#do you think she ever got to really mourn her ghost

[werewolf-w1tch]

thinking about osiris and guardian culture and lightless guardians makes me soooo ill. do you think he had medical records. do you think they were in any way prepared to treat him. do you think he had a reaction to any of his medications. do you think they had to build his treatment up from nothing bc theres so little info on lightless guardians. do you think the vanguard only started really caring about guardians that have lost the light when it happened to someone close to them (osiris or zavala bc fuck knows eris was on her own). i need to lie down

[envy-of-the-apple]

Family Man Part 2

Yandere!Gojo Satoru x reader

Part One

Word Count: 8.9k

thx to a very lovely commissioner!!!

Synopsis : Two months after Satoshi’s death, you and your daughter struggle to move on. You’re so lucky that Gojo is there to pick up the pieces.

(Yandere, smut, oral sex both m/f receiving, lactation kink, implied depression, masochistic gojo, ooc gojo, never rlly fixed that, reader has dark skin, xenophobia(NOT by gojo))

Sometimes, you're in bed, and feel like he's right beside you. 

For a moment, the last two months disappear. You feel whole again. Sometimes, it’s enough to make you turn around, words on your tongue, already ready to smile and greet him with a kiss. 

He isn't there. Nothing's behind you. 

And you feel empty all over again. 

It's better somedays. The emptiness. It's like a looming visage of gloom. Farther away one day, in your bed the next. Lately, it's growing bigger and bigger. A dark cloud on your shoulder, resting heavier and heavier on your back. 

Grief. Mourning. Loss. 

When you open the door, the mailman smiles cheerily at you. 

"Morning!" He chirps. "Lovely weather we're having today."

You nod, silent as he begins to dig through his bag. He's younger than you, you note. By a decade, at the very least. Barely in his twenties. When you were his age, you were still back home, in the village. When you were his age, Japan was just a faraway country, hardly worth your notice. 

He hands you your dues. You take them with a respectful thank you. And then you wait for the inevitable. 

On cue, his smile fades. Something pitying fills his gaze. You force yourself to stare right back at him. Insecurity bites at you, and you know he's staring at your dull face. The circles underneath your eyes. 

In the background, Reina babbles. He's forced to take his eyes off of you momentarily. 

"I heard about your husband." He starts, still staring inside your home. Your hands tighten into fists. "I'm sorry for your loss." 

He bows. So do you. 

"Thank you." You tell him, rehearsed, just like you practiced millions and millions of times. "I...appreciate it." 

He smiles, as if he think he did something, made your life a little easier. You let him bathe in his graciousness, before you shut the door. Away from the sunlight, away from fabricated sympathies. You finally feel like you can breathe again. 

It's been like this ever since Satoshi died. 

Car wreck. Some drunk had driven too close to the curb. Satoshi had been walking home. He'd missed the bus, he does that often. It's a usual quirk of his, you'd often found it adorably clumsy. Being late was harmless. He wasn't supposed to die for it. It'd been an instant kill, for the both of them. No other witnesses. The scene was cleaned up by the time you got there. The officers kept you in dread for four hours. In that time, you could almost convince yourself that it wasn't him. The reason why he wasn't answering your calls was because his phone had died. He was lost on the other side of town. He was anywhere else, doing anything else. 

You were brought to identify the body. Your eyes couldn’t deny what you saw.

You think a part of yourself died with your husband, too. You drift through life like a ghost. Mindless, numb. Colors have all bled into grayish blues. You don’t really feel much of anything anymore.

Reina squeals. You blink back to reality.

She’d dropped her toy. You pick it up. It was a purple stuffed rabbit. Satoshi had gotten it for her the day she was born. She doesn’t even sleep without it.

These days, Reina is the only thing that makes you get up in the morning, even when you don’t want to. She’s the only thing you push yourself for.

You don’t know where you’d be without her.

She’s giggles when you hand it back. She doesn’t even know. How can you even begin to tell your infant that her father is no longer coming home? Someone so new at life should not experience death this soon. It’s a sin. Someone has cursed her. It’s the only explanation you could give.

You kiss her on the top of her head. Her baby hairs are still growing. They resemble yours. Every part of her was you. When you look at her, you don’t see Satoshi.

You used to tease him about it; now, you wish there was just a tiny bit of him on her face.

Or maybe it was a good thing? Did you even want to see the man you loved, mourned for, and hated to think about in your daughter’s eyes? Would it break you even further?

You don’t have to think about questions like those. You have more important things to worry about. When you rifle through the mail, your heart sinks.

Warnings, bills, everything that Satoshi used to handle. Even when your world stopped, the rest of the planet didn’t: ever turning, ever malevolent.

You place the bills down. Reina babbles something.

You bend down to pick her up, she screams in delight when you place her on your lap, peppering her face with kisses.

And maybe your world hadn’t stopped, not just yet.

“There are stains on your blouse.”

You glance down before shrugging.

“Reina dropped her food.” You shrug. “I didn’t have time to clean it up.”

Kiyo doesn’t look very happy about your excuse. She doesn’t say anything about it, preferring to glare at you in silent disapproval as she always does. Usually, you’d have Satoshi acting as a barrier between you and your mother-in-law. For obvious reasons, that wasn’t feasible at the moment.

Reina was being entertained by your father-in-law. Satoshi had inherited Isamu’s bald spot as well as his gentleness. Reina kicked her feet as Isamu muttered soft words, as though they were communicating, even though Reina hadn’t even said her first words yet.

Another milestone Satoshi would miss.

“We made adjustments to the will,” Kiyo announces. “Everything will be passed onto Reina when she comes of age.”

You nod, not very interested in politics and lands. Satoshi came from a traditional family. Japanese nobility, though he wasn’t fond of talking about his background. You were always fine with it. You never married him for the money, despite what your mother-in-law thinks.

On cue, Kiyo snaps her fingers. You blink in her direction.

She frowns, but you’ve never seen her smile in your presence.

“I would appreciate if you could pay attention when discussing my grandchild’s future.” She more or less hisses.

“I am,” you give. “Trust me, no one else is more invested in my daughter’s future than me.”

It makes her even more mad, but you’re too drained to play ‘submissive daughter-in-law’ with her. From the moment Satoshi introduced you as his fiance’, Kiyo had hated you. Nothing you did could make her like you. Not even when you learned the language perfectly, immersed yourself in Japanese culture.

She never said it out loud, but you knew what she thought of you. She wanted someone different for her son: someone with pale skin, straight hair, and Japanese heritage.

You wonder if she blames you for his death.

“You haven't gone to visit him,” She says, after she breaks her death stare, “you should.”

A part of you wants to say no, but you’re in her home, and you know she doesn’t take it lightly when guests (not family, you were not family) reject her. So you do as she suggested. You rise, glancing at Reina before ultimately stepping out of Satoshi’s childhood home.

He was just as you had left him. His gravestone stood tall and proud. Even next to all the other graves, his was the tallest. It must be Kiyo’s doing. No matter the gripes she had about you, her child would always reach for the skies.

His incense had to be switched. You did so, throwing out the burnt sticks and replacing them with new ones. You watched the smoke flicker away from his altar. A lone picture of him, a shy smile. It was from back when he was younger. His hair was still there. An office job hadn’t dulled his eyes.

You wanted to keep the ashes. Just a tiny piece of him, tucked by your own altar you had. Kiyo had refused, wanting the entire body to be cremated and kept in one piece. Too broken, you hadn’t pushed. Now, all you were left with his clothes and the fading scent on the pillows. You regret not fighting more that day.

You don’t cry. Not today. A part of you is proud. It feels like it’s much too early to feel so numb to this grave. It’s too early for this to feel normal.

You touch the cold stone. It’s smooth underneath your fingertips.

Your in-laws are right inside the house. You still feel lonely.

“You shouldn’t have left.” You told the tomb. “You shouldn’t have abandoned me like this.”

When you curse Satoshi’s grave, you could have sworn you felt a tiny tingle by your neck.

On Thursdays, you take Reina shopping.

She’s a hit with the local farmers market. The shopkeepers coo at her giggles and beautiful eyes as you haggle prices for vegetables and grains. It’s nice to get back on routine. Even with everything going on.

The bills were still on the counter when you left. More and more were coming in. You feel like you were being buried alive.

Reina kicks her feet. When you look at her, her chubby cheeks are stretched in the wide smile. You smile back, and then you pepper her face with kisses. These days, you’ve opted out of the bus, trying to save some money. It’ll just be until you find a job. Then, you can take as many Air-conditioned rides as you want.

There’s a honk. You ignore it. A car rolls to a stop beside the sidewalk. You take a peek, and then you stop and stare.

“Mr. Gojo?” You ask.

“Hey! Long time!” The man waves cheerily.

You give a timid smile, waving. Reina, your polar opposite, screams in delight. She frantically leans out of your arms as though she could get to Gojo by sheer will. You quickly rearrange your hands to balance her.

“What’re you doing out there?” He frowns. “Especially in this heat?”

“Ah.” Subconsciously, you wipe the sweat off your neck. “We were heading home from the market.”

He brightens. “Wanna hop in? It’s way too hot to walk that far.”

You smile, about to politely decline but then you remember infants shouldn’t be in this weather for too long.

Gojo’s car is luxurious, but the biggest relief is the cool air blowing over your heated skin. Reina is ecstatic to be next to Gojo. She babbles something, reaching out her tiny arms. Gojo takes her immediately.

“And how’s the prettiest girl in the world doing, today?” He grins, lifting her above his head. She coos.

You’re not really sure how Gojo walked into your life. You met him once before. That day when Satoshi had a mental breakdown and practically ran away from home. Gojo was so ansty back then, and it made sense why he and your husband got along so well.

He was the one who brought home Satoshi’s essentials from work—his computer, his notes—and then he started delivering Satoshi’s work mail. Then, sometimes, he’d stop by for lunch. And then he started bringing toys for Reina. Two months passed, and you know him now.

Not well. But you know Gojo enough to slip into the passenger seat, watching how he handles Reina.

“Okay, Car ride!” He tells her. She claps her hands as he gently hands her back to you.

“Thank you again, Mr. Gojo.” You tell him. “Really, this means a lot.”

He waves you off, starting the car. “Don’t worry about it, Seriously. Got nothin’ better to do anyway. Also, I told you already, call me Satoru.”

You smile, shifting away. You don’t know why Gojo is insistent on helping a widow. He was the friend of your late husband (though, strangely, Satoshi never spoke of the man before or after the quick introductions). Maybe it’s guilt. But unlike the rest of the people who knew, Gojo never once looked at you like that as though you were in pieces in front of him. It was nice, finally having someone like that. Someone who doesn’t see you as the widow of a dead man.

He was a nice young man. You shouldn’t be so quick to assume everyone has an underlying motive.

Maybe some people were just as they are. Nice.

“Grocery shopping?” He mentions to your bag. It creases under your grip.

You nod. “Dinner. You’re welcome to join, but I’m not making anything special.”

“I’d never pass up a meal from you, ma’am,” Gojo says, happily.

You like to keep to yourself, but he was driving you home. It was the least you could do to pay back his hospitality, as well as the other things he had done for you. Honestly, your bucket for Gojo’s hospitality wasn't yet empty.

When the car rolls to a stop, Gojo hops out, opening the door before you can touch it. You thank him, Reina huddled safely in your arms and fast asleep. Gojo grins, not before grabbing your groceries and leading the way.

Your house is sparser than it had been just months ago. Less decoration. Less silly memoirs. No pictures. You dumped them all, stored them in a tiny box before locking them all in the attic. You couldn’t bring yourself to throw it away.

Gojo waltzes into your home like he owns it. You don’t mind. He’s young, still in his twenties, at his prime. These days, you can feel things start to break down within you. Your shoulder hurts when you sleep on it the wrong way. You have to be more careful about picking up things from off the ground. You can’t tell whether this has to do with the remnants of pregnancy or your age, but you’re envious of Gojo’s youthful strength either way.

He places the bags on the counter. By then, Reina’s awake. She blearily blinks at you. You were hoping she’d stay asleep for a little while longer.

“I can watch her!” Gojo pipes up, extending his hands. Reina’s overjoyed to be handed over. It’s nice to have your hands full with something else other than baby

You listen to them giggle while you get started on dinner. It’s your usual dance. Potatoes. The sounds of boiling water. You want to make something simple, but Gojo is here, and you don’t want to disappoint your guest. By the time you’re back out, it’s nearly an hour, and the food has yet to be served.

They don’t seem to mind. Gojo had taken Reina onto the floor. You don’t complain. It’s where she usually played anyway. He was driving one of her wooden cars on the carpet, running it across the floor, as Reina clapped to her heart’s content. You could only watch, heart strangely numb.

He’s good with her.

Like Satoshi was.

You clear your throat. Gojo looks up.

“Food’s ready.” You tell him with a stiff smile. “Why don’t you wash up? I’ll take care of her.”

“Be good, okay?” He pats Reina’s head before standing up. You take her into your arms.

She’s tired from playing. Reina settles in the crib rather nicely. It’s relieving. When she’s asleep, you can’t bring yourself to leave. You watch her. Her chest rises and falls. She snores. It’s the most adoring noise you’ve ever heard.

When you head back to the kitchen, Gojo’s already back. He grins, clearly eager.

“You cooked a lot.” He comments when you two finally settle down. “Not that I’m complaining!”

“I hope it’s to your liking,” you say as always.

And it is. Gojo never hides from giving his compliments. He’s so genuine and sincere, and it makes you a bit bashful.

“Mrs. Sawai, this stuff right here is sometimes the highlight of my day,” he says. You shake your head.

“It’s true! You have talent. You should open up a restaurant or something! Wait no, don’t do that...you’d be booked for years, and I’ll never eat your cooking again.” That makes you laugh. He seems pleased for some reason.

“Thank you,” you say, “I appreciate that.”

“How was your week? Your students?” You prod.

“Good. They’re all good!” He chirps back. “I was out of town for the week, so returning to my precious students was the best.” He sighs. “Sometimes, I wish I could just pack them all in my suitcase and take ‘em with me. They’re the cutest things.”

He said he taught at a religious school, which you found strange because Gojo didn’t really strike you as religious. Nevertheless, he seemed very passionate about teaching. It was rather endearing.

Did Satoshi ever have that kind of passion for his job?

“Reina reminds me of them. The youth.” Gojo adds. “Endless potential. The kids are all like...seeds, right? They just need the proper care to bloom.”

“That’s a nice way of looking at things,” you say.

When dinner’s over, you gather the utensils and bowls. Gojo offers to help, but you don't bite, insisting that he rests. It gives you time to decompress. As much as you like Gojo, he’s a bit severe. You can’t be around him for too long, he’s too bright. His companionship is much like a furnace. Warm, but too much, and you burn.

When you return, you expect him to put his shoes back on, waiting by the door.

Instead, Gojo is perched on the counter—his hands card through your mail.

You stare. He doesn’t seem particularly surprised at being caught. He doesn’t startle; he barely spares you a glance, perusing over your bills like they were his. You know you should say something. Anger. It should bubble up instead of the shame. You open your mouth—

“How much?” He suddenly asks.

You fumble. “What?”

He waves the envelopes. “How much is it?”

You say nothing. He shrugs, as if that’s an answer itself.

Gojo reaches into his pocket and pulls out a checkbook. You move when he plucks a stray pen from the counter.

“What are you doing?” You ask, incredibly lost.

“I’m not real good with money.” He sheepishly admits before tearing off the slip and handing it to you. “But this should be enough, right?”

You stare at the amount. You’ve never held this much money before.

“I can’t accept this.” You instantly say. Instinct.

You go to hand this back. He puts a hand on his chin.

“Tell you what.” He tells you. “If I gotta take this back, I’m just gonna head to the bank, cash it in myself, and throw all the money into the river.” He grins at your horrified expression. “And it’ll all be in Yuan, so even if someone fishes it out, no one’s gonna be able to use it. One way or another, that money’s getting outta’ my bank.”

His voice softens, akin to butter. It melts into your ears.

“This isn’t out of obligation or anything. I’m giving this to you because I want to help my friend. That’s it.”

Gojo has never looked at you in pity, not like the others. He’s always looked at you like...well, you could never understand his expression. You stare at him. His sunglasses have tilted over, showcasing those gorgeous blue eyes.

Why? Why are you doing this? You want to ask him. It’s killing you inside. Is it pity for the wife of a dead friend? Why was he doing this to you?

You think of Reina. Happy giggling, Reina, with your eyes and your hair.

“It’s not like I don't have any to spare. I’m, like, loaded,” Gojo continues with his usual snark, and you think of the fancy black car parked in front of your tiny house. “And if that isn’t enough for you, just think of it as me paying you back after all those times I’ve eaten your food.”

You lower your gaze when you take the check.

“I’ll pay you back—”

“—I won’t accept it.” He grins, and you have to smile at his tenacity.

“Thank you. No, really.” You keep the check close to your chest. “Thank you, Mr.Gojo.”

He angles his sunglasses down. He looks expectant. Just this once.

“Thank you, Satoru.”

“No problem!” He pops his frames back into place.

You see him off. When he’s behind the wheel, he gives an excited wave. You shyly wave back.

And then you feel a touch right on your back. When you turn, there’s nothing but air.

Sometimes, you dream of home.

Your real home. The village is far, far away from Japan. Where you lived with your parents and siblings and aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents. On sweltering summer nights, you and the other children would sleep on the terrace underneath the stars. There were dirt paths, and rolling hills but the sky was clear every night.

In the village, tradition was everything. You used to hate it. Every day was the same. An endless cycle. You used to dance back then, your family had pushed you into it. As a child, you thought it was stupid.

Maybe that’s what pulled you towards the city—bustling roads, people everywhere. Your college was a town in and of itself. You met so many new people every day.

Satoshi was one of them.

When you brought them to your family, everyone was in awe. He was a foreigner. He was well-off, too; he came from a traditional Japanese family.

