#anyway its mainly broken down like this:

[nanamiskentos]

regular/modern!human x true form sukuna boyfriend headcanons for fun <3 mainly for my pookie @kasukuna bc that's who i think of when i think of bf!sukuna

sees that men get their lovers cute things like flowers and chocolate and thinks its overrated. sukuna realises he needs to up his game with a romantic gesture, and thinks its cool to carve your name into a tree with his claws. you catch him picking bark from out under his dark nails.

saw that you made smoothies in the morning with breakfast and waited till you left the house to try it for himself (he always said he didn't care for them but he just doesn't want to admit). sukuna threw together a ripe banana, a loaf of bread and a whole METAL can of tuna and turned the blender on. you came home to a broken, smoking blender and a gross, banana-covered king of curses who acted like this was your fault.

no table manners, sorry. you think that the happiest you've ever seen sukuna is when you're back with the groceries and there's a raw leg of lamb wrapped up in butcher's paper. delights in the idea of a rare cooked steak, but prefers to eat them bloody.

if you study (say you're in college or university) he claims he doesn't give a flying fuck about what you learn, and doesn't understand the concept of degrees. he wonders why people just aren't allowed to practice their trade, and why they need a piece of paper first. but when you're not around, he reads through your textbooks and quotes them to you afterwards. but sukuna pretends he just already knew all that shit anyway.

absolutely no patience in the morning for lazying around. you figure a big, massive being like himself can sleep through sunrise. but he's got unblinking, freaky eyes and when you crack open your eyelids in the morning, he's already looking down at you, demanding that you get up and not waste your day. at first, you worry that he just doesn't even sleep. you need not worry about that, he can knock himself flat out like an elephant that bathed in nyquil.

you asked him to help with dinner one day. kind of annoying how sukuna's very good at malicious noncompliance. you know that he is an expert in all things sharp and weapon-like, and a kitchen knife is no exception. and yet, he decides to use his long claws to cut the parsnip, slicing through them very slowly in a way that drags and creaks agains the chopping board.

sukuna rages over mario kart and rainbow. has grown oddly obsessed with the leaderboard and claims that he will vanquish the player titled 'sixeyes1989' that keeps calling him rude names online.

thinks siri is mocking him and sulks the entire day at this automated voice that seems to not understand what hes saying. you ask sukuna to gently release the grip he has on your phone before he shatters it. again.

you mentioned something about how sweet it is that your friend's boyfriend leaves her little cute notes with love affirmations on it. the next day, you find sweeping yet scrawled foreign symbols on peeled sticky notes. turns out that his version of cute love notes are ominous, medieval runes that are protection spells against curses.

does NOT play fair in games night. sukuna burned all the monopoly money when you charged him rent for mayfair. invents random words and claim they're from his era in scrabble, and he insists they count. almost set something on fire during go fish and ate the cards. has sat on a chessboard just so you wouldn't win.

[markgraysonstears]

01 ┊ “ Kiss it, kiss it better, baby. ” ⸝⸝ .

THIS IS A OLD FANFIC BY THE WAY DONT MAUL ME

★ masochist m!mark x fem!reader? ( i don't rlly describe much fembody stuff so take it as u want actually ) ,

★ warnings : ,, masochism, sub mark, mention of blood , heavy petting, ++ ( nothing too crazy )

A/N : hi so this is mainly for self indulgence so you MAY not get mention of yn blushing cuz...💆🏽‍♀️ baby how... anyways enjoy my shit riding ( also give me requests thanks )

that was meant to be writing but LOL.... if the boot fits....

this stupid ass rants took me like 5 days bc i got tired of the plot so its gonna feel rushed at the end. sorry babes

Invincible, a man with great strength, power, and status. A man that shows confidence, yet a bit of an ego with that name. However, the one under the mask shows the exact opposite with you.

MARK GRAYSON not Invincible, that unlocks your window after a battle. That's the man that enters with a rough entrance and has smudged and dried blood near the corner of his mouth. Despite his mangy, blood-soaked appearance, he always greeted you with pet names.

Mark clasps your hand in his while he gazes down at you with weak eyes, intertwining your hand into his. Your palm feels so cold; it helped with his bruises— it was also nice to just have your touch. “ Mark, we can talk later; please go get yourself healed up ,” you say with concern. Obviously, it went into one ear and right out the other; the man didn't even attempt to stray from your touch. “ I'll be alright, baby; your hands are doing a great job. ”

MARK GRAYSON who kisses you with need, despite the throbbing pain in his lips. By now, you weren't bothered by the metallic flavor. This is something he frequently does, which is obviously not a criticism!

MARK GRAYSON who absolutely adores you, lingering on his broken lips. Though mark would be ashamed to admit, the pain makes him feel intoxicated. The way your hands pull off the mask that covers the rest of his pretty face and then return to his black hair to tug a little bit makes it seem almost electric.

MARK GRAYSON that has the misfortune ( though fortunate for you ) of wearing such a tight suit, lets his body show his desperation as he promises he's fine, the pain isn't that awful. Even if it was, he's ashamed that he mind a little pressure against his raw and bruised skin after the attacks.

“ please? ” While his longing hands pulled you down onto his bulge by your waist, the superhero's whispered, sensuous voice begged you. Mark's rough finger pads soon traveled down to the sides of your thighs, Blue nails puncture into the fatty tissue, dragging you down against him. A strangled whimper came from him as your body pressed against his wounded chest and all the way down. The pressure hurt, but in a good way. He just needed to get some pleasure out of today. Come on, you wouldn't deny a begging man, right? “ we can do whatever, I just—I just need this. ”

MARK GRAYSON, who you couldn't resist even if you really wanted to. If you had insisted on receiving real help, his sad little eyes wouldn't have left your head; all he wanted was to feel better. Though you do miss him in this condition. You give in out of selfishness. You have missing Mark's whimpers and labored breathing, muffled between your neck and his lips, for the past month because he's been too busy.

MARK GRAYSON Who loves to grip onto your hips, watch you rock back and forth against his arousal—like your motions were magic—and show his thanks towards you? He praises you in-between thick swallows and shallow breath. Mark wanted to rip the rest of this torn-up suit off. Your arms lying on his shoulders, the pain got overwhelmed by pleasure.

Your lips pressed against his bruised neck, the kiss seems to just send aches right back to his erection. Those soft, cold hands of yours traveled down to press against his chest, a hiss slipping out of his mouth—followed with a moan. Remind Mark to never go at least 3months and a without any sexual contact. It's almost a bit embarrassing.. even for him

MARK GRAYSON He wastes no time sliding his hands up your body to remove your shirt and tugging at your shorts. He almost seems to forget to take off his own, but you don't let that happen.

MARK GRAYSON flutters his eyes at you while your fingertips push him down. His elbows hold him up as he watches you lower your head, — MARK GRAYSON who you couldn't deny.

> do not repost any of my works to any other platforms !

[butterli5]

Remus gets a gnarly scar across his face after one particularly bad moon. He wakes up in the hospital wing and feels something obstructing his breathing, an itching sensation across his skin that he wanted to scratch with his nails. Madame Pomfrey is the only one sitting next to him when he wakes up, the ghost of something white in the edges of his vision. It isn't until he sees the look on her face that he realizes what happened.

He swallows down the lump that has started taking residence up his throat, it was a matter of time he finally got past his own arms and back to claw at his face, it's not like he had something worth not maiming anyway.

"Is it bad?" he manages to whisper.

Poppy looks away for a fraction of a second, "Minerva could floo one of your parents if you'd like Remus, your mum perhaps?"

Remus is violently shaking his head before she even finishes her sentence, his mum has already seen far too much any mother was supposed too.

"Can you call Regulus for me, please?"

She nodds once and walks away.

It was perhaps cruel of him to subject the other boy to such a sight, to let those beautiful eyes come face to face with the monstrous thing he has become, or rather one he had always been. But mainly, he was a coward, and he was scared, and the only person who would let him wallow in the horror of what had happened, who wouldn't fill his ears with talks of optimism or could-have-been-worse was Regulus .

He closes his eyes as he hears shuffling across the curtain, and he wills the tears beginning to fill them to stay in its confines. His smell fills his senses as he feels the mattress dip by his side, one he could recognize in utter darkness or in broad daylight. Poppy mutters a broken apology as she begins gently removing the bandages covering his face with her hands rather than simply flicking her wand, something he would probably be grateful for in the future, but only lets a broken sob out of him at that moment, his hands gripping the bedding tightly as he tries and fails to control the choking sounds betraying him.

Poppy sniffles once and leaves them alone, a cold hand covering his fist as the bed dips further and another starts carding through his sweaty hair, fingernails scratching slightly across the scalp and Remus breaks in full body sobs, ugly and wailing and unrestrained, years and years of built up anger leaving his broken body.

Why me, he keeps repeating over and over again while Regulus continues combing through his hair, his voice gentle as he keeps saying I'm here, you can cry love, I'll be here. His other hand coming up to gently wipe the tears away before they collide with his wound, the touch too gentle, almost reverent.

And so Regulus Black holds him as he cries for the four year old boy he had never mourned in twelve years.

And indeed he never leaves.

[chronicowboy]

Eddie isn't entirely sure how he ends up on Tommy's doorstep. One minute, he's stuffed into the corner of his couch, staring at the two empty cushions beside him, trying to will joy out of thin air. The next, he's grabbing his keys and knocking on a familiar door. But it's not too familiar a door. It's not the right door, he thinks. It should be Buck's door. But this feels safer somehow.

Buck's door is joy. Buck's door opens into a room filled with sunlight. Buck's door is a portal to all the good things Eddie has never found himself worthy of. He's still learning to trust the good things, joy. And whilst he trusts Buck implicitly, intimately, instinctually. He still doesn't quite trust himself.

Tommy's door is... Well, Tommy's door often opens on casual camaraderie. Tommy's door mainly leads to the sparring mat in the garage. Tommy's door is just a door. Eddie doesn't know if he's there to see it open or seal it shut.

It's been a week since. Since Eddie had danced around in his house in a pair of tighty whiteys he'd forgotten he'd owned. Since an intoxicatingly simple joy had buzzed through his veins and filled him with a glowing pink light that had almost burst out of him when he'd looked through the peephole. Since Buck had offered him a beer and stuffed himself into the corner of the couch to drink in stony silence between sniffles. Since Eddie had resisted the urge to make himself small and had instead spread his legs, so he could feel the warmth of Buck's knee burning into his bare thigh. Since both of them getting drunk enough on beers and each other that they'd danced around Eddie's house until they collapsed on the living room floor. Since they'd laid there on the carpet, staring up at the ceiling, and Buck had finally mumbled his way through a recital of his breakup.

It's been a week of Eddie biting down on his reflexive guilt at seeking out joy whilst Buck wallows in despair. Of Eddie plastering himself to Buck in every spare moment because, even when he's down in the dumps, he gives off joy like a spaceheater throws out heat. Of Eddie allowing himself to bask in it without the whispering warning voices in his mind for the first time ever. Of Eddie allowing himself the simple pleasure of Buck without fear of ruining him.

Eddie startles a little when the door opens, but it's alright because Tommy startles too. His whole face stretches in shock then scrunches up with a wry little laugh and a shake of his head.

"Guess I probably should have expected this, huh?" he says.

And Eddie thinks that's odd. Hadn't expected it himself. Doesn't know why he's here. Doesn't know what he's going to say. But he opens his mouth anyway, lets whatever is in his throat claw its way out, and what he says is,

"Buck is worth the risk."

Tommy blinks. Eddie blinks back.

Something pools in his chest. Something warm. Something hot. It's the warmth of Buck's knee against his thigh and the heat of boiling anger. It's scorching. Eddie can't tell which one burns worse.

"Okay," Tommy replies evenly.

"Buck said that you said you couldn't move in with him because he'd break your heart."

"I did."

"He's worth that risk," Eddie repeats. Doesn't know how else to say it. "Don't you get it? He-he's so smart and passionate and kind and full of love. His head gets a little messy sometimes, but he's still so so full of love. Why can't you see that? He's beautiful inside and out. And he's worth the risk. You can't not take the risk with Buck. He's worth a hundred broken hearts, don't you get that?"

Eddie's chest heaves. A thousand more words crowd his mouth, but he can't wrap his lips around any of them. His brain is flying a mile a minute, everything slipping through his fingers just when he thinks he's grabbed a hold of it. And Tommy is just staring at him in that slightly disconcertingly blank way he stares.

"Eddie, I think maybe you should try giving that speech to a mirror." His voice is still even, but there's an edge to these words that makes something in Eddie sing, makes him want to press against it until it draws blood.

"What?"

"I think you think Buck's worth a hundred broken hearts because you and him have been breaking each other's over and over for the past six years."

Eddie flinches.

"What? I would never—"

"Just because you didn't mean to doesn't mean you didn't." Tommy sighs and drags a hand down his face. All the defensiveness melts out of his posture as he leans against the doorframe. "Okay, let's talk about me, yeah? You wanna know why I didn't take the risk with Buck?"

It's a rhetorical question. Still, Eddie says, "yes."

"Because." He shrugs. "Six days, six weeks, six months, six years. He'd never mean to, but. He was always going to break my heart, Eddie. And he was always going to break it for you."

There had been this moment when he'd first sat down in the confessional between the click of the door closing and Father Brian's greeting where the whole world had seemed to fall silent. It was a crushing thing. In that moment, twenty-three years of sins had fallen upon him like a helicopter. It was as if the booth itself was trying to swallow him whole. Now, Eddie feels it again. Feels it so vividly he almost thinks he's back in that stifling little wooden box. Feels it like a whole new confession, unforgivable and yet inevitable.

"And you were always going to let him, right?" Tommy doesn't even leave room for an answer. Just nods to himself. "You can be angry with me if you want. I hurt him, I know that. But I took the risk when I started this. The writing was on the wall from the beginning. I knew I was living on borrowed time, but... Well, I don't have to explain to you why he was worth it, do I?"

"W-what do you—"

"God, Diaz," he groans, and presses his forehead against the edge of the door. "He was never trying to get my attention. Jesus. He spent that whole game pulling your pigtails."

"No, he was jealous of—"

"Of me because I had your attention." Tommy shakes his head. "I'm not doing this. I can't. Please leave."

And well, Eddie's never needed all that much of a nudge when it comes to running away. He's halfway to his truck when Tommy's voice stops him in his tracks.

"Hey, Eddie?"

"Yeah?" He turns, watches something complicated break across Tommy's face.

"He's worth the risk."

The door closes. Another opens.

[catsushizz]

Soon you'll get better - S.R

Spencer Reid x Fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's life was perfect until one dreaded visit from the doctor. Your life was measured in only seconds, you have cancer.

Warning: inaccuracies in the medical parts, cursing, no happy ending

WC: 2.8k

Angst

A/N: listen to so many songs for this, mainly Dark Paradise by Lana Del Rey and Soon You'll Get Better by Taytay.

____

Spencer basks in the feeling of you in his arms even though he is trying to hold back his tears knowing he only has a few moments left with you here on Earth. Worrying about losing you is different when he knows he is going to lose you.

Your hands were intertwined as he kissed your knuckles, God, Cancer's a bitch. Spencer held you tightly as he heaved a sigh, his eyes were glossed and he felt bile rise in his throat.

He stifled his sobs knowing that you needed your sleep. Whatever thing he had done in the past, it couldn't have been that bad to make him deserve this kind of treatment from God. Was it because he didn't believe him?

He finds himself praying every night, desperate people find faith so now he prays to God hoping and begging to make you live longer. Longer until your hair turns grey.

"Soon you'll get better" he whispered as if it were a prayer "You need to" his voice cracked as his tears continued to flow, you slept peacefully unaware of his dilemma.

You've been together for so long, 5 years dating then later on married for 3 years. His life was perfect for so long but one visit from the doctor destroyed his world.

Spencer said you should get it checked, you thought he was being dramatic but he insisted anyway.

The morning after the news, he wished it was a dream when you sat him down on the bed, worried in his voice when you grabbed his hand and grief he felt when you spoke.

"I- I have cancer," you said, swallowing hard when his grip on your hand loosened.

"What?" He whispered, heart in his throat every second you give him silence "You can't be serious, Angel" he said in disbelief, standing up from the bed to look at you properly, and when he read your behavior his heart dropped.

You shook your head as you held back your tears, you needed to be strong for him. Raking his fingers through his hair, his breathing becoming more shallow as he looked for any indication that this was all just some sick joke, you liked pranking him, it's a horrible prank but he would forgive you.

