#but i hope there's only one big tears-worthy moment here

[fictionadventurer]

Well, now I know why Jo was crying.

[leavemetrappedinacage]

MY LOVE MINE ALL MINE

��� summary: You're very ill, you don't have much time left, so you ask him to spend your last moments by his side, dancing to your favorite song.

⤷ pairing: yandere!megumi fushiguro x terminally ill!fem!reader.

⤷ warnings: anguish, comfortless pain, yandere, terminal illness, kidnapping, death (reader).

⤷ notes: it's the sweetest thing you'll ever see me write, I hope you like it. :)

You muster up the courage to tell your kidnapper about your illness, you don't have long to live, and after so long without treatment, you know your time is coming. He cries and you console him, you can't imagine how hard it must be for him, you, his only love, are dying and he can't do anything to save you. You hold his face and kiss his forehead, you wipe away his tears and lean your head on his shoulder.

"I never wanted you to know until now, because I hated being stuck here, stuck with you." You're being honest, it's painful for him to hear these words, but it's the first time you've opened up to him, so he listens carefully. "But after a while, I came to like you, I think it's what they call Stockholm syndrome." You laugh, playing with your fingers, and he blinks, incredulous at your statement. "I'm not asking you for anything, and you're under no obligation to do anything for me."

"What do you want me to do?" He interrupts you and grabs your hand, your gazes meet, you blush. "I'll do anything."

"A ball." You replied. "Not with other people, just you and me." You add quickly, before he misunderstands, you can't miss this opportunity. "I've never been to a ball, and I'd like to go to one with you. With romantic music and fancy dress. I won't be able to accompany you to graduation, so consider this a foretaste."

"Oh, you're... inviting me to a ball?" Megumi blushes and covers his face with his arm, it's so adorable.

"Well, I guess so." You laugh at his reaction. "But I don't have a dress, you'll have to pick one out for me."

"I'll take care of that." He takes the liberty of coming closer, you turn your face and point to his cheek, he kisses you. "I'll take care of everything, I promise."

Over the next few weeks, he organizes the ball and buys the decorations according to the description you've given him; he doesn't let anything go wrong. He uses Gojo's card to buy a huge number of gala dresses for you to choose from, and suits for him. You spend days discussing the preparations, he brings you make-up and some jewelry, he watches various hairstyle tutorials on YouTube with you, just so he can help you when the big day arrives.

When the big day arrives, you are driven to the salon he has rented in a limousine. You're wearing a black dress with a purple gradient, there are gold details on the lace, a beautiful white gold crown with inlaid amethysts has been placed under your head, an adornment worthy of the queen of the ball. Megumi is wearing a simple black suit with a purple tie, he's completely overshadowed next to you, but it's no wonder, you're the star of the evening.

He guides you through the corridors until you reach the great hall, and you are amazed at the care and affection he has put into every detail: there are flower arrangements hanging from the pillars, a table with food and drink, the colored lights in pleasant tones without excessive glare, and of course the dance floor.

"It's so beautiful." You can't help but get emotional, you shake your face, stopping the tears from coming out. "Thank you, Megumi."

"Don't thank me yet. The evening has only just begun."

Megumi grabs your waist with one hand and entwines her fingers in yours with the other, the music starts and you're not surprised when you realize it's your favorite song, he guides you like a lord, light and subtle steps, you glide across the dance floor, the flashing colored lights and the romantic music create a welcoming atmosphere. He lets go of your waist and spins you around, your bodies separate, joined only by your intertwined hands, you circle each other with your arms outstretched as you face each other, you smile from ear to ear, it's exactly as you imagined. He's fascinated by the sparkle in your eyes, he's never seen you so happy, his heart goes pitter-patter, it's at this moment that he realizes he knows so little about you, if he'd known how happy it made you he would have danced with you more often, but now it's too late.

You see the tears streaming down his face like a waterfall, you know exactly what's going on in his head, you take the liberty of coming closer and hugging him, you pat his back as you dance, he grabs you and buries his face in the gap between your neck and shoulder, he sobs.

"My love is mine, all mine. I love, mine, mine, mine." You hum along with the song, but it's not just a song, you're opening your heart to him. "Nothing in the world is mine for free, but my love, mine, all mine, all mine." You wish you'd fallen in love with him sooner.

You dance to a few more songs before sitting down at the table, you eat, talk and laugh, you take the liberty of recording the moment on his cell phone, he makes an effort to smile in the photo, you take advantage of the distraction to kiss him, your first and only kiss, you think it's cute the way his ears turn red whenever you make a move. You dance one last time and sit down because you're tired, he tells you a few things about his past, then you understand the motivations behind the kidnapping, you tell him you don't blame him and you both fall into a comfortable silence.

The night ends and you have to go home, Megumi calls your name, but you don't answer, you're sleeping peacefully on his shoulder, or at least...

"Y/N?" He shakes you, the air escaping your lungs when he realizes you're gone. You have a smile on your face, your hand is holding his, you left with such a peaceful expression, he is relieved to have given you a little happiness in your last days. "...Good night, darling. Have sweet dreams." He kisses your forehead.

Megumi buries you with your prom dress on a beautiful tombstone, the place next to your tombstone belongs to him, and soon he will be by your side.

[dsireland86]

🎂NEW YEARS DAY BIRTHDAY REQUEST🎂

My birthday is New Years Day (so there's still a few weeks until then) and I would love a birthday request with the group (Noah, Jolly, Folio, Nick, Matt) Maybe have each guy plan a special birthday date night for each night of the week leading up to the reader's birthday (Save Noah for the last night 😉) Lots of cute fluffy moments and definitely smut 😘

Happy Birthday and Happy New Years! @lacy1986 I hope you like the first part of your asked. I decided to break this story up into two parts. Here's Part 1 with Part 2 following later today.

The 12th Day Of Christmas:

A New Years Birthday Pt.1

Tag list: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers @myownthoughts12 @sister-sebastian @nyxthedestroyerofworlds-deactiv @missduffsblog @bngurngheart  @somebodyllelse @xxkittenkissesxx @dizzylmwahh @Youlookforultraviolet @kenjipepsi1

"Your birthday is in six days, baby. Any idea of what you want to do? You are a New Years baby. There’s a lot of cool stuff we could do."

Matt looked over at Y/N as she ate up the last bit of her ice cream in the tub, looking sadder than usual. All the guys knew she was going through a tough moment due to her depression and that the past year hadn't been all that great for her. That's why Matt brought up her birthday. Normally, he wouldn't, but given the circumstances, he really wanted to do something for her that would help her overcome this moment. Y/N shook her head at Matt's question while putting the lid inside the empty container.

"I would be quite happy pretending my birthday doesn't exist. Let's just focus on New Years instead," she stated unenthusiastically. "Come on, baby. It's one day a year. It can't be that bad." "It is," she muttered beneath the hood of the hoodie. "Why?" "Because I hate the attention." "That's not surprising."

Y/N raised her head, scowling at Folio who did his best to hide his smile. "Someone's in the doghouse tonight," Noah teased. "Shut-up!" Folio shoved Noah hard, making him stumble backward. Y/N chuckled, shaking her head at their boyish antics.

"What I meant was," Folio continued, glaring at Noah, "it's not surprising you don't want the attention because that's not the kind of girl you are." Folio stood over top Y/N, caressing her cheek.

"And we love that about you," Nicholas replied. Y/N smiled over at him.

"But, just because you don't like the attention doesn't mean you're not worthy of celebrating you." Jolly's hand on her knee made the goosebumps appear over her skin that was covered up by Noah's hoodie.

"Hey! I have an idea," Noah suggested. "Why don't we do this... six days until your birthday, right? Starting tomorrow, what do you think about each of us having a date night with you and doing something nice? No big celebration, no piles of gifts or balloons, just a simple, one on one celebration. We'll even plan the day and surprise you since you hate making decisions like that."

Y/N lightly laughed, wiping away a stray tear.

"Sounds good?

Noah rubbed her thighs lovingly, hoping his words gave her some hope. Thankfully, Y/N nodded, taking Jolly's hand as he draped it around her shoulder. Noah looked around at the others.

"Are you all okay with the idea?" They nodded, some muttering quiet "yeses" and "yups". "Good. But I call your birthday," Noah grinned big at her as protests erupted around them. "It's only fair! I came up with the idea!"

"Fine. I call New Years Eve," Folio stated. All eyes shifted to him immediately. "Don't worry. We'll still celebrate together, but after that, she's mine again." He winked at Y/N, making her giggle.

"There's that pretty laugh," Nicholas cheered. "I'm taking tomorrow. I'll make sure you have that laugh to carry with you for the rest of the week."

"After that, he doesn't care what the fuck you do," Matt threw in, sarcastically, making Y/N laugh a little louder. "I'll take day two." Matt got up and kissed her on the cheek, taking her trash, and walking off into the kitchen.

"That means I get day two," Jolly squeezed her shoulder. He pulled her close, kissing the side of her head. "And you're getting a message and a foot rub," he whispered in her ear." Y/N squeezed her thighs together, unable to ignore the warm, tingling feeling that swept through her core.

The next few days were going to be interesting. It would be the first time Y/N had "celebrated" her birthday in a really long time, and to be honest, she was really excited about it.

Day 1: Nicholas

"Here you go," Nicholas chimed, setting her cappuccino down on the table and then taking a seat across from her. They sat in silence staring out the window of the old bookstore, watching the raindrops trickle down the window.

"You look happy." Y/N smiled at Nick. "I am happy. I haven't felt this good in days."

Nichols gave a small grin, reaching over and taking her hand. The soft touch of his thumb, as it made circles on her skin, calmed her, and when he began massaging her whole hand, her eyes closed, and she relaxed completely, making Nick chuckle.

They talked about her feelings and what was going on inside her head; Y/N feeling thankful she had Nick to confide in while leisurely drinking their coffees. Despite the gloominess of the day, Y/N really was starting to feel a lot better.

Later, they picked through old books, each finding one they wanted, the checked out and left. Hand in hand, they walked the street, with Nick stopping at a street vendor selling roses and getting Y/N one. It made her smile, and as Nicholas kissed her, bending her back into the rain, she squealed and laughed.

"Told you I was going to make that happen," Nick told her. She smiled and kissed him again, taking his hand as they continued their walk.

They got home and found out they were alone. Nicholas didn't hesitate one second longer, grabbing Y/N from behind as she stood at the counter drinking her water. He whispered sweet little nothings in her ear, making her laugh and smile, which was music to Nick's ears.

"I love hearing you laugh." Nick cooed, slipping his hand down the inside of her pants and into her panties. His warm finger had no trouble finding her clit, rubbing it quickly before sliding further down right inside her.

"Holy shit," she gasped, gripping the counter hard. "You like that, love? You like feeling me inside you?" "The real thing would feel so much better." Y/N bit her lip, knowing what she was asking for.

Nicholas pressed up against her, pulling her tightly against him, kissing her neck sweetly while slowly sliding two fingers at a time in and out of her. Her whimpers were making him harder by the second.

