#because surly if they can do it now they could have done it then??

[thisisntreaver]

That quest in fable 2 where sparrow has to go save their child from the same cave where they saw a man simply die of heartbreak because they didn't get to his son before he was turned into a hobbe must fuck with them so bad

[austerity-audacity-asceticism]

The atomic habits of St. Therese of Lisieux

I used to be one of those people that were like “oh I love St. Joan of Arc, St. Thomas Aquinas, St. Paul, St. Teresa of Avila” because I thought they were Cool and Heroic and they did Big Things

And whenever someone would talk about “The Little Flower of Lisieux” I was like “mehhhhh… okay”

Not in a way that was totally disrespectful, but not totally aware of the enormity of her interior life

Because guys

Wow

You’d have to read The Story of the Soul to really appreciate just WHY she is a doctor of the Church

(She’s the Doctor of Divine Love, btw)

Because St. Therese? She was in the details

They like to say the devil is in the details, but let’s face it— God is in the details, and in his mercy and wisdom, he placed St. Therese there for us to learn from and imitate in our own ways

She had to reconcile her great desire to be a saint with the enormous legacies of the saints that came before her, especially Joan of Arc and St. Teresa of Avila

(She, along with St. Joan, are the patron saints of France. I’m sure that’s something St. Therese never dreamed of)

And she had the realization that God would not have given her a desire that she was incapable of, and that there must be a way for someone “as small as her” to become a great saint

Which lead her to meditate on Mathew 18:4 (Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven)

And she was like “oh, okay. This desire planted into my heart is an invitation to become a little child, because the Lord wants to be the one to carry me to Heaven” 

(I am heavily paraphrasing so that you guys won’t be spoiled for Story of a Soul. Go read it!!!)

All of this is to say that her writings and her life reflect a simple but profound theology 

The Little Way is one of total dependence on the providence of God, of total surrender and self-mortification— the emptying of the cup of one’s self little by little, so that the Lord can fill it with his graces and abundance, and ultimately, with His own divine self 

The Little Way is one of the smallest acts of radical love, because the only person who needs to see it is God 

The Little Way is St. Therese going out of her way to nurse the nuns that she didn’t get along well with 

The Little Way is St. Therese is doing her best to hold cheerful conversations with a particularly surly nun 

The Little Way is St. Therese relishing being splashed with dirty laundry water as a sign of the smallest of suffering that only God would see

I called this particular post her “atomic habits,” because she believed that small acts can lead to holiness when done with great love for our Lord 

Small acts of love and self mortification were the things that she sought for while in the Carmel 

St. Therese elucidated in her signature sincere and effervescent style the enduring idea that there is no suffering too small, no act of love too small, to offer the Lord— because what he wants is souls, what he wants is us

That’s not to say that her interior life was always rich 

She suffered so much from months of aridity that she grew an affection for atheists, even going so far to say, and I quote:

[God] allowed my soul to be overwhelmed with darkness, and the thought of Heaven, which had consoled me from my earliest childhood, now became a subject of conflict and torture. This trial did not last merely for days or weeks; I have been suffering for months, and I still await deliverance. I wish I could express what I feel, but it is beyond me. One must have passed through this dark tunnel to understand its blackness ... When I sing of the happiness of Heaven and the eternal possession of God, I do not feel any joy therein, for I sing only of what I wish to believe. Sometimes, I confess, a little ray of sunshine illumines my dark night, and I enjoy peace for an instant, but later, the remembrance of this ray of light, instead of consoling me, makes the blackness thicker still.

It’s thought that St. Therese experienced this interior anguish up until the end of her battle with tuberculosis, with her final words being: “My God, I love you!” 

To summarize everything, reading St. Therese is a study not only of radical love, but also radical humility 

From a spoiled child to a martyr of the Carmel, St. Therese lived an inner life that very few of her own sisters in the convent were aware of 

Her life is also a testimony to God's perfect timing; St. Therese wanted to be a missionary in Hanoi, but was prevented from doing so when she contracted tuberculosis. She was later named a patron saint to missionaries.

St. Therese's Little Way informed the spirituality of many of the saints and intellectuals that came after her: St. Josemaria, St. John Paul II, Mother Teresa, St. Teresa of the Andes, Blessed Cecilia Eusepi, Hans Urs von Balthasar, and Dorothy Day

On her feast day, let’s take the time to reflect on what small things we can do today for the Lord; what small sufferings we can offer him with great love and humility 

God would never inspire me with desires which cannot be realized; so in spite of my littleness, I can hope to be a saint. — St. Thérèse of Lisieux

St. Therese of Lisieux, pray for us.

[zepskies]

Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I��ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[pricegouge]

In Your Web

part two - masterlist

nikolai x f!reader

cw: stalking, mention of alcohol, male masturbation MDNI

By all accounts, you need a return address to ship to Latvia.

Rather, you need a return address to ensure your package doesn't get opened by customs, where agents will laugh at best, or steal your panties at worst. Maybe even steal your DNA? To what end, anyway? No! Worse than that - what if they used their connections to trace the package back even without your address and -?

One is predictably unsympathetic. 

» Then send it with one.

It doesn't surprise you that he thinks you're that dumb. 

You toy with the idea of leaving a random address in the return spot and cringe when you imagine a surly Russian man accosting some random family four states over. It's a mental image you carry with you over the next week, playing it on repeat every time you get cut off in traffic, or you find a coworker has pissed on the toilet seat without cleaning it up. Once, you even catch yourself thinking of it when a particularly annoying regular dominates your feed during a regularly scheduled live performance.

But One is not your knight in shining fiber optic cable. Neither do you actually wish to inflict him on anyone.

So you send it without a return address, watch the shipping updates closely, and feel your stomach slowly boil when it sits for five business days at an importing station. Evidently, One watches it as well.

» You did not do as I asked.

He's uninterested in your offer to refund his money - half now, half later. All you can manage.

» If I wanted my money back I would simply cancel my subscription and request a chargeback from the service.

» I want what I purchased.

Talk of chargebacks makes you flighty. There are only two things you know about One, those being that he is very wealthy, and very rude. The bane of all customer service operators. You don't think it's likely the service would honor a reimbursement for a tip issued over a week ago, but it's not something you want to risk seeing as, unlike your plan to split his reimbursement, OnlyFans would reach into your bank account with the cold unfeeling hand of a multi-million dollar company and steal it back all at once, a prospect you simply can't afford at this time, as embarrassed as you are to admit. Long ago you'd made a promise to yourself that any and all large tips received from this side gig would go immediately toward paying off debts - student loans, ill advised credit cards you'd taken out while still living off said loans. It was a decision that had done you nothing but good up until this very moment, when his money was already spent and you were staring down the barrel of having to pay him back using your own funds.

Or, barring that, he could cancel his subscription and not only get a chargeback for the remainder of his pay period (probably the year, knowing him - you'd have to check) but you'd also stand to lose your best customer. One you're not entirely sure how you managed to land in the first place and one whose income you'd likely never manage to replace. Already, One's singlehandedly paid off an entire card for you, and until now he's showed no signs of stopping.

« i'll fix it

It's a bold promise to make when you have no recourse, but one you don't see your way out of making.

» No, I will.

—

For as much as the line had made you nervous at the time, One does not make any overt moves to follow up on it that you can see. Lapses into an uncharacteristic sort of radio silence for a time. He even skips the next few liveshows, something that strikes you as very unlike him. One does not seem the type of man to let a service he's already paid for go unused. The first night it's kind of nice, seeing as he has an annoying little habit of just paying the target price within the first ten minutes because he 'doesn't have time for this' (funny, how he always has enough time to request a private cam after) but then it's three shows later and you've barely raised anything because, apparently, all your other customers are used to sitting back and reaping the benefits of One's impatience. Something you'll have to address. He stays out of your DMs, too. Offers no tips in exchange for personal requests.

You'd be lying if you said it doesn't light a fire under your ass, gets you chatting with other creators searching for ideas on how you can fix the situation. People much smarter than you say to cut your losses and just refund him. Be done with it. But mostly it just leaves you with a large level of concern. You know these people aren't dumb, but you can't imagine the level of trust they've placed in some of their own favorite customers. Maybe it's because they're lucky enough to have attracted nice people, or at least people with enough social aptitude to know how to pretend to be nice. Something to be said for One, he's never once let you forget he's not the sort of man you should trust with your personal information.

Finally, inspiration strikes in the form of another stupid suggestion, one creator admitting they've put their work address in the return slot. They do not comment on whether or not they used their legal name, but given their stage name contains the word anal, you have to assume.

No desire to let One know where you work, or even the town you're from, you begin to think about other nameless faceless organizations you can use as a fall back instead, finally settling on a random Walmart two states over. You use your stage name and post it, sending One the new tracking number along with a free vid of you getting the replacement pair all messy in hopes that he returns immediately to his normal spending.

Of course, he doesn't so much as thank you. When another two pass with no contact, you begin to grow concerned. You triple check your account to make sure he hasn't unsubbed, but he's still right there at the top - even with no tips given in over a week.

He's disappeared for a few days in the past, but this is different. You think. Or maybe it's not. You wouldn't know seeing as you don't know him. Seeing as he's never given an excuse for his absences. Not that you'd ever asked… It's normal to be worried for someone you talk with nearly every day, right? You don't know him, sure, but you'd be a bit worried if your favorite barista from the shop you frequent just up and left one day. And your income doesn't even depend on her.

Perhaps that's why you break character when he finally resurfaces, the joy on your face when you see his handle pop into chat the next night genuine. Your giddiness is infectious, even. At least one other regular bothering to welcome him back when you stop your stream dead just to say hi. Foam falls around you, slips over your bare skin down to the tarp laid over the floor where already a good foot of it has accumulated like a blanket of snow. It was an idea you'd been quite proud of, always a fan of a simple dance party. The foam machine was a small expense given the high engagement you've received so far, your subscribers happy enough to watch you shake your ass while covered in soap bubbles and glow sticks. The machine had already paid for itself, but now that One was back, you couldn't help the building hope that you'd even meet your goal for the night, which could make for a pleasant weekend full of meeting friends for drinks.

"Glad to see you're alive. Was getting a little worried about you," you grin, settling back into your roll easily. You pinch your tits between your arms as you mime snapping on a pair of gloves. "Got thinking maybe it was time for a visit from your favorite nurse."

But One is not feeling very playful tonight, if he ever is.

» Check your phone.

You huff and kick some foam at the camera obnoxiously, pleased when it falls short and hits the TV it's mounted on top of instead. You don't need to kill the mood even further by stopping to clean your lens. You eye it now, pretend you're staring up at him defiantly when you refuse, tell him you're in the middle of something with one hand snaking down your belly. On the TV below, large enough you can read even from the middle of the floor, you watch the feed as they would see it: yourself on the left while the chat bubbles in excitement on the right, egging you on. You nod at them, a silent promise, check to make sure your position looks good and that you've got a smattering of foam on you, at least enough to keep some mystery for them to unravel as the show continues -

» Now.

Irritation doesn't sell well, but sometimes you can package it as chastisement. "Play nice," you caution, voice whistling through clenched teeth. It's not One's thing specifically, but there are other regulars who you know will eat it up. "Gotta learn to share."

But One goes above and beyond simply not liking being nagged at.

He waits until your fingers are just barely tracing your thatch of curls, movement from your laptop screen catching your eye. You drop pretenses entirely when a new window opens, your private chat with One maximized so you cannot possibly miss it. Carving a path through the accumulated foam, you slink out of the field of view of the mounted camera, show long forgotten as you approach your laptop, mounting fear confirmed as you watch your mouse move across the screen of it's own accord to hit play on the video he'd evidently sent you while you were otherwise occupied.

You know what it will be based on the thumbnail, but it shocks you anyway. The panties he holds look like nothing more than candy floss in his thick fist, wrapped around a fat cock so tightly the lace is stretched. Distorted. It's weird, the things you notice when adrenaline bends time. The camera work isn't great, doesn't let you see his the root of his cock or even his belly. Its focus shifts a few times, undecided if it wants to settle on the display before it or the dark hardwood below. He wears a watch, a simple leather band nestled in a pelt of dark hair. His knuckles are dusted too, hiding the glint of a thick gold band on his pinky. Uncut, thick. He grunts the next time his foreskin pulls back enough to reveal his glistening head and your breath stutters with his when the lace catches, synthetic fibers relaxing back into a recognizable pattern as he eases them off, untangles it from his grasp to flatten against the table, flimsy gusset laughably small framed between the thumb and forefinger of his free hand.

