#can you tell i wrote this bc i was in pain earlier but had to suffer w/o a kuroo tetsurou (life is so unfair)

[kuroosweakness]

black heels | kuroo tetsurou

after hearing his knock, you open the door. your heart pounds at the sight of him, as if it wasn’t pounding enough at just the mere thought of him. 

“hi,” he says, just above a whisper. 

you watch as tetsu’s lips slightly part and his hands, occupied with a small bouquet of red roses, drop just barely noticeable. 

taking a deep breath, you bring yourself to meet his eyes, heart fluttering as you take in the sight of him in a white button-up and black slacks that fit him oh-so-well. his mouth moves but no sound comes out. 

“you look uh-” he utters, face flushed as he brings one arm up to rub the back of his neck. his eyes moves erratically around your body as if he’s in a rush to see all of you. “really good. no, really pretty..?”

you can’t help but grin at his unprecedented nervousness. “you don’t really sound sure,” you chip back. 

“oh i’m sure,” he insists. “i- uh, got you some flowers.” he slowly extends his arm, waiting for you to accept them. 

you reach out, and the plastic crinkles as you carefully grasp the rose stems. 

“thank you,” you whisper, smiling into the flowers. it’s only been a few seconds since you’ve seen him and your cheeks already ache from all the smiling. 

“mm” he hums. “you also look taller” 

“oh,” you look down at your feet and lift your right foot to show him your new black heels. “i’m wearing heels” 

he has so much thoughts about your heels whirling in his head, he can’t possibly settle on just one reply, so he simply replies, “they’re cute.” 

“it’s easier for you to reach me now too,” you beam. 

“mm” he hums, his lips slowly turn into a smirk as he quips back, “but they still make you so much shorter than me” 

not having a decent comeback to his comment, you just glare at him and turn around to find a vase for your roses. seeing your reaction, he laughs and follows you inside, both of your hearts warmer than when you first saw each other. 

~~~

you were fine for the first two hours, but now, getting out of his car and back to your apartment is going to be a lot more painful on your feet than you hoped. your heels fit you well, but you can only walk for so much in heels for one day. 

after getting out of his car, you shut the door and mentally check to make sure you have your clutch, phone, and jacket. remembering that tetsu walks much faster than you, you quickly begin to walk back into your apartment building before he can catch your scrunched up face thanks to your aching feet. 

before you left your apartment, he had inquired about your comfort and asked if you were sure you didn’t want to bring sneakers. not wanting him to think you couldn’t handle being in heels, you insisted that you were completely fine. 

now, he trails behind your slightly limping figure with an amused expression on his face. 

“...you sure you’re okay in those?” he asks worriedly, and you don’t have to turn around to catch the slightly amused smile on his face.

“‘m fine”  just a couple more steps and stairs to go, you think to yourself. 

tetsu quickly catches up to you and hovers his arm over you, as if to lend you support but not sure if you want it. “i could ... give you a piggyback ride,” he offers. 

you look up at him with faux annoyance. “dummy, my dress will ride up” 

“ah, right...” he utters. he looks around your apartment complex and at the shadows of you two caused by the lamp posts beside the sidewalk. “if you weren’t in pain, i would have said i told you so much earlier”

you open your mouth to reply but he quickly adds, “why don’t i carry you like ...y’know like how the groom carries the bride in weddings?” 

you stop, turn around and watch as he blinks at you, waiting for a response. “okay,” you smile. 

and that’s how you ended the night being carried bridal style by your boyfriend who made you swore you’d let him bring you sneakers to change into the next time you’re out in heels. 

~~~

later that night:

“i don’t mind carrying you, but i’d rather carry you under circumstances where your feet aren’t in pain” 

“mm...do you like me in heels?”

“i do, it’s fun to see you indulge in being a few inches taller than you normally are”

“...you like being taller than me way too much” 

“it’s not a crime,” he shrugs

“...do you ever wish you were taller?” 

“i think all volleyball players have wished that they were taller. i don’t think there’s a ‘tall enough’ in volleyball. but i like my height, probably because i’m used to it. why, am i not tall enough for you?” 

“more like too tall for me..”

“that a problem?”

“you know it’s not” 

“...do you like me being taller than you?”

“i do” 

“hmm i can tell” 

“what is that supposed to mean?” 

“...”

“tetsu, what was that supposed to mean, hm?” 

“just that i’ve caught the way your tone of voice sounds like bragging when you told your family how tall i am” 

“...have you been eavesdropping??”

“kinda hard not to when you were calling right in front of me” 

“...”

“why so quiet, baby?”

“m just tired” 

“from walking in heels all night?” again, you can practically hear the smirk in his voice. “for the record, i like you in heels. a subject to make fun of you for and an excuse to carry you?? what could be better?”

“good night” 

“i love you too, babe” 

[lucifersdickriderdotnet]

Sick and Tired

Summary: you can't say that anything about having a chronic illness is fun, but at least you have friends who care about you. 2.7k words

Disclaimer: GENDER NEUTRAL READER I wrote this in one go at like 3am. So. All of the brothers are in this but it's more platonic than anything else? If you want you can read it as romance because I did imagine kissing several of them on the mouth while writing it. also shout out to the author on ao3 that called Asmo "Momo" and then pointed out that it means "peach" in japanese. I did steal that nickname. lmk if it was you though bc I will credit you.

Notes: This is based on my own personal experience with a mystery disease that has been plaguing me since I hit puberty. I'm going to be very real, I wrote this for myself as a way to cope because I got #sad. it sucks, for sure, but there are some things that make it more bearable and isn't that how life works anyways?

The cool thing about being a human in what is essentially hell is that when diseases happen, you are more or less immune to them. The bad part about being a human in what is essentially hell is that you’re human and it’s essentially hell. Because of this, there are some things that you’ve had to explain to your housemates, or to an overeager Diavolo, or to a concerned Luke. You had to talk Lucifer down from renovating the whole House to put in an elevator because he was “worried about your flimsy human joints.”

“I have bad joints, regardless.” You remember saying, “I’m a human, it comes with the territory. Don’t put an elevator in the House, I don’t like them anyway.”

You’ve had to explain that while you’re grateful that they managed to find vitamin D supplements, they’re meant to be just that, a supplement to spending time in the sun, something the Devildom doesn’t have. So while your symptoms have been alleviated, they have not been fixed. Levi fixed this by buying you something like a heat lamp.

“Where did you even find this?” You’d said after he’d forced you underneath it.

“You’re gonna hate the words that are going to come out of my mouth.” His hands stilled from where they were busy attaching it to the wall by your bed.

“Just tell me.”

“Some demons used to, emphasis on ‘used to’, own humans as pets. So they made these little lamps to mimic the sun or whatever.” You blink at him, rapid fire before shrugging a little.

“Humans used to own each other.” He turns his head to gape at you like a fish.

“What?”

“Yeah it was a whole thing. There are still lasting repercussions that echo through our modern society.”

“That’s insane.”

“I thought I told you before that human cruelty knows no bounds.”

Solomon of course, is no help, because while he may be human, he is old. You’d complained of jaw pain once, something about your teeth aching.

“It might be a demon.” He’d said this confidently at the one dinner a month he’s allowed to have with the brothers. As per the dating-Asmo-agreement he made with Lucifer.

“It might be a what?” Satan’s head whipped towards Solomon so fast you thought he broke something.

“A demon. Tooth pain is caused by little demons in the teeth.” You stared at him like he grew a second head.

“No, it’s not. It’s caused by bacteria eating away at your teeth. And that’s just for cavities. This could be something completely different. Also, I don’t think humans have believed the demon teeth thing in forever. God, you’re old.” Your frustrated rebuttal of Solomon’s “wisdom” had not stopped the brothers from checking you up and down for curses or signs of possession.

So, for the most part. It’s fine, and you don’t mind explaining these things to them just like they don’t mind explaining demon culture to you. This though, you’ve never been able to explain to anyone, so you can’t explain it to them either.

—

“I’m so tired,” it’s noon and you woke up from sleeping two hours earlier. Asmo has dragged you out of the house for some shopping spree, and while you were excited to go, your energy levels have quickly depleted.

“But darling! We just started!” Despite saying this, he’s walking towards the register with the clothes he’s decided he likes, willing to cut his trip short if it’s for you. You shake your head.

“No, no, keep shopping. I’m always tired, Peach.” He hums and goes back to perusing the shelves while you stay seated by the dressing room for his mini fashion shows.

You don’t just get tired while hanging out with Asmo, it happens everywhere. Beel has to catch your head when you almost faceplant into your lunch. You spend a Devildom History class fighting to keep your eyes open while Satan takes twice the amount of notes as usual so you don’t fall behind. Levi asks you to watch a special livestream of a Sucre Frenzy concert and you have to sit down halfway through because you’re suddenly dizzy. You even fall tired while driving Mammon’s car, once.

He’d been in the passenger seat, fretting over your every move, and you’d understood despite the fact that it was incredibly annoying. This car was his baby, something he was incredibly proud of, something he worked hard to get. Still, having someone freak out over your driving usually makes it worse.

You’d been gently reassuring him of your skills when you felt it, the familiar pull of your eyelids, the way your brain seemed to slow down. It takes you a second longer than it should to register the red light and you have to slam on the brakes to avoid running it. It’s not too soon after that when you decide to pull over and have Mammon drive you home. You fall asleep on the way back.

—

This all comes to a head when you manage to outsleep Belphie.You aren’t sure how you did it, honestly. You went to bed on Friday afternoon and vaguely remember being woken up because a meal was ready. You remember making some sort of affirmative noise and then going back to sleep. You have hazy memories of stumbling to the bathroom and chugging down bottles of water, but mostly it was just sleep. Then, Belphie is shaking you awake. He’s saying something you can’t quite hear and Beel is picking you up and carrying you to the living room and the lights are so bright it turns your brain back on.

“Belphie, did you do somethin’?” It’s Mammon’s voice, accusatory. Someone pokes your cheek.

“So you kill a guy once and suddenly everything that happens to them is your fault?” His reply makes you snort.

“Did you or not?”

“No. This is… this is something else.” He sighs and then one of your eyelids is being manually opened so he can make eye contact with you before he lets go and your head drops slightly. “I know what my sin feels like. I know what Sloth feels like. It’s a choice, mostly. It’s the action of choosing to do nothing rather than something. This is something else. Something completely different.” You yawn and scrub at your eyes, finally opening them to stare at your posse.

“Did I get a fanclub while I was napping?”

“You’ve always had a fanclub,” Levi says quietly.

“Napping? You call that a nap?” Asmo pokes your cheek and you assume he’s the one who did it the first time.

“How do you know they have a fanclub?” Satan turns his head to Levi and his brother turns a bright shade of red.

“I’m the president.” He says. Beel raises his hand.

“I’m VP. We hold meetings every Wednesday. Lucifer pretends it’s stupid but he’s always in the club room ‘doing student council work’.”

“Can we get back to the matter at hand?” Lucifer finally interjects, not wanting to deal with his brothers’ needling. Satan grumbles something about him being a loser under his breath. “Are you aware of how long you were asleep for?”

“I mean, I dunno,” you stretch your arms above your head and almost hit someone in the face. “I remember someone coming to me about dinner, so probably a while. Why?” Lucifer sighs and rubs a hand down his face.

“It’s Sunday afternoon.” You stare at him blankly.

“This is the worst joke you’ve ever told.”

“I am not joking,” he says and Levi shoves his D.D.D under your nose. Sure enough it says that today, the day you are finally awake, is Sunday. It says that it’s 2pm. You’ve slept for almost a full 48 hours. The thought brings tears to your eyes immediately and Levi freaks out.

“No wait, don’t cry. I don’t know what to do when you cry!” His hands are flapping around your face uselessly and it makes you laugh and choke on a wet sob.

“You can back the fuck up, for starters.” Satan bodily pushes his brothers out of the way to get to you, placing a box of tissues on your lap and sitting next to you. Not close enough to touch, but enough so you know he’s there.

“Sorry,” you take a tissue and blow your nose. Beel holds out a trashcan and Asmo pretends not to be disgusted. It’s sweet. “Crying in front of people is so cringe.”

“Being vulnerable and crying is not something you should be ashamed of,” Lucifer says and it’s weird to have your own words parroted back at you.

“Why’re you apologizin’ anyway? ‘S not like you did anythin’ wrong. We’re just worried is all.” Mammon runs a hand over your hair as he says it before remembering himself and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because it’s never been this bad before. I’ve never slept for damn near two days.”

“So this is a recurring problem?” Satan has procured a notebook from out of nowhere and has his hand poised to write down what you’re saying. Presumably to go scour his books for a solution.

“Yeah. It’s … I’m tired a lot. Always, really. I’m tired right now, actually. Sometimes it’s worse than others but … I don’t really know what’s wrong.” You huff, “I was actually in the process of getting tests done to figure it out when I got magic-ed here. Isn’t that funny?”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Asmo is resting his head on your shoulder and you tilt your head so it rests on his.