"Would it be wrong if I said I needed you, Nicky?" "Do you think that needing me somehow makes you weak or wrong?" "Doesn't it?" Nicholas thrusted his finger harder and faster inside her, taking her breath away each time. "No, love, it doesn't. It makes you beautiful, it makes you a woman; to need a man the way you're needing me right now. It's the whole purpose of what we're doing."

He trailed kisses down the side of her neck, pulling his fingers out from inside her and placing them over her breasts. He massaged them softly, grinding his hard length against her ass as she pushed back into him.

"Let's go upstairs where I can love you properly," he whispered against her ear.

Within minutes, Y/N was completely naked in her bed with Nick between her legs, while digging her nails into his shoulders as he gently made love to her. His hands were all over her body, running up and down and caressing every crevice. "Your skin feels like silk, so soft and smooth," Nicholas sighed. Flipping her over, he pressed her down into the mattress, raising her ass higher and fucked up into her hard yet gentle enough for Y/N to feel every inch of his cock against her walls.

"Nicky, I'm about to cum!" she cried, gripping the bed sheets. "Me too. Cum with me, baby," he encouraged, breathlessly. And they did. First Y/N, then Nicholas, both of them collapsing once they both reached their limit.

Curling up into him, Y/N fell asleep in Nick's arms, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. Today had been a good day despite the weather, making Y/N hopeful about the rest of the week and celebrating her birthday.

Day 2: Jolly

The following day busted all of that hope. Just about everything that could go wrong, did, making Y/N grow more frustrated by the minute. Jolly suggested they go out for a bit and take some time away from all the chaos, but even that didn't pan out well. By the time they got back home, Y/N eyes were damp.

"I'm over this day! It's stupid, stupid, stupid!" "Wow, okay, take it easy," Folio eased, rubbing her back as she dropped her bags in the living room. "What happened?" "What happened is stupid people making stupid choices." "I can't argue with that," Folio chuckled. "So, I'm assuming the trips to the art shop and winery were a bust?" Noah looked up at her from the couch. "Well, I didn't say that," she replied, looking down at her bags.

Jolly scratched his head, chuckling. He took Y/N by the shoulders, turning her to face him. "Alright, baby, look, why don't I pour you a glass of wine and start you a hot bath with lots of bubbles. Sounds good?" he suggested. Jolly slid both hands around her face, tilting her head up just enough for him to see into her eyes. He caressed them with his thumbs before leaning down and kissing her softly. Y/N hummed in approval, smiling shyly when they parted. "Sounds good," placing her hands on Jolly's hands, sliding them down to his wrists. "I'll meet you upstairs, then," Jolly grinned, kissing the tip of her nose.

The bathroom was so hot when he entered that Jolly could hardly breathe. Steam had taken over, making everything moist to the touch. Sitting on the edge of the tub, he handed Y/N her glass of wine. She took a long sip before handing it back to him. "Better?" "Better," she smiled, sitting back against the tub. "I'm sorry for how the day went, Jolly. I know this isn't what you had in mind."

Jolly swirled his finger in the hot water, making shapes through the bubble. "You don't have to apologize for anything, Älskling." The pet name made Y/N's heart flutter. "You couldn't control the things that happened any more than I can control the weather." "But I can control how I react to them." "You reacted to them just like any other person would. You're human."

His eyes shifted from the water up to her face. Y/N reached out from the water and placed her hand on his cheek. The warmth of the water rushed through Jolly's cool body, hitting right in his crotch. The sudden, hungry need to be inside her consumed his and thankful, Y/N could tell.

"Join me," she said, more as a command than as a statement. Jolly gave her a tight nod then began to undress. Y/N watched, the heat of the moment flickering in her eyes, as Jolly climbed into the water with her, seething quietly from the temperature of the water. She latched onto him immediately and kissed him as if she was starving.

"Is this better?" Jolly asked, grinning against her lips as he pushed her wet hair out of her face. "God, yes. So much better," Y/N muttered against the skin of his neck. "If we continue this, it's sure to lead into something else."

Y/N pulled back and looked at him. "It's my birthday week, Jolly, and it's your day. So as my gift, I want you to make love to me right here, right now."

A deep growl emerged from Jolly's chest. His hands slid into her hair, fisting the ends gently before slipping to the back of her neck and pulling her back into him. Y/N wrapped her legs tightly around him, shifting around until she could feel his cock against her entrance. Reaching down into the water, she touched Jolly, watching his eyes darken as she did and slid him inside her, moaning perfectly as she did. Jolly's grip around the back of her neck tightened as she began to ride him under the hot water, making him bite his lip to keep quiet.

"Fuck, Älskling, your pussy feel so good in water like this." The water around them splashed, creating small waves around them. Some spilled out, but it didn't matter to either one of them. "It's so warm. You're like fire inside me, Jolly," she replied breathlessly. He groaned, plunging his tongue into her mouth with force, licking deep. Her tongue tangled with his, fighting for dominance as her fingers dug deep into the muscles in his back.

"Tell me when you're about to come, baby because I'm not going to last much longer." They kept complete eye contact, with Y/N breathlessly saying when she was about to cum, throwing her head back and moaning loud the moment she did. Jolly kept his grip on her neck, thrusting into her until he climaxed, pulling out of her and releasing his cum into the water.

"Well, I guess we'll have to shower now," Y/N laughed, pulling herself back into Jolly's lap. He smiled, nipping her neck with his teeth. "Yup, I guess so."

To Be Continued...

[believesthings]

The inspiration invitation // Jason sudeikis x famous reader

As a joke, you started to separate your songs into two folders: love songs for Jason and sexy songs for Jason.

You kept it going though, cause it made you laugh.

Your label was pressuring you for just one more song to round out your new album and you’ve been struggling with it all week. They weren’t wrong. You did agree it was missing just a little something. The trouble was finding the perfect song to fill its spot.

As cliche as it sounds, this was the album that you were the most proud of. You know every artist says that about every new album they release, but it really didn’t feel like an exaggeration to you to say that this was your best.

You really pushed yourself lyrically and vocally to a space you haven’t before and you hope your fans love it as much as you.

The problem, of course, is that since you’ve pushed yourself lyrically, you have a very specific story you want to tell. Every song on the album is perfectly placed to unfold the story in the direction you want and trying to not only find a new song to fit the theme but also a perfect place to put it so it still flows is proving to be one hell of a task.

Two doors down, your boyfriend was in a similarly stressful boat. Jason has been tied to the editing chair for weeks. The first two seasons happened prior to all the awards. Now that the show had turned out to be far more successful than anyone could have predicted, the pressure was on to make a 3rd and final season that was worthy of the praise the show had received so far. Taking off his headphones and taking his hands through his hair, he determined he needed a break; as much as he instinctively wanted to keep going until something was perfect, he had to acknowledge that sometimes the best thing to do was walk away and come back with fresh eyes.

You were so focused on your own project that you barely even registered jason sitting down next to you until he start kissing your shoulder blade.

“Are those folders for me?”

“What?” You ask, not looking up from your own screen.

“I wanna see.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be working?” You ask Jason, tearing your eyes away and finally looking at him. God he was a sight.

“I’m taking something called a break, you’re probably overdue for one yourself.” He teased you.

“I know. And I will - I promise. I’ve just found a really good groove and I didn’t want to lose it.”

He rubs circles into your thigh. “…maybe the answer is in one of those folders.”

You laugh at him. “Oh, you think so?”

He nods seriously at you, “I can help you sort through them, If you need any help.”

You grab his hand from your thigh, intertwining your fingers in his and giving a light kisses to his knuckles. “You’re really not gonna let this go are you?”

“Well, can you blame me? I see folders with my name and the words ���sexy and love’ obviously, I’m going to be intrigued.”

You put your laptop off to the side, snuggling into Jason. “Well, you’re obviously the only man I’m writing songs about these days-“

“damn right.” Jason quips, smirking at you.

Rolling your eyes you continue, “and my manager always likes to tease me that I have two moods for you which is disgustingly in love and disgustingly horny, so - as a joke, I started separating all my songs into those two categories. I keep doing it though cause it’s fun.”

“So, what mood is winning right now?”

picking your laptop back up, you open up the folders giving a quick scan at the numbers. Jason peaks over your shoulder, surprised by how many songs there actually are. Some titles he recognizes, some he’s never seen. It’s one of those moments, that might seem small and inconsequential but it feels oddly special to him. To have someone here, in his home, that spends their time trying to put him into words. Everyone always thinks that the big PDA moments are the sweetest, but he’s discovered that a lot of those experiences are filled with belonging but not with love.

“Looks like love songs has the lead right now.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at you, he replies, “really? Well I’d be more than happy to help in the sexy department if you need some inspiration.”

“I’m supposed to be working.”

“This is work! I’m giving you inspiration to write another song for your album, so you can add a sixth Grammy to that collection in the bedroom.”

“I thought you were taking a break.” You question him.

“Oh, pretty girl, spending time with you is not work to me.” He snags your laptop out of your lap and is quickly picking you up off the couch. He gives you just enough to time to get your bearings before he’s kissing you and leading you into the bedroom.

In between kisses on your neck, he’s whispering to you, “you know, I read somewhere that you shouldn’t wait for inspiration, sometimes inspiration needs to be invited. So, what do you think? Are you up for inviting me to inspire you?”

“Of course I am Jason. Always.”

He tilts his head to the side nonchalantly. “Still doesn’t hurt to ask.”

He lays you down on the bed and your head turns over to see his own laptop sitting in the corner. Remnants of your man hard at work. Headphones, an open journal with a red pen resting on it’s open pages.

“Hey.” He says tilting your head back to look him in the eyes. “This is about you right now - my work will still be there when I’m done. If it makes you feel better, since I’m helping you, you can always help me with my work too.”

“What? Jason I don’t know anything about editing a television show!”

“So?” That’s okay. I don’t really feel like I do either most days.” He jokes.

You go quiet, reaching your fingers up and playing with the drawstrings of his hoodie. “If I did offer to help, does that mean that I could get a sneak peak into season 3, maybe even-“

“No. Sorry can’t do it.”

“Oh come on! Can’t you at least give me a release date?”

“Sorry, you’re just gonna have to wait like everyone else.”

“Man, what good is sleeping with the boss if it doesn’t get me anything?” You pout at him.

“Oh now that isn’t true. I think we’ve clearly established that sleeping with the boss gets you Grammy award winning songs. So, come on let’s write you another one.”

[imagineanime2022]

Your Boy Friend *Part 5*

Kurapika Kurta X Fem!Reader Hisoka Morrow!Brother X Sister!Reader

Word Count: 642

Requested: Anon

Request: Hello, I hope you're doing well :). I was wondering if could do another part of Kurapika x Hisoka's sister reader, I love the story. Maybe where the reader and kurapika get married and the reader asks Hisoka to give her away, just an extremely wholesome moment between the two and maybe some tears when Hisoka prepares to give her away?