His native tongue spills from him like his seed, molten and thick. Language, even if you can't understand it, is enough to tug at you and you yelp, your brief moment of shock fracturing enough to compel you into movement.

Nik likes the way the suds paint her, the rainbow foam a nice contrast with her skin. It slides down the valleys of her body naturally, highlighting recesses he'd previously been unaware of. Pesky self consciousness, always framing herself so carefully to hide away the bits she think he won't like. They won't like, he supposes.

He's never minded sharing. Nature of the beast, paying for it. But he doesn't see why he should have to suffer the same experience as these others, not when he gives so much more.

It was one of the first issues that had lead him to this little perversion, the impersonal uniformity. The self-editing. He pays to see her body, not the careful curation of videos and stills which she deems tasteful enough. So he settles in behind the wrong camera most nights, his field of view lower. Off center. Only watches the proper stream - the one he actually pays for - when she looks dead at the camera to talk to him, ring light glowing eerily in her irises.

Close enough, for now.

He's logged into a burner account while he works himself up, watching as she bounces around her room to an obnoxious beat. Her audio mixing is off tonight, the club music she plays just a hair too loud. He likes to watch from alternate accounts sometimes, likes to see how well she fights her dismay when these other viewers struggle to collectively pay her bills. She's more likely to grant him special requests the longer he waits to show up, he's learned. Off the menu orders, she calls them. Cute, but not what he's looking for tonight.

Her thong hangs from the corner of his screen. He hates to have already ruined it, but consoles himself with the knowledge she'd been sweet enough to send him another pair. They won't smell as good, he's sure. Another censure she'll have placed on herself. None of the sweat from having been worn all day. But she tried. Wanted to please him. Desperate thing.

It's laughable, thinking Latvian customs would be able to stop him from acquiring what's his, but it's not like she would know that. It's why he prefers small, no-name performers like her. So unsuspecting. Passably genuine, smile growing on her face when he switches to his regular account, the one she has memorized. It makes his cock twitch, excitement growing when she showers him in attention, singles him out in the middle of her show. Forgets to keep dancing, even. As she should. He wonders if he paid for her new toy, the noisy machine currently leaving soap scum on her walls. Wonders if she'll let him pay for it again or if she'll have him summarily blocked within minutes. It won't matter, of course, but he's excited to see how she'll unfold. Another off-menu order. One more bridge too far.

What she gets, taking so much of his money yet never offering more. He just wants to see sides of her no one else has.

It's hard to control himself when she starts to get catty, shows her teeth. He'd imagined stretching this moment out a bit more, thoroughly ruining the mood for all other viewers. But when she looks right at her camera and tells him to behave, his breath goes ragged, and he has to let go of his cock to show the little bitch better - taking over her laptop to bring up the video he'd sent, a low grumble building in his chest like a warning when she slinks closer, as if proximity will give her a better understanding.

Three monitors, one for every angle of his omniscience. On the right, the chat in her official feed grows annoyed as she walks out of frame, a few of them even accusing him of foul play. Hero-types. He's going to enjoy watching them try to comfort her if she doesn't delete her account entirely after tonight - after he mouses over the video displayed on his middle screen, the mirror of her own laptop. On his left, she looms closer, expression open and honest in a way he's not seen it yet. Painted in the blue light of her monitor, it contrasts garishly with the heavy makeup she'd applied for the show, all warm-toned to match her pink neons; catches on the tiny pockets of popped soap bubbles which fleck over her cheek. It's not a good look, one she'd likely touch up before even taking a selfie for her Instagram account, a post-show teaser meant to make potential viewers feel like they'd missed out. And now that he's seen it, he knows how much he's been missing out, fist working over his cock with renewed vigor as he imagines all the ways he wants to see her now, all the ways he can, even if -

He fights the cursor when she tries to take control, but she's clever enough to know some keyboard commands. His right monitor blinks back to her profile when she cuts the feed, the middle one slowly returning to her home screen as she closes out of each window. She pulls away quickly after, palms clamped over her jaw as she breathes through the panic, soft belly caving with each pant. Foam still spews from the machine, dye having run out. It catches in her hair, paints her skin milky. He has half a mind to open a word doc on her computer, tell her she should skip the dye next time, the white more suggestive.

Doesn't get a chance. Cums when she scrambles back to the desk, his left monitor dropping the feed when she smartens up and rips the battery out of her laptop.

Left languid and lazy, he tracks her movements across her socials from his bed, thumbing through his phone. Detached, he watches her accounts blink out one after the other. A small city going dark under the approach of his hele. She deletes some outright, settles for blocking him on others. Even issues an apology to her viewers from a site she doesn't know he even has an account on. It's vague, boring. Doesn't mention him. He gets an email around midnight, her time, telling him to expect a refund for the remaining term of his payment, but is pleased to find her account still in place when he checks from a burner. The save of her live show is taken down shortly after, but he's not worried. Had it saved locally.

Can't rely on strangers from the Internet to behave, after all

[jazz-fics]

Title: Tri-Love

Requested: @crazyabout-writing

Plot: "You could write something about Dr. House, where he is in love with a doctor who is a pediatrician but their relationship is complicated, she is young and beautiful, but then a new doctor arrives. Tall, with black hair and always wearing a black suite, he falls in love with her and house gets jealous."

Warning: Jealous House

"You have three minutes..." Y/N says while holding her phone to keep track of the timer. "Go!"

The boy on the exam table grabs the pen provided before furiously drawing his best farm scene. Y/N had found that the boy's parents had to step out of the exam room so she took it upon herself to entertain him.

There is a knock on the door as Dr. House comes in. She looks at him with curiosity. "Whatever it is, it can wait three minutes." She points to the kid on the table, now drawing a lopsided cat.

Gregory House raises a brow. "Does that cat have four legs or--"

Before House's joke can make it out she quickly grabs his wrist and tugs him out of the exam room.

"You were not just going to make a joke like that in a children's exam room. Forget the exam room, this is pediatrics. What are you doing up here?"

House makes a dramatic gasp. "Me? Make an inappropriate joke?"

"Haha," Y/N says unenthusiastically. "What is it?"

"Lunch," he says with a snippy undertone. "You're late. And here I am finding why."

She groans. Of course she's late. When is she not? Before she could apologize, House brings more attention to them with an outburst just as the parents walk in. The situation was made even more embarrassing when Y/N phone alarm goes off. "Oh my Gosh! She's late to lunch because she's been cheating on me!"

"House," she grumbles under her breath before smiling at the child's parents and opening the door for them. Ignoring House, she looks to the child on the table. "Is that what I think it is?"

She shoots House a glare as she shuts the exam room door in his face.

*********************************************************

It really wasn't long that Y/N had been done with the child before another one came along.

"So, what's this I hear about a new doctor on the floor?" "It's you, House. You're the new doctor on the floor and you're not even supposed to be up here," Y/N sighs as she drops the patient folder at the nursing station.

"No," he says while tapping his cane on the floor. "I mean the fancy one. Dr....Shickle?"

"It's Schell"

"Like the sea shell?"

She ignores him as she picks up another folder. "It's pretty busy up here, ya know? Why not bother Wilson? You know, the head of oncology that doesn't seem to actually have any work to do.”

A snort leaves House’s mouth but Y/N can finally see through him.

“There’s a new doctor on this floor,” he merely says.

As he speaks, said new doctor arrives. Dr. Schell is wearing a black suit under his white coat which he takes off and folds over his arm. He looks at Y/N with a smile. “Need company for lunch, Y/N?”

The new doctor’s voice is enough to make any woman’s knees weak. Smooth and deep. House knows this and his eyes shoot to Y/N before he steps in. “She has one. She thanks you though.” House tried to make himself look taller despite his cane. Y/N arches a brow. This should be interesting.

Dr. Schell smiles and House hates the dimple on his cheek. "Well, I'm sure she doesn't mind more company?" His eyes drop down to Y/N. "Our lunch is at the same time."

"Actually," House says while nearly knocking something off the counter with his cane which Y/N is sure was on purpose. "She does mind." With another half-hearted and surly purposeful swing, his cane hits the lollipop dish off the counter and causes Y/N to jump despite seeing it happen. Y/N bent down to pick up the candies when she felt a firm hand on her rear that caused heat to rise up the back of her neck. Dr. Schell noticed the blush on her cheeks and raised a brow when he saw what happened. "I'm sure that's not ok, Dr.?"

"House. Also known as this one's husband so no, she does not need your company."

Y/N mouth drops open in surprise at House's rebuttal and is even more surprised when House hooks her arm with his and leads her away.

[i-put-the-hot-in-psychotic]

Target Acquired Part 2 (NSFW)

Pairings: Keegan. P. Russ x Soldier! Reader

Enemies to Lovers Trope MDNI, NSFW

Summary: In a mission trying to find some important intel with Task Force 141, you are pulled into a dimly lit room, the heavy door slamming shut behind you. Sharp words exchanged, trying to assert dominance over the other, yet an unspoken connection that neither wants to admit, turns into something more intimate.

Disclaimer: MDNI!, NSFW, 18+ This story will contain curse words, war themes, and NSFW sexual themes. I know Keegan and the new game do not have anything to do with each other but for the plot and sexiness sake, no hate and enjoy reading! This is purely fictional!

Word Count: 3,888

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, sexual themes, curse words, sexual acts, blowjobs, p in v, fingering, dirty talk, female orgasm, male orgasm, slight m dom.

Part 1

Keeping your rifle close, you slowly make your way through the dark corridors of this middle of nowhere base. Laswell had said they had some intel on Makarov and needed to infiltrate this base, slowly, quietly, and surly enough Task Force 141 was the perfect fit to go.

Pacing slowly through the corridor, illuminated by only blue light, you had to keep an eye out on both sides, from your left, the windows to the inner base, to your right doors leading to IT rooms, security cameras, and most likely would contain enemies.

A sigh leaves your lips, you can’t let Laswell down, the Task Force.

It had been months since you had heard or seen Keegan. In all honestly what happened in that abandoned warehouse still finds a way to creep in your mind, especially in moments you don’t want to. Looking to your left to check if the coast is clear, a hand grabs your mouth applying pressure and pulling you in a nearby room.

You freeze when you feel a big hand over your mouth, not daring to make a sound. You keep absolutely still, not moving a muscle as your heart starts to race. Even though having years of training the initial shock and the increase of heart rate still settles deep down in your stomach. This is going to be fun you think besides yourself. How could you have not heard them creep behind you. You start evaluating what they might ask or worse getting ready for the Russian torture you were about to endure.

No.

Keeping calm and letting your anger stay contained, you elbow your aggressor with the butt of your rifle, turning on him and aiming. Upon looking at your aggressor, seeing him groaning in pain face in his hand he winces “Fuck Y/N”.

You straighten yourself upon hearing your voice you look at his ice-coloured eyes.

"Keegan?"

 No.

What is he doing here? How did he find you? For a moment, he stares at you in shock. He was.... surprised to say the least.

"What the hell are you doing here? This is Task 141’s deal not yours?"

His face remains unmoving but there is a hint of amusement in his eyes. He leans against the wall opposite you, placing his arms behind him. "I came because I wanted to see you." He said in a quiet voice.

"Right" you reply rolling your eyes. "You have seen me now, now let me go back to work before you get us both killed"

He raises an eyebrow. "Price asked me to come." he answers your question. "Why are you so cold?..." he whispers.

If he wanted to kill you, he would have done it already. Something else is at play here. Having enough of his bullshit you make you way out of this tech room you’re in.

"Can I ask you one more question before you go?"

You turn towards him, "What is it with you and your questions?"

"I just want to know one thing..."

There's a strange intensity in his eyes as he stares at you, almost like you are the most fascinating person he's ever seen.

"Do you still think we are enemies?"

With that you remain complete quiet, completely frozen. At this point in time, were we?

Your body wants to respond so desperately. Reason creeps through your skin. He hadn’t killed you, hadn’t hurt you last time nor now, as you would have thought. If he wanted to take advantage of you last time he easily would have. Biologically, he's completely stronger than you.

But enemies.

Your mind flashed to the dreams you had about him, how hot he made you feel. How his shoulders felt underneath your nails. How his mask scratched your cheeks. A shaky breath releases past your lips, still yet to respond.

He watches, seemingly transfixed by your response. He watches you as your mind lingers on those thoughts you tried to suppress.

He could tell what you were thinking...

