#burnout sucks but its alright

[deeveedoodle]

Long time no see cuz burnout sucks :'DDD

Anyways!

HHOC art dump!

I have now know how to draw a honse 🐎 ✨

His name is Jobert btw :D

[unfortunately-obsessed]

My Love Will Never Die

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader. Tags: emotional hurt/comfort, burnout, established relationship. Title based off a Hozier's song. Ao3 link.

Summary:

« You've done me wrong for a long, long time. But after all you've done, I never changed my mind. »

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly. You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only mentally. Your muscles ache, pain spiking up on your lower back worse than any damage a sharpened knife could cause. Feet so thoroughly hurt by heels they're numb, if not for the casual sharp sting.

It is Gotham. The sky is grey, the city sucks up you out of life each passing moment.

Rain splatters against your umbrella. You stand just before the front door of Wayne Manor, mindlessly fidgeting with the wedding ring sitting pretty on your finger.

One year. You've been married with Bruce Wayne for one year already? Doesn't feel like it.

Time flew before your eyes, the start of it all just below your eyelids. Every first so toothachingly sweet, burned into your brain. Press nails against skin until it sharpens.

Behind you, you wonder if the chauffer it is still there, standing. You know he is, the manners making him wait until you enter the house to only then pull the car to the garage. Watching you frozen in place, bag lazily held in a hand, umbrella in another. Hair disheveled, clothes unruly.

You wonder if you look pathetic on his eyes, just as much as you feel currently.

Not worthy of the surname Wayne, to be called “lady of the house”.

Time is a cruel kind of lesson.

"Ms. Wayne." Alfred's voice, invariably courteous, calls. You almost wince at the door opening. He stands before you, maybe a little unnerved by your state, but if it's displeasure or worry on his face, you can't tell.

He masks terrifically well. You're always alarmed by this.

"Are you alright, ma'am?"

At that, you do wince.

"Yes, Alfred." Your brain haven't even processed his presence yet when you walk past him. He takes your coat and bag. "Just got lost in thoughts for a moment."

"Pondering the mysteries of our universe at the front step?" Ah, you do love the edge of sass in his voice. You meet his eyes, a shy-like (unlike you) smile cursing your face. "Shall I fetch for tea? Supper will be served in one hour's time."

Some months ago, you might have looked forward for it. If Bruce couldn't welcome you after work, he at least would make sure to eat dinner with you.

Deep in your stomach, rot. You swallow dry.

"No, thanks," you say, taking a deep breath. Desperately– desperately talking through the knot in your throat. "I just want to hit the showers and sleep," you say, all sincerity.

You smile politely. He doesn't pushes you.

It is easy to backslide. To make oneself likeable, less volatile, more agreeable. Until you can earn love and care.

(Oh. It's getting bad again.)

"And Bruce?" You ask halfway through up the stairs, despite yourself. My love for you is bigger than words. I search for you everywhere.

The silence that hangs would be enough of an answer. Alfred is merciful, though. "Still working, ma'am."

Isn't it painful? Loving someone just from outside their life?

Wayne Manor is a haunted house. Constantly burning, touching the skies with horrible black smoke. Sculpted coffered ceilings, furniture of expensive dark wood. Bristol, yet you can see the city and all its skyscrapers by the right window.

Wayne Manor, aka Bruce Wayne's first grave.

Every corner, a memory.

"Of course," you mutter to yourself, emotion pooling in the eyes.

Love is about the failure of language, so you fall silent and disappear into the halls.

~*~*~

The sheets are clean like you know they would be.

Heels are the first to go. You kick them off, grumbling in satisfaction. Earrings next, then lipstick messily scrubbed off in any sheet of paper.

Hairpin and belt lost to the ground. Bra? Disappeared.

Yet, despite being absolutely exhausted, you stop just before the bed. Ice at the nape of your neck like a garrote, a promise. Knot in your throat to hang on.

King-sized, silk sheets, cloud soft. Each breath is a stutter of a muscle, the blood running in your veins a statement that you are, in fact, alive.

Isn't it such a lousy fear? The fear to sleep and have yet another nightmare. Oh, to be worn out mind and body and still unable to touch a bed.

The sheets are clean, white-pure. Sours you mouth.

Messy and childish fear. To see the future, where he dies by your feet using the damned cowl. Feats unnamed, life unhonoured.

Death smiles to Batman.

(Ah, Bruce. I would break my own fingers for you. Tear the tongue out of my mouth.

But there are limits.)

You can't even remember half those nightmares. Hands shaking, clattered flesh, de-boned corpses–

You don't want to ruin the sheets. You don't want to ruin your life.

~*~*~

It might be 5am.

He nuzzles against your neck, breath hot and exhausted, chest to your back. Skin painted with purple and red, scar-tissue mapping constellations, saying eat.

Eat you do. Bite one step removed, soft-mouthed kissing blue veins and rough hands. Until you lips become raw and numb.

His weight sinks the mattress, acting like a gravitational pull. Bruce's body, which furnaces can't compare, protectively embraces you.

He's so warm. It's 5am and you both are lying together, legs intertwined, his face buried on your shoulder. You listen to his breathing, slow and controlled, in the comforting quiet of unrealized-hours.

I wish the past had been kinder on you. How the world is cruel and how you refuse to be.

Soft sunlight hums through the damasked curtains, birds start to sing. You are wide awake, and he is too.

You'd seen him die down in your mind, every night. He lives your nightmares, putting on the suit. You're not bound to him by fate, not a soulmate, with no divine intervention; hallowed by gums aching and reverence– that is to say: the door is open, you can walk away.

Because one day, he won't come back.

You know it. He knows it. He has the arrangements prepared for the occasion.

And nowadays, he can't afford to leave the cave if not for going downtown.

The life of a hero is very unthankful.

"Do you hate me?" he asks you, voice rough to be an knife's edge. It's been long enough since you last felt him this close, low in your ear.

Bruce assures you through touch. Calloused thumb rubbing your wrist. Affections ebbs in his palms, love even. A work in progress.

In all your inner turmoil, you can see yourself getting quite tired of it all. The late nights crawling up walls, knowing he won't come back until morning– the stitching of wounds, his blood in the Persian rugs– but to imagine oneself as his enemy? As in, hating him?

"No," you murmur in a steady heartbeat. A detour cross your mind, of eustress: he gets tired too. And, then you say for good measure, "Never."

People don't really think how tiring tragic the life of a hero is. But there's this exhilarating moment where all that exists is Bruce's breath in your skin.

"Do you love me?" he asks because he can't take any chances. Oh, you can bet a kid that grew up traumatized will need reassurance. Constant, gentle reassurance.

White stripes of scars in his knuckles and forearms below your fingertips, drawing into your memory again and again.

The truth is: you are utterly destroyed.

Not only physically. But he tugs with your heartstrings everyday, bruised like he'd been squeezing it. The more it lingers more you realize you've been packing up emotions for weeks, now.

"What a silly thing to ask," you say. Not an answer. Neither are breathing for a second, there. You teeth clatter like a damn trying to bust.

Ah! There's a lot of messed up stuff happening all the time. You coil in yourself, perhaps considering. Bruce's touch shudders.

And there is something to realize. You'd rather die drowning for love than in thirst of it. Repeat to yourself, to him, I will never leave you. In healthiness and sickness–

"On purpose. Always–"

Love, who is brutal, who is stored in the viscera–

"–I love you."

A/N: If you like what I do, please consider supporting me and buying a coffee!

[revisitingfandoms]

Hello! I love your writing, but I have some questions, hope you dont mind ! ^^

The question is for - Idea Prompt 10- A soulmate by any other name would never be the same -

Questions

Does this take place in the Canon universe? Or another au like modern world or fantasy?

When will PV meet his soulmates? Does his other soulmates only have his name or other names?

Soooo the Beasts are chained up in the Silver Tree and are PV Familia soulmates, what would they do once they get out of the tree? First go to PV?

When White Lily turns into Dark Enchantress Cookie, does her name change?

Do I have your permission to make a fic related to this, but with a different twist of my own? (I will put credit).

What would happen if Elder Faire Cookie finds out who Pure Vanillas Familia soulmates are? (Its also kinda sad that PV parents are distancing themselves from him).

Hope this doesn't bother you

Alright- Before I get to this I’m just gonna say a few things.

Sorry I’ve kinda been on hiatus, burnout sucks

Work also sucks and takes up a good portion of time

College is college and classes are long and the homework is longer

But in other words- I’m back. So to get to your ask.

1) 

Prompt ten is based mainly off of the canon au- the snippet is just from PV and white lily’s younger years. And with the added bonus of soulmates, which certainly changes somethings around, but potato patato.

2)

PV meets his soulmates at diffing times. He meets white lily first (Same school and such), followed later down the line golden cheese during the aftermath of the sugarfree road followed by both hollyberry and dark cacao. He meets elder faerie same as in canon.

But compared to the beasts… well hes always kinda knew shadow milk on some level as the light of truth. But he formally meets him during the whole beast yeast expedition, followed by the rests of the beasts.

Now for that second bit- its complicated.

All Five of the beasts only have pure Vanilla as a soulmate, but they kinda had each others names tattooed in a sense onto one another during their years when they were virtues- but pure vanillas is by all sense, the only “natural” one.

Now with the ancients + Elder Faerie.

Dark Cacao has pure vanilla as romantic, dark choco, hollyberry, golden cheese and white lily is family. Hollyberry has Pure Vanilla and Pitaya as romantic, while royal berry, jungle berry, tiger lily, princess cookie, wildberry, dark cacao, white lily and golden cheese as family. Golden cheese has pure vanilla as romantic, while dark cacao and hollyberry are family and white lily as an enemy. White lily has pure vanilla as romantic, while red velvet, matcha, dark cacao, golden cheese and hollyberry as family, but she also has herself as enemy : )

Elder faerie has the beasts names as enemies, but pure vanilla and white lily as romantic. 

3)

Yep. And once they get out its kinda semi splintered. They kinda split up with mystic and shadow going for PV while the other three work to get beast yeast back under their control.

4)

And no white lily’s name doesn’t change, however red velvet and matcha do have her as dark enchantress cookie on their arms rather then white lily. : )

5)

Go right ahead! I am curious : P

6) 

Well, you can’t always choose who your soulmates are. Thats something Elder faerie understands. 

Doesn’t mean he’s gonna let it stop him from sealing the beasts away again.

[heartfucksmouth]

i am not having a good time. I'm so dysregulated (why tf doesn't my phone/autocorrect know this word??) and it's making me a monster. I was having an alright morning with Aidan, despite not sleeping, but he was so clingy that I couldn't move without him grabbing at me, following me crying, and it overwhelms me. I feel awful, of course, and want to cuddle and hold him! but, like, when I need to pee? and he's crying and pulling on my pants... it just sucks. and when I'm trying to pour my coffee and he's leaning right up against me so I'm pinned to the counter, for fear of knocking him over if I move (his balance is not the best)... yeah. the simultaneous feelings of protection, adoration, fascination - and feeling trapped, beaten on, and drained are I N T E N S E. I do not understand how people do this, and work?? and somehow maintain relationships?

side note, I've finally got a(n) ((second)) Early Intervention evaluation for Aidan in January. I'm angry I waited until 18 months like his pediatrician said. but I'm glad I'm getting him help. I'm tired of listening to other people. I know me. I know my son. It's so awful seeing him get frustrated while trying to communicate with us (he makes noise but no clear words, but his signing is improving. he still only uses it sometimes) because I am so deeply wounded by my own feelings of chronic miscommunication and feeling deeply misunderstood and ignored. I knew parenthood would be triggering, but this is an onslaught - a tsunami of them. I'm pursuing my own AuDHD diagnosis, and I've already been blocked by my therapist's supervisor. I'm... so angry and sad about every fucking thing. I hate feeling like "this shouldn't be so difficult" but, like, it really fucking shouldn't. none of this should be. the insurance. the proving of one's self CONSTANTLY. the lack of any semblance of community and support. the fucking SHAME I feel even accepting help from my mom. like, I desperately need sleep and quiet but the guilt of not being with my child is so, so loud it makes me sick.

I know i will survive this and things will get better. They have to. I've done too much work and fought too hard. I swear I'm not a monster, I swear I don't mean to scream at my dog, my kid, my mom... I just don't have the energy to fix things myself and everyone seems to rely on me walking them through it and I can't because I don't have the energy. insanity. like for once, someone actually rescue me? its truly disabling. chronic pain burnout on top of mom burnout on top of (probably. maybe. 100% definitely) autistic burnout. I'm swallowing water instead of air right now.

[substituted-shinigami]

Writing Update: Creative Corner April 2023

Welcome back to “Writing Updates”, which I’m thinking of renaming to Creative Corner, but uh we’ll see! (I tend to go back and forth on these things😅) My thought process is that instead of doing the “Good News/Bad News” format I’ve done in the past, I’m going to do a “Writing Corner” and an “Art Corner” instead. I’ll try it out and see how I feel about it. Anyway, let’s get on with the news!

TL:DR Version: I’m taking this month off…kind of. Last month was busy, but really fun!😁 This month was busy, but uh, not at all fun…long story.😅 Anyway, so no new one-shots this month. However! I did find some RenRuki fluff drabbles that I think you all might like, so I put them together in their own series. They’re perfect for a rainy day when you just want to feel good!🥰 They should be out later this month!

Read on if you want the long version:

Writing Corner: 

*Sighs heavily* Alright, I’m gonna be honest, this month sucked. Between burnout, family stuff, and depression, I barely wrote at all. I have a nearly completed piece that I could try to rush edit and finish in time, and would at least come out okay. But I thought about it, and realized that while I do like the piece, it’s not at all what I felt like reading right now. I don’t read a “hurt/comfort with a bit of angst” piece when I’m sad, I read fluff, lots of fluff. In fact, I had a google doc with a couple of fluff scraps that didn’t fit anywhere else that I would sometimes go back to and read whenever I was sad just because it made me feel good. And then I thought, what if this month was bad for other people too? Would these pieces make them feel good? So I’ve decided to release these instead in a brand new collection I’m going to call “Soft Moments”. Admittedly, they are more like eating a sugary sweet dessert than having a hearty protein filled one-shot meal, but that’s exactly what they are for! They are there for people who need to read something nice on a hard day. Anyway, they aren’t exactly a one-shot, so that’s why I decided to put them in their own collection, rather than adding them to “We Can’t All Be Winners”. In the end, I’ve decided to release the “hurt/comfort” piece another time. This also works out well for my new (ever changing😅) schedule for WCABW, where I am going to do 3 months on, 1 off, 3 on, and so forth! 

