#crack. | a dead person can't be alive!

[killerkillerkillher]

Bound to Fall in Love

Angel/Demon! 141 x reader

Tags: kidnapping, sacrifices, religious references, reader is too angry to die, reader commits murder lol, canon typical violence??, reader gets a kissy on the forehead, a tad crack-ish

Inclusivity tags: reader is referred to w he/him and they/them pronouns, no bodily description, no y/n

A/n: call my brain an apple w all the worms it's got. This was just a blurb at first, but I made room in there for me to potentially make it into... something I guess.

minors dni!

"Cole, I can't fucking focus while they're just... staring at us like that."

"Ignore it, Bess. We have to finish these candles."

You wish a bolt of lightening would come down and strike all three of you at once. Or maybe the building spontaneously combusting would be better. Anything, anything, would be better at this moment than watching your boyfriend and best friend work together to light a summoning circle after having tied you up in your sleep.

For a fraction of a second, you wonder if any gods are watching, if any of them would be willing to give you a boon and allow you one last chance to punch both of these betrayers in the face.

"Okay, okay, the book," Bess mutters, going to the pick up her ritual book from the coffee table you bought. Honestly, if they were going to try to sacrifice you somewhere, your living room is one of the most disrespectful places. Probably right under your bed room.

"I'm sorry," Cole has the gaul to look down at you with a face stricken with grief. Like you're dead already. "We didn't know what else to do. We're both in bad places and you've always been so good to us, so we figured-"

"You better hope this fucking kills me." You grunt. Cole's face melts into a glare. "Because if I'm still breathing, it's going to take more than Satan's intervention to save you from me. I swear on my mother." You jerk forward, making him jump back a step.

"Cole...?" Bess looks at you, then up at Cole with unease. Cole doesn't say anything for a second, sorting his feelings out with a leer before turning to her.

"Read the book."

He drags you into the middle of their pentagram while she sings Latin words off the old book pages. The candles flicker and waver before their flames grow twice as tall. Cole rolls you onto your back and pulls a knife from his back pocket.

"I meant it when I said I'm sorry," Cole mutters. You snarl, but don't jump at him like you want to.

"Yeah? Yeah, you're sorry? Kiss my ass!" You shout over Bess's reading. "If I'm still alive after this, I'm killing you and burying you in the fucking septic tank!" You crane your head up so you can see Bess as well. "Time to get some stuff off my chest, yeah? Bess, I fucked your older brother on the day we graduated."

Her eyes go wide, and she almost stops talking, but Cole shoots her a look that forces her to continue.

"And his friend Carl, the one you had a crush on. And Cole? I never. Fucking. Finished. Ever! You are the only person I've dated who couldn't get me off." Cole's hand's twitch around the blade.

"Are you serious?"

"Does now look like a time to- ack!" You don't get to finish because Bess finished the spell and it was time for your blood to fuel it. The blade buries in your gut, turning this way and that way at measured increments. You just lay there and twitch, breathy gasps falling from your gaping mouth, the pain only throwing fuel to the fires of your rage.

"Please, we call you here! Honor us with your presence!" Bess chants. Cole step away from you when the candles roar and your vision is filled with bright red and orange.

The ground beneath you rumbles. Whispers fill your ears, nothing you can ever imagine understanding, but something tells you they're other summoners. Or maybe little souls of those who were just where you are now, with a people sacrificing them.

It's odd, you think as blood soaks your back, your hair. You thought you'd be more scared in what could be your final moments. But there's only anguish where there should be fear. Only unfettered violent tension felt in your muscles, and a tongue hungering for iron and gore. You're jaw is wound tight enough to shatter your teeth.

If you could think straight, if you weren't about to die, you might be a little concerned. Never have you wanted to sink your fingers into someone's soft bits as much as you do now. This is normal, right? A normal amount of rage for the people taking your life.

Something in your gut tells you it's not.

In the fog of your rage, you missed the appearance of a pair of men above you. They hover, leathery plum colored wings sagging. One wears a leather strap harness across his chest, while the other favors an unbuttoned silk shirt. One of them looks at you curious as the fire dies, steam and copper colored smoke bellowing from his mouth. A thick cigar hangs on his lips.

"You came! There's... two of you?" Cole gawks, then falls to his knees beside Bess. You can't help but scoff at their sniveling forms.

"We did. There are." The one without the cigar brushes back his long mohawk to get a better look at the whimpering humans. They're nothing new to them, just another set of weak little things looking to get something without putting in the work for it.

Well, they might have had to put in the work to capture you, based on the way you still squirm and fight the rope keeping your arms together. So much blood has left you. You are going to die. Yet you spend your last moments doing what most humans find to be a waste of precious time. Being angry. It's interesting.

"What do you want?" The bearded one in the silk shirt grunts out around his cigar. Bess lifts her head just a bit to speak.

"We want to make a trade. A soul for a better life for us."

There's a moment of silence. You blink your heavy lids, growing too tired to do much else anymore. Both demons look back at you, then to the kneeling humans.

"They're not dead." They say at the same time.

Bess and Cole stiffen and finally chance a glance at you. You're bleeding, a glassy look to your eye and a smile on your face, but you're not dead.

"See, Bess?" You cough up blood only to swallow it back down, "what did I tell you? The cunt can't make me come and can't... can't even make me go."

The mohawked devil pops a wicked smile, not even hiding it from his would-be contractors.

Cole fumes. "I can finish the job. Fuck, am I going to finish the job." He stands, moving to step into the circle only to yelp, the invisible border around the summoning circle becoming visible if only to shock Cole back.

"Not so fast," the bearded one spawns a scroll in his hand. He's eyes glow a molten orange as he scans it. "Section 1, clause 3, part 19 states: executioner(s) must sacrifice one(1) human soul to contractee(s)... Let's see... Here it is: Sacrificee(s) must be dead upon arrival so that proper collection can be done. If sacrificee(s) is still soul bond upon arrival, then they are made the true contractor and all work will be conducted with them."

"In other words," the mohawked one grinned, "you should have went for the heart." He taps at his chest.

"Or the neck." The other devil offers.

"Or that vein in they're thigh."

"The sephenous, Johnny."

"Yeah, that."

"No, no!" Cole grabs at his hair as Bess looks like she's about to start crying. You want to laugh. They deserve the despair. They deserve the horror in their mistake. They were going to kill you!

"That means," the devils lean back to look at you. "You're our contractor. You get two requests at the price of one, human. I suggest one of those requests includes healing you." He flicks the ashes of his cigar on your leg. You don't even have to think of what you want most right now.

"I want you to untie me." You roll on your side. They wait for the rest. Cole and Bess look like they're going to shit themselves from the pale faced looks of terror they give you. Your eyes narrow. "And a hammer. A old fashioned iron and wood handled hammer."

Another beat of silence before the infernals bend over in laughter. The room shacks, sulfuric smoke pouring from their mouths to funk up the room. Cole tries to cox Bess to her feet while they're distracted. Their feet can't move though. It's like they're glued in placed and no amount of pulling and tugging could get them loose. Shame.

"Yer a funny one, love. I'll love having your soul for a few eternities." The one in leather floats over you, tilting his head this way and that way to get a good look at you. You settle him with a neutral look. "My name is Johnny. You sure that's what you want? I think you've only got a few minutes left in you."

"Then let's hurry this up a little, huh?"

"Ooh, you heard 'em." The cigared one snickers and snaps his claws. Two contracts appear in front of your face, both written in a language you can hardly comprehend. A pen appeared in front of your mouth. "Sign on the dotted line please."

You take the quill in your mouth, dip it in the blood beneath you.

"Rah 'ere?"

"Mhm."

You lean forward to dot the paper with your sloppy signature, but bizarrely enough, it seems like the powers that be have decided that they haven't made enough appearances. The floor trembles, and you worry about your poor infrastructure for a fraction of a second, when a set of gold doors spawn right behind you. You roll back onto your back to intake everything. You swear you're hallucinating when a pair of white winged angels step out, the clouded blue of heaven at their back.

"Hello?" You greet stupidly. You must be losing your mind, right? What the fuck is happening.

"Do not sign a thing." The bronzen angel instructs. "Human, we are here as messengers. God sees great things for you in your ascension. Please do not squander that to these demons." He shoots a sharp look at the demonic pair. The angel's counterpart wears a white cloak, obscuring all but his glowing golden eyes. You half expect him to sing "Be not afraid." despite you actively shitting bricks.

Oddly enough, their appearence seems to have some sort of healing property. Your lethargy starts to clear and the blade in your gut starts to get pushed out. Nothing hurts anymore.

"Oh, so we've got a big soul on our hands here, huh?" Johnny smirks. "Price, what's the plan?"

Price the devil throws his cigar to the ground and crushes it.

"Do what we do best. Bargain."

"Don't play with us, Price." The shrouded angel grunts. He's got a mind piercing voice that's got your head ringing, and you swear it echoes despite the room being well furnished. "We can provide them with just as much, if not more, at no cost of their soul." Those gold orbs land on you. "All we ask for is your faith."

"Jesus fucking Christ!" You tug at your bonds with renewed vigor. The angels wince at the mention of their Lord, but only watch as you force yourself upright. "I could not give a rat's ass who gets what! How about this? First one to get me free and a hammer in hand gets my loyalty."

There's two resounding snaps from either side of you. The ropes disappear, a hammer is in your left and right hand. You don't think deeper on what that implies. You finally stand, dropping the hammer in your nondominant hand, and march over to the two people you thought you could trust. They kneel now, seemingly ready to beg for their souls.

"Come on, don't look scared now." You drop your hands on your hips. "What happened to you finishing the job?"

"I didn't want-"

"Say it with your chest." You poke his breast plate with the iron hammer head.

"I didn't want it to come to this!" Cole yells. The divine audience doesn't say anything about it. They watch you curiously as you bounce the hammer in hand. Your soul is visible to them. What should be a glowing ball of light is a red and white morning star, all sharp edges and pulsing like a heart. Your soul will certainly not end up with the others, that much is true.

"I just... I couldn't keep up with you! Your life style, the way you act, your job. I never left good enough. Bess expressed the same thing and we just... clicked. We would have just left, but we could have never lived without struggling, so we just..." He swallows. You can't look at him anymore, hands clenching at what he says next. "The book called for someone we cared for."

''That supposed to make me feel better?" You tilt your head. Cole winces, eyes falling on your feet. You look to Bess. "Thought you were better than this. You were going to kill me. Because what, I was happy? I loved both of you, you could have just talked to me."

"We're sorry! What more do you want?" Bess sobs. You straighten up, bouncing the hammer on your hip, acting like you next action is something to deliberate. You already know what they deserve, and a flash of sadness bubbles in your chest, but it quickly passes as a hot, searing emotion burns a hole into what little hesitation you had left.

"Reckon I want your souls after all the shit you've caused." You grin before swinging the hammer back and caving in Cole's chest.

"Fuck..." is all you can say after everything is done. Cole and Bess lay in a bloody heep, all recognizable features destroyed and crushed. You pant, hands trembling and nothing but white noise and static crunching around in your head. You just killed your best friend and boyfriend. For some reason, you've never felt so light.

Someone's whistle gets followed by a clap.

"Impressive. Done that before?" Johnny chuckles. He floats closer, hand running down your back as he moves past and pokes around the pulped organs. "Shite, did them right in. Can't tell which is which."

"I've never-" you start to answer, but hands are clapped onto your shoulders, shocking you into silence.

"Well, that was a good place to start, lad. Your swings were a bit sloppy, but we can fix that." Price squeezes at your trapezius, massaging the stiffness out of them. A throat clears, and Price sighs like he forgot there was other company.

"We aren't finished. The human is our ward now, Price." The uncloaked angel snaps his finger, pulling you from Price and making you spawn between the two angels. The bronzen angel smiles down at you with teeth so white you could damn near see your reflection.

"There you are. It's nicer to have you close. My friend here is Simon and I'm-"

"Come on, Kyle, you know he's ours!" Johnny spits, his wings flaring out. "We gave him the hammer first, so piss off."

"Uh...huh." Kyle's smile falls. "I think you're a bit mistaken. Look, after executing the human's request, I have his name here." A stone slab appears in front of your face. It's smells like sunshine and warm grass. What the fuck. "His pledge to the Lord has been set and his soul already has a place next to Their throne."

"Right, right, like we don't have documentation neither." Johnny huffs. The stone disappears as a scroll appears next to the devil. The smell of sulfur and smoke wafts over to you. "His name is right there, pretty boy. Getting yer fuckin' lookers on."

