn’t. I love you, Y/N. I always have. And I’m not going to let anything take that away again.”

Tears slid down your cheeks as you looked up at him, your heart swelling with a mixture of relief and fear. Could it really be this simple? After everything you’d been through, could you truly have him back?

Before you could speak, Peeta reached into his pocket, pulling out something small and silver. Your breath caught in your throat as he opened his hand, revealing a simple, delicate ring resting on his palm.

“I wanted to give this to you before the Games,” he said softly, his voice shaking slightly. “But I didn’t know if I’d ever get the chance. And then everything happened with Katniss, and I thought I’d lost you for good. But I’m standing here now, and I’m not going to waste another second.”

He looked into your eyes, his expression filled with a hope that made your heart ache. “Y/N, will you marry me?”

The world seemed to stop in that moment. The years of pain, of separation, of doubt—they all melted away under the weight of Peeta’s words. You felt your chest tighten, not with fear, but with love. Love for the boy who had never given up on you, even when you had given up on yourself.

You nodded, your tears falling freely now as you whispered, “Yes.”

Peeta’s face broke into a relieved, shaky smile, and he gently slipped the ring onto your finger. His hands trembled as he did so, and you realized that even now, after everything, he was still afraid you might slip away.

But you wouldn’t. Not this time.

The moment the ring was in place, you surged forward, wrapping your arms around Peeta as he pulled you into a kiss. It was soft and tender, filled with the weight of everything left unsaid but deeply understood. His lips were warm against yours, and you clung to him as if you were afraid he might vanish.

But he didn’t. He was real, and he was here.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against one another as the world settled around you. The war was over. The Games were behind you. And for the first time in what felt like forever, you had a future—a future with Peeta.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll always love you.”

You smiled through your tears, your heart full. “I love you too, Peeta. I always have.”

And this time, you knew you would never have to let him go.

End.

[sortanonymous]

Meta Knightmare AU Stuff: How Max Found Susie (plus general Haltmann family stuff)

Basically the story of the Haltmann family in my Meta Knightmare series, specifically Max's up to the very beginning of MKMIII.

BIG SPOILERS FOR META KNIGHTMARES I-II BELOW (Mostly II)

Just for some background, as a kid, Susie was happily raised by her loving parents in a giant bunker on Shiver Star, where they led a top tech company (one considerably more ethical than the canon HWC to say the least). Those parents were Beatrice, her bubbly mother, and Max, her somewhat goofy father who loved both his wife and his daughter with all his soul and had long promised that he would put himself through whatever he needed to to protect them. (Btw Beatrice was an important magical Ancient and Max an important technological/scientific Ancient, but that's a different story.) On her seventh birthday, Susie was reluctantly allowed to witness a big test of Star Dream, only for its portal to go haywire, and while Max was trapped in the corner of the room, Susie was left clinging for dear life onto the hand of Beatrice, who herself was left clinging onto the railing with her other hand. As Max could only watch in horror, Beatrice gave a look of combined fear, heartbreak, and love to Susie before letting go, putting Susie in a protective bubble, and letting her fall in (sacrificing any chance she herself had at survival in the process in order to save her daughter) just as the portal exploded with herself and her husband still on the other side. As the dust settled, Max was badly injured, but still tried crying out to his family as he crawled across the room. He then found a far-worse-hurt Beatrice in the rubble, who told him that she could sense that Susie was alive and being taken care of in Another Dimension. As Max tried to tell her that he was going to fly out and save their little girl, Beatrice told him that she loved him with all her heart before slipping away into death. Believing he was dying too, Max held onto his wife's hand, lay on the ground, and passed out as he waited to join his beloved Beatrice in death.