“Not really. ‘M sorry, Peach. I’d tell you if there was.”

“I always wondered why you had such deep eyebags. I thought it was something in your skincare routine.”

“It’s also genetic.”

“Humans have genes for dark under eyes?” He sounds horrified at the prospect.

“Sure do.”

“That’s miserable.” You laugh at him and he squeezes your hand gently.

“So, yer just… tired.” Mammon asks.

“Mhm.”

“Chronically.”

“Also yes.”

“I didn’t know you knew the word ‘chronic’, Mammon,” Belphie ribs Mammon from his spot on the floor. You kick him slightly.

“Don’t be an ass.” He sighs dramatically and flops over onto his back.

“It’s good to know it’s not a freaky demon thing.” He peers up at you from underneath his bangs.

“Yeah. I’m kind of tired of dealing with freaky demon things. No offense.” There’s a chorus of agreement throughout the room and you can see everyone relax a little now that they know.

“It is a shame though,” Lucifer says, “that it is not demon related.” His brow furrows. “Those I can fix.” You shrug and slightly jostle Asmo’s head.

“Eh. That’s life. Thank you for being concerned though, I appreciate it.” Your stomach grumbles. “I guess I should eat, huh?” Asmo graciously lifts his head off your shoulder and you head to the kitchen, Beel on your tail.

“There’s nothing we can do?” He looks sad, and he’s rubbing his wrist in that way he does when he’s nervous. You’re struck with the realization that Beel is the defender of his family. He’s physically the biggest and the strongest, and he’s been looking after them and taking care of them physically for basically forever. It must be excruciating for him to not be able to help you.

“No,” you shake your head sadly, “I’m sorry, Bug.” You step forward and give him a hug. He returns it and you pretend you can’t feel him cry.

—

Things are different after that. Asmo tries to hang out with you in places closer to the House or in his room. Lucifer pulls you aside and tells you both his room and his study are always open for you if you need them. Beel takes you to the gym with him so you don’t stay too sedentary, but is always willing to stop working out if you need to go home. Satan almost gets into a physical altercation with a teacher over you sleeping in class and you find out later that Belphie gave him nightmares for a week. Levi doesn’t make you sit through as many anime binges anymore, instead separating them up into something more bite sized so you can properly enjoy it. It’s nice, you think, that they’re trying to take your needs into consideration.

Diavolo catches wind of it and sneaks his way over to the House to ask you questions. Walks into Lucifer’s study where you’re trying to do assigned reading like he owns it, and you think that he probably does in some way.

“Diavolo–” Lucifer stands up and Diavolo laughs.

“Don’t worry! There is nothing wrong! I just had some questions for our lovely exchange student.” He sits down in the armchair across from you and you set your notebook down.

“What’s up?” You can hear Lucifer mumbling prayers to a God who will no longer listen to them and it makes you snort.

“I have learned of your condition.”

“I gathered.”

“There is nothing I can do?”

“Do you have several degrees and a shit ton of fancy machinery?” Lucifer chokes at your language. Diavolo smiles at you.

“Can’t say that I do.”

“Then, no. There isn’t.” He hums thoughtfully and you busy yourself with trying to figure out Lucifer’s Demonus organization pattern. It doesn’t seem to be by age, so maybe it’s by color?

“What does it feel like?” Diavolo’s question draws you out of your comparison of two almost identical wine reds. You think one has a brighter undertone but that could be the color of the label.

“Have you ever been tired?”

“Indeed.”

“Have you ever not slept, for like, a whole day, and you can feel that your brain isn’t working at maximum capacity?” He nods. “Have you ever felt like you were trying to run in a swimming pool?”

“I can run in swimming pools.” You roll your eyes.

“Can you run through slime?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“It’s like that. It’s being so tired that you know you aren’t operating at your best and being able to do nothing about it. It’s like moving through water. It’s never getting enough sleep. I could sleep the perfect amount for a human my age and I would still be down to take several long naps throughout the day. And it’s not something I can ignore, either. I can’t just power through it. Because after a while, it starts to hurt.”

“Hurt?” He frowns, and it’s weird to see him not smiling.

“Yeah. It’s. When I get too tired my eyes will hurt. It feels like they’re grapes and someone is squishing the life out of them. It feels like a thousand tiny needles poking at my eyes. It feels like someone is squishing the bridge of my nose in their fist and refuses to let go. It makes my stomach hurt, it makes me nauseous and sick, and it makes me dizzy and it’s awful.”

“I see.”

“So, I have to sleep. I have to sleep because if I don’t it hurts and if I manage to get through that my body will make itself sleep, anyway. It’ll just turn off, regardless of if I want it to or not.”

“That. That is miserable. I am sorry you have to experience such a thing.” You shrug a little and stare at your hands.

“What can you do?” It comes out sarcastic and dry. There’s a silence, tense and weighty, and you know what he’s going to ask before he does.

“Do you need to go to the human world?” You can hear Lucifer’s sharp inhale even though he was pretending to not listen.

“Maybe. But, if it is what I think it is, it won’t go away. I’ll just know and get medication. Probably.” Diavolo stands and nods.

“At least you will know. I will figure something out for you.” He nods again, this time to himself. “There is no reason for you to suffer this way.”

“It won’t go away, Diavolo. I’ll still have it.” You need him to know this. You need him to know that it won’t be permanently fixed. You don’t want him to be disappointed when everything’s said and done and you’re still sick.

“Yes, but things will be better, no? Some progress is better than no progress, no matter how small.” He pauses and smiles at you, warm and comforting. “And we will all be there for you. Regardless of the outcome.”

[rikas-things]

🗣️Rika's Yappfest Hours🗣️

⚠️¡¡WARNING!!⚠️

This post contains light spoilers for Twisted Wonderland Book 7! Read at your OWN RISK

💚💜💚💜💚💜💚💜💚💜💚💜💚

Hello, fellow Twist fans! I just wanted to bring something like this into question since it's been on my mind for a minute since the latest chapter update for Book 7.

I've been seeing a lot of unrest in regards to the pacing and/or additions of the character cards and whatnot and I thought I might want to add my two cents to this.

The biggest questions are what if the addition of the other dream segments were just there for padding/card development? And what if Book 7 ends up with a rushed/unsatisfied ending where Malleus or Idia don't get any spotlight?

For the first question, I think most of the unrest mainly comes from waiting for the next releases of each part. As a long time manga fan, I know the full pain of having to wait for your favorite series to get new content (cries in One Munch Man ꈨຶ⁠ ⁠˙̫̮⁠ ⁠ꈨຶ) and I'm sure you guys know that whole song and dance too.

A LOT of the comedic stuff can be annoying when all you wanna do is get to the juicy ✨drama✨ but I'm willing to bet had the part been done all the way through like the other books, they wouldn't have stung as hard.

Upon replaying certain parts (and fights) the pacing didn't come off as painful and I'm sure, again, once the part is over, we'll all have a great memory of it.

And as for the later, I think only time will tell. I think, with the wait time of each piece being the way that it is, that I doubt Yana and the writers would willingly put subpar chapters given how they want to tie everything together, themes and such included.

Asides

This is even more of my ramblings, things that aren't necessaryly related to the main talking points above. Can't you tell I wrote this late at night? 🤪

*Speaking of the dream segments, I remember there was some mention of how stuff like Savanaclaw Rook and Kalim's school could have been vignettes and on hindsight I'm just wondering...how could these be vignettes?

I only say this bc of the fact that the dream segments are supposed to be desires/thoughts of the people in the dreams, and I doubt the Twist team would want to make an entire vignette on something that was essentially a flashback.

They probably wanted to answer the burning questions of what Rook looked like before he transferred, or like, in Kalim's case, they wanted to tie up any loose ends that were not addressed in the earlier chapters.

Let's be honest: aside from Riddle and Idia, everyone's (the Overblotters) trauma didn't really get handled with a lot of the seriousness it should have been- or at least, there was a lot swept under the rug, and I think the dream segments could be a means to really explore the inner mechanics of the characters as well as how they plan to handle that trauma from here moving forward.

*"How was Silver able to keep using his magic without overblotting or building up blot?" ...I actually have a theory about this. Remember what Lilia said while confronting Malleus?

This would explain why many others can use their magic so freely, Silver included. Bc the dream world makes it so that the bodies of the hosts aren't affected apart from being put to sleep. I mean, it would be pretty lame if you're in a dream world and you could only do so much due to your magic not being the best, right? But what do you think?

That's all I gotta say for now. Think I'm wrong? Or maybe you agree with me? I'd like to discuss it. Thank you and bye bye!

[barcalover86]

Wsg love your post!!!

It would make my day if u wrote of post the reader is Pedri’s little sister but she’s dating Gavi. One day Pedri was playing FIFA with his friends on call, reader comes in his room pissed off bc she’s on her period. When Reader is on her period she’s very very bratty and mean, Pedri knew that so the minute that he Rolodex this he asked her if she was on her period,and she was so mad and left bc he ate all of her snacks. When Gavi asked Pedri if it was true that u we’re on ur period he bought readers favourite snacks and went to go cuddle with her and it’s just full of fluffff

Thank you!

Period problems - Pablo Gavi

2nd Masterlist

"What do you want, y/n!? You are getting on my nerves now!" Pedri said to you after 10 minutes of walking around the kitchen trying to find something for you to eat.

Your period came earlier and some big cramps were keeping you awake.

It was pretty late now, but your brother, Pedri, was playing FIFA in the living room with his footballer friends.

"Don't you have your own business to look out for?"

"Since you are distracting me of winning this game, I can tell you whatever I want."

You rolled his eyes. You wanted to tell him so bad that he was going to lose anyway, but you remained silent, knowing that your boyfriend, Gavi, was also there playing in his team.

"What are you even looking for?" he said annoyed after another 5 minutes of you walking around.

"Something to eat."

"This late?"

You were really annoyed this time.

"Yes, this late. I'm hungry, do you have a problem with it?"

"Yes, I do. Go grab yourself something and leave! You're making too much noise!"

"Well, if I had something, I would take it and go to my room. Don't you think I want to be alone too!? I just don't find my snacks.." you said the last part as a whisper, but Pedri heard you.

"What snacks?"

"Those that I bought yesterday."

"Oh, those snacks," he said chuckling.

"Do you know where they are?"

"In my tummy" Pedri said while laughing.

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry, I was hung-"

"I bought them!!! You had to ask me if you wanted to eat those! Now I don't have anything and I'm hungry!"

"C'mon, there's not a big deal, y/n. Now, can you leave? I want to continue the game and all of us are waiting for you to get done with all those.. moody things of yours.. so that we can finish this stupid match!"

"Pedri, hermano, don't shout at her!"

Pedri heard Gavi talking, but decided to ignore him.

"Not a big deal!? Seriously!? Of course it is not if you ate MY food!" you started to get really mad and tears were forming in your eyes.

"For real? Now you are crying? What now? Are you on your period?"

"Yes, I am! You are such a bad brother. You don't even know how it feels. I don't want to see you ever again!" you said before going to your room, sad, angry, hungry and with bad cramps.

Pedri rolled his eyes, but he felt bad for shouting at you, knowing that period was a serious subject and you were in pain.

"Is she on her period, Pedri?"

"Yes, Gavi. She is"

"Why did you yell at her like that!?"

"I didn't know, don't you think I'm sorry too?"

"I'm going to but those snacks for her now." he said before hanging up and going to some store.

It took him a lot of time to find one that was still open and after that he ran to your house.

Pedri thanked him for coming after Gavi started to give him some lessons about his behaviour towards his sister.

When you heard someone knocking at your door, you were sure it was your brother so you didn't respond, pretending to be asleep. The door eventually open and it revealed you your boyfriend with a bag in his hands.

"Hi.." he said quietly and sweetly, putting his hand on one of your legs.

"Pablo.."

He smiled at you and kissed your forehead. You opened the lights and you hugged him, being really emotional.

"Oh, sweet girl"

You wanted to ask him so many questions, but he promised to tell you everything tomorrow morning and that he will stau with you this night.

When he gave you the bag and you saw all your favorite foods and some pads, you were on he edge of tears.

"Thank youu."

"De nada, amorcito."

After you ate until you were full, he cuddled you, making sure you were save and comfortable.

Your cramps were bad, but being close to Gavi made you forget about them, only thinking about his lips and body. You were really horny this period of the month and Gavi knew that, but promised you that he will give you a nice time after you finish it.

Now, his lips on your neck and lips were enough for you.

"Can you tell me a story, please?" you asked him.

"I don't know a story,cariño."

"Anything..please"

He eventually gave up and took his phone out to read you something. After a short time, you were already asleep in his arms, while he was looking at you sweetly, kissing your forehead time to time.

"Te quiero, y/n"

2nd Masterlist

I hope you like this and I'm sorry for the wait!