Kyle ignores the rude tone and does pull out a pair of reading glasses to go over the scroll. You stand there in the silence, a little too scared to speak up. What could you do anyway? In a blind anger, you didn't really have the mind to think any of this out. Angels and devils are fighting over you because you'd stupid ass was too blood hungry to think past murder. All that can be done is for them to figure this out amongst themselves, and for you to wait for the sentencing. Heaven, or Hell?

"...Simon." Kyle slowly pulls his glasses off. "This is legit. His soul is promised to all of us."

You glance up at Simon, the scary motherfucker. He blinks. Once. Twice. Then pinches the bridge of his nose with a hagard sigh.

"Shit."

That's not good.

Johnny laughs, Price grinning like a dog with a bone. Kyle marches over to you, patting your shoulders with an awkward smile. His demeanor reminds you of the way your mom acted when she said she was going to divorce your dad. And all you can think is "Not this again." Are you going to be spending your afterlife going between heaven and hell forever? Does God get weekends because Their day is Sunday or whatever?

"We need to go and talk this over with some superiors. We'll clean this up," Kyle snaps and the gore is gone, so is the ritual circle and candles. "And we'll get back to you in the morning." He places a feather light kiss on your forehead, and suddenly you're squeaky clean and in the softest set of pajamas you've ever worn. "Stay safe while we're gone and don't allow these two to influence you. Get some rest."

"Blah, blah, blah," Johnny mocks from the sidelines. Price tilts his head, and there's nothing but amusement behind those eyes. Yeah, this is exactly like your parents divorce.

"O-okay? I mean, I'll try." You shrug.

Simon nods. "That's all you can do." He steps back into the golden doorway and Kyle falls in stride. You make some distance, and with a final wave from a white toothed angel, the doors shut with a slam that shakes the house's foundation.

"Just you and us now, stud."

You turn with a comedic slowness to the devils. Price chuffs and floats forward. His assess you, takes you in in all your fluffy white pajama glory, and it seems he finds what he wants when he nods.

"Guess we've got to talk with top brass to see what's going on ourselves. Pity we couldn't stick around longer." The devil's eyes never meet yours, staying glued to various parts of your face. They hop from ears, to your eyebrows, down to your lips. Christ on a bike, is it getting hot in here? His blue, glowing cerulean eyes appear to flash with something.

"Shite, yer right." Johnny groans. "I hate going down there."

"Suck it up, love. You know how I feel about sharing." Price drops his interest in you like an old toy and takes Johnny close by his waist. You watch with a lead poisoned stare as their noses touch intimately, words you can't hear being exchanged. It's kinda of awkward to just stand there and watch but your brain isn't really functioning well enough to tell you to stop.

"Hey, stud." You blink, refocusing on the pair. Johnny seems to have climbed his partner, his legs on his waist and arms around his neck. Price makes busy opening a portal to hell in your livingroom with one hand, supporting Johnny under his ass with the other. "Sit pretty, yeah? 'll be back before those two arseholes, promise."

"Right... yeah." You nod. "Uh, be safe?"

"Be safe, he says." Price mutters. "Cute." Johnny waves until Price steps through the infernal hole and falls from view. The portal closes right behind him so you'd have no hopes of seeing anything but the red hue of smog and dust.

And here you are. A little dazed, a little sad, probably holding back a break down from the last hour of events. But you're alive and you're healed. There's no blood to clean, you're in comfortable pajamas. Could probably sleep right now if your brain would stop for a minute, but it doesn't look like that's in the plans.

So you look for something to do. Cole and Bess and moved around all your furniture to make the summoning circle. Guess you can start there, right?

[lovifie]

The First Morning ☀️

Masterlist — OG Drabble

Boyfriend!Ghost x Chubby!Reader, but they wake up in each other's body.

A.K.A. How Simon would react to waking up in his dear lovie body.

There isn't any freaky accident, no car crash pushing one against the other, no lightning hitting them and melting them together, not a bullet flying hitting the one jumping in front or the other but still going through the both of them. Any of that. 

Simon just got back from deployment, left the guns at the base, told Price he would be back in the morning and went home to you. Took off his boots, took a shower, got into the bed with you, made sweet sweet love to you while cuddling (you being the little spoon) and then fell asleep with you in his arms. 

So there is no reason as to why he can see himself staring back at him from the bathroom door. At first, he thinks he's dead, he got distracted and was unable to outrun the inevitable. But then he realizes he's alive, and he sits up pulling away the covers. He never expected that seeing your naked body would cause him an even remotely negative sensation, but seeing it in first person point of view without further explanation has him jumping off the bed as if that would push him back into his original body. 

“Simon?” A deep voice emerges from his body on the other side of the room, his own voice sounding strange not coming from within himself. He asks your name, weirded out by the higher pitch voice that he manages to get out. 

“I am not dreaming, right? You are seeing your body too, right?” You ask, a bit of shake on your voice so uncharacteristic of the body it is coming out of. 

“No, love. I can also see us in each other body.” He says, leaving a sigh exhale. “C’mere, let's sit down for a second.”

He sits down at the feet of the bed, patting the mattress next to him. He looks at you, and he doesn't have time to say anything before you hit your forehead on the door frame of the bathroom causing you to crouch down grabbing your head. He wonders for a second how you didn't hit it on your way in. 

You whine rubbing your head, and Simon can't help but cringe at the sound leaving his body. “Don't do that…” He says, trying to peel your hands away to check the damage and you whip your head to look at him, brows furrowed offended by his words. “Well, I'm sorry for cracking my head open, Simon.”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry, it's just fucking weird to see myself like that.” He says, and when he takes his hands away from his face he sees you looking at his chest, well, your original body chest. “It's that how much my boobs move when I talk?” You ask, frankly surprised by the amount of movement.

“Love, I know your boobs are hypnotic, but let's focus.” He says, covering his chest with his hands. You quickly nod, coming back to your senses and stand up, once at your full size you look down at Simon, who is still crouching down staring between your legs. He looks up, a little terrified expression on his face when he makes eye contact with you. He stands up without saying anything, but you have just earned yourself another kind of respect from Simon, because if he had to affront somebody his size while being yours, he would be terrified. 

He looks at the time on his phone and says: “I need to leave in 40 minutes to make it on time at the base.”

“I'll send a message to the office that I need to work from home for a couple of days, it'll be okay.” You answer, picking up your own phone to send said message. 

“Perfect, we both going to the base then. We'll explain everything to the Captain, I don't think he'll be able to help but there is no point in hiding it, it wouldn't work.” He says, opening your closet to find clothes 

“Wait… I'm going to meet your team?” You ask, surprised because Simon has always told you that he didn't want to expose you either to the military or his own team, justifying as it being too risky for your own safety. He sighs turning to look at you and nods. “Yeah, it's not ideal and I would have very much rather introduce you to them with you on your own body but I guess this is how we are doing it now. Get dressed, doll.”

Each of you begins to walk to your closet, only to stop once you reach it and turn around to walk to the other one. Picking up the clothes for Simon is easy, his uniform is always ready just as you open the door. You pick up a pair of knickers from his drawer, and frown when you see there is a hole in it. You pick up another one, only to find the same hole. “Simon.” You call him, getting a hum as a response that he is listening. “Why is all your underwear ripped?”

“What?” He asks, turning around to figure out what you are talking about. When he sees it on your hand, he chuckles before explaining. “That's not ripped, is on purpose, to get your dick out to pee without taking them off.”

There is a beat of silence before you ask. “I beg you pardon?” Simon laughs at your reaction and says. “Put them on, then try what I told you.”

You hold a hand up, letting Simon know to wait and you put the underwear on. You peek through the hole in the underwear and realise it is at the perfect height to get your new dick out. And it is then that you realise: “Wait… I can pee standing up!” You exclaim looking at him like you just discovered a new continent. Simon nods at you smiling softly when he sees you walk to the bathroom. “Watch your head.” You managed to avoid the hit in the last second thanks to him, and raise the toilet lid. 

Simon walks behind you, crossing his arms when he sees you crouching down on the toilet. “What are you doing? Stand up!” He says confused.

“I don't want to pee out!” You say back, still in an awkward position. You hear him chuckle again and then you feel a stinging slap on your ass cheek causing you to move your hips forward away from his hand. “Simon!” 

His hands find their way to your hips and move your hands to his dick to pee inside the toilet. “See? Not so hard right?” He says walking back to wash his hands and face, and then looks back at you when he sees a weird movement on the corner of his eyes. “What are you doing?” 

“Nothing.” You say a bit too quickly and turn around, an obvious half-boner on your crotch. Simon sighs, half laughing at the way you act as if there is nothing wrong.

“Lovie.” He says walking up to him, holding your hands. “I'm gonna need you to keep your mind clear, all right? Nothing nasty is that little head of yours, all right?”

“Simon.” You say, holding back his hands. “I'll try my best… but I can't promise anything.” 

You kiss his forehead, before walking back to the room, barely hitting your head again and walk to your closet. Pulling clothes out for Simon, pitying his own style of clothing and choosing some of your more tame clothes. A pair of straight black jeans, a white undershirt and a grey jersey; Simon shows his gratitude towards your choice with a quick nod before getting dressed. Before he puts the shirt over his head you are quick to throw your bra at him: “Put it on, Simon. I'm not meeting your boss with my nipples saying hi before me.” He groans, as if it was a daily occurrence and you quickly put on the rest of the clothes. 

You turn around when you are ready and chuckle when you hear Simon complain under his breath about the bra stabbing him. He puts the rest of the clothes on and turns to you, checking for your approval and you nod at him smiling. You walk into the bathroom to pick up the brush and come back, sitting on the bed and asking him to step between your legs to brush your hair. 

You do a braid on your hair, keeping the hair from his face and smile at him when he looks at you. He sighs and picks up his mask from his nightstand. “Try it on, alright? If it suffocates you or something, take it off; but if you don't mind I would like it a lot if you keep it on.”

You nod, and help him put it on without twisting an ear. You readjust it and take a couple of deep breaths to test it, you look at him and shroud your shoulder. “Fine for now, I'll tell if I start to feel like I'm dying.” 

You stay looking at each other for a second broken by your voice “We should be a lot more panicked than we are, right?”

“Yeah, probably.” He says resting his hand on your shoulder as yours finds his way to the back of his knees. “But it's still us, so. It's just us, like always.”

Once the both of you are dressed and ready for the day, the both of you walk out to his car. You enter the copilot seat, hitting your head on the way in but starting to get used at this point. Simon enters the driver seat, looking confused when he can’t reach either the pedals or the wheels. He moves the seat to the front, and looks at you: “This is how close you need to move the seat to drive? If you ever get in a crash you are out before you see the other car, love.”

[headlinxr]

𝐟𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 ─── 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠

SYNOPSIS  !   You're a new nun at the church, and Father Hee Seung can't help but want to sin every time he sees you. You're like the Virgin Mary to him, but instead of seeking to help him, you want to destroy him.

GENRE. non idol!, au, priest x nun, forbidden relationship.

DISCLAIMER: This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The silence of the church was dense and profound, a stillness so palpable that it seemed to envelop everything, like a velvet cloak that absorbed even the last of the whispers. The walls, old and worn by centuries of prayers, breathed in time with forgotten supplications, as if the entire temple were alive, pulsing with the memory of the sacrifices that had forged it. Father Hee Seung, wrapped in the cassock that fell over his body with the same seriousness with which he had embraced his vocation, was at the back of the sacristy, trapped in a sea of files and papers that seemed to whisper stories of lives and deaths intertwined with eternity. The dust covering each page was a testament to the years that had faded away, leaving no trace but the ink that slowly slid across the paper, like the inexorable passage of time, which, like water, erodes even the hardest rocks. Each page that passed through his hands was a reminder of the heavy burden of his existence: A monotonous routine that, despite being his choice, was beginning to feel like an endless sentence. The task before him was nothing more than a mundane act, a repetition of empty gestures that reminded him of the insignificance of his being in the face of the divine grandeur to which he had dedicated himself. Each of those papers, frayed by time, seemed to him a metaphor for his own soul, cracked, wrinkled, and exhausted by years of sacrifices and renunciations.