When he woke up, however, he was alive, albeit now turned into a cyborg by his Haltworkers to keep him alive. One of his eyes and half of his body (not most of his face) were mechanized in order to keep him alive. As soon as he realized what was going on, he got up and stumbled to where Beatrice's body was being laid before picking her up and sobbing as he cradled the love of his life. Had Susie died in that incident, or even if he was merely unaware of if she initially survived, he likely would have completely fallen into despair and lost all will to live. But with how his wife had spent some of her final seconds telling him that Susie was alright, he was so determined to make sure that he could find a way to rescue her that despite how shattered and shell-shocked he was emotionally by Beatrice's death, he barely gave himself any time to grieve before quickly searching for ways to reunite with Susie. A year of fruitless research followed, culminating in him getting so frustrated that he reluctantly tried Star Dream one more time, this time by using its control helmet. But as if the computer had it out for him, it quickly tried overrunning his mind in agonizing fashion, and he only barely managed to get it shut off in time before his mind was completely consumed. So at that point, Max decided he'd had enough. After commanding his Haltworkers to scrap Star Dream and leave it in the middle of the frozen tundra, he abandoned his home, wealth, and company by flying off in a small ship to find some way to reunite with Susie and get her to safety. All he took with him was all the pictures he could of the past, including a pocket watch with a picture of him, Beatrice, and Susie from that fateful day; the watch had been broken in the incident.

What followed was over 11 years of slowly traveling across the galaxy to several planets in hopes of at least finding something. He'd end up everywhere from Neo Star to Aqua Star to even Ripple Star right after the 02 crisis (probably should have gotten there just a tad earlier). Any time he'd start to lose hope and question if it was worth it and if it would work, he remembered the promise he had always made to protect his family, no matter what it took. If he couldn't protect his wife, then he at least needed to make sure their daughter was okay. That all came to a head on Rock Star, eleven and a half years into his search, when his ship broke down (he had already used up several ships in his search) and as he kept walking and looking for a way to move on, both his organic and robotic halves were struggling in the desert. After also sustaining a hip injury while searching through a junkyard, he nearly gave up right there. But he again remembered the promise he had made as he held newborn Susie in his arms for the first time over 19 years earlier and just kept limping on. Fortunately, not only did he find another ship at the end of that junkyard, but it was a darn good one with the ability to detect the location of Susie through his DNA. Hardly able to comprehend that his years of searching were about to come to a satisfying conclusion, Max began flying his new ship over to Royal Road, Floralia, where Susie somehow was.

Perhaps now is the time to (very slowly) breeze through Susie's side of the story (conveniently starting at the end of Meta Knightmare I). After landing in Another Dimension, she was immediately greeted by a horde of Doomers trying to kill her and a four-year-old Sirica, who had fallen into this place alongside her mother Garlude via separate escape pods as the Halberd was sunk. Susie was left having to run for her life while dragging Sirica away from the horde until Garlude came to shoo them away and lead them to an old base lying around. Susie had immediately started to block out some details of the traumatic incident, but still broke down and needed to be comforted by Garlude as she relayed that her parents may have gotten hurt and that she wasn't sure if she'd ever get home. Garlude immediately decided to take care of both of them as much as she could in Another Dimension, and a few days later, they somehow managed to call Meta and Mikey (Garlude's best friends and fellow Knights) and found out not only that a giant portal to the dimension opens every 8-ish years, but that the base they were in was, in fact, an abandoned Ancient ship - the "base ship", as they'd all call it - that needed a lot of repairing to fly again. With that, the three waited around in AD for eight years while Meta and Mikey picked up all of their other crewmates who had been scattered across Popstar after the Halberd crashed. Then that time came (start of Meta Knightmare II), and long story short, the base ship was up and running at the perfect time and Susie joined the Meta-Knights as they went on adventures and went onto making their comeback. (Also she more or less became sisters with Sirica, but that's for another day.) Even as she missed her old life, things were mostly calm until the mission to salvage the Halberd two years in, when she was in a scary water pod crash. While she was uninjured and Meta was able to save her, the crash suddenly reminded her of every bit of the portal disaster that had happened eight years earlier to the day, and while Meta was able to comfort her about it, she still believed that both her parents were killed in the incident. A couple years after that, while her father was one drive away from ending his quest, she was in Royal Road for the second time since leaving AD alongside the Knights to help Sectonia with a bit of growing corruption. (That one's definitely a story for another day.)

