#beyond the clouds ( ooc )

[jewishjanetandco]

missy: give me ten minutes alone with anyone and i can usually get them to spill everything! their secrets, their desires, their intestines... robert(?): ...what?

[grieverled-moved]

Was looking for Icon thing for next ask — dug through old art and found this old wip— I USED IT BUT CATCH ME SOBBIN CAUSE AAAAA

[mybelovedfleur]

,,𝐵𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑜𝓃𝓃𝒶" 𝒞𝒽𝒶𝓅𝓉𝑒𝓇 𝐼

(Yandere!Silco x Amnesiac!Fem!Reader)

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

!TW! FantasyAU! Heavy Yandere Themes, Silco is ooc for sure, vomiting, sick!reader, violence, mention of death, I will tag every chapter seperately! :)

Description: ,, A series of unfortunate events causes you to completely lose your memory. Now, you find yourself thrust into the role of the Duchess of Zaun, married to a man you don’t recognize. But was this ever truly your life? And why does the scent of blood cling to you, no matter where you go? "

Note: english is NOT my first language, I am very much open for critique and suggestions but pls be nice and respectful :c

Also a big ty and ily to @ink-and-dagger because DWM is the best fic on the internet and you should read it immediatelly! They're the main reason for me coming back to writing after YEARS, yes it is that good C: GO READ IT NOW OR REREAD IT IDC

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

A violent cough escaped your lips, food remains mixed with blood landed on the undoubtedly expensive silverware before you. A warm hand found its way to your back, moving in soothing circles, while you tried to catch your breath. You frowned at the mess you made, tears slowly clouding your vision.

,,I'm so sorry" you whispered in embarrassment, looking down at your weak, trembling hands.

"Don’t," Silco muttered, his brow furrowed as he wiped your face gently. "I shouldn’t have let you eat at the table. You’re too weak, my love." His tone was firm, but the action was oddly tender. It felt as though you were a child being cared for by a doting mother. But the difference was evident - you were a grown woman, and he was your husband, at least that’s what he told you.

"We're going back to bed now, that's enough stress for you today, beloved," he said without a second's hesitation, immediately picking you up and heading towards the bedroom as you whimpered in his hold. It was the first time Silco had allowed you to be anywhere beyond your bedroom or the bathroom. Sitting at the table, rather than being spoon fed by him while lying in bed felt strangely liberating, a brief moment of freedom you hadn’t realized you craved so much. 

,,It's morning" you were certain he heard your complaints, yet he chose to ignore them as he tucked you under the covers of an annoyingly comfortable bed. You felt like you had explored every nook and cranny of that room a hundred times, and stepping outside of it felt like a trip to an amusement park.

The matress beside you dipped under his weight, while his hand started to softly carress your hair

,,I'll bring you your medicine, you'll feel better then, alright?" his touch traveled over your temple, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear ,, I'll be right next to you, I'll read the reports and you'll fall asleep cuddled up to me, warm and soft" a delicate kiss landed on your head "Just like you used to"

It's been 2 weeks since you woke up. A dense fog shrouded your mind, obscuring everything. Who are you? What is your name? These seemingly simple questions only deepened the ache in your head. The pain had been unbearable then - every little movement was difficult. Your body felt exhausted and weak, as if it was pushing against the limits of its own capabilities.

It felt as though you had been dragged through hell and back—there was no other way to explain the state you were in. For the first few days, you burned with fever, teetering on the edge of consciousness, struggling to hold on to even a fleeting sense of reality.

In those brief moments when you managed to grasp even a sliver of reality around you, there was always that one hand gently touching your forehead, that one voice soothing your nerves, whispering sweet words of comfort.

You felt then as if some higher power took pity on your tormented soul, sending you an angel who became your only anchor in all this madness, his presence was like a silent ray of light piercing through the thick fog of pain. Every time his presence was felt, your whole body seemed to cry out for his touch, as if he was the only cure for the pain, the only being who could heal you. You were sure that if only you could, you would pull him to you, locking him in a strong embrace.

The reality turned out to be much more bitter than you expected.

When you first saw his face, a crushing feeling of terror ran through your body, unable to move on your own, completely at the mercy of this strange man. Your body trembled on its own with his every touch, almost trying desperately to scream for you to run away, the complete opposite of your imaginary savior. 

At first you thought it was just his appearance that made you so terrified, and you couldn't help but feel disgusted with yourself.

Yet despite his terrifying, almost inhuman eye and wounded face, the fear you felt ran deeper. It was some intangible, subconscious force that told you to stay away, as if something in his presence dangerously shook your intuition.

At first glance, you could already tell that he was an extremely elegant and wealthy man. His clothes were woven with gold and silver threads, perfectly fitting his figure, as if it was an indispensable part of him.

You were convinced that this place belonged to him. The opulence and grandeur of this bedroom made you feel almost alien, like you had no right to be there, like all this luxury didn't suit you in any way.

But the way he looked at you made you feel like you were a priceless treasure, a million times more valuable and beautiful than anything he ever owned. Only then did you begin to consider that it was the same person who had been standing by your bed all those days. His face immediately softened when he noticed you were no longer desperately trying to get away from him.

He told you everything, not taking his eyes off your face, as if he was looking for any reaction in it, as if each of your glances could reveal something he hadn't said yet. "I am Silco, Duke of Zaun, you are (Y/N), my only, dearest wife" the way he said it, as if it was a sacred thing, known to the world for centuries. He knelt down in front of your bedside, took your cold hand in his and gave it a kiss that involuntarily made everything inside you instantly quiet, your fear, the trembling of your body, the accelerated heartbeat audible in your ears, and probably your common sense.

A month ago, when your carriage was attacked by his enemies, their goal was him - but fate would have it that he wasn't with you in that moment. Against all odds, despite your wounds, you managed to escape, the only survivor. Amidst the raging storm, you wandered breathlessly through the forest, with every moment your wounds were deepening, and your strength was fading. Surely at some point you had to fall, the doctors said that the wound on the back of your head was critical.

You felt the internal pain that he must have experienced, almost spilling over to you. Every word he spoke carried pain and indescribable sadness, as if what he was telling was not only a story but also a painful memory that would not give him peace.

You sat there, legs pulled up to your chest, heart beating at an accelerated pace. Although you tried to make a sound, the words died in your throat, and the huge lump that was stuck there prevented you from saying anything. Finally, unable to contain your emotions, tears began to flow, silently running down your cheeks. 

The moment he pulled you to him and locked you in a tight embrace you were unable to resist , or tell if his embrace was a gesture of a  savior or the bonds of an executioner. 

You closed your eyes and gave yourself into his hands

You wouldn't get an answer.

─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─ ─ ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ── ⊹ ⊱ -'♡'- ⊰ ⊹ ─

A terrible coldness took over your body, you opened your eyes the moment an icy gust of wind touched your face. You groggily sat up, to your surprise the door to Silco's office was wide open, compared to the darkness of the bedroom, a faint glow of a dancing candle flame was emerging from that room. Your feet touched the cold floorboards, and the sound of your own breathing seemed exaggeratedly loud

And it was only when the door handle was within reach of your hand that you realized you were able to move without Silco's help. Your legs no longer seemed to disobey you, standing no longer made you nauseous, and the inevitable headache disappeared.

The office was shrouded in mist, and its humidity made you slowly squint. The candle flame seemed to shimmer more and more intensely in your eyes, its light reflecting aggressively on the dark walls. Could it be smoke and not mist? Surely such a small candle couldn't do that, a fire had to start somewhere. As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you felt it,

As soon as that thought crossed your mind, you felt it - the sharp smell of burning forcefully entered your lungs. Choking, ragged breaths spasmed from your throat. As you grabbed your neck, and tried to back away to the bedroom, only a blank wall stood where the door had been, as if it had never been there.

"Ṣ̷͇͓͚̓̍a̶̭͒v̷͉̹̦̊̋̿ẻ̷̳ ̵̪͔̭̓̿͑͝ư̸̖ͅs̸̻͚̯͐" a desperate cry echoed in your ears, your eyes wandering around the room in panic. But the blinding glow of the candle flames made everything around them merge into one, as if time and space had ceased to exist.

"I̷͗͐͜t̷̢͇̪͗͆͝'̸̘̟̕s̶͈̘͝ ̶̺̞͈͓͆̒̓͘h̷̜̥̙͚̄͐̏̕ì̷̟̙͇̭̐̑̕s̶̢͖̏ ̶͇͝f̵͓͋ą̸̘͔̤͐̍̌��̵̹̕l̵̨͎̈́̒̓́t̴͉̬͒̍.̷̡̣̭́.̵̡̯̠̋̓.̸̩̭͍͎̈́͊́͐" screams, sobs, dying breaths, desperate attempts to catch even a moment of respite. In the background, that terrifying, constant sound of burning wood, as if the world was about to fall to pieces.

"Y̴̜̎̔͛͂o̴͔̎ṵ̷̾͆̊̈r̴̟̜͚͂͌͘ ̵̢̖͙̫́̄f̵̰̚a̷͈̽͋̀͝ủ̵͙͑̕l̷̹̳̻͖̈͝ţ̸̐͋"

[blaire-apricity]

Hello I just wanted to say your a wonderful writer and I really like your fics and I just wanted to request for all the boys if you could some headcanons on how they'd react to a widow reader/MC like it'd interesting to think about a reader that actually was previously in love deeply with someone else and they got married to this person but due to some tragic circumstances this person ended up dying you can choose the cause of death whether it be an accident or sickness or something else entirely like how do you think they'd react to knowing that the reader loved someone else before them ? Like what if the reader is still in grief over there dead partner like they want to start a new relationship but they feel guilty how would they comfort them and such ?

Love Beyond Loss

ʟᴀᴅs ʙᴏʏs x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᯓ❅ ┆ synopsis┆ : How would the LADS boys react to you still in grief over your previous partner?

ᯓ❅ ┆ tags┆ : head canons, slight angst, comfort & possible OOC

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫

Xavier didn’t mind that you’d loved someone before him; what mattered to him was that you were with him now.

What did trouble him, however, was seeing you still consumed by grief for your previous partner.

Each time he caught you gazing off with that same half-lidded, guilty look, his heart ached.

He longed to lift your spirits, to see you smile fully again, radiating like the stars he admired.

During your breakdowns or moments of doubt about your relationship, he was always there, steady and present.

“I’m here for you,” he’d remind you softly, pulling you into his arms. His face would nuzzle into your hair as he breathed in your familiar scent, offering you the comfort you needed.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞

Being a widow didn’t bother Zayne; your past love was a part of you, and that only deepened his understanding of you.

As a doctor, he’d seen the weight of grief many times and knew how overwhelming the process could be.

He never forced physical closeness, respecting your boundaries unless you sought it or he sensed you desperately needed it.

Despite wanting to hold you close, he understood the importance of giving you space to process your emotions.

“Take your time,” he’d murmur gently, his voice soothing as his hand stroked the side of your head with quiet affection.

Zayne never rushed your healing; instead, he patiently offered the time and space you needed to move forward.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥

It was selfish of him, but Rafayel couldn’t help feeling a pang of sadness knowing someone else had held your heart before him.

He had waited years—decades—for you, and though he wanted your love entirely, he knew better than to let those feelings cloud his actions.

At first, he struggled with seeing you lost in thought, your gaze far away in a place he couldn’t reach. But when he saw your grief—the tears streaming down your face—it shattered him.

His own selfish desires seemed trivial compared to your pain; he just wanted to ease the sorrow that weighed so heavily on you.

Though you were slowly moving forward, he knew it wasn’t easy. He admired your strength and vowed to support you through it all.

“I’m never leaving you,” he reassured you in a quiet, steady voice. “You’ll always have me.” His words carried the weight of someone who deeply understood the pain of loss.

. . ────────────── ❅ ⁺.

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬

Despite his arrogance, Sylus was surprisingly perceptive and emotionally attuned—especially when it came to you.

You couldn’t hide anything from him: the faint strain in your voice, the forced curve of your smile. He saw through it all, and that’s why you finally opened up to him.

Loving him felt natural, but guilt lingered, knowing a part of your heart still mourned your previous partner’s absence.

Before you even said a word, Sylus already seemed to sense your turmoil. When you poured out your feelings, his response was a soft, knowing chuckle.

“Why are you worried? You’re here with me now, aren’t you?” His words felt dismissive at first, but you soon realized it wasn’t indifference—it was certainty.

Sylus was unwavering in his commitment. He didn’t shy away from your grief or try to compete with your past. He was willing to wait, to love you fully and fiercely, no matter how long it took.

In his own way, he made sure you knew: you had his support, his patience, and his heart.