[rindouheart]

Can I request kaiser and loki (i have a thing for prodigies it seems-) confessing to their crush right after a wisdom teeth removal bc they r all delirious and such?(and maybe if its not too much their crush tells them once they are back at themselves 😫) i love this scenario so much its so romantic and cute audosjddk thank u in advance and have an amazing day!❤️❤️❤️

KAISER and LOKI confessing to their s/o (while laughing) 🌿

content. these two omg + one mention of surgery + just fluff and crack :))

author’s notes. oooh tysm for this request, i absolutely adore it! i wrote a couple of short scenarios + some headcanons, i hope you like it! // i’ll probably have to get a wisdom teeth removed too (how fun).

MICHAEL KAISER

this bitch would be calm as fuck, that anesthesia knocked him off.

you’re actually his best friend, and you had the job of bringing him back home.

he is giggling at every thing you say + he’s petty, like, really petty.

“hop in, come on” you grunt, already tired of your best friend being all weird. michael sits down inside your car and fastens his security belt. then, after checking on him, you go the other way around and sit on the driver’s seat.

“mhhhhh” he murmurs, trying to catch your attention. “what’s the matter? does it hurt?” you ask before starting the car. “yeee~” he cries, leaning towards you “can i have a kiss to soothe the pain???”. you freeze and babble something like “on the lips?”. your friend nods and whines a long “pleaseeeee~”.

you’ve had a crush on kaiser for almost a year, but you never confessed directly to him, because he’s michael kaiser: focused on becoming the best version of himself and probably already surrounded by other people.

michael gets quickly impatient since you’re not doing anything “please y/n, i’m in pain and you’re the only person i allow to see me like this” and damn, your heart melts. “well, let’s do it”, you get as near as possible and kiss him on the lips. actually, you’ve never thought that this could have happened to you. “i love you” he coos, “stop it” you laugh back.

omg his face when you told him what he did 😭 would probably die of embarrassment: how could the great michael kaiser make a fool of himself?

however, some hours later, he would confess seriously since the damage was done earlier

JULIAN LOKI

a laughing mess: the total opposite of his usual calm and collected behaviour.

he called you and asked if you could go to this house, without saying why.

as a good friend you accepted.

“julian? why did you ask me to get here?” you ask, watching him laying on the couch. “i was lonely” he pouts while kicking his feet “i want to go play football”. you pinch the bridge of your nose. you knew he was stubborn, but fuck, he’s just got a surgery and the wound still hasn’t totally stopped bleeding.

“you know you can’t?” at your response, he grunts “when will i play again?”. “usually, wisdom teeth surgeries need about two weeks of care before being fine” you answer and see loki turning gloomy. “don’t give me that look, you know it doesn’t depends on me” you shake your head, making him laugh “can you stay with me for these two weeks?”. “i can come here when I’ve nothing to do” you explain “i still have to go to college and study for my exams”.

“but i love you and spending time with you”. did you hear it correctly or is your mind playing games? “can… can you repeat the last sentence?” you ask, stuttering a bit “i love you and spending time with you?” he repeats, wondering why you asked him to do that. “oh… okay…” you turn away to hide your faint blush.

after he calmed down, you asked him if he really intended what he said before.

and when he nods 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

julian will literally melt if you hug him after that.

@rindouheart ‘s scenarios — 02012023

[flashymoa]

REQUEST!

What if you wrote a sickfic about the picture of Kai sleeping on the floor that Soobin posted for his birthday, like Kai had been sick all day and Soobin found him on the floor in one of their rooms sleeping bc he was sick and didn’t want to be alone. Like a emeto fic, and they take care of him 😛

Sorry it took so long. It might be better than my other ones because my friend helped me with this one. I wanted to add humor but was struck, she helped me with that. And she suggested some sentence structures as well❤️

•°Upset Maknae°•

Huening Kai felt off from the moment practice began. It wasn’t something he could pinpoint exactly—just a vague unease that made his movements feel heavier than usual. Sweat rolled down his temples as he missed a step again, catching the faint glances of his members. Were they annoyed? Worried? He couldn’t tell, but he assumed annoyance was the more likely option. Why wouldn’t they be? After all, they’d been rehearsing for hours, perfecting every beat and angle, and here he was, struggling to keep up.

Kai gritted his teeth and pushed through. Yet, as the choreography grew more demanding, his stomach twisted uncomfortably with every sharp turn. He felt drained, his head starting to spin. The growing pain in his abdomen made it harder to focus. He just wanted to go home.

After arguing with himself for the hundredth time, he turned to the leader during a short break. “Hyung,” he muttered softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you ask the manager if I can leave early today?”

Soobin frowned, immediately sensing something wasn’t right. “What’s wrong?"

“I’m just… too tired.” Kai avoided meeting his eyes.

Before Soobin could respond, Beomgyu sauntered over, overhearing the conversation. “Tired?!” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Do you think we’re not tired too? We’ve all been dancing for hours. Come on, Kai, you can’t just leave because you’re tired. Pull yourself together.”

Kai flinched at the sharpness in Beomgyu’s voice. Before he could reply, Yeonjun stepped in, his tone gentler but firm. “I get that you’re tired, Kai, but Beomgyu’s right. We don’t have time to slack off. Just two more hours, and we’ll be done. You can rest then, okay?” He placed a reassuring hand on Kai’s back, as if to calm him.

Kai glanced at Taehyun, who stayed silent, simply observing the exchange with his usual sharp eyes. Turning back to Soobin, Kai silently pleaded for understanding.

Soobin hesitated for a moment, then placed a hand on Kai’s forehead. “You don’t have a fever,” he said, his voice sympathetic but firm. “And I don’t think the manager will let you off just because you’re tired.”

Reluctantly, Kai nodded and trudged back to practice, his stomach still in knots.

By the time practice ended, Kai was utterly spent. On the ride home, he leaned his head against the cool window, pretending to sleep to avoid conversation. His stomach churned uncomfortably, but he convinced himself it was nothing serious—just exhaustion.

The members, unaware of his state, chattered like usual around him. Beomgyu was the loudest, talking about a new gadget he wanted to buy. “I swear it’s life-changing,” he insisted, his hands moving dramatically. Yeonjun rolled his eyes. “You said the same thing about that waffle maker, and it broke in two weeks.”

Beomgyu gasped in mock offense. “That’s because Soobin-hyung tried to make kimchi pancakes in it!”

“I was experimenting!” Soobin shot back. "And it didn't turn out that bad though?"

Beomgyu made a face, a little bit overreacting, "Not that bad? It was terrible!" And Soobin playfully slapped his arm.

Taehyun chimed in taking Soobin's side cz beomgyu really annoyed the shit out of him earlier, "99% possibility is the waffle maker broke because it couldn’t handle Beomgyu-hyung's 'life-changing’ cooking skills.”

"Yah!"

Kai couldn’t help but smile faintly at their banter, even as he fought the wave of nausea creeping up. His breath hitching as the car bumped on speed breakers.

When they reached the dorms, Kai headed straight to his room, skipping dinner. He barely managed to lie down on the floor before sleep overtook him.

---

It was dinner time. Taehyun was setting up the plates, Yeonjun helping him serve food for the members. Soobin was the first one who noticed Kai's absence. “Where’s Kai?” he asked, glancing around the table.

“He went to his room,” Taehyun replied. “Should I check on him?”

Soobin shook his head. “I’ll go.”

He knocked on Kai’s door, but there was no response. “Kai?” he called out, knocking again. When silence greeted him, he slowly opened the door.

The sight of Kai asleep on the floor made him chuckle softly. “Aigoo, our maknae is too cute,” he murmured. But as he stepped closer, his smile faded. Kai’s brows were furrowed, his face pale and damp with sweat.

“Kai-ah,” Soobin said softly, crouching down and patting his shoulder. “Wake up. Taehyun made us dinner.”

Kai whimpered in his sleep, his hand latching onto Soobin’s arm like a lifeline. Soobin’s heart melted at the sight, and he gently stroked Kai’s hair. “Come on, Kai-ah, wake up,” he urged gently.

When Kai finally stirred, his eyes fluttered open, glassy and filled with unshed tears. “Hyung…” he whined weakly.

“Is something wrong, Kai-ah?”

Kai hesitated before whispering, “Stomach hurts.”

Soobin’s heart tightened at the confession. “Is it like a cramping pain or nausea?” he asked softly, brushing stray strands of hair away from Kai’s forehead.

“Both,” Kai admitted, his eyes closing again as he shifted to rest his head on Soobin’s lap. Soobin continued stroking his hair. “Should I get you some water? Maybe it’ll help.”

Kai shook his head faintly. “No… Just wanna lay down.”

“Okay,” Soobin murmured, his voice filled with quiet reassurance. “I’ll stay right here, okay? Just rest.”

Soobin’s fingers moved gently through Kai’s hair, offering the younger boy whatever comfort he could. The rhythmic stroking seemed to help, as Kai’s tense body relaxed ever so slightly. Soobin hoped the soothing motion could ease Kai’s pain or at least distract him. And it was working.

But not long after, Kai’s stomach flipped, a new wave of nausea crashing over him with unbearable force. His eyebrows furrowed deeply as he clutched his stomach, a pained whimper escaping his lips. He felt terrible. He thought staying still and taking deep breaths will help him calm down. But as time passed, the painful, nauseated feeling only worsened.

Suddenly, his entire body tensed, and he jolted upright. “Hyung—” he managed to gasp before darting out of the room, hitting the doorframe on one side in the process.

“Kai!” Soobin called, immediately chasing after him. The other members, still seated at the dining table, exchanged confused glances as they watched the two disappear. Beomgyu tilted his head in confusion, about to make a comment, but stopped when a faint, unmistakable sound met their ears—retching.

Their eyes widened in realization. “He was feeling sick all day,” Taehyun whispered, guilt flickering in his calm expression.

Yeonjun rubbed his face, groaning. “That’s why he wanted to go home earlier. Argh I shouldn't have scolded him.”

In the bathroom, Kai hovered over the toilet, clutching the edge of the porcelain bowl as his body convulsed. The first wave brought up a large stream of half-digested lunch, knocking the air out of him as he coughed violently. The coughs turned into a gag as he gripped the rim of the bowl tightly yet again.

Soobin winced in sympathy, "Let it out, Kai. It's okay, you'll be fine." His hand firmly rubbing the maknae’s back. The other hand rested on Kai’s shoulder, steadying him as the younger boy trembled.

Sweat coated his pale face, his chest heaving as he gasped for air. He gagged again, his stomach lurching violently as he retched into the toilet. The sheer force of it made his entire body shake, and Soobin felt the weight of Kai leaning more heavily onto him.

“Hyung,” Kai whimpered weakly between breaths, his voice barely audible. "It hurts," he sniffled.

“It'll be over soon, Kai-ah. Hold on just a little more. I'm here,” Soobin reassured, his voice steady despite the worry etched across his face. He pressed a bit harder against Kai’s back, offering support as another wave hit.

Kai trembled under the strain, his body visibly weakening as the retching continued. At one point, he began to slump forward, his arms losing their strength. Soobin acted quickly, gently pulling him back by the shoulders and keeping him upright. “Easy,” Soobin whispered, his voice calm but deeply worried. “Lean on me if you need to.”

Kai just nodded faintly but regretted at the next moment as it left a dizzy spell, so couldn't but lean on Soobin with full weight. The dizziness brought another wave of nausea as he gagged again, his stomach spasming painfully as another torrent of vomit spilled into the toilet.

Before he could inhale properly, another gag hit him, his stomach lurching painfully as he heaved into the toilet. The sound was raw, and the force of it made his body jerk forward uncontrollably. Tears welled up in his eyes, spilling down his flushed cheeks as his breaths turned into quiet, shuddering sobs.

Soobin’s heart broke at the sight. “Oh, Kai-ah…” he whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “Hyung is here. I know this feels awful, but you’re doing so well.” Without hesitation, he shifted closer, one arm wrapping around Kai’s shoulders to steady him as the younger boy leaned against him, trembling.

"Do you think you're done?" Soobin asked when Kai was just leaning against him, breathing shallow and no longer gagging. Kai's voice trembled as he answered, "I- I don't know. I feel so awful." Tears spilled from his eyes as he spoke. He was not only feeling sick but guilty because Soobin had to take care of him. "I'm sorry hyung," he cried out.

"Shh, it's okay. No need to apologise. It's not your fault." Soobin whispered as he brushed Kai's sweaty bangs, grabbed tissue papers and wetting it to wipe the younger's face.

At that moment, a shadow appeared in the doorway. Soobin looked up to see Yeonjun standing there, worry etched across his face.

“Is he okay?” Yeonjun asked, his voice quiet but filled with regret.

Soobin met his eyes, understanding the unspoken guilt behind the question. Yeonjun didn’t need to say it—Soobin knew he was kicking himself for being harsh on Kai earlier.

“He’ll be fine,” Soobin replied softly. “Can you grab some water for him?”

Yeonjun nodded immediately and hurried off, leaving Soobin to focus on Kai, who was still slumped over the toilet, exhausted and trembling.

“You did well, Kai,” Soobin whispered, continuing to rub his back. “It’s over now. Just breathe.”

