#but the blank stare just adds something idk

[reading-writing-dying]

I love Impulse's default skin in the life series because when he talks about murdering people all I can see is

😃 i'm going to kill them 😃

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

idk man been sifting through my feelings on all this. and i think what it comes down to is i don't really care/mind that there are non-canonical (BY DEFINITION, if it is not IN the media, it is not in the 'canon', and this info was in tweets) statements about Lucanis' sexuality being demi/ace/him being a virgin. and i'm glad for people who like to incorporate that into their headcanons about the game/interpretation of his character and expand on that more than the game itself does, like, this is our space now baby do what makes you happy!

but personallyyyyyyy i just do not think these new labels are some magic bandaid that solves the flaws in the pacing and writing of his romance. Lucanis never talking to Rook about his feelings as they get to know each other (but sure is willing to talk to Rook about his feelings for Neve if you don't romance him) is not solved, for me, by saying "well he wouldn't be attracted until he got to know you and also has no experience with sex". the same way calling it a "slow burn" did not solve this for me. especially because right up until release he was being advertised as a "bisexual mess". but now was secretly a "panromantic demisexual" the whole time. it just... idk. you can say anything you want online, you know? but if you don't Show Me... well. i also don't like that people who are saying 'well this was Not part of his story in the game so i don't see it' are getting labeled as anti-ace when like, many of the criticisms i am seeing are coming from people who are themselves demi/ace lol. it's not asexual representation bc it is not in the game itself. (though honestly. i AM glad that that was not jammed into his story arc, and that his quests were about his agonizing over his family and the fact that he's now bodysharing with a demon. because his writing was never going to get MORE lines, and to take away any of the ones he had to put in a sexuality arc beyond an offhand mention would have really crashed that because the existing writing barely holds together as is. like there just was not room to have more so personally i am not criticizing Mary Kirby for her decision not to add it. but you can't not add something and then also claim it's a definitive part of his character. plus i dont think a character needs to know/understand/use modern labels anyway).

and personally i DO prefer an awkward/fumbling Lucanis, to be clear. Before Veilguard came out I was never expecting the sexy antivan lover angle. we already have Zevran (who ALSO isn't actually that sterotype either, he has SO much depth), I didn't want poor-imitation Zevran, and bioware would not write Lucanis like that to make sure he is a more distinct character anyway. BUT i do think it's reasonable in a bioware game to expect that a romance is going to have romantic content--and the number of times after his cutscenes i literally said aloud "go girl give us nothing" after he failed to react to a flirt was pretty sad. If he's awkward and nervous give him a line where he stutters and doesn't know how to react, not just a blank stare and back to business, or whatever. Or a scene where you can literally ask "you never respond to my flirting do you want me to stop" and for him to say say he likes it but doesn't know how to reciprocate or. ANYTHING. Idk. I have seen 10 different posts/takes on how the Wall Lean Scene fits in, be it that he was imitating a romance novel or it was crow seduction training or he was just pretending because that's how he's seen Illario do it but at the end of the day. It is all just speculation because nothing in the game EVER addresses how wildly different the tone of that scene is from every other one of his romance scenes. And as much as i love the Sexy Wall Lean, given the rest of his characterization in EVERY other romance scene, i think I'm at a point where i think the romance would have been better served by cutting it out and having a different scene where you actually get to talk to him instead.

but! that is not the game we were given. we only have what we have, which is the Veilguard content by Mary Kirby, and The Wigmaker Job written by Courtney Woods (where for reference, he mentions stumbling into an orgy on a previous job, and having an "interesting" time getting out of that, so i already think we have 2 different interpretations of his character between them anyway). but yeah idk man to me "well he's ace" is not an excuse for either gaps in the writing or cut content or whatever was going on. because 1. HE IS NOT AN ACTUAL PERSON he is a storytelling vessel that i felt failed to satisfyingly communicate the entire romance story and 2. even if he was a person saying 'well in ace relationships communication sucks' would also be, not great, you know. everything beyond the text itself is just interpretation and headcanons

[sinkjustlikeastone]

could you expand more on ur thoughts of darry having a auditory processing disorder?

Yes. Yes I can.

so this is honestly entirely a personal HC and I mean if I looked hard enough I could find textual evidence but. I don’t know how much there is. This is just me being like what if my favorite guy had The Thing.

So my thoughts on him specifically with this

he has a hella hard time understanding people talking fast. Like. If you speak quickly to him he’s just gonna stare at you. He won’t tell you it’s too fast (result of the ultimate anxiety) he’ll just look at you until you ask what’s up. The whole gang knows to slow it down for him tho, so if he’s giving them a blank look they know why.

HOWEVER. He himself is a fast talker. Like APD a lot of the time includes talking slow but not him. He talks so fucking fast and then tries to look back on what he said and goes “what the fuck did I just say” like if he were yelling at Ponyboy for something and pony said “why would you say that” bro would genuinely have to think hard to figure out exactly what he said because he was talking too fast and he didn’t let his brain hold the words before letting them fly out and be lost for eternity.

if someone gives him directions or tells him something he needs to remember it He Will Not Remember. He absolutely does not retain verbal information. School was a bitch for this, and it makes him feel guilty that he doesn’t miss school at all because of it. If that sentence made sense give me a sign.

and ofc The Thing which I mentioned earlier.

Soda: Darry what’s for dinner?

Darry: What?

Soda: What’s for-

Darry: OH! hamburgers.

(I would like to note that I myself do/have a lot of these things but idk if it’s actually APD or not cause. Yeah. But a lot of this is taken from my google info of APD from when I was crazy in love with learning about like. What word would I use for this. Like hearing disorders? I was hyper focused on that research. And also it is taken from things I do myself. Because why not)

Edit yall can add with ur thoughts on this plz do

[coffeesleep-ooc]

More anime sv au, this time with a Binghe protag

After Dungein no naka no hito, went to watch Mahou Shoujoni akogarete (thanks flu, you are so damn helpful I can’t go to work or to class -_-‘) and just the first episode made me itch to make it a sv au!

so like, imagine a world where ppl see magical girls Qingqiu (SJ), Qingge (LM? Liu Mingshi? Liu Ming? Idk) and Qingxing (SY) fight against monsters and protect their town with the power of friendship and love (although SJ does it more reluctantly, he wants to protect his beloved Yue Qi maybe?)

And there’s this young girl, bright eyed and shy and sweet! Who admired these magical girls and longs to fight with them. She is practically obsessed.

this cute sweet girl is named Luo Binghe and has just been chosen to be the villains’ organization new talent!

LBH does not want to fight her idols okay??? Bit if she doesn’t then the little creature who affirms to be an old demon will send her mother the transformation sequence video! She can’t be seen like this! And in such an attire! How could she!

so she does what the little spirit tells her and realizes…she is enjoying this…way too much

especially Qingxing’s face contorted in pain, flushed with embarrassment and asking why Binghe is doing this to them

is…why is it so…tempting? Why does she crave those embarrassed faces? She loves the magical girls! Why would she enjoy hurting them?!?

and then it happens again and again and again… and LBH cant help it anymore

She tries so so hard!!! Truly!!! She prays everyday for any god to help her overcome this weakness! She can’t concentrate in class! She stares at the blank pages of her homework and can only think of a tied up Qingxing! She has to pass this next exam with a high note or she will lose her scholarship but the only thing she can think of is- is…!

She…she! She is being corrupted by this power!

(Not really, she is just … lusting)

every single time she is overcome by the urge to see them tremble and mo- no! No!!! She has to resist this! She can’t…stop…when their clothes get thorn and show their skin…she wants to make that pale skin redden and hear them cry out!

and qhen they fight back and hit her…its even better!!! Her heart fills with joy when the sweet Qingxing smacks her with sides with her baton, or when the cool and collected Qingge flushes all over in anger and embarrassment and throws herself at Binghe…or even when Qingqiu throws her best punches at her face, she even looks to be enjoying it too…

Why does she like that so much?

When she is transformed is like she is almost like another person, all her desires come to the surface, and she only wants to play! Why is she such a bad bad person????

And maybe later she meets Xiao Hua (SHL) who wants to fight the magical girls for protagonism of her own, and Mobei-jun (Mo Xue maybe?) who is angry that the magical girls want to reclute her not-yet-gf to their side and put her in danger!

She learns that everyone has their own reasons to fight, and that is part of life to discover oneself…and who knows, maybe gain a couple of partners in the process?

(lol, im thinking that since both og!LBH and sv!LBH have a high sex drive, this little girl discovering her own interests and trying to fight them bc she believes she is actually doing something evil is very interesting, it would make even more sense for SY-LQG to start falling for LBH’s sweet sweet and charming tortures, even when they won’t admit it!

but also LBH fighting the spirit that gave her power -maybe Mdme Meiyin?- but falling each time to the temptation XDDDD

Im still watching it so i may adds to this idea but feel free to use it too, but this is a mix of silly and hot that i just wanted to share hehehe)

[scekrex]

Hi!! I love ur stories sm and im gonna ask anonymously for my first time cuz im lowkey shy LOL 🥲..

I was wondering maybe a Adam x Male reader where they had a huge argument, reader mentions something mean about Eve or Lillith to Adam after he says something petty, and Adam reacts without realizing and accidentally hits Reader. (by instinct) Then in shock, reader storms out and doesn’t come back home for a couple of days. (Or you can make it as long, or as short as you want!) You can make it as angst to your liking, and maybe add a makeup (fluff) at the end!! :)) I just think it would be interesting to see.

Thank you, and take care of yourself ! ❤️

Can do, the fluffy end is probably not as fluffy as it could've been but idk it just turned out the way it did ig

All this pain and the words that I cannot say, at least I'm trying

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, hitting (without consent), low-key toxic relationship

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The air felt tense, the vibe wasn’t as happy and cheery as it had been only moments ago and your neighbors were complaining about the loud screams and yells that kept coming from your apartment and yet neither you nor Adam got it together to simply leave in order to calm down. To be fair, it was your apartment so if someone was in the position to leave it was Adam. The argument between the two of you wasn’t just a tiny thing, it might have been the biggest fight you ever had with him.

The screaming and yelling was loud, the arguments were weak - not only his but yours were too. And yet you both found yourself too prideful to actually admit that to that. Hell would freeze before you would give him the boost of being right by admitting you were wrong, no way you’d admit to that to someone like Adam. And then he said something that caused you to snap.

“Maybe if you wouldn’t be so fucking complicated it would be easier to love your bitchy ass,” Adam yelled at you, his voice already sounded raspy and broken, his body language told you that he was not the only one who was slowly growing tired from fighting - you were too. You clicked your tongue, then responded in a quiet yet annoyed tone, “At least I didn’t lose the fucking women God created for me and only me, you did. So be my fucking guest Adam, if it’s so hard to love me, break the fuck up.” The shock in Adam’s eyes was visible, it was paired with betrayal that he felt, the comment had hit exactly the right spot to actually hurt the brunette and while you regretted it immediately, you did not apologize for it. “Leave them out of this, this shit’s between you and me, bitch,” the first man growled angrily and suddenly the betrayal and shock were overplayed by anger - pure rage vibrated through his body and he made it obvious. You simply crossed your arms over your chest, why though? Why did he get to say mean things about you and you were not allowed to shoot queally mean things back at him? “It’s not my fucking fault you were a horrible person in Eden - horrible enough to make the devil seem nicer. Maybe I’ll go down and suck Lucifer’s dick-” you were not able to finish your sentence.

Adam raised his hand and slapped you across the face. It stung, the part of your cheek that he had hit turned red but worse than that was the fact that he hit you. He had never hurt you physically before, yes there had been fights, yes there had been arguments but never had he hurt you before in any form or way. Your mind was blank, your body felt numb except for your cheek and all you were able to do was to stare, stare at him, stare at his hand, stare at the wall behind him. Before Adam was able to apologize through the fog that had clouded your brain lifted and you stormed off, you grabbed your backpack on your way to the front door and just as the brunette you called your boyfriend was about to say something, you slammed the door shut. From the hallway you heard how one of the picture frames fell to the ground and broke, you couldn’t care any less.

-

Adam just stood there and watched because what else was he supposed to do? He knew it was too late to apologize, he knew he fucked up badly and that there was the possibility of you breaking up with him and if he was completely honest with himself he deserved it. He had never been the perfect boyfriend you deserved, he had always been out of line, loud and simply too much but you had always assured him that that was simply who he was and that you loved him for who he was - but was that still the case? Did you still love him after that? Because it was one thing to pick fights with each other far more often than other couples did but it was a different thing entirely to hit your partner, Adam was very aware of that. And yet he had still raised his hand against you, a thing he had sworn to himself to never do had been done and he wasn’t able to simply undo it. A weak apology wouldn’t do either, not after that.

He wanted to go after you but he knew you well enough to be aware of how stupid that idea was, the fight would only continue outside of the apartment and he would only cause things to escalate even more and that he really didn’t want. He wasn’t even sure why he hit you in the first place, it had just… kind of happened? He didn’t know. What he did know was that you were gone and that you’d surely spend the night at someone else’s place and while he hated the idea of it, he was smart enough to know that it was for the best to have a little distance between you and him for the night. Surely you’d come back the next day and you two could sort things out.

-

But you didn’t come back the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that day.

Adam was freaked out to say the least, he was worried you might secretly dump his ass, stop by when you knew he wasn’t home to pick up your stuff and just disappear. His wives had left him and he was convinced you would leave him just like them. You weren’t his husband yet, you could simply disappear if you wanted to and that scared Adam, it scared him deeply. Because deep down he knew that afterlife without you wouldn’t make any sense, that he was simply a lost soul without you by his side.

He was sitting on the couch, waiting for you to come back, he had canceled all the appointments and band meetings to simply sit on the couch of your apartment and wait for you to come back home, that was all he wanted. He wanted to know you’re safe. But he didn’t know shit because you weren’t answering his calls or responding to his texts, you did read them though. It was driving him crazy to not be sure of anything despite the fact that you were gone.

Where were you?

When would you come back?

Would you come back to begin with?

The brunette jumped off the couch when he heard a key in the lock and his face reflected the relief he was feeling when he saw that you were the one opening the door. Without thinking twice he rushed over to where you stood, the front door still open behind you. The first man pulled you into a bone crushing hug, mumbling sweet nothings under his breath as his wings wrapped around your body in protection. “Fuck, you’re back,” he whispered, sounding so lost, so hurt, so scared. You weren’t hugging him back but you also didn’t try to push him away or get out of the hug in general.

What were you supposed to do? Hugging him back felt wrong after he hit you but pushing him away seemed even worse - yet you wanted an apology. An honest and emotional apology with an explanation of why he did what he did. But you got none of that, instead you listened to Adam who was brabbling everything that he had worked so hard on to bottle up inside of him. “Don’t fucking leave me, do what you want, punch me, scream at me, kick me out but don’t fucking leave me.” And if Adam would be more emotional than he was he would’ve cried, would’ve broken down in front of you while holding you. But he wasn’t emotional and therefore didn’t cry. What he did was that he made sure you understood how desperately he needed you in his life.