*Part 4*

You and Kurapika had finally settled down after having your little girl, you had both managed to keep her away from the excitement of the hunter world and she’s grown up happy so by extension you were both happy, you didn’t think that there would be anything more that you needed, that is until Kurapika proposed to you, you hadn’t even thought of marriage but you agreed, you loved him and you loved your daughter and officially becoming a little family would be the best thing that ever happened to you.

As you started planning the wedding, you realised that with your parents being the main cause of all yours and your brother’s problems, you had no one to give you away, that line of thought had only been a problem for 5 seconds because your mind travelled to your older brother, Hisoka. He had been there for everything, taught you everything and protected you from everything, it was only right that he was the one to give you away, give permission of your protection and happiness to someone else. So after a discussion with Kurapika who of course had no objections, that was your choice after all, you decided to talk to your brother.

You called him over one day when Kurapika had one out with the boys and your little one to give you the space to talk about it. Hisoka was living you a look as you milled around getting the drinks ready “something is bothering you.” He said as he leaned against his fist. “What?” You asked. “No snarky responses or teasing, something is bothering you.” He explained and you looked at him and sighed. “Alright I want you to know that you don’t have to agree to this if you don’t want to but I wanted to ask something of you.” You explained and he raised an eyebrow, he didn’t say anything as he waited for you to continue. “Well as you know I’m getting married and I need someone to give me away and since you’ve been my biggest protector and the person that’s been there for me the most, I would really love it if you would be the one to do that.” “Me?” He asked. “Y-you don’t have to, I know that it’s not really your thing-” “I never said that I didn’t want to do it.” Hisoka said as he reached out for your hands as he gave you a soft smile. “I will be the one to give you away, our father can’t do it… Not that I would let him.” “You want to do it?” You asked. “Of course, he’ll be fighting me for the rest of your life if I don’t.” Hisoka teased, you giggled as his antagonistic behaviour, he leaned forward pressing a kiss to your forehead as squeezing your hand affectionately in reassurance.

A few months later it was your wedding day, everything had gone as planned so far and you stood outside the venue ready to walk down the aisle. Hisoka was waiting for you and as he laid eyes on you he smiled “you look beautiful.” He said softly. “Thank you.” You looked down at your feet, he lifted your face where you noticed the tears gathering in his eyes. “Are you ready?” He asked. “I am, are you?” You asked. “Never.” He answered honestly. “I never thought there would be a day where I entrust you care to someone else, but of all the people it seems that he is a worthy suitor… Not that he’d ever believe that I’d say that.” “You're right.” You said softly. “Now come on, you’ve kept them waiting long enough.” He put out his arm for you to take and once you took it the staff opened the door and the music started, your big day ready to begin.

Request Here!!

[sanctuaryforalluniverses]

I keep seeing takes about how the Roy/Keeley reunion was too sudden, or too manipulative, and how Roy hasn't been working on himself at all. Since you guys clearly haven't been watching the same show I have all season, let me do a quick run through:

3x2 - Roy's WHOLE SPEECH about leaving Chelsea early because he could see the end coming and didn't want to drag everyone down and become an embarrassment was such an obvious metaphor for his relationship with Keeley that Trent points it out to us IN THE EPISODE. His wistful (for Roy at least) thought that maybe he should have just stayed and enjoyed it while he could is equally painfully obvious regret that is even MORE obviously for Keeley ends with "but that's not the kind of man I am." (Not a direct quote, but an accurate paraphrase). As the season continues, we will see that that isn't a line of arrogance. It's a line that highlights the fact that Roy's self esteem is complete shit.

(Before you argue with me, let's go back to his confrontation with Trent earlier in the episode. Would someone with GOOD self-esteem carry a negative review about himself in his wallet for DECADES? Not as some kind of motivation, but as something that genuinely upsets him to this day? Can you picture Sam doing this? Or Dani? Or even Isaac? I absolutely CAN picture Jamie doing this, but frankly that only confirms the picture of a cocky man whose self esteem is secretly garbage.)

Speaking of Jamie. The show has paralleled the two men the ENTIRE TIME, and it's quite possible to say that Roy's growing acceptance of Jamie goes hand-in-hand with a growing acceptance for his inner self. His agreeing to train Jamie in the face of Zava's Zava-ness is a recognition of Jamie's value (and maybe in some distant way his own), and even though he's very brusque about it that's also how Roy's been treating himself all season.

Then we get to 3x6 and Roy's insight about how never learning to ride a bike was probably an insult to his grandfather's memory. Rephrased, it hits Roy that a time he shut down because of strong emotions (in order to protect himself from those emotions) would have hurt a person he loved very much. (This will be important later.)

(Also in this episode -- Rebecca's comment to Roy about "someone who feels they're worthy of her." Rebecca has read him like a book this WHOLE TIME. Their friendship is such an underrated treasure.)

Then we get to 3x9, and Roy's talk with Isaac about how he isn't really angry about this, and how he needs to fix it before it screws up something he DOES care about. Roy's speaking from personal experience here, and what's the big thing Roy has screwed up this season?

Also in that episode, Rebecca yelling at Roy about the press conference. She tells him to pull his head out of his ass, and once again talks about Roy not feeling like he's worth anything and how he needs to accept the fact that he deserves good things. He then proceeds to deliver such a fucking beautiful press conference that it brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it. One he was apparently capable of this whole time. He was just so focused on escape before that he'd never let himself.

And in 3x10. To clarify -- neither the letter or the realization was about getting Keeley back. He said he was a mess, and the nice teacher lady said she hoped the mess didn't cause any damage. In that moment, in part because of everything that had come before, he realized that him trying to keep his mess away from Keeley might have caused her damage instead.

(Should he have figured that out well before now? Of course he should have. But when your self-esteem is garbage you don't see depriving someone of your presence as damaging them. In fact, you might even think of it as making their life easier.)

The letter was apologizing for THAT. And he was planning on just leaving it under her door, since a genuine apology demands no response. In fact, he probably kind of hoped he WOULDN'T be there when she read it, but his terrible handwriting made it impossible. And when he's done yes, he does stay a bit, because who WOULDN'T hope that Keeley Jones would suddenly fall into their arms. But when she doesn't, he goes. And if Keeley hadn't called him back, he would have kept going.

You just have to LOOK.

[unhingedhearties]

The 24 Hour Chimp-Out

Liz has been chimping out a lot on Instagram. I know that news must be shocking to some of you.

Let's play a game! 50/50 shot of being right. Is Liz in love with Erin at the moment or does she hate her?

If you guessed hate, YOU ARE CORRECT!

The human mind can't fathom why Erin might have blocked people from @ing her. What possible reason could there be?

And we're back to bitching about nepotism. The battle cry of the scorned Heartie.

This is a good time to ask a question for a post I've been meaning to make. Can anyone send me (you can do it anonymously) examples of "nepotism" on WCTH? Stuff like Viv's real life kids playing his kids on the show. To make it perfectly clear, I AM IN NO WAY ACCUSING ANYONE OF NEPOTISM AND IMPLYING THAT THEY DON'T DESERVE THEIR JOB. I just want examples of things on the show that could be considered nepotism. I want to compile a list of examples and I want people to use that list anytime they see whiny, bitchy Hearties crying about Erin and Nathan benefitting from nepotism. Demand that they give their opinion on the other examples and push them when they ignore it. Anyway, back to the Liz-fit

"What do you think of me now, b_tch!?! Been 2 weeks"

For the record, that's a lie. She came back to Twitter for a few days last weekend under the name "123jennab" (unlike her last Twitter name which was "123JennaB")

The mental gymnastics here are gold medal worthy.

It's YOUR fault that you can instantly recognize when Liz has made a new account, and not her fault because she complains about the same dumb things each time in the exact same way.

If you JERKS would just stop blocking/muting Liz whenever she harasses you and just became her friends, everything would be great and she wouldn't be forced to make so many new accounts where she keeps following you JERKS.

I've mentioned this before, but the people who OBSESS over how actors kiss are messed up. It's reached a point where I can't think of any other word to describe it but perverted. You are shallow and perverted if that's the only thing you care about.

blah blah blah Erin so disgustingly private blah blah blah it's all her fault

I can't say for certain, but I think 2883 is a bigger number than 179.

Chris still hasn't posted a photo of him with his girlfriend or child on Instagram (good for him, BTW). Most of his posts just look like selfies. But please tell me how Erin is the more private one and everything is her fault.

I truly hope that the big, top secret "personal reason" for the break up wasn't something devastating like the Michael O'Hare/Babylon 5 situation I always reference, but if it does eventually come out and it was because of Chris, I'm going to laugh so hard.

Liz is back on the finger ring dents conspiracy!

EVERY. SINGLE. ACTRESS. I've * *EVER* * loved, I knew * everything * about!!

Yeah, it's a real mystery why Erin tries to block you. Very healthy behavior. Your family did an amazing job raising you into a functioning, contributing member of society.

I don't even know how to pronounce her middle name!

What a selfish bitch Erin is to not pin a video of herself saying her middle name for Liz. I bet she won't even share her social security number or thumbprint with her fans.

WHAT DO YOU WANT ERIN TO SHARE!?

I really don't get this. She bitches about Erin being so private, but bitches whenever Erin shares photos of her personal life. What is she supposed to share that won't set Liz off?

To everyone reading this, please always remind Liz, whenever she calls Ben "ugly", that she doesn't even have a boyfriend and will die single and alone.

And Liz, if you're reading this, please know that the day I find a picture of you, the gloves are off and I will leave you in tears and regretting the day you touched an electronic device.

What an excellent judge of character. And what "bad" things does Erin believe? Do you really want to go down this path, Liz? Because that's how your accounts get banned.

[manyothermusingsofmine]

"You're having a really rough day, huh?"

Miranda's voice was quiet as she entered the room, leaving the lights off as it seemed rude to click them on. She sat down on the edge of the bed, placing a soft hand on where she figured Kurt's shoulder would be under the heap of blankets he had burrowed himself away in. A soft little noise came from under the covers, with Miranda gently lowering herself to lean onto him a little in the hopes her presence provided some comfort.

It made sense to her, anyway; Kurt cared so much about everyone's feelings and especially hers that being emotionally exhausted like this was inevitable. And it broke her heart a little to think she had a big part in it, still often turning to him for emotional comfort.

"Hey. I love you. I'm here for you. Please let me be the same safe haven to you like you always are to me," she said softly. A sigh left his form, before he held up the covers with his arm as his tail wrapped around her and pulled her in under the sheets. Within moments she found herself down on the bed as Kurt curled up on her, his face buried into one of her shoulders as she softly ran her fingers through the curls of his hair while she wrapped her other arm around him.

"... Life's hard," Kurt's voice was tethering on the verge of tears, while Miranda pressed a soft little kiss on top of his head while holding him a little closer to provide comfort and safety.

"Oh, tell me about it," her tone was soft and supportive, gently running her hand over his arm as she spoke while making sure he was safely tucked away in her embrace and the soft covers of the bed.