──────────────── ˗ˏˋ ❅｡˚ ☁︎ ˚｡⋆｡˚☽ ˎˊ˗ ────────────────

╰｡ Author's Note: This took me a while to fulfill- Aaaahhh. I've been spending time with my friends during my free time that I couldn't find much time (and motivation) to write. ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) Also thank you for the compliment! I also found out that you've taken a hiatus, I hope everything goes well over there! (૭ ｡•̀ ᵕ •́｡ )૭

To anyone that's interested, here's the link to mentioning list. ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و ♡

╰｡ Tagging: . ݁˖ . ݁ @slitheringwaves . ݁˖ . ݁ @clairestella

[officialdaydreamer00]

Aimless outing

in which you took your significant other out for a ride.

pairing: idia shroud x yuu/reader

contents: kinda short oneshot, lower case intended, this is just a spoonful of sugar tbh, everyone thank deuce for lending us his blastcycle, kinda ooc idia? idk, actually based on a screenshot in the game i'm playing and i love that lmao, reader is referred to as yuu, gender neutral reader and narrated with you/yours

★ the daydreamer speaks — my second entry for my tumblr older sibling @cloudcountry's sweet shroud summer 2024!! the worms are worming and i'm on a roll hehe ^-^

do i tag? yes, i do. my main idia liker: @edith-is-a-cat, others: @identity-theft-101 @keii-starz @xen-blank @loser-jpg @lemonchuu @dove-da-birb @twistwonderlanddevotee @escha-evenstar

remember to comment or reblog if you enjoy my work!!

"Yuu-shi, where are we going!?"

"Somewhere, anywhere! Does it really matter?"

a slow sunday and the lack of immediate tasks in your schedule was all you needed. and what better way to spend the day with your beloved than taking him out for a ride?

deuce was kind enough to lend you his blastcycle for this little trip of yours, wishing you good luck and all, and you've already gotten permission to go out from the headmage the day before, as much as you hated his gut. meanwhile, ortho was doing his best to get idia waiting outside of campus, and making sure he didn't second guess his desicions before you arrive.

and that led us to where you were now, going kilometres per hour as if gliding through the highway, feeling the cool wind of a chilly afternoon excitedly picking up your hair as the sun retreated behind the mountains. you loved the thrill it gave you, if the bright wide grin on your face was of any indications.

idia, on the other hand, was a bit overwhelmed. with his arms coiled tightly around your waist, hands trembling ever so slightly, he hid his face in your hair, not daring even a peek at the blurring surroundings.

"It's not a ride if you can't see what made it so fun in the first place, Idia! Just give it a try, then we can go back if you want."

idia stayed quiet, weighing his options. he could ask you to go back and return to the monotony of his life, safe yet nothing special. or, he could continue on this ride, just you and him on the road to an ambiguous destination.

he opened his eyes, widening as they laid on the most beautiful painting of dusk mother nature had drawn. white, pink, and orange blended together so harmoniously on a darkening blue canvas. rows of clouds lined the sky, bouncing around the little lights left of the sun onto the crashing waves the sea created.

his breath was taken away.

"Quite a sight, isn't it?"

idia could only muttered a soft 'yeah' as his eyes glued at picturesque scenery, taking in all he could for he wasn't sure he was going to see such a sight again. his tight grip on you slowly loosened, now only wrapping around your waist like a warm hug you would give him on chilly days.

the moon soon made its appearance as the canvas of nature was painted black, stars glimmering from beyond like diamonds in the sky. the two of you was making your way back to campus, with the blastcycle's headlights and idia's hair illuminating the road.

idia found the night sky beautiful, a lot different from dusk, but he loved it all the same.

it was a fleeting sensation of a thrill so different than what his heart was used to, but it was welcoming, a comfort even. especially when you were there with him, laughing without a care and genuinely living in the moment.

it was a memory he wished to never forget.

[xxmrs-waynexx]

Young Again

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x wife!reader (batmom)

Warnings: Fluff, comfort, Bruce is slightly OOC but it's for the plot.

Ever since Bruce came back from his latest mission, you tried your best to help him relax. He was always on edge and very clearly tense. This man was not doing okay this time around and it was stressing you out too. No matter how hard you tried, all the noises, movement, and whatever else happening in the manor was just too much for him. You assumed that whatever had happened with Scarecrow must’ve had something to do with fear toxin. 

So, you confided in Alfred. Who else would know your husband better than yourself? The two of you sat outside drinking tea and chatting.

“I just don’t know what else to do. He can’t stay in the cave all day planning and checking every news source for trouble, but he also isn’t able to help with the chaos of all the kids,” you explained.

Alfred thought for a moment before sighing, “Why don’t you two stay home tomorrow? I will go out with the young ones and be back by dinner time.” The older man gave you a kind and reassuring smile. “He will be back to himself before we know it. I have learned that sometimes the best way to make any progress is to take a break. Especially for master Bruce.”

And so you did. The next morning, you were sure to let Bruce sleep in. You didn’t mind being held for a bit longer than usual. By lunchtime, you two had finally pulled yourselves out of bed. It had been months since you’d last cooked. Usually, you helped Alfred but being on the PTA for your kids’ school was getting very busy as it neared winter break.

Cooking was something you used to do with Bruce in college. It used to be a fun bonding activity for you two in the communal kitchen in your dorm building. You’d avoided asking him if he wanted to since you knew he had a lifetime ban, courtesy of Alfred.

As you looked in the pantry, Bruce came up behind you and wrapped his arms around your waist. “I just had the greatest idea on earth,” he mumbled in his deep, sleepy voice.

“Listen, if this is about your plan for Penguin, I already told you that it was good and that-”

“No,” he chuckled softly. “I think we should cook dinner for the family. They’ve probably had a long day and it’s the least we can do.”

His smile is what made you agree. You knew the reasoning was far beyond what he said. He wanted to relive the ‘good old days.’ And if Alfred wasn’t home to tell him no?

____

The kitchen was an absolute disaster. Dishes and ingredients were scattered all over the countertops. You did your best to help keep things in order, but you did have a little enjoyment for the chaos. Your combined laughter filled the kitchen and it was like you two were young and new to each other again.

“Okay, Bruce, now the flour. Not too much. Just use what’s left of the bag in there,” you said, back turned to his figure looking into the pantry.

“There’s just the unopened sack,” he said gruffly, pulling it out of the pantry and slamming it on the counter.

“...Alfred would buy the biggest bag known to man,” you let out a soft chuckle. However, upon turning around, you saw that perhaps slamming a bag of flour onto the counter was not quite the best idea. “Bruce!” Your eyes were wide with both amusement and shock.

Bruce stood in front of you, eyes squeezed shut, covered in flour. “I didn’t think-”

“No, you didn’t,” you laughed. You grabbed a wet cloth and began wiping off his face.

He wrapped his arms around you and you screamed, “NO! Bruce!” 

He chased you around the kitchen with flour in his hands, ready to throw when close enough. “Why do you get to stay clean and I don’t?” He asked, grinning like a madman. This was done with the same amount of energy as your yearly snowball fights- though usually you were on his side.

Once you realized the kitchen was too small to stay away from him, you bolted to the family room. “Bruce! Stop!” your laughs clouded your shouts. “You’re crazy!”

“Yeah?” he stalked you through the living room, the flour in his hands getting everywhere.

“Alfred is going to kill us- No, you,” you laughed.

“Who cares? It was fun. I feel young again,” he told you finally reaching you. He had you cornered between a bust of who-knows-who-that-guy-was and the wall.

Dinner was going to be fun.

[ode2rin]

it's all me, just don't go

pairing. itoshi rin x gn!reader

genre. post-argument, hurt/comfort this time (^o^) | fluff too actually (?)

warnings. swearing, and probably a lil ooc rin .. well he's a bit of a loser here (i like loser men) this is also not proofread basically wrote it on a whim T_T i also listened to "afterglow" by taylor swift while writing hehe so it's a bit inspired to that

note. it's the part 2 of this | i'm supposed to be figuring this whole platform out but instead made a part 2 of the rin fic bec he got me in chokehold istg

before you could make up your mind, you felt the door knob twisting, startling you. you froze, heart pounding against your chest. as the door swung open, it revealed a distraught rin hastily trying to wear his coat.

your eyes locked with his, and for a moment, you were both suspended in time.

itoshi rin was not known for being a man of many words, but for you, he rehearsed every possible apology he could think of as he’ll search for you in every street around. he would’ve apologized a hundred times over if it meant you would return home to him. if you’re not ready to come home with him, he’ll leave you alone. he’ll leave the apartment, if it means you’ll stay where he knows you’re safe. he’ll tell you he’ll be good for you. fuck, he’ll be the best for you. he would have changed his ways, toned down his ego, anything to prove his love to you. he’ll tell you anything, just please, for the love of whatever divine forces watching over him, please come home.

he prepared a lot to say, a lot to make up for. he never prepared for a staring contest with you right now. rin’s hands ached to hold you. he wants – needs to fucking hold you so close, feel your warmth and know that you were still his. but every thought and intention he had practiced vanished in the face of your presence, leaving him at a loss for words.

rin saw the hurt in your eyes, and he couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt in his chest. he had hurt you, and seeing the pain written so plainly on your face made him ache inside.

but the hurt in you was no longer remnants of the argument you had, it was because of your lover standing in front of you right now.

as rin’s eyes met yours, you noticed that his eyes were slightly red-rimmed and there was a streak of dried tears in his cheeks.  at the realization that rin had been crying, you felt your heart lay down in pieces. you knew how rin’s mind tends to jump into the brinks of overthinking. he must’ve thought you’re never coming back, hence him leaving the apartment and going after you.

the sight of him was far from what the world thought about itoshi rin. this was no egoist. 

no, this was a man, vulnerable and afraid, his heart laid bare for you to see. 

and in that moment, you knew, no longer a shred of doubt clouding your mind, that you definitely seen past beyond his walls.

you wasted no time breaking the suffocating silence that enveloped you both, your voice low and small as you uttered a timid “hi.” you couldn't bear to look into rin's eyes, instead opting to cast your gaze downward as you tried to form coherent sentences. “i'm sorry for leaving,” you managed to say, your words strained with regret. “i just needed some fresh air, and i thought maybe you wanted some time alone. i'm sorry–”

before you could continue, rin's towering frame engulfed you in a tight embrace. you felt his arms wrap around you protectively, and you couldn't help but lean into him. "you have nothing to apologize for, it was on me," rin murmured, his voice soft and laced with guilt. he wondered why the hell were you even apologizing when you had done nothing wrong but love him, despite being a huge asshole.

you were about to reply, but rin beat you to it, his words tumbling out in a jumbled mess. "i'm so fucking sorry, baby. i didn't mean any of the shit i told you. i'm sorry i hurt you. i lashed out at you for things you never did, and i took it out on you because i was scared over something so fucking lukewarm." you could hear the sniffling between his words, but you didn't mention it, instead burying your face further into his chest as he held you tighter.

rin's grip on you intensified, as if he was afraid he'd lose you if he let go. he took your silence as a cue to cradle your face in his palms and press your foreheads together, his warm breath fanning across your face.

“i’m sorry. i’ll be good to you, y/n. just please, don’t leave..” me. rin couldn't bring himself to say it, the mere thought of losing you driving him to the brink of madness.

he closed his eyes, unwilling to see your face and see a trace of rejection or any thought of you leaving him. for a moment, it felt like rin couldn't even breathe. the silence between you was again suffocating, and he knew he needed to hear something, anything. "please, y/n. say something," he implored, desperation evident in his tone.

“open your eyes, rinnie” at the sound of his nickname rolling off your lips, he hesitantly opened his eyes to look at you. 

glad he did, because you’re smiling. 

it took one smile. one fucking smile from you, and itoshi rin felt he can breathe again. 

“will you let me let you go?” 

“fuck no.”

you let out a small chuckle at the speed of his answer, all with his familiar snarky voice. you placed your hands in his cheeks and you can see the relief wash over rin's face at the gesture. 

he looks at you as if you're his lifeline, and in this moment, you are.

“you better not. because i’m not going anywhere, rin.” you say, your voice filled with conviction.

“i'm never letting you go,” he whispers, his eyes still locked onto yours.

you both stay like that, wrapped in each other's arms, basking in the warmth of your embrace. for the first time in a while, everything feels right.

tomorrow, you know there will be more apologies and a lot of talking. tomorrow, both of you will try harder to be better for each other. and tomorrow, hand in hand, you and rin will face whatever lies ahead.

but tonight, both of you will let your fragile hearts hold on to each other and your frantic minds to be at peace in each other’s arms. tonight, itoshi rin will spend every second convincing himself that you’re his to love and here to stay. tonight, he will love you better.