It was your Nani who pulled you aside as your family gushed about him.

“Are you sure about this one?” She had asked.

You nodded. Back then, you were young and in love. He was everything you could have dreamed of. New, exciting.

She doesn’t smile.

“Be careful.”

You remembered her words, even after you ran off with Satoshi to Japan. You remembered her words even after Satoshi assured you he wanted you to stay home and he’d work. You remembered her words when Reina was born. You remembered her words when you and Satoshi’s lives were perfect and happy.

And then you woke up.

Your village was gone. Instead of waking up in a pile of your siblings, you were alone on a giant bed.

It’s dark in your home. Satoshi hated having the lights off.

You looked to the crib. Reina was still asleep. During nights like these, you often bring her to sleep with you. It still isn’t enough, sometimes.

You’re a terrible mother. Why isn’t your own daughter enough for you?

Careful not to wake her, you slip out of bed, walking into the closet. You reach up, feeling your way on one of the shelves.

The photo album is dusty. You cough a bit when you open the book.

There’s you. Younger, stupider, garbed in your traditional dance dress. You always found that outfit so itchy. The photo was taken right after you’d placed first in one of your last competitions. Even in the photo, you had this look of disdain, holding that trophy like it was nothing but a heavy burden.

You still have that trophy a decade later.

You flip another page. Your parents. Your cousins. Your Aunts and Uncles. You stare at the photo of you holding your baby cousin. He was the same age as Reina when that picture was taken. That was ten years ago.

You can’t remember the last time you saw your family. Reina hadn’t met her grandparents, her own cousins. You never got the chance to. Satoshi was always so anxious about leaving Japan.

They’ve seen her, through video calls and photos. But that’s different than touching her, bonding with her.

You stare at the photo of you posing with the rest of your siblings and cousins. Strangely, you feel like you robbed something from Reina.

You miss home.

You cry until the album shuts itself closed, and the sun starts peeking through the windows.

“You good?” Satoru suddenly asks.

You blink, eyelashes fluttering as you stare at him. He’s on the floor again, watching Reina as she clacks a few wooden blocks together. It isn’t quiet. The babbling, too. She’d already knocked over the tower Satoru had built. He didn’t seem too upset by her destruction.

“Oh,” you say, “yes. Yes, I’m fine. Thank you.”

As discretely as you can, you rub at your eyes, hoping that would shoo the dark circles away. It doesn’t help.

“I...just haven’t been sleeping too well these days. That’s all.”

Reina says something, not too happy with the lack of attention. Satoru gives her another block. He’d given her a bunch of toys, this time. You weren’t sure where to even store half of them. If he kept this up, pretty soon Reina’s entire room will be filled with dolls mirrors, and blocks.

“What’s been going on?” He asks.

You’re not sure how to answer that. You aren’t sure what’s been going on yourself. All that you know is that it’s getting worse. You can’t sleep at night, most nights like there’s something pressing you down. Things are going missing. You feel like you’re being watched constantly over and over again.

It only goes away whenever Satoru’s around. Maybe that’s why you’re more tolerant of his space.

“It’s nothing,” you say, “I’ve just misplaced a few things. It’s been aggravating looking for them.”

“Hm.” He cocks his head, you can’t decipher his tone. “Really?”

“I’ll find them eventually.”

He’s silent for a few more moments and then—

“Maybe you’re haunted.”

You laugh. It’s mean and sardonic, but you haven’t laughed in a while, and you hide away when Satoru stares.

“A ghost?” You question. “Those don’t exist.”

In the village, superstition was everywhere. Guess that never changed, no matter what corner of the world you ran to.

“Not a ghost.” He corrects. “Maybe something else.”

You hum, unamused. Satoru turns to Reina with an all-too-wide smile on his face.

“It’ll be right behind you, and you won’t even know it.” He tells her. “Then, it’ll draw closer, and closer, and closer until....it gets ya—”

To further his point, his hands shoot out to lightly jostle her. Reina squeals, absolutely thrilled.

Then, Satoru turns to you.

“Or something like that.”

You aren’t impressed.

“Ghosts aren’t real.” You tell him.

“They certainly aren’t.” He agrees. “But other things are.”

Satoshi acted strangely two days before his death.

He was always anxious, but this was even worse than before. Constantly looking behind him, like they’d be something there. You know he wouldn’t sleep. He’d just lay there, shifting in panic.

You don’t prod until you find him in the bathroom in clear hysterics.

“I messed up,” he mumbles over and over again. “I messed up. I messed up.”

“Satoshi.” You beg, kneeling on the tile next to him. “What are you doing? What’s going on?”

“I messed up.” He tells you again. “I keep messing up.”

And then he sobs. He cries so loudly, you’re worried it might wake up Reina. You hug him. Hold him close to your chest, letting him cry himself out.

“I’m sorry.” He tells you. “I’m sorry. I love you. I love Reina. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You ask.

He looks at you then.

“For cheating.”

You remember every detail. The crinkle in his eyes. The beginning stages of wrinkles in his face. A picture entirely stamped into your memory.

“I forgive you.” You immediately say. “I—I forgive you. We—we can work through this.”

“We can’t.” He shakes his head. “I’m so sorry. You deserve better. She deserves better, too. I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything when you prod. Who, how, when. Your husband cheated on you. You aren’t even allowed to grieve your dying marriage when you have to grieve your dead husband.

You meant what you said. You forgave him. You would have worked through it. Fixed it. Because your marriage with Satoshi was perfect.

Perfect.

Perfect.

It was a perfect marriage when he never stood up for you in front of his mother. It was a perfect marriage when all he did back from work was eat and sleep. It was a perfect marriage when he cheated on you.

Rose-tinted glasses. Maybe your relationship wasn’t the most perfect.

But it was fixable.

Reina’s crying in her crib. The thing on your chest is back.

You fumble through the dark, reaching for her. She’s crying even louder when you pick her up, even when you rock her in your arms.

“Please stop.” You beg. “Please stop crying.”

She doesn’t. The pressure gets bigger.

“Got any plans for the weekend?” Satoru’s asking when you’re finished putting away the groceries. He’d offered you a ride again. You wondered when you stopped being surprised at his frequent pop-ins.

“The same as always,” you respond.

You’re not used to the house being so quiet. Reina’s always doing something. For an infant, she’s rather loud.

But she isn’t here today. Kiyo wanted her Grandaughter for the night. You obliged, letting your Mother-in-law whisk Reina away. Was she even your mother-in-law anymore?

“So nothing?” Satoru prods, and you wonder why he’s so persistent on the answer. Maybe he wants to tease you.

The differences between you and him are staggering. He’s young, still in his twenties, he probably still goes out clubbing, drinking, whatever kids his age are into. You are...older, a mom, unsure if the tight skirts you wore 15 years ago would still fit you.

“If you don't got any plans, why don’t you hang out with me tonight?”

You stare at him.

“Don’t gimme that look. You act like I’m gonna rob you.” He complains. “Let yourself loose a bit. What do you even do for fun, these days?”

That stumped you. Apart from lounging around, sulking, job hunting, revolving around Reina, you haven’t done much. When’s the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru?

“There’s a bar that opened up. Not too far from here.” He muses. “Wanna go?”

You hesitate, “I—I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m not good at handling alcohol—”

“Same! Total lightweight.” He gushes. “It’ll still be fun, though! What do you say?”

Why, you want to ask. Why is he so insistent on spending time with you. Asking about you. About Reina. What does he want from your broken family? Your mind can’t piece together the images—connect the dots.

“Okay,” you say instead.

Three hours later, you’re dressed in the most flattering clothing in the back of your closet. Satoru looks pristine as always, and you wonder if there’s ever a chance he could look any less put together. Under the dim lights, he’s almost glowing. You can’t stare at him for too long.

The conversation is light, not too purposeful. You wander from one topic to the next. He talks about his co-workers. His school. You’ve always wondered about this teaching job. He seemed to never want to shut up about his students, but whenever you try to pry about the details, he starts to drift away. The most you’ve gotten from him was rambling about how it was a private religious school before he sprung into something else.

“Did you have any pets?” He asks, “Growing up, I mean.”

You shrug. “There were a lot of stray dogs, in my hometown. We would feed them, but no. No pets.”

“You?” You prod.

He takes a moment, genuinely thinking.

“My family had a dog, not too long after I was born. After that, nothing.” You were surprised, he answered. The alcohol must make his lips a little looser.

“I think having a dog would be nice,” you muse, mostly to yourself, “maybe an older one. Less energy.”

“What pet do you think I should have?” He asks.

You stare at him. He’s grinning.

“A rock,” you respond, and when he laughs, you laugh a bit, too.

“I like it when you smile like that,” he says when his voice recovers. “You get all blushy.”

You frown, discretely checking your face in the glass.

“I don’t blush.” You say. “My skin’s too dark.”

He tips his sunglasses down, staring at you with those pretty blue eyes. You shift away. His gaze doesn’t let you get far.

“Not really,” he murmurs, tilting his head. “It’s subtle, but it’s still there. It’s a nice color.”

He’s teasing you. You know that. Still, you look away. He laughs again. It sounds like twinkling bells.

“How’s everything holdin’ up with the house?” He asks when you’re nursing your 3rd drink. “I know you had a couple of issues earlier.”

You shrug, lips loose, feeling warm. “I don’t think I have to worry about it. Not anymore.”

“Hm? Why’s that?”

“I’m thinking of going back home.”

He stops messing with his drink. You don’t notice, thoughts hazy.

“Back...to your country?” Satoru asks carefully.

You nod absentmindedly. “I only came here because of Satoshi. Now that he’s...I think it’s best for Reina if we go back.”

You want her to live with her maternal culture. You want her to meet your side of the family finally. Maybe, when she’s older, you can put her in your old dance garments. She’ll probably hate it, much like you did. She’ll be good at it, much like you were.

He’s silent, swirling his glass.

“Really?”

“Yes.” You feel defensive, even when you shouldn’t be. His tone was cool. Yours wasn’t. “It—it’s her home. She should see it.”

“Wasn’t she born here?” Satoru questioned. “Wouldn’t Japan be her home, then?”

You deflate.

“You’re right.” You admit. “Japan is her home, but it isn’t mine.”

You miss home. You miss the village. You’d do anything to go back to the good old times. You’d do anything to be away from this pain.

Japan was empty. Your in-laws barely tolerate you. No friends. No job. The only good memories you had were buried in a tomb, and even those rotted away by lies and deceit.

“I think you should stay,” Satoru says, voice soft.

“Why?” You ask. “I have nothing here.”

“You could.”

You look up. In the dim lights of the bar, he’s breathtaking. Everything you weren’t.

And that everything closes the distance between you and him.

It’s soft. Barely a kiss. His lips are soft; you can smell his shampoo. It lasts for a moment before you’re breaking it. You shy away, staring at the floor beneath you. Your shoes. You can hear your heart. Thump. Thump. Thump.

Satoru follows your mouth. This time, it’s bolder. You can feel his warmth, pressed against your frigid soul. He’s melting you down to bone. There’s a hand on your back, keeping you in place. Fireworks spark at the touch.

It’s been so long since you’ve felt someone like this. Not since...

And then you remember who you’re with, what you’re doing. The ring sits heavy on your finger.

You push away. Satoru falters, and you use that opportunity to stumble to your feet.

“I’m sorry,” You say, “I—I’m—”

You don’t know what to say, so you say nothing. Instead, you turn and flee out the bar. Into the cold frigid night.

You’re drunk. You can feel it in your fingertips, the way your vision gets the slightest bit dizzy when you move too fast. You cling against a random lightpost, checking your phone.

Your place wasn’t that far away. You could walk, right? But it would be safer to call a cab. Better yet, call Kiyo. Call your neighbor. Call anyone?

Oh, you just remembered that you have no one here.

Satoru finds you when you’re already crying. You can feel him on your shoulder before he even says anything.

“Hey,” he says, reaching for you, “c’mon. Let’s get out of the street—”

“Why?” You whirl onto him, so fast that even he’s surprised. “Why are you doing any of this? Reina, me, why do you care so much?”

You’re still crying, but you can feel your tears slow down the tiniest bit. You weren’t breathing. You don’t think he was either.

Satoru opens his mouth. Closes. Opens again. His smile is gone. You can see the imprint of your lipstick on his perfect pout.

“I love you.”

It feels like he just slapped you. A knife in your belly, tearing you apart. Nausea builds in your throat, threatening to spill all over the road. You can’t look at him anymore, it hurts too much. Betrayal. You’re betraying your husband. Your dead cheater husband. 

“Stop.” You beg him anyway, “Don’t say that. Never say that, I can’t think–”

“—Then don’t think.” He insists, sweet, saturated. “Don’t think about any of this.”

He kisses you again, and your mind blanks. You let him this time, and you feel yourself break over it.

This time, Satoru’s the one who breaks it, resting his forehead on yours. You still must look confused. He laughs adoringly.

“C’mon this can’t be too out of left field, right?” He asked. “I mean, I made it pretty obvious.”

He had. You were too preoccupied in your own misery to notice. Offers to drive you to the grocery store. Volunteering to take care of another man’s baby. Satoru has always been direct.

You avoid his gaze, but there’s no where to go.

“Satoru,” you hesitate. “I—I don’t feel that way.”

“I know.” He concedes, trailing his lips down your cheek. You don’t stop him.

“But you need this.” He kisses your neck. “I know you do. You’re so stressed all the time, hm? You need me. Use me. However, you want to.”

Use him. You’ve always used him. What difference would this make?

You still had a chance to stop this. There were so many reasons to stop. You were a recent widow. A single mother. He was so much younger than you—

You kiss him again to stop thinking.

You don’t know what time you stumble through your door.

Satoru hasn’t stopped touching you in the cab, walking up to your patio. If you were sober, you might have been a bit more hysterical about it, now you just wanted him never to stop.

He’s pushing you against the door, slamming it shut with your body weight. You can barely get the words out past his plush lips.

“Bedroom.” You insist.

He pulls away with a laugh. “’course, Babe.”

You’re not sure how to feel about that petname, but you don’t get a moment to complain. He’s effortlessly picking you up, and you settle on the cool comforters moments later.

Your dress is halfway up your thighs. He spares no time, reaching for the back and finding the zipper. It falls apart in his fingers. He peels the fabric off of you with a delighted sigh.

“Fuck, look at you,” he’s saying to the newly uncovered skin. “so so pretty.”

Not used to the attention, you shy away. He doesn’t let you, taking you by the chin so he can kiss you again.

He’s so different now. You feel like you’re seeing a side of him you aren’t supposed to. Long white lashes, pretty blue eyes that are drenched in want and lust. His breathing was elevated. He was excited.

It scares you.

“I...I haven’t done this in a while.” You admit when you pull back. You give him a glance, before resigning yourself to pull away the rest of the dress and dropping it to the floor. “So...Please be nice?”

You sound like a child, unsure and nervous. You hate that you can’t keep the tremor out of your voice.

“Yes, yes.” He’s nodding, staring at you like a drooling dog. “I’ll be so so nice, baby. The nicest. Just lemme’ touch you. Please, please, pretty please?”

You give a tiny nod, and he’s pouncing on you.

He’s insatiable, you don’t think he’d ever get enough. He’s pawing at your bra before it comes off completely beneath his touch. Your panties are gone too, and then you’re entirely bare beneath him.

He doesn't forget about himself, neither do you. Between his ravenous kisses, you manage to take off his jacket. Satoru helps you with his shirt, pulling it off him, showing his toned abs and pale skin. Not a single mark or blemish. He’s absolute perfection.

He must notice your hesitant fingers at his shoulders because he stops sucking on your neck with a distinct pop, still playing with your tits, leaning over to whisper in your ear.

“Touch me,” he says, “I want you to touch me.”

You feel awkward pulling your fingers down to his chest, his stomach. His skin is soft, warm. Your hands are frigid. He shivers when you graze over his abs. His skin is so pale, almost translucent. If you were to pinch him, bite him, the color would show oh so nicely.

When you pull away, he whines, nearly falling over.

“Don’t fucking tease me like that.” The way he says it is so needy. You laugh, gaining the courage to play with his hair.

He gets the control back eventually, pushing you back down so he can devour you properly.

His face is between your legs before you can comprehend it. He’s spreading you open so he can see your pussy. You’re already creaming for him. Your pussy juice is spread across your lips, making your skin glisten and shine. It’d be embarrassing if he wasn’t worse, drooling like a fucking dog before his mouth meets your cunt in a frenzied kiss.

He gives this high-pitched moan that sends a thrill up your spine the more he makes out with your clit, licking and sucking.

“Oh.” You sink against the pillows. “Satoru—Satoru-!—”

“Fuck yes—” his voice is muffled but he doesn’t stop. “You taste so good, baby. like—like fuckin’ heaven—”

You almost double over when his teeth graze your clit. Your hand reaches out immediately to grab and his hair and pull.

It does nothing. He just whines, and when he digs deeper into your pussy, you realize he likes it when you hurt him.

You pull harder and his finger presses its way into your wet hole and just the right angle to make you see stars.

“Fuck baby, ‘can barely fit my fingers.” It would sound like a complaint if he didn’t sound so far gone already. “How are we gonna fit my cock into this pussy, hm?”

He talks too much. When you shove his face deeper into your folds, it seems to shut him up and he’s back to worshipping your dripping cunt.

He’s too good. It’s all so good. You’re squeezing his head between your thighs, sure you’re suffocating him but he doesn’t seem to care. The noise is downright scandalous but you’re too far gone to give a shit about that.

It felt so good to stop thinking.

“Close.” You gasp when you hit that plateau. “I’m close. I’m—”

“Gonna cum?” he asks from underneath you, and it only seems to spur him on. “Gonna cum for me, pretty girl. Cum baby. Just let go. I gotcha’ just please please please—”

It hits and you arch your back, letting your orgasm rush past your body. It fizzes up your spine, right to your tits before you sag back to Earth. Satoru is more that happy to work you through your high before your thighs fall apart against him and he’s detaching himself from your clit with one last part kiss.