Art Corner: While I haven’t done much writing this month, I have gone back to my roots on this blog somewhat and started working on comics again. If you saw one of my earlier posts, you will know that I’m taking a crack at human based comics. They…are absolutely not proportional. But um…variety is the spice of life, right?!?! Anyway, hopefully they will at least be funny, but uh, we’ll see! That said, I'm thinking of eventually switching to digital art so that I don’t have to redraw backgrounds and unmoving characters, but that requires me to figure out how to draw with photoshop on my mini touch screen laptop so uh…………..

Bloodlines Corner (because let’s be honest, it gets its own spot at this point): 

Me: *glares to some far off corner in my google docs* You do realize it’s been months now, right?

Bloodlines: *shrugs innocently*

So I’ve realized I haven’t actually explained the premise of this story to most people on this blog, so here we go. Originally, Bloodlines was a one-shot in its own series of one-shots based on the idea of “What would happen if Rukia got Hisana’s illness?” However, I realized that I hadn’t really thought it out well enough for an entire series. So then I was going to make it a one off one-shot in a series of one off one shots, thus spawning WCABW. However, it clearly needed more editing, so I decided to release “prestigious school au” instead. Fast forward several months and not only am I still editing it, but that one-shot turned first into a multi-part and eventually a multi-chapter fic, all the while the events of the story still staying within the same time period, and therefore taking place over the course of one day. It is… utterly ridiculous. 

So anyway, it’s pretty long now, (well for me anyway, it’s almost 30 pages), which makes it take forever to edit. Unfortunately, I think that has caused the back chapters to suffer a bit, because for some reason I always prefer to edit things in order, so by the time I get to the end I’m pretty mentally exhausted. Therefore, I’ve decided to divide it up by only editing one chapter a day to make it easier on myself. Hopefully this will work out, and I can have it out by like August or something, but we will see! (Not being done until December is unfortunately still probable! 😅)

*Sigh* Welp, this has gotten long, but this month has been even longer so I guess it’s appropriate. In any case, thank you all for reading! The new fluff-filled anthology series should be out by the end of the month. Like I said earlier, it’s more like having dessert than dinner, but sometimes that's just what you need! See you all next month! 😊

[deceptive-daydreams]

Ive been forgetting how to form sentences for a while now cus of stress and burnout

Ive got something in my drafts right now that i keep having to go back to, just to edit short sentences

Literally every sentence and it still sounds wrong

The bottom half is completely fucked and at this point i dont know if i should just leave it that way lol

i feel that dude IT SUCKS

literally, thats how i write a majority of my things, in quick little spurts and then im like alright...good day at the office i guess (i literally wrote three sentences and deleted one of them)

im sure what you have written is great!! its hard tho cause we read our own work over and over and it feels like an endless spiral where it gets worse every time (at least for me)

keep going bestie <3 writing is fucking hard but also so rewarding

[kagejima]

alright so i've noticed an uptick in followers recently because of the latest ushi fic, and to those i say, welcome! i think you made a mistake following this chaotic blog, but glad you're here!

second of all, i wanna say some things about the next few weeks for moots and old followers and new followers so you aren't in the dark! 💖

okay I'll say this up top so no one panics. I'm not going anywhere!! No worries!

lately i have experienced massive burnout on and off (i think that's because I was posting something like every fucking day when i started this back in may) and i have like ten thousand wips (mm, an exaggeration, but it's probably like 50 to 75 now and i got five collab pieces too i need to work on hahahahahahahha 😵‍💫. literally the reason i don't take requests is because keeping up with my brain is hard enough fjdjjfjejfne)

AND SO i will probably be going a little silent fic-wise as i prepare and queue up fics for y'all! i really do enjoy writing but the pressure to be relevant is starting to-- woooooo it's starting to get to me.

I want to make it very clear to moots and followers that I am not going anywhere, I will still be on here pretty much every day bringing chaos to the dash and you can still send thirsts and headcanons and things but as far as my fics, it will be a little bit before I post anything new 😌

also @ my beta readers, i'm not gonna drown you guys in fics in these coming weeks, its still low commitment like i promised, i'm only gonna be sending you like my bigger projects 😋 👍🏻

also!! i want to get better about reading fics! my "to read for later" tag got out of hand so I'm going to rectify that during this time xnenjfjejf i have been slacking on it, im so sorry everybody. you guys deserve better but i got such bad adhd, please forgive me 🙇🏻‍♀️ okay anyways! my point!

TO MUTUALS ONLY: i see the frustration you're having of minimal interaction (it sucks, i get it. i face it too 😮‍💨) so i wanna be tagged in your fics starting today!! this is my permission for you to do so, you'd never be bothering me, i promise!! you got a tag list? add me to it. you wanna just slap my handle in the comments to let me know you got something new? i got you! I'll read anything, even if I know nothing about them, you can still tag me. Tag away. Tag me in any and every fic, i don't care if i know them or not fjdnjfdjfnej. Or send it to me. Whatever is most comfortable for you! I wanna see it! Wanna display it like the little masterpiece it is! Because of my weird schedule, i miss a lot of things but i desperately wanna see what new things you guys got! The only thing I ask is to not be tagged in angst! I don't handle that well 🥲

okay I think that's everything.

ok, thank you!!

[luciddreamer-blr]

Can you do little!Dream being upset about something and Cg!Sapnap cheering him up with plushies or something like that? Thank you! -💎

♡ regressor dream and carer sapnap ♡

warning(s): brief cursing, crude humor

Dream tossed his mask carelessly onto the floor, knowing he’d later regret it but couldn’t find it in his tender muscles to care right now. Instantly he faceplanted into his pillow, his entire aching back going limp, a groan coughing out of the back of his throat as he became one with the mattress. He loved speedrunning, don’t get him wrong, it just sucked when he felt as if it was more tedious than fun. He had gotten no good times, a sore back and tired feet from running and falling over and over again, not to mention he had yet to fix his latest plugin. The only thing that stopped him from reaching for the stars was burnout. 

However, before he could wallow any further, his bedroom door clicked open.

“What happened to the sub twenty speedrun pissbaby?"

Another groan met Sapnap's reply.

The younger laughed at the how limp his roommate was, secretly thankful that he hadn’t decided to go with him. Though Dream’s energy seemed to be a bit off, dare Sapnap say he was more tired than usual after an entire day of speedrunning. 

"You alright?” Sapnap asked with furrowed eyebrows, even while Dream couldn’t see his expression. “You're doing a great impression of a dead body." He kept his tone light-hearted, wanting to know what his friend was feeling.

"Saaaaaapnnnnnaaaap."

According to the whine, and huffy tone, not too good.

Even with the barest reply, he could connect the dots. Dream was most likely sore from running around, probably hungry from being low-energy, and definitely tired after a full day of socially interacting. Not to mention they had all just gotten off a call with George about the newest plugin, it still needed testing, so Dream had to have that on his mind too.

Sapnap ran over a couple ideas, wondering how he could help his friend relieve his stress from the day. 

Meanwhile Dream, unaware of Sapnap’s plan, sighed into his messy bed sheets. He balled his fingers into the soft fabric, allowing himself to get lost in the pleasant feeling. Sadly, he was pulled out of his little daze by a soft few taps on his shoulder.

He huffed, shoving his head out of his pillow with a grouchy look on his face, ready to complain and ask for alone time. Dream was quickly thrown off guard though, expecting to meet Sapnap’s face. Instead he was met with one of his many blob plushies, a big wobbly smile sown into its face with two little dots for eyes.

Dream’s eyes squinted, knowing the only times he used his plushie’s were for regression. He watched as the blob bounced at the attention, flickering to Sapnap’s hand around it’s squishy body.

“Don’t be sad Dweamie!” He resisted the urge to smile, finding the voice Sapnap chose for the plush to be goofy. He knew the other was trying to help him, but he wanted to be a bit stubborn for a little longer, so for now he opted for a frowny face as his mind slowly grew lighter.

The blob bopped Dream’s forehead, it’s little head swaying side to side as if it were speaking. Sapnap’s high-pitched squeaky voice talked for it, an audible grin in his voice. “It’s your bestest fwend, Blobs!! No sad, happy!” 

The plushie suddenly moved forward again, darting to Dream’s face to give tiny pats all over. Sapnap made obnoxiously loud kissy sounds, voice filled with affection. Dream just couldn’t hold in his giggles anymore, already feeling himself start to slip as he ducked his chin back into the safety of his pillow. 

“Nohohaha!! Quit ihit!!” 

“Mwuah!! Where is he? Where did my best friend go?! There he is! That’s my giggle monster!! Mwuah, mwuah, mwuah!!”

Dream felt as if his chest were going to explode with giddiness, finally turning his head back. He fumbled with the blanket before gently swatting at the doll. “Fihine! Ohkahay, ohokahay!! Mm’ hehehere dohork.” 

Sapnap poked his head from behind blobs, his devious grin melting at the sight of Dream’s shy squinted eyes and silly smile. He handed Blobs over, watching as Dream visibly brightened and scooped the plush into his arms, now snuggling his face against it. 

Right after though, Dream started to yawn. Sapnap wanted nothing more for him to sleep, however he knew the big guy hadn’t had anything to eat since he got back. So pushing aside Dream’s cute little arm stretch, he patted the bed. “It’s snack time bud!! You get yourself ready for bed and you can have a nap with Big Bear.” 

Sapnap’s lips quirked up even further as Dream dived back into the covers, whining into his toy. But what Dream didn’t know is that he had a secret weapon.

The raven sighed, fluttering his eyelashes with a sweetly sly tone. “I’ll read you an extra bedtime story!”

In an instant, Dream was stumbling to get out of bed. So fast Sapnap was worried he might get a headrush. He wasn’t able to hold back a little chuckle or two, helping Dream get uncurled from his blanket burrito before heading towards the door. 

They grouped back together in less than five minutes, Sapnap walked in with a plate and sippy cup, barely having time to shut the door behind him before dream was calling out his name with more slurred words.

“Hurry up Sap!! Blobs is gettin’ antsee’!” Dream whined with an impatient voice, tugging the blanket off to give a grabby hand at the plate. Though he had to be careful, Blobs was in his other hand tucked away into his chest. 

“Hold your ponies Dweam.” Sapnap softly grinned as he set the plate down on the bedside table. He helped Dream sit up and held his sippy cup for him, unable to stop the fondness from seeping into his expression as his little buddy made ‘nom’ing sounds each and every chew.

Before he knew it - “I’ done!! Cup pwease!” - Dream was finished with his sandwich and crackers, now making a grabby hand at the green sippy cup. Sapnap’s smile somehow widened, his heart always seemed to melt when Dream regressed. “You have very good manners!! Here you go sunshine.”

Dream politely took the sippy cup, sending a beaming smile up at his carer. “Thank ywo big bear!!” He nudged the tip into the plushie’s face, as if that’s where it’s mouth was to take a few sips, before plopping it into his own mouth and happily sipping away. Before Sapnap could become a puddle on the ground, he quickly sat up to pick out a book from the closet. Dream often hid most of his items in there.

“Hey giggles, you get two books tonight! Which ones do you want?”

In exactly two minutes later, Sapnap was snuggled right beside Dream, the bed was big enough for him to scoot down - so it created the illusion he was shorter - and rest his head onto Sapnap’s chest. It was a win-win situation, because just as Sapnap got to the second book, he heard a soft snore.

Sapnap glanced over, holding back a coo at Dream’s content expression with blobs cuddled in his arms. He leaned down to press a light kiss to his forehead, careful not to wake him up as he reached over to dim the lights. 

Sapnap held back a yawn of his own, a little tired from his own agenda, a nap would do nicely for both of them. He wrapped an arm to press Dream closer to his chest, sleepily grinning when the blond subconsciously leaned into him even more. He couldn’t help but chuckle, eyes starting to drift shut.

“Goodnight, sunshine.”

[mklt]

Just random thoughts about mikami and light 

it’s kinda long and so messy -w-

idk how to write long post on tumblr with good layout lol i got burnout from irl problems rly bad and it's already 3.30am here ;w; 

(mostly from my random threads on twitter (hence the weird formatting) and i try to tl-ed from my main language to english (with the help of google translation lol)

These are just my imagination and maybe personal preference (?) please don’t take it personally

Thread 1: 17th march 2022

this is so random but when i re-read death note manga again i can’t get rly emotional with mikami’s backstory i wonder why? Is it because I'm so weak seeing a kid being bullied? I don’t really like looking at child being abused too haha (but i remember someone said mikami’s backstory is like redditor sobstory WWWWWWWWWW sorry 

i don't know but i'm so weak with characters who have been bullied alskdal like im sad i don't want to see a little kid being bullied :(((((((((( let's focus on him (mikami) bein a kira simp

just the idea of ​​him trying to open up with light about his mom and his sad past is a bit painful for me aksdjaskl and i don't have any idea for light’s response too.. :( maybe mikami looks indifferent when he tried to explain it surely mikami said “that's why i'm thankful there's Kira” ? (i’m not rly sure about this)

but light is like  (??? at that time, there is not kira yet) so i think it continues to be like a one-sided delusion from mikami wwwww

hmm, even if they won, I think Light will randomly get quiet when he becomes tired from work (kira work??) (daydreaming?) and then suddenly when asked why by mikami, he randomly blurts "it’s my late father’s bday today" What will you respond???????? alsdkal it seems like this could be the time where Mikami starts to talk about his mother too?

i dunno but if it's mikalight au I think Light actually wants to say he misses his father but he doesn't want to say that he misses and loves his father (so much) idk?? maybe he doesn't want to look vulnerable in front of mikami because he still has to act to be a strong role model for mikami

It's so hard for me to imagine them just blissfully being happy, i definitely remember this and the emotional baggage sucks Moreover, when people who like to write about light who still can't move on about L Gosh thinking about it is really heavy haha

i dunno but in my headcanon for my kira wins au light is reluctant to meet with sachiko/sayu because it seems like he still can't move on with soichiro’s dead (and because he doesn't have the heart to see sayu who’s still recovering from trauma) that’s why he likes to find reasons so he can't go home

i’m not trying to justify that light is a SaD boi But to me, the only redeeming quality about him is  he really loves his family so much (www luv u light So I like to imagine him hating himself because of his father’s death. But he likes to think that my father died like this because I have to sacrifice for a more peaceful world That's why when his father died, light is really conflicted

but light bein light I'm sure he'll change his mindset after that “my father is not good because he doesn't believe kira, he is a good person but he’s not on Kira's side” (which in his heart he is still very hurt thinkin about soichiro)

Thread 2 : 8th February 2022

... I'm looking for drawing ref, then reread DN again and again (yes I know— It’s kinda endearing when mikami in front of ppl he looks so cold and mean but if with God His demeanor is like that >>>>

not uwu but like its funny… he's scawy–! Suddenly he’s become kinda nervous? Less hostile?? Hm but  i also think that when he finds out Light is a False God maybe he explodes and got mad-! btoom! And i was like oh yea thats our mkm alright haha

idk maybe i'm just making an excuse but from the manga’s scenes mk/lt is like.. master/disciple but not as maniac in anime? I really like when the disciple, who's scary outside but he's obsessed with his master! Maybe he will become a softie?!! I like the silent yandere type! And i think i f they have an argument mikami won't be hysterical or something >_>

Even if they had direct contact (not by takada) Light will tell mikami (about mikami killing lazy people) "I don't like how you do things stop it." then maybe mikami looks a bit shocked and i think ofc he will say my bad- LOL but i'm also sure he's the type who asked for an explanation why because he's not that stupid ahaha im sad

Even if it's been explained, I'm sure Light will complain directly to mikami "I don't believe you can still ask me back."