Finally, he speaks again. There's a strange tenderness in his voice, as if he's afraid to ask what he's about to ask but he needs to know the answer.

"Have you been thinking about me?"

"No" acting childish. "Have you?" You ask wanting to know if he genuinely had.

His eyes widen slightly in surprise. He's not used to people not being honest with him. Especially not people like you.

"Yes. A lot." He replies. "And I've been thinking how much I want to see you again."

Beat...

His gaze is steady and intense, like he knows you can see the honesty in his eyes. You weren't expecting that answer. He had been thinking about you. Wait. What if this was all part of a plan. To get into your head. All the compliments. What if-. He shakes his head slightly like he somehow knows what’s going through your mind.

"I'm not lying."

The intensity in his eyes only grows, but he's trying to conceal it. He's not trying to be intimidating. He wants you to see his vulnerability.

"Is this some sort of sick joke" you reply now getting hurt, angry. Was he playing you?

He takes a small step toward you, his eyes filling with genuine emotion.

"It's not a joke, it's not a trick or game. I'm as serious as I've ever been."

His lips curl into a slight smile. "I can't stop thinking about you." His voice is laced with honesty and genuine feeling. He seems like he can't believe he is saying these words, but he can't stop.

"Why here? Now? During an OP?” you state voice rising letting frustration eat away at your skin. He got closer to you, intruding on your personal space. “Make me believe you" you say close to him, face serious. You felt like he was lying. "Next time you see me it better not be some kind of sick job or a bullet because I won’t hesitate to pull my trigger"

For a moment, he's taken aback by the boldness of your request. But he's not shocked. He steps forward again, this time closing the distance completely between you two. He stares you down, a small grin spreading across his lips.

"I promise you... when I next see you, you won't be holding a gun. Or anything else for that matter." He speaks as if you are a part of his very soul, as if you already know exactly what he means.

You look at his eyes. Captivating. You had only seen his face through the briefing never in real life. Curiosity killing you wanting to know what he looks like. Want to lift his mask up feel his skin. Sensing your eyes trying to take every detail, he can tell right away that you're curious about what he looks like beneath his mask.

He's not used to this kind of attention, especially not from someone like you. Normally, you're so bold and confident, yet here you are, studying every aspect of him as if you're drawn to him.

He's not used to this kind of vulnerability coming from someone like you.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Mm" you respond with a whisper.

"What if you saw me again but without the mask?" He asks.

His eyes are fixed on yours and you sense the intensity of his gaze even from behind the mask. Its as if he's studying you, trying to see inside of you, hoping you'll let him.

Hesitating to lift your hand towards his face. You were so close. You touch your fingers against his cheek feeling the warmth radiating from the mask. Holding his full cheek in your palm you slowly glide your finger where his lips rest underneath the mask. Eyes getting heavy, breathing non-existent. His eyes bore into yours watching you study him.

His breath catches as your touch meets his skin. He doesn't pull away or try to stop you, on the contrary, it feels like he's allowing you to study every aspect of him.

There is a calmness in his eyes that you've never seen before. He is vulnerable at this moment, exposing his entire being to you.

A small smile spreads across his lips as your finger traces his mouth.

He doesn't blink as he looks into your eyes. He is waiting for you to make the next move.

Your hand fingers his mask underneath his shirt pulling it up slowly. He doesn’t move to stop you, but instead he takes in small inhale of air as you pull the mask up. Finally, edge of the mask in your hand. You stop and think.

Beat...

You pull the mask up until it reaches his nose finally seeing his lips. Plump lips with a sharp jaw. Clean shaven and a few scars adorn his face. In a trance you touch his skin and both of you let out a breath you both have been holding but he doesn't move, even though you can see his entire body tremble. He is breathing hard, and he is enjoying this. He closes his eyes, and he lets out another deep inhale as you touch his skin. You trace your finger down his Adams apple and finally graze your thumb on his bottom lip.

As he had his eyes closed, your hand wrapped around his throat applying just the right pressure, making him release a staggered deep groan. Fuck, your eyes flutter slightly. That sounded...hot.

"Oh god... "

Your touch is electrifying, causing him to tremble all over his body. His heart is pounding in his chest, and he can barely catch his breath. The slight pressure around his throat feels good somehow. He opens his eyes and looks back at you. The moment his eyes meet yours, the entire tension is doubled.

His hand wrap around your waist wanting to pull you closer, dick straining against his pants. He wants to ravage you, but he loves the small teasing you’re providing him. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. Your body is pressed up against his, and he can feel your heart racing.

He can't help but stare into your eyes, enjoying the moment, enjoying the way you make him feel. His hands move up your sides gradually, moving ever closer to the waist of your uniformed pants.

As his fingers fondle the waist or your cargos, your thumb traces his bottom lip as he opens his mouth and grabs your thumb in between his teeth, slowly closing his lips around it and sucking on it. His lips are soft and warm, and you can't help but let out a small groan of pleasure. His hands are exploring your body, getting ever closer to the bottom of your jeans.

"Fuck Keegan" you whisper.

He pauses for a moment, his breath catching in his throat.

He looks into your eyes, his own now filled with such desire and need.

"Say my name again..." he whispers.

You moan his name "Keegan" small heavy breaths leaving your lips. His own meeting your neck. His body tenses slightly at the sound of your voice.

He is overwhelmed with desire, and you can feel it in every part of his frame. Every move he makes now is calculated, as if he's going slowly on purpose to not lose the feeling.

"Again..." his voice is barely audible, and you can feel his body trembling.

"Keegan" you straight up moan now. Getting lost in his voice, in your desires.

His desires.

"Again..." he whispers, his breath hot against your neck. Your body quivers and he press’ up against you even closer, feeling every inch of your body against his.

Warmth was spreading all throughout your body, as he pushed you even closer towards him, chest plates hitting, making you feel his thickness rub against your thigh. Fuck he was hard. You rubbed your thigh against him as he leaned against a cabinet that was just behind you, on the left side of the room. The heat between your bodies is so intense, it's almost unbearable. The feeling of it is driving you both wild.

His hands travel even higher, inching up your thighs. His touch is incredibly soft and tender at first then becoming more forceful. He's enjoying the teasing, letting the intensity build up slowly and not even trying to hide the fact that he is getting turned on.

Getting the courage your hand travels towards his bulge and you wrap your hand around it. He hisses at the feeling of your small hand. Grabbing your wrist, you stop shocked at what might have been an overstep. Holding your wrist he unbuttons his black cargo pants, unzipping them, eyes intensely on your face, eyes heavy lidded wanting to see how you might react. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

He freed himself from his restraint, adjusting himself now to being free. Your mouth instantly watered at the sight of how big he was. He stroked himself before placing your hand, that was still bound by his wrist, around him wrapping your fingers around his thick shaft. He released a staggered breath as you begun to stroke him. His eyes closed head dropping towards his chest.

Upon stroking your thumb felt his wetness on his tip, which you took as a sign to spread it around his head, lip between your teeth. Moaning under your ministrations you couldn’t help but look at him.

Still with his helmet on, eyes closed, panting, dick in your hand stroking him and shamelessly mask atop his face not concealing his identity well, at least the lower part of his face, as the deep soft groans leave his lips.

"That’s it baby" he whispers. "Just like that" he encourages, making you want to please him more. You couldn’t take it anymore. Eyes now full of lust, mouth thick to the brim with salvia you made you way down on your knees and kissed his head. He opened his eyes at the soft feeling of your lips against his cock.

He couldn’t believe it; his mind was playing tricks on him. He saw you kissing his cock making your way down to his base than licking your way up to this shaft. “Fuck” he whispered. If you kept teasing him like that he was about to -

"Ah" he groans eyes tightly closing upon feeling your wet, warm mouth sucking him off. "Jesus Y/N". Eyes closed you take him in deeper in your mouth wanting to feel him at the back of your throat, but he was so thick it was seeming to be difficult.

Your mouth parts, pussy clenching into nothing, clit screaming for just the right of amount of pressure. Slick now dripping down your thighs.

You continue wetting his cock with your tongue, going up and down, his hand now wrapped in your hair bun, although with how tight he’s holding it, it won’t remain a bun much longer. He angles his hips to go in deeper, but you hold him in your fist as you start to feel consumed by him, air refusing to enter your lungs.

"Take it baby. That's it. Good girl." he pushes his hips toward your face. You felt him hit your gag reflex holding your head with his hands until finally pulling away, a line of spit still hanging from your lips to his cock, eyes watery.

He pulls you up standing on your feet and quickly goes to unbutton your pants. Pushing them of your legs you hesitate, as you were both still on a mission. He reassures you that no one is going to enter, and if so, those who do see would leave as they would see what you were doing. They would think that a guard on duty just got lucky.

Turning sides, now you’re the one leaning against the metal cabinet. His lips meet the underside of your ear. "Y/N" he moans as he slightly nips your skin. "Can I touch you?" He asks hand resting on your hip, tracing your navel wanting to go down, and feel how wet you have gotten and gather it on his fingers. "Please" you whisper. "Please Keegan. I need you"

Your pleading drove him crazy, pushing himself towards you. Bare cock rubbing against your stomach. As he couldn’t tease himself enough, he asked "Where do you need me?" lips just inches away from your lips. You hesitate. Is he really going to make you tell him.

"Y/N" he whispers using his other hand to lift your face, meeting your heavy-lidded watery eyes. He looks serious. "I asked you a question. Where do you need me?".

He rubs your folds not wanting to waste anymore time away from you. He slowly pushes his finger inside you, wet and ready for him your pussy takes his finger with ease. You both moan at the intrusion. Keeping his finger there, he breathes hard against you, feeling your warmth wrapping around him.

“Fuck!” you exclaim, feeling like you’re going crazy. Never in your years have you ever felt like this. Felt warm like this or gotten wet like this. It was driving you insane.

"I need you in me. I need to feel you stretch me. I need to feel how thick you are inside of me" you confess. Upon your confession he pushes himself harder against you, your ass hitting deeper against the cabinet his fingers finally pushing on the bundle of nerves between your legs earning a moan from your lips. He feels how wet you are and nearly looses himself, his cock twitching.

Finally, his lips meet yours in a soft kiss, both mouths slightly agape, his eyebrows furrowed at your heat as he starts to move his fingers back out, then pushing them back in. He increases his pace, fingers now dripping wet and inserts another.

His fingers are thick, long, and strong not compared to your small ones, filling you up in all the right places. You grab his arm feeling the bulging muscle of his biceps. "Keegan" you moan. "You like that Y/N?" he asks as his pace continues to increase. "You like my fingers stretching you out, fingering you huh?"

"Yes" you exclaim "Good girl" he kisses you. "Getting ready to take me inside you."

You nod at that wanting to take his cock. He lifts you up on the cabinet and aligns himself to your entrance. Fuck he was thick, the sight alone with his head stroking your pussy nearly made you cum right than and there. "Ready princess?" he asks, and he moves you closer to him if that was even possible. "Yes" you say as you wrap your hands around his neck.

The initial push was electrifying. He was thick and it made you feel like you were on fire. Hot moans coming from you meet his ear, not until he grabs your face in his hand and kisses you again. He continues to push into you as his lips are against yours breathing deeply. The stretch was nothing compared to his fingers. You couldn’t help but call out to him.

"Shh, its ok" he replies. "You’re doing so good for me. You’re taking it so well." He says as he finally pushes all the way into you. You felt like you couldn’t move. He begun to pull out and push back in. Looking at you he saw his world. He wanted to savor the moment deep in his memory. How your eyebrows creased, how your lips were parted how he wanted to make you feel like this. Him. Only him.

His thrusts continued, wet sounds all over the room driving the both of you wild. "Keegan" you call to him. "Yes" he replies worried that he might have hurt you. "I’m close" you reveal to him. It was music to his ears. His thrusts continued with depth and rhythm edging you. "Cum for me. Cum for me princess. Let me feel you. That’s it" he continued to whisper for you.

A static sound was heard from the left side of your chest plate startling the both of you. It hit a second time.

"Y/N" now you hear your own name not your call sign.

" Bravo 8, you ok. Over?" You want to stop body going rigid. Fuck, it was Simon. Keegan continues to push into you. "Keegan wait".

"Bravo 8, Are you with us? Over" you hear again less patient from the radio com. Fuck it’s been a while since you replied or radioed your team. Keegan looks at you with a smirk, "Don’t worry it hasn’t even been 15 minuets. They worry for you too much".