"I have Osteosarcoma..." Spencer felt his breath hitched at your words. He had a question at the tip of his tongue but he didn't feel like questioning it afraid of the answer.

If it's stage 1 or 2 it might be curable he held on to that hope, clung to it like it was his lifeline. Sensing his question through his eyes, you answered.

"It's stage 3 Spence" you muttered, your voice thick with emotions. He staggered backward, tears forming in the corner of his eyes.

"The doctor must've mistaken your scan for somebody else's o- or there must be an error, yeah that must be it" he stammered, his mind going faster than his mouth knowing that Doctors make mistakes like that but he knows the statistics of doctors making mistakes when giving the results are slim to none.

And when you didn't reply, he cried. His hand flew to his mouth a sob forcing its way out. You immediately stood up and engulfed him in a hug as you cried, you felt his shoulder shake against you, his sobs becoming more broken the longer he hugged you.

You barely see Spencer cry, but when he does cry the sound of his cries goes straight to your heart, this time he sounded so broken and alone and you made sure to make him feel less alone by whispering 'I'll be okay'

Spencer felt stupid for crying, he should be the one comforting you not the opposite but he couldn't help it, the thought of you leaving him destroyed him, he would trade anything else if it meant saving your life.

Spencer felt his world crashing that night, he cried so much he felt like he might pass out.

---

Baking was always your favorite it makes you feel at peace but now you need assistance as you cook which doesn't only make you sad, it makes you more burdensome to Spencer. You smiled at Spencer as he leaned himself on the counter.

He had a frown on his lips as he looked at you "Are you sure you want to stop your chemotherapy?" He asked and you sighed as you washed your hands getting the sticky dough off your hands.

"Come here, darling," you say softly. He pushed himself off the counter and made his way towards you, immediately engulfing you in a hug.

He held you delicately afraid that if he touched you tightly you'll vanish. "If money's the issue- it's not even an issue, love" he muttered as he trailed kisses to your shoulder and your neck.

You chuckled "It's futile, Spence. You of all people should know that, I did chemo for 5 months and it didn't work" you whispered as you nuzzled yourself into his chest. You thought the chemo did you justice only to know that it got worse. Chemo didn't work.

Spencer knew, of course, but he'd like to think that little hope could somehow save your life even if the percentage laughed at his face.

"I know... But it makes you stay here longer" he ran his fingers through your skin, from your hands to your arms. He noticed your skin change every time, it became more pale and his heart couldn't handle it.

Every day he can't stop himself from thinking that it might be your last and it's killing him. He doesn't know what he would do if you were to be gone from his life. The family you created was something he treasured so dearly in his heart and he got used to loving you so much that it became his oxygen at some point.

You smiled sadly "Okay... I'll start again" you finally said. He pulled away from the hug to look at you properly.

"you mean it?" He asked, and you laughed at his shocked expression "Yes, Spence I mean it, cross my heart hope-" he clasped his hand to your mouth making you laugh even more.

"Don't you dare finish that" he said and he had a small smile on his lips. You licked his palm and successfully made him pull away from you.

"Oh, stop acting like it disgusts you, you kiss me plenty of times" you grumbled when you saw his disgusted face.

"That's not what I'm worried about, I didn't wash my hands and you just licked it!" He exclaimed. Your heart swells in adoration at his statement.

You laughed and Spencer committed that to memory, carved it in his mind. Seeing you laugh and not hunch yourself in pain is refreshing to Spencer, he can't bear seeing you in pain.

----

You were tucked beside Spencer on the couch your head on his chest, dried tears on your cheeks as you heaved in a sigh. Every movement you make feels like torture.

Spencer didn't know what to do he felt helpless, but having him by your side throughout all of this had brought you comfort more than ever.

You dragged your hands across his chest rubbing gently the movement brought small pain to your joints but you didn't mind. He grabbed your hand, stopping your movement as he rubbed circles on your skin.

"You okay?" He asked, gentle as ever.

You hummed "I'm fine" you mumbled.

Lie. He knows you're in so much pain right now and he wished, God, he begged to make it all go away. Make it go away as easily as the wind takes the leaves.

"I love you" you whispered, his heart flipped out of fear. His lips parted then closed and you felt him hold you closer.

"Please don't make it sound like it's gonna be the last time you'll say it" his breath shuddered as he said it, lips trembling and voice cracking. He had felt his heart break a thousand times when you said you loved him.

You saying 'I love you' doesn't feel the same anymore, it feels different. He wants it to feel warm, not cold, and not think it will be the last.

You frowned "I'm sorry, I don't mean it to sound like that, Honey" Spencer wanted to cry but he already shed so many tears through his sleepless nights as he felt you press against him at night and think that he wouldn't be able to hold you this close for a long time.

"Don't apologize" he mumbled and kissed your forehead, his kiss lingering a bit longer.

Your hair was shorter, you insisted that he cut it and he remembered you laughing when he cut it too short. If your hair wasn't falling off every time you pulled it, you would've been so mad but at that moment you didn't care.

When you looked at yourself in the mirror, you cried and Spencer didn't hesitate to hold you in his arms and kiss every inch of your face.

"You look beautiful, you are beautiful, my gorgeous and brave wife" he whispered.

You cried and buried your face in the crook of his neck "You don't have to say that" you cried.

"It's true and I'm not letting you go until you believe it" he insisted and you've been stuck with him for a few hours before you believed him.

You watched the stars after that and he pointed to every constellation he sees and you listened, committing his voice into your mind.

----

Spencer listens to the monitor of your heart as he watches your chest rise and fall. His hand rests atop yours, his brows knitting together in concern.

The Doctor said he needed to be prepared. He's not. He can't breathe when you flutter your eyes open.

"Spencer?" You uttered slightly panicked, your throat dry as you looked around the room.

Spencer sniffled before clearing his throat "I'm here, Angel" he said softly as he met your gaze.

He sees you visibly relax and that brings comfort to his already broken heart.

"Hi," you sighed.

"Hey," he whispered. At that moment he didn't think you were in pain or under the dim light of the hospital. He remembers it like it was the first time meeting you all over again.

He sees your skin warm and vibrant again, your hair falling effortlessly over your shoulder, and your laugh sounds more alive. He thinks you'll sound and look like that if he lets you go.

His throat tightened and he swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bopping as he looked down on your intertwined hands. You're the light of his life, but staying means your flame will eat itself up.

"Come here, please" you pleaded as you patted the space next to you, and Spencer had a hard time declining.

He climbed on the hospital bed, making sure to be as careful as ever, when he was comfortable he engulfed you in his arms.

It was silent for a while then he heard your weak voice "I don't want to leave" but he felt you were leaving already.

"I don't want you to leave either" and he broke down like the first time he found out your life was only to keep for a fraction of a second.

You wiped away his tears, fingertips shaking slightly "I love you until the day that I die, whether it'll be today, tomorrow, or the next day but I'll love you beyond death itself" you choked out.

Spencer cupped your face, he's accepting it even if it's painful, he had to.

"I love you, more than anything else in this world" he sobbed, locking his lips with yours. When you parted he rested against you, nose touching, he savored that feeling.

Loving you was easy, letting you go on the other hand is a different story. He thinks he won't be able to, not for a long time, not forever at all.

"I want you to know that you are so so loved, Spence. I have spent the majority of my life dreaming of loving someone and that so happens to be you and I wouldn't have had it any other way" you muttered, your breathing becoming more labored as you spoke.

Spencer pursed his lips as he closed his eyes tightly. He can't explain the pain he feels right now, can't explain how much it fucking hurts. You heard his sobs and you felt your heart crack.

"I can't do this without you" he stammered.

"Yes you can, you did it before" you mumbled, and he shook his head.

"That was before I got to meet you, my life didn't start until I met you" he whispered, sniffling, his eyes bloodshot from crying.

"That's not true" you insisted.

"It is" came his immediate reply.

A comfortable silence followed then you spoke again.

"Can you read to me please?" You mumbled.

He smiled and nodded "Sure, sweetheart" and so he read until you fell asleep. He didn't sleep, he lay awake on your deathbed wishing every moment was longer.

You flatline at 2:38 a.m he didn't call out for the doctor, he knows they can't save you so he held you closer and he cried to the point where he felt like throwing up.

Your body was cold, lifeless, and limp. He couldn't handle it so after an hour he finally called the doctor. Watched on the sidelines as the nurses checked your pulse and watched their eyes change in realization.

The doctor shook her head as she covered your whole body with the white sheet. Spencer looked away as he made his way to the bathroom.

He threw up, and the bitter taste lingered when he got out. His gaze grew lifeless as the hour passed. Derek picked him up from the hospital and the only thing Derek could describe him was 'he was a walking corpse'

....

The first night after your death, he wished he would dream of you but he didn't.

The next morning he woke up in an empty bed, and everywhere he walked around the house he could see any reminder of you.

Picture frames, flowers, vases, letters, mugs, and the list goes on.

When he makes breakfast he always prepares two plates and when he realizes that he is alone he spirals for an hour long or longer.

And when he goes to sleep he hugs your picture, wishing for the slightest amount of warmth from your things as he can but receives coldness in the form of an empty bed.

But when he finally dreams of you, he doesn't want to wake up.

You were sat on top of a hill, flowers surrounding you, your back facing him but he felt like you knew he was there so he sat down next to you.

Your hair wasn't short anymore, you weren't pale and most of all you didn't look like you were in pain. Your eyes were shut but you had a smile on your face.

"You need to eat more, Spence" you muttered with a smile as you meet his gaze. His eyes welled with tears when he heard your voice.

He tackled you in a hug and you yelped laughing as he looked down at you. You grin adoringly at him as you cupped his face with both of your hands.

"I can only see you once, my love," you said and he felt his heart drop, he wanted to see you every day.

"Are you in pain?" He asked as his knuckles graze your cheeks.

You shake your head "No" and he smiles "Good" he whispers as he lets a tear fall from his eyes. He was so happy to hear that.

"I love you so much," he said as he trailed kisses from your forehead, nose, cheeks, and to your lips. You giggled "I love you too," you said but this time your I love you didn't feel cold and it didn't feel like a goodbye.

"I want to be with you," he said through tears, you wiped them away gently your fingertips no longer shaking and that made him so happy.

"Soon but not now" you replied.

"Can I at least stay with you until I wake up?" He asked pleadingly.

You chuckled and nodded making him smile. His head was now resting on your lap as you played with his curls.

"Can you read to me, please?" He requested.

"Of course, my love" you whispered and he basked in your sweet voice, he wished he could record it so he could listen to it when he misses you which is every second of the day.

He didn't know how long he stayed with you but when he woke up you were gone and for the first few hours he just sat there and looked for your warmth again.

Spencer felt a part of him was taken away from him ever since you left.

He wanted you back, he wants his wife back.

---

Dividers from @cafekitsune ;D

[vinnyvamppp]

Hello love , been lurking around ur work for a while and am so love with what you write 😘😘😘🥰😍. Anyways I have a little request to ask , if you could write a powerpuff girl (buttercup) reader . She is described as a "tough hotheaded tomboy". Her signature color is lime green and her personality ingredient is "spice". Her powers include Superhuman Strength , Superhuman Speed, Superhuman Durability (shes basically near invulnerability) , Superhuman Stamina ,Flight, Heat Vision , Ability to breathe and survive in space , Energy projection (bright green)Super senses (sight and hearing)Night Vision, Tornado Generation, Fire generation (green) [Buttercup can generate fire through her hands]X-ray vision , Invulnerability against extreme temperatures , Supersonic Screaming. Other signature abilities she displays are Ball Blast, Black Hurricane, Green Laser Beams, Energy Orb (colored light green), Thunder Clap.

She would not be down with the guardians being so damn weak that wouldn't even bother to work with them , but it would be so fun to see their reactions , main mark , and cecil to her not only better powers but also her tough girl personality. She in some moments is heavily underestimated because she's seen as extremely cute and princess like and that gets her blood boiling to the point she has to prove them wrong ( which she always does)

Am not gonna sugarcoat it she is dominating the invincible war , as she will be able to basically go against most of the invincible variants and she about that life and sinceshe'sknown to never back down from any fight no matter how powerful the enemy thinks they are , but I mainly wanna see her go against sinister mark , Mohawk mark and lensless mark (if you can write her fight against them pls) .

Can't wait to see what you'll do with this .🥰🥰😘

Spice & Distruction (ง'̀-'́)ง

Warnings: Nothing aside from the usual gore or violence. (Couldn't find a worthy picture for this UGH!)

Note: Oh, I like this one. An overpowered bad bitch that constantly overachieves because -- why not? I got you, took some creative liberties, JUST IN CASE send in another ask if you want it to be longer or a pt2 using more of her powers! Word Count: 1,600 Invincible!Variants x Buttercup!Reader

The city burns below you. Columns of black smoke curl into the sky, blotting out the sun. The skyline is shattered—skyscrapers missing their tops, entire blocks reduced to craters. Blood stains the streets. Screams echo between the ruins. Buildings remain tilted, each vibration from footsteps threatening to topple them over. The skies were set ablaze, a scent of blood and perish lingering in the humid air. And above it all? The Invincible War rages on.

Hundreds of Mark Grayson variants are tearing the world apart, ripping through defenses like wet paper. The Guardians of the Globe, Earth’s so-called strongest heroes are getting obliterated. Monster Girl’s body lies motionless, halfway through her transformation. Rex Splode? Crushed. Dupli-Kate’s been rag-dolled through a building, and even Mark, the real one, is stretching thin in assisting against his murderous duplicates.

Pathetic.

Your eyes scan the scenery, bored after obliterating such challenges with ease. You hover in place, arms crossed, neon-green energy crackling around you like wildfire, its crackles threatening to descend at any moment. The vibrancy in the green hue of your costume made you a noticeable target. Perfect. Cecil’s voice crackles in your earpiece. “We need backup at—.” You roll your eyes. “Shut up, Cecil.” You grit.

Then you dive, cutting through the air like a knife. For Mohawk Mark, with your abilities, easy diff. Your target stands amidst the carnage, a towering, muscle-bound Mark Grayson with a jagged mohawk. His bloodstained fists flex at his sides and at his feet? Bulletproof, broken, and groaning per usual.

Mohawk Mark plants a boot on Bulletproof’s chest, grinding him into the pavement. A low chuckle rumbles from his throat. Yeah, no. “Yo, Knucklehead,” you call. He barely turns before—.

BOOM.

Your fist slams into his jaw. A sonic boom erupts.

Mohawk Mark is launched like a missile, his body smashing through two skyscrapers, leaving a trail of shattered glass and bent steel in his wake. By the time he skids to a stop, half a city block has been destroyed. You land in front of him, dusting off your knuckles. “Damn. That all you got?”

A deep, inhuman growl rumbles from his throat. Mohawk Mark rises from the rubble, brown eyes darkening. His lips curl into a sneer as he wipes blood from his mouth. “Little shit, you just made the biggest mistake of your life,” he snarls. Lunging at you like a rabid animal.

His fist swings, blurring the air around it, fast enough to shatter concrete on impact. You don’t dodge. You catch it. It would be enough to reduce someone to a bludgeoned mess. The street beneath you fractures on impact. The sheer force sends cracks spider-webbing across the pavement. But you don’t move. His eyes widen just a fraction before your grip tightens around his fist. His bones creak. His jaw ticks as he attempts to resist you in a classic game of strength. You smirk. “Try harder.” And then, with a single motion, you twist his arm—

SNAP.

The sickening crack of bone echoes through the street. Mohawk Mark howls in agony, his entire body jerking from the pain. Before he can recover, your other hand ignites a bright, emerald-green flame roaring to life in your palm. His eyes go wide. Though this is what he wanted isn't it? A challenge? Too bad he was on the receiving end.

“Night-night,” you taunt, then blast him point-blank. The explosion is instantaneous. A shockwave obliterates everything within a two-block radius. Cars flip. Buildings sway. Flames consume the pavement as Mohawk Mark’s body is launched sky-high, disappearing into the clouds.

Gone.

You shake your head. “Too easy.”

Against Lensless Mark, its a medium diff, but nothing you couldn’t handle.

A low whistle cuts through the destruction. You don’t need to turn around. You already know. Lensless Mark.

He stands atop a collapsed building, arms loose at his sides, head tilted in amusement. No goggles. A mask. Just those cold, giddy eyes staring into you. Like you’re something to dissect. His voice is smooth, almost lazy. “Huh. Dude! You’re still standing.”