Thread 3 : 9th march 2022 (AU)

If mkm and light live together, does light live in kyoto or mkm in tokyo? But when you think about canon it means they are in long distance relationship :0

Yes, but if the train is 2 hours fast, just the idea of ​​them being willing to live alone is a bit complicated??

I think if Mikami’s position is high enough-- he can go to Tokyo and pretend to visit Light at the NPA office (then when he arrived Lighto isn't there (..........)

Because lighto is busy? And because of his work is that he is more in a private room (because he is more into intelligence / hacking role etc.)

Maybe Mikami can go to Tokyo because there is a case that he should discuss with the police (¿) if the case is serious enough hooho

Maybe they will meet at the rooftop (?) Mikami eats alone ? but maybe his assistants from kyoto office tag along too) then Light just finished with the other team. But mikami can only stare at light because they don't want to be exposed if they are acquaintances (bc for identity of Kira)

Jabsjadsbsh what if someone is trying to introduce them ?? Mikami and Lighto pretending to “get to know better

when they shake hands… Mikami held Lighto's hand tighter and maybe light playing with his finger on Mikami's wrist (trying to be subtle-subtle---) "Nice to meet you– Teru-san" “Nice to meet you,”

[rrxnjun]

from here

Ohh so k-pop does get overwhelming at times like keeping up with all of their comebacks and activities does take a toll on the psyche 🤧 i took a small break of sorts back in 2021 just to get a breather and instead focus my energy on books :') the whole pandemic situation and the lockdown was beginning to get to me + i had to deal with an academic burnout but !! things are definitely better now.

OKAYY so it took me a lot of time to finalise a bias in nct dream and tbt all nct units unghhh i lobe them all but my nct dream bias as of now is renjun. this man has me wrapped around his finger and activates the heart eyes WDYM HE HAS A PRETTY VOICE HES AN ARTIST HE'S PRETTY HE'S SHARP TONGUED AND HE'S A TOTAL SWEETHEART LIKE HE'S SO CARING 100% BFF/BF MATERIAL :( FDIBCFBN GOD HAS HIS FAVOURITES ALRIGHT and oml don't even get me started w the yangyang and renjun interactions im still reeling from when they did this.

In 127 i have a soft spot for the vocal line lol so i usually bias whoever's in the vocal line for a particular song (DO THEY HAVE TO MAKE IT SO HARD TO CHOOSE THO). rn it's jaehyun bc I'm obsessed w his voice (it's his first few lines in good thing <33)

Oof faded in my last song just hits so hard and it hurts so bad the songs so deep. It's one of my favourite nct u songs that and baby don't like it (again. hoe anthems >>>) for 127 it's either heartbreaker (bc it's hyuck's world and we're just living in it) or good thing (bc jaehyun.) Basically love the limitless era. and for dream okayy i can't really choose but reload and boom era were both crazy good. as for wayv it's after midnight and maybee take off. Wbu what are your favourite eras/songs?

Ahh you're a carat ?? I've been trying to get into svt since hoshi's spider came out but it's still a work in progress :') Which all groups do you stan ?? (40k slowburns are segci and it's for Vernon?? sounds v interesting 👀)

and the yangyang fic's going to have angst okay thanks for the warning angst scares me but i find it beautiful (?) as a genre like whoa how do mere scenes and words strung up together in a completely different world make me feel so much. But again that's why i like reading in general. bonus points if i actually find the smth in the fic relatable :')

YUSSUH 5SOS SUPREMACY youngblood was THAT album yk. weird but their music and a few select songs from twenty one pilots and imagine dragons help me concentrate and actually solve calculus ... esp easier and good girls 😭 idk why tho and whahfkfkkg they came to your city ?? Djnffkfm most international artists usually don't come near South Asian countries ie the place where I live 🤧

and yes so i listened to a few more songs by waterparks but I'm obsessed with 21 questions. i can't stop putting it on loop 😭😭 fdhjk pls feel free to send in more song recs

p.s. i enjoy talking to you too to the point where i think i ramble a little too much hrkfjfnf Have a good day/night <3

SORRY FOR REPLYING LATE I SUCK AT HUMAN INTERACTION

kpop does get overwhelming sometimes dfkjlas but also i just kind of got bored for a bit so i didnt feel motivated to check up on it in so long,, but now i just found the excitement again and i feel the same i did when getting into it for the first time its so amazing. i got into kpop just before the pandemic started, so it was something that was keeping me going during the lockdowns and shit :) i am glad you're feeling better now, though!

OUR BIASES MATCH AAAAAAA #besties fdlksaj renjun is literally the love of my life i think us two are similar in a lot of things (our zodiac signs, personalities, interests, anger issues...) so i think loving him so much helped my selflove djfkla this sounds weird but its true to some extent?? AND DONT MENTION THE CAMPING TRIP VIDEO IN FRONT OF ME ITS MY COMFORT VID AAAAA everything abt it is so wholesome,,, their little karaoke sessions, the shopping, the cooking,, them switching languages every now and then,, also yangyang singing i'm gonna love you by d.o. is stuck in my head that moment felt special.

in 127 i tend to gravitate towards mark and hyuck but i cant really count them bc theyre my dream biases as well LMAO but if i exclude them, i'd say i bias doyoung? i have a soft spot for yuta as well haha and recently my head is full of jungwoo but i'm not gonna give that too much weight just yet it might be a phase we'll see

I LOVE HOE ANTHEMS AAAA no one does sexy songs like nct. no one can compare. period. my fav eras would probablyyy be hot sauce/hello future for dream i fucking love that era and i miss it so much it was comfort for me. hot sauce was the first album ive ever bought from my first ever paycheck haha<33 for 127 probably superhuman/kick it/punch era? altho i wasnt a stan back then yet,, so i didnt fully experience it and for wayv turn back time era!!

i AM a carat!! spider is so good oml truly a cultural reset. no one does it like kwon soonyoung. i stan quite a few groups i think?? my ults are definitely nct, seventeen and txt! i keep up w them the most:) and then i stan enhypen, stray kids and p1harmony, although i dont really watch their contents or anything anymore,, im more of a casual stan for them. wbu?

yesyes its an angsty one but its not that bad i think fklf i definitely wrote more traumatic fics than this one. there's actually a yy tiktok i saw that literally represents how i wrote him in this fic it fit so much uh god i'll show it to you if you're interested

SOLVE CALCULUS HDAKL thank god i dont have maths anymore<33 that was a real struggle. i used to have a twenty one pilots phase tbf but im glad its behind me now bc the tyler joseph now is not the tyler joseph i used to stan!:)) and nooo they didn't come to my city! i'm from slovakia and literally no one comes to slovakia so i get your sturggle. they came to krakow and vienna though and that's kind of close to me!

21 questions>>>>> literally one of the songs that inspired my yy fic. do you use spotify? i'll make you a rec playlist if you really want!

p.s. i really enjoy talking to you hihi i missed your asks hhhh please dont think you ramble too much bc i do too!! it shows that we are comfy w each other xx

[ttlmt]

Bee, how are we meant to process this!?!?! I'm so furious on his behalf that he got jerked around by YouTube for so long, it's so disheartening and unfair and yet he's still there. Picking up the shattered pieces and figuring out how to fit them back together again. Just listening to his voice for an hour and a half straight (or well gay) has made something resonate deep within my chest and I didn't realise how much I missed him before I was reminded of all that he is. (Also, hello, I hope you're doing well, love!)

i think you can see me have a rollercoaster of a breakdown over the past like three hours on this blog cxlkjcdhg its so much to process

i missed him SO much just today my friends and i were joking about dan coming back and then BOOM here he is. i loved listening to his voice and his humour and wisdom and he always knows just what to say when i need to hear it. always sends me in a spiral but knows how to pull me out.

(edit: i've decided to put this under a read more because a) it got way longer than expected and b) its not all coherent and well-spoken like i wanted it to be but here it is)

first of all, i love dan's journey to accepting his past and appreciating it for what it is because thats a similar journey that i've been on recently and im glad he never doesn't acknowledge that there was good in it. it was good. it was important. its just not what he needs now. and nuance is something this phandom i find always struggles with, but dan is so good at it. there was good and bad parts to all parts of his career, but he ends on a positive note because he knows we're like him and we worry and thats where he is now and just yeah i love him

dan being so hard on himself about being a creator and whether or not he deserves this and that he firmly believes he's not good enough? i FELT that. like it doesnt matter what other people say, sometimes you just dont believe the good and you just need to operate like that. and it SUCKS. but you still do it in hopes that maybe one day you'll see what they see. also all that esp after knowing all the shit he went through in the past year? im about to throw hands with dans brain

BURNOUT. god as a media student just personally this hit. like its not an industry you can be neurodivergent or mentally ill in. you're expected to be working 24/7 and you're supposed to be happy about it because you're doing what you love. everything is your job, but its what you wanted right? creative control? its so fucked up and dan explained it way better than i have ever heard someone say it. im so glad hes prioritizing getting help to work on stuff like we're a collaborative species we're meant to work together and im so glad it seemed with this video already he has found people he likes working with

i'm gonna fucking fight youtube. like i figured it was bad behind the scenes but i did not in any universe think it was That Bad. i just assumed things got cancelled cause of covid. the way they treated dan is so fucking unprofessional (but also not unheard of in the industry which is more fucked) and i hope they receive backlash for this but also YTO is gone now so theres nothing really to do and i also dont want it to reflect on dan. in addition to that, i can't imagine going through this with a partner who has the same employer and needs to work with them too. like phil had to watch yt do this to dan all while still working with yt cause its his job. they love and care about eachother so much and im glad they had eachother but jfc they shouldn't have had to go through that.

i'm so glad dan is taking control of his narrative and doing stuff for himself now. im soooo excited for tour. im so happy ttlmt (the video) is getting the recognition it deserves. i hope this shuts everyone up who shit on dan over the past 2 years.

also hellooooo i'm doing alright! i just got back to my parent's place for the summer so i'm adjusting to that and starting my summer course so i'm a bit overwhelmed but im overall okay. all this happening right after i say im back with gifs is so funny dlkjfdg

[axther]

warning shot!! | chapter one

This was a series (roughly four parts) that I was working on for @reddriot​ as a congrats/strength for her finals, when I got burnout around chapter two. I’ll work on it, albeit slowly. In any case, here’s chapter one. beta’d by @ererokii​ In which the new Tsaritsa, long after the events of the Two Travellers, finds that some legends never die. Inspired by Barbie’s Magic of Pegasus. dainslief x reader x childe

 tw: people being turned into water, possessive behaviour, and childe being childe, excessively so. 

YN LN was a free spirit, for a princess. 

She wasn’t fond of being kept indoors, nor being told what to do. She grew up in the great, wintery outdoors of her home kingdom, and loved to wander amongst the bold trees. The snow was present, year-round, and she knew how to tread lighter than feather down. She was like a spirit between the trees, with dogs at her tail and the ice at her toes. 

Her people called her the Ghost of the North, and they were right. 

She was a great soldier and a greater leader in the eyes of her people. They saw her as the beginning of a new era, a beacon of light for those that felt the monarchy was going a ways past what it was meant to be. The honest truth was that the throne of Tsar for Snezhnaya had long sat empty, but only in name. The holding court from when YN’s mother had been Tsaritsa ruled for YN’s childhood, but anyone could see that it was beginning to deteriorate. Corruption was rampant, and most knew that YN was their last hope for repairing the reigning government before a revolution was born from the bosom of the lower class. 

Which is what led YN to the situation she was in. 

Her eighteenth birthday was looming overhead, flightier than a bird but stronger than any leviathan. It was the day of her crowning, the day that the respect to the name Tsaritsa would be reclaimed. She knew that some within her mother’s court would try to stop it in its tracks, and she knew that she had to steamroll over them with as much mercy as, say, a very pissed off wasp. So, when she awoke to two poisoning attempts, three courtiers trying to get her to sign them off as her defacto Tsar in case she died, and seven different assassins being taken down, she thought it all ridiculous. 

“I thought you lot would try harder,” She spat at the breakfast table, eyeing down several slinking chamberlains. “Seriously, cyanide? Snezhnaya doesn’t even grow almonds for it to be passed off as “fresh” almond sauce. It’s always colder than my fucking balls!” 

One innocent page flinched when YN raised her voice, and she sighed and placed her head in her hands. 

“Go and get me something that, at the very least, isn’t too obviously poisoned so I can consume it in oblivious peace.” 

A chancellor stood with an uncertain look, biting his lips and trying to spruce up his collar. 

“What,” YN spat. 