And while that was not what you wanted - an apology - it was okay for the moment.

[c6jpg]

no because is it just me or do kinichs eyes look really big on his face idk if its the headband or just the model <//3

after extensive research (aka just looking at the other models) his eyes are more or less the same size as others so I think its an optical illusion combo of yeah the headband giving his eyes less face space to breathe + his eye design is similar to those graphic impact zoom-in effects you see in comics to emphasize something moving really fast toward the center (in this case his pupils). so it really gives this effect of his eyes sucking you in. actually now that i'm looking his ridiculous bottom lashes also contribute to that, as well as the inherent intensity of a yellow/green color combo contrasted against black pupils

like just comparing to albedo who also has big bug-eyed stare syndrome, since albedo's eyes aren't as detailed and the composition goes in a circle rather than inwards you get more of a "blank stare" with albedo, esp since his eyes are rounder. the composition is also more forcably circular due to the 3 dots sitting right along the line. kinich on the other hand feels extremely hyper-focused/intense

edit: also just to add since i kinda lost the original plot of this ask ajkldasj kinich and albedo represent extremes but they're both "circular" (well kinich's is more of convergence and albedo is just plain circle). other characters are more balanced through linearity using either the eye/pupil shape or where the eye shines are, or simply by not being detailed/vibrant enough to be noticeable, so their eyes aren't "unnervingly staring into your soul" the way these two are

[padfootagain]

Running

Yet another character I’m writing for, I guess…

Answering an anonymous request even if I was planning on writing something like this anyway: ‘aaahhh i saw that you were opening request for the darkling but i dont have any original ideas for him i just want to comfort him and have a softer aleksander idk i JUST NEED COMFORT like having the darkling breaking down over something and the reader comforting him and just loads of fluff i need him so baaad’

Thank you so much for your request, anon! Changed it a little bit, but I hope you’ll like it anyway!

Going to use Ben as the physical description for him although I’m going to use some character traits that are a mix of book and show, because… you know me by now, do I really need to give you a reason for this artistic choice? I don’t think so.

I loved the idea in the book (that was not used enough in the show in my opinion) that Aleksander’s amplifying abilities were a threat for his life, because he was a target for Grisha too. So… I used it a bit here, I love that detail. Adds to the whole tragic of his character, I reckon.

Anyways! I hope you all like this fic! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: Blood, mentions of war and violence, angst, hurt/comfort, pretty sad…

Summary: After a particularly violent battle, only a handful of soldiers remain. The aftermath is difficult for everyone, while you travel across the country in search of a safe place. Even the most stoic ones can show weakness sometimes…

Word count: 3472

Masterlist

It was cold.

It was dark, but that was a good thing, it meant that you were hidden.

It was cold, strong wind coming from the Fjerdan border up North, blowing and howling through the tall pine trees.

It was night time, stars lighting up the sky, a shy moon only in its first quarter. So far up North, there could have been Northern Lights. But not tonight.

Tonight was for grieving, not admiring.

You were exhausted. You were in shock. You were still bleeding.

And yet, there was a man before you, a friend, Andrei was his name. Lying in the young snow, tainting the white ice with crimson blood. The liquid fumed, warmth against the cold. The irony sent of blood against the resin of the pine trees.

There was a friend lying before you, bleeding, on the verge of dying, and you were the only one who could save him. The wound that crossed his abdomen was deep though, and you were no Healer.

Heartrender. You were trained to fight, not to mend. This was only a secondary use of your power to you. But then again, you had no choice, there was no Healer left alive in your army.

An army? What a joke. There was but a handful left of you. Most of them wounded, just like you were. You were part of the lucky ones though, you had but a only a flesh wound. It was painful, and made you weaker than your usual self, but your life was not endangered by the cut across your thigh. You limped though, for travelling, it wasn’t the best…

Andrei seemed to choke on his own blood, the barrier you had created to keep the rushing blood out of his lungs breaking for a mere second, but it was enough. You focused, sweat glistening across your dirty forehead under the silvery starlight. You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but you were too tired, too unexperienced to treat such a serious wound…

He was the tenth man you were healing tonight. Your whole body was shaking from the strain of it all by now.

The gurgling noise drew worried glances and blank ones your way, and you tried to ignore them all, these soldiers of the Second Army, who had fought and survived out of pure luck, just like you had.

This idiot of a King had sent you right into a trap. You stood no chance…

You blinked your tears away as images of the battle flashed before your eyes. Bodies falling, hands moving in the air for summoning, the loud pangs of gunpowder detonating, the grunts, the shouts and the scent of blood and sweat and urine heavy in the air, and blank stares turned to the sky that would never see again…

You felt your power wavering, but you forced yourself to focus on Andrei again. Because he was not dead. And despite your exhaustion, you could still save him… maybe it was a fool’s hope, but no one could survive without hope…

“Will he make it?”

The deep voice behind you made you jump, and you turned to look up at the Darkling.

Tall figure standing before the moon. The silvery light coming through the branches made some kind of hallo around him.

He was covered with mud, blood and ashes too. Just like everyone else. He was dishevelled, his black kefta partially torn apart, with dark circles under his even-darker eyes. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still something so powerful about him…

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. Somehow, speaking to someone else made it all more real…

“I’m doing my best, sir,” you answered, your voice shaking.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at your shape sitting in the snow.

“It’s only a flesh wound. I’m okay.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fists. Always a bad sign. But his gaze was still stern and calm when it met yours again.

You couldn’t say that you knew him well, but then, you reckoned that no one truly did. He kept people at bay, it was safer that way.

Still, you thought that you knew him enough to recognize the anger in his set jaw, the frustration in his tight fists…

You were surprised, though, when he kneeled in the snow by your side.

“You are no Healer,” he said, it was more of a statement than a question, as if he was reminding you.

“No, I’m a Heartrender, sir. I’m trying my best, but the wound is very deep.”

You felt a little stupid for reminding him of your Corporalnik status. He knew who you were. Better than anyone, in a way. There had been long nights in his War Room spent talking about your childhood, about his longing for a safe haven for Grisha, about dreams unreachable even through the dark…

But then again, nothing more than that. Just talking, for long hours. And he hadn’t shown you any sign that anything more would happen, and neither had you. To you, it was ridiculous to think so, anyway. He was the Darkling, after all.

You didn’t know he enjoyed these moments as much as you did though; that despite his better judgement, he longed for them.

How could you know? He was good at keeping a mask on. He had had centuries to master this talent to perfection.

“Allow me,” he spoke, voice soft, barely audible above the howling of the wind in the branches and the cracking frost of snow. Still, it was delicate, velvety almost…

You nodded, although you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He was the Darkling, after all. You trusted him blindly.

You started when he gently pulled on your dirty red sleeve, pushing it up your forearm to reveal your wrist.

“Keep working,” he instructed, and you obeyed.

He found your pulse easily, without looking for it at all, as if it called for his fingertips. He simply rested the pads of his fingers against your wrist, and they naturally landed on the pulsing blood. As if his fingers were meant to rest there…

You felt a surge of power cursing your entire body; and if you were still shaking, this time it was because of power instead of fatigue.

You stared at him, gaze intense and unwavering, for several seconds, and he held your gaze too. There were no feelings to be read in the two inky orbs that stared back at your soul, but you couldn’t escape from them anyway.

You had heard many rumours about the Darkling’s amplifying abilities, you guessed they were all true.

“Will you be able to save him now?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, asking a mere question, as if there wasn’t a life depending on it.

You nodded and focused on Andrei without another word, the Darkling following the movements of your hands to keep the contact between your skins. Your heart was beating faster than ever, and you weren’t certain if it came from the sudden surge of power running through you now, or by the Darkling’s nearness…

It took you a while before Andrei was stable enough for him to be transported safely in the morning. Or maybe you would start moving again before dawn, you weren’t sure, you didn’t even know where you were going…

You lowered your hands at long last, feeling exhaustion rush over you once more despite the Darkling’s amplification, but you were surprised when he didn’t let go. You expected the lack of contact to happen as soon as you would be done, for his fingers to run away, to flee your skin and leave in their trail only a cold gush of wind. Instead, his fingers remained there, pressed to your pulse, and when you looked up at him, he looked like he was the one holding an amplifier in his hand, instead of the other way around.

You got caught in his eyes again, trapped in two dark orbs that captured everyone who dared to look at them, and you knew it. He had something dangerous, magnetic about him. You had seen him at court enough to know that he played with his charisma to manipulate people to do his bidding as much as possible. But what could he manipulate you to do now? You had almost died today. You had killed under his command, you had watched your friends die, you had run away wrapped in his protective shadows…

What else could he get from you? There was nothing more to extract anyway. Maybe that was why you didn’t doubt his sincerity when he spoke again.

“Please, follow me, Y/N. I need your help.”

You didn’t question where you were heading, how you could help. Instead, you stood up despite your exhaustion, and followed him through the trees. You didn’t walk far, it was too dangerous to venture away from the group, but he guided you where you wouldn’t be disturbed, where you couldn’t be seen by the remnants of the Second Army.

And his fingers were still there, burning against the skin of your wrist… unwavering, unfaltering, eternal…

When he stopped, turned towards you again, the Darkling was shaking slightly. You wondered if it was because of you, because of how he had helped you. After all, he was a living amplifier. Did he tire out if he helped someone else use their powers?

He gave you a smile that you found shier than his usual ones. You were used to see them filled with nothing but confidence, or threat sometimes. Now, the gesture was almost tender.

“I know you are tired,” he breathed, eyes capturing your gaze once more. “But my shoulder is very painful.”

“I can help,” you assured him, moving your hands into position, and his smile widened.

“Always so brave…” he muttered, but there was fondness in his deep voice. “Still, we should sit, for your leg.”

You nodded, and the two of you sat down side by side, not caring about the cold of the snow under you. He had a pretty nasty cut running across his shoulder, but it wasn’t very deep. It was much easier to heal than Andrei’s wounds.

“If you are too tired, it can wait till morning,” he offered, but you shook your head, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you help me, I can heal you now.”

He nodded, a silent order for you to get to work. Or rather… it looked perhaps more like a question, like he asked for a favour. You were happy to comply either way.

He felt better now, his shoulder almost completely healed in a matter of minutes, the throbbing pain fading away a little more with each movement of your fingers over his shoulder, despite the itchy sensation that came with the mending of his flesh. And the reassuring warmth of your skin against his…

Earlier that day, he looked for you through the battlefield. He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You wouldn’t linger the way he would. Like his darkness, you would be gone with the first signs of dawn.

Still, at the most violent part of the battle, his eyes looked for you, without him noticing. Like they were meant to search for your frame through the chaos.

He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows…

“How is your leg?” he asked once the pain across his arm and back had almost vanished, knowing you were almost done.

“It’s just a flesh wound. It’s nothing. And to be honest, I’m too tired to think about it.”

“I’ll bandage it for you.”

He wasn’t asking for permission this time, he was stating a fact, almost giving an order. You nodded in a silent agreement.

You wondered how he did it. Once you were done, there was still a long, reddened line crossing his shoulder blade. It must have been extremely painful, and yet, he had remained stern for hours, not a single wince forming on his features throughout your crazy run through the battlefield, through the forest…

Was he so used to being hurt after so many battles that he had mastered hiding his pain to perfection?

You could never have guessed how true that was…

“I’m done,” you spoke at last. “It might remain painful for a few days, I’m sorry.”

But he smiled at you, his head tilted a little to the side, something amused on his features now.

“There is no need to be sorry, you’ve done a good job.”

He moved his shoulder a little, as if to prove a point.

His fingers didn’t move away from your pulse though… burning…. Burning through your skin…

“Do you need anything else, sir?” you asked, thinking that was the reason behind his lingering touch.

It wasn’t. It simply… it simply felt good. To touch somebody, no matter how innocent that touch might be. Skin against skin. Feeling your pulse, the rhythm of your heartbeat, directly under his fingertips…

It was a luxury to him. Had always been. When you were to be a prey, you needed to choose the moments to reveal your weaknesses carefully, or you would be devoured.

He was more of a predator himself now. He had grown into one, had taken a hold of these shadows that scared him as a child, had become ruthless with time. For the most part, at least.

Still, he craved for it. The simple contact of another human’s skin against his, even if it were to last for a mere moment, for just a second…

And you had been allowing him to touch you for what felt like hours now. He could barely breathe at the thought.

He trusted you enough to let you feel it. The power that ran through his bones. The curse that made him undying. That made him linger even after all was gone. That made him run away again, and again, without any place to fall down to…

He let you feel it, running through your veins, and he trusted you enough to believe that you would not crave for more after he would pull away. He hoped that if you touched him again, it would be to touch him, not his power.

He moved his fingers to hold your wrist more firmly, and his thumb grazed the inside of your wrist, brushing your pulse, making your heart stumble. You were used to it now, to the power of the amplifier. You weren’t used to his touch, though. You weren’t sure you would ever be…

You weren’t certain why you started crying. Why now. You had not shed a tear during the battle, afterwards, as you fled, as you healed your friends, as you saw their dead bodies… You hadn’t cried at all despite everything that had happened. And yet… yet now you were letting a tear roll down your cheek, looking down at the snow to flee the Darkling’s gaze, to run from everything…

You shuddered, leaned into his touch, when he brushed your tear away from your cheek, touch gentle, delicate, barely there at all… almost like a dream… like a passing thing, one of his shadows…

“I’m sorry for today,” he whispered, and you looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning a little.

It was shaking, fragile. Deep still, laced with something that came from darkness but he looked so human now…

“None of this was your fault,” you replied, letting him brush another of your tears away.

“It was though. I was the one in charge. It was my fault.”

“It was the King’s fault. Even you have to obey sometimes.”

He clenched his jaw for a second, because you were right. Even he had to obey. Had to let Grisha die over nothing but a piece of land.

One day though, he wouldn’t have to. He would be the one to take decisions, and then the Grisha would be safe, at long last. It was an old promise he had made to himself, he intended to keep it…

But the worry quickly disappeared from his gaze, he relaxed again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.

“Only sometimes, though.”

You exchanged a smile, and you felt safer now. Safer than you had felt ever since you had left the protection of the Little Palace. But was it surprising? He was the reason why the Little Palace was safe to begin with…

You didn’t know why, but you were certain nothing would happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, some heavy denial after being so close to Death all day… you weren’t sure. But then again, no one could survive without hope…

And he should never have touched you like this. He shouldn’t have let you feel the power you could earn from him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow fond of you in the first place, because maybe now it was something a little more than that… He was too old, he had lived too many lives to fall into this kind of traps.

Or was he?

It was better not to tread on this. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would disappear with the first signs of dawn, and he would linger on. The curse of this power running through his bones…

Slowly, he pulled his fingers away from your face, released your wrist, left your pulse, ran from the steady beat of it. And all that was left against his skin was a cold, howling gush of wind.