You roll your shoulders, cracking your neck. “You gonna stare all day, or—”

THWACK.

He’s on you in a blink. You barely tilt your head before his fist slices past your cheek so close it burns. You counter. Your Thunder Clap erupts like a bomb. A wave of force flattens an entire block. Windows explode. Asphalt rips apart like paper. Lensless Mark is blasted back, flipping mid-air before catching himself. He lands with a skid, leaving deep trenches in the pavement.

And yet, he’s smiling. Taunting even as he cups his face within his hand. “Cute,” he murmurs, wiping blood from his lip. “Let’s see how long you last.” Then, he vanishes. No sound. No wind. Nothing. Your eyes barely register movement before—.

FAWUMP.

His fist buries into your stomach. A shockwave detonates around you. The sheer force launches you through six buildings in a row, concrete and steel shattering on impact. You slam into the side of a skyscraper, embedding deep into it. Your ribs ache. Your jaw tightens.

Oh, hell no. Second offense after calling you cute within the first few minutes. He’s done for.

You ignite mid-air, green flames roaring to life around you. Your fingers spark, gathering energy into a pulsing, neon-green orb. You grin. “My turn.” Then, you hurl the Ball Blast. The explosion is blinding. A nuclear-green fireball engulfs the entire street. By the time the dust clears?

Lensless Mark is on his knees, coughing blood. His hands tremble as he tries to stand. You land in front of him, arms crossed. “Still think I’m cute?” you asked, feet slowly carrying you towards him. He wheezes. Glares. Then, lurched one last time. Big mistake.

Your eyes flash. Twin green laser beams punch straight through his chest. His body locks up. His breath stutters. He stares at you, mouth open before collapsing.

Game over.

For Sinister Mark, you might’ve finally met your match.

A slow clap echoes from above. You look up to see Sinister Mark. Truly an unorthodox and brutal version of the Mark you knew.  He floats in the firelight, arms crossed, face grinning with unreadable eyes. Studying you.

He’s the only one who didn’t rush in like a brainless brute. He’s watching. Calculating. “You’re different,” he finally says, voice like steel. You smirk. “And you’re not as dumb as you look.”

His lips twitch, almost like he’s entertained. Then he moves. Faster than anyone before him. You barely register the attack before his fist slams into your stomach. The moment his fist met your ribs, he felt the give of muscle beneath his knuckles, you heard the wet thud of the impact.

CRAAAAACK.

The pressure rips through the entire city. Buildings collapse. The sky shatters. Your body rockets through mountains. Pain pulses through your ribs and adrenaline surges, cushioning the blows.

You stop yourself mid-air, blood dripping from your lip. You wipe it off with the back of your hand. He approached you, flight only stopping when he was within a reasonable distance. That smile creased his cheeks in amusement. Instead, you return a grin of your own. “Oh, you are gonna be fun.”

You launch, sending an ear-drilling scream in his direction as he vibrates. He was tough, but every environment was your domain and it would bow to your will. ... REACTIONSSSS

The battlefield is silent. No more shockwaves. No more fists colliding at hypersonic speeds. No more Invincible war variants tearing through the air. Just the whine of the wind as it howls through a city that barely exists. The other heroes managed to blow a hole through the gaping damage caused, but not without failure.

Skyscrapers? Leveled. Streets? Shattered, scorched, and barely recognizable. The very foundation of the Earth itself has been cracked open, glowing fissures spreading from the sheer impact of the fight. Smoke billows into the night sky, the stars barely visible through the debris still falling like radioactive snow. People began forming shelters as homes were lost. You were bruised, battered even, but still standing, that's what mattered most.

Mark hovers above the destruction, completely speechless. This wasn’t just a battlefield, this was a massacre. His eyes scan the carnage below, there were craters large enough to be seen from orbit, remnants of entire blocks reduced to molten rubble, the burnt-out skeletons of skyscrapers barely holding onto their last foundations. And the bodies. Mohawk Mark? Gone. Lensless Mark? Gone. Sinister Mark? Fucking obliterated or disappeared to who knows where. Not a trace of them left.

His stomach twists. It’s not fear. Not exactly. But it’s something. Something close. He finally speaks, voice hoarse. “...What the fuck.” You don’t even look at him. Just crack your neck, letting out a breath that warps the air from the sheer heat still radiating off your body.

“You’re welcome,” you mutter.

Mark... doesn’t even know what to say to that.

Cecil watches through a satellite feed, eyes narrowed, face unreadable. Around him, the Pentagon’s war room is in chaos. Analysts are frantically running calculations. Field agents are double-checking sensor data because the readings don’t make sense. Some poor bastard in the back is throwing up after seeing the destruction.

But Cecil? He just takes a slow, steady breath, partially in relief. He doesn’t flinch at the mushroom cloud of energy still lingering where Sinister Mark used to be. He doesn’t react to the seismic activity that your fight triggered, or the fact that the city’s entire power grid is fried from the electromagnetic pulses generated by your attacks.

He just exhales. “…Son of a bitch.” Donald, standing nearby, clears his throat. “Sir, the damage assessment—”

“I know the damn assessment.”

Cecil’s fingers tap against the table, his mind already racing. Because this? This changes everything. You weren’t just stronger than the variants. You were dominant. You tore through them and you were still standing. “Jesus Christ,” Donald mutters under his breath. “If she ever decides to turn against us—” Cecil gives him a sharp look. “Then we better pray she doesn’t.” I swear I finished this yesterday and spent an hour unable to find an image deserving of this story. I HOPE WHOEVER REQUESTED ENJOYS THISSS.

[eeunoia]

ENHYPEN Imagines

limerence.

pairings: lee heeseung x reader

synopsis: you’ve been secretly admiring and slightly staking lee heeseung for a while now. the admiration you once thought to be harmless started to evolved and made you do something unexpected.

warnings: grammatical error, obsessive love, stalking (slight), yandere.

word count: 5k.

note: this took a while to be posted. i know, i’m so lazy to post it, i’m sorry lmao. anyway, enjoy! also this is connected to the other yandere fics of enhypen. i will probably put it into a masterlist together. replies and reblogs are highly encouraged! send me a message to my asks too! i love reading them. thank you so much, ily. stay safe!

eeunoia 2024 © all rights reserved

‘Have you ever liked someone?’

Probably, right? Okay, let me rephrase it...

‘Have you ever liked someone to the point that you feel obsessed? Like you watch him silently, dreamt of him being with you...’

“Hi Heeseung!” your eyes snapped open when you heard that name. With squinting eyes, you tried to scan the wide field of your school to look for him.

And there he is.

Lee Heeseung.

Standing confidently by the field, wearing his jersey like he was meant to play rugby even before he was born. His pitch black hair falls messily on top of his sinful beautiful face. He smiles softly as he waves at the girls by the end of the bench. They screamed loudly after managing to catch his attention.

The handsome man doesn’t seem to even be slightly bothered by it as he comes to receive such reactions from girls everyday. You knew. Because you always watch him from afar, admiring him.

He’s one of the popular kids in your school. Very handsome, plays sport, not so bad with his acads and from a wealthy family. Girl’s will fall on their knees for him and you cannot blame them. He is worth to be simped for. Mainly why you had fallen into this deep dark obsession you slowly grew addicted on.

It started normal. A girl catching attraction over his schoolmate. Somehow, you wanted to blame him for being so cool with everything. Whatever he does, he have this way of turning it into an attractive way. It was hard to properly explain, but its sums up to Lee Heeseung being overwhelmingly admirable.

“You should go for it, dude!” your steps halted from walking along the long hallway when you saw two familiar tall figures.

One was Park Jongseong, also known as Jay, and then the taller one is Lee Heeseung leaning over one of the lockers. They’re looking over somewhere— more like someone. You unconsciously followed his line of sight and saw Irish, one of the cheerleader of your school. Totally hot chick babe and almost everyone in the campus knows her.

You saw how Heeseung’s stares pierced right at her while she laughs with her friends, unaware of it. Something bitter slowly spreads your chest and made it harder for you to take further steps.

Heeseung didn’t say a word to his friend and just kept his stares over Irish. Like he’s watching her very closely, observing everything about her. Just like how you are to him. A part of your heart cracks at the thought of it, but you couldn’t really blame him. Irish are exactly the type of girl that fits him very well. For all you know, the whole school will rejoice.

You snapped back to reality when you saw them slowly facing your way. Panic consumes you when you saw them heading your way. You and Heeseung will walk across each other. As usual, you lowered your head trying to prevent any chances of eye contact.

While in a hurry, you unexpectly clash over someone and you turned right away to face them. The lace to your i.d slightly got tangled with the other person and because you faced them, it got off. Thankfully, neither of them got broken.

“I’m sorry fo—” your eyes grew wide at the sight of Lee Heeseung. His placid expression as he stared down right at you just sent shivers to your spine, stomach churns and legs wobbling.

Your heart bursts just by short eye contact so you bowed politely and run away. You probably look like a pathetic loser for him now because of how you reacted and the students around who witnessed the scene might think you are being crazy.

The thoughts and worries were forcedly shoved away by your consciousness. Finally snapping out of the embarrassing quick flashback. It’s not like he will remember you anyway. Nobody in your school does. For them, you’re invisible.

You have no friends. It’s totally fine for you. Its not so sad to the point you cry inside your bedroom every night just because you have nobody to walk with you along the school premises. You aren’t a loner because they isolated you purposely. It was your own choice.

Besides, how can you freely spy Lee Heeseung if you have a friend that goes around with you all the time? They will just think you are a creep or much worst, they might report you.

As you try to catch your breath and calm yourself, the vivid memory of Heeseung’s face up close flashes back to your mind. His pretty eyes, nose pointy and kissable lips. Not to mention his slightly tan complexion. Suddenly, your heart starts racing once again.

Bumping into him was so far your first true interaction with him and the distance a while ago was the closest you got. Due to his tall height and slim body proportions, he doesn’t seem like someone whose physically strong. But when you bump into him, he didn’t even moved. Like as if you hit a wall and not a person.

Just by thinking of it makes you blush hard. It feels illegal to feel so good about it. With a ghost of smile, you started heading to your next class.

It was break time already and so Heeseung and his friends gathered together as usual. When he arrived, he already saw some of his friends hanging out near the cafeteria, causing some traffic due to the girls who wants to stare at them.

“Let’s go. I’m starving.” he says that caught their attention. Jungwon whose on his phone nods, while Jake headlocks Ni-ki so they can go inside.

Jay waits for Heeseung to catch up on him before he lays his hand on him, asking for something. He smirks before fishing something from his pocket and handed it to him without a word.

Sunghoon and Sunoo follows behind them as they go inside the rowdy cafeteria. Eyes follows them shamelessly and they didn’t really put much care into it. As long as they don’t bother them, he’s cool with him.

His eyes roamed around and caught Irish' group of friends at the left corner. She’s talking with them while she fixes her hair from time to time. Heeseung snaps back to reality when someone claps their hand to his shoulder. It was Jake.

“Do you think it would work?” Heeseung unconsciously asked.

Jake follows his line of sight and he chuckles, “It will for sure. Don’t you trust me?”

Heeseung whips his head to face his friend and smirks at him. “I trust your plan. I’m just a little excited.”

His friends flashed him this teasing grin before nodding his head while smiling downwardly.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get her soon.”

He nods and the line moved so its their turn to buy food. They chose the table near the entrance so they can leave easily. Their heads looked over Jungwon when he sighs a little, resting his phone down the table. His food untouched.

“What’s wrong?” Jay asked the younger one, a little concerned.

Jungwon eyes them and shook his head once. “(jungwon’s girl)’s refusing to eat again. She said she wants to come out of the house.” his tone low, enough for them to only hear.

They seem unbothered by the fact that their friend, the kind Yang Jungwon, president of the student council, has been hiding one of their schoolmate. The one that has been missing for months now.

“Why? I thought she’s finally behaving already?”

Jungwon smiles a little, a sign of victory.

“She is. Well, she gets bored of waiting for me to come home everyday from school. She wants to go out and attend school again.”

Heeseung’s mind went blank before his head unconsciously darting at the left corner of the cafeteria. He saw her finally eating her food. He watches her silently while imagining being with her. Holding her by his arms, inhaling her scent, kissing her neck, cheeks, nose and lips.

He cut his own thoughts as he’s slowly falling deep into it. He can’t be submissive over his own greed and ends up messing everything. It can’t be good, specially that they need to follow.

“Oh, right...” Jungwon starts that caught his friends' attention.

“Did you manage to get the part time?” he asks his Sunoo hyung. The latter smiles brightly and raises his thumbs up, making them all smile as well.

“I bribed the manager to let me work there for a week or so. He didn’t even think twice.” he announced.

Ni-ki scoffs after taking a sip from his drink. “What about your parents? Did they ask why you suddenly want to work a part time job?”

“Mom got curious, but I told her I just really want to try working.”

“And she buys it?”

“Yes.” and Sunoo nods.

They resumed eating, talking from time to time. They enjoy their food while the other students enjoy watching them eat.

“Look who's here...” Jake whistles and nudge his chin over a direction, informing them of who just entered the cafeteria along with her best friend.

When their eyes saw who it was, Heeseung’s eyes flee over Sunghoon and he already has glaring eyes towards Jake.

“Don’t whistle like that. She ain’t a dog.” he seriously said that earns only playful giggles from Jake and Ni-ki.

“I heard she likes you very much Hoon.” Heeseung says.

The statement made the boiling anger in his friend’s eyes calm down as he licked his lips, ears burning red.

Jungwon chuckles, “You’re still after Heeseung hyung, remember that.”

“I fucking know. So hurry up so I can have mine.” he said directly at Heeseung that only made him smile. He badly wants to do it quickly as well.

Your obsession is getting worst. Before, you’re already contented just by looking at him, watching him. And now seeing him lurking around Irish makes you feel so mad. You have no rights to, but that’s what you’re feeling.

How can he show those sweet smiles towards her? Carry her bag? Stare at her eyes softly? Why can’t it be you?

It's been a week ever since you’ve seen Heeseung hanging out with Irish too often. News of the two of them dating surrounds the campus like a wild fire and its making you feel so... jealous. You know its bad. You know its wrong, but you’re starting to hate Irish. Even if she’s not doing anything to you.

No... Actually she did something. She stole Heeseung.

While studying one night and obviously having zero progress, you decided to cut some slack and lay down your bed. Scrolling over your tiktok and then switching it to naver, scanning some latest news. It was pretty boring, not until a popular search caught your eye.

‘How can you make someone like you back?’

You’ve never clicked so fast in your life. Feeling impatient for it to load completely, you nibbled on your lower lip, eyes fixed at the screen of your phone.

There are pretty decent suggestions, such as dressing up, having make overs, try to get their attention.. blah blah. Same bullshits that you can see on movies or tv series. Its actually annoying how they think that could work? For people who's naturally pretty or full of charms, maybe.

You cursed and was about to exit the damn article when something caught your attention once again. Its a comment probably left by someone in a joking way. A hundred replies were left beneath it and it gained almost a thousand likes.

‘Kidnap them and keep them in your house.’

Your heart beats so fast by the illegal and dark thoughts that occupies your mind. These are the things that can ruin everything in you, but this obsession seems to be feeding and growing nonstop inside you and now its unstoppable. All you can think of is that you have to get him. You’ve got to have Lee Heeseung for yourself.

A week later, with nervous hands fidgeting together and rigid breathing, you pull your face mask upper to make sure it covers the lower part of your face. A black hat tops your outfit. People won’t be suspicious of you as wearing face masks became pretty normal already.

You can almost hear your heart thumping loudly inside your chest when you felt a presence looming behind you.

“Coal?” one man muttered the code name you told him to use once he arrived so you’ll know its him.

You didn’t even glance at him and just try to hand him the paperbag containing your payment for the stuff you asked online. It was odd that you’re here at the vacant park near your apartment building but its much weirder that you can buy these type of serums on the internet. Although it requires a lot of secrecy, but still. Now this feels very illegal.

After he handed you your package, the man never said another word. It was impossible to tell who it was too since like you, he’s all covered. Well, if he’s going to illegally sell these meds he really needs to hide his identification.

He left afterwards. It was like as if he wasn’t even there. It makes you feel shivers down your spine and eyes dropped at the paperbag. Your heart thumps, remembering what it contains inside. You’re a little hesitant, makes you wonder if you should continue your plan or just back out.

But then Heeseung kept flashing inside your mind.