Fatigue enveloped him in silence, a subtle yet relentless force that sometimes threatened to consume him. He was not unfamiliar with the shadows that lurked in his spirit, those that emerged in moments of solitude, when the brilliance of faith, so bright and warm on clear days, dimmed like a lighthouse extinguished by fog. In those moments, the struggle against doubts became titanic, like a river eroding stones over time, and the agonizing question assailed him: How could the life he had chosen to serve God sometimes turn into a prison of endless silences and unsustainable sacrifices? The eternal peace he had sought, did it truly deserve the high price of his torn soul? These questions swirled in his mind, and as he moved the pen over the papers, like an automatic act of faith, he couldn't help but let the ink, black as the uncertainty of his being, become the only possible comfort. It was as if his existence, reduced to those simple gestures of recording names and dates, was the only way to find an echo in the vast void of his own sacrifice. Hee Seung felt trapped at the crossroads between duty and despair, between devotion and the silent rebellion of his being.

Despite everything, faith was his only salvation. It was the anchor that kept him steady, even when his soul was crumbling into pieces. The light of faith, although sometimes flickering, never went out completely. Despite the fatigue, he knew he had to follow the path he had chosen, like Christ at Golgotha, who, with each step under the weight of his cross, showed salvation in sacrifice. Hee Seung understood that her destiny was to bear her own cross, no matter how heavy, and that in that suffering she found her redemption. Just as the shadows dissipate at dawn, his faith promised him that, after the darkness, there would always be a glow. But even in that sanctuary of peace, where the scent of incense floated in the air like a reminder of the closeness of the divine, the desire to escape rose like a specter. Sometimes, the desire to flee, to leave behind the endless hours of service, the repeated prayers, the empty and solitary days, would overwhelm him. Did he not deserve to rest, for a moment, from the weight of his weary soul? But his faith, firm and solid, was greater than any human impulse. Devotion, though worn, always drew him back, like the magnet that keeps the faithful attached to the altar.

It was then, like a whisper among the shadows, that a soft voice broke the deafening silence of the sacristy. The voice slipped through the folds of the air, like a celestial song resonating with the sweetness of angelic choirs. Hee Seung turned slowly, not immediately recognizing whether the voice came from his consciousness or from a tangible being. And there, at the threshold of the light filtering through the stained glass windows, your figure appeared, one of the new nuns who had joined the community. Your presence seemed to overflow everything he had known until then, as if the very celestial light had taken human form. Your eyes, deep and serene, reflected the diffused light that passed through the colored glass, as if Christ himself had decided to illuminate with his eternal gaze. Hee Seung, accustomed to the stillness and austerity of convent life, felt overwhelmed by the softness and delicacy of the young woman. The vision of you, almost ethereal, appeared to him as a being from another world, as if purity itself had taken flesh before him.

It was as if the Virgin Mary, with her immaculate grace, had descended from the heavens to walk among men, and Hee Seung, upon beholding you, recognized in you a vision that transcended the limits of reason. Each of your movements, delicate and serene, seemed imbued with a peace that transcended human understanding. You were not simply another nun; to Hee Seung, you were a manifestation of the divine, an incarnation of the pure light he had worshipped in the scriptures, but now presented before him with an almost unbearable proximity. Your white habit fell over your figure with the softness of a celestial cloud, and on your face, so serene, Hee Seung saw the promise of redemption, of a purity that seemed brought directly from the celestial realm, like a gift offered on earth.

Hee Seung's heart skipped a beat. His faith, which had been a rock and refuge, shattered for an instant at the sight of you. In that instant, the stillness of his being transformed into a whirlwind of emotions, something he could neither comprehend nor control. The temptation, disguised as light, had infiltrated his soul, challenging everything he had built. How could it be possible that, in such a sacred place, purity itself became an object of desire? The Virgin Mary had been for him an unattainable symbol, a beacon of eternal grace that guided the faithful towards salvation. But you, so close, so real, represented that same purity, and yet, the desire to approach you, to touch you, felt like a transgression. The priest, caught between his faith and his own impulses, realized that his struggle was not just against the temptation of the body, but against the fragility of his humanity.

—Father Hee Seung… Do you need help?— Your voice pulled him out of his reverie.

He blinked, forcing himself to lower his gaze, as if he could extinguish the fire that had ignited in his chest. The sweetness of your voice, serene and filled with a divine stillness, seemed to challenge his very faith, as if God were testing him. In that brief moment of suspended silence, Hee Seung understood that his devotion, although solid, might not be enough to withstand the test of his humanity. The temptation had come, not as a dark shadow, but as a blinding light, so pure and so dangerous that it threatened to consume him.

—No, sister, I'm fine— he replied hastily, caught between courtesy and an irrepressible desire to flee. He averted his gaze to the disordered papers, but the pounding of his heart was so intense that he feared you might perceive it.

When you bent down slightly to pick up a folder that had fallen to the floor, Hee Seung felt a pang of guilt pierce through him like a thorn from Christ's crown. That closeness felt like a profane act, a subtle betrayal of his sacred vows. Your beauty, so delicate and radiant, evoked in him the representations of the Virgin Mary; however, the holiness of that thought was overshadowed by an earthly longing that filled him with terror.

—Excuse me, I must... I must take my leave— he stammered, leaving the room with hurried steps, like a penitent fleeing from a temptation too great to resist.

In the following days, Hee Seung couldn't help but look for you with his eyes. Although he sought refuge in his duties, every time he saw you in the cloister, in the chapel, or tending to the garden, his heart would fill with a mix of awe and torment. It was as if the divine light he longed for in his prayers now reflected in that woman, but in a way that made him teeter between spiritual fervor and human desire.

—It's a sin to look at a sister in Christ like that— he reproached himself as he gripped the rosary in his hands with such force that the wooden knots dug into his skin. However, his attempts to distance himself were in vain. Like a wandering pilgrim in the desert, he found in you an oasis that irresistibly attracted him, even knowing that drinking from it could condemn him.

What ultimately unleashed his anguish was the growing closeness between you and Father Jay, another priest from the church. Jay, always charismatic and affable, engaged her in conversations full of laughter and camaraderie. From a distance, Hee Seung watched them, feeling how envy, a sin he thought he had overcome, seized his soul like a shadow stretching as evening fell.

—If the love of Christ is infinite, why does my heart insist on reserving a portion for her?— he pondered in his moments of reflection. He felt like Peter stumbling over the waters, unable to keep his gaze fixed on the Lord. Every time he set his eyes on you, it was another step towards the abyss of his own weakness.

One day, while he watched you pray in the dim light of the chapel, he compared you to the Virgin Mary again, but this time, the weight of guilt felt like a hammer striking his conscience. —The Virgin is an intercessor, not an object of desire— he reproached himself, but he couldn't quell the overwhelming force of his feelings. You had become the personification of a spiritual dilemma: The most demanding test of his faith and also a revelation of the abyss of his fragility.

Finally, determined to confront his emotions, he went to the confessional, not in search of an immediate absolution, but to face the internal battle he could no longer ignore. As the words flowed from his lips like a held-back tear, he understood that his struggle was not only against his heart but also against the very essence of his vocation. The faith that had been his rock was wavering, but it also invited him to immerse himself in the unfathomable mystery of love: A love that, like the cross, could be both redemption and burden.

—Father, I have sinned— he murmured with a tremor in his voice that betrayed his shame. —My heart has been occupied by thoughts that dishonor my vocation. I have felt impure desires towards... Towards a sister of our community—

The silence behind the lattice seemed to stretch longer than necessary, as if the priest on the other side were processing the words with a mix of surprise and curiosity. Finally, a deep and familiar voice broke the silence:

—Go on, brother. Tell me, which sister are you talking about?— asked Father Jay, with a tone that, although firm, had an almost imperceptible hint of sarcasm.

Hee Seung felt a shiver run down her spine upon recognizing Jay's voice. He had naively hoped that it would be another priest who would hear his confession, someone who didn't know the context of his torment. He swallowed hard and continued with difficulty:

—It's... It's Sister (y/n). Since she arrived at our church, I haven't been able to help but look at her with... With thoughts that embarrass me. I have tried to fight against them, but the more I struggle, the more this attraction consumes me. I feel like I am betraying my calling and dishonoring God—

An unexpected sound filtered through the lattice: A brief, contained, but unmistakable laugh. Hee Seung's eyes widened suddenly, his face flushing with disbelief and humiliation.

—Oh, brother!— Jay exclaimed, stifling laughter. —You too have fallen under the spell of the sweet sister. But let me tell you something, something that might surprise you—

Hee Seung felt a knot form in his stomach, but remained silent, unable to interrupt what was to come. Jay, with a tone that mixed cynicism and confidence, continued:

—Brother, I must admit that I have already shared very... Close with Sister (y/n). In this very church, under these same sacred roofs. Does it surprise you? Does it scandalize you? You shouldn't. After all, we are human, not angels—

Jay's words struck Hee Seung like lightning in the midst of a storm. It was as if the very structure of his faith was shaking before that revelation. Confessions should not be profaned with mockery or the cynicism of those who trivialize the sacred.

—How can you talk like that?— Hee Seung replied, unable to contain himself. —This is blasphemy! We have sworn to serve God, to renounce the temptations of the world. And you...? Have you betrayed that?—

Jay sighed, as if speaking to an innocent child.

—Brother, sin and virtue are two sides of the same coin. We strive for perfection, but our humanity always drags us into the mud. If we don't understand our weaknesses, how can we help others overcome theirs? The sister (y/n)… She is a woman, like any other, and I am a man. Neither more nor less—

Hee Seung abruptly got up from the confessional, unable to stay another second in that space tainted by irreverence. His footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he left the chapel, feeling torn between anger, sadness, and a profound spiritual disorientation. The figure of Father Jay had lost all authority in his eyes, and the image of you now appeared to him as an even more unfathomable enigma.

In the solitude of his cell, Hee Seung fell to his knees, seeking solace in a prayer that never came. The weight of the confession and Jay's words were a burden that sank him deeper and deeper. —God, enlighten me— he pleaded, but the echo of his prayer only returned a crushing silence. He had learned that not all the walls of the church were sacred and that even in consecrated hearts, corruption could nest.

Father Hee Seung bowed his forehead over an old missal, the yellowed pages of the book imbued with the fragrance of incense from years past. His trembling fingers toyed with the beads of the rosary, like a castaway clinging to the remnants of a shipwreck. The candle on the table cast shadows that danced erratically on the walls, drawing shapes that seemed at times like guardian angels, at other times like mocking demons. His prayer was an erratic whisper, words that dissolved like grains of sand between his dry lips.

A discreet knock on the door broke the stillness of the moment, a sound so faint it seemed more like a whisper of the wind than a real interruption. But before he could react, the door creaked open, and the sound of the hinges filled the space like an echo in an empty cathedral.

On the threshold, enveloped in the soft halo of light filtering in from the hallway, you appeared. Your habit, cinched with an almost virginal simplicity, reflected the candlelight, but your eyes shone with a brilliance that seemed to contradict their modest appearance. There was in your gaze a disconcerting mix of devotion and defiance, a fire that seemed to have been ignited by a purpose higher than mere obedience.

—Father Hee Seung— you said, your voice sweet but firm, like a bell calling to mass. —Excuse my intrusion at this hour, but I couldn't wait any longer—

The priest stood up immediately, his cassock brushing the floor with a nervous whisper.

—Sister (y/n)…— he murmured, his voice laden with a mix of surprise and alarm. —This is not right. You shouldn't be here—

You closed the door with a deliberate movement, your hands moving with the serenity of someone who knows there is no turning back. You advanced towards him, your steps light as the flight of a dove, but your presence weighed in the room like a chalice filled to the brim.

—Father, I cannot ignore what I have seen in your eyes these days— you said, your voice enveloping the words with a delicacy that disarmed any resistance. —You have looked at me as someone searching for something beyond what the world can offer—

Hee Seung felt the heat rise up her neck, a blush that burned like a glowing ember.

—Me... I don't know what you're talking about, sister— he stammered, his voice broken as if the very air refused to cooperate —If I looked, it was... just distraction, nothing more—

You smiled then, and that smile was like the light filtering through the stained glass of a chapel at dawn, soft yet penetrating.

—Distraction...— You repeated, almost as if the word caused him tenderness. —Father, my arrival here has not been by chance. I have been sent to fulfill a divine purpose. I have come to relieve the forsaken hearts of this church. And yours, father... His soul, tormented and burdened with chains, is one that I must free—

Your words were like an echo from Genesis, where the voice of God separates light from darkness. But in this case, the two seemed to intertwine, and Hee Seung felt her spiritual strength crumble like the Tower of Babel amidst the chaos.