It was in the middle of the night after that was resolved when Max finally landed in the royal family's garden, with Susie quickly recognizing him and frantically stopping the guards from shooting him out of the sky. As soon as he walked out with a makeshift walking stick in hand, the two of them immediately ran to each other and embraced, just crying for a while as a truly miraculous reunion took place. Among many other things said in the moment, Max briefly explained how he had gotten here and told her that her mother would be so proud of her for getting out. Susie, meanwhile, explained how she got here and how much the Knights meant to her. Seeing how much the Knights meant to her and how much she had grown up in the past twelve years, Max allowed her to stay on that crew. But with the Knights seeing that he clearly had nothing left to return to, they allowed him to join the team and live close to his daughter, although instead of living with them, he chose to live in a chintzy little dome-shack on the shore right across from Halberd Island. After so many grueling years reeling from that tragic incident, Max, now reunited with his daughter and being part of a whole new family in the Knights, would become a key member of the team within the next few years (aka by the start of Meta Knightmare III), and they all lived happily ever after. Well, at least until MKMIII actually began, but for the last time, that's a story for another day.

[slimate]

It's 11:14 pm, mid November. Icy winds tear through what remains of the city once known as Columbus, Ohio. Your rifle weighs heavily in your arms, butt pressed cold against your cheek. Breathing in dust and frigid air, crouched in the forgotten debris behind one of the many long blown-out windows of a crumbling skyscraper, you peer through the sights of your rifle at the ruins of downtown below. In the light of the full moon you can see them, as far as the eye can see. Lurching their way towards the base of the building, droves of them. Thousands. Your breath hitches in your throat, recalling the long-shattered walls of the lobby. The creaking remains of the Nationwide Cooperate Headquarters would welcome them just as it had you. You'd climbed your way up the treacherous, endless staircases--you don't know how long it's taken you, just that dark had fallen by the time you'd reached the top. You adjust your grip on your rifle. That's how much time you had left.

You'd barricaded the door to this room, but that wouldn't stop them. You can see them now, shifting your sights from face to face to face to grinning, oily face; they'd come here for you, and nothing could deter them. You are the only one left, the only human being that remains unabsorbed by that intrepid singularity. The last pursuit.

You can see them, swarming around the ground floor, hand-in-hand, helping each other in through the gaping, snaggletooth ruins of the glass lobby. The population of the entire city, or what remains of it. All coming for you.

You turn away from the window, the biting wind screeching past your ears. You were never religious, but you utter a shaky prayer as you point the end of your rifle towards the door you'd barricaded earlier. You know you won't have time to reload. They will wash over you as a tsunami does a small island as soon as they force their way past your meagre barricade.

You'd kill as many you could. And then you'd lean backwards into the howling winter sky, and you'd fall.

The thought settles over you bitterly. You'd known it would come to this; you'd tried to end it many times before now, on your own terms. But you never could pull the trigger. It couldn't end like that, so quietly. You had to have your last stand.

They had to be making their way up the stairs now. The stairwell is treacherous, in disrepair, and that would buy you time. But not as much as you deserved. In your mind's eye you imagine the endless, caterpillar-line of bodies, inching their way up, up, up through the narrow hallways, staircases, calling for you. It knows your name. A network so vast...it knows every name. The freezing wind bites its needle-teeth into the back of your neck. You shudder.

You wonder if you'll recognize them. The first ones to burst through that office door, the only ones to taste your last rain of lead. You'd lost everyone you'd known to it. Friends, lovers, co-workers...family. Every one of them had been subsumed.

It's only you now. You and it.

You can hear it, just barely, under the howling of the wind. The clamoring up the staircase; footsteps, hundreds of them. Half as many voices, just audible. You curl your cold index finger over the trigger of your rifle, and close your eyes, briefly. You try to remember the taste of your favorite food, and the first song to have ever graced your ears.

As if on cue, you hear it: first in wisps, and then, as the endless river of bodies pool into, fill each of the floors below you, with nauseating clarity; a thousand saccarine voices, cascading over each other in a sickening melody. You try not to parse the notes, you try with all your futile will to silence it, but despite yourself, you recognize it.

Come live with us in the palace

There's a room waiting for you

Come on, come on, come on

Just let us adore you

"No!" A strangled cry escapes your frost-nipped lips, involuntary, and you force yourself to keep your grip on your weapon, despite every ounce of your soul straining against the noise, screaming for you to clamp your hands over your ears. You won't let it claim you. You'll never let it take you.

