#does anyone feel me or am i out of my mind

[cushfuddled]

I AM SO UNWELL ABOUT JAYCE LITERALLY SHAKING NEXT TO VIKTOR'S HOSPITAL BED. Thank you for the delicious food!

Somehow this gif bolsters my belief that Jayce was the one who found Viktor's unconscious body.

Just...looking back on Jayce's face earlier that day...

Maybe this look says, "Oof, Viktor's about to take out a city block." In retrospect I'm more given to, "Am I really about to leave Viktor alone to blow himself up?"

This moment strikes me as an extension of Jayce's series-long tug-of-war between the council (and by proxy his wider obligation to society) and Viktor, who he's about to leave to perform extremely volatile lab experiments alone. They've known each other for like seven years at this point, so I daresay Jayce would expect Viktor to stay and work long after Sky and the rest of the faculty had left for the night. There's a reason lab safety protocols demand you work with a partner whenever possible. If Viktor does decide to stay late and something goes wrong, there won't be anyone around to help.

Anyway. Mel wakes up to an empty bed. I always joke Jayce's queer premonition alerted him to Viktor's plight, since if someone came by Mel's quarters to fetch him, the noise would've woken Mel as well (plus at this point their tryst was so new I'm not sure anyone would've thought to look for Jayce in Mel's bedroom). Guilt feels like the only viable explanation for Jayce's rude departure.

I posit up until this moment Jayce justified his councilor position as a means to an end. He told himself it was obligation that ripped him from Viktor; the lab; his true calling. They needed the money and the support. But I don't believe Jayce slept with Mel to "get ahead." He's not that brand of opportunist, and anyway—he'd just wrapped up a successful wine-and-dine campaign. Jayce's counselor position was more secure that night than it had ever been. He slept with Mel not out of obligation but because he wanted to.

To me this proves some part of Jayce liked the attention; the mind games; the power that came from his position. It proves Jayce didn't only leave Viktor out of obligation. And I think Jayce realized the same contradiction. He could no longer hide behind excuses like money and public perception. That night Jayce had the choice to go back to the lab and make sure Viktor hadn't electrocuted himself...or sleep with Mel. And he chose to sleep with Mel. To assuage the guilt he slipped out of bed and course-corrected to the lab—only to find Viktor passed out on the floor.

So anyway. Um. Back to OP's gif. Those are the hands of a guilt-ridden man who carried his partner to a hospital. I'm not sure why this gif makes me so sure of the fact, but I will die on this hill.

Noticing these things is above my mental health’s paygrade🥺

[viperify]

oneshots | ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ X ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

☾₊⊹ To The Moon n’ Back.

Short Summary: This year you’ll spend another ordinary Valentine’s Day, all by yourself. Or that you think—until you receive a mysterious letter.

Warnings: 18+ only! soft impact play, brief fingering, semi-public sex, unprotected p in v, also this is kinda ooc!Tom bc how do I make this man engage in Valentine’s Day activities.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s Day!!! 💋🩷

wordcount: 2,4k

Tom Riddle does not do love.

So why is it that every time you walk past him, his heart beats just a little bit faster?

He’s done everything to distract himself—drowning himself in books, studying more than what is usual, even for someone called Tom Riddle.

Yet, you never fail to leave his mind. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t seem to get the thought of you—specifically your lips on his—out of his mind.

By sweet Merlin, that’s the worst part of it all.

──

It’s Valentine’s Day.

Safe to say—you aren’t interested in a relationship.

So it shouldn’t bother you that all of your friends are out with their partner. But it does, your chest tightening at the thought of spending another night alone on a day that’s meant to be celebrated with your loved ones. It’s always been like this though, they’ve had their fun, and you—well, you stayed behind.

You decide to head to bed early. Right after dinner, which was awfully boring with none of your friends around, you make your way back to your dorm. Or try to, at least. Because as soon as you turn the corner, someone bumps into you.

Not just anyone—Tom Riddle. Head boy, former prefect, top student in every class, teacher’s favourite, award winner… you could go on like this for hours. There is probably nothing in this world that he hasn’t achieved—except for finding a Valentine’s date, it seems.

“I am sorry,” you mumble as you crouch down to pick up a piece of paper he has dropped. And it’s really not that you wanted to know what was written on it—it must have been the familiar number that caught your eye—the number of your dorm to be exact.

Though slightly taken aback, you hand him the paper—or better—he rips it from your hands. For a moment when his lips part slightly, you think he might want to say something in return—maybe apologize for bumping into you—but nothing ever comes.

So you leave, shooting him a weak smile.