There was nothing he could hold onto anyway. He would outlast them all. He would outlast you, by a hundred years, maybe even more, maybe even a thousand.

He would remember those eyes though, he knew he would. And it would hurt to remember them, in the deepest darkness he summoned. Two eyes staring right into his souls. Two eyes he could have fallen for, in another life, one that could end with yours…

He saw your lower lip trembling a little as you looked up at him, the way your eyes dropped to look at your wrist, where his fingers had been. And then he was afraid of his own shadows all over again, the same he was as a child.

Were you rubbing that spot on your wrist because of his touch, or because of the power it had given you for a moment?

You didn’t look up at him as you reached for his arm, hand clinging to his torn, dirty, stained kefta. You were pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do this, to lean against him, to hold onto his arm, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. It didn’t matter. You missed the effect he had on you too much for that.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

He was grateful that you weren’t looking at him. He could let tears form in his dark eyes then, although he couldn’t let them run down his cheeks, couldn’t let them free. Appearing, that was already a lot…

You couldn’t feel his amplifying powers through his kefta. It required skin-on-skin contact. And yet, you were still there, pressing yourself against him, holding tight, as if to a lifeline.

When he wrapped his arm around your frame, pulling you closer, holding you tight, he was shaking a little. It was okay, he didn’t mind, and neither did you. It felt too good to mind.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

When he reached for your hand, when he pressed his lips to your head, he didn’t mind that you would feel what he was. The power hidden in his bones, that promised him an eternity, but only spent alone.

And you didn’t mind it either. You weren’t scared of it. You didn’t crave for it. It felt more like a burden than anything else.

You were right about that.

And he shouldn’t have done any of this, shouldn’t have let himself slip so far. He should have run, the way he always did, the way his mother had taught him to, the way he had learnt by himself. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would be gone with the first signs of dawn…

Still, he remained, for once.

Just for the night, while the world still lingered in darkness, maybe he could have that. Maybe he could have you, for just a few hours, before letting you run away, like he always did.

Maybe, for just a few dark hours, it could be enough.

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

Taglist : @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black

[adalwolfgang]

Yandere Vincent w an AFAB or GN reader? Romantically, ofc (I’m a simp lmao)

so y/n has a bit of a struggle w a victim in Vincent’s art room and ends up ruining one of his carving tools (so she basically just brutally murdered the victim) and Vincent was late to the action, but got to see the after math

and he thought that only added to her attraction. Like, omg u used one of MY tools?? So kind of u to bless me w ur murderous tendencies. Anyways, the reader apologizes and.. yea

(Idk what should happen from there like what’s goin on but could u elaborate on that idea, maybe change it around and make it something less awkward?? Thanks man, love ur writing!!)

Yan!Vincent Sinclair x GN!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Soft!Yandere (sorta), blood/killing/violence, (Name) is there own warning.

"YOU MOTHERFU-” you curse out as you leap over one of Vincent’s art tables toward a victim.

Currently you were trying to take care of one of the victims who wandered from his group of companions and down to Vincents basement. He started to make a quick beeline for the stairs. With one swift motion, you grab one of Vincents shaping tools and yeet throw it toward him with all the force you can muster. The tool immediately piercing his skull, and his body going limp on the ground.

You let out a sigh of relief. A cheeky grin appearing on your face at the small victory. Your ears perk up when you hear the stairs creek as someone walks down into the basement. You were about to grab another one of Vincent's shaping tools, in case it was another victim tourist. You immediately toss the tool to the ground once seeing who it is.

"Oh, hey Vince! Look what I did!" You state proudly, motioning to the lifeless body at the edge of the stairs.

Vincent cocks his head to the side as he stares at the body. He doesn't move a muscle for a good minute. Your smile never falters when you see his eyes crease up through his mask. He was smiling.

There's an awkward silence as he steps over the body and closer to you. Incasing you in a comforting embrace. He starts checking over you, to make sure you didn't have any scratches or bruises.

After a few minutes of him checking you over, you break the silence. "I'm sorry for dirtying up your wax carver." This makes him stop in his tracks as he raises his face back up to look at you. He starts shaking his head quickly before signing.

"Do not apologize. If anyone should be apologizing, it's me. I should've been here to help protect you. But, from the looks of things, you can do that just fine."

This causes another smile to appear on your face as you both hug each other firmer. He begrudgingly pulled away from the hug after hearing Bo's callings from upstairs. He takes a step back before pulling out his camera and snapping a photo of your kill. He wanted to keep a photo as a memory of you using his tool to take out someone. He then turns back to you, encasing you in another quick and final embrace before rushing back upstairs to take care of the remaining victims.

A/n: Please let me know if you want me to add more to this story or leave it as is. My mind went blank toward the end of writing it.

[lucifervchatse]

Eye Contact

This is my first Fic post and im still adjusting to the tumblr Layout. (it’s whooping my ass)

Description: You and ony have been dating for a few months. You’ve been taking anti depressants and your mood has been shot.

wk:: idk..

Warnings? Aggressive behavior, semi-Toxicish, short-Smut. fem!Reader who’s black and autistic. cussing .Eye contact. Hair pulling. Cream pie! small age gap. 4 years~ bad communication. Nigga is used. pet names (I’m adding this shit on as i write) doggy style then upward doggy. Ony a sweetie pie yall.

You hated eye contact. It always makes you uncomfortable. Which is so easy to read with you, once you started playing with your locs it’s obvious when you started to play with your hair and pat your head that you’re uncomfortable.

Yet people still demand you to look you in their eye. Your boyfriend Ony understands to a certain point but he likes looking you in the eye. It shows respect he claims, but even still you refuse to stare him in the eye to long. You would at something behind him or at his neck he especially makes you nervous.

You set comfortable on your boyfriends bed as you waited for his arrival. It’s 10:34 you mumble to your self. luckily you have a spare key card so your able to go in and out as you please in cases like this. You heard the door handle rattling singling you that he’s home.

“Hey babe.” You mumble. You didn’t have a attitude. You never really do but he didn’t know that. “What’s wrong with you?” He ask sitting his bag down behind the door and kicked off his shoes,before sitting next to you on the bed. “Nothing, I’m fine” He turn to look at him then looking back on the phone. “Why are you in the dark?” He grab the tv remote from the nightstand beside the table.

You hate it when he mentions you being in the dark. You didn’t mind. You like it more then the light. The light hurts your eyes making you agitated. “I just prefer it. I don’t like the light.” You moved over, now getting annoyed. He mumble something under his breath. Sadly you didn’t catch it still scrolling through tiktok watching some videos about Theories on a current anime you wanted to catch on.

“You know you need to communicate more.” He look over at you. “I do communicate.” you said still locked in your phone. He snatch your phone from your hand.

“See this the shit I be talking about y/n. You don’t even acknowledge me when I’m talking to you!” He gritted through his teeth. You didn’t even care about what he said you just wanted your phone. You reach over him try to get your phone back but he was taller then you. (Nigga like 6’4 Y/n like 5’6) “Bro give me my phone. I’m not playing with you!”

You yelled at him getting up from the bed. You paced around the small room. “Nah, You ain’t getting this shit until you talk.” You stop mid pace to look at him. “And fix your face.” He add you roll your eyes. “Ain’t shit wrong with me. You on dick for real. Hop off.” You ranted. Ony stared at you with a blank face making it even harder for you to even think.

“This the shit i’m talking about. You get so aggravate when I ask you what’s wrong and you start bitching.” He started he grab you by your hands. “I understand it’s hard for you to talk but you have to learn baby..Look at me.” He place his hand on your chin so you can look him in the eyes. “I said it before nothings wrong. You just assume so much! This is just how I talk to people”

Ony nods. He stared as you as you talk causing a little discomfort and since he’s hold your hands you started to bounce your leg. “I’m fine! I pass my pysch exam today! I’m just a little tired I guess but it’s nothing that can’t be fix.” You stop pouted. You sat next to him on the bed and lay you head on his shoulder.

He kiss your forehead. “It’s okay. I know your not use to it but your in a relationship now. it’s hard to read the emotions on your face. We can help each other.” He pulled you on his lap. Now face to face with him it made you uneasy. The eye contact made you feel uncomfortable you shifted on his lap trying to distract him from looking you in the eye.

“Stop moving on my dick ma, Shit ain’t gonna work.” He slapped your ass warning you to stop moving. You pout. You tugged sweatshirt trying to pull it off.

“the only thing your gonna make it up to me if you riding and yo ass don’t have megan knees let me save you the pain..” Once he said that Suddenly you face up ass down.

You was cold. With the cold air hitting your bake body you became sensitive to his small touches.

You use his large hands to spread your pussy apart giving her small butterfly kisses. “You remember the last time we had sex?” You deepen your arch and shook your head. “It was 2 months ago…”

He flick his tongue along the walls of your pussy. Sucking one lip then moving to the other lip. “Shit so fat.” You buck your hips against his mouth craving for more.

Instead he position himself. His tip just pressing again your pussy.

“Imma fuck your dumbass up.” He pushed himself in feeling your walls tighten around his dick. “Fuucck” You moaned out. “Waittt..To much..” You try to move forward but Ony quickly shut that shit down. He pushed you back on. “Where you going? We just started?” He gritted through his teeth. Changing your guy’s current position.

Your back was press against his chest forcing you to arch as your back was firmly press against him. He gripped your arms to your side thrusting into you aggressively. “Tight.Ass.Pussy..” He groan making sure you take every inch. “Slow down!!!!” You whine Ony use one hand to hold your hands in place and the other one to push down against the bulge he was giving you.

You tits was bouncing with each thrust he gave you. Nipples perk up with pure bliss and excitement. Waiting for your release to come.

The knock in your stomach feels like it’s coming undone. “Baby..F-fuck imma cum! So-Slow down!” You gasped out. Throwing your head back staring at his lips. “Hm? You gonna cum? you know where you got to cum on.” his pace fasten. He want to see you become nothing but a mess.

“Wait- Fuck! Oh my god!! Don’t! Fucking!” You couldn’t even form a word. His on grip your waist was tight. It only took a few more thrust before you knot became undone.

“Oh fucccck!!” You moaned out. Eyes shooting open your legs shaking as you cream on his dick. Ony slowly pull out. “There you go baby.” He laid you gently on the bed,placing multiple kissing on your face.

“My sweet girl. That wasn’t so bad was it?” He laid up beside you. getting the covers to put over y’all.

“We’re on the wrong side of tinge bed I can’t sleep.” You turn to look at him. Ony laughed. “girl if you don’t-“

A/N

PLEASE THIS IS MY FIRST FIC THIS FEELS LIKE WATTPAD ALL IVER AGAIN. I can’t figure out how to get the word count but imma round this shit up to 2k And a big thank you to @shahanaazsoumah ! Thank you for supporting and please give me feedback. Next i’m thinking about writing an Drugdealer!Eren x Fem! college student reader 😄. I’m 18 in college yet I still struggle with grammar and spelling I apologize for that im still working on it in college (They KICKING MY ASS) Thabk you for reading!!

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Many Roads Diverge in the Woods - Second Run - Part Six

The Beginning | Previous

The results are in.

You've made your decision. Wonder what you'll see? You all are being so incredibly reasonable this whole run fdhjakslh None of you are like "hmm, what if I saw the bad choices?" Or, well, some of you might be, idk, I can't see into your heads. Wonder how you'll deal with this choice, then... :)c

The poll at the bottom to decide what happens next is only open for one day, expiring on April 20th at 12:00pm PST. Part Seven will be up the next day, April 21st, at the same time.

<><><><><><><><><><><>

“Bro, it’s not gonna be that hard to tell us what you’re talking about,” Chase says.

Marvin raises an eyebrow. “It’s also not gonna be that hard to walk three meters from where you’re standing to the room.”

It’s farther than that, JJ says.

“Semantics.”

“Marvin, I think what we are trying to say is that... you have been acting a bit unusual,” Schneep says delicately. “We need some trust.”

“Yeah, maybe when we walk in you’ll lock us in the room or something,” Jackie adds.

“What the fuck? No!” Marvin folds his arms. “Okay, fine, if you guys are being so weird about it. The room is pretty much empty except for some chairs. But there’s a pattern burned into the floor that I know is a ritual circle for spells.”

Jackie blinks. “What?”

Marvin throws his hands in the air. “See? You have no idea what that means! My explanation is fucking useless to you!”

Even that is better than going in completely blind, JJ says. Thank you, Marvin. We’ll check it out now.

“Finally. You guys are being weird.”

“No, you’re being weird!” Chase insists. “You’ve been weird since we came down to see what you were doing!”

Marvin starts to snap back, but stops. He frowns, like he’s considering something. For a moment, he looks worried. Then he pushes past it. “Well... I’ll try to stop being weird, then. Come on. I’ll go in first, if you’re so worried about me locking you in.” And he turns around and walks back into the room he came from. The other four glance at each other, a bit concerned, but follow him.

The room is exactly as Marvin described, empty except for four wooden chairs. A single dim bulb lights it up, though there are still shadows around the edges. And on the floor—wooden boards instead of the blank concrete in the basement hallway—is a design. Chase traces the lines with his eyes. A circle. With lines crisscrossing back and forth, and six strange symbols burned into the empty space in the center. The four chairs sit on the edge of this circle, evenly spaced between each other.

“So... you said this was a ritual circle?” Schneep asked. “For what?”

“I don’t really know, actually,” Marvin says slowly. “I don’t recognize the pattern. And actually, patterns aren’t really used that much, it’s usually just the circle, maybe with some runes around the edges if you want to be fancy.”

“What about these?” Jackie points at the symbols in the center. “They seem important. Do you recognize them?”

“I... kind of?” Marvin says. “It’s weird. I don’t know how I know this, but it’s something about... life? And... change? Transformation, o-or maybe transference, I don’t know.”

“Why’s it burned into the ground?” Chase mutters, tapping one of the lines with the tip of his shoe. “Seems like a lot of effort.”

“I’m guessing whoever did it was planning on using it a lot.”

JJ frowns. Why is this in Jack’s cabin? Along with all those magic books in the other room? I didn’t think he was into that sort of stuff.

“Maybe it belonged to some other family member,” Jackie suggests.

Chase gives the room a second look, as if he could find something new. And, surprisingly, he does. “Hey, these chairs were in the other room,” Chase says. “With the table. Marvin, did you move them in here?”

Marvin stares at Chase for a moment. Then at the chairs. He blinks, confusion clouding his face. “I... don’t know. Maybe? I—ow!” Marvin flinches a bit, pressing a hand to the side of his head.

“Are you okay?” Schneep asks.

“Yeah, I just... my head... started... hurt...” Marvin’s words trail off. He slowly lowers his hand. And he steps further into the room, going right up to the symbols in the center, looking down as he stands on them.

“Marvin?” Jackie asks, concerned.

Marvin looks up. “I remember what one of these means,” he says in a slow, almost monotone voice. “It means ‘blood.’ And I found something else in this room.” He puts his hand behind his back and then takes it out again. A knife is clasped in his hand. A thin blade, almost a dagger.

