#because he'd be acting strange because of the hunger

[ultimatemissadhd]

Sondam Week: Day 1 - Funhouse

@sondamweek

[talon-the-hawk]

Yandere! Batfam x Neglected Streamer! Reader

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Chapter 1: The family

You thought that the day your father (or rather, your father's butler) came to pick you up from the police station would be the one that turned your life around for the better. Bruce Wayne: the playboy billionaire, the man who had adopted several broken children throughout the course of his life. The man who had won the hearts of several, who had donated an incredible amount of funds towards helping orphans.

How foolish you were to assume he'd be the ideal father.

When Alfred came to pick you up from the station, you had quietly clung to his coat sleeve as he led you through the crowd of paparazzi who were eager to snap a photo of the bastard child of the famous socialite. Cameras flashed left and right, and you reached a hand up to your face in order to block out the bright lights. Reporters shoved microphones in your face, demanding answers on who your mother was and your relationship with your father. Alfred remained firm with them, acting as a solid wall between you and the strange people that seemed to box you in. He ushered you into the fancy car, making sure to lock the doors immediately after lest the paparazzi try to yank you out. You watched them from behind the tinted windows, a silent curiosity growing within you at how feral they seemed to be for answers.

Your father must be super important for them to act like this, no?

"Master Y/N, please make sure to fasten your seatbelt." Alfred advised as he got into the driver's seat, and you hastily moved to buckle yourself in. You tried your best not to make too much noise as he drove, not wanting to annoy the man in front of you.

Mama always hated it when you were too loud.

"Master Y/N? Are you alright?" Alfred spoke gently, worriedly glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

You gave a small nod, not sure if your voice could support you as you nervously played with your fingers. The car ride continued on in silence, the only noise being the quiet purr of the engine and the faint sound of music from the radio. You looked around the car (limo? Is that what they called the long cars? You remember your mom using the word once or twice when looking at the sleek black cars on the old TV.) in silent awe, noting the expensive leather seats and the small array of snacks in the many doors. You felt the urge to reach for one, to stifle the dull ache of hunger in your stomach, but resisted at the last moment. Your fingers twitched, the urges still in the back of your mind as the car came to a stop. You looked up, eyes going wide at the pure size of the estate in front of you.

"Welcome to Wayne Manor, Master Y/N. I'm sure your father will be eager to meet you."

Alfred couldn't have been more wrong.

As soon as you got into the manor, it was like you were a ghost. The eldest brother (who you later found out was named Dick) gave you a hello and showed you to your room, but immediately left to go do something else. You tried several times to connect with him over the years, however he always seemed to be busy doing something else. "Sorry, baby bird. I've got a date with Kori later, but I can hangout with you later!"

"Sorry, but I've got training! We can totally meet up tomorrow though!"

Eventually you gave up on waiting for "later" to arrive, and decided to leave him alone.

Through old photo albums and stories that Alfred shared you soon learned that you had another older brother, Jason. Apparently he had died shortly before you came to the house, and the reason your father was so withdrawn was because of his mourning. Alfred practically begged you to give your father some leeway; it wasn't that he didn't love you, but he was going through a dark time. That didn't matter to you, and you used to resent Jason for that...coming to the conclusion that his death was the reason for your father's negligence over the years. How were you meant to win your father's affection when he was too busy mourning for the child he already loved?

The resentment only seemed to fester when the newest brother, Tim, was introduced to the family. The excuse of Jason's death covering for your father's absence was no longer valid when Tim was given his full attention 24/7. You watched as the older boy was able to bring your father out of his shell, the two of them bonding quickly with every case they managed to solve. What was it about Tim that made him matter more to your father? He wasn't even related to Bruce. Why was it that your father could hardly spare you a glance, but could spend hours on end holed up in the Batcave with Tim?

Was it you? Was it because of who your mama was? Why would no one tell you how she and your father met? And why would no one tell you what happened to her?

And then he showed up. The ultimate slap in the face: your blood brother, Damian. He was everything you couldn't be. He was a fighter, he was strong, and he was loved. You assumed that once he moved in, you would finally have someone you could bond with. Another blood child of Bruce, someone you could relate to on the struggles of having Bruce Wayne as a dad. You can still remember the first day he came to the mansion. You offered a warm smile, giving a happy greeting and trying to show the small boy around the house. What you weren't expecting were the harsh insults swiftly followed by physical violence. Shouts of "bastard" and "unworthy" followed you to the ground as Damian pulled a blade on you and began slashing. It took Alfred 5 minutes to rip the child off of you, and by that time you had several shallow cuts and a tremble in your limbs. Alfred apologized after he sent Damian off to his room, telling you that "Damian had been through a lot" and "To give him time to warm up to you".

He never did.

As the years carried on things only seemed to get worse. Damian's bullying continued on throughout the years and only increased with time. Dick was busy with his duties as Nightwing, and focused all his time at the manor on Tim and Damian. Tim, the quietest brother, never engaged with you openly. You tried to gain a sense of kinship with him by offering potential help on cases, but every time you went to speak with him he simply gave you a tired look and told you now wasn't a good time. Your father, if you could even call him that, barely even spared you a glance. The conversations you had, which were few and far between, were all shallow. Simple "how's school going" or "Lovely weather outside", all topics which were much too dry for that of a true family. Time passed by, and the idea of your life being changed for the better slowly faded into the background. The hope of having a family was crushed, and you recognized that you simply exchanged one neglectful parent for another.

When you hit 17, you knew something had to change. If you couldn't find a family within your home, you would reach outwards. Being a child of Bruce Wayne came with its perks; The endless cash you were gifted with helped pay for a brand new PC setup along with premium mic and software equipment. Your career started off small, streaming on twitch to no viewers just for the sake of it. But as clips of your streams began to go viral, and the viewers came rolling in, it didn't take long for your audience to grow. You kept yourself faceless, mainly streaming games or wearing masks on the occasional in-person stream. It was best that no one knew who you were, who your father was. You wanted this channel to grow because of your talent and hard work, not because of the last name you were forced to adopt.

By the time you were 18, you had earned enough off of merch sales and sponsorships to purchase a shitty little apartment in a forgotten corner of Gotham that your family didn't know about. You called one of your school friends to help move all of your stuff out, managing the task without alerting any of your siblings or father. The only person you told about your moving was Alfred, with the butler wishing you the best and promising to keep in touch. You gave him a hug before you left, telling him to take care as you got into your friend's pickup truck.

As you drove to your new home, you looked down at your phone. You knew what you needed to do. One by one, you blocked each of their numbers. You moved on with your life, and you weren't truly free from your past unless you took steps to keep that door closed.

This was it. This was your new life, providing entertainment and gaining a sense of community you never had with your 'family'. You were through with the Waynes, through with Batman and his never ending line of sidekicks.

At least, you thought you were.

First chapter done! I promise I'll have more actual dialogue in future chapters, but I'm tryna get the past context outta the way relatively quickly so y'all can enjoy the main part of the story :)

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[megalony]

I'm So Cold

This is my first time writing for Joseph Quinn's character Michael in the movie Hoard. This is for @missdreamofendless I hope you like it and thank you for spurring me to write it.

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Main Masterlist

Summary: (Y/n) and Michael have a strange type of relationship since he came to stay with them. But when (Y/n) comes back shaken from a night of sleepwalking, Michael makes it his mission to look after her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

What (Y/n) had with Michael was… different, to say the least.

It wasn't romantic, not most of the time anyway. It was unique, nostalgic and invoking.

He brought about the memories in (Y/n) that she thought were long gone, he unlocked aspects and moments from her childhood with her mum that had been repressed. And (Y/n) made michael feel like he was back in an era before he went to live with his brother. She made him want to act out those childhood memories that he thought he'd forgotten.

Their bond was strange, but (Y/n) wouldn't change it for anything. Since the moment Michael came to stay with her and Michelle, things had changed. Things became interesting. He made (Y/n) feel like she was living in a game and he changed the rules.

It had been the small things at first. The way he would brush up against her or rest a hand on her shoulder when he was walking past her or weaving behind her in the kitchen. Then it was the way he squished next to her on the sofa until their thighs were pressing together and she could feel each breath he took.

Michelle worked a lot, she always had, and now that (Y/n) had finished school, Michelle could take those extra shifts without worrying because (Y/n) was fine to be home alone.

With Michael here, that changed things. The second week of him being with them was when he'd kissed her.

(Y/n) had never been kissed like that before. She'd never felt that sense of hunger or had someone pin her against the wall like he thought he would die if she walked away from him.

Something seemed to happen whenever they were alone. Whether that was them running around the house like they were playing a frantic, grown up game of chase or whether it was them running around the streets causing mayhem in their wake. Whatever it was, something always made the days interesting and they seemed to feed off of one another.

(Y/n) loved it, but she couldn't help but want a little more. More than waiting for Michael to make the move and kiss her. More than just being someone he found fun to kiss when no one else was home because they both knew it wasn't exactly normal or 'right'.

A sigh got caught in the back of (Y/n)'s throat as she leaned against the door frame to the living room. Michelle, who (Y/n) classed and thought of as her own mother, was sat on the sofa against the back wall, nursing a cup of tea. She had Sam sat next to her, their neighbour who was more of an aunt to (Y/n) with how often she came round and helped out whenever needed.

Her girls were sitting on the other sofa, tangled together as they laughed at whatever strange, stupid joke they had come up with now. (Y/n) didn't get along with either of them, but she tolerated them. There was no other choice when she saw them almost every day and they were always coming round with their mum.

As hard as (Y/n) tried, she couldn't keep her eyes on the tv that was blasting out the news channel. There was only one person her eyes kept levitating to. Michael. Sat on the arm of the sofa, so close to the door frame that if (Y/n) leaned in just a little, her arm would undoubtedly brush against his back.

She stopped herself before she leaned and got too close. Everyone was in here. She didn't want them to notice or to cause a scene, and she certainly didn't want Sam's girls- or Michelle- knowing how close she wanted to be to their house guest.

Her fingers drummed against the door as she pulled away and filtered into the kitchen to make herself a drink. She clicked the kettle on and slumped her forearms down on the counter while she stared out into the garden.

(Y/n) found herself becoming lost in thought as she stared out the window to her left.

What would things be like when Michael eventually found his own place and moved out? Would he still stop by? Would she still see him? Would he even want to know her once he didn't live here anymore, or was (Y/n) just a way to occupy his time and find some fun before he left?

Every thought possible ran around in her mind until she found herself becoming dizzy, but a shiver scratched down her spine when she suddenly felt a body pressing up beside her.

Her head twisted to the right and she looked up, wide-eyed to see Michael stood beside her.

There was that usual half smirk playing on his lips and the way he inclined his head to the side looked like there was a question he wanted to ask her, but he stayed silent. He seemed to observe her for a moment and when his tongue slid out to drag along his lower lip while his eyes dragged unceromoniously slow up and down her body.

She stayed leaning on the counter, her lower back and bum arched out as she waited for Michael to make a move. Clearly he had come in here for a reason.

"Need something?" Her voice came out a lot quieter than she wanted and it made her dart her eyes down to look at the counter.

But her nerves felt like they had been set on fire when she felt Michael's hands on her hips before she even noticed him move. Her hands flexed and pressed against the counter when she felt him weave behind her. She wasn't sure even he knew what he was doing or what he was trying to do, he seemed to be making it up as he went along and so far, he was doing a good job.

His fingers dug into the flesh of her hips and he moved to stand directly behind her which caused (Y/n) to straighten up and press her lower waist into the counter. She was trying to give him room to walk behind her since the kitchen was the size of a shoe box, barely enough room for one person to move around, let alone two.

But Michael didn't care. Instead of moving to the side, he stepped even closer to (Y/n), moulding himself up against her back while his thumbs began to glide up and down her waist and dipped beneath her shirt.

"Excuse me," His lips hovered over the shell of her ear and (Y/n) didn't need to look to know that he was smiling as he leant over until his chest was firmly pressing down on her back.