At that Keegan thrust deep into you making your head roll back, making you forget your worries. "You’re going to make me cum, princess" he whispers in your ear. His thrusts increase in motion build up wanting finally to release.

Its Price. "Are you ok? Over."

You’re a whimpering mess around Keegan as he continues to thrust into you. He pulls slightly back, finger against his lips showing you to stay quiet. Confused your brows furrow, until you see the devilish look cast over his eyes as he grabs the button of your radio com, and he pushes into you, deep, feeling his cock hit your cervix keeping you in place. He smirks as he waits for you to reply to your captain.

You bite your lip trying to regain some composure for your voice not to give away of your activities.

This was your captain, your team. "All good Captain. Over" you say as Keegan smirks and releases the button sending your message.

Fuck that was hot. You couldn’t hold on much longer and you clench around Keegan. You moaned as he whispers in your ear "You want me to fill you up?"

Your radio com responds "Fuck, where are you?" The captain states leaving the honorifics behind.

"Fuck" this can’t be happening, not now. Not when you’re so close to cumming. Keegan's statement makes you go feral, imaging his thick cum painting your walls, dripping out of you. Keegan presses the com button,

"You’re way over than ok." He pushes deeper. "You will meet them at the south wing nearing the backdoor of the grounds”.  You repeat breathless what he says to you.

"West Wing" you reply breathlessly.

"You’re going to cum for me huh, going to get filled up with my cum in the west wing" he taunts in your ear.

"I’m coming for you. Over" Keegan laughs at your captain’s message.

"Captains’ join’ in on the fun huh." he smirks, before feeling you clench against him. "Fuck Y/N." His thrust continues, panting heavily as he grabs your hips and presses your com. "Tell him you’re doing just fine." He whispers in your ear as he fucks deeper into you, jealousy laced through his teeth.

"Cause at the moment, you are about to come around my cock" Keegan taunts as he gives one last big push, cock pulsating in you. You feel his hot warm cum hit deep inside you and he releases his load into you. You can’t help but moan with pleasure as you clench around him, your own orgasm hitting you, releasing. His hips still deep in you his heavy breathing meets yours.

"Meet you there" is heard over the comms.

"You sure you’re ok?" captains voice asks again

"Never better" you reply breathlessly.

[purble-turble]

actually, you know what would be interesting and funny you brought up the whole rebounding thing but like... what if that situation happens completely by the others (including Redson and his echo chamber friends) jumping to conclusions and planting that seed of an idea in the two heads. Mk is naturally very affectionate, physical touch is a big part of his love language. he grew up alongside mei who was just as physical and no one actually encouraged them not to be. snuggling/hugging/kissing(like quick head and cheek pecks) your homies is very normalized. he's also dealing with family and friend issues because things are really tense and he's feeling everything at a 10 right know. its not just Red he can't talk too, he can even talk to Mei as comfortably and maybe lately feels like she avoiding him in favor of prioritizing Red.

Nezha. that boy is just starved of affection both verbal and physical. period. yeah its a bit overwhelming and confusing for him at first but after he gets used to mk's love language it's like 'Oh, hey this is really nice...huh...can i do this too?' and the answer was yes of course! he slowly starts implementing little touches here and there, initiating the hugs. it's still a bit awkward for him so he ends up utilizing other forms of love language, but the effort is there and mk is ecstatic. but it starts to make the other side-eye the situation. everyone (especially tang) was on board at first cause like....its a legendary celestial warrior, he's shown to be reliable and mature and so on. surly this could only be a good influence for mk. and yeah at first they only see good things, mk seems to get a little better over time, he's even getting extra exercise training like meditation, yoga/Tai chi. stuff that is supposed to support mental and physical wellness so of course Nezha must be good! Pigsy is the first to notice that maybe there starting to get a little too close, starts drawing parallels to how mk acted with Red. he brings it up with the others. tang isn't bothered and mei isn't either at first but now that idea is in her head, and it grows over time and now shes getting suspisiou as pigsy. and maybe a little pissed. nezha and mk of course havn'ty actually thought of each other like that, there just friends for god sake! he hasn't done anything with nezha that hes already done with mei. but mk gets confronted eventually and of course, tells Nezha after the fact. they both agree everyone's being ridiculous, they are just really close friends! but internally there both secretly like '....but what if?....' Red's group of friends are just shit starters, gold medalists when it comes to jumping to conclusions, especially regarding mk. they see monkey boy chatting up and getting close with another prince and run wild with ideas they of course share with Red. they see them being physically affectionate or hear something even vaguely suggestive they are not gonna look or ask for context. hell you can give them the full context they still cherry-pick it apart like the Christian bible. anything to make Mk look as horrible as they believe he is.

Yooooo I am vibrating in my seat right now i fuckin loooove this!! 💖

You’re so right about MK’s fam thinking that Nezha will be a good influence on him at the start of things.. they have no idea that Nezha approves of the attempted sacrifice MK made at the pillar. I mean, it’s a sore spot for all of them, so it’s likely just not brought up in casual settings. The first time they catch a glimpse of it is probably a tense moment where someone tried to point out to MK that he was taking on too much again and exhausting himself.. but instead of getting a bit sheepish saying he’ll take better care of himself like he might have done before, he stands firm and is like ‘No, I can handle this! These are my problems and I’m going to handle them.’ And Nezha is spotted in the background with a lil smile and an agreeing nod and… ok. That’s weird.

As for the romantic aspect of it, them being a little oblivious about their budding romantic feelings at first and having to have it pointed out by the others how close they’ve gotten is sooooo good! I’m always a sucker for oblivious MK, but I can fully see Nezha being exactly like that too.

Mei for sure shares with Prince Red that she thinks MK has gotten weirdly close to Nezha lately.. and Red has already noticed that MK has been coming by to try to win him back less and less… could it be he’s really been replaced that easily? It’s… kind of hard to think MK would move on so quickly, especially because he is probably still struggling with it. Maybe he even goes to check it out for himself and spots MK and Nezha out together on a stroll. And look, MK is holding hands with the lotus prince and… oh. kisses his cheek… that’s… pretty hard to not interpret as romantic.

Even if Red knows MK and a little niggling doubt in the back of his mind can be like ‘well, he’s like that with Mei too so maybe???’ If he’s already primed to be looking for it by Mei (and also his own already hurt feelings) then this would be pretty clear confirmation of his fear that MK has moved on and is romantically involved with Nezha now. Also yeah it for sure doesn’t help that all Prince Red’s friends are gonna add fuel to this fire once he tells them about it, just like you said. They never thought MK was good enough for Red, so why would they put it past him to move on from him really fast too?

Haha, anyway, once MK’s fam start asking more pointed questions about their relationship, MK and Nezha might even have a frank discussion about it. They’re more open with each other than they are with anybody else, after all, since there’s no fear of judgement or moralizing from sharing how they actually feel. In any case, even if they can’t manage to have the straight up discussion, the displays of affection definitely get more frequent on both ends and things progress that way regardless~

[stollengoods]

Chapter 10

It’s Not Me, It’s You

Myung-gi x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Cursing, Fights, and deaths.

Summary: Myung-gi finds out he is no longer the father of your child, Nam-gyu is.

————

Some people already got their food and were eating when you and Nam-gyu got back. You both stood in line holding hands and smiling at each other. You truly felt that Nam-gyu meant what he had said to you about wanting to be a father.

Once you guys got your food, you went and sat by Thanos, Se-mi, and Min-su.

“Look at the happy couple.” Se-mi remarked, scrunching her nose.

You gave her a genuine smile, before digging into your food. It was silent for a bit until Thanos spoke up, “I’d keep an eye on Myung-gi…” He looked over at him and you all did the same. He was sitting on his bed with a surly look on his face.

“I’ve been watching him since you guys left. He went in line, got his food, opened it up but hasn’t eaten it.”

“Probably can’t stomach that his girlfriend’s a whore.” Se-mi replied, with her hand propping up her chin.

You looked up at her through your eyelids, “He’s not my boyfriend.”

She smirked, “Could’ve fooled me.”

You set your food down with a clang and wiped your mouth getting up. Nam-gyu pulled you back down while Thanos gave Se-mi a look. “We talked about this, no more fighting, we’re all a team now and we need to start acting like one.”

Se-mi blew the few strands of hair in front of her face in response and rolled her eyes.

Nam-gyu turned to you, “You know if you need to go talk to him you can, I would understand.”

You looked over a Myung-gi again and sighed, “Yeah, I probably should.”

You got up and walked over to Myung-gi’s bed, he didn’t look up when you stood in front of him and even when you sat beside him on the bed.

“Myung-gi ?”

He continued starring at the floor, “Yeah ?”

“We should probably talk…”

“About ?” His voice was monotone almost robotic sounding.

“Us ?” You phrased it more like a question because you were nervous, he was kind of freaking you out.

He finally turned his head but didn’t look you in the eyes, “I don’t feel like talking.”

You starred at him for a few seconds and when he didn’t say or do anything else you got up from the bed. “Okay, well…” You sharply inhaled, “When you’re ready to talk, come find me.”

Once your back was turned to him, you felt shivers go down your spine. When you made it back over to Thanos’s group, Nam-gyu rubbed your back and asked how it went.

You blinked your eyes a couple of times, “Honestly… he was acting kind of strange.”

“I wonder why.” Se-mi mumbled, playing with her food.

“Se-mi.” Thanos warned, but you stopped him.

“No.” You said, “Since you love analyzing people, why don’t you tell us what’s going on ?”

Se-mi chuckled, “Isn’t it obvious ?”

You looked back at your ex and then back at Se-mi shaking your head.

“When things get tough for you, you have a back up plan. For Myung-gi he doesn’t think that way, to him it’s all or nothing. You have a fight with him and what do you do ? Go and hook up with the enemy, but what does he do ? He sits and thinks about what he has done wrong and tries to think of ways to fix it.”

You scoffed, “You give him waaay too much credit.”

She shrugged her shoulders, “You asked.”

————

When it was lights out, Nam-gyu asked if he could cuddle with you but you told him no for tonight in case Myung-gi wanted to come talk to you. But once you were in your bed, you had kind of wished you would’ve agreed to it because you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You woke up in the middle of the night to strobing lights and people screaming. You quickly sat up looking around, everyone was fighting, there were dead bodies on the floor and beds turned over.

Your eyes immediately went over to Nam-gyu’s bed and you saw no one there, then your eyes scanned Thanos’s bed. He was just laying there on his bed, probably hasn’t woke up yet. Your eyes then went to Myung-gi’s bed and he wasn’t there either.

Looking around for any familiar face you found Nam-gyu and Myung-gi wrestling each other on the floor over the illuminated X. You quickly ran over to them, carefully jumping around bodies on the ground and dodging people that were fighting each other.

You shoved Nam-gyu off of Myung-gi, “What the fuck are you doing ?!” You screamed over the chaos going around you.

Nam-gyu fell back on his ass, his jacket sporting patches of blood hear and there. You gasped as his furious gaze then landed on you, his eyes softening a bit.

“What’s going on ?” You screamed at him again, your eyes frantically scanning his body.

“He fucking killed Thanos !”

Your mouth was agape, not believing the words he was saying. You looked back at Myung-gi, he was sitting up now with a fork clutched in his hand. You noticed the fork and his entire arm covered in blood but you literally jumped back when you saw his face was painted in it.

Your breathing began picking up as you scrambled to your feet and ran over to Thanos’s bed. Once there it wasn’t hard to find the cause of death. His neck had 8 holes in it, meaning Myung-gi had struck him twice in his sleep.

You looked back over at them and saw that somehow Nam-gyu got the fork from Myung-gi and was charging him with it. You immediately sprinted into action, jumping off the platform back onto the floor they were on and in between the two men.

“Y/n, move.” Nam-gyu commanded.

“Nam-gyu… please don’t do this-“

Nam-gyu’s eyes were fixated on Myung-gi behind you. His arm still raised, “HE KILLED THANOS.” He barked in your face and you flinched turning your head away from him.

Nam-gyu let out a humorless laugh, “Why are you even defending this asshole ?” You looked into his eyes and noticed his pupils were enlarged.

Myung-gi rapped an arm around your lower abdomen, “Because she’s having my baby, you psychopath.”

That made him actually laugh and you felt the nerves build in your stomach again. “She didn’t tell you ?” He turned to you, “You didn’t tell him babe ?”

“Babe ?” You felt Myung-gi’s hand slip away from you and you turned around to face him. “Why is he calling you that ?”