You decided to walk back to your apartment as it was late already and you shouldn’t encounter anyone. Nobody should know that you went out of your apartment at this time.

Once back inside, you went to the fridge and get your favorite drink. Thankfully, you stopped by the convenience store near your place before going home. You didn’t need to go there right now that can make you suspicious.

You have a simple plan. It’s not the best one you can come up with, but its better that way or not getting Heeseung at all.

First, you will wait for him at his usuall route back to his apartment. For some reasons, he take the shorter way near the park where you just got your package. He walks there whenever he doesn’t take his car because of practice.

They have rugby practice during tuesdays and thursdays. You’ll wait for him that day and quietly stalks behind him. That won’t be too hard because you’ve done it multiple times, he never caught on you. It’s either he's really dense or he’s just very tired from practice to even give a fuck.

While you stalk behind him, you will find the perfect timing to go close and point a knife on his side. You will threaten him to come with you or else you will hurt him.

A lot of contrasting thoughts occupies your mind, but you disregard all of them and stayed positive.

There’s just some minor problems. Sometimes, he walks with another friend. Another one is that since he’s very tall and obviously much well built than you, he’ll probably fight back, right? Will your plan even work? The last problem is that you have to make sure nobody will see it. His practice ends late, so he’ll probably walk home late as well.

The next day was wednesday and you’re planning to execute your plan tomorrow. They will have a practice and since the games are near, surely they will stay late. Mixed emotions while trying to prepare yourself for what's about to unfold.

“Ack!” your head unconsciously snaps over to the side after hearing someone shriek from the corner.

Three people are at the far side of it, making sure their presence will be unknown by any school officials. You kept staring and when you realized that Jay was one of the three, you let out a sigh. He’s probably bullying lower years once again.

He often loves playing pranks or occasionally makes fun of the lower batch. You slightly feel bad for them, but there’s really nothing you can do. Jay’s one of the most influential kids in your school. His family is very wealthy and have a lot of connections all over the town. It sure is a bad idea to go against him.

Just like other students, you turned blind-eye and just went on walking back to your classroom. Being observant gave you the ability to adapt to your surrounding and to avoid any way to get into people’s bad side.

Specially to Heeseung’s group of friends' bad side. They’re the most dangerous kids here if you’ll be very honest.

Starting off with Yang Jungwon. His father is the Governor. Being the younger son, his parents always favor him. Next is Jay, his father owns a big travels agency. He’s their only child too so that only means his parents will do anything for him.

Follows up to him is Jake Sim. His parents are both doctors and they own multiple Hospitals. They also own one of the biggest pharmaceuticals in the country. And you know what it means when your source of income aligns with health, it reeks of money. Health is wealth, that’s what they said. Well, he at least he do well in school unlike some of them. You’ll give him that.

Park Sunghoon. The first child of the owners of the biggest and most famous Law firm in the country. His father won a lot of big cases local and international. It was no doubt that he have the ability to manipulate the law itself in any way he wants. He’s a snobby one too.

Kim Sunoo is the youngest child of business tycoons. His parents owns big and well known commercial establishment all over the country. He’s no joke. Very spoiled as well and have a rude attitude. His face speaks for him whenever he look over people that are not on his level.

Nishimura Riki, middle child of said to be owners of Engineering and Architectural companies that said to be incharge of building the biggest establishments and also the roads of the country.

Lee Heeseung is just the same with the six of them. His parents owns an airline and is currently one of the three biggest in the country. He’s the youngest of the two sons and sure is spoiled rotten.

Their families are considered the most powerful and influential families in the town. They basically rule this place. Nobody, as in no soul dares to mess with them. Their kids, which is the seven gorgeous boys you just mentioned, were the ones that rules the school like their own playground.

The thought made you halt your step. Are you really gonna do that? You’re probably losing your mind at the moment. Lee Heeseung is the son of one of the most influential people in your town. There’s no way you could execute this plan properly, right? This is probably the worst idea.

But as if like the fate is playing jokes on you, just in time Lee Heeseung walks ahead of you. His familiar manly scent made it to your nose that instantly drawn you into a spell. A dangerous one.

Your eyes follows him while he walks confidently over the hallway of your building. His wide back and long legs sure is eye-catching as you watch students almost breaking their necks just to get a good glimpse of the said boy.

Still under that dangerous spell, you ignored all those thoughts and your decision to do what you planned ruled over the fear.

The next day came and you’re currently at a near convenience store to buy your favorite drink. You mindlessly grabbed one from the big fridge then walk towards the counter. Your eyes settles to the cashier boy that focuses on scanning your order as the familiar beep sound errupts from it.

“That’ll be 2000 won.” he mumbled softly. Your eyes are glued to him for some reason.

“Miss?” he calls you again that snapped you back to reality. It somehow made you feel shy for spacing out.

“U-Uh, yeah. I’m sorry.” you lowered your gaze to fish something from your wallet. As you grab your money, you kind of felt off.

“Here.” you placed the correct amount of payment and watch as how he slid the drink near you.

His fair complexion grabs your attention and it made you tilt your head to the side. You’ve been in this convenience store a lot and not once have you seen this person yet. Well, you can’t really tell who it was since he’s wearing a cap and mask. But his built and all is very unfamiliar, far from the people who you saw working here.

In the end, you realized that maybe the fact that you’ll be doing something illegal tonight makes you overthink alot. It makes you overanalyze everything. So you disregarded all those thoughts and just go to where you need to be.

Just like how you planned you waited patiently at the usual route Lee Heeseung takes whenever he has practice. Just near a vending machine, you crouched to hide yourself from his sight.

Exactly how you expects him to arrive, he did. There he is. Wearing a plain white t-shirt and his sweats while his big duffel bag hangs loosely over his body. Both of his hands are inside his pocket.

His tall figure kind of intimidates you, but there’s no chance of backing out at the moment. It’s better to take action right away.

When you’re about to walk towards him, he stops that made you stoned to your position. You carefully watch his movements and somehow expects him to turn around.

He didn’t. Instead, he started rummaging over his bag making him totally unaware of his surroundings. He’s so busy looking for whatever that thing he’s trying to get inside his bag. You silently cheered and advances near him to execute your plan.

A few steps away from him and you can already smell his addicting manly scent. Once you’re near enough, you stood behind and placed one of your hand at his shoulder. Your other hand holding the knife points over to his side, making sure it won’t hurt or bruise him.

“Don’t move.” you tried to hard to sound so intimidating.

You felt Heeseung tensing up and stiffened in front of you. His tall figure almost covers you from the view of people in front him. He didn’t said anything right away.

“What the...” he mumbles.

You take a deep breath. “Don’t even think of doing something funny.” you threatened again, pressing the knife more. Just so he can feel it and be scared of it. His head craned to the side so you know he’s now aware of the weapon you have.

“What do you need? Money? I can give you all of mine.” he casually said. He doesn’t even sound scared. You gulped, nervous now.

“I d-don’t need your money!”

He turned his head and was about to face you, but you pushed him over the shoulder to prevent it. He sighed and tilt his head. His large figre in front of you makes you feel dizzy.

“Start walking! Do as I say or I will seriously burry this knife on your side.”

He was silent for a while, unresponsive. You’re already worrying that he’s about to fight back, but thankfully he started walking towards the direction you’re guiding him.

“Where?” he asks, still sounding calm.

“To that building.” you said seriously and started guiding him inside.

The guard on patrol are probably out on a break so he's not on his usual spot by the entrance of the apartment building. Heeseung stayed silent until you reached the elevator.

You stretched your arm to press the floor button and met eyes with him through his reflection on the elevator doors. It made your heart race insanely fast. You kept your composure and went back on standing behind him, knife pressed on his side.

His eyes looked blank while staring silently at you. It made you shiver, but there’s no backing out anymore. If you showed him that you’re scared it will backfire on you.

“You know you’ll get arrested for this, right?” he asks calmly.

You know that very well. But you alreay lost your mind for him. Obsession sure is a dangerous thing, toxicating.

You ignored what he said and pushed his back so he can start walking again once you arrived at your floor. Since its already pretty late, the hallway was empty as expected so it was easier for you.

“Don’t make a sound.” you reminded him, knife still pressed at his side while you hold his one arm.

“What? Do you think I will scream like a fucking pussy?” his tone was full of sarcasm that completely caught you off-guard.

You’ve always know that he is confident and brave. But how come he can still be this arrogant despite a knife being pressed over him? Is he really this fearless? Or maybe he just don’t take you seriously.

“Watch your tone.” you hissed at him.

He craned his neck at the side and stared down at you. It was cold and blank. You shivered once again, but you kept a glare on him.

“Punch my code in.” and you started to dictate your pincode for him.

He surprisingly obliged without giving you a hard time and noticed how natural he looked pressing those numbers in. The door made a sound and you kicked it open before pushing him once again.

He didn’t say anything and just struts inside. His head moves side to side, scanning the whole room. You felt your cheeks flushing by realizing that Lee Heeseung is inside. Just by standing behind him and watching him awkwardly standing in the middle of your small living room, makes you realize that he look out of place because he’s so big.

Your apartment never look so small before.

“Sit down at the couch.” you ordered after snapping out of your trance.

He turned around to face you and cooly slid his hands back inside his pockets. He stared at you with his intense blank eyes.

“I said sit down!” you shouted, feeling worried that he will really fight back already.

To your surprise, Heeseung obliged with no complain. He sat down, occupying a large space to your almost worn out sofa. He stared at you, still with no words coming out from his sexy lips.

You started walking closer, his eyes following your movements. You gulped and pursed your lips before grabbing the handkerchief that has a chloroform. His eyes darted at it but remained silent.

“You won’t be hurt as long as you behave yourself.” you mumble and walked closer to him.

His head tilts to the side, the side of his lips lifts. “You have the guts.” he whispered but enough for you to hear.

You gulped and acted quickly pushed forward and covering his mouth and nose with the handkerchief. His hand reaches out for you and it felt so warm over your skin. He was trying to resist but you pour everything to keep him in place.

After a while, his movements became weak and his eyes started batting slowly. You cheer inwardly and smiles when he finally fall over to the sofa, unconscious.

You heaved a heavy sigh watching him knocked out. Slowly standing up and staring down at his sleeping state, a victory smile spreads across your face. Both of your hands raises up.

“It actually works!” you cheered, very cheeky.

You leaned closer and softly poked his cheeks to check if he's awake. When he’s not responding, you quickly grabbed the rope and tape you bought. Carefully you tied him up, making sure it won’t him too much.

After making sure he’s all secured, a big smile makes it way to your lips once again. You leaned towards him and can hear his calm breathing.

You chest thumped loudly and you can feel your whole system almost comvulsing in so much thrill. You can feel your throat drying up just by staring at his pretty face. Not once did you imagine being this close to him. Dreams do really come true.

When your finger touches his soft face, you retrieve it like as if you got burn by it. You bit your lower lip trying to suppress the big, crazy grin on your face.

“You’re really here with me.” you utter and giggled as you stood up.

Deciding to kill some time to wait for him to wake up again, you went to get your favorite drink so you can drink it. It’s a pre-celebration for actually executing your plan.

You have a big smile on your face as you drink from it. After that, you sat at the other sofa and opened the television to entertain yourself. You glanced over to Heeseung and giggled once again, seeing him sleeping cutely.

While watching this show, you can feel your eyes losing focus, your lids feeling heavier. You’re starting to doze off. Suddenly you feel so sleepy, but its different. Like it feels heavier, your body weighing tons.

As you slowly falls back to the couch, dozing off, before your eyes fully close you can see a shadow from the corner of the room. You don’t know if its just your hallucination or what, but you have no time to confirm since your eyes fully closed.

A figure slowly loomes closer to Heeseung’s body at the coach. His arm stretches with a knife and then he freed his arm and legs from the ropes you just tied him with. Heeseung’s eyes cracks open and it quickly darted at your direction.

“How long will she be out?” He asks his friend after he took off the tape on his mouth.

“If Sunoo did inject the right dosage I told him, two to three hours.” Jake informs him and even glanced at the drink they just spiked.

Their head snaps at the door when it opened revealing Sunoo with Jungwon. Sunoo’s still on his uniform from the convenience store and Jungwon with his hoodie and sweatpants. Their brows furrowed hardly.

“How is he awake?” Sunoo wonders, referring to their friend.

Heeseung teared his eyes from them and struts closer to your position.

“He just pretended to pass out.” Jungwon concluded, putting two and two together. Sunoo nods and roams his eyes around the place.

Sunghoon, Jay and Ni-ki finally arrives and they’re all wearing their hoodies and sweatpants. Some of them wears caps.

“Did you handle the apartment manager?” Jake asks.

Jay nods his head, smirking. “That sum of money is enough for him to shut his mouth. Nobody will know we’ve been here.”

“I also made sure no one’s around the neighborhood saw.” Ni-ki mumbles while eyeing his eldest hyung crouching in front of your unconscious body. His hand carefully stretches to reach for you, gently brushing some hair away from your face.

“Irish won’t say a thing too. I returned her card pass for this building.” Sunghoon says and tilts his head. “What did you even do to her, hyung? You scared the shit out of her.” he chuckles lightly and roams around your small apartment.

“You don’t want to know.” Jake smirks and glanced at his hyung.

Heeseung is silent while staring at your unconscious body. A small evil smile spreads across his face before he slid his arms to carry you.

“You’re going to keep her here?” Jungwon asks then he knocks on the wall. “The wall’s too thin.”

Heeseung shakes his head side to side.

“I’m taking her home with me.” he heaved a sigh, calming himself down.

“I’m finally taking you home with me, baby.” he whispers down at your sleeping body.

permanent tag-list:

@rubyanne @map-of-border @hwangjangmi @love13tter @candewlsy @simpforniki @classicroyalty @hime98 @moonsclassyslore @ddeonubaby @yeoungie @acciomylove @mymeloem19 @jvngw0n @dreamjerky @minamoons @clar-iii @herasalvatore @nyfwyeonjun @rcveribin @yizhoutv @one16core @soobin-chois @kyutiepeachy @chareadingpurposes @hwalllllllelujah @solelyenha @90sni-ki @nourhan-8 @nikipedia07 @yangbreads @drunkjazed @axartia @all4haru @sta-rie @purplepuppychild @iceeee @wtfhyuck @tobiosbbyghorl @nikililmj @ayayiiie @aeyeree @heeseung-min @in-somnias-world @psh-pjh @hveanlyanqelic

[lght-roastcoffee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Always ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: "If you won't take care of yourself, I will."┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 5

pairing: dofp!Charles Xavier x fem!Reader

wordcount: 2.4K

warnings: mentions of alcohol and drug use, angst, broken Charles

author's note: So I’ve missed two days now… I really did intend to stick to the one story per day, but my week so far has been busy with work and college, and I think I’m getting sick so I haven’t been as willing to write when I go home. But I have the day off Friday, so I’m going to try and crank out at least the next two prompts (Day 7 & 8) just to kind of catch up a little bit. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

It’s been hard, the past few years. Leaving everything behind and traveling to a new country is never easy. However, he encouraged me to do so. After Cuba, I received an offer from Oxford University to take up Charles’ old position when he left to start Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. He said it would be a great opportunity for me and seeing how he acted with Moira, I thought getting away for a while would be the best decision for the two of us. 

I grew up living next to Charles and going to school with him and Raven. I met Charles in school when we were young. We were in a science class when my mutation developed, going over the parts of a plant and its inner workings when I could feel the teacher’s poor plant crying out to me in hunger. Mrs. Duvall hadn’t been watering it regularly and the pain I felt from the plant was agonizing. 

I lost control, the plant rapidly growing as its vines stretched up the walls and ceiling of the classroom, encircling Mrs. Duvall and the other students before I could hear another voice in my head. It was Charles Xavier, he had introduced himself. I needed to calm my mind and relax before any more damage could be done. I was able to find his bright blue eyes from across the room and it helped me calm down. Since then, Charles has been my only true friend, no one after that day willing to interact with the “freaky plant girl.” And after he found Raven in his kitchen that one, fateful night, the three of us have been like family to each other.

As we grew older, though, and we all moved to London-Charles and I for Oxford, Raven just to be close to us-I found myself falling for Charles’ boyish charms. His confidence, for one, was unlike anything I had seen in a man. Not only was his ability powerful and he knew how to control it, he was incredibly smart and used that for good. His research and interests opened new possibilities for him as a professor and intellectual mind. 