[jiejies-corner-store]

THE AVENTURINE FIC 😭😭 OH GOSH IM CRYING 😭😭

i’m so sorry, anon! here this should make it up 😭😭 the devil knows you're dead

pairing. aventurine x reader

tags/tw: fem!reader, references to a complicated childbirth, mother!reader, father!aventurine, spoilers to aventurine's real name, spoilers in reference to 2.1 trailblaze questline, aventurine’s nihilism and depression, references to death, hurt/comfort, ooc aventurine probably, i make shit up at the end because i want a happy ending—bite me.

sfw

a/n: ouchie. i finished 2.1 and it hurt. it hurt a lot. the ost for the “all the sad tales” is genuinely so beautiful. the trumpet just feels so melancholy yet hopeful it just goes so perfectly with aventurine’s story. but i need something that feels good now. ABSOLUTELY NOT PROOF-READ pt. 1

“As long as you are alive, the blood of the Avgin will never run dry.”

It was cold. Cold and warm. Almost feverish feeling. The type of feeling you’d get when you were freezing but your skin was hot to the touch. There was this frustrating beeping noise somewhere off in the distance that you just couldn’t tune out, finally you opened your eyes to see a sea of darkness, and seemingly at an unreachable horizon, a large circle of white light that looked like a gate.

“You’re not dead, if that’s what you’re wondering,” a voice came from beside you. How you didn’t realize there was a whole person standing next to you, you had no clue.

“Well, that’s not originally what I was going for, but now I’m a bit worried I might be,” you laughed, nervous, but curious all the same. This… person you couldn’t quite make out an exact face, or even a body for that matter, but ther was this distinct feeling that it was in fact a person. Like your instinct knew, but your brain couldn’t quite fill in the details.

“This is a place beyond mortal comprehension, if I tried to explain it to you, you would only be more confused. Walk with me,” the entity said, and without even willing your body to do so, you followed. Ripples emanated from each step as you followed and soon the inky void around you melted into an unfamiliar planet.

The sky was a deep purple, streaked with red that looked like lighting that crackled along the sky. Instead of the fluid, black ground, sand now shifted as you moved foward. Inside a small hut made of rock, you saw a woman cradling a swaddled child.

“Such a lucky child, such a blessed child… Just like your name. A gift from THEM to Avgin… my boy…”

You turned to the figure beside you and hesitantly asked, “Where are we?”

“A land of rock, but not water, lightning, but not rain, blood, but not tears,” the entity responded cryptically, which only caused a crease in your brow. You went closer to the mother in the hut and sat next to her. She whispered a blessing onto her child, but none of the words made sense to your ears. Similar to the entity, it’s like your brain scrambled them from your understanding.

The mother cried. You tried to wrap your arms around her to comfort her but only phased through her like a ghost. The baby too began to cry.

Then, the scene changed again, suddenly it was a cell with iron bars. A blond young man sat next to you. The blond’s gaze was downturned, but you could recognize that voice anywhere.

“—Thirty tanba… that’s all my life is worth.”

“That’s not…” you said, but realized it was all in vain. You tried again to take Kakavasha’s hands into your own. You wantd to take the cuffs off his wrists and cradle where the skin was rubbed raw.

“It's all or nothing…”

“Kakav—agh!”

Your future never existed You█ future never existed You█ future ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er existed You█ fut███ ne█er ████ted You█ fut███ █e█er ████ted Yo██ ██████ █e█er ████ted

Your mind felt clouded, a searing headache, followed by an inability to even pin down a coherent thought. The scene shifted once more.

“What’s going on!” you shouted at the figure that stood only silently next to you, crippled on the ground, clutching at your head, fingers pressing in to try to find the spot that would alleviate this awful pressure.

When your senses were no longer blinded by pain, you were back to that inky void you started in, but this time you weren’t alone. Not far away, maybe twenty feet or so, was your Kakavasha, and a woman you didn’t recognize.

“Why are we born into this world if it's just to die?”

You stumbled to your feet to try to run to him, but with each step closer he only got further away. He walked towards that gate of light. In your head, you heart was pounding faster and faster. You failed to catch up to him. He only got further and further away until he disappeared like fireflies dispersing into the night, “Kakavasha! No—!”

Utterly devastated, you sunk back onto your knees. You didn’t know why but you had this distinct feeling of loss. Tears rolled from your eyes freely. He… he wasn’t gone surely? The entity’s presence reappeared next to you.

“Why did you show me all of this,” you asked, not sure if you actually wanted an answer.

“Because you need to go back,” the entity answered and your jaw locked, gritting your teeth so hard they hurt.

You screamed into the void, “You’re the one who brought me here!”

“I never call anyone to me… you mortals believe that it is US that determine when your time to go is… but in truth it is your own doing, whether it is your body or your mind that gives up first,” the entity said, “It is only the strength of your will that will allow you to continue down your destined path… but many give up on that path and someone else must be chosen.”

“What does this have to do with me,” you snapped. “Why are you meddling in my life? What does Kakavasha have to do with this?”

“Kakavasha still has a long road ahead of him. I have supplemented his journey all his life. It was only recently he was able to live on his own will,” said the entity ”Your body is giving up. I do not have the power anymore to keep him alive. That lies with you.”

Your surroundings melted again. You were in a hospital room and on the bed was you. Eyes closed and steadily breathing, but your heartbeat was weak. The annoying beeping from before was louder and more prominent.

“You wanted to help him. During his past, you reached out each time. There is nothing you can do about that now, but the future and the present… you still have a choice.”

Laying a hand on your unmoving body, there was a slight resistance, but with just a bit more pressure you felt as if you could phase through it entirely.

“What do I need to do,” you asked the entity.

“Live.”

You furrowed your brow at that. Of course you wanted to live… right? The entity gestured for your hand, you obliged. Against your palm was an oddly soft feeling. Warm. Like a mother’s touch against your’s. Your palms pressed together, the entity spoke,

“May the goddess Gaiathra close HER eyes three times… Keep your blood eternally pulsing… Let your journey be forever peaceful… …and your schemes forever concealed."

You lifted your head and your “body” began to disappear similar to how Kakavasha disappeared. Just before you disappeared into sparks of golden light, you had the sense about you to ask:

“Who are you?” you felt like you were shouting, but your voice was quiet.

“You could call me Fenge Biyos.”

You opened your eyes with a deep gasp for air. Your surroundings were blurry, and you rubbed at your eyes, only to realize Kakavasha was up, standing next to your hospital bed with an anxious expression, hands already grasping the one that was wiping crust from your eyes.

“You’re awake,” he choked out, holding you as if you would break, “I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry for everything. I’m sorry I did this to you that I—”

“Kakavasha, slow down, what… why are you—no, don’t be sorry,” you finally found your words, sitting foward on the bed to wrap your arms around him. You racked your brain, trying to figure out what was going on. Your mind was still foggy, but finally that haze disappated and you remembered everything leading up to now.

“Kakavasha~” you hummed in a song-like tone, a small wrapped box with a blue and purple bow tied around it. You skipped over to his desk and wrapped your arms around his shoulders where he sat, and placed the gift in front of him, laying your head on his shoulder as your arms tightly hugged him. “I have a surprise.”

He smiled with a small laugh, “Doesn’t this usually work the other way around?” He pecked a kiss onto your check before pulling the bow off and opening the lid of the box, when he froze.

The smile on your face faltered bit when he didn’t say anything after a bit. The corners of it tightened into a more forced position, “Kakavasha? You’re gonna be a papa…”

The joy in his face from earlier had completely vanished. Only replaced by a stony, cold, poker face. He pushed his chair back and you stumbled into the wall behind. He gave you a tight smile and kissed your forehead before heading for the door and grabbing his hat. “I’ll be back later.”

With that, the door slammed shut behind him, leaving you at a loss as you fell into his chair, feeling suddenly so very empty in this large office alone.

He came back after that, apologetic for leaving you, but nothing felt truly right. He continued to reassure you that he did want to have this child, but it was a strenous time. The entire pregnancy was stressful. The doctors warned you that the level of stress you were under put you at risk for a premature birth, but you brushed them off. It was just the hormones, you were sure. Kakavasha still loved you. The ring on your finger should’ve been proof enough of that.

“How about the name Ilyas?” you suggested, laying your head on Kakavasha’s lap, “I was… looking at some databases about Avgin names and I thought that one was nice. What do you think?”

Aventurine hummed, but his mind seemed elsewhere. You let it go.

The next few months continued on in similar fashion.

But it all came to a head.

The two of you were standing in the kitchen. It had started off small. The hormones and the stress were getting to you. It was an off hand comment about him not fixing dinner, and you were tired and hungry from carrying around his child.

From there it had escalated. It turned into you were tired of feeling like you were walking on eggshells when you talked about the pregnancy. About how he was barely around for the appointments, and when he was he seemd emotionally distant… finally he exploded

“I never asked for this!” he shouted. “When did I ever say I wanted to be a father? Did you even ask me? Did you think about what I felt about this whole thing at all?”

You paused, feeling tears well up in your throat as a white-hot fear flashed through your body. You laughed, a hollow sound, “I’m sorry, Aventurine, I thought it took two people to make a baby? And you certainly made no attempt to use protection.”

He didn’t have anything to say about that. Even though the argument seemed over, you felt a nauseous feeling crawling up in your throat. Your tears felt like acid burning through your skin. Then a pain in your stomach. Your knees gave out and the last thing you remember was the scared expression on Kakavasha’s face before it all went dark.

“I was scared…. I was so scared that bringing another Avgin into this world would only bring misfortune onto you… that Gaiathra Triclops would take you from our child, just like my mother was taken from me,” he openly cried into your shoulder. “I took it out on you. I made something that should’ve been a beautiful experience something that was awful, and I understand… if you never forgive me for that but please…. please don’t leave.”

Now you were crying with him, one hand tangled in his blond locks and the other rubbing his back. Quietly, so quietly that you almost didn’t hear it, he whispered, “I can’t lose you too.”

You thought for a long time. In front of you wasn’t one of the Ten Stonehearts of the IPC. Not a calculating or cunning man, who’s only interest was in things that benefited the IPC’s bank accounts. In front of you was a broken man, who’d had everything stripped away from him when he was only a child. Who was shattered and forced to put his life back together with nothing but fear and anxiety as glue.

Did it excuse what he'd broken?

No.

“I’m here… I won’t leave Kakavasha,”

But maybe with time and effort, you could help re-glue each other with something a little more beautiful.

“Ilyas! Don’t run so far!” you called after a small blond haired child who was already ahead of you by a longshot, you turned exasperatedly to your husband, “Honey, can you go after him please? I don’t want him to get trampled by some idiot who’s not paying attention…”

The man only smiled at you, one hand firmly wrapped around your ever expanding waist, “It’s okay. There’s some of my squad that’s following him incognito. He won’t get out of our sights without them dragging him back. We can let him get his energy out. He’ll be cooped up in a hospital soon.”

You huffed conceded. Already tired from just getting through the theme park’s entrance. You were due in about two weeks, but Kakavasha was insistent that a week before you’d be under hospital supervision until you brought your second child into the world. It had taken about five years before the two of you had healed enough and there were roadbumps along the way… but you were both ready to give Ilyas a little sister.

But for now, the two of you wanted to let Ilyas have one more day as an only child. The reconstructed Penacony was nothing like the Dreamscape of the past. Fear and secrets no longer were trapped in the gilded cage of the former prison planet. With the help of the IPC and the Harmony, New Penacony was entirely real. No more dreams, just reality. They’d kept many of their old franchises and built a true theme park.

“Mama!! Picture! Let’s get a picture here before we go in!” Ilyas screeched, pointing at Clockie statue in front of the Clock Studios main attraction. You set a hand on Kakavasha’s arm, glancing up at him to try to get a read on what he was feeling. He’d let you in on the parts of his past that he’d kept a secret. The scheme behind Penacony, his proposed “death” and his encounter with his Past and Future.

He took a breathe and looked back down at you, giving you a smile that said “I’m okay” and relief flooded your bones. After walking you over in front of the camera, he crouched down and scooped Ilyas into his arms.

“Ready?” the cameraman asked and you nodded. After a brief countdown the camera flashed, and for a moment in that bright light, you saw the hopeful future that lied ahead.