His left hand stayed on her hip while his right arm stretched above her to open the cupboard in front of them. He pulled two cups out and set them down on the counter; he noticed (Y/n) had put the kettle on but she hadn't found herself a cup or even started to make a drink yet.

(Y/n) had the urge to say 'you're excused' which was her given sarcastic response but she was afraid that saying that would cause Michael to walk away from her. She didn't want him to move, not one inch.

Instead, her wide eyes followed him as he tilted his head to the side so he was looking down at her with that smirk that could get him anything he wanted. It probably always had.

The kettle whistled and boiled in the background, but neither of them made a move to reach over and actually start making a drink.

It felt like an eternity passed between them as (Y/n) stared at those large chocolate eyes and continuously darted her gaze down to his blushing pink lips that he kept licking and grazing his teeth against. He noticed her looking. It was clear by the way his smile broadened and he sank his teeth down into his lower lip, pulling it between his teeth as he inched his face closer to hers.

In a moment of bravery, or weakness, (Y/n) let go of the counter and carefully turned around on her heels until she was facing him. Her hips pressing bruisingly into the counter while Michael's hands stayed planted firmly on her waist. But this time, his chest was moulding against hers.

She could feel each deep breath he took, she could see every rise and fall of his chest. She could almost see his heart pulsing away in his chest which was causing the vein in his neck to throb.

She could feel his hands that were digging tightly into her waist like he was trying to imbed his fingers into her skin. She could feel his thighs pushing down on hers and pressing her legs into the counter and try as she might, she couldn't help but feel how he was pressing his groin into hers.

(Y/n) wasn't sure where she got her surge of courage from, but she moved her hands until her fingertips were lightly tracing across Michael's chest. He was wearing a vest, something he was frequently wearing unless he was going on a night out. Even beneath his work overalls he wore a vest rather than a shirt.

Her fingers traced over the discoloured cream and red vest like she was drawing patterns and she noticed Michael tilting his head down so he could watch her movements with intrigue.

One hand slithered across his chest and up the side of his neck until her hand was cradling the side of his face. Her thumb brushed across his jaw and the expanse of his cheek, feeling the beginning of stubble tickling the pad of her thumb while her fingers traced along his jaw and neck.

Michael's hand stayed on her hip, practically clenching her flesh between his fingers and her breath caught in her throat when his other hand cupped the back of her neck. Squeezing just enough so a shiver coursed down her skin and a beautiful tingling sensation spread through her nerves.

He angled her head back and surged down to attach his lips to hers. It always felt like taking a drug whenever he kissed her. It felt like (Y/n) was falling through the air and she came to a horrible crash landing when he eventually let her go and walked away from her.

Their teeth clashed as he kissed her like the world was going to end and he wanted it to burn in flames on a high note. She could feel his tongue clashing against her teeth as his surprisingly warm lips devoured hers and he leaned into her so much that her back began to bend and press uncomfortably into the counter. But she didn't care. Not as long as he kept kissing her like this.

"Are you two making a cuppa?"

Their lips broke apart with a slight gasp and (Y/n) felt her chest heaving against Michael's as he continued to press against her like he was trying to crush her.

She watched the way his eyes darted to the doorway, but he visibly relaxed when he realised Michelle wasn't stood there. She had called out from the living room.

"Yeah."

(Y/n) was glad Michael spoke, she wasn't sure she could trust her voice right now without giving away that something was going on in here.

Michael's hand left her neck which caused (Y/n)'s head to loll back and a wicked grin spread across his lips. He ducked down and attached his lips to the side of her neck, instantly sinking his teeth into her skin which caused (Y/n) to clamp her hands down on his shoulders. He couldn't leave a mark, not one that anyone could see or they would suspect and ask questions. But she didn't have the heart or the words to ask him to stop.

That was the thing about him, he felt addictive to (Y/n). He felt like a drug which she couldn't say no to. When they wandered the streets late in the afternoon causing mischief, when they ran around the house like crazed teenagers or tackled each other to the ground like they were on drugs. It was all so enticing and addictive. All (Y/n) wanted was to be around Michael and to be with him.

But she didn't know whether he wanted that, or whether he simply wanted the mayhem they created and the hyped feeling he got at the fact that they were sneaking around the house. Just like this.

The way he pressed further into her made (Y/n) bend back on the counter and she tested the waters by pushing her hips out into him which caused him to groan lowly against her neck and send vibrations through her throat.

She wasn't sure what his free hand was doing while his other hand was on her shoulder. Until she heard a familiar clink and realised he was getting more cups out the cupboard. They had been asked to pour some more drinks for the others in the living room.

It was a good job Michael had his ears tuned in to their surroundings while (Y/n) felt like her head was filling up with static and her heartbeat was vibrating throughout her system. He heard the sound of the sofa creaking and when the familiar sound of slippers against the laminate caught his attention, he moved. Fast.

His hands left (Y/n) and he sidestepped to the right so he was no longer stood between her legs, pressing up against her like he was trying to mould them into one person.

He swiped his hand across the back of his mouth and beneath his nose as he took a deep breath and shook his head to try and rid the lust from his eyes and calm down his system.

It wouldn't do him any good for Michelle to find out that the lad she was letting sleep in the living room was making out and sleeping with her young daughter. He trained his eyes on the cups in front of him and began tossing tea bags into each one while his foot anxiously tapped against the floor.

(Y/n) made him riled up, she had since the moment they met. He was always on edge around her, always so eager to attach himself to her and jump her and kiss the life out of her. He didn't know why she had such an effect on him like this, but he liked it. He liked what she did to him, even if he didn't quite understand it.

His eyes carefully glanced to the right and he managed a tight lipped smile when he saw Michelle leaning against the doorframe.

"Are you staying in for dinner?" It was clear her question was directed at Michael and he mustered the best smile he could when he felt (Y/n)'s eyes burning into him.

He could feel her arm brushing up against his as she turned around to grab the kettle and began filling the cups. And he could feel her eyes flickering up to him as if she were eagerly awaiting his response too. The other day when he was home in time to eat dinner with her and Michelle, he ended up gliding hid hand over (Y/n)'s thigh beneath the table to try and see what kind of response he gained. It had been an interesting night.

"Ah, no, thanks. I'm heading out later." He shook his head when Michelle grinned in that all-knowing kind of way and murmured 'with a girl?' but his denial only seemed to make her chuckle as she got the milk from the fridge.

A wince tore through him which he couldn't hide when he noticed (Y/n)'s expression fall and saw how she took a tiny, almost unnoticeable step away from him.

He wanted to stay, he wanted to be here. He wanted to spend all his time around (Y/n), but he didn't think he could control himself when he was around her.

Once her drink was made, (Y/n) nursed the cup between her hands and weaved around Michael, brushing up against his side as she passed. She had no reason to feel jealous or annoyed if he was going out, but she couldn't help it. She wanted to be around him. He had no idea how desperate he made her feel.

But he was staying for a few more weeks. There would be plenty of opportunities for (Y/n) to be around Michael and be with him and kiss him just like she had just now.

***

He didn't like this.

The longer he waited, the more panicked Michael started to feel.

Part of him wasn't even sure why he was worrying. It wasn't as if he was (Y/n)'s boyfriend or brother or guardian. He wasn't even a close friend, he was just the guy that was crashing at her mum's house for a while. He was the guy sleeping in the back room.

He shouldn't even be worrying or waiting up like this, it could be seen as creepy.

But when Michael got back and quietly crept in so he didn't wake anyone, he knew something was off. He just had a sixth sense that something wasn't right and when he looked around, it hit him. The door had been open, he didn't have to use his keys to get in. The door was never open this late at night, it was always locked.

(Y/n)'s keys were in the door, she had unlocked the door for something. The hallway light was on too which wasn't normal unless someone was up during the night.

Michael couldn't help it, he couldn't help but creep up the stairs and rap his knuckles on (Y/n)'s door. He kept telling himself he was being silly until he opened her door and realised she wasn't there.

She had gone out and it was late, what was he supposed to do? Was he supposed to just go lie down and try to sleep? Was he meant to wake Michelle and tell her (Y/n) had gone out when she hadn't mentioned going anywhere earlier?

It was past midnight. Only drunks an freaks would be out on the street at this time of night and (Y/n) wouldn't blend in or mingle with them. Anything could happen to her, especially if she was alone. Michael hoped she wasn't alone. He hoped she was with someone, she was less likely to be hurt or in some sort of accident if someone was with her.

His fingers began to tap down on the kitchen counter as his head lolled from left to right. He had tried to sit in the back room but he couldn't put the tv on and risk waking Michelle up and he couldn't go to sleep until (Y/n) came home and he knew that she was alright. He had tried to make himself a coffee to sober up- since he had been out drinking with the lads from work- but the cup had long since gone cold and he had barely touched it.

For what felt like the hundredth time in the last hour, Michael grabbed his phone from the counter and scrolled through the messages he had sent (Y/n). She hadn't opened or seen any of them. She hadn't responded. She didn't even have the curtesy to tell him that she was okay or tell him where she was right now.

His foot tapped incessantly against the floor as his shoulders hunched over and he tried to write out a new message to her. But before he was halfway done, the sound of the front door clicking open caught his full attention.

His head snapped up and his body straightened like he had grown three inches as his wild eyes set on (Y/n).

It was her. She was back. She was safe.

Seeing her walk through the door set off something inside Michael. It felt like a firework had launched in the pit of his gut and was now exploding through his chest, splintering off in all directions throughout his system that was now shaking and buzzing with adrenaline and anger.

Before he could stop himself he launched his phone down on the counter, barely hearing the way it clattered and bounced against the wooden counter and bashed into the toaster. He didn't care about making noise anymore and threatening to wake Michelle. She could wake up for all he cared. (Y/n) had finally come home, now she could explain.

The look of anger that was seething on Michael's face made (Y/n) wince when she meekly nudged the door shut behind her with her elbow. Her head aimed down but when she looked up through her lashes, the anger was still present and combined with how his face was now turning a dark shade of red.

"Where the fuck have you been?"

His words made her jump and the gritty tone to his low voice made (Y/n) whimper unintentionally. She didn't want to move, she didn't want to step any closer when he was clearly upset with her, but she couldn't just stand in the hallway like this.

She needed to move. She needed help.

Michael's chest continued to heave, straining against his red and white vest as his eyes focused on (Y/n). But the closer she got towards him, the more his angered expression morphed into a look of confusion.

Something was wrong. It hadn't dawned on him when she walked through the door to take in her attire. He assumed when she wasn't home that she had gone out with a friend or to a pub or something like that. But now that he looked her up and down, he realised that couldn't have been the case.

Where on earth had she gone in just a t-shirt and shorts?

"Wh- what happened?" His brows furrowed when she finally stood in front of him and he felt his heart clench when he realised she was hovering a foot away from him. As if she was too afraid to get close because he looked so frustrated with her. He didn't want her to be afraid of him, he would never want that.

When she didn't answer him, he took the initiative and stepped forward towards her instead. One hand curled around her arm but he almost pulled back in shock when he took in how cold her skin was. She felt like a block of ice, he had never known her to be so cold. And she was trembling.

He carefully hovered his other hand in front of her mouth, feeling each frozen breath she let out. And he couldn't stop himself from gliding the back of his fingers across her lips.

The feeling almost short-circuited (Y/n)'s brain. He had never touched her lips like that before, the most he had done was kiss them. His touch on her lips was so gentle and sensitive as if he thought pressing any harder would cause her to fracture. (Y/n) resisted the urge to kiss his fingers, mainly because she felt too numb and frozen to actually move.

"Your lips are blue… God, you're freezing." She was stone cold and her lips had changed to a dark shade of navy. But when Michael glanced his eyes down to see if her legs were undoubtedly as cold as the rest of her, his frown deepened. "Haven't you heard of shoes?"

Why was she barefoot? No socks, no shoes, and he would have noticed if she took them off when she came in. Why had she gone out on such a cold night in her bare essentials? What had happened for her to flee the house in such a state and become so cold? She was going to make herself sick.