Satoru kisses you, famished. You can barely kiss back, following his lips with your own. You can taste yourself on his tongue. It’s a tangy sweetness, warmed from his spit.

“Was I nice?” Satoru asks.

You nod. He smiles.

He pulls back, sitting on his knees. You watch as he fiddles with his boxers, before pulling out his pulsing cock.

It’s not all that thick, but it’s the length that makes you shift, just the tiniest bit. He’s on the larger end. His cock looks puffy and dripping in a way that almost looks painful. He pumps himself a few times, and then you’re reaching out.

Satoru stops, watching as you rise from your earlier position, hand on his cock. Your hand is so much smaller than his, you can barely wrap your fingers around his base. He shivers at the touch, and by the time you’re fisting his cock he faltars, head falling into the crook of your neck.

“Too much?” You ask when he gasps.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No no. Keep going. Please don’t stop.”

That same whine again. Helpless and needy. When you squeeze him, he jolts.

And then you stop. You’re sure he’s about to complain but then you’re lowering yourself, keeping your eyes on him, and you give his cock a tentative lick.

You hadn’t done this in a while, and you weren’t all that sure if you could swallow all of him, but you try your best. You swirl your tongue around his tip, watching as he twitches. His cock jumps in your mouth and you have to hold his base to keep him still for you. He’s so sensitive. Every touch you give him seems to just make him even needier.

He rocks his cock into your mouth. You let him, watching as he babbles on and on.

“So so fucking good, baby.” He’s moaning, head flung back, like it’d be too much to keep looking at you. “Right—right there. Fuck fuck fuck.”

He cums fast, and it’s sudden. He’s barely holding his breath before he’s shuddering and he’s filling your entire mouth. There’s so much of it, you can’t possibly swallow it all. You mouth off his cock with a pop, pumping him until he starts twitching out of overstimulation.

Satoru is panting, still basking in that afterglow as you kiss him. He doesn’t seem too embarrassed about how quick he lasted. Then again, you don’t think he has the brainpower to feel anything right now other than pure lust. Pussydrunk, your brain gives.

You reach up, wiping away the tears collected in the corner of his eyes. A part of you wants to leave it there. He looks good like this. Pretty as an angel.

And then you look down and you see his cock has not gone down at all.

“Oh,” you murmur, “I see you’re healthy.”

“Mmh,” he says back, not exactly words but you’re not looking for a conversation right now.

Your pussy is throbbing. She wants more attention. You’re settling back into your original position as you watch Satoru rifle through his forgotten pants. He pulls out a familiar wrapper. You have to roll your eyes at his preparedness.

“You’re a bit too ready for this.” You note.

“Can you blame me?” He honestly asks. “I’ve been waiting for this for months.”

The casual admission makes you glance away. He laughs at your sudden shyness and you have to wonder how you didn’t see him before.

“Ready, baby?” He asks. This feels familiar, somehow.

He gives his cock two cursory pumps, and then he’s pushing himself into you.

It’s so much all at once. As wet as you were, his cock bullies his way into you with a fierce stretch. It’s enough to make you squeeze your eyes shut. Grin and bear it.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight.” He curses. “How the hell did you fit a baby through here?” You can’t bring yourself to respond to his usual snark, so you claw at his back, raking your nails through his skin. He hisses and the pain seems to distract him into temporarily shutting up.

By the time, he sits his dick in your pussy, you’re close to breaking. You were right, he was way too big. Bigger than the one person you’ve always been with, so you’re not sure if you have a good gauge on size. Still, your brain short-circuits, and your eyes roll to the back of your head. Mind-numb.

He’s impatient this time, not giving you a chance to adjust before he’s clumsily pulling back out only to ram himself back in. You lurch, grabbing his shoulders to stabilize yourself from his sudden pace.

“Satoru—!” You gasp. “It’s—!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” He’s apologizing, but you’re not quite sure how much he actually means it. “I’ve—I’ve just waited so—ah—long and now you’re here and it’s so—”

If it’s even possible, he gets even faster, pushes his cock even deeper into your battered pussy. The squelching of your hole and his whines into your ear make it so much more erotic than it needs to be. You give into your desire, reaching over to sink your teeth into the soft flesh of his neck. The masochist in him purrs in delight.

You notice it first. That familiar soreness in your tits. When you glance down, your nipple is leaking that familiar milky fluid.

Satoru notices too. He stops, sinking his dick entirely into you. You’ve never felt fuller.

“Oh.” You feel heat creep up your neck. You hadn’t fed Reina today, this was bound to happen. “I—I’m sorry. I—I should’ve—”

You expect him to pull out of you awkwardly. Maybe even be disgusted.

Instead, he groans.

“I’m getting dessert now, too?”

“What?”

As your answer, he leans down and latches onto your tit.

He’s messy, smearing milk all over your skin and the other breast. After a while, he picks up his pace again, resuming his pussyfucking. You’re sure the angle must be painful, him bent over you like this, but he makes no complaint. And you could care less about his discomfort right about now.

He alternates between your breasts like he can’t decide which one tastes better. It shouldn’t feel this good, watching him suckle on your tits but you can feel yourself get even tighter. He can feel it, too.

Satoru’s rambling now. You can barely keep up with his incoherent mess.

“Fuck—fuck, you’re close, arentcha’?” he’s slurring his words, spitting them out one after another. “C’mon baby, you wanna cum? Cum, then? Milk my cock, pretty baby. Just like last time.” You should be paying more attention to his words. You don't.

Everything feels like deja vu. You should be paying attention to your own words too. You don’t.

“Mhn.” You moan. “Close. Sato, I’m close. Real real close—”

Your eyes widen. So does his.

You think you just ruined everything.

And then he starts jackhammering himself into you.

“Say it again.” He demands, driving his cock deep into your cunt.

You shake your head, despite your refusal you can’t help but— “Sato, oh God. Please Sato—Don’t—”

“Again, say it again.” His fingers descend to your clit, messily rubbing tiny circles. “Don’t stop saying my name until you’ve cum.”

You obey. Sato, Sato, Sato, Sa—and then you’re tipping over the edge. He fucks you through it, keeping you on that high until he’s shuddering too.

“Fuck baby, I missed you.” He’s whispering in your ear. “I missed you so much.”

You sigh when he kisses you, still coming down to Earth. The kiss his soft, just filled with want, instead of that carnal desire. He pulls away, and just when you’re debating to let him stay the night, he’s pulling out new rubber.

“Another one?” You ask, the dots not quite connecting yet.

“Oh, c’mon.” He grins down at you. “You didn’t think we’d go for just one round, did ya?”

You’re finally back in his arms.

Satoru dreamed of this day. He’s dreamt of this for months, ever since he had to leave you with that scumbag. Now that you’re sleeping peacefully in his arms again, everything is finally right in his world.

He shifts, wanting to bring you closer to his chest, but he winces. Fuck, you really did a number on him. He didn’t know you were into biting. And he can feel the pleasant sting of your nails on his back. He’d need to be careful with his RCT for a while. He wants these marks to last for as long as possible.

And when they fade, he’s sure he won’t have to convince you too much to make more for him.

“Give...them...back.”

Oh right. He’d almost forgotten about that other tiny problem he had.

He turns to the curse. “So, enjoy the show?”

Satoshi is unrecognizable. Malformed, demented. No more eyes, tall enough to reach the ceiling. To a being like Satoru, he was still nothing.

To a non-shaman and an infant, a grade 2 curse was quite the hassle. No wonder your so exhausted these days. Your husband was cursing you.

“Give them back.” The curse rasps. “Give them both back.”

Satoru’s silent, as if he’s really thinking about it.

“Nah, I’m good.” He grins. “This one’s mine now. And about Reina...what do you think suits me best: Dada or Daddy?”

The curse roars. It’s loud enough to shake the walls. Satoru tsks.

“Careful there. You might wake the missus.” He points out.

“Mine...” Satoshi insists. “They were....mine.”

“Were.” Satoru enunciates. “And now, they’re all mine! Sorry about the change in management. Don’t worry, though. I’ll take great care of both of ‘em.”

Always wanting to have the last word, Satoru reaches over and plucks your wedding ring off your limp finger.

“So, that’s where you got attached.” He muses at the metal. “Can’t believe you’re pathetic enough to curse your own wife. Is this 'cause you're still mad about the execution?" He asks, twirling the ring in his palm. "That happened months ago, man, get over it."

A snap of his fingers. Satoshi is gone. The room gets less stuffier. You relax in your sleep, and Satoru is caressing your arm, still studying the ring. It’s cheap. Plated gold with a less valuable metal as the base.

Pathetic. He tosses it carelessly.

A few months later, Satoru proposes with a proper engagement ring.

You say yes.

[michuga]

dream encounter

you meet the man of your dreams. literally.

pairing: jeongguk x reader

warnings: swearing, 18+ content, usage of violent terms, reader is hoooornyyy

wc: ~3k

a/n: inspired by personal experience. i'm still grieving.

you stumble into a dark alleyway, lips locked with another's. coming up for air, you inspect the man practically attached to you.

tall, buff, tattooed, smooookin'. lips plumper than ripe berries and eyes brighter than stars in a pitch black night sky.

god damn.

no time to think.

you grab him by the collar and devour him anew.

you tangle your hands in his soft locks, and he impatiently gropes the flesh of your ass. sighing into the kiss, you rub against his hard bulge.

you have never been so content. truthfully, you can keep going just like this for a few hours, minimum.

"need you," you mumble.

swiftly turning you around, he pins you against the wall. you're sandwiched between the wall and his firm body, pressing against your core just right.

hot breath against your ear, he whispers behind you, "make pretty noises for me, beautiful."

with you distracted, he sneaks an arm across your waist and dips it into your panties.

right as his fingers brush your lower belly and reach where you need him most desperately,

you wake up.

and you scream.

loud.

"jesus did someone die?" your roommate busts into your room, frantic and concerned as ever. "what the hell is the matter with you?"

in silent defeat, you grab your pillow and smash it against your face.

sighing and no longer concerned for your wellbeing, she leaves your room confused but somewhat used to your antics.

rubbing your legs together, you almost cry under your covers. guess your fingers will have to do, yet again.

"you do not understand. that was my fucking soulmate."

"a guy your brain made up touches you once and he's your soulmate?"

"shut up. you literally don't get it. i am so utterly devastated i could kill someone."

"you know what really is devastating? being in a dry spell so severe your brain has to resort to making up hallucinations."

"you have 3 seconds to run before i kill you."

"the only way you'll be killing me is with your delusion. i think i'm good."

"it's not funny! i saw his face, i physically felt his hands! this was like, cosmic. otherworldly. life-changing."

"you mean panty-changing."

"you dare mock my feelings? i woke up and felt like someone ripped my heart out and stomped on it. like my other half was ripped from my hands. like we were connected in a past life. like-"

she snorts, "yeah, connected by divine pussy."

"i'm mourning. i'm mourning and you're laughing."

"mourning!!" she laughs in disbelief, "you sound like you just got dumped by casper the horny ghost."

"i swear to god-" you chase her around the apartment for a solid 15 minutes after that.

two weeks have passed since your.. very realistic dream.

you've forgotten about it, but you could feel it in your body that your brain chemistry was altered. people may think you're exaggerating, but you really mean it when you say you haven't been the same ever since.

food doesn’t taste right. music doesn’t hit the same. the sun? dimmer. the first sip of hot coffee on a chilly morning? slightly colder.

maybe your roommate was right. maybe you're simply too touch deprived.

god, this is sad.

as you finish adding the last few things on your grocery list to your cart, you turn around to head to checkout. until you accidentally bump into someone.

"sorry! sorry!" you blurt, immediately bending down to help the stranger pick up what he dropped.

"shit, no worries," he says, crouching down to help you.

and that's when you see it; his tattooed hand.

what is it with you and tattooed men? the universe must really be torturing you. this was like dangling candy in front of a child then snatching it away, knowing you were never gonna give it to them in the first place. cruel.

"you really don't have to, it's fine," he adds.

wait.. that voice? sounds familiar?

you slowly, slowly stand up, heart pounding in your chest, finally meeting the stranger's eyes.

your soul leaves your body. your eyes damn near pop out of their sockets.

you stand there silent, like a damn fool. smiling awkwardly, he takes his stuff and walks away.

you don’t move. you don’t breathe. was this… was this another hallucination? are you so horny that your brain has started projecting men into real life like some kind of thirst-induced hologram?

you slap yourself once. no, surely not.

you slap yourself again. nope. pain is real. surely you’re not that mentally unwell. right? right? you had your mental issues but you were certain none came with hallucinations.

peeking over at checkout, you see him there, bagging his items like it’s just another tuesday. then he leaves, disappearing out the automatic doors. just like that.

you’re frozen, gripping your bag of frozen blueberries like it’s the only thing anchoring you to reality.

he's real. this has to be some cosmic joke.

"babe, life isn't a k-drama," your roommate says, voice dripping with sarcasm as she flops onto the couch, completely dismissing your very real emotional crisis. "listen. i know how you feel. dry spells are no joke."

you facepalm.

"no, really!" she continues, undeterred. "one time i went 3 months without dick thought i started having revelations from the heavens above."

you glare at her. "cut your shit, i'm serious! he was real and he looked exactly the same as the dream. maybe slightly taller and definitely hotter, but it was him."

she raises an eyebrow, not even trying to hide her amusement. "so, let me get this straight." she leans in, finally entertaining your story for a minute.

"you mean to tell me that you experienced textbook soulmate-ism; seeing a complete stranger in a dream and then accidentally bumping into him a few weeks later? that you’ve met in a past life, or that your souls are like, intertwined in some deeply meaningful, cosmic way? a destined interaction?" she mocks as she wiggles her fingers, mimicking magic.

she wiggles her fingers dramatically, mimicking magic, and you groan so loud it echoes.

turning on your heel, you storm back toward your room. you don't know why you even bothered to begin with.

"wait, wait!" she calls after you, cackling. "you know, taehyung's not dating anyone right now. want me to send you his number?"

you ignore her, marching faster.

"ooo, since you're psychic now, can you tell me my grade on tomorrow's test? or what my mom's cooking for lunch today?" she adds, trailing behind you like an annoying toddler.

you slam the door in her face so hard the hinges rattle.

serves her right.

you are going to kill your roommate.

one, for not believing you.

and two, for dragging you to a club where taehyung conveniently happened to be, and her only informing you as you were literally walking in.

he's not bad by any means, not at all. in fact, he's got the whole package. good looks, charismatic, talented and has men and women tripping over themselves for his attention.

your point is proven when you immediately spot him speaking to three women. you're no body language expert, but five more minutes of him entertaining them and they're gonna pounce on him.

you're just.. not interested.

you had met before at one of your roommate's work outings. you chatted for a bit, shared a drink. it took you, what? an hour? maybe less, to realize that friends were all you could ever be. the chemistry just wasn't there.

you don't actually hate your roommate for it, you know she just wants you to be happy. you're just irritated because you're so horny. and the only relief you've gotten in the past two years was your recent sex dream. that one touch was enough to send you spiraling into madness. she was right, dry spells really are no joke.

after 20 minutes of forced small talk, fake smiling, and one or maybe two shots later, you excuse yourself to the bathroom; thankful for any relief from this endless and agonizing night. horny and bored out of your mind do not go well together.

in front of the mirror, you stare at your reflection. get it together.

you fix your hair, touch up your makeup, and give yourself a little pep talk.

tonight this ends. you’re not walking out of here empty-handed.

be it taehyung or literally anyone else, someone is coming home with you. no more of this pathetic nonsense. your fingers deserve a break. so do your batteries.

as you dry your hands and exit the bathroom, you almost trip. before you faceplant into the floor, firm hands grab your waist, steading you.

you sigh in relief. a broken ankle definitely meant no dick tonight. you were that desperate.

"easy there," a voice says, rich and smooth like velvet and honey. sugar, spice and everything nice.

oh, no. no. no. no.

cosmic joke? this is a full on prank.

your guy, yet again.

at this point, you're convinced you're either in a simulation or someone is filming this for a prank show. whoever was controlling your character needed to grant you some reprieve. some grace, please!

he’s smiling down at you, eyes glinting with amusement. "are you ever gonna say anything?" he teases. "so far you've just ogled me and stayed completely silent. have we met before?"

your brain short-circuits. the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a dreamy and borderline pathetic sigh, "yes, we have."

"we have?" he asks, brows knit together in confusion, head tilting slightly.

"i think i'd remember you," he adds as he grins. that smug, boyish kind of grin.

your heart is doing somersaults, but your brain kicks in just in time. shaking your head quickly, you wave it off like you didn’t just sound like a lovesick creep.

"sorry, no we haven't." you force out a chuckle. "must have misheard."

idiot, idiot, idiot.

he laughs softly, extending his hand, "jeongguk. nice to meet you."

you take his hand, trying not to combust from the electricity that shoots up your arm. instant sparks. "sorry for being a freak. you just... reminded me of someone."

his eyes twinkle. "all good memories, i hope?"

you laugh, nerves making it come out a little breathy.

"thank you for saving me."

you internally cringe at your choice of words. throwing yourself off the nearest bridge would be less painful than this.