It’s not like you expected an apology from him. He has his close circle of friends, all of whom are from renowned pureblood families. Even if you wanted him to like you, look at you the same way you’ve looked at him for years, it wouldn’t change a thing. Tom Riddle was unreachable. Any girl that has ever been interested in ended up getting rejected, and you wouldn’t be one of them.

Yet, the rich scent of his perfume lingers, the way his eyes flickered to your lips for a brief moment imprinted in your mind. His hands brushing over yours briefly, feeling his warmth, the warmth you’ve been craving to feel on your skin—

You shake your head. You’re interpreting too much into it.

──

Tom curses himself for almost blowing his cover.

After hours of contemplation, hours of sitting in front of a blank piece of parchment, he finally writes something down.

My dear—

He scoffs. Pathetic.

Scrunching up the paper, he discards it on the wooden floor of his dorm.

I hope this letter finds—

Definitely not.

Please meet me at the Astronomy Tower tonight at—

Please? Who is he to beg? You should be the one begging for— fuck.

Twenty crumpled-up pieces of parchment later, Tom’s had enough.

He opts for something shorter.

Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.

Perfect.

──

You are tucked under your duvet, putting the romance novel you had started on the nightstand. It was only 8pm, but with nothing else to do, sleep didn’t seem like the worst option. Soon enough, your eyelids flutter closed, and you drift off to sleep.

Though, it isn’t too long before a sharp knock on the glass of your window wakes you. It’s your owl, delivering a letter. Quite an unusual time for you to receive something, yet curiosity gets the better of you, and you open your window to get it.

No sender.

Reluctantly, you tear the envelope open, and your eyes skim over the words written on the parchment.

“Astronomy Tower. 9pm. Don’t be late.” You whisper, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. You don’t recognize the handwriting as anyone's you know, and as soon as you wipe over the words, the ink smears, vanishing, leaving you with an empty parchment.

At first, you are quite unsure whether to go. There’s no name on the letter, and especially on a day like today, there will be stricter enforcements of the curfew rules. Though, knowing yourself, you would have probably gone anyway. Even on a day like this, the moon and the stars are the only company you crave.

So you change, folding your PJs neatly on your bed, putting on the first skirt you find—though as soon as you step out of your dorm, you regret your decision. Tonight is cooler than usual, a soft breeze brushing past your skin, having you shiver. It’s too late to turn around, though. So you make your way, walking the route you normally take when you sneak out past curfew.

As you ascend the stairs to the tower, a figure leaning against the railing catches your attention. Only when you take a few steps closer do you recognize who it is. The brunette curls are unmistakably Tom’s, and for a moment your breath catches in your throat, halting your movements. Knowing that he is most likely on his patrol, you turn around to return to your dorm, but as you do just that, his voice stops you.

“You came.” He remarks quietly, without turning around.

It is him.

“You wanted to see me?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “Riddle, if this is some kind of—“

“Come closer.”

You walk forwards then, though reluctantly, and lean against the railing next to the brunette. It’s silent between the both of you for a while before he speaks up again.

“They fascinate you, don’t they?” He asks subtly, staring into the distance of the night sky. You follow his gaze, taking in the stars and moon on the otherwise pitch-black horizon. “You watch them each night when you can’t sleep.”

You turn your head then, looking at him briefly. You want to ask how he knows, yet you decide to keep it to yourself. Instead, you answer honestly.

“It’s a rare constant in my life. They help me calm down, especially after a long day.”

He gives you a soft nod in return, and silence returns between the both of you, left with owls howling in the distance. There’s still snow on the ground, and it must be below freezing temperature, because when another cool breeze brushes past you, you shiver, scrunching up into yourself.

“Why am I here, Riddle?”

Tom finally turns towards you then, a spark of something softer shimmering in his otherwise so strict chocolate-brown eyes, and he takes a measured step closer.

“You didn’t have any other plans tonight, did you?” He asks, in a way that’s implying he already knows the answer—because what does he not know—and you shake your head no.

“Then that is why.”

You part your lips to question him but are interrupted by his hand reluctantly reaching out, fingertips ghosting over your cheek, trying, testing, before his hand wanders to your neck. His thumb draws small, soft patterns on your jaw, and you tense slightly at the contact. He stops then momentarily, watching your softened expression, but when you don’t complain, he continues.

His gaze flicks to your lips, the air between the both of you growing thick with tension as he slowly leans in. Your surroundings fade into a blur, and before you know it, his lips are on yours.

Tom Riddle is kissing you.