—Sister, what you're saying is... It's blasphemy— he tried to retort, although his voice lacked the firmness needed to convince her, or to convince himself.

You took a step closer, closing the distance between you, until both your breaths merged in the air thick with incense and something more.

—Blasphemy would be ignoring the voice that led me here— you replied —The Virgin is not only a symbol of purity; she is also a refuge for the lost, for those who have forgotten the way. If her eyes seek me, is it not my duty to be an instrument of her redemption?—

Your hand, delicate as an olive branch, rose to brush against Hee Seung's face. The contact was light, barely a touch, but within it there was a magnetic force that made him close his eyes, like someone who fears looking directly at the sun for fear of burning.

—Father, allow me to be the flame that illuminates your darkness— you whispered. —If your faith has led you to this trial, let me be the answer that reconciles you with yourself—

The silence that followed was dense, laden with possibilities and contradictions. Then, as if an invisible thread were pulling him, Hee Seung leaned his face towards yours. The kiss that followed was an act of surrender and rebellion, a wordless prayer ascending to the heavens while defying earthly rules. It was like the clash of two opposing worlds, where the divine and the human met in a moment overflowing with meaning.

When they parted, the candle on the table extinguished with a faint whisper, as if even the flame recognized that its light was insufficient to illuminate what had just occurred.

You looked at him with a serenity that contrasted with the turmoil in the priest's heart.

—This is just the beginning, Father— you said —Our path will be difficult, but divine grace always finds a way to guide us—

Hee Seung fell to his knees as you walked away towards the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. His mind was a whirlwind of guilt, desire, and a question he couldn't answer: Was this an act of redemption, or the first step towards his downfall?

In front of the crucifix hanging on the wall, he whispered a prayer: —My God, if there is still hope for my soul... Show me the way—

But the silence that followed was neither condemnation nor absolution, just an abyss in which the struggle between flesh and spirit continued, incessantly, like a battle that would never be fully resolved.

[babeyun]

falling alone ✩ l.hs [teaser two]

✩ series m.list | taglist form ✩ synopsis: cold cases were heeseung’s specialty, and he cracked every single one. cold hearts were your specialty, and you have yet to make a single chip in your husband’s. ✩ genre: established relationship au | hurt-comfort ✩ pairing: lieutenant!lhs x housewife!reader ✩ word count: 1.4k | [full fic: tbd] ✩ rating: 18+. minors dni. ✩ warnings: a little more pining between husband!hee & wife!reader, a bit of outsider help. nothing explicit ✩ author's note: hello everyone! i just wanted to let you all know that i am trying my best to get this fic out before the end of the year (and if i don't, i do go on winter break from uni in early december! so we can expect a few fics in that time.) this being said, i will add a taglist link here as well as the series masterlist because i cannot for the life of me keep up with urls at the moment. the people tagged below have already been added to said taglist, but if you wanna jump on and don't see yourself tagged, please fill out the form linked above! thanks!

Heeseung knows that Dr. Bahng told him to leave work at work. However, Dr. Bahng said nothing about bringing home to work. He said nothing about thinking about you at work, or missing you, or daydreaming about you instead of analyzing the reports that a pair of rookies messed up. He also said nothing about reading articles by some sketchy romance columnist on how to keep your relationship alive, which is exactly what Heeseung was scrolling through right now. 

There are things in a relationship that must always be shared in order to avoid, or resolve conflict. How the other person is making you feel, how you are making them feel, and how to tackle both negative checklists properly. It is key to always remember that it must be you and your partner against the problem, not you and your partner against each other.

You make Heeseung feel…alive. You make him feel loved, cherished, and even at some bizarre times, worshiped. You make him appreciate waking up at the ass crack of dawn, your sleeping face relaxed as he peppers kisses across your warm skin – something he's thankful never manages to wake you up, but it adds to all the adoration he holds in his heart for you.

How does he make you feel? Dejected, neglected, rejected. Pushed aside for the true love of his life – work. You never bring it up unless he asks. You never brought it up until last July, when he was slumped in his office chair after drinking half a bottle of sherry whiskey, listening to music and thinking about yet another dead end that deterred him from finding Soyoung. You had approached him with a gentle gaze, a soft touch to his shoulder and asking about taking a shower together. You never questioned him, you never pressured him, you never tried to make him something you assumed he just wasn't – an attentive, doting husband.

And he remembers how he asked you, too. He remembers spinning around in his chair, asking you if he was everything you'd ever wanted. Asking you if he was living up to your expectations, as a husband, as a life partner, as a friend, even.

And he remembers the way you sighed carefully before perching on his desk. "You're everything I've ever wanted, and I'm sure you'll continue to grow and be even more deserving of the love I hold for you." You had smiled, your hand coming to rest on his cheek. "Nothing we can't work through, you know? If I was given a choice in another life, another world – I'd still choose you."

He will never forget it, and he can still feel the warmth of your lips against his as you led him to the bathroom. He can still feel the ache of your love on his skin from the way you held him under the running water, quietly basking in his presence as the mint of your shampoo filled his nose. Nothing is as special to him as you are. 

There are things that should routinely be shared in order to maintain a homeostasis of the calendar. Asking how their day was, if you have any ideas for dinner tonight, or if you'd like to do something this weekend to celebrate the mundane. It shouldn't be difficult to establish a routine with your partner, if you are in tune with them. A kiss goodbye in the morning, a warm embrace in the evenings. A shared meal, a shared bath, a shared bed. 

Heeseung can't remember the last time he fully checked in with you – you always have something to do. You always attempt new creative projects, and his fingers toy with the fabric of his slacks as he remembers that you hand stitched them. He thinks about how you waited for him all night yesterday, and the disappointment you must have felt when he arrived late. He thinks about how he just doesn't make time to tackle the problem that you two are constantly glossing over by being intimate – he knows you don't feel loved. 

He didn't ask you about your day yesterday, or the day before, or last week. He didn't ask you if you were sewing anything new, learning any new pieces on the piano collecting dust in the living room. He hasn't asked about your mother, but at least he knows you don't like to talk about her. 

Heeseung hasn't asked you a single thing about yourself, or your life, and he doesn't know how long it's been. Even last night, your eyes were focused entirely on him – the way his lips twitched when you said you liked the wine he chose, the way he pulled your leg over his in the booth you were sharing. You asked him about work, and he just shook his head as he pointed out the new menu items. 

You love him so selflessly.

Something that works for my partner and I is parallel play. We aren't necessarily doing something together, but we are present in the same room and doing our own thing. Knowing that he is there, and that if I need him, I can reach for him, adds a comfort to our relationship. Aside from this, we also come together every two weeks and address any issues we may be experiencing – both in our relationship and our individual lives. We resolve the issues about us together, and advise the other on our personal issues. Balance!

You do this a lot. If Heeseung is home, you'll wander to wherever he is and sit down where you can, and quietly go about your business. Sometimes it's a new cross-stitch, sometimes it's just putting a headphone in and listening to music. Sometimes you're giving yourself a pedicure, sometimes you're just sitting there staring at his corkboard of paraphernalia while matching your breathing to his. It was subtle, something you thought he'd never notice.

He sighs, exiting out of the tab before grabbing his coat off the back of his chair. Tugging it on, he uses one hand to log out of his computer when he hears three knocks on the door. A lightness of the rapping knuckles similar to yours…and your smiling face appears as you crack open the door. "Surprise?" He hates that he can't bite back his smile, a few of his fellow officers wide-eyed at his expression. He nods silently, and you extend your hand for him when you hear his coworkers whispering about you. With a dejected look, you tuck your hand back into the pocket of your jeans, "Guess we don't want them gossiping, right?" "Right." He mumbles, his own hand twitching around the doorknob as he pulls it shut behind him. He wants to reach for you, embrace the warmth you bring, show you off to the people he often calls his friends. Sunghoon catches his eye, a quizzical look on his face before shaking his head. 

Heeseung reaches for you, but you've already made your way towards the door. Your smile has lessened as you open the door, holding it for him. "How was work?" You ask as he joins you in the cool air, and he wastes no time wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you in close, his nose buried in your hair. You hesitate to wrap your arms around him, instead leaning back to try and meet his eyes. "Hee?" "Don't ask me about work." He mutters, before pressing his lips to yours softly. You let out a noise of surprise, but you can't melt into his touch before he pulls away. "I hate talking about work, let's talk about you. Over lunch." He takes your hand in his, gently pulling you to his side as he makes his way to the car. He doesn't see yours in the parking lot, so he only assumes you got a rideshare before you clear your throat. "Are you okay?" The words are slightly jumbled as he leads you to the passenger side, opening the door for you, helping you step in. "Hm? Why do you ask?"

"Well…you're actually out of the office. And you want to go to lunch…and you don't want to talk about work?" Your voice is meek, and it makes his chest ache as he reaches to buckle your seatbelt in for you. "I just want to spend time with you. Shall we?" His smile is a little forced, until he sees the soft gloss of embarrassment over your eyes. "Okay."

BABEYUN © 2024. no translations, reposting or modifications are allowed. do not claim as your own. viewer discretion is advised. your media consumption is your responsibility.

TAGLIST [those in red could not be tagged] @thesassy-mia @starfallia @ramenoil @hoonieversies @wintabite @shnnzsworld @eneiyri @jjongsha @ilovejungwonandhaechan @oopshee @capri-cuntz @petalsofink @teddybeartaetae @chocminteu @moon0fthenight @delvziion @heeseungthel0ml @bbyjw @marimariiiiiiii @thenastone

[bumblingbabooshka]

I know the most common fanon for Tuvok post Voyager is that he's mostly fine and one of more stable ones but I personally think it'd be funny if he cracked like a goddamn egg and went off the deep end for a few years before finding his way back to semi-normalcy. Janeway's like "Where's Tuvok?" and the answer is that he quit Starfleet, joined a temple, left the temple in the middle of the night to go wander around the desert, almost died but was taken in by a kindly old woman, lived with her for two months before she died, left the desert hut to alert her family and upon completing that task hopped on the first freighter off Vulcan, got stranded on a deserted asteroid after being the sole survivor of the crash, was rescued, mind melded with an alien who can see the future but died in the process and can't remember anything about it except for the vague feeling that he spoke with Kes, was brought back to life by Chakotay who told him that Janeway was looking for him [at which point he pointed out that Chakotay is also not in contact with Janeway and then ran away again], returned to Vulcan but only to find and climb to the top of a holy mountain which took several months and upon reaching the top he feels a sense of enlightenment which permeates his familial bonds as the first sign in almost a year that he's alive at all. Upon finishing his climb down the mountain he stays in a nearby village and serves in their temple for several more months until it's attacked by aliens because of some artifact hidden deep within the temple walls and he puts his tactical strategy to good use, fending off the attack. Harry Kim [with Starfleet] appears and is like "You need to go home, man. People think you're dead." Then he goes home and joins Starfleet again and he's literally only allowed back in because of Janeway and Janeway accepts him out of her love for her crew and also because she's kind of worried that he'll join an ice fishing expedition or cult if she doesn't. This only adds to the lore of Voyager as a cursed ship and her Crew as all-in-the-family maniacs.

[queenofapeacefuldawn]

SxF Crack Theory: The Identity Of [REDACTED]'s Father

Hear me out here.... but, maybe, Twilight's father could be Yuri's boss, aka, the SSS Lieutenant.

Now, this might be a crack/joke theory, but here is the evidence I have to back up my claim (yes, I'm presenting it because I'm just Like That):

(Warning: Manga spoilers ahead)

Exhibit A: Physical Characteristics

Here is a picture of Agent Twilight:

Here is a picture of Yuri's boss (who, from now in, will be referred to as YB, for my own convenience):

We can see that Twilight and YB have very similar facial characteristics: bluish-grey eyes, blond hair, and a similar face shape (nose, jaw).

We never see Twilight's father's full face: only the lower half, because he has presumably forgotten his face, along with his mother's (King of Emotional Repression™️), but we can see that his jawline and shape of his mouth are very similar to Adult Twilight.

Oh, and look at that- rather pronounced cheekbones, if I do say so myself. Where else did I see those? Hmmm

Exhibit B: Ambiguous Fate

During the War Arc, we're never told about [REDACTED]'s father's fate. We just know he never returns to his family: and the reason why he left for the very last time, was that, "Things have been heating up at the border. I need to take a little business trip." The fact that his, a (presumably) rather important man's, body was never recovered: nor were [REDACTED] or his mother informed of his death. Of course, his body could have been lost in the bombings, or the part of [REDACTED] finding out about his father's dead could have been omitted, but for most of the part, we're left to assume about his father's dead. And... this sounds familiar to another instance...

