#considering how long it had been walled up i cant imagine that many would be aware of it

[psychiclounge]

"not superstitious, just a little stitious” garrett >>>>>>>>>>

[nightcolorz]

thoughts on the presence of marius’ painting in dubai in the show? ive been thinking about this since episode 7 aired because louis threw a bowl of blood at a painting in one scene which wasn’t marius’, yet made me think it should have been. but its interesting that its there at all? of course they’re art collectors and dealers in 2022 but god. i feel like the painting might end up being a chekov’s gun. it cant be there for nothing, right?

(also the scene of “rashid” armand in s1 telling daniel about it keeps coming back. how did he FEEL about that especially if daniel is indeed someone he loves and has loved for years)

AHHH OMG!!! LOVE THIS QUESTION!! I’ve been thinking about this constantly since s1, which believe it or not spurned some theories about Armand’s relationship with Louis that ended up being surprisingly accurate 😭. I can’t tell u how many times I rewatched the Rashid-mand tells Daniel about marius’s painting scene before s2 aired (definitely more than any other scene in the first season 💀💀). Ughhh!! omg!! U r so right 😭😭 the painting Louis threw the blood at should have been Marius’s. The thematic implications!!! The impact!! The way Armand would feel!! It’s making me crazy thinking about it

I speculate that Armand is trying to seek out and reclaim as many of Marius’s painting as possible. I imagine that Armand acquired the painting in the dining room by searching intently for any paintings of Marius’s that survived the fire. Part of him likely feels entitled to them. Legally he’s just Marius’s slave, but the way he sees it it’s so much deeper than that. Marius is his father, his husband. He should be given his possessions, his works of art, after he’s died. And I think the fact that Armand, by both historical records, and by anyone he knows, will always be viewed as Marius’s slave, his victim, before he is Marius’s closest loved one, feels disempowering and invalidating. Technically, if they weren’t vampires and legal consideration was given to who Marius’s possessions should be given to after his death, as a slave Armand likely wouldn’t be considered. But, Armand believes that because of the role Marius had in his life, he is rightfully owed that inheritance. And the symbolic value of that fact is important to him.

I think sometimes the show fandom doesn’t realize how attached to Marius Armand actually is 😭. If they’re going by the books, Armand is longing for Marius and for Venice. Marius is the love of his life the same way Lestat is the love of Louis’s life (maybe even more so considering he’s not just his lover but his father 😭 Marius played every major role in Armand’s life, he was his father, his lover, his maker and his god). Armand is stuck on him, he is always longing for him, never able to move on. So I think for Armand owning paintings of Marius’s is partly an assertion and a reclamation of the way he perceives his relationship with him. By owning them and displaying them on his wall, not only is he allowing himself to live with a comforting reminder of Venice (which I’ll get to), but hes also asserting that Marius loved him, and he was important to Marius, and he deserves to and is entitled to owning his paintings after Marius has died because he is the person who these things should go to, he is displaying that he is the most important person to Marius, that he is the person who would be in his will.

on the Venice note, Armand is also indulging in a small little fantasy by putting Marius’s paintings on his wall. He lived with those paintings, his father likely painted them while he was in the room. He saw them in the halls in the palazzo, maybe even in his lavish old dining room. In the books Venice was and continues to be Armand’s perceived “best part of his life”. Venice was his childhood, the only time in his life he remembers being taken care of, well fed, spoiled, loved. And from our perspective it was horrible, he was being sexually abused and beaten regularly, literally pimped out and enslaved. But think about how Armand told his story to Louis, he was smiling wistfully, longing despite it all. And I think even in Dubai Armand misses Venice, feels comforted by the memory of it. So it makes sense that he would hang Marius’s painting on the wall, as a small comfort, so that maybe sometimes he can stare at it and picture he is back there, in his master’s studio, basking in the sunlight, loved.

The scene where Armand as Rashid shows the painting to Daniel is so so loaded. Daniel initiates the conversation, but Armand definitely indulges in it more than he needs to. That scene is the first time we rlly see Armand using his Rashid persona to tap into his past. He says, “I serve a God, it’s my honor to serve” which is fucking weird 😭 and no one but Armand would say that (real rashid wouldn’t💀 he definitely sees the vampires in a way that is more grounded and empathy based then god like). He’s clearly tapping into how he felt as Amadeo, a servant to Marius, rather than playing his part. It seems like Daniels interest in the painting and him talking about + bringing attention to it brought Armand back to that Venice mindset in a way. Even with this, he’s definitely pushing Daniel away, trying to change the topic as quickly as possible while remaining in character. Which makes me think that Armand wasn’t happy at the prospect of being so vulnerable with Daniel so soon. The impression I get (especially from season one) is that despite his past and current love for him, Armand sees a different person in old Daniel, and is very hesitant to open himself up to him. Considering how different (and mean) he is, and how painful and loaded their past was, it’s a very hard thing for Armand to approach, and it doesn’t seem currently on his agenda.

What I rlly am curious about is how Louis feels about Armand keeping Marius’s paintings in their home, displaying them on their wall. I imagine it would be uncomfortable for him, if not upsetting, in a similar way to how Armand feels about the presence of ghost Lestat, if not more complicated with the layer of how extremely abusive Marius was. But how can Louis judge? Who is he to give push back on smth like this when he is still actively hallucinating his dead, abusive ex husband 😭🙏there’s a lot going on there.

I rlly hope this painting thing gets explored in depth bcus omg I can not stop thinking about it either. Thank u SO MUCH for the ask I love this topic so much omg!!! Hope my response scratches the painting itch in ur brain<3

[california-112]

⭐️ for directors cut!

Ah, thank you!

It took me a while to work out which piece would be good for this, as I've never seen or done a director's cut before. However! Now presenting:

Gather [Calloween 2022]: The Director's Cut (original on AO3)

The crisis was over. The dust was settling. After seventy-two hours, four moves, and one minor battle, the people were returning to Atlantis.

[The inspiration for this piece, working on the 'gather' prompt', came from my return from a field exercise a few months earlier which had been fairly similar to this scenario (in an Earth way), so much of it is based on experience. I love to see people come together after a shared adversity/hardship, rather than isolating themselves to recover then going on as normal.]

The mass exodus had been the very last resort to their initial problem, and had caused a whole host of others. With reluctance, McKay had had to advise the entire expedition to gate to another planet whilst the city was fully rebooted, [turn it off and on again strikes back] a process which would involve a purge of the life support systems and loss of the stargate systems for at least twenty-four hours. When they planet they had found refuge on initially was suddenly subject to a Wraith culling, they had been forced to move again, then the next planet had proven unsuitable, then then next…all the while, Atlantis had been unreachable, the reboot taking longer than expected ["When has plan A ever worked?"]. Finally, they had found a relatively calm planet to wait out the final few hours on, the gate releasing them into a deeply submerged cave system, and they had only been worried by regular minor earthquakes, a trifle compared to their other attempted safe havens.

Now, with the Atlantis gate available again, they were at the end of their ordeal, and everyone was tired, and beaten down. Thankfully, nobody was particularly broken [It took me a good while to get the wording there right...a worryingly long time considering how simple it is...]. Everyone dispersed to their quarters in silence, relying on the city's systems to allow all the showers to run hot at the same time [and for a long time...!], and thinking longingly of clean clothes and warm blankets.

However, despite promises to sleep for improbable numbers of days once they returned [My own statement was at least two days, but I heard someone promise a week], about an hour after the weary hoards shuffled though the Stargate, everyone found themselves packed into the mess hall [It really does happen that way...you just find yourself there, drawn by something you cant explain. It's very comforting.]. Some sprawled on seats whilst others took the floor, speaking softly and of nothing consequential. Nobody was cooking, but food had appeared [I like to think that, as for me, it was a large amount of pizza and sides. How many frozen pizzas went to Atlantis, I wonder?]. The atmosphere was one of pure comfort.

Rodney was slumped in a corner between a wall and a large planter, slowly working his way through half of a large, over-enthusiastically stuffed sandwich, whilst John sat nearby, munching on the other half with his eyes closed [They share the sandwich! Cute <3]. The scientist was on the brink of an exhausted sleep, but still valiantly trying to stop his head from drooping onto Sheppard's shoulder. Ronon was propped on the other side, his hand mechanically delivering some small, dried berries to his mouth [I'm imagining space Goji berries], and Teyla was leaning against him, still just about awake enough to be sipping some strong Athosian tea. [This paragraph was written with a wish for it to serve as an art prompt to someone, but so far no bites. Maybe I'll commission it someday.]

Zelenka was visible in the near distance, sitting at a table in front of a cup of coffee, the steam from which was fogging up his glasses. He made no effort to clear it: he had fallen asleep leaning on his hand, not surprising after his indefatigable efforts during their exile [At least 50% of his 'efforts' were put into arguing with McKay.]. In the far corner, Lorne was sitting with a group of marines who were lying around lazily and playing cards [They are playing Cheat. Everyone is both too tired to cheat, and too tired to realise that nobody is cheating.]. Chuck had fallen asleep with his arms as a pillow, nestled in the midst of the table of fellow gate techs [In my mind, he's the ringleader of the little group of green-shirts, and they're like a little family/sibling cluster. Not a good explanation but you get my point]. Carson, having looked after all the minor injuries and mental health issues for the past three days, was now looking after himself, sitting with the largest bowl of instant porridge he could muster and plodding through it spoon by spoon [If you've had real porridge, you know that instant isn't half as good, but although Carson is usually a snob about this, at that moment it's good enough.]. Weir had finally been able to step back from command, knowing that her people were safe, and was lying on a sofa deeply asleep, her cup of Athosian tea forgotten at her side [Given to her by Teyla...they had a little forehead moment too.].

After a while of observing his friends [Yes, they're all his friends. I think he's more popular than we necessarily see on screen, a sort of friend to all.], thinking back over their ordeal of the past few days, John suddenly realised something, and spoke it laconically.

"Y'know what day it is today?"

"Hm?" Rodney replied, bringing his head up from a dangerously downward trajectory [One of my favourite phrasings in this piece.].

"October thirty-first." John sighed. "Hallowe'en."

"Oh." Rodney replied, a more articulate answer failing him.

There was a moment of silence before Ronon's voice rumbled [Delayed alliteration my beloved]. "What's Hallowe'en?"

"Oh, it's an Earth thing," John explained slowly, "kids dress up and go around asking people for candy."

"What is the point?" Teyla asked amiably.

"Fun holiday I guess." John replied, suddenly stifling a yawn. "Kinda celebrates monsters and stuff."

"Defeating them?" Ronon asked.

"…yeah." John replied, thinking that it could be seen as ridiculing monsters into things that weren't scary at all. "Yeah, sure."

"People tell scary stories." Rodney added, struggling to keep up with even the simple conversation. "About ghosts and clowns and stuff."

"Yeah, we do that too." John agreed, adding a mumbled "I hate clowns."

Teyla frowned. "Tales of things that have happened to you?" she asked, "Why would you want to relive such painful memories?" [This said, we don't talk enough about the Athosian children playing Wraith. We should probably talk about that.]

"They're not normally real, just made up. For effect."

"We did that," Ronon volunteered, "on Sateda. When we sat around to clean our weapons, we'd tell each other stories of ghosts and stuff."

"Care to share?" John asked.

There was a pause of surprise, with Ronon not used to being the centre of attention on such occasions [He deserved more moments like this!], but receiving an encouraging smile from Teyla, he began. As the tale began to take shape, a few of the people nearby also turned to listen, and there was soon quite an audience [This is where people find themselves making new friends by accidentally leaning on people, or shuffling into them, slotting themselves into small gaps and being aware of the feeling of friends surrounding them.]. Sheppard let his head lean on the wall behind him, watching with a softened gaze as the group was quickly surrounded by their colleagues, the whole mess hall who wasn't already asleep deciding to gather [Again, it's a group instinct. Even people who aren't that interested will come over. Some remain with their friends and fall asleep too, but it's a very soft moment.]. It wasn't long after everyone had fallen into a reverent silence that a weight settled on his shoulder, moving rhythmically in slumber [Having someone's head on your shoulder is one of the best feelings in this world, and you can't change my mind.]. As he felt his own eyes drooping, Ronon's voice becoming more and more distant, he hardly noticed as his own head slumped onto Rodney's, and they drifted together into a dreamless sleep. [Another scene to commission...]

Thanks for this ask! It's great to get the opportunity to re-explore this piece, and I hope you found it interesting!

[wri0thesley]

Could I get a request for Nanami somnophilia? Maybe he’s had a hard day at work and wants to destress a little by making you feel good? ~ 💖 u///u

Sweet Dreams, Darling - Nanami x Reader (2.1k)

You’re so pretty, and Nanami’s so stressed, and he just can’t resist you.

warnings: afab reader, no pronouns (reader wears a nightgown). not sfw, somnophilia* (not discussed in the fic but implied to have been agreed upon), coming inside.

Today had gone far beyond overtime.

Nanami is buzzing with unrestrained feelings when he opens his own front door, crackling with cursed energy that hasn’t yet worn off him even after defeating the curse. He can feel it tensing his muscles and shoulders, making everything seem all the more intense, like shivers and electricity running through his fingers.

He can’t remember the last time that a mission had left him feeling like this; so on-edge and stressed. Usually by the time he gets home after work, he’s bone-tired. Even when he hasn’t put in any overtime, it’s all he can do to keep his eyes open and strip off his work clothes and accept the kisses you lavish on his cheeks as you admonish him for working too hard, telling him he needs to take a break every so often.

He wearily strips off his jacket, his harness, his weapon and hangs them on the coat rack in the hallway. It’s dark, and he doesn’t want to turn on the lights and perhaps alert you to his presence when he knows you probably stayed up too long waiting for him anyway, so he tries to ensure his feet slide almost-silently across the wooden floor, until he can open the door to the shared bedroom and--

His breath catches in his throat. He’d been right, that you’d stayed up to greet him and welcome him home – but you’d evidently grown too tired to keep your eyelids propped open, and you’d fallen asleep in the warm golden glow of the bedside lamp, your book fallen onto the floor beside you. He kneels to pick it up, to place it on the night stand; and he can’t help but notice how pretty you look in the light.

Your mouth looks so soft and plush. He knows what you taste and feel like against his own lips, intimately, but every time he catches a glimpse of your mouth again he wants to suck it into his mouth and bite until you groan. The curves and lines of your peaceful face are positively angelic, the fan of your eyelashes against your cheeks making him want to brush his thumb over your skin and see how warm you would feel beneath the places he’s calloused from gripping his weapon too hard.

You haven’t pulled yourself down under the blankets, because it is a summer’s evening and the air is cloying. You're wearing a thin white nightgown, a confection of satin and lace – the straps dig into your shoulders, cling to your breasts and hips, emphasising the curves of you that Nanami knows will fit so well into his big hands. He knows you like he knows the back of his hand; he’s spent countless nights entangled in you, studying you with his lips and mouth and fingers. Knows the places that make you sigh, make you bare your throat, make you twist your fingers into his hair and murmur; “Kento, please,” like it’s an invocation for him to grant you release. The lace-trimmed hem barely skims your thighs, and Nanami can already tell that you’re wearing nothing underneath it.

His cock gives an answering throb to that assumption in his slacks.

You’re always so unfairly pretty. He doesn’t know how to deal with it – this rush of affection whenever he sees you, the fact that his body responds to your curves and your smiles and the glitter of your eyes like it’s betraying him. He knows he’s handsome, but he’s never considered himself desirable – but you look at him like he hung the stars, cling to him at night, brush kisses over his neck until he believes you when you tell him how perfect he is.

“You can do anything to me,” you’ve breathed against him, too many times to count. “Any time you want, any place – I’m yours.”

You wouldn’t mind. He hesitates for a moment, before he brings up a hand to his tie. Loosens the knot. Unbuttons his shirt. Unzips his slacks. Through it all, it’s like he’s on autopilot – his eyes do not for one moment leave your prone form, so peaceful and unbothered in sleep. You look like an angel. How’s he supposed to resist?

The thought of parting your soft thighs has his cock stirring again, and he palms it through his underwear, his eyes flickering closed for a moment as he remembers that this morning, you’d ground your ass against him in bed when he’d had to get up. You’d batted your eyelashes, pouted; “Just stay for ten minutes?” You’d asked him, and he’d had to sigh and kiss your forehead.

He hates denying himself, but he hates denying you even more.

He’s undressed now, and he climbs onto the bed to look at you. Your face shifts as the bed dips under his weight, eyebrows furrowing for just a moment before they smooth back out and your face is perfectly peaceful once more. A hand comes up to caress the cheek, to rub his thumb along your lower lip – your mouth opens slightly, allowing him to slide his thumb into your mouth. Still sleeping, your tongue brushes the digit, sucks on it gently before he withdraws it.

The submissive little action has his belly all full of flames.

Hands caress your collarbones. Fingertips stroking along your bare shoulders, the place an old love bite from him has faded to be barely noticeable. He slides his palms over your breasts, relishing the warm, heavy weight of them. You curve out so beautifully, fit in his hands like you were made to be held there. You shift again in your sleep, unconsciously leaning in to the hungry heat of his touch. He can’t help but lean in as his thumbs caress your nipples, coaxing the buds to hardness beneath his touch. He breathes in the scent of your hair, so familiar – smooths his lips across your forehead, the bridge of your nose, your cheeks. Brushes his lips against your mouth, winning a soft exhale of breath from you, one that has a little bit of a whine hidden behind it as he continues to play with your chest, squeeze the weight of your breasts in his hands.

You unconsciously press your thighs together, sighing, and Nanami cannot wait any longer. Those two big hands slide past your waist, over your hips, over your outer thighs so he can dig his fingers into the softest parts of your legs and gently part them. The nightgown’s hem is pushed out of the way with the movement, folding and bunching over your hips to reveal that his attentions have certainly had an effect on the slit nestled between your legs.

Even in lamplight, you’re wet enough that Nanami’s mouth practically waters. Beads of your slick glisten, clinging to the softly furled petals of your sex – the pearl of your clit peeking out from beneath the hood. The feel of the cool air hitting your heated cunt makes your face scrunch for a moment, the expression so lovely and raw that Nanami wants to kiss it off your face.

His cock is pulled out of his underwear, encircled in his fist – the shaft is thick and hot and hard, pulsing with need for you. The glans is slick with his own pre-come – not that it needs to be, as he shifts his hips and rubs the head through the lips of your labia, smearing your arousal all over him.

A full-body shiver goes through him at the feel of your cunt’s folds clinging to his cock – he’s not even inside you, and he feels like he could come. He hadn’t realised just how pent-up he was from today’s nightmare of a job until he had come home to the refuge of your body – even asleep, you manage to calm him. He feels like a ship that’s come into port, as he rubs the head of his cock up and down your cunt. You shiver every time it makes contact with your clit, and he feels your own body pulse beneath his. In your sleep, you still want to be fucked by him. As he repeats the motion, making sure the head drags faster over the swollen bundle of nerves, you sigh so prettily and cant your hips so adoringly that he thinks he’s woken you up--

No. Your mouth has dropped into a soft, small ‘o’ shape, but your eyelids do not even flicker. There’s the lightest sheen of sweat on your forehead, and muscles in your thighs are twitching, but you are still deep in your dreams.

He wonders what you’re dreaming about; selfishly, he hopes it is him. He hopes some part of what he’s doing has permeated your consciousness. Judging by how wet you are, the way he can feel your cunt clenching when his cockhead drags too close to your tight hole, he knows you’re at least having a very good time in your own imagination.