Your hands shake as the chorus swells upwards.

You find yourself praying again. Pleading, really. Pleading with any higher power that could hear you; you'd take any of them. To save you, or at least, that you'd not know them. That they'd be strangers at the end of your rifle.

You can hear them, just a floor below you. Singing, calling for you. Rising above the mass are four voices, leading the charge. Tears sting at your lower lids. No higher power was listening.

Your roommates, before all this. Your roommates and friends.

And then, all too soon, a knock at the door. Adrenaline shoots through every vein in your body, coiling every muscle, electrifying every neuron. A voice, dreadful in it's familiarity, rings out over the diminishing sound of the choir.

"Hey, I knowww things are tense, but could you please open the door?"

Traitorous tears spill down your cheeks as you desperately resist the urge to respond.

"Please, y/n? We just want to talk."

The expectation of your reply stifles the air, constricts your lungs. You try to focus on the howling of the wind.

"Really, we have something important to tell you. It'd mean a lot to us if you'd just listen, okay? Please?"

The voice of your friend, from so many years ago. A person you once ate with, drank with, roomed with. What remains of that person stands just ten feet away, begging you just to lend an ear, to just let them in. Your body trembles as you choke back your sobs in the freezing air.

You hear the doorknob jiggle, and then the muted clunk of the door against the desk that constitutes your barricade. These offices had no locks.

"Hey, it seems like the door is stuck? Could you...you know..."

The rifle is all that exists. You, your rifle, your numb finger tip pressed into the curve of it's trigger. It welcomes your touch, that small but desicive pressure that would unleash it's deadly load.

"Look, you don't have to open the door." Another familiar voice speaks up, deeper. Unmistakable. Another friend, another roommate. You contort your face, railing against your urge to answer, to welcome them. "We just wanted to tell you that-"

"NO!" You drop your rifle to the floor, slamming your hands over your ears. "NO!"

An eternity passes as you scream your dissent over and over, eyes screwed shut. It doesn't stop you from hearing, eventually, the piercing scrape of the desk against the floor as the door is forced open. It doesn't stop you from inhaling the odor of a thousand poorly-showered bodies, nor the rancid warmth of the hands wrapping around your wrists, pulling your hands from your ears, your body from the window. You thrash and scream your protest, but it is useless against the endless tide. You've lost. Your rifle is gone. There's nothing you can do.

You feel hands on either side of your face, familiar hands. Sobs ripping through your throat, you slowly open your eyes.

It's your ex, acne-ridden, kneeling before you. On their right are your four roommates, who you once trusted with your life; they look between themselves with giddy nervousness, then back at you. On the left of your ex stands a goth girl you don't recognize. Strangers grip your arms on either side, restraining you.

"Sorry everything's so crazy, we didn't want it to go this way." Says your friend, the one who spoke first from the other side of the door. You shake your head uselessly.

Your other friend chimes in. "We really need you to listen right now. Seriously."

You weep openly as your ex speaks up, unable to steel yourself anymore, broken.

"We really just want you to know that we're poly..."

The goth girl interrupts, finishing their sentence. "And we like your vibes."

[esotericcasuist]

Haunted House, Picket Fence

"But you had to go. I know, I know, I know. Like a wave that crashed and melted on the shore. Not even the burnouts are out here anymore."

What becomes of a marriage where winter occupies all seasons? Routines which had carved our initials into floorboards gathered dust. Footsteps and movements resembling that of a stranger. More tethered than grounded. Wings clipped, the blackbird found herself caged once again. Played Russian Roulette with a songbird and I won. All she could get was angry and all I could was remain quiet.

A space between us that wasn't before. Separated by locked rooms. All the dead knew where I was. I couldn't let her close. A thousand graves covered by waves and I couldn't swim. They'd wake me at night with their bones that turned to dust, drowning me when I tried to sleep. She wanted a quiet life. She deserved a quiet life. I had gambled too much too late to know I couldn't give that to her.