Like the instance of [REDACTED]'s friends. He (and we) assumed they'd died in the warehouse as children, but later we see that they're alive and in the army (only to die a second time, RIP), but this time, for their deaths to be confirmed: for [REDACTED] to only receive their dog tags after the failed campaign.

This may have been a setup: for Endo to reintroduce [REDACTED]'s father, later in the story, as YB.

Anyway, one thing I've learned after reading and watching so many books, comics, and TV shows: never assume a person's dead, not unless their body/proof of their death has been explicitly shown. This belief was only reinforced after [REDACTED]'s friends.

And, [REDACTED]'s father's last known place was around the Westalian-Ostanian border. He could have escaped in the crossfire, theoretically...

Exhibit C: Fatherly Nature (?)

We all love a good found-family dynamic in the workplace. It's there with WISE, it's there with Garden, and it's kinda there with the SSS.

My main argument about this stems from the chapter which focuses on Yuri's work.

We see YB continuously worry about Yuri's physical health, in panels like:

Obviously, this doesn't happen only in this chapter. Whenever Yuri's there, YB is also there, yelling at him to a) go to sleep, or b) STOP GETTING HIT BY BUSSES OH MY FUCKING GOD IT CAN'T HAPPEN SO MANY TIMES TO ONE PERSON-

And, of course, there's the Yuri Sick Fic chapter:

Not gonna lie, this point is extremely weak, if I brought this up in court I'd be laughed out of there-

Anyway, I just wanted to put this in.

If it does turn out that YB is [REDACTED]'s father then. Bestie. Buddy. How are you managing to be a better father-figure to some insolent kid who gets hit by busses than you were to your actual son, like 20 years ago. Maybe he learned along the way.

Exhibit D: Symbolism (???)

Oh, look, another point I'm pulling out of my ass! But whatever, you're reading it <3

During the War Arc, we see Twilight sustain two major injuries:

One, as a child, when his home is bombed:

And two, as an adult, in the army:

and these injuries are both to his left eye.

Of course, this has given rise to theories of him not being able to see his left eye, it being his blind spot, and Yor guarding his blind spot on missions, etc., etc., which I love bc ✨Twiyor✨

Getting back on point, if we look at YB, we see that he has injuries too... or rather, remnants of them, what with the scars he has...

which, are also on his left eye. Huh! Interesting... this might just be me, but could this be parallels to how similar he and his father were? Are? His father also wanted peace between Ostania and Westalis: but he taught his child that in a very harsh manner (by slapping him), but Twilight wants to teach Anya that in a kind manner. Whenever we see him teaching her, he never loses his cool with her (of course, he loses a lot of hope, but this man's a pessimist, what can we do).

Also shows how much kinder Twilight is, compared to his father.

---

Of course, these points are very weak, and it might just be that Endo reused some character designs for efficiency, but let me be, ok!! This is a crack theory!!! Let me be a clown!!!! AKDFJSJF

If I'm being honest, this post was inspired by a convo I'd had with my friend, around the time Chapter 86 was released. She was theorizing that [REDACTED]'s dad is the Shopkeeper, and I was theorizing it was this dude. Of course, our theorizing was sidetracked by Chapter 86, and a certain panel within it, but... WHATEVER.

So, what are your thoughts? Obviously, my own theory is very weak (for example, why would the SSS accept a Westalian citizen into their ranks? Why would he even join the SSS? Could he have defected? Abandoned his wife and kid?), but this was fun to think about, lol. What are your theories? I think the Shopkeeper-is-the-dad theory and the YB-is-his-dad theory are both cool, so, what do you think?

(Also, yeah, I know, his dad could very well be dead. I just refuse to believe it, bc I'm just Like That <3)

[foone]

I'm surprised there's not more supernatural spaceship media. Like, your average little cargo ship is jumping around the outer rim trying to cut some time off their delivery route and they pick up a distress call, so they have to answer it.

(under a readmore cause this got a little longer than I expected)

They warp in to the approximate coordinates and there's a colony ship orbiting a gas giant, stuck in the shadow of it, basically frozen over. It's centuries old, but these sleeper ships from the pre-ftl era were built to last, so it's still broadcasting the SOS. It's not responding to radio, so they need to board it.

Normally this'd just involve turning off the SOS. The ship is clearly dead and not responding to any hails, the crew must be long gone and the reactor is just keeping the SOS going. But this is a sleeper ship, so it's possible there's just no one awake. Stuck in longsleep for god knows how many decades, waiting for someone to stumble on their signal...

So they board it, activate the computer, and it tells them that everyone is dead. The ship launched, and over the 358 years it's been traveling for, every single cryo chamber has been either opened or never had any lifesigns in it in the first place. The last event logged on the computer is 136 years ago, when the acting captain set the ship to orbit this gas giant, and turn on the distress signal. Since then, nothing.

But there's still power on the bridge. There may be something there. So they climb up the decks, passing the grim sight of endless rows of cryochambers lined up like tombstones, all showing red lights of lifesign failure. As they get closer to the bridge, the time of deaths get later. The ones on the first deck were close to the launch date, and the ones near the bridge are nearer to that 136 year ago deadline.

This wasn't a hardware failure. Something killed all these people, one by one, over 220 years.

They get to the bridge. The computers are all powered down, but the power management system is still active. Two of the decks still have their cryochambers powered, but it's the ones that were supposed to be empty. There's no lifesigns in them, so the little computer in the power diagnostic system has been recommending they be turned off to save on energy. Naturally it's been recommending that for three and a half centuries. One of the crew members almost absent-mindedly agrees to the prompt, and those cryochambers deactivate. They were empty anyway, right? The sound of humming from the bridge mostly fades away, as a few hundred cryopods on the deck below power down.

The boarding crew powers off the SOS beacon. They'll alert the authorities to the ship's location when they get to a port, surely someone wants to investigate what went wrong here, or at least do an archeological study. This place is beyond an antique at this point... Wait. What's that?

The power computer says there's still one active power draw, about 1.2 kilowatts, in the captain's quarters. That's too much for a personal computer, but just about right for a single cryo pod. Maybe the captain or someone is still alive? That pod isn't on the network, so they can't see the lifesigns from here.

They head over, and the bulkhead door is still cracked open, with a thick cable running in through the gap in the door. Whoever wired this up clearly didn't have time to correctly reroute the power systems, they just lugged a cryo pod in here and basically ran an extension cord to a nearby terminal.

They pry open the door, and there's a softly glowing cryo pod in the middle of the surprisingly spacious room. It makes some amount of sense, generally on these ships the captain would be the one who has to wake up and deal with any situations that arise, while the rest of the colonists are content to sleep until they reach their new home.

They look in the pod, and there's a man lying there. He's not the captain, though. They saw his photo on the bridge. This is someone else. Some one quite pale and gaunt. Maybe they were suffering malnutrition before they put themselves in the pod?

The pod is softly beeping. It's reactivating, apparently triggered when they opened the door. The pod shows no lifesigns, so it's not worth worrying about, the panel sliding over to reveal merely a well preserved corpse.

And then he smiles. "I'm so glad to see you! When we ran out of food we we're afraid we'd never see another human again. And even through those environment suits, I can tell you're so deliciously human." he licks his lips, and the boarding crew spots his prominent canines.

There's a noise halfway between a howl and a shriek from the floor below. The man in the cryopod leans up his head. "ahh, I see you've woken up my children as well. Marvelous. I hope you brought plenty of friends for us to snack on."

The head of the boarding party lifts her arm to call their ship, tell them to get out of there or drop a torpedo into the colony ship's reactor. Before she can bring it to her face to call, there's a flash of motion. Before she can even realize what's happening, the man(?) in the cryopod is up and holding her wrist away from her face.

As she cries out at the sudden pain, the other members of the boarding party spot movement down the hall. A lot of movement. A wall of thin pale people are running towards the captain's quarters, climbing over each other and pushing each other aside, like a pack of wild wolves who just smelled prey.

The boarding party steps back into the room and slams the emergency close. At least in here they only have to deal with one of those things.

The door hits the cable and bounces off with a loud alarm. It fully opens again, ready to let the hungry mass in.

So... Have you ever noticed how much a cryopod looks like a coffin?

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK *  assorted dialogue from the 2001 film, adjust as necessary

two things, okay? shut... up.

you didn't slay the dragon?

some of you may die... but it's a sacrifice i am willing to make.

they judge me before they even know me. that's why i'm better off alone.

how will you kiss me?

that wasn't in the job description!

what is so funny?

let's just say... i'm not your type.

pick me! pick me!

i've got a dragon and i'm not afraid to use it!

now really, it's rude enough being alive when no one wants you, but showing up uninvited to a wedding?

it's a compliment! better out than in, i always say.

you can't tell me you're afraid of heights.

let's do that again!

what's that? it's hideous.

only a true friend would be that cruelly honest!

well, technically, you're not a king.

the battle is won.

so where is this fire-breathing pain in the neck, anyway?

hey, don't look at me. i didn't invite them.

it's on my to-do list!

you're meant to charge in, sword drawn, banners flying!

that's not the point!

huh, celebrity marriages. they never last, do they?

that'll do, [name]. that'll do.

you're going the right way for a smacked bottom.

well, that's not very nice. it's just a donkey.

where are you going? the exit's over there!

i have to save my ass.

what kind of a knight are you?

i was talking about the dragon.

man, this would be so much easier if i wasn't color-blind.

we can stay up late, swapping manly stories, and in the morning... i'm making waffles!

whoa, look at that. who'd wanna live in a place like that?

that... would be my home.

i think i need a hug.

you're a monster!

we were forced to come here!

you know, you're really quite a decorator!

it's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget!

i like that boulder. that is a nice boulder.

you know, not everybody likes onions.

everybody loves cake!

i don't care what everyone likes!

have you ever met a person, you say, "let's get some parfait," they say, "hell no, i don't like parfait."

end of story! bye bye! see ya later!

parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet!

it talks?

i'm not the monster here, you are!

now tell me, where are the others!

eat me!

i've tried to be fair to you creatures, but now my patience has reached its end.

all right then! who's hiding them?

oh you're going to love it there.

men of his stature are in short supply.

it's getting him to shut up that's the trick!

hey, what's your problem [name], what you got against the whole world anyway, huh?

i'll find those stairs.

look, i'm not the one with the problem, okay? it's the world that seems to have a problem with me.

do you think he's maybe compensating for something?

hey, where're you going?

oh man, i can't feel my toes!

take a look at me. what am i?

doesn't that bother you?

man, i like you. what's your name?

you're so wrapped up in layers, onion boy, you're afraid of your own feelings.

there you are, doing it again!

oh... oh this is all my fault.

you can't do this to me! i'm too young for you to die!

you gotta warn somebody before you just crack one off, my mouth was open and everything.

believe me, if it was me... you'd be dead.

i steal from the rich and give to the needy.

man, that was annoying.

i was sent to rescue you.

i'm supposed to be rescued by my true love!

your job is not my problem.

you love this woman, don't you?

i don't want to rush into a physical relationship.

like that's ever gonna happen!

why are you following me?

stop singing!

it's no wonder you don't have any friends!

[kyeomkuppie]

Rooftop.

Pairing: Wonwoo x gn!reader

Genre: I honestly don't know but let's just say crack and a pinch of angst

Warnings: Wonwoo thinks reader is about to commit suicide

Synopsis: You were just trying to get a better look at the sky, but someone misunderstood and tried to save you.

You valued your peace of mind and the best way (in your opinion) to clear your mind was to look at the stars. At the edge of a rooftop.

Yeah, not the smartest idea but who cares!

Technically, anyone was bound to see a random person standing at a rooftop, misunderstand the situation, then call for help. Something you didn't exactly take into account.

And bingo as you had guessed, not only did someone see you, someone was at the same rooftop thinking you were about to jump, and you being at the edge didn't exactly help either.

Out of nowhere, you felt yourself being pulled backwards. Your back was now against the chest of a random stranger, and to make matters worse, on top of him.

"Uh, excuse me?" You were baffled and you didn't really know how to explain without him thinking you were lying "Can you let me go, please?"

No answer.

Oh shit. Is he dead? I don't think I'm that heavy though. You were thinking of the endless possibilities of you being charged for involuntary manslaughter. Great.