Kai let out a shaky exhale, leaning further into Soobin for support as he closed his eyes, too drained to even respond.

Yeonjun was back with the water. He crouched down beside the duo, "Drink a little bit of water. You'll feel better." Kai's lips trembled as he looked at Yeonjun with teary eyes, "N-no, I'll just throw it back up." Yeonjun's heart sank as he realised how sick Kai was feeling that he was scared to even drink water.

"It's okay. Whenever you're ready." Soobin reassured.

In the end, Soobin had to carry him to bed. Although Kai didn't want to trouble Soobin more, he just let the elder take care of him.

[anonymouslylovesyou]

Ep 8 session finale @whoblewboobear

Inch resting that Lady Whistedown is talking about fastest engagements

Painter is the gay guy from earlier and he's so sick of straight people

Not her referring to the marriage at their ruse again

Ok Marina is alive, I really like Marina I hope she ends up ok. Maybe George can still come in clutch

OH HE DID FUCKING FINALLY

FUCK GEORGE DIED

"I had hoped you'd male an exception for me" fucking rich people, this tailor goes through so much

Eloise thinks the tailor is Lady Whistedown, she's also trying to give the shovel talk I think

This is physically a little painful

Yknow seeing Penelope and Eloise friendship makes me wonder if Daphne has any friends :(( that really is the saddest bit of Simon and her fighting, you fight with your lover and your best friend

Oh my god Simon, "you will be better off without me" I though you left that shit behind when you married her

BETTING HIS HOUSE INSANE

Marina marry George's brother??

Not loving him is stopping you at the finish line?? I get it its bc she found out he loved her till the end. Still a bad decision for her <3

Daphne snooping in letters? What is this about hm

I have so much trouble telling Anthony and Benedict apart it's crazy I can barely pick out Colin

Sienna his dick simply cannot be that good

Lady Danbury caught Daphne snooping and apparently she was looking at the letter Simon wrote his dad as a boy

Get his ass Will, god Will would be such a good husband

Pay your debts first then new dresses

Daphne is trying to bridge this gap so much

Where has Francesca been..

Ooo Colin can sing incredible

Eloise: I'm not sharing my candy *shares with both brothers and Penelope*

Simon being good with kids

Uh oh Marina felt something in her stomach

Ye Olde Abortion Tea did not work

Sienna is so hot I'd love to put Jace in her little fit

Oh wow he wants to take her to the ball with him. But also sir she has a show tonight like she's got a whole job man

Oh they're acting like friends again.. I'm biting

Noo Rose we were reaching a breakthrough for a second

I want so do the little dances so bad I gotta ask my irl friends to get back to that

Oh jeez Penelope's dad may get murdered

Penelope was about to tell Colin she loved him and he's like I'm leaving to travel the world

No Eloise chase after Penelope not the Queen

Oo good flattery Eloise

I am once again pained by whatever Eloise is doing

Uh oh Siennas other boytoy answered the door

"I am looking out for myself" good for her I want to protect her

Now what is he going to do with these flowers. Oh just throw them out?? Someone has to pick those up you know

Only 1 dance?? Sweetheart you started the bargaining at 3

Oh shitt rain interrupting their first dance

Oh shit rain on the painting!! Shit I hope it's ok

WHEEZE LADY DANBURY DISSMISSING EVERYONE

"Just because something is not perfect sows not make it any less worthy of love" Damn Daphne what a line that fucks

They will be bed foe the next week either with a cold or fucking or know them possibly both

Oh shit he really was murdered

Why is Simon's shirt unbuttoned so far huh? Slut.

Maybe it's just practically it wasn't staying on very long

Marina and Lady Featherington had a strange bonding moment

OH SHIT I FORGOT THE ESATE WOULDN’T JUST GO TO PENELOPE'S MOM

Listen Simon and Daphne I'm glad you're not fighting anymore but you still do have to take care of your farmers back home

Anthony: I'm not going to marry for love

Me, who knows he does: sounds fake lol

Eloise was wrong about the tailor

PENELOPE

IN LABOR AND A MALE MIDWIFE

[k-kkaren]

EX FACTOR

LOL sighs ..anddddddd action. When I tell you all this is probably one of my most anticipated blogs ever. I’ve seriously wrote this blog so many times (I’m talking all the way probably back to around when I first started writing blogs) and every time I get ready to publish it, I always back out. For one I know the emotions that come with this song for me. Once a young girl stealing my sisters Miseducation of Lauryn Hill cd to a woman in my late 20s now feeling exactly each word she wrote. Every time I hear the melodic chimes and piano in the beginning it creates such an emotion for me. Then to precede and say “It could all be so simple, but you’d rather make it hard. Loving you is like a battle, and we both end up with scars. Tell me who do I have to be to gain some reciprocity.(S/o to her for truly teaching us what that word means) See no one loves you more than me and no one ever will.”

As a woman, I truly understand how simple love could be. Relationships too. We didn’t say easy because nothings ever easy, we just said simple. But (whatever your preference may be) realistically they make it so hard. A lack of so to say. Lack of communication. Lack of accountability. Ego. Wounds in the way aka trauma. And. Straight up unwillingness. (Sidenote, I know I have a couple of guys who sometimes read these and the same things go for women.. i too have lacked in these areas as well and I’m woman enough to admit that)

“No matter how I think we grow you always seem to let me know,it ain't working…And when I try to walk away you'd hurt yourself to make me stay. This is crazy…I keep letting you back in. How can I explain myself? (I don't understand why) As painful as this thing has been. .. ” i don’t even sing that last part because I know I truly am capable of moving on. I’ve done it quite a time or two. It just takes me a min. But I get it who wants to in some cases.

Being very transparent with you all I don’t think I’ve ever been with someone but not with someone so much in my entire 14 years of being a dater. It’s like I would always be drawn in to stay somewhere where I know didn’t serve me purpose. But I also didn’t want to give up on it bc I always felt like we could grow. I once believed in wrong timing. I felt like too much time had been invested. I felt comfortable. I always tried to find the good(Bc in all honesty when it was good, it was good. My friends never saw that side so I get the stares and all the questions lol. I really do y’all.)

“See I know what we've got to do. You let go and I'll let go too. 'Cause no one's hurt me more than you. And no one ever will..” The hardest part but the part that warms my heart the most. We hate to let things go that mean so much to us, things that were once near and dear to our heart but it’s essential for progressing. I look at hurt like all the lessons of a lifetime that potentially made me into a better woman. A more guarded woman. A more cautious woman for sure, but never the less still a woman, phenomenally. And I try to pride myself on that.

Ex Factor - a tale of three different stages that I’m sure every single one of us have been through or may be currently experiencing.

The Ex Factor - a product of someone or something mattering but not so much anymore. And I’ll drink to that. With another month concluding, into the year that’s moving ever so rapidly so much of me knows that it’s a dire need to go ahead and get this out the way because all in all it has held me back in many ways. It’s crazy like I noted earlier I’ve seriously wrote this blog, tweaked it, deleted stuff from it since about 2020 and each time I felt something new. Today 4/30/2023 is the best I’ve felt about it in all these years. I say all of that to say, “it’s” awaiting.

As always, in all ways — Love and Light 💗

Twitter : _kforkaren

Instagram : kforkarenn

[wahaydendotcom]

Hey tumblr, *content warning:talk about su!c!de*

new ‘song.’ first, it was performed (live recording from my phone;) then, it was shared on SoundCloud (with a better cover image I haven’t converted to Bandcamp’s 1400x1400 minimum size image req...;) [https://soundcloud.com/wahayden98/imaginary-friend;] then converted to a .flac from .mp3 to upload onto bc - shared there; now, telling you about it:) learning to do all [that] more professionally and erase the shame & guilt associated with [that.]

 was excited to make this and in the “not accomplished” stages of manifesting another work similar to but not derivative of this.

 sense of grief that I can’t really explain. music is/(can be) pain. no one tells you that.

This morning, I was watching YT (youtube) videos about diagnosising ADHD AND Autism. self-diagnosis has been the only tool I’ve had to explore my psychology* (*psychopathy) and at the end of the day, one can say that I’ve come this far in not k!ll!ing myself! after this morning, left with a sense of “that explains me!” felt this way before with many other things, conditions, symptoms, etc. and wish i could draw out my APA/DSM psychiatric profile into a visual like an astrology chart. INFJ-T is that tells you anything.

 can’t/don’t trust my thoughts but had some earlier about sharing my mental/psychiatric difference for real and this is honestly the furthest I’ve gotten to doing that in my life. 26.5 years old. my whole life, i’ve thought deeply about the ‘27 club.’ yolo you know?!?

Just wanted to share this song. not going to delete what I just wrote. cringey.

Yours,

-Will

Listen/purchase: imaginary friend / wall-heater by William Arthur Hayden

[bookishwithathought]

There's too much to be said so instead of bombarding the comments I'm gonna move my thoughts to here:

It's really hard to believe you are genuinely curious when you're either dismissive of the reasoning/evidence provided or you move the goalposts in your objections. Regardless, here are some thoughts for you...

Your claim that Az and Gwyn aren't even friends yet. First of all, here’s an excerpt from the bonus chapter related to their relationship status:

"He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, BUT..."

Az may not label them as friends (or more), YET. Link to a post I wrote for more on this: https://www.tumblr.com/bookishwithathought/749230448875634688/he-wouldnt-call-her-a-friend-which-many-claim?source=share

Building a relationship while Gwyn heals: SJM has written relationships from strangers to lovers in ONE BOOK before, she can surely do it for 2 characters that aren't complete strangers. Even before ACOSF, Az at least knew OF Gwyn. Heck, SJM retconned the story of the attack on Sangravah to include Az getting there first and rescuing her.

From ACOSF (emphasis mine):

“The first had just unbuckled his belt when Azriel arrived.” Silent, unending tears streamed down Gwyn’s face. “Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it.

He knew she was living in the library. He becomes more involved in the training, therefore spending more time around and interacting with Gwyn.

As for healing, we already see Gwyn starting her journey in ACOSF. Leaving the library to come out to train. Wearing the form-fitting Illyrian leathers instead of the robe, reading spicy books and being curious about them, sex talk with the girls, sharing her SA story with Nesta and Emerie, singing again which she'd stopped doing after her SA.

From ACOSF:

"You're the one who's been in a library for two years," Emerie said. Gwyn didn't flinch. "I have. And I'm tired of it."

Indication that she’s ready to live, ready for more. In conjuction with her insterest in Nesta's romantic life and spicy books, this indicates she's even ready to at least entertain a romantic relationship with someone.

And what do you think she was doing in the library for those two years? Gwyn herself told us (emphasis mine):

“The first five months I was at the library, I barely spoke. I didn’t sing. I went to the priestess who counsels all of us, and sometimes I just sat there and cried, or screamed, or said nothing. And then I began working with Merrill, upon Clotho’s request, and the work focused me. Motivated me to get out of bed each morning. I started singing during the evening service. And then you came along, Nesta.” Gwyn’s eyes slid to hers, brimming with tears and pain and—hope. Precious, beautiful hope. “And I could tell something bad had happened to you, too. You were fighting it, though. Not letting it master you. I knew Catrin would have been the first to sign up for training, so … I did, too."

She'd begun healing as a person.

3. Healing while also having kinky sex: one thing we know for sure about Az is he has SELF CONTROL and shows RESTRAINT and can be PATIENT. He pined for the same female for 500 years, for goodness sake, and if in the BC we clearly see him letting Elain set the pace in their scene, then we can trust SJM to have him be considerate of Gwyn's comfort level and pace.

At the same time, you've painted this picture of Gwyn being delicate and fragile when she is far from it. We see she's NOT delicate in her standing up for the children in Sangravah at great cost bc she was SA'd. We see it in her wanting to take the hardest path to the top of Ramiel. We see it in her telling Nesta and Emerie to cut the rope to the bridge and leave her behind to fend off a group of Illyrians, fear of being SA'd again real. How about luring a scary beast to the group of Illyrians's camp earlier in the story in the Rite? She has a strong character and it's really disgusting how she's painted as this fragile thing bc of her history, and it's also disgusting to imply Az is gonna go all out ham on a girl. It doesn’t have to be wrist cuffs and whips (and white ribbons) from the get go, you know…

***Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”***

Gwyn is strong. A bat boy is sure not gonna break her.

SJM saying in an interview that she is excited for Azriel's book, and "not just because of his bedroom habits" seems like it's worth mentioning. She called him a "freak". She has suggested that he's the kinkiest bat boy of the three and that interview also made it clear we can expect to see some of those scenes in his book. How will she build a relationship between Azriel and Gwyn in a single book (they are not even friends yet) while allowing Gwyn time to heal from her trauma, and also have super kinky sex scenes mixed in? Does that not feel a little off to anyone else?

[peachysamu]

How Haikyuu Boys React to A Mysterious Bruise You Found

A/n: bc I found a massive bruise on my leg so I gotta tell everyone about it. It’s been a while since I wrote some hcs

Characters: Iwaizumi Hajime, Nishinoya Yuu, Miya Osamu

IWAIZUMI HAJIME

“Oh my gosh.”