Nam-gyu pressed him body against your back, rubbing your stomach, “C’mon baby, tell him.” He whispered, “It’s your turn to prove to me you’re ready to be a mother.”

You swallowed harshly, “I’m not pregnant with your baby…”

Myung-gi’s face scrunched in confusion, “Wha- How do you know already ? We had sex yesterday (y/n) ! I came in you-“

“She got her period.” Nam-gyu interrupted, smiling. “And then I came in her.”

“No… (y/n)- that’s not-“

“It’s true.” You said, pursing your lips while nodding your head, “the baby’s not yours anymore…”

“You son of a-“ Myung-gi swung and hit Nam-gyu in the face. Nam-gyu flew back, causing you to loose your footing and go crashing to the floor, face first. You turned to your side as you watched them, your vision going in and out.

Myung-gi swiftly yanked the fork from Nam-guy’s hand, stabbing himself in the process. He didn’t seem to notice as blood dripped from his palm onto the floor below him. Nam-guy’s nose was gushing from blood due to the punch Myung-gi gave him moments prior.

Nam-gyu charged forward and tackled Myung-gi to the ground. He began strangling him and Myung-gi stabbed him in the side of his shoulder causing Nam-gyu to recoil his arms. He reached one hand to touch the wound, giving Myung-gi the advantage to flip them over and roll on top of him.

You were crying and pleading for them to stop, most likely falling on deaf ears, due to the fact you could barely hear yourself.

Myung-gi stabbed him in his chest and you used all your strength to push your self up as the room was spinning around you, “NO !” A shriek erupted from your throat.

Nam-gyu tried kicking and shoving him off but was loosing strength as Myung-gi kept stabbing him over and over again in his heart. After about 7 stabs Nam-gyu’s body stopped fighting back completely, but Myung-gi kept going.

“STOP IT!” You stumbled over to his side and tried tugging on his sleeve to get him to stop but you were so emotionally and physically drained you didn’t have any strength to do so.

“Please…” You sobbed into his arm, “Please, baby, stop it…”

You felt his arm stop moving, you looked at his face and he was staring right back at you. His eyes making contact with yours but looking right through you.

He turned back to grab the fork out of his chest before stabbing him in the throat. Your eyes enlarged as you watched him. Part of you already knew that Nam-gyu wouldn’t survive his injuries but Myung-gi wanted to make sure he didn’t.

“Don’t ever call me that again.” He monotoned, as he got up, dropping the fork and walking away.

You scrambled over to Nam-gyu’s side, his eye lids wide open, starring at the ceiling. Your shaky hands patted his hair as tears fell from your eyes onto his face. You buried your head in his neck, his freshly new wound wetting the ends of your hair.

You hadn’t noticed the pink guards come in until one of them ripped you off of Nam-gyu. They placed a small machine next to his throat, when it blinked red one of them spoke into the walkie talkie to report a death.

You screamed, launching yourself forward to hold onto him. ‘They can’t take him away.’ You thought, your head laying on him as you cried into his chest.

That was until you felt something hard hit your head, it made your body bend backwards, the last thing you saw was the end of the guards gun as he smacked you in the forehead with it making everything go black.

The End.

[howsdeanshole]

cas and dean vs. clothes shopping small fic

after they get cas out of the empty there’s a lot of mundane shit to do. he’s human again, and it’s permanent this time, or as permanent as things ever are for a winchester, but that’s a terrifying thought so it gets locked up in the for later box in deans head. but cas needs food and toiletries and clothes and he’s decided he hates the bedding in the bunker so he has to get new sheets too.

most of this is easy enough. last time cas was human he learned the basics—digestion, hygiene, money—and when he was sick on stolen grace he learned a bit more about preferences. they get him set up with 3-in-1 shampoo and a tooth brush and when dean makes the trip out to the city to do their monthly bulk shopping, he drags cas with him to get some sheets he won’t bitch about. on the way back, dean stops at a secondhand store run by a local church.

cas doesn’t seem to like shopping. he was pleasant on the ride to the city and effusive about the cheap hotdogs they ate for lunch, but about 20 minutes into hauling cases of water and table salt into their cart he got surly. he got even surlier when dean suggested he could go wait with baby. by the time they checked out, dean had written him off and decided to wait out his silence.

the thrift store smells like every thrift store he’s ever been in, dusty and a little bit like cats. the clothes selection isn’t huge, but it’ll do for getting cas started. thats deans hope, anyway, but when he told cas to grab whatever catches his eye and wanders off to a rack of casettes, he hoped cas would get a few days worth of shirts, maybe even find some serviceable jeans. instead, cas dumps an XL shirt with “FALLSTON COUNTY MIDDLE SCHOOL TURKEY TROT 2013” across the front in orange bubble text and a faded grey bucket hat into deans basket.

“that’s all?”

cas shrugs. apparently still not talking. dean knows from experience that forcing the issue right now will, at best, start a fistfight, and at worst, cause cas to fuck off for who knows how long. maybe if he was still an angel dean would go for it, press his luck, but with cas freshly back and freshly human and apparently here to stay, dean swallows the impulse. he buys the admittedly very soft turkey trot shirt and the hat.

after two weeks, it becomes apparent that cas is uninterested in obtaining possessions. he’s content to wear his wholesale underwear and deans shirts and a pair of shorts abandoned by one of the apocalypse world hunters. there are infinite good things about cas coming back, and there are infinite terrifying things about him being human now, and there are infinite things about his return that dean has been trying to stuff in the For Later box, and unfortunately that leaves him kind of pissed off about how he can never find the shirt he wants to wear when he wants to wear it, and also the way his own wardrobe is dwindling due to cas never fucking returning anything. not that he minds sharing! but that would require cas to bring anything back.

not that dean plans to confront him about it. which is maybe cas’s play here? damn. well. deans done great at not bringing up anything heavier than meal planning for over a month already. no need to ruin his streak now.

there’s still hunts. sam and eileen have been out on a few since cas got back. now that dean is better, sam hasn’t been hovering so much. but cas brings the job to dean in the dean cave, pulled up on his phone to show him. it ends up being easy to wrap up, just a matter of destroying a cursed 35mm camera properly and getting the formerly cursed women to the nearest hospital. they don’t even need to put on the fed suits for it, which is good, because dean forgot that cas’s old suit got ruined in his rescue. in deans defense, he wasn’t really thinking that hard about clothes that day, or about anything besides cas heaving himself upright on the other side of that rift, alive and back.

when dean brings up the need for a new fed suit, cas just hums like it’s inconsequential. and because dean is still practicing non confrontation, he decides to take matters into his own hands.

the suit is easy. he goes with the same cut jimmy novaks suit was, in black, and a few dress shirts. ties seem to be one of the few things cas likes to shop for, so dean only grabs one—boring, professional blue and white stripes. it comes in handy days after he hangs it up in cas’s closet, when they have to haul ass out to tennessee to deal with a werewolf pack and have to play fed to get access to the bodies.

after that, it’s a blue fleece-lined hoodie he picks up while he’s canvassing for witnesses hunting what turns out to be a shifter. cas wears it the whole time they’re in the motel looking over the facts of the case, and he wears it in the car on the way back, his strong squared fingers catching deans eye in the rear view mirror whenever he fidgets with the hoods drawstring. there’s a stack of weird novelty tee shirts he picks up in the city the next time he does the bulk restock, this time alone. cas wears them all in a rotation, mostly under his hoodie or one of deans flannels.

when cas asks him to grab a jacket for him, dean cracks on his non confrontational policy. “you should choose it yourself,” he says. cas just hums.

“i like wearing what you’ve chosen,” he says after a minute. “i trust your judgement.”

which, leave it to cas to turn this into—something.

dean buys him a jacket.

he buys him socks, and pajama pants, and new boots and some henleys and a few thrifted flannels, soft from wear. he buys a scarf. house shoes. and cas wears them all, and never returns deans clothes before dean asks for them.

[creepycranberry]

Great big stars

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, not proofread

Pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

<3<3<3<3<3

Some years earlier

You hadn’t meant to get as drunk as you did, and you knew getting this drunk could only lead to bad things but you didn’t care. The only thing you could focus on, drink or not, was that he was over there with her.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He says in your ear but you don’t care. You had half forgotten he was there at all.

“I’m fine, Edward.”

“Are you though?” Eddie asks, attempting to swipe the beer from you but you moved it away.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you haven’t stopped staring at that jerk since our set was over.” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. You had been like this for weeks. Combative, surly and somewhat hostile. All over some douche who didn’t treat you right in the first place.

“Whatever.” You grumble, dropping a few bills on the counter and walking away from the bar, Eddie following closely behind.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I wanna go to bed.” You whine and Eddie shakes his head.

“You Can’t drive right now sweetheart.”

“Like hell I can.” You mumble, grabbing your keys and fumbling with your car door.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car.” You pout, tears springing to your eyes and eddies heart squeezes.

“Gareth can drive it over to yours and you can come stay the night with me. We’ll have a sleepover and watch those terrible movies you love and listen to the Smiths.” He offers, trying his best to soothe you.

“You said the Smiths are too sad.” You sniffle.

“But I didn’t say I didn’t like them. Come on, sweetie.” He helps you into the van and goes to give gareth your keys.

When he gets back you’re crying, it’s only then that he notices that Jason and Chrissy have made their way outside of the bar.

Eddie had no idea why they were here. This wasn’t exactly their scene.

“Hey, sweetheart. Look at me.”

“Why-why does he like her? She didn’t used to be his type, why is she his type now? Why is it- why was she better than me? Why’d he-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, she’s not better than you, I promise. He just changed, people just change.” He pulls out of the parking lot in a hurry, trying to get you away from them.

He hears your faint sniffling and he has to do his best not to turn around and kill that jackass.

He knew why Jason had left you. He didn’t hate Jason before all this but he wasn’t his biggest fan. Freshman year had been Jason pulling back from you slowly, going from a well intentioned gangly boy to a hierarchy obsessed jackass.

You weren’t on his level anymore. Chrissy was. It was that simple. It was shitty.

By the time Eddie got you home you had calmed down, staring out the window and watching the trees run away from you.

When the two of you walked in, Wayne was packing his break time meal. And when he saw the state you were in, he stopped.

“What happened?”

“Nothing Wayne, she’s just tired.” Eddie responds and Wayne shakes his head.

“She can speak fine for herself. What’s going on, dear? Was it that boy?” He asks and you halfheartedly nod.

“Before you do anything- don’t. She won’t even let me handle it.” Eddie warns him and Wayne deflates slightly, turning his attention back to you.

“Okay. But if you change your mind, just say the word, pumpkin.” He kisses your forehead and goes back to his lunch, letting Eddie lead you to his room.

He puts an old movie that you love in the vhs player as you curl up on the bed, closing your eyes. Eddie waits for the sound of Wayne closing the front door before he goes and gets you a water bottle and makes you a sandwich.

“I’m not hungry.” You mumble and Eddie shakes his head.

“Eat.”

“I don’t want to.”

He gives you a playful pout, dramatizing it until you start smiling.

“Please eat? Please?” He playfully pleads until you concede. The both of you get quiet as you eat and Eddie watches the movie. Once you’re done you set you plate on his nightstand and lay down. He plays with your hair to sooth you, the world going quiet for a minute, “he never deserved you.” Eddie whispers, “not once. You were everything. You were great to him and if he can’t appreciate that then I think that’s his problem.”

“I loved him.” You shrug.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Eddie mutters, glancing at you.

“Me too.” You yawn, turning over to face him and closing your eyes.

“Don’t do that again, okay? Don’t scare me like that, sweetheart.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m just really sad. And kind of fucking angry.” You sniffle.

“I know. Next time you wanna get drunk we can do it here. Not at a crowded bar, here and we can watch movies and be fun drunk.”

He waits for you to respond but when a response doesn’t come he looks at you and you’re asleep, curled up in a ball, your head nuzzled against his side.

[marithlizard]

Yep, still thinking about Blitz and Stolas. And I see a parallel now I didn't before the finale: they have both made the same major mistake in parenting their daughters.

Octavia would feel angry and betrayed at the end of S2 no matter what, understandably. But it's much worse because she is so alone. We've never seen her with a friend or at a school, never seen her so much as notice the servants. She has never spoken a word to her mom onscreen. Everything she says and does is connected in some way to her dad.