“Your lady Tsesarevich, I must ask that you pick an heir apparent should you die, considering all of these...occurrences.” “Fuck off, Stolypyn.” “Of course, your lady Tsesarevich.” 

Stolypyn sat back down with as much dignity he could muster, squirming in his seat as other ministers tried not to laugh. 

“And go suck a blistered cock, all of you!” YN barked, waving a hand and rising angrily. The stifled laughter stopped abruptly, almost jumping in their seats from her outburst. “Don’t get comfortable, bastards. By sunrise tomorrow, we’ll see who’s laughing.” 

There was a shocked lull throughout the room, and YN sat down with a smirk once her food was brought out. Upon first glance, she saw no signs of poison and cast a cursory glance around the room. 

“If anyone wants to own up to this being made so I’ll throw up my own voicebox, then please, come forward. If not, and if I am poisoned, I will write in thirty different languages for your lungs to be ripped out. Understood?” 

There was a shuffling, eyes glancing around the table before YN nodded. 

“Alright then.” She took her spoon and sipped at the soup with a restrained curiosity, before swallowing and sighing. “This is literally just soup for one of my weaker allergies. Whoever made this is doing a poor job of killing me.” 

A minister hissed under his breath, and YN wiped her mouth, rolling her eyes. “Really, you can do better. Try something more drastic...like the one the ones in Liyue have. What was it, the rock dog?” “Azdaha, my lady Tsesarevich.” “Right, Goremykin.” YN nodded, pushing the soup to the side. “I mean, I’m sure you lot can come up with much more creative ways of killing me.” “Like burning at the stake!” A page chirped, but he was smacked in the gut by a guard. YN didn’t seem to care, though, nodding and smiling. “Exactly! Like burning me at the stake, or crushing me under a rock! Drowning! Honestly, with every Pyroslinger Bracer that tries to take me out with a shitty long-distance flamethrower, I just get more resolve to increase the military budget. Honestly.”  

“We can get that arranged tomorrow, my lady Tsesarevich.” 

“Good, Trepov. And today, I plan to go out to the town in order to quell whatever uprisings you lot have managed to create.” 

“As you wish, my lady Tsesarevich.” 

“Witte, Yeltsin, make sure to write eulogies for Ignatieff and Karshkov. Their attempts were the most boring. I’ll show them how a real assassination is done.” 

“Er... “ Witte bowed his head, glancing up towards YN, but Yeltsin nudged his side with a shake of the head.  “Are you sure, my lady Tsesarevich? I mean, there’s certainly...other methods of punishment.” 

“Hm?” YN tilted her head, a curious look on her face. Her voice was oddly earnest for her demeanour, and most of the other ministers seemed to be alarmed. “How do you think they should be punished, then, Witte?” 

“M-me?” Witte pointed at himself, almost like a child in class. 

“Yes, you.” YN nodded, blinking. “I want your opinion.” 

“Oh...er…” Witte glanced at Ignatieff and Karshkov, who gave him pleading stares. “Maybe...just banishment? Since, er…” “Banishment it is.” YN nodded, interrupting Witte but agreeing with him. Both Ignatieff and Karshkov slunk in their chairs with sighs of relief, and Witte looked proud of himself. “Now, you lot, get out. I want to eat without having my every move watched.” 

One by one, the ministers rose and bowed before their exits, until YN was in the vast dining room, all by herself. The table was long and cavernous, like a neverending mouth. If, for the first time in YN’s quite short life, she were honest with herself, she was very much lonely. Despite the strange, life-or-death banter she had with the court and all the adoring peoples, she was alone. 

She laid her head on the table, and sighed. 

“Oh...I made the pages leave, too.” 

YN spent the day talking to strangers who knew everything about her and everybody liked her and it was a rousing success. YN received more imported flowers than she knew what to do with and several marriage proposals. Some older women warned against getting married too soon once she eighteen. The villages loved her and as YN laid in her bed, on her laurels, watching the canopy of her bed flutter in the open window, she felt empty. 

If she woke up tomorrow, then she would be Tsaritsa. 

Tsaritsa! What an empty role. Anyone could call themselves Tsaritsa, or Tsar, or the Tsesarevich and they would have as much power as the name holds. Tsaritsa was nothing more than a title, and YN knew that. She knew too much, and too little, all at once. It was a strange kind of melancholy that came over her that night, where the moon stood still and the shadows grew, and the little Tsesarevich thought about her place in the world. It didn’t matter as the hours drew on and she stared up, to the royal crest of the House of Snezhnaya, and she knew what she had to do. 

For the first time in eighteen years, there were no assassins in the night. 

“All hail the Tsaritsa! A new day has dawned for Snezhnaya, and may the House of Snezhnaya last forever!” 

YN was terrified. The Imperial crown was heavy on her head. She remembered when she was a child, and her mother showed it to her. 

‘It looks like a crushed nut, Mama!’

‘Oh, but this crushed nut will be yours one day, should the Archons be kind to you.’ 

YN wasn’t sure if this was kindness on the Archon’s end, but she knew that she had to suck it up. She had to return to her witty, contempt ways before anyone saw that the crown wasn’t the only nut around. And so, she looked over to the thousands of cheering citizens who seemed to love her more than she loved herself. The ministers, in all of their greed and stupidity, seemed almost proud that she made it that far. It was all unspoken, all quietly kept in everyone’s hearts. But YN felt like she was surrounded, completely encapsulated in the calls of her people. Her head throbbed, and when she closed her eyes, they burned. 

She was now Tsaritsa, and now, she had the weight of her kingdom pinned on her. And for a moment, it was all pure. She could take it all in, in all of its painful beauty. 

And then, the sky grew dark. 

YN flinched, looking up but slamming a hand over the crown so it wouldn’t plummet to the ground. The commoners all stared, murmuring like a horde of nervous bees. Several ministers clutched their families close, while others stood near one another. Guards began huddling in front of YN, keeping an eye on her as the once pristine, frosty sky grew stormy. It was a strange storm, unlike anything YN had ever seen before. Most were of ice, and sleet, but this was water-warm water that hit YN’s nose and made her eyes widen. 

“What the…?” “Tsaritsa!” One of the older guards, who was descended from even her great-grandmother’s administration, ran up to YN with a look of dread. “Away from the balcony, now!” “Lovyatt!” YN turned with a confused stare, brow furrowed. “What is happening? Are the people in any danger?” “Not if we don’t get you to safety!” 

“What-!?” Before YN could finish her sentence, a cruel chuckle resonated through the square. There was a sound like a deafening sword sheathing, and when YN turned to look up to the sky once more, she was shocked to see what looked like a giant narwhal, born of stars, glittering in the sky. She gasped, allured by its beauty, before Lovyatt reached forward and grabbed her by the arm. 

“Tsaritsa! We must go, now!” 

“I don’t think so.” 

For what felt like the umpteenth time, YN turned around to see a young man, standing before the doors off of the balcony. His hair was a shade of red YN had never seen in her life, and he was dressed in Fatui armour that YN had only seen in museums. He reeked of the Old Age of the Archons, from the time when Rex Lapis still reigned and Lord Barbatos still thrived. And he looked like one smug bitch. 

“By the Archons-!” Lovyatt hissed, stepping in front of YN and holding his arms out. “You won’t get to her.” 

“So this is the new Tsaritsa. Where have you been hiding, girlie?” He sauntered forwards, smiling maliciously and clapping. “I’ve been trying to find you for forever!” 

“Who are you?” YN’s brow furrowed, taking steps back until her back hit the edge of the balcony. 

“I’m Tartaglia. Codename Childe, if that rings any bells for you.” His eyes seemed glued to her, lingering so much that YN felt more like an exhibit than a person. 

“Childe…?” She murmured, vaguely remembering stories from her childhood about the Fatui Harbingers, from back when the Tsaritsa was the Cryo Archon and was colder than the ice that surrounded Snezhnaya. They were relentless, and above them all was the notable eleventh: Childe. YN felt her blood cool. 

“But that was...over a hundred years ago…? What the fuck?” All it served was to bring more questions to the surface, but Childe simply laughed, placing a hand on his cheek.

“You look so cute when you’re confused! Really, you’re good at hiding. I’ve been trying to find the next fair lady Tsesarevich ever since your mother died, but I guess this guard right here knew allllll about me.” He gestured to Lovyatt, who winced. 

“Lovyatt.” YN’s voice was stern. “What do you know?” 

“Tartaglia, he’s always wanted-!” Lovyatt reared when Childe took another step closer. The murmuring below got louder, and there was some screaming in the distance. “Ugh! You won’t get to her, Harbinger.” “That’s funny.” He grinned. “I think I just did.” 

“No-!” 

At once, the guards did what YN could only call ‘liquidised’, collapsing to the ground a crystalline, blue, watery puddle that flowed and mixed with one another. It was horrifying, and when Lovyatt started puddling near her shoes, YN had to suppress a scream. Though, notably, her scream would’ve made no difference-the crowd below all started scream and wailing at once, until it went miraculously quiet. YN spun around, and to her dreading heart, it was like a lake had filled the square. She gasped, before it all seemed to catch up to her. At once, she pulled out the (rather useless) ceremonial sword, pointing it at Childe with a firm certainty. 

“Turn them all back, or else I’ll use your jugular as floss.” 

“Oh, how cute!” He laughed, almost lovelorn. “But I don’t think so. You might be stronger than the average Tsaritsa, but you’re still nothing compared to me, girlie.” 

“And what? You’ll turn me into slime?” YN scoffed, trying to cover up her horror. “I don’t think so. You seem like quite the one-trick pony, anyway.” 

“Oh, well.” Childe shrugged. “I just have one, tiny request for you if you want me to turn them back.” 

“What is it?” YN glowered at Childe, trying to see his edge. 

“It’s really no big deal.” Childe hummed. “Just marry me!” 

“Wh-!” YN choked, dumbfounded at his offer. “Why?!” 

“I’ve served the Tsaritsa for hundreds of years, girlie. I’ve always loved your bloodline. And what better way to show that love than to marry the Tsaritsa!” 

“That’s fucking ridiculous.” YN hissed. 

“Wrong answer, girlie!” Childe stretched out his hand, and twin blades, made entirely out of water, materialised. “I’ll give you one more try, okay?” 

“Hold on!” There was a shout from behind YN’s shoulder, and when she looked, she saw a massive, starry black hole behind her. The balcony edge disappeared, consumed by the hole, and Childe’s face fell into shock. A hand reached out and grabbed YN’s shoulder, and another held onto her waist. Before YN could do or say anything, Childe made a last ditch effort to grab at her, managing to get the Imperial crown knocked off her head and land on his foot. She was yanked through the hole with surprising force, only seeing Childe’s dark glare before being consumed whole. 

“Three days!” His voice echoed through the darkness. “Three days, or Snezhnaya will be an ocean!” 

“Don’t worry,” A voice of soft timbre came right next to her ear, gentle and full of worry. “He can’t get you now.” 

The world began to warp back around YN, before she was abruptly dropped onto cold stone, a stiff wind blowing through her air. YN felt sick, hands and knees on the stone before she rose with a vengeance and bile in her throat. 

“Who are you?! Take me back! I need to stop him!” 

“You can’t.” The voice came again, and YN whipped around to come face-to-face with a blonde man. He had a strange blue mask that covered only a slight portion of his face and gentle blue eyes that seemed to leak with pity. “As feisty as you are, you can’t face him alone.” “Fuck that!” YN bit, reigning back. “I can’t leave my people alone!” “And you can’t save them if you can’t face Childe.” “I can.” YN’s voice was firm. “You kidnapped me before I could!” “And you were going to marry him?” The man raised an eyebrow. “Let him get his way? Then what? He would ask for you to do something worse, and then worse than worse until you couldn’t stop him.” 

YN recoiled, almost stung from the man’s words. “Then I would cross that bridge when I got there.” “That doesn’t seem to be a very good plan, for the Tsaritsa.” 

“And who even are you?!” YN bit, furious. “Who are you to judge me?! I could’ve...I could’ve…” 

YN’s voice trailed off, her own willpower fading. 

“You couldn’t have.” The man sighed, forlorn. “He would live forever, always having your family and your people in his grip.” 

“I…” YN looked down and swallowed, before realising there was a little green plant under her foot. Her brow furrowed and she glanced up, realising with a chill that she was no longer in Snezhnaya. Instead, she was in a great, crumbling tower that was surrounded by brutal winds, and green hills and mountains as far as YN’s eye could see. There were stray field tillers wandering about, and YN realised she was in the ruins of the (strangely named) Old Old Mondstadt. She looked at the man.

“Who...are you?” “I am Dainslief.” He murmured, eyes low. “The Bough Keeper, and the First Abyss Queen’s Twilight Blade.” 

“Oh my gods,” YN whispered in reverence. More stories flooded back to her of the two Split Stars, Aether and Lumine. One saved Tevyat, and the other doomed it with Dainslief at her side. “You...why...I…” 

“I remember when Childe was mortal. He was kinder, softer, human. I cannot allow any of my liege’s old friends to fall to such a foul fate.” “You aren’t doing this for me.” YN clarified. “Or Snezhnaya.” “No,” Dainslief nodded. “This is to make Aether and Lumine’s memory rest.” 

“Fine.” YN’s tone was sharp, her spark returning. “How do we stop Childe?” 

Dainslief gave a hint of a smile. “There is an ancient blade that Lumine and Aether once used, as one, to stop Celestia. It was Dawn Breaker, forged in three parts. The Hilt, from the Spirit Locket of the North Wind, Boreas. The Blade, from the dragon lord’s Bloodjade Branch. And the blade would be sharpened by…” Dainslief stopped, a dark look overtaking his eyes. 

“Sharpened by what, Dainslief?” YN crossed her arms, firm. 

“By a Tusk of Monoceros Caeli. Only Childe possesses them, and gives them to worthy opponents.” Dread filled YN’s stomach as Dainslief spoke, eyes growing wide. 

“So...I must fight him before we have the whole sword.” “Yes.” “...” YN stayed silent for only a moment, before shrugging. “Alright, then. Let’s get started.” 

“What?” “Did I stutter?” YN began glancing around before seeing a fallen chunk of rubble leading down the ruins. “C’mon, blondie! We’ve got a job to do!” 

Dainslief watched her begin to walk down with what could only be described as naive confidence before he began to walk behind her. There was a glint of something in his eyes, just barely imperceptible, and a ghost of a smile. 