"I don't even know why I'm upset," Kurt muttered, further settling into her embrace and pulling his face out of her shoulder only to rest his head on her chest, listening to the quiet heartbeat within, "I just know that sometimes your power of just... hiding when you don't want to be found sounds nice to have."

"Mhh," she hummed softly as she gently played with a curl of his hair, "only in short bursts, really. That's something you've shown me, you know? That there's safety to be found in sharing your feelings with someone you trust. Even if that's "I'm sad and I don't know why," that's worthy of being seen and heard."

"Guess so," he sighed, curling up further around her as his tail coiled around her waist, "just... stay here with me while I try to sleep off whatever this is?"

"Of course. There's no where I would rather be than here with you," Miranda whispered, keeping her gentle touch going to soothe her lover.

"Miranda? I love you."

"I love you too."

[whiteknifesmile]

I posted this on Twitter a while ago and I’d like to clean it up and expand more on it but that’ll be a while and I want to preserve this original thread.

Wei Ying pressing A-Yuan into the hollow of the tree trunk.

“Xian-gege…” the little boy cries with tearful amber eyes

“It’s okay, it’s okay, my little radish!” he promises breathlessly, painting characters around the hollow, even as his body feels like it’s crumbling at the seams.

“I’m scared…”

“I know. I’m sorry, A-Yuan. Your Wen-popo- and everyone-“ he takes a deep breath and kisses A-yuan’s forehead with a sudden movement, the awareness of how little time he had hitting him with a pang. “Everything we did, all of it was for you. So you would grow up safe and happy. We love you… so much. But I think it’s time now… to try something different okay?” He smooths a finger over A-Yuan’s cheek, then his fluttering eyelids. “So, my little radish, you are going to take a little nap, and when you wake up… you’ll be just the way you need to be. And you’re going to grow up so good, from a radish to a big strong cultivator, I know it.” One more kiss, and Wei Ying rips himself away before he can lose his nerve. His smile is ragged and just as tearful. “You’re going to be amazing.”

A-Yuan blinks hazily at him, then the sleep spell drags him under and Wei Ying heaved out a grieved breath in the empty silent air around him. He knows what he’s about to do will kill him, without a doubt. But his actions have already lead to so much pain and anger and with the whole world against him, death is the least he deserves according to everyone. Wei Ying has run his luck out. No more chances, no actsof mercy or kindness left to draw on.

Despite it all, Wei Ying has one tiny piece of hope left to save from the fires of the siege. His A-Yuan, his baby radish… a-yuan never deserved a second of this retribution. From a labor death camp to a barren wasteland, his sweet boy has seemingly never had a moment’s peace or stability- but he’s still so sweet! Wei Ying knows that A-Yuan is surely not meant to die here. Not here, in this evil place full of dust and ghosts, not in the ashes of his family’s lineage, his clan annihilated. A-Yuan will not die!

And Wei Ying will make sure of it. The spell he laid on his radish was a very special one, built in his moment of terror about leaving this child behind in a world that hates his bloodline without any family left to protect him.

The spell will change A-yuan’s features, just enough to erase that tell-tale Wen nose, those Wen brown amber eyes, the distinctive Wen curls to his hair. Change to what, you may ask!

The next person who picks up A-yuan from the tree hollow, the person who the spell will decide is worthy to caretake for the little radish, the spell will find that person’s features and change A-yuan to match. To make him more like /their/ son, not a Wen’s. Like a foundling.

A-yuan has no more family in this world who can protect him. Wei Ying will simply make him some more family.

Wei Ying half wonders if his brother will be accepted by his spell. He prays that no Jin will be. But Wei Ying supposes that he’ll be dead by that point and he will have to trust in his spell enough to trust that it’ll choose whoever is best suited to raising his radish child…

Wei Ying just wishes he could have seen his A-yuan grow up, picked out his courtesy name with Wen-popo, taught him to shoot arrows with his Ning-gege too…

In a gentler but imperfect world, Jiang Cheng could’ve been his uncle and Wei Ying could have pressed A-Yuan into his arms and asked him directly to take care of his child, Jiang Cheng’s nephew, and there would be no need for uncertainty, for untested spells and shaky trust in a world cruel to him and no luck to rely on. His A-yuan could die, instead, if no one comes by the hollow.

Abandoned. Alone.

He’d never know that Xian-gege didn’t leave him behind… that this was the only way to give him the best chance to survive.

Even as the fierce corpses and ghosts tear him to pieces, slowly yet thoroughly, that thought haunts and hurts him the most, that A-yuan is hurting more.

— —- ——

When Wei Ying is reborn, or perhaps a better word is transplanted, it takes a while to get his bearings. Quite a lot happens very quickly… but seeing Jiang Cheng with his nephew, jolts at Wei Ying that he sees only one nephew, a boy with his mother’s eyes.

There is not another little shadow hiding behind his brother, no boy with his foundling father’s nose or eyes.

Wei Ying can’t think of anyone else his spell could have chosen to unveil and change A-Yuan to. So that must mean his little radish died long ago. Forgotten.

One of the little Lans hurry to Hanguang-Jun’s side, in the lull of shouting and staring contests, and Wei Ying watches with faint interest, renewed grief heavy in his heart.

The littlest Lan whispers something to Lan Wangji, and then two sets of matching golden eyes turn to look directly at Wei Ying.

Huh. He had thought that golden eyes were the hallmark of the main Lan bloodline? How’s this boy got them?

How strange. That little Lan looks just like how Lan Wangji used to look, a lifetime ago in a library that hadn’t burned yet, that little twitchy nose at Wei Ying’s antics, and that smooth straight hair down his back that Wei Ying longs to tug on and bother until that golden gaze is on him, angry and confused about it. But this little Lan… his expression is so sweet, Wei Ying instead wants to pinch his round cheeks and call him a chubby radis- no. Bunny.

Because he’s a Lan, and the nephew of a sect leader. He’s protected and cherished by his clan, well fed and educated and beloved certainly!

He’s not A-Yuan, last child of a scorned clan.

That’s Lan Wangji’s son, heir to the prestigious Lan family.

Not Wei Ying’s.

[kob131]

What’s your thoughts on Arslan’s arc in Fixing RWBY?:

https://www.reddit.com/r/RWBYcritics/comments/13lzuwb/fixing_rwby_v6_ep_19/jlehbke/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=ios_app&utm_name=iossmf&utm_content=1&utm_term=15&context=3

Well, normally I wouldn't even bother because I am not wasting my time on Celtic's 'Fixing' but I see that he's the one referenced here. So sure.

To defend my own writing choice there, this was what I planned to be Arslan's fate back when I retrofitted her character back during Volume 3. 

Sorry Celtic, didn't you hear? Defending your writing choices is attacking your critics and rejecting criticism.

So be a good little creator, take it up the ass and ask for seconds.

It was only after that in which she appeared in.... Before the Dawn, I want to say? She may have gotten a mention in After the Fall, but that was mostly away from Shade as a locale. When I learned she was in the book I was initially irritated, because I like the arc I did for her, but if they did something with her I would be willing to detour. Unfortunately, they... really didn't do anything with her. She, along with 90% of the remaining cast in that book, was completely wasted, so I felt no anxiety in detouring. 

Maybe because we have these things in the real world called 'limitations' and 'restrictions'. I know you like to pretend you could just write an outline, get some shitty sketches and pretend it's an actual product but actual creators have to deal with limitations while producing an actual product.

Considering I've already deviated by killing some characters, maiming others, and having a handful survive when they weren't supposed to, this change wasn't too big to me.

Keep this in mind. It's going to bite him in the ass soon.

As to why I did what I did with her, while the episode's story is squarely on Cinder, this is the conclusion of Arslan's arc... or should I say, her failure to arc.

... No. He didn't do that, did he?

Her life up until Vytal was defined by trying to one-up Pyrrha and earn the respect of those around her as a competent combatant. Her defeat at the tournament (and subsequent fall of Beacon) should have been the moment she self-reflected and found something else to value in her life, but what ended up happening was emotional stagnation. While she became more jaded and tired, as seen in Fixing Volume 5, she still held onto her world view back when she was trying to upstage Pyrrha. Her desire to seek revenge on Cinder may have seemed noble at first glance (partially because Cinder was also involved in Lionheart's death, at least to her knowledge), but in reality it was her way of trying to find closure to her spat with Pyrrha. She wanted to beat the person that killed Pyrrha because by transitive property, she'd be superior to Pyrrha. Unfortunately for her, Pyrrha was markedly outclassed by Cinder, so Arslan had little-to-no-hope of beating her. She let her obsession overtake her and she made several critical flaws that led to her dying as a result. Arslan should be looked at a dark tragedy.

... He did. He fucking did.

Hey Celtic, where did you get such an idea huh? Maybe from, I dunno...

A doctor breaking down a power hungry bitch?

Raymond McNeil.

You didn't GIVE Arslan her own arc. You copy/pasted CINDER'S arc then cut out half of it.

The whole idea of 'I am obsessed and I died because I failed to move on' is what CINDER is going through. That was the whole point of Watts' tearing into Cinder- to get it through her thick skull that she hadn't proven herself worthy of shit. That she was stagnating and stuck repeating her mistakes. And to cement that even if she got better as a villain- she was still a VILLAIN at the end of the day.

And it works with Cinder because this same inability to move on is shared with other villains like Adam and Salem. All of them are stuck in the past, in their own pain, while the heroes move past that and keep fighting. It's a called a 'theme', Raymond. Try analyzing it sometime.

Here, what is the point of Arslan going through this arc? Does it reinforce a theme or idea? Does it set the tone going forward? Is there any kind of parallel between her and her killer?

Going off of what you deemed important enough to mention- No. None of that is the point. Going off what you say later-

As to my overall process, Fixing RWBY is a lot more wholistic in approach than just making nips and tucks, even if I try not to stray too far from things (a solid example is the upping of the number of episodes that I've stuck too since Volume 1). I make changes to characters, lore building, world building and plot structure all the time because I feel like there's more to be squeezed out of those elements than the show even attempted to show (looking forward to actually working on Penny in Volume 7, we have almost too many ideas where to go with her).

Also gotta love the fact that Celtic is claiming he's changing things for the sake of the series while dedicating time to a character that adds nothing and indicates her arc has no real reason to exist. If it connected to the themes of the series- why didn't he mention it? Unless he doesn't think about themes in a heavily THEMATIC show.

There's also the unfortunate factor that as I move along, making even small changes will cause a ripple effect, meaning we have to account for more and more as time progresses. It's just the nature of the beast. I fully expect by the end of the series the two stories will only vaguely resemble each other. Hell, Volume 6 so far has had to account for so much that it already feels insanely different to the original, even while doing our best to keep specific plot points extant. What started as "Let's put some tournament drama in this tournament to put pressure on Pyrrha" evolved into "Arslan can't let go and this leads to her unfortunate demise."

Then you failed Raymond. Because according to you-

Really the heart of it is trying to figure out the story/stories that Miles, Kerry, Monty, (and later) Eddie and Kiersi want to tell with what they present us and then reverse engineering it to get the most mileage possible

You are writing their story.