'thank you for saving me?' what is this, a disney movie? It’s not like he pulled you from a burning building.

he chuckles, unfazed, and waves it off like it’s no big deal. "see you around, then."

walking away, yet again, he leaves you burning up and in awe.

many drinks later, you end up on the dancefloor, your roommate, god knows where, doing god knows what with god knows who. you've learned not to ask.

you dance (the testosterone) your heart out. you close your eyes and you let go for the first time that night.

swaying your hips, you feel a hand slide around your waist from behind, firm and confident. a spark shoots through you, electrifying every nerve. you're caught off guard, but you don’t stop.

leaning into the touch, your body instinctively recognizes the connection. the hand tightens slightly, fingers splaying against your hipbone, guiding you in perfect sync with the music. the warmth of a chest presses against your back, and your skin prickles with electricity.

you turn your head slightly, stealing a glance at the stranger behind you. but when your eyes catch his—your breath hitches in your throat. all words die right then and there. futile devices.

turning around to face him, you throw your arms around his neck, pressing your body dangerously close to his. instinctively, he makes a home for his hands on your hips, and like an intruder, makes way for a muscular thigh right in between yours.

"i think you're gonna kill me." he murmurs, his voice low and laced with lazy lust.

looking up at him, you're unable to hide the need that kisses every delicate feature on your face. eyes twinkling, lips slightly agape, eyebrows knit.

you can’t take much more of this.

without thinking, your hand finds his, and you tug him toward the edge of the dance floor. he follows without hesitation, his grip firm, a clear indicator of impatience rivaling yours.

stumbling out of the club, the night air hits your skin like a slap. pure whiplash to your practically scorching hot skin. a giggling mess, your hands tangle with your hot dream man's.

as he calls for a cab, you stand behind him. emboldened by the alcohol and adrenaline, you rise on your tiptoes and press your lips to his neck; inhaling the scent of sweat and cologne. oh how you've missed that smell.

his breath hitches, but he doesn’t stop you.

minutes pass. no cabs. no patience.

without a word, he grabs your wrist, his touch sending another jolt through you, and pulls you into a dark alley.

holy.

shit.

holy shit?

before you can process it, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. you moan into his mouth, equal parts pleasure and relief. your dark days are behind you. the curse has been broken, your dry spell is finally over.

his hands find your waist as you press into him, mouths moving like you’ve done this a hundred times before. then, with a swift motion, he spins you around, your front hitting the cool, rough wall. his body is a furnace against yours, hands exploring like a man starved.

you can take a wild guess what happened next. only this time, there was nothing to wake you up.

maybe you'll become a psychic medium for a living.

a few months later, you and jeongguk start officially dating.

it was nice to finally put a name to the face.

one lazy sunday afternoon, you're both sprawled on the couch, his head resting in your lap as you absentmindedly run your fingers through his hair. the soft hum of a movie plays in the background, but neither of you is really paying attention.

"you know i had a dream about you before i met you?" you blurt out, your voice casual but your heart racing the moment the words leave your mouth. sometimes you really are the very cause of your own demise.

jeongguk's eyes snap open, and he tilts his head to look up at you, a curious smile tugging at his lips. "come again?"

instantly regretting your admission, you try to brush it off, waving your hand dismissively as you shift, attempting to slide out from under him. "oh, it's nothing. forget i said anything."

"no, no. get back here," he chuckles, sitting up quickly and grabbing you by the waist before you can make your escape. with surprising ease, he spins you around, pulling you onto his lap.

"finish that thought," he says, his voice low and teasing, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"nothankyou!" you squeal, trying to wriggle free from his grasp and attempt to escape once more, but he’s stronger, and it's far too late now.

laughing, he hoists you up and throws you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing as he gets up; trapping you in bicep jail.

"jeongguk! put me down!" you whine, your fists playfully pounding against his back as you kick your legs in protest. "let me oooouuutt!"

"i will," he says, taking slow, exaggerated steps toward the kitchen, "once you spill."

"fine, fine!" you huff dramatically. "put me down before my head explodes!"

he finally sets you down gently, but not without keeping his hands on your hips, his gaze locked onto yours with an expectant grin.

"well," you start, biting your bottom lip, "before i bumped into you that one time at the grocery store, i had a dream about you. and, uh… you looked exactly the same."

his eyebrows shoot up in surprise, and for a moment, he’s silent. then, a wide grin spreads across his face. "that is the craziest thing you've ever said. and you say some pretty crazy shit, might i add." he leans in closer, fully invested. "what kind of dream?"

you feel your cheeks heat up, turning beet red as you avert your gaze.

"baby...?" he draws out the word, his tone laced with playful curiosity. his fingers start poking your sides, making you squirm and giggle. "what kind of dream?"

"well, what do you think?" you yelp, your embarrassment reaching new heights as you cover your face with your hands. you find yourself wishing once more the earth would swallow you whole.

still confused, he racks his brain for a few moments before it finally dawns on him.

and then, laughter erupts. hearty and unrestrained, gradually making his whole body shake. "so that's why you were so weird back then?"

"gee, thanks!" you shoot back, rolling your eyes, though you can’t help but laugh along with him.

"am i wrong?" he teases, raising an eyebrow. "you had your mouth open like a fish. i was half expecting a fly to stumble right into your mouth."

"you've made your pointtt," you groan, dragging out the last word dramatically. "it's not every day you meet the man from your wet dreams, so yes, forgive me if i was a little tongue-tied."

crossing your arms, you try to look annoyed, but your smile gives you away.

"oh, i'll knock that attitude out of you," he grins mischievously.

before you can react, he scoops you up again and walks you over to the couch, dramatically plopping you down with exaggerated care. you squeal, laughing uncontrollably as he pins you beneath him, his face hovering inches from yours. you immediately regret your life decisions.

you never believed dreams came true.

but you are so, so thankful this one did.

taglist: @rpwprpwprpwprw @dollyunjinz

[friskyb1tz]

i have a lot of thoughts about a ghost ruth. richie at least got what he wanted before he died, ruth died alone. do you think she would mourn the life she never got to live? over silly things like how she died a virgin to how she died before she could ever be a star? do you guys think a part of her would resent the others for forgetting about her? that she'd resent pete and steph for getting everything she never wanted? i don't think she'd hate them. she'd try really hard to be happy for them, but a small, loud, petty part of her is just angry and miserable.

[gotham-daydreams]

Just an idea of mine while listening to like him by Tyler the creator, I cannot fathom just how much this is so relatable to not [] reader bro. So have a bit of a long rant/fic ig, this is up to your interpretation if it's not [] reader or just my version of reader from the not [] series.

(this is my first time writing so excuse me if it's a bit shabby)

Visiting your mother's grave was quite a moment for you, you remember when you would always visit her grave if you could when she just died, but then couldn't since you moved houses, to the Wayne house or manor I guess? ...but now as an independent adult, you can always go to her grave to mourn or just talk to her, just like how you did when she's alive.

Although you never really remember her much, since she died when you were in such a young age you still would remember her words... specifically, this one

"Damn, everytime I look at you i swear to God! " your mother exclaims, looking at you excitedly. She didn't really feel like all of her cursing would effect you negatively much if she just uses it lightly.

"You got his feet, you got his body, you got his long arms, fingers and shit, everything! "

Thinking about it now, do you really look like him?, I mean sure! Your his biological child, not that you wanted to be, there is a research about how the first child to be made largely takes the appearance of their father, but yet again... You were just fine with your mother, plus, everything worked out without him. Before your mother died at least..

Sitting in front of your Mother's grave you think about it, looking at her grave fondly yet there's a glint in your eyes that shows just how pained you are to lose her. Maybe you would've had a different life if she had lived, one that didn't include you having to be so over achieveing just for a sliver of attention from your "family" that clearly didn't care for you.

It was a pretty cloudy day, a bit cold you admit, you should've wear a coat or a jacket before visiting here at least... It feels a bit colder knowing you feel like your being watched somewhere..

"You gave me love.... And affection, attention, protection"

"So how could I ever miss something, that I never had? "

"I would never judge ya, cause everything worked out without him.. "

You never really experienced what it is to feel loved by a father since you already had your mothers love at the time. But she still felt guilty knowing you didn't experience a fathers love, well, you didn't really experienced it either when moving into the Wayne manor..., maybe Alfred is the fatherly love you've experience but technically he wasn't your father...

"Mama I'm chasing a ghost... "

He never really did gave attention to you, affection, protection, attention,love, none of those in all of your time living in that stupid manor, hell, even your supposedly sibling did too, even one of them wasn't all that pleased with your mere presence in this manor.

"I decided to really get that love inside you, I would never ever lie to you"

"You ain't never gotta lie to me, I'm every thing that I strive to be.. "

Music really is your aspiration, inspiration, everything... It's makes you let out all of your feelings to a song, makes you feel a bit better with yourself, its embarrassing to think that you've made a song for each of your "family" member once or twice, only for it to not ever be heard by them, but be heard by other people, strangers.

"So do I look like him? "

"I don't look like him... "

You prayed, hell, begged even, that you do not look like him, Bruce Wayne , god you wished you were not his child, it makes you feel disgusted that you look like your father, a man that never loved or care for you. Only seeing you as a mere obstacle, though you bet he ever see you as one, considering he's too busy forgetting about your mere presence.

"Please... For the love of God, don't tell me I look like him... "

(HOLY HELL THAT WAS LONG, so sorry about that, I just feel a deep appreciation for your writing, you never really talked about readers mother in the not [] series as far as I can remember, so I just made a tiny headcanon, about how reader is fond of their mother but doesn't remember much since she died when reader was at such a young age, maybe 4 or 5 years old, just like any other generic batfam fic, no Offense. I also added some things that are not on the song, as well as changing some of the lyrics, I hope you don't mind and enjoy my poopy writing!!!)

Oh. My. God!!!!

I absolutely love it!!! You can really feel the emotions put behind it, and having the song go through my head honestly really helped with it too! And your small piece really does show how it can relate to the reader in the Not [ ] Series a lot!! Even then it was an enjoyable read and I'm glad you decided to share it!

Sure, maybe it doesn't quite fit my own interpretation, but the fact it fits yours makes it so special and honestly love it so much more then if it fit my own. Besides! I like to leave things a little open so that you can cone up with your own things, just like this!!! The fact you made it just from my silly little fic really inspires me, thanks so much!!

For your first time writing, it isn't all that bad either! Changing some stuff around qas a great choice, and adds more to the narrative you were trying to make, which I actually really love! If you wrote more, even if just for fun and as a hobby, I'd love to see more of your work :]

Nevertheless, thanks for sending this in, and you didn't do so bad! 💛

[1d1195]

Traditional VIII

Well this is the fastest I've ever written. Sorry to leave you hanging on part 7 like that. You can read Traditional here.

I actually wanted this part to be longer but I think I stopped it at a good spot to continue with what I want in the next part but the next part will be a hot minute before it’s posted also part 9 will pick up right where this leaves off.

Warnings: angst (see I remembered the word this time), death mentioned, mourning, (etc.)

“Can I help you?”

Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly.

She stopped by the bathroom to take stock of what she looked like as soon as she got to the floor. She put the bag at her feet and stood in front of the sink counter and gripped the edge. The pain in her arm from her slip ached from the bruise forming on her forearm and rippled up the length of her arm as she held onto the counter. Taking a deep breath, she finally looked in the mirror.

Ill. She looked ill. From a green complexion to her red eyes. Her nose was cold and reddening by the second making her look like she had a cold. Bloodshot eyes and overall, just the pallor of a ghost. Her head ached and it was a dumb idea to come back to work. Surely, she would mess up more things. But there wasn’t much else she could do and nowhere else she could really go.

Slowly she closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest in defeat. Then tilted her neck all the way back to the ceiling. “Goddamn it,” she hissed to herself. Grabbing her bag, she walked swiftly back to her office. Maybe she would just sit there and stare at her computer screen until Harry finally fired her.

Niall covered the microphone with his hand. “Darling?” He asked curiously as the door to her office opened. “I’ll call y’back,” he dropped his phone back to the receiver and he hurried to her little space. “I thought—”

“I have no where to go,” she said curtly. Niall didn’t deserve her abrupt tone, but it was the only one she could give. This day was so awful, and she had nowhere to go except the one place she would most assuredly run into at least half of her problems. And that was her best option.

Without a debit card, she had no way to get to the hospital. Her apartment belonged to Harry and right now she didn’t want to be anywhere that was associated with him and the part of her life with him outside company walls. Her laptop was broken and even if she could use it her brain wouldn’t function.

“What are you talking—your apartment?” He reminded her with a question in his voice.

“You mean Harry’s apartment?”

“Love, all things considered, he wouldn’t kick you out or something... he wouldn’t do that to you. Not even on his worst day.”

She shook her head. That’s not what she meant but it was a new fear that twisted her stomach in knots on top of everything else. The tears flooded back into her vision. “I don’t want to talk about any of this Niall. I just want to work so I don’t have to think. If I have even a second to think about anything but work, I’m going to explode, and I can’t do that in front of you—”

“Sure, you can,” he said encouragingly. “Come on,” he said and tugged her out of her seat and into his office. She was too weak to do anything but follow obligingly. He gently guided her to the sofa he had in the room and hurried to his desk. He scribbled something, practically ran back to the door, and smacked the paper on the front before shutting it, blocking out the rest of the floor.

“What’s that?” She asked, curiosity getting the best of her as she looked at her hands in her lap.

“Says ‘Do not disturb. Meeting in progress.’”

“You’re going to get in trouble because of me,” she mumbled.

“Don’t worry, I know the boss pretty well.”

“That’s especially why.”

“He left for the day.”

She blinked. “What?” She asked softly. Other than being sick, Harry didn’t leave early. Ever. Most often he stayed late. The rest he left on time and not a moment sooner.

“He wasn’t feeling himself,” Niall said with a shrug. “Think you know why,” he was so casual about it. Her heart fluttered with worry despite how angry he was with her. How was she supposed to feel? She was in love with him. It didn’t matter. “Go on, then. Please tell me. I’ve been dying to help you as much as you help me.”

She shook her head. “I can’t Niall. You’re my boss—”

“Oh, for God’s sake, love. You’re also the love of my best friend’s life. Would you just talk to me already?” She looked at him as if she was really seeing him for the first time. She couldn’t believe he said that out loud. Now she understood why he put the note up. He wasn’t doing this as her boss. This was Harry’s best friend. If she could dream or hope about a future with Harry, he would be one of her best friends, too. “Pretend I’m not your boss right now.”

She apparently didn’t need much more encouragement for her already bubbling emotions to flow over. Poor Niall took it all in stride. Every word that exploded out of her, all the tears, everything. It wasn’t like when she talked to Harry, and it definitely wasn’t like when she talked to Louis. She told him all about the last twenty-four hours from Hell. She listed every inconvenience, every heartbreak. The debit card, the mean coworker, her dad, how her coffee tasted bad and got everywhere, her laptop was broken, and Louis and Eleanor were her only friends, and she couldn’t even go see them. “And of course, Harry hates me, so I didn’t get to see him last night,” she finished blubbering. She didn’t give lots of details on most anything, just the coworker since that was one of the only ones that she could see him dealing with. Not that she wanted him to.

“To be fair, I think Harry hates me, right now,” he smirked sadly.

“That’s almost worse,” she sniffled.

Niall rolled his eyes as he rubbed her back soothingly with the palm of his hand and watched her dab her eyes with the tissues he got from his desk. “He hates me because he thinks I’m stealing you away because you didn’t tell him any of that. And he’s mad that you didn’t want to tell him. He thought your relationship was evolving and you took like ten steps back without a word. Christ darling, I’m mad you for not saying anything about the harassment. That is not okay. You’re not plain, you’re lovely. She’s just jealous.”

She found it interesting that he agreed with Louis’s assessment. “That’s what Louis said, even before she talked to me.”

Niall shook his head. “She was extremely cruel for no reason, I’m so sorry, love. You did not deserve that.”

She shrugged awkwardly, defeated still. Even getting all of that off her chest. “I am plain. It’s why I was so worried about my... situation with Harry...I don’t...” she took a deep breath. “You’re not my boss right now?” She repeated his statement as a question for reassurance. He shook his head.

“Just a really good friend,” he promised. “I won’t tell Harry,” he added for good measure.

“I don’t even think he’ll want to sleep with me because I’m so ordinary and...” Despite his talk with Niall and that fact they were both aware of her relationship with Harry, she still didn’t like bringing it up. Plus, the untraditional details were lost on her, and she didn’t want to have to explain it to Niall awkwardly.

“Love,” Niall smirked. “Harry is...infatuated with you,” he promised.  “You don’t have to worry about any of that kind of thing. He would—look I don’t want to say it because it sounds like locker room talk and I don’t want you to think he and I talk about you like that. We don’t, I promise—but that’s not something you need to worry about. I’ve never seen him like this about anyone he’s ever been involved with romantically one way or another.”

It made her heart hope, and she hated it. She was prepared for defeat. Harry wouldn’t be in love with her anymore. They wouldn’t get dinner on Mondays or watch movies on Thursdays. There would be no more little sleepovers where he would be sick and accidentally tell her he loved her and forget by morning. She shook her head. “Niall, I...” She swallowed.

“Please tell me you’re in love with him, I’ve been dying for you to say it almost as much as he has.”

The smallest pause. Niall wasn’t her boss. “Of course, I’m in love with him. How can you not be?” She asked, face blushing, as she stared at her hands.

Niall sighed. “You need to tell him what you told me,” he said.

She shook her head. “No, it’s not his problem. I’m a big girl and...I have to handle it.”

“But you don’t have to do it on your own,” he promised her. “I don’t know everything, but I see the way you work, and I know bits and pieces of what Harry is willing to tell me. I know you want to fix every problem that crosses your path for anyone that has one. If you walked into your office and spoke to the you that sits at your computer, how would you help?” He asked. “Would you tell yourself to keep it all bottled up or take a hike and deal with it yourself? Or would you, the person who helps everyone with anything they may need, help you?”

She took a deep breath. The first bit of clarity over the last twelve hours was finally reaching her ears from Niall. “I would help.”

“Then help yourself, darling. Please. Tell Harry.”

She closed her eyes and nodded solemnly. “I think I have to go to the hospital first,” she said to Niall. “But I don’t have a debit card or a ride.”