“Whoa!” Jackie steps forward, holding his arms out protectively in front of the others. “Okay, uh, cool? Th-that makes sense, I guess. Now, uh, can you put it down?”

Marvin grins. “Does it make you nervous?”

“No!” Jackie protests.

“I-it does a little,” Schneep says quietly.

“Really? What are you afraid of? That I’ll hurt you? I’m hurt that you’d think that.” Marvin flips the knife in his hand. “I’ll show you how hurt I am.” Slowly, he raises the shaking knife to his throat.

Chase gasps. He pushes past Jackie. “Marvin, no!”

JJ also tries to push past him, but Schneep grabs him and pulls him back. “Be careful!” Schneep hisses.

“Be careful?! Be careful?! Are you seeing this?!” Chase takes a couple steps forward. “Marvin, put the knife down.”

Marvin just laughs. The blade presses against his neck.

[brick-a-doodle-do]

i know myself so well DVFEWJRS

HERE IT IS!! LAST CHAPTER IN MAIN SERIES! i started this doc on halloween and finished it around fourth of july! good god!

also i forgot to add bht thank you to xyz for help with this chapter !! part of the last scene was completely their idea :D

the egg scene will forever haunt me. i was stuck on that for at least three months.

not quite ready (iii; final)

(i, ii)

words: 4515 (😱😱😱)

cw: vore mention, dehumanization, mentions of depression, descriptions of questioning reality ? idk the word for that :I

—–—

The following morning, Wilbur sits with himself in silence. The apartment was quiet, broken only by the quiet whooshes of cars rushing in the busy streets down below and the occasional hum from the air conditioner. 

By the time the bedroom door that had sat undisturbed for hours creaked open with practiced silence, he didn't know how much time had passed. 

That feeling was familiar. 

He hates to circle back to the very thing he’s so luckily escaped from, but every little thing he did would remind him of it. Wilbur doesn’t know Tommy very well yet, and he can’t say he’s drawn to doing so, but it’s nice to be able to gaze at the chocolate bag without looking at the walls he only saw as one great big endless void.

He can hear Tommy’s weight shift onto the floorboards softly as he makes his way through the apartment. Wilbur tossed to his side, eyes staring at the cloth of the couch. Familiarity washes over him and drowns him. He had spent too long staring at a dark, blank slate. Why does his freedom entail the very same thing?

Wilbur frowns, shifting back up to the ceiling, where Tommy just barely looms over the edge of the couch. A shiver runs through his body at the startle, but ultimately it’s nice to see him, because it was grounding to see another living and breathing something. 

“Oh, fuck, sorry—” Tommy murmurs, his hands resting on the back of the couch and pushing the cushion down just slightly to see the tiny better. Wilbur shrugs, looking deeply into the eyes that blink without a rhythm. Tommy is alive. 

Wilbur is too. 

Tommy’s chest rises and falls and his hair shifts as his head moves just barely so their eye-contact could disperse. Wilbur’s chest rises and falls too, and he can hear his heartbeat that thumps softly against his ears as they sit in utter silence.

“Well, um, I’m gonna go, yeah? You alright here?”

He considered it, and he should’ve said he was. It was on the tip of his tongue, but he’d apparently lost control of his response and blurted out an extremely abrupt: “No, please stay with me. I–I can’t sleep and I really can’t have it be quiet any longer.” 

“Oh,” Tommy murmurs, “okay. Yeah, I can do that for sure. Do you want me to sit down?” he asks, already making his way over to the tiny. 

The borrower nods, trying not to listen to the voice in his head. Tommy obliges and walks around the edge of the couch, a certain slowness to his movements, and sits down just inches away from the pillow he was on. 

Wilbur sits up, sinking slightly in the middle of the feathers, but his next-to-nothing weight, for the most part, keeps him still. Tommy keeps his hands in his lap, nails picking softly at his skin. It’s quiet for a moment, but Tommy speaks up with the inevitable question, “Did you sleep last night?”

Wilbur shakes his head, “No, I couldn’t. Did you?”

“A little bit,” Tommy replies, and Wilbur notices how the hem of the human’s shirt has been caught between his fingers. “Hey, um, Wilbur?” Tommy asks. Wilbur looks up. “Are you feeling alright after that whole, uh…thing?”

Wilbur shrugs, the phantom feeling of being in the bag already fading from his memory, but in the same way never uprooting. He swallows. “I can't say I feel the best, but I'm getting better. Thank you for what you've done, I don't know where I'd be right now.”

“Oh, nah man, you didn't deserve to be there in the first place! Just helpin’ a guy out, y’know?” Tommy flashes him a fond smile, and the human’s humor wafts into his face, the sweet scent of underlying pity burning his throat. He laughs dryly, unsure of where to lead the conversation so that the suffering sound of nothing can’t bother him any longer, because so many of his days had been spent with little but the occasional muffled chime from the store’s door or the hushed chatter from city-goers as they pass in and out. 

Tommy looks like he wants to say something, his lips parting with every passing second Wilbur sits with the reminisce of the past. He considers pointing the fact out, but instead he lets them sit in the shared silence before the teenager’s inevitable saving grace would show. 

Half a minute has passed and they haven't broken eye-contact. 

The gesture might’ve scared past-Wilbur, though post-incident-Wilbur has never felt more thrilled at the contact of another being. And when his eyes drift down to the fingers that still fidget with the cloth anxiously, he can't help but imagine how grounding it would feel for fingers to close over him. 

He shudders at the thought, however, because it’s an entirely other scenario to be trapped by a human. It’s a conflicting battle that leaves him absentmindedly shifting closer.

Tommy is quiet.

Wilbur is quiet.

A car honks down on the streets below, startling Wilbur.

Tommy, awkwardly, clears his throat. “I’m going back to London in a few weeks, can’t be long now, uhm, do you want to come with me? I don’t want to force you, but you don’t seem like the typa’ fella to just pick life back up, respectfully ‘n all.” Wilbur considers it, and the silence draws taut. 

“That’s a bit last-minute, don’t you agree?” he asks.

“Right, like I said you’re not, like, fuckin’ obligated to or whatever. Just thought it might be nice, givin’ you a heads up ‘n all,” Tommy reassures him. It’s not exactly convincing; Wilbur finds himself wondering how much of Tommy is really okay with him staying here.

Wilbur swallows, running his fingers through the flap of his hair. “I don’t know, and don’t expect an answer. Not anytime soon.” 

“Right, yeah, don’t decide right now,” Tommy chirps, leaning against the couch and sighing. “Are you hungry? I could fuckin’ eat right now,” he adds.

Wilbur stares right at him. 

Tommy sits, oblivious with his leg bouncing as he awaits Wilbur’s response. Eventually, his eyes shifted in realization when the silence had drawn on too long. “Oh, oh fuck—I didn’t mean it like that, I don’t want anything like that—” Tommy rushes, the words coming out a warp. Wilbur shakes his head, the beginning of laughter escaping him, though drying up at the edge of his throat. 

“You’re fine, king, you’re all good. Just a bit jumpy after everything, you get it,” he replies simply.

“I actually don’t really get it,” Tommy argues. There’s another beat of silence, Wilbur staring at Tommy’s hands. “Well, uh, seriously then, do you want food?”

Wilbur nods eagerly. 

Food, real food sounded extravagant; his teeth had rotten away over all the times he’d filled up on chocolate. 

The taste of something savory over the weeks had often been his imagination while he bit into the bud of candy, pretending easily that it was something different, like, a rather pleasant portion of fruit he’d scored while a human was away or something he managed to buy in his short time of freedom. 

Tommy nods, shuffling up off of the couch and leaving him in the lonely living room again, back to sitting with his own thoughts, only this time with a newfound light after the human had flicked it on.

Suddenly, Tommy comes back into view as he gently leans over the back of the couch. So close. Like how he had been when he’d peered into the candy bag— 

“Wilbur,” Tommy urges. When Wilbur seems to have blinked out of his memory, the human continues. “What do you want? You allergic to anything?”

He blinks. Alurgic? 

“Uh….I don’t think I know what that means,” Wilbur admits.

“Oh, uh, I’ll take that as a no. I don’t have it in me to explain,” Tommy says, smiling at him like Wilbur is supposed to know what that means. 

When Tommy takes his expression that grows even more confused by the following silence as a response, he tries to shake it off with a swift: “Can I take you over to the kitchen, then? Or do you think you still could fall asleep?”

“I can’t fall asleep,” Wilbur responds quickly.

Tommy nods. “I’m gonna put my hand down on the pillow,” the human announces. He does—though irritatingly slow. He was unsure about humans, and it seemed both of them recognized that, but Wilbur wasn’t glass. 

When Tommy had stopped moving and instead kept his eyes glued to the borrower, he moved with his shoulders slicked back to hide the anxiety of being watched so intensely. 

Tommy’s skin was rough under his own as he got situated on his palm. 

Memories of being held by other (more resentful) humans fought their way through his archives, but he felt oddly soothed for how loud his head was.

Almost immediately after he had settled in the center of Tommy’s hand, gravity shifted and he watched as the world grew further from him. He wasn’t startled (Prime knows he’s been through worse) as his world shifted with each of Tommy’s movements, in fact he was still as at ease as he could be.

The rest of the apartment wasn’t anything special.

 Ahead of them was a kitchen, to the right was the front door, and to the left there were two other closed doors. He couldn’t take the house for anything personalized, so he probably hadn’t been here for longer than a few months. Still, it wasn’t the cleanest thing ever, but he couldn’t expect anything different from a kid Tommy’s age. 

(He’s seen it first-hand from the walls)

(*)

Tommy’s muscle memory kept him from wandering into the kitchen counter as his eyes kept a strong stare onto Wilbur. 

It wasn't anything particularly different than the other times he had talked or even seen a tiny, but even despite how little they've known each other it still felt more personal. Wilbur had been through a lot and Tommy was getting to help him. 

And he’s already cracked the ice, he noted as Wilbur barely reacts when he gently tilts him off of his hand and onto the kitchen island. 

He turns his back to him to search the fridge. 

There was barely anything there, just a cool-lighted wasteland with a few leftovers that he can't remember packaging in the first place.

An egg carton was nestled between two takeout boxes (had he tried organizing?) and it caught his gaze the second look around the fridge. 

“Uhh, we have eggs,” Tommy suggests. 

There's silence for a moment, then, barely distinguished from behind him, “That sounds fine.”

Wilbur sounded distracted, if somehow that was possible.

“Great, because I don’t actually think I can make anything except that,” Tommy deadpans, chuckling to himself at his own joke. He watches Wilbur crack a smile and a quiet laugh on his way to the stove with the egg carton in hand.

He flicks on the dial against the back of the stove, turning it to a medium heat before opening a cabinet to pull out a bowl. 

Tommy follows the routine of whisking the eggs then pouring them in and waiting. For a minute, Tommy’s attention lingers on what’s stood behind him, but he doesn’t voice his curiosity, nor his concern or sociable desires.

He just stands over the stove, watching the eggs, prodding at them with a spatula as they form into something edible. When they’re decidedly done, he sprinkles salt over them and calls it quits. He figures Wilbur won’t be particular about his culinary abilities when his past appetite consisted of chocolate.

The idea makes his head hurt, thinking about how someone so human, even despite their sharp, obvious difference, could be locked away like how Wilbur had been.

Tommy could only imagine how dark it could’ve been—completely isolated from any kind of outside contact and intended to be thrown away, eaten like a piece of candy.

Must have been difficult.

“Pardon?” a small voice from behind him asks, and Tommy tenses. Had he said that out loud? 

Tommy blinks, and suddenly his hand is moving on its own and folding the eggs into themselves to finish the dish.

Prime, he was tired as shit.

He moves to turn the stove off and sets the pan aside on another burner, then opens a cabinet and pulls a plate off of the lower shelf, the ceramic noises like nails on a chalkboard to him. The plate clinks as it’s set down, then Tommy retrieves the pan of eggs and stares at them, long and hard. Not his best work.

Discouragement aside, he pulls a fork out of a drawer and spoons on the helping of eggs onto the plate. Good enough for government work, huh? Wilbur won’t care, anyway.

He takes a fork from a nearby drawer, then spins around, (blinking away the throb in his eyes when the lights hit his face), and sets the plate down on the kitchen island, just a few respectable inches from Wilbur, who stood with his hand on his arm, standing noticeably awkward.

(*)

Food. Actual, real food. Albeit made in no time at all and served by a teenager in a New York apartment, but still something that was an honest, feasible replacement from his past diet.

He stares at it. Tommy’s attention turns away from him, and he still stares at the plate of eggs. 

As Tommy was still distracted pulling up a chair from the other side of the counter, Wilbur steps forward cautiously and crouches down, peeling a small portion off of the eggs and stuffing it in his mouth. He swears to Prime that if Tommy were not nearly staring directly at him, Wilbur very well might have considered melting.

The eggs were not seasoned and they were not slow-cooked, but they were heaven. Were he a functioning member of society, (And assuming he was still very much mentally troubled after certain events), and Tommy was his waiter, he would give it a five out of five. 

Carefully, Wilbur takes another piece off of the egg and gnaws at it, savoring the unadorned flavor with every aspect of his senses. The feeling of rubber, (Almost), which clashes with his usual expectation of soft-then-syrupy, the bland flavor that was absolutely new to him, and the bright yellow color that contrasted with the black that he always just imagined as color. His void always had been a playground for imagination.

“Thank you,” Wilbur says through a mouthful, to which Tommy smiles weakly and sits down—after much delay, as if Tommy could’ve felt as awkward as Wilbur did right now.

Tommy grabs a fork and grabs a tentative bite, then through a mouthful, mumbles: “No problem, mate.” Through the corner of his eye, Wilbur watches Tommy and tries not to snicker at the forced face the blond makes to push through his disapproval of the meal.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, this shit takes like heaven,” he says, smally but still loud enough for Tommy to hear. 

“I think I’ll throw up if I have one more bite of this, It’s completely yours, then,” Tommy says, pushing the plate a little closer to Wilbur for emphasis. Wilbur shifts back on instinct, looking up anxiously at Tommy before calming down. Sorry,” Tommy adds quickly. Wilbur waves him off and takes a smaller piece of egg to chew on absentmindedly.

“The fucking chocolate has been making my teeth rot,” Wilbur says, huffing a bit like it’s a joke. Like one of those things to look back on and laugh at.

Tommy doesn’t seem amused, though. “That sounds awful, man,” he adds. 

“It’s not anymore, ‘cause now someone’s gone and saved me,” Wilbur reassures, gesturing mildly to Tommy.

“You’re welcome!” Tommy says, smiling like a child who’s helped with a chore unprompted. His mood changes are unmatched, Wilbur notes duly.

After that, time passed slowly, and for once, there wasn’t dread that followed. Tommy had cleaned breakfast up, and Wilbur kept the silence away while talking about this and that, until Tommy announced he needed to get groceries for his last couple of weeks in New York. Tommy’s plan was to have Wilbur stay back, but he declined, and instead asked to tag along.