And here's the thing- you didn't NEED to bring in Arslan. You try to just this by saying that Cinder killing mooks doesn't sell her threat-

That.... was a lot more than I intended to write, but I hope that ramble helps you understand where I'm coming from with the choice made about Arslan. As to your suggestion, I don't feel a simple mook from the Spiders would have served a purpose, plot or character-wise. Cinder is a serious threat, even at her lowest, and this is the moment that affirms that when she's in play, people's lives are on the table (looking at you, V8).

-but your own words imply Arslan has been living in Pyrrha's shadow for years. Hell,your own words about Arslan's death imply as much. If Pyrrha was better than Arslan but lost to Cinder- no shit Arslan was gonna die.

Could have gone the mook route and avoided all this shit with Arslan. But when you're more concerned with getting your dick sucked- guess basic writing skills need to go.

P.S. I find it funny that Raymond tries to take a potshots at V8 for not portraying Cinder as a serious threat when the finale absolutely did...while still emphasizing that she's stil alittle girl looking for control.

Maybe try boxing on your own level next time. I hear first time self insert harem fanfics could use a spell checker.

[allylikethecat]

would you consider putting kiss prompts on ao3? they are so good, they deserve to be kudosed and commented on

i would love 10 or 20 (thinking of g’s broken collarbones 🥹)

The more and more I think about it, the more I think that I will eventually move these prompts over to AO3 so that I can have them all in one place! I'm going to hold you to the commenting on them thing when I do though 😂 I'm so happy that you're enjoying them and think that they're worthy of being posted on AO3! I've filled #20 twice so far, and at the moment I am out of idea for that one. The previous fills can be found here and here. However, I hope you like my interpretation of #10! Thank you so much for reading and for sending in this request!

❤️Ally

10. Kiss ... desperately

George heard the key turn in the lock and was on his feet, rushing towards the front door before his brain could catch up to the fact that he was acting over eager. He slowed his pace, and took a deep breath. It had only been a week, Matty had only been gone a week. He tried not to think about how this was the longest they had been apart since Matty had gone to rehab.

He tried not to think about how those seven weeks had nearly broken him. How they had left him laying in their too big bed, crying himself to sleep each night. How he woke up alone each morning, and made two cups of coffee, before pouring the cup meant for Matty down the drain. How he went into the studio, and worked on client records as if nothing was the matter. How he turned down invitations to go out in favor of tearing their home apart, looking for each and every hiding place Matty might have had, and flushing his stash. Assuring his friends, assuring their brothers, that he was fine even as he sat alone, picking at a frozen dinner in front of a blackened TV screen like a ship lost at sea. 

He knew Matty had been sick, he knew that Matty needed to leave so that he could get better. He knew that to protect Matty’s dignity it wasn’t something that had been broadcast outside their inner circle. When Matty’s plane touched back down in London, George felt like he could breathe for the first time. He felt like had been watching the world pass him by in black and white, but with Matty’s return he was thrust back into tricolor, like Dorothy waking up in Oz. He had clutched him to his chest on the tarmac, his smaller body, while no longer frail, still fit perfectly against George’s own. He had breathed in the familiar scent of his hair, eucalyptus and peppermint mingled with cigarette smoke and the stale recycled airplane air. 

He hadn’t even realized he had been crying until Matty called him out on it, giving him a crooked, lopsided smile, full of false bravo and a “you missed me that much?” That had George slamming their mouths together desperately as if he could consume Matty with his love. In the six years that followed, they hadn’t been apart for more than forty eight hours. 

Matty had only been gone a week this time. He had been in New York, writing with Jack and Taylor. George had been invited, but had declined, Taylor was Matty’s friend, not his, and he had his own projects keeping him in London. It was good, it was healthy for them to have different friends, for them to spend time apart. He didn’t want to tell his therapist that being apart made him feel as if he was being torn to pieces from the inside out. He didn’t want to tell her that he missed Matty by his side like he missed a limb, phantom pains were Matty should have been riccoating through his heart. He was a big boy, he could handle his boyfriend leaving him for a week. It hadn’t even been a full week. Six days between Matty kissing him goodbye on the doorstep, and the sound of the key turning in the lock. 

The first day George had deep cleaned the house, eager to scrub and organize without Matty underfoot. The second day had been too quiet. The third day he let Mayhem up on the couch, digging his fingers into the dog’s scruff while he watched Drag Race rerun, wishing that it was Matty pressed into his side. The fourth day he slept in the guest room, hating the way he would reach out to Matty’s side of the bed and he wasn’t there. The fifth day he had gotten a pint with Ross, who started to tease him about missing his Missus, before he back tracked quickly when he saw the way George’s lip quivered.

Today was day six and Matty was on the doorstep, fumbling to get his key in the lock, it was raining and he was sure Matty hadn’t brought a coat, his wet fingers making the key slippery as he tried to twist the metal. The latch always stuck and Matty didn’t have the patience to jiggle it in just the right way. 

The door opened and Mayhem jumped off the couch he wasn’t supposed to be on, whizzing past George, barking happily as he slammed a hundred twenty pounds into Matty’s legs. He knew better than to jump but still knocked Matty off balance as he shook out his damp curls, causing him to bump into his suitcase, ending up in a heap on the floor, Mayhem licking his face. 

“Did you miss me buddy?” Matty asked, petting the dog enthusiastically before looking up at George with bright mischievous eyes. 

“Did you miss me?” he asked George, spying him lurking in the hallway like he had been waiting for his return. He looked up through his eyelashes and George closed the distance between them, shooing Mayhem away with his foot to haul Matty to his feet, pressing their lips together in a desperate, pressing kiss, backing Matty up against the wall, digging his fingers into his sides as he licked into his mouth as if he tried hard enough he could climb inside and they could become one. 

Matty chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest as Georged kissed his neck, licking and biting and sucking as if to mark him up, as if to show the world who he belonged to. 

“Something like that,” George said, pulling away from the underside of Matty’s jaw to press another kiss to his lips. “Something like that.”

[the-cryptographer]

Not really ao3 worthy at this point (I'd like to edit and contemplate a second chapter), but here's a little something I wrote for the most important day of @rainstormcolors YGO Super Rare Pair Week.

Atem/Haga & some cracky dimensional travel to the Insect Queen's Lair.

~~

“You can’t be serious about going back in there?!”

Haga’s question came out in a deranged screech. And Atem leaned back and away from the gnash of his teeth. The putrid cowardice of his being.

Disdain was an uncomfortable feeling, like something slimy on your tongue. Atem got angry to cover the taste.

“You would leave your friend behind?!” he demanded. “In the depths of that hive?!”

“The bugs have probably torn him to death already!” Haga protested.

His brow scrunched. His beady black eyes looked very large, magnified behind the lens of his glasses. They were the same gold frames with the scarab as he’d wore in Atem’s dimension. Or Yuugi’s dimension, maybe. Atem wondered where he’d gotten them, and where he’d gotten that brown jumpsuit he was wearing.

Before Atem could ponder on that more, he realised with sudden horror that there were tears beading in Haga’s eyes as well, enlarged by the lens.

“That wasn’t what I asked anyhow!” Haga hissed. “He’s not your friend in there! You’re the one that shouldn’t be serious about it?!”

Atem crossed his arms over his chest, looked into Haga’s face for some betrayal – something underhanded waiting to be uncovered.

“Jounouchi liked Ryuuzaki,” Atem said. A friend of Jounouchi’s was a friend of his. And Ryuuzaki was Haga’s friend. Which make them unfortunate friends-in-law.

“Jounouchi?” Haga sneered. “That bleach-blonde thug thought he was better than us. As if his ugly face wasn’t just as unpopular with the girls.”

“Girls?” Atem blinked.

“Feh,” Haga spat. “It was just Ryuuzaki and me back when- Just don’t act like you care!”

He stomped off. Only as far as the other end of the cave, thank Ra. They didn’t need to draw unwanted attention.

Though Atem suspected it wouldn’t matter in the end. This place stank like dung and honey, sweet and rotten. No corner untouched by those insect monsters, the Korogashi. It was empty for now, but he and Haga would be found eventually.

Atem tried to summon his Ka – Black Luster, the three Gods, Mana and Mahaad, Exodia. But he couldn’t get his Ba to manifest.

He wondered if he’d have been able to with one of Kaiba’s duel disks.

Thinking about Kaiba made Atem angry again. Angry and infuriated and a little heartsick. Even if Atem himself was stuck in this hellish dimension, he hoped Kaiba had made it back home safely to Mokuba. He hoped Kaiba hadn’t just splintered and fragmented the entire fabric of the universe, like an amateur jeweler getting overenthusiastic with a diamond and a pair of shears.

Yeah, big fucking thanks to your stupid boyfriend~ It was impossible to tell Priest Set’s sneer from Insector Haga’s.

“He’s not my-!” Atem reared on his companion. “Don’t talk about him like that!”

Because no matter how frustrated Atem was with Kaiba, Kaiba had thought everything and the whole universe was worth risking to come see Atem again. Not Yuugi, and not the Pharaoh, but Atem as a person. And Atem wouldn’t let anyone else call him stupid for that.

The world winked out and then winked back in with a flash of blue light.

It was still the cave – the borough of these insects. Dung and honey.

“What did I do?!” Haga whined.

He was looking at Atem like he hadn’t even said anything. Maybe he even hadn’t.

Atem let out a groan of frustration. The problem was he didn’t know. Haga took advantage of things like this. Made doubt yourself. Made you trust him before he turned on you.

“Oh, you mean Jounouchi?” Haga sneered. His eyes narrowed with sudden sadistic focus. “Did you ever show him that costume then?”

Haga pointed at Atem’s forehead and laughed, an ugly nasally thing. And it took Atem a moment to realise he was pointing to the golden eye of Wedjat.

Atem looked down at his white and purple Pharaoh's robes, from the dimension he’d come from. As foreign to Haga as Haga’s own brown jumpsuit was to Atem.

“So you never did show Jounouchi, your precious ‘friend’?!” Haga laughed. “I guess you knew he’d think you were worth as little as us, if he knew you were an Egyptian mythology otaku! Or do you also think you were better than us, Yuugi?”

Haga let out a derisive snort.

“Let me set it straight for you!” he shouted. “Dinosaurs are better than pyramids any day of the week! And bugs are better than both of them!”

Atem felt a little deflated. He was never going to understand why dinosaurs and bugs and pyramids were worth shouting over like this but-

“I’m not Yuugi,” he said.

“What you have a character name for your Live Action Role Play?” Haga mocked. “You have to be cuter to get me to call you Cleopatra~”

“No, I’m not Yuugi,” Atem insisted.

Haga blinked. Readjusted his glasses. Blinked, like maybe in the dim light of the cave, through the fog of these different dimensions, he was seeing for the first time Atem’s coiled hair and dark skin.

“You knew I wasn’t Yuugi!” Atem felt furious now. “You taunted me! You pretended to rip his soul apart, when he was trapped in the Seal of Orichalcos!”