Rubbing his cock through your slick is all very well and good, but it’s not sating the urge inside of him. It’s not enough. He wants to feel your body around him – your heart beating, your breath catching.

He adjusts himself with his thumb and forefinger, letting his cock head catch on the rim of your entrance.

This one makes you let out a soft;

“Aaah—,” in your sleep, so quiet that it may as well be a puff of air as Nanami takes his time sheathing himself within you, enjoying the tight cling of your walls, plush and wet and welcoming. He’s buried his cock in you so many times, and you’re always tight enough that it feels like the first one all over again – your breath shaking your chest, your mouth open, the pulse of both of your hearts pressed against one another.

As he bottoms out inside you, your head moves restlessly; your pretty mouth shapes a wordless moan, a whimper, that soon turns into;

“K-Kento, mm, please--”

You are dreaming about him. The thought makes his gut twist hot, almost pushes him over the edge. He pulls out gently before driving himself back in, not wanting to wake you up by being too enthusiastic in his pumping. It’s nice, having you like this – feeling the way you’re sucking him in, being able to sense every little pulse and clench of your walls. His front presses against yours as he gathers your thighs up, holding them further apart. You seem to get what he wants even in your half-asleep state, soft thighs locking about his hips. Oh, fuck. He tries to keep his pace steady, but you just feel so good around him – like you were made to take his cock.

One of his thrusts is particularly hard, the wet sound of his cock inside of your cunt echoing about the walls, his pelvis grinding perhaps a bit too forcefully into yours – and your eyes flicker open, dark and hazy with sleep. They half-focus on him above you, all misty and pretty. Your mouth curves into a sleepy smile as you look at him, one of your hands gently reaching above you to cup Nanami’s face and trace the sharp line of his cheekbone and jaw.

“Kento?” You murmur. “Mm, feels . . . feels good--”

“Shh,” Nanami murmurs, smoothing a kiss onto your palm. “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.”

You sigh.

“Love you,” you say to him, sleep-laced – and then you do fall back to sleep, your eyes drifting closed again even as Nanami’s hips are still driving into you. Your hand drops from his face – but your lips don’t lose the smile, tired but wicked, and Nanami is staring at that perfect curve of your mouth as his orgasm tears through him.

His cock twitches inside of you as pleasure blinds him for a moment, all whited out heat and his cock pulsing spurt after spurt of his release inside of you. Your body clings to him, greedily drinking in everything he gives you, and he waits, slowly rocking his hips against your inner walls until he’s sure that he’s utterly drained and that every drop of his come has been pushed as deep inside of you as it can go.

Only then does he let himself pull out.

Your eyebrows furrow as he does it, as your cunt is suddenly found empty – but then, Nanami crawls to lay beside you, his arms wrapping around you and pulling you spoon-fashion so you mould to his body. The soft, pleased smile on your face hasn’t faded at all.

He feels bad that you haven’t gotten to come - ordinarily, Nanami considers himself a gentleman. He likes having you come two, three times before he’s so much as gotten his cock inside of you - but tonight had been different. Tonight he had needed this. Needed you.

You snuggle into his embrace though, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world – and he consoles himself. It’s not like he doesn’t have a hundred nights in the future to make it up to you - he wants to spend the rest of his life kissing you, making love to you, holding you, fucking you. Loving you. 

He drops another kiss on your shoulder, murmuring softly into the crook of your neck;

“Love you more.”

[cantalouupe]

curiosity

nsfw!!! kaeya x f!reader

prequel to this drabble

hand & finger kink, semi public sex except you don’t have sex with him he just makes you suck on his fingers

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

The knights of Favonius weren’t a group of people you mingled with. While you had no quarrels with any of them and had even spoken to some before, they just weren’t people that you considered friends.

There was nothing you held against them, no vendetta you had. Your feelings of them were just neutral. Pleasant conversations are easy to have with the ones stationed around town, where they’re willing to help you with really anything you need.

That’s probably why you’ve never really had to interact much with them. You’ve never been in danger and so help from them wasn’t something you had to seek out.

The higher ups, though, were a different story. You’ve also not interacted with any of them, but heard of them incredibly often, seen the outrider around town.

But that was all.

You had understood they were busy with all their work and obviously didn’t expect them to come out just so they can talk to you, a random citizen - still, you were curious. With all the big talk of them they were bound to be quite an interesting few people.

Sara, who worked at The Good Hunter - a little restaurant near the center fountain in town that served amazing food - had told you about them. The interesting honorary knight that travels with a little fairy in search for his sister, the outrider that you’ve seen before, the librarian who apparently was incredibly intimidating when you don’t return books, and even Jean, the acting grand master. You’ve heard about all of them, your curiosity causing you ask around for stories.

The first time you met any of them was on a sunny day, not unlike any other. You were out on the trail, foraging mushrooms as per Sara’s request, when you ran into a suspicious looking group of hilichurls. The odd creatures were entranced by an odd looking sigil on the ground that glowed a faint purple.

You had chosen to mentally mark where you were and turn back to go to town and report it. Hilichurls close to town was already a safety hazard, but them acting the way they were felt off and made a pit of worry grow in your stomach.

The guards at the doors of the Knights of Favonios Headquarters had questioned what you needed when you ran up, and you explained the situation, requesting to speak to Jean if possible.

Guilt ate at you when you pushed despite them telling you she was busy with work already. “I really would like to speak to her directly,” you told them.

They were going to shut you down again, but from behind them the door opened and out came an infamous face.

Of the many people you’d been told about, the Cavalry Captain was among them. Kaeya was very popular in town, apparently appeared at the tavern on most nights to chat with the townspeople. There was a lot of mystery shrouding him and his backstory but despite that he was a favorite of many people.

He looked as he’s been described to you, with dark hair and tanned skin, one eye covered with a black eye patch. His bare eye, beautiful and piercing blue met yours and you looked away immediately, feeling as though you were seeing a myth in the flesh.

“Like I said,” your eyes, probably a little wide from seeing the captain, fell back to the two guards you’d been talking to. “I think it’s a good idea if I talked to Jean directly.”

You hadn’t meant to alert Kaeya as he was leaving the Knights Headquarters but he seemed to hear, voicing out an “is everything okay?” as he approached the three of you.

“I’m not trying to be any trouble,” you tell him once the situation was explained.

He watched you shrink slightly under his gaze, pretty eyes staring up at him - and shook his head. ���It’s understandable to want to report something like that immediately. I can take you to her.”

Obviously he had some sort of authority over the guarding knights because they had nothing to say about that, stepping back to their spots on either side of the stone stairs leading to the building.

You mentally let out a breath and nodded up at the blue haired male, thanking him quietly and apologizing again for making a fuss.

“Come on now,” he smiled down at you, calming your nerves a bit. “Stop apologizing for trying to keep Mondstadt safe. If anything we should be apologizing to you for not catching it before you did.”

The short walk inside the Knights Headquarters was quiet, and you took the few silent moments as a chance to get a better look at Kaeya. It was weird seeing him in front of you after only hearing about him for so long.

His clothes were much different from the other knights, from the fur on the shoulder to the color of the clothing. A small blue glowing charm hung from the side of his hip - that’s right, he had a vision.

When he opened the door to Jean’s office, you caught sight of his fingers that peaked out of dark gloves. Fingerless gloves?

“Are you going to come inside?”

Oh no, you weren’t standing here gawking at his hands, were you? You blinked at him like a deer in headlights and you wanted to melt into the floor at the amusement written on his face.

You ducked your head in embarrassment, slipping passed him silently.

Your shame was short lived, however, when you stepped into the room and saw Jean. Now you knew for a fact awe was visible on your face. It’s not every day that you get to see the grand acting master herself.

She was kind and genuinely concerned about you after you ran through the scene you saw for a third time in that day. The abyss order have been causing some trouble for the knights and they had been trying to track down more about them and their plans. What you saw didn’t give away much but Jean reiterated that it was an important bit of information and she thanked you for coming to her for it.

You preened at that, glad you could be of help to her.

Before you left, she thanked you again and assured you that you didn’t need to worry, the knights would take care of it.

And that was the end of it. Nothing else regarding that situation happened and life returned to normal.

The next time you ran into one of them it was at The Good Hunter. You were chatting with Sara while waiting for your food to finish cooking when a very familiar pair on hands came to lean against the counter you ordered at, with a very familiar voice accompanying them.

“I’ve been wondering about you,” Kaeya muses.

Wondering about you? You had to take a moment to process that, forcing out a small “Why?” to which he didn’t respond.

“Eat with me,” he responds instead, smiling at you and he is nice and a knight so who are you to decline.

So, you two eat together. He’s just as charming as people have mentioned, voice smooth and easy to listen to. By your wonder, he tells you in more detail about the Knights of Favonius, and you soak up his words like a sponge.

He is able to describe specific stories that you didn’t otherwise know about, along with other people that you hadn’t heard much about.

You find it fascinating and ask more specific questions - about visions. He answers every inquiry thats thrown at him, about his own cryo power and that of others in Mondstadt.

“Does the fingerless gloves have something to do with your element?” You ask him, and he laughs lightly at you.

“You like them, huh?”

Does he remember your lingering gaze on his hands at your last meeting? God, that’s mortifying. You hadn’t meant it to be a weird question.

When you gape at him, sputtering and trying to grasp a suitable response, he reaches out and taps a finger on the underside of your chin. “Cute,” he murmurs, before taking his leave, claiming he has work he should go attend to.

You stare at him while he leaves, reeling from his actions.

Things move more quickly after that.

You don’t know who really started it, but Kaeya’s hands become somewhat of a teasing point. It wasn’t a serious attraction at first but now his hands are the first thing your gaze catches on.

In turn, he’ll tease you for it, brushing the back of his knuckles against you or tapping a fingertip on you like he did that first time.

It boiled over one day in the Knights Library, you alongside him, curiously looking at all the different titles that were offered. Kaeya reaches out to grab a book and your eyes zero in on his hands.

Bare hands.

He wasn’t wearing those gloves today, skin fully on display and that shouldn’t be as important as it is but there you are, staring at them.

“You’re not-“

He has to know. Theres no way he accidentally forgot to wear them on a day he would be with you. Another tease, definitely.

“My gloves? Didn’t think you’d notice something like that.” Oh, he knows.

Cocky as ever, he taps his finger into your bottom lip - as he has before - and your mouth parts in response. An invitation.

The taste of clean skin bursts on your tastebuds, two of his fingers sliding inside.

“Ah, I knew it,” he murmurs, moving so you were situated in the corner of the wall and bookshelf, his body shadowing yours to shield you from any possible onlookers.

Your knees buckle from under you when he presses down onto your tongue, a whimper sounding from your throat.

“Look at you,” he coos, head leaning in so his lips brush against your ear. “How was I supposed to hold myself back when you want this so bad?”

Your hands find purchase on his biceps, gripping them to ground yourself while he rubs the pads of his fingers against your tongue. Saliva pools and threatens to spill over your lip, and Kaeya knows it, fingers moving so that it drips down out of your mouth and onto your chin.

“You know,” he starts again, fingers sinking deeper into your mouth as his other spare hand wraps loosely around your waist. “If you’re so good like this I can’t imagine what it’ll be like when I fuck you.”

Another noise leaves you, fingers digging into his arms. Your head knocks back into the wall right behind you and your eyes flutter.

You feel lucky that you cant speak because you know you wouldn’t be able to trust yourself to not beg him to fuck you right here in the library.

It feels filthy, the drool on your chin and his breath against the side of your face while he tells you these things. You felt hot and if your eyes were opened your pupils would be blown out.

“You’ll have to come see me some time, so I can really take you apart with my fingers.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Slender Brothers x Reader || Imagine

One day the Slender Brothers each turn to stone (In separate places- separate countries even) and not even Zalgo can figure out why or how to unfreeze them.

Slender's in the forest, moss and different vines growing over his shoulders and twisting around the seamless, smooth (Too seamless, and too smooth, to be man made) stone of his tentacles. His Proxies are still there, protecting the place, but they cant get everyone- pictures have been taken of the mysterious forest statue and posted online, and he's become an urban legend (in a world where he wasn't already obviously). He makes a beautiful statue... but eerie as hell. He has been graffitied a couple times over the years but those who dared to do such a thing quickly got viciously but down by the formerly mentioned Proxies, who then spend hours and hours cleaning him up again. They don't know what else to do. What can they do?

Splender is sitting wait at Offender's place (A townhouse in New York), having been there to talk to him about something important but got frozen before his brother could even get home- he now gathers dust, one leg stuck draped gracefully over the other and his long thin fingers previously edging towards a (now room temperature, ruined) cup of tea. At times, he's heated up by strips of sunlight coming from the window blinds (which remain closed all these years- Splender didn't want to give Offender any heads up that he was there lest the fucker skip town immediately like he did sometimes when he just wasn't in the mood for lectures, or 'chats'), and others he's blanketed in the cold, grey darkness of a home that was never really 'home', to anyone.

Off in a not-often visited glade somewhere in Scotland's highlands is Trender, curled up in the grass and the dirt and the daisies, facing a beautiful, imposing mountain- sketchbook still rested against his legs and pencil between his fingers. The pages have been weathered and now curl inwards but if you ever found him, which is unlikely, you could still see some faint pencil lines on the first page. Rain, lightning, snow, hail, sweltering heat, wind and a number of other natural beatings have hit him but he continues to sit there, peaceful and relaxed looking and utterly unchanged.

Offender now lives in the back of some alleyway in Melbourne. He looks like a gargoyle, all shoulders and sharp teeth. People have tried to break him, and have covered him in years and years of multicoloured spray paint that now just looks brown but he does not break. He does not shift. He stays, leaning against the wall by a couple of bins, the menacing, perfect, sharp lines of his coat and his teeth still clear as the day he was frozen. His smirk is still a warning despite his helpless state; Women who see him assume that he's a sign without a label, a bit of street art telling them to get outta the fucking alley if you want to live. You get a cold, tight feeling in your chest just looking at him.

Then, decades later, one by one... they wake up. First Trender, then Slender a month later, Offender 2 years after that and finally Splender, a good half a decade after Offender. No rhyme or reason to it, seemingly. No one had found them at that particular moment, Zalgo had given up trying to figure this out years ago, Slender's Proxies had died...

They wake up, but they wake up... different. Parts of them are still stone. Both Slender and Splender have a hand that's still totally made of stone, stuck in the position it was last in, Offenders legs is stuck entirely too straight (So he walks like a pirate), and Trender's chest is still and makes it hard for him to bend or twist.

Still, they go on with their lives. Mystified entirely as to why they lost decades of their lives and now they still weren't allowed to completely recover, but still- eager to move on with their lives.

18 years after he woke up, Trender meets someone called Y/N Who could not be older then 18 years old themselves. Not that Trender considers that at all at first and his chest suddenly... softens, again, finally. The stone cracks and crumbles away, turning to nothing but warm air before it can even slip off him. His skin and muscle is sitting right behind, like it was always there. He takes some deep breathes and clutches his chest, experiencing the long forgotten feel of it, hidden behind the sweater he's wearing (which it had been for years and years, since turning to stone), rising and falling once again...

It wasn't until weeks later that he thought to link some things... and asked Y/N when their birthday is.

Casually, they recite the date that Trender was brought back to life.

The same thing happens of course to the other three. They meet their Y/N 18 years after coming back to life and fond out that they were born that very day. Like someone, or something, some inexplicable force stopped their ageing until the person they were supposed to be with came into existance.

Basically, Soulmate AU with room for Brother angst (and fluff) in between.

Its a work in progress.

Some dot points to add:

Having Trender be the first to wake up was a a very conscious choice XD- Allows him to be the main brother for a while. I cant skip out on giving him some prime time.

And having Splender be the last is important too, as it means a n g s t. His three brothers are awake and they're wondering where the fuck their brother is (Splender would have found us if he was awake. Where is he), until Offender finally wakes up and goes home... and him. And he, (Offender), the least loving and most disgusting of them gets to find his brother (one of the only things he gives even the most miniscule damn about) sitting grey and made of stone, alone at his breakfast table. Waiting for him. But even now that he's finally home, his brother cant wake up and and greet him. Cant be happy his wait is over. No. Offender gets to sit there at the table with him instead, in his own house, and wonder what the hell Splender wanted to talk to him about. And how long it'll be before Splender wakes up again.

Obviously, Slender doesn't come to the 'soulmate' conclusion without some help. He's very uncomfortable and suspicious about, first the person Trender found, and then his own. So you're telling me, this person was born on the same day we were brought back to life? And just meeting them made your stone cracks away finally? And you don't think this is truly coincidental, and actually quite suspicious at all???

I really like that Offenders gonna walk around like a pirate for 18 years. Don't mind me XD

Yes, they all get shat on by many animals. Except Splender.

[cdroloisms]

Hello, idk if you’ll see this, nor do you have to take this request. But I’ve been thinking, and thought up: Dream joined the egg, but not because it offered him world domination or a happy family or any of that; no it offered to treat him kindly, to be affectionate, to be a friend, basically offering him human decency. (With an add on of everyone believing it was for some big reason, but the actual reason gets revealed somehow) if that made any sense. (Idk if this counts as an au or not)

[ask: if dream showed up to the red banquet, that would be very sexy of the writers to make him join the eggpire instead of the pro-omlette]

hehe egg!dream has so much potential ,, this is a ficlet i’ve been working on for a while (writer’s block my detested) but i finally finished it up !! it’s a bit unpolished but oh well - they cant all be winners lmao 

tw: body horror, blood, injuries, implied torture/abuse, starvation, possession, dark/disturbing imagery, dark content, pandora’s vault/prison arc 

Dream gets corrupted by the Egg, because of course he does.

Sapnap trudges through the vine-filled hallway, his face bundled firmly with a holy-water soaked bandana to keep out the worst of the spores. It’s a shoddy defense, but he doesn’t plan to stay long; he’s only been sent on reconnaissance, to see what public enemy number one is planning and get out as quickly as he can. As much as the entire server wants Dream dead, trying to defeat the man the first time was enough of a feat, never mind with the power of a giant demon egg on his side - to try and fight him now would be practically impossible.

The floor squishes underneath his boots, and his lips curl in disgust; the vines are thick and moist and feel ugly and rotten to the core. He can’t imagine anyone being anything but repulsed by the things, but he guesses it makes sense for Dream to be drawn here - corruption attracts corruption, it seems. It only figures that Dream would be desperate enough for power to let himself get possessed by the living - if you could really call it living - embodiment of decay and deterioration itself. The feeling of the floor giving way underneath his footsteps has another wave of revulsion crawling up his throat, though he’s not sure if it’s directed towards the Egg or his former friend or both.

He reaches the end of the hallway, an itching, pulsing feeling of wrong filling the air in the room just beyond the haphazard archway carved into the stone. With careful hands, Sapnap draws the bandana further up his face, making sure that it is tied securely behind his head - just beyond this wall lies the belly of the beast, the heart of the rot slowly but surely spreading its influence over the entire server. Something hums in the air; whispering, otherworldly sounds pierce through his armor and settle beneath his skin; he pushes on. He knows better than to listen, to try and make sense of the words within the noise - from what he’s heard, by the time you understand what it is saying, it’s too late.