“What? What?”

Iwaizumi is already skirting through the house. You can hear the tap, tap, tap of his feet pattering against the floorboards in a hurried flurry.

“What happened baby?” He steps through the door, hands reaching for you for a welcomed embrace. Your Iwa knows that his physicality is one of your greatest comforts, how his arms cradle your fears and his chest breathes in your insecurities.

You simply poke at your skin before turning around, “Look at this bruise I found!”

And you lift your knee so that he can see the massive bruise that forms on your thigh. You’re beaming, proud of your new conquest because finding bruises on your legs is like finding money in your pocket, a mystery, an enigma. A question that can only be structured as, “When did that get there?”

But your smile falters when your boyfriend’s frown turns into a scowl. He almost growls at the sight, never looking away from the mass of purple upon your leg. “What the fuck did you do?”

“I don’t know!” You defensively shout, shifting your leg away from his point of view, but his hand catches the back of your thigh only to lift it up again so he can have a better look.

“Did you ice this?” He all but screams at you. “What the fuck happened?”

“I don’t know! Why are you getting mad at me?!”

“Who else am I supposed to get mad at?” His nose flares, “The fucking table that you probably ran into?”

Yup, it was definitely a mistake to show Iwaizumi your newfound bruise.

NISHINOYA YUU

You’re moving into your new place, lifting a box onto your hip for stability before you wince at the impact. Ignoring it at first, you finally take a look by pulling your pants down just a little to find a bruise forming along your hip.

“Ow.” You state, knowing the source of your discomfort. It doesn’t hurt. To be honest, the visualization of it is more painful than actually touching it, but it makes you feel better expressing the pain rather than keeping it in.

Nishinoya turns around from the box of dishes he’s unloading, “Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah,” You say, showing him your bruise, “I have no idea how. Must have bumped it earlier or something.”

“Oh,” he says, getting a closer look before lifting up the sleeve of his shirt, “Looks just like mine! Now we’re matching!”

He grins and you grin too because how can’t you when you both get to share the joys and the pain of life together.

MIYA OSAMU

“What ya got there?”

The question is unprompted so you look up at him confused, “Got where?”

“Right there,” Osamu points at your arm. “Who’s that new friend of yours?”

You look down, and you almost gasp at the sight of a darkening splatter found at your forearm. “Wow! I had no idea!”

Osamu scoffs, having heard you say so at least dozens of times at this point. He’s had enough of you being careless with your well-being, “Course ya didn’t.”

“I really didn’t!” You say, trying to defend yourself. You already know how this conversation is going to go. Osamu’s about to lecture you, but you’d really rather not listen to him harp about being careful and all of that. You are careful. If you’re being honest, they just show up unwittingly like little weeds in a garden. That is no fault of your own.

“Don’t worry about it. It doesn’t hurt anyways.”

“Oh really, huh?” He pokes at it aggressively, “Doesn’t hurt, huh?”

“Ow!”

“Thought so.” Osamu does a 180 and proceeds to rub the pain he inflicted. He pulls you in by the waist and plants a sweet kiss at your temple. “Now what did I say about being careful?”

[its-deputy-caleb]

could you write how lords would react if Ethan killed the ray of sunshine lord you wrote earlier? how they would treat Ethan if they know that he killed their favourite person? will karl still propose him to team up? i really love these headcanons you wrote and i just want more <3333 plant soft lord is the best.

Firstly i want to say a huge ✨THANK YOU ✨ to the 500 followers i have, i seriously wouldn’t be able to do it without y’all and the love and support has been amazing!! Here is the plant lord and there’s already a part one so go and read that first bc these directly relate to it! also this is angsty af but i’ve left it open ended for some more hc’s to come :)) enjoy!

Alcina Dimitrescu

When Alcina learns of your death she is not the only one to mourn you. The whole Dimitrescu family is devastated and heartbroken at the loss of such a beautiful soul like you.

She’s filled with rage that some man-thing could just take away someone so powerful yet so kind. When her screaming finally stops, Bela can be heard crying in her room and at family dinner that night everyone is silent. It’s just not the same without you.

Alcina has a grave made for you, one with a large headstone and surrounding it she laid beautiful flowers from the indoor garden you all made together as a family.

While she grieves for you, Alcina notices how strange it was for moss to grow around the surrounding stones so quickly but grief had clouded her mind to really think or notice too much about it.

She becomes even more protective of her daughters, not wanting to see them suffer the same fate you did. Alcina promises you that she would kill Winters on sight if she ever ran into him again.

Donna Beneviento

Donna has never taken death too well and losing you was no exception. She feels completely empty without you, not even Angie can comfort her sometimes with how much she misses you.

When she saw what Ethan had done to you it felt like apart of herself died with you. Donna spent the next few hours crying into your chest, begging someone to bring you back but she knew it was no use when the flowers and grass you were laying on turned to ash underneath you.

With the help of her dolls she manages to carry you back to the forest where she lays you to rest under a huge willow tree. She places one last kiss to your forehead before she lays down the doll she made for you.

Donna spends a lot of time in the forest after that as a way of staying close to you. Somehow when the trees blow in the wind it feels like you’re hugging her.

In the forest, Donna finds little white flowers appearing all over, the exact ones you used to grow from your palm. She leans down to pick one and tucks it behind her ear as she remembers how you used to give them to her.

Salvatore Moreau

Your death was one of the most painful things Salvatore has ever felt. He can’t even bring himself to feel angry at Ethan when all he feels is numbness from your death.

His heart sinks when he sees the lush and green scenery around the reservoir being to rot and die, the view now resembling what it looked like before your arrival only somehow much more gloomy.

The trees no longer have leaves and are left hollow and dead inside. The grass that you used to spend hours laying on, watching the clouds together is faded and grey. All these things remind Sal just how much he misses you.

Salvatore often sits by your grave which is up on the hill overlooking the reservoir. You said it was one of your favourite places because at sunset the water reflected the pink and orange sky, it was only fitting that your grave be there.

He’ll often talk to you and tell you about his day while he sits there, a coping mechanism if you will. But it usually ends with him bursting into tears as he realises you weren’t there with him.

While he’s lost in his grief and tears, Sal fails to notice how the dead tree which you’re buried next to begins to grow its leaves again, with beautiful pink blossoms growing on the top.

Karl Heisenberg

Karl is fuming, absolutely enraged that Ethan Winters, someone who he was willing to trust and team up with could go and take away someone so pure and precious to him.

It actually pains him to continue his plan to get revenge on Miranda, not only do all his Soldats have your nature-like embellishments but you were someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

There’s so much of you around the factory that his heart breaks just looking at the flowers, the vibes and the moss that are scattered throughout the dark hallways.

He figures the factory, a place that’s so metallic and industrial is no place for you to be laid to rest so he carries you to your home in the forest.

After finding a nice quiet spot near a stream, he brings his large hammer into his hands and disassembles it using his powers. He reworks the cogs and pieces of scrap metal to make a large metal wreath. Karl would’ve been upset at losing his favourite weapon if he hadn’t lost you first, besides he could always make another hammer, you were special.

When he places the wreath down, little vines and flowers grow in between the crevices of the metal. The action makes Karl break down on the spot as he cries, the action bringing up so many memories of the two of you together in his factory which now leave him feeling empty and as lonely as ever.

[alltheworldsinmyhead]

ON FEYSAND’S PLOTLINE IN ACOSF

              !!!!MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE WHOLE ACOSF!!!!

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Let’s be honest for a while, okay?

ACOCF had potential to be SJM’s best book, if not for any other reason then because of the sheer idea of it. Coming-of-age, healing story of the most complex and polarizing character she has ever created set in the time of peace, away from the familiar setting (according to the later changed concept which still remains in the snippet at the end of ACOFAS), development of her arguably most feisty and angsty love story... It could be her absolute trumph. Even with the change to stick to Velaris instead of exploring the Illyrian culture of the Mountains and with the added conflict of the Mortal Queens and Koshei, it still could work quite well. 

It didn’t. For many, many reasons, but the most important one, in my opinion, being the feysand pregnancy plot. 

Nothing about this plotline made sense. Not a single thing. From start to finish, it was an absolute disaster from the character-writing POV, from the narration POV, from every single context of it. It broke the rules of real-life logic, it broke the rules of this fantasy world setting and it completely exposed that Rhysand, while not a bad guy, is a pretty terrible partner, even worse ruler and an absolutely terrible contender for the High King title. 

Let’s break this whole mess down (and expect this post to be mammoth-sized. it’s not my fault, though, write to SJM if you have any complains):

1) Feyre, 21, decides to get pregnant, even though less than a year earlier, she expresses the delight with not being forced to bear children to her new mate and told him herself she wants to wait a while and enjoy her life with him. Feyre decides she wants a baby though and Rhysand goes along with it, even though he is aware how young Feyre is and how hard her life has been up until this point. He wants a baby too much to have an honest discussion with Feyre about it, to stop and wonder what is the reason for her sudden change of heart, to reassure her that they have a lot of time ahead of them and don’t need to rush. No. She mades a sudden decision to have a baby after A YEAR OF MARRIAGE and not much more of being turned fae, JUST AFTER having her whole world put upside down, having received a completely new title and responsibilities, surviving the wat and being mated. Great. 

2) Feyre decides to get pregnant and Rhys goes along with it less than a year after the end of the bloody war. It is politically a delicate time, everyone is still not sure how the balance will shift, some countries don;t want to sign the peace treaty, etc. There are a lot of enemies and a lot of turmoil remaining. But sure. Let’s have a baby. Perfect time to add yet another target, another weakness that can be use by the Mortal Queens, Beron or whatever else with malicious intent towards the Night Court. 

2) Feyre gets pregnant after approximately a year of trying. I know healthy people of reproductive age for whom it takes ages more than this. Fae’s pregnancies are rare af and precious and happen once in a blue moon, but ofc SJM broke the world’s rules for her darling Feyre. And again, for Kallas and Vivianne who are also expecting the baby, even though it has been a maximum of 3 years since they’ve mated. 3 years is also not a particularly long time to try to have a baby for those who have issues with their reproductive systems like Fae women. Thank you, next. 

3) Rhys has unprotected sex with Feyre in her Illyrian form when she conceives, even though he knows full well having a winged baby would kill her. He does it anyway, for shits and giggles apparently. They probably have sex in the sky above Velaris, for all we know. 

4) The baby has wings. Now, the whole explanation with Illyrian wings being bony (bc they resemble bat wings) and Seraphin ones being more flexible (bc they resemble bird ones) is so insanely stupid that it takes around 3 seconds to wikipedia this shit and find out it’s exactly the opposite. But okay, the baby has wings and Feyre will die while giving birth, along with the baby. Madja forbids Feyre from turning into an Illyrian to carry the pregnancy because it MIGHT hurt the baby. Now, remember, Feyre conceived while in Illyrian form and then turned into High Fae. The baby survived it just fine. The baby MIGHT be hurt by Feyre turning .... but it will FOR SURE die if she stays High Fae and Feyre will too. Idk about you, but I would take the risk of MIGHT instead of FOR SURE. Especially when she is already in labour and dying. Cauldron or Nesta or idk who alters Feyre’s pelvis after the baby is cut out of her for no apparent reason but to allow feysand to make exactly the same mistakes later on. How convinient. And Nesta also alters her own pelvis bc god forbid she won’t be able give Cassian babies like the little useful mate she is now. She should’ve probably done it with Elain too, just in case she decides to fuck Az in the future, because fuck consequences and fuck the stakes in the story that make the readers actually CARE about characters bc they know the author may actually kill them and not save their life every fucking time.  

5) I don’t even want to comment on the fact Rhys hid the true danger of this pregnancy for Feyre and their family went along with it. It is absolutely disgusting. And Nesta telling her and that being condemned as the act of the ultimate cruelty which is a final straw to break her self-loathing back.... is abhorrent. It made my sick, actually, phisically sick. There is no justification for it. No at all. And the fact that they did not even consider abortion sends a message that I really don’t want to think too much about it. Feyre was 2 months along when they learned the baby is winged. 2 months. 8 weeks. It wasn’t a baby yet, let’s be honest. They could’ve at least discussed it. She - oh my god, I cannot believe SJM wrote it this way, I’m gonna be sick. 

6) For the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, they have no plan to really help her. Labour plan? Haven’t heard if it.  They have money and power and access to the healers of the whole land. And did not figure out how to stop her from bleeding out after a fucking C-section. THIS WORLD HAS MAGIC AND THEY COULDN’T STOP HER FROM BLEEDING OUT AFTER A FUCKING C-SECTION. Didn’t even ask Thesan, the High Lord of Healing, to be present. Cassian had guts hanging out of his stomach and survived. Az was fucking slashed apart in Hybern and survived. But yeah, Feyre was on a brink of death after a C-section. Great, Sarah. Keep it up. Let’s force the thought into young girls’ heads that labour is the most lethal thing ever, why not. 