I had gone to Oxford for similar reasons, but mainly for research on mutations, like Charles, but also to research plant biology. What I learned in my studies helped unlock new aspects of my mutation. I can grow almost any plant imaginable, as well as experiment with creating my own. I can create deadly poisons and toxins that are beautiful to the human eye. 

After graduating, I decided I’d start my own path and travel the world discovering all there is to offer in my mutation and help those in need. I traveled to impoverished regions of the world and helped their farmers grow all kinds of produce and food for the people. I taught them how to find the best soils, the best fertilizers, and quickly, these places saw improvement in their hunger and trade. 

I continued this until one day, while I was in a secluded corner of the world helping someone recover their diseased crops, I felt an itch against my mind. I immediately knew it was Charles, my old friend I hadn’t seen in who knows how long. The brief, but most welcome contact brought a smile to my face despite the confusion of my students. And within days, he was there, with his cerulean blue eyes and smug smirk on his face, asking me to join him on his recent mission. How could I say no to him ever?

So I followed him to D.C., right into the CIA compound labeled as Division X where I reunited with Raven and met the other mutant recruits, as well as agent Moira MacTaggert. My feelings for Charles seemed to return the longer we were together. I followed him on his missions, my mutation and knowledge of it coming in handy at times. I got to know Erik Lehnsherr, who noticed my predicament quite early and secretly teased me, earning more whips from my vines than gentleness. 

But I saw how Charles looked at Moira and listened to his flirtatious comments. She was beautiful and had a brilliant mind, so open to the discovery of mutants and welcoming to us all. Erik tried to tell me differently, Raven, too. But I knew what I was seeing. If he was into me how I was him, why would he be making advances on Moira?

Then the fight on that beach in Cuba happened so fast. Erik throwing out Charles’ plan and declaring his own war against humanity. The bullet piercing Charles’ spine, leaving him paralyzed. And Raven taking Erik’s hand in the end and disappearing. There was no going back to the way things were. 

After we returned to the mansion in New York, Charles and I started making plans to open our own school for the children with mutations who had nowhere else to go. A place they could come to have a normal education while learning how to control their abilities. Moira helped, too, which I will forever be grateful for. A human willing to risk their career to help those who have previously tried to harm her. But she also helped Charles. The lingering touches, the niceties exchanged in hushed tones.

When it all became too much, my heart breaking more and more as I watched them around the mansion, I applied for the open position at Oxford. I didn’t mean to keep it secret, but I genuinely forgot about it, not thinking I’d get the job. But when a letter came in the mail, wheeled in on Charles’ lap, the guilt washed over me. 

He smiled at me, bright and genuine as he handed the envelope over and watched me open it. I remember a hand flying to my mouth in utter shock as I read the acceptance letter. I remember the warmth of Charles’ arms around my frame as I fell into his embrace, laughing along with me. I remember the completely genuine words of encouragement he said to me, telling me to pursue this opportunity and go to Oxford. 

Within the week, I was flying to London with my life packed back to Oxford and saying goodbyes to my remaining friends. Charles promised we’d call each week to recount our days. This only lasted the first few months before the calls started becoming nonexistent. I tried to visit as often as I could in the beginning, too. I’d fly over and surprise Charles at his new school, visit with some of his students, then return to London to continue my research and lectures. But work for both of us started piling up and never gave way for me to visit again. I wrote occasionally, hoping to hear from him, or even Hank, but never did. 

Soon, the years started to go by. I missed him. I tried dating to occupy myself when work allowed me, but no one ever lived up to my memories of Charles. I watched the broadcasts of President Kennedy the day he was assassinated, catching a glimpse of what looked like Erik, and tried calling the mansion again with no luck. My concern continued to build and build until I was given a week's vacation time for my contributions at Oxford and booked the first flight to New York. 

Now, as I follow the familiar roads to the Xavier mansion, I notice the front gate in shambles, like no one has been living there for some time now. I have to get out of my car to open the gates and let myself in. It’s evident that the maintenance of the mansion has been lacking as the drive up to the house has become somewhat overgrown. The fountain out front has dried up and started cracking in places and vines and hedges have started overtaking the front of the mansion, which is covered in dirt and moss from mismanagement. 

I walk up to the doors of what I used to call home and knock on the hardwood. I hear silence as time passes. I knock again and this time I can barely make out what sounds like running. The door jiggles as someone from inside unlocks it and cracks it open. Hank’s face appears, lacking his signature blue fur and pointed canines. 

“Y/N?” Hank asked, shock covering his features. “W-what are you doing here? I thought you were at Oxford?”

“I was- Am,” I say. “I got an extended vacation and thought I’d visit, since it’s been a while.”

I try to look past him into the foyer of the mansion, seeing nothing but darkness. “What happened?”

Empathy clouds his eyes. “Look, it’s not a good time right now. I’m sorry.”

“Where’s Charles?” I question as my nerves set on high alert. “What happened to the school?”

“He’s- he’s resting right now.” Hank adjusts his stance, blocking my gaze from looking inside.

“Resting? Is something wrong?” I frantically search his face to find something that will answer my questions.

“It’s really not a good time-” I cut him off.

“Hank, if you don’t let me in right now, I’ll string you up to the roof.”

I push past him, probably shoving a little harder than necessary. I thought I’d never see the mansion in the state it’s in, one of disarray and time long passed. 

“Where’s Charles?” I demand from Hank. “I need to see him.”

“He’s upstairs, but-” 

I don’t stay long enough to hear the rest of his sentence. I race up the stairs, checking each room I pass as I go. Soon I stopped at what used to be my room when I would stay over. Clothes, empty whiskey bottles, glasses, and trash covers the room. More concerningly, syringes are scattered across the nightstand next to the unkempt bed. Lying on top of the blankets is the body of the man I called my friend. 

I take in the state of him. His hair grew longer, reaching his shoulders and looking like it hasn’t been washed in days. His once clean-shaven face is full with a beard in desperate need of a shave. His once bright and energetic blue eyes now stare at the ceiling in a dull daze. He’s dressed in a ratted robe, stained t-shirt, and pajama pants, something I never would have expected to see him in. One of his arms is lying next to him bare of the robe and an elastic band tied around his bicep, a used syringe discarded next to him. 

“Charles…” I whisper, tears forming in my eyes at the sight of my friend broken. 

His head snaps to the side to look at me finally, confusion then realization crossing over his face.

“Y/N…” 

I rush to his side, quickly working to undo the band around his arm and moving the syringe. Then I take his hand, his other reaching out to touch my face in disbelief. 

“You’re here,” Charles whispers shakily, tears quickly falling from his eyes. 

My other hand wipes the tears falling as he caresses my cheek. “I’m here, Charles.”

We sit there in silence for a while before he decides to sit up. I helped him, also noticing him using his legs.

“Charles, your legs,” I gasp. 

He sighs, what looks like shame forming in his eyes. 

“What happened, Charles?” I move so he can swing his legs over the side before wrapping him in my arms once more.

“It all became too much,” he whispered into my shoulder. “It was all too much. I couldn’t shut them out.”

He told me about opening the school after I left. About the success he saw in that time. He told me about the building war and U.S. relations in Vietnam, how students, teachers, and staff were getting drafted exponentially more than anyone else in the vicinity. How everytime he used Cerebro, all he could see were mutant men and children drafted getting killed on the battlefield. The toll it took on him and his control of his abilities. He told me how it became overwhelming, the voices and pain in his head when he finally lost control. He told me about the serum Hank created to help him block out the pain and how it canceled out his powers, but gave him back his legs.

By the end, he was breaking down in my arms and I latched myself to him. One hand found its way to his hair, combing through the long tendrils as the other rubbing up and down his back. His sobs wrecked through me, pulling tears from my own eyes. 

After a while, his sobs quieted, but he didn’t let go. If anything, his hold on me seemed to tighten, almost like he’s afraid to let go. 

“I’m so sorry, Charles,” I whisper into the side of his head, pressing a gentle kiss there. 

He pulls back to look me in the eyes, his eyes glistening with relief. “I’m- I’m happy you’re here. But I…” He pauses, swallowing on words unsaid.

“It’s alright, I’m here now.” I smooth his hair back from his face, feeling him slightly lean into the touch. “Let me take care of you.”

His brows scrunch together, eyes closing. He starts to pull away, shaking his head. “No, it’s fine. I-I’m fine.”

I sigh, reaching for his hands again. “Charles, respectfully, if you won’t take care of yourself, I will.”

With that, I led him into the familiar en suite bathroom, setting him down on the toilet and grabbing the brush on the sink counter. I stand between Charles’ legs and his hands come up to the sides of my thighs. Gently, I work the brush through his hair, hitting more knots than I expected, but working them out as softly as I can.

Once the knots have disappeared and Charles’ face has begun to relax, I set my hands on both sides of his face, tilting it up so he’s looking at me.

“There’s some things we still need to talk about,” I begin, rubbing my thumb along his cheek. “But I want you to know that I am here for you. For whatever you need, Charles.”

I lean down and press a kiss to his hairline, feeling him slightly squeeze his hands still on my thighs. 

“Thank you,” He whispers, finally smiling slightly.

“I’ll always be here.”

[chalkodareal]

robot tmbg okay okay. let me cook i want to explain this. john linnell is NOT a robot actually hes an automaton. which are very similar but still a little different. he's an older one probably from the late 1800s eventually refurbished sometime in the 70s or 80s that plays accordion (think the vaucanson automat flute player or floutiste) mainly made of wood and the rustiest metal around. hes very uncanny looking and as a mix of this and this novelty of something like an automaton being able to play the accordion he's often brought out as bizarre entertainment. too polite he says he hates it. too shy to sing despite gaining rudimentary vocal chords during his refurbishment

john flansburgh is an actual industrial-grade capital r Robot. personally i see him as a kind of cheesy looking robot almost like the ones from RUR but you know. just generally the idea is that he is a bit newer and perhaps more modern than linnell. he has printing capabilities (i think he has a miniature printing press of sorts in his torso compartment) and absolutely artistic ones but he keeps getting stuck at factory jobs where all he does is Sort Thing. refine Thing. process Thing. hes pretty pissed off about this and very rightfully so. lucky thing he has enough control over his hands to play the guitar i suppose!

anyways i think they form tmbg for kind of obvious reasons. both are wronged by the world in distinctly different ways and almost envy the role the other gets to play but are brought together by this and write their Soungs yay <3 yayyy

okay more about robot stuffs bc i apparently care. flansburgh doesnt really need glasses because he doesnt have Human Eyes but he wears them almost as like a statement? i do really think his vision is a little jacked up and i think hes very peeved that its considered to not matter because he doesnt "need it" but the glasses dont really fix it. i think the way he dresses is likely super similar to how the human workers dressed anyways. so its kind of part of that

linnell is. kind of falling apart? his paint is chipped and his hair (wig basically) is kind of messy but his torso and arms aren't particularly pretty. his strings and joints arent covered up in the slightest and his vocal chords werent installed in a particularly seamless way. this is probably one of the reasons why he adopted turtlenecks. they hide a bunch of that sort of thing.

the way the two of them read music is super duper different. flansburgh's memory works a tiny bit like an old casio where chords and notes can just be Saved and either thats it and he keeps them in there or he's keeping track of that data in the form of things a little more like midi files and stored on things much more similar to floppies and lazerdiscs. i havent decided dont look at me. anyways linnell still uses a musicbox-like wheel system. its decently small (this may contribute to their songs being under 3 minutes so often admittedly) but it is still kind of impractical for storage. flansburgh nags him to just get a more efficient system installed and he doesnt do it definitely NOT because he doesnt want a bunch of hands in him. hes actually not freaked out by that at all and doesnt mind it in the slightest.

i think a lot of their aging process is just. Thing broke down and needs to be repaired. almost paradoxically though flansburgh is newer he is in need of more repair than linnell who has kind of been perpetually near-broken since they started playing. he holds out for a while but still has to get a few things done over time. i think flansburgh eventually drags him to a shop when his wheel reading system starts getting choppy and he clearly starts writing Around certain notes to avoid playing them. he complains about getting fixed the whole way home (to their once shared and now two seperate supply closets)

they still marry human women

[th4nkyouforthev3nom]

about me !!!

hiii i'm maia, i'm 14 and i go by they/she pronouns

i LOVE LOVE LOVE my chemical romance

-tiktok + airbuds: therealillimcmillin

-instagram: piercethemaia

my interests/hobbies: i love music, collecting cds, reading, playing videogames, reading + collecting manga, i play guitar and bass and i do figure skating and skateboarding !!

music: i mainly listen to pop-punk, emo, punk, goth and metal but i also listen to other stuff

my fav music artists are mcr, sws, patd, fob, ptv (seeing in september!), picture me broken, bvb, snow whites poison bite, leathermouth, ls dunes, pencey prep, gerard way, frank iero, deathspells, depeche mode, bauhaus, voodoo church, london after midnight, misfits, rancid, system of a down, pantera, vektor, opeth, sepultura, craft, carpathian forest, megadeth, cryptopsy, nevermore + so many more

some of my fav shows are the walking dead, breaking bad, brooklyn 99, saiki k and deathnote !!!

i love resident evil. so much.

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

mcr yap

-my fav member is between mikey and frank (i am frank.......)

-i love all their albums sososososososososo much i genuinely dont think i can pick a favourite so ill say my favs from each instead 😝

-my favs from bullets are drowning lessons, our lady of sorrows and vampires will never hurt you

-three cheers: hang em high, thank you for the venom, give em hell kid, its not a fashion statement and i never told you what i do for a living (i couldnt choose just three okay😔)

-the black parade: sleep, house of wolves and cancer (i love cancer so much i cry to it daily)

-danger days: save yourself ill hold them back (so underrated wtf!?), sing, party poison

-conventional weapons: burn bright, kiss the ring and make room

-other fav songs from singles and stuff: heaven help us, MASTAS OF RAVENKROFT!!!!!!, every snowflakes different (i genuinely have so much love for this song it manages to cheer me up no matter the situation dont laugh at me okay thank you)

-i have all their albums on cd apart from bullets😡 ITS SO EXPENSIVE!!!!! i even have conventional weapons because i burned a cd and printed out a cover and stuff for it, i kind of fucked up with the cd though it has like a ten second gap between every song😭

-i also love the members' solo music SO much, especially pencey prep... i love pencey prep

i dont expect anyone to have read all of that but if u have i love you😭

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

im super awkward so pls forgive me if im very dry at first i PROMISE i become bearable after getting to know someone :)

anyway ive yapped too much so heres mikey

[stellaspectral]

Hey, I really love your work ❤️, I have a bit of a long one, and I'm sorry it's so longwinded, but I would really appreciate it if you did something with it. It's like an AU zombie universe but the future of the bayverse world they get transported to. So they get transported to the future where there are zombies, they go around a bit discovering and surviving, thinking its a different reality, when its actually the future, when they run into reader. Reader absolutely freaks out, and they think its because the fact they are mutant turtles. Then, future raph comes in because he's concerned for the reader, who is his best friend. He was upstairs, and she was downstairs in this house they were looking for supplies in. They are all surprised and shocked, and they get taken back to their base. A bunch of people live there, as the turtles kind of run somewhere like alexandria from the walking dead, and they meet future mikey, who is in charge of the gardens and farms and also a solider protecting this place and he has a one month old baby and a wife, future donnie who's a medic and is in charge of all the technical stuff while also ofc being a protecter and he has a wife that died and has adopted a kid whos 10 from the apocalypse, he could have a situationship going on or something like that. Future raph is a forager and has a gf for 2 years. All the turtles look older and worn down by the apocalypse, like, for example, raph is missing an arm. The present-day turtles find out that the reader was Leo's wife, who died protecting her and their adopted son, who's 4 now. Spliter died fighting the zombified shredder who bit him as the foot base was overrun by zombies. The rest is for interpretation but just like them living in the apocalypse with their future self while reader and their son feeling strange about the situation as leo died, and sort of treat leo like their husband/dad while also realizing it's not him. All the turtles are still ofc still grieving the loss of their brother, but Raph takes it the hardest and leo made them all promise to do everything to protect the reader and their son. Just mostly consisting of the turtles living the zombie apocalypse with their future selves and future partners, mainly focusing on reader and leo. Maybe it ends with the turtles going back to the Present and reader tells leo that he will meet his own present day reader, maybe some sort of scene where he recognizes a much younger version and rescues them.

A/N: Thank you so much for the compliment; it means a lot to me! 😊

I love writing horror, so I maaay have gone a bit overboard with the details/set-up for this request 😅 I really hope you enjoy it, anyway!