Michael started to shake and his brown eyes went wide, almost fully overtaken by his pupils when (Y/n) let out a small, feeble cry. Horrible bouts of shaking scattered through her system but he wasn't sure whether she was shaking because she was frozen cold or because she was afraid or in some state of shock.

His knees bent and both hands moved to grip her arms as he crouched down a little so they were level and he could look into her petrified eyes. She had to talk to him. She hadn't spoken one word since she came in and he had to know what was going on.

"I w- I woke up near a bus stop. I had to- to walk back."

"You…" For a moment or two, Michael simply narrowed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't understand. He had no idea what that meant or what she was talking about. She had gone out. She hadn't been in bed asleep.

Another minute ticked by as Michael scanned his eyes up and down her frame before everything seemed to click into place. "You sleepwalk?"

(Y/n) hated how his expression fell and his shoulders dropped down when she nodded.

It wasn't something she openly talked about, mainly because she hadn't done this in a long time. It used to be bad when she lived back with her real mum. The doctors thought it was because of how unstable her life had been and the lack of routines she had and the combination of all that and the environment she had to live in.

Coming to live with Michelle had made (Y/n)'s life so much better in everyway. Instead of sleepwalking into the bathroom or wandering downstairs or waking up sitting in the living room, (Y/n) started to have full, proper nights sleep. She rarely sleep walked anymore and when she did it was when she was stressed. The last time was when she was stressing over her exams for school and she only walked into the living room.

She hadn't wandered out the front door in her sleep since she was thirteen. But tonight she had gone five blocks and woke up sitting at a bus stop.

A lock of shock plastered across Michael's face when (Y/n) suddenly moved. Her arms encased against his chest and her frozen cold fingers that felt like hardened clay just managed to clench around his vest. It felt like bending her fingers was going to cause them to snap off, she wasn't sure she had any blood circulation to her hands and feet anymore.

Her face burrowed into the crook of his neck and her body glued up against his front, clinging to him like he was a human radiator. She needed heat. She needed warmth and comfort and reassurance.

"I'm so cold."

Michael already knew that, he could feel how cold she was because her temperature was making him shiver and sending goosebumps prickling along his skin. She was causing the hairs on his skin to prick up in an attempt to save his own body heat.

He moved on instinct and curved his arms around her, binding one arm around her waist while the other cupped the back of her head. And before he knew what he was doing, he tilted his head down and pressed a soft, tender kiss to her temple.

The rare display of affection was shocking to (Y/n) but it was also just what she needed to stop her from bursting into fits of tears.

"Okay, okay come on." His words were hushed against her temple and his arms stayed bound around her as he slowly began to nudge (Y/n) backwards until she took the hint.

It was hard to move when her body felt like it was turning to stone but she did her best. (Y/n) tried to shuffle and it was a little easier with Michael pressed up against her, guiding her movements. He still had one hand on the back of her head and his other hand was splayed out in the centre of her back with his elbows pressing deeply into her skin.

The way his chest was moulded up against her front made (Y/n) feel like she was an ice cube that was slowly beginning to thaw and melt. The chill that had seeped into her chest was just starting to disappear as Michael's warmth surrounded every inch of her skin.

Her eyes stayed tightly closed and each cold breath she took fanned against Michael's neck where she could feel his Adam's apple bobbing up and down.

He carefully weaved them both around the door frame and guided (Y/n) into the living room. The curtains were closed and the only source of light was the small orange glow from the lamp in the corner and the faint light seeping through from the hallway which disappeared when Michael nudged the door shut with the sole of his foot.

He scanned his eyes around the living room, in desperate need of something, anything, that he could use to warm (Y/n) up and stop her from catching hypothermia.

He hummed quietly when he remembered he'd tossed his jacket on the sofa when he came back.

He leaned (Y/n) forward a little so he could snatch up the worn navy blue jacket and he carefully peeled (Y/n) off his chest so he could motion to the jacket in his hands. She looked like she was in a trance, staying unusually quiet but still compliable, allowing Michael to lift her arms and slide them into the jacket which he quickly zipped up right to her chin.

She heard him murmur "That's better," into her hair before his hands were on her hips and he was slowly tugging her along with him towards the sofa.

He flopped down on the sofa with a thud and moved his arms out so he could gently pull (Y/n) down to him. Her breath caught in her lungs as Michael manoeuvred her until she was laid in between his legs with her back against his chest. He tensed his thighs to squeeze her in his embrace but after a moment or two, it was as if something dawned on him.

(Y/n) tried not to make a sound when he pressed flush against her back and hips and his arms let go of her to weave around her. She watched with narrowed eyes full of intrigue as he pulled his knees up and began removing his socks.

"What're you doing?" Her voice still held a slight edge and rattle from how cold and dry her throat felt and from the cold that had long since seeped into her chest that felt like a hollow cavity.

"What's it look like? Warming you up, or you'll get chill blains." He spoke somewhat absentmindedly as he tugged off his woollen socks and began curling one hand beneath her ankle so he could lift her leg and put the sock on her foot. They were a bit large on (Y/n) but that was a good thing.

Once both socks were pulled halfway up her calves, Michael patted her knee before he grabbed the woollen blanket from the back of the sofa which he draped around them both.

(Y/n) allowed her eyes to close while she felt him wrapping the blanket around her front, trying to encase every inch of her body up to her neck with the blanket to keep her warm. He tucked it around his own arms and under his hips so she was effectively encased in the blanket like it was a ziplock bag.

It felt soothing to let herself relax into him and become swaddled up in his embrace. And the feeling of his hands running up and down her arms to try and get some blood and warmth running back through her veins made her body turn fuzzy.

But it was the feeling of Michael's lips pressing against the top of her head and how he breathed into her hair that made (Y/n) want to melt into a puddle right there.

He didn't seem to know the effect he had on her. He didn't know how his touch made her shake for an entirely different reason. He didn't realise how every kiss he pressed against her skin made her fall for him more and more and how being so close to him made (Y/n) afraid that when he let her go, it would be the last time.

"You do this a lot?"

She almost didn't hear what he said over the sound of his heartbeat thudding away like his heart was trying to help show hers how to beat properly.

"Used to… haven't for a while." (Y/n) shrugged against him and burrowed down a little more while she bound her arms around her chest and nuzzled her nose and lips into the familiar blanket wrapped tightly around them. "Normally happens when I'm stressed." She added quietly after a minute.

She felt Michael's hands slow down their frantic rubbing up and down her arms until he switched to squeezing her arms and softly stroking the rough pads of his thumbs along her arms.

His chest was arched over her, pressing into her back while his knees began squeezing and pressing into her thighs. She could feel each breath he took while his lips stayed merged against the back of her head. He sounded like an animal. Like he was riled up, ready to lunge at the slightest sound or disruption.

"Anyone could have grabbed you, if you didn't wake up-"

Just the thought of what could have happened, what might have happened, sent Michael's head reeling and had his own body quaking with frustration and paranoia.

What would he have done if she didn't come home? He would have gone out looking for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to look.

Someone could have seen (Y/n) wandering in a trance-like state and they could have snatched her. They could have taken her, kidnapped her, hurt her. They could have done anything she chances were if she didn't wake, she wouldn't know or fight back or utter one word.

She could have walked out into traffic and got hit by a car. She could have had an accident and froze to death waiting for someone to pass by and help.

It seemed too good to be true that she actually managed to wake up when she did and found her way home before she became too sick or disorientated.

The endless list of frightening possibilities made Michael growl into her hair as he tried to rid each and every thought from his mind that was beginning to go on overload.

"I was scared, Michael."

She kept her eyes closed so she didn't have to look up and see his expression when she turned her head. Her face tucked into his neck again and she felt the sharp breath he took as her words stunned him. The feeling of his lips against her temple made (Y/n) sigh into his skin but it was the feeling of his right hand slithering out of the blanket to cup her cheek that made her freeze.

His arm pinned over her chest and his hand cupped the side of her still frozen face. The pad of his thumb traced across her cheekbone and down towards her jaw while he pressed kiss after kiss against her temple. Not realising that he had started to sway them both from side to side.

"You're home now, alright? I'll- I'll keep an eye on you." He wouldn't let her go. If she had told him sooner that she had a tendency to sleep walk, he would have been more vigil at night.

He would have made sure to listen to each sound he heard during the night, he would have been on red alert for any movements that didn't sound normal. He would have done something to make sure she was safe. Hell, Michael probably wouldn't have gone out or stayed out so late tonight if he knew (Y/n) went sleep walking from time to time.

With a deep breath, Michael shifted just a little so he could lay back against the cushion so he was laid down with (Y/n) reclined against his chest. He kept his arms bound around her and his lips stayed merged with her temple

"Get some sleep, yeah? If you wake or try and wander or some shit, I'll be here."

(Y/n) finally peeked her eyes open so she could try and glance up at him, but Michael had his eyes closed and he looked like he was already on his way to falling asleep himself.

"But… if mum sees…"

As much as (Y/n) was desperate to stay wrapped up in Michael's arms like this until the world ended, it wasn't practical. What if Michelle came downstairs early in the morning and saw them tangled up together like this? She wouldn't be happy. She might kick Michael out and (Y/n) was already panicking about the day he would eventually move out in case he wouldn't want to see her again.

But right now, Michael didn't seem to care. He wasn't letting (Y/n) wander back up to bed to be on her own, not in this state. Not after what she had just been through. She was staying here with him where she was safe and he could look after her.

"Right now, I don't give a shit. I'm not letting you out of my sight." As if to prove his point, he encased his arms tighter into her frame and hooked one leg over hers like he was a set of vines caging her in a trap.

It was comforting. It was lovely and warm and heavenly to be overwhelmed by Michael right now and have him thawing her out and telling her that he wasn't letting her go. He didn't want to be out of her sight, he wanted her right here so he knew she was warming up and safe and not about to go wandering in danger again.

With the little energy that she had left, (Y/n) wriggled onto her right side and curled her legs up towards her stomach, trying to make herself more compact in an attempt to keep warm.

A shiver rattled through her when she felt Michael's thumb glide across her cheek as he cracked one eye open and looked down at her.

She was sure he murmured "You're still cold," but she wasn't sure whether it was a statement or something which required an answer.

But she gasped when she felt Michael's arms bind tighter around her and he twisted them around in less than a second. Her arms stayed encased to her chest and she closed her eyes until Michael had her back pinned against the sofa and he was hovering on top of her instead.

His face tucked into the crook of her neck while he pulled on the blanket so it was safely encased over him and tucked around (Y/n) to keep the heat surrounding her. His lips attached to the side of her throat as he switched between kissing her skin and simply breathing against her throat to try and heat her up.

(Y/n) lifted her arms just a little so her fingers could graze along Michael's neck but she could already feel her mind beginning to settle down. Suddenly the thought of her mum walking in on them like this didn't spark adrenaline in her system anymore. Suddenly nothing else seemed to matter except how tightly Michael was holding her and how warm he was making her feel.

It felt like she was starting to sway as her mind slowly started to switch off, but she knew she heard Michael correctly when he started whispering into her skin.

"You don't know what you do to me. I've never felt like this with anyone else."

[dunmeshistash]

About what Laios's curse is—I saw a theory about how Laios still actually is his monstersona, but he doesn't look like it or feel like it. Basically, he has his ideal body but is incapable of perceiving that he does, so he never feels fulfilled in that aspect.

Supporting evidence:

One: monsters stay away from Laios; this could be because they can perceive his "true form". The way the monsters act (like the cockatrice in the Kensuke omake) act afraid, but aren't magically repelled like a "curse so that Laios can never come close to a monster" would imply.

Two: the poop thing lol

Three: Laios's insatiable hunger. I always wondered why in the ending when he finishes a giant plate/bowl of food, his stomach didn't burst or anything. If he'd just had the demon's desire of always being hungry (pretty much), then wouldn't it be that he doesn't FEEL hungry, but his body still feels the consequences of it? Maybe he's actually his giant chimera form, so he actually has the stomach of his monstersona, and he never feels full as a result.