I became shipwrecked. Familiar grounds for me. Chaos running deep in ancestral lines. Unfamiliar with her. We dragged ourselves to sturdy grounds. Everything now had lost it's footing. Vertigo had taken over. A daily straddle between life and death. With every meeting with death, walls became thicker. It wasn't long before I had at least three locked rooms between us. The blackbird couldn't sing anymore. It's wings were too broken.

Spring was on its way but hadn't fully settled in. The air still held winter close, especially at night. The sweet smoke from the joint helped with the warmth as I found my way into a locked room. Blood shot eyes stung, holding the anger she held back in unfinished paintings. Who knew silence could be so loud? Every breath, every heartbeat, every footstep. The years spent, lived among these same floorboards. Only to end up gathering dust and guilt.

There was nothing quiet about any of it. Except for the words that never left my lips. The noise was inside. Always inside. Shaking and banging on doors without knobs. Windows broken and replaced with caged screens. All my doing. She was just an innocent bystander. Erosion from years and years of waves crashing. A tornado in a locked room. Nowhere to burrow and bunker down.

“Did you know, Darren? I bet you didn’t. So many secrets, so little time.”

Was it the way he mocked or the blood from their bodies that caused me to see red? Everywhere. An echo of her soft breath in the morning, falling upon my chest. Replaced by visions of cut and rotting flesh. The pattering of little feet against the floorboards which soon became my favorite alarm clock despite how bloody early it was. Shattered what I’m sure were her screams for me in those final moments.

“How does it feel, to have nothing left?”

The moments between his taunting and the harmer inside of my chest felt like centuries. A deliberate pause, pregnant with visions of black eyes and broken constellations.

“It was a boy.”

Quiet. Except for the dial tone and the screams caught in my throat.

[lightpost]

Congratulations..? On what? I haven’t succeed in anything.. I didn’t keep a job longer than 3 months, one paycheck and I ran, did we even date? we went out to dinner a couple times... he was the first to care in many ways no one ever has or will. I was in so much pain I don’t want to move but kept going cause it the only thing to not get yelled at for one tear I was in fear but I still loved him I think I’m really fucked up. What’s wrong with me? I’ve been in the ward a couple times I’ve taken all the damn tests I don’t know even know if I was labeled at something I know I asked once the nurse said no she was questioning herself why I was even in there honestly I needed medical attention and no one cared I was in my physical pain more holding onto walls scaring the others in there yeah cause I was serous physical pain and no one was helping me, one doctor told me to be in porn one told me to even commit suicided, another brushed a nurse off when she told him she called New York for me and had to explain what I had to him and he brushed her off she took two hours to call around and explain my ct scan on the nutcracker syndrome my whole toe is now purple! and I still have that cramp in my calf and its been two fucking years yeah doc I’m not playing you are all going down for bullshit you pulled I will see you in hell to give you no mercy when you met my Archangel you are marked and its much higher than me 

 This world took away my true soulmate 

I’m much anger than lucifer himself. This sadness and anger match my brother Able if not a little bit more broken 

Doctors aren’t believing me 

I ruined the best relationship I possibly could of had by being in kind of pain what’s it like to have your life flash before your eyes? he’ll come in three days. 

I dug my grave 

fuck I fucked up even Jesus saw Baron Samedi 

the spiritual is nothing to mess with I’ll forever regret things I hesitated with him I’ll forever miss him I know how much he loved me too I’m shattered too I lost my best friend he understood how fucked up this world is he was the one to really lean on this world fucked us both up 

You know these tears are going to turn into rage and when I see that person who started all of this someone better hold me back my words will be sharp I will cut him to dust, the most vile two faced lack of cum slut now herpes infested will never touch within a 10 foot poll make it 35 incase the wind picks direction I can move away, art stealing piece can’t even call you a used condom cause you’d enjoyed being a piece of rubber at least you are still getting action  trash bag that he is you wont just be rotting in hell NO! Uriel is waiting to give you the greatest trail and consequence of all you won’t have life after death you’ll soul will be locked in a crypt were I will be taking you myself! Forever to never experience light to be forever sealed in darkness torment by your own sounds in water and stone that’s just one place you’ll go you’ve been marked by far higher power than me you’ll be worse than suffering my true love is after you too he’s got one hell of a sword and all my love he’s one powerful soul and the whole world is doomed. 

I am your boat man!