The Promise He Carries (angst/horror)

💙 Bayverse Leonardo/Female Reader 💙

CWs: Post-apocalyptic future setting, descriptive violence, blood/gore, zombies (including an implied child), grief/loss themes, major character deaths mentioned, attempted mugging, hopeful (for the most part) ending. All characters are aged-up.

One moment, the four turtle brothers are in the lair.

In the next, reality lurches. Colors bleed into nauseating streaks, the world warping, tearing away with a force that feels like being turned inside out. Then, it snaps back like a rubber band, flinging them down hard onto cracked pavement.

Heat presses in, thick and dry, the air heavy with the metallic reek of bloodshed and the cloying sweetness of rot. Towering skyscrapers stand skeletal against the sky, their windows dark. Cars lie overturned, tangled with the weeds reclaiming the broken asphalt.

Worse yet, an unnatural stillness blankets the city.

“Whoa, dude,” Mikey breathes in the oppressive quiet. “This place gives me the major creeps. Feels like a horror movie set gone way too real.” He sniffs the air. “And it smells like—”

“—something died here,” Leo finishes, cutting Mikey off before he can make an ill-timed joke. “A lot of somethings, maybe.” He scans his surroundings, his hands instinctively going to the hilts of his katanas.

Raph’s gaze sweeps over the ruined storefronts, his eyes narrowed. “Just focus, Mikey. Something feels way off.”

Donnie is already scanning the desolate landscape. “The ambient energy signature is highly unusual. Fluctuations are consistent with temporal displacement. Perhaps a tear in reality? Or spatial distortion.” He drops to one knee, examining a chunk of rusted metal. “Judging by the corrosion, it seems this place has been abandoned for a significant amount of time. Logically, this suggests …”

“Suggests what, Donnie?” Leo prompts impatiently.

“Suggests this is another dimension,” Donnie replies, pushing up his goggles as he stands. “A different reality.”

Mikey shivers, despite the heat. “Abandoned? More like apocalypse-ed. Look!” He points a trembling hand towards a toppled newsstand.

Raph goes over to it and picks up the paper. The headline, barely legible beneath layers of grime, sends a wave of unease through him. “Plague Sweeps City,” he reads aloud. “Military Retreats; NYC Declared Lost Cause.”

Mikey takes an involuntary step back, bumping into Leo. “P-plague? Like, zombie plague?!”

“The term is vague. It could refer to a multitude of infectious agents,” Donnie says. “However, given the pervasive signs of rapid decay and the complete absence of observed lifeforms—”

“Not helping!” Mikey practically squeaks.

Leo straightens, his gaze sharp and focused. “Okay. So, we’re in an alternate New York that got hit by some kind of apocalypse plague years ago. Great. Just great.” He points towards the nearest intact-looking building—a sturdy, brick-built library, its windows dark but mostly unbroken. “We need cover and a defensible position. Let’s move. And Donnie—keep scanning for energy signatures, life signs. Anything.”

“Way ahead of you, Leo,” Donnie murmurs.

Raph takes point, sai drawn, muscles coiled tight as he leads them towards the library entrance. The heavy oak doors are scarred but still hang on their hinges. “Locked,” he grunts, testing the handle.

“Allow me,” Donnie steps forward, pulling a device from his belt. He fiddles with the lock mechanism for a moment, before a soft click is heard, too loud in the stillness.

Raph pushes the door open, revealing an interior shrouded in shadow and thick with the musty smell of decaying paper. Dust motes float in the shafts of sunlight piercing through the dirty windows. Books lie scattered across the floor, shelves are overturned, and there’s broken furniture.

“Clear?” Leo whispers, peering into the gloom.

Raph nods slowly, scanning the immediate area. “Looks clear for now.”

They step inside, the door swinging shut behind them with a dull thud.

“Okay,” Leo says, his voice hushed but firm. “Donnie, see if you can get any systems online, find out more about this ‘plague’. Raph, secure the entrance. Mikey, check the surroundings. Stay close.”

While Donnie moves towards a computer terminal near the main desk and Raph wedges a broken table leg under the door handle, Mikey edges along a row of overturned bookshelves. He runs a hand along the spines, over the thick layer of dust coating them.

“Man,” he says to himself. “Talk about overdue library books …”

Suddenly, a sharp, metallic clatter echoes from deeper within the library stacks.

All four brothers freeze. Raph whirls around, weapons ready. Leo draws a katana while Donnie pauses his work, turning towards the sound with his staff extended. Mikey, meanwhile, flattens himself against a bookshelf, eyes wide. Another sound follows—a wet, dragging noise, accompanied by a low moan.

And it’s getting closer.

Leo raises a hand, fingers splayed. Hold. Raph remains still, sai gripped so tightly his knuckles are practically white. Donnie’s head whips back and forth, his goggles feeding him thermal and motion data. Mikey, still plastered against the bookshelf, doesn’t dare to move.

Then it lurches into view from behind a fallen stack of books.

It was human. Once. Now, its gray skin stretches like brittle parchment over jutting bones, slick with patches of oozing fluid. Twisted into an unnatural angle, one leg drags uselessly, scraping with each movement. Milky, cataract-filmed eyes somehow fix on their general direction.

“Shit,” Mikey breathes, his voice barely a squeak; he’s watched enough horror movies to know what that thing is.

Raph lets out a low growl. “What is that?”

“Biological entity confirmed,” Donnie reports, his voice low. “Minimal life signs, erratic neural pattern. Reads as highly aggressive. A zombie?”

The creature takes a shambling step, then another, its dragging leg catching on a pile of scattered pamphlets. It stumbles, its moan hitching into something almost like a pained snarl, before it rights itself. Its jerky movements pick up speed, launching into an uncoordinated but determined lurch towards them.

“Not exactly the welcoming committee,” Leo mutters grimly. “Alright team, tactical—”

He’s cut off by another moan, echoing from the shadowy depths of the periodical section to their left. And then a third, a wet, rasping cough that sounds disturbingly close, from the nonfiction stacks to their right.

“Multiple hostiles!” Donnie calls out.

The first zombie is almost upon them now, its arms reaching, fingers tipped with cracked, yellowing nails.

“No time for tactics!” Raph bellows, surging forward. “Just bash ‘em—and don’t get bit!” He slams into the zombie’s shoulder, but it barely seems to register the impact as it swipes clumsily with surprising speed. Raph dodges back, aiming for the creature’s limbs, wary of whatever contagion it carries.

Leo moves instantly to Raph’s flank, katana slicing down in a precise arc, severing one of the zombie’s reaching arms at the elbow. It doesn’t scream, just continues its forward momentum, the severed limb falling to the dusty floor with a wet slap.

“Gross! So gross!” Mikey yelps, scrambling backwards towards Donnie near the main desk.

Another shambling figure emerges from the stacks on the right, this one smaller, perhaps once a child, moving with the same jerky gait.

“Donnie, status!” Leo calls out, parrying another clumsy swipe from the first zombie while keeping an eye on Raph and the emerging threats.

“Working on it!” Donnie yells back, tapping furiously at the terminal with one hand while using his staff to fend off the smaller zombie attempting to flank Mikey. “I can’t access anything! The system is ancient and mostly offline!”

The smaller zombie, ignoring the defensive sweep of Donnie’s staff, lunges past it with surprising agility, snapping its rotten teeth inches from Mikey’s retreating ankle.

“Eeep!” Mikey shrieks, scrambling backwards for a moment before adrenaline takes over, whipping out his nunchaku. “Get back, you freaky little ghoul!” He brings his weapon down hard, connecting solidly with the side of the zombie’s head.

It stumbles sideways, its jaw hanging loose and askew, fluid dripping onto the floor—before it recovers with unnatural speed, turning its blank gaze back towards him.

“Whoa, persistent!” Mikey remarks, swinging again—this time aiming for a sharp, decisive blow at the zombie’s temple. The impact sends it crumpling to the ground, finally motionless beside a scattered pile of poetry books.

Mikey pants, staring down at the small, still form. His eyes dart towards Leo and Raph, who are still battling the larger, one-armed zombie, dodging its clumsy but powerful lunges. Then his gaze flicks nervously towards the shadowy aisles, where the dragging sounds and low moans are definitely getting louder. Closer.

“Dudes!” he shouts, his voice tight with panic. “This place is zombie-central! Forget the computers, forget the info! We gotta get the hell outta here! Like, now!”

More shambling figures are lurching into view, their silhouettes framed by the dim light filtering through the tall windows.

“Mikey’s right!” Leo yells, dodging another swipe. He brings his katana up in a swift decapitating stroke. The head thuds onto the floor, rolling before coming to rest against a library card catalog drawer. The body collapses instantly, twitching for a second before falling still. “Donnie, forget the tech! Raph, with me! We need an exit, now!”

Donnie abandons the useless terminal and intercepts another zombie with his staff, knocking its legs out from under it. “Back here!”

“Go, go!” Raph roars, shoving past the downed zombie before barreling towards the corridor Donnie indicated.

Leo follows behind Raph, slicing at any reaching limbs that get too close. Mikey sticks near Donnie, creating a small zone of defense around them as they retreat down the hall. They reach a metal door marked ‘Emergency Exit’. A push bar spans its width.

Raph slams against the bar, and the door flies open with a screech. “Move!” He holds the corridor, watching for the advancing creatures.

Leo shoves Mikey through the doorway, and Donnie follows. “Raph, now!”

Raph disengages, kicking one zombie back into another, sending them flying before diving through the doorway. Leo slams the heavy door shut and looks at the others before darting down the alley, motioning for the others to follow.

“So where to now, fearless leader?” Raph asks as he closely trails his older brother. “Kinda exposed out here.”

“Agreed. Remaining in the open is tactically unsound,” Donnie says. “We still lack essential supplies—clean water, uncontaminated food sources, medical equipment.”

“A place to rest,” Mikey chimes in.

Leo sprints towards a familiar neighborhood. “Then we find what we need and figure out how to get out of this damn nightmare.”

Their search leads them to a promising target: a two-story house, seemingly less disturbed than the surrounding residences. Weeds grow thick and wild in the small front yard, strangling rose bushes that once might have been beautiful. It’s not exactly pristine, but the house might still have supplies worth scavenging.

“Alright, standard sweep,” Leo says, signaling. “Raph, Mikey, take the upper floors. Check every room, quiet as you can. Donnie, you’re with me downstairs. Priority is medical supplies but grab any usable food or water. Alert on any contact, living or … otherwise.” He grips his katanas, ready once more. “Let’s move.”

They enter, silent as a phantom. The air inside is stale, heavy with the scent of dust. Furniture lies askew, cushions slashed, drawers pulled out and emptied. Scavenged before, but perhaps not thoroughly. They move cautiously through the ground floor—before they see a figure crouched low, back towards them, shoving goods inside a backpack.

Human. Alive.

Leo raises a hand, halting Donnie. Then he takes a slow, deliberate step forward, keeping his voice calm. “Hello? We don’t mean any harm. We’re just looking for supplies, too.”

You flinch violently at the sound of his voice and spin around. Your eyes fix on Leo, the color draining instantly from your face. A strangled gasp escapes your lips as you rise, backing away, your hand flying to your mouth. You trip backwards over an ottoman, your gaze locked on Leo like he’s a ghost risen from the grave.

He might as well be.

“Whoa, hey, easy!” Leo says, holding his hands up placatingly. “We’re different, yeah. But we’re the good guys.” He assumes, like always, that the shock stems from their mutated forms.

“No …” You shake your head frantically, tears welling, blurring your vision. “No, i-it can’t be … Leo?” The name is a broken sob.

Suddenly, heavy footsteps pound on the staircase. “Are you alright? Did you find something?”

A figure appears at the bottom of the stairs—and all four present-day brothers freeze.

He’s a turtle. Raphael.

But older, broader, scarred. Deep lines carve paths around his eyes and mouth. Scars crisscross his visible skin. He wears rugged, patched leather and canvas gear—but most startlingly, his left arm is gone, replaced with a crude but functional-looking metal prosthetic.

His gaze snaps from you, now huddled on the floor, to the turtles standing before him. Recognition flickers, then ignites into stunned disbelief, his jaw dropping. He stares—first at Leo. Donnie. Then at the younger version of himself and Mikey. His mind struggles to process the impossible sight.

“What … what in the goddamn hell?” Future Raph murmurs, incredulous, his voice deeper than his counterpart. He then steps protectively in front of you, using his formidable frame to block the others, his glare fixed on them. “Who the hell are you? And how did you get here?”

“We … we got transported,” Donnie stammers, adjusting his glasses nervously. “We were in our lair, and then there was this energy surge. It seems we’ve ended up in another dimension.”

Future Raph lets out a short, harsh laugh devoid of humor. “Dimension?” He shakes his head, a grim, pitying look entering his eyes. “You ain’t in some other dimension. This is home. Or what’s left of it after the world went to shit. You’re in the future. Your future.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with the weight of the revelation. Their future—this is what awaits them?

Future Raph sighs, the fight draining out of him. “Alright. Come on, all of you. We’re heading back to base. Looks like we got a hell of a lot to talk about.” He turns back to you, his voice softening fractionally. “You okay?”

You nod mutely, still unable to tear your gaze from Leo. Future Raph offers you his hand, and you take it, letting him help you up.

“This way,” Future Raph says, nodding towards the back door of the house. “Streets are quieter back here, usually.” He leads the way, moving with a practiced efficiency that speaks of years navigating this broken world.

You follow close behind him, still trembling slightly. Your gaze keeps flickering back to Leo, who walks near the rear of the group, his expression a mixture of confusion and determination. Every time your eyes meet his, a fresh wave of shock washes over you.

It’s him, but … not him. Younger. So much younger.

The present turtles trail Future Raph. Present Raph watches his older self intently, taking in the missing arm, the scars, the grim set of his jaw. Donnie scans their surroundings while Mikey stays close to Donnie, his youthful energy completely extinguished.

“So,” Leo starts, his voice low, addressing Future Raph’s broad back. “The future, huh? How… how far?”

“Long enough for things to go sideways and stay there.” Future Raph glances back briefly, his expression unreadable. “About fifteen years.”

You emerge into a narrow alley choked with overflowing dumpsters and rusted fire escapes. Future Raph moves quickly, checking corners before waving everyone on. The silence is unnerving, broken only by the scuttling of unseen things in the shadows and the distant, mournful cry of the wind whistling through broken skyscrapers.

“Where are the others?” Mikey asks quietly, his voice barely a whisper. “Splinter? April? Casey?”

Future Raph’s shoulders tense almost imperceptibly. He doesn’t turn around this time. “Some made it. Some didn’t.” His voice is flat, which somehow makes the words hit harder. “We talk when we get inside. Too exposed out here.”

He leads you through a labyrinth of backstreets and crumbling alleyways, avoiding the wider, more open avenues. You pass skeletal remains of cars, graffiti from the old world, and faded posters. Once, a low moan echoes from a nearby building, causing everyone except Future Raph to freeze, weapons instantly ready.

Future Raph just puts a hand up, listens for a second, then shakes his head. “Moving away. Keep going.”

Eventually, you reach your destination. It’s a fortified section of the city, reminiscent of old apocalypse zombie fiction. High walls, constructed from welded scrap metal, shipping containers, and reinforced concrete encircle several blocks. Armed lookouts patrol makeshift walkways.

And inside, a semblance of a community survives.

Future Raph leads everyone into the command center, a converted warehouse. There, they meet the others.

Future Mikey is leaning against a wall, gently bouncing a tiny, swaddled infant in his arms. He looks older, the perpetual grin replaced by a more reserved, watchful expression. Though a genuine softness illuminates his face as he gazes at the baby. A woman with tired lines around her eyes but a warm smile stands beside him: his wife, Sarah.

Future Mikey’s in charge of the community’s gardens and farms, which are crucial for survival. But his worn combat gear speaks of his other role as a protector. Seeing his younger self, his eyes widen in disbelief, then fill with a profound sadness. He just shakes his head slowly.

In a cordoned-off section brightly lit by LED strips, Future Donnie meticulously cleans a wound on a survivor’s arm in the makeshift infirmary. He’s thinner and moves with an efficient, almost detached professionalism. His tech is a marvel of apocalypse engineering: salvaged computers, solar panels, jury-rigged communication arrays monitoring the perimeter and vital systems.

A quiet girl, around ten years old, sits nearby, drawing: his adopted daughter, Maya. Future Donnie explains that his wife, a fellow scientist he met after the outbreak, died during a supply run two years ago. Rumors suggest a ‘situationship’ with one of the other medics named Elena. Seeing his younger self, a flicker of his old curiosity sparks in Future Donnie’s eyes. But knowing what’s in store for his counterpart quickly overshadows it.