“I suppose the new tsaritsa fears no man.” “Nope! And I don’t fear you, either, so if you want to keep your fingers, then hurry up!” 

Dainslief laughed, and slowly, the winds of Old Old Mondstadt began to die down. There was a distant howl, and the winds heeded its call. 

Andrius awaits. 

[teeth-and-tea]

ANIME & MANGA I HAVE BINGED IN THE LAST MONTH: May 2021

I've Been Hunting Slimes for the Past 300 Years and Now Ive Maxed Out My Level: incredibly long name aside, cute af slice of life that suffers Same Face Syndrome. I'm still happy to watch it because of how feel good and fluffy it is though, Im probably gonna forget about it in two or three years tho. 8/10.

Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro: I found out this was a webcomic first and suddenly all the HORNINESS made so much more sense. A Femdom, Degradation, Humiliation, Dacryphilia Bullies to Lovers story disguised as a high school rom-com which, I'm not going to lie, misses SKEEVY CITY by mere inches on a regular basis. However, I'm a Dom/Switch and this entire relationship sets off my dom brain center like New York City just shy of midnight. So if you're into that sort of scene, this anime is for you. If not, it's still fascinating but you're probably gonna be a little put off by how mean the Girl!Bully is to the guy MC. Unless you find out something about yourself, in which case, congrats! Stay safe, sane, consensual, and learn about the traffic light system on top of safe words, I promise you'll have a better life in general after that. Still Ongoing, currently 10/10.

Fruits Basket: IM GONNA CRY I LOVE THIS ANIME SO MUCH???? The original anime came out when I was in... I think middle school and my parents were really strict on what I watched so I never got to experience the first wave and I never bothered to watch the show ever after I moved out of the house years later. However, now that I'm much older I honestly can say this is one of my favorite anime to date, and all the characters are charming, lovable, with their own problems that I can connect to or sympathize with, and I love the MC which is always a treat tbh. Except Akito. Akito can suck a sandpaper dick. I'm only on S2 tho so no spoilers! Anime 11/10.

Monster Girl Doctor: went in thinking it was gonna be a monster girl who's a doctor with a homoerotic assistant (her name is SAPPHY okay sue me for thinking it) and ended up watching the entire dubbed harem series. Honestly, I've seen worse and this one has consistent follow-through on interesting characters and backstory enough for me to shove aside the blatant under-monstrousness of the female monsters and the harem-ness of everything else. Dubbing is honestly really good, which is a treat, and the monster designs are not the worst and the MC is tolerable. Honestly, I don't mind having watched it! The mix of cgi and the traditional animation together work pretty strangely though, and it often doesn't flow super well. 7.5/10

So I'm a Spider, So What: Dubbed version which honestly isn't that bad. Took me a bit to get into it, but after realizing that it's got a mismatched timeline a la The Witcher, it made so much more sense. Heavily done in cgi, and you can definitely tell between the 2D and 3D animations, but not the worst in the world. I went in not expecting much but it ended up being an Issekai I can stand and even enjoy. On god has a decent story... with the spider. I'd be a liar if I didnt say I skipped some of the human parts just to get back to the best part of the show. 8/10.

Somali and the Forest Spirit: I'm so fucking nostalgic for this thing it makes me want to go and hug my dad. About a human girl under threat of being eaten with a monster-dominated world. Very obvious "humans fear what they don't understand" message but instead of the humans learning tolerance it's what happens when they get annihilated first so like, kudos for the mangaka for having the guts to do that. I cried like a baby regularly. It's really good, I watched the dub and ID WATCH IT AGAIN!!! 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Oh my god. O h my g o d. Fell in love on the first episode, ngl. About if an immortal being learned how to be a person from scratch. I love it. HOWEVER. Keep a box of tissues on you at all times because you're gonna need them. I'm only on EP7 because that's all that's out right now but just know. I love it. Not for everyone but certainly for my "what do we define as human and the human condition" ass. 12/10.

Those Snow White Notes: A sports anime without any sports. About shamisen playing which is cool because I never realized how cool this instrument was??? Its neat af. OP1&2 are by Burnout Syndrom so know theyre fire. Gonna be real, its pretty alright, but not extraordinary. You can tell they were using the characters as archetypes rather than actually characters which kinda kills a lot of the emotional value you could've had, but I'm still gonna watch it. It doesn't make me cringe as hard as other sports anime tho so I consider it toptier in that regards but if you're a big sports anime fan you might be bummed out by it. Every single musical performance is INCREDIBLE tho. A solid 8/10.

Toilet Bound Hanako-kun: THE ART OMFG IT'S SO GORGEOUS. Listen, if you took coptic markers and gave them an animation budget with some manga panel direction thrown in there, that's this anime. It's beautiful. Gorgeous. I'm in love with the aesthetic every second. Story? Really good. Characters? I love the MC and his evil little twin brother asshat. Demons? Not super imaginative but I'm carrying on happy as can be anyways. Dubbing? A bit shaky at times but I found the voices charming if a little off for some of them. I'm already waiting for the second season with popcorn at the ready. 10/10.

Prison School: I watched this directly after Hanako-kun and it was like I got slapped in the face by sweaty unwashed titties and some fedora wearing schmuck's piss kink. No character is likable or redeemable. I finished it, but at what cost? 2/10 and only because a character shit his pants and I laughed.

Sleepy Princess in the Demon Castle: watched this right after Prison School and it was NECESSARY tbh. Its so CUTE and honestly, im not even kidding you, the fucking funniest anime I've seen in months. I watched the dub and the VAs are having the time of their lives working on this anime not just giving it their all but literally just going ham. Its great. If I read this im sure id be bored outta my mind but the VAs giving it a joyous performance make it an insta fave for me tbh. 9/10.

Sk8 the Infinity: i watched the dub with my bro and I can confirm that its a spectacular show because we both loved it and we have vastly different tastes. Incredibly SUSPENSFUL AND STRESSFUL for an anime about skateboarding but we finished it in a single sitting tbh. The last episode is not dubbed for some reason but we still loved it. Like if Free! was less obnoxious but the only fan-service here is Joe ♡ a beefcake who owns my lesbian heart. I think there's exactly one named female character tho and I legit couldn't tell you what it was if there was a gun to my head. So, over all, 9.5/10.

That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime: I'm going to be entirely honest, I went in thinking it was going to be a boring isekai of no value. I was right about the Isekai part. It was honestly pretty interesting and focused on nation building like you're playing civilization rather than the usual "Get Stronger" narrative or "Get Some Pussy" narrative most isekais take which is delightfully refreshing. Granted there are flavors of that in this which means it doesn't alienate the big isekai watchers out there, but it's not the whole dish and it doesn't make me want to cringe the same way others do. You've got a slime MC just vibing and building a nation of monsters nbd. Does lose points for making the female monsters more humanoid than their male counterparts but makes them back by only doing perfunctory fan-service and nothing that makes me want to cry... except the butt sumo episode but in fairness it was all a terrible dream. Literally, the MC refuses to dream anymore after that. solid animation, decent voice acting, decent story, made me realize how HUGE this is in the Light Novel community???? There's like 18 fucking novels and that's WILD. 8.5/10.

MANGA:

Spirit Photographer Saburo Kono: a one shot special by the mangaka of The Promised Neverland! Honestly a really delicate touch of both super creepy and really touching, and I'm not gonna lie I'm bummed that this isn't a bigger project but the single chapter makes it a good taste for their style. I've been wondering if I wanna read/watch The Promised Neverland and now I think I will. 10/10

Deranged Detective Ron Kamonohashi: from the mangaka of Hitman Reborn comes this Sherlock and Watson derivative! Not even 20 chapters out yet with a sort of spotty schedule, I honestly love it even thought it's exactly as you expect. HOWEVER. Kamonohashi the "Sherlock" character uses mental pressure to kill all confirmed murderers and it's up to Toto the "Watson" character to save all those people before Kamonohashi kills them! It's just recently introduced a "Moriarty" family of crime lords (not a big spoiler don't worry it was obvious) so the tension surrounding Ron's past is amping up rn. Personally, I think the art is GORGEOUS, the characters engaging, and the story quick enough to keep my interest. Most mysteries are solved within a chapter or two so you're not stuck 20 chapters into one locked room mystery which is just peachy tbh. RN, 10/10. If this gets an anime, I anticipate a legion of fangirls who ship the two main characters along with their many friends. I've been alive too long to believe otherwise.

Don't Toy with Me, Miss Nagatoro: Yeah I read the manga after I watched the show. A slower build than the anime, but it works for the format, if theyd done the same with the show then I don't think it wouldve done as well. Honestly? Cuter tbh but just as horny. You dont start really LEARNING about your character until like, chap 65 tho and no real "drama" happens until like 75. A good chunk of the chapters are like 8pgs so its a breeze to get through. I love these slow burn idiots of the century. 9.5/10 because you can DEFINITELY tell the mangaka does hentai too.

Yugen's All-Ghouls Homeroom: one-shot by the mangaka for Food Wars, it's no wonder there's this constant perviness from the MC, a guy who can see and exorcise spirits. Takes place at an all girl's finishing school with KICK ASS monsters tbh, kinda bummed its not longer. The MC? Blatant monsterfucker who is also a CONFRIMED monsterfucker???? Idk i vibe with that single emotion. Everything else is hit or miss. 7/10 for monsters and cool concept, lost points for the MC very pointedly being okay with admitting he'd wait for the teenagers to be adults tho. Creepy af. Could live without that.

Hell's Paradise: I finished the entire 127chps in 3 days and I was really enthusiastic about it 90% of the time thinking about how deep it was and then I actually thought about it and I ended up being very neutral about the whole thing tbh. The art is fantastic tho, but DEFINITELY deserving of the M rating. Tits. Tits everywhere. But not tits to be ecchi over, no, monster hermit tits on beautiful women-ish figures. Now generally I give that a pass but a huge theme in the story is that men and women are "no better than one or the other" but like, lady tits are what you see 99% of the time. Men tits are few and far between. I call bullshit on most of the "deep" themes is what I'm saying, so it's like the mangaka was trying for those deep thoughts but missed the margin a little too far for my preference. That being said, the MC is a married man who loves his wife which automatically makes him my favorite character so like... idk so many good things, so many misses, but overall really spectacular themes and imagery. Unique but classic all at once. It's getting an anime and I have NO IDEA how much censorship they're gonna be doing but they're going to be doing SO MUCH. Oh yeah, and one guy is a plant/human hybrid who fucks a 1000 year old plant-hermit which makes him a canon monster fucker. And one canon non-binary character who I, a nonbinary, actually like. So like... gosh I've got mixed feelings. 8.5/10.

Choujin X: From Sui Ishida, mangaka to the mega hit Tokyo Ghoul comes this brand new manga!... Of one chapter, lol. Not really binge-y because it's just the one chapter out right now but I'm already keeping my eye on it. The grasp on anatomy in the art is PHENOMENAL and you can see Ishida flexing his art skill which is great. Can't give a true rating but I'm giving it a tentative 9/10 because I'm excited to see more.

Shag&Scoob: technically not a manga, its an ongoing webcomic I binged an subscribed to in one day and I just think it deserves more attention. Starts off funny with "what if Scooby Doo had a gun" and has been led to "what if all cartoons are aliens that survive and receive their powers by the humans that love them in an epic war with Martians." On god, its good. I finished the current series in a couple hours so it's a breezy read, highly recommend it. 9/10.

To Your Eternity: Yeah I watched the anime and then finished all current 143 chapters in like 3 days. GOD IM WEAK. I don't buy physical manga unless I know I want to remember the story forever and I'm already budgeting for the current books out. Yeah, this is a good series. That being said, definitely not for the faint of heart or those who suffer under common triggers like suicide, molestation, death, etc. It's all framed as bad and necessary to the story don't get me wrong, but it's there and has lasting affects on the characters. Incredible story telling by the creator of A Silent Voice. Keep tissues nearby at all times. 12/10.

[ask-purpled-and-blued]

Vigilante

Not once has Purpled ever called himself a hero.

He wants that on record, wants to say it up front. He’s never had any delusions about what he is and what he’s doing.

He doesn’t have the license for it, doesn’t have the morals for it. He’s not even saving that many people.

He’s just some kid running around in pro hero cosplay with his shoddy homemade support gear.

So riddle him this: why the fuck is his vigilante name trending on Twitter under #Swag_forHeroCon?

(—This one’s got a high-stress moment and the briefest panic attack known to man somewhere in the middle. Mind the post’s tags and reply if it needs more.—)

—

It started about a year ago. It’s sophomore year and he’s looking at his options for next year’s classes.

Of course he’s taking AP Calc and everything he thinks colleges wanna see. That’s a given and a no-brainer and he’s not gonna go into detail about that.

No, what matters is that his junior and senior year let him take career classes.

Hero-related career classes.

Because not only is this a private nerd school that he needs his scholarship to afford. It’s a private nerd school that has a dual-enrollment type thing with a nearby heroics school.

And one with a pretty good support course that is now available to him.

He’s always been interested in math and engineering. Support courses are just using both of those to make cool shit for heroes and make hella money while doing so.

He’s done his research. Support gear can cost anywhere from a couple thousand dollars to an arm and a leg and both your kidneys.

And it’s his dream to make that kinda money.

So he talks to his counselor about it, fills out the applications and waivers, takes the program’s entrance exam. And within a week he’s got his new schedule that’s got an extra two hours slapped onto the end of the day.

It’s gonna be so worth it.

—

And it really was.

The beginning of the year was covering what they should make support gear for, how to take the quirks and ideas of the heroes they’re working for and make them actually work.

But also the design process, how to research stuff, lab safety. How to make something look nice while not compromising its utility, costume design, branding. Different materials and their uses, different materials and how to work with them. How to deal with mistakes and set-backs. Avoiding burnout and getting literally burn.

The class was amazing. But his favorite part came later in the year.

The final project.

They were given a made up hero student’s profile and were told to create a support item for them. The file came with their name, measurements, hero name, quirk description, and several sketches of what the fake person looked like and of them using their quirk.

They were given a few deadlines and some profiles came with design requests, but for the most part they were allowed to go ham.

And go ham he did.

His assignment was a kid whose quirk was being able to float just himself. He got a couple sketches of what the kid’s costume already had and it looked like there was a bee theme going on.