You finally feel the person who you thought you murdered move. "Are you okay? Why did you pull me like that? You could've been hurt!" You turned around only to be left awestruck. At least he was handsome.

His eyebrows were furrowed and his breathing was heavy, yeah it isn't the time for flirting. "How could you treat your life like it's something to be toyed with! You can't simply choose to end it because things are getting rough." His tone was stern and angry— but wait.

What? Your mind short-circuited for second. He thought you were doing what!

"What about your loved ones and the people who would blame themselves for your death? At least think about all those variables before treating your life like-"

"Excuse me?! I was just standing like a normal person, looking at the damn sky. I wasn't toying with my life, I was enjoying it!" You were starting to get riled up as well, couldn't he at least wait to hear what you had to say about yourself— and wait, what does he even have to do with it?!

"You shouldn't lie about things like this! If you need help, say it."

There's was no convincing this man. "Listen here stranger, if I needed help I would in fact ask for it. But can't a person watch the fucking sky in peace." You huffed "Why are you even making a big deal out of it? It's not like we know each other."

You pushed his hands which were gripping you away. "At least try to understand, I mean it's not the smartest thing to do, to stand at the edge of a rooftop I mean, but I assure I wasn't trying to do anything you were thinking of."

You had an idea! Not the smartest either but good enough "Want to grab a meal?" If he didn't say yes, you'd bury yourself alive, but you wouldn't have to see him again. If he said yes, you'd resolve that misunderstanding and you could go your separate ways.

He suddenly realized that his body was so tense and his body was still on the ground.

You gulped as he proceeded to get up. His features became more clear. His face had a soft expression but his eyes were sharp, so was his jaw. Yeah, you were right, he was one handsome fellow.

He was weirded out by your spontaneous personality. One moment you were all angry, and the next you were asking him to grab dinner? Yeah, not normal.

"Fine. I'll pretend that I believe you, and we'll go grab dinner. But for the love of god go stargaze anywhere but at the edge. I had the ambulance ready." He scratched his neck.

"Okay Mr. Overdramatic." You laughed, it was a peculiar day, not the peaceful kind you usually preferred, but definitely a day to remember.

"Wonwoo."

"Hm?" You tilted your head in confusion.

"If we're going out for a meal, you might as well know my name." He shrugged.

Yeah, he had split personalities, you were sure of it.

"[name]." You extended your hand "It was nice meeting you here— wait what were you doing up here?!" Your eyes widenened.

"I was stargazing."

"Yeah, no shit. I'll pretend that I believe you." You mimicked him from earlier.

Inspired by that one scene in true beauty.

Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

[two-red-lungs]

The Kids Are Alright (Eddie Munson)

Your first date with Eddie Munson is fine, as far as first dates go. You get pizza together: meet awkwardly outside the door at 7pm, hands sweaty, exchanging nervous, butterfly-riddled smiles. You eat. He can't stop moving in his seat opposite you, tapping his hands on the sticky enamel tabletop. He looks at you with big brown eyes. Wary, at first, then as the night goes on and it becomes clear this isn't some string-along joke, or a prank, with boyish glee.

But the second date is the one that really shines.

Eddie, in all his intellectual glory, takes you to the Dollar Tree.

It's late, again, and the D in the logo flickers in and out of existence. The air inside smells like cheap plastic, dust, and the urban sprawl of capitalism. This is a place that's usually... dead. A pathetic sort of dead, where dreams come to die, the cashier looks about five seconds from falling asleep, agonizingly boring elevator music plays over tinny speakers, and Hawaiian themed teacups are on sale for ninety-nine cents.

You think god, what the hell are we even doing here? This is hardly a dinner date, or the bowling alley, or makeout point, or any of the usual dates your friends always bragged so cooling about. But then Eddie looks at you over his shoulder, spins on his heel, and throws his arms wide. His outfit jingles.

"Welcome," he says with a glint in his dark eyes, "to the goddamn kingdom of imagination."

You should leave. God knows to anyone else at school this date could sound like a horror story, an uncouth, uncool, unladylike disaster. But there's something in those eyes. Something vibrant and alive and real. So instead of leaving you think, okay. Why not.

Best decision of your life.

He knows this place by heart, every white-tiled aisle under the buzzing fluorescents. And he's funny, too: you didn't expect him to be so funny. As you both slowly amble and push your squeaky-wheeled cart he picks up random shit, talking as he fiddles.

A fuzzy caterpillar cat toy becomes his moustache. He wraps a crinkled paper streamer around his neck like a boa and faints dramatically against some of the shelves. He scurries to the aisle next to you and pretends to walk down a staircase, disappearing from view: when his moppish head pops back up again, his wild hair flounces.

Huh. He smiles like the sun.

Eddie asks about everything possible, and god, under his stoner slang he's whip fucking smart. You crack a joke or a sarcastic reference and he smoothly returns it with equal emphasis, two tennis players on the court.

You check out picture frames. Eddie suggests throwing a little spraypaint on it, a little silver paint to light the edges, some weathering with sandpaper, and suddenly you've got yourself some primo decor.

"You like to paint?" You ask him, standing in the aisle, holding the shitty wooden frame. He's looking over your shoulder. You can feel his body heat, this close.

"I'm a big believer in, uh. Creativity, y'know?" His smile is big, toothy. Still nervous. Like as extroverted as he is, as big as his personality could be, the sting of a scoff or a sneer could still hurt.

You tell him that's cool. Something in his eyes softens.

God, you don't know how many hours you spend in that place, just talking and touching shit and discussing potential DIY projects and cool ideas. You talk comics, and music, and Hawkins social politics. He tells you about Tolkien. You tell him about David Brin. He likes David Murray, you like Siouxie Sioux. You both agree the autumn leaves this time of year make the Hawkins High look like its roof is on fire (and god, if only).

Your cart is full of bullshit you don't really need, bullshit full of promise and potential, and Eddie is letting you ride the cart with your feet on the front bar as he pushes it down the aisle at mach one speed. He splutters behind you, your hair in his mouth. He's laughing.

The total comes to 12 dollars even. The plan for the next date is to turn the kids bathtub toys you bought- ducks and dolls and dolphins- into zombies and mummies and other creatures with the shitty barely-opaque acrylics set you scored.

The sky is black outside, and it's raining. He asks if he'll see you again this week, and you say yeah, duh. The air feels like fireworks- like lightning, like a live wire. You think for a second that he's gonna kiss you.

Eddie pulls out a silver-plastic tiara from under his vest, nicked free of charge from the girl's section, and sets it on your head. It's cheap, pattern-punched plastic with pink plastic gems. It's perfect. He's made you a fairytale.

Munson bows, smiles again- the one that makes his eyes crinkle- and then he's off in his van.

He's so weird. He's so strange. You don't understand him.

You think you really like him.

[rowretro]

𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕳𝖆𝖚𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌

(picture found on tumblr)

✧Warnings: Violence, detailed ghost and gore, blood, a horror themed yandere story, dead bodies, possibly creepy dolls?, mafia demon Won (coz he has a gun in the pic, and I need him to be a demon in this story)

✧Synopsis: Y/n never found herself having to hide in her sweet penthouse, her $500 bottle of red wine spilled out of her crystal wine glass, the stunning door many envied, bloodied and broken. She found herself running, running into danger yet again... and the police were on a search for her, as she's now a missing person case. But Jungwon was on a hunt for her, making sure his darling is safe at all costs.

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

Y/n's blood ran cold. one last audio recording of her discoveries on day 7 of surviving. Surviving what you ask? she doesn't even know what to call it. It's eyes blank white, blood surrounding it's pearly eyeballs, running down it's cracked porcelain skin, dried out, it's long hair, everywhere it trails. She learnt not to touch it or it'll immediately sense she's there. It couldn't see her, but it could hear her. it could hear how her blood pumped through her body, her somewhat heavy breathing but it never knew where she hid. She was in an abandoned school.... a University known for it's paranormal sightings. She'd ran into many bodies, of those who tried to escape, some were streamers, reporters who willingly walked into the death department, others seemed like students who tried to escape.

Yet somehow she managed to find out how to kill it... the monster. Finding random letters a woman named Angela Xiao wrote till her death. Y/n examined how the monster's nails went from plain dead, to growing, blinding white nails. The day time was when it was most safe, it never came out in the late, but y/n remained wary. But now it's winter. The nights longer than days, darkness lasting long. She couldn't remember the last time she slept soundly with her only worry being waking up late when she has a morning lecture.

She figured the monster wrote those letters, it was once a woman, forced into an abusive marriage with a man that hurt her always, until he had it, ripping out her ligaments whilst she was still alive, as the woman screamed bloody murder, according to the random news letters in the cold dead hands in some reporters. There was some talks of a kid's ghost that lurked the hallways too. Her heart ached for this woman, but she had to get rid of this.... cursed being. perhaps perform an exorcism?...

She found a lighter, checking if it'd still blaze up, unaware of her surroundings, when a sudden, gut wrenching, ear-piercing scream shook her. There it was, the monster. Not expecting anything to happen but at least slow the thing down, she set it on fire, running off and hiding. but it kept screaming in agony, its body burning up, as it disappeared to ashes.... Y/n's eyes grew wide as she saw a much prettier woman in the form of a ghost, staring around at the bloodied mess, looking quite hurt... It saw y/n, and left behind a key....

It was the key to get out of this place physically. Hopeful yet extremely cautious, she picked up the key. The sound of clinking, echoed the empty hallways, not too far. That can't be right... she hid in the closet, watching as the shadow grew bigger. Her heart dropped at the sight. another one? she wondered as she saw the porcelain mannequin, walking robotically, its hair looking like an elegant wig a woman's love to wear, a red bow tied around it. the strappy red dress looked like a dress she had worn to a friend's frat party.

Those red glass heels looked as fragile as it's ceramic, glossy skin. "I know you're in here human... I can smell your yummy blood... oh don't be shy come out! it'll only hurt a little... I just wanna tear you open and eat your insides whilst u scream in pain!" it said with an eerily sweet voice. She calmed her breath, hiding well, she saw its face. pupils black, lashes drawn on, like a man had made himself a pretty wife in the 1950's, except it looked creepy, sure it possessed the beauty standards one'd expect in a woman, that were so unrealistic. but it's mouth area was broken off, and it's bloodied teeth, with some skin evident in between.

"Come out dear girl... I can see your dark hair.... what such pretty skin you have there......" she commented as Y/n swallowed hard. "THERE YOU ARE!" it screamed as y/n felt herself giving up, reaching for the blade to end her sorrows so she wont face the pain. as it's cold hands grabbed her shoulders, and opened its jaw revealing many rows of bloodied, long sharp teeth, y/n couldn't help but scream. Yet it dropped dead. glass shattering, soul arising from the shatterred, creepy mess off porcelain and disappearing. Y/n breathed heavily, as she finally cried.

"Fuck it's ok, its ok.... I'm here y/n...." a familliar voice said, Jungwon, the sweet boy in her class, the man she had a crush on.... but... he looked different. Gun in hand, black, featherred wings that had sprouted out his back. She backed away, repeating the word no, scared he's just an illusion. "shh shh.... I promise it is me.... I've been looking for you everywhere.... I didn't know that the curses still lived on earth- but trust me, you're safe with me.... look me in the eyes sweetheart." he said as y/n did so. and she immediately felt his sincerity.

As the police bought her story, and discovered the many dead bodies, they pinned their target, the man who started the curse of course, The man who had killed his wife and child. To the police however, he was a psychotic serial killer who killed every one there brutally and had gotten away with it for dozens of years. Y/n was in Jungwon's home, getting a little used to his demon abilities, and his dear friend Jay who casually sipped out of a blood bag before her. Jungwon could feel she was scared.... god it hurt him that she was so shaken up, in such a condition for about a week.

But he loved it, he loves how she grew so dependant on him... How she dragged him with her everywhere, how he helped her shower, delicately scrubbing the soap on her soft skin, wary of the wounds and cuts. He's loving how she's currently snuggling into his embrace, dressed in one of her short yet comfortable nightgowns, needy for his reassurance. See if something like this never happened, he couldn't have gotten her attention..... The haunting was all that was needed to get her to love him... And he will make sure she'll forever love him. She has no choice, only he can protect her, and only he can love her....

✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✧✭☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧☆✭✧

A/n: I'm gonna have nightmares for picturing this- but I hope u enjoyed, comment how u feel, and if u want me to make it up to you w a fluff- or maybe smut idk yet(shoot me w some requests, ill try)

[brucewaynehater101]

Brainrotting again

Ever read "A Thirteen Year Old's Fake ID" by OneoftheUnknown on ao3 ???