Future Raph puts a hand on the shoulder of a tough-looking woman with short-cropped hair and a kind smile. “This is Cara,” he introduces gruffly, but with underlying affection. “My girlfriend. Two years now.”

Cara offers a curt nod, her expression guarded but not unfriendly. They share a look, a silent communication honed by hardship and nightly watches on the wall.

Then Future Raph gestures towards you. You stand nearby, your four-year-old son now clinging tightly to your leg. He stares curiously at the newcomers—especially Leo.

“This,” Future Raph says, his voice thick with emotion. “This is—was … Leo’s wife. And their son.”

The present turtles reel. Air punches out of Leo’s lungs. He stares at you, then at the boy. His wife? His son?!

“Was?” Present Leo forces the word out, his throat tight.

Future Raph nods slowly, his gaze distant, lost in a painful memory. “Leo … our Leo. He didn’t make it. Died about six months back, protecting his wife and Leon during a breach on the west wall. He went down covering their retreat.” His gaze fixes on Present Leo. “He made us promise—all of us. To protect them. Keep them safe, no matter the cost.”

The grief emanating from the older turtles is palpable. Future Raph seems to carry it the heaviest and most visibly, his usual anger tempered into a deep sorrow.

The younger brothers learn about Splinter, too. How he fell fighting a zombified Shredder after the Foot Clan’s base was overrun in the early days. He took the monster with him, but not before receiving a final, fatal bite that forced their older counterparts to put him out of his misery before he turned.

As for Casey and April, they died years apart. Casey—a decade ago during a breach similar to Future Leo. And April, just shy of five years ago, during a supply run gone wrong alongside Future Donnie’s wife.

With all this information now known, the present-day brothers are determined to find a way back home—and not let their own world turn down this horrific path.

Life settles into a surreal, strange routine.

The present turtles integrate cautiously into the community, learning the brutal ropes of survival in this future. Present Raph joins Future Raph and Cara on foraging runs, learning how to move silently through zombie territory. Present Donnie spends hours with Future Donnie, working to figure out a way back home. Present Mikey works alongside Future Mikey in the gardens, finding a strange comfort in the repetitiveness of cultivation.

Present Leo, on the other hand, walks a tightrope of conflicting emotions.

Leon instinctively gravitates toward him—the one who looks, sounds, and moves so much like the father he barely remembers. He even starts calling Present Leo ‘Daddy.’ Each utterance is a fresh wound for you, and a confusing jolt for Leo.

Present Leo sees the life he could have had, the love he could have shared, shattered by this terrible future. He feels the weight of his future self’s promise; it manifests as an intense, almost overwhelming urge to protect you and the boy. He tries to be there for Leon—playing with him, answering his innocent questions about the ‘before.’ All while navigating the minefield of your grief and his own tangled emotions.

You struggle, caught between the sharp, persistent ache of grief and the presence of a younger version of the man you loved. You find yourself watching him—the way he moves, the cadence of his voice. So familiar, yet so different. But he doesn’t have the weight, the scars, the shared history.

And you sometimes slip, treating him like your Leo. Asking him about things he couldn’t possibly know, catching yourself starting to share a private joke. A memory. Or simply reaching out to touch his arm in a familiar way—before pulling back sharply, the reality that this isn’t him crashing down anew, as if it happened just yesterday.

Your grief is a constant, raw torment.

Weeks turn into a month. Then nearly two.

Future Donnie, working tirelessly amidst his medical duties, pores over the temporal data logged by Present Donnie during their arrival. After cross-referencing reading and residual chronal signatures, they believe they’ve isolated the specific energy frequency. And found a way to replicate the event by creating a controlled, localized burst.

Finally, they can return home.

The future turtles gather with their young selves near the Donnies’ temporal rig. Future Raph claps a heavy hand on Present Raph’s shoulder.

“Keep your head on straight, you hear me?” he advises. “Protect your brothers. Especially him.” He nods towards Present Leo. “Don’t let him be reckless.”

Present Raph can’t help but chuckle softly. “Isn’t that my job—the reckless part?”

Future Raph playfully smacks his head, grinning. “Smartass.”

Future Mikey offers Present Mikey a small, genuine smile. “Find your sunshine, kid. Even when it gets dark. Mine”—he glances towards where Sarah holds their baby, “is worth fighting for.”

Future Donnie adjusts his glasses, meeting his younger counterpart’s gaze. “Knowledge is power, but wisdom is knowing how and when to use it. Don’t let the logic blind you to what matters.” He glances towards Maya, who gives Present Donnie a small wave. “Protect what’s important.”

Finally, Present Leo stands before you. Leon reaches out, holding his hand, and Leo lets him one last time. Tears track silently down your face.

“He loved you all so much,” you say, meaning his future self, though your gaze remains fixed on Present Leo. “He never stopped fighting. For us. For this place.” You crouch in front of your son. “Say bye-bye, sweetie.”

Leon looks up at Present Leo, his small face serious. “Bye, Daddy. Be safe.”

The words twist in Leo’s chest. He kneels too, meeting the boy’s eyes. “You too, little man. Stay strong and listen to your mom.” He stands, his gaze finding yours.

You place a hand on his arm. “Leo,” you say. “When you get back, you’re going to meet her. Me. I won’t—she won’t know what you’ll mean to her, what she’ll mean to you. But you’ll find her. Keep her safe. Keep yourself safe.” You pause, before continuing, “Don’t let this happen.”

Leo can only nod, his throat thick with unshed tears.

Once the present turtles are near the pseudo-time machine, Future Donnie adjusts a few things before throwing the final switch. The energy field crackles before reality begins to blur and warm around them. The perpetual stench of decay recedes, replaced by the familiar damp smell of the sewers as they find their footing on concrete.

They’re back. Disoriented, shaken.

And fundamentally changed by the knowledge they now hold from the future they witnessed.

Weeks pass.

Training sessions are more intense. Leo feels the change most acutely. He pushes himself the hardest, the memories of you grieving and Leon’s trusting eyes burned into his mind. He carries the weight of his older counterpart’s sacrifice. The burden of the promise made by his future brothers.

One rainy evening, Leo moves across the rooftops near April’s apartment building. As he patrols, he hears a commotion in the alley below. Two rough-looking men have cornered someone against the brick wall, demanding their bag.

“Just give it to us, and nobody gets hurt!” one snarls, brandishing a switchblade.

Leo doesn’t hesitate. He drops down from the fire escape above, landing almost silently on the wet pavement behind them. “Leave her alone.”

The thugs whirl around, startled by his sudden appearance. The one with the knife lunges. Leo moves with blinding speed, disarming them with practiced ease, sending the weapon clattering harmlessly away. A well-aimed kicked to the man’s chest has him sprawling against the dumpster.

The other sees the writing on the wall and runs away into the night, his partner in crime joining him a few beats later once he’s gathered his bearings—and picked his pride up from the grimy alleyway ground.

Leo turns his attention to the person they were harassing.

You.

Younger, perhaps. Face streaked with rain, clutching a messenger bag protectively. Your eyes are wide, reflecting the dim alley lights. Fear lingers, but there’s also a spark of defiant anger under the surface.

You haven’t seen the end of the world yet. The deep lines of grief haven’t etched themselves around your eyes. You don’t know him.

You stare up at the towering mutant turtle, water dripping from his shell, mouth slightly open in stunned silence. Finally, you find your voice, though a little shaky. “Uh … wow. Thank you.”

Leo looks at you, really looks at you. The woman his future self loved and died for. The mother of their child.

His promise for the future starts now.

“No problem,” he says, his voice softer than usual, tinged with an emotion you can’t possibly understand. Not yet, anyway. “Just … be careful out here. This city can be dangerous.”

He offers a small, fleeting smile, imbued with a sadness that seems out of place. Then, with the same impossible silence he arrived with, he turns and melts back into the shadows of the fire escape, rappelling upwards and disappearing onto the rooftops.

You stand alone in the rain, staring after him, heart pounding, wondering about the melancholy you saw in the eyes of the giant turtle who just saved your life. A strange feeling settles over you, a sense that something significant just happened.

Though you couldn’t possibly guess what.

[delulupunk]

DUNE AU DAMIAN WAYNE X READER PART FOUR

Mild brutalia

Fem reader

Notes: Under no circumstances should opinions expressed by characters be linked to this author in anyway. This is written in the style of Frank Hebert’s book, this means spoilers for Dune. While inspired by Frank Herbert’s novel the plotline may be similar, however it will not be the same.

Someone please bully me into a regular update schedule

Imperial terminology

Bene Gesserit: The ancient school of mental and physical training established primarily for female students after the Butlerian Jihad destroyed the so-called ‘thinking machines’ and robots.

Caladan: Third planet of Delta Pavonis.

Filmclip: An apparatus used mainly for training consisting of a shigawire imprint carrying a mnemonic pulse.

Faufreluches: The rigid imperial system of class stratification.

Shield, defensive: The protective field produced by a Holtzman generator. A shield will permit entry only to objects moving at slow speeds.

Spacing (Guild): Powerful organization which ad a monopoly on space travel and transport due to their Navigators.

Mating index: The Bene Gesserit master record of its human breeding program aimed at producing the Kwisatz Haderach.

Mentat: The class of imperial citizens trained for supreme accomplishments of logic. ‘Human computers’.

Sapho: High-energy liquid extracted from barrier roots of Ecaz. Used by Mentats who claim it amplifies mental powers. Users develop deep ruby stains on mouth and lips.

Without our mothers, we are nothing of worth. Commentaries On The New Emperors Family- Empress Y/N

The soft wind swished Talia’s hair to the side as she looked down at her favourite flowers, which were jewels in a sea of sage leaves.

Pondering she brushed her hand against the soft surface of the petals. She found herself wishing that she knew who her parents were- she understood the Bene Gesserit reasoning of why it was never to be shared, yet still she longed to have true clarity over she truly was. It was well known that the information wasn’t shared, in case the necessity for crossing blood lines arises.

Talia didn’t want to know just for the sake of lineages. No, she was interested in possessing a picture of her parents, to see which one she most looked like- where all these features of herself came from.

She raised her hand slowly to her face, rotating it as she analysed it. Her hands were slender yet firm, a mix of her parents she decided to dub it.

Would they be proud of me?

If only she had a little diary filled with memories of her parents, their subtle tics, their beliefs, their friends and foes. Would she align with them or simply be so profoundly different that she could feel nothing but disgust?

The soft crunch of leaves from strong boots filled the air, Talia noticed the imperceptible difference between the sound of the standard issue boots, and the strength of the Duke’s.

Duke Wayne stopped before her and tipped his head to his lady, causing a smile to grace her face.

“You don’t frequent the gardens much my love.” The Duke stated, however his eyes shone with curiosity.

“Well it hasn’t rained today, beloved, so I thought I’d pay a visit.” Talia replied, answering his hidden question. The sun today on Caladan had been glaring as if it was prodding around the planet for a traitor. Even at sunrise this morning. Talia found her skin covered with perspiration which was a sensation she’d completely forgotten, due to the humidity of Caladan.

“And I thought I’d pay a visit to you.” Lovingly the Duke muttered, dipping his head down to place a kiss as sweet as cherries onto his woman’s lips. Silently they kissed each other, their lips making small movements against the others. Talia firmly tilted her head up and moved her hand to the back of his neck.

Clang

Clang

CLANG

Their kiss was broken like shattered glass as they heard clanging of the gates.

Talia used Bene Gesserit techniques to prevent herself from snapping her head like animal, and instead turned with curiosity.

The training could not prevent her breath from catching, as the Duke latched his arm around her waist- pulling her inwards.

Dreams are all emotion, and no thought.

Lessons From The New Emperor- Empress Y/N

“The language of flowers is so elegant Damian, you must read learn it one day! A bouquet isn’t just solely about aesthetics, it’s about hidden meanings!” The girl excitedly told him, her hands gesticulating as wildly as a bull. Each time she paced behind his back he felt a gust of air, she was truly going that fast.

“What doesn’t contain hidden meanings, beloved?” Damian smirked as he looked down at the papers thrown onto his desk.

“Yes, but the same type of flower can have different meanings, just dependant on its shade! Take for example…”

Damian shook his hand amused, his girl was truly an addict to knowledge. Not the same as a Mentat though, who concerned themselves with the nitty gritty and science.

He paused his thoughts to snigger at the thought of her being a Mentat, she was simple too happy and restless to be confined to her mind with all those facts.

Where Mentat’s found solutions in learning, she seemed to find joy. Damian admired her for it, he’d only studied purely for the duty of his House. Perhaps if he found pleasure in it, he’d be able to engage as throughly as she could in these conversations. Damian strengthened himself with steel, promising to love learning as she did, so he could see that brilliant smile of hers.

He was hyper aware of the harmony of her voice- it exhilarated him and awoke him from what felt a slumber for the ages. Every punctuation of her words, sent a jolt through his spine, while the soft syllables relaxed his head.

The girls fingers threaded through his hair, before yanking his hand back insistently.

“You’re ignoring me.” Damian could hear the pout in her voice, before any other senses could be felt. The twang of pain at her sudden pull came a moment too late, like an echo of a sound long passed.

Smiling amusedly Damian tipped his head back, “This better for you beloved?”

She grinned satisfied, “There’s my handsome-“

“Damian!”

A pillow rammed into his face causing him to splutter.

“I’ve been shouting your name!” Talia pulled her son from her bed and rushed to the other side of the room, hastily throwing a set of clothes at him.

“Come quick Dick Grayson is at the gates- he’s alive!” His mother cried.

Taglist: @maria-trisha

I love you all so much, thanks for still reading xxx

[strawbeerossi]

Just Know, I Love You

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Spencer Reid

Reader hasn't been her usual self after a breakup months prior. Spencer takes notice of this, using her love of Valentine's Day and his own plans to try and bring a smile to her face while telling her how much he cares about her.

Content Warnings: Nothing bad, tooth rotting fluff, Spencer being sweet, pining, admitting feelings, ends with a kiss 🩷

Word Count: 1.1K

This blurb is my most favorite thing that I have ever written. Enjoy this little blurb that I thought of today on my lunch break.

Navigation || Masterlist || Join My Taglist || Request

“Love recognizes no barriers. It jumps hurdles, leaps fences, penetrates walls to arrive at its destination full of hope." Maya Angelou

Spencer was never one for romance, mainly because he wasn't the type to have women falling over each other to get to him. He would admit that he didn't have a clue on what he would do anyway. He wasn't going to trouble himself with those thoughts for any hypothetical relationship.

Y/N was a great exception to his rule though.

It was a few months ago that she and her boyfriend ended up breaking up. Spencer could recall her coming into the office looking purely broken and exhausted. From what she had told him, they were doing well.

They were even looking for houses, he remembered. However, things came crashing down on Y/N's world when she was made aware that her boyfriend was cheating on her the entire course of their relationship.

Now, personally, Spencer didn't even understand how anyone could ever think of finding anyone else when they had her. She was the whole package; a good sense of humor, kind, a beautiful smile, and the best laugh that he'd ever heard. One that he missed terribly.

Y/N used to come in with a big smile on her face every morning, bringing coffee for Spencer because those two liked more sugar than the bitter black coffee that they would see Hotch or Rossi drink. They would joke about how they had to have had sugar packets hidden in their offices, maybe even hidden creamer and other things.

Valentine's Day was coming up, it usually being one of Y/N's favorite holidays. She was a hopeless romantic, loving the idea of a whole dedicated to nothing but love and appreciation.However with a sour view of love, she wasn't as upbeat as she was.

He noticed her all week, quietly moping around the office. It killed him inside. Spencer even asked if she wanted to decorate the office with him, something she usually would've been way too eager to do. This time though, he was met with glassed over eyes, a sad smile that even had a little bit of a lip quiver, and the assurance that the day was just any other.

That killed him more than anything. She was hurting to the point where she was avoiding the day entirely.

Spencer had a plan. So, the morning of Valentine's Day, he was picking them up an overly sugary coffee, stopping to get a red velvet cupcake from one of the bakeries in town, then Spencer even stopped to pick up a bouquet of yellow roses. the night before, he was racking over all the ideas in his mind for what he'd write on the little card attached to the flowers, he still had time to write something up.