So, naturally, he decided to give this kid a pneumatic nail gun.

...

Alright so maybe that wasn’t as intuitive as he thought it was. But the kid didn’t have any sort of weapon on him in any of the sketches!

And there wasn’t any sort of close combat abilities listed in the biography like some of his classmates’s people had, so the further this kid could be from the action while still packing a punch the better.

Hence the nail gun he was designing to look like a stinger.

He did his research. Looked up where the body’s vital organs are and read up on acupuncture. Looked up the damage that stab wounds can do and how fast a thing had to be going to go right through you.

Printed out some human outlines and wrote up a couple sheets that pointed out the “no-no spots.” And basically wrote a manual on how to use the thing and half an essay on why certain safety features were implemented to keep him and the fake kid from being sued.

And then halfway through actually building the thing he got the idea to add a paralytic substance.

And then he hated himself a little bit because he had to find a substance that would be non-lethal and would have the desired affect. And then he had to go to his teacher during his office hours to sit down and explain that yes he had this idea but he’s not entirely sure if it’s a good one.

And he wrote another almost-essay about what he chose as the paralytic substance and why he chose it and what the max amount the average person could take was so that he wouldn’t be liable if it was used improperly.

And then he recorded himself reading all of his paperwork both for extra credit and because apparently the kid’s bio said he was dyslexic and the teacher wanted them to do this as realistically as possible.

Probably would’ve been easier to just change the font but he’s come this far, might as well go the extra mile.

He paints the thing. Gathers up all his research and his concept sketches and his blueprints and his explanations and his recordings.

And he dumps them on the teacher’s desk and enjoys the lull in the class as the final projects get reviewed and graded.

They get to watch movies and Netflix with the TA while the teacher sits in the other room grading them.

He loved this class.

—

He still loves the class but it loses points for the fucking heart attack it just gave him.

Apparently the hero students they made shit for we’re real hero students. Actual, physical people who applied to the heroics department and got in. And may possibly one day be heroes if they didn’t fail.

And were going to come in and see the shit they made that passed inspections. And would be given said shit to use as part of their hero costumes.

In hindsight it should’ve been obvious, but Purpled cut himself some slack there.

At least his guy was nice. A little too excited at 4pm on a Thursday, but given the fact that Purpled just handed him a gun and said he could shoot people, it was understandable.

Purpled felt really good as he walked this Tubbo guy through the instructions again. Apparently he’d already been sent the paperwork and the audio before this. So all that was left to do was remind him about it the important stuff and then taking five wide steps back and letting him shoot at a practice dummy.

...

Well, Tubbo’s aim wasn’t his problem.

F to any villains and civilians in his way.

—

At this point, there’s probably some confusion.

“Purpled, why did you become a vigilante if your support gear inventing future looked bright?”

He’s getting to that!

He needs to talk about his junior year to give context for his senior year.

Which sucked absolute ass.

—

For one, Purpled’s quirk came in.

Now, normally that would be a pretty good thing. Somewhere around 80% of America’s population had quirks.

Four out of every five people had some sort of ability or abnormality that ranged from being able to detach your ear to having super strength. Getting one that wasn’t detrimental to your health, even at his age, was generally a positive thing.

Except Purpled’s actually sucked. Sucked so fucking bad.

Yeah, he was lucky in that he didn’t suddenly grow gills and need to live underwater for the rest of his life or something. But he honestly wished he could go back to a week ago when he didn’t have this quirk.

When he wasn’t constantly being forgotten by the people in his life because of a quirk he couldn’t turn off.

If it wasn’t for the fact that the quirk counselor’s quirk let them detect the use of quirks, he would’ve thought he’d lost it.

People forgetting his face, his name, his existence over the span of a week was hell. He had to show his mother his birth certificate and social security card and his baby pictures so that she’s remember she had another son. Let alone everyone else in his life that he only saw at school.

Oh god his fucking school.

The lengths he had to go to to keep his fucking scholarship was fucking nuts.

Classes were a nightmare with the teachers forgetting about him by the end of the period.

Things eventually got easier when he realized it was an area of effect thing and that he could shorten it to affect people within a few feet of him.

From that point on he just had to social distance from people like his life depended on it. Because his social and academic lives did depend on it.

He didn’t experiment with his quirk beyond that though. He hated it. He did everything in his power to keep it as tightly controlled as he could.

Until the one time he didn’t.

—

He was out to get another notebook because he’d severely underestimated how many notes he’d need to take for one of his classes. It was just supposed to be a quick stop on his way home.

He’d sat on the bus home with his quirk pulled in tightly around him, the force of it a buzzing weight on his skin that he refused to let go of.

He got off at a stop that wasn’t his but was closer to the dollar store he had in mind. He honestly didn’t expect to take more than ten minutes.

Then a guy walked in and loudly told the cashiers to hand over the money.

Purpled wasn’t that close to the front, but he peeked around the aisle and watched the robbery unfold.

The dude had what looked like leaves for hair and was holding the cashiers at gunpoint. There were two of them at adjacent checkouts, neither of them with any visible mutations. They actually might not have quirks.

Purpled has no idea what to do with this information.

His best bet was to wait for the heroes to arrive and stay quiet-

One of the cashiers was looking right at him. Robber guy noticed.

Turned around and pointed his gun at Purpled. Told him to get out from where he was hiding and to kneel on the ground in the open.

And Purpled was scared. He couldn’t move, he’d frozen.

The guy got loud and mad and he still had the gun pointed at him.

Purpled was panicking. His chest felt too tight and his quirk was freaking out. Buzzing harder than it ever has.

He couldn’t hold it. He let go.

...

For a moment, everything was still and everything was quiet.

Purpled felt light, he felt more at ease than he had in months.

Because his quirk was free and loose and everyone else in the room looked so fucking confused. Like they had no idea what was going on.

Like they just forgot what was going on.

And then the heroes arrived. How they knew to be here was anyone’s guess.

Purpled should probably give his statement.

Purpled was probably in shock though. So he forgave himself for shoplifting and not pulling his quirk back in. For just walking right out of the store and down the street.

Nobody shouted at him or called him back, so he assumed they forgot he was there.

He wished he could forget he was in the store for that moment too.

—

There’s a lot of other little things that lead up to Purpled being a vigilante, but those things don’t matter as much.

He drops out. It’s not hard to make people forget he even went to school.

He regularly breaks back into school to steal tools and materials for his projects and just wipes the people who walk in on him doing that shit.

Makes a costume but scraps it and decides to make several replicas of the top twenty’s costumes.

Because he’s realized that the wider he makes his range the less of an effect his quirk has on all those in range. Vice versa.

So the pro gamer move here is to make people forget what they saw the person in the pro hero costume doing instead of trying to make them forget they saw an unfamiliar figure doing shit.

Memory is reconstructive after all. Easily manipulated even without a quirk like his.

And he’s good at making his costumes and altering his appearance.

He probably won’t always do a good job wiping people’s memories though, so he lets it stick that there’s a vigilante that impersonates pro heroes. One that constantly shifts their appearance.

He even gets bold and makes a name for himself.

Swag_.

...

Listen he didn’t say it was a good name-

—

He doesn’t stop a lot of crime. And the people he does save often think they were saved by someone else.

But there’s always that one moment after he managed to save someone where they look at him. And they see him.

And that’s worth everything.

It’s not a selfless motive. It’s not a heroic motive.

But it’s enough of a motive for Purpled.

—

He doesn’t know how he got a following. Doesn’t know how he never noticed.

But he likes it. After the initial shock of seeing himself trending fades, he lets himself soak up all the positive attention.

And then he gets back to work.

[ikleesfiction]

Will you follow through if I fall for you?

Fandom : One Chicago Word count : 3,762 words Disclaimer

Previously on this fic : Part 1 🞂 Part 2 🞂 Part 3 🞂 Part 4 🞂 Part 5 🞂 Part 6 🞂 Part 7 🞂 Part 8 🞂 Part 9

Part 10

It's been almost 6 months since you left Chicago. You spent those months working yourself to the bones as a way to forget Jay. It certainly was not a successful attempt, but at least you were too busy to think about him. You accepted Alex's idea to make a duo project and lazily named it "alex&y/n". You both started doing gigs at various clubs around the world. Pyramid, Alex's record company where you work for, continuously releases new sounds that you discovered. You keep writing and producing songs after songs. Really, your career is flourished. But deep inside, you're empty.

You never had a chance to go back to Chicago. Part of you was relieved that you don't have to deal with it yet. The other part of you was missing it so much. You might only stay four months in Chicago, but somehow the city (and its people) have marked their place in your heart.

You love Amsterdam. It's still your home, but its charm hasn't called you as it did before. Sure, you have your parents here. But you only got to meet them twice a week at best. Your work and their jobs don't leave lots of time to be together. Also, even though you have most of your friends in the city, you don't get to hang out with them all the time since you travel a lot for work. You get to make new friends along the way instead, just like you did in Chicago.

Case in point, you are currently in Norway, working on a song with Oliver Dahl, the number #1 DJ in the country.

Oliver's home studio is one of the best places you ever work in. The studio setup is practically the same as the one Pyramid has. But Oliver has a baby grand piano on one corner where through the window, you can see a tranquil lake with a green forest on its side. The view is calming and inspiring. So although Oliver is a much better pianist than you, you park yourself there and relegate him to a Korg keyboard.

"Hey, it's almost dinner time. Let's take a break," Oliver suggests to you. He guides you out from the studio and moves downstairs to his kitchen. The glass-paneled dining room has a door that leads to the back porch. You thought the view from the studio was great, but the view from down here is even better. You sit on a swing at the porch, take a deep breath of fresh air there.

Oliver comes out with two bottles of beer and hands you one, which you gladly accept. You switch your phone back on since you didn't want to be disturbed when you were working. It relentlessly buzzes once it's on. "Well, somebody is famous," teases Oliver.

You peek at your phone screen before grimacing at him, "Sorry. Nick needs something. I gotta call him back." You walk a few steps away from the porch. Without the roof over your head, you can feel slight drops of rain on your face. "Hey, boss. How's the meeting in Brussels go?"

"Infuriatingly slow. That is why I'm calling. I was hoping you can help us," Nick replies. He didn't sound too worried, so you thought it's going to be an easy request, "Sure. What is it?"

"Alex was supposed to have a phone interview with one of Chicago radio show, to talk about the new single of alex&y/n. Since our meeting here runs longer, could you do it in his stead? I know you don't like doing an unprepared interview, but I promise it won't be long, 15 minutes max."

"Alright, I'll do that." It's not like you can say no anyway.

"Great! I'll set it up. It's going to be in an hour. So don't mute your phone." Nick reminds you.

"I won't. It probably falls during our dinner here. I can keep my phone on."

"Thanks, y/n," Nick hangs up the call.

◢◤

Joe Cruz walks into the common-room of Firehouse 51 with his phone on hand. "Guys, Chicago Top 40 is interviewing Y/N right now!"

"Turn the volume up. I cannot hear it from here," Mouch complains from the couch as he mutes the tv. Joe pushes the side button of his phone and sets the volume to the max. Everyone continues doing their things quietly as they listen to the interview.

"We got one half of alex&y/n on the phone with us here. Dare I say the prettier half. Let's say hi to Y/N!" They hear the radio host cheers from Joe's phone.

"Hi, how are you doing?" you chuckle and greet back.

"We're all good here, thank you. So please tell us more about the latest single of alex&y/n? How did you guys come up with it?"

"We started writing this song probably about 8 months ago. I was in Chicago at the time actually," you start to explain.

"Oh, really? I didn't know you were in town," the host shortly interrupts.

"Yeah, it was back before we had any idea for this project. Alex came up with it when we made this song. It was supposed to be the first single of alex&y/n. But when I came back to Amsterdam, we wrote "Void" The team decided that it fitted better as the first single. Hence this song "Fiery Love" got pushed to be the second one."

The conversation regarding the song and the duo project goes on for another ten minutes before the interviewer wraps it up. Joe is about to close the radio app when he sees Jay Halstead and Hailey Upton step into the common-room of Firehouse 51.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Y/N," says the host on air. "What time is it anyway in your place right now? I haven't got a chance to ask where you are,"

Joe's thumb stills above his phone screen. "It's almost 7 PM in Bergen, Norway," you inform the radio. Jay stiffens as he hears your voice.

"Oh, you got a gig there tonight?" the host asks curiously.

"No. Just a bit writing and studio session," you answer vaguely.

"It must've been in a studio with a view, unlike our four wall booth here," the host retorts.

You snicker quietly, "If I could, I'd trade you in a heartbeat,"

"Oh, stop it! You're too kind," the host says, thinking you're jesting.

You let out a tiny laugh, "But no, I'm serious. I wish I didn't leave Chicago," you admit candidly on air. Totally unbeknownst to the strained atmosphere in the Firehouse 51 common-room.

"Come visit soon. We'll show you our fancy dig here," the radio host returns jokingly. Joe finally decides to close the radio app, as Matt Casey addresses their guests. "Detectives, how can we help you?"

Jay looks at his partner, neglecting the fact that everyone in the room is watching him, "Can you handle this by yourself? I.. I think I left my phone in the car," Hailey is sure that Jay didn't leave his phone, but she gives him an understanding nod.

"We need to see Chief Boden," Hailey answers Matt. He then guides her to the Chief's office. When both detectives are out of range, Hermann asks the room, "It was a bit awkward, wasn't it?" Everyone ignores Hermann's comment and back doing things they did before. Kelly Severide determinedly stands up from his seat and goes outside. He finds Jay standing in front of the squad truck.

"Hey, man," Kelly greets him. Jay just nods to acknowledge him. After a few moments of silence, Kelly breaks first, "She always asks about you whenever she calls."

Jay scoffs his disbelief, "Yeah, right."

"She is not a brave girl, Jay. But she really loves you. She still regrets hurting you." Kelly tells him. Jay stays silent, taking in Kelly's words. "I don't think she's doing well out there." Kelly continues. Jay glances at him before opening his mouth to say something. But at the same time, Hailey comes out with Matt. "Let's go," she tells Jay. He nods at Matt and leaves with her without saying anything.

As both detectives walk away, Kelly shouts to Jay, "Will you pick up? If she calls you?"

Jay halts and looks over his shoulder. Not sure what to answer, he just shrugs in response.