Stolas gave her what he wished a parent had given him back when he was a lonely isolated kid: intense love and attention. She was the only good thing in his life, he was the center of hers. A kind of well-meaning codependency that happens a lot in RL. We're used to seeing it break down the other way, a child leaving the nest and a parent who has trouble letting go. But in this case it's Stolas who found someone else to love.

Great for him, but he never prepared Via for a life without him (ominous lullabies about "you'll be okay when I'm dead" do not count). Now at 17 she has to redefine herself from scratch with no support.

Blitz adopted a traumatized teenage hellhound in an awful situation and has done his best to give her all the vital things he remembers his mom giving him: safety, home, unconditional love and patience and support. They have a strong bond despite her surliness and she loves him. But she hasn't been happy, and he doesn't see that.

Loona has always felt out of place as the I.M.P. receptionist. She's not suited to it, it's a waste of her talents and it bores and annoys her. She has no friends when the show starts and is incredibly socially awkward behind all that hostility. Blitz could have used his social connections to introduce her to a few hellhounds her own age. He could've sat down with her long before "Seeing Stars" and said okay, you obviously hate being stuck in the office, what can we do about this? Do you want a part-time job outside of the family business, try out some different career ideas, Satan knows we could use the money?

Blitz didn't need that kind of help from his mom, so it does not occur to him that part of a parent's job is to see where their kid is struggling and step in to help them grow.

Loona was lucky enough to get help from Tex and Bee; she has friends of her own now to invite to Sinsmas, and I'm sure in S3 she will start to make choices about her future. Hopefully Via will get a helping hand and a mentor too.

[lauralot89]

In the afternoon Mr. Renfield asked if he might see me. Poor man, he was very gentle, and when I came away he kissed my hand and bade God bless me.

Renfield is currently the only member of the cast who's not an idiot. Mina sort of gets a pass because vampire influence, but apparently the whole Crew of Light shared one brain cell and Lucy took it to the grave

I hope I have not done wrong

you have, sweetie

She looked heavy and sleepy and pale, and far from well.

Jonathan. Jonathan please. You are the only living member left of the conspiracy who was up close and personal with a vampire. SEE THE SIGNS.

Everyone noticing that something's wrong with Mina and brushing it off is giving major Revenge of the Sith vibes when Mace Windu is all "I sense a plot to destroy the Jedi" and then does nothing about it

An interview with a surly gatekeeper and a surlier foreman, both of whom were appeased with the coin of the realm

I know that Dracula is a novel about the power of friendship and research, but it's also about the power of bribery

"There was the old party what engaged me a-waitin' in the 'ouse at Purfleet. He 'elped me to lift the boxes and put them in the dray. Curse me, but he was the strongest chap I ever struck, an' him a old feller, with a white moustache, one that thin you would think he couldn't throw a shadder."

why does the thought of Dracula engaged in menial labor still amuse me so when he's been doing it through the whole book

something about mundane vampires just gets me

You know

Dracula could have just eaten the deliverymen like the day after they finished their jobs for him and then he wouldn't have left this obvious trail. Or transported the boxes himself. Or gone into the offices of the men he hired and compelled them to destroy the records. But Dracula doesn't have any brain cells either.

"Pardon me," I said, with equal politeness, "but I have a special reason for wishing to know who purchased it."

Jonathan you are a solicitor, you have to know better than to think they'll just tell you outright

This was manifestly a prig of the first water, and there was no use arguing with him.

Jonathan honey, I love you, and I support you, but why would this person tell a complete stranger who they sold a house to

I got a cup of tea at the Aërated Bread Company

what in the hell is aerated bread

Thank God, the ceasing of telling things has made no difference between us.

so I read yesterday's update to my mom last night and she kept yelling "SO STUPID" at the characters and that is how I feel right now.

agency duck

this is how I'm going to refer to real estate agents from now on

The old physicians took account of things which their followers do not accept, and the Professor is searching for witch and demon cures which may be useful to us later.

can you imagine if instead of killing Dracula to save Mina, they had to cure him? like what even happens at that point? would his human soul regain its power and be thankful, or was he just the worst even before he went vamp and now they have to deal with him using his vast fortune to bury them all in petty legal disputes for the rest of his life as revenge

I sometimes think we must be all mad

no, dear, you're just very very stupid

The attendant came bursting into my room and told me that Renfield had somehow met with some accident. He had heard him yell; and when he went to him found him lying on his face on the floor, all covered with blood. I must go at once….

GREAT WORK DOCTOR

also I forgot but yesterday's update mentioned Renfield singing gaily so to keep my word I must do it again

Pour one out for Renfield, the only character who still has a brain

[siremasterlawrence]

Christmas Night Fight

This is a Christmas Boxing Match For A Very Special World Title for once in every twelve years a major box goes toe to toe with major other fighters going through the roof in hell like defeat.

I place my bet at the door on Jack L Monroe before sitting in my seat as the light pops on over the shadows of the boxing ring the spit light is giant. A fist pump into the air as a crowd goes wild in the boxer, steady with punches in the air.

Jack Mickelson the titan is a legend in the field, but he does not know that I am both the one betting against him and my almost ensuring my victory over this floor and his constant need for that overbearing and toxic desires, needs and wants above all else.

I can see that smug look cross his face in a cheesy stretch his fist in the other and starts jumping up like an idiot, howling, screaming, and shouting as crowd goes wild and the odd cheering only motivates me more and I could not tell if he was mocking me or not but I was about to win.

The announcer steps onto the ring with an awful condescending smile, foul stench and crooked teeth. The left hand picks up the mic as he squares off with the crowd who are losing all of the their minds, and great anticipation for their great hero, to win yeah, another victory, and prove his might.

He starts to hop on both feet coming at me with such intensity as I take a hop back my fist forms throwing a punch which he evade to hit me up and I avoid that as well but I go for it one curl punching hard fist hitting him in the chest.

The spot I hit on his chest glows hard as he hold on to it backing up he falls to his knees much to my delight I gleefully jump kicking him on both of his sensitive nipples areas as he cries the technique travels causing a electrical current down his spine.

He falls face forward when the alarms goes off ringing loudly in a resounding style the crowd is in a loss booing me as they throw cans at me I laugh shouting out loud to freeze which they do without being aware

of anything.

Tom struggles to rise to his feet barely able to stand up I punch him in his face the spit goes flying in to a air the man is done for as I watch it take effect he stops on his knees he is a mere puppet now. I unzip my pants exposing my cock as I stroll towards him and force his mouth on to it.

“There he is your number three seed in this World Championship.” He shouts lifting my hand in the air.

“Who wants to see the next match?” He is shouting.

“Let me hear you guys scream for it.”

“Wwwwoooohhhhooooo…let the games roll”

“Everyone! Please welcome Mathew James Howl”

“Gentleman! 1…2…3”

“FREEZE”

“What the fuck?”

“Why can’t I move?”

“Because I am the master of the ring “

“I rule the roost”

“Nnnnnoooo”

“I’ll have to educate you then”

“On what?”

“The proper behavior ”

“Unfortunately! I don’t obey anyone least of all.”

“One punch and you will fall into my submission “

“Never gonna happen…you….uuuugggghh…fffuuccckkk…yes Master Lawrence.”

“ I don’t know what you’re up to, but I do understand it’s something wicked because you two are up to something very evil and let me have a bad attitude problem, but I surly will not tolerate anyone getting in my way or causing more undue damage to my title.”

”Oh! is that what you were thinking? You have no idea what I am capable of doing you overgrown ape if you mind your own business. Getting angry, I see you throw a punch and failing because you are no good McGregor just another tough guy with pussy heart.”

“ What did you just say to me? I am to break to break you open, spit your ass open, fuck you raw, make you come and worship my skinny tone black ass.” I state to him as he races at me his speed up with every step I take but I launch my hand in the air throwing a one punch as I send him flying into the rings gate.

Meet all of my bodyguards.

The end

[iamvegorott]

Magicians Don't Need Superheros Pt40

First: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

----------

Marvin grunted as he had himself and Jackie appear back into the infirmary. He rubbed his forehead with his hand and no longer worried about being unable to sleep that night. It was beginning to feel like he was running on empty at this point, able to cast that one spell out of pure spite. 

“So, you decided to disregard my warning?” 

“Can we save this for tomorrow?” Marvin didn’t bother looking at who had apparently been waiting for them. 

“Did your fingers go black?” Mare asked from the chair he was lounging in. 

“Tomorrow.” Marvin waved a hand at him, still refusing to even turn toward Mare’s direction. 

“Did they go black?” Mare repeated as he stood up. “Because if they did, you need help to ensure no distorted chaos magic is still inside you. If left untreated, you will lose an aspect of your emotions.” 

“Lose an aspect of his emotions?” Jackie asked. “Like, he’ll stop feeling something?”

“Yes. It could be one thing, it could be several, or it could be all of them.” Mare rolled up his sleeves. “If you don’t want my help, that’s fine. I’m only doing this because Mad asked me to. For some reason, he enjoys your company and would like you to stay the same.” 

“It’s adorable that you’re willing to put up with me for Mad.” Marvin huffed, finally facing Mare. “There’s probably a lot of things you’re willing to do for him.” 

“How about you focus on your own shit before trying to dig into mine?” Mare glared while flexing his hand. It slowly began to glow purple as he started preparing a spell. 

“I’m figuring out my shit, so I have all the time in the word to get a shovel for yours. I bet it’s a pretty deep pile.” Marvin grinned. 

“Maybe we should-uh-” Jackie tried to come up with something to say to change the mood. 

“Now I really don’t feel bad that this is going to hurt,” Mare stated, and before what he said could be processed by the other two, he slapped his hand to the center of Marvin’s chest. There was a pause, the purple on Mare’s hand becoming darker and-

“Fuck!” Marvin cursed, hand instinctually grabbing Mare’s wrist but didn’t try to move him. His other hand went out to stop Jackie from helping him. “Don’t.” Jackie bit his tongue and felt his nails digging into the palm of his hand as he held a tight fist, hating that he had to stand and watch. He wanted to help and make the pain stop, but from what it sounded like, it was a necessary evil. 

Marvin gasped when Mare suddenly yanked his hand back. A ball of what looked like black glass was now in his palm. Jackie scrambled over to hold Marvin up when he noticed him slumping over. Marvin wasn’t going to fall, but Jackie also wasn’t going to risk that. They watched as Mare shattered the ball with his hand, the shards falling to the ground and fading into nothing as soon as they hit the ground. Mare shook his hand, the dark purple glowing gone, and his own body showed signs of exhaustion. 

“All done.” Mare turned to leave. 

“Talk to Mad.” Marvin’s comment got Mare to stop. “Or at least pay a little more attention to his eyes. Surly, you’ve learned what the colors mean by now if I know most of them already.” There was an awkward pause.

“Go to bed.” Was Mare’s only response before stepping out and closing the door much harder than needed. 

“You know Mad’s eye colors?” Jackie asked.

“I’m pretty sure I know a few of them, but I might have exaggerated to give Mare a kick to the ass,” Marvin confessed with a casual shrug. 

“A kick in the ass? For what?” Jackie asked, noticing he was still holding the other man, and went to take his hands off, but Marvin caught them.

“To do what we’re going to.” Marvin glanced over Jackie’s shoulder.

“What are we-” Jackie’s question turned into a little yelp when Marvin pushed him and made him fall back on one of the beds. “What-What are we doing?” He stammered as Marvin crawled on the bed and sat on his hips. 

“Making out,” Marvin stated matter-of-factly. 

“But we-we just did.” 

“Are you saying you don’t want to?” 

“I do!” Jackie felt his face flush when he sounded a little too eager with his response. "I-I mean that-we could-if you-if you want-” His rambles slowly died off when Marvin placed a hand on his cheek.

“You dork.” Marvin chuckled and leaned over into a kiss.

Jackie was very thankful for the kiss because he had no idea where he was going with his words. Although, he was now unsure what to do with his hands again. Back on the roof, he was able to get away with just holding his hips, but they had been standing. Would that work like this? He could try. Jackie got distracted for a moment when his lower lip got nipped at, causing his hands to miss their target and land on a different part of Marvin’s body. 

“Sorry!” Jackie quickly pulled his hands away. 

“You’re allowed to touch my ass.” Marvin softly laughed. 

“I wasn’t-I wasn’t trying to.” Jackie was now holding his arms above his head. 

“You’ve earned ass-touching privileges.” Marvin held Jackie’s hands. 

“I don’t think I’m ready to use those privileges.” Jackie blurted out, and that caused Marvin to laugh even more. 