“Call Harry’s driver. He won’t care. Or I’ll take you, I don’t mind at all,” Niall reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his plastic cards. “I think this has a 25,000-spending limit,” he smirked. “I’d be impressed if you used all of it in one weekend,” he smiled. “Bring it back Monday,” he shrugged. “Definitely use it to get a new laptop when you have time.”

Sucking her lip into her mouth she awkwardly took the card “Please don’t tell Harry about...her...”

He frowned. “Darling,” his tone was so disapproving. It sounded like that was going to be Niall’s first call. Maybe second if he called the bitchy woman down to his office to fire her after the sweet girl left.

“He’ll fire her.”

“As he should! She harassed you!”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please, Niall,” she whispered.

He sighed bitterly. If even one thing that happened to her over the last day didn’t happen, he wouldn’t have listened. But she had been through enough and he didn’t want to be the cause of any more of her anxiety. Besides, once he was officially forgiven by Harry, he would ask for front row seats to her exit interview. “Okay, darling. I won’t. Go to the hospital. Then you have to go to Harry’s.”

*

Harry’s driver was kind throughout the ride and didn’t ask her a single question about why she needed to go to a hospital. In fact, other than asking if she wanted to listen to a certain type of music, he didn’t ask any questions. “Won’t Harry notice?” She eventually asked.

“No,” he shrugged one shoulder as he passed towards the streets that used to be home. She lived an hour away now, but it felt like an entirely foreign country right now. “Probably not. If he needed me, I would probably send another one of the drivers from the company,” he said simply.

The remainder of the drive was silent. Her heart beating erratically with every closer turn to the town she left. “Do you need help?” He asked when they arrived at the hospital. She shook her head steeling herself for the horribleness she was about to endure in so many emotional forms.

“No... thank you,” she said gratefully. “And... if you have to leave... I understand. But could you please...don’t tell Harry.”

“Of course, Miss,” he smiled encouragingly. Taking her work bag with her, she stepped out of the car and headed into the hospital.

*

It was a little over an hour later that she left the hospital with one less parent in existence. Although, she hadn’t had two parents since before her brother died, she felt saddened knowing that it would never be amended. And for her mom, it would never be the same. She would always be alone, now.

Naturally, it didn’t seem to bother her mother all that much. “I’ll never forgive you,” her mom said with tears in her eyes. “You can leave now.”

When it came to her parents, there wasn’t much she could do but listen. Part of her wanted to appease them and hope that eventually they would love her again. So of course, after she said goodbye there was nothing left for her to do except listen to her mother’s request.

Her loss didn’t feel as sad as it should have. Probably because when her brother passed, she didn’t just lose her brother. She lost her best friend and her parents all in one swoop. Mourning her brother at age sixteen when her friends were buying prom dresses and going on college tours in hopes of meeting college boys was a tragedy that Shakespeare wouldn’t write.

There was nothing like mourning the death of people who were still alive and lived with you every day.

When she exited the hospital room, she called the driver once more who told her to wait five minutes and he would pull around so she wouldn’t have to wait in the cold. She stood outside anyway, for the full five minutes letting the cold wash over her. She was already numb. Everything that had happened in such a short amount of time was numbing her. The cold didn’t even hurt because she was already in so much pain.

All she wanted was to see Harry. Her chest ached at the thought of being held by him. It would cure her broken heart, she was certain.

She sniffled and a few stray tears spilt over her lash line. Without her realizing, she got more teary as she waited, only noticing when his driver reappeared. “Miss,” the driver said hurriedly. He was rushing over to her on the sidewalk reaching for her bag and offered her a tissue from his pocket. He placed a hand on her lower back to guide her up the sidewalk to the car. “Is everything alright? Are you—”

She shook her head, tears steadily falling down her cheeks. She opened the door herself as he looked on with worry. “I’m fine,” she whispered but her voice broke on the word fine. “Can you take me to Harry’s?”

*

The closer she got to his house, the more anxious and sadder she got. As he parked in the driveway, she strongly considered telling him to take her back to the apartment. However, she all but promised Niall she would come here. Maybe these tears would make him listen at least for a moment. Wringing her hands together, she sat silently, awkwardly in her seat before the driver even made a move after several minutes. With a deep breath, she swallowed and pushed the door out of the way. “Can you wait five more minutes in case he really hates me, and I need to leave?” She asked.

The driver chuckled dryly. “He doesn’t hate you, but I’ll wait,” he said.

She made her way across the path and up the steps to his front door. She knocked and was prepared to stare at her feet the whole time she waited for Harry to open the door. Maybe she even planned to stare at her feet if he was willing to talk to her. She was going to beg or cry (probably both) just for five minutes to explain everything. Five minutes to try and fix her broken heart.

“Can I help you?”

Her heart officially shattered. Her head snapped up to the beautiful woman’s voice and she gasped. It felt like someone wrapped their hand around her throat and was squeezing all life out of her. “Oh my God,” how could Niall suggest this? Did he know? Was Harry really that mad at her he would have Niall convince her to come over and see another woman and...? “I’m so sorry,” she whispered breathlessly. It felt like she was swallowing her tongue. She backed away, nearly losing her balance as she did. She wanted to be embarrassed about almost losing her balance but even standing upright she felt like she was swaying and the only thing she felt was betrayal and she had no right to feel that way.

“Whoa, hey,” the girl said reaching for her before she fell back off the steps. She regained her balance and felt like her stomach was going to heave up anything she had eaten—which wasn’t the time to remember but she realized she only had a bagel and a coffee this morning almost twelve hours ago.

Of course, Harry would find someone else. He was...him. He had money and he could have any girl he wanted. Someone beautiful. Someone who didn’t have all the baggage that she did. Someone who didn’t hide from him and someone who would do what a companion like her was supposed to do.

“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” She asked tilting her head curiously, trying to figure out who she was. Like this was normal for her to be answering the door and for her to be standing there. “Are you alright?” She asked gently.

She wished she wasn’t nice. It was making it harder for her to be mad. Seeing this kind woman opening the door to the house of the man she was in love with would have been so much easier if she could have been mad. But she was just heartbreakingly sad. “N-no...I...I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she repeated hurrying down the few steps and nearly missed the last one tripping into the yard. So much so, she lost one of her shoes. Worse yet in her fit of non-embarrassment, just total shock, she left it there. “Oh my God,” she whimpered to herself. She was now truly worried she would throw up. She turned quickly and practically ran back for the driveway.

“Kitten?!” Harry shouted from somewhere in the house.

“Hey, wait!” The woman called suddenly.

“Fuck,” she heard Harry hiss as she hurried back to the car, tears falling quickly down her cheeks as she awkwardly limped without her shoe the path to the driveway. With her head start she thought she really might make it in the car and drive away before Harry got to her. But he had much longer legs...and he wasn’t bogged down by missing a shoe. “Goddammit! Love, stop!” He shouted running across the yard. She pulled the door handle quickly trying to get away from this house, but the door smacked shut at the same time. Harry’s hand pressed to the window while the other grabbed her arm right where it bruised. She inhaled sharply in pain and winced. Harry dropped her arm like a hot potato, he released a breath out of frustration. “Kitten, stop,” he was out of breath from his short run—but it wasn’t the run making him breathless but the thought of losing her at this moment. She wanted to look up at him and see those perfect green eyes, but she was so scared. “Look at me, please,” he begged. But her eyes stayed glued to the driveway. Harry was only in socks, and she thought that was cute. His feet in socks. It wasn’t the time, but her brain was operating on no sleep and way too much trauma for one day.

Her face crumpled in pain and she shook her head. She couldn’t look at him, if she looked all the pain would boil over and she would start crying and never stop. Why didn’t Harry deserve some woman that would be there for him the way she couldn’t be? Why wouldn’t he want someone beautiful and not plain? Someone who wasn’t so young that she was still in the internship phase. Someone who didn’t need his money or a job. Someone who was brilliant enough to help him with whatever his company and he himself needed.

“Hey,” the woman’s voice suddenly sounded beside her. It was gentle and out of instinct she turned to the direction of the woman that was currently amplifying just how terrible her day could get just by existing. It wasn’t her fault either. She really thought the girl was beautiful and lovely. She was kind to not sneer at her as a sniveling mess. She sniffled looking at her curiously. The beautiful girl handed Harry her missing shoe then stuck her hand out to introduce herself. “M’Gemma,” she said softly, apologetically in tone as she smiled at her with a terrible look of pity directed toward her.

Even though one of the only things she prided herself on was being intelligent this had to be the dumbest thing she had ever done in her whole life. She was speechless. Couldn’t even say her own name as she held her hand out awkwardly and (fortunately for her) instinctively for Harry’s sister to shake.

At the same time, Harry crouched to the ground and placed her shoe back on her foot holding her ankle so gently, like she might break. “I was just going, truly,” Gemma smiled at her sympathetically. “I’ve heard loads about you. I’ll meet you again sometime, yeah?” She asked quietly. Harry was silent throughout the interaction. His breathing erratic as he was hoping she wouldn’t leave. “Bye Harry,” she kissed him on the cheek and Gemma went to the other side of the car and gave the driver a wave before sliding into the back seat. The car drove away leaving her alone with Harry.

“Kitten,” he whispered softly.

“I’ve had a terrible couple of days,” she sniffled tears clouding her vision again. The fear of Harry finding someone else nearly ruined her completely. She was lucky that wasn’t the case. But she still had to have this talk that she promised Niall.

“I know y’have love, I just...Niall texted me...and Louis is worried...and... my love,” his voice was so gentle. It pulled at every string in her heart.

She started to say the speech she had planned in her head when she arrived. Before she saw Gemma. “I know you hate me, but I have nowhere else to go,” she whimpered, and it was all too much, and she finally let her knees give out as she melted to the ground. She covered her face and cried.

“No. Baby, I don’t hate you. Not at all. M’so sorry about everything,” he promised crouching beside her. “Let’s go inside...s’too cold t’have y’out here,” he lifted around her waist to help her stand. He wanted to scoop her up and carry her because whatever demons she was fighting right now had made her weak. But she seemed overwhelmed already and he didn’t want to add to that any more than he already had by not realizing sooner that Gemma was talking to her without her knowing who Gemma was. So, once she was standing again, he held her hand and pulled her back to the house.

*

Gemma had been extremely helpful in working through Harry’s emotions with him. “You really think Niall of all people would do that to you?” She rolled her eyes.

Harry felt like her little brother at that moment. He didn’t too often anymore because he was always busy with his company, and he was always busy doing things that he never really got a chance to just be the younger sibling and have Gemma take care of him like she used to when they were young. “I think I love her, Gem.”

“Ya think?” She rolled her eyes. Harry sighed. The pair of them were sitting on his sofa and sipping tea. They ordered out for dinner and were now chatting so Harry would calm down. Harry never left work early, but he was so distraught and angry that something had to be done. Gemma came right over, and he told her everything about the girl of his dreams. Unbeknownst to Harry, Gemma was thrilled that Harry cared so deeply about someone in this capacity. Like Niall, she noticed it was so different than anyone he ever involved himself with up to this point in time. She couldn’t wait to tell their mum.

After venting for almost two hours and working through what he needed to do next, Gemma chatted about herself and caught him up on her life. In comparison, it wasn’t much. Work was good and her dating life was good. There wasn’t much to report.

Her phone vibrated. Hey Gem. It was Niall. I know he’s pissed at me, but can you tell him to look at his phone? It’s an emergency.

Frowning, she responded to Niall while she called out to Harry. “Harry, look at your phone. Niall said there’s an emergency.” He was putting the mugs in the sink when Gemma gave him the directions. As he put the phone in his hand, his stomach dropped. He hadn’t looked at it in hours.

He had a message from Niall and a message from an unknown number claiming to be Louis. His chest felt tight. The only thought he managed was that something was wrong with her; and that was the worst kind of thought.

Niall’s said: Harry...you have to talk to her. It’s bad.

Then a second message: Really bad.

He frowned feeling worry for the sweet girl. He almost called her instead of reading Louis’ message, but there was a knock at the door, changing his plan as he tried to gather his scattered thoughts. He tapped on the message from Louis. “I’ll answer it on my way out, have a good weekend, Harry!” Gemma called cheerfully. He didn’t even respond because he was busy reading.

Louis’ message was a long one: Hey Harry, it’s Louis. I stole your phone number from her back in August without her knowing. She would kill me for messaging you, but we’re on a plane and... well... she said she was feeling poor and headed to your house. But El and I just figured out WHY she’s poorly. She’s ignoring her phone, or something... Can you please tell her to call me? She probably won’t even tell you, so she won’t be a bother, and I can’t tell you through a text message... I’m sure she doesn’t want to interrupt our weekend either, but... please have her call me back. Or you can when you have her in a stable place... Thank you for taking care of her... I don’t think I’ve ever said that before to you... I don’t trust her with very many people. So, thank you for taking care of my best friend.

It took him a moment to pull himself from the message and that the other voice outside was the sweet girl speaking to Gemma at the door.

“Why are you apologizing? Is Harry expecting you?” Gemma asked gently.

“N-no...I... I didn’t mean to intrude, I’m so sorry,” she stammered, and Harry shook his head trying to reach the fact that she was there.

“Kitten?!” He shouted. By the time he raced to the door, she was nearing the car. He wondered when the driver got there briefly, but he was nearly sprinting, almost pushing Gemma to the ground, to make sure he got to the car before she did. As she pulled the door handle open sniffling as she desperately tried to leave, he smacked the door shut immediately. He would not let her leave.

Something was wrong with her arm because when he reached for it, she winced in pain and Harry thought he would murder someone if they hurt her. The messages from Niall and Louis scrolling through his mind. “Kitten, stop,” he whispered as she tried to reach for the car again. “Look at me please,” he begged. It had only been a day, but he was a lovesick man. He missed her face and he wanted to see the beautiful eyes he loved so much, the little windows to her soul. Even if he just saw them for a second. But she kept her eyes to the ground. Fortunately, at that moment, Gemma introduced herself.

That’s when Harry put it together that she thought Gemma was some other woman. He didn’t even find it funny, although he wished he could have. He felt so terrible she thought so little of how much she meant to Harry that he would find someone else in less than twenty-four hours.

Now, they were inside. “Where do y’want to sit?” He asked. “The sofa or the bed?”

“I don’t—”

“Love. Please, where will you be most comfortable?” He whispered gently.

“The sofa,” she answered.

He softly nudged her to the living area, taking her coat off before she sat and then he crouched to take her shoes off. Lightly, he pushed the sleeve of her blouse up because he didn’t forget, and he saw the nasty bruise on her arm that made his heart ache with anger. “What happened?” His voice was short. He thought of the messages both Niall and Louis sent him. “Louis texted me. Said you’re ignoring his calls.”

She shook her head. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw my phone.” He frowned. He was glad she was here. If he tried to call her and she didn’t answer, he would have gone mad with worry.  She sniffled. “Harry,” she croaked.

“M’here, kitten,” he promised, and he pushed himself to kneel between her legs and he placed his hands on either side of her face. It felt like fire to touch her like this. He craved it so badly. Not having it at movie night and not seeing her until five minutes ago...and knowing she was hurt? His heart was broken. “Tell me, please,” he begged. “I’ll kill someone if I have to.”

She sighed. “You have to listen to everything before you say something or I won’t be able to finish it all,” she whispered.

“Sure love,” he nodded obediently.

“And you can’t kill or fire anyone.” He didn’t respond because he wasn’t sure he could make that promise to her. Especially if someone caused that bruise. He pressed his lips together, knelt between her legs and held her face to keep her gaze. “It’s not going to make sense, so much went wrong so fast,” she told him.

“I can keep up,” he promised. There was a moment of pause as she collected all her thoughts trying to figure out how to begin.

She began her story. “Someone stole my debit card, and I don’t... As a rule, I don’t use my credit card... at least not right now. I have too many bills and worries to be using it. I can’t wrack up any more debt... So, I basically have no access to my account or money for a week,” Harry took a hand from her face to reach into his pocket for his wallet. That was an easy fix, and he was sad it started off so easy because that meant it was going to get much worse.

She shook her head. “Niall already gave me his, because I needed it to get to the hospital,” she said, stilling his hand from opening his wallet. She gave his hand a squeeze at the sound of Niall’s name. But he didn’t feel jealous. He did in the moment seeing his best friend holding the object of all his affections so comfortingly in his arms. He didn’t know what was wrong and he was irrationally angry that Niall wouldn’t say—even when he didn’t know at the time either. He wanted to be the one comforting her. That was all.

“Hospital?” He questioned his eyes falling back to her arm.

“I’m jumping ahead. It wasn’t for me.”

He frowned. Putting the wallet on the coffee table he would thank Niall later for offering his help while Harry was being an idiot. “Go on,” he said, and he moved to sit beside her. He stretched his legs out on the chaise section and pulled her over his body, so her legs laid over his lap. This way he could see into her eyes and still touch her. He kept one of his hands wrapped up in hers and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

“I was going to try and figure out how to transfer some of my money on my laptop to a temporary gift card or something… and maybe work on my internship reflection for school but... my laptop wouldn’t turn on,” she mumbled. “And then at the same time it occurred to me I can’t even buy a laptop because I don’t have a debit card.”

“We can go buy you a new one tomorrow,” he promised.

“S’not the point,” she mumbled. “You’re not supposed to interrupt,” she reminded him.

He squeezed her hand. “M’sorry.”

“The woman from the meeting who thinks I’m stupid because I’m an intern,” she whispered the description. “Do you know who I’m talking about?” Harry nodded, curious as to how someone he only saw at meetings had anything to do with this story. Harry almost forgot about her. She was right. So much had happened in such a short amount of time, he hadn’t even had a chance to debrief with her the wonderful job she did in person and to tell her not to worry about the woman from the meeting.

“You’re not stup—”

She continued without letting Harry compliment her. “She told me that you wouldn’t sleep with me.”