For that reason, he rested carefully on Tommy’s shoulder, back resting against Tommy’s neck, completely vulnerable.The thought of that concerned him; to think about how any one of these people could work for that god-awful facility he was sent to, or any one of them could be holding a borrower captive, or how any of these people could absolutely hate his kind, and here he was, out in the open for any of those people to see. It was worrisome, and that had him tightening the grip of the hem of his sweater. 

Tommy was pleasingly quiet, though, and it was just the two of them listening to music. (Or as much music as he could hear from sitting under the human’s earbud.) 

He would’ve thought it to be harder to stay on someone’s shoulder, but even from the start he was persistent on that spot, only because it would’ve been incredibly difficult for Tommy to reach him without Wilbur noticing first—although he had gotten a little bit on edge when Tommy reached up to fix his hair or adjust his earbud. Sure, the human made him food and had gotten him out of that wretched bag, and had seemed pretty genuine about not eating him, he still wasn’t ready to be hand-held or in his pocket where he couldn't see everything.

Also, it was warmer here. Tommy and his need to linger around chilled foods.

Wilbur looks around, through Tommy’s curls, staring at the variety of foods. They were too far for him to recognize, (Not that he would know any of them by heart, considering he grew up on things he could score on the counter), but it was still so refreshing to see something real.

Suddenly, as his eyes graze over something on a high shelf, someone walks past and locks eyes with him. Wilbur tenses. The lady tenses, stopping abruptly. Unfortunately for him, Tommy also stops to look at something.

The lady gives a curious, almost disgusted look, and Wilbur, not knowing what to do, proceeds to flip her off.

It was not until that motion Wilbur realized he was just caught doing something to absolutely draw attention to himself until he was much too late.

“You!” the lady says, rather loudly—definitely enough for Tommy to turn his attention to her. “Control that thing,” she finishes, a certain type of offensive dripping from her tongue that makes even Tommy tense. Wilbur flinches at her voice, somehow moving closer to Tommy despite being right up against his neck. He crosses his arms, some kind of half-frustrated-half-ready-to-cry feeling washing over him which leaves him stone-faced and unmoving.

Thing. A single word and suddenly he’s back at the factory, being manhandled and thrown into a container with other borrowers, some panicked, some angry, and some oddly accepting. Wilbur was angry, pissed. He had been granted freedom from being cooped up in the walls with nothing to do except get food whenever he ran out. And he finally got a chance to see the world, to walk on pavement made for people his size and be social. And he had, for a week, and then he had made a lucky call when trusting someone and gotten thrown into a bag not a day later, sealed in darkness.

When Tommy had found him, however-long later, he couldn’t say he saw someone with the intent to capture him again. He saw a savior, and maybe that’s why he was so relaxed. Reality felt there again. He felt like he existed, and he didn’t pinch himself every five minutes to check he was really there. His limbs weren’t numb, and he could hum to himself without it feeling like the only thing to do.

Back at the supermarket, blinking his way out of memories, he realizes Tommy hasn’t said anything back, he just scoffs and mutter’s a whispered ‘fucking bitch’, and walks off, right past the woman who murmurs something incoherent to Wilbur. (He still knows it was about him.)

At the very least, Wilbur has walked away from that situation now knowing words can’t hurt anymore in comparison to his situation just barely a few days ago.

“People are awful,” Tommy whispers under his breath.

Wilbur just pats Tommy’s shoulder.

“Aren’t you fucking revenge-seeking or some shit?”

“No. I’m not a child,” Wilbur explains, and Tommy hides his laughter at a low snicker.

“You’re a bitch,” Tommy whispers, turning away immediately at the look he got from a stranger in the aisle. Wilbur laughs whole-heartedly, the sound escaping despite how hard he tried not.

(*)

His head hurts, with thoughts going a mile a fucking minute. The scent of chocolate undoubtedly drifting from Wilbur on his shoulder was making a repetitive thought resurface no matter how much he wanted to shut it up. 

Wilbur smelled appetizing. He knew he would taste even better. 

But he knows he can’t act on his urges because even if swallowing a borrower was safe, he couldn’t. Not for Wilbur, because he just got off a near-death experience, and he can’t fuck up freedom even more for Wilbur by giving him essentially the exact same experience, no matter how reassuring he thought he could be. 

So, instead, he chose comedy over a very real and threatening problem.

(*)

“You reek of chocolate,” Tommy murmurs, opening the door to the apartment and letting it shut loudly behind him. Wilbur flinches, but calms down just as quickly.

“I don’t remember seeing a mini-flat in the, uh, bag,” Wilbur retaliates.

Tommy, playfully, scoffs. “Well, like I think I could fill up a sink or something and you could get the grime off of you,” the blond offers.

Wilbur pauses for a moment. “I guess ..?” he says, slow and uncertain.The idea was more than pleasing, but at the same time, it felt like an awful offer to take up. He would be vulnerable in water, arguably something that he rarely had experience with outside of an unfortunately occasional shower whenever he could score it.

At his approval, Tommy guided the two of them to a bathroom, and carefully drew his hand up to where Wilbur was, not grabbing at him, but letting Wilbur carefully pad is way off of Tommy’s shoulder and onto his laid-out hand, where Wilbur got himself comfortable—while at the same time leaving time to sprint off if he needed to—and waited for Tommy to set him down onto the bathroom counter. 

Shifting over to be in front of the sink, Tommy then pushes something inside the sink down, then pulls both handles to the sink forward, and leaves the flowing water gushing for a few seconds before shutting it off and stepping aside. 

“That water will either be fucking freezing or room-temperature but I can’t exactly change that, so, uhm, just sit through it, I guess,” Tommy says. Wilbur can’t exactly tell if he was apologizing or not, but he appreciated the warning.

“Don’t have much of a choice,” Wilbur shrugs. 

“That’s the spirit!” Tommy laughs, then grabs something off of a shelf, folding it over the counter but letting a corner of it fall into the sink, which Wilbur considers relieving; the sink seemed too deep for his liking.

But, even with the advantage of the towel, he still wasn’t convinced this was something he was looking forward to. From afar, he can feel Tommy’s stare on him. He turns his head that way, and catches Tommy’s strong gaze. Snapping out of some kind of pseudo-trance, Tommy moves closer to him and sets something in the sink.

“I can’t really portion out soap yet, but here’s a spare bar I haven’t opened yet. Should help; you smell so sweet I swear to fuck if you don’t take a bath I’m going swallow you on accident,” Tommy says, yawning. He fucking yawns, meanwhile Wilbur’s whole world halts. He stares up at Tommy, who he had just an hour ago been raving about his trust with.

He had heard Tommy right, no doubt.

“What?” Wilbur asks through his shock. 

Tommy wrinkles his brows, then unwrinkles them as they raise high and his face goes more shocked than Wilbur’s. 

“Oh—nononononono, Wilbur, fuck. Wil, I’m so tired, I fucking—I didn’t mean to say that,” Tommy backtracks immediately. Wilbur can’t say he buys it. “I didn’t fucking— I wasn’t thinking, fuck, I swear to Prime I don’t want to do that, I’d never—” Tommy makes a choked noise and cuts himself off.

Wilbur swallows, unsure of how to respond. Clearly, he has some kind of high-ground here despite being…well, him.

“I–uh,” Wilbur’s voice runs almost dry. “There’s no reason to lie,” Wilbur says. 

Tommy’s face falls. “I’m not lying, I—I didn’t think about what I was saying, I’m a fucking idiot, I am not a..a thinker or whatever the fuck it’s called,” Tommy tries. Still. Persistent motherfucker.

“You’re thinking about that,though,  aren’t you?”

“Uhh….well,” Tommy pauses. “As a joke..obv—obviously, you actually think I’d…want to hurt you like that?”

“Swallowing me isn’t going to hurt me.”

Tommy seemed a little taken-aback by that. “Mentally. It will mentally.” Wilbur shrugs at that, staring into the pool of water that’s gotten a little foamy the longer the soap bar floats around in it. “I, uh, think I’ll go. Put away groceries and shit.”

Wilbur watches intently Tommy pick his pace up and walk past him, (Where Wilbur’s attention was nowhere but Tommy’s hands, which remained eerily still), then out of the bathroom with a solemn click of the door.

And now, Wilbur has been left alone, after a particularly jarring comment that leaves him wondering just how much longer Tommy will go playing the good guy. He did have to be thinking about swallowing him to have said it, accidentally or not. It was an intentional thought. He wasn’t that stupid.

Trying to drive his attention away from his inevitable fate, he turns his attention to the sink. The water’s temperature has probably dropped already, so with slight hesitation, he undresses and finds a way into the sink, (Which in the end was trying-to-inch-his-way-down-then-falling-in), then rests with the feeling of water against him. It was an alien feeling he hadn’t felt in a long time. He waved his hand around the soapy water and heard it whoosh around him. That was real. The sink bowl that towered above him was real, and as he touched it, it felt cold and slippery against his touch. 

Wilbur looks up, and the light fixture above him burns into his eyes. That was real. 

He pinches himself. That was real, and he was still alive, through the world of darkness for only a lonely period of his life that’s over now.

—–—

[wakanai]

My flaws ✨

(making this because i want to look back on it when im older)

im sure ill be much different in the future 😌

so let's begin discussing my flaws 😌

(tw: eds, body dysmorphia, long post)

overweight

bad sleep schedule (usually 2-4 hrs on weekdays)

bad eating habits (last week, I didn't eat except for dinner and I binged ate those dinners then on the weekends i binged all 3 meals cause i was idle)

being insecure about my faith even tho it's my belief system and is what keeps me going TT

not being open irl

having a hard time breaking the ice (i can do boring conversations like 'hi! how are you?' and am good at listening to other people but me being weird? interesting? making insane jokes and connecting instantly and sharing big laughs with people i just met? no TT TT i can be funny and insane w my close friends but i wish i wasn't so reserved and awkward around new people TT)

caring too much what other people think

not being pushy enough (the other day, I went up to a classmate and asked 'you're the board monitor right? can u put this on the board?' she denied it and stared straight into space without looking back at me. so I left and put it on the board myself. I'm quite sure she was lying though, she just didn't want to do it)

not setting my priorities straight (pls TT i would elaborate if it wasn't for my insecurity issues 😭)

I annoy my brother a lot but sometimes I think I go too far

I don't exercise on my own unless it's something I registered for TT

why the hell am I attracted to people who are good at manipulating others (maybe because i like someone who knows the tricks and doesn't get used by others 😂 and is just real as hell) <<< once had a convo w my popular, confident classmate. told him I used to be in the top 5 hated people in class cause people thought i was a 'show off' or had 'hero complex' cuz i kept suggesting ideas and raising my hand in class. he said "obv. you have to do it for the honors" and shared that even though he gets called a 'kiss up' for being friendly w the teachers, it helps him get good grades and advantages. he's rlly cool even tho i lowkey think he's manipulative lol (but he's kind too and i like him. rlly funny and makes sense why he's got lots of friends. i want to get his confidence so bad TT)

hmm what else? sometimes i cant control my facial expressions.

my mind goes blank during social interactions sometimes. someone will make a joke or comment and idk how to respond TT like my brain just goes ***loading*** - and yet im so witty when im w my close friends ugh

dense

will send a message confronting someone then be hesitant to open their response :)

procrastinator

not responsible enough

i want to get kunikida's discipline and dedication when it comes to working :)

that's all for now. might add more in future idk. but for now all i really want is to get the confidence to show my real self and actually make my priorities straight. *cough cough put God first *cough cough submit all those college applications *cough cough do my things correctly *cough cough interact w my classmates who i think are rlly cool but inferiority complex and stereotyping myself are getting in the way 😄

by stereotyping myself, i mean thinking of myself (sometimes) as the 'boring classmate' like ?? why do humans put themselves into a box? why can't they just do what they want? it's disgusting TT

it reminds me of the time in grade 8 where my friend said

"I'm surprised your friends with En"

"why?"

"I mean..you're so different. you're like the kind classmate and she's the...yk" (En is very loud, extroverted, can be unintentionally mean, 'popular' girl)

bruh i hate high school culture so much 😂 that's a rant for another day tho.

my current class is actually really great. senior culture is quite diff. im just not that confident and have to let myself out there more and stop putting myself in a box because that's not how humans work).

***

btw the pewdiepie picture i used is from this video lol

have a good day ig TT

<3

[pawseds]

I named the comic Rough Beginnings because it came to me while I was drawing the comic, and also because that was how I strongly felt about the comic when I was first drawing it LMAO. I kind of hated it when I started doing the line work, but everything got better once I added colours. Now, I think it's alright!

I still think the ending's a bit rushed, but that can't be helped. It is great how little ghostie birdie Merlin from Sparrow Flight's cover wound up to be very plot-relavent, too. She's definitely going to appear in the comics again!

Major shoutout to @katastrofish for their moral support in the week I drew this and for being my second pair of eyes for proofreading! Sketch/thumbnails and the script(!!) are under the cut.

I wrote the script first and then thumbnailed it. And by thumbnailing it, I mean making the canvas small and sketching on it that way. I sketch on a midtone grey because I don't want to burn my eyes, and because I get to add whites that way! (Also I used my iPad for this) (It's the first time I made a full thing on it!) (it's portability is so great, I get to draw between classes and all)

As for the script: one day I read director cut for Zdarsky's first Daredevil issue, saw his script, and decided to steal the format! It's just that I sometimes go over the top in how I describe pages just because I really like to get my ideas down pat. So lo and behold, here it is!

Page 1 1.1 Wide panel. A shot of HRODWYN’s socked feet as they pit-pat across the floor. 1.2 Tall panel. HRODWYN stands in a doorway, limbs pressed to their side, penguin-like. They’re dramatically zoomed out (unnecessary tension). GAVRILL’s figure is in the foreground, dark. 1.3 GAVRILL, face in shadow, catches sight of HRODWYN. Profile headshot. Make it visible he’s unpacking? 1.4 GAVRILL smiles, face no longer in shadow. Borderless panel? Brighter colours. More zoomed in? GAVRILL: What’s up, Hrodwyn?

Page 2 2.1 HRODWYN’s tight-lipped face. Still zoomed out, looking small? Their hands are clutched together, which they stare at. Side view. HRODWYN: Um. I have something for you. 2.2 GAVRILL smiles and stands, also side view. This panel is actually connected to the previous, but the two are still separated into two panels because whooo symbolism or something GAVRILL: What is it? 2.3 A shot of both HRODWYN and GAVRILL looking down at HRODWYN’s hands. Bottom-up shot from the hands’ POV. HRODWYN: We weren’t able to visit you in December. 2.4 Speech bubble from the previous panel connects to this one. It’s a shot of a crochet sparrow in HRODWYN’s hands, with their big eyes in the background. HRODWYN (off): I was going to give you this for Christmas.