Counter points:

It could be that Laios's mana is "tainted/marked" and the monsters can perceive that and stay away for the most part. Though how it's "tainted/marked" and how the monsters can perceive it from far away is still a question. With the Laios is still a chimera theory, it makes a little more sense because its size would be perceivable from afar, but also it's unclear in what way his chimera form would still exist or be perceivable. Is it like on the same plane of existence ghosts are on, so monsters can essentially see a giant chimera at all times? Maybe with the cokatrice in the Kensuke omake, it was in a dungeon so maybe it thought it was hiding sufficiently?

The poop thing doesn't seem to result in Melini just having random forests everywhere, unless they have a plumbing system which I don't think they do?

Laios gets fatter. He likely doesn't eat enough to get a giant monster chimera fat, so it's strange that he gets fatter at all. Maybe it's some top tier illusion magic but idk?

Anyway, I thought it was an interesting theory!

Well he's physically wearing his cast off skin after he turned human again so idk about that.

The pooping thing officially stopped having an effect after a while

It is an interesting theory tho. I still think the curse is that monsters avoid him, the unicorns and wargs were there during the feast but not on the post Melini rising bits right? Perhaps they weren't affected right away cause they had already been exposed to Laios idk.

But post king Laios basically cries he can't see real monsters, I doubt he would be so upset if he could still see some monsters. In the end the effect is the same tho, regardless of the reason why.

Also about the Wargs, here's the monster definition from the bible's glossary

I think they still count as monsters.

[aishangotome]

Onio Ryo: Chapter 14

Chapter 13

♡———♡

Several days passed, during which I couldn't sleep a wink with this fragile body that Akura-ou had only breathed life into.

(…Or rather, I might not need to sleep. I'm something like a ghost, after all.)

I lit the stove, boiled water, and rinsed the rice.

I soaked dried fish in water to make broth, adding plenty of wild vegetables and mushrooms to make a soup.

While doing that, I decided to do the dishes, drawing water from the well and gazing at its surface.

I'd been told to stop wearing those strange clothes, and though I'd changed from my nightwear into shabby garments, the reflection was undeniably my familiar face.

(I'm a ghost, but my body has shape, I can touch things, and I can smell… and taste.)

However, I don't experience things like hunger, which are related to being alive.

(This is really strange. It's probably because I tried to break up that fight…)

I reflected on my actions, but no matter how many times I prayed to the sky, there was no sign of returning to my own world.

(I wonder what's happening at 'Tapir'. What about my work?)

(I'm probably making everyone worry.)

Ryo: ---...!

Ryo: Yumeka!

Remembering Ryo's voice, different from Akura-ou's, that I heard just before my consciousness faded—

(I want to see him. I want to go back.)

Especially since I had just sworn to the Master that I wouldn't run from fate…

Akura-ou: Yumeka.

I was called by my name in a voice that was the same as Ryo's... no, slightly lower, and I hurriedly looked up.

Yumeka: G-good morning, Akura-o—

He bent down slightly and blew breath into me, as he did every day.

Yumeka: ----!

Akura-ou: Good morning.

Akura-ou then moved away without saying anything else.

To keep me from disappearing as time passed, Akura-ou breathed into me about twice a day.

Even though he'd stopped using polite language, I could never get used to this act.

Yumeka: Thank you... but if we could reduce the frequency a little, that would be... nice, I guess.

Every time he breathes into me, I think of the person I love, and it makes me feel uncomfortable.

I couldn't explain it like that, so I stammered, and Akura-ou tilted his head, looking down at me.

Akura-ou: A way to prolong the effect, huh?

He thought for a moment and said.

Akura-ou: I've heard you can transfer life force by mating, what do you think?

Yumeka: Mat—

Noticing Akura-ou's teasing smirk, I stopped coughing and my cheeks flushed.

(Does that mean... having sex with Akura-ou!?)

Yumeka: No way! I... have someone I love!

Akura-ou: ...Huh.

Akura-ou turned away from me, who had raised my voice, and laughed amusingly.

Akura-ou: Just kidding.

After telling my flustered self only that, Akura-ou returned to the hut.

(That way he laughed just now... and)

The sound of his voice, not mocking, but just sweet, was exactly like Ryo's.

(...Ryo.)

My heart ached with longing.

-

Akura-ou: Another serving.

Yumeka: Yes.

I scooped some slightly brownish white rice into an empty bowl and handed it to Akura-ou.

This morning's breakfast was rice, soup with mushrooms and vegetables, and pickles.

It was very simple, but they said it was an incredible feast.

Saburo: Since Yumeka came, the food has become much tastier, hasn't it, Akura-ou-sama?

Jiro: Indeed. And the sake is better too, isn't it?

Taro: The sake has nothing to do with it.

I watched the three distinct Youma, happily talking to Akura-ou as I served more rice.

(...Are these three the comrades Ryo is looking for?)

They weren't born as Youma, but were once humans who fell and became Youma.

They told me they came from somewhere, fell in love with Akura-ou, and became his followers.

Saburo: Are there any ingredients you need? I'll go get them.

Yumeka: Um, could I ask you to get some fish?

When I asked, not only Saburo but also Taro and Jiro readily replied with an okay...

Ryo: I was beheaded, but my comrades from that time survived and are still wandering the living world—reality.

(Somehow, I still can't believe a lot of things.)

That I've become a ghost. That I seem to have been transported to ancient Japan.

That they are Youma with bad reputations in my time. And then...

(That Akura-ou is Ryo's past life.)

-

After finishing dinner made from the large amount of fish Saburo and the others caught, and finishing cleaning up.

There was an unsettling rustling sound from the direction of the forest, and I looked up.

(Another group of bandits...?)

Just as I braced myself, I saw the figure of a child peeking out from the bushes.

Yumeka: Eh...

Their clothes were tattered, with reddish-black stains here and there.

Yumeka: Are you injured!?

Woman: Eeeek!

When I reflexively raised my voice and rushed over, the bushes shook, and a woman, presumably the mother, hugged the child from behind.

Woman: Please forgive us... we're from the village over there, and we got lost in this forest...

She explained, trembling, that the child had just fallen and gotten hurt.

Yumeka: Um... if you don't mind, please come into the hut. We'll treat the injury. It's late already.

Woman: Treatment!? B-but this is Akura-ou's... no, are you human?

Confused, her tongue stumbling, the woman muttered as if to herself.

(She's afraid of Akura-ou.)

I squatted down, kneeling on the ground, and spoke to her and the child as gently as I could.

Yumeka: It's okay. Akura-ou and the others are Oni, but they don't eat humans whole... or anything.

Woman: B-but Akura-ou is a cruel and ruthless Oni, and he shows no mercy to those who defy him...

Yumeka: .................

I couldn't deny it, remembering the situation with the bandits who had attacked the hut.

Woman: They say women are entranced by his sorcery, and they go willingly to be taken and eaten...

Yumeka: ...That's...

I couldn't tell if the entrancement was due to sorcery or his beautiful appearance...

Saburo: Yumeka, what's wrong? Oh, humans.

Woman: Ah!

The moment she saw his three horns, the woman hugged her child tightly and screamed.

Saburo frowned for a moment, but he sensed no hostility from them, who had no weapons.

Yumeka: There are some cloths in the hut, right? I want to make bandages and treat their injuries.

Saburo: Treat humans!? Akura-ou-sama doesn't like humans entering his territory.

Yumeka: Then, I'll ask Akura-ou.

-

Akura-ou: No.

When I went to ask, Akura-ou, holding a sake cup, flatly refused.

Akura-ou: I have no intention of letting humans into my territory.

Akura-ou: This place is to protect us.

I had expected it, but his blunt refusal left me speechless.

Yumeka: But they're injured. At least let me treat them outside...

Akura-ou: I refuse. I have no obligation to help people.

Certainly, for Akura-ou, humans are enemies—there's no reason to help or protect them.

I almost found myself thinking, "If only it were Ryo..." and shook my head to clear my thoughts.

Yumeka: Please. If you don't grant my wish...

Yumeka: I won't cook for you starting tomorrow!

Akura-ou: ...............

Akura-ou, who had been sipping his sake, gave me a look of exasperation.

Still, I didn't flinch from his gaze, and a sigh escaped his lips.

Akura-ou: Your meddling will get you killed someday.

Yumeka: ......!

Remembering the incident that brought me here, I shuddered, but...

Akura-ou: Fine, do as you please.

Akura-ou said, turning his eyes away from me again.

-

Having gotten permission, I asked Saburo and the others to help, spread mats on the earthen floor, and invited the woman and child inside.

For the child's injury, I tore cloth into thin strips to use as bandages and used crushed mugwort leaves to stop the bleeding.

The woman, who had come in apprehensively, seemed relieved and at ease after being offered porridge.

Woman: Thank you. Our village was attacked by bandits posing as robbers...

She told us she had escaped into the forest with her life, not knowing what to do next.

Yumeka: ...I see.

Next to me, as I murmured, Jiro was peering curiously at the drowsy child and started singing a song.

Jiro: ...Sleepy, sleepy...

The gentle melody and lullaby with local dialect were short enough to hum along after hearing it a few times.

Taro: It's been a while since I heard Jiro's hometown song.

Saburo: We also escaped our hometowns with our lives when we were human... brings back memories.

Saburo: I hate humans, they're so unfair and unreasonable! That's why being by Akura-ou-sama's side is so comfortable.

Saburo: Akura-ou-sama gave us a place to belong.

Yumeka: ..........

I couldn't answer, just listened silently to the repeating lullaby.

-

As dawn was breaking, I was drawing water from the well.

Hearing footsteps on the grassy ground, I looked up to see Akura-ou approaching.

He hadn't shown himself to the woman, but he hadn't driven her away either.

Akura-ou: Humans are helpless even if you save them. They just hurt each other.

Akura-ou: Why do you try to protect them?

He seemed genuinely curious.

(Why?)

Yumeka: That's...

The morning sun shining through the trees dappled the ground.

Why? Without thinking, the words came out naturally.

Yumeka: Because... that's how I want to be treated... I guess.

Akura-ou: .........

His hair swayed in the wind as he slowly tilted his head.

Yumeka: Because I want to be treated kindly—because I want to be protected, I want to be kind to someone else in the same way.

As I formed the words, my thoughts became clearer.

(Ah... that's right. That's what it was.)

Ryo: A dream?

Yumeka: I want to create that place where everyone can smile again...

Yumeka: It's like training for that, so I want to do everything I can.

(I wanted to create a place where I—more than anyone—could smile.)

(And yet, I was pushing myself so hard that I couldn't sleep... I was pushing my dream away.)

I don't know why I realized this now, in this place, in front of Akura-ou.

Maybe it's because my fading body has become lighter.

Yumeka: ...Akura-ou, is there anything you want people to do for you?

At my question, Akura-ou tilted his head.

Akura-ou: ...Who knows? Never thought about it.

Then, he took a step, passed by me, and said as he headed into the forest.

Akura-ou: I'm going out for a bit.

Yumeka: At this hour?

Akura-ou: I'll be back before breakfast.

And so Akura-ou went out, single-handedly annihilated the bandits who had attacked the village, and returned.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter 15

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[snoopymydear]

Just the two of us

When Katniss is depressed Haymitch comes over to help her, in the process of helping her Haymitch finds a secret about Katniss

Word count: 1490

Charecters: Katniss, Haymitch, Peeta, Johanna (briefly mentioned) Gale (briefly mentioned)

So this was actually my first fic about cg Haymitch and little Katniss and how Haymitch found out about Katniss’s regression, so if you're reading my fics in a chronological order then this one would be first and then it doesn't matter what order you read the other ones in. This specific work has more world building then age regression present in it so I guess that's maybe why I didn't post it? It's really sweet and heartwarming nonetheless. Same as last time this story is also avaliable on a03 under the same title (Just the two of us) and username (Snoopy_my_dear) I prefer reading fics on a03 as opposed to tumblr so I just thought I'd throw it out there (Notice how this fic is arranged in an a03 format lol, guess where I started writing fics) Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy and PLEASE leave comments and likes if you like the story, positive engagement gives me motive to write more!!!