7) Also, for the entirety of Feyre’s pregnancy, Rhys keeps quiet about this idiotic bargain. He, as far as we know, doesn’t make any plans for the moment when him and Feyre and possibly their baby are dead. If they died and baby survived.. who would take care of it? Does Rhys have a conversation with his family about it? NAH. Doesn’t write any sort of plan how to keep the Court going, doesn’t inform even the closest of his co-workers how they should proceed to act after he’s gone and his and Feyre’s power go to god-knows-who. Their deaths would mean a sure chaos for the weakend and fragile Prythian and the Night Court especially and yet nor Rhys nor Feyre make any sort of preparations for it. Rhys doesn’t tell his brothers or Mor or HIS SECOND IN COMMAND they will all soon have to somehow manage without him. He was about to just leave them to their own devices and told them in the last. possible. moment. 

And this man - this man is, according to Amren, the best candidate to handle the whole country? To unite it? This fool who makes idiotic bargains, who thinks first about his cock and his own selfish desires and considers his subjects and his responsibilities as a High Lord last and least important of all? Who has so much trust in his wife, in his High Lady, the mother of his son that he doesn’t tell her she will almost surely die on a birthing bed because it MAY UPSET HER? 

This plotline was the straw that broke my back. ACOTAR, at it’s heart has always been a ya fantasy with added ‘spice’ and I was willing to bend my critical-thinking skills in many cases and forget and forgive many smaller idiotic issues in this series. But this? It is not idiotic. It is massive and stupid to the point when it becomes insulting to the reader. It was a plot straight out of a bad fanfic, not something that should be in a published book written by someone who writes for a living. You could even argue that Twilight has handled this toxic trope better.  I have wasted my money on this book and thinking about it will always be painful for me. So yeah.

ACOSF could be great. Ended up quite pathetic. 

[cdroloisms]

originally i just wanted dream to recover, preferably in the syndicate. but after today's quackity lore? he deserves to fuck shit up for a bit. let him get his revenge. tommy got his revenge on dream, techno got his revenge on l'manberg, dream deserves to get revenge on quackity and sam! then he can recover after that lol

(context: ask was sent on march 16th and i am very. very late.)

but YEAH !! logic brain says revenge bad and cycle of violence will continue BUT emotion brain wants c!dream to go crazy go stupid !! go beat them up honey we’ll be here with juice boxes and fruit snacks when you’re done <3 

i wrote this while looping casino royale by derivakat for (checks time) something like 12 hours straight so uhh,,, yeah LMAO have some of c!dream going apeshit bc honestly he deserves it (/hj)

tw: implied torture, abuse, mentioned injuries, suicide, murder, explosions, death, violence, dark portrayals of c!dream, c!quackity, and c!sam, emotional distress, prison arc, pandora’s vault

Sam is uneasy long before he enters Las Nevadas - Quackity’s terse, serious-sounding string of texts he’d woken up to had sent his heart racing before the country even came into sight, and he’s pretty sure the pit in the middle of his gut since Dream escaped a week ago won’t disappear until the prisoner is either jailed or dead at his feet. Still, the city hardly does his anxiety any favors - each step within its limits feels a bit more like walking to his own death, the silent storefronts and looming, boarded up casino seeming to watch his every move, making him pick up his pace to move a little faster and avoid their judging gazes.

Stuck in his head as he is, it’s not until he’s halfway to the meeting place that he realizes how eerily quiet the place is - Las Nevadas has yet to be a particularly busy country with the casino yet to open and their recruits usually doing their own thing in the meantime, but still there’s usually at least one of them lingering on the city grounds, between Fundy’s work on his yacht and Foolish’s construction and whatever Slime does, usually involving an immense amount of following Quackity’s every move. The city as it right now feels much more like when it had been no more than a secret of his and Quackity, months spent with just the two of them working to make Big Q’s vision a reality. There’s something uniquely unnerving about it, like stepping into a ghost town, and Sam’s unease only grows.

“Sam!” Quackity calls from the base of the casino - Sam shades his eyes from the sun as he jogs over. Even from this far, it’s clear Q is displeased - his lips are flat in a small frown, skin taut from where the corner of his mouth is pulling at his scar. His tie is slightly askew and shirt rumpled - he looks disheveled, eyebrows narrowed irritatedly as he taps at something on his communicator. Sam smiles slightly, hollow.

“Hello Quackity,” he responds simply, drawing his trident and bringing it to his side. “You said we needed to meet?”

“Yeah,” Quackity’s voice is distracted, and he mumbles a curse as he jams his finger particularly hard against the communicator screen. “What is up with everyone today? They sent me these- weird fucking messages  and then we get here and nobody’s here-”

“Who?” Sam’s lips press together. “You mean like- Fundy? Or Foolish?” They seem to be the ones that Quackity got messages from most frequently, if he remembers right. He doesn’t know for sure - usually, Quackity handles the social side of managing Las Nevadas.

“Fundy, Purpled, Foolish, Slime-” Quackity makes a vague, affronted noise. “All of them! Where the hell are they?”

Sam pauses.

“Q, when did Slime learn to use a communicator?”

“That’s the green one, right?” Both of them freeze, whirling around to the voice behind them, seeing nothing but the empty, arched doorway of the still-locked casino. “Naïve. Easy to fool.” The voice pauses, barks a sharp, quiet laugh. “Made my job easy, at least.”

The voice is familiar- too familiar. Sam doesn’t think he’ll ever get that cadence out of his head, not after months after months spent in the prison, hearing it in every possible tone and form. Quackity’s shoulders are hunched up to his ears, teeth bared in a snarl.

“Dream- I fucking swear- where the hell are you?”

“Aw, not so brave when the other person can actually fight back, are we?” Dream’s voice is lilting, mocking, and Sam’s hands tighten on the trident. “Fine, I’ll show myself. I’m not like you- no need to extend this game any longer than necessary.”

Dream slinks out from the shadows, wearing all black and covered in netherite armor, seeming fiddling with a small, grey thing in one hand. HIs stance is wide, torso pulled close to the ground - instead of a mask, his outfit includes a hooded black cloak that pulls down over his face, barely offering a glimpse of his eye glaring from underneath it.

“I’m giving you three seconds to tell me why the hell you’re in my country,” Quackity growls, sword forming in his hand, blade still crusted over with old blood, “And I’ll make your death half as painful as it’ll be otherwise.”

Dream laughs, high-pitched and unstable. “Please- what are you gonna do with that thing?” Quackity stalks forward with a low, wordless yell and Sam only barely manages to snag him back by the wrist.

“Watch it, Q,” Sam mutters, looking closer. Sure enough, there’s a faint, reddish haze rising from Dream’s body, only barely visible, interspersed with some lighter blue wisps. Strength and Speed. “He’s got potions.”

“Outmatched, aren’t we?” Dream cocks his head to the side, a tight-lipped smile visible under the hood’s shadow. “What a shame. I was hoping for a good fight.”

Quackity curses at him, loudly, but mullishly stays in place instead of lashing out like earlier, and Sam hisses a small sigh of relief. He looks back over at Dream - under the sun, he looks worse than ever, armor doing little to hide the gaunt edge of his face, limbs skinny and shaking. His hands tremble, wrists kept close together, as he continues to move the thing within them from hand to hand, small and grey and smooth from what he can tell in flashes between scarred and calloused fingers. He’s still favoring his left side slightly, but his eyes are cold and clear as they follow his every movement, clearly lucid and intelligent. Unfortunately for them, Dream is the best of fighters at the worst of times, and he has no doubt that with potions on his side and themselves relatively unprepared for battle, any fight with him won’t go particularly well.

Negotiation it is, then. “Why are you here, Dream?” If they stall long enough, then the rest of the server can come to back them up, and then even Dream won’t be able to fight back for long. He and Quackity can figure out what to do with him once he’s safely back under their control - for now, they have to play things safe. He pulls out his communicator carefully with one hand, trying to avoid drawing attention to his movements. “I doubt you’re here for a housewarming visit.”

Dream waves his hand slightly. “Something like that-” he bares his teeth in a small smile. “How about a housewarming gift, instead?”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Quackity bites, aggressive in a way that speaks of how threatened he feels, and the pit in Sam’s stomach only grows. Dream’s eye seems to glow as he turns and presses his hands to the nearby wall; when he pulls them back, there’s a stone button fastened on the quartz.

“Say, Quackity,” Dream’s voice is too light to be anything but forced levity, rolling his shoulders back to try and hide the way his entire body has begun to shake even more violently than before. “How much TNT do you suppose it took for Wilbur to blow up L’manburg?”

Sam gasps, low and harsh through his teeth, a quiet, breathless no falling from his lips. Quackity’s head shakes, eyes widening in fury and denial.

“No- no what the fuck did you do- Dream what the absolute fuck did you do-”

“Eleven stacks of TNT, to blow up that country to kingdom come.” Dream laughs, directing his wild, manic expression to look them in the eye. “The amount of TNT hooked up to this thing is ten times that.”

“You’re a liar-” Quackity rushes forward, sword raised, “I’m going to fucking kill you-”

Sam grabs him, again, ignoring his yells to look at Dream, who’s still standing, seemingly unruffled, one hand hovering over the button that’ll spell doom for them all.

“That’ll kill all of us,” he tries to reason, panic clawing up his lungs, “You’re on your last life. You can’t-”

“And what, Warden, makes you think I give a single goddamn fuck about that?” Dream’s voice cracks, slightly, and for a moment Sam almost thinks he’ll break, that he can press the point until the other backs down - but Dream is nothing if not stubborn, and within seconds he’s composed himself again, looking at them with a determined set to his jaw that Sam recognizes well enough from Quackity’s visits to know that he won’t back down. “Everyone else is far away from here. I made sure of that. It’s just you, and Quackity, and me, and I’m pressing this button if it’s the last thing I do. Call it a parting shot, will you?”

Sam pulls at Quackity, wrist still locked in his grip. “Q, we have to leave.”

“I’m not letting him destroy this place Sam, are you out of your fucking mind? This- Las Nevadas- it’s everything- I’m not letting him take this place from me not again-”

“He’s going to kill us all, Quackity,” he throws a water bucket at his feet, charging up his trident. The sign taunts him at the edges of the city borders, far too far away for any of them to even hope to reach. “We have to go now-”

“Say your goodbyes,” Dream taunts, and there’s a quiet click. Sam smells the faint, smoky smell of redstone being activated, hears a hum growing in volume from the ground beneath him. He looks over to Dream, who has a hand pressing the button to the wall, fever-bright eyes wide and wet as he stares at his own hand before shutting them with a soft, almost serene smile. “And see you in hell.”

The world goes white.

[Dream was blown up by Dream.]

[Quackity was blown up by Dream.]

[awesamdude was blown up by Dream.]

[chironshorseass]

hello yes i’m OBSESSED with your writing so if you’re still taking prompts maybe “please look at me” bc i also have an unhealthy relationship with pre-tlo percabeth angst and live for pining percy

SYD U GAVE ME THIS AND I JUST HAD TO PUT ALL MY PROMPTS ASIDE!!! because how could i not!!!

for what i wrote, i kind of mention this clarisse one-shot.

anyway enjoy <3, since I sort of went crazy with percy being powerful :) like i always do :) and of course, pre-tlo percabeth :)

read on ao3

The waves had grown restless these past few days. Violent, brutal. The night was quiet, the moon hidden beneath darkened clouds, drenching the camp in heavy ink. Percy knew many demigods proclaimed it as the quiet before the storm. They couldn’t have been more wrong.

All he heard was noise.

He’d been like this—unsteady, overwhelmed—for some time, now. Everywhere he went, he felt like a ship sailing into giant waves, water crashing against his deck, threatening to bring him under.

Grover would’ve understood, maybe. But Grover, like the moon, had vanished. That only left a few of his other friends—and of course—Annabeth.

Percy couldn’t avoid her gaze, no matter how much he wanted to. She was always there, watching. Maybe she awaited the day when he’d sink to the power of those waves that plagued the beach, that plagued him. Maybe she anticipated with bated breath on the day when he’d turn sixteen and he’d have to make one decision that would change everything.

Nevertheless, she’d drift away from him. Then come back, again and again.

It drove him crazy, how much their relationship had changed with the times and circumstances. Only now, Annabeth wasn’t what bothered him.

His gut was.

It tightened and loosened, the same way the currents flowed to the rhythm of his rushing blood. He could hear that now, too.

His blood. The sea. The clashes against rock.

Everything was beating to a powerful symphony of drums.

But worst of all was his gut.

Something had gone terribly wrong.

Percy knew there was a war. He had nightmares about it, in fact. Nightmares leading to frantic waking-ups from the feeling of lava burning into his skin. But he hadn’t sensed the war’s presence so strongly in all his three years of attending camp as he did now—and he felt it, because the source of conflict had to do with the sea.

The shadows of cabin three clung to his skin in a comfortable blanket, but he couldn’t ignore this dread. It had trickled patiently into his system for a week now, culminating to this exact moment. He couldn’t sit still. He had to leave. Now.