Page 3 3.1 Top-left square panel. GAVRILL scoops up the sparrow in his hands, stroking its head. GAVRILL: Oh, Hrodwyn! 3.2 Not really a panel. GAVRILL hugs HRODWYN tight at the centre of their page, kissing the top of their head. HRODWYN face-plants into GAVRILL’s chest. It’s cute and colourful. GAVRILL: Oh, my sweet sparrow, thank you. HRODWYN: You’re welcome. It matches Merethel’s and Hygd’s. GAVRILL: That's very sweet of you. Always so thoughtful.

Page 4 4.1 Shot of GAVRILL’s face as he leans back to peer at HRODWYN. GAVRILL: What about you? Do you have one, too? 4.2 HRODWYN looks up at GAVRILL, blank faced as always. HRODWYN: They're Christmas gifts, for you guys. I won't make myself a Christmas gift for myself. 4.3 Borderless panel with a little graphic of a sparrow nest and GAVRILL. Somehow convey his tone is childish with some particle effects against a plane background lmao idk what am I writing GAVRILL: You should! We can have a little sparrow nest. One for each in the family, hm? 4.4 HRODWYN’s blank face again as they think of what to say. Solid fill background. Thinner panel (a quarter of the page?). HRODWYN: …

Page 5 5.1 HRODWYN makes a sweet, polite, childlike smile. Have the same particle effects (lmao) against the white backdrop. Slightly less  than half panel. HRODWYN: Maybe, if I have the time. 5.2 Background returns to normal. HRODWYN points at the sparrow. HRODWYN: Mm! I can attach a keychain to it, if you like. I did the same for Merethel and Hygd 5.3 Borderless panel. Medium shot of GAVRILL ruffling HRODWYN’s hair and him returning the sparrow. GAVRILL: Sure! Then I can take the little friend wherever I go. Should I give it back to you? HRODWYN: Mmhm. If it breaks, tell me and I'll fix it again. GAVRILL: Mmhm. Thank you, Hrod 5.4 Third row panel. Same shot (but slightly more zoomed out) of them just staring at each other. GAVRILL looks like he wants to say something. It’s awkward. GAVRILL(thought): So what have you been doing GAVRILL(thought): Can you help me unpack GAVRILL(thought): Do you want to help me unpack

Page 6 6.1 Panel that takes up ⅔ of the page? Kind of square. HRODWYN pit-pats back to their room (towards the camera), leaving GAVRILL behind. Weird perspective that makes the distance look longer than it actually is, maybe. 6.2 Close-up of GAVRILL’s face in the same pose he was in the previous panel. He looks disgruntled and takes a breath in. 6.3 Long panel at the bottom that’s shaded (and so is GAVRILL). He looks down, dejected, as he walks back to his room to the right. But mysteriously, a little glowing orange sparrow (MERLIN) peeks out of his hair. GAVRILL: *sigh*

Page 7 7.1 These are all vertical panels growing in width. It’s of GAVRILL, in shadow, walking into his room. His bag’s shape is in the foreground. MERLIN flies along with him. Her speech bubble is different. MERLIN: Hey, don’t worry. 7.2 Same shot, but GAVRILL’s closer. He bends down to open his bag. MERLIN follows. MERLIN: It’ll take time. You’re doing great. 7.3 Borderless panel. GAVRILL holds a family picture, but his thumb covers the twins. LEYNA’s hair in it glows the same colour as MERLIN. GAVRILL (thought): Oh God, I hope so.

Rough Beginnings

First | Prev | Next About the Flight | List of Stories

This was originally a piece of flash fiction. You can read it under the cut. Enjoy!

---

[444 words, 2 minutes]

7 January 2017 Winnipeg, Canada

A little sparrow pit-pats to the front of their father’s bedroom door. They stand outside, small and penguin-like with how their limbs are pressed to their sides. Inside, their father’s ears perk. Gavrill stops his long-overdue unpacking to look at his child.

“What’s up, Hrodwyn?”

Hrodwyn’s lips press together. Their turquoise eyes fall to their cupped hands.

“...Um. I have something for you.”

Gavrill’s eyes light up with his smile. “What is it?”

He stands to walk over. Hrodwyn’s lips remain pursed, small. “We weren’t able to visit in December. I was going to give you this for Christmas.”

They raise their cupped hands and open them. A small crocheted sparrow sits in their hands and they look up at their father with big eyes.

"Oh, Hrodwyn!" Gently, Gavrill scoops up the sparrow in his hands. He strokes its soft head and back with a finger. "Oh, my sweet sparrow, thank you." He pulls Hrodwyn into a hug, squeezes them, and kisses the top of their head. Hrodwyn is tipped over and their face plants straight into their father's chest. They remain there and smile, speaking with a muffled voice. 

"You're welcome. It matches Merethel’s and Hygd's."

"That's very sweet of you. Always so thoughtful," another kiss on the head before Gavrill leans back a bit to peer at Hrodwyn. "What about you? Do you have one, too?"

Hrodwyn leans back and looks up. "They're Christmas gifts, for you guys. I won't make myself a Christmas gift for myself."

"You should! We can have a little sparrow nest," Gavrill chuckles. "One for each in the family, hm?"

Hrodwyn makes a sweet, childlike smile in polite response to their father's childish tone. "Maybe, if I have the time. Mm! I can attach a keychain to it, if you like. I did the same for Merethel and Hygd."

"Sure! Then I can take the little friend wherever I go. Should I give it back to you?"

"Mmhm," a smile and a nod as Hrodwyn scoops the sparrow back in their hands. "If it breaks, tell me and I'll fix it again."

"Mmhm. Thank you, Hrod," Gavrill says again, ruffling their hair. He stands there looking at his child for a while.

So what have you been doing—

Can you help me unpack—

Do you want to help me unpack—

He doesn't commit to an excuse fast enough before Hrodwyn, with the little sparrow nestled in their hands, pit-pat-pit-pats away to attach a keychain. He watches them go, takes a deep breath in, and sighs.

—Hey, don’t worry, she would say. It’ll take time. You’re doing great.

Оh God, I hope so.

[primofate]

“Can I date Y/N, please?” [Genshin Impact - Diluc and Kaeya’s sibling edition]

Summary: In which your potential Genshin lover asks your Genshin sibling(s) if he can date you.

Characters: Diluc and Kaeya as your brothers, Aether, Albedo, Venti, Bonus: Tartaglia, gn!reader

Notes: There was a similar request a while ago but for the volleyball AU, I might do that or I might not but what are your thoughts on this brand new brainrot I have? I felt like I just needed a change of pace about what I write, needed something platonic-ish but also cute and funny??? idk. These days I feel like my genre is changing a little, or I just need a break from romance.

Warnings: crack elements, fluff, overprotective siblings, alcohol consumption, Diluc and Kaeya are civil towards each other, complicated deception in Tartaglia’s part, I only mixed and matched certain characters cause I thought those would be particularly interesting, some are longer than the others cause I enjoyed writing it more.

Your brothers: Diluc & Kaeya

Who wants to date you: Aether

“Relaaaaaaax, you’ve fought a giant dragon before, this is nothing!” Easy for Paimon to say, Aether thinks. Not for him, when he was going to ask Diluc and Kaeya for their blessings to date you. The Kaeya part, not too bad. The Diluc part...Aether didn’t know what to think. 

“H-Hey, you two! C-Can I talk to you, real quick?” As the night descends Aether finds Diluc and Kaeya outside of the tavern, sharing a table together, like you said they would on Friday nights. 

Kaeya’s eyes light up, tipping his glass of wine over to Aether, delighted that the traveller had decided to join them this evening. “Look who it is,” his voice, smooth as ever glides towards Aether. Diluc glances over to Aether, moves a glass over to the empty seat and curtly says “Take a seat,”

Aether feels a lump on his throat as he sits quite stiffly. Paimon seems to have stiffened up too, her talk of being brave all down the drain. “To what do we owe the pleasure tonight?” Kaeya asks while asking Aether if he wanted wine or grape juice. Aether opted for the wine, feeling as if he needed more liquid courage. 

“Uhhh...” Aether starts, watching as Kaeya poured the wine, eyes darting up to Diluc who was also looking at Aether expectantly. “Well, ummm... nothing major, or dangerous, really...” he lets out a nervous laugh, tips his head as thanks towards Kaeya when he finished pouring and adds, “It’s just...about Y/N,”

Both of your siblings’ heads snap up to attention and in unison they say, “What about them?” Suddenly the fresh air seems to have disappeared despite sitting outdoors and Aether’s hands start to feel a little clammy. It looks as if neither Kaeya nor Diluc breathes, just staring at Aether to continue, blank looks on their faces.

“They...uh...They’re really nice company, you see.” Aether starts, hands coming together on top of the table, eyes darting back and forth towards Diluc then Kaeya. Their blank expressions haven’t changed. 

Aether clears his throat and continues. “And, well, simply said they...They’re really nice, really...” Aether remembers you in his mind’s eye, and for a split moment he looks to be in a trance, thinking of how his heart palpitates just at the sight of you. “Really charming...Y/N is just... so...” he snaps out of his daydream immediately and straightens up again, remembering he’s in front of your siblings and it was not the right time to be dreamy-eyed right now.

But Diluc seemed to have a look of realization on his face, Kaeya chuckles and pours himself another glass of wine. Neither of them say anything, letting the traveller finish his sentence. “...Sorry,” Aether clears his throat again, “I...I’d simply like your permission to date them. Uhm...We’ve been on a few dates already, actually... I just...” Aether averts his eyes when he feels the heat on his cheeks. “I’m serious about Y/N, I just wanted to let you two know,”

There’s a moment of silence, just the sound of Kaeya sipping on his wine and clinking his glass back down on the table, before he spoke up. “Come now, traveller, you don’t think we haven’t noticed?” he grins.

“Huh?” Aether lets out, dumbfounded. 

“Y/N’s been going out more frequently, it isn’t difficult to notice,” Diluc responds, closing his eyes as he takes a sip of his grape juice too. “Besides, the two of you walk around town quite often. I didn’t think it was such a big secret,” 

“O-Oh...” Aether laughs nervously and scratches the back of his head. “S-So, you’re okay with it?”

“Well not so fast there, my friend!” Kaeya seems to be the more jovial one. Seems to be the one who is “okay” with everything, but on closer inspection there’s a glint in his eye, whilst Diluc actually looks calmer and more put together. “Do you really know our Y/N that well? Let’s test your knowledge, shall we?” Kaeya proposes, to which Diluc holds back a sigh. One of his silly games again, it seems.

“Kaeya here might want to test you, traveller...but I have no qualms with your relationship with Y/N......Provided that Y/N’s happy...but you have a lot of things on your hands,” Diluc’s gaze hardened for a split moment, and Aether knew what he was implying. 

Aether’s search for his sister, his journey across nations and his adventuring were all a big part of his life. “Are you sure you have adequate space for Y/N in your life? If not...then I suggest you reconsider,” 

It was more of a threat than anything, but Aether knew where it was coming from. What did he expect, trying to go through your two brothers who seemed like night and day, and yet similarly protective of you? Kaeya cuts the tension with a laugh. “Serious as always. See, all you have to do to get my blessing is to play a game with me, traveller,” 

“Are you two trying to bully Aether?” The three of them swerve towards your voice as you stand there with your hands on your hips, eyes furrowed, shooting a concerned glance towards Aether. “I was getting worried when you didn’t show up at our meeting place,” 

“No such thing,” Kaeya beams at you and Diluc casually shakes his head. “Not at all,” then they went back to drinking their respective drinks. 

You sigh and place a hand on Aether’s shoulder. “I told you, you didn’t have to do this, they’re just going to make your life harder. I can date who I want, you know?” you smile at him reassuringly but Aether laughs nervously, feeling sweat on his temples. 

“Come on, let’s go. Leave these two behind, they’ll get over it!” You insist, tugging on Aether’s sleeve and he complies as you turn to walk away first. 

Aether turns back around to bid your brothers’ goodbye, only to find that they’re sporting rather eerie and perfect grins on their faces. 

“See you around, traveller. Watch your step,” 

Who wants to date you: Albedo

“You want to date Y/N?” The surprise in Kaeya’s voice is obvious. He didn’t think the alchemist was one to be interested in such things, but the fact that he had come out of his lab and visited Kaeya over at his personal office in the Favonius HQ, Kaeya had a feeling that Albedo was more than just interested. 

“Yes,” The blonde replied curtly. Kaeya thought there was more of an explanation, but none followed and it was merely just himself and the alchemist just staring at each other now.

“...Is there...any reason for that?” Kaeya pries, not willing to just say yes so easily when it didn’t even seem like Albedo showed any genuine interest towards you aside from his words. 

“A reason...you say?” Albedo thinks out loud, his hand coming up to rest under his chin. A few seconds pass by and as much as Kaeya respected Albedo and saw him as a good ally, his application to date you wasn’t going very well, until he started speaking again. 

“...Truthfully I don’t understand it very clearly myself,” the Kreidiprinz starts. “It’s a rather peculiar feeling...of wanting Y/N by my side,” Albedo turns away and looks off into a faraway distance. “I enjoy Y/N’s observations, their ramblings, their view on certain things in life...but if you ask me for a logical reason of why I would like to date them...There isn’t one, I suppose it’s more of an emotion than a logical reason. I simply want to spend more time with them, an impossibly, illogically long time. More than I’ve already spent with them.”

Kaeya is rendered speechless by the whole thing. The alchemist had managed to answer his question in a rather unconventional yet truthful and sincere way. It sounded just like Albedo and Kaeya couldn’t help but laugh. “Looks like today’s full of surprises,” then he stands up and starts to stack the papers on his desk without giving Albedo a reply.

Albedo senses the avoidance, but is brave enough to ask again. “I assume I have your blessing, then?” his eyes follow Kaeya’s form who shrugs easily with a smile “I don’t see why not. You’ve always been a man of your word.”

“...Thank you...Would you happen to know where I can find the master of Dawn Winery?” Albedo asks and Kaeya is once again dumbfounded by how serious Albedo actually was about you.

“Diluc? Oh don’t worry about him, he’ll be fine,” Kaeya waves a hand, and Albedo is immediately suspicious. 

“...I...insist. If I personally told you, it’s only right that I personally tell him as well,” Albedo reasons but Kaeya again dismisses him. 

“Tell you what, I’ll tell Diluc and you won’t have to worry your head over it,” Kaeya proposes and again Albedo hesitates. It’s not that he didn’t trust Kaeya...well, maybe he didn’t, not a 100% at least, but Kaeya immediately pulls the ‘brother’ card. “You trust me, I’m Y/N’s brother after all, right?” Kaeya felt the hesitation in Albedo, but enjoys the way the alchemist seems to battle with himself on whether to say yes or no.

“...I...suppose I can let you handle it,” Albedo relents, and Kaeya claps the smaller man’s back. “There you go!” 

Kaeya never told Diluc. Did he forget? Possibly. Did he do it on purpose? Most likely.

Diluc had to learn the hard way, and Albedo had some explaining to do.