He steps inside; the room feels, for the lack of a better word, red. He’s better suited for the place than most, being a Netherborn and therefore more used to the oppressive heat and heaviness of the air, but there’s something undeniably wrong about how this place feels, something entirely Other having made its home in the room. Every inch of the place feels hostile, angry, hungry, recognizing him as someone foreign and wanting nothing more than his destruction. Unlike the Red Forests, which teemed with life - piglins and hoglins and giant fungus - this room is little more than a twisted mimicry, sucking the air dry, leaving little more than husks behind.

His hand immediately goes to his sword, drawing it with a dull, metallic scrape. The room is eerily silent save for the Egg’s hissing whispers, and he frowns; he’d expected an attack, but the room is still, quiet; a mockery of peace that only makes the uneasy feeling in his gut grow further. He trudges forward, watching against the puddles of lava and smoking magma scattered over the floor, but nothing stirs.

There’s a growing pressure against his skull with each step into the room, and his hand tightens on his communicator; they’d set up a stasis chamber, just in case things went south, his way out of this place only a few button presses away. Still, nothing moves; no Bad or Ant popping out of nowhere, weapons in hand, no Dream driving an axe between his shoulder blades as he’s done so many times before in their spars. There’s only the sound of his footsteps against the rotting growths on the floor and his own heartbeat thudding in his ears and the Egg’s warbling voice, beneath it all - beckoning, almost kind.

He swallows, throat dry, and moves forward.

His feet carry him to the back corner of the room, to the rotting, pulsing core of the wrongness plaguing the entire server. Even through his bandana, the air feels foreign, nearly choking him, and he strains his eyes against the glare of the lava to look up at the vines’ rancid heart, the Egg. Up close, it’s almost underwhelming, only about three times his height, hardly coming halfway up to the ceiling of the room. What it doesn’t have in size, however, it makes up in sheer presence; the hissing whispers in his head grow louder, crawling under his skin and between his bones, and he curses under his breath as he prepares to call for his way back. Dream isn’t here; the mission is a bust.

“Sapnap?”

He freezes.

It takes a moment to realize that the voice wasn’t in his head, as raspy and unsettling as it was, and his eyes traced the edges of the Egg to a dull colored shape at its side, completely overlooked in his initial sweep of the room. He watches, a dull horror rising in his chest, as the shape moves, twists around on itself in an entirely unnatural way like a marionette pulled by its strings. A pale dot rises from where it had been hidden against the bright red of the Egg; it’s a face, Dream’s face, covered in clawing vines, stark against the bone-white of his sun-starved skin, vomit racing up his throat at the sight of the vines having made their homes in jagged wounds all over his face and neck and disappearing into the torn scraps of his prison uniform, each one spilling crimson in the form of writhing vines and thorns instead of blood.

“Sapnap,” Dream says again, his mouth moving with the words but something entirely other having made its home in the air of his lungs, a shivering rasp to his voice that lifts and falls with the same desperate hunger that saturates every tainted inch of the room. His neck tips to the side, shifted over by a twisting vine tangled within his hair and wrapping a crown of blood-red thorns over his forehead, tendrils drooping over his face and framing the gaunt edges. “You came.”

“Dream-” the anger comes back, familiar, at the other’s words - the same red-hot rage that had boiled within him in that first and only prison visit (you took so long) but it dissipates as fast as it comes. Dream - if this remnant, this shade, this corrupted, mangled half that seems more corruption than human can even be called the name of one he had once considered his best friend, his brother - stumbles closer, held up by the vines that twist over his shaking legs, one having the pale, ragged edge of a bone clearly having ripped through skin - and Sapnap does throw up, this time, dragging the bandana from his face and heaving bile all over the floor.

“What happened-” he cries, flames licking up his arms in defense when his friend-turned-monster-turned-this steps closer on a wreck of a leg that should not be able to bear weight, stumbles back to a roaring in his ears-

He is mine he came broken came shattered and I gave him everything I gave him his heart’s desire I am his savior his grace he asked for warmth and he asked for comfort and he asked for nothing but for someone to take his pain and he is mine he is mine he is mine

He freezes, hand tightening over his communicator; Dream stares at him with the one dull-green eye not covered by the vines splayed over his too-pale face, mouth moving but no sound coming out. The roaring, angry sound in Sapnap’s ears grows louder, follows the shape of Dream’s lips come join your friend come with me I will give him to you you have failed him once but not again not again he is mine but you can be mine also and you will be together together together

“-pnap! Sapnap!” Puffy’s words crackle over the communicator, harsh and loud and snapping him out of his thoughts, “Pull the switch, Sam! No, he’s not responding- pull the switch-”

The world dips, and he heaves in a shattered breath, lungs finally full as he breathes in clear air for the first time in what feels like an eternity, hacking coughs pulled from his throat as he tears the bandana off in one sputtering gasp for breath.

“Sap- Sapnap,” Sam pitches his voice low, comforting, a hand rubbing up and down his back, but all Sapnap can see is the skeleton of a man held together by red thread, the life leached from his skin and leaving nothing left, he asked for nothing but for someone to take the pain and he is mine he is mine he is mine-

“Sapnap,” Puffy’s voice is tinny with concern, “What happened? You stopped responding and the time passed so we pulled the switch on the stasis chamber- are you alright? Did he attack you?”

“I-” -you have failed him once but not again not again you will be together- “I need a moment.”

He scrambles away, feet carrying him away from Church Prime, away from the Holy Land, away away away until he’s standing on the Community House roof, staring at his hands at this home, destroyed, this home, rebuilt, this home, empty and wrong and a shadow of house for a shadow of a man, a shadow of a friend found, a friend lost- and sobs.

What had he done?

[princeanxious]

Why would you hide the Villain remus and Janus thing in the tags, I'd read the hell outta Hero Virgil turned Villain

you mean this??? shdbic aaa Yeah I want to write it, but i also want to write a lot of things. xD but this is def one of those things i’d love to write a short-ish one-shot about just so I can write it.

can you imagine? Virgil, young and anxious, manifesting powers of the light and dark variety, able to manipulate shadows and summon electricity with such fine precision because he’s spent so long fretting over accidentally hurting someone with it that he refused to even dare try and step into the hero scene until he was 150% certain that he’d trained his powers to disconnect from his emotions so that he’d never have an outburst that could even harmlessly shock or scare someone. He’s so in control over his powers that its to an insane degree just because he wants to make sure he cant hurt anybody on accident.

(complete ramble continued under the cut bc boy howdy this got so long it might as well be its own short one-shot)

And, he’s worked so in depth with his powers because of course he can’t just suppress them!(Suppressing electricity based powers doesn’t get rid of that energy, it just makes that constantly generating energy stay put and build, which makes it even more dangerous when it’s finally released, so suppression is a no go) So of course not only does he work extensively with learning how to control his powers, but also how to healthily use them and expend his energy safely, effectively, and skillfully as he grows into them. Might as well push your limits of learning just how much your power can do if you have to learn how to exist safely around others by controlling it, right?

So, by default, by the time Virgil is both old enough and confident enough in his powers to consentingly apply for registry to the worlds heroes association, he’s both insanely skilled with his powers, and also insanely talented(the equivalent to a child prodigy, not that many people in charge of the worlds hero association believe that, though.). The people who had been interviewing him believed the same, thinking him to be just another super teenager boasting about his skills when they couldn’t even sense his power, thinking that what little power Virgil did have was not even worth bothering to report anything substantial about the interview. That he’d oughta go try the villain’s headquarters, because at least they take in wandering powerless for henchmen all the time.

Virgil, feeling pissed but not quite enraged yet, because what teenager wouldn’t hate it to be so invalidated and demeaned at being out right dismissed as a threat, let alone considered more of an invalid for not having powers, starts to display his power. 

First it’s the main interviewer’s phone that they’d been glancing boredly at, drained suddenly of all power. Then it’s the landline of that specific room, then it’s the lamp, the computer suddenly shuts off with zero warning and nothing of it turns on. The lamp in the corner of the room goes dark, bulb by bulb, and the printer in the room dies. Virgil’s eyes are glowing violet but he hasn’t moved any more than the annoyed twitch of an eyelid. the light’s overhead turn off, leaving the lights in the hallway still on, leaving the remaining light in the room coming from the single window in the room and the open doorway. 

He reaches up a hand, and snaps once, and shadows swallow up the light over the hallway and the window, acting as a wall from the inside and out. 

Now the only light in the room is his glowing eyes.

The second interviewer is struggling to summon fire from her hands to light the room, but it doesn’t work. The energy she’s using to summon the fire is immediately sapped by Virgil’s force, there isn’t even a spark. The first interviewer can feel Virgil’s power now, it’s bright and burning. It’s like he has a core in the middle of his being like a sun’s core because its storing so much power, and the only reason they can see it now is because Virgil’s using his power. He has so much control that even on a nonphysical level it’s nearly tangible, the way that they can see his shadow powers conceal even the existence of his power, now that they know what their looking at.

In mere seconds, this kid has tipped the world on their head and put the fear of god into them, an undetected yet undeniable threat in the making. 

They watch his eyes tilt with his head, and the distinct sound of the entire building powering down is unmistakable, shouts of surprise and confusion due to the failure of the buildings many fail-safes failing to trigger. And then, with another snap, all power is restored to normal in the blink of the eye, all machines and lights are functioning perfectly, not an irregular shadow in sight, and all at once Virgil reads as a normal human teenager, not a whiff of power to be sensed. He looks pretty peeved, though.

“Maybe I will try my luck at the Dark Side then, at least they care about the people that look to be taken in. Let me know if you changed your mind, I’d love to have a do-over. With a different set of interviewers, mind you.” before he walks out of the interview room, off to blow off some steam legally and safely.

Imagine his outrage when a week later he’s served a summons to court, deeming him a “Threat to Society” and “better left in jail until the court can be convinced of his good nature” because he’s an “out of control juvenile gifted with an unprecedented amount of power that he couldn’t possibly control without strict legal supervision and interference and cannot be trusted to continue to exist as a normal citizen until the W.H.A deems it safe.”

Faced with possible lifelong inprisonment and zero control over the rest of his life because an association of supers think that they know better and that he’s some stupid teenager that was set loose on the world with means to only cause catastrophe and devastation, or freedom at the hands of some ambiguously grey moral decisions every once in a while and being treated as a normal human being even if he has to be a henchman to another super for a while? 

The decision isn’t a hard one to make.

So imagine his surprise when he’s not only accepted into the Dark Side after being respectfully asked to demonstrate the full extent of his power and his control over it, but instead of becoming a villain’s henchmen, he instead gains the full title of Villain(with another Villain(Janus) stepping in to mentor him and show him the ropes of the rules and everything), and even further: Gets his own henchmen assigned to him. 

A pair, Patton and Logan. 

Patton has a partial shapeshifting ability, but it only really lets him turn into a big frog man, making him perfect for doing any of the main heavy lifting for the team, and also perfect for protecting Logan when under attack. He’s built like a himbo and is absolutely 100% a himbo, heart of gold, super strong, buff dad bod, the whole sha-bang.

Logan has a power that is one part linked with memory, one part linked with technology. His brain can retain information like a computer databank, and he can get any misfunctioning technology to work if he can get his hands on it or a connection to it. He avoids all the quirks that interfere or damage real databanks and technology(like magnets, water, and short-circuiting) and can semi-directly connect with devices he is familiar with, without having to hold/touch/look at one.

All together, they have the beginnings of a well rounded team: the brawns, the brains, and the leader with plans and the power to make it happen. Even before finding out their reasons for coming to the dark side, Virgil becomes ride or die for them. (And honestly, they’re also pretty ride or die for him too, not even starting with the fact that they’re both like 26-27 and Virgil is an 18 year old anxious mess that had to make the decision over being the bad guy or losing any and all autonomy for the foreseeable future, which is gonna fuck up any kid and young adult’s brain. So, lowkey adopt him as a younger sibling even though he’s the boss of them and just barely taller than them.(Virgil is a tol lanky boi, and while Logan, standing at 5′9″, is but an inch shorter than Virgil at the start, Virgil still has growing room and peaks at about 6′4″ by the time hes 22. Patton at his normal height is like 5′6″, but frog man height is like 8′3″)

Oh, and they definitely make the Worlds Hero Association regret not taking Virgil’s existence kindly, Big Time.

[shoutoismybaby]

A Pink Promise (BakuXReader)

Summary: You had a tradition with bakugou. A tradition where every time you had to leave each other you would wrap your pinky’s together in a promise that you would see the other again. But one night after an argument you storm out of the apartment without your typical goodbye, and bakugou gets a call that makes him question if he will ever see you alive again

WARNING: Angst, but it ends in fluff. Cursing, injury, car accident, fighting, and crying

Hi. I’m just gonna leave this here😘

***

“I should probably head home,” You shifted from one foot to another, “my dad will get worried if I’m late…”

“Alright, bye loser.” You giggled at Bakugous response and held out your hand, pinky extended.

“So, you’ll pick me up at two?” You asked, pausing at the confused look on his face. “What?”

“What are you doing?” Bakugou asked, he was staring at your hand. You laughed once more and ignored his glare,

“Oh, it's for a pinky promise.” You explained,

“You need me to pinky promise that I’ll take you on a date tomorrow?” His brows only became more furrowed, Katsuki knew you were a little weird. The simplest things seemed to make you smile, but that's what he loved about you. He wondered if you seriously wanted him to pinky promise you that he would take you out, right after he just asked you to be his girlfriend. Yeah, he was an asshole. But not to that extent.

“No, um. It’s a promise that you’ll see me again.” You blushed, it was a habit you had picked up from your parents. They always used a pinky promise in place of a goodbye kiss. You were about to let your hand drop when looped his pinky with yours.

“Okay, I’ll be at your house at two. You better be ready.” He gave your finger a tight squeeze before letting it go. He then turned around and began walking away from you.

“I won't!” You promised, watching him walk away for a couple of seconds before you turned to head home.

From that day on, each time you went to say goodbye, a pinky promise accompanied it. Even Bakugou caught onto the habit quickly, despite the fact that his friends would often tease him for it. Yeah, he was whipped for you. He knew it. Your peers knew it. Even your uncle's dog knew it. But all that mattered to him was that you were happy. And you were for a while.

It was when you had graduated for UA and moved into an apartment together that problems started to arise. Katsuki got overly jealous of every person you got close to, and you were always exhausted after work. Hero's work was stressful on both of you, only contributing to the short temper your boyfriend seemed to have. Fights would happen over the smallest of things, such as chores not being done, or something being left out where it didn't belong.

Of course, you couldn't say that you were innocent, you did start a fair amount of fights. Eventually, though, it hit a point that you could barely handle it anymore. Even when you tried to calm him down, to just talk through things, it would always end in screams and slammed doors.

And soon enough, you hit your limit.

“God, don’t you ever shut up!?” You screamed, just having gotten home from work. Why were you already fighting with him? You hadn't even gotten the chance to take off your shoes. His face only seemed to get more contorted, matching the amount of anger he felt. Why was he always directing it at you? “I just got home from work, cant you give me a fucking break!”

“Maybe you’d get home earlier if you were any good at what you do!” He argued, of course, he would go on the offense.

“What’s that supposed to mean!?” You prayed that he would back down.

“I'm just saying that if you weren't such a shitty hero, maybe you would get home at a decent time and actually-” That was your breaking point.

“Just because you’ll never be good enough to be the number 1 hero, doesn't mean you can take it out on me!” You shut him up pretty fast. His face paled and eyes widened, but you could barely notice past the high you were on. “I’m sick and tired of coming home to someone who only wants to fight with me! Have you ever thought that maybe I take extra shifts to avoid seeing you?”

You were crying now, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were so mad. How could he tell you that he loved you and then tell you something like that?

Katsuki seemed frozen, you couldn't see the guilt flood his body. You couldn't hear the thoughts whirring in his head. You couldn't feel his regret. You could only feel anger.

You could only feel your heart ripping in two, the tears scratching their way to your eyes. Everything hurt. You felt like a gust of wind could cause your body to fall apart. Yet, at the same time, you felt numb. Maybe that was the anger. The desperation. The hurt. Maybe that was what was protecting your fragile self.

You had never felt so broken and vulnerable before.

“I hate you Bakugou!” He was supposed to be the one to protect you, love you, care for you. So why was he the one tearing you apart?

If it hadn't already, his heart stopped. You hadn't called him by his last name since you got together.

“(Y/n)-” His hand reached out to you. All he wanted to do right then was apologize to you, and hold you close until you forgave him. But you couldn't do that. Not again. Not then,

“Don't touch me!” Your voice sounded so broken as you held one of your wrists in your other hand. “Don't-” A shuddering breath made its way through your throat. You reached for your coat and began to pull it on.

“(Y/n), please don't. I'm sorry-”

“I don't want to see you again,” You closed your eyes tight and sighed, turning to the door. He didn't say anything else, so you left.

***

It was a couple of seconds before his arm returned to his side, and a couple of minutes more before he stopped standing there. Choosing to sit instead. He wasn’t sure why. Why he didn’t just move to the couch. Why some part of him was convinced that you would just walk back in, and let him apologize. Let him fix everything.

But he knew you wouldn't. Even more, he knew he didn’t deserve it.

It was an hour before he finally moved, and it was only to get to his ringing phone. All he could do at that moment was wish it was you.

Wish it was about you.

Oh, how he came to wish he could take back that wish.

“(y/n), I'm sorry-”

“Hello?” It wasn't your voice on the phone, Bakugou considered hanging up, but had a feeling that he shouldn't.

“Who is this?” He asked gruffly, he just wanted you back in his arms. He didn't care about anything else.

“My name is Haru, I work for the Musutafu hospital. Your number is on the emergency contact list of (Y/n) (L/n). Could you come down to the hospital? It's urgent.”

Bakugou didn't think that his heart would break anymore that night. But here he was, tearing up on the phone. Begging and screaming at the poor nurse to tell him what was going on, knowing full well she couldn't. Stupid patient confidentiality.

He had never pulled on his shoes and coat faster, not taking the time to realise his shoes did not match. He knew it was illegal to use his quirk at the moment, but he didn’t care. He launched himself into the air and towards the hospital, only slowing down in order to land painfully in front of the doors. But he didn't care about how he felt. Nor did he care about the immediate attention that was placed on him from everyone around.

“Is that Ground Zero?”

“I’ve never seen him without his hero suit on before”

“Look at him. He looks like a mess.”

“Is he okay?”

The hospital was busy when he walked inside, covered in sweat from both the bodily exertion and anxiety. His heart was racing and the only thing keeping him from fainting was the fact that he needed to see you. How had you already ended up in the hospital? You had only just left his house-

But the clock on the wall corrected him, it had been a few hours. His stomach churned as he walked up to the receptionist's desk,

“Where’s (Y/n)?” He growled out, beginning to get restless. Now that some people knew who he was, the paparazzi was sure to show up. And that was the last thing either of you needed.

“Name, ID, Relationship to the patient?” The woman's calm demeanor was in direct contrast to the storm brewing in Bakugou.

“Bakugou Katsuki, I’m (Y/n) (L/n)’s boyfriend.” He said as he dug out his wallet, suddenly remembering something you had told him once when you had to visit him in the hospital after a villain encounter went sideways. “But we’ve lived together for over three years, we have a common law marriage.”

He knew that this was the only way he was going to be able to see you, but it wasn’t like he was lying. The receptionist squinted at him before taking his ID and looking it over.

“Alright, if you can state the name of the patient you are visiting for me again I can get you the guest pass and their room number.”