[bea-ce]

If only I could make you believe you deserve everything

pairing: kaveh x reader (can be read platonically or romantically)

genre: hurt/comfort, angst

summary: life is awful at times. very much so that you end up falling back to bad habits to get you through it. luckily, you have kaveh to help you guide back to the right track.

word count: 4.2k

notes: hii!! first post! (and its hurt/comfort RAHHHH) kaveh might be a little ooc as i havent gotten to him in the archon quest yet, so i apologize for that in advance! i poured my heart and soul and my own personal experiences into this,,  i apologize if the comfort is a lil wonky.

title is inspired by Nicole Dollanganger’s song “Please Eat”.

trigger warning(s): mentions of ed/having an ed, descriptive experience of having an ed, mentions of relapsing into unhealthy coping mechanisms, self inflicted harm (self harm), descriptions of self-contempt, descriptions of feelings of unworthiness.

let me know if i missed any warnings

It had been a while since the last time you’d done this. The thought of even returning back to this state was beyond you. Everything had been going so well it seemed. Sure, life still threw inconveniences towards you, but you handled them just fine, you thought.

Clearly not, as you’re now back to restraining yourself from eating and indulging yourself from something that’s vital for you to live. You knew the risks of refusing yourself food, you’d read all about the consequences and health risks of starving yourself.

Yet that is the precise reason you’re doing this.

You know how harmful this is and you know it’s bad. The knowledge of the dangers and harm in doing it is exactly why you continue doing it though: It’s your punishment. A sigh escapes your lips as you try concentrating on the paper that lay before you instead of the numbness that starts taking over your legs and the quivering of your hand. There isn’t any way for you to not notice how your body is screaming out for something to eat. It’s constantly reminding you as your vision is clouded with dark spots whenever you move and how your body shakes as you do any everyday task. Despite its cries for food, you ignore it and open the lid to the water bottle beside you and empty half of it to ignore the ache in your stomach due to its emptiness. 

It helps, somewhat, as it fools your stomach for sometime at least. In a shaky motion you place the water bottle beside the pile of assignments you have to finish before the end of this week. 

It’s difficult to get anything done when the ache in your stomach extends to the rest of your body, making the most simple task like reading over the text presented in front of you and writing down notes feeling so incredibly demanding on your body. A groan escapes your lips as you lean back into the chair and drag your hand across your face in annoyance. You need to finish these assignments, yet you can’t. Everything feels so hazy and your mind is blank, unable to think of anything other than the feeling of hunger growing more intense.

The bustling from the kitchen can be heard all the way into your room. Usually at this hour you’d sit by the kitchen table and eat with Alhaitham and Kaveh, but you’ve locked yourself away in your room, drowning yourself in work to ignore the deep wretched feelings that linger within you. A faint knock on the door echoes throughout the room as a voice calls out from the other side. It’s Kaveh’s voice, calling out to you. "(Y/N)?" Your name is muffled by the closed door as you turn around in your seat to look at the source of the sound. There stands Kaveh, holding a plate with food in his hand while the other one is still gripping onto the door handle.

Your eyes quickly scan his face before they dart down to look at the plate he’s holding.

It’s too much, you think as you look at the contents of the food. Numbers appear inside your head the longer you stare at the plate, feeling repulsed at the thought of putting anything in your mouth and fulfilling your hunger at the cost of the imaginary numbers going up.

You turn around to face the paper you’ve been staring blankly at for the last hour, waving Kaveh off. “I’ve already eaten.” You answer courtly. You haven’t, but telling him you weren’t hungry wasn’t an option. Kaveh would be reluctant had you answered that you weren’t hungry and placed the food by your table instead. The thought alone that he might do that makes you want to cry and scream in panic. You can’t risk letting yourself indulge in the food that he’s made: You must go through with your own punishment.

Kaveh sighs and grabs the door handle, about to leave and close the door before the sound of your stomach growling bounces off the walls. He stops in his tracks as his grip on the plate tightens. You can feel his eyes boring into your back as you tense up at how your stomach contradicts your words from earlier. A deep terror stirs within you as your thoughts wander off to all the possible reactions you might receive from the blond man at the revelation. You hear how he shuffles behind you and closes the door behind him as he approaches you. You dare not to turn around to look at him, instead you hold up your face above the paper and stare intently onto it, trying to focus on the words that dance around across the paper to ignore Kaveh’s look of pity and concern.

Kaveh is standing right next to you, his grip on the plate is so incredibly tight that his knuckles have gone white. His eyes are soft and laced with worry as he looks down on you, and to be honest; he’s not sure how to handle this situation he’s being faced with right now. He places the plate next to your bedside table instead of the table in front of you, knowing better than shoving unwanted food up your face. It’s not what you need right now.

Kaveh sits on the side of your bed, boring his eyes into the back of your head as he waits for you to do the first move, to begin the conversation. He doesn’t want to scare you off now that he’s found out. He can feel the pain within you. He can see the hurt and the desperation, but he has no words to fill the silence. He doesn't know how he could possibly help you, but he wants to. More than that, he wants to try.

“I’m fine” you try to subside the situation, playing it off to only being a one time thing when it’s clear to the both of you that it isn’t. 

Kaveh interrupts you. “You’re not fine.” Kaveh still has the same gentleness to him, but there’s a certain amount of firmness to his words too. It leaves no room for you to slither your way out of his confrontation. “Are you hurting yourself? Are you starving yourself?”

The words feel like he had just physically assaulted you, as if he had pulled out a knife and stabbed you in the chest while twirling the knife around inside of your heart. The words feel as if Kaveh had just falsely accused you of a crime you hadn’t committed. 

But the two of you know better than that. You both know that the reason you feel so attacked is because Kaveh is calling you out, and rightfully so.

“No! No. I am not starving myself.” The words come out much harsher than you had intended them to be, sounding defensive and giving yourself away to Kaveh. The pile of paperwork that needs to be done stares at you mockingly as you look down on the paper in front of you that is still blank.

“I’m just- I don’t want to eat.” It’s half the truth. You do in fact not want to eat, but it’s for all the wrong reasons you don’t want to eat. Kaveh sighs as he gets up from your bed and walks up behind you. For a moment he almost reaches out to you, but he draws his hand back and places it on your chair instead of your shoulder, like he had intended to. He’s reluctant to touch you. In this moment right now, you’re fragile, and he must tread carefully so as to not break you.

“Do you think I don’t see it?” His voice is gentle, but there’s a certain edge to it. It cuts right through any excuses that might slip past your mouth to escape this conversation neither of you want to have. The words have you cornered, and as if you were reliving an experience much like this -where you were confronted and you admitted, only to be rejected from the care and help you needed- you feel a need to run away from him. To run away from your home, from the house, run, run and run. But where would you run? There’s no way for you to run away from him, and even if you did: Where would you run? 

Would you even have the energy to run away from him with the way your vision would cloud with black spots covering your sight and with the way your legs feel numb?

Reality hits you like a brick as you realize that Kaveh has you cornered and at his mercy.

A hitched breath escapes your lips as you feel your hands and feet going cold along with being overcome by dreadfulness as the situation you’re in slowly sinks in.

“This is unhealthy, and you know it, don’t you?” It’s not much of a question really. His voice is firm, trying to cover up his own shakiness as your condition dawns upon him. “Please.. could you talk to me?” he pleads, letting his hand fall from the chair, down to your shoulder giving it a comforting squeeze. The contact makes you flinch as it pulls you back from your swarm of thoughts, back into the present with him. The words seem stuck in your mouth, suffocating you and preventing you from voicing your thoughts and feelings that you’re left only shaking your head at his request of opening up. Kaveh lets out a sigh as he lets his hand fall from your shoulder. For a moment, you think he’s given up on you and will leave you alone to deal with your misery by yourself; the thought causes you both pain and relief. Instead, he walks around your chair and crouches next to you as he looks up to you from below.

“Please. Talk to me.” he begins as he balances himself on the armrest all while tilting his head up at you. “What can I do to help you? You can tell me anything.”

“I don’t know!” you finally exclaim as your face falls into your hands. You inhale shakily as Kaveh continues to inspect your face for something, anything.

“I don’t.. know.”

Everything around you spins like an unpleasant merry-go-round ride as your vision becomes clouded by the black spots appearing before you.

One of the consequences of not eating, you suppose.

How you wished that you could’ve kept this secret from him a little longer. Long enough for him to not have to have this confrontation with you right now.

Kaveh can only feel pity as he looks at you. You look so fragile right now, so weak. It hurts him to see you so, to see your body shaking from your hunger.

He has a question that he wants to ask, but he feels afraid to. You don't owe him anything, he supposes. 

"Why are you doing this to yourself?" How do you ask someone why they are harming themselves? How do you say that without it coming across in a terrible way? Kaveh had an immense sense of empathy, but even that had its limits.

"I deserve it." 

The words slip out your mouth with ease, as if the question had no other answer but that. Tears that you had been holding back from the moment your secret was out swell up in your eyes and threaten to fall down on the blank, empty paper sheet that should’ve been filled in by now. The dripping of your tears resounds in your head and you pray that Kaveh doesn’t hear how you’re covering your paperwork in tears.

"I deserve it." You repeat the words shakily this time as a sob finally manages to escape your mouth. All you want to do is make yourself as small as possible so you can just vanish from the earth’s surface. But you can’t.

So you do the next best thing, which is curling yourself into a ball while you let the tears flow down your cheeks as your entire form tenses up and shakes from the anguish you feel inside of you.

Several feelings washes over Kaveh. Ones of confusion, concern and guilt.

You don't deserve this. 

Nobody deserves to feel so low. And you are so, so very low: starving yourself just as a punishment.

He can't help but feel pity for you. The words come out before he can even stop them from slipping past his lips: "Why do you deserve it?"

He's trying to be kind and supportive, he really is, but it's painfully hard for him to find the right words. It’s difficult seeing a loved one tear themselves apart in front of him all while thinking they deserve to suffer and break.

His question is one not even you can answer. It’s a question that you’ve pondered about whenever you’ve come to your senses after having breakdowns much like these, and each time you’re left with no answer. There's only that part of you, that little tiny voice in the back of your head that tells you that you deserve nothing less than pain and suffering. That this is the only way for you to get rid of the mental turmoil you experience on a daily basis. 

That the only way to get rid of the emotional and mental pain is to double the physical pain, and what easier way is there to feel physical pain if it isn’t to inflict it upon yourself; by yourself?

How do you help someone who believes that?

It's not like you can just tell them that they don't deserve it. How could he ever convince you that you’re wrong? How can he convince you that there's a better way than starving and hurting yourself? 

How is any of this supposed to be okay for you?

"(Y/N)," he calls out your name, the sound of his voice pleading yet somehow still kind, "(Y/N). There is no reason to hurt yourself. You deserve better."

As if you weren’t already curled into a ball you only manage to make yourself smaller as you cry, your entire form shaking. It's not till now that he's so up close to you that he sees how your body is covered in goosebumps and the bruises that linger across your body. They look self-inflicted and Kaveh can't help but let out a wince as he looks at the bruises that cover your skin.

He tries his hardest to contain his horror at seeing what you’ve done to herself. It looks so painful, so terrible, but it's clear from your shivering, from your shaking, from the way your face crumples - from the way you curl up into a ball so easily - that this isn't your first time.

You’re hurting, and at your own hand.

He doesn't know how to process that. He has never seen anyone do this to themselves. He can't imagine how any of this could be good.

Your grip on your legs only grows tightens as you cry into your knees, on the verge of wailing from feeling how your heart aches. It’s as if someone is tightening their grip on your already fragile heart, and it hurts so very much.

You could handle feeling hungry, and you could handle inflicting pain upon yourself, littering your body with bruises to show for it. Yet you couldn’t handle the feelings inside of you that were crushing you and tearing you apart. You had learnt to handle your inner turmoil by ignoring the feelings until they grew so great that the only way to rid yourself of the demons surrounding you was to hurt them through yourself.

The relief was only temporary, sure, but you’d do anything for the moment of peace in your inferno called your own mind.

He sighs heavily, the sound filled with regret and pity. Kaveh doesn’t say anything and remains looking up to your face as you quickly unravel before him. 

This is beyond him. He doesn't know how to comfort you- how to help you. He has no idea what to say or what to do. It’s all so overwhelming - all these feelings of fear and confusion and pity and care - that he doesn't even know how to begin to process, let alone express.

He places a gentle, comforting hand on your knee as you continue to cry. You’re so up in your own thoughts and emotions that you can’t get yourself to pull away from his touch.

It’s not that his touch wasn’t comforting. It was very comforting. And that was exactly why you wanted to pull away from his touch.

You don’t deserve that kind of comfort.

"I'm sorry.." the words come out so weak, putting your broken state on full display for Kaveh. A sob escapes your mouth as you try your best regaining your composure to no avail. Each breath you try and take control over gets interrupted by a sob or a gasp for air.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you repeat as you burrow your face further into your knees. Your words are slurring as you’re choking back your cries to get the words out of your mouth.