The kiss isn’t what you’d expect of someone like him—it’s soft, tender, your lips moving in sync as his second hand rests on your lower back, pulling you closer.

Soon enough, he has you pressed against the railing, lips only parting from yours when a soft moan falls over your lips. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, then he goes back to kissing you as his fingertips trail up the soft skin of your thighs, stopping at the hem of your skirt.

“Okay?” He murmurs, waiting for a verbal agreement before turning you around, adjusting your position with a firm grip on your waist. He bunches the skirt around your hips, delivering a soft smack to the round curve of your now exposed ass.

A soft whimper falls over your lips, and you slightly lurch forward at the contact, but he is quick to reposition you, pulling you back to him.

It is most likely the choice of your underwear that has him go silent, fingers softly tracing along the lace of your burgundy thong, though he is quick to rid you of the last piece of fabric covering your lower body. Tom makes you step out of it, crouching down to lift your leg. You only faintly notice that he puts it in his pocket, and time to complain is sparse because his hands are back on your exposed skin within a second, cutting off your thoughts.

“You’re gorgeous,” he whispers, drawing a soft mewl from your lips, “even more so than I thought.”

Another gentle smack, and you feel his hand gently massaging your thighs before they wander up further. He doesn’t proceed—he waits, lingering there for just a moment.

“Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” He instructs, his voice soft, and you obey, parting your thighs to allow him better access. A whimper escapes your lips when Tom fully presses himself against you, making you feel the problem you’ve caused him.

His hand leaves your thigh, traveling up until he reaches your already soaked heat, humming as his fingers swipe through your folds, collecting your arousal. One finger slips inside of you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit, and you can’t help but buck your hips into his touch.

A second finger enters you, stretching, preparing you for him. You appreciate it—but all you want is to finally feel him.

“Riddle, please— I need you.”

His fingers withdraw then, hand wrapping around your throat instead, tilting your head backwards as you feel his hot breath ghosting over your ear.

“What’s my name?”

“Tom, God— please let me feel you, Tom.” You croak out, whimpering in defeat.

He lets you go then, the sound of him undoing his belt cutting through the night. “Good girl. Sounds so good when you say it.”

He casts a warming charm on you, a pleasant heat spreading through your body, and the next thing you feel is his tip nudging against your soaked entrance, slipping inside of you with a single, slow thrust. He groans when he’s inside of you completely—and it might be the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

He’s told you to stay quiet—though that order is quickly forgotten when he sets a steady rhythm, fingertips pressing hard enough into your skin to leave bruises. He stretches you perfectly, filling you completely with every snap of his hips, knuckles turning white from how hard you are gripping the railing. The sound of your skin colliding with each thrust fills the air, accompanied by your moans and whimpers and occasional low groans from the man behind you.

“Spread your legs a little further for me, love.” Tom breathes, hand slipping between your legs once more as you do. Again, he finds your sensitive bundle of nerves, rubbing the bud in slow, circular motions.

As your moans grow louder, walls clenching around him, he angles his thrusts slightly differently, his tip brushing over your most sensitive spots inside of you.

“Oh— Tom, don’t— don’t stop, fuck—“

His palm lands on your ass once more, but this time you arch your back into his touch, thighs trembling at the electrifying sensations shooting straight to your core.

With one of his hands on your waist, pulling you back into the sharp snaps of his hips, the other wraps around your throat again, pulling you flush against his chest. Like this he is able to reach even deeper, tip brushing against your cervix with every thrust, providing you with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain.

“Fuck— squeezing me so tight. That good?”

You only manage a nod in return, eyelids fluttering close as you near your climax, walls fluttering wildly around his invading length.

“Open your eyes and look at the sky when you come, darling.”

So you do.

With one last high-pitched moan, you tumble over the edge, hot, white pleasure rushing through your veins as your cunt clamps down around him, his hands on your hips as they stabilize you when your knees are about to give in.

Soon after, your mind still hazy with the aftereffects of your own orgasm, he empties himself inside of you with a low groan, hips stuttering as he is buried to the hilt, making sure you take all of him.

Both of you stay like this for a while, catching your breath. Only when the warming effects of the charm he casted on you wear off does he pull out of you slowly, drawing a soft whimper from your lips at the loss. He fixes your skirt for you, takes care of his appearance before his arm wraps around your waist, helping you stand upright.

“I will need that back,” you say, pointing to the lace half hanging out of his pocket.

He tucks it away completely then. “Don’t know what you are talking about.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes, leaning back against the railing.

A slight smirk plays at the corner of his lips but fades as he studies you in the faint glow of the moonlight, his expression turning more serious.