***

Your door slammed open, and you strained your eyes trying to see. The brace around your neck stops you from properly looking over. It didn’t take long to realise who it was when you heard the strangled whine. You recognized it as Katsuki right away. How could you not?

You had been with him for years, through the ups, the downs, and the very far downs that were the past year. You had held him tightly when those noises had escaped him in the past and you shielded him from the world when he was no longer able to keep up his facade.

You could only imagine how broken he looked now, you just wanted to hold him again and protect him from everything.

Until you remembered your last conversation, but then you just felt conflicted. You were mad at him. You were so angry.

But you were scared, so scared.

After all your years as a pro hero, and it was a truck that fucked you up the most. Each breath was painful, and maybe if your mind wasn’t so cloudy on pain meds, you would be able to remember how many ribs the doctor told you were broken, or which leg. Or if you were going to live. God, were you scared.

Footsteps brought you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes to the man who stood in front of you. He looked like a boy now, so broken and collapsed in on himself.

“(Y/n),” sounded broken.

His brows were furrowed, mouth deep set in a scowl. But you knew better. You saw the tears stains on his cheeks. The redness of his eyes. His coat was inside out. You knew his face was one of worry. Fear.

You remembered the first time you saw him look like that. The first time he opened himself up to be so vulnerable to you. It was sometime after All Might had fallen, and the guilt had been eating him up. Not many other people noticed the way his thoughts were eating him up inside. But you did.

You saw the light in his eyes dim. The dark bags began to form and the way his posture fell. His confidence was falling no matter how much he screamed to keep up his image.

“K-kat-suk-i” You struggled to speak, your voice raspy. Like you hadn’t drank anything in years. Tears bubbled in his eyes, and, somehow that was more painful than when you first woke up. In the middle of the street, there had been a young woman kneeling over you, screaming into her phone. You couldn't hear her though, only the ringing in your ear.

You couldn't remember right before you got hit, it was fuzzy. Though the doctor told you it was normal. You wondered if maybe you were just running without looking. Or if tears clouded your vision. Or maybe, if it hadn't been your fault at all.

“Shit,” The love of your life began to scrub his face with his fists, much like he did the night you found him in the dorms kitchen. Crying over a late night snack as his fists clenched the edge of the counter, struggling to hold himself together.

No matter how much he tried to cover his face after you made your presence known, you could see the tears as they fell to the floor. You could hear his strangled whimpers. And even though you knew the possible consequences, you held his shaking body in your arms. You let him be vulnerable and didn’t say a word.

It was that day that you began to see Bakugou as he truly was. An Asshole? Yes, of course. But also a boy who cared way too much, who held himself to impossible standards, and who never really had a proper support system. You decided to be his support that day, and soon after you became his girlfriend too.

“They, they told me what happened to you,” you watched as little pops of frustration came out of his fists. “And I couldn't help but think that it’s my fault.”

“No,” you wanted to protest, but you instead had your breath hitched in your throat. The desire of water coming to be the very forefront of your thoughts as you reached out your hands, desperate for the hydration that would let you continue. Bakugou, of course noticed and his crimson eyes quickly spotte the glass of water on your nightstand. Once the cool glass brushed against your fingers, you brought it to your lips and drank as if you hadn’t seen a liquid in days.

“Just, listen okay? I… Ive been taking out my work stress on you, I’ve been rude and condesending and just fucking nit picky. You didn’t deserve any of that, especially what I said earlier. It was fucking uncalled for and so far from the truth.” The determination in his gaze was evident, it was the same gleam in his eyes he got whenever he set his mind to something. You adored that look from him.

“I know Katsuki, I know you don’t really think that.” You muttered, unsure of what to say. Were you just supposed to forgive his, what seemed to be, apology? You had no idea how you felt. Your head hurt along with the rest of your body and your throat was still parched despite downing your water seconds ago.

“It doesnt matter, you need to know what I do think. I think youre an incredibly strong woman. And a fucking resilient, relentless one at that. Can’t get you off my shit for two seconds. But I love that about you, you know? I know I’ve been a dick recently but I really do love you. I asmire you too, your work ethic. You never give up and thats what makes you one of the best heroes out there, fuck what the polls say.” He sniffled and quickly ran a closed fist under his nose. “You dont deserve what I’ve been putting you through lately… and I’m fucking sorry. You’re the most important person in my life and you deserve better than the asshole you’ve been getting.”

“You’ve always been an asshole.” You used your glass to hide the smirk on your face that only grew bigger as bakugou couldn't help himself from blowing up.

“I- are you kidding!? I’m trying to fucking apologize here and THATS what you choose to say!?” The pops of his quirk created a melody with the raspy laughs that left your mouth.

“Yeah,” your chuckling continued as bakugou's face softened. Eyes like cooling embers as they dusted across your figure. You tried to ignore that look, it always made your chest swell uncomfortably. Nothing could make you tear up more than the love bakugou had for you.

“Shitty woman,” he sat himself down in the chair besides your bed and took the now empty glass from your hands, “I just want you to know that when- if, you come home… that things are going to be better. I don't ever want to make you feel like you have to avoid me ever again. I want you to feel safe around me. And I swear that I’m going to put you above my hero work from now on-“

“No, Katsuki, I’m sorry I said that. I shouldn’t have said that you can't become the number one hero, it's not true.” You shook your head, the shame being too painful to look anywhere but your hands. Balled in fists on your lap before they were gently tugged into his own. You reluctantly met his eyes, admiring the fire that burned in them.

“This has nothing to fucking do with that, okay? I’m not giving up on being the number one, I’m just going to start working harder to be better for you at the same time. And anyone who thinks I can’t do it is a dumb bitch.”

“God can your ego get Any bigger?” A smile stretched across your face as you began laughing again when he simply shrugged. It hurt like a bitch, the sharp pain making your eyes water, but you just loved everything about the angry man in front of you. Even when he began yelling at you to stop laughing before you hurt yourself even more. It took awhile for you to calm down, and even longer to get bakugou to stop glaring at you for hurting yourself.

“I love you,” he said after a moment of silence, his rough thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of your hand.

“I know.” You sighed, basking in the silence that lasted only a few seconds before bakugou ripped his hands from yours.

“SAY IT BACK!”

***

I hope you enjoyed!

[sometipsygnostalgic]

adventure time wizard city liveblog

 well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl​ joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene. 

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new! 

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch... 

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up 

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out. 

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date. 

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings. 

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road! 

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors. 

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?  

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories. 

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over 

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him 

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible. 

TRDGFYGHJH

WE

WE MADE  A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity 

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian. 

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist. 

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good. 

WH

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM 

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck. 

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland. 

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,? 

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y. 

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be, 

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :( 

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :) 

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing. 

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance. 

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self. 

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol. 

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff! 

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her. 

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special! 

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate. 

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end. 

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!!  I wish they drew more from that episode. 

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him. 

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule. 

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER. 

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger! 

[noahhernandez]

2/9/2015 v. 8/11/2020

1:Talk about the first time you watched your favorite movie. My favorite movie is Scream, and it started when I saw the midnight premier of Scream 4 with my dad back when I was in 8th grade, then Scream 1 came on AMC late on night and I just really like it

I still think Scream is one of my favorites, but Halloween has jumped up there just because I am obsessed with all things horror really lol. I started to love Halloween because of the new trilogy.

2:Talk about your first kiss. It’s really not that interesting but really like embarrassing. It was with my first boyfriend and I had just turned 15 and we were at the school just walking around and we went into the band hall and I was like ok im leaving and he was like wait and we kissed and i was like o

the same ! 

3:Talk about the person you’ve had the most intense romantic feelings for. I never really have had intense feelings for anyone. I d k

One my exes- I mean we were dating for awhile so that’s pretty intense to me. 

4:Talk about the thing you regret most so far. I regret… Nothing really I mean, I have done really bad things in my life, but i don’t regret them

I regret failing like 2 semesters of college lmao and almost dropping out. If i didn’t then I would 1- would have been done earlier and 2- would have already completed a year of grad school but IDK also another is wasting lots of money in 2017-2018

5:Talk about the best birthday you’ve had. The best birthday I’ve had was.. Idk This year was was nice I saw Iggy Azalea in concert, then I celebrated my friends’ birthday then mine and it was just everyone got to get together so ya this year my 18th

For my 21st birthday I went to Portland, Oregon and spent the weekend there and it was pretty and my first time there so it was nice despite what I think about PDX now. I don’t even know what I was doing for my 19 and 20th birthday lol. 

6:Talk about the worst birthday you’ve had. My 17th birthday because I was stuck 2 hours away from home with a bunch of nerds doing a band competition 

That is still probably my worst birthday. I forget to mention that I was gone literally from like 7am to midnight. They werent a bunch of loser nerds, they were my friends, but I still wish I was just at home lol. 

7:Talk about your biggest insecurity. I am skinny, but not fit. If I eat anything I get this like stomach and it makes me so sad. and ever since I got a job I work odd hours and I eat a lot of fast food and I’ve gained 10 pounds in 2 years and I guess i’m insecure about my weight

I am still insecure about my weight, and I probably weight like 5 pounds more than I did when I made this post 5 1/2 years ago. 

8:Talk about the thing you are most proud of. We have band banquets for band, and I only went my sophomore and junior year, and seniors give out awards to underclassmen that are just jokes really, and both years 4 different seniors gave me an award for being the biggest gossip in the entire band and I was proud of that lol

Well since then I have graduated both high school and college. I am proud that I finished college !! A BS in Psych. Proud of myself that I got promoted (in 2017) at my job; i’m proud of myself that I have my own apartment, and blah blah basically just doing regular adult shit. 

9:Talk about little things on your body that you like the most. I like my nose because of how perfectly fixed it is. I also really like my freckles/moles/dark marks idk what they are exactly, but they’re on my face and they look great

I still feel the same way about this, maybe add my eyebrows- they’re not like clean and nice they’re just expression markers on my face that i love.

10:Talk about the biggest fight you’ve ever had. I got into a fight with my old friend Angelica and that was almost 4 months ago and we used to be best friends and now we never talk.

When Janett didn’t talk to me all summer of 2019 because I told our other friend Angel something

11:Talk about the best dream you’ve ever had. I cant remember one 12:Talk about the worst dream you’ve ever had. I can’t remember one

13:Talk about the first time you had sex/how you imagine your first time. The closest thing i’ve had to like sex was being locked in a back of an SUV with a stranger drunk as fuck and naked and its embarrassing

Just awkward and nothing to which I expected. 

14:Talk about a vacation. When I was 16, the high school band took a trip to Hawaii, and all my friends were in band so it was great. We did a lot of things, we toured Pearl Harbor and even played a few patriotic songs on the USS Miss. and our hotel was on Wakiki beach. I went snorkeling in some beautiful water and shit and idk just walked all around Hawaii having a great time omg we got on stage at the Hard Rock Cafe and sang with German people i miss it

Hm that was fun. But I.. went to NY with my ex and that was pretty cool because I literally love New York, and I went to NOLA two years ago (today actually) and got miserably drunk so that was fun too 

15:Talk about the time you were most content in life. Probably just in the middle of junior year when everything and everyone was going with the flow

I feel like 2016 was a very content year because I remember nothing about it. 

16:Talk about the best party you’ve ever been to. Idk which one to talk about the one where I had a lot of fun and risked my life or the one where there was a lot of drama stirred up and drank myself to sadness. 

I haven’t really been to a party? I have gone out and had good times. Really anytime my friends and I go out I am having a good time 

17:Talk about someone you want to be friends with. I am already friends with people I want to be friends with

18:Talk about something that happened in elementary school. I kissed a boy on the back of the head and i told I just fell onto his head

Let me think of another one. Back in like fourth grade my friend was in a wheel chair and his backpack was falling from the back and I was trying to grab it and i was only 3 feet tall i couldnt see over or wasnt paying attention and i crashed him right into the bookshelves at the library. 

19:Talk about something that happened in middle school. A girl was mad at me because idk why lol and she pushed me in the hall way and I fucking flew across that hall on the floor and hit the wall she’s pregnant now

When I was in 5th grade (which is considered middle school in my district) I was standing on the play ground and someone threw a stick at my head and it knocked me the fuck out and I was bleeding from my temple.

20:Talk about something that happened in high school. In Jr. Year I was pulling into the parking lot but I was texting and I accidentally put half my car on grass area near the side walk luckily it was 7am and only one person saw me do it lol

One summer going into our senior year we had a party at Michelle’s house. First of all we were very drunk and Coby’s parents were like we are coming over and we cleaned TF UP so fast and sat on the couch and turned on I Know What You Did Last Summer and his parents were like interesting and and left and then we continued to drink anyways- we started playing truth or dare and my friend Angelica was like I dare u to kiss Anthony (someone I had liked prior) and he wouldnt and we started attacking him and calling him homophobic and hitting him with pillows lmao- him and I are still friend-ish

21:Talk about a time you had to turn someone down. I can’t think of something right now.

Literally anyone on grindr.

22:Talk about your worst fear. I’m afraid of having no career and being stuck doing something I hate and living paycheck to paycheck

Yeah, I’m scared of that still but I.. think just like being broke and jobless. RN with the pandemic we aren’t really working and still getting gov’t assistance, so.  IDK being a real real adult scares me a lot. 

23:Talk about a time someone turned you down. I can’t think of a time :)

One time in like 2016 maybe idk - this dude told me to come over and he lived far like not that far maybe 25 minutes lol far for me anyways I got to his apartment and there was a gate code and i asked him what it was and he didnt answer and it was like 2-3am and nobody was coming in or out and so i was like damn this sucks lmao

24:Talk about something someone told you that meant a lot. Nothing really has meant a lot to me. Everyone tells me the same thing over and over again and its so surface level

I still can’t think of anything but I’m sure the friends I have met since this and my friends Faith, Michelle, Peter, and Alisa have said something supportive that meant a lot to me. 

25:Talk about an ex-best friend. Angelica Ramirez. She was my best friend for only 3 years, but together we went through A LOT of shit. We started out senior year just fine, but she lied about a few things and made a lot of us feel like crap in October. I won’t lie, I do miss her. We have too many memories to just forget, too many funny stories and great adventures. She helped me with too much, and sometimes I think about how I cut her out of my life and I mad a bad choice. But only time can heal things and I have moved on and truly found people that won’t make me mad every 30 seconds. 

Brianna Pajak, I don’t remember anything about her except she was poor and we stopped being friends because she always wanted to fight and be annoying. 

26:Talk about things you do when you’re sick. Lay on bed on my computer and watch TV

I normally just suffer and cry about wishing I was healthy again.

27:Talk about your favorite part of someone else’s body. Their…!!>>>??? 

I must have nice hands and ur nose must be nice too! so nose and hands. lol

28:Talk about your fetishes. none

yeah I don’t have any lol not that I can think of. 

29:Talk about what turns you on. Idk i really like kissing and touching and this is awkward. 

30:Talk about what turns you off. bad breath by

that and ugly/rough hands, acne sorry i know it is natural but, shorter than me lol, white people, long hair on guys, and thats about it i think hm i am single yes 

31:Talk about what you think death is like. I think its like idk its scary tho

um idk i dont like thinking about death because i literally want to cry when i think about it. 

32:Talk about a place you remember from your childhood. I remember being in trees a lot

My step grandma’s a lot because my parents were working and she would watch us. She passed away about a month ago :( 

33:Talk about what you do when you are sad. I usually only tell one person and that person is Alisa and I cry sometimes to her and expect her to make things better and she does thank u

I be doing the same thing, I text someone and that person could really be anyone but it happened the other day and I texted Bri and she was very helpful. 

34:Talk about the worst physical pain you’ve endured. I have no idea, I’ve never broken pulled strained twisted fractures or anything i have no life

I still haven’t done any of that stuff to my body. I also have burn scars but I did not feel those when it was happening. I would just say i guess my wisdom teeth coming in because I did not get them removed. I have 3 out lol.

35:Talk about things you wish you could stop doing. Pushing potential love interests away 

I have had some ‘love interests’ since this post, but it’s been about a year now since and I kind of push away the opportunity of getting close to someone. I also need to stop being a bitch sometimes. 

36:Talk about your guilty pleasures. eating 

I would say idk eating was a stupid answer. 

37:Talk about someone you thought you were in love with. never

I was in love and i didn’t ‘think’ I was in love. I don’t know what you mean by talk about them, they were my partner but we broke up hehe.

38:Talk about songs that remind you of certain people. Fireflies by Owl City reminds me of my 7th grade crush Fancy by Iggy Azalea reminds me of my two friends Michelle and Alisa idk anything else

um Idk. i rly cant think  39:Talk about things you wish you’d known earlier. I wish I would have known that

That it’s okay to tell people you’re struggling lol . That is okay to fail sometimes (school).  40:Talk about the end of something in your life. everything is just about to start

When I ended how to get away with murder I wish I never did I love that show with all my heart. 

[foolishlovebugbaby]

ten-thousand miles gone

prologue

summary: they say time heals all wounds, but the one left by han jisung on your heart is one that you still treat tenderly. alternatively; han jisung reappears into your life like a whirlwind, knocking you off of your feet, after leaving you without a goodbye.

genre: angst

warnings: nothing triggering or rated

word count: 6k

note: in my head, the mind map of the way this particular fic ended went in so many directions, but this was very draining to write so i settled on the one that wouldn’t leave you hanging. 

been travelling these wide roads for so long my heart’s been far from you ten-thousand miles gone

In your younger years, life had always seemed to move gradually. Time seemed to be muffled by all the firsts and seconds that came and went like waves, distracting everyone from the reality of growing pains. But college certainly ripped off that bandaid, a cushion no longer supporting your fall into the harsh realities of life. 

Second semester of sophomore year had just ended, so now every college student across the country was making a beeline for the airports and bus stations, with tickets home clasped tightly between hands that were potentially developing carpal tunnel syndrome. Luckily for you, home was two train rides and a taxicab away. But like all your independent adventures of navigating life unhinged, no journey would be complete without twenty-something voicemails from your mother telling you to padlock your luggage and some vague, superstitious advice she read on Facebook. 

[To ma: yes, i didnt forget to pack your scarf and no, im not going to drink ginger and ginseng to ward off bad train spirits.]

[From ma: thank you. suit yourself , you will be bad spirit magnet !]

You chuckle and shove your phone into your pocket, hailing a cab with one hand while the other slings an abnormally large duffle bag over your shoulder. “North-Hill train station please.” You say to the cab driver and shove your luggage into the seat next to you. 

You let out a tired sigh and slump into the pleather seats. Butterflies swarmed your stomach- you always seemed to get them whenever you went back home. Back to the place of some of your greatest and worst memories. Somehow, through the years, the fear of seeing him again in that godforsaken town died down, because the thought of ever being able to see him again at all proved itself to be almost impossible. 

Even a fool knows this, you’re the best thing I’ve got…

You almost choke on your spit when that song comes on the radio. Of course that song had to come on so conveniently in the middle of your trip down melancholy lane. You have half a mind to reach over and turn the radio off, but decide against it when you see the cute old man bobbing his head to it. 

So instead your mind traces its steps back a few moments until all you’re reminded of is him. 

In your head you remember all these great experiences- graduation day, senior prom, camp nights during wintertime and summer carnivals down at the boardwalk. But then your mind tortures you and conjures up these images of what it would’ve been like to have experienced it all with him next to you and suddenly the memories become less fond. It’s treacherous, really, being your own worst enemy. But you learnt the hard way that time slows down for no one. 