Kaveh doesn't even understand what you could possibly have to be sorry for. You've done nothing wrong. You've committed no sins worth feeling so terrible for. 

But how does he tell you that? How could he convince you of the truth that appears so clearly to him but isn’t as obvious for you?

He doesn't.

How does he convince you to get past these terrible feelings of wrongness, when you’re so very convinced that it's your punishment? How does he convince you to give yourself kindness and care, when you believe yourself so unworthy? How does he make you realize that this isn't your fault, that you haven't done anything that deserves all of this?

Kaveh moves closer to you - so carefully, so slowly. As if you’re something fragile, to be treated with respect and care. Because you are fragile. You’re hurt, and you’re so, so small. All he wants to do is to hold you, to bring you comfort, to hug you, to hold you in his arms. He just wants to lift your heavy burden off of your shoulders. But he doesn’t reach out to do any of that, it doesn’t feel appropriate to do so right now as you’re sobbing in front of him and curling yourself into a ball.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," he says quietly. "You're hurting yourself, and that can't be okay. Please," he adds, his voice pleading, "Let me try to help you. You don't have to do this. You don't deserve to do this."

You had always had a hard time accepting other people’s kindness and comfort, it was extremely difficult for you to understand and wrap your head around the concept of being treated with decency and care from another being without expecting anything back in return. The feelings overwhelm you and you feel how you want to throw up from Kaveh’s attentiveness, it’s all too much for you.

You’d rather have him walk out on you and leave you in your pitiful state to fend for yourself. It’s what you’re used to. And when he breaks what you consider a norm, your world falls apart with it.

The tears flow down your cheeks as if they’ll never come to an end. 

Kaveh can see it from the way you gasp and wail when his words of care finally register.

It’s written all over your face - your pain, your hurt - it’s clear that you’re not used to being treated with such care and attention. It’s clear that this isn’t something you’re used to; it’s clear that you’re not used to having someone trying to help you.

It breaks Kaveh’s heart to see you struggle like this. He doesn’t know how he can get you to accept this treatment from him, from anyone.

He wants nothing in return; he only wants to help. How can he get you to understand that? How could he ever assure someone that they’re deserving of unconditional care and love when that very someone is so fully convinced that they deserve pain? 

"You need help," he says quietly. "Let me help you."

Why do you deserve to suffer, to hurt yourself, when you’ve done nothing wrong? Why are you so cruel to yourself? Kaveh lets the thought wander in his head for some time before he shakes his head in disbelief. He can’t come to any reasonable conclusion as to why you’d be so cruel to yourself. He could only speculate.

Is this why you hurt yourself? The thought intrudes him, as he tries to stay focused on comforting you.

Because you feel like you don’t deserve kindness?

But why? Why wouldn't you deserve kindness? This isn't because of any mistakes you’ve made, is it? Has someone made you believe this? Or is it something that you’ve always thought? Either way, you’re wrong. You deserve kindness. You deserve the world. 

You deserve to be treated well.

"You deserve so much better," he says quietly, "You aren't pitiful. I promise you that you are so much more than what you tell yourself you are." 

Kaveh places his hands on top of yours as he rubs comforting circles with his thumb on the back of your palms. Another sob escapes your lips at his attempts to soothe your ache. He can feel the way you tremble under his hands as he gives you a gentle squeeze of comfort to stabilize your quivering form, even if it's just by a little bit. He keeps rubbing, still trying to help you. Neither of you say anything and the only thing to be heard in the room is the sound of your rapid breathing and hitched sobs. And while the tremors still persist, your sobs are becoming less frantic. He thinks he might be comforting her just slightly, but it's good enough for now. At least it’s a start. 

Kaveh wants to say something, but he doesn't know what to say. He's never been in a situation like this before. He doesn't want to sound like an idiot. But he also doesn't want to stay silent.

He cannot bear to see you like this, and he doesn't want to imagine how much pain you’ve been carrying for you to end up here like this. 

He wants so badly for you to be okay. He wants nothing more than to give you his care and comfort. Kaveh gets up from his crouching position and feels his legs tingle from sitting like that for so long, but he ignores it. It’s not important right now. What is, is you and your wellbeing. 

He assumes that if you responded positively to having him rub your hand, then maybe you'd respond better to affectionate comfort. Kaveh is reluctant at first. A hug is much more personal, much more intimate than drawing circles on someone's palm. So he asks.

"Is it okay if I hug you?"

You tense up at the request reluctantly. Granted, you and Kaveh would usually greet one another by giving a quick hug with a pat on the back before getting to it. But this was different. Much different from those lighthearted moments you’d share before you go off to wherever you had planned on doing for the day, whether that was taking a walk amongst the streets of the city or just enjoying one another's presence as you work deliberately.

You’re hesitant, and Kaveh is about to reassure you that it’s fine if you don’t want to until he sees a small nod coming from you. Your eyes quickly dart down to meet his before you avert your gaze from him, feeling the shame and embarrassment crawl along your back amongst the other feelings that roam inside of you.

Kaveh is quick to act as he pulls you into his embrace. 

He holds you protectively, as if he just holds you close enough to him he'll be able to shield you from the cold, cruel world that's hurt you so. You just want to hold on to him. Just wants him to hold you, to hug you and hold you close to him. 

The warmth is so comforting, so very comforting that the little voice in your head tells you that you aren't worthy of this kind of affection. That you don’t deserve to be cared for like this, and a part of you still holds onto that truth. Despite that, you cling onto him as if he were your lifeline, the very last thread that was keeping you from floating away. You want this- you’ve been yearning for someone to hold you like this, and even though a loud part of you disagrees- that part of you that tells you that you’re not deserving of this- you can’t help but bask in his warmth that he provides for you.

The plate on your bedside table catches his eye, long forgotten. The food had obviously gone cold by now. Whatever, Kaveh thinks. It doesn’t matter, he can always just warm it up later. What matters is that he helps you back on your feet and support you through this. 

You don’t have to fend for yourself anymore. He’s here now, and he’ll help you through it. He may not be capable of chasing away your demons for you, but you’ll always have his endless support.

He’ll spend an eternity if it means he could make you believe that you deserve everything.

[echantedtoon]

Sweet Sorrows

When the shadowed light turns to a full eclipse that blocks out even the stars, the monster comes out to claim the maiden. The wound Cupid's arrow caused by piercing the dark heart bleeds out for her, so the heart would seek what it's body needed to heal. The waning desire pangs them so.

(Or alternate title: Ried Gets All The Attention Whether She Wants It Or Not. If you're wondering by what's happening in this, essentially three boys being obsessive over you ain't always a good thing.

This is inspired by @wolveria's Cursed Polycule Au, and who was nice enough to give me permission to write something loosely based off it and using Kenneth in this. Please forgive me it's the first and second time writing for these characters so any ooc writing is probably there. The dynamic of the polycule is based off/on the fanart linked down below by @e-g-g-w-i-n . Please check out both content creators and support they're works.

WARNINGS: Some toxic relationship stuff mentioned, death, possible blood mentioned, possession with the mask, implied kidnapping maybe, yandereish tendencies, possibly some innuendos, and Dyo IS his own warning.)

Alarm, alarm.

The breach has begun. 

A prison break is a daring and often perilous act where a prisoner, utilizing stealth, cunning, and sometimes violence, manages to evade security measures and escape from a correctional facility. Typically involving breaching cell walls, scaling fences, or digging tunnels, while evading watchful guards to reach freedom outside the prison perimeter. 

It often requires careful planning, smuggled tools, and coordinated efforts with accomplices, putting both the escapee and those aiding them at significant risk of capture and further legal repercussions. However would it still be considered a prison if it was more akin to hell?

Like the flashes of hellfire red lights flashed upon the freed and bloodthirsty creatures that reigned supreme of the mesh of concrete and steel that once made up their confined cells of torture. The whirring of alarms sounded overhead instead of warning the innocent of humans seemed more of a praised laugh to announce the arrival of the manic chaos that was to befall all. 

Blood. As red as the lights and as copper as the metal was the main decoration for the parade of monsters descending through the halls and disemboweling the humans and in some cases each other. No one cares. Certainly not the beasts that now ran ramped with adrenaline and bloodlust in their minds.

An inhuman screech went off into the night as a stronger forced ripped away arms from torso. Eyes turned and stared into the bloodlust abyss of bloodshot eyes. A mix of shrieks echoed out into the darkened night above. So much blood spilt in that night that it might've even spilt into the moon illuminating red down on everything. 

R E D

That was the war paint splattered proudly across his body and coating his skin like a devil from the very flames that he walked through. Blood. Vengeance. C A R N A G E.

R E D

The color clouded vision beyond reasoning. Inhuman yells of pain and murder carved way by him. One by one. Body by body. Life by life. Flesh torn from bone. Blood cleaved from muscles. Arms from torso. Limb from limb. He was a beast tonight. The thirst for blood was not just a want but a need. For tonight he was not a man. Not a demon. Nor anything else comprehendible by human thought.

F O R  T O N I G H T   H E  W A S  D E A T H  A N D  H E  W A S   B R I N G I N G  H E L L  W I T H  H I M.

The darkness both swallowed him up and closed off the ways both in front and behind him making each end of the pathay difficult to see with the already limited vision he had. Heightened senses were one thing he had been thankful to have retained from years of familiarity to his body and mind. Closing off all senses to be more enlightened to one's world in a different light. Each echo of his footfalls ringing in his mind as the airways of his body forced himself to absorb more oxygen out of the air and each heart beat thudding against his ribcage. Throbbing sensation reaching from his head to his feet with every passing second he was surrounded by the buzzing swarm of danger. Enlightened by the stings of fear. Danger. Dread. Doom. Like many wasps penetrating his most basic human emotions and swelling them up to the point of combusting dangerously all over the peeping, teasing darkness. The soft silk touch of his host's clothes met his hand. It was hard to move...Hard to will it to move running along the soft fabric to something more smooth and hard. Both basic instinct wasps forcing him to do something so familiar to combat the combustible feelings. To grab at which to protect him and cut it away like a sickeningly sweet cake of misery and despair. Instincts wailing to protect himself from dangers he had yet to see. Had yet to reveal themselves to him. Hopefully to be chased away by the sounds of the bullets of the gun and held out into the darkness to cut it's tainting self down a notch. That his willpower will always prevail over it. Each burning room slowly passing a tainting gateway. Each with a promise of safety behind it and perhaps even it had occupants inside using it. taking up it's offering of safety from the darkness now dead to the world highly unaware of the masked host just roaming outside arm outstretched and staring down the one that dared teased him the most with it's fake promise of protection. 

"Ried?" The sounds of the next door smashing open by beyond human strength echoed out. "C'mon, Doc. Now's a bad time for hide and seek.~"

And that promise he would soon come to learn was broken and not even promise to one individual soon enough. As sweat formed on his host's skin in an attempt to cool it from the harsh tainting from the moment he was face to face with the door that broke it's sacred promise. At first glance to one in the dark it was as taunting as all the others he had just passed, but if one took time to see it's true mockery and failure hidden by the teasing darkness they would've seen it. The remnants of a beast. Looking as though it had clawed and kicked it's way at the door's sacred locks to be allowed entry inside the room beyond it. In it's wake leaving the door in misery and ruins. A slight opening between itself and the wall where one could look into the room beyond it and see nothing but more darkness laughing back at you.

It begged for him to open it further, to peek further into the darkness beyond the door that should have protected the occupant inside. The surprising untouched room was still, quite, far too quite for his liking. The broken splintered door only left so little to memory, and with cautious pushed aside he shoved the door open to reveal the horror to his eyes. His eyes widened. There where obvious signs of ransacking, evident by the turned over coffee table and the furniture pieces that lay toppled on their side as though someone had carelessly kicked it over in its rampage. The host body treaded carefully inside the ruined room, his shoe crunching on the remains of a picture frame that had been knocked over, its broken shiny cover a perfect match of the doorway half hanging from its hinges - the cover to what lay beyond broken to bits

What once was undoubtedly a very nice-to-stay-in staff break room inviting for visitors was now reduced to what might've been a break in sight following the discovery of a murder. Which made the situation even more worse. A small gasp noise left his host's throat as his foot caught onto something. And the something that dared to trip him up happened to be a piece of fabric. MANY pieces of fabric in the form of clothing strew about in the darkness of the floor he hadn't seen at first among the shattered frame glass. Heart throbbing sensation still hammering his entire body as he turned and twisted his body around the room.