TW for implied alcoholism, childhood trauma and refrenced SH, neither majorly impact the fic but are mentioned, if either of these things bother you then I recommend clicking away, it's not worth reading a fic if it's going to trigger you/gen

BTW NOT A K!NK if you find this sort of stuff k!nky get the %@!& away from me and my fics and go figure yourself out.

After Prim died and her mother abandoned her once again Katniss found no good reason to live.

She was miserable, she had no friends her age in district twelve but Peeta.

As for Haymitch he cared deeply about her and she saw what could be a father figure in him…when he was sober at least. The battle of the Capitol as well as being involved in more than his fair share of the hunger games was so taxing on Haymitch that she couldn't really blame him for drinking. Even she tried to drown her sorrows in alcohol but luckily for her being drunk made her sick and her problems seem much worse.

But when Haymitch has to take care of someone he does tend to sober up and be good to them, like how when both tributes were in the games Haymitch knew it was his responsibility to keep them alive with gifts from sponsors and various training. He was ultimately able to sober up for them. Strangely it was Peeta that made this connection that may have just saved both of their lives. Or at least made them a lot better.

Katniss was in the depths of despair, she wouldn't eat unless Peeta begged and pleaded, she wouldn't leave her house ever even to go hunting, and worst of all she began to act like her mother did, glassy eyed and oblivious to the world around her.

Having no one else to turn to, Peeta reluctantly asked for Haymitch's help. At the suggestion of Katniss needing his help Haymitch put his drink down and asked Peeta what he could do to help. Peeta's theory was confirmed

So Peeta configures a plan that would both help Haymitch stop drinking so heavily and help Katniss feel happy again or at least get her to eat.

The plan was to send Haymitch over to Katniss’s house around noon twice a week, he'd remind her to eat lunch and he'd give her company.

At first Katniss hated the idea, she didn't want anyone in her house, her safe space, the only place she could truly be herself. And she sure as hell didn't want anyone telling her what and when to eat.

But strangely after a few weeks of Haymitch coming over, Katniss started warming up to him.

At first she'd start conversations with him, purposefully be in the same room as him because honestly she liked the company and she'd ask him to stay longer. But as the weeks went on there was a shift in what Katniss wanted, she would sit on the couch next to Haymitch, her head on his shoulder, she would ask him to come every day and she would even ask him to tie her shoes for her.

Sometimes she would cry to him but it wasn't consistent, one day she would cry about how her mother gave up and Katniss had to provide for her family and that she just feels alone and that nobody really cares about her. The next day she would cry about the “kitty” not liking her, and once in a while she would go into more of a meltdown mode where she'd get upset at something like having to do the dishes and she'd stomp and yell about it, she'd hit things and herself, which Haymitch would shut down immediately and try to redirect.

It was strange that she would act like this but honestly Haymitch didn't mind, what he did mind was how Katniss’s outbursts and complete change in mood would be random, meaning that he had no idea what he was going to walk into on any given day. She could either be cleaning the house or having a fit and there really was no way of telling what the day would bring.

He needed answers and the only way to get the answers he needed was by talking to Katniss.

_

Haymitch walks through Katniss’s door and siys down at her kitchen table, not bothering to take his boots off.

��Hey” Katniss mumbles, not looking directly at him.

Her hair is down and she looks to be on the verge of a mental breakdown. Nonetheless Katniss seems to be her usual self today, which means that Haymitch can pester her into giving him an answer without feeling too guilty.

“Sweetheart” he begins

Katniss turns to look at him, she looks slightly confused and rightfully so. Never during Haymitch's little visits would he initiate a conversation unless he was prodding her to eat or take her meds or something like that.

“C'mere” Haymitch pats the chair next to him.

Katniss sits down and just looks at him, for a long time she just stares at Haymitch and Haymitch stares back.

“What?” Katniss asks, finally breaking the silence.

Haymitch sighs. He knows that this is going to be a challenging question to ask and if he doesn't word it just right he may upset Katniss.

“So uh you know I've been coming over lately”

Katniss nods, fiddling with her hands.

“And at first you didn't like it but-” Haymitch stops. He rubs the bridge of his nose and starts over. “Katniss, sometimes when I come over you act real strange, do you know what I mean?” Katniss looks up at him "No” she says with a twinge of confusion in her voice.

Haymitch sighs. “You know when there were days that you would be really cuddly with me and you'd ask me to do things for you like tie your shoes or braid your hair, things that you are not only fully capable of but refuse to let other people help you with”

Katniss’s face turns bright pink

“Now do you know what I'm talking about sweetheart?” Haymitch pushes

Katniss, who has since found her eyes to be glued to the table, nods her head.

“Can you tell me about it?” Haymitch asks

Katniss, whose face is now beet red, decides that lying to Haymitch would do no good for either of them, so she tells him the truth.

“Since the first games were over, I found myself having difficulty adjusting back to life in district twelve. I was scared of other people and what they could do to me, some days more than others. During that time I also got into a habit of choosing “Safe people” or in other words people that I deemed would protect me if I let a more vulnerable part of myself show. So I would allow myself to be more relaxed and needy around them, like Johanna and even Gale before he-” Katniss stops abruptly, feeling the pain all over again of her closest friend killing the person she cared the most about in this life.

Haymitch clicks his tongue. “So why do you get so clingy and babyish?”

“Childhood trauma I guess” Katniss shrugs. “After my father died, my mom gave up and I had to fend for our family, I was eleven when he died though so I don't know what makes for the babyish stuff” Katniss sighs

“Was your mom good to you before your dad died?” Haymitch asks

“Not really” Katniss admits. “She used to get really mad over nothing and she'd take it out on me and Prim when my father was at work so he couldn't stop her, it was always really scary” Katniss mutters.

“So let me get this all straight” Haymitch starts. “You sometimes act babyish around me because you didn't have a good childhood and you trust me that much?”

“I think so” Katniss states. “I can't really make much sense of it either”

Haymitch chuckles.

“So you're not mad at me?” Katniss asks

“Of course not sweetheart” Haymitch says in a soft voice.

Katniss darts out of the kitchen leaving Haymitch quite confused but of course in less than a minute Katniss comes right back.

In her hands she holds a pink baby blankie that has been clearly loved but still in good condition and a black hair tie.

Haymitch pats his lap, Katniss moves over and sits on his lap.

“So what's all this?” Haymitch asks

“My blankie” Katniss says confidently before realizing her mistake and blushing.

“No need to be embarrassed kiddo” Haymitch reassures.

“My dad gave it to me when I was little” Katniss continues.

“And I assume the hair tie means that you want me to braid your hair?” Haymitch asks even though he already knows the answer.

Katniss nods and giggles.

Haymitch takes the hair tie from Katniss and starts braiding her hair. While Haymitch isn't very good at braiding he tries very hard to make it look nice. Katniss isn't very good at staying still so it makes the task a lot harder.

After doing what he considered a good enough job with her hair, Haymitch turns Katniss around and kisses her on the forehead.

“I love you sweetheart” Haymitch says

“I love you too Papa”

[amrass]

Blood Promise is up on Ao3

Fandom: RDR

Rating: E

Pairings/characters: Joe/Micah, Dutch/Micah

Tags/warnings: Evil sickfic, dubcon (noncon), obsession, unrequited love, painful sex, Joe's battering ram of a dick

Summary: In the attic of a cabin, Micah is recovering from losing a knife fight, an eye and a man who he thought cared for him.

He doesn't know his own best, and maybe he never will. Good thing Joe's there to help him out.

Excerpt after cut:

A couple of months ago, Joe once saw Arthur Morgan glaring at Micah from across the campfire.

He was wiping blood off his knife. Human or animal; Joe couldn't tell. Then the man used it to skewer a piece of burnt meat, and ate of it, glare growing vicious.

Joe could understand Morgan's hunger but not his hate. Or, well, it almost feels like hate sometimes, clogging like humid rain and fire and tobacco smoke all at once. Especially because Micah didn't much care about Morgan anymore, leaving it up to Cleet and Joe to watch over the paling rival. Micah only had eyes for Dutch, following him around like a tail, just like he'd done with his father and Colm back in the day. Falling back into old habits, putting people on a pedestal, loving them fiercely. Joe had watched Morgan watch Micah, who watched Dutch, and felt a strange kinship with the dying man, because he also felt half-dead with bitterness.

He doesn't think about this bitterness, but he acts on it, a thread in his actions towards Micah during the past two decades. Joe's inner life is buried underneath too many rotten leaves and broken bottles for any real reflection to take place. 

Brown, his life is so dull and brown, and although he's two years older than Micah, he didn't start seeing bright color - blues and blondes and reds, so much and many reds - before the little Bell had grinned crazily at him from underneath brittle scarecrow hair.  

Joe hopes Arthur Morgan went to heaven, so that when Joe goes to hell, Micah will follow shortly afterwards and he'll have him all to himself. As it should be. As it should've been from the beginning if Micah had known his own best.

[felixcloud6288]

Dungeon Meshi Chapter 12

Lore!

We're dealing with living pictures this chapter. Just like the zombies and ghosts, no explanation about how they exist is given. It's just a "They exist. It's magic. Don't worry about it" type of thing. Still, it appears that only the pictures of a person looking at you are aware of the outside world. And you have to actually look at the painting for it to attack you.

When Laios jumped into paintings of scenes, the people in the painting acted like he was supposed to be there (with one notable exception). If he'd jumped into the portrait painting, would the person have been aware he was from outside and attacked him? I think the threat of a living painting has more to do with being trapped in the painting rather than whatever might be inside it.

So now Laios decides to dive into various paintings to try eating the food in the paintings. If he lived in the real world, Laios would be one of those biologists who would eagerly volunteer to explore the most terrifying areas just because there might be new critters to discover. He would totally hop in a small submarine to observe deep-sea creatures. And he'd totally try catching and eating a hagfish.

I want to point out that the elf girl isn't part of the first painting. The king and queen are also dressed differently from what they were wearing in the actual scene Laios saw.

I'm going to guess the world in the painting is the exact event depicted in the painting regardless of what the painting shows. Laios witnessed the actual birth and naming of the future king Delgal exactly as it happened.

That lady mistaking Laios for a guard because of his sword reintroduces all my questions about Living Armor that I thought had been answered. If Kensuke looks exactly like a sword the guards would use, then the Living Armors all may have looked like the armor the kingdom guards wore. So I'm going to guess Living Armor colonies are mimicking human armor.

The lion-head Living Armor was probably mimicking a suit of armor for a prominent member of the kingdom's military, maybe it was the king's personal armor. If so, then the kingdom probably used something like a winged lion as either a guardian deity or a symbol of the kingdom.

When Laios jumped into the second portrait, he landed on the table right in front of future king Delgal.

That short interaction between Laios and Delgal instantly endeared me to the future king. He's a kindly person who doesn't anger easily. He's easygoing enough that he won't let Laios's shenanigans bother him. I can't say whether or not he'd be a competent king, but he's definitely a king the people can love.

There's a great dissonance between what the painting depicts and the event within it. The painting is a scene from prince Delgal's wedding and overall seems to be a merry occasion. But then it turns out that someone had attempted to assassinate him and successfully assassinated the king on that day. Whoever commissioned it may have just wanted to skip over the tragedy of that day.

Living Paintings cannot solve world hunger. You cannot take anything out of them.

The third painting depicts Delgal's coronation. I think it takes place in the very hallway the party was in during this chapter.

No one questioned why a guy in armor was sitting at the table. No one except the elf girl who Laios has seen in all the other portraits.

During Delgal's birth, there was a particular moment where she may or may not have been looking at Laios. However, she was far more interested in celebrating Delgal's birth than keeping an eye on the strange man in armor.

During the wedding, she was definitely watching Laios until the king was killed. She was also holding a flute.

Speculation time: I think she may be the magician who cursed the kingdom. Something probably happened to Delgal and she cast some spell that turned the kingdom into a dungeon. Since souls are trapped in the dungeon, maybe her goal is to resurrect Delgal to have him lead the Golden Kingdom once more. That line he said during the coronation gave me some shivers about how things may have led to the kingdom becoming what it is.