“W-What are you talking about, Yuugi?” Haga said. “We haven’t seen one another since you destroyed my Perfectly Ultimate Great Moth at Duellist Kingdom… And that was before… um… There was a disaster… My brother’s pesticide business…”

Haga scratched the back of his head.

“How did I get here?” he asked.

It occurred to Atem that this might not be his Haga. That they might have come from totally disparate planes of existence, and were only meeting here briefly in this strange dimension.

Haga didn’t seem to be taking this well.

“How did I get here, Yuugi?!” he demanded. And when Atem had no answer for him, he flared up. “This is all your fault! If you hadn’t distracted me, Ryuuzaki wouldn’t have been captured by those-!”

There was a loud scuttling sound echoing through the caves. Something scraping the edges of the tunnel.

“Quiet!” Atem hissed. He lunged forward and pressed his hand over Haga’s mouth.

Haga might have made things difficult for Atem if he tried. Because even if he was a hair shorter than Atem, he was stockier, less lean.

But for some reason Haga didn’t make trouble. And, distracted by the problem at hand, Atem pressed them both towards the burough’s smallest darkest corner, where he thought they might be overlooked by their approaching assailant.

The Korogashi rolled its mound into the cavern, scuttled, pincers snapping.

They said the monster crushed its foes with the dung it rolled, but Atem didn’t thought it could have crushed them all by itself. These insects monsters were as large as people, or larger. Like holographs but solid. Like pain.

Atem closed his eyes, and tried once more to summon something from his Ba. Not even caring whose hand he reached, as long as it was someone’s. Then-

“Boh!”

Something popped into existence.

Atem blinked, and the first thing he saw was Haga’s eyes, wide as saucers. He followed them to the Ka he’d summoned.

“Boh! Boh! Boh!” Kuriboh said. Its eyes narrowed in determination. And it gave a salute, before bouncing off through the cavern.

Atem heard rather than saw the Korogashi turn and follow in pursuit.

He waited a moment in silence then, when he was sure the monsters had gone, became very suddenly aware of Haga’s lips damp against his palm.

Atem dropped his hand quickly and stepped back.

Haga seemed to come to himself, slapped Atem further away. His pale face looked very pink in the dim light.

“…Are you alright?” Atem asked.

Haga’s flush deepened, but he didn’t bother answering, or even meeting Atem’s eyes.

“Ugh! It doesn’t make any sense!” Haga cried.

“It doesn’t?” Atem said stupidly. Mostly because a lot of things weren’t making much sense right now.

He thought about the Kuriboh. He hoped it would be okay. Manage to escape the insects.

“Honeypot ants are one thing,” Haga was saying. “But dung beetles don’t live in colonies! They live in mated pairs! They shouldn’t be organised like this!”

“Right,” Atem said.

“Unless…” Haga snapped his fingers. “Insect Queen!” he said. “They must be answering to the Insect Queen.”

“…Right,” Atem said. He didn’t understand how Haga was reaching these conclusions but, well… Even if Atem couldn’t trust Haga, he definitely trusted that Haga knew more about insects than him.

And maybe that knowledge would be useful right now.

“These common bugs are one thing,” Haga was fretting, “but if the Insect Queen has Ryuuzaki… But could I betray my Queen for…”

Atem feel like he suddenly knew everything he needed. “You plan to go after Ryuuzaki?”

“That’s what I said from the start!” Haga snapped. “You’re the one that shouldn’t-”

“Then I’ll help you,” Atem said.

Even if the universe shattered. Even if this dimension was going to fade out like a dying star.

And who knew? Maybe Kaiba or Mahaad or Mana would still find a way to save them.

But even if this was the end of everything, helping two friends reunite wouldn’t be the worst way for Atem to spend his last moments.

“It seems I’m still able to summon low level Ka,” he said. “With my Ka, and your knowledge of insects, we can put together a strategy to rescue Ryuuzaki.”

He turned and started out the cavern.

“Let’s go,” he commanded. “We’ll plan as we move. I don’t work well if I’ve gone on the defensive too long.”

“Uugh!” Haga groaned. But he fell into step, running to catch up. “Who do you think you are bossing me around like that?!” he demanded. “Who put you in charge of everything?!”

“Atem.” He didn’t bother answering the question about who’d put him in charge. “My name is Atem.”

[ghosttownwherenoonegoes]

HAPPIEST OF BIRTHDAYS TO @fandomohana , who is an absolute ANGEL. She's so wise and kind and gentle and she's been such a sweetheart to me and others. I'm so grateful you're here, Christina, and I hope you enjoy!!!💞💞💞

Summary: you struggle to understand how or why Eddie loves you and Eddie struggles to understand how you can't see he's head over heels for you. Fluff, comfort.

TW; negative self-talk, negative self-belief, low self-esteem, crying, not believing you're worthy of being loved, relationship doubts and insecurities. THIS IS ONLY AN X READER FIC IF YOU ARE CHRISTINA!!!!

Eddie, your sweet beloved Eddie, knew you.

He knew you, perhaps better than anyone. You had a level of understanding with Eddie that you hadn’t ever been able to find in another before him, and you were certain that you would never find it in another after him, either.

Eddie Munson was it for you, just as you were it for him.

It sounded simple, in theory, you and Eddie against the world (with Uncle Wayne standing before you, his arms folded, his piercing blues daring the world to fuck around with his kids and find out what would happen) and it felt simple in practice, too, or it should…

… but sometimes the thoughts screamed much too loud. They crashed through your mind like a symphony of destruction, causing devastation and despair in their wake as the hurricane blazed through you and ripped to shreds everything you knew about yourself. All of your hopes and dreams became grief and nightmares, everything you wanted became everything you thought you would never have, and you ended up beating yourself up, tearing yourself to shreds over things which you knew Eddie would tell you he loved you for.

The sweet metalhead absolutely adored you. From the first moment he had ever laid eyes on you, he knew that his life would never be the same again. You complemented his life, you made it better just by being in it, and it broke Eddie’s heart every single day when you had to endure feeling like the opposite was true.

Today was one of those days.

Just like always, Eddie knew how you were feeling with just a look. He knew how your mind was trying to poison you against yourself, and how you were fighting like hell to stop that from happening. Raging a war against yourself was one thing, but winning it was quite another. You survived each and every day, you faced yourself every morning and you won every night, and Eddie knew that you were the most metal ever.

His Christina, with the gorgeous long hair which he so adored to run his fingers through and to help you maintain, the beautiful eyes which held all the love in the world in some moments but then all the pain in the world in other times, the big heart which would be larger than Hawkins if someone dared to quantify it (an impossible task, he would wager), the kindness and compassion which extended out to others even when you were suffering in silence… you were an angel. A total fucking badass, too.

A fighter. A warrior. His sweetheart. His girl.

His.

“Oh,” Eddie cooed gently as he sat down beside you on the worn sofa, springs dug uncomfortably into his back but he didn’t leave because he wouldn’t leave your side for anything or anyone, “I know that look, sweetheart.” He wrapped an arm around you, his fingers splayed across the plush of your shoulder so that he could touch as much of you at once as he possibly could, “c’mere. You’re safe here, I promise.” Eddie pressed kisses to the apple of your cheek, his lips drying your sticky cheeks damp with tears, his full lips soft and pillowy against your own as he laid traces of his love and affection for you anywhere and everywhere he could reach. He never solely relied on words to reassure you when you had doubts and insecurities about how someone like Eddie could love someone like you, no. Eddie was a man of principle, a man of action, and so he kept you tucked tightly into his side. “I’m here, Christina, and I’m not going anywhere. I know you can’t see it right now, but…” Eddie paused, frowned as he considered his next words, “You’re the bats to my Ozzy, the cereal to my spoon, the guitar to my amp, the Sam to my Frodo, the food to my hobbit, the… manual to my figurines, the…” he gesticulated wildly with a hand, looking for the words to conjure out of thin air. He snapped his fingers when he found them, the same way a magician finishes with a flourish. “You’re the Christina to my Eddie.” He nodded, satisfied.

The tone of completion, like Eddie had just revealed some great truth which was now totally and finally out in the open, filled your ears, and it told you everything you needed to hear to let yourself believe this day that what he said was true; Eddie was of the absolutely unshakeable belief and knowledge that you and he were not only two complementary wholes, but he couldn’t think of anything much to define the both of you as a couple because you were so perfectly unique that you were your own descriptors. Only true love cannot be explained, only felt.

“I love you, Eddie.” You sniffled, trying to simply enjoy the moment as the thoughts screamed at you that this was it, enjoy it enjoy it it won’t last he won’t stay you’ll be alone again -

But Eddie sensed your thoughts once more because he knew, he always knew, and he seized your lips in a bruising kiss, his expression of love for you as demanding as it was generous as he took and gave in equal intensities. Your head swam, your toes curled, your thoughts quietened, and just as you totally fell into Eddie, he broke the kiss; he chose instead to pepper your face with kisses to dry the remaining tears and to soothe away any persistent thoughts as best as he could. If he could have reached inside your mind and literally smoothed them away, he would have done it without hesitation, but this was the best he could do.

“I love you too, Christina. Don’t believe otherwise because the words aren’t mine, ‘kay?”

At least for the rest of today, you believed him.

Tomorrow would be a gamble, but that was okay because Eddie wouldn’t let you face it alone. Eddie and Christina against the world, with Uncle Wayne guarding the front, was the way it would always be for the three of you. Once a Munson, always a Munson, and family sticks together.

[azureeyenews]

Thanksgiving: Chapter 15

(Editor's note: the poll tied again)

The voices in your head that give you the best advice are being remarkably unhelpful right now, so you take out your lucky cursed coin again and flip it. It explodes in mid-air, turning into a screaming unkindness of ravens. Hm. Probably bad.

Even WORSE, you're pretty sure you remember that Bronwyn means something like raven. And the last Bronwyn you knew was an asshole. Man, you hope this one's better. You trudge sullenly across the hallway, which is an impressive amount of sulking to do in about ten feet.

It occurs to you, somewhat belatedly as you knock on Bronwyn's door, that the last, horrible Bronwyn that you knew was this one, and immediately wish you'd gone to see David instead. He probably has the devil's lettuce, and instead you chose to go to an angry bible lady's room.

You're just about to turn away when you hear a "Come in!" and you know it's too late. Well, I mean, realistically you could, but that would be the worst of all possible things: SOCIALLY AWKWARD. You shiver as you briefly remember the things you said and did in middle school.

Bronwyn's room is covered in paintings and sketches of angels. And not like the friendly, sunday school kind- the biblically accurate ones. Terrible, fiery wings, piercing multitudes of eyes- goddamn, Bron's gotten GOOD at art. This is museum worthy, if it wasn't so scary.

"Oh," she narrows her blue eyes with irritation as realizes who it is, "you. Glad you're home. Now leave."

"Um, happy birthday?" You try to be at least SOME polite.

Both your eyes flick to the clock. Wait, how did you know it was Thanksgiving day now?