CCCRRREEEAAA-

In just one second his body reacted on it's own. Twisting his body and holding his arm out to defend against the intruder...Only to let his nerves relax when discovering it was just the poor broken door slowly closing back to it's original poor position he had found it in. Internally cursing to himself at the overreaction it had caused him. At least...That was until he saw what was on the other side of the door he had missed upon initial entry. The gleam of a familiar metallic silver caught his eyes in the limited darkness he was able to make out and the shock at seeing it at first melted his sight and his mind raced. The door being the only thing to answer his shocked mind as it finally creaked back into place.

The host approached slowly, one hand still gripped at his gum, fingers strumming against the metal handle as if his nerves where itching to use it. Yet he remained stoic despite the clouds that where casting gathering to add to the storm inside his head. Upon closer inspection the scalpel  in the door was too purposeful for this to be an improvised job, this job - this attack, this entire get away had been just a waste of his time so far. His eyes narrowed, other hand ripping the surgical knife free from the grip that held it in place against the doorframe. The shining metal reflected the red staining his body and the frustrated frown of the porcelain face-

A inhuman scream tore through the area drowning out the other terrible screams and blaring alarm. An already broken door kicked off it's hinges as the demon walked back into the night seeking answers.

"This isn't the right way to go about this. You should stop now." 

"You are either on my side, by my side, or in my fucking way." The hands puppeteered gripped the gun tighter. "Choose wisely." 

Not an answer was given back from the host mind 

"That's what I thought. Now be a good boy for me.~ Tell me exactly where you think little miss immunity would hide during a situation like this.~" 

The blaring alarms hid well the sounds of his footsteps and the chaos of murder around him covered the intention of the desire and want which was the driving force of the shared minds that combined with one another to become one. 

The screams rang into the air as his pathway was made, him walking through its wake of cadavers long since dead.

Terror. Fear. Danger. Get away. Get away! All the pathetic ones scream. Like a car accident, terrible yet one couldn't look away from the incoming storm of tragedy. He was so used to such actions as he came with the reputation. The woman who continued to shriek in his way meant nothing to him. She was merely just an obstacle. An annoying hindrance to what he wanted-..No.

What he N E E D E D.

And he always dealt away with obstacles. The old body was easily chuckled to the side, he not caring about where it landed or how the other ended up. Screaming. A true testimony to his being. Power. Force behind it and he knew that as screams filled out his eardrums and killed him into the comfortable lullaby of chaos incarnate. Arms rising and head tilted back in display for the passionate dance of bodies scattering blurred to his vision footfalls thundering like a rain dance of nature. A true place a demon would find peace. Eyelids fluttered shut as the sounds blurred out around him until he heard nothing. Saw nothing. Felt nothing. But-

P E A C E

Until the panging desire returned from the other side deep down replacing the peace with a frustrated annoyance the farther into the hell hole he went. The reluctant annoyance only being halted by the passage of a familiar voice or two coming from a room. Little Miss Immunity's little office. How cute.~

"Rest a little longer. Your leg wound is deep but nothing serious."

"You could've gotten away you know. I'm dead weight with my limited movement."

"You know that I wouldn't do such a thing. I love you too much for that."

"Love makes you do stupid thing then."

"On the contrary. I only ever thought there were two kinds of loves. The kind you'd kill for and the kind you'd die for but you, Reid... You're the kind of love I'd live for."

The chaos had not left the couple unscathed. Blood pooling to a stop from her body thanks to a series of highly tightened bandages wrapped around her upper thigh courtesy of the concerned doctor knelt beside her. Hands caressing her pale face and wiping at the cold sweat poured from above her brows, fingertips leaving red smears behind from the hands that prepped the wounds. No doubt she had suffered blood loss. Both a curse to her..

And a blessing to him.

"Nice speech, Doc.~" Immediately the temperature in the room dipped. The man in the black robes freezing and the f/c of the woman dipping into the size of pins as the host body stepped within eyesight finally. A bubble of happiness panging throughout his being. "Unfortunately words aren't much good at healing wounds. Wouldn't you say?~"

"Oh my God..." Her bottom lip twitched as horrific realization of what stood before her settled in. "Ke- Kenneth?"

"AAAHNT! Wrong. But you are half right, he's still here and conscious of everything.~" A hand reached out to tap the side of the porcelain mask smiling wickedly. "He's a rather good boy.~ Doesn't complain, does as he's told, and- OH! He loves you, Darling.~ We have more things in common than one thinks." 

Her quivering, lips looked so cute on her horrified face. But he was more giddy when a face of white and narrowed silver eyes of hatred turned to greet him in disdain. "Dyo."

"Hiii, Doc." The gun was shifted to rest against his shoulder as his other hands wagged fingers at him. Happy black ooze seeping from the mouth of his face and dripping onto his body. "Did you miss me?~ I certainly missed you.~"

"Why is it that I can never seem to wash my hands of you?"

"Magnetism, Honey. I can't help it if I'm irresistible.~ And here I thought you liked my charming personality.~"

"Spare me your worthless babblings." His form shifted over. Protectively blocking the girl all three of the men in that room wanted from sight. Doesn't change the fact she was still there.~ "What do you want? Shouldn't you be fleeing like the rat you are akin too?"

"Aw.~ Flattery will get you everywhere with me if you just bothered to try.~ But since we're running on limited time here, I'll spare the chit chat and get straight to the point." The rifle in his hands clicked as it resumed it's place back sideways held in front of his chest. "I think we all have a common interest here."

"Escaping you mean?"

"Actually I was talking about little Miss Immunity over there but that too! Actually I'm here to collect the both of you to my little toy box.~"

As expected, a roaring wave of rage ignited in his body as shocked rocked the bird like face and his body tensed. "Do you mean to tell me that you're here with the intention of collecting her like a doll?!"

"Actually I think the normal person calls it a harem. I've been around enough to see the appeal of having one." The gun was nudged to point out the woman looking paler by the second staring at the both of them. "But we can play house later once Doll face is situated somewhere else don't you agree?" His head tilted as he hummed. "You'd have to carry her with that leg wound and you'd be needing help with getting out.~ I'd say that you'll be needing a partner, Doc."

"I'd sooner shatter you into a million pieces than accept your twisted hand of help!"

"It's not like you have a choice. There's three of us here that want the same thing...Well technically I want you too, but we all agree with wanting to keep her alive and within our grasp. I'm afraid you're both a little bit out of luck here. So now why don't you pick up the weight, and we can all be on our merry way?"

"You're a villain. A sick twisted villain and I should've tied you to a rock and threw you into the ocean instead of leaving you in that crypt!" 

There was silence other than the alarm still shrieking out and the feint sounds of chaos and screams still coming from the halls around them all. The host's body tending under the scalding of words thrown to his face. Before the frame of the gun creaked under his crushing grasp and a bear growl escaped his disembodied throat.

"Hm. Well it's a good thing for you both I am the villain instead of a saint."

"And just what might be the good of that?!" 

"A hero would sacrifice you to save the world, but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you. And it's lucky for everyone involved that I like playing the part of the bad guy.~" 

[jewishjanetandco]

missy loved james blakelock until she got to know him

he's known as an assassin, but it's all just bad things happening around him by mistake

[rivenbellator]

Do You Fight?

Jonggun Park

cw/tw: canon typical violence, probably ooc, x reader, no mention of y/n or other abbreviations, mild sex jokes, generally sfw, third person perspective

*

At the end of the corridor stood a looming figure, clad in a suit and demonic eyes that peered straight through your being. He stood there like a ghost, an dark entity haunting the edges of your vision. Each slow, agonising step he took echoed around the hall, slowly fading beyond the darkness of it.

At the other end stood a woman, dressed in black, her eyes a nonchalant stare. She walked the hall in full strides, her own steps landing but never echoing, a silenced gun in the midst of a desolate strip.

"Park Jonggun," her head tilted upwards as she peered at him through her lower lashes.

He didn't respond, remaining straight faced in the presence of the intruder, halting his steps. She continued her strides towards him, her boots leaving a soft thud with each footfall. "Choi sent me here," Gun loosened up at the name, "said he had a demon running around doing his bidding."

The gentle thuds finally stopped as she planted herself but a few metres from him.

"What does he want?" He inquired dully, pulling out a cigarette and lighter. A gentle click, a bright orange flame, and the cigarette was lit. He took a drag and blew the smoke at her purposefully.

She squinted at him disapprovingly, her face screwing up in disgust as she waved her hand at the white smog. "Not even asking for my identity?" she scoffed at him, "didn't expect Choi's men to be this sloppy."

Gun looked sorely unimpressed, "what does he want?" he reiterated.

"Something about the four crews- uh..." she muttered to herself for a moment before taking a notepad from the pocket of her pants and flipping to a page. Gun tapped his foot impatiently, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"Choi wants you to get stricter with the four crews, and he wants you in for a meeting," she pocketed the notepad awaiting his response.

"So... is that a yes or no?"

"Aren't you the one that's sloppy?" He smirked condescendingly.

She turned on her heel, shaking her head, "I'll take that as a yes, you can ask Choi for the details of the meeting."

The air was silent for a moment, a tense atmosphere washing over the both of them.

"Do you fight?"

*

Desks strewn around a dimly illuminated room, shattered glass, and the sickly metallic scent of blood.

"So you do fight."

She grunted from her slumped position against the wall, blood dribbled down from her nose, a scowl forming on her face.

"Isn't there etiquette to this? You should let the lady have the first strike," she chuckled to herself, the sound reverberating through her chest.

"You blocked," Gun stated, as if it was unusual, abnormal.

"Yes, that's how this works," her forearms throbbed from the force of his punch, the red marks a tell-tale sign of his brutality.

She stood up, using her knees as leverage, and got into a defensive stance. Gun just stood there, squinting at her as if trying to decipher every single thing about her. She would give away nothing.

A kick was thrown, then a punch, multiple knees, and an elbow. Few of her hits landed, but when they did, Gun would wince. Each hit that did land created a sharp sound. The only sounds she made that would echo.

A head kick, and his shades crumbled, whether it was from the hand that blocked or the foot that kicked was unclear.

He looked angry.

Gun threw a right hook, and her body skidded into the chalkboard, white, dusty residue, creating a soft cloud around her.

Gun appeared out of nowhere, throwing a jab at her head, which she barely dodged, a dent left in the board where her head was.

Then, it ensued, a flurry of kicks, knees, elbows, hooks, and the like, each with the lethality to maim and kill one another.

"You think I can outrun you?" She asked, propping her arms up in front of her face again.

"No."

"Yeah, I thought so," Gun hurled another fist at her. She parried his scarred hand and aimed for a knee to his jaw.

It hit.

Gun was sent stumbling back, clutching his jaw and glaring up at the woman. "Fuck, that hurt."

"It wasn't supposed to," she muttered sarcastically, rolling her wrist. It was beginning to swell, injured somewhere in the storm of hits.

Gun stood up, shook himself out, and took a seat in one of the flimsy plastic chairs and sprawled his legs out. The woman remained standing in the corner of the classroom, nursing an injured wrist.

"Shit, think you fractured my wrist. Do you do this to all women your first night with them?" She laughed to herself, but obviously, the joke didn't hit.

Gun grumbled out a few curses to himself, a hand attached to his reddened jaw.

He looked at her pointedly. She didn't seem at all frightened by the voidness of his eyes or the scar that was set between them.

"You wanna know my name now? So you can sue me for assault?"

"Yeah, so tell me your name," he looked her in the eye, dead serious, and she couldn't help but burst into manical laughter, leaning against the wall for support.

"You're funny, you know?" She said, wiping blood and sweat from her face, simultaneously taking a business card from her breast pocket and flinging it at him.

"I doubt it," he caught the card, barely batting an eye. His gleaming, white pupils flicked over the words on the card locating a name, her name.

When he looked up she was barely a metre in front of him extending her good arm for a handshake, "nice to meet you, I'll be working with you and Kim Joongoo for the foreseeable future."

He never saw her coming.

*

[an-idyllic-novelist]

jack the ripper platonic headcanons with muichiro!fem!reader

warnings: spoilers from the manga, ooc

This is a collaboration project with @onecantsimply, I really had a lot of fun doing this piece with them. Seriously, check their content guys, it is amazing.

With that being said, enjoy these headcanons! :)

[First Name] [Last Name] was the second Valkyrie in recorded history to have been a human prior to their ascension into Valhalla. ‘Mist Hashira’ was the only thing they could remember who they were, and quite frankly she did not care either way. All she wanted to do was have an easy life and spend her days watching the clouds without being nagged by her sisters, especially Brunhilde. 

Then there was the incident at the council hall, which led to Zeus allowing Ragnarok to decide the fate of humanity: preservation or extinction. Brunhilde was ready to rebel against the gods and prevent Midgard’s destruction alongside the other Valkyries through the method of the Volundr, the wielding of a Divine Treasure. 