Who wants to date you: Venti

“Absolutely not,” Diluc doesn’t even look up from his task of drying glasses at the bar, watching as the white cloth wipes up the residue from the cup. He doesn’t even know if the bard is serious, but Diluc has the impression that “serious” wasn’t a word that Venti usually used. 

“Aweeeeee come on, why not? I can take care of Y/N! You know that, right?” Venti, sitting on a bar stool situated in front of Diluc, starts whining. Diluc’s eye twitches, he’s aware what Venti really is, and is aware that Venti can absolutely protect you. “Take care” of you though? He had his doubts. 

“Protecting them is completely different from taking care of them,” Diluc simply says to which Venti hums in thought, touching his braided hair absentmindedly as he replies. 

“I can do both!” He cheerfully restates and rocks back and forth excitedly on his chair. 

“Forget it,” Diluc says with finality, though he knew in the end he couldn’t really stop you from making your own decisions, at least he could convey to Venti that he wasn’t completely onboard about the whole thing. 

“Why are you so against it? I’ve been nothing but a good patron to your establishment!” Venti yet again protests playfully. Diluc finally picks his gaze up to look at Venti with a half-serious glare. 

“A good patron? By ordering dandelion wine every night, getting drunk and forgetting to pay for it? You really think that’s the kind of person I’d want for my sibling?” 

Venti slinks backwards with a nervous laugh. “I just pass out before I can hand you the money that’s all. Next time I’ll pay before drinking, eh?” 

Diluc’s glare doesn’t falter. “No,” yet his hands continue to wipe. “Pay for all the ones you’ve consumed before and maybe I’ll think about it,”

Venti gasps, hand coming over to his chest. “Are you...Are you selling your sibling?! Are you saying if I pay for all the dandelion wine I’ve consumed...I’ll have your blessing?”

“I said I’ll think about it, I didn’t say yes. Besides, paying for what you consumed is common human decency,” 

“Oh, good thing I’m not human then,” Venti mumbles but Diluc hears it and is an inch close to throwing the bard out of the tavern, and also forbidding you from seeing him ever again, but Kaeya walks in.

“What’s all the commotion here?” he asks, chuckling at the face Diluc was making. He looked like a volcano that was about to erupt.

“Ah! Drinking buddy!” Venti was delighted to see the knight of Favonius, thinking that he had an ally now. Kaeya salutes at Venti and takes a seat next to him on the next barstool. Diluc immediately breaks the news to Kaeya.

“This bard wants to date Y/N,” Kaeya blinks, letting Diluc’s tone and livid expression finally settle in. 

Kaeya chuckles and turns to Venti, “Really now?” as if an amused child who just discovered something wonderful in a museum. “And what makes you think we’ll agree to it?” Kaeya attacks immediately and Venti is wounded.

“What? I thought you were on my side! We’re drinking buddies!” 

“Precisely why I’m not sure if Y/N’s a good match for you,” There’s something a little menacing about Kaeya’s smile. “Doesn’t paint a nice picture, thinking that you’re here every night while Y/N’s all alone, you see,”

“I’m NOT here every night!” despite Venti’s cheerful disposition even that comment gets to him. “Besides, once me and Y/N are official I’d rather spend that time with them,” the bard huffs, not noticing the glint in your brothers’ eyes.

“Well, let’s settle this with a drinking challenge then,” Kaeya suggests, motioning for Diluc to give them two glasses. “You’re only worthy if you can hold your alcohol better than me,” 

“Deal,” Venti is overconfident when the challenge starts. Unfortunately for him Kaeya and Diluc had already done this before. Halfway through the challenge when Venti is a little tipsy, Diluc starts pouring grape juice instead of wine into Kaeya’s glass. 

Venti doesn’t understand how Kaeya wins every time. 

Who wants to date you (bonus character): Tartaglia

(I sincerely think this needs a whole fanfiction of its own. Tartaglia dating Diluc’s sibling is a complicated disaster waiting to happen but I still wrote a small snippet because I think it’s an interesting thought)

“Tell me where you met him again?” Diluc asks you, pulling his glove on his hand to start the day. It should have been a normal day like any other, with Diluc going on his usual patrol in the morning, but you had sidetracked him, told him that you wanted him to meet someone, and that you’ve invited Kaeya over to the mansion as well. 

Diluc could tell that whoever this person was, you already had a certain liking towards them. 

“At Liyue, brother,” you say, mentally making a note that this was probably the third time you’ve said it. You can tell Diluc is anxious, possibly because this was a total stranger to him. Someone who wasn’t from Mondstadt, someone who he was only hearing about now when you have apparently been seeing him for months now. 

“Why did you only tell me now?” Diluc adds, dusting his coat off and finally turning to you, brows furrowed, arms crossed. You smile apologetically. 

“Well, he’s a busy person, and I was trying to find the right time to tell you.” You explain and Diluc doesn’t budge from his position as he questions, “Busy, you say?” How was he going to look after you if he was “busy” as you said.

“Yeah, a bit like you, actually. Running around doing errands,” Diluc almost winces. Since he was also a busy person, he couldn’t really say anything bad about this other person being busy. That would be hypocritical. 

“10 minutes, and I’m off to work,” Diluc grumbles, but sees the delight in your eyes and he’s always had a weakness for your happiness. There’s a slight commotion downstairs which the two of you can hear, since the door to his room is ajar.

“That must be him!” and again the joy that sweeps your face is immense, Diluc is almost angry that an unknown man was able to make you this happy. He sighs and follows after you down to the living area.

Sure enough, there’s a tall man, chestnut brown hair, charming smile on his face, holding flowers. Childe’s eyes light up as well, the moment he sees you jogging down the stairs and he somewhat hesitantly opens his arms to you. Diluc doesn’t know whether to grimace at the sight of you jumping into them and him spinning you around once with a laugh, or just ignore the whole thing altogether.

For a moment you and Childe are stuck in your own world. With him telling you that he missed you, it’s been a while, and passing you the sunflowers in his arm. You’re overjoyed by the sentiment and look up at him with awe, Diluc clears his throat at that moment. 

“This is my brother, Diluc. This is Childe, brother,” You introduce them briefly and Childe is the one who stretches his hand out first, Diluc only follows.

Childe knows well who your brother is, it’s the exact reason why he took extra precautions today, like his delusion being concealed. Did he originally know that Diluc was your brother? Not at all. But when he found out, he was much too in love with you already. He’d make it work, right? 

If you found out that he was part of the Fatui, it’d be a problem. But if your brother found out... that would be a completely different and bigger problem.

So, he kept his facade.

“...Where do you work?” Diluc suddenly asks. He doesn’t even ask how Childe is, if he’s tired from the long journey or how the two of you really met. He gets straight to the point, and something in his instincts is flaring up. 

Childe gives a pleasant smile as he takes his hand back. “The Northland Bank in Liyue, Internal Affairs,” Childe stays by your side, comforted by your presence next to him. Truthfully he’d go through any hurdle just to have you, even if it meant tearing you away from family. Was that too much?

“...The Northland Bank?” Diluc questions, eyebrow raising. “A Snezhnayan bank...and you don’t look Liyuen at all,” Childe chuckles at Diluc’s observation and gives a simple explanation. 

“I’m originally from Snezhnaya. Just in Liyue for business... All my siblings are back in Snezhnaya though, so I travel pretty frequently just to see them,” Playing the ‘I’m a family guy’ card was usually a nice place to start, though Childe wasn’t sure if that was able to fool Diluc, because the red head said nothing.

“...Enjoy your stay in Mondstadt, then,” Diluc simply says and stalks off towards the door. You’re not surprised at how curt your brother is, he’s usually like that with new people, but you assumed Kaeya might be a bit more welcoming. You whisper towards Childe to reassure him. “Don’t worry, he’ll warm up later on,” and he only smiles back at you. 

Just before Diluc reaches the door it opens to reveal that Kaeya has arrived. As usual he’s got that grin full of mischief on his face, but his eyes dart towards you and Childe immediately. “Ah, this must be the gentleman I’ve been hearing about,” Kaeya starts. 

“Sir Kaeya, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Childe, I’ve actually brought a bottle of wine from Snezhnaya--”

“Actually,” Diluc cuts through the conversation, then places a hand on Kaeya’s shoulder. “Kaeya’ll be coming with me for a minute, he’ll be back later,” and gives Kaeya a pointed look before taking his hand back and proceeding out the door. Kaeya doesn’t falter and doesn’t look surprised at all, it must have been something important, he knows that look on Diluc’s face. So, Kaeya shrugs and addresses you and Childe. 

“It won’t be long, I’ll catch up with you later. Do leave the wine with the maids. In the meantime, the two of you should walk around town for a bit,” Kaeya waves, still the ever present charming smile on his face before turning and disappearing out the door as well. 

Childe can’t help but let out a sigh, he doesn’t know out of stress or out of relief. You pat his back and give him a sympathetic look. “They’re just a little strange, but they’re good people, I promise,” 

Childe chuckles under his breath and places a hand on your back, smiles down at you and presses a quick kiss on your forehead.

“I’m sure they are,” he reassures you more than he reassures himself. He’s 100% sure he’s dug himself a grave. Something about Diluc’s gaze on him tells him that the Darknight Hero knows. 

It’s a little strange that Childe most certainly knows that your brothers are good people. 

Though, he can’t quite say the same thing about himself.

CONSIDER SUPPORTING ME AND READ SOME EXCLUSIVE FICS!

https://www.buymeacoffee.com/lenaprimofate

https://ko-fi.com/primofate

MASTERLIST

https://primofate.tumblr.com/post/653296890583154688/masterlist-for-mobile-version-main-links

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Yandere Best Friend

Tw: childhood abuse, divorced parents, bullying, violence, angstt, parental neglect

ageless blogs n minors DNI blease tq <3

my masterlist

hi guys after a long hiatus i come back , coping mechanism time

i wrote this like from 11pm to 3am in a frenzy so dont exepct much , ridden wih typos, contradiction,grandma misrake and idk if the reader here is fully gender neutral or i accidentally sprinkled some afab in there

thersras like a part 2 to this so eyah stayetuned

enjoys

He was there from the very beginning, that quiet boy from elementary that you shared your sandwich with when no one bats an eye at him.

He was quiet, you were considered uninteresting. Both of you are somewhat outcasts and the other children held no interest towards you and him. Perfect match for each other, instant best buddies, bonded by mutual loneliness.

Well, maybe, not instant. He was weary and so were you, it took a while before you gained his trust. He made sure you didn't stuff nasty, gritty bugs in that sandwich like how all the other kids would do. You made sure he didn't accept it just to throw it in your face.

Once it was established that you didn't add an extra ingredient and he isn't going to play bread frisbee, the door to a long and strong friendship was established. He doesn't have much to say, but he's never short on kind gestures when it comes to you. Are your bags heavy? Let him carry them, he's a strong boy; he drinks his milk and gets his healthy amount of sleep. You forgot to do your 5th grade long division homework? He is going to swap his completed homework sheets with your empty ones, he's okay with being scolded. He has some stupidly thick skin from what goes on at home.

Your yoyo is really cool, you said. You own that yoyo now. No, really, it's okay. He doesn't really need it and it made you happy when you had it in your small hands. Yes, it took him months of begging his busy, overworked, broken, divorced, struggling, knee-deep in debt dad and a couple of missed lunches to get that shiny yoyo, but he loves seeing your surprised expression and dazzling smile.

Oops, you spilled your drink all over another classmate's book, or you broke a window, or you dented a teacher's car. It doesn't matter how many people witness it, it doesn't matter what you say, he's responsible and will gracefully accept all repercussions and punishments even if that means receiving a couple more ugly bruises on his body that night.

Who doesn't like candy? He sure loves them. That's why, he uses up all his already scarce pocket money to buy you some. You protest, he's confused, don't you like candy? Yes, he knows he won't be eating a lot these few weeks because he can't afford it, but don't you like candy?

Are your hands dirty from eating all that chocolate? Here, use his white shirt as a napkin. No, really, it's okay! He's your friend, he would do anything for you... are your shoes muddy too?

Happy birthday! It's a very special day for you and him too, that's why, he saved up enough to buy you a tasty cake and a pair of beautiful promise rings made up of gold! Isn't that cool? Don't worry about how he got the money and please ignore the giant, bloodied cotton gauze on his head, please ignore his black eye, please ignore the strange burn marks on his limbs. His extra injuries are due to... him falling off a bike. You know that's not true. That's not how he got them. He is going to be really sad if you don't accept his gifts, better just shut up, smile, say thank you, kiss the boo-boos away, stuff your face with delicious cake and wear the damn ring.

Good morning, good afternoon, good evening, good night, goodbye, I love you and all the other greetings are something you hear everyday from him. Hm, the teachers are complaining that he isn't that polite to them or to the other children, all they get are silent blank stares at best, a scowl and a spitting hiss at worst.

Halloween's here, you're dressed up as a generic bedsheet ghost because its the cheapest to do. While he's dressed up as a horror movie survivor. Wow, the cuts, tattered clothes, blood, abuse marks and limping walks really sold the costume. But you and him both know very well that these aren't done using makeup or prosthetics.

You and him went on trick and treating quietly.

Aww, you both are so adorable. Candies for days. Your pumpkin buckets filled up quick, that's because your friend keeps piling his candy into yours.

Aren't chocolate bars his favorite? Yes, of course. They're so expensive, delicious and very unafforable. But why does he keep giving them to you and leaving none for himself? Because they're everyone's favorite, including yours, duh!

Such a young gentleman, he is the type to lay his coat over a puddle of water for you to cross over it.

Middle school is where children usually begin to explore the concept of romance. Maybe you saw him as a brother, maybe you weren't attracted to him at the time, maybe you wanted to put his devotion for you to the test. Whatever the reason was, you consistently friendzone him whenever he tried to court you.

But it's okay, he is willing to wait. He is willing to have his eyes sting with tears, heart broken over and over again. He is willing to grit his teeth and clench his fists while forcing a smile, watching you experiment with the idea of having a boyfriend or girlfriend with other people. He is willing to be the third wheel to every single one of your dates with other kids. Your friend is always going to be there for you no matter what, he is your unyielding safety net, he is your second choice, he is always the best alternative or default when the puppy love didn't work out. And, he found solace in that. Others come and go, he is the fucking constant.

Then, he is going to try his luck. He will do it over and over again. You're going to accept it one day.

Your friend loves flowers. He speaks the language and gives you bouquets of red roses and pink Camellias. You usually chuck it in a vase filled with water and let it wilt, they're going to be replaced anyways.

He found that the food in the cafeteria can be awful, with goopy expired milk, to half frozen pizzas, they're bound to cause some poor kid to puke their guts out later in the day. He is making sure you're not that kid, so, he dedicated what precious free time he had to hone his cooking skills. He is a busy boy, working god knows how many jobs a 12 year old can work in a day, just to fund this essential skill of his.