Harry blinked rapidly a few times, shook his head trying to clear it. Surely, he missed something to get to this section of the story. “What? I’m sorry...what do you—”

She looked at their hands held together. “She came to my office, unprompted, while I was sad about my laptop, and she just said I was stupid and plain, and you wouldn’t sleep with me because I wasn’t your type. I’m not special or smart and just because I had one good idea and I work well with Niall didn’t mean you would want me... an intern.”

He had no idea the condition to hear her story was not firing an employee was for the benefit of some cruel woman who was just so wrong. He felt speechless because everything in those two sentences was wrong. She wasn’t plain, she was so goddamn beautiful she haunted his every thought. Add in the fact she was so brilliant and kind. Harry couldn’t get enough of her, and the idea of sleeping with her...

Again, he if it meant he could have her there in his life forever, he wouldn’t care about being intimate. But otherwise, he would kill to be so close to her. “Kitten,” he whispered.He was so mad. The rage in his chest was consuming. She would be fired. For one reason or another. Harry didn’t care what he had to do. He wouldn’t let anyone speak that way to another employee. But especially not the angel seated beside him.

“It gets worse,” she mumbled.

Harry closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded. He didn’t know how that could be possible, but he supposed he would find out. “Please continue, then.”

“She knocked my coffee all over my desk,” she said. “And it got all over my skirt, my laptop, the floor, my desktop, and then...I went to clean it and I slipped and that’s how I got this bruise,” she gestured to her arm. Instinctively, Harry reached out and brushed his fingers over it. Not only did he want to fire her, but he also wanted to kill her. The poor girl knew exactly what Harry would do under the right circumstances and that was why she made restrictions on hearing the story as such. She was good, Harry would give her that.

“That’s when you came in,” she mumbled. “I was so sad and heartbroken I couldn’t speak to even tell you what was wrong, and I knew how sad and hurt you were that Niall was comforting me... but Harry, I would never do that to you, ever. Especially with your best friend. Regardless of this... relationship we have... I would never... it’s a—”

“I had no right to be that mad,” Harry mumbled quietly. He had long since forgiven her. She didn’t even need forgiveness because she didn’t do anything wrong.

“And then you cancelled movie night,” she whispered brokenly. Somehow this sounded like it hurt her worse than the bruise or that stupid woman’s comments. Harry’s frown deepened and he rubbed his hand on the back of his head awkwardly.

“I was so sad,” he told her. “I shouldn’t have—”

“It gets worse,” she repeated. He was hoping she was done. The idea it could get worse...

Harry wanted to take her heart out so he could sew all the holes that she was opening and then give it back to her. And Harry couldn’t even sew but whatever he did had to be better than whatever wounds laid in her heart. “I was a total zombie today at work. Niall was avoiding me per you, I think. He told me to go home after lunch so I could... I don’t know I think he just wanted me away from him.” Harry frowned. That was what Niall wanted. It was all Harry’s doing because he yelled at Niall and accused him of things he shouldn’t have as his best friend. “So I was walking home—”

“Walking?! It was freezing out, kitten.”

“Can you... this is the worst part...” He was silent. But in his head, he was arranging for a car to follow her for the rest of her life and would be training a driver to somehow coerce her into the car if she refused in sub-arctic temperatures. “My mom called,” she said. Harry’s heart stopped. “I went to the hospital.” His eyebrows quirked up and he pressed his lips together. After another brief moment of utter silence, “my dad died,” she whispered.

“Kitten,” he cooed. “Baby, m’so sorry.”

This had to be one of the worst days in recorded human history. No wonder Louis’ message was so long. He was probably freaking out. “I went to the hospital...my mom...she won’t forgive me and...” she took a deep breath. “I had nowhere else to go and I just wanted you and I don’t even know if that’s fair after all I’ve put you through over the last day. So, I came here. I’m sorry for wanting you, I don’t want to—”

“Kitten,” he reached for her face and pressed his thumb over her lips so she would stop speaking and stop breaking his heart. She was here. That meant the story was over. Thank God. “I want you here. Always,” he promised. “I want you.” The relief on her face was somehow one of the most heartbreaking expressions she wore throughout the duration of her story. Harry wanted to cry at the thought. He pulled her toward him, face pressed to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her. One hand snaked up her back to hold the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, and he kissed the space of her forehead just by her hairline before closing his eyes completely content having her there.

There were so many things that needed to be addressed. She needed to call Louis. Harry wanted to call Niall...he wanted to call that terrible woman and fire her over the phone but that would have to wait until Monday. Harry would see to it that something about the funeral be figured out. Maybe he would send one of his lawyers to deal with her mum. Her bank account, her laptop, even the driver he was seriously going to have follow her... all of it needed to be taken care of for Harry to feel like he was helping her and making her horrible thirty-some odd hours end.

But for the next five minutes he was going to hold her like it was his one and only job. “M’gonna make it all better, kitten,” he murmured brushing his lips over her forehead again. “Promise.”

--

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[lichpoweredbyfandoms]

MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE END OF ARCANE SEASON 2

So uh…. the end of Arcane tore my heart out and shattered it into a million pieces. I may have blacked out and written a short, post-canon fic of Vi mourning for Jinx. Fic under the cut, or you can read it on ao3 here:

The dust from the war on Piltover had settled. Fires were extinguished, and bodies were buried. A worn hopefulness had spread over the city, broken bones held perfectly still with the slim chance they might mend. Everyone had lost something, and now only the question of what came next remained.

It was late at night, but Vi couldn’t sleep. She hadn’t been able to rest for more than a few hours at a time in the past few days. Most nights, she laid in bed besides Caitlyn, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, clinging to the reassurance that at least one person she loved was still here.

Silent feet hit carpet as Vi slipped out of bed. She let herself wander the Kiramman estate in silence. A ghost echoing through the hallway, haunted by the weight of all she’d lost.

At some point she found herself in the garden. The moonlight illuminated the array of flowers and trees that surrounded a marble water fountain. Vi settled herself at its edge, staring into the water. It shimmered blue, like the hextech crystals her sister had loved. Gentle ripples fanned out from its center with soft splashes, a mimicry of Jinx’s hair, loose and wild as it had been in the cell.

You’re never going to give up on me, are you? Another broken promise, another betrayal, another failure. It wasn’t fair. Vi had only ever asked for one thing. For her little sister to be safe right beside her. She wanted to cry and scream and throw things and rage against the entire fucking world until there was nothing left but ashes, because what was even the point if her sister wasn't-

“Vi?” A soft voice broke her from her thoughts. Caitlyn crouched down next to her, wearing a blue robe and a concerned expression. “Are you alright?”

Vi looked away. “I just needed to think.”

“You miss your sister, don’t you?” she asked as she sat beside Vi.

“She can’t just be gone, Cait.” Her voice cracked around the plea. “Not after all this.”

“What happened to her… I know it was unfair,” Caitlyn said softly, “but you can’t blame yourself. Jinx made her choice.”

“Well she chose wrong!” Vi snapped.

“Maybe. But it was still her choice. Don’t take that away from her.”

“She never really listened to me,” Vi said with a wet laugh, “not when it really mattered. No one could tell her what to do.”

Caitlyn smiled sadly. “Your sister had so much spirit. So much energy.”

“You don’t have to…” Vi sighed. “She killed your mom. You don’t have to pretend for me.”

“I think we’re all more than our worst actions. Your sister included.” Caitlyn reached down and took her hand. “I only wish I’d had the chance to know the side of her you saw.”

“She was so smart. Even when we were little kids. She was always screwing around with some gadget or other.” Vi shook her head with a fond smile. “It drove Milo crazy sometimes. And she was so… good. I know how that sounds now, with everything she did, but…”

“I understand. I saw how much she loved you, Vi,” Caitlyn murmured.

“She just wanted to help,” Vi said despairingly, “even when everything was falling apart, even after I abandoned her… all she wanted was family. That’s why Silco got to her. That's why she died. Because I failed.”

“You were just a child,” Caitlyn reminded her gently.

“So was she!” Vi’s shouting gave way to sobs. “She was just a kid. And now she- she won’t get the chance to be anything else.”

Caitlyn pulled her into a tight hug, and she collapsed into her girlfriend’s arms. Vi wept bitter tears for her parents, their broken dreams for a better world, for Mylo and Claggor, two street kids who could have been so much more than were allowed to be, for Vander, his undying devotion to them all. She wept for Powder, that earnest little girl, and for Jinx, that wild fighter, and for every person her sister ever had been and would never be. And Vi cried for herself- for a family that had gone up in flames twice, for the miserable years she’d spent alone, for the hope she’d stubbornly hung onto all these years that had plummeted into the abyss with her sister. Vi wept and shook and sobbed, letting out all her anguish, all her pain, until she finally reached a point where she had no tears left inside her. Nothing left to give.

“I’m sorry for making you deal with this,” she whispered into Caitlyn’s chest.

“It’s alright.” Her girlfriend pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ve got you. Always.”

[sleepingdeath-light]

when she’s moved on from chucky hcs ; tiffany valentine

requested by ; anonymous (posted on 14/07/23)

fandom(s) ; slashers / child’s play

fandom masterlist(s) ; here

character(s) ; tiffany valentine

outline ; “Ooh so could you do a Tiffany x gender neutral reader where at the scene when tiff had chucky in his cage, she mentions how she got over him and is now dating reader who Tiff just rabbles about them?

And please take your time on this I don’t wanna seem like one of the impatient readers so do your best!”

note ; this is a repost from a now deleted blog, so apologies if you’ve already read this lol

warning(s) ; allusions to sex, suggestive content

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

she hadn’t thought about her ex in a long time — mourning him for more than long enough when he’d initially passed away before making a point of trying to move on

she’d had plenty of flings over the years — tiffany was incredibly attractive so there was no shortage of men and women ready to hop in bed with her — but nobody ever stayed for long

not until you, that is

you, who was able to make her laugh without any effort

you, who didn’t judge her for her past and helped her take the steps she needed to fully detach herself from chucky

you, who kept a photo of her in your wallet/purse and who would proudly introduce her as your girlfriend to anyone you met

you, who watched all her favourite films with her and who would get wrapped up in the plot without complaining about them being ‘unrealistic’ or ‘silly’

you, who loved her for her mind and her humour and not just her body

you

just you

and yet despite all of that she still couldn’t seem to get away from charles for long because here he was, miraculously not dead and a hell of a lot shorter and more plastic-looking than she remembered

she’d seen his death reported on in the paper

she’d been going to therapy to talk about their relationship and how she was dealing with his loss

she’d moved on and was happy with you — even looking at wedding venues (even if you hadn’t been together very long, but when you know you know)

she’d done everything right and still he’d managed to come back into her life like nothing had happened

it made her angry

it made her sick

so she trapped him in a baby cage and went out for a smoke, ranting with the front door of her trailer open as she made some very pointed gestures and remarks to her ex

how dare he do this to her! how fucking dare he!

who the fuck did he think he was?

why couldn’t he just let her live her life in peace?

couldn’t he see that she was finally — fucking finally — happy after all of the shit he’d put her through?

the sheer audacity had her tonguing the inside of her cheek and reaching for her lighter — she didn’t have enough cigarettes to deal with his shit right now

frankly there weren’t enough cigarettes in the world at all to help her deal with his bullshit, but that was besides the point

she takes a drag from her second cig and now she’s stopped pacing — leaning on the doorframe and facing him head on with more disappointment and sadness that outright animosity

and somehow that scares him more than when she was ranting and raving and screaming at him

she asks why he can’t just let her have one good thing — but it’s not really a question and he knows it and he doesn’t even get to contemplate answering and manipulating her before she continues

she talks about you, about how she’s finally happy for the first time in forever and of course he has to come in and turn it all to shit (she spits the last word like it burns her tongue and continues in a dreamier voice, the ghost of a smile worming its way onto her lips)

‘they’re real sweet, ya know?’ (he doesn’t and she knows it but she continues), ‘they make me happy. we have fun together’

he says that they did too, jumping at the opportunity to reel her back in, but she chokes out a laugh and kicks his baby gate, causing his plastic body to stumble back

she scoffs at him and reaffirms that ‘fun’ doesn’t just mean being an adrenaline junkie — but even then that you don’t put her down or discourage her from doing what she enjoys

you let her have real hobbies, not just ones that benefit you — you even watch cheesy chick flicks with her and, pray tell, when did he ever bother to do the same?

never, that’s when

chucky tries to reel her back in again, recalling the fun they used to have — but he’s already lost

he lost before he even turned up at her front door because tiffany valentine has moved on

she doesn’t just want kinky sex and excitement — she dreams of domesticity and marriage and love

her days of bloodshed and murder are (mostly) over and have been since she settled down

since she fell in love with you

you with your smiles and your gentle touches and your humour that makes her laugh so hard her cheeks and sides ache

you who reaches out first and who doesn’t leave her high and dry and wanting like charles did

you who she loves, really truly loves, and who she’d never even dream of leaving

so she grabs a bottle of wine and tells chucky to keep on talking — because he may not have a snowball’s chance in hell of winning her over, but by god is it cathartic to watch him beg

… maybe she’d even call you up and give him a live show of every single reason, position and sound why you’re a far sight better than he ever was

[persephonememes]

* (  THE HAUNTING OF BLY MANOR /  SENTENCE PROMPTS.

These may have been edited for clarity or length or to better apply for roleplaying.

❛ i was just really, really sad. ❜

❛ dead doesn’t mean gone. ❜

❛ i thought i was going to die too. ❜

❛ it only felt like dying because, actually, i was still alive. ❜

❛ to truly love another person is to accept that the work of loving them is worth the pain of losing them. ❜

❛ we can’t count on the past. ❜

❛ we think we have it trapped in our memories, but memories fade. ❜

❛ you’ll find it much quieter out here. ❜

❛ any of us could die at any moment. ❜

❛ she/he was my anchor. ❜

❛ i’m a lot braver than people think. ❜

❛ nothing holds, and all things change, given time. ❜

❛ change does not often announce itself. ❜

❛ all things fade. ❜

❛ time takes all things. ❜

❛ it is the way of the world. ❜

❛ the past recedes, memories fade, and so, true, does the spirit. ❜

❛ everything yields to time, even the soul. ❜

❛ there’s a difference between feeling good and feeling alive. ❜

❛ funerals are for the living. it’s up to the living to decide what they can and cannot bear. ❜

❛ i don’t know why brilliant young women are always punished. ❜

❛ you don’t have to lose yourself to find happiness, you know. ❜

❛ i was having the strangest dream. ❜

❛ what have you got when your back’s against the wall when there’s nothing left for you but faith? ❜

❛ sometimes, right can seem wrong, and wrong can seem right. ❜

❛ do you know what life is really all about? ❜

❛ save them all if you can, but put your own oxygen mask on first. ❜

❛ death is something to mourn, not fear. ❜

❛ i wasn't going to ask you if you're alright because i don't like being lied to. so, what's wrong? ❜

❛ everyone is exhaustive. even the best ones. ❜

❛ we are meant to die. it's natural. ❜

❛ every living thing grows out of every dying thing. ❜

❛ that's where all it's beauty lies, you know, in the mortality of the thing. ❜

❛ one day at a time is what we've got. ❜

❛ one day at a time is what we've got. it's what everybody's got, if you get down to it. ❜

❛ if you can't feel anything, then i'll feel everything for the both of us. ❜

❛ but no one is going anywhere, okay? ❜

❛ you shouldn't be thinking of losing each-other at all. ❜

❛ don't let that loom over your happiness right now. ❜

❛ it is rare what you've got. ❜

❛ what is the catch? ❜

❛ i’m not running, from anything and it hurts me when you say that. ❜

❛ perfectly splendid. ❜

❛ you have to promise me that you’ll stay in your room. ❜

❛ none of us are blameless. ❜

❛ on a scale of zero to american, how would you rate her? ❜

❛ it’s such a draining thing, dealing with children. ❜

❛ i have an inquiring mind. ❜

❛ we both know you don’t make mistakes. ❜

❛ let me guess, you are to be our very own mary poppins? ❜

❛ i hope she haunts that fucker forever. ❜

❛ why should anyone hate a lake? ❜

❛ let me show you just how beautiful you are. ❜

❛ it’s just you and me then. ❜

❛ look at you all flush. you’re pretty when you blush. ❜

❛ being with him might be scary at times but, it’s also exciting and fun. ❜

❛ and for the first time in my life, that little voice in my head saying i’m not good enough has disappeared. ❜

❛ i’ve never felt so alive. ❜

❛ i swear, you’re such a bore, and you don’t know when the leave well enough alone. ❜

❛ sometimes people just need to be alone. ❜

❛ i couldn’t sleep. i feel like i can never sleep again, frankly. ❜

❛ haven’t we done this already? ❜

❛ i have a surprise for you. ❜

❛ i have a surprise for you. ❜

❛ don’t leave your room at night. ❜

❛ the past is always present. ❜

❛ the stories we tell each other have a way of changing. ❜

❛ love is a haunting melody that i have never mastered and i fear i never will. ❜

❛ no good ever comes from dwelling on the worst. ❜

❛ you can’t choose who you love. ❜

❛ ghosts do not have to be scary. they can be comforting. ❜

❛ the heart is a fragile thing, and it can break in many different ways. ❜

❛ people often fear what they cannot understand. ❜

❛ we are all haunted in some way, by the things we have lost or the things we have done. ❜

❛ death is not the end, it’s just a door we all have to go through. ❜

❛ the past cannot be changed, but it can still hurt us. ❜

❛ the things we bury have a way of finding their way back to the surface. ❜

❛ some people are born to be alone, and others are born to be together. ❜

❛ ghosts are memories, and memories are what make us who we are. ❜

❛ the dead don’t really leave us. they live on in the memories we have of them. ❜

❛ the more we try to run from something, the more it chases us. ❜

❛ we all have a shadow self, the part of us that we don’t like to admit exists. ❜

❛ the world is full of secrets, and some are best left buried. ❜

❛ the heart wants what it wants, and sometimes that can be a terrifying thing. ❜

❛ every relationship is a dance, and both people need to be willing to take a step forward. ❜

❛ life can be cruel, but it can also be beautiful. ❜

❛ we are all just playing a part, but some roles are harder to shake off than others. ❜

❛ the past is written, but the future is still unwritten. ❜

❛ the greatest tragedy in life is not death, but the things we leave unsaid. ❜

❛ i do not like this game. ❜

❛ i'm actually pretty in love with you. ❜

❛ no one should ever need that much help. ❜

❛ you let me handle this part. ❜

❛ the wrong kind of love can fuck you up, follow you and make you do some really stupid shit. ❜

[saltlickmp3]

⚰️🕰️🌃 for your two favourite ocs

YAY YIPPEEEE THANK YOUUUUU i also kinda only have. two ocs hehe but YAY i also completey forgor about this so thank you for the reminder also

⚰️ - if your character lost a loved one, what would they do? would they grieve and move on? try to bring them back? cling to their remains?

mihangel has been dead before so his feelings on a loved one dying would be. Complex. because he knows how dark and empty it is to be dead but he also doesnt know if he's remembering right. maybe the afterlife is a beautiful place & he just doesnt know b/c he got pulled back into being alive? he would mourn & try to move on but there's still that nagging feeling of 'what if they really are alone'.

strangeways can talk to ghosts by partially entering their timestream and partially pulling ghosts into the normal timestream and She Would Do This. however she'd soon discover that talking to a dead loved one is actually a Terrible way to your live your life but there would definitely be a long period where she'd Want to sulk & be miserable about it and talk to them in the ghost world, even though it takes a lot of effort for her & only the most determined souls make fully lucid ghosts. especially if they've been dead for a while & are starting to fade, she'd still try to bring them through to this world to talk even when its incredibly draining for her. someone else very close to her would have to convince her to stop. she would be the kind of person to think 'i ALWAYS have to carry this around with me & be sad about it' even though she has an extended lifespan. she would think 'in a thousand years i still have to be upset about this' even if realistically the pain would have faded by then.

more under cut cos this is going to be. long lol

🕰 - what would your character do if they were stuck in a time loop?