*cracks knuckles*

Lets take this idea and run away with it

Unreliable Narration, I choose you!

. · • ★ • · .

Tim—simply put—loves too much

Loves his parents too much to expose their neglect

Too much to do something as scandalous as get caught photographing Batman and Robin

Tim loves the Batman and Robins he's dreamed up too much to not follow him at night, not photograph them, not become Batman's Leash after Jason's passing so as to preserve the hope they symbolize, preserve the childhood hero he's loved for so long

Tim loves his parents too much to be caught being affiliated with Batman, even to the Dark Knight

Timothy Drake never becomes Robin after all . . .

Alvin does!

Alvin works desperately to drag Batman out of the pit of despair he is trapped within and spreading, works to become the most efficent co-worker, and works to build the paper trail that disproves any possibility of fraud

Wigs, contacts, makeup, civilian wear, hobby and even personality that differ dramatically from Drake and Draper are the cherries on top

. · • ★ • · .

Drake is perfect for his family name, and Draper is the idealized Robin who's light preserves the Night and Justice that is Batman

Yes, it is a pain concocting a personality which is the perfect Robin yet detestable enough to go unmourned, such a personality born of an upbringing that would stand up to scrutiny is such an impossible task for anybody not a Drake

Tim is confident he's done it. Once Alvin's no longer entrusted with the burden of Batman's Robin Leash, a Young Justice member, and a hero all around, nobody will gave a damn if he vanishes

[Jason's attack on Titan Towers, Damian's murder attempts, the constant calling of Replacement, his Sweet Sixteen, Dick taking away Robin and ruining his reputation in the hero community, nobody believing that Bruce is alive

Bart and Kon's deaths, the cloning he attempted in his G R I E F which will only serve to soil Draper's name further once it leaks at the press of a button]

All of that, all of that were utterly perfect moments, perfect to lash out in ways that would make Alvin detested more and more

The clock was ticking.

He is a leach of a cast over a long healed limb

. · • ★ • · .

Alvin hates Damian and Jason and Dick to the ends of the Earth. The first two tried to kill him, the third took away the Robin he wrongly thought belonged to him and he stole Red Robin just to be petty

He left a note saying he's only proving them wrong in Bruce being dead just to spite them

Alfred is the only person he is respectful at all too

He doesn't get paid enough

Alvin tried to ignore that giggling fighting to be made at the thought of Batman's accomplice having to suffer through all this

This feeling that's been there since his sixteenth

. · • ★ • · .

Hating the Bats? That's Alvin's job. Timothy knows it's irrational

Jason dug himself out of his grave and was trained in the very same cult as Damian. Batman picked his murderer over Jason

They're traumatized in ways he can't even summarize. The family's they should trust have done horrible jobs at helping the heal, going as far as to exacerbate their issues

It's not just wrong, but inhumane to wish they were Perfect Victims

Alvin is only half right whenever he demands—yuck! have some manners—apologies

. · • ★ • · .

Awful as it sounds, BruceQuest couldn't have come at a more perfect time, a hero on his high horse, insisting against his betters on running away to prove them wrong, a rebellious stint below his age

So what if he died with the League of Assassins after proving Bruce alive and bringing him back?

Everything is right with the Bats again

. · • ★ • · .

Tim hates the Bats more than anything

He knows it's irrational. Declaring in his heart that he hates is for older adults. He can't help it

When Batman disappeared and his family was scrambling to pick up the pieces, he set eyes upon Bruce's side

Who would take up the CEO mantle? Who could be trusted with the family name that swayed Gotham's civilians and Dark Knights?

In the end, with Alvin declared a madman, they could only rely on Timothy Drake, set to inherit Drake Industries following his parent's death and Uncle's adoption of him

Not that the family would ever know it. Not that they needed to know it

It became easier wrangling being a vigilante and CEO, as well as two identities when one of them was dead

Not that he stopped being a vigilante. They're just never gonna show up on the field

But try as he might, he couldn't put the Batfamily quite back together as Alvin wanted

Bruce won't let him step down from being a CEO

. · • ★ • · .

Brucie insisted on a dinner between family and CEO

It makes sense. None as well. Nothing is suspicious of Tim Drake minus his youth

"You have another brother? Where is he?" He hadn't heard of another adoption yet

"He died asshole." Draper? Why would they still speak of him like one of their own?

But then again, he died

He wasn't Jason Todd dead, but rather a "Don't Speak Ill of the Dead" dead

. · • ★ • · .

It's kind of funny how Brucie—no, Batman—seemed to not tell the family how Tim requested to resign multiple times.

But the family was traumatized by his own hand. They needed something to stand against, to become a cohesive family unit. Bonds forged from pressure are a powerful, powerful thing

He can testify I'm so sorry Kon and Bart and Cassie and—

. · • ★ • · .

If Tim were a civilian through and through, he'd say it's fucked how Batman still employs manipulation to make sure family progress stays up

Then again, he has to find some kind of way

It's Batman

. · • ★ • · .

Tim miscalculated

Tim miscalculated sooo, so fucking much

. · • ★ • · .

Nothing but good things to say about the departed Alvin in interviews

A shrine—a shrine!!—in memory of Alvin

Talks and discussing he gathers on his computers regarding the family includes talks about how horribly they mistreated Alvin comparing him to Damian and Jason?!

Alvin had a working and antagonistic relationship with the heros. Timothy Drake was purely professional. Tim Drake's relationships are exclusively parasocial and delusional

And he's trapped the Bats in parasocial relationships with a boy not even real

. · • ★ • · .

Tim wants to be sick

He calls in sick

'Suck it Batman'

. · • ★ • · .

Only after dying is Alvin getting the love Timothy Drake is above wanting for

It doesn't make any sense

. · • ★ • · .

Tim Drake wants to step down from Wayne Enterprises all together, to cut all contact—being a CEO has been such a strain, with Bruce refusing my nephew's several requests to step down—and have his Fake Uncle move them away from Gotham for both of their own mental health

Somewhere he won't fear the Bat's finding him

Bruce refusing his requests are the perfect excuses to go as far as to cut contact with the world—

Tim Drake knows his heart belongs to Gotham

. · • ★ • · .

Tim Drake hates the Waynes and Batfamily to the ends of the earth

There are exceptions. Steph and Barbara, Cass and Duke, and—

. · • ★ • · .

Jack and Janet love archeology too much

Tim, his own family

Dead or Alive

Thus is the way of Drake

Have I ever read "A Thirteen Year Old's Fake ID"? Perhaps.

In all jest, I am so so glad you liked it. To see something inspired off something I wrote is so heartwarming.

Ngl, I like that your version bashes on Bruce a bit more than mine did.

I like to think that Tim, in these AUs, would be pissed about a shrine to Alvin. Part of him would be so angry that they built a shrine to a person they didn't even know. They didn't know Alvin was just a fake identity. They didn't care enough to find out. Yet, they want to make a physical demonstration of their guilt and call it a mourner's monument?

Two more points I like about your AU are the ways Tim separates himself from "Alvin" and how he built Alvin's personality specifically to be a slightly disliked coworker. It's distressing and disheartening (in the best ways) to think of a younger Tim desperately trying not to hate the Bats for what they did to Alvin. It wasn't him, it wasn't Tim, so it shouldn't matter, right? He can still love them?

An older Tim knows better.

[gojoidyll]

Warnings | yandere!gojo, mentions of su!c!de, au where geto didn't defect and no one is dead (riko is living it up as a teacher along with haibara, and nanami is ok too), reader is referred to as "y/n" and with she/her pronouns.

Summary | Gojo thinks of you fondly, and often. Yandere ! Gojo x Female ! Reader

Y/n likes those a lot, he muses to himself when he notices an antique shop. His eyes scanning the old objects that decorated the store's front window. Bet y/n would love to come here...

Gojo Satoru didn't allow himself to dwell on the thought as he noticed Geto waiting for him down the street. The man waving his hand to Gojo.

"Yo, Satoru. What took you so long?"

"This and that," he said with a smile and a teasing tone. His head turning back slightly to gaze at the antique shop again before returning his attention to his friend, "anyway, where is everyone else? Usually I'm the late one."

"They're all already at the diner, i was just the nice one and decided to wait for you here, you dumbass."

Gojo hummed lightly, "y/n there too?"

Geto didn't miss a beat, "she couldn't make it."

Gojo sighed, "she is always canceling. Bet those higher ups are making her go on yet another hard mission."

Geto shrugged, "you know how it is, but she always makes it back," he gave Gojo a side-long look, his eyes softening slightly.

The night waned on when the two finally made it to the diner, and everyone could tell that even though Gojo was with them, he wasn't really there. His mind was elsewhere. Thinking of someone. Thinking of y/n.

The day she died was a long time ago.

She was a jujutsu sorcerer, and they all had just graduated from Jujutsu Tech. She even became a teacher, too.

No one saw it coming, though. When she died, that is. And she didn't die by some cursed spirit. In fact, she ... she killed herself. No one knows why either. She didn't leave a note, there weren't any warning signs. She was just .. here one day and gone the next.

Everyone would say the same thing.

"She was a happy person."

"She couldn't have been depressed!"

"She had so much to live for!"

By the time that everyone was done and it time to go home, Gojo found himself waving to everyone and ambling on to his home. Feet treading against the ground as he walked.

It was so hard.

It was so hard keeping himself from smiling. Everyone thinks he's in denial about your death, but they couldn't be farther from the truth.

Because guess what?

You're very much alive and being kept very safe in his home. Locked away where only he can see you.

He thought about telling Suguru, but he thought better of it. Suguru wouldn't understand, he just knows it!

"I'm home~!"

The moment he opened the door, he immediately heard the soft padding of feet coming towards him. A smile cracked upon his perfect lips as he shut the door behind him, locked it, and then held his arms out.

And y/n flung herself right into his awaiting embrace, "You're home! What took so long?!"

There was also another small detail he was keeping hidden.

The day she supposedly "killed" herself was also a day that the higher ups sent her on a tough mission. The cursed spirit that she faced against hit her head pretty hard and gave her amnesia. The only thing she could remember was Gojo, who he was, and that she was dating him. She couldn't remember her own name or where she lived, and Gojo? He saw this as a perfect opportunity.

She was his, right for the taking.

It's been a few years since then and y/n hasn't remembered anything, and honestly Gojo wouldn't have it any other way.

"Sorry, sorry. My friends were holding me up. They were so insistent on eating out tonight."

"Can't I meet your friends some day?"

"Nope~"

And he left it at that because she knew better than to push him.

"Now, did you eat already?"

"Mmhm."

"Great! Let's get ready for bed then, I've been wanting to cuddle with you all day!"

"Ok! Can we watch that new movie you got too?"

"Anything for you~!"

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

The Arcana HCs: MC gets temporary amnesia

~ Requested by @selfcarecollective and an anon! For headcanon purposes, MC slipped on a cobblestone and hit their head. The amnesia only lasts a week at most and MC remains basically functional until their memories return as their injury heals ~

Julian

The only reason he's staying as calm as he is is because he has years of practice slipping into "doctor mode" for his patients

When he's with you, he's wholly focused on caring for you. His voice stays steady and grounding, he's quick to notice any confusion and explain, he cracks jokes to lift your spirits

And when he's not with you - well - he doesn't know what to do

You don't remember him. You don't know who he is beyond who he appears to be to you now, the extraordinary circumstances of your romance have been wiped from your mind, and -

And how does he know? How does he know that you'll choose him again? How does he know that any affection you show him isn't out of your new dependence on him as your caretaker?

How does he know that you can still love him for who he truly is, when you don't know him well enough to rebuke his self-doubt?

Every lone moment is the agony of grieving someone who's still alive, spiraling until you have need of him again and he has a purpose, a clear-cut path that gives him some way to serve you

Lowkey surprised when you recover that you still love him

Asra

At least this time you're not dead!