When you get to the train station, you move in a daze. The muscle memory of validating your ticket and walking to the platform does all the work for you. And usually that would be a good thing, except now it only allowed you to stay in your head a lot more. It’s funny, really, how everytime you see posters and billboards of his group around you don’t flinch. Not anymore at least. Because you don’t know him anymore, and he’s probably forgotten about you.

Sometimes, you’re convinced he was just a character that your very active imagination conjured up to fill gaps in your life with meaning. But every time you open a picture of the pair of you way back when, you’re met with the reality that he was real. Even if it was just for a short amount of time, he was visible to you. Tangible. And meant galaxies to you. 

[From mama han: cant wait 2 see u back again ! have dinner with us soon xoxo] 

You smile fondly down at your phone once you’re situated in your seat, typing out a reply to the woman you consider a second mom. 

You thanked the universe for still keeping her in your life. Sure, her son would probably be known to you as the biggest jackass to exist for eternity, but she would remain sweet and tender in your heart for longer than that. 

[To mama han: can’t wait to see you too:)]

You don’t confirm your spot at their dinner table, because frankly speaking, the last time you stepped foot in their house was the summer before university when you went to drop off a box of jisung’s things that you found in your room- sweatshirts, t-shirt’s, notes and other miscellaneous items that demanded you remember every miniscule moment spent with him. And since then you’ve found every excuse not to go near that place. You knew it probably hurt the woman whenever you conjured up some arbitrary excuse to not dig in to her incredible cooking, but the finger is to be pointed at Han Jisung and Han Jisung only. Screw him. 

She sometimes tries to address the elephant in the room whenever you do get to talk during her visits at your childhood home. Like It would be great to have you both visit at the same time or Would you like me to call him? I’m sure he’s not busy right now. Yeah, subtle as a gun, but you love her still. 

You’re not one to believe in luck, and if you did you’d actually quite fancy yourself as the most unluckiest person of them all, but you thank the heavens that he’s never been back home the same time as you have. Either that, or you’re just way too good at being further than a 10-mile radius from him. Like last semester break, when you got word from one of your childhood friends that he would be in town so you decided to cancel all your plans of going back home under the guise of going on a group excursion somewhere up north. Obviously, all you did was stay in your dorm and binge watch Gossip Girl for three weeks, but you concluded that anything would be better than having to confront your demons- or demon. Singular.

What would you even say if you saw him? Realistically, not that much. Ideally, you’d destroy him with words. All that pent up anger for him leaving you behind and all the unresolved feelings left to concentrate in an urn you buried deep in yourself exploding like Pandora's box right before him. 5 years passed, and yet you still found it difficult to imagine what a conversation would be like with him again. 

Honestly, you’d tell him to stay a while longer, just so that he’d remain vivid in your memories once he decided to leave again. 

When the taxi cab pulled up in front of your childhood home, you were half asleep and in desperate need of a solid meal. “Thanks, keep the change,” you say groggily as you pass the money to the driver. 

You take a deep breath once you’re out of the car, your duffle bag slung around your frame. It’s been a very long time since you were last here. The months seemed to pile up without you noticing, and now that you think about it, it had been a good whole year that passed. You don’t know where the time went, but you were definitely here now. 

You trudge up to the door, ringing the bell once. “Hey ma,” You say as she squeals and pulls you in for a hug. “I’m glad you’re back in one piece, especially since you ignored my advice.” She says pointedly and ushers you in. “Yeah, well, I guess the train spirits didn’t feel like victimising me today.” She looks at you with her mouth hung open and slaps your arm. 

“Don’t say that!” She’s about to scold you more when your dad enters the living room in his pajama pants. “My daughter finally decides to show her face around here! Send in the doves!” You always knew that you got your flare for drama from your dad. 

“How are you doing sweetie, we missed you.” He gives you a big bear hug and you sigh. “I know, it’s been too long.” 

“There is not enough time in this world to mope around! Now, darling, it’s very late so your father and I are off to bed. There’s some leftovers for you in the toaster oven in case you get hungry,” They both smother you in a hug and you almost suffocate. “We’d love to hear all about your university in the morning. Sleep tight honey.” 

And so you’re left to your own devices. Again. Sighing, you reluctantly head up the stairs and make your way into your old room. A smile finds its place on your lips.

The room is oddly clean- you figured your mother must have emotionally cleaned in here (more than once) during your time away from home. But the walls are still the same ugly navy blue, and your star-print curtains remained planted in front of your windows with planet decorations all over the ceiling to match. Funny. He helped you decorate. Said it made your room feel like the universe was just the two of you.

You didn’t know that what he really meant was that you were his safe place.

You spend a good thirty-minutes unpacking, tinkering around your old room and texting your friends about your trip home. It feels like an eternity passed when you finally decide to listen to your growling stomach and go get something to eat. But you’re picky and nothing in your kitchen seems to entice you enough to devour it, so you swipe your house keys off the kitchen countertop and head to your door. 7-Eleven it is. You’re dressed in a pair of leggings and a pink sweater with fluffy slides to match, but you could care less.

As you walk out of your driveway and head down your street, you pass by his house. The lights are off (of course, since it’s an ungodly 1AM) and it practically looked like a dollhouse. 

You turn your gaze away. 

The walk to the local 7-Eleven is only 5 Hozier tracks away, so you reach there in no time. Your tummy growls when you enter, and you immediately head to the instant section. Hmm, ramen, tteokbokki or pasta, choices choices choices…

You’re too busy pondering to notice the figure clad in sweats and a baseball cap standing frozen at the end of the aisle, gaping like a fish your way. He practically isn’t breathing, but your presence had knocked the wind right out of his chest. 

“Y-Y/n?” He manages to breathe out, and you look around, confused. Did someone just say my name?

Your eyes slowly turn to his figure, and you can barely see who it is from afar. Tan skin can be seen from the collar under his hoodie, and dirty-blonde hair peeks out at the ends of his baseball cap. You feel like you’re seeing things, because you know that baseball cap. You bought it. 

Slowly, your eyes trail over his face, and you feel the air leave your lungs.

Jisung still remembers the last time he saw you. Well, the last time he saw you before he didn’t say goodbye. 

It was a Thursday afternoon, History class had just ended. On the way out, he caught a glimpse of you. He hadn’t seen much of you the entire week, but that was because he was actively trying to avoid you. But there you were, at your locker putting away your books with that puppy-dog expression you always wore whenever you were tired and in need of a good nap. He stood for a few moments, taking you in. Even if your hair was messily up in a bun with a hoodie two sizes too big drowning your frame, he still thought you looked like an absolute dream. He wanted to go up to you and ask you how was calculus? And when you pout and say boring, he would suggest you come over for some hot chocolate and a movie. And you would say yes, with a sleepy, lopsided smile, and his body would feel all warm and fuzzy at the sight of you.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he leaves his heart by the lockers, and with one last look, he walks away. His jacket does nothing to warm the cold that creeps its way up.

Had he known he wouldn’t get to see you one last time after that, he would’ve watched you for a few seconds longer. Had he known that you would fall sick and stay home from school the day before his flight, he would have told you to take better care of yourself. And had he known that the last time he’d see you would be when you’re drained and tired and down, he would have gone up to you to make you smile, one last time. 

He never stopped recreating pictures of you in his head, fearing the outlines of you would fade. 

Except now, as you stand a mere six feet away, he feels as though you stepped out of his mind and into his world once again. He can see you. You’re there. 

None of the pictures of you that he drew up in his head would ever compare to the way you looked right then. Beautiful, just as he remembered you.

Your name feels like a foreign language when it leaves his lips. 

The air is so thick between the pair of you that it makes everything around him slow down. He sees your eyes move from confusion, to shock, to utter fear and bewilderment, and then to pain. It feels as though a knife impaled his heart when he sees your eyes quiver.

He always loved your eyes. Dark brown, like freshly turned over earth, warmed by the sun. They look at him with sorrow now. 

Your arms drop to your sides and your lips quake, “J-Jisung?” God, he forgot what it was like to hear his name in your voice. He hates that it’s said with so much heartache. 

You run out without thinking twice. 

“Stop, slow down! W-wait!” You hear his voice call out for you, but you continue to run- where? You don’t know. You just wanted to get away. Your feet take you far down the sidewalk, lamp-posts your only source of light at this time of night. 

But you’re not fast enough, and for the first time in a long time, you feel his grip on your arm.

“Let go of me,” You say, your voice already breaking. He breaks with it.

“Y/N listen-” He pants out.

“No, let go of me!” You snatch your arm away from his grip. God, you’re furious. And hurt. And every other emotion there is to feel when you see the person who left you with nothing.

Your raised voice startles the two of you, and you both stand there for a moment, breathless. From running, from shock. 

He doesn’t say anything and just gapes at you, “Well?” You provoke pointedly. “What? Cat got your tongue?” 

“No ‘Hey y/n! How’ve you been? Long time no see since, you know, I abandoned you’.” You say harshly and the knife in his heart twists. 

“I know you’re hurt-” You cut him off.

“Hurt? Hurt? Hurt doesn’t even come close to what I feel, Jisung.” All the words you want to spew get caught in the back of your throat and you fight yourself to keep it together because you don’t want him to see you cry. You don’t want him to catch you vulnerable and raw, because you don’t know if you can trust him with that part of you again.

“Can we please just- can we please just talk?” He begs, and you scoff. “Please?” His eyes plead with you, and you frustratedly run a hand through your hair. 

“So talk.” You cross your arms over your chest and look at anywhere but him. He doesn’t say anything, and each time he tries to, all he does is end up biting his tongue. Where does he even begin?

“I’m sorry,” He croaks out, even though it’s the worst thing to say. 

“Great. All is forgiven.” You’re ruthless, but that’s only because he didn’t show any mercy when he left. 

He searches your eyes, not knowing what he could say to make things right. Or if that was even a possibility anymore. You both stand in silence for a while, and slowly your resolve breaks away.

“Why?” You say, your voice coarse and exhausted. “Why’d you do it? I tortured myself for months- no, years asking myself what I did wrong that caused you to leave me like that. What- was it something I said? Something I did? Please- tell me, I’m begging you,” You’re full-on sobbing now, tears flowing down your face like waves. They twinkle in the warm streetlights and he feels the ground beneath him crumble. The wound he left on your heart was ripped open again, and you couldn’t help but bleed in front of him. “P-please, Jisung. It’s been killing me for so long.” 

Tears leave his eyes, “It wasn’t your fault,” He says softly. 

“Then what was it? Because for all this time I broke myself down, questioning why you left like that. For so long I thought you were mad at me- I thought you became tired of me, bored of having me around. Do you know what that’s like? Tearing yourself apart to find answers you know you can’t answer by yourself?” “Shit, I thought you didn’t need me anymore. Which sucked, because I needed you.” You whisper through ragged breaths and he takes careful steps closer to you. 

“Of course I still needed you- I haven’t stopped needing you, y/n.” His voice is as broken as yours.

“Then why?” Your voice is barely above a whisper and you struggle so hard to not fall to the ground. 

“Do you know what it felt like to wake up one morning, clueless and thinking everything was fine, and then finding out that it was, in fact, not? Do you know what it was like to find out the person you cared for the most up and left you alone and with no explanation- not even a single goodbye? To be desperate to hear his voice again, and wonder to yourself why it was so easy for him to cut you off like that?” He stood right in front of you, so close that he could touch you. 

“I searched for you. I still looked for you in the hallways at school, hoping it was just one of your stupid pranks. I waited in my room for you to climb up to my window again and whisk me away to the park for one of our late-night walks. I called your phone for days, just in case you’d finally get annoyed and pick up. You never did. You never did,” You didn’t notice that your face was in his hands and that he tried so desperately to wipe your tears away, his own streaming down his face.

He sucked in a breath, “I left like that because I knew that I wouldn’t be able to get on that plane with you watching. That I would drop everything, all my stupid dreams, to stay in this stupid town for god knows how long with you. Leaving you was the most painful part,” 

“That day I found out I passed the audition- do you remember? You were so happy for me, more happy than I was. The only thing on my mind was the fact that I had to leave everything behind to chase after this dream- to chase after a dream that came true because of you. I wasn’t sure anymore. But you were so sure of me, so ready to see me attain everything we talked about, that the thought of all of that being in vain because of my cowardice ate me up inside. I thought that maybe if I could keep you at a distance- make you mad at me for ignoring you, have you hate me- that it would make it a little easier to let you go of me,” Your lips quiver.

“It wasn’t easy-”

“I know, I know that.” He rests his forehead against yours and squeezes his eyes shut as he hears your soft sobs. “It was so that I wouldn’t have a memory of leaving you behind in an airport. I wasn’t ready to have that image in my mind haunt me. I’ve regretted it everyday. You have to believe me when I say that.” 

“Then why didn’t you call back? Or even send a message?” Your eyes search his for answers as you pull your forehead away from his to get a clearer look.

“I thought you hated me. That you didn’t want anything to do with me anymore.” 

“Bullshit. You thought wrong.” Angrily, you push at his chest with closed fists and shut eyes, “You thought wrong,” You push him away until you’re no longer in his grip. “Let me go,” You whimper when he tries to reach for you again. “That doesn’t justify why you left me like that. I felt like I meant nothing to you for so long. You threw me away like I didn’t mean anything- made me feel like I was insignificant.”

“You meant everything to me!” He shouts out, shocking you into silence. “Don’t you see it?” When you only stare at him in confusion, he sucks in a breath. 

“The mere thought of leaving you was enough for me to think twice. Sitting with you in French class and giggling because we didn’t understand a word, spending so many nights with you in your ridiculous dinosaur onesie, getting to walk around aimlessly until 4am in this godforsaken town as if time wasn’t fleeting- I-,” He runs a hand over his face, frustratedly wiping his tears away. “I wasn’t ready for it to be over. I didn’t want to miss graduation, the day we looked forward to since grade school. I didn’t want to facetime you on prom night while you look so goddamn beautiful, knowing that someone else would be getting to slow dance with you. Knowing that I wouldn’t be there, that I would be missing out- that I would be missing you every goddamn day made me realise I wouldn’t be able to last without you.” 

“Selfishly ripping you apart from me felt like the only option. And it was so cruel, I know that. I’m the selfish asshole,” He takes exactly five steps to stand in front of you, and places a hand tenderly on your cheek. 

“I was selfish because I knew I couldn’t have you. I was in love with you, y/n. So fucking in love and you didn’t even know. And after all this time, I still am.” He says that last sentence in a whisper, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

His mouth is so warm against yours, so tender, and yet they set your skin on fire. 

You pull away and take two steps back. 

“Y-you don’t get to kiss m-me like that, not again,” You say breathless. You’re reminded of sophomore year, and the kiss in his living room that made you feel weightless and lightheaded.

“Y/n-”

“I think we’ve talked enough for tonight,” Your heart hammers in your chest and the blood rushes to your face so fast that you swear you’re shivering. His eyes are illuminated by the streetlamps and you see them break right before you, defeated. Yours are no different. 

You walk away, choking back sobs.

He doesn’t try to stop you.

It’s 4PM when you decide to get out of bed. 

Your eyes are practically closed shut from your lack of sleep and you don’t bother to brush your hair, or undrape the blanket around your shoulders when you head downstairs. Your parents are sitting in the living room, oblivious and unassuming, but when they see you they almost go into cardiac arrest. 

“What’s wrong?” Your mother asks tentatively, extremely unsure as to why her daughter looked so abnormally disheveled. “Did you know he was going to be back in town?” You croak out, and she sighs. 

“So you saw him.” She states, and your dad pretends to read the newspaper. 

“Why didn’t you tell me ma, you know what happened-”

“Exactly; everyone knows what happened, and everyone knows how ruined you’ve both been because of it. But nothing’s going to change if you keep sweeping it under the rug. Honey, I know you’re hurting,” She rests a hand on your cheek and you close your eyes at the feeling. “But this is your chance to get closure.”

“What if I don’t want it anymore?”

“Oh that’s a load of cow dung. Look at you; you’re a mess.” Gee, thanks mom. 

She bites her lip and pauses for a second, “What if I told you that during your first year in college, the very first semester you were away, he came back? It was the autumn before things took off for him, and he showed up in town looking for you everywhere, not knowing you had left. I felt so bad, but you’re my daughter, and my first instinct was to protect you because I knew that for the first time in a long time, you were enjoying yourself. So I didn’t give him your new number, said your phone was broken, and he was absolutely heartbroken. I regret it slightly, but maybe this time you both can stop being constantly out of step.” 

Your mouth hung agape and your head spun. He looked for me?

“Don’t leave things like this, you need each other.” She gives you a squeeze, and you sigh. 

She was right. Years passed with so many things left unsaid, so much time gone. And as much as you hated to admit it, you were never going to get that time back. It would kill you knowing that you didn’t take the chance to fix things. You were already broken down to your bones, what’s left to chip away?

You uncoil yourself from your blanket and fling it onto the couch, groaning when you realise you’re going to have to face him again. The events that had elapsed last night were still hard to wrap your mind around, and you found yourself wondering if it ever did happen. You could already feel your heart pound at the thought of it. His words float in your mind ceaselessly; so much so that when you step out of your house, you almost miss the slumped figure on your sidewalk.

He gets up at the sound of your door closing. 

His hair was messy, pointing every which way, and the same clothes from earlier were now wrinkled and crimped. His eyes devastated you. They looked worn down and exhausted, much like yours did. 

“Walk with me?” He breathes out, and you nod. 

Seeing him in daylight is different. As you two walk, you become increasingly aware of exactly how much he’s grown. He used to be only a few centimeters taller than you, but now you only reach his chin. Barely. But his skin is the same golden tan and his cheeks remained full. You’re close enough that you can smell his scent- a scent you didn’t know you missed until now. But in retrospect, you just missed him. 

You both reach the small park in the middle of your neighborhood, and you find yourselves under the big oak tree that he had deemed our spot all those years ago. You look up into his eyes, and for a moment you remember what it’s like to feel home again.

“Do you remember the first time we found this place? You were always so terrible at hide and seek.” 

You find yourself smiling at the memory. He hid from you, behind this very tree, for so long that it had felt like you spent hours searching for him. When you finally did find him, you were angry and upset with him with red cheeks to match. 

“That’s only because you were always so good at hiding from me,” There’s ambiguity that you didn’t intend in that statement, which brings you both back to silence. 

After a while, you gather the courage to speak again. “So about that kiss-” He winces and scratches the back of his neck.

“I’m sorry for catching you off-guard like that last night-”

“I’m talking about the one on your birthday, sophomore year.” His lips squeeze into a tight line and his round eyes stare at you dumbfoundedly. 

“I-I always thought you never remembered that. You never brought it up, so I thought that it was just a mistake.” You fiddle with your fingers and gnaw at your bottom lip, feeling the heat creep to the back of your neck. 

“Y/n, it was never a mistake. I wanted to kiss you- and I did- because I was sick of being confused about my feelings for you.” You look back up at him, “I didn’t bring it up because I was too scared of scaring you away with it all.”

“Well you should’ve, so that I wouldn’t be so confused either.” His expression changes, and you didn’t think it was possible, but it becomes even more defeated than it was a few moments ago. He rubs his face with his face with his hands, leaning against the tree. 

He’s about to speak again, but your lips reach his before he gets the chance.