YAYAYYYA TIMELOOP I LOVE TIME MESSED UP NESS!!!! they both have Time Things going on hehe

mihangel would. not be coping well with that. in his backstory a Time Thing happened to him that meant that events changed and he is no longer dead, and he would probably think that this is the universe tryng to right itself & fix time by putting him in a loop or a pocket dimension of something. he would be freaking out about being stuck in a timeloop (is he aging? will he ever die? is everyone else looping to or is it only me stuck here? how do i even begin to get out?), she has anxiety which isnt helping. i think (depending how long she's there) she would go through a period of like. doing slightly odd but not actually harmful things just b/c there are significantly less consequences. go for 2am walks by herself. be slightly weird in public. climb up the side of a building and sit on the roof all day.

strangeways would go straight to the 'oh hell yeah, no consequences!!' stage where she'd think 'well if the universe doesnt sort this out in a few days i'll deal with it then, but in the mean time i'm gonna steal a tv and set a couch on fire and go drinking & go to the loudest concert possible' but there would be a deep undercurrent of The Dread. she would just think well surely this will sort itself out soon right????? as she goes out for the 173rd night in a row of wandering around in the dark looking for something interesting to do, as a distraction while she hopes the problem will go away. she'd think to herself 'oh wow i could use this to study so much' only to find that her notes have unwritten themself you know. idk maybe the room wouldnt reset but you get the idea.

🌃 - what would your character do if they were trapped in a labyrinthine city that's alive?

THEYD BOTH BE HAVING SO MUCH FUN AND ALSO BE DEEPLY UNSETTLED BY THE EXPERIENCE YIPPEE

knowing them they'd probably be there together, so. mihangel would be trying to figure out where they are & how to get where they're going & get out again without getting lost/trapped/consumed by the city/etc. probably trying not to touch the walls. he'd be more Disguested when he works out the city is Alive i think. morbidly fascinated but more wanting to just Get Out Of There. strangeways would be pushing button and picking stuff up & being like 'haha wow this is kinda creepy & cool' while trying to cover up that she's actually really unsettled by the whole thing. mihangel would be interested in Looking Around, and strangeways would want to try & communicate with the city, whether or not they can work out if thats possible.

[sunflowerandstrawberryspice]

More Song the Ninjago Fandom is missing out on

Alright folks guess who's back with more songs for you AND a playlist with them!

I've been having fun with this and I love talking about why I associate certain songs with certain characters I love doing it and I really do wish I was able to do animatics myself. But any who here are more songs! (Song-artist)

AS ALWAYS MAJOR SPOILERS

Violet- Marianne Ross: This song is SOOOOO Lloyd thinking about Harumi (I will in fact ignore Crystalized existence again), like it's all about thinking about someone who hurt you deeply and still thinking of them even though they treated you poorly. Lyrics: "When I think of violet I think of you I see you tryin got make is cool" Harumi trying to justify herself to Lloyd. "My mind reminds me of a purple hue, matched the sight of another bruise" Do I have to say more? Like Lloyd clearly cared about Harumi and she emotionally and physically beat the shit outta him

Like a Villain- Bad Omens: This song could totally be used for Morro or Garmadon in my opinion, the song is about someone talking to a person who unknowingly or not pushed them past the edge of no return. Lyrics: "Look into my face then look again we're not the same we're different" For Garmadon this could be a representation of the Great Devourer taking over his mind and transforming him and for Morro this could his transformation from a starry eyes kid to a depressed and evil ghost. "You need a new clean slate with out the dents" This could be either of them addressing Wu cause lets be honest neither of them have an all to peachy relationship with him, Morro especially who saw Wu with this new set of Ninja who are happier than he ever was who Wu treated like family while pretending Morro never existed. "I know that you tried your hardest I know that you meant well but you pushed me to the edge and I slipped and then I fell" For Morro this could totally be Wu's intense training and the way he made Morro believe he'd be the green ninja only for that to be false which kinda drove him crazy, or it could be used for Garmadon on him and Wu's journey in Spinjitzu Brothers to find the tea to heal Garmadon while the journey was supposed to get something to heal Garmadon it ended up just making him feel worse about himself and his place in the world. There's a bunch more awesome lyrics but we'd be here all day if I explained all of them.

Fourth of July- Sufjan Stevens: This one is a teny tiny bit of a reach but hear me out. Zane and his father. So we know that Dr. Julien passes away sometime I believe before season three takes place and it's said he died of natural causes and I'm just saying this could make a pretty decent song since I feel like Zane and Dr. Julien's really sweet father son relationship gets over looked a bit probably since he died so early on and we didn't get to see Zane mourn much afterwards. Lyrics: "And I'm sorry I left but it was for the best" Could totally be used for when Dr. Julien turned off his memory switch and everything. I don't have many particular phrases since the song is almost like a back and forth, but there are a lot of bird references which also works well for Zane.

Icarus-Luvbug: Now this could work for a couple different Ninjago parents since it's mostly about losing a child but I think it would work best with either the FSM feeling bad for what happened to Garmadon (if you want to make him less awful that is cause in cannon his feels about Garmadon are... slightly concerning like sir you're not supposed to hate your own child) Garmadon feeling bad about how Lloyd had to "kill" the child part of himself to lead the ninja, or Maya after Nya merged with the sea and how she wanted to badly to be there for her only for her to end up gone.

Little Lion Man- Mumford & sons: Misako and Lloyd, just trust me okay? Like it's all about someone blaming themselves how someone turned out and in a better world we would have gotten Misako canonically feeling awful for how Lloyd's childhood went due to the fact she decided to dump him gods know where (Darkly's is a boarding school and Lloyd doesn't remember his mother when he meets her so I'm assuming he was probably somewhere else before there?) but instead I'll settle for fan interpretation and I feel like this song would make a great Misako animatic. "But it was not your fault but mine, and it was your heart on the line" and "Now learn from your mother or else spend you days biting your own neck" and "Tremble for yourself, my man, you know that you have seen this all before"

Sorry the list is a little shorter this time but honestly sometimes I don't have full explanations for songs I just have like general vibes, like my excuse is literally just: trust, with little to no explanation. Like:

The Archer- Taylor Swift: Lloyd, Cole or Sora

Don't meet your idols- Everybody's worried about Owen: Jay (cause his bio father was his idol ig?) or Nya (I have no clue man)

Your sister was right- Wilbur Soot: Jay

Punching Bag- The Front Bottoms: Kai

Runs in the Family-Amanda Palmer: Lloyd, Garmadon, Wu, Cole, Sora and honestly just most of them tbh

Friends- Sonic Sea Turtles: Cole, Lloyd, Jay and Garmadon

Idk y'all my brain is actually just one big Lego brick.

[ninja-muse]

As you might know if you saw my review the other day, my December felt very slumpy even though I read a lot of good books. I suspect this is because of book hangovers and working a busy Christmas retail season. (I also didn't write much because I kept coming home too wiped to think.)

But it was a good month! I managed to get to a couple new releases that I really wanted to, and I knocked a lot of books off my physical TBR because none of my ARCs looking interesting. I did have a DNF again, though, of a book that I was really hoping would be great. Isn't that always the way?

I also had two rereads! One because sometimes when you're at a loss to read, you pick up Pratchett, and one because I'd promised myself I'd get to it this year and dash it, I was going to! Weirdos of the Universe, Unite! was one of the most seminal books of my childhood, and it wasn't until I reread it that I realized just how much it was. I saw a lot of my personal attitude to life in Maddy, it was probably my first true urban fantasy even though there's a whole act on a spaceship, Baba Yaga is there as a very cranky but practical sort of witch…

As for my book haul, I just want to say that it was Christmas and I didn't actually buy anything? My parents came through with some really oddball picks, as I'd expected, my sister gifted me one of her favourite reads of the year, and friends helped feed my T. Kingfisher addiction. (More on that in my yearly wrap-up.)

But the book I'm most excited to have gotten is Hogfather, and not because of the pretty cover though that's a bonus. It is, in fact, the most astounding misprint I've ever seen and I couldn't pass up a chance at a free copy. I mean, how many times do you find a beloved book in which the entire thing is bound backwards?! Thank goodness the publisher didn't want it back, is all I'm saying.

And that's probably about it! I have no idea what book I'm going to start 2024 with, because I sort of read 200+ pages of Persepolis Rising last night so I could knock it off my list and now I'm recovering from the binge.

And now without further ado, in order of enjoyment…

A Power Unbound - Freya Marske

Jack, Alan, and their friends must find a hidden artifact and foil a plot. This would go better if Jack and Alan got along.

8/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (gay, bi man), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (gay, bi woman, lesbian, genderfluid) 🏳️‍🌈 author

All the Hidden Paths - Foz Meadows

Velasin and Caethari are still feeling out their relationship when they’re summoned to the capital and almost immediately find themselves targeted again..

7.5/10

🏳️‍🌈 main characters (mlm), 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (mlm), mute secondary character, cast of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 author warning: anxiety, aftermath of trauma, dubious consent

Last Chance to See - Douglas Adams with Mark Carwadine

A bumbling science fiction author travels the world in search of endangered animals.

7/10

Illuminations - T. Kingfisher

Rosa wants to help her artist-magician family, but instead she accidentally releases a creature bent on destroying them!

8/10

Lovecraft Country - Matt Ruff

Two Chicago families in the 1950s become caught up in a world of cults, ghosts, monsters, and magical danger. Fortunately, they’ve had lots of practice at mistrusting white folks.

7.5/10

primarily Black cast

warning: depicts Jim Crow-era racism, including slurs; also abusive family dynamics

Persepolis Rising - James S.A. Corey

Thirty years on, the system has achieved a new normal. So of course one of the colony planets decides it’s time to shake things up.

7.5/10

very racially diverse cast

Remarkably Bright Creatures - Shelby Van Pelt

A cleaner at an aquarium mourns her losses. A young California man seeks his absentee father. The resident octopus tries to bring them together.

7.5/10

Jamaican secondary character, Korean-American secondary character

Ragnarok - A.S. Byatt

A child in wartime discovers Norse mythology, and the ways myths and the world reflect each other.

7.5/10

warning: animal cruelty and injury

While Idaho Slept - J. Reuben Appelman

Four students are murdered in a single night, and what came before and after.

7/10

warning: violent murders

Monstress, Volume 3 - Marjorie Liu and Sana Takeda (illustrator)

Maika finds temporary refuge from the people chasing her, but the local leaders want a favour in return.

7/10

one-armed protagonist, cast of colour, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (sapphic), Taiwanese-American author and Japanese-American illustrator

Reread

Weirdos of the Universe, Unite! - Pamela F. Service

Mandy and Owen get assigned a mythology paper, but then the characters they pick start coming to life and insisting they have a great purpose.

Black secondary character, Indigenous secondary character, Chinese secondary character

warning: somewhat lazy depictions of Indigenous and Chinese people

The Unadulterated Cat - Terry Pratchett with Gray Jolliffe (illustrator)

A humourous celebration of all things cat.

DNF

The Undetectables - Courtney Smyth

Someone’s committing Occult murders and a crack team of Occult investigators has been called in. Or, they’re totally going to be the crack team someday, at least.

main character with fibromyalgia, 🏳️‍🌈 secondary characters (lesbian), fat secondary character, Chinese-British secondary character, 🏳️‍🌈 author

Currently reading:

Music from the Earliest Notations to the Sixteenth Century - Richard Taruskin A history of early written European music, in its social and political contexts.

The Penguin Complete Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle Victorian detective stories

major disabled character

warning: racism, colonialism

Stats

Monthly total: 11+1 Yearly total: 128/140 Queer books: 2 Authors of colour: 1 Books by women: 6 Authors outside the binary: 0 Canadian authors: 0 Off the TBR shelves: 7 Rereads: 2 Books hauled: 8 ARCs acquired: 2 ARCs unhauled: 2 DNFs: 1

January February March April May June July August September October November

[tereox]

Silly Game Time: Have you ever seen or heard a ghost (or what some might've considered to be a ghost)? If so, when and where?

Oh boy, do I have a story to tell.

One of my best friends, will call her Nadia for this, her grandpa's cousin's mum died. They didn't know each other well enough to really mourn, but her family was the next of kin (along with her grandpa's cousin). Her grandpa's cousin decided she didn't want to deal with the house of her mum (memories, and it is in pretty bad shape), so she just gave that to my friend's family.

Nadia wants to explore the house to search for old family pictures, but no one of her family wants to come with.

In comes me, a guy with a relentless enthusiasm for all things spooky and dilapidated, who celebrates Halloween maybe a little too much.

It took us a bit of planning since we're both pretty busy, but one nice morning - it'd be fitting if it had been foggy or raining, but I won't lie to y'all, it was a nice sunny day - I drive over and we walk the two blocks over to the house.

"Nadia, you weren't kidding," I say, looking at the thing she'd described as a 'haunted house'.

There's ivy crawling up the front of it, the steps leading up to the door are creaky and half-fallen-apart. The only new thing is the door, which was only a couple months old at the time, a new installation that the rest of the family insisted on so she wouldn't have a break-in.

We stand in front of that monstrosity and go "Wow, someone lived there until like a month ago."

We look at each other and decide while we have daylight, we should explore the yard, which is an overgrown mess and not something you'd want to traverse in any kind of darkness.

We make a path through to the backyard and realise that it's worse than we saw from the front. It's a huge yard, there's underbrush everywhere and we're so glad we both wore long pants and jackets we don't care about (I think it was early spring if I remember correctly).

We find:

several little lakes (we thankfully didn't fall into any of them)

a flower field where the light hit it in a way that almost made it glow, and we both decided not touching any of the flowers was more important than not getting scratched up by a bush (no idea whether fae are real but it's best not to disturb them in case they are)

a shed that was completely surrounded by brambles and had a caved in roof (I'm pretty small and managed to squeeze myself close enough to take a pic through the entryway)

a workbench

and, last but not least, an assortment of chairs (the one near the house was in the best condition and they got worse and more overgrown the farther you got from the house. It gave the impression of the homeowner deciding not to bother retrieving a chair that was taken by the brambles and just buying a new one and putting it closer to the house)

After all that, we went to go eat lunch. We didn't go back through the yard, instead deciding to take the overgrown back gate, over which we ended up having to climb over, and then sneak through a neighbour's yard.

We return to the house a bit later, strengthened from our lunch.

Nadia decides it's time to tackle the actual house, and I agree.

It was very dusty and the first thing we noticed were the paintings. Nadia tells me her grandpa's cousin's mother used to be a painter. But she had never seen the paintings before.

We both found them really cool, but others have described them as 'disturbing to the point where one never wants to look at them again'. I'm saying lakes of blood, monsters crawling out of the sewer system, witches dancing around and seas of souls screaming for mercy as an eagle circles overhead.

Objectively, they're also very well drawn.

We advance to the kitchen, which is in an incredibly sorry state. There's residue on the stove which we don't even want to take a guess at, and I find a letter on the fridge that Nadia gets very excited about cause it's from 1970. I take a couple pictures. (fast forward to real time: Nadia recently told me that despite no one going into that house, the letter disappeared, and she was very glad I insisted on taking pictures).

We go back into the hall and see that there are heaps of cat food. Which makes sense, the woman had a cat, which still made use of the cat door and snuck into the house sometimes.

The thing is, though, that the cat food is blocking a door. We decide to investigate that later, and check the doors that aren't blocked.

We make our way to her bedroom, the door that's closest to the entrance but blocked by the entrance door when you come in (that's why we didn't go in there first). It's a relatively normal bedroom, cat hair on the bed, books in book shelves, comfortable-looking chairs (we didn't dare sit down in one).