 [First Name] did not have a choice in the matter, even when she was assigned to work together with the most despicable serial killer in mankind’s history: Jack The Ripper. 

To create a weapon that will kill the gods, the weapon and its user must synchronize their emotions. That might sound easy, but it’s a lot harder to pull off when someone in the party, well, lacks any emotion whatsoever. When Jack had formally met his partner for the first time, he was a bit stunned to see the Valkyrie’s ‘canvas’. 

It did not exist. More specifically, it was colorless. Cloudy even. [First Name] was practically invisible to his right eye. When she looked at him, her own gaze half-lidded and dull. A blank face to match a blank canvas that should at least be brimming with fear at the mere mention of his name. Alas, his and Brunhilde’s efforts were in vain as the younger Valkyrie remained unfazed. Brunhilde shook her head in exasperation and left in a huff, more than likely to pair up the other champions with their respective Valkyries. 

Over the next few days, he quickly realized that [First Name] did not care what he did so long it never included her. And even if he did try to do something, she could stop him without trying. That was probably why he wasn’t too upset with the young lady’s rudeness towards him. She fascinated him. 

It became his goal to make her feel fear. The Mist Hashira, in contrast, wanted to make sure he did not die in Ragnarok. So, she put him through a ‘special training’ regimen to help increase his stamina, strength, and agility in no particular order. 

But Dear God, she showed no mercy towards a gentleman. Not even a speck of compassion when he was worn out in body and soul, barking at him for being an incredibly weak fighter in the roster as her sword clashed against his knives. She might have the appearance of a young lady, her strength was nothing to scoff at. 

Although there were times when he wanted to simply quit and rest his weary body, Jack knew he could not do that. He was the one who took up on Lady Brunhilde’s offer to fight in this competition. And as much it pained him to say it out loud…he has noticed the changes in his body. He had been a nimble fellow when he was alive, yet his speed between then and now was….well, the difference is unbelievable. Not to mention he was not as tired as he used to be when doing anything particularly strenuous or physical. 

He’s changed quite a bit this past month….including his Volundr. 

It had been a slow process of [First Name] warming up to him, but now he can with certainty that she has actually begun to enjoy nibbling on the sweets and drinking Darjeeling tea when the clock struck three in the afternoon. However, there is still the issue of performing the Divine Treasure ritual. 

He had many emotions, and she still had exhibited nothing else beyond annoyance when he corrected her table manners and the slight wonder of gazing up at the clouds. Truly, what was so interesting about spending hours laying around the tall grass of a floating island and doing nothing? 

When Jack tried it out himself, sitting on a large boulder that was conveniently settled right behind his Volundr, he actually managed to space out a bit. Him, a productive gentleman and an artist! In retrospect, it could even be called a miracle that he has been able to form a bond with [First Name].

It was not an instant connection like some of his fellow fighters, but he knows she has grown more comfortable around him, even while knowing what he had done as an assassin who wanted to see the color of fear in his victims. Pardon him, his targets. 

A  slow, platonic relationship? He’s fine with that, even though you are still a little rude. A gentleman must be patient, after all~.

He eventually dragged her away from the island and back to the Valkyrie compound, only getting a blank stare instead of a glare this time….but he’s not too sure if that’s actually an improvement or not. 

With the clock ticking down to the first round of Ragnarok, he and his Volundr spend the rest of their time trying to link their souls together. They eventually were able to agree on a single emotion that did the trick: betrayal. 

Jack felt betrayed that his mother had never loved him, instead seeing his very existence as a chain to connect herself to a playwright that abandoned her to marry nobility. [First Name] felt betrayed that the pantheons wanted to destroy humanity, even after you had supposedly died to save them from demons. 

That’s all Brunhilde would tell her just to make sure the ritual would be completed. Jerk. 

When the ritual activated, a bright green light surrounded the two of them before a kaleidoscope of fragmented memories entered Jack’s mind. By meticulously piecing them together like a puzzle, a tragic story unfurled before his eyes. [First Name] had lived a hard but happy life in the mountains with her twin brother Yuichiro after their parents died, but it all came crashing down when a demon destroyed everything. 

It was [First Name]’s rage towards demons that kept her moving forward, even when she had been pushed into a corner by Muzan’s commanding officer, the Upper Moon One ranked demon known as Kokushibo. Even when her memories had been buried again in the dark corners of her mind, not because of the shock, but because of Brunhilde’s machinations. 

She wanted another Valkyrie amongst the ranks, a soul who was powerful and yet malleable enough to twist to her own design. After all, what use is the soul of a Hashira if they’ve lost their fighting spirit and desired peace?

Ah…poor thing. To go past her limitations and become a Hashira within two months, to obtain the Demon Slayer Mark and single handedly kill an Upper Moon demon…all of that power, to die at such a young age. And just when she had begun to express herself more, exhibiting a compassionate, teasing persona towards her comrades. The one she’d liked the most was a young man named Tanjiro. 

Jack assumed that he, at least, had survived against Muzan in the final confrontation. 

Including learning the truth behind her memory loss, he was also able to discover what was his Volundr's ability in combat: anything that he can touch with his hands  would become a Divine Weapon. Even a small pebble can be lethal to a god. 

The given name of his Volundr is Muichiro. In the Japanese writing system known as kanji, the name meant ‘nothingness’  but ‘Mu’ could also be written as ‘infinity’. 

Upon the transformation being released, Jack’s opinion of [First Name] changed. Someone he’d believed to be a disrespectful, slightly spoiled brat, to a young lady who struggled on how to cope with her memory loss.

Right up until the fourth bout of Ragnarok, he made sure his Volundr was comfortable and fully relaxed with snacks or blankets for her to curl up under on the couch. 

[First Name] was quite confused with his behavior, but did nothing to stop it. She was, however, taken off guard when her partner confessed that he saw her as a surrogate child. If something went wrong in the match, he wanted her to commence the separation ritual as quickly as possible and get to safety. 

Thankfully the confusion did not cause any mishaps as she transformed into a pair of tailor-made leather gloves, synchronizing their hearts together as a single unit to fight against Heracles, the beloved Grecian God of Fortitude. 

(Jack did have to hold back a snicker when his Valkyrie asked if she could punch Heracles just once, really hard, because the spiel he gave about asking Zeus to spare humanity if his opponent ‘laid down his arms’ is really fucking stupid. If Heracles loved mortals so much, why not just fight with them as a representative of humanity?) 

As to be expected, the battle had been tough. Timing was everything in order for Jack’s plan to be executed perfectly. He defeated a god, and gave humanity an advantage they desperately needed in Ragnarok. 

So why was [First Name] happy that her partner had changed over the course of round four? She’d seen through his memories, the good and the bad, and she didn’t mind it. Now, all of a sudden, his heart seemed to be purer than before….more than willingly to change some parts of himself? It did not make sense. 

Neither was the hate that Jack received from the angered guests in the god’s stands. Heracles knew what he was getting himself into, so why all of the fuss? What part of a combat tournament that can end in total annihilation for either party did these idiots not understand? 

Quickly releasing the Divine Weapon ritual, the sword at her waist quickly unsheathed, creating a veil of mist that disintegrated the shower of stones flung at Jack into a pile of dust on the ground. But one attack did not faze the screaming spectators, who now resorted to using glass and garbage. 

Annoyed, [First Name] maneuvered her grip on the hilt and created a thick veil of fog around the arena. Originally it was supposed to provide some cover until the two of them made it pass the drawbridge to humanity’s side of the coliseum, but hearing the crowd become confused and panicked amidst the chaos was worth it. Served the idiots right. 

Jack also seemed happy that she had helped him…but why? More importantly, what was with the sudden change of heart? She bluntly asked him this question, though the only answer she received was it had been Heracles’ unconditional love that saved him.

 A stupid answer, but whatever. 

Upon arriving at the medical wing, [First Name] kicked the door open just when a group of winged nurses were coming back from their break. Quickly realizing they had a patient, they immediately guided the Valkyrie to an empty unit where they instructed her to lay Jack down and let them start working on him. 

[First Name] nodded, following the command before plopping down in a chair and staring off into space. Ah…she was  tired. Is it time for a nap now? 

Bonus Content:

After hearing that Jack will need to spend a night under observation before being released, [First Name] left the medical wing to go get cleaned up. 

Once she had taken a hot shower and changed into some spare clothes, the Mist Hashira decided to reward her human partner with a box of sweets from a high-end patisserie shop. Purchasing two boxes and some other items, she ventured down the corridor leading towards the medical wing when she was attacked from behind by a god. She hasn’t had an opportunity to draw her sword when her entire body was encased in a floating sphere of water. 

The thought that she may die again in Valhalla triggered a flood of emotions to encompass her body, followed by…memories? Ah….that’s right….this is the second time she’s  lost them. 

How annoying. 

Feeling her face burn, it took only a moment to realize that her Demon Slayer mark appeared again. Half a second to decapitate the god who had the guts to try and kill the Mist Hashira with the same trick Gyokko pulled when she said his art was shit. 

Wiping the god’s blood off with the hem of her shorts, she sheathed her sword and continued her trek towards the medical wing, teal sneakers squeaking across the marbled corridor. 

Blinking, she stopped walking and looked down at herself.  Ah…she was covered in blood and water. Should she go back to her room and change again? No, it should be fine. Water will dry out, and these clothes - a black, long-sleeved hoodie, shorts with teal suspenders, and kneepads - were all that she had right now besides that stifling Valkyrie uniform. 

Besides, Jack was an assassin. Seeing her like this shouldn’t be too much of a shock to him when she tells him that she recovered her memories, right? 

Spoiler alert: The Ripper almost fell out of his bed when she greeted him, his face white with fear and shock even when she handed him a big slice of apple pie on a paper plate. He wouldn’t have reacted in such a manner if he didn’t just wake up moments ago. 

Taglist:

@yellow-snark

@the-dumber-scaramouche

@recreationalfanfics

@radioactivesweet

@staticradiotv

@thatstrangesheep

@nixes-noxes

@thequietkid-moonie

@myrisan-melodies

@kiannas-stuff

@praisethesuuun​

@zodiacs-web

[return-of-a-space-cowboy]

🧚‍♀️ Anon

The Hunchback of Notra Dame

Just picture Father Pucci or Kars obsessing over Gypsy Darling as he sings Hellfire?

He’s starts to lust after the woman that dares to defy him

Or it’s Diavolo (I would lose my mind if he sang Hellfire)

Risotto is not a hunchback, rather he’s believed to be a demon because of his bizarre appearance (White hair and red eyes with black sclera) and has been locked up all his life in the Cathedral away from society

His only companions are the gargoyles that have the power to talk (His gang)

Hello again 🧚‍♀️ anon! I missed you. Went a little overboard and added Weather. First time writing for Pucci so might be OOC.

Part 6 spoilers bellow

I love the idea of Enrico in this situation. Maybe have Domineco (Weather) in the hunchbacks place.

During an incident their sister is convinced of witchcraft and is killed. Enrico is of course hurt but pushs his bias aside to focus on his work as a preist. Domenico however attempted to get revenge. Lead to believe his brother was killed to Enrico continues his work but a year later a man shows up at the door of the church at night. There he finds his brother who has no memory of his prior identity, now going under the name of Wes

Knowing that his brother would be killed if the perpetrators knew he was still alive Enrico allows him to stay in the church and to never leave, never revealing the truth of their relationship as to not let his brother be consumed by bloodlust again.

One day Wes leaves the church after seeing the celebrations below. He's discovered by those who'd killed his sister and attacked, luckily being saved by a performer who is able to distract the men while their family is able to hide him in one of the side alleys.

After a while the performer checks on Wes. She offers him food and a night at her camp to avoid the men but Enrico finds them and immediately takes him back. For darling was a friend of their sister (and due to her association with darlings community may have led to the accusations of witchcraft, she is unaware the two men she's met are her late friends brothers).

Wes is taken aback such kindness from darling. Disproving all the horrible statements the Enrico made about the people beyond the church. He grows more defiant to his twin and tries to sneak out again and again to meet her again before one night there is a bang at the door. Enrico opens it to see darling begging for entry before guards attempt to take her away.

"Please father, let me inside" she begs as she attempts to free herself from the guards grasp.

"Men let go of her, for anyone is free to redeem themselves in the church" he tells the guards. For no one is to be prosecuted on the grounds of the church.

They let her go and she rushes inside before he closes the door. Despite his resentment towards her for his sister's death he offers her refuge.

"Thank you father, I've been framed for witchcraft and they had intended to burn me at the stake" she explains.