But then who was the person from chapter 1 who told the world about the situation? I kind of think he looks more like Delgal's father (probably because an old man looks more like a dried corpse), but if that was actually Delgal, then he understandably is against whatever the elf girl is doing.

Assuming Living Pictures can be made non-hostile and there's a way to pull people out of them, they could make for an effective way to learn about history or uncover various mysteries. Like I said earlier, it seems that the world in the painting is the actual events the painting represents rather than an artistic interpretation.

If someone wanted to experience a historical event, they could get a painting of the event made, cast whatever spell turns it into a living picture, then jump in and experience it firsthand.

And I think that might be something the elf girl is doing. If her actions are out of genuine love for the kingdom/Delgal, maybe she's using the living pictures to relive her cherished memories with Delgal, hence why she's aware of Laios traveling through the paintings.

Alternatively - and I am just throwing this out as an impossible crackpot idea that I want to share - Laios actually time traveled when he jumped into the paintings. So he was actually historically there during Delgal's birth, wedding, and coronation. And the elf girl can tell he's not supposed to be there, either because he's a stranger or she can tell he's traveling through time. And there's a non-zero chance she might think Laios was responsible for the king's assassination in that case.

She did correctly pin Laios as someone after the throne. If that is the magician speaking to him, then she wants to kill Laios because he will interfere with whatever she is doing to preserve the kingdom in its current state. If that is her from the moment Delgal was crowned king, then she has mistakenly concluded Laios is plotting to kill Delgal and destroy the kingdom before whatever ruination eventually befalls it.

The third floor of the dungeon lacks any living monsters. It is just a maze-like passageway. Maybe this floor held precious memories for the magician and she decided to seal everything away so neither monsters nor adventurers would defile those places. And the high number of undead is because of people getting lost in the maze, dying, and never being found.

back

[ch3rrys]

FOR  :  gunwoo  (  @blznit  )  .  LOCATION  :  coyote casino , off the clock .  TIME  :  10 p.m. on a tuesday , otherwise known as the pathetic man's party hour .

there's  an  itch  that  can't  be  scratched  lingering  just  below  her  skin,  pricking  at  the  surface  in  her  waking  hours,  an  absence  that  begs  to  be  fed.  sometimes  it  feels  like  all  jiha  is—  a  void  unable  to  be  filled,  an  ache  that  won't  go  away.  but  there  are  moments  when  the  feeling  quiets,  moments  like  the  ones  spent  behind  the  wheel  going  fast  enough  to  outrun  death  itself,  or  off  her  face  drowning  in  the  mind-numbing  bass  of  a  song  at  12welve,  when  she  can  pretend  she's  something  whole  again.  tonight  she's  all  glitter  and  gasoline,  a  storm  that  hasn't  quite  decided  whether  it  was  going  to  break  or  not.  coyote  casino's  as  good  as  any  place  to  make  that  gamble,  and  she  feels  at  home  underneath  its  colorful  lights  and  the  way  they  masquerade  the  ugliness  lurking  beneath,  that  dark  underbelly  exactly  what  she'd  come  to  indulge  in.  the  results  of  yesterday's  race  have  jiha  running  on  a  high,  her  head  buzzing  like  she'd  already  taken  something,  but  she  should  have  known  happiness  usually  had  better  places  to  be  than  by  her  side  for  long.  she  hears  him  before  she  sees  him,  a  voice  both  familiar  and  strange  all  at  the  same  time.  deeper  than  in  her  memories,  yet  undeniably  one  she'd  recognize  in  all  her  attempts  at  chasing  it  towards  the  ends  of  the  earth.  reaper  sprawled  out  like  a  king  in  all  his  glory,  too  loud,  too  big,  big  enough  it's  like  he  sucks  the  air  right  out  of  the  room.  or  perhaps  it's  just  the  air  from  her  lungs,  the  sight  of  her  brother  forever  hitting  her  like  a  car  crash,  leaving  her  picking  at  the  wreckage.  if  jiha  was  smart  she'd  leave,  ride  out  her  high  as  far  away  from  the  back  hole  that  was  gunwoo.  but  she  doesn't,  because  pride  was  a  sin  they'd  both  inherited  from  their  father  the  same  way  one  might  inherit  the  slope  of  their  nose  or  the  color  of  their  hair.  if  he  was  her  car  crash  then  she'd  be  his  asteroid,  something  sharp  and  blazing,  strong  enough  to  puncture  his  orbit  no  matter  how  unwilling  he  was  to  let  her.  she  takes  in  the  blown  pupils,  the  almost  tick-like  way  he  swipes  at  his  nose.  and  then  jiha  laughs,  because  it's  ten  o'clock  on  a  tuesday  and  he's  fucked  up,  because  he'd  lost  and  there  he  was  with  the  gall  to  act  like  he  was  celebrating.  “this  is  just  pathetic,"  is  the  greeting  she  offers,  and  maybe  it  says  something  about  her  that  her  eyes  light  up  when  she  says  it,  that  endless  hunger  urging  to  find  a  new  a  way  to  be  satiated.  “you  look  like  roadkill  in  that  fucking  coat.  but  i  guess  that's  fitting  for  someone  who  could  barely  scrape  top  ten.” 

[mythpregftm]

thinking a lot about pregnant Anders and I think being pregnant would honestly ground him a little bit, and it’d be a healing thing for him since he’s surprised he can even have a child with the grey warden taint + the trauma of circle mage family separation.

Anyways, he’s taking loads in his cunt from anyone in dark town/his companions thinking nothing will come of it because nothing does. until his mind is quieter than it has been in years and justice is urging him to eat more and more when before he only ate the food necessary for survival and anything else had to go to his cause. and overtime the pudge around his hips won’t go away. Pregnancy is the physically healthiest he’s been in years.

I love this sooo much... Anders is my babygirl and he deserves the absolute world. And a baby!!

Imagine. He lands in Kirkwall thin as a twig, dirty, and sallow. He works himself to the bone in Darktown witnessing injustices and horrors every day, offering what help he can at his clinic but it's never, ever enough. His hands shake, his back aches, and Justice won't keep quiet. He works til his mana is exhausted and he doesn't even recognize the pangs of his hunger. But it's Anders, and he's always been a flirt, so he still manages to find a little fun with thankful patrons from his clinic and his newfound companions through Hawke. Using sex as a stress relief, fucking his companions after stressful missions, letting them cum in his pussy because he loves getting his tight cunt stuffed. And hey, he's a Warden, it was drilled into him that he's basically infertile.

Except things start feeling strange. Justice rears its ugly head less and starts encouraging Anders to care for himself more. He must be ill, because his days are dotted with intermittent nausea, but even when he improves his food intake and his sleep schedule, Anders still feels nauseous and tender and sore...

It's Merrill that tells him how good he's looked recently. His face is fuller, there's more energy in his step, and he must be doing something right, because she says he's practically glowing... not with Justice, she clarifies. It confuses Anders more than anything, who doesn't often look in the mirror. But she's right... at home, Anders strips down, looks at himself, and sees the weight he's accumulated. The tiny bump in his belly doesn't even register at first, too surprised that he almost looks normal again. He's so much less bony and has a healthy flush to him, even if there's a bit more fat settling around his hips than he's used to. Soreness be damned, he feels great.

It still takes a little bit for him to notice changes, though. There's a heaviness in his hips and he keeps gaining weight... looking in the mirror again, the distention of his belly doesn't remind him of fat, it reminds him of...

Oh. Pregnancy.

Anders realizes he's pregnant with an actual child and he's a mess of emotion but his heart swells. He never thought he'd be able to have a baby, between the cruelty of the Circles and his tainted blood. But he's pregnant and he's healthy and Justice is ringing in his head- this is exactly what he wants. This is what he needs, and this is what he's fighting for. He looks and feels the best he has in years, and he's determined to stay that way for his precious gift.

...his companions are surprised but take it quite well. Anders looks good with a belly and pair of growing tits. They're especially for it when Anders' libido picks up and he begging to take their cocks in his soaking, pregnant cunt. Maybe that's when Hawke invites him to the mansion, where Anders can have his fertile body worshipped every night and not worry about the dangers of Darktown. He may not know whose babe he's carrying, but he gets all the love and sex he could ever want, and Hawke is acting like a proud father already. Anders' pregnancy works out for everyone involved <3

[snow-system-wol]

The Snow System and a complicated relationship with food over time

(various tw for past child abuse (implied), chronic illness, and related restrictive eating patterns)

The first thing S'ria ever ate in Limsa Lominsa was stolen -- but for months he acts like all of his food was. Of what is offered, he takes a bit when no one is looking and tucks himself away to eat it. He cannot remember a life before coming here, but he feels that being offered this much food is... incorrect. He isn't sure if he wants that much anyway, he can't tell. How is one supposed to figure out the difference between hunger and needing the food, when feeling hungry just seems normal?

It passes, and S'ria grows to enjoy eating with the other Rogues, trying new foods, and snagging something to eat whenever he wants it.

It's a good feeling. There are still brief moments, when he gets disoriented and feels as though he has done something wrong, but they are increasingly rare now.

Food isn't so bad as drink, but there is a long period of time where S'ria trusts none of it. Rudeness be damned, the plate and glass on Aymeric's table would remain untouched. Eventually, he will let others pour his wine again. But not yet.

During Shadowbringers, he is so emotionally crushed and withdrawn that it only feels natural that he'd have little interest in food. Even after returning from Mt. Gulg, it doesn't feel strange. How could he possibly want food at a time like this? He's the impending end of the world, a danger to those around him, nearly turning into a beast -- he'd be more concerned if he did hunger... Mostly because he'd no longer be sure what he hungered for.

It is only after they return, victorious, that S'ria begins to understand that something is more deeply wrong. He can only eat a little at a time or he feels awful before long. Sometimes even being in the same room as something being cooked is unpleasant. Foods he used to like, he swears he liked them, now turn his stomach just to look at them. Some moments he feels too awful to even attempt to find something, when it feels like his body would not like a single option he could give.

It's not something he can hide for even a half-moon, but S'ria still keeps it secret for the short time that it works. It's just... G'raha is already so full of guilt, S'ria doesn't really want to tell him that he thinks the Light has poisoned him to the point of some sort of permanent dysfunction.

As G'raha and S'ria get much closer, he stops trying to mask the symptoms as much. In return, G'raha does his best to find and stock what few potions seem to help during the worse spells. (S'ria was right, though. As gently as G'raha helps him through, G'raha remains furious at himself. Even if S'ria can forgive, G'raha cannot.)

After the end of Endwalker, with S'ria recovering from the battle, G'raha moves into S'ria's room. Without that privacy, S'ria doesn't bother anymore. He doesn't have the energy right now... if he's acting a little "pathetic", he truly cannot be bothered about it. So they're definitely navigating it fully as a pair now, and G'raha tries to consistently get or cook or ensure access to some of S'ria's few "safe" foods. If he is capable of eating anything, then those would be fine.

G'raha has absolutely no tolerance for advice, not after the one time. S'ria being sick was not a secret, with his frequent potion restocks... They are sure the scholar meant well, but a ramble on what types of food may be making S'ria feel worse (in their expert opinion) was not desired by any present.

G'raha doesn't even quite catch the issue before others did. S'ria's voice cleanly drops an octave and becomes rough, and firmly demands the end of that conversation. It is a bit belated on Fray's part though. There were only five foods that S'ria could consistently bring himself to eat on days that he felt more ill. Now that someone had insisted, without enough basis, that one of those foods could be making S'ria feel worse and that he really should be focusing on these other foods (that aren't an option)...

S'ria can't bring himself to eat that one anymore. The thought of it makes him anxious, and he can't help but worry that he really is making himself worse.

... There are now four consistently safe foods, and G'raha resolves to cut off any unhelpful advice the second anyone tries to give it in S'ria's presence.