His soft cheeks rest in your hands as you taste him, soaking in the feeling of his warm lips against yours. This time, for the first time, the kiss lasts longer than a few seconds. 

The sensation sends shivers up your arms and down your spine. When he kisses you back, he kisses you with so much fervour that you’re worried you’ll pass out at the feeling. But his arms grip you tightly around your waist to keep you there, with him, firmly in place. Your mind is fuzzy and your heart beats erratically in your chest when he squeezes your waist. Craving him like this is new to you, and yet you can’t help but yearn for more. 

Where words failed you before, you make up for it in slow dances across his lips. 

“It was worth it, right?” Your question comes as a surprise to him. 

Earlier, when the sun had begun to set, the two of you decided that public parks were not exactly the most ideal place to have a heart-to-heart. So you walked back to his place, hands shoved in to the depths of your pockets, but your shoulders brushing against his with every step. 

The two of you laid face to face on his bed, pillow-width apart. 

“Leaving, yes. Hurting you, not at all.” He answers quietly, his hand drawing circles on the small of your back. 

Under his bedroom lights, you take his breath away. His eyes trace over your features, over every dip and bump of the outlines of your face and he hopes that this vision of you never leaves him. He takes in every mole and freckle on your face like it’s the first time he’s seen them, when the reality is that he always used to map out constellations on your cheeks while you slept. He’s afraid that if he blinks, you’ll vanish again, so he tries to keep his gaze steady on yours, unwavering and certain. The way he looks at you sends the butterflies in your stomach into a frenzy.

“I miss you,” You say, your voice meek and he feels his heart break all over again. “I miss you too.” You both speak in present-tense because even though he could touch you, see you, he knew it would take an indefinite amount of time for the pain of losing so many moments to heal. 

He pulls you into him, savouring the feeling of your embrace. Holding you makes him feel at home, and god knows he’s been away for so long. You nestle into the crook of his neck, and his hands rest under your sweater and on supple skin, willing your pain to go away. 

There are an infinite amount of things he wants to tell you, but he figures “I love you.” would suffice for now. 

Life never slowed down. As much as it felt like it had when you spent your days with him again, the days piled up one by one. And soon enough, time caught up. 

Soon enough, you would need to book your train ticket back to the city, because your three-week long semester break would draw to a close. He would have to book a plane ticket back to glitz and glamour, and the pair of you would wind up in the same dilemma that you were in five years ago. 

Only this time, he never leaves your side during your fleeting time together. This time, he tries to make up for all the lost moments within the span of three weeks. He doesn’t let go of any chance to be with you- to hold you, to touch you, to kiss you. He imprints the feeling of his skin on yours so that you never forget. So that he never forgets. Your eyes are cosmic in the moments that you share intimately, and he soaks up every inch of you so that he never forgets what it feels like to share the same breath. 

He listens to all your stories and all your bizarre adventures with a fond smile, because you tell them with such wonder that it makes him feel like he was there. Your voice is the only one he wants in his head. 

When he drops you off at the station, he doesn’t say goodbye. But not like last time; he doesn’t say goodbye because instead he says I’ll see you soon and Get there safely. When he watches the train pull away from the platform, he prays he sees it soon again because it carries his heart with him. 

He likes to imagine that you send him voice notes of your day and how frustrated you are with you OChem professor. That you send him pictures of yourself, and all the cute little cats you come across during your walks to class. That you send him long letters in the mail like the hopeless romantic that you are. In return, he would introduce you to his members- he knows you’d get along with Hyunjin the best, because you both would like to bitch about him while he’s still in the room. He likes the idea of facetiming you whenever you have the time, and getting to say he misses you, even if it’s only through a screen. He likes to imagine that in every lyric he writes, an essence of you treads in his words, because you’re his only muse. And he envisions the day when he’s finally back in the town where time slows, up in your room where the rest of the world crumbles away and your slates are clean once again. 

But for now he watches as the train becomes nothing but a speck in the distance, waiting for it all to play out.

[nad-zeta]

ikevamp please~?\ (•◡•) /

i realised i never requested an actual ikevamp match-up, so imma throw this in here if you don’t mind, please and thank you~.

heterosexual gemini female, isfp, slytherin & chaotic neutral. my style is edgy, but leaning towards casual, too. i like interesting details and aesthetics!

many people say that my initial vibe is pretty intimidating, or at least reserved and mysterious. though, around my friends i am more relaxed and chill, and love to laugh and crack jokes! i also tease a lot~.

but i am, in fact, a reserved person — it takes me a lot of time to open up about my honest feelings and to trust someone. that makes me quite a hermit; i’m on good or neutral terms with many people, but i have just a handful of friends i consider close.

i can be lazy and uninterested, but when something piques my interest or when i’m challenged, i can be a very, very stubborn one! i’m opinionated, but i always try to see a bigger picture and imagine the story from different angles — in that way, i consider myself a very realistic person. i used to be more confrontational in the past, and these days i’m more passive. i try to be tolerant, but i can also get annoyed and irritated easily. i am a ‘forgive but don’t forget’ type of person.

i’m extremely curious and have wide palette of interests, some of which are medicine, botany, arts, astronomy, astrology, and such. i love to explore and learn, and i like activities like hiking. spiritual topics are also my thing, and i simply love to think and wonder. i may like to bake, but the domestic jobs in general aren’t my jam. i also get bored very easily!

i like to be helpful, and my self-worth is defined by being useful or making other smile, so i like giving gifts to my friends, even if it’s just buying them their favourite chocolate bar or so. that ‘giving’ trait of mine is not quite well known, though, and i suppose that it is because of my initial personality that people consider me rather selfish and self-centred instead.

my love language is definitely physical touch, along with giving gifts or acts of service. i’m pretty much touch starved — i will kiss, hug, even bite someone shamelessly and out of endearment ( i can be the tough love kind ). i can also have a bit darker tendencies, but generally i simply crave intimacy. in those terms, i’m more of a 'actions speak louder than words’ person, as i find it embarrassing and shallow to say 'i love you’ often or too soon. i will be poetically affectionate, though.

i do not act affectionate in front of people, though, so if you ask most of my classmates, you’ll probably hear about how they think that i must despise anything to do with contact and lovey stuff.

in terms of romantic interests and relationships, i’m someone who appreciates communication, trust and intellectual bond along with the physical one. i’m also not a fan of people who are uncertain in terms of their feelings or are unstable or unreliable as partners.

Hi hi, dear! Thank you so much for the request! ❤❤🌻Sorry for taking sooooooo long with this!😳❤ I hope you enjoy this love and I hope you have the best day!😊🔥 Hehe TBH I was between 2 of the vampy bios, but then I finally made up my mind and decided on…… 

So I match you with……..Vincent

The first time this angel sees you, he took an instant liking to you, he could see past that cold, intimidating exterior of yours and straight into the depths of your soul and boy did he want to befriend you. He was the first one to break the ice among the men to introduce himself to you. You were super reserved, so you didn’t say very much that first night with all the vampy bois. When you had left to retire for the night, Theo couldn’t help but loudly state what everyone was thinking, and that was that you were crazy intimidating. Vincent stared up at his brother confused he definitely didn’t get any intimidating vibes from you, if anything he found himself drawn to your mysterious reserved vibe.

The next morning you made your way to the dining room to help with breakfast. You loved to bake, so when Sabastian tasked you with making the van Gogh’s pancakes you were over the moon. You made a hefty stack of pancakes placed it down in front of the two Dutch brothers. They eagerly loaded up their plated munching down on the stack, to say Vincent was in love would be an understatement. Those were truly the best pancakes he had ever eaten in his whole life. The blond man stuffed his face with the light and airy pancakes. He low key looked like a cute chipmunk with the way he eagerly chomped down every last pancake on his plate. You sat down beside them and smiled at a job well down. Once the stack vanished, Vincent beamed his sunshine smile at you and asked if you would make him pancakes again sometime, cause they were honestly just so good. Even Theo chimed in giving you a compliment in his own way.

You helped Sabastian out with the housework, but honestly, you were getting bored you never really liked doing too many domestic work type tasks. As you cleaned,  you wandered into a bright room filled to the brim with painting and art supplies. You couldn’t help but marvel at the gorgeous painting hung on the wall. It was just filled with so much emotion and seemed to come, alive telling a story of wonder and hidden beauty. You were awakened out of your reverie by a soft voice, “are you also a fellow lover of the arts.” You gave Vincent a small smile and nod. Vincent then told you that he was on his way with Napoleon to give an Art class to his students and invited you along with him.

You spent the afternoon with Vincent painting and honestly having the best time with the children. It wasn’t an art class as much as a fun time painting and letting your imagination flow onto the canvas. 

You honestly loved helping out at this little makeshift school that Napoleon had started. Since that first day, you had been going with Vincent more and more, to help out and teach the children some cool new skills. You loved helping people and making them happy, and to say that the children loved you would be an understatement. They loved coming to you for help with their work, and would always thank you and give you the biggest hug whenever they finally manage to grasp the concept that they had been struggling to understand. Honestly you loved to make people happy and teaching at this street school was way better than doing housework so it was honestly a win win. Plus you got to spend even more time with Vincent which was always filled with smiles and laughter.

Often after teaching the children, you and Vincent would wander around the streets of Paris just taking in the sights. The two of you actually bonded over your mutual love for aesthetics and whenever the two of you would come across and art exhibition, you wouldn't hesitate to enter. The two of you would spend hours looking at the beautiful pieces, appreciating all the interesting details and emotions the artist managed to convey into the art together. You loved spending time with the ray of sunshine, and you couldn’t help but show your true personality with him. As the two of you would wander around town, you found yourself opening up more and more to Vincent and letting him in. 

You felt like you could be yourself with him and Vincent absolutely adored you. He loved the jokes you would crack as the two of you would walk around. He found them hilarious, and whenever the two of you were together, Vincent would always be left in a fit of laughter from some or other the joke that you would crack. 

Vincent, of course, is used to being teased by Theo, so it is definitely not uncommon for the angel to tease you a little in return as well. Whenever the two of you are together, the room is always filled with smiles and laughter. It has even gotten to that point where you and the angel have inside jokes and whenever someone in the mansion does or says something, both of you lock eyes and burst out laughing

Vincent loved it when you would help him and Theo set up art exhibitions. Not that you complained you loved being helpful and honestly you would do anything the help Vincent, especially if it meant getting to see that radiant smile of his. The more Vincent spent time with you to more utterly and entirely in love, he fell with you. 

He loved that you would occasionally give him small, thoughtful little gifts. Every-time, you presented him with a tiny hand made gift his heart melted into a puddle of goo. Of course, don’t think that Vincent has forgotten about you, as often this angel surprises you with tiny trinkets of his own. You seem to have occupied this sweet angels mind, so he cant help but buy you small little gifts that he sees in the shop windows, especially if they remind him of you. He would legit go to the ends of the earth and back just to see that excited glimmer in your eyes whenever he gives you the smallest of gifts. One of you favorite gifts so far was when he presented you with a single flower of your favorite flower, with a small ribbon and note wrapped around its stem to read, “a flower to remind you of how wonderful you are.” 

Since finding out that you have in interest in astronomy and astrology, he actually had Isaac make you your very own telescope. He loves to listen to you go on for hours and hours, explaining the difference between the two and teaching him everything you know about astrology and astronomy. He finds it incredibly fascinating. Since learning that you seem to love the night sky, it is not uncommon for him to lead you out into the garden to an awaiting blanket spread out on the floor, so the two of you can stargaze together. He will definitely in these moments ask you more about astronomy as you watch the glimmering universe above you.

You and Vincent love love love to hike and explore different places together. Its always super fun to explore and find a new beautiful scenery to paint and appreciate. Recently the two of you had discovered a field filled with every type of flower imaginable. You would usually stand beside Vincent and paint. But that day you were not really in the mood to do something artsy, so you just sat on a rock in between the beautiful flowers and just wondered and thought, getting wholly and utterly lost in a daydream. Vincent who had turned around to ask you something, saw you staring off into the distance thinking and he just got completely inspired. He turned his easel around and placed a new blank canvas on the stand and started to paint the blinding scene of you sitting among the flowers and butterflies. 

When Vincent was done for the day he covered the painting before gently tapping you on the shoulder so that the two of you could make your way back home. You were incredibly curious about the new painting that Vincent had created, more so when Vincent said that you couldn’t see it yet as it was a surprise.

Finally, Vincent had finished the painting of you. With each stroke of the brush painting you among the beautiful scenery, his feelings for you grew stronger and stronger. Vincent invited you to his room that night to give you the painting, and you were overjoyed when you had read what was inscribes at the bottom, “To my dearest sunflower, I love you with all my heart, forever yours Vincent.” Vincent knew that with you, action always spoke louder than words so, in an attempt to make his feeling painfully clear he walked up close to you, until the two of you were nose to nose. He brought his hands to gently cradle your face, and then slowly leaned down to place a tender kiss on your lips.  

Vincent loves you with all his heart. He loves that you have a wide variety of interest and will gladly listen to you talk about them for hours and hours. He will even surprise you with a book on the topic of your newest interest. Love it when you sit in his room and read while he paints. Sometimes when he is done painting for the day, he will sit down behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder as you continue to get lost in your studies and thirst for knowledge. Sometimes he will read along with you, and then discuss what he had learned with you when you have had enough of reading for the day. He loves to listen to all your opinions and the new thing you had learned, he is especially intrigued when you talk about spiritual topics and will hang onto every word as you tell him everything you learned

He took you to meet his dear friend Shakespeare once and right off the bat you could tell he was up to no good. You tried to be tolerable and passive, however after spending an hour at his mansion you started getting annoyed and irritated. You were a stubborn realistic person who never judged a book by its cover and always strived to see the bigger picture, so you decided not to judge Shakespeare on face value. However, when the day came for the door to open to send you back home, Shakespeare appeared and decided to dictate his own romantic tragedy between you and Vincent. 

You could see the story from his angle and perspective and you could also see where he was coming from, but you were definitely not going to passively sit back and let him tear you apart from Vincent.

You had never seen Vincent angry before until that day. Vincent managed to take down Shakespeare and disarm him from the gun he was pointing at you, however, in the tussle, Vincent had been shot twice. Theo had managed to restrain Shakespeare, and you were never more thankful in your life for medical knowledge than at that moment. You and Arthur managed to patch Vincent up and thanks to his vampiric abilities he was recovering quickly. 

You had to laugh as during the whole saga between you and Shakespeare, Shakespeare had accused you of not loving his friend as during the whole visit you weren’t acting even the slighted bit affectionate towards Vincent. In fact, at first, Theo accused you of the same thing, however soon Theo realized that you were more private with your display of affection and welcomed you to his family with open arms.

You and Vincent both share the love language of physical touch and act of service. The two of you have an incredibly open, honest relationships based on communication and trust. It isn’t uncommon for you to sit on Vincent’s lap as the two of you talk about all sorts of random topics for hours and hours as he strokes your hair.

Vincent loves to shower you in sweet kisses and warm, comforting hugs. He can’t imagine anything better in the world than to just have you in his arms while he kisses you breathless for hours and hours. Beware as this angel like you, will bite. 

Vincent’s favourite is to just shower your face in sweet little kisses. He will legit start by kissing the top of your head and then make his way down to your forehead, then both your eyelids, your nose and then finally your lips. 

It’s through these sweet kisses that the two of you often communicate just how much you love each other, no words needed just action.

Other potential matches………….. Shakespeare

I hope you enjoyed this love! And I hope you have the best day! 🌻❤😊🔥@oikame

[marypsue]

who manifest their presences by shadows

This is just a short...experiment? Proof of concept? I challenged myself to write a take on some of the most popular fic tropes for Crimson Peak, just for fun. This one's 'OFC descendant of Edith and Thomas'. If I were to expand it to a full-length fic, it would involve ghosts (obviously), reincarnation and/or reincarnation-adjacent nonsense, and Laura (the OFC) finding Edith's novel and realising the past is trying to repeat itself, with some interesting and unexpected results.

The title comes from Angela Carter's short story 'The Lady of the House of Love'.

[on AO3]

...

It all started when Laura’s grandmother died.

They hadn’t exactly been close, but Grandmother Thomasina had been a lot closer to Laura than she had been to anyone else. Her husband had died before Laura was born, and she had no siblings. And Laura had been the only one who’d had any time for Grandmother Thomasina’s ghost stories.

Still, it came as a surprise to everyone when the will came out and they learned that, first, Grandmother Thomasina had owned a huge estate somewhere in England, and second, that she’d left it all to Laura.

Laura’s father advised her to just sell it all. It was a sizeable chunk of land. It likely would’ve taken care of her tuition. It was good advice. She should have taken it.

But somehow, Laura couldn’t bring herself to let Allerdale Hall go without ever seeing it for herself.

She wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t like the place had any particular meaning to her family, considering that most of them hadn’t even known it existed. Apparently Grandmother Thomasina had inherited it from her mother, who’d got it from her dead first husband – Thomasina’s namesake – and nobody’d been back to see it since he died. It sounded like there’d been some kind of scandal, maybe – he’d died pretty young. Or maybe after he died, the place had just held too many painful memories.

Either way, by all accounts, it sounded like kind of a dump. The title was not very descriptive, but Thomasina’s will called the estate ‘bleak’, and the hall itself had apparently had a hole in the roof and already been sinking when Great-Grandmother Edith had left, over a hundred years earlier. Laura wasn’t sure how a house could sink. But Grandmother Thomasina had always been prone to embellishment and artistic license, and according to her, Great-Grandmother Edith had been a writer. Between the two of them, Laura was pretty sure it was a metaphor. Somebody had read The Fall of the House of Usher one time too many.

Still, even if she got there and found nothing but a falling-down graffitied wreck in the middle of nowhere, Laura wanted to see it. There was something terribly romantic about the whole thing, about the idea of suddenly discovering she was the lady of a mysterious crumbling manor somewhere in a country she’d never seen. About how both Great-Grandmother Edith and Grandmother Thomasina had apparently kept it secret all these years. About the aura of mystery surrounding Great-Grandmother Edith’s never-spoken-of first husband.

So Laura had packed her bags, booked her flights, and, within a week, was face to face with what remained of Allerdale Hall.

There wasn’t much to come face to face with. Coming up the long drive, under the black wrought-iron arch and handful of tumbled bricks that apparently had once served as a gate, the place looked imposing and impressive up on the peak of the hill, all Gothic arches and jagged peaked roofs. Its empty windows struck Laura as staring eyes, taking in her approach. She knew it was just her imagination, but she couldn’t help but feel a cold dislike in that inanimate gaze.

But when Laura pulled the rented Range Rover up before the ruin, she saw two things in quick succession. One, why the locals had all called the place ‘Crimson Peak’. And two, what Grandmother Thomasina had meant by ‘sinking’.

It was no metaphor. Elaborate, lacy brick railings stood half-buried in the raw red ground as though growing up through it, little more than six inches showing above the earth. They partitioned off a wide, flat space around the door. Laura’s best guess was that the railing had once delineated a patio or drive that was now somewhere under the sucking red clay that clung to her boots. She was never going to be able to get it off, she could already tell.

The door itself might once have had stairs leading up to it, but now was packed close between the jutting brick constructions to either side of it with red earth. It stuck, badly, partly because it was sunk nearly a foot, if Laura had to guess, down into the clay. She could get it to jerk inward, in fits and starts, but something – maybe the dirt she’d displaced on the other side – always seemed to force it sharply closed again. Laura finally managed to force it just wide enough for her to sneak through, putting her shoulder against one ornately-decorated door and pushing with all her strength, her boots sliding in the dirt. And that was when she saw the third thing.