It's worth mentioning here that Nadia and I both love books. We have a book club, and we both worked in a library together for 8 years (I still can't drop the habit of sorting books after their author's last names, my bookshelves are always immaculate).

We look through the books and realise there are a lot of books about birds. Nadia tells me that her grandpa's cousin's mother was very interested in birds. Good hobby to have, when one has a giant yard like that.

We continue on, and find ourselves in front of the blocked off door again. We move several crates of cat food to the side, open the door and-

Huh.

The entire room is filled with dreamcatchers, stones, holy symbols, etc. There's also a piano there.

"Cool," I go, and start telling my friend about the types of crystals and gems in the room. My brother's special interest was exactly that, for the longest time, and I know many of them. He was also interested in their meaning, and I see a lot of quartzes, which are for purifying energy.

Neat, she cared about keeping the energies clean. I wish she'd also cared about keeping her house clean (or at least the stove she cooked on), but you can't have everything.

We wander around the room for a while, and Nadia presses a couple keys on the piano, which is working surprisingly well.

We move on to the back door and almost fall down the steps that are in an even worse state than the ones at the front door.

Once outside, we realise that there are stairs outside. They lead up to a space under the roof.

We look at the rickety stairs, then at the steps we almost just fell down. "Aw fuck it," I say, impulsive to a fault and always ready to climb things. "I'm going up."

I test the railing (surprisingly sturdy), and decide that if things go to shit, it might hold me.

So I carefully make my way up, one step at a time, and map out where you can put your weight, and where you really should not. I relay all that information to my friend, and then I'm at the top.

Nadia regards the stairs and I tell her I can livestream the inside of the room so she doesn't have to also go up.

She goes up.

We open the door together and are faced with a room. You know that thing when it's so dusty, the light leaves a trail? That.

And in the middle of the room. there's a single chair. Angled away from the window, towards the door.

"I'm not touching that chair," we say in almost unison, and then laugh.

We take a couple pictures and then head downstairs again, as careful as we went up cause pushing luck is a terrible idea.

We go back inside and then there's only one room left. The basement.

There's paintings on the wall leading down. They are just as creepy as the other ones. The stairs don't creak and we get down without issue.

There's a storage room with a washing machine and then...

"This looks more lived-in than her actual room."

We look at the large room, filled with books. It has a bed, and there's also a plastic replica of a bat in the corner, which we originally assumed was an actual one.

I'd like to point out here that there's no electricity in this house, and that while there's windows for this basement room, daylight is fading.

We look at the books and the pictures hung up, this time old pictures taken of random people we will never know. Maybe friends, maybe family, maybe past relationships that didn't last.

We take pictures once again, documenting everything, and then we head to dinner.

As we eat, Nadia tells me that she saw some photo books in a corner of the basement room and she'd like to check those out. She'll have to give them to her grandpa's cousin, but she'd like to take pictures beforehand.

It is now dark outside. I go "Sure, what can go wrong."

We arm ourselves with flashlights and walk back over. I'd also like to mention that I've had a climbing rope this entire time but forgot to use it for literally anything.

We go back to the house and it's a little different in the dark. I shine my light on it and use my hand to make a shadowy crocodile. I pretend it eats the plants away and we laugh.

We head back inside and make our way to the basement. It is dark, yes, but we're together and it's fine.

We locate the photo books and instead of bringing them over to her house (again. literally two blocks), we stay down there and spread them out across a drying rack we'd found. I hold the flashlight and Nadia takes pictures. There's an entire book only filled with cat pictures and we coo over every single one of them.

There are baby pictures of the cat that still returns every now and then too. Nadia points them out for me.

It takes us hours to work through the picture books. It's repetition, changing the page, locating the pictures, looking at them, adjusting the light, taking a-

CRASH.

We freeze. Nobody else is in the house.

A rustling noise.

I take a deep breath.

"WE DON'T WANNA BUY ANYTHING!!" I yell.

Silence returns.

I nod to myself, pleased.

Nadia chuckles.

We go back to taking pictures and aren't disturbed again.

[mississpissi]

im asking you to explain :mic: abby and her dad go

ok this all started w bulks post about “abby” meaning “father’s joy” and it got me thinking about the contrast between cecil’s relationship with his mom versus the relationship i imagine between abby and her dad. fair warning that this mostly exists in my head but u bet ur burger im still gonna try to back up my ideas w quotes from the text (AP lit and lang babey).

first of all, looking at cecil’s relationship with his mom is super important. one of the first things we hear about her is that she used to hide from cecil for days and that she covered all the mirrors in their house (33). she also tells cecil to “beware, be warned, be wary”, which she apparently says to everything and cecil interprets to mean that she’s proud of him. we also hear in “Homecoming” (55) that cecil looks forward to seeing his mom every year at the homecoming game and was disappointed when he wasn’t able to. in “It Sticks With You” (182), we learn their mother would take them into the woods and walk quickly, cecil saying, “I think she wanted to lose us in the shadowy labyrinth of tall trees.” she would leave flowers at the base of the same old tree every time. she would ignore cecil’s questions. in “Bedtime Story” (132), which im convinced is about cecil (but that’s another post), cecil says “he just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity.” and even if that story isn’t about him, it is a story his mother would tell him at night, one he never heard the end of. in the traffic section of “Pioneer Days” (143), cecil tells a story of a boy left behind, abandoned by his family, left with nothing but a snake. im also fairly certain this is about him (cecil loves to tell his own story without ever really telling it). 

most revealing is what cecil says in “Ghost Stories” about his mother and her death. we learn their mother left when cecil was 14 (whatever that means), that cecil “thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Or out for a walk. Or just hiding.” He says, “And Mom flew away, when all other defenses failed her.” we learn she returned many years later, sick and old and “sorry”. we learn that she died soon after in a way that was “mundane”, that cecil was at work when it happened. we learn that cecil mourned her passing.

all of this paints a picture of a relationship that was strained, full of pain, downright abusive. and we see cecil, as he does so often, retrofit this pain to be something more palatable. she was hiding because she was proud. she didn’t speak to him because she was focused on something else. her defenses had failed her. she was struggling with alcoholism and mental illness. she was playing a game. she covered the mirrors because of pride. she came back! her death was inevitable. he misses her. he grieves her. he loved her. she might have loved him. he makes excuses for her because to do anything else would be to admit that he had experienced immense pain- to re-experience this immense pain. better to change the story.

now abby. 

we don’t know nearly as much about abby as i wish we did. we know she “approach[es] life with a total practicality,” that she will save her pain for when she is in private (It Devours!). steve says, “With Abby around, I can't imagine a bad thing that could happen" (89). we know her relationship with cecil has been tumultuous, that she leaned on cecil and then on steve as she raised janice. in “Bedtime Story”, the sister in the story fought with her brother, telling him she hated him. “she would wrestle him to the ground and pull his hair.” after the boy is buried in the ground, the sister often visits the tree he becomes. she plants flowers, removes beatles from his bark, reads in his shade, plucks his fruit. she visits with a man and a child, visits with joy and with tears in turn. this sister, this abby mourns her brother and tries to protect him, fights with him, loves him. 

and, again, in “Ghost Stories”, we learn that abby was “reserved and controlling”, that she dropped out of college when their mom left to raise cecil, that she blamed him (that cecil blamed her for not being their mom). we learn that abby was there when their mother died, that her death prompted cecil and abby to reconcile their differences. we learn that cecil and abby are both haunted by their family. 

here’s where i diverge from what we really have. 

we haven’t really heard from abby. everything we know of her we’ve learned from cecil and steve. but i have to imagine she resented their mother, that she hardly wanted to drop her plans for her future to raise her younger brother.  i hardly have to imagine what it’s like to have that kind of responsibility thrust upon you when all you wanted was to live your own life. i have to imagine watching your mother die, your mother who just reentered your life after years of neglect, would hurt, would be complicated, would cut deep.

i imagine mr. and mrs. palmer bringing home their first born child, naming her “Abby”, naming her “father’s joy”, naming her after the pride that swelled in her father’s chest. i imagine mr. and mrs. palmer doing their best to raise their daughter in a town as hostile as night vale. i imagine them wanting a sibling for their daughter, someone to keep her company when they couldn’t. i imagine abby struggling with the idea for a moment, then embracing her brother wholeheartedly. i imagine mrs. palmer naming their son “Cecil”, naming him “blind”, naming him after the future she saw.

i imagine abby, her father’s joy, watching as he brought his son to “work in the pasture” with him (132). watching as her brother was injured by his curiosity, watching as her father avoided him in his anger. watching her mother hide from her brother. i imagine abby realizing she would have to be the one to patch him up, even while both parents were still home. i imagine abby hearing her father promise that he “would give [his] life for [his son]”, hearing him say her brother could never be a doctor because “he feared for the boy's future patients”. i imagine her wanting her father to offer his life for her, to invite her to the pasture. i imagine her becoming more reserved over time, realizing her brother needed more help and attention, willing to step into the background because she loved him, because she wanted to be strong for her family. i imagine her doing everything she could to live up to her name, to be someone worthy of the joy of her father.

i imagine abby, her father’s joy, watching him leave. maybe she knew why, maybe she was simply left. i imagine abby watching her mother slowly fall into paranoia and fear because of her brother, because of what she had seen. i imagine abby following her mother into the woods, placing flowers on the trunk of a tree she recognizes, trying to keep cecil distracted by playing a game with him. i imagine abby making sure cecil got to school, got food when their mother was hiding from him. i imagine abby finding out her mother too had left, left her with now full time responsibility for cecil. i imagine abby becoming controlling because she had to, because she had lost control over so many other aspects of her life. i imagine abby channeling what she could remember of her father, trying to be strong, reliable- ignoring that he had stopped being that very suddenly. i imagine abby yelling at a teenage cecil, telling herself that it was better than ignoring him like they had. i imagine abby finding out she was to become a mother, a mother without a father, a mother to a daughter who had more needs than she could handle on her own. i imagine abby finding a man who wanted to help, who could provide a stability cecil was unable to, for all his enthusiasm. i imagine abby, kicking her drunk brother she had raised out of her wedding, not willing to look him in the face for years without seeing her father, seeing her mother, seeing ghosts.

and i imagine abby listening to her brother describe their father on live radio. i imagine her cleaning up after the dinner steve made, hearing about a man with a “thin mouth… [and] threatening, beckoning eyes” (192). hearing about a man, their father, her father, going into the forest with a shovel, digging himself out of the ground. i wonder if she put the pieces together retroactively or if she’d had them all along. i imagine her waiting for the shower to cry. i imagine her hearing that cecil received a photograph of their father (201, 219). i wonder if she went to see it, if she was able to, if she even wanted to see it. i wonder if she listened in, checking that her brother was taking care of her daughter, only to hear that her father, the man who’s joy she had once been, was actually talking to cecil (224). i wonder if she wondered why he was reaching out to cecil and not her. i wonder if she called cecil after, or if she knew he meant it when he said, “I refuse to look into it further.” i wonder if she hopes that when cecil is made to remember their father, she gets to as well. i wonder how long she was her father’s joy, and how long she spent grieving whatever changed that.

most of all, i wonder if WE’RE EVER GONNA GET TO HEAR ABBY’S FUCKING VOICE!!

[the-whispers-of-death]

I’m in severe pain that I think might be my wisdom teeth so bear in mind that this may be the pain talking but now I really want to write that. 🫧

Can’t decide if I should make it cannon (minus the hybrid bit). Which option is angstier?

Ghost thinking Bandito is dead, and Bandito thinking Ghost is dead. Ghost being closed off because he’s lost everyone he ever loved and Bandito being happy and outgoing but never managing to get herself past surface level friendship because she’s terrified they’ll leave her too. She joins Graves’ Shadows because she’s determined to live on and honour Simon Riley’s name by defending those who can’t defend themselves, just as he did all his life. Bandito and Ghost skirting around eachother for months, even years before Ghost opens up to Crow about the girl he described like she was the sun. Even then, it’s only by coincidence that Crow sees Bandito with that yellow bandana that Nadia wore in the blurry Polaroid Simon kept hidden away in a box. And when Crow orchestrates a situation where Ghost sees Bandito wearing Nadia’s bandana, he’s so very angry that this PMC would dare to sully his late best friend’s image like that - until the masks come off and Nadia and Simon have to stomach the fact that all these years the person they cherished the most was right in front of them while they mourned.

Ghost thinking Bandito is dead, and Bandito thinking Ghost abandoned her. Bandito being convinced that Ghost killed his family, left her to die, and is still out there somewhere. She saw on the news that he was suspected of killing the Riley family but deep down, she knows that the body they claim to be him just… isn’t. Bandito agreeing to join Graves’ Shadows on the condition that they would help her track down and kill Simon Riley. Along the way, Bandito building very close friendships with the 141, especially the masked Lieutenant who seems to understand her pain. A close enough friendship, in fact, for Bandito to talk to Ghost (without being too specific) about the boy she grew up next to who left her for dead and killed everyone they both held dear. A close enough friendship for Ghost to confide in Bandito (without being too specific) about the girl who called herself an artist but only ever painted on brick walls and shop shutters. That’s why it hurts so much when Bandito sees that Ghost, the man who seemed to be cut from the same cloth as her - who she felt like she knew was actually Simon, the man who ripped out her heart and laughed while doing so. That’s why it hurts so much when Ghost sees that Bandito, who was so respectful and kind and felt like home used to - who he felt like he knew was actually Nadia, the woman whose body nor dog tags he never got back and whom he never stopped mourning.

You pick, saddest becomes cannon.

It pains me to say this, since the saddest becomes canon, but the saddest is Bandito thinking Ghost abandoned her.

[ruin-a-wedding]

The Broken Crown exists in two parts.

From the view of the street the bar looks indistinguishable from any other shithole. Faded decorations hint at a theme that has faded with time, leaving only ghosts of the original concept. It has stools and tables, as these places so often do, but nothing remarkable enough to draw any attention from passersby. Newcomers to the bar often remark that they thought the building was abandoned or the bar had closed years ago.

However long it's been since Meliza had left TGP, she’s held on to her skills just as you’ve retained your father’s training. You don’t know how the magic works and know better than to ask. The only thing you need to know is that people never find the front of the bar if they’re looking for it, and people only find their way to the lounge at the back of the building if they already know its location.

You consider this magic, along with what you have just performed, as you make your way up the basement stairs. Sanguimancy must be of a similar school: those skills which are innate at birth instead of passed down through teachers. There’s no explanation for why you think this, save for the taste in your mouth every time you enter the lounge. It’s the same way your mouth tastes now, fresh with the senator’s blood.

Or perhaps that’s merely the cocktail of drugs he had in his system when he died.

A promise awaits on the horizon, his blood tells you, formless and indefinite. These premonitions are never exact, but you can feel it rushing toward you like a car speeding down an empty stretch of road. Fate is a thread and you are the spool, winding it ever closer until your destiny arrives at your feet.

The rush of a magic you so rarely get to practice makes you giddier than any human drug, though perhaps that’s just the exhaustion hitting you after such a big cleanup. Transmogrification is more taxing when you’re so out of practice.

On your way to the lounge you make a quick stop at the kitchen, catching the attention of Cookie, the head chef. The scar that runs along the underside of his cheek dimples as he smiles in greeting.

“I was starting to think you only appeared when you smelled blood,” he says as he joins you in the hallway outside of the kitchen.

Casimir Koska, Cookie to the Crown’s employees, is one of your most regular stops in your capacity as the bar’s medic. Usually if the two of you cross paths it’s because someone is bleeding, be it Cookie or another, after feeling the bite of one of Cookie’s many knives. The frequency of these visits has allowed the two of you to become fast friends.

“You’re the one stabbing yourself every time you start to miss me.”

“And it works!” He laughs, throwing his hands in the air. “So what’s the occasion, Sosia?”

Few people in this world are allowed to address you so informally, but you’ve never heard Cookie address anyone by their given name. In Meliza’s words, no one’s really part of the family until he gives them a nickname.

“Got a pig needs butchering,” you say in a low voice so that no one will overhear you.

“The meat?”

“Not great, but there’s a market for it. Good pedigree.”

He gives some sort of exclamation in one of the many human languages you haven’t yet learned to recognize. What little you know of his background is almost as bloody as yours, though his affiliations are strictly human. It makes you curious about what the underworld of the mundane must look like; this is far from the first body you’ve offered him, and he’s never struggled to find a buyer.

“I will take him to the market tomorrow then.”

The money was never as good as it was when you had Theodore Saint-James as a buyer, but those days are far behind you. Still, you find yourself mourning the loss of your connections in moments like these.

You leave Cookie to butcher the body and make your way to the lounge’s staff entrance. One of the newer hires is lingering in the doorway, accompanied by a waitress hiding in his shadow. The two of them are watching someone and whispering between each other.

“Sightseeing?” you say, more out of courtesy so you don’t startle them.

Cindy, the waitress, lets out a small yelp at the sight of you and scurries off to find some task to pretend to do. Many of the staff have come to view you as a godsend, but some of the more intuitive humans are able to sense something unsettling about you. As annoying as it can be at times, you don’t fault them for their caution; in most other instances those instincts will mean the difference between life and death.

“There’s a suit,” Tyler answers with a nod at the center of the room. From where you stand you can’t see much of his face, but you catch the glint of a watch on his wrist. “Won’t order. Keeps turning entertainers away. No one knows how he got in.”

As you survey the area you realize every floor employee seems to be lurking in the corners of the room. He looks too obvious to be a cop, but the watch on his wrist is worth more than any of you make in a year. Money like that in a place like this, more often than not, means trouble is soon to follow. And you’re too tired to hide any more bodies tonight.

“I’ll deal with it.”

You step out onto the floor and are about to approach his table when your movement catches his attention. He turns in your direction, and you freeze when you realize the man looking back at you is the eldest living son of Nettie Corbeau.