She offers to help around the church where ever she can but is forbidden from the upstairs area where Wes is. Yet they still end up meeting and hide it from Enrico.

Meanwhile Enrico begins to develop feelings for darling. He's torn, he's meant to be a man of God yet his thoughts become clouded by the woman before him.

He's in denial about his feeling until he stumbles upon her and Wes together. His heart aches and his body burns with jealousy at the way she treats his brother.

Love festers into such a poison inside of him. He thinks of such horrible, sinful things. He wants his once beloved brother dead and darling to be subservient to him.

One day he confronts darling with the ultimatum, she marry him or he'll evict her from the church. Darling is quick to argue.

"You have poisoned me... and the man I once knew as my brother. You are the reason my dear sister was killed" he'd seethe.

"Yet I think about you more then I do God himself, you have clouded my mind. Tainted me. If my purpose is not to serve God then it is to have you" he continued.

Darling. Appalled by his scorched words runs back into one of the rooms and locks the door behind her.

"If I do not have an answer by the time the sun rises then I shall have the guards come" he warns. Darling weeps until she hears a knock at the door. At first she tell them to leave but hearing that it is Wes she opens the door.

She explains that Enrico has given her the ultermatim of marry him or get convicted for witchcraft. Wes tells her the way he would leave. During this Wes professes his love to darling and she asks if he will leave with her. He tells he he will deal with Enrico before he leaves and she tells him where she will hide with the rest of her community.

The next morning Enrico goes to where darling slept and searches the church, no signs of her so he informs the guards to find her. He's about to join them in the search before he stops and decides to visit his brother.

Wes plays dumb, who? I didn't know another person was here? Of course Enrico knows and points out that he'd seen them talking. He asks Wes to tell him where she is, when he doesn't receive an answer he grabs a knife and attempts to stab him.

"I have done everything in my power to protect you Dominico, I ggave you another chance after you treaded upon the bloody path of revenge and this is what I get in return!" He shouts as they wrestled for the blade. Eventually Wes is able to escape and flee the church to find darling after Enrico mentions about the guards searching for her.

Little does he know that he's leading the guards right to the hiding spot. Their reunion is quickly foiled by Enrico and the guards who quickly pry them away. Darling is taken to be burnt at the stake and Wes is forced to watch.

Darling has her final chance to "repent" and she refuses. If he cannot have her then no one will. The fire is lit and just as all hope is lost, Wes is able to break free and run to darling to unbind her while fighting off the guards. Then they run into the church. The guards begin an advance but Enrico is quick to stop them, grabbing one of their swords, he must end this himself. Go through with the sick twisted fantasy of killing his own brother for the hand of darling.

"(Y/n), If my foolish brother weren't around to be the one with your heart would I?" he asks as he pursues them.

"I will kill Wes, I shall do whatever it takes" he yells.

Soon enough they're all at the top. Enrico is frantic, he's lost all composure and ultimately Wes is able to outsmart him. Enrico rushes towards him but goes over the balcony with only his brothers grip in his hand saving him.

"Father Pucci, please stop this!" Wes begs but Enrico refuses.

"I'd rather be damned to hell then conceded to you, my... no a snake like you" he hisses before he let's go. Plunging onto the fire bellow.

[g0blintears]

Reader with the doctor who is clumsy and tends to get hurt and not know it till they are bleeding? Maybe they have a high pain tolerence ? Fluff plz

Electrifying Wounds

The Doctor/Herman Carter x Killer! Frankenstein! Reader

Sorry this took a lot longer to get out! Vecna was released yesterday and I had been playing all day 💀 But I hope this turned out okay!! I’m still new to requests and I was going back and forth on if I should write this as a oneshot or imagine, so I wrote a oneshot. I kinda changed the prompt a bit since I wasn’t quite sure if the reader should be a killer or a survivor and I had recently watched Lisa Frankenstein so I ended up with this LOL so I hope this is okay! And ngl, I might do a part 2 for this since I kinda dig the idea of a The Doctor x Frankenstein… so yeah! My apologies if Herman is a lil OOC…this is my first time writing for him :’)

Emerging from the clouds of black fog, you found yourself back at the campground. With a yawn leaving your lips, you stretched out your aching muscles with a satisfied ‘pop!’

Another trial had commenced and you had found yourself at a place called Autohaven Wreckers. Usually when the entity would send you to maps that didn’t work in your favor, you would typically let the survivors run free while accepting that you’d be punished.

It wasn’t as if you felt the pain of her tendrils anyways.

Seeing as how you were the living embodiment of a bunch of body parts sewn together, you didn’t necessarily ‘feel’ pain. So you usually never minded letting survivors run free.

However, you had been feeling rather bloodthirsty for a while, so when you spawned into the dark green atmospheric map, you gripped onto your weapon tightly and went out hunting for the group of survivors.

The trial was difficult at first, but overall you still came out on top. While the survivors were well coordinated, rushing through generators with their toolboxes and splitting up the moment you appeared, you, on the other hand, were determined enough to slaughter their blood all over the wrecked cars.

Stalking, chasing, and hooking, you managed to end the trial with three kills out of four which wasn’t too bad at all, but you would have prefered to have all the survivors dead.

Oh well. The trial was over and you had satisfied your own craving.

Now you were tired beyond belief and you were just about ready to flop onto your mattress and have a well deserved nap.

Walking down the pebbled path, you turned your attention over to the towering trees ahead. You were about to make your way through the forest to retire into your cabin until you heard a deep chuckle come from behind you, causing you to look over your shoulder.

A few feet away from you wearing a white ripped up lab coat over a white collared shirt and black tie, stood a man with a wired head contraption that peeled open his eyes and mouth.

You weren’t one to really interact with the other killers. In fact, a lot of the other killers in the realm were rather hostile. However, this killer in particular was one that you found yourself rather attracted to, and as the two of you continued to interact within the time you spent in the realm, you could sense that he felt that same bond.

So once you caught sight of the familiar man, you stopped.

“Oh, hey Dr. Carter.” You greeted, rubbing your eyes tiredly, “How’s it going?”

Stalking closer to you, the man didn’t give you an answer. Instead, he let out an amused giggle.

“[Name], did a survivor strike you again?” His raspy voice asked, eyes sparking with mischief as he watched you tilt your head in confusion.

“Huh? No, why do you ask?”

The man didn’t respond, he merely brought a hand to your shoulder and traced his finger down your back and around an oozing puncture wound. With electricity flowing through his fingers, the doctor gave a quick zap to the bleeding hole, earning himself a small shiver from you.

“Owe.” You muttered, albeit, in a monotone voice.

It was obvious that you didn’t truly feel the pain of that shock. If it had been anyone else to receive that much electricity, they would’ve convulsed on the spot. However, you didn’t. Instead, you treated Herman’s shocks as if they were a small tickle to the touch.

It amused him greatly, and the man couldn’t help but show his delight by admiring your being. Bringing his hand to his face, Herman observed the blood that covered his fingers. It was a dark inky black, barely even considered red at that point. It was truly something to marvel at. Blood didn’t flow through your veins like an ordinary being, yet here you stood able to walk and talk just like him.

You were truly the embodiment of the first sci-fi monster.

The doctor could feel a his heart beat rapidly against his chest. Letting out another fit of laughter, Herman watched as you brought your own hand to your shoulder and touched the area where his fingers had just lingered.

“Huh.” You voiced, “I didn’t even know that was there. I must’ve gotten it when I fell over my missing arm and had landed on a leaking pipe.” Scratching your head, you continued with a pout. “I knew I should’ve burned a map offering. Autohaven is just too cluttered for me.”

Herman’s laugh continued. His body shook as a deep fit of laughter rippled through his being.

Oh, how you were his favorite specimen in all of the realm.

With his fingers still sparking with impulsive shocks, the man held out his hand to you, “Shall we go back to my cabin? I would love to stitch up your wounds.”

You looked down at his hand for a moment.

You really wanted to rest. But at the same time, Dr. Carter was the only being who you truly had any ‘feelings’ for. His electricity enticed you, and gazing into his glowing white eyes, you could tell that he knew that too.

Were you just another experiment to him? Many would say so, but as you stood in front of the man, watching as he held out a hand towards you, his eyes beckoning you to take his hand, a part of you believed that he felt something for you as well.

So you took his hand, shivering as you felt electricity run through your body.

Letting out another deep chuckle, Herman took your hand and brought your fingers to his lips. Placing a chaste kiss to the top of your skin, Herman gripped your hand tightly before leading you back to his cabin.

[songsofbat]

waiting for someone who doesn't exist

ooc: this might get a bit long. it's technically open to rp

Corus Wayne does not exist.

But this isn't about them.

(But it is, isn't it?)

They are quiet, quiet, padding. A slow movement through Gotham's streets.

Haunting. Aching.

A step out of tune.

Nobody sees them.

Nobody hears them.

They're fine with that, truly.

(For a fluttering second, they wonder if Reqeium is watching.)

They're so tired.

They want to go home.

They are a soft, tired thing. Frayed at the edges. A blanket overused.

It's not quite stumbling, they think. Weaving. Going with the flow of people.

Their mask is in their hands, now. There's no reason to keep it on.

After all, Corus Wayne does not exist.

There is no identity to hide, no secret to keep beyond the depths of their soul and the ache of their heart.

They trace out familiar routes, patrol routes they once knew. Stare at buildings that are different, run their hands over ones that have stayed the same.

It's nice. Not really.

It's not quite peace. Contentment. Tranquility. They're not really sure what they're feeling at all.

They just want to go home.

Familiar faces are everywhere- at the park, the grocer... flittering things that they can't quite remember or place. Stuff that they're not quite sure is real anymore.

Dark hair. Blue eyes. White streak. Green eyes. A shorter one. A leaner one. A taller one.

Please, they don't quite say. I miss you.

Do you miss me?

Are you searching for me?

Are you going to try to get me home?

They wonder if this is what dying feels like.

Honey-toned memories and thoughts that ebb and fade.

They know what dying feels like, don't they?

No. Yes. They've forgotten. Perhaps.

They want to go home.

...

That's not home.

That's Wayne Manor, but that's not home.

They linger on the edges of the property.

It sings to them- and they are a stranger to it.

They sing back.

This tune is far too familiar.

...

Nobody's around at the moment, they think.

They know.

Unless someone can hide from their gaze beyond. ...which is possible. But unlikely. Maybe. They don't really care anymore.

"Father," They begin, "Corvid, reporting in. Ever since I have found myself in this universe, I have noticed many irregularities. Universes crossing into each other. Variations of people we know."

Their voice does not shake.

"I found myself an ally. She has been helping me to work on a way home, but no progress has been made."

Their hands do not tremble.

"Signal was contacted by an otherworldly entity. I... he was taken, and then returned. I don't understand what is happening."

Their mind whirls. The world is loud, too loud in their mind. A sharp breath in. A sharp breath out.

"I encountered another version of myself. I fear my mental stability has been compromised. I don't know."

They can't breathe.

"I don't know what to do."

The words come out strangled. Broken in so many ways they think it might kill them.

"I don't know why I'm here."

The world is sharp at the edges, static flickering across their sight.

"I don't know how to go home."

They rub at their eyes.

"I don't know why I'm talking to you when you're not here."

They already know.

It's obvious, isn't it?

"I'm scared."

"Papa- 爸爸-" They're sniffling now. They feel like a child, weak and small. They don't know when that even started.

"I'm scared, papa. I don't know what to do and- I- I'm sorry I can't be stronger and better and I- I don't know- I hurt people, papa. And I get mad and I yell and snap and- I- I don't- I can't-"

It's too much, maybe. The trees are rustling the world is cold and the clouds rumble with brewing static they are the wind there is an ant grinding its mandibles they do not know why or how but they are so very-

it is-

their heart is racing head pounding that one stress induced headache that'll never go away dead and wrong and dull they see maybe they are reaching reaching and their third eye has never been wider-

wider-

staring staring reaching into collective unconsciousness into more more always more because maybe if they throw themselves far enough they could find their way back home-

but it burns sears across their head a blinding pain that makes them stumble and for a brief startling moment they realise-

something is terribly,

terribly,

wrong.

But they don't take note of it- don't take heed.

There's too much in their head. Screaming. Yelling. Nothing at all, but everything at once.

And everything shuts off.

The golden gleam around their eyes fades.

Corus not-Wayne stares at the world with deep black orbs and crumples to the ground.

On the edges of the property of the Wayne Estate, Corus crumbles- a heap. A child, in a cape that feels too big for them. In an outfit that feels too heavy for them.

They can't breathe.

But they wail anyway.

Corus no-longer-a-Wayne curls up and sobs.