Truthfully though, it's twice as hard because it's happened before, and twice as hopeful because they've seen you recover

The grief he feels every time you look at him with empty eyes runs a well-worn track, so familiar that it makes his heart wonder if this is supposed to be his default state and happiness was borrowed

They also have years of practice setting their own feelings aside to care for you, and care for you they will. You won't experience a single moment of need with them staying nearby

He's so, so careful not to push or rush you. Even though he knows this time around that you're committed to a relationship with him, he still wants you to have all the emotional space you need

Terrified of telling you what's happened despite knowing the circumstances are different. They do it anyways when you ask, and seeing you not crumple into agony from their words is so healing

Keeps all the pain of it hidden out of sight and ignored until you recover your memories. After twenty four hours of cautious relief, he breaks down in shuddering sobs as the years start to process

Nadia

She's ... she's unsure of herself, and she hates feeling unsure

No matter what, she wants to treat you with love and respect and dignity, but suddenly your boundaries have been reset and the person she loves as her partner doesn't see her the same way

It's easier for her to focus on getting you back to normal than it is to sit in the dissonance of your current condition

Makes sure you are completely cared for while she summons physician after physician after physician to provide you with round-the-clock care and her with as many cures as possible

She feels genuinely remorseful for how emotionally distant she is from you when she knows you're going through a moment of vulnerable need - but what she provides wouldn't be right

To try to make up for it, she writes you letters every day like a journal, to be given to you when you regain your memories and can take the role of her consort once again

Which she does give to you within a couple hours of your recovery

So, so, so very proud of you for making it through yet another trial - and more than ready for several days off to make up for lost time

Muriel

Usually the type of person to sleep off his sadness, he just wants space to himself to handle his grief where it can't affect you

At the same time, he has a level of loyalty to you that the Patrons themselves couldn't cross. He's not going to leave you alone for this. Nobody deserves to suffer in isolation

That said, trying to be there for you when you don't know who he is is a source of constant anxiety. How does he know this isn't his blessing-turned-curse making a poorly timed comeback?

How does he know that he won't scare you? How does he know that you'll be able to see past his intimidating frame and permanent scowl? How does he know he won't make it worse?

Ends up relegating himself to being something along the lines of your bodyguard. He won't pressure you to interact with him at all, he'll just be nearby to make sure you're okay and not alone

And that's how the days pass, slowly recovering in the peace and beauty of the woods, with your guardian in the background

He doesn't begin to process how scared and hurt and alone he felt until you're yourself again, and able to help him find words

Portia

She knows, logically, that it's not her fault, but in her heart of hearts she feels like this must be personal somehow

Is she that easy to forget? That easy to brush aside? The vulnerability she showed you, the countless ways she's propped you up, the beautiful relationship you've built - gone, that easily?

She'd never leave you to go through this alone and she's fully committed to seeing this through. Your days are filled with sunlight and tea and scones and cat snuggles and garden naps

But Portia just can't find it within herself to embody joy. She's a shadow, fixing you with tired smiles over eyes pooling with sorrow, the usual bubbly rants cut down to gentle, quiet observations

And somehow ... somehow, you still seem to care about her

Somehow she's still the first person you look at. Somehow you still listen to her fewer, quieter words like they're worth hearing. Somehow you see her "boring" face and still want to stick around

Even with you losing your proof of her worthiness, it's still her

Goes from depressed to all the feelings at once when you regain your memories. You'll be kissed, tackled, scolded, and hugged

Lucio

He's so close to hating himself for thinking this, but ... maybe ... what if ... this is a good thing?

He's glad he met you. He's, ultimately, grateful for the chance you gave him and the love and labor you put into giving him a second chance and helping him make the most of it

He's proud of the work he's done and the ways he's changed

And, in contrast, he carries plenty of shame for who he used to be

It could be so easy. When you look at him, you just see the golden haired journeyman who was holding you when you woke up and who's been there for you every moment since

You don't see the plague, or the painful source of his golden arm, or the demonic deals, or city state run to ruins, or the battles ...

You just see him. Now. As the person he wants to be

And yet he finds more and more that he misses being known

He misses your pride when he makes a hard but right choice, when he chooses honesty over luxury and accountability over escape

And when you come back to who you really are and see him for who he fully is, he gets the full brunt of it all over again

[xarology]

Clouds Across the Moon

TFP!Starscream x Reader

Non-canon complacent since this is extremely self indulgent and a vent piece ijbol

A piercing ‘thud’ wakes you in the middle of the night. You swear you felt your room shake and you’re jumping out of bed. Your mind is racing with all the things that could’ve prompted such a ruckus. This was unlike any break-in you could imagine. No car could’ve crashed either, because why would they? Your house was isolated in the mountains, no person in their right mind would be racing on the poorly paved dirt road to your house.

You take your chances and stumble your way out the front door oh my god it's a jet. A jet that ran through your shed and squashed your garden.

The rage you feel is squashed when you realize the canopy of the jet is still closed. Your blood turns cold as you shuffle closer. You're hesitating and you don't know why.

That shuffle becomes a sprint as you finally realize that a person could be stuck in there. Your body feels numb and you're too aware of how awake your mind is right now.

It doesn't feel real when you grab the stray manual weeder from the ground. It doesn't feel real when you start hitting the edges of the glass as hard as you can. You're convinced you're not yelling 'It's okay!' and 'I've got you' to the person inside the cockpit and yet you hear your voice anyway.

The plane rattles jarringly and lets out a wail as you make a crack in the glass. It startles you enough that you're backing away from it. You think 'This thing is going to blow' and your heart drops. You couldn't save the person inside and you certainly can't run away from this explosion. And yet, you try anyway. Your feet shuffle away from the jet and instead of turning tail, you fall flat on your ass as the jet shakes the ground underneath you. You're covering your head and bracing for impact, trembling at the sound of metal shifting against each other.

It grows quiet and you're wondering if you're still alive. You look up, and apparently not. A giant human-like metal man is lying up with one elbow, its other hand at their side and covering up their torso. The sounds of stressed metal groans as it moves its weight around.

You can't see what type of injury it has or the extent of it, but from what you can tell of its snarled face, it's not good. You think it's your rationale that possesses you to take a step forward. If you didn't end up dead by the explosion then you're going to end up dead by the scary-looking metal man, so why not try to help it.

But your logic is stupid. It hasn't seen you yet so run! Hide! Stand like a deer and hope it never sees you. Let it be occupied with themselves. Let it bleed its weird alien blood onto your garden and wait for it to die.

It doesn't matter anyway, you've already moved and it's already seen you. Their eyes still you as your foot comes forward and it speaks. "Not one step", it (he?) hisses at you, baring his teeth and flaring his wings out in intimidation. You've dealt with feral cats before, this one won't be any different (only that he's enormous and could so easily squish you). And yet, you walk forward anyway.

vent piece because a car crashed into my house the other day and all I could think about was "How do I make this about Transformers"

[traumatizedartist]

*AHEM*

My murder drones au headcannons (the one with actual digital art)

These 👇

Anyways yknow the drill at this point, look under the cut for the headcannons

TW FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPT IN THE HEADCANNONS (I'll have it be in red so you can skip past it if it makes you uncomfortable)

Uzi- Autistic, clearly

She has daddy issues but not nearly as bad as in canon(Khan doesn't leave her for dead in this au she "sacrifices herself") she's still super emo. She has a more scene style. Her, Lizzy and Doll are actually kinda close, they become even closer(become friends) after the series ends, cuz, yknow, Uzi saved the world? Anyways, she's dating N, and she doesn't care that he killed her mom(I mean she does but it only affected them for like, a year, so I guess a long time, they actually broke up cuz of it but they were both fuckin miserable and Nori slapped some sence into her cuz she saw how N looked before killing her and he looked so guilty ((wow the run on sentence go crazy))) So yeah they're the dictionary definition of a great not toxic couple

N- very sweet, very loving good boy. He has PTSD, obviously. It's like, really bad tho. Nightmares every night level bad, and that's how him and this aus Khan bond. They trauma bond, yay!! He's very in touch with his emotions, and he's a bit of a push over. He's a very big people pleaser and has a lot of trouble placing boundaries. Uzi helps him with that when they start dating, so that he doesn't get hurt all the time

V- once you crack her shell, she's a very shy and sweet person, not like her personality back at the manor, but like a mix of her current canon personality and manor. C PTSD, she remembered more than N about the manor before Uzi unlocked those memories. She also has nightmares a lot but Lizzy and Doll help her with them. Nothing cuddles and wholesome movies can't fix. At least for a little bit.

J- bless this girls lonely heart. She's still greiving Tessa(she's alive in Uzis mind just no one knows yet) she ends up breaking down after her and N get into a mother fight after he tries to be there for her for the like, 10000th time. When she comes back to the bunker with N, everyone, understandably, is very suspicious of her. But when she does get there, for the first few months, she's just a husk of her old self. Shes quite and agrees to do anything because she just doesn't care anymore, the moment she starts to truly feel at home is, ironically, during her rock bottom

TW FOR SUICIDE ATTEMPT

V is the one that finds her, she had gotten worried when she noticed all the uneaten oil in front of Js room. When she comes in she sees J with her rifle to her head.

TW OVER

V tackles her and starts interrogating her, asking why and is very worried. J, seeing this, just breaks, she begins to bawl her eyes out, crying about how much she misses Tessa, how she was the love of her life and can't live without her, how she wants to be with her, how she can't take it anymore. V and J spend the next 3 to 4 hours crying together. V had texted N telling him what happened and to get his ass over there now. So, of course he does,when he gets there he sees them hugging and J crying and he joins them, bringing the oil so when Js done crying she can eat. She had been starving herself toAnd this is when J truly sees how much people care about her, which, in turn, makes her cry even harder. When she's done crying N feeds her the oil and they cuddle together for a while. She's a lot better now but she's in for a very big surprise

Cyn- that's right baby! Cyns alive! Because I felt so SO bad for her that I had to have her live in my au. She still talks the same, but she's very sweet and innocent, her and Uzi have an older/younger sister relationship. Her and N reunite in the cutest way, they're both crying and hugging super tight. V and J are tearing up as well. I have more headcannons about her on my drawing of her lol so wait for that lol

Tessa- I don't have a lot of headcannons for Tessa, so just go to the hashtag Died and got over it and take pretty much all the headcannons of Tessa from there and that's how it is here pretty much lol(I'll find the @ I promise)

Thad- he's a straight ally and single(looking at you @rory-multifandom-mess) he's Lizzy's younger twin brother and his personality is pretty much the same. He's friends with the wrong people. He's a very big sweetheart. He's a Femininominon. A green flag icon. The best football player on his team(he isn't a dick about it tho) I don't have anything else for him but I do have a drawing for him so you'll have to wait on that as well lol. Srry

Lizzy- Thads older twin. She's dating V and Doll(you can't stop me) she became friends with Uzi after the show ended. She's a Y2K girlie. She is also very sweet when you tear down the asshole popular girl walls. She's quite traumatized from the show and sometimes has nightmares about it. She doesn't tell anyone but people found out(*cough cough* V and Doll *cough cough*)

Doll- she's dating V and Lizzy, she was never revengeful of V, as her dad survived the attack(so did her mom but literally no one knows that yet) she's still very blunt and has a flat affect, she also doesn't show her emotions a lot, but from the unfinished comic I already posted, when V and Lizzy get back to the bunker after the canon ends she breaks down. She thought they were dead. Uzi and her are cousins(not really but their dads are best friends so they view each other as cousins) I don't even have a last name for her yet so you'll have to wait(again) for the drawing to see more headcannons of her)

Khan- WOOO WE'VE HIT THE JACKPOT BABY! Autistic. He's half DD in my au(and he has the solver with the back hand things that we see nori having at the beginning of episode 7 I think, either 7 or 6 idk) idk how hes part DD yet, my thoughts are either forbidden love or cabin fever failed experiment. I'll probably make a poll of that, see which ones you all like the most. He's very insecure about his body, he used to get bullied back in high school because, no matter which choice I make, he gets to experience high school(with the cabin fever experiment he went missing for like, a year, and then escaped, he tried to get nori and yeva but they told him to go or he'd get killed, so he left, he still has a lot of pent up guilt from that) he's also a trans man(YIPPIE) but he's also curvy, hence the insecurity. He's a good dad and actually helped with the fight with the AS(he fought j as a distraction and effectively got his ass beat((Lizzy laughed at him, he also laughed, he's a dumbass))) so he had to recover from that, also, in my au, him, the teacher(I'm naming him Lewis) and nori are dating, so when Lewis is hanging for his fucking life Khan flies down and saves him lol. Also, he does get to reunite with nori, as everything that happened to her in the show happens in my au, but them reuniting happens differently, through Uzi(yay)

Guh, I've ran out of ideas so when I get more(and the motivation to write more) I'll reblog this post with more headcannons, hope y'all like this lol