Middle schoolers can be so cruel, your friend may not look the most feminine, but it's the actions he does out of love that makes the children pick on him for being different. Ew! He likes flowers and cooking! Gross! Evil! Unnatural! Independent! So not Alpha!

It starts off rocky at first, bullies will sabotage him whenever they can, kick him while he's down. Ruin his stocks, call him names and vandalize his belongings, but he gets the last laugh when he makes fucking bank by selling warm, hearty, tasty meals. They're a big hit among the staff who have no time to cook for themselves and have half a brain to know eating from the cafeteria is a bad idea.

Of course, his beloved sweetheart gets to eat for free. And has the privilege to go for seconds, thirds, fourths, however much your stomach desires. Yours are always personalized to fit your palate and presented in the most appetizing way.

Soon, other children began buying his meals too. As it turns out, they fucking slap.

He began expanding, selling resold candies at a ridiculously marked up prices, but the way he marketed and packaged them, gave an illusion that he's selling a premium product. They sold out like hotcakes, while you ate wrapper after wrapper without needing to pay a single cent.

Hey, he really has a knack for business! He is raking in profits, bringing you out to eat, spoiling you with riches a self made, young entrepreneur would have, excelling in Business studies, Accounting, Mathematics and Psychology.

He began testing the limits of his trading empire, he began dabbling in service based business such as delivery, doing homework for a price, obtaining blackmail material... that is how he knew your homeroom teacher had an extramarital affair with the principal. Hmm... the principal seems to kiss his ass a lot and you get a bunch of privileges. You wonder why that happened.

His reputation grew as his shrewdness grew. Your friend was too intimidating to be bullied, as one of his business ventures includes hiring others to do some dirty work for him. You don't know the full extent of his giant conglomerate enterprise, and you don't want to know.

You remember seeing a female teacher handing him a wad of cash, her hair tousled, her clothes were messy, her lipstick smeared and weird stains were all over her body. For sure, she didn't just find it laying around in the boys' bathroom... and, there were a lot more boys requesting a bathroom break that day.

Your friend bought you the latest smartphone model on the same day too. You were disturbed with what you saw and the implications, so you asked if she even got anything out of working under him and... if she even agreed to work as... whatever she was. He just smiled, cup your cheek and told you to never, ever, ever, cheat in a relationship. Especially not with him.

He then followed up with his probably hundredth love confession for you. Which you promptly friendzone him again. Your friend would simply sigh and change the subject. Do you like your phone? He asked as you began unboxing it, the loud chatter from the mall's food court drowned the voice of doubt in your head.

His wallet is growing wider, he is growing taller, posture disciplined, voice deeper and he lost the majority of his baby fat. Giving him a sharper, meaner, leaner look, his physique is nothing to scoff at either. All those pastry batter mixing, soup stirring, skull bashing hustling and bustling sculpted those perfect abs and ass. His hair now has a healthy sheen to it since he can afford better things, his skin had no flaw and the protruding ribs on his chest is now covered up with muscular pecs.

Being pretty does have its' privileges, he observed a sale boost in his balance sheets.

Time waits for no man. Before you know it, the both of you are in Graduation togas. Smiling for the camera, you gave your friend bunny ears.

Your friend started worthless in everyone's eyes, something to poke fun at, a punching bag, forgettable and nothing serious. He transformed into this feared, revered, worshipped yet hated entity. Your friend no doubt made as many enemies as allies, that's just how it is in the business industry. Cold blooded, ruthless and absolutely bizarre to you.

He has obviously put some of the staff and students in horrible situations for his benefit and sometimes for your entertainment. They seem to genuinely see him as some sort of god, someone to cleanse them from all their sins. They... loved him. What a manipulative motherfucker.

As for you... your situation is pretty strange too. You are clearly the only person he cared about, the only person he truly ever loved and cherish. No one seem to conjure up the idea to use you against him. You seem... invisible, for the most part. And you are so grateful for that.

At least, that's what your friend wants you to think. You have no idea how many strings he has to pull to keep you safe and oblivious and innocent. You have no idea how much he had to spend to keep you pure and untainted. But, yeah. Keep believing its' due to some sort of cosmic karma system where you didn't incur any karmic debt.

It was the first time seeing his parents at this graduation ceremony, he never liked having you over at his house. They looked like how you imagined them; miserable, horrible, unhealthy and volatile. They really should not be seated next to each other, his parents looked like they're about to strangle each other and your friend at a moments' notice.

His father was smoking, plumes of grey wafted up in the open air. Ashes crumbled and dropped down to his lap. His necktie was undone and his office shirt was disheveled, much like his belt and scuffed shoes. It was a wonder how he's not escorted out of the venue yet.

His mother... she aged horribly. She looks irritated yet distant, she doesn't want to be here. Or does she not want to be with her ex husband? Maybe if they were separated by an opaque wall, the mood would be much more lifted. His mom wasn't mentioned a lot during conversations, you knew close to nothing except the fact that she gets him on the weekends.

Perhaps his mother is simply neglectful and not active, he did mention that its easier to prepare his sellable inventory during the weekends.

You're nervous to meet them, they're really unfriendly and they don't seem to care that much about their son's accomplishments.

Your friend gently wrapped his arm around your shoulders and rubbed his hand up and down your arm. As if to soothe you from the sight of his less than ideal parents.

To you surprise, he just shot them an indifferent look before leading you away. Their relationships must be unsalvageable.

The event comes to an end, your friend mingled with everyone who, the majority, had clenched fists behind their back. He then went to socialize with your parents, he knew them well and they also knew them well. Their opinions on him are lovely.

He continued his endeavors, trying out many different ventures. It was extremely dizzying with the sheer amount of businesses he had. Your friend moved out of his parents' house(s) and struggled with finding a place for a while. So he stayed over at your parents' house with you for the time being. You get to wake up to the smell of deliciousness every morning, the plants would be watered, furniture dusted, home sparkling clean. Though, he was rarely around.

Eventually, he found his footing and lived in his own place. It's a little cramped and it could qualify as a weapon of psychological warfare, but that was all he could afford at the time.

He fought tooth and nail to obtain a massive bank loan for his main business plan, he was stressing over opening his first restaurant. The logistics of it all, the raw materials, the hired help, the equipment, the advertising-- the pressure of it all was enough to break the average person, but not him. Oh, he thrived on this. He was calculating, he knew the costs, the risks and he saved up enough for a rainy day.

It took him many months, many trips to the bank, many meetings, many phone calls, emails, uncountable hours working 3 jobs a day, an eternity in the kitchen, in the sweltering heat of lit stoves heating up pots and pans, many times where he would lose his voice from aggressive marketing, persuasion, severe sleep deprivation, starvation, networking, tears, blood and sweat. There were more times than you can count with your hands that he was almost driven to insanity if it wasn't for you.

The thought of you alone was more than enough to ground him and keep his eyes on the prize, he is going to make so much money that, you and he wouldn't ever have to work ever again. You both would live happily ever after as a married couple, comfortable and never needing to worry if he could afford the next meal or keep the lights on.

That's nice. You wouldn't need to know what he went through, he doesn't want you to go through a life of hardship like how he did. You wouldn't ever need to work a day in your life.

Your friend rubbed his aching, calloused hands, ridden with cuts and scars. The golden promise ring sits around his finger, it wasn't his to begin with, he stole them from his parents when you both were kids. He found solitude knowing that your hands will never be like his, your back will not ache from overexertion, your muscles will be relaxed and your mind will be quiet, at peace. But only if he kept going. Only if he does not give up.

Everything he does, he does it for you. He thought to himself, as he rubbed his bloodshot eyes staring at the screen of his phone. It's showing that 5 more customers placed an order for his famous party platter through a popular social media app. Your friend sighed as he tucks his phone away before opening the door to his mini fridge containing all the ingredients needed for the orders. It's 11pm, he has to be at one of his workplaces at 6am tomorrow.

The day finally came where he would open the doors to his very own restaurant. There was a crowd waiting in front of the shiny, polished glass doors.

His team of service crews, cooks and baristas anxiously watched on as your friend glanced at his old, marred and cracked wristwatch. His hand was tightly gripping on the door handles as he watched the minute hand twitched. His eyes and mouth were dry, probably due to the dehydration he endured for a while now.

As soon as his accessory shows that it's time for the grand opening, he opened the floodgates.

Customers come rushing in like a torrent of water in a river. Some new, some old, some here to do their jobs as a journalist, some are his other associates, some are his estranged relatives, some are his rivals. It was an assortment of people, a mixed bag.

The Chefs are cooking up a storm in the kitchen, the wait staff are serving customers left and right, bringing them to their tables. Baristas are whipping up as much drinks as they can, as perfectly as they can. Not a single foam bubble out of place, or else all those training would have gone to waste.

It was loud, busy and fiery. Chaos yet it was controlled, Disorder but it was ordered.

Your friend was leading the flow, the rhythm. The pulse of the restaurant depended on him. He made sure everything is in line, satisfaction at an all time high and disappointment non existent. He barked commands, firm and domineering, he controls the scene with an iron hand.

Waitstaff were trained to strike up friendly conversations with customers whose orders will take a longer time, to give the illusion of speed. Cheery faces, toothy smiles, giggles and laughter filled the establishment's air, alluring aroma of cooked goods filled everyone's nostrils, making many stomachs growl. It was colourful, it was tumultuously harmonic, expression of glee would made its way to the patrons' face when their dishes gets served. All the meals go beyond their expectations, in terms of smell, texture, taste and plating.

Your friend made sure that the cooling system was working perfectly, as he works in a kitchen, the easiest way to get snappy and grumpy is to be hungry in an oven. Calming music that's faintly playing in the background also helps, but its' mostly for him and the other staff. Everyone else is too occupied with their own matters to notice.

Today should be a day of accomplishment, happiness and gratitude. Why shouldn't it be? Revenue is projected to be high, profits are guaranteed and expected to go through the roof. Logically, this restaurant will be sustainable for many decades to come.

But your friend... he is getting antsy, upset, distressed, unhappy. His staff is noticing that he isn't all there, he's getting crabbier by the second. They were baffled, everything is going well, he is handling it wonderfully and the pressure is actually slightly dying down.

Where are you? He had scanned the dining area many many times now. No sign of you... but your parents were there. That somewhat calmed him down a bit, if they're there, you should be there too... right? You're probably at the salad counter or the bathroom. He anxiously massaged his hands, where are you?

He trusts his staff to handle everything on their own. He decided to take big strides towards your parents. Your friend greeted them with a warm smile, an animated Hello. Your parents mirrored him and returned the affability.

He was desperate to see you again... oh god, how long has it been since he last saw you? Hear your voice? It must have been months. As this realization dawned on him, he felt the coldest chill run down his spine.

Did he... unintentionally neglected you in the process of building the perfect life? No, that can't be. He sent you texts everyday.

He clenched his jaw and pushed his gnawing thought away momentarily. He made small talk with your parents. It was fine until he abruptly cut them off and got to the point; Where are you?

Your parents glanced at each other and a look of discomfort washed over them. Your friend was using the table to support his weight as he leaned forward. His knuckles turning white from gripping the edge of the furniture too tightly.

They're studying abroad. They said. Your friend froze in place and widened his eyes.

What? Why didn't you tell him? Why didn't he know? Why--

He hastily whipped his phone out and frantically tapped on his cracked screen.

He trembled as he realized you never received his texts, let alone read it.

Your parents explained to him that you changed phone numbers two years ago when you left to continue your studies abroad.

Two years...? Its been two fucking years?!

Your friend began hyperventilating, his face was flushed and he was gagging and gasping. No, no, no this can't be. He is nothing like his parents! You meant everything to him, he had never intend to ignore you, he had never meant to neglect you! Your friend is losing grip on himself, he is shaking like a leaf. No one paid any attention to him, as he is simply insignificant at the moment.

Please... I-I need to call them, please let me call them! He was choking on his tears that were streaming down his face, dripping onto the pristine floors below.

Your father handed him his phone, your new number already dialed.

They're probably having an exam today. Your father tried to warn your friend, but he didn't hear a word. All he could think was you.

Your friend snatched it out from his hand and made a dash past all the staff, customers, chefs...

Until he reached the back door, upon which, he exited through it.

He sobbed, pressing the device against his ear, listening to it beep indefinitely.

The call eventually dropped because it wasn't picked up. His face was scrunched and his sniffles were bouncing off the walls and green dumpster nearby.

He tried again. The call dropped. He tried again. The call dropped.

He tried again,

Your friend crouched down to the ground and pulled his knees to his chest. His cries unheard by anyone, everyone else is in the restaurant. He is the only one at the back.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry. He mumbled repeatedly to himself.

He tried again.

I'm so sorry. He sobbed much harder this time, he cradled his face in his hand.

The call dropped.

Please forgive me. He squeezed his arm, his fingernails digging into his flesh.

He tried again.

You're always my number one. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have neglected you. He drew blood from piercing his skin with his nails.

The call dropped.

I'm sorry, I was only trying to build a better life for us. He took much shallower breaths.

He tried again

I would give up everything just to hear from you again, it means nothing to me if you're not here... with me. Please, I'm sorry. He was growing despondent, desolate. He was clutching his head, a ball of quivering mess.

The call dropped.

I love you. He whispered as he broke down completely. Angry at himself, angry at the world, angry at everything. Life isn't fair. He has done everything he needed to do and yet he the only reward he ever wanted isn't granted; you. He ruined everything, all of it, all his hard work, all of it was worthless. He felt worthless. The guilt and remorse and anguish of being a neglectful friend and partner was crushing him to death.

He wasn't there at the very end.

[error4343]

Got a blast of insperstion from last Mandela vol. 4 stream from Wendigoon and luckly founded this challange(???) on Twitter.

Design notes (SPIOLERS ALERT)

Also, I`m sure, there will be a lots of typos and grammar mistakes, sorry for that :")

Gabriel

I got fixated on Wendigoon's description of Gabriel as the embodiment of the unholy, so I tried picture him as disgusting as I can.

Originally, I wanted to give him more wings and make him cover his face with them, as it mantioned on Bible, but in proccess the idea of blank stare hooked me more.

Also, I wanted to draw a blood marks, like somethimg crawled inside of Gabriels body, but felt like it was over the top in design aspect.

"Adam"

Again, the idea of drawing something from Mandela siries came to me after watching stream, so my personal opinion that Adam was an alternate since childhood, but forgot it somehow.

Sooo, after Intrider's call, he can deny truth anymore and starting to morf into his real form.

"Your skin is not your own" - this why his skin litteraly falling down from his body.

"Thatcher"

The only thing I really worked on while I was drawing was his eyes. Idk why, but the only thing in series what really scared me - eyes of alt Thatcher. They seem to be natural compared to other alternatives and this is fucking terrifying.

Intruder

A man sneaked into the house through the TV, kidnapped and replaced the child, killed the family, several cops and released another alternative into the world, but It didn`t stop me from drawing him as father-figure. Send help.

N

I just wanna make him a noodle man for no reason.

Preacher

As I believe, a true, full form of Adam. That`s why I add him teeth.