◢◤

The following week, you find yourself working alone in Alex's studio. You go through some demos, try to find a song that you'd like to work on. The door is suddenly opened and reveals Alex and Nick coming in.

"You planning on going home tonight?" Alex says as he hands you a mug of hot tea. It's not unusual for you to stay all night working. While it was beneficial for the company, your well being is still his priority.

"Maybe," you just shrug as you accept the mug. "Thanks. So what's up?"

"I got an offer for alex&y/n gig for an EDM festival," Nick starts. "What do you think about it?"

"Cool, I guess.." you answer indifferently.

"Yeah?" Alex tries to reconfirm your agreement. You never play a festival before, so far alex&y/n only do club gigs. Even though you're basically doing the same thing, the stage and crowd size sometimes could be overwhelming, especially for someone who doesn't like to perform live.

"Uhuh," you nod before sipping your tea.

"Don't you wanna know where it will be?" Nick pushes.

"No," you say in disinterest, already looking back at your laptop. Nick raises his eyebrow questioningly towards Alex, which he answers with a subtle nod. "Alright then, I'm gonna go home now. You two get some rest. We'll talk again tomorrow," Nick informs you before leaving the room.

Alex drags a chair and sits next to you. "Talk to me. Please"

"There's nothing to talk about," you reply to your cup. Alex nudges you. Once. Twice. Thrice. "Stop it!" you scold him as you roll your chair away.

"You know I can do this all night until you talk to me," Alex says as he slides closer to you.

You exhale loudly in defeat before quietly tell him, "It's just... I'm exhausted."

Somehow he knows that you're not only talking about your body. "I'll talk to Nick. We can cancel the rest of alex&y/n gigs,"

"You know we can't," you rebuff his idea.

"We might be able to do that if I offer to take them instead?" Alex offers a solution.

"And let you be the one who burnout? Hell no," you deny his suggestion. You tiredly rub your face with your palm, "It's alright, Lex. I should have just suck it up and do it,"

Both of you stay silent for a moment. You pick your tea mug from the table when Alex unsurely speaks again, "That gig Nick talked about is in Chicago," You freeze up until Alex prods you, "Still wanna do it?"

"What do you think?" you weakly ask for his opinion.

"I think we should do it. It'd be fun. We can try to arrange a few days off. You can take me to your favorite places in Chicago, meet your friends.." Alex tells you. It sounds nice, makes you want to say yes. But you still have doubt in the back of your mind. "It's been months, y/n. Time for you to face it. Face Jay." Alex continues as if he knows your thought.

"I can't!" you shake your head in resign. "And why is that?" Alex pushes further.

"Because I still love him!" you forcefully drop your mug on the table, the tea splashes out of it.

"Then tell that to Jay! Don't make the same mistake as you did before!" Alex yells back at you. You instantly feel like you've been slapped.

Avoiding Alex's stare, you start to pack up your things from the table. "I think I need to go home now. Don't think I can work on anything tonight." You grab your jacket and hastily walked out of the studio.

A couple hours later, Alex comes by to your place with a canvas bag on his shoulder, "I got a box of chocolate and a six-pack of La Trappe Tripel here,"

"I don't think they can help me feel better this time," you quip as you open the door for him. Alex pulls the beers and chocolate out from the bag and puts them on the coffee table in front of the couch. He reaches again to the bag, "Don't worry, I come prepared. Got jenever in here too," He sets the bottle next to the chocolate. You go to the kitchen and bring out two clean glasses.

"Are we starting right away?" Alex asks you in confusion.

"Are you waiting for something else?" you start to open one of the beer bottles.

"Don't you want to eat dinner first? Or maybe have bitterballen to snack on?" Alex suggests to you. You open the chocolate box and pop one candy into your mouth. "There, I ate something," you declare sarcastically before sipping the beer in your hand.

"Okay then," Alex accepts his defeat. He goes to your kitchen and sees what you have on your fridge. "You don't mind if I finish this leftover stew, right?" he hollers at you as he puts the container in the microwave.

You snort your answer, "Go ahead. It's not like you need permission to raid my pantry anyway,"

Alex comes back with a bowl of stew and sits next to you on the couch. You fiddle with your phone for a bit before a ballad song playing on your home speaker. Alex starts to talk about various things as he eats, updating you about his sister Sara, his meeting in Belgium. He even lets you know what he had for lunch today. He keeps talking because he knows you're not gonna say anything.

Alex cracks open his second beer while you finish your third one and start to pour the gin into your glass. "I'll Be Over You" by Toto is playing on your speaker. Alex exasperatedly rolls his eyes, thinking that his best friend could really be dramatic sometimes. You sprawl on the couch with your feet on top of Alex's lap. "What if he's moved on?" you say after long contemplation, ready to tackle more serious conversation. "Ready" as in drunk enough to talk about it.

"Well, you face that with head held high and moved on too," Alex replies. "Easier said than done, I know."

"Big chance he doesn't want to see me anyway," you mutter to yourself. But Alex still answers you, "Maybe. Maybe not. You'll never know without going there,"

◢◤

It's been 7 months since you left Chicago and Jay Halstead still kept your last voicemail on his phone. Even when he's so mad at you, Jay never had the heart to delete it. Because somewhere deep inside, he could hear your sincerity. Jay is desperate to believe that you honestly love him and care about him.

Before Severide approached him the other day, nobody ever talked to Jay about his ex-girlfriend. Jay never apologized for pushing Adam. His friends guessed that his relationship ended, but no one ever said anything about it. His brother always abruptly changed the radio whenever your song was played on-air, acting all annoyed. But he knows Will is secretly still a fan of your music, just not in front of Jay. He thinks they're all worried that talking about you would raise his temper. But the truth is Jay misses you.

After his anger passed by, Jay could understand your position. You were left alone, befriending strangers in some city that far from home. While Jay understood that you missed home, he's still disappointed over the fact that you didn't tell him sooner. But it already happened, you made your choice. Now Jay is left with a bruised heart and silently pined over his ex.

Jay is lost in his thoughts. He jolts in surprise when he feels something cold and wet on his cheek. Jay looks up to find Will, who hands him a glass of beer. "How is the game going? Anything interesting happens when I'm gone?" Will asks Jay as he sits and looks down to the ice rink. They are at the United Center arena, watching a Blackhawks game.

"Nah, you don't miss much," Jay tells his brother. "Thanks for taking me here, man."

"It's nothing. I want to do something for your birthday, but since I have to work double shifts tomorrow, we just have to celebrate early." Will raises his glass for a toast. The brothers shout wildly during the game, chant together with other spectators in the stadium, basically having a good time. When the game is on a break, Will and Jay trade a light banter between each other. The jumbotron above plays adverts that they ignore.

"This summer, coming back to the Soldier Field Arena. We proudly present, Spring Awakening Music Festival! Featuring..."

When they hear the ad's narrator mentions "alex&y/n" Jay spontaneously looks up at the jumbotron. There was a picture of you and Alex, standing back to back, staring hard through the camera. Even with the cold gaze and unsmiling face, Jay still thought you look good. The announcement was certainly a surprise. Jay remembered when you told him that you don't like to perform in front of crowds. Now here you are, headlining a big stage. Time's changed, he thinks to himself.

Jay keeps looking at the gigantic screen, even though now it's showing another ad. If anyone asks him, Jay cannot tell what this new ad is about. His mind is busy thinking about something/someone else. Will glances at his brother and notices the tightness of Jay's shoulders. "I won't come to see them, even if they give me free tickets," he remarks wittily. Jay burst out a laugh and elbow his brother, "Thanks, man." he is grateful for his brother's understanding.

◢◤

Jay wakes up late the next morning. He spent the night listening to your podcasts and fell asleep with your voice on his ears. Seeing you on the jumbotron made him missed you more. His phone battery was drained, his alarm didn't ring. It's only because of habits from his ranger days that he woke up and gets ready in time to go to work.

Just as he walks out of his place, a delivery man is stopping him. "I got a package for Jay Halstead?"

"Yeah, that's me," Jay says distractedly, trying to recall if he orders anything online. The guy hands him a bag and a receipt form. Jay skims the paper before signing it. On the shipper box, it is stated, "Belgian Chocolatier Piron, Inc." He returns the signed form to the courier. "Thank you. Have a nice day, Sir", chirps the man. Jay pauses slightly, looking at the bag, before running to his car once remembers that he's late for work.

Once Jay arrives at the district, he puts the suspicious package on his desk. He opens the bag cautiously and pulls out a golden cardboard box with a black bow tied around it. He digs deeper into the bag but finds nothing more, no notes or cards, just this golden box.

"You got a box of Piron?! Can I have one? Please?" Jay hears Kim Burgess squeals at him.

"What the hell is a Piron?" Adam Ruzek asks loudly from behind her. Kim starts to pull the bow, but Jay moves the box away quickly. "I don't even know who it's from. We should be careful. I'll send it to the lab.."

"Is that Piron?!" Hailey Upton shrieks as she steps closer to Jay's desk.

"What? You know about this Piron too?" Adam baffles even further.

"They are like one of the best chocolatiers in town." Hailey impatiently explains to Adam. "Is it yours, Jay?" She sounds rather demanding than asking.

"Yes, it's Jay's. And he wants to bring it to the forensic lab. Unbelievable..." Kim says disapprovingly.

"I don't even know who send it! Aren't you worried if it turns out to be a bomb or a deadly virus?" Jay tries to reason to his teammates, who are now circling around him.

"What bomb?" They all jump in surprise when they hear Voight from behind them.

"Ah, it's nothing, Sarge. There are no bombs anywhere. At least not in the city of Chicago... Maybe..." Jay rambles.

"Are you gonna open that box, Halstead?" Voight cuts him off, pointing at the innocent box.

"I'm not sure, Sarge," Jay meekly admits. Voight pulls the black bow that was half undone because of Kim and opens the box gently. "Oh no, it's a bomb," Adam whispers as he hides behind Kevin Atwater but peeks over his shoulder. The girls are excitedly bouncing on their heels, seeing the rows of chocolate inside the box. Voight takes one and confidently bites into it. "You should never waste good chocolate. By the way, happy birthday, Jay." He pats Jay's shoulder before stepping toward his office. Jay gives Voight a small smile, though he still confounds about the situation.

Jay looks at the rest of the team. Hailey bites a candy on her right hand as she picks another with her left. Kim got half-bitten chocolate on her fingers. Her eyes were closed as she savors the taste. Adam's hand hovers above the box, cautiously looking at his teammates, "You girls feel okay? No dizziness, nausea, anything?" His questions were left unanswered since the girls were too busy munching.

Kevin offers Jay a handshake and continues with a quick hug, "Happy birthday, bro!" Jay clasps his shoulder, "Thanks, Kev,"

"So someone sent you this as a birthday gift, huh? Quite special, isn't it?" Kevin picks one candy from the box.

"I guess. If only I knew who sent it..." Jay wonders. He also takes one piece of chocolate and nibbles into it. The bittersweet taste suddenly reminds him of a particular someone. At the same time, his phone chirps on his desk. Jay checks his phone and finds a voice memo from an unknown, international number. He moves to a quieter place and listens to the message.

"Hi, Jay," Jay holds his breath, recognizing the voice on the other end. "It's me, y/n... I just want to wish you a happy birthday... Hope you enjoy the chocolate," He waits as you hesitate to continue. "Err... Stay safe, alright? I love you." As if just realizing what you've said, Jay hears you curse in panic, "oh shi.." and the message briskly ends.

Next on this fic : Part 11

+x Taglist +x

@shipshipshipau @itsdesiree86 @thevelvetseries @annaallicce

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 02

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.7k rating: sfw warnings: same as before, wounded gabriel & removal of those stitches notes: the fire under my ass burns as strong as ever, hallelujah

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe…

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

prev. || next

Much to your regret, your plans the next morning to continue being a nuisance to Dean are thrown in the bin at his decision to leave early and meet Castiel somewhere a state over for a case that the angel had found. Something about vamps in a mine or something, you’re a bit hazy on the details. You’d only half-listened when Sam filled you in upon your arrival in the kitchen, a good hour after Dean had already departed the bunker.

While you would like to say Dean is completely to blame, the truth is that once you passed out last night you slept like a log and didn’t wake up until mid-morning today, which classifies as a sleep-in of sorts for you. You love sleep, but your body is wired to wake up not long after sunrise, unfortunately. It’s that hunter lifestyle you love to hate.

Sam had huffed a laugh at your face when you found out you’d missed Dean, but otherwise had kept to himself with his healthy breakfast as you went about making yourself a coffee. You tend to be a bit nauseous in the mornings, so a coffee will be enough for you for a few hours. It’s likely your stomach won’t roar in hunger until a bit after midday, as it is wont to do.

“How is your arm?”

Sam’s question breaks you out of the dissociative state you’d slipped into as you sip your coffee, grip on the mug tightening in reflex. It takes a few blinks before your eyes focus back on him, a small smile on your lips.

“Much better, thank you doctor,” you answer, before mumbling into your coffee as you take another sip. “Despite apparent attempts at making it otherwise…”

Sam snorts, not even bothering to comment on that. “I’m glad. Did you have anything planned for the day?”

A contemplative hum escapes you, your gaze wandering to the ceiling. “No, not really. I kind of went hard for a while there, one case after the other, so I’m due for a break. Not much of a fan of burnout.”

Your eyes move back down, meeting his own. “I’m probably going to just hang back, for a bit. Recuperate. I mean, I didn’t get any injury besides my arm, but I’m just… tired, I suppose. Didn’t get much sleep the past few weeks.”

“Of course you didn’t hurt anything but your arm,” Sam rolls his eyes, taking a sip of his smoothie—you’re not a fan of the green tinge it has, but if he likes it then you suppose it must be alright, at least. “You and your stupid good luck. Dean is still mad about last time, you know. When he got splattered in monster guts that just missed you by a centimetre.”

The memory yanks a giggle out of you before you can stop it, almost spilling your coffee as a result of the abrupt movement. “Oh, that was good. I wish I had a picture so I could scrapbook it.”

Sam laughs around a mouthful of food, swallowing it down before he continues. “Dean would kill you.”

“I know, but it would be worth it.” You place your cup down, deciding it a better course of action than continuing to hold it and risking spillage. “Also, I know you think my luck is really good all the time, but it’s kind of just good occasionally. All other times, it sucks.”