Allerdale Hall was gone.

The wind, howling through the shattered windows on either side of the short entryway, caught Laura’s hair and gave it a playful toss as she crossed the clay-drowned floor. She didn’t take more than five steps before she reached the crumbling remains of a stair, and stopped, staring out at the hilltop opening out before her.

The face of Allerdale Hall, so imposing and solid-looking as Laura had approached, was nothing but a hollowed-out shell. At the end of the entryway, the walls terminated abruptly in broken brick and torn wood, and where there should have been hallways and rooms and ceilings, there was only red earth and blue sky. Only a few hardy yellow grasses were struggling to grow over the vast, pitted red stain on the hilltop where the body of the manor should have been. A few jutting timbers, and the remnants of stone arches rising out of the clay like broken ribs, were the only sign that there had ever been a building there.

The sight filled Laura with an unexpected and unnamable emotion, somewhere between grief and triumph. At least now she didn’t have to feel bad about selling it and having someone knock it all down. But there was still something melancholy about those few pathetic, sinking pieces of debris. And Laura couldn’t help but feel like she’d just lost her last link to Grandmother Thomasina and her mother before her, the last thread binding her to them unravelling. As soon as she’d seen the jagged peaks of its roof, stark and black against the pale sky, Laura had known that this was the haunted house from every one of the ghost stories Grandmother Thomasina had always sworn her mother had told her were true. After Laura had come all this way, after all those long years – none of her family would ever see it now.

She wasn’t going to find any answers here. Allerdale Hall and the past would keep their secrets.

And, she wasn’t going to be able to stay in the manor house. It was probably a good thing, Laura decided, that she’d booked a room at the bed and breakfast in the village.

It took her less time to find her way back to the village than it had taken her to get out to the estate. She’d gotten lost three times on her way out, having to turn back and retrace her path more than once. For some reason, the locals had seemed reluctant to give her any specific directions. And they all relied on local landmarks, which Laura guessed made sense, but didn’t help a foreigner find her way around. Especially when she wasn’t used to driving on the left side of the road.

Laura stopped in the pub that night for dinner, deciding to give real English fish and chips a try. She wasn’t sure that what she got was real English fish and chips, though. The chips were hot but greasy, the fish a lurking whitish, pasty smear inside a proud – and nearly inch-thick – casing of batter. Laura couldn’t say she was impressed. At least the beer was decent.

“Excuse me. I couldn’t help but notice – you’ve been up to Crimson Peak, haven’t you?”

Laura looked over to the barstool beside her, and into a pair of the most intense blue eyes she’d ever seen. They belonged to a man who could, in fact, be accurately described as tall, dark, and extremely handsome. Laura hastily downed a mouthful of the adequate beer to cover her sputtering. “How -”

The man nodded towards her feet with a crooked grin. “Oh, I suppose I must be Sherlock Holmes.”

Laura looked down, saw the red clay caked on her boots and spattered up her jeans. She laughed, partly with relief. The hilltop was so open, and she hadn’t seen anyone else there. The idea of anybody – even this admittedly very magnetic guy – watching her up there, unseen, had left her feeling exposed and uneasy. “God, I’m never going to get these clean.”

The guy’s gaze really was intense, even over that charming, crooked smile. “American! Would you credit that. What brings you all the way out to our humble little village?” He canted his head a little to one side, his eyes narrowing as he said, “Please tell me you haven’t a camera crew in tow. It’s dangerous up on the peak – the ruin’s not stable. And I know television people have no fear for their lives. We can’t afford the lawsuit if someone with a camera decides they need to stand where the house was to get a shot and falls through to the basement, or if the façade comes down and crushes some poor sod.”

He seemed to noticed Laura’s uneasy glance down at her boots, because he grinned and winked. “And, the last time one of those ghost-investigation shows did an episode on Crimson Peak, it was near four years before you could walk down the high street without being stopped by some big-eyed American wanting to hear horrible tales about the clay spitting up skellies.”

Laura nearly snorted beer through her nose. There was a confused moment as she tried to fix her face without blowing snot all across the bar, a moment that ended with a broad, solid hand pressed gently against her back and another offering her a napkin. Laura took it, blew her nose, and then looked up. The guy’s eyes were even more arresting up close.

She couldn’t think of any reason to lie. “My grandmother just died. Apparently she owned Allerdale Hall. And she left it to me.”

The guy’s expression didn’t change. Actually, it was a little unsettling how much it didn’t change. Sometimes, the satellite on Laura’s TV would flicker and the image would freeze while the sound continued on, until suddenly the frozen image would fragment into movement again, briefly warping the image into the shape of whatever was moving before the screen righted itself. For the briefest of moments, Laura got the same sense looking at the guy’s face. Like it had frozen in place while something else went on behind it, some flicker of dark motion just visible behind his eyes.

And then he smiled, wide and inviting, and the raucous good cheer of the pub flowed back in, warming the air between them. “So you’re the lady of the manor now, is that so?” He stuck out a hand, but there was a twinkle in his eye that belied the formality of the gesture. “I suppose that makes you my boss. Tom Latimer. I look after the place.”

“Some place,” Laura said. “Laura. Laura Price.”

She took his hand and shook, firmly. Tom had a solid, reassuring grip, but his hand was curiously cool under Laura’s. She wondered if he’d just come in from outside.

“Laura,” Tom said, consideringly. And then, “Buy you a drink?”

“Please,” Laura said, hopefully not too fast.

She waited until Tom had ordered two more beers before asking, as casually as she could manage, “So what were you saying about Americans with camera crews and ghost shows?”

The grin Tom turned on her, this time, at least seemed to be deliberately unsettling. “Oh, has no one told you?” He pushed one of the foaming glasses the bartender set down before him towards Laura, raising the other to her in a mocking toast. “Your inheritance is haunted.”

…

Two days later

…

Somehow, the ruin of Allerdale Hall was even more unsettling at night.

Laura pulled the Range Rover in behind what remained of the gate and killed the engine. She’d shut off the headlights before she’d even turned onto the drive, inching through the moonlit dark with her eyes wide for any sign of anything living that might choose to dart into her path.

If there really was someone up there, she didn’t want them to know she was coming.

Laura tucked her flashlight – Tom had called it a ‘torch’, something Laura found unaccountably funny – into the pocket of her windbreaker, just in case, before she slipped down out of the Range Rover. She shut the door as quietly as she could behind her. But she shouldn’t have worried. The wind caught her almost as soon as she opened the door, tearing at her hair like it wanted to pull the blonde locks out of their messy braid and flipping her windbreaker’s hood up over her face. The ghastly howling it made as it swept across the hilltop was loud enough to drown out even the noisy metallic chunk of the door falling into place.

It was a long, dark, eerie walk from the gate up to what was left of the house. The clay stuck to Laura’s boots, clumping up on the soles and making it hard to walk. But when she tried to step off the road, the overgrown yellow grass seemed to tangle around her ankles and try to trip her up, dry, sharp blades jabbing her through her jeans. The wind battered and buffeted at her the whole way, swirling around her to slam into her first from one side, then the other, rattling her windbreaker’s hood against her ears.

Now and then, that rattle and the sighing and whispering of the wind in the grass combined to sound like human voices, somewhere in the distance. No less than three times, Laura spun around, half-convinced someone had just breathed her own name into her ear.

“No wonder people think this place is haunted,” she muttered, hugging her arms more firmly around herself, her hands tucked under her arms. She almost wished she’d thought to bring gloves.

Laura was about halfway up the drive when she saw it. Way up in one of the remaining peaks, in a tiny, pointed window stuffed under an eave, the briefest flicker of an underwater blue-green light shone, before disappearing as quickly and unexpectedly as it had appeared. It was gone so quickly that Laura wasn’t sure, for a moment, if she’d seen it at all.

She turned, looking back over her shoulder, but there was no sign of headlights retreating down the road behind her that might have glanced off the window. Besides, the angles were all wrong – even if there were glass left in the window for headlights to reflect off of, what was left of the house was much too far back from the road for the light to reach it.

Which meant that the light had to have come from behind the window. That, somehow, even though the whole building behind that forbidding façade was gone…someone was up there.

Laura quickened her pace.

The hollowed-out face of Allerdale Hall loomed above her, as dark and dead as a tombstone, heavy and oppressive, as she passed between the half-sunk railings and up to the door. The thick brick constructs – balustrades? Bollards? – on either side of the door turned the entry, in the dimness, into a gaping black mouth, opened wide to swallow her. Laura paused a moment before passing between them, feet slowly sinking, listening hard. But if anyone had been moving around, she wouldn’t have heard them anyway, not over the wind.

Laura just didn’t want to admit to herself how much she didn’t want to open that door.

Maybe she should have just called Tom. Asked him to come with her. Asked him to go for her. He likely would’ve been glad to – to watch the silly American wet her pants in terror of the wind and the occasional bat or sparrow, jumping at imagined ghosts. The unkind thought crossed her mind that he might even be happy to see how poorly she, the supposed lady of the manor, handled the house he was so familiar with, that had been his responsibility since long before Laura even knew it existed, that he had no fear of, that held no mystery for him. And, standing out in the middle of nowhere, with the cold wind blowing through her and playing tricks on her ears, far from anyone who might hear if she screamed, alone in the dark, Laura couldn’t deny that even if he were laughing at her, just his presence would’ve been reassuring in a way she couldn’t resist.

But there was…something. Something about his laugh when he’d been telling her stories about things people said they’d seen up on Crimson Peak. Something about how reluctant he’d been to give over the keys. Something about the way something behind his eyes seemed to flicker whenever Laura mentioned her ownership of Allerdale Hall –

No. Bringing Tom would have been a mistake. Laura had to come here alone.

She had to see for herself.

Bracing her quivering heart against that thought, Laura plunged into the shadows surrounding the door. She braced her feet as best she could against the clay, and put her shoulder against the door.

She was expecting a struggle, like it had been that first afternoon she’d visited the hall. But the door swung open so smoothly that Laura, really putting her back into it, overbalanced and fell, face-first, over the threshold.

She was expecting to land with an embarrassing and hideously messy splat right in a puddle of red clay mud. She was not expecting her shins to slam into and her chin to bounce off of hardwood.

Laura lay stunned for a moment, before gingerly pushing herself up. The wood – definitely wood, polished to a satin finish under her fingers, with clay oozing coldly up between the narrow boards everywhere she put her weight – stayed solid under her. She scrabbled in her pocket for her flashlight, giving up any pretense of stealth. If there was really someone here, her thumping arrival would’ve already announced her presence. No use in trying to be sneaky after she’d already yelled ‘FUCK! OW!’ at the top of her lungs.

She did pause for a moment in the dark, listening with bated breath for any sound of movement, and realized something strange. The wind, still moaning, seemed curiously muffled and distant. Almost like – almost like there were walls between it and Laura.

But that was impossible. Because Allerdale Hall was –

Laura clicked on her ‘torch’, and froze.

The flashlight’s beam revealed, in bits and pieces as she swept it back and forth, not only the beautiful, decaying inlay of the floor she lay on, but the elaborate Gothic carving of the stairs that wrapped around and down three floors in front of her before coming to an end a few feet from where she’d fallen, the narrow walls of the entryway opening out into a vast, high-ceilinged hall, rooms upon rooms opening out underneath and behind the stair, going so far back that Laura’s flashlight beam petered out before it could reach the far wall…

There was no other explanation. She was inside Allerdale Hall.

It couldn’t be here. It wasn’t here. Laura had seen the bare red stain on the hilltop where the body of Allerdale Hall had stood with her own eyes, not three days before. Had stood in this very spot, her feet mired in clay, and looked out at the pale grey sky, felt the wind, sweeping unimpeded over the moors, tangle her hair and clutch at her clothes. Had seen the last remains of the wreck, had seen the half-buried and broken shards of some of the arches and carvings that her flashlight beam now illuminated, whole and standing, set neatly and firmly into the walls as though they had never been anywhere else.

And everywhere the circle of yellowish light landed, it revealed only more encroaching, cobwebbed opulence. Everything was sleepily, patiently still and muffled with dust, frozen in the curious neglected way of something disused but sealed away. Like a time capsule. Or the pictures Laura had seen online of a Parisian apartment locked up in the twenties and forgotten, untouched, until the early aughts. From the heavy, pointed arches of the stair railings, broken away on the balcony above her, to the flaking gilding on the ornate frames of the portraits covering the walls, to the heavy, moth-eaten draperies that delineated rooms to her right and –

Laura leapt to her feet, flashlight sweeping wildly over the drapery-hung doorway to her right, heart pounding in her throat. The beam illuminated nothing but the soft dullness of velvet trimmed with dark golden tassels, glistening off the slow drip of clay bleeding down the walls, but she knew.

She’d seen movement.

When the impossible hall remained stonily silent and still, Laura managed to calm her jangling nerves enough to call out. “Hello?”

She’d half-expected the sound to bounce back to her from the vastness of the hall, but instead, the wide, empty space seemed to have a curious muffling effect. Almost like Allerdale was swallowing her voice whole.

As she’d expected, she didn’t get an answer. Laura took one ginger step forward, holding the flashlight in front of her with both hands like a sword. Something slithered coldly between her fingers, and Laura looked down to see that her palms were dripping red with clay from where she’d pushed herself up off the floor. In the dimness, her hands looked bloody.

She took another step forward, the floorboards squishing and oozing under her feet, and then, feeling braver, another. “Is anybody there?”

No answer. In the slowly-sweeping beam of the flashlight, nothing stirred except drifting particles of dust – and the flashing wings of a huge grey moth, startled off a wall and startling Laura almost right back out the door.

She laughed at herself, as the moth’s rustling wings retreated into the depths of the impossible hall. That must have been all she’d seen. Just a moth, or some other wild creature, startled by the light.

Still, though, Laura couldn’t quiet the nagging thought that what she’d seen moving had been, for a single instant, unmistakably a person.

She crept across the entry and up the shallow steps into the main hall, still waving her flashlight from side to side, looking all around her as she went. This place couldn’t be real. A building couldn’t just disappear in the daytime and reconstruct itself under the moonlight. And yet, when she looked up, Laura could see, storeys above her, the narrow sickle-blade sliver of the moon peeking down through the shattered timbers of Allerdale Hall’s roof.

As if in response to Laura’s thought, a horrible, shuddering, wailing moan seemed to fill the gaping darkness of the hall like the sound of an enormous, diabolical pipe organ. It rose like some infernal crescendo, somehow at once both inexpressibly sad and hollow with menace, went on and on and on and then, just as unexpectedly as it had begun, died gradually away.

But in the quiet that sound left in its wake, Laura could hear another sound emanating from out of the vast darkness before her. One that hadn’t been there before the cry.

It was faint, just on the very edge of hearing. But it was, unmistakably, the sound of someone playing a piano.

Laura stood frozen in place, no more able to turn around and break for the door than she was to take another step towards the source of that eerie, melancholy sound. It was a pretty tune, if a little sad, and it sounded like it was being played by an expert and experienced hand, one that knew the rises and falls of the song like its own heartbeat.

No matter how many times Laura passed her flashlight over the dark space reaching back under the stairs, she could see neither piano nor player.

“You can’t scare me,” Laura called into the dark, at last, when the relentless soft chime of the music became nearly unbearable, sounding braver than she felt. She hoped, to the tips of her toes, that she was telling the truth. With every word that fell from her lips, though, with every ringing, real sound of her voice in the howling quiet, she felt a little flame of anger flicker in her breastbone, its heat making her bolder. She thought of Tom’s crooked smile, thought again of his reluctance to hand over the keys, and felt it burn a little brighter. “Do you hear me? I’m not falling for this Scooby-Doo shit! I’m here, this house belongs to me now, and you can’t scare me away!”

From somewhere in the darkness past the stairs, there was a bang, like someone had slammed the cover abruptly over the piano’s keys, or kicked over its bench as they flew to their feet. With a discordant jangle, the music cut sharply off.

Laura stood perfectly still, listening, her fingers going stiff from how tightly she was clutching the flashlight, not daring to so much as breathe. The house was silent again, and perfectly still under its muffling layers of clay and dust, but there was something different about it. Something vital, active, wakeful – and watchful - that had been missing when Laura had first entered. Even the wind had died back to a low, throaty moan in the background, as though it didn’t dare disturb the silence.

As if the whole house was holding its breath.

Right on cue, Laura’s flashlight flickered, dimmed, then went out.

“Oh, come on,” she muttered, thumping its end against her palm, frantically clicking the switch back and forth, banging it against her leg. It flickered on once, for the barest sliver of a second, and then died again. The dark of the hall seemed suddenly as thick and viscous as the clay that squelched under Laura’s boots, pouring slowly but inevitably in around her to drag her gently but inexorably under, stop up her mouth, suffocate her slowly. “Come on come on come on -”

She had the flashlight raised to her face, peering in at its deadened reflective eye, when it suddenly burst back into brilliant light. Laura looked up, away from the blinding glare –

And directly into the twisted, wrathful, silent scream of a skeletal face the barest inch from her own.

Laura screamed, too, the sound of it ringing off the walls, and stumbled backwards. She barely managed not to drop the flashlight, but that didn’t make anything better. It only meant that she could see the clawed hands of the apparition as it grabbed for her, its fingers tearing at the sleeve of her windbreaker. It seemed to be shaped from solidified darkness, part woman, part skeleton, all horror. And its grip was like ice, like iron. Laura tried to pull her arm free, but she might as well have been trying to pull Allerdale Hall itself from its grave in the sucking ground.

The creature – ghost – whatever – ignored Laura’s struggling, drawing her left hand up towards its empty-socketed eyes. It seemed to stare, eyelessly, for a long moment, at Laura’s bare ring finger, before pushing her away with a gesture of disgust. There was an inexorable strength in the motion, and Laura found herself spinning across the floor, unable to catch her balance before she slammed down against the hardwood, catching the point of her elbow with a hiss of pain.

The ghost was on her as soon as she hit the floor. It leaned low over her, shoving its twisted face into her face again, what remained of its lips curled into something part sneer, part rictus. For the briefest of instants, with the clarity that comes with sheer terror, Laura had the slightly crazy thought that, in life, the ghost must have once been very beautiful.

Its voice was a whispering, rasping, rattling hiss that was somehow, also, heavy with contempt.

“Liar.”

It straightened, enough for Laura to get a glimpse of the flashlight glittering off the beetle-back embellishments of an old-fashioned dress, its train melting into the darkness that surrounded it. The ghost waved a hand in Laura’s direction dismissively, and Laura watched, fascinated with horror, as sparse flesh withered down to charcoal bone before her very eyes.

“Get out.”

Then the ghost turned its back on Laura, and was swallowed up in the darkness.

Laura didn’t wait for it to come back. She scrambled to her feet, slipping in the clay and falling back to one knee before she got her feet under her.

She wasn’t sure, at first, what she was hearing. It sounded like a distant roaring, like the largest whirlpool she could ever have imagined, like a wave breaking against the shore. Laura paused, curiosity overriding fear for one fragile second, and turned her flashlight back towards the dark space under the stairs.

Just in time to see it collapsing into the ground.