When he made it to the office, he was letting out a sigh of relief when he realized Y/N wasn't at her desk just yet. He hoped she wasn't going to try and pull off a sick day, mainly because his whole goal was to make this a Valentine's Day that she'd never forget.

After the flowers, the coffee cup that was elegantly decorated for the holiday, and the cupcake box that was wrapped in a beautiful satin red bow were placed in an aesthetically pleasing set up, he was sitting at his desk while doing his best to quickly write down the note that he hoped wouldn't be overly sappy.

Boy, Penelope was gonna be so proud of him for this set up, she'd definitely approve.

Even if Y/N wasn't there yet, the rest of the team was. Emily watched in amusement, a smile on her face as she leaned back against her chair. "You know that you are really gonna brighten up her whole year, right?" She asked, making the youngest on the team peek up from his writing.

He felt a rush of pride run through him, his cheeks and ears starting to get hot from his blushing over the thought of seeing that beautiful smile spread across his coworker's face again. "You think so? I really hope she does. I like her a lot.. I just want her to see that she still deserves to feel appreciated." He rambled on while keeping his gaze on the card.

"Pretty boy, I'm almost jealous." Derek commented, ruffling Spencer's hair while looking over the spread with a chuckle. "You gotta give me tips, kid." He was teasing, though he felt like a proud big brother watching his younger sibling make his own moves.

By the grace of god, Spencer had placed the card on the flowers as soon as Y/N was making her appearance into the bullpen. Like Spencer suspected, she looked like she just didn't wanna be there.

However, her whole demeanor changed as she approached the desk, her eyebrows raising in curiosity. "What's all this?" She asked, looking to the coworkers who were close by. "No idea, mama. I seen all of that sitting on your desk when I got in this morning." Derek commented, a smile on his face as he was leaning against the edge of the desk. "There should be a card." Emily also commented, the two making a point to hang around the desk just a little longer.

Which Y/N had already had a small smile on her face from the surprise, as soon as she picked up that card though, her smile was growing wider, the appreciative tears already starting to burn her eyes.

'We both know I don't know how to do stuff like this. So I am gonna leave you with a quote that means a lot to me, almost as much as the amount that you mean to me,

"Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind. And therefore is winged Cupid painted blind." - William Shakespeare.

I hope you know that no matter what you may be going through, I'll always be here for you.

Just so you know, I love you. -Spencer.'

The note really tied the whole ensemble together, Spencer turning in his chair as she began to read the note allowed, a smile on his face. He felt so proud of himself for pulling this off, especially after feeling like he was going to royally mess it up at some points while planning.

"Thank you." Y/N smiled, her gaze now on her best friend in the office while she was heading over to wrap her arms around Spencer with a tight hug, making Spencer hold her just as tight.

"Although.. I do have one thing to say." She spoke while pulling from the hug. The words made Spencer's heart fall into his stomach.

What if she doesn't feel the same way? What if this is weird? Oh god, what if-

His thoughts were coming to a screeching halt when he felt a pair of soft lips against his own.

Oh.

"Just so you know, I love you so much more."

[charkie-ee]

team bolas rojas gas masks designs??

in THIS day and age?????

it may be more likely than you think..

this was my first time drawing a series of different gas masks, no idea if they’re accurate at all, but it was really fun!!

**notes & closeups under the cut :-D**

it’s a lot of notes so be prepared for an info dump.

NOTES:

Philza: honestly, what more is there to say than “CROW MAN!!”? aside from his goggles being glow-in-the-dark, theres not much more to the mask design. however, i decided, “hey! this is purgatory! i can fuck up these characters!” so, he has a ripped ear(?)wing and messily cut back hair. (i didn’t pay too much attention to the hair in this design, i was mainly trying to get the gas masks down, but maybe i’ll go further into later.)

Cellbit: this is definitely one of my favorites, he looks pretty scary, i would NOT stop my car if i saw him on the side of the road. its based off of a cat mask(obviously) and a painted white streak goes through his mask, inspired by his hair. i didn’t include it, but circles in the goggles are supposed to retract with different emotions (kind of how cat’s eyes do, saucer and dagger pupils.) he’s also covered in blood because he’s going through it lore wise.

Slimecicle: ngl, it was my first time drawing code charlie(other than all the wips i have that i’ll never finish),but i think he’s pretty spooky. his mask is the worst quality, like it USED to work well until he wore it out. thus, there are broken air tubes that let the gas in. (he should probably get those replaced.) the holes for his horns are kind of like an airlock, so the gas can’t enter through them (phil helped him make it.) however, it makes it difficult to take off.

Baghera: baghera’s mask is kind of built like charlie’s, except in much better quality. aside from the loose air tubes, the mask almost goes all the way around her head, not letting even the slightest bit of gas in. theres also a plastic duck beak on top of the regular breathy-thing(i have no idea what i’m doing, so, no, i don’t know the technical term for that) to give it the “bird touch.”

Jaiden: jaiden’s mask was FUN. like i kinda went overboard. i did these all on different days, and this was the night after the big egg battle day. i saw she had fnaf bonnie ears along with her bird gas mask, and said “ok cool. i’ll add that.” she has the same feather/beak thing i gave to baghera. also, hair-wise, she gets a hair bun and her brown roots showing through(we love messy haired cubitos ^^)

Foolish: foolish was interesting, not sure i like the final product, but i’m tired, so it’ll do. his mask is based off of a lemon shark. he gas glowing green eyes and golden splotches on the leather. the air tube foolish has is REALLY long. like unnaturally long. so he wraps it around his neck to get it out of the way. the other members are extremely concerned it’ll choke him one day, but foolish thinks it’s cool and will scare other teams away. kind of like a “yea, i’m crazy, i could choke and die at any minute, and i don’t care.” phil, being the protective father figure of the group, does not like this at all.

Carre: and finally, we have carre. ah, sweet, sweet carre.(he is my favorite.) his mask is based off of a snow leopard because i hc he’s half feline. carre has the lightest, and most simple mask, since it’s entirely plastic, and more so based off of skiing or snowboarding goggles.

ANYWAY, i hope these notes make sense, excuse my rambling about silly designs, i tend to doodle messily, and not really have a plan when i draw, lol.

thanks for reading, BYE!

[melbatron5000]

More crap about story rules

I dunno if this is helpful, but I read somewhere that Tumblr is just talking to yourself until someone goes, "Oh, I like this," so here goes. It helps me to get this sort of stuff out and be able to reference back to it.

I'm a novelist. I write speculative fiction, primarily urban fantasy with a dollop of mythopoeia (wanting to lean more towards the mythopoeia, but anyway). Neil is definitely a role model of mine, and has been since I was 19. Terry came a little later for me, in my mid-twenties. I'd read Good Omens by then, but believed Neil had a heavier hand in it than Terry did (Ha!). Once I finally picked up some Discworld, I was hooked for life.

I also recently learned I have ADHD, so not only is traditional institutional academia not my thing, I also have trouble sussing out meaning and details from things unless I have specific instructions on where to look. Once I have that in hand, I often go on a tear and find things that I never imagined were there, and frequently surprise not only myself but others. But I absolutely have to have that first step laid out for me in order to make more of my own.

When I first started writing in the 80s (yes, I'm old), I started looking around for the elusive "story structure" I'd heard about vaguely from other writers. I really couldn't find anything written down about what constitutes the steps of a story, the journey a hero must take for a story to be told start to finish. The other writers I'd heard discuss it didn't have concrete ideas for me (lots of hand-waving and "oh, you know"s), so I figured I'd find it in a book somewhere.

I found a little something about structure from Greek philosophy, but that mainly boiled down to stories needing a "beginning, middle, and end," like, duh, and not a lot about what made those three parts up. As a very basic story-telling model, it is incredibly concrete and important, but it's something we've known for thousands of years by now so it doesn't exactly light up the night sky with insight anymore. It's become such common knowledge that it almost doesn't seem like knowledge. I found more from Joseph Campbell, but a lot of what I found written by him was very airy and sort of dream-like, and hard to follow. So I gave up and muddled along the best I could.

About ten years ago now, I decided to try again, and found a whole ton of stuff written about story structure, from Greek philosophy decoded to Shakespear's five-act structure to The Hero's Journey first talked about by Joseph Campbell to modern Hollywood 3-act structure. Around about 2010 there was an explosion of work done on story structure, and damn if it wasn't eye-opening.

My favorite book so far on structure is The Story Grid by Shawn Coyle, because he has broken down all the various types of structure into very concrete, easy-to-comprehend steps that make sense. He talks about exactly where there is wiggle room, exactly where there is not, the general shape of a story in comparison to the general shape of the five stages of grief, what precisely constitutes a scene and what the sequence of scenes has to be to tell a whole, complete story. (In case you're interested, my next favorite book on structure is Save the Cat! Writes a Novel. It fills in a few holes that The Story Grid misses, and together they make a beautifully complete map of how to tell a good story.)

My favorite, in particular, are the Five Commandments of Storytelling. Each scene, each act (however many you want, I like 4), and the story as a whole, all have to follow the Five Commandments. These are elements that have to be present for a scene to work, and for a story to reach its beginning, middle, and end satisfactorily.

Inciting incident. This is something that happens that forces the main character to change course, take action. It has to be either an Act of God, or another character acting on the main character.

Progressive complications. The main character forms a plan to put life back in order and tries it, but is blocked. They have to regroup and form a new plan. Threes in storytelling are always good, but the main character must be blocked until they reach the Turning Point Complication, where they realize that in order to move forward and have a hope of getting where they want, they must make a hard choice. Often the hard choice is that they must do The One Thing They Didn't Want to Do, though the introduction of new information will drive this decision as well. New information can come from another character, or be realized by the main character as a result of the action.

Crisis. They reach the decision point, where they must choose one thing over another. The decision must be between two irreconcilable good things, where they can't have both; or the lesser of two evils, where they can't escape both. The Crisis can also be boiled down to a "what will they do?" question. They're going to have to pick, but they're going to resist before they choose, and that creates tension which keeps the reader invested.

Climax. They make their choice. It's really that simple. They pick.

Resolution. The consequences of their choice are laid out. In a scene, this means the inciting incident of the next scene is introduced because of the character's choice; in an overall story, this leads to the end of the tale where our hero emerges, having learned whatever it was that the author deemed they needed to learn.

For example, Aziraphale is listening to music when a knock comes at the door. (Inciting incident) He forms and enacts a plan -- answer the door, probably hoping to get rid of whoever it is quickly. It's Gabriel. (Complication) He forms and enacts a new plan -- find out what Gabriel is doing here. Gabriel says he doesn't know. (Complication) Gabriel asks to come in. (Complication) Aziraphale forms and enacts a new plan -- tell Gabriel no. Gabriel says oh-kay and turns to the people on the street. (Turning point complication) Now Aziraphale has two bad choices -- bring Gabriel inside, or leave him to wander naked around Whickber street doing God only knows what. (Crisis) He chooses what he thinks is the lesser of two evils -- he tells Gabriel to get in. (Climax) Now Gabriel, possibly Aziraphale's worst enemy, is inside his home, the book shop. (Resolution) And because this is a scene, this Resolution is also the inciting incident of the next scene.

This can go different routes, as when the inciting incident rouses curiosity or creates a promise of something the character wants, instead of inflicting discomfort -- although if a character wants something bad enough, deciding to say no to pursuing it could inflict discomfort, so that counts, too. The inciting incident just means that something happens so that the main character can no longer keep living life as it was. Something has to change, and they have to change it. In the end, it all boils down to something outside the main character knocking them off course, them deciding how to try to get back on course and failing, and what happens as a result. (Beginning, middle, end!)

A good way to create a mystery is to hide the Inciting Incident from the readers/viewers. Or at least, the Inciting Incidents of certain character and scenes. In the above example, we see Aziraphale's Inciting Incident, but we don't see Gabriel's until episode six.

I believe we haven't seen the Inciting Incident of Crowley and Aziraphale's storyline for season 2. It seems like Gabriel showing up is the Inciting Incident for the entire season, but I believe his arrival is a Complication, not the Inciting Incident. As far as what the original Inciting Incident was, well, first and foremost, the Resolution of season 1 would naturally lead into the Inciting Incident of season 2, just as a scene would do for the scene following it. So there's one Clue. As for the answer -- we just have to keep looking where the furniture isn't.

I hope this story breakdown was interesting to someone. I find it completely fascinating, but I am a story nerd, so maybe what I like and find interesting isn't up everyone's alley.

Cheers!

[deathbxnny]

hello! aventurine, blade and sunday with a teen!reader like margarita blankenheim?

dont know if youre into ec, but its shocking that margarita is canonically 16💀

anyways, reader is very skilled at making poisons, are often in denial about the reality they live in and pretending that theyre happy despite not being happy at all and mostly pretending that their problems dont exit at all, often comparing themselves to a “doll” due to the prolonged explotation and neglect,and much like sunday, they believe that sleep and dreams will make other people and themselves happy

Despite my deep obsession with Vocaloid and Hatsune Miku in general, I have to admit that I never really got into the EC lore, despite still knowing the lyrics to all songs by heart lol. (If you play "Madness of Duke Venomania" at my funeral and I DON'T wake up... then you'll know that I've truly left you guys-)

After post edit: I misread this request and accidentally made it into a romantic relationship with an Aged up reader!! I'm sorry for that Anon but hope this is okay anyways!! :((

Content: Reader is kind of delusional/crazy?, vague mentions of non-descriptive neglect, mostly bitter sweet, romantic relationship, kind of suicidal descriptions in Blades part?, vague brain washing in Sunday's part, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns!

((Not proofread))

》BLADE

Blade didn't get along with you at first. Mainly because he thought that your insistence on escaping reality was rather futile and pathetic. He saw dreams as a waste of time, always seeking the comfort of the dark reality he was forced to live through to find his way on the dark path he treaded.

And yet, over time and through the many missions you were sent on together, he learned of your own cruel fate and past, one filled with a loveless, neglected existence, akin to a broken, thrown away doll you often compared yourself with. He felt his emotions develop in odd ways for you, a mutual understanding despite your stark differences leading you into an aimless relationship only the two of you could comprehend.

Despite your lack of belief in yourself, that you often hid in utopian daydreams, he still found your talent for poisons rather interesting and even impressive. He had requested a vial of the worst poison you could make once, drinking it all in one go after a warm thank you. It didn't kill him, ofcourse, yet the pain of momentary death by your own hands was enough to drive him into another, much deeper level of appreciation and love for you.

》AVENTURINE

Aventurine understood you from day one, even if he didn't agree with all of your views. He knew the yearning for freedom all too well. He, too, attempted to escape all his troubles behind the mask of a sly gambler, the illusion, however, often shattered by the branding on his neck. You two bond over this silent feeling of helplessness as you try and find your way out of the hell that life created for you. This is what made you become an unlikely couple over time.

He enjoys spoiling you with all he has, perhaps as a way to compensate for the many trips and travels he has to take. It's also a way for him to show his deepest appreciation for your existence in his life, one he doesn't take for granted. He definitely funds your love for poison making, even if he doesn't fully understand why you enjoy it. He, however, views it as his own love for gambling, simply a coping mechanism, which makes him not question it any further than that.

With that said, he views himself as a doll as well, in a way, one especially crafted to be at your side. And yet... if the world eventually teared your strings in different directions, whether it be through the actions of other or even his own, he hoped this momentary solitude you two attained was enough to prove that you are more than your broken past.

》SUNDAY

Oh, how Sunday adored you from day one. You matched his ideals and understood him perfectly. You didn't put him down for his opinions, nor did you judge him for them. Your views were the same, after all. Dreams are an escape from the harsh reality that the "weak" couldn't handle. So where was the harm in coddling and keeping them safe in a realm far from it all? He saw himself as your savior through his plans, one's he eventually crafted to fit your perfect world. He wanted to make you happy, finally repaying you for the love and kindness you showed him.

He doesn't let you view yourself as a doll and often gently lectures you into seeing yourself as his "angel" instead. Every God needed a messenger, after all. Sunday also tries healing you from your broken past, attempting to undo years on years of heartache and pain all on his own. And he KNOWS he can do it one way or another, even going as far as using his tuning ability on you to help. He doesn't see anything wrong with it anyway, since it helps you feel much better, doesn't it?

Your love for poison making confuses him at first... but over time, he sees it as rather useful for the "elimination" of people who cross you both. Don't worry about some of your vials going missing. Just dream on and be happy, just like he always tells you to.

Alrightttt, I hope this was okay, Anon, and thank you again for the request!! (Sorry again for messing up the request, I haven't slept in a while😭😭😭)