It doesn't particularly get better with time, but dealing with it mostly does. Retired, with their own home, it at least feels like he has control over his own environment. It helps.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

omg!! tbh i was shy in sending you this because i wasn't sure if you'd like it, hence the anon ask. but yes... I have thoughts and ideas and feelings. hurt/comfort angsty shit is my thing. i think how he'd feel bittersweet of noticing changes in knight reader's behavior as time goes on, mostly in the beginning. and they get more used to it. violence has always been there, so why would they change? there's a difference when you're part of it as a victim and when you're the one responsible for it, he understands. he notices a certain darkness growing in them. stiff shoulders, scars and rougher hands from restless training. how their eyes are heavier, way darker than before, filled with a promise of harm. a silent warning. he'd take these little observations to himself quietly. like tragic events you can only watch and do nothing about because it isn't in your control. Prince Gojo knows the weight of the responsibility they've chosen. Knight reader has become so efficiently good at it, it's strange to him. the day he realizes what they're capable of unforgivable acts. red filling his sight, he could almost believe that the sky had changed colors as well. a warm atmosphere of thick blood that's difficult to breath in, uncomfortable, unnatural. for a second he saw no light in knight's eyes, which he's so fond of. duty. the promise of protection much louder in knight's ear than the scream of the men ahead that'll soon fall to the ground. those changes certainly make his heart ache. specially when knight reader, who's covered in dirt, sweat and blood denies touching him as to not stain his perfectly clean skin and clothes. or when knight reader says that it's too disgusting to touch and smell, so he should stay far from them. but we know Gojo would not care and indulge in his heart desires, in the hunger to comfort and clean them from such events. as if he could steal knight reader from everything and everyone. offer them all of his truly undying love. away from sharp edges. a place where there's nothing but softness and the brightness of gojo's smile.

@softgirlgonehaywire MICKEYYY COME LOOK COME LOOK WE ARE BEING FED

GOSH your brain!!!!!! your beautiful clever brain!!!!!! yes. just yes. u get them so well!!! i agree w literally everything u said……. U WROTE THIS SO BEAUTIFULLY TOO HHH THAT JUST MAKES IT HURT MORE….;;;;;;; T_T

first of all; im sorry to bring satosugu into literally everything (it will happen again) but like. i think what will always break me is the fact that suguru is canonically compared to a setting sun because all gojo could do was helplessly watch him fade away AND THATS JUST…… yeah. the idea of him failing to protect the One person he loves no matter the universe is so soulcrushing to me.

and the idea of him being forced to watch as his knight grows more cynical, as they start to become more and more infected by duty, duty, duty (if i ever finish the knight!sugu fic im cooking up ill definitely dissect this concept more but to me duty is like. almost a Disease in this world. something that corrupts.)… it’d break his heart a bit. he would definitely pull some strings to try and ease their duties and burdens but there’s only so much he can do :( (more motivation for him to become king so he can protect u properly!! tbh i think king!gojo would be twice as protective maybe a little manic… or maybe it would get him to relax a bit more… who knows who knows (<- thinking many thoughts))

but. gosh. the way u phrased this im literally going rabid……… ”violence has always been there, so why would they change?” / ”(…) filled with a promise of harm. a silent warning.” / ”the promise of protection much louder in knight's ear than the scream of the men ahead (…)” <- THIS ONE ESPECIALLY OHHH U GET IT U DO!!! placing satoru’s safety above everything else…. ruining themselves bc of that devotion…….. ur writing is so pretty btw im in awe

AND GODDDDD u know the way to my heart!! the guilt knight!reader feels, not wanting satoru to stain his own hands w the blood on theirs… they just see him as being so far above, like the sun in the sky, and thats also why i think they would feel some sort of urge to keep their distance… they’d rather die than dirty him, literally or figuratively. (but in reality i think prince!gojo is already a bit twisted and dirtied on his own and thats what knight!reader might not completely realize…) its literally just this:

if u listen closely u can hear the sound of me falling to my knees. both of them are a little sick in the head but they love each other so dearly, not even romantically, just as individuals…. they’re just in love w each other’s existence i think. it’s a very pure kind of love!!!

as if he could steal knight reader from everything and everyone. offer them all of his truly undying love. away from sharp edges. a place where there's nothing but softness and the brightness of gojo's smile.

^ AND FINALLY THISSSSS ohhh u r killing me…. this is exactly it too!!! that desire to just steal them away and make sure theyre safe. he wouldnt do it bc he knows they wouldnt want that, but he rlly does just want them to be happy and safe all the time…. i think gojo is kind and mature enough to realize that hes being selfish and he wouldnt act on those desires but theyre very much there. all he can do is keep smiling for them, trying to get them to realize that its okay to depend on him too 🥺🥺

its so funny bc they rlly do both have a severe hero/savior complex LMAO its like two people-pleasers trying to decide what to have for dinner… nono you choose, you choose, im fine with anything!! you want whatever i want? but i want whatever you want…. silly little geese. i love them!!

[thedevilsmemes]

ASTARION ANCUNIN QUOTES ~ BALDUR'S GATE 3 SENTENCE MEME!

"Hello, darling. Don't be shy, I promise I not to bite until we've been formally introduced."

"The tadpole's influence broke his dominance over me, and now I can finally pursue the one thing I've hungered for these long dark years."

"I'll be the last thing the bastard ever sees."

"Given that my choices were 'eternal life' or 'bleed to death on the street', I took him up on the offer."

"It was only afterwards I realized just how long 'eternity' could be."

"By the Hells. Sex, my dear. A night of passion."

"I'm out of wine and flowers, so I hope an introduction will suffice."

"And I wish I was drinking out of the skull of everyone who's ever wronged me. Life is tough."

"I've been waiting. Waiting since the moment I laid eyes on you. Waiting... to have you."

"Yes darling, that's what we call a lie."

"All I want is a little fun, is that so much to ask?"

"Why hello. Welcome to my humble party."

"Oh, we're lying to each other now? Excellent."

"But... you're no stranger now. Just strange."

"I hate it. This is awful."

"Wait! Don't interrupt them. Let me do it. They sound disgusting."

"I don't know, I'm sure a vampire spawn could still rip out your heart."

"My, My. Who knew our friend had so much blood in them?"

"Oh, you're such a sweetheart."

"I'm just glad you're being sensible about these revelations. I was worried people might turn up with torches and pitchforks."

"Although, there's still time."

"I already apologised. What more do you want? Unless you're looking for another nibble?"

"Yes, darling? Do you need something?"

"What in the sweet hells were you THINKING activating that lance, I was right there!"

"Next time? No no no, if there is a 'next time' I'll be the one aiming the all-powerful weapon."

"Although, I do appreciate you trying to fix your mistake, just don't do it again!"

"It's just that I happen to be a... what's the best way to put this? A vampire?"

"Oh my honour, the only thing on my mind, is depraved carnal lust."

"You couldn't wait ten seconds before being an absolute freak."

"Oh, good, puns. Because clowns aren't enough of a horror already."

"What? Was it something I said?"

"Really? - Anything in particular?"

"Now, I can't help but notice that one of us is positively drenched in blood. So..."

"At least the smut peddlers of Sharass' Caress will have a field day writing erotic verse about us when we're both dead."

"Hundreds? Urgh, it'll take hours to kill them all. She/He's right, we should just go."

"Oh? Then what do you want?"

"Five seconds into this relationship and I already want to break up with you."

"Oh the one hand, killing Gortash will be fun. On the other, Halsin can be very annoying."

"The man can't stay quiet about 'enjoying the freedom of nature's gifts'. I bet he'd outlaw clothing if he could."

"Good Morning. Thank you for not killing me the other night."

"Of course, what fun! I'm going to fucking kill you."

"I am. And beautiful - not enough people mention that."

"Hmm. Hmm. Thank you for helping me. It was very kind."

"I can't even tell if any of you are acting strange because you've been replaced or because this group is full of weirdos!"

"So... I was wondering if maybe - perhaps - you might be able to..."

"Can you read what's on my damn back? Please?"

"Well, hello... Looking for a cuddle?"

"What are you? No. We are not jumping down there!"

"Oh - eh - Hello again?"

"Easy now. Let's not do anything Hilarious."

"You have a manner of irresistible desperation about you. I like it."

"I'd trust a devil over a vampire any day. I think he likes us."

"Oh, bravo! Encore!"

"Why she sounds positively demented."

"I love it! let's tell her everything!"

"Don't be touchy. I'm sure he meant 'better off dead' as a compliment."

"I'd shake her hand, but she can still snap me in two, so... probably safest to skip it."

"Anyway, it's a brand new day. I'm sure we'll find lots of people for you to kill."

"I must see this. Don't you dare say no."

"Well, this seems like a lovely little spot. The sense of impending doom aside."

"I suppose it was only a matter of time until [ insert name ] took vengeance."

"For the Lady/Lord of loss, She/He does not like losing."

"Come to kill me again, darling?"

"Guilty as charged. Sometimes literally."

"What? No! Don't you dare! This isn't funny!"

"Huh, thank goodness, I was almost worried."

"Nice as it is, she still doesn't have the best hair in the camp."

"Well, I mean... kind of? It's a long story, honestly."

"You'll get back to me? This is important, devil! When?"

"It's not enough we have a gallery of villains to look out for, but now we could be infiltrated by a shapechanger?"

"But you're serious about this? About... us?"

"Tailor's mannequins? I never figured [ insert name ] for a follower of fashion."

"Well done again on besting Baal and all that. It was very twee."

"You filthy devil. I'm shocked."

"Haha! That's - Oh, you're serious."

"Well, of course we can leave him, it's the easiest thing in the world. We just have to keep on walking."

"Well, at least you purr for me..."

"The thing that will decide my fate forevermore? Yes, it has been on my mind, why?"

"Who knows how long before the others go feral without us there to guide them?"

"Let. Me. Go! - Ah... Hello!"

"No, as much as I'd like to become a Lord, ruling over the Underdark's vampire spawn, we have unfinished business with the mind flayers."

"I'm glad you had your fun then. I am here to provide an endless array of delights."

[hungergamesheadcanons]

Because I'm weak and anyone who follows me must suffer my immediate train of thought:

Behold some kpop artists that remind me of Hunger Games characters.

Katniss is a difficult one. I flitted between a couple of different artists, but ended up settling on Dreamcatcher. A lot of their songs are powerful, which shows the impact she has on people, but they also have some beautiful ballads which remind me of her softer side.

Songs that remind me of Katniss: Scream (Quarter Quell), You and I (relationship realisation), Polaris (singing for Rue)

Rosé from BLACKPINK has some solo songs, although anyone who listens to them is very aware of that. A lot of her songs really remind me of Peeta though, especially because she has an undeniably softer tone but still carries a lot of power, like how Peeta is physically weaker than Katniss but is incredibly skilled with his words and pinpointing weak spots in the Capitol's front. Special mention of Somi's Fast Forward though BC accurate.

Songs that remind me of Peeta: Hard To Love (hijacking), On The Ground (post first games), Gone (Peeta realising the first love was an act (even though Katniss wasn't sure herself))

Ok for Finnick we've got two, and that's because his personality in and out of the Capitol are two sides of a coin. In the Capitol, it would be a crime if I didn't say Taemin. Soft, sensual and sexy, Taemin's music makes me think that if Finnick had at any point sang, he would have been turned into a performer like Taemin. Outside of the Capitol though, I lean towards Red Velvet. The mix of upbeat pop that shows how fun and silly he can be, to slower more r&b songs, to emotional ballads, really just encompasses the main facets of his personality.

Songs that remind me of Finnick - Taemin: Guilty started this whole post, and I have to throw Slave and Thirsty in here too.

Songs that remind me of Finnick - Red Velvet: One Of These Nights (Annie in Capitol), Rose Scent Breeze (filming reveal propo), Red Flavor (can't pinpoint it but I can see him vibing to this idk)

I don't really think Johanna would listen to much music, but I will shoehorn her into liking kpop because this is my world now Suzanne (and Finnick survived). So Johanna I would say probably listens to Jessi? Jessi's music gives off bad bitch vibes and she's sometimes criticised for her attitude etc etc, so I think Johanna would resonate with that. Also, confidence is sexy y'all.