Walls groaned as they fell in towards each other, toppling with a thunderous crash, a crash that went on and on as rooms fell in on the rooms that had fallen in before. The balcony overhead caved in on itself, delicate embellishments snapping and popping away. The stairs gave an ominous moan and twisted, the railing splintering, masonry raining down and punching straight through the floorboards. The floor itself began to unravel around those pockmarks, slender inlaid board by slender inlaid board, to reveal glimpses down into a basement glistening red with clay, far below the growing hole quickly chewing up the suddenly-wobbling floor beneath Laura’s feet. Overhead, a long, drawn-out sigh of wood and brick and stone under stress rose from the broken roof, slivers and splinters pattering down on Laura’s head and rattling down towards the distant floor of the basement below. The walls to either side of her heaved and bowed as though they were breathing.

Laura turned and ran, full tilt, for the door, even as the floor splintered away under her feet.  

She barely made it out, breath half-sobbing with exertion and fear, throat raw, before the deafening roar of Allerdale Hall’s demise rose to a crescendo. With one final crash that shook the ground under Laura’s feet and sounded like it was splitting the sky in two, the remaining walls sheared away from the façade and went tumbling down, carrying its ghost with it, into oblivion.

The door slammed, like the period on the end of a sentence, on Laura’s heels.

…

“You almost make it sound,” Tom said, with the faintest glimmerings of a smile that Laura knew meant he didn’t believe her, “as though the house itself were the ghost.”

Laura sipped at the mug of tea he’d made her. She was still a little surprised that he’d even let her in after she’d shown up, covered in clay and nearly hysterical, at his door in the middle of the night. She’d been too scared to go back to the bed and breakfast alone, and willing to eat a little humble pie in exchange for the sound of a real human voice.

Thankfully, Tom hadn’t laughed. He’d taken one look and invited Laura in, regardless of the late hour, dug her up a robe, and invited her to take a shower while he ran her clothes through the wash. Nearly an hour later, Laura was clean and dry and warm, and starting to feel a little calmer. The tea was definitely helping.

Unfortunately, now that the immediate terror had ebbed, Laura was starting to have to think about it.

Between the ripples and the steam rising off of the tea’s ruddy surface, for a moment, Laura hardly recognized her own reflection. The face looking back up at her from her mug looked like someone – younger, maybe, but also somehow older, or maybe just someone who had been through more than Laura ever had. Wider-eyed, with loose blonde curls falling to frame the heart shape of her sweet face, a stray tea leaf cutting a sharp, ugly gash across one pale cheek –

Laura blew on the tea to cool it, and the illusion vanished.

“You know,” she heard her own voice saying, as if from very far away, “I almost think it was.”

[lordseochangbin]

he’s back, for his princess ♔ ♕

description: you used to be the prettiest most popular girl back in high school when your boyfriend was around. but since he left for a music career, his enemies have bullied you. they’ve called theirs’ way too many times,,   until your boyfriend comes back– to claim you his once again. masterlist

a/n: wow i cant believe it. 1.2k followers?? thank you so much guys <333 

———————————— part 2

you were sobbing under the covers when trinity ran into the room. “mel.. are you okay?! changbin said-”

you peeked a little from under the covers, after your phone sex your arousal was spread all over your blankets-- and you didn’t want to make that clear to your best friend. “changbin said you were hurt?”

you sighed deeply as she showcased her concern, “it’s alright trinity, we’ll talk about it in the am okay? i just wanna sleep right now, and you should get some sleep too” you smiled a little to show your appreciation, earning a smile back from her.

“alright then.. good night mel. youre making breakfast by the way”

“fineee” you grumbled as you covered your face with the cotton sheets. 

your mind lingered around other things however. you hadn’t talked to changbin in a week or so and he called you like that? he asked about your day, but as time went on it seemed like changbin did own you. he called you whenever he wanted, whenever he needed to. maybe wooyoung was right, you thought. maybe you were changbin’s little whore. your eyes filled with tears, slipping shut as your slowly put on your pajama shorts again, discomfort between your wetness and the material. he did show concern for you, but he seemed so far away. 

i miss changbin, you thought for the billionth time that day.

a week later, you woke up to your phone filled with calls from changbin. the quicker you declined, the more he called back.as the sunshine started the brighten through your window you woke up to make trinity breakfast once again- yes you were that grateful for saving you the other day- and packed your bags to leave. 

“leaving early?” trinity asked, forced to wipe her morning eyes because the sun. you unconsciously walked to the school building, but your thoughts were someplace elsewhere. even after class, till the afternoon, your mind was still thinking about changbin. what if he was just calling you for morning sex this time? maybe that’s why he was so desperate to call this morning. “little horny fucker” you cussed, kicking a pebble with so much angst it hit someone in the shin. 

“ouch!” wooyoung sarcastically said. “fiesty now, huh babygirl?” wooyoung was walking along with two girls, selena and bailey-- both used to be in love with changbin.

you stopped your tracks, simply walking around him before bumping into mingi. “where do you think youre going? off to changbin?” he laughed

“no..” you mumbled softly before he could grab your shoulders.

“what’s wrong now? its been two years since he left, you should just end it now hmm?” bailey suggested

“yeah love, facetime calls are no better than what you could be getting from us” wooyoung winked

“fucking disgusting” you spat into wooyoungs face, shoving him off to the side. mingi was quick to grab you, pushing you onto the floor like last time. 

“god, how could he be into such a stupid bitch like you?” selena said before you could feel her foot to your face. you fell on your back, your hands quickly meeting your face to take out the pain. 

with a huff, you got back on your two feet- pushing selena onto the ground. this was not something you wanted to do, however you felt the need to keep your pride. they were degrading you on the spot, and you felt like you had to something back.

wooyoung grabbed your hand, pulling you closer to him. “hey! apologize, you little whore. god- you take on so much for your boyfriend huh?”

“what’s so bad about that?” you heard a deep yet familiar voice ask. you looked up to see a dark figure unlatch your hand from wooyoung’s, pushing him off to the side. from the angle, the sun made his face dark, as if your lord(seochangbinhhahaha) and savior was standing with in front of you, the brightness of the sky surrounding his perfect features. 

“changbin-” you spoke breathless as he helped you up.

“now i swear to fucking god, one of you guys messes with my girl and i will find you, got it?” he spat onto mingi’s face before dragging you out of the scene. 

“ch-ch-CHANGBIN.” you panted, pulling on his arm for him to stop.

he turned around, quickly pulling you into his arms. “god, i missed you so much mel” (a/n: ok sorry i just imagined him saying my name and cried omg)

tears started to fall from your eyes as the print of wooyoungs grip on your hand started to carry feeling, but changbin’s comfort next to you was enough to make you feel better.

“shh...shh.. im here now baby. and im here to stay” you looked up at changbin in confusion, “but.. but stray ki-”

“they’re all going back to school, except for chan woojin and minho, but the rest will be coming here” he whispered. your eyes looked to his hand, full of bruises from the lack of rest.

“now let’s get you home, huh?” he whispered, only to hear you hum in response. the feeling of being in his arms quickly took over your mind, your voice left speechless, eyes focused on only him. it was crazy to think he was here now for you. but it was real, you could tell.

when you two got home the kitchen was filled with trinity’s cooking, minho holding her waist as she works around some food on the stove. 

“changbin.. mel youre back!!” trinity said, moving minho to the side making him pout. 

“we already caught you two” changbin laughed as trinity slapped minho’s chest.

“ouch! hey it’s not my fault they came early” minho said, clutching onto the spot where trinity hit him. 

after awhile of talking and setting up the table together, the four of you sat around the prepared food. much discussion went on about the band and their postive outcome before dinner was long gone.

“mel.. you should be jealous. changbin was all over me in front of the cameras” minho said, making you turn to changbin. minho hands met the table as he felt a sharp pain the shin.

“fuck-- why is everyone hurting me today?” you and trinity laughed together as changbin shot piercing eyes through minho’s skin. 

after awhile the table was relaxed, and you felt a hand on your thigh. 

it started out as a surprise, your hand on top of his as he gave your thigh a tight squeeze. but then it became more. your hands fell off his as he started to move his around more.. up your shirt... down your leg... on your heated core. you let out a small gasp as you felt his tease you, shooting him a quick glare before asking trinity if she needed help.

“with this? don’t worry about it. i have to put minho to work anyways” minho pouted as he started to grab plates and before you could reply changbin decided to interrupt you. 

“sounds good, we’re gonna go to her room” 

“changbin-” you gasped as he grabbed your hand, feeling yourself being dragged out of the room. 

“wait!” minho called before changbin could open your door, “should i turn on the tv, just in case your ‘snoring’ gets too loud?” he asked with a smirk

you turned around meeting eyes with trinity, herself trying not to laugh as he hugged minho from behind

“yeah” changbin replied, “make sure to keep your volume up” he smirked, making your jaw drop as he pulled you into the room and closed the door shut behind you.

immediatly you heard the tv turn on, the volume increasing before changbin could slam your back against the wall.

“you thought i wouldn’t have you tonight, huh?” changbin purred into your ear in a deep, stirring voice. 

you closed your eyes in quick pain, his hand on top of your wrist. his hand was on top of your wrist. and it hurt like hell. 

“a-are you okay? babe?” his mean eyes quickly softened as he let go of you, “did i do something?” he asked in a caring tone

“it’s just my wrist babe.. can you go soft on me today?” you asked, your head tilting to the side as he considered the question.

changbin gently grabbed your hand by the fingertips, giving your wrist a quick kiss before kissing your shoulder,, your collar bone,, your neck,, and finally your lips. 

your hummed into the kiss as he swiped his tongue under, dominance so hard yet soft as he picked you up and placed you on the bed 

“are you sure you’re okay with this?” he asked, his body hovering over yours

“i’m okay..” you said, wrapping your hands around his neck as his strong arms caged you. “now let me see just how much you missed me” you whispered

his eyes carried stars as he examined your face. fuck, how were you so beautiful? the way you hug him, the way you kiss him, the way you talk dirty to him. he gave you a peck on the lips before stripping the both of you off. 

“i missed this” he whispered, giving you another kiss as one hand started to massage your breasts. his thumb caressed them before pinching your nipple, making your eyes shut at the feeling. his other hand was quick to find your wet core, placing two digits inside as he moved inside you.

“so wet for me already... i love it” he said as small moans started to escape your lips. your body started to roll against his, the need for movement and less distance started to feel real as changbin used his strong arm to pull you closer to him.

slowly his hand left your chest to meet your ass, giving it a tight squeeze before using it as a relief as he watched your fuck his fingers on the spot. you started to whimper loudly realizing how much damage it would be once his fingers were replaced. once he was all in you. the thought made your core dripping yet as changbin started to mumble quick “i love you’s” onto your chest.

and in that moment your felt his member slid past your folds with no warning. he placed his lips on top of yours giving you the time to get used to the stretch before moving inside you.

“i- OH-love you” you yelped as he hit your g-spot. he was soft yet so quick as he thrusted into you, his hands on both your sides so he wouldn’t crush you on top of the bed. you watched as his grip on the comforter tightened, his veins popping as his eyes fluttered at the feeling of being inside you.

“baby it’s been too long.. im gonna cum” he said

“go faster binnie” you whispered, a hand grabbed his hair as he increased his pace

your mouth stayed open, moans and grunts leaving the both of you. the bed creaking, tv blasting to cover your noises from anyone outside of your room. but you couldn’t hear anything else. all you could hear was a quick yet loud groan before changbin’s warm cum could meet your pussy. 

“babe...?” he asked as you continued to thrust yourself against him, cumming oh so fine around his member.

“i know you said to be soft today..” he said, one hand off the bed to caress your flustered cheeks “but may i remind you of who your boyfriend is? i think you forgot while i was gone” 

your eyes started to tear as he left his cock inside you. what was this? he wasn’t calling you his whore? his fucktoy? his princess? you sighed in relief, wondering why you could ever believe that he was using you, especially after coming back.

“its you changbin. you’re the love of my life” you whispered before he could place you under the sheets.

he chuckled, happy that you still loved him-even after leaving you. “i love you baby” he said

“i love you too” he replied back, placing a kiss on your forehead before grabbing a towel to clean the both of you up.

[calleo-bricriu]

Classical (re)Conditioning.

(( 7 months into 1986!  I spent most of the day sleeping because weather is awful, but managed to get this largely background/fluff thing written for @absintheabsence :D ))

What always bothered Calleo was that his first, initial, and thankfully entirely internalised response to Grindelwald taking the few steps to the other side of the cell and occasionally all but shoving Calleo to the far side of whatever shape the thing he'd transfigured into some sort of furniture had taken (and up against the wall in some cases which, admittedly, was a better option than onto the floor, and largely why he kept whatever shape it was up against at least one wall) was to freeze in the moments Grindelwald was moving toward him then to simply--do what he was told.

Even if there wasn't anything said, the intent was always clear.

That passive, automatic reaction was nothing more than a throwback to the years he'd spent in a different tower of the same building as a prisoner; when resisting was an exhausting, painful--especially if it was blood magic used as opposed to run of the mill cursing--and ultimately futile thing.

The fact that Calleo knew damn well Grindelwald no longer held any sort of power, physical or otherwise, and he still had that immediate reaction to simply do what he was being silently ordered to do and that he couldn't react swiftly enough to stop that reaction was an endless source of irritation only made worse by the fact that all he could manage to do was silently remind himself that that was exactly how classical conditioning worked.

Ring the bell and the dragon turns into a passive, docile thing.

The less irritating reason was nothing more than Calleo still, despite his best efforts, largely incapable of being awful to other people without them having given him an immediate and direct reason to take a swipe at them. He distinctly recalled Grindelwald as having been a very social, very tactile, fairly extroverted person who soaked up attention as though he'd die without being the center of it for even a few minutes. At times, Calleo had never been sure if it mattered what kind of attention Grindelwald was getting so long as someone was making him the center of it.

They had to have known that when the decision was made to largely shut the prison down and leave him in very literal solitary confinement.

Calleo knew himself well enough to know it would've been a complete impossibility to be in the same room and purposely make it seem as though it was still solitary confinement by coldly ignoring him, and it wasn't as if Grindelwald did anything once he'd decided he'd taken over enough space on whatever shape Calleo's transfigured furniture had taken. He just sat (or laid, depending) there not doing much at all, including not interrupting whatever Calleo had been doing further.

Calleo began to think, after nearly seven or so months, that he might be able to recondition his own conditioned response to Grindelwald moving--at all really, it was a small room, but especially toward him if he invited it. While the end result would be roughly the same, even that subtle a shift in whatever ghost of an old power dynamic that still sprung up when an approach was entirely uninvited might shut itself up.

There was no remaining power dynamic as far as Calleo was concerned anyway; Grindelwald couldn't do anything much more than annoy him now. He didn't have a wand, he wasn't in the best physical health either, and he couldn't use much for magic at all as the security of the room had been designed specifically to dampen his ability to do exactly that.

More importantly, Calleo didn't have any desire whatsoever to lord anything over Grindelwald. That sort of thing was exhausting anyway, not that he thought anyone (least of all Grindelwald) would believe that if he told them.

Calleo had long since learned to pick up on subtle shifts that might indicate he was going to be approached, one way or another, and this time, instead of waiting with that sense of mild dread at the back of his mind for Grindelwald to decide to walk over to him, Calleo lazily beckoned him over instead.

He wasn't at all sure if the look of surprise and cautiousness was due to that or the fact that Calleo had neglected to shut off the wards he kept running around himself on a regular basis that were generally unpleasant to have go off in one's face but, if nothing else, it was enough to remind Calleo that he'd left them up and they were (for now) extinguished.

For one very brief moment, Calleo got to have the fleeting satisfaction of seeing Grindelwald give off the feeling of someone who wasn't sure if he was being tricked or not and not sure which option--doing as asked or not doing as asked--was the correct one.

Admittedly, it confused Calleo when it seemed that Grindelwald was expecting something horrible to happen and seemed apprehensive, largely because Calleo had no underlying motives that were dangerous to either one of them. Once Grindelwald seemingly decided that Calleo wasn't a trap waiting to spring and had at least tentatively settled next to him.

Setting the book he'd been quietly transcribing from in the air in front of him and still within easy reading range, Calleo checked his own hands. Finding that the magic he'd been working with had, as it usually did, left them cold and was still milling around like an invisible glove, he gave each hand a sharp, quick shake toward the closest wall which was all too happy to soak up 'excess' magic thrown onto it and spent a couple of minutes getting them back up to a reasonable alive person temperature--if a bit warmer.

"The latest rumour at the Ministry," as casually as he started the conversation, he picked up one of Grindelwald's hands and tentatively did some feeling around its various joints, gauging involuntary reactions to see exactly how much pressure would be too much; It hadn't taken much for observation to know that decades of living in cold and damp had done no favours and, based on how slowly he typically moved them (not to mention how often he'd latch onto any sort of hot or even warm cup of anything), it wouldn't have taken much of a stretch of imagination to correctly guess that they were very likely a constant source of physical discomfort, "is that Gerald is a mix of parts and souls taken from any number of people who have died in that department over the years."

"What Gerald is," Calleo continued speaking conversationally, though it naturally fell into a cadence that paired up with the movement of his own hands, "is the animated contents of whatever I could get to fit from the box of junk that's been behind my desk for probably a couple hundred years longer than I've been alive, charmed to stick together and change shapes as the charms work sees fit, and I then skimmed off of numerous charms sets that have been running or so long or are so complex that they can hold conversations well enough and give correct responses well enough that they come off as sentient if you don't know what you're looking at. I may have also let the magic decide what form it would take based on what was in the pile of junk, which got me an incredibly unsettling snake-like thing that’s got a head of broken eyeglasses and buttons and several mismatched gloves for a mouth that moves like a--sort of tentacled mouth. The fingers wiggle when he talks. Eldritch horror looking thing. Amazingly polite."

"I also looped Gerald into the Ministry's ever changing nightmare of bureaucratic rules so I can tell people that he can explain why I won't let them do what they want to do so I can get back to not talking to people and get back to the work, which is the enjoyable part."

Calleo canted his head slightly, "I didn't name him, you know. Once all the spellwork on him was active, I introduced myself--as you do, even if it's to a pile of animated rubbish that’s taken the form of a summoned nightmare--and asked its name, it was quiet for a moment, then said Gerald, so he's Gerald and he's great at scaring people back onto the lift just by swiveling around his head made up of Merlin knows how many dozens of broken eyeglasses with button eyes to 'look' at whoever just stepped out."

"The rumour is that I've created this horrible conglomeration of apparently tortured souls who are being made to play the part of a polite and extraordinarily unsettling department greeter. It's been great for lowering traffic flow, if I'm being honest," he snickered, "and it is difficult to remember that Gerald is just an amazing set of charms work at times but, if you talk to him long enough, eventually you run through all of the potential algorithms and his responses become nonsensical; until they learn, and they do learn, they're purposely set to learn, new words, phrases, and responses."

"Part of me is surprised the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures hasn't come down and tried to confiscate Gerald as a Being yet! That would be interesting, though, having a set of complex charms learn so much that it began to demonstrate the ability to learn and adapt on--well, Gerald already does that on his own--and become what one could reasonably consider intelligent and self-aware.”

It wasn't so much that Calleo was trying to make small talk as it was that he knew if he opened with one of the more bizarre stories from his life, the higher the chance would be of keeping Grindelwald distracted so he wouldn't immediately jerk back and away from an interaction that wasn't based in hostility.