"Thank you," she forces a smile, "Happy birthday to you as well. Now get out."

"Look," you fumble around for something, "Have you seen Dad lately?"

She stares at you like you're an idiot.

"Yes. At dinner. Just like you did."

"But he wasn't there. It was just the 7 of us."

"Yeah. You know, maybe Mom was right about you. First you run away from home, no one hears from you in YEARS, then you show back up here and you don't even recognize Dad when you see him. You are the most undutiful child in the world."

She... might have a point there.

"Your art's gotten really good!" You try to change the subject, again, "Those angels are beautifully rendered. I- wait is that arabic on the Throne angels? Kind of a non-traditional choice."

"AVESTAN!" She absolutely growls, gritting her teeth and beginning to radiate malice.

"I-"

"You. Killed. Chorles."

You stop entirely, and for a moment your heart does as well. No one's ever said it out loud before. Everyone always told you it wasn't your fault, but... but you knew. She'd been so close to him. Almost worshipped him. Her big, hero brother.

"You killed Chorles. I was there. I saw it. I SAW YOU PUSH HIM. I don't CARE what everyone else says, I SAW IT. You MURDERED our brother. You ran away from home. And now, what, you're back? The prodigal child returneth for your inheritance? No. NO! Go. To. HELL!"

All you can do is stand there, unable to meet her eyes.

"You like my pictures so much? Fine. Take one," she tears the one you'd been admiring off the wall and shoves it into your chest with such force that you're physically knocked out of the room.

"Happy Birthday," she smiles sarcastically, "Now get out. And maybe find the courage to do the right thing for once in your godless little life and atone for the murdering our brother so you could inherit the family fortune."

She slams the door in your face.

That's... that's the Bronwyn you remember. Only worse.

Your feet feel heavy as you walk down the hall and up the stairs towards your room, feeling for all the world like the chains of Marley's ghost are weighing you down. That's the wrong holiday, but whatever.

You hurl yourself down on your bed and open up the drawing, blankly staring at it without seeing as her words bounce around in your brain. You don't know how long you lay like that before it slowly dawns on you that something's not right. It's a smell. A familiar smell.

You think its your room at first, but... no. Old incense and ozone, like lightning hit a joss stick.

Magic. OLD magic. Here. In your room. You blink. No, not your room- your HANDS.

Bronwyn's drawing is literally MAGICAL. How in the world...?

Your fingers trace the delicate Avestan characters. You can't read them, but you've spent so long surrounded by magic you know it by smell now. You have just been gifted a SCROLL OF LOCATE OBJECT. You stick it in your inventory for later.

Something isn't adding up here. Bronwyn, a painfully devout Christian, has been copying some sort of Avestan-language grimoire with enough fidelity that the magic literally rubbed off. One with old, weird angels. And she's insisting Dad was at dinner, when he wasn't.

At least two of your siblings are dabbling in real magic. Old, OLD magic, back before the Arcane and Divine schools diverged. Meanwhile your mom's ghost is evidently living in the graveyard out back, and a different, unknown ghost has been possessing your family for generations.

You are in danger, and the mysteries are growing by the minute. You need to move. You decide to search:

[scnsualforalphas]

Daimon simply never ceased to amaze him. For the past five years, nearly every night Tommy had spent thinking about the other, wondering how he was feeling, picturing how this very moment, this reunion would go. With every day he noticed himself change a little bit, asking himself if the same was happening for his prison lover. Were they moving in the same direction, were they drifting apart? Tommy had been so busy worrying about the future he wasn't certain would ever happen, that he didn't even think to reflect on the details of their shared past. Of course he reveled in the memories, reminsicing fondly of the nights in their cell, of Daimon's massive body holding his own close, of the other's scent... But he'd never thought to look back and wonder if there were things he had missed. Only now, five years later, did Tommy even realize small details like the fact that the other had paid attention to his silly little ramblings. His dreams of travelling all over with his Demon once they had regained their freedom. Hopes that had felt like a naive fantasy he'd held onto in order not to go insane behind bars... The fact that Daimon not only remembered those stories but was actually here, right now, to make them a reality, had Tommy floored, extremely touched by the fact that their connection had always run even deeper than he'd been aware. And this was only the beginning of the revelations he was facing...

Hearing the genuine pride in Daimon's voice, seeing the smile on the other's lips when he shared his accomplishments almost brought tears to Tommy's eyes. "I never could have done it if I hadn't met you", he spoke softly, not even knowing where to begin expressing his endless gratitude for the other man. Back in prison, even if the physical aspect of their relationship had not been so highly intense and kept Tommy much too busy to focus on catching up on his education, he wouldn't have been able to go through with it anyway. He might have arrived in prison that first night with a big mouth, thinking he was the hot shit, but in reality that attitude had masked Tommy's fully shattered self-worth at the time. His dysfunctional upbringing had left the young man's confidence in shambles, and a sad but unfortunate truth was that part of why he'd so easily embraced the total submission Daimon had initially forced upon him was the simple fact that Tommy didn't believe himself to be worth much more anyway. He'd resigned to the fact that he was at the bottom of the food chain, just a hole to fuck. Maybe that was all he was good for - at least those were his thoughts in those early days. Ironically, it was Daimon who made him feel special. Who made him feel capable and worthy. Just like he had been able to soothe the beast within his cellmate, Tommy's own demons had been exorcised thanks to Daimon's help.

The initial lack of a reaction as he mentioned the wedding planning and his domestic life had Tommy... concerned, to say the least. It wasn't necessarily unusual for Daimon to stay calm and quiet even when confronted with something that was destined to anger him, but in the smaller man's experience, those moments of self-control were usually an indication of an even bigger danger, as Daimon's rage was one thing, but seeing him cold-blooded was a whole other story. So part of Tommy was anxious, mentally bracing for the other to explode at any given moment, preparing to calm his lover down if needed. But instead... He was making plans? Tommy stared in disbelief as Daimon made big promises, not because he had any doubt the other was serious but simply because it was so far from the reaction he had feared for in response to his words. As much as he loved his Demon, Tommy remembered very well the beast that was his lover. Remembered how Daimon would make sure to let him know without a doubt whenever he'd angered him. Whether he was asking too many questions or voicing an opinion the other didn't agree with, Tommy would be taught his lesson, pounded into submission, his body sore and barely conscious by the end of it, Daimon's seed usually spilling from his overworked hole as a monument and reminder for the blonde to know his place.

But none of that was happening, and Tommy began to wonder if maybe this was a dream after all. It felt unreal that Daimon had tamed his beast so well, the amazement over the change making the blonde forget to even respond to the suggestion of getting a job or starting his own business. The sheer notion of that felt so beyond the realm of possibility, and yet Daimon never spoke in vain. Hearing his lover make promises of that dimension... It was only surpassed by the confessions that followed. All those words, all these admissions to moments in the past five years that had made so little sense at the time but were so easily dismissed... It all began to make sense now, and the realization that Daimon had been there, in spirit, the whole time, was overwhelming. Tommy could no longer hold back the tears streaming down his face, the sheer disbelief and joy at how much this man loved him making it hard to find words. "The rose... I knew that was you", he whispered, still in utter shock and feeling his heart pounding as if it was about to jump out of his chest. "I thought I was going crazy because there was no way it was you, but... it had to be", he mused, closing his eyes.

Knowing that his fiancé's life had been at risk multiple times during the past few years was less joyful of a revelation, but as painful as it was to think of the other and the fact that he'd just left him without a proper explanation or even saying goodbye in person, Tommy was immensely relieved, proud and shocked all at once that Daimon had held back from going through with the hit, even while knowing this stranger was making love to his Angel. "Happy... I think I was. I was... broken, Daimon. I left part of myself in that prison and I have been fractured ever since. Until today", he smiled, teary eyes shimmering with devotion for the other. "But he kept me sane. He gave me a reason to survive out here in this world that's so beautfiul and yet was missing what I needed to live. If it hadn't been for him, I would have seen just two ways, and trust me, I had considered them both", Tommy confessed. "I was either going to end it all, or I was going to do whatever it would take to get me back to you. I would have blown up a building if it meant being reunited with you."

"Sometimes I like just listening to you, Angel," Demon replied simply to the other's surprise at how much attention he'd paid and also how much he remembered, "You do enough talking for the both of us. But, you're not wrong, love, I was focused on those things but that didn't mean my ears stopped working," he smiled, enjoying that this came as a pleasant surprise to the other. He'd then simply laughed off the other's joking question about whether he'd picked up a gambling habit and where he'd gotten his resources from, but offered no answer or indication to satisfy the smaller male's painfully obvious curiosity.

Hearing Tommy return the sentiment stirred something inside Demon, something warm and comforting, something that soothed that ever raging fire and desire for destruction inside him. Like the warm hand of an owner stroking the head of their pet, or the soft serenading sound of music to a serpent or beast. He hadn't felt that feeling in five years and he'd started experiencing it from the moment he'd heard Tommy's voice again, but now, having him by his side, officially and starting their life together and hearing him openly admit that what they shared had never died for him either ... brought a unique kind of quiet joy and peace to the stone-faced lawbreaker that was better than any drug or anything else could make him feel.

"You're shittin' me," the Irish-American said with pleasant surprise, squeezing Tommy's hand, "Ya actually went and did it!?" he said, the pride clear in his voice, "Congratulations, my Angel, I told ya that ya could do it," he said, even breaking into a smile. Tommy had always been smarter and more capable than his rap-sheet would lead one to believe and Demon had seen that in him from the start. Naturally it'd been too difficult for the other to study in jail as Demon inadvertently kept him busy and used up all of his time, plus the other still seemed conflicted over a lot of things at the time. But hearing that Tommy had been working to improve himself made him genuinely happy and proud for the other, "We'll need to get you a graduation present then," he hummed, looking over at the other with a wink and pressing another kiss to the back of his hand.

He nodded as the other continued, surprisingly showing no real reaction to the other mentioning the wedding he had almost followed through with or performing wifely duties for another man. Tommy would soon come to learn that Demon had also been working on himself outside of just his intense physical routine. Once he'd accepted the fact that he wanted a life with Tommy no matter what, he'd done everything he could to start setting up for it, including improving his behavior in prison so that there would be no more delays in serving his sentence and also learning to deal with things in a much more mature, level-headed way.

"If you wanna work that badly, we can find you work," he shrugged, "Or ... we could get your started up with your own business. Don't gotta worry about some prick wanting to hire you if you're the boss," he pointed out, "Say the word and we can make either of those happen," he said simply. Demon wasn't a man of empty promises or fancy words, he said what he meant and meant what he said and Tommy would know that. He looked over at Tommy when the other began to ask questions and immediately remembered when the other would question him when they were in prison and he would lash back out at the other and remind him of his place and force-fuck him into silence and submission until he forgot what he was questioning him about in the first place.