“Did so well for me,” he says after some time, voice soft again, “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

You blink in confusion. Surely he didn’t—

“I wish you could see yourself the way you see the stars and the moon.” He goes on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You are worthy of love.”

You shake your head. “Tom—“

Before you can protest, he presses his lips on yours, cutting off whatever words you were trying to form.

“I want you to teach me,” he exhales then, wrapping his coat around your shoulders, “how to love. Teach me how to love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

this was requested by my lovely @riddleswhcre 🩷 thank you so much for requesting baby!! you already know I am not particularly happy with how this turned out, but I hope it was still somewhat alright. <3

[star4daisy]

14/02 I valentine I 715 words I @rosekillermicrofic

(@ecstarry, @del-stars, @moon-seas and for @v7lgar, hope it makes you laugh once you wake up, darling)

“And after all that, James showed up with a huge bouquet and my favourite chocolate to ask me to be his Valentine,” Regulus told Dorcas and Pandora who were listening avidly to his every word.

“How romantic,” Pandora sighed.

Barty frowned. “Wait, haven’t you two been dating for months already?”

“So what?” Regulus asked defensively.

“So why would he need to ask you to be his Valentine? Wasn’t it a given?”

His friends scowled at him. “No, you have to ask even if you’re dating.”

Barty had never heard of that before. “Nah, no way.”

“Wait, does this mean you haven’t asked Evan yet?” Regulus realised.

“Of course not,” Barty scoffed. “We’re dating, he knows he’s my bloody valentine.”

“Does he?” Pandora challenged.

Barty froze. If any of his other friends had said it he’d think they were taking the piss, but this was Pandora — Evan’s twin sister — privy to information he never was when it came to his boyfriend's mind. “Did he say anything?” he asked with uncertainty.

“He didn’t have to.” Pandora shrugged, but she had her famous innocent smile that was anything but, her eyes twinkled in amusement. Barty wanted to shake her, to kneel at her feet and beg to know every thought that passed through Evan’s mind. “But if you didn’t ask, then I’m sure others did.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Barty stood up. “He’s my boyfriend, he can’t be anyone else’s Valentine.”

“Well if you didn’t bother to ask…” She singsonged.

“Shut up, that’s not a thing. You’re all trying to prank me.”

“When have we ever?” Dorcas rolled her eyes at him. “I asked Marlene, it was very sweet and pretty sure Lily asked Dora too.”

Pandora nodded, smiling at the memory of her girlfriend's surprise.

“Even Sirius asked Remus,” Regulus added up. “You’re the only one valentineless.”

“I’m not valentineness, or whatever the fuck, I’m going to Hogsmeade with Evan.”

“Does he know that?” Regulus challenged.

“Of course he does,” Barty got defensive. “We always go together.”

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” Barty started pacing.

“Never hurts to make sure, though.” Dorcas pointed out.

She did make a good argument and it wasn’t like Barty was just waiting for an excuse to stop being stubborn and make sure his boyfriend hadn’t accepted anyone else’s invitation.

“You’re right.”

“I always am,” she bragged.

Barty rolled his eyes but didn’t wait to argue, he had things to do, his person to woo. He was almost out the door when Pandora interrupted him. “Wait, how are you asking him?”

“I’m coming up to him and doing it.” Obviously.

“Poor, Evan.” Regulus shook his head in solidarity.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It has to be special, Barty. You can’t just ask.” Dorcas spoke to him like he was a small child.

“Of course I can.”

“Then he might not accept.” Pandora pointed out.

“He has to. We’re dating.” Barty tried not to stomp his foot.

“Not if you don’t ask properly.”

“Oh, fuck off. You’re having me on.”

“Nope, you need to give him his favourite things too, make it big,” Regulus told him. 

“Valentine’s Day is tomorrow. How am I supposed to make him a big surprise?”

“We’ll help,” Dorcas reassured him.

“Yeah,” Pandora smiled sweetly. “That’s what friends are for.”

“Thanks, guys.” Barty was touched.

Not so much though when his friends convinced him to spell roses to fall on Evan once he entered the Common Room to be greeted by Barty holding his favourite French chocolate with floating words spelling ‘Will you be my Valentine?’

As if he didn’t feel stupid enough, Evan’s eyes almost popped out of his head when he saw him. “Oh, that’s today?” he asked in confusion.

Barty froze. His so-called friends laughed. And he promised revenge in the near future. He knew they had to have been making fun of him, but the fear of not having Evan by his side had won out in the end. That was what he got for believing them.

"Tomorrow," Barty corrected. "You're going to Hogsmeade with me."

It wasn't a