“It kicks in when you hunt, though, so I suppose that’s all that matters,” Sam muses, flicking through an article on his phone somewhat distractedly. He hums to himself before turning the screen off and angling his body to you properly, meeting your questioning gaze.

“I’m… I’m gonna need your help,” he says, appearing somewhat sheepish. “With Gabriel.”

You try not to let your sharp intake of breath show, but from the look that flickers through Sam’s eyes you figure he catches it anyway. Your teeth worry your bottom lip for a moment before you can muster a proper response. “Alright. What are you thinking of doing?”

Sam adjusts once more, pushing his plate away, cutlery stacked on top; it’s only now that you realise he’s finished the meal and the only thing left to consume is his smoothie.

“Well, I’m not… entirely sure yet.”

You huff a laugh, attempting to regain a sense of normalcy. It isn’t that you’d forgotten about the battered archangel hiding in a room a few doors down from yours, but it’s moreso that you’d made it a point not to think about it so early in the morning, lest your mood be ruined for the entire day. Thinking of Gabriel… it kind of hurt. You’re not sure you’re ready to sit down and analyse exactly why you’re having such visceral reactions yet.

“I don’t think we can really plan much, here,” he says, features softening with empathy. It reminds you that when it comes to Hell and being tortured, the youngest Winchester isn’t as unfamiliar as you might hope. A pang of something hits against the confines of your chest at his tone and the passing look in his eyes; as always, there’s the useless feeling, the wish you could take away all the bad memories and experiences and make it all better. You know you can’t, nothing can, but you hate seeing your friends in any modicum of pain.

You suppose that includes Gabriel, if the sensations whirling within you at the thought of him are anything to go by.

“We’ll just have to take it as it comes,” you say, taking your mug into your hold and downing the rest of the drink in one go. “Alright! I’m gonna shower and then… I guess we go see him.”

x   x

 Unlike the Gabriel you were once so familiar with, this Gabriel is decidedly not fond of visitors.

Sam had gone and prepared some things while you’d showered and dressed, and by the time you reappear outside your room you hear shuffling from the direction of the library. Curious, you make your way down the hall, peeking your head in and blinking in only minor surprise at the sight of Sam, his shoulders heavy.

“What’s up, Sam-o-saurus?”

Sam looks up and gives you the closest approximation to a bitch face that you’ve ever received from him, clearly not fond of the new nickname that came to you on the spot like a divine enlightenment. He takes a moment to close his eyes and breathe, though, which is probably for the best considering your mission for the day. It would do none of you any good if he went near Gabriel while all riled up.

“Gabriel is, uh,” he clears his throat, placing down a sterile steel tray in the shape of a bean and small surgical scissors, along with a scalpel. Your gaze strays to the side and sees that it was the first aid box he’d been ransacking as you arrived. “Not very open to visitation from me right now. I think I might be a bit… bit big. He doesn’t really even see me when he looks at me, so I don’t think he realises who I am.”

You wince, trying not to dwell on the information longer than needed to file it away for later consideration. “Oh. Sorry, Sam. You want me to go see if I can bring him out?”

“Please,” the tall man says, gesturing to the tools on the glossy oak table. “I figured we could start by getting rid of those stitches over his mouth, if nothing else. I don’t think he has enough grace right now to stop infection so we should try and reduce the risk.”

His words sadden you, but you know the truth they hold. Your limbs feel a bit heavy as you push away from the doorway.

“Alright. I’ll be right back.”

Gabriel’s allocated room isn’t all that far from the library, and the note on the door sticks out like a sore thumb so you don’t have to worry much about getting lost on the way (ignoring that at this point you know most parts of the bunker like the back of your hand). Once outside his room, something gives you pause though.

Are you ready to see him in that state again? Or is it that a small, tiny part of you fears he won’t recognise you, either?

Ridiculous of you, really. You take a moment to admonish yourself for the thought. If you take a second to factor in the difference in time spent in hell, even without considering all the time he was missing, Gabriel had to have been trapped and tortured for over a century at the very least. Centuries and years might mean nothing to a celestial being who has been alive for millennia, but over a century of fear and torture is a lot even for someone with such impressive mileage.

You shake your head, attempting to clear your thoughts and emotions so you don’t enter his room with an overwhelming aura. Okay, showtime.

A soft knock echoes as your knuckles meet the wood, a moment passing before you speak, attempting to keep your voice as soft and nonthreatening as possible.

“Gabriel? It’s y/n, I’m going to come in now.”

You allow another moment to pass before you ease the door open, blinking in surprise as your eyes are greeted by light—it seems the archangel has every bulb in the vicinity burning its brightest. Understandable, since you presume he wasn’t exactly kept in well-lit conditions.

For a second, you think he’s not in the room. You don’t see him anywhere, and you’re about a split-second away from turning and calling Sam when you catch a glimpse of something shifting in the corner, behind the bulky side of a wooden dresser. You think for a second that you’ve forgotten how to breathe, chest painfully tight, as you realise that the small form huddled and curled in the corner is, in fact, the archangel Gabriel.

You hate that you’d noticed him only because of the filthy scraps of material that stick out against the dark décor of the bunker.

“Hey, Gabriel,” you say softly, keeping the door open so he has a route of escape and moving over as slowly and cautiously as you can. “I’m just gonna come over and sit in front of you, alright?”

You figure that even if he’s not entirely listening to everything you’re saying, it’s better to announce what you’re doing before you do it, for his benefit.

Something painful ricochets off the inside of your chest as you grow close enough to see him around the dresser and you’re confronted with his beaten, bloody and battered figure once more. His gaze is anywhere but you, and the way he presses himself into the corner is like he’s trying to make himself as small as possible. It takes all of your willpower to squash down the unexpected sob that catches low in your throat. What is wrong with you?! You need to get a grip.

“Oh, Gabriel,” you find yourself saying before you can stop. “I’m so sorry…”

The closer you get to him, the lower you try to make yourself in his peripheral. It wouldn’t do any good to startle him by appearing big and threatening. It makes you frown when you remember just who it is that you have to think this way about. It’s sad, you think. The Gabriel you’d known was prideful, glaringly bright and loud in his presence, both as a trickster and an angel, and that he’d been reduced to… well, to this? It made your chest feel heavy.

Slowly and as quietly as possible, you ease down onto your knees in front of him, doing your best not to rush anything. It’s hard—you’re a hunter, used to moving with speed and a sense of urgency. So to take your time and really be in the moment for each of your actions is definitely an odd change from the usual autopilot your brain resides in.

He doesn’t acknowledge your presence once you’re still in front of him, not really. You had expected as much though, and as much as he seems unresponsive you do see the occasional flick of his eyes in your direction before they dart away, like he couldn’t believe he’d dared to look at someone instead of the floor.

For a few minutes, you simply let him adjust to your presence, your company. Ever so slowly, you see the tiniest bits of tension ease from his shoulders, his eyes no longer darting around like a frantic squirrel. You take the opportunity to take in the wounds and sores littering his body, doing your best not to get too upset by what you see. Dirt and grime coats him in layers, and you mentally note that your next goal with him would be to get him in a damn bath.

It can’t be comfortable, sitting in all that grime…

“For the sake of transparency,” you begin when he seems like he will be open enough to listening. “I’ll tell you why I’m here. This is your space right now, and I don’t want to intrude on it unless I really need to.”

He doesn’t meet your gaze, but you sense you have his attention. “Given that right now you’re low on… strength, and not healing as you usually do, we need to take care of some of the worse wounds you have. If we don’t, it’s a risk of infection, and we don’t know how well you would fight that off in this state…”

You clear your throat, attempting to keep yourself on track. “So, if you’re able, we’d really like you to come out just for a moment, so we can fix up some of your sores. I promise that you can come right back in here afterwards, and that unless we have something really important we’ll leave you alone. Sound good?”

He doesn’t nod, doesn’t really move, but the way his eyes move to yours and hold your gaze for a bare second longer than you expect, you gather he’s not entirely against it. You offer him a smile, oddly proud of him. You’d seen firsthand how hard it can be to get out of these mindsets, even just for a moment. Effort is hard and that he’s making it means everything.

“Perfect,” you say, shifting in your spot so you can stand more easily. “Alright, I can help you up, if you’d like, or you can stand on your own if you want. What do y—”

Your hands had already begun to outstretch as you spoke, and you’re taken by surprise when before you even finish speaking his hand is whipping up to grab your wrist in a sort of monkey grip. You’re left blinking as you help him up, moving on autopilot. You expect him to release you as soon as he’s standing, but it adds to your surprise as he wobbles in place and retains his grip, if anything shuffling a little closer.

“Okay,” you say, angling your body and adjusting your grip so that it’s loose and as nonthreatening as possible. “Let’s go. Thank you for cooperating.”

Of course, there’s no response and he’s silent the whole way to the library. You remember that Sam is in there only as you approach the threshold, but unlike what you feared, Gabriel doesn’t seem to react too poorly to him like he apparently had earlier. Risking a glance his way reveals that actually, amongst the frayed and almost manic energy, he seems oddly… grounded, just for the moment.

Well, this is certainly going better than you’d anticipated.

x

“I went to bully Dean this morning, but he woke up before me and left before I could get to him.”

You’re in the process of cleaning the wounds around Gabriel’s mouth and removing the ugly stitches that have been sewn into his lips. As something to distract him as much as you from what you’re doing, you’ve begun chatting idly to the archangel, unbothered by the lack of response. Sam sits a metre or so away, researching for Dean who had apparently called earlier when you were coercing Gabriel out of his room.

Still Gabriel doesn’t hold your gaze, eyes averted as he leans forward in the chair for you to reach his mouth, but you can tell from the way his eyes occasionally flick to you as you speak that he is listening, somewhat. It’s enough of a win that you’re willing to take it.

He winces each time your alcohol swab goes over the entry point of a stitch, but doesn’t flinch away too badly. You’re pretty proud of him for that, actually, because it must hurt like a bitch.

“You got him yesterday, though,” Sam pipes in from the side, amused as he recalls your arrival. “Barely an hour after you got here and he was quitting and heading to bed.”

“It’s hard being so naturally talented,” you say, placing the swab down and reaching for the small scissors and tweezers. “I’m an absolute delight, and Dean should appreciate that!”

“Has anyone ever believed you when you told them that?” Sam asks, presumably referring to the ‘delight’ bit.

“Why wouldn’t they, Samuel?” you ask, giving the massive man a light spritz of stink-eye. “Do you have something to say to me?”

“Nothing you don’t already know,” he snorts in response, turning a page in the tome he currently has in his lap.

You bite your lip to hide your amused smile, turning back to Gabriel. You place your hand softly on his cheek to let him know that you’re about to go back in for the stitches, before raising the other tool and bringing it to the first of the thick threads woven through his flesh. Wincing, you try and snip it as delicately as possible. Now seems like a better time than any for more distractions.

“If you think I’m bad, you should be glad you never met my grandfather,” you inform the youngest Winchester, successfully severing the first stitch and beginning the icky job of pulling it out. Gabriel makes a muffled noise of pain but remains still, and you pat his hand softly in support. “He could stir the shit out of anyone, man. Like, I’m not even kidding. The bastard gene I got from him was actually watered down by the time it got to me, so count your lucky stars.”

Sam makes a noise of contemplation, like he really is taking the time to thank whatever powers that be— those apparently being Chuck, as you’ve heard— that you’re not more like your grandfather. Honestly, you’re not kidding—they really should be grateful. You loved your grandpa but you’d never met anyone so quick to stir whatever pot may present itself before them. An opportunist with bastardous tendencies, one might describe him.

In the silence that follows, you jump to another topic for the sake of distraction once more—you’re about to move onto another stitch.

“So, now that your mother is here, are you guys actually eating like normal human beings?” you ask, tongue pressed between your lips in concentration as you try to snip the thread as painlessly as possible by manoeuvring the small scissors. “Like, balanced meals with vegetables and shit?”

You hear Sam pause in the motion of turning a page, a scoff turning into a laugh as it climbs his throat. “What—homecooked meals? Our mom? Dude, she’s worse than Dean in the kitchen, and I really didn’t think that was possible.”

You pause your ministrations to face the tall man, squinting. “What? No way. No way is she worse than Dean—”

“We’ve had to replace the fire alarms twice already,” Sam says, meeting your gaze with a look that is full of both fondness and exasperation. He lets out a laugh at your flabbergasted face. “Dude, I wouldn’t believe it either if I hadn’t seen it for myself. You’ll see, whenever she gets back with Jack. She can’t cook but it doesn’t really stop her trying.”

“Another terrible chef joins the ranks,” you proclaim dramatically, pulling the stitch you were working on out and going in on the next one. “Oh, to be able to cook. I suppose this Jack kid is our last hope.”

“He’s not even a year old, y/n,” Sam says, deadpan. “I wouldn’t count on it. Also, you can cook, you’re just lazy.”

You shrug, making a face; he has you there. “I will neither confirm nor deny these allegations.”

Once more, you feel Sam roll his eyes behind you—he should get that checked if he’s rolling them so heavily you can feel it yourself. They’re not even eyes that are in your own skull, man.

You proceed to pull shit out of your ass as you take Gabriel’s mouth stitches out, the metal tin to the side soon filled with scraps of thick thread covered in dried blood and muck. The exit wounds where the thread had been have begun to well with blood, the wounds agitated by the removal of the stitches, and you bring a new cotton pad back with alcohol to clean them up. Gabriel hisses at the contact, and you rush out apologies under your breath as you finish up. You’d forgotten to warn him, and it’s only something small but you still feel bad.

“Alright, that’s done,” you announce, mostly to yourself. You look over him, deciding which wound to treat next, when your attention is drawn to the way he seems to be shaking a little on the spot. He’s not as grounded as he was earlier when he sat down with you, and even though you have much more work to do you can tell intrinsically that this is the most he can take right now. Dressing his other wounds would have to wait until tomorrow.

You turn to find Sam already giving the archangel a scrutinising look, apparently arriving at the same conclusion you had. He gives you a nod and you let out a soft breath, turning back to Gabriel and offering your hands should he need them.

“Okay, I think that’s enough for today. Let’s get you back to the room.”

You can only hope tomorrow will offer the same amount of progress as today.

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