After a few moments, maybe minutes, of silence and consideration, Demon took a deep breath, and proceeded to, again, surprise them both with his changed self. "Two days ago," he answered honestly, "An' I've had you tracked since about a year after you left," he also admitted. That begged an obvious follow-up question, "An' ... I ... I knew about you finishing school," he also revealed, "But I'm still proud. That's no word of a lie. An' when you finished, you know that check you received? The one that they said went to "the hardest worker" in class or some shit ... yeah, that was bullshit, it was from me," he wasn't looking over at Tommy as he spoke now, his eyes laser-focused on the road. He never admitted to the things he did, especially things he did from the shadows through his infinite-seeming web of connections; it was the reason someone of his criminal caliber had gotten such a light sentence- the feds hadn't been able to pin anything on him as he'd never given them anything to go on. But, here he was, letting himself be seen and known to Tommy.

"Same like the rose left on your doorstep on your birthdays," he murmured, "Aye, that was also me," he chewed his lip. He stayed silent for little bit before continuing, "Whenever you got into a little trouble with anythin'- if it somehow magically worked out in the end - it was probably me, Angel," Demon finally slowly glanced over at the other but was unable to hold his gaze for too long, feeling too exposed in the moment to handle it, and turning his eyes back on the road. "Almost had that cock-sucker fiance of yours taken out multiple times but ..." he let out a tight, long breath, "I knew they'd probably look at you first for it and also for all I knew maybe you were actually happy with that beige, boring sonovabitch."

Demon's hand never wavered from the secure hold it had on Tommy's, "You remember what I told you that first night you showed up in my cell?" he cleared his throat, "I said that from then on that I'd look after ye," he reminisced softly, "An' I don't make bullshit promises. You know I don't," he said more firmly and clearly, he added in the same, certain tone. "Nothin' ever changed that for me. Nothin'," he let out a slow sigh once he got it all out, clearly having struggled to be so open and honest but pushed himself through it, "You've always been my Angel, no matter what. And God almighty as my witness; until my dyin' breath and beyond that, you always will be."

[octo-hyacinth]

Hey! I recently stumbled across your work and have been absolutely hooked. Can I request Dorm Leaders’ reactions when fem!reader accidentally falls under a sleeping curse? The cure is true love’s kiss of course, but they’re either too dense or too anxious to know that:P

yes, ofc! i’ll only write up to vil cuz im not familiar enough with idia and malleus for the time being, but hopefully one day i can muster up the courage to write them haha

~~~~~

Dorm Leaders with an S/O Cursed to Sleep

Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar,Azul Ashengrotto, Kalim Al-Asim, Vil Schoenheit Content Warnings: Tiny bit of angst (more like panic but the title is self-explanatory), yall can imagine the ending however u want im cutting it off at the kiss, mostly typed on phone so possible typos but its fine A/N: man it took me so long to get around to this and i'm so sorryyyy (*_ _)人 but i hope you enjoy!

"How could this possibly happen? Y/N is surrounded by students for a large portion their day, every day, and yet they are lying here, having been singled out and targeted by such a malevolent curse," Vil argued.

Leona leaned against the furthest wall, rolling his eyes. "Will ya shut your trap already? We get it, it's a bad situation, and it's real inconvenient." He scowled at your sleeping form, like maybe if he judged you enough, you'd wake up. "I almost wanna say they deserve this, for bein' so dense, but—"

"How could you say that?" Kalim cried, attempting to quickly wipe the tears streaking down his face. "They've been nothing but nice to all of us, but now they're d—"

"The prefect is not dead, simply... incapacitated for an indefinite amount of time," Azul replied smoothly, but if you looked closely, he seemed to be holding back a bit of his own worry from showing on his face. "I think—"

"No one asked you what you think, cephalo-punk—"

"QUIET, ALL OF YOU!" Riddle shouted, thoroughly irritated by the lack of progress in getting you to wake up. "Instead of sitting around complaining, we should be coming up with a solution."

They stood in silence for a few tense moments, before Vil softly spoke.

"I believe I've read about a similar situation happening with a princess long ago. She too was cursed into slumber, and the only way to wake her up was—"

"But-but that's impossible!" Riddle sputtered. "True love's kiss? Should we really be looking to a fairytale for our answers?"

"All stories are laced with truth, as they say," Azul thoughtfully stroked his chin. "Perhaps... we should try it, if we truly have no other options."

A heavy silence spread across the room as every leader contemplated this. Finally, someone spoke.

"Alright, I'll do it."

Riddle Rosehearts

Oh, dear, what a predicament.

Riddle’s a clever boy, so he knows exactly what needs to be done... he just doesn't exactly have the courage to do it.

I mean, true love’s kiss? Is that something he can even achieve? Is he worthy of kissing you awake, or will he fall short of needing to be your "true love"?

He has his worries, but he does his best to be rational, and just do the next logical step in achieving his goal.... in this case the goal being to save you from being stuck in an eternal slumber that possibly no one will be able to wake you from. No big deal.

He ordered everyone to clear out, as there was no way he could bring himself to kiss you in front of all those eyes. Much too embarrassing.

He approached the side of your bed, and stared at your gently closed eyes. You looked so peaceful— was this perhaps a much-needed break from running around campus every day? As much as he wanted to say you SHOULD be waking up to attend to what needed to be done, he was afraid of forcing you back to your tiresome waking reality. What if you got upset at him for bringing you back?

But he couldn't dwell on these questions when you were stuck under a curse. Everyone wanted you back. And Riddle missed you more than he'd like to admit. So he leaned over your resting frame, and with only a moment of hesitation, he pressed his lips gently to yours.

Leona Kingscholar

First off, what a hassle.

Most of him didn't even wanna be here, arguing with the other dorm losers, but he couldn't bring himself to just ditch you when you needed help.

Once Schoenheit mentioned true love's kiss being the only option available to wake you up, he scoffed and almost left right then, ready to let someone else deal with that. But then he had a thought.

What if he was the one that you needed that kiss from?

The more he thought about it, the more possessive he was getting over you. He didn't want any of these other idiots kissing you, cuz you were his. He was the one that truly wanted you, and you felt the same way, of course. Right?

He got flashbacks to all the times you defended him, like during his overblot, when you simply refused to let him destroy himself when he was at his lowest.

And then, right there, he made up his mind. He wasn't gonna let any of these guys claim you first, so he pushed his way through from the wall, slipped his hand underneath your head, and kissed you with all the passion he'd been holding back since he met you.

Azul Ashengrotto

Azul was incredibly good at holding up a façade of confidence, even if he didn’t always feel that way. But upon realizing the fact that the only way to wake you was through a true love’s kiss, well, it made him more nervous than he expected to be

At first, he tried to approach it like he would any other situation. How can he turn this in his favor? How can he maximize his own gain from this situation? How can he take control?

But the more he thought about it, the more a certain sense of dread overcame him. He started to realize that this was not a situation he could take control of. There was only one option; to kiss you, or let someone else do it. No cheating, no manipulation, and there’s nothing else he could gain or lose. That was the only variable.

But now that he really thought about that… was kissing you really such a bad option? Or was it something he desired deep in the pits of his own soul, under all the indifferent, confident, businesslike masks he used on the regular?

The more he thought, the more his feelings for you started to claw its way towards the surface of his consciousness. And once those feelings broke through the tumultuous waves of all his suppressed emotions and made itself known, it hit him like a brick.

He cared for you. Deeper than he’d ever ventured back in the Coral Sea, deeper than he could’ve imagined. And then he felt something akin to possessiveness, almost. Not quite so aggressive as it, but he realized how badly he wanted to be the one to kiss you. Not any of the others, because then he’d have to face up to the possibility that he wasn’t your true love.

But then, even if he WAS the first one to kiss you, would you even wake up?

He really, really hoped you would.

Finally, after being stuck in his thoughts for what felt like an eternity, he decided to act.

In his most confident, self-assured voice, he asked the others to step out of the room, and only after Leona made a mocking gesture at him before closing the door, did Azul let out a big sigh.

Now alone, with his feelings free to take over, he inched towards the side of your bed, all the while keeping his eyes on your serene face before delicately sitting down on the edge.

Slowly, he took off one glove to gently hold the side of your face, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. And as he studied how peaceful you were, and felt how soft your skin was upon your beautiful face, he felt a sense of calm wash over him like a beach at high tide. All of his nervousness about kissing you was dispelled. Because like this, he felt as if you were his rock during a torrential hurricane. You felt like the safety of his octopot whenever he was afraid. He cared for you so much, he could never be scared of you.

So if this was what had to be done to wake you, to bring back your smile and laughter and all the joy you brought to his life, he would kiss you without a moment’s hesitation.

And so he did, and it was as gentle as the rocking seaweed sways under the sea, but filled with enough love to create an ocean.

Kalim Al-Asim

He’s so, so terrified that you won’t be able to wake up from this curse

Almost leaves to go get Jamil over here to figure out a way to wake you up, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave you!

If Vil said that a kiss would be the way to wake you up, does that mean they’d all have to take turns kissing you? But he wanted to be the one that counted as true love!

I mean, he always showered you with gifts that you said were “too expensive” or something, and he always shared Jamil’s cooking with you, which of course you both thought was delicious. He does so much for you because he loves you! You’re his favorite person, and he regularly told you so, and how he wanted to bring you home to his family over school break, and that he was positive that his parents would approve of you!

And with how much he showed his love for you, how could he be anything but your true love!

Wait, he had to focus at the problem at hand. You needed a kiss to wake up, and he was totally willing to give you a lil kiss (you didn’t even have to be cursed to get one from him, he’s just that affectionate)

He tried really hard to push back the nervousness by thinking happy thoughts, like how excited he’d be once you woke up and then he could give you all his affection again and have Jamil cook up a feast to celebrate your waking, and he could get a bunch of fancy animals too, and invite the whole school so everyone could be happy that the curse was gone!

Dang, he wasn’t very good at focusing on the problem in front of him. Anyway.

If kissing you was all he had to do, he was willing to give it a shot! So he volunteered out loud, and without waiting for anyone to respond or even leave, he rushed over to your bedside, and combed his fingers through your hair before accidentally smashing his lips against yours a bit too hard. Oopsie. He was just overexcited, just looking forward to seeing your happy smile again!

Vil Schoenheit

Likely approaching this problem the most rationally, closely tied with Riddle.

In the story, the fabled princess was kissed awake by a wandering, random prince who just happened to be enraptured by her sleeping beauty, and he just happened to be her true love. But how lucky would you be, to have your true love be someone in this room?

Truth be told, he was hoping with all his heart that this was his chance to be the prince, the protagonist in the story, the one who ‘gets the girl’, as those ancient stories would put it. Going his whole life playing the role of the villain, he just wanted this one chance to be your prince.

Of course, you deserved nothing less than the fairest one this world had to offer, and Vil would say he was the fairest of them all, and that you deserved him, but more than anything, he just wanted to to able to deserve you.

He didn’t overthink the situation much. He was never one to succumb to nerves or panic or anxiety. He knew what had to be done, and he knew what he wanted to do. So he strode up to you without giving the other housewardens even a passing glance, gently cupped your face, and kissed you as lovingly and as elegantly as only the best prince could.