Songs that remind me of Johanna: Nunu Nana (idk just vibes man), What Kind Of X (interview), ZOOM (feels like she mocks Finnick with this song but jokes on her he vibes to it too)

I wanna say Twice, because I think it'd be really funny, but I'm gonna go with Lee Hi. She has a lot of easy listening music that wouldn't bungle his brain when he's drunk out of his skull, and also some jazzy tones that I think he'd appreciate.

Songs that remind me of Haymitch: Special (mourning his family), Am I Strange? (realising he's incredibly fucked up but also realising so is every other Victor), Scarecrow (joining the revolution and being hopeful for the first time in a while)

Twice, unironically this time. Young Prim in particular is so happy and hopeful, and I think that slightly-older-revolution Prim would hold onto those cheerful songs like a lifeline in the darkness of 13.

Songs that remind me of Prim: Cheer Up (when Katniss comes back alive), Dance The Night Away (vibing at Finnick's wedding), What Is Love? (Pure vibes again idk)

[vaultdamned]

What can completely break your muse?

Variety of Headcanons to send (accepting)

triggers: suicide, cannibalism, graphic depictions of violence

coming face-to-face with a version of himself that wishes for death. not that shitty, selfishly misplaced god I wish I was dead right now, attitude, but rather that there is nothing left & nothing matters or ever will & not even death himself would mourn me if I stopped living persona.

he's been there once.

vault living didn't come as easily to some as it did vincent, which eventually led to him being a sort of ... counselor for the vault; not that he had the answers to solve everyone's problems, but he could listen, & he was strangely good at that; there were some incredibly brilliant minds that needed nurturing, & being stuck underground with the people he came to call his community, his family, watching babies be born & people marry --- mundane things he never wanted to experience broke through those cold defenses he'd spent years crafting, because he didn't know any other way to survive. it was either adapt or live with insanity.

the latter of which claimed him over the next seven months.

after the massacre of his vault, the death of the overseer, & the destruction of the vault's terminal, vincent's left with questions that seemingly have no answers. he manages to lower the overseers body down from the atrium's beams, takes his pipboy, & begins reading through confidential files -- the initial experiment detailed conspirators against vault tec housed as test subjects for an experimental serum ; created by fellow scientists who's names are left redacted, but the formula is all too familiar, dread pulling at his gut. his formula. with his team. years ago. a passion project left abandoned in favor of other vault-tec necessities. the formula's not exact, but he recognizes its base. remembers the night it was concocted --- 22 hours without sleep, a mix of cocaine & nicotine in his system to keep him awake, something vault-tec surely knew about, in retrospect. but they'd altered the solution drastically. if not for that formation of numbers, it was unrecognizably his.

they used his experiment to experiment on him and countless others who, at one point or another, spoke their mind against vault-tec, & those people he'd come to call family, were either dying or dead, because of him.

what follows over the next period of time is endless work to concoct a cure; he had the means to create chaos, surely he could destroy it. solution after solution, mixed numbers & compounds, failure after failure, nearly setting the vault on fire, the corpses of his friends laughing with each attempt as he made his way to the lab in the morning, if he hadn't fallen asleep at the desk. you're a fucking genius, figure this out Riffy.

the lab's running out of resources & the vault's hydroponic garden has stopped growing, leaving him with the sinking feel of constant hunger, & while the thought crosses his mind, he doesn't act upon it -- because if he can survive a gunshot with zero scar tissue, what would happen if he ate the bodies of his fellow scientists?

one night, after another failed test, he grabs a straight razor on his way to bed, & locks himself inside his living quarters. he begins cutting vital arteries; bleeding out pathetically as the fresh wounds close before he can even blink -- a pool of blood collecting around him as he slashes himself again, again, & again, with reckless abandon, as if allowing that rage & pain to drive him deeper & deeper with each slice, but it doesn't fucking matter. no matter how forceful, rapid, or slow he cuts, the result is the same. the floor's painted red by the time he passes out from exhaustion.

the next day, he starts again. thinks a little more creatively. night comes & he makes a noose, wraps the coil around his neck, jumps off the atrium beams, the impact breaking the rope, his body landing on the ground with a roaring thud across the vault, like a dummy dropped from a tower --- the snap of his leg bone alerts him first, then the pain, excruciating for those few seconds, pain dissipating before he registers what's happening -- like watching jelly mold itself over a crevasse of blood, muscle, bone, & tendon.

unsuccessful, he tries taking poison pills. drinking bleach. gauging out his eyeballs. chopping off his leg. bludgeoning himself with a hammer. jumping off high beams within the atrium. spilling acid onto his head, feeling it seep into his hair only for his skull to act like a force-field. anything. anything at all. becoming addicted to the quick & anticipated pain, because he deserves this, right? deserves this endless hell. what did it matter if he could hurt himself again & again, feeling ultimately, nothing but relief, until the next moment comes where he wishes nothing more than the cold hand of death.

then it hits him --- a thought so simple ... he's been going about this all wrong.

by blasting away his head -- detaching it from his body, there was no going back from that, was there? the thought brings a sick, twisted giddiness he can only describe as that first discovery on a long, complicated project, but the problem lies within his own hands, his own human hands --- he's too cowardice to try, because if it works & he falls dead, what does that leave unfinished? a whole world above radiated ground ... he had to see it. had to see vault-tec's failure, because life survived up there. he saw it in the reports nearly 20 years later. he had to at least live to see the last laugh --- even with his new, cursed ability, he couldn't pass up a chance to see the future. be living proof of vault-tec's monstrosity. of his own.

& maybe the cure was housed above. somewhere. waiting for him.

[sadwizardjessi]

Tell me about ur ocs 👀

Would you believe that i JUST saw this omg i have no idea when this was sent in.

But gladly

Today I'm going to talk about Aspen. My favorite special boy (this is going to be very long)

His name is Aspen Creed, he's human, 30 years old, 6 foot 3 in, has ten skin and long brown hair (my current icon) and he's a fucking asshole. Draconic Sorcerer to the definition.

He was given as an infant to a town called Leeden that worships dragons. They accepted him wholeheartedly and because of his red dragon ancestry, they placed him as the chosen child. He was raised in a temple where he was isolated from outside influence and treated as untouchable but very controlled and watched royalty. He hated it but he didn't know any different.

Around 12 years old he found a gap in their security of him though and he began sneaking out into the woods behind the city wall, where he met a girl living amongst wolves. She was a teifling with a broken horn and almost completely feral. The second they met, she jumped down from a tree and bit him.

Despite him experiencing pain for the first time, he became obsessed quickly. She was new, she wasn't something under their watch. And more importantly, she was someone he could talk to. Even if she didn't exactly communicate back.

He began sneaking out books and such for her to go over. Teaching her to speak common and teaching himself infernal and showing her how to act with people while in exchange she taught him to hunt and survive. How to climb a tree, how to build things ect. Eventually he helped her pick a name; Lillith.

They began dating around 15. By 18 he was sure he was in love. There was no one else in the world that could compare to the strange woman he'd met in the woods.

The night of his 19th birthday he knew the next day was it. He was almost ready, he'd been told. He was going to ascend to become apart of the city, whatever that meant. But he knew if Lillith was ever seen by them she'd be killed on sight. So he ran. He left that night to her cabin and asked her to come with him.

Lillith has her own secret though. A secret that led her to the woods in the first place. So she refuses him, claiming to not love him anymore. That whatever he felt wasn't real. Any normal person would see her attempt at distancing herself to protect him, but as a heartbroken sheltered 19 year old boy, Aspen looses it and shouts at her before leaving alone.

Poorly, he makes his way to a nearby port town called Var. Unable to survive long on his own, he's dehydrated and tired and hungry. He sees People from Leeden looking for him and panics. Jumping in a box big enough to hold him, he hides. It's only minutes later however that the box is nailed shut and lifted. (Luckily its a box of fruit). Hours later the lid is lifted and looking down on his is 3 gruff looking adults, all shocked at the older teenager suddenly in their provisions. He climbs out and after realizing he's on the ocean, Var far back in the horizon line, he's led to the captains quarters where he meets one Captain Barnum Creed.

It doesn't take long for the two to become attached. Barnum is everything Aspen has never been. Suave, charismatic, smart, brave, powerful. And Aspen is everything Barnum has missed being. Young, romantic, impressionable. Before the second year mark, Aspen is adopting Barnum's last name and Barnum is referring to him as the son he never had.

It doesn't last however. Only six years were spent on The Rising Plauge ship as they're met with a vicious Dragon Turtle, seeming strangly focused on taking the ship down and all of its occupants. It's only after some desperation and quick thinking that Aspen is shoved onto a life boat with an old battered hat by Barnum and pushed out by a wave of magic away from the sinking ship.

He's still not sure to this day how he survived. One minute he was falling asleep from heat exhaustion and hunger and dehydration. The next he was awake on the beach, stiff from salt water but fully sated in all other regards.

He wonders for awhile, meeting up with Lillith twice even, but both times she only sticks around for a few weeks before catching herself and pushing him away again.

About 5 years after the ship sank, 4 years since he last saw Lillith, he's arrested and sentenced to death. He's on a ship with he meets 3 particular individuals, an amnesiac fire genasi named Pyre. A sweet Tabaxi girl with a bear named Fauna. And an old sad dwarf named Brene. This is the start of the campaign.

A lot has happened since the start of the campaign (we're hitting 6 years soon) but to fast forward-

Lillith had had Aspen's son in the 4 years he'd last seen her, she didn't know many human names so she named him Barnum, which Aspen has taken as an extremely romantic action despite Lillith not doing it in that way at all lol, he found out Lillith was a candidate for possession by a woman who'd split herself in half to try to becoming a living Lich to gain revenge on Pyre for cursing her in the first place thousands of years ago. (Pyre used to be her husband and went a little crazy with his love for her, wanting her to live forever with him).

Fauna is also one of these marked children, destined to become vessels for this evil woman. When Aspen found out he hunted Lillith down himself and declared himself to do whatever it takes to save her from this (even if that means sacrificing Fauna, but hopefully not). Brene left, they made new friends, Pyre and the mistress' daughter- a fire genasi named Sideris. Another human and great grandson of the Mistress, Edwin. And an army vet half orc named Calanthia. A few came and left, like Orion, an Aasimar they affectionatly called Onion bc everyone in the group is an asshole.

Calanthia and Fauna fell in love.

Lillith and Aspen had a second child, a daughter they named Jaem. After Lillith's best friend who died fighting alongside Aspen and his group. (They jokingly named theirselves A Soup [A- Aspen; S- Sideris; O-Orion; U- Ursa and Fauna; P- Pyre] Crew. It stuck.) Sideris adopted a sad water genasi girl named Violet. Fauna and Calanthia saved a small slave orc boy named Gorn. Both children have been left with Lillith.

Currently Lillith is Somwhere in the woods with her wolf awaiting death to come for her, leaving the children in the care of a very powerful wizard they'd met. Calanthia's sister is somewhere fighting evil while we try to chase after her. Fauna's mother possibly had a hand in msrking Fauna in the first place. Edwin has an angel threatening him with death for his revealed lineage. Aspen found out Barnum had been a lich from the beginning and working for the woman that marked Lillith. Though he recently betrayed her for them and is laying in wait to help them attack her army. Pyre discovered both the sacrifices and evil acts he committed in his thousands of years existence. Sideris is trying not to unravel as she travels with the shadow of her abusive father and fights against her war obsessed mother.

Also Aspen grew wings and breathed fire twice and grew taller and grew gigantic dragon wings and currently can only speak/ understand draconic, which no one else in the party speaks. So he's currently freaking out about that on top of his girlfriend being suicidal in some field and his toddler and new born with some wizard he hasn't met (she's more Sideris' contact, not Aspen's)

They have to return to Leeden soon to figure out what is happening to him and how to stop it. Then find Calanthia's sister and Fauna's mother. Then it's BBEG fight time. We're getting to the final stretch right now.

I played him in a previous game with my current DM (Lillith is her old character) for about two years that ended up falling apart. To say Aspen means a lot to me is an understatement. I've put 8 almost 9 years into this character. Im so excited to see the ending to his story.