Not long after stumbling outside while shoving his armor on did he hear the conch horn ringing as a warning. The lookouts had seen something. His legs moved faster.

Doors of other cabins began to smash open, and with it came the spilling of panicked campers. He was already way ahead of them, though.

“To the beach!” someone cried.

Percy arrived just in time to see Chiron assemble with Michael Yew and Austin Lake. The sons of Apollo. They’d apparently been the ones on night duty. The centaur saw Percy before the others made out his heavy footfalls.

“Percy,” Chiron said. “Thank the gods you’re here.”

“There’s something,” he gasped, doubling over once he’d reached them. “There’s something out there,” he finally managed to say, gulping mouthfuls of air. “The sea.”

They already knew, however. The conchorns were signal enough. But what was more obvious was the glimpse of the giant tail, jutting out of the water like a spear cutting through flesh.

The breath he’d managed to find from his mad dash was stolen away at the sight of the monster.

“Yeah,” Austin said, swallowing. “There’s something out there, alright.”

Chiron eyed Percy warily. “My boy. We are dealing here with something I fear that you are only capable of stopping.”

“Yeah, well...it looks like a pretty big fish. I—”

A howl punctured the atmosphere—probably the same sea monster he’d seen earlier. Percy gasped, feeling a stabbing jolt in his stomach. He didn’t know why this sudden change of the sea was affecting him so, but he had to stay strong. So he stood up straight and concentrated on his breathing.

“Are you alright?” Austin asked, studying him.

Percy looked at Chiron, who met his eyes as well. You have to be, his teacher seemed to say.

“I...I think so.”

Michael chose the moment to turn his back on the sea, blowing the conchorn once more. He shouted at the incoming campers, “Greek fire! We need Greek fire!”

The rest of the multitude showed up right away, Hephaestus kids priming canons while others exchanged weaponry. Through all of it, Percy’s gut became a pressure cooker, a fist closing around glass, about to break. He cried out in agony just as a tidal wave shook the world. Falling to his knees, his arms encircled his middle, muffling that pain. He wanted nothing but to make it stop.

He vaguely heard a sound of surprise, coming from someone nearby, then the rush of hands holding onto his shoulders. They helped somewhat, a comfort to the madness.

The hands were warm and soothing. The voice of the person became clearer. He knew that voice. He knew those hands.

Annabeth appeared in his vision, all worry lines and pinched eyebrows. She said something to him again, but the words might’ve been ghosts; the stampeding blood behind his ears was too thunderous to make out anything else.

He closed his eyes and concentrated like he had earlier.

Sharp as a blade, his senses switched to the outside world.

“Are—are you okay?” Annabeth was saying. “You doubled over, and I…”

“No.” He opened his eyes to meet hers. They matched the storm that raged across the sea. “I—I’m not okay. I need to stop this, I need—”

“We were just discussing strategy,” she said. He was glad for the distraction she’d offered. “The Scolopendra isn’t just any ordinary sea monster.”

“The Scolo what?”

She helped him stand up, steadying him with her arms.

“The Scolopendra,” she repeated. “A child of Keto. It’s one of the biggest sea monsters in existence, and it won’t leave the camp border.”

“No shit.”

Annabeth ignored him, glancing backwards at where the monster had last been seen. “There’s no telling what it can do. There’s barely any recordings of it.” She swiveled back to him. “Chiron says that it can control the tide. It might be capable of drowning the camp if we don’t kill it.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

“I told Chiron that we needed to try my strategy first. As in, bombing it with Greek fire before we go with the last approach.”

“And what would that last approach be?”

He had some idea, but before Annabeth could speak, the creature shot out of the water, faster than lightning. He only caught a glimpse of the crayfish-like tail and rows of webbed feet before it disappeared again.

“That looks like a giant shrimp,” he declared.

A giant shrimp that was probably capable of crushing a decently-sized trireme. Shrimpzilla, he was about to call it, as a way to lighten the mood. But he thought better of it, once he saw the hard line of Annabeth’s lips as she watched the campers rev up the Greek fire.

The Scolopendra dared to peek out of the waves for the third time, giving the chance for Beckendorf to yell out an order. Instantly, canyons discharged the green substance directly towards the monster.

It roared defiantly, maybe in pain, maybe in anger. No one was sure, because as soon as the night sky lit up with green flames, the Scolopendra crashed against the water like a wrecking ball. For a moment, all was silent.

No one dared breathe.

Annabeth squeezed Percy’s shoulder. She looked hopeful, as if relieved that she didn’t have to go with the second plan.

Chiron’s tail twitched. Beckendorf held out a hand, urging the campers to wait. Some stood anticipatedly, swords ready. He saw Clarisse in the front line, her electric spear aimed at the sea and crackling with energy.

Percy sensed what was about to happen next before he heard it.

“Annabeth,” he said frantically. “Annabeth, we have to go. Now.”

“What? But—”

“NOW!”

He’d already separated himself from her, yelling at the rest of the campers to leave. They didn’t have the chance; milliseconds later, the Scolopendra appeared. It bellowed with the power of a thousand hurricanes. Many campers covered their ears.

To everyone’s horror, it had closed in on the shore, its back legs likely reaching the sand floor as it rose to its full, terrifying height. Lightning crackled, and with it, came another roar.

“No,” he muttered. “No, everyone get out!”

Too late. The monster had already spit out a million gallons’ worth of salt water.

Instinctively, Percy let out a yell and threw his hands out.

The water halted in midair, rippling like a broken mirror. It was as if time had slowed down, as if Kronos himself had been the one to interfere. But Kronos wasn’t interfering. It was all Percy—with nothing but his willpower. A bead of sweat rolled down from his temple.

Annabeth reached him just as he cried out and threw the water back to the sea with everything he had, forcing the giant shrimp to hide as well.

He caught his breath while Annabeth looked back and forth. From him to the sea, from the sea to him.

She shook her head at no one in particular. “The plan didn’t work.”

“No shit.”

Then she gazed at him again. “Thank you for doing that, Perce.”

“Yeah,” he breathed. “No problem.”

“About the second plan...”

“I have to kill it, don’t I?”

“I...maybe. But we can help—”

“It isn’t a maybe. It is a certainty,” a voice said, strong and firm.

They both turned around.

“Chiron,” Annabeth said. “How can he possibly—”

“He’s the only one capable,” the horseman said. “You know that better than most.”

Her eyes flicked to Percy. Memories flashed through his mind. A quick, burning kiss. A promise. Then, the way fire engulfed him. The call of the sea. An explosion, strong enough to wake one of the most dangerous monsters of all.

When the bombard was over, he understood. He had to face this monster alone, like he had with the telkhines.

“Okay,” he finally said.

“Okay, what?”

Chiron nodded at him, ignoring Annabeth’s question. Without glancing back, he retreated to where the rest of the demigods were watching by the sand dunes as a precaution.

“I need to face him alone,” Percy told her, once Chiron was gone.

“No! Percy, that thing is bigger than—”

“I’m the only one that can’t drown, Annabeth!” He grasped her shoulders so that she was looking directly at him. “If anyone can do it, it’s me.”

“Don’t think I can’t see what’s going on with you,” she said, voice bitter and rough. “You’re distant, like, like the ocean is—”

“We’re both growing distant, ‘Beth. That’s not the problem right now.”

She pushed his hands away. “And that’s not what I’m talking about, and you fucking know that!”

Before he could reply, the monster's call came again. A reminder that this night wasn’t over.

“Please. Just trust me on this, Annabeth. I have to try. It’s our last option. You said so yourself: it may be capable of drowning the entire camp.”

She said nothing, not even sparing him a glance.

“And—and I don’t know why I’m like this! Maybe it’s because I can feel the ocean getting agitated, or because the war is getting worse, or—”

He realized it, then. Annabeth's tears. They were silent rivers, flowing gently down her cheeks and into her mouth. Flowing down to where everything ended up, to the sea.

“Hey,” he said, approaching her slowly. He took both of her hands in his, but she repelled away from his touch. “Please, ‘Beth.”

This time, he cupped her damp cheek, moving it in his direction. “Please look at me.”

And when she finally obliged, her gaze was fractured with glistening tears, like diamonds.

“I can’t lose you again,” she whispered.

Percy had yearned for too long; he let go of that rope tugging him in the opposite direction and instead let Annabeth in. They melted into each other, both shamelessly giving away the little warmth they preserved. It was the kind of hug that felt like a lifeline, the kind that made them both sway like the tide.

“I missed you,” he mumbled into her curls.

She held him tighter. “I missed you, too.”

“But I have to fight this one myself.”

Annabeth pulled away slightly—and when he saw the look on her face—he knew that she knew.

-

“HEY, SHRIMPZILLA!”

The Scolopendra reared its head, even uglier up close. Its nostrils flared with hairs, beady eyes staring down at him. When he charged, the monster bellowed and threw itself in the water, sending sprays taller than a house.

But none of it touched Percy.

He didn’t stop running, a plan in mind. Meanwhile, the sea churned around him in one giant mass of power, but it parted with each step he took, forming a trail of now exposed ocean floor. Water collided with the sky, flying with the salt in the air.

Hello, friend, it seemed to say. Or rather, hum. The sea was a song, and he was just there to dance to its melody.

The Scolopendra had disappeared again.

He didn’t look back, though he knew the entire camp was there, watching—maybe in awe, but he didn’t care enough to find out. He kept walking, alone, surrounded by a pool of green and blue. Was this how Moses felt, In those stories he’d heard? Bricks of ocean water, flinging up into the sky, just so that Percy could pass. The feeling distracted him from the objective.

That’s what he’d argue later, because Percy can’t explain how the monster managed to sneak up to him that easily.

The pool of green seemed endless. There was a moment where nothing moved, not even the water. But then something did tug him violently, up, up into the sky.

For a second, he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t scream out, the breath stolen from his lungs and the icy rush of air when flung into the sky nauseating. The only feeling he knew was of the Scolopendra and its death grip on his entire body.

With each second, the roiling waters grew farther and farther away. The Scolopendra’s growl, however, couldn’t have sounded closer. Sharp claws sank into his chest and arms. If he didn’t react now, he’d be eaten before the next flash of lightning struck the sea.

Somehow, he managed to uncap Riptide.

And with a scream, he stabbed, as hard as he could.

-

“Hey. Want company?” A soft voice said.

He craned his neck around.

Annabeth subconsciously made the world easier to look at. Especially now, as she stood behind him in the pier with the last vestiges of harsh sun striking her back. Her stance was stiff, hesitant. He understood why.

So instead his eyes bored into his lap. He shrugged.

That was a sign enough for her. She crouched next to him, pulling her legs under herself and then flinging them out to where the wooden planks ended and the open air began, toes nearly kissing the placid lake.

She sat next to him, quiet as the wind. It took a few seconds or minutes or hours before she decided to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

From his peripheral vision, he could tell that she’d been studying him instead of watching the reflection of herons flying above the water. Something he’d thought she’d been doing. Apparently not.

It also took him seconds or minutes or hours before he could respond.

“What for?”

She exhaled, “Letting you go alone. Being a part of the campers who…”

She didn’t finish that sentence. He knew why.

Being a part of the campers who abandoned you alone after what you did.

“S’okay. I get it.”

A lie. He didn’t get it.

“Doesn’t make it right.”

He stared at his hands. “Guess not.”

The details of the fight were yet to go away. The memories were still fresh—like his mother’s batch of cookies whenever he came home from camp. Teeth were ever-present in his mind. And those webbed hands. Those twisted sounds as a monster choked on its own blood.

Afterward, everyone had taken a step back. Even Annabeth and Chiron seemed to contemplate him as though he were doomed. Maybe he was.

“I wish Grover were here.”

“Yeah,” Annabeth sighed. She kicked her leg up, swatting at some mosquitos. “Me too.”

“He’d pull our shit together, fix everything.” He found himself sounding wistful, longing for a missing piece of himself all of a sudden.

She didn’t reply to that. They both missed their best friend. Now, more than ever. Percy tried to not dwell too much on the fact that Grover hadn’t responded to his Iris Messages or to his calls from their shared empathy link.

“I’m sorry.”

“You already said that.”

“No, Percy. I’m serious.”

“I know.”

“Just look at me.”

He did the opposite, gazing at the trees to his left. They were a deep, mystical green. The colors looked like the ocean, where he’d displayed his powers for everyone to see. Worst mistake of his life. He realized that tears had begun to form in his eyes; he quickly blinked them away.

“Percy,” Annabeth insisted.

Her tone wasn’t hash or demanding—but rather, a light pink sky. A hand brushing his, sweet and tender. He noticed that it wasn’t just his imagination; glancing down, he found her fingers ghosting against his knuckles.

“Please look at me.”

This was eerily familiar. It hit him, then, that he’d said those exact words when she’d panicked about him going alone to fight the Scolopendra.

Hesitantly, his eyes focused on her face. Her freckles were there, golden like the rest of her. Only now, her eyes were rimmed with tears.