“I’m assuming you two are-” Anti walked into the room and froze. “Really? Again with this shit? You’re going to make people believe you’re actually making out at this rate.” He rolled his eyes. “I want my phone.” 

“Uh…yeah,” Marvin said as he shared a look with Jackie. After his call with Chase, he assumed everyone in the House would know by now. He let Jackie’s hands go and pulled the extra phone out of his pocket. 

“Thank you.” Anti clicked his tongue as he took his phone back. “And you-” He pointed at Jackie. “-are not to do anything that fucking stupid, understood?”

“I think?” Jackie said.

“I will ram my foot so far up your ass you’ll be tasting the dirt on the bottom of my shoe if you pull that shit again,” Anti warned. “Now, if you need me, I still have an annoyed Dark to put up with. I walked away from him mid-sentence, so he’s going to be extra pissy.” He started playing with his phone as he made his way out of the room. “Oh, and Chase said you’re grounded,” Anti added his last point before closing the door. 

“Oh, man!” Jackie groaned. 

“Chase didn’t tell him?” Marvin asked out loud. “Maybe he just didn’t have time with what’s going on out there.” 

“We can ask him in the morning,” Jackie said.

“Why in the morning?”

“I don’t think I can get out of this bed. Like, literally, I think my body’s giving up.” 

“Does that mean we’re not making out anymore?” Marvin teasingly asked.

“I-uh-well-my-my mouth’s not fully dead.” Jackie weakly chuckled. 

“Have I called you a dork yet?”

“Just a few times.” 

“Get ready to hear it plenty more.” Marvin hummed before going back down into a new kiss. 

[aggressivelyaverage21]

Response to this poll

So, because I have been bored at home... I decided to treat this as a prompt. So... here it is:

Forced to watch someone else being tortured.  

Beatrice had been smacked around herself and was in bad shape, but it stopped. 

Ava... not for Ava though. Ava has the halo. The halo heals her. 

But. 

That just means they can drag it out. Over and over they can keep hurting Ava as Beatrice watches. 

Ava’s crying. 

Screaming in pain. 

She told Beatrice once, her body's healing was sometimes worse than the injury itself. 

So Ava was being worked over big time. 

But in between bouts of torture, she would make eye contact with Beatrice. Pleading for Beatrice to be strong. And Beatrice, ever the good soldier, didn’t say a word. 

God she wanted to so badly. 

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. 

It was a conversation her and Ava had long ago. About this specific situation, because it had always been a posibility, and the decision had been made already. 

No one would talk. 

No matter what. 

No matter how much it hurt or what was happening. No one would compromise the OCS or the mission. 

It was so much easier said than actually done, but Beatrice stood there watching. Tears rolling down her cheeks as she watched them torture Ava only for minutes to pass and the only sign of it to be the blood staining her torn clothing. 

That was the hard part after they got out of the situation. 

Dealing with it. With no actual proof it happened. 

There weren't any wounds for Beatrice to tend to. 

There wasn’t a need for Ava to spend any time resting in a bed as she healed. 

There was only them, Beatrice’s injuries that only equated to several bruised ribs, a black eye, and a split lip. And somehow it was Ava left comforting her as Beatrice struggled with all the guilt which somehow only made Beatrice feel worse.

2. Forced to participate in someone else’s torture. 

It was a “do this or we will kill this innocent person” situation. 

Ava and Beatrice had found themselves in quite the pickle that way. 

A gun at a child’s head. 

Beatrice instructed to beat Ava with her bare fists. 

Ava begged her to comply with the demand because– ultimately– she would be fine. She had every faith they would be found in time before everything escalated. 

Bea just had to buy them some… unfortunately, by hitting her. 

It wasn't like Beatrice hadn't hit her before- Ava tried to joke, but it fell woefully short.

Beatrice didn’t hit hard the first time after Ava gave her permission. Then there was was a shot fired. 

A warning. 

Beatrice did it again feeling Ava’s cheek hard against her knuckles. It hurt her too, honestly probably more than it hurt Ava. She pushed back, hesitated as much as she could each time she was prompted to strike but it was a child. There wasn’t an option. And Ava was there. Whispering “it’s okay Bea” “I’m okay” the whole time and it broke Beatrice. 

Well and truly.

3. Being tortured in front of others. (Not captives) 

The FBC was all about putting on a show. And the main event just so happened to be Beatrice. 

She was getting the ever living shit beat out of her.

But… she’s been trained for this. And really it wasn’t so hard. 

She’d been doing it for her entire adult life, before that even. All she had to do was stick to the training. Stick to making the torture counter productive. Stick to the techniques. 

It hurt. It was painful. Beatrice knew her right hand was never going to be the same and she likely wouldn’t ever fully heal from the way they had surly demolished every ligament in her left knee. But she could do this. 

Except now. 

Now they had started cutting her. 

The end was almost near. The second that started happening, when the possibility for infection, and other biological complications, was opened they weren’t planning on keeping you around long enough to really need to worry about any of that. 

So Beatrice took it. Like the good soldier, she was praying that Ava wasn’t the first one to find her when this was over.

4. Being tortured in front of others captives. 

It started with Beatrce being dragged into a room. 

Her toes dragging against concrete behind her, she could see out of the bottom of the hood but only just barely. Her weight was held between two men by her shoulders that ached from being in a stress position for the last several hours. 

There was a muffled yelling. 

The loud, horrible, sound of a metal chair scraping against concrete as whoever was sitting in it tried to move. 

The rattling of a chain. As her hands were suspended over her head.

The sharp cold of metal on her wrists as the handcuffs were tightened. 

Beatrice had wits about her enough to squeeze her fists and push her arms into the opening as much as she could, trying to keep the cuffs as loose as she could to maybe give her a chance to get out of them later. 

She wasn’t having much success with it but she had to try. 

She was hooked up. Tension held her arms over her head. Her weight was hardly able to be supported by the balls of her feet. 

Thrashing and trying to kick and fight was no use. It wasn’t making her situation any easier. The protests of the mufflered yells and the chair on the concrete were only getting louder as her situation got worse. 

Cold air hit her face as the hood was rapidly removed. It was rather disorienting. To suddenly be in a very bright room. Very clean and industrial. A drain under her feet didn’t exactly bode well for her. 

Her hair was pulled annoyingly out with the hood, falling into her face though that was the least of her worries. 

Beatrice found the strength to lift her head from where it was hanging. 

She found Ava’s wild eyes. Her hair was a mess too. There was a piece of cloth tied into her mouth. She was strapped down with glowing blue handcuffs to a chair that looked like divinium was placed at stretegic points to prevent Ava from phasing through it. 

Beatrice’s back arched away from freezing water– she hadn’t even heard sputter to life– from a hose hit her back. It soaked over her clothes. Her hair.

She was shivering so hard the chain supporting the majority of her weight was rattling. 

She felt a slight static mere milliseconds before electricity arched through her body. Rattling her teeth and lighting every last one of her nerves on fire from the place the baton came into contact with her side. 

Beatrice never considered herself to be particularly vocal. But she couldn't help but scream at the surprise. 

When it stopped she panted, looking up at Ava to hold eye contact. 

They hadn’t asked her for anything yet. And she was still gagged though that didn’t stop her struggle to get to Beatrice. Tears were streaming down her face as she fought to get free. 

They hit Beatrice again and again. The more Ava struggled the harder they hit beatrice. And each time Beatrice, wasn’t so much capable of speech - her jaw far too swollen for that even if she had the energy to try - but she tried to look at Ava. 

Comfort her as much as she could. 

Yell at her with something in her eyes that she was okay. 

That whatever they wanted Ava couldn’t give into it. 

And each time Beatrice saw Ava’s apology. 

Saw Ava trying to comfort her back. 

But more than that she saw Ava breaking. She saw her furry building. 

The desperation there. 

The pain. 

When the gag was slipped over her chin, a string of drool going with it. Ava was yelling. “You mother fucker. I will kill you for this.” 

Beatrice knew it was coming. She didn’t have to see to know. But a fist collided heavy against her soaked torso with a sickening sound that left Beatrice sputtering, struggling to breathe but at least she was somewhat used to how it felt to be hit. 

It was better then the electricity though not much. “Stop.” Ava pleaded. “What do you want.” 

“Ava you can’t —“ Beatrice breathed, shaking her head knowing she’d also just earned herself the baseball bat they just took to her femur just above her knee. She’d be needing surgery for that one most likely… assuming they got out of this. 

And so it continued. Ava being somewhat antagonistic, it was just in her nature, unfortunately enough for Beatrice. 

They went to town on Beatrice not really asking for anything specific. Locations of safe houses. Bases. Divinium stores. They were fishing with no real goal it seemed. 

They left them. Ava straining against the chair to get to Beatrice. “Bea… Bea talk to me” her voice broke over the nickname Beatrice shook her head sagging against the chains.

Her arms were numb and burning at the same time. The lack of blood flow to her hands had rendered them asleep long ago. But still the cuffs bit into her wrists. “Don’t”… “give”… “them” … “anything” 

“Bea.” 

“No.” She panted “noth-ing. Pro—mice.” 

Ava was shaking her head rapidly as tears streamed down her face but Beatrice was right. The only way this stopped, Beatrice’s only chance was for them to decide that this wasn’t productive.

And the only way that happened is if Ava didn’t break. 

Beatrice would suffer it. As fucked up as it was, Ava wasn’t going to insult Beatrice by thinking she couldn’t. She trusted her. And she knew that Beatrice would sooner die than be used to hurt her order, and she also knew that Beatrice would never forgive her if Ava broke for her. 

The dishonor she’d feel because of something not her choice. 

So Ava would let her choose, as much as it was breaking her, she wouldn’t remove that agency from Beatrice. 

Beatrice, bless her, visibly relaxed when Ava reassured her that she would go with what Beatrice wanted. But she also made sure Beatrice knew how much she hated what was happening.

They heard people in the hall approaching for round two and Beatrice looked at Ava forcing eye contact “Look at me Bea” Ava found her resolve for them both. “Just look right at me. I’m here.” 

Beatrice wanted to laugh. If she had the lungs to say anything that was exactly what she would have said to her love. 

At least they were on the same page… And she held Ava’s eye contact with each new pain they brought to her until she lost consciousness.

[zenchives]

In Your Memory ❄ Jin Kamurai

Tags: Angst (probably) Warnings: de*th, su*cide, might be extremely ooc, it's not the same timeline/not related to the current ongoing story.

Disclaimer—Headcanon: Y/N is different from MC in the game. Y/N is someone from the prequel before the game story even begun. MC is the sequel that appears during the game story.

Therefore, Y/N in the story does not equal to MC in game.

Italicized text is monologue or thoughts of the character. It can also be a flashback if indicated before the story.

words: 2,837

She couldn't afford to falter; she needed to be a role model. After all, she was an honor student—an honor student? What did that even mean? When did she become one? She shook her head to dispel these distracting thoughts. She would rely on her feelings rather than her mind. It wasn’t easy—following your emotions was far more perilous than anything else. Letting her feelings dictate her actions could lead to the worst possible outcome. As her mind raced, she faced the door, which could very well be the source of her downfall.

She knocked lightly, as if she feared waking a slumbering beast, but the silence that followed felt deliberate, as if she was being intentionally ignored. "Is Jin Kamurai here?" she asked more firmly, knocking a bit louder. Before she could call out again, the door creaked open.

She was met by the man she used to love—used to love? The thought echoed with confusion. He lay sprawled on the couch, cigarette smoke curling through the air and mingling with the muted atmosphere of the room. Once, she had craved his attention and would have done anything to capture his gaze because she liked him—loved him.

Now, the very presence of him was both weakening and overwhelming, instilling a fear she couldn’t quite understand. What made her shiver in dread? What made her waver? Was it the man standing before her? The longing for his touch and the allure of his loving gaze felt forbidden—almost like an illicit desire. “I’ll put the documents here. If there’s nothing else, I’ll be leaving,” she said, her voice carrying the weight of a silence that seemed to fill the space between them. The sound of the documents being set down was the only break in the muted tension between the two, both choosing to ignore the unspoken words.

Jin was known for his harsh demeanor—surly and arrogant—but his position as the heir to the Kamurai family spoke to his capabilities. So why did he look at her like that? Why did it seem as if he had been waiting for her? How could his eyes mirror the same sadness she felt, a sadness her mind couldn’t quite grasp? The way he looked at her was both perplexing and unsettling.