Something changed inside them both. She stared at him, he stared at her. Her face contorted, and the both broke down, crumbling like ruins with the slightest gust.

“I’m so sorry,” she sobbed, clinging to his shirt.

“Me too,” he murmured back.

He held unto her as if she were a life force, breathing in her lemony scent. Tears were exchanged, mingling in the other’s hair. They held each other, an embrace that didn’t deserve to end. It only made him cry harder, while Annabeth held him closer.

“Why are you sorry?”

He couldn’t say it out loud.

I’m sorry for why we’re like this. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m sorry for leaving.

Instead, he pulled away. He studied her, every single feature, from those grey eyes and that upturned nose to those curls that no longer appeared to look like a princess.’ They were just Annabeth’s.

“I scared you,” he said.

His arms loosened around her, just now realizing how long they’d hugged, but their hands stayed interlocked—like some sort of middle ground.

She regarded him, eyebrows furrowed. “I can’t ever be scared of you,” she said matter-of-factly. “You’re my best friend, Perce.”

He looked away. “Everyone else was.”

“I should have gone to you after—I just...I thought you were angry at me.”

Their hands separated. “Why would I be angry at you?”

“Because I let you handle all of it alone. The monster, the campers—”

“‘Beth.” He took her hands again, cupping them with his. “I couldn’t ever be angry at you.”

“That’s not true,” she said wryly.

An observation, not an accusation. Still, that didn’t make it hurt any less. He recalled the shouting, the fights. The only thing they looked for in those moments was to hurt the other, twist and pull at any chink in the armor they could find.

She winced, remembering that, too. “Sorry.”

His mouth twitched. “You’ve said ‘sorry’ too many times. It’s getting repetitive.”

She hit his shoulder playfully. “Well, I mean it.”

He didn’t retort anything back. They found peace in this lake, once again gazing at the horizon.

“It’s not true what you said, either,” he said, his mind lingering on what she’d told him earlier. “You’re scared, as well.”

The sound of the incoming crickets carried on in Annabeth’s hesitation.

That is, until she said, “I am. Scared. I’m scared.” He glanced over. She was staring in his direction, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes. She cleared her throat. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Neither did I.”

She laughed, breathless. “See that’s what scares me. What else can you do? Honestly?”

He shrugged, turning away from her.

“How’d you do that, anyway?”

“I defeated it, didn’t I?” It was better to deflect than to answer her question.

Defeating the monster should’ve been what mattered, anyway.

“Percy.”

“Annabeth,” he said, in the same condescending tone.

“All I’m saying is that you could hurt yourself. You don’t know what you’re capable of. And then when your birthday happens—”

“You think I’m going to destroy Olympus or something?” He shook his head. “I should’ve known that you’d side with the gods on that, too. You think that they should kill me?”

“What? Percy, I’d never—”

He whirled, facing her, and finally let go of all those pent-up thoughts that just like the sea, wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Just admit it, Annabeth! Admit that it freaked you out that I blood bended or whatever the fuck Chiron called it! Admit, that it freaked you out how I killed that monster! That I’m fucking cursed!”

“Percy Jackson, you are not—”

“Yes, I am. Why would my dad give me powers like that? Huh? Just say it with me: you’re scared—of me.”

Her eyes were red, face hard as stone. Just like her voice when she said, “Look. I just wanted to help. But if you want to sit in your self pity, then go for it! You clearly don’t need me.”

She made no move to leave, however.

Their eyes held, until the anger from both of them melted. He huffed out a breath, shoulders hunching. “We can’t ever stop fighting, can we?”

She sighed.

“Guess not.”

“I won’t do that again.”

She lifted her chin. “Why?”

“Like you said. Scared you.”

That made her purse her lips.

“You’re not cursed, Percy. You know that, right?”

She reached for his hand. It was becoming a strange routine. Finding comfort in hand holding and then dismantling it as if it never happened.

“You’re mostly right all the time, so.” He squeezed her hand. “I s’pose I’m not cursed, then.”

“I’m right most of the time?” she said, eyes twinkling.

“Okay, fine,” he conceded. “You’re right only sometimes.”

She opened her mouth in mock-offense. “Percy Jackson—”

He cut her off with his laugh, a laugh that fit with the music of the crickets. She rolled her eyes, something that he’d missed achingly, now that he saw her do it for the first time in what seemed like forever.

Scooting closer, she nudged him. “I could help you. Alongside Clarisse.”

His eyes widened. “You knew about that?”

“She’s my friend, too.”

“Of course she is,” he muttered.

Him and Clarisse...they might’ve had a rocky relationship when he’d first arrived at camp, but now, he didn’t know what he’d do without her help—without her friendship. They both understood the other in a bizzare, not very common way. She’d helped him hone in his powers, but it had yet to be something he’d wanted to admit to Annabeth. To everyone else, for that matter.

“I get why you didn’t want to tell me,” she said. “But...I do want to help. You’re my best friend, and, and I also want to spend time with you. If...that’s alright.”

“It’s alright by me.”

Annabeth gave him a look.

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” He tried for a smile. “I guess you could come along, then.”

His grin was shared with her, though her eyes were serious. “You’ll see. We’ll figure out your powers. What you can do, why you can do it, why the sea is affecting you…”

“All of it?”

She nodded. “All of it.”

They left it at that, though what they didn’t leave was the canoe pier. Not until the sun hid under the trees, spilling its ink of reds and oranges across the horizon.

The golden of the sun was replaced by the silver of the moon for the night, then it rose again for the day.

And in between, the waves lapped against the shore, constant and content. The ocean had calmed. For now.

[pebblesrus]

Eliot has a classic addictive personality - devotion and addiction are two sides of the same coin. I would like to join you in this niche addict!Eliot au/headcanon/naughty step.

Addicted to anything that will fill the hole (not drugs never drugs you're absolutely right) - and combined with The Worst AU is. Mm. Delicious. He's addicted to Moreau he's addicted to the team he loves it he hates it he needs it. How do you leave when you can't tell the difference between love and craving? When the thought of leaving cramps your stomach and makes your heart race and you gasp for breath - is it love or withdrawal?

Anyways. Pls share any and all thoughts you might have. <3

YEAH THAT’S THE THING. eliot is a collection of red flags but still has control over everything he does. but, the reason i don’t have a hc* about eliot being addicted to something is because i think he is but it’s pain so we don’t talk about it because it’s his job 

*to me, a hc is something that occurs inside canon and an au is something that occurs anywhere from just to the left of canon to outer space. this is a personal preference of how i differentiate them and is not actually important sorry 4 the sidebar 

under the cut bc this is a hard topic also bc i have a problem and it’s uhhh 4 pages long 

background 

so i kinda lost it in the comments on this post, finch i am deeply sorry 

this is too much ummmmmm so there exists in my brain a very niche au where eliot is addicted to…something. anything to take the pain away. alcohol. sex. pain itself. gambling. hell, stealing? he is working with a group of thieves after all. (but not drugs, never drugs. nothing more than an ibuprofen if alec really begs with his eyes. bc if he goes down that path he’ll never be strong enough to come up for air) 

and like. his addition informs his whole relationship with nate and calling nate out on his shit. eliot’s personally gone too far (he’s not worth helping) but nate is a Good Man who had something awful happen to him (eliot is a bad man who did something awful). but at some point he starts to trust the team with bits and pieces of this Problem etc etc. but hell au version like. it just all goes real fuckin wrong HUH

i have a post somewhere abt nate & eliot & alcohol its just so compelling 2 me 2 compare characters in ways that no one should

so i did find the time i talked about eliot and nate and addition, here, cut down for relevant portions:

do you ever wonder if eliot doesn’t drink (to the point of drunk) because he’s afraid of who it will make him? because alcohol is a drug and drugs make him lose control.

because control is the only thing that keeps him together. without it—it’s harder to not kill someone who hurts others (like he used to) and it’s easier to forget who he used to be.

nathan ford, furnace of rage, drank because he hurt and he couldn’t live all his pain. but eliot knows nothing but pain—how to endure it, how to inflict it—but he doesn’t know who he would be without it.

“you ever count them?”  “there’s nothing you can do, no punishment you can hand out that’s worse than what i live with every day. so, to answer your question, no. no, I haven’t counted. i don’t need to.”

if he could (artificially) drown himself, would he ever come up for air?

okay so as i said, my general hc for eliot is that he does not need a vice because his job is his vice, because, well, 

“you fight like something's trying to get out of you.”

but, for an au with an addiction (but not hell au) 

i think the addition would start after moreau. because the two worst parts of eliot’s life were working for a pmc and working for moreau. after the pmc toby saved him. but after moreau? it takes seven years before he is fully free of his past (end of s5). [timeline, for reference]

and if he’s going to get addicted to something, it’s gotta be in at least the 3 years between moreau and joining leverage. 

another thing i wrote earlier was,

“the worst thing i ever did in my entire life i did for damien moreau. and i— i'll never be clean of that.”

the thing is, eliot never denies that he did bad things. he never tires to justify them. he never—okay so what i said on an earlier post was, there might be a single “worst” act he’s committed but what’s more damaging‚ more of a reason he does not deserve happiness‚ is that the worst thing is what was done to him and what he allowed himself to do and what that made him become. nothing fucks u up like thinking things aren’t Bad Enough until you look back 3 years later and ur brain has been rewired [x]

and also,

“every one of moreau's men has innocent blood on their hands, every one of ‘em. every one of ’em... are worse than me.”

it starts with they’ve got blood on their hands but he doesn’t say they’ve done worse than him. he says they are worse than him. because it’s not about the act it’s about the person you have to be to complete that act. the worst thing he’s ever done—t’s not the bloodiness he doesn’t want the team to know about, it’s the inhumanity. [x]

all of this to say, eliot doesn’t lie—he doesn’t even try to lie. he never pretends he’s a good man. [x]

so in this entire decade where all he can see when he closes his eyes are the faces of the people he’s killed, 

there’s this quote i like about addiction—every addiction arises from an unconscious refusal to face and move though your own pain. every addiction starts with pain and ends with pain. whatever the substance you are addicted to—alcohol, food, legal or illegal drugs, or a person—you are using something or somebody to cover up your pain. (eckhart tolle)

eliot can’t face his pain anymore. being freelance means he doesn’t get in fights often enough to hide the real pain behind bruised ribs. so he turns to something else. i honestly can’t choose what. there’s a good argument for many addictions, all except actual painkillers. 

an au with addiction, hell au version 

i think that moreau would not let eliot have an addiction. 

i also think that moreau knows eliot. he sees the possibly and takes it away. i talk about eliot as an enforcer for moreau but i think that he’s more than that—not even getting to the personal level of things (that he means more to moreau)—in a purely employer-employee-transactional way, eliot is too valuable to the organization to take hits. so moreau doesn’t let him. doesn’t let him have any outlet. he controls every other part of eliot’s life, why not this too?

(uhh this is kinda related, but i have a pre canon hc where moreau pits his men against each other like a dog fight. and when eliot has pissed him off he throws eliot in but eliot is Not Allowed to take hits. it’s not that eliot cares about the men he works with, but like, he's trying to forget what he’s doing on a day to day basis, he doesn’t want to come home to more of it, he doesn’t want to have to look his coworker in the face tomorrow to see the violence in him reflected in the form of a black eye etc etc (yeah......u dont wanna be in my brain))

SO ANYWAY. in the hell au i think the addiction would happen later. not post moreau because there is no post moreau. it would happen exactly when no one would suspect it—when he’s about to get out. 

he’s spent six years with moreau, 2 years with the team, and he’s a fucking disaster, because, as i said in another post, 

he cooks for damien because he cares, he cooks for the team because he cares. [x] he is damien’s personal guard dog because he cares, he is the team’s hitter because he cares. damien is in danger when he’s off robin-hood-ing, the team is in danger when he goes home (literally or figuratively) to moreau. 

and it’s not love…..but is it? and how is he supposed to choose [x]

like you just said, he’s addicted to the team, he’s addicted to moreau. 

love and dependency look a lot a like when you see the world through blood stained glasses (or, the world is blurry because you couldn’t stand the red flecks that stuck to the lenses that you could never seem to completely scrub off).

so, while he is playing cat and mouse with himself and moreau is putting him through the wringer worse than ever before and the team is counting on him to take down the man he might actually be loyal too—

it’s all too much. 

and he turns to this addiction. 

he’s doing enough jobs, taking enough hits to make any other addict cave. but it’s still not enough. this is eliot spencer. after all. he’s got 9 lives worth of trauma. he needs 18 lives of penance. 

again, 

“you fight like something's trying to get out of you.”

“what i need to control is not out there. it's here. always.”

“every one of ‘em. every one of ’em... are worse than me.”

“there’s nothing you can do, no punishment you can hand out that’s worse than what i live with every day.“

and now, in this hell au, the only good thing he’s ever had in his life—this team, the only people who have ever looked at him like he’s a Person and not a Monster—he’s about to destroy. 

so he drowns all that in something.