He rose from his position and moved swiftly in her direction, grabbing her wrist to halt her escape. His tone was almost threatening, but beneath it lay a haunting, unsettling melody. “Where do you think you’re going?” he demanded, his voice carrying a mixture of control and unease.

She sighed and turned to face him. “Do you need anything else? I can ask the chancellor—” Her words were cut off as Jin pulled her close and kissed her forcefully. It wasn’t a tender or passionate kiss, but rather rough and aggressive, as if he had been suppressing his desire for years. Yet, despite the harshness, his hand held her gently, conveying a sense of both security and longing.

She was supposed to hate it—everything about this moment felt wrong. But why did it seem so right to be in his arms, even if they were tainted with danger and ruin? Struggling against her own desires, she resolved to push him away, resisting the pull that could lead her to destruction.

“Jin, let go of me!” she demanded, shoving him with the last of her strength. Her head hung low as she tried to steady her breath. “T-This is wrong. Let’s forget this ever happened.” Without waiting for a response, she quickly fled the room, slamming the door behind her with a force that echoed her turbulent emotions.

She was determined to let her legs carry her anywhere—anywhere far from this place, far from him. Her steps quickened, driven by a mix of fear and urgency, as if she were fleeing from something—or someone. Suddenly, she came to an abrupt halt, overtaken by the familiar, unwelcome pain that had plagued her.

This time, the pain persisted even after minutes had passed. She staggered, using the wall for support as her legs weakened beneath her. Her mind was inundated with a rush of visions and thoughts—memories long buried suddenly surging back to the forefront.

Time. Death. Regression. Reincarnation. 3142. Sacrificed. Jin Kamurai.

Jin Kamurai? Jin?

As if overwhelmed by a torrent of memories, she gasped for air, struggling to regain her senses. “What was that? Memories? Whose?” she wondered aloud. Her gaze snapped forward, and with a sudden clarity, she remembered her original goal. The light returned to her eyes, a brilliant shine rekindled—the same glow that always appeared when Jin crossed her mind.

In the 3,143rd timeline, the cycle of her existence continued, building upon the 3,142 timelines that came before. It was always ambiguous whether she was regressing or reincarnating, but what remained constant through all those iterations was her unwavering goal to save Jin. That mission, while feeling like a binding leash keeping her from living her own life, never once wavered in her mind. She remained resolute, never allowing herself to consider her own needs over the task at hand.

The shock was so intense that her vision blurred, her nose began to bleed, and she could almost hear Jin’s anxious voice calling out to her. Blinking through her tears, she caught a fleeting glimpse of him running towards her in her weakened state. Despite the danger, a part of her felt a strange sense of happiness. His concern for her made her feel as though she was being pulled back from the edge of a precarious cliff, finding solace in his care.

❅ flashback❅

5th timeline,

Why does Jin keep dying? This already my 5th life but he keeps dying no matter how many times I try to save him from an impending doom.

28th timeline,

I’ve been researching about the Soul Crystal, I didn’t even notice that it shrinks whenever I try to heal someone. Could there more to it than meets the eye?

1,005th timeline,

Nothing ever works, he’s still in danger everytime I save him. After passing danger, there’s always a new one. Seems like this fate wants him to truly die.

1,793rd timeline,

Seems like I’m getting closer to the solution, whaever it is, I’m ready to sacrifice my whole life just to save him.

2,492nd timeline,

̶I̶'̶m̶ ̶d̶̶o̶̶n̶̶e̶. ̶T̶̶h̶̶e̶̶r̶̶e̶'̶s̶ ̶n̶̶o̶̶t̶̶h̶̶i̶̶n̶̶g̶. ̶T̶̶h̶̶i̶̶s̶ ̶i̶̶s̶ ̶h̶̶o̶̶p̶̶e̶̶l̶̶e̶̶s̶̶s̶. ̶I̶ ̶w̶̶a̶̶n̶̶t̶ ̶t̶̶o̶ ̶k̶̶i̶̶l̶̶l̶ ̶m̶̶y̶̶s̶̶e̶̶l̶̶f̶.

2,493rd timeline,

Way to waste life like that, I can’t believe it even crossed my mind to end myself without finishing what I started.

3,140 timeline,

I found something. I might be closer than I thought.

3,141 timeline,

Throughout the timelines I’ve lived, half of it was sacrificing myself for Jin and half of it was devoting to research about the abilities of my stigma.

I can’t believe that the tree finally bore fruits. I finally found the answer to end all this suffering once and for all.

Soul Crystal or in Latin “Anima Crystallum”, it has the ability to heal the target by breaking a small piece from the Soul Crystal and feeding it to the target of the heal. The only drawback is, it will shrink over time the more pieces that are broken but even a small piece of the Soul Crystal can heal effectively.

In this timeline, I’ve decided to give Jin half of the Soul Crystal. I never thought it would be this easy.

3,142 timeline,

What went wrong? Why is it still not enough? I need more information, I have a feeling I’m missing something to complete it.

I found it but.. I think I’ll be alright. Although, this timeline may end up killing me because of overworking. It’s pathetic but I’ll believe in you 3,143rd timeline. I created a trigger where you’ll remember all the memories in one single action.

Good luck, you’ll probably need it. Let that timeline be the last of our very own suffering.

To 3,143 me, please continue to love him even if you remember everything. It may be taxing but this was our purpose—the very reason we continue to live over and over again.

❅ end of flashback ❅

It seems that was the final entry she made in timeline 3,142 before succumbing to overexertion. The thought of her pushing herself to the brink for the love of her life is both poignant and tragic. Yet, there’s a profound sense of fulfillment in her sacrifice; she would willingly endure countless timelines once more if it meant saving Jin Kamurai.

"You’re awake," he said, his voice cutting through the haze of her consciousness. It was a voice she recognized, but it stung to hear it now. "You collapsed in the hallway, looking like a fool." She managed a faint smile in response, her mind still reeling from the flood of memories that had overwhelmed her.

“...so, did you bring me here just to lecture me?” She asked with a playful tone, fully expecting Jin’s defensive retort. “You think I brought you here because I actually care?” He retorted with a scoff. “I couldn’t just leave a potential corpse lying in the hallway. It would ruin my reputation, especially with you working for me.”

Seeing Jin and finally having a proper conversation with him, now that all her memories had returned, overwhelmed her. Tears streamed down her face uncontrollably, yet amidst the flood of emotions, she could only manage a bittersweet smile. Jin, though trying to hide his concern behind a veneer of arrogance, couldn’t quite mask the flicker of worry in his eyes, even as he insisted that he was indifferent to her feelings.

“Stop being so dramatic; you’re overreacting,” he chided, but her tears didn’t relent. She clung tightly to the blankets, unable to stem the tide of her emotions, which continued to spill over uncontrollably.

“I thought you wouldn’t wake up,” he murmured quietly, but the words were clear enough for her to catch. “I’m sorry,” she replied, her voice trembling as she wiped away the last of her tears. “I never realized I was so exhausted that I slept almost until nightfall.”

He let out a sharp sigh and stood up. “Since you’ve woken up, I’ll be going.” She flinched, her hands clutching her clothing over her heart. “Jin…” she whispered, her voice quivering. “Jin, wait!” she called, desperation edging her tone. His steps faltered, and he turned with an annoyed expression. She quickly rose to her feet and moved towards him, her eyes pleading.

“What else do you need—?” he began, but she rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her face into his clothes. “What—!” he exclaimed, completely taken aback. He stood frozen, unsure of how to react to her unexpected embrace. Once he gathered himself, he quickly pushed her away, trying to regain his composure.

“What the fuck are you doing?” She stumbled back but held her ground, lifting her gaze to meet his. Even from a distance, he recognized those eyes—filled with determination to end it all, to save him and find her peace.

From behind her, she revealed a sword that seemed to materialize out of nowhere. But upon closer observation, it was clear—it was Jin's sword. "When did you get that? Hand it over," he demanded. Yet her eyes remained steady, fearless; this was her moment, her opportunity.

She raised the sword, but instead of aiming it at Jin, she turned the blade toward herself. The tip hovered over her chest, directly above her heart and the Soul Crystal embedded within it. This, she believed, would be enough to complete the Soul Crystal’s other half.

“Please, give it back to me.” She had never wavered, but in that instant, when she saw the desperation in his eyes, she felt an overwhelming urge to abandon everything she had planned.

They say, "Don't let your emotions control you," but in that moment, it was her emotions that propelled her toward her goal. As she faced her final chance, there was only one thing she wanted to say to him.

“Jin, I love you.”

In a swift, decisive moment, she drove the sword into her heart, piercing the Soul Crystal to complete the final step of the transfer. This was what the 3,142nd timeline had hinted at—the missing piece now falling into place.

According to the memories from the 3,142nd timeline, the requirement for transferring the other half of the Soul Crystal to a new host is as follows: ‘You cannot give the remaining half willingly or voluntarily. Only upon your demise will the remaining Soul Crystal be passed to your significant other.’

The sword pierced her chest, forcing more blood to spill from her lips. Her leg buckled as a chilling numbness spread through her body, but just as she was about to collapse, Jin caught her before she could hit the ground. “Y/N!!” Her vision grows hazy, either clouded by tears or the approach of her final breath.

All Jin could do was call out her name, his voice filled with desperation as he sought help to save her fading consciousness. A wet sensation fell on her face—blurry but unmistakably Jin's tears. With her remaining strength, she reached out to gently caress his face, and with her last bit of energy, she pressed a tender kiss to his lips before surrendering completely to the darkness.

He was jolted awake by her voice. "Jin? Are you okay? You're crying..." she asked, her concern evident. "Were you dreaming of something bad?"

Her voice pulled him out of his daze. He sat up in the chair, blinking away the tears and struggling to regain control of his breathing.

"I... I'm fine..." he murmured, though his words belied the turmoil within. The image of holding her lifeless body in his arms lingered painfully in his mind, her voice echoing in his ears.

She looked at him with worry as he avoided her gaze. "I can’t believe you fell asleep in the middle of class."

Was it all just a dream? Or perhaps a portent of something to come? It felt like an oracle’s warning. He blinked slowly, still trying to convince himself he was fully awake. His breathing remained uneven, and he grappled with calming himself after the nightmare—no, the haunting vision—that had disturbed his sleep.

“...Yeah.”

He replied, his gaze fixed on her. Seeing her alive and well was a profound relief, and he felt on the verge of tears once more. She continued to talk animatedly about the class discussion, her various expressions—laughing, smiling, giggling, and even showing sadness—offering him a comforting contrast to the distressing vision he had experienced.

Most surprisingly, she was displaying an affection he had previously taken for granted. As he watched her, he found himself captivated by every nuance of her expressions. Her smiles, giggles, laughter, sadness, and especially her affection, which he felt he didn’t deserve, were all deeply moving.

Her presence made him acutely aware of how much he had taken her for granted in the past—and how much he still did now. He couldn’t bring himself to interrupt her or say anything, feeling that any words from him might spoil this precious moment.

"Jin..? Why are you looking at me that way?" She smiled, tilting her head slightly, her gaze framed by the setting sun that cast a warm glow over his face.

"...because if I look away, you'll disappear," he replied, his voice low and melancholic, as though he was struggling to hold back his tears.

The girl he loved gave him one final, bittersweet smile—it truly was the last. "Jin... I love you. I'm sorry." Her last words were accompanied by tears streaming down her face as she faded with the setting sun.

Left alone in the encroaching darkness, Jin felt an abrupt and harsh void. The cold air from the slightly open window brushed against his face, bringing him back to reality.

He spoke to himself, "Why am I crying?" It felt as though a crucial memory was missing, leaving behind an empty space. What was he yearning for so desperately? Something—someone was missing.

That night, the darkness bore silent witness to the pain he had forgotten. Though he would never remember, his heart would never forget.

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3,142rd timeline, the last note:

The Soul Crystal harbors a hidden ability, which is the reason behind the stringent requirement.

Once you transfer half of your Soul Crystal to someone, you will begin to gradually lose your memories over time. The recipient of the Soul Crystal becomes your significant other, gaining strength twofold. You cannot give the remaining half willingly or voluntarily. Upon your demise, the remaining Soul Crystal will be passed to your significant other.

However, once they fully absorb the remaining half of the Soul Crystal, all memories of the former host will be erased, gradually erasing their existence forever.

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end.

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:P enjoy ig

trivia: 3,143 is equavalent to y/n last words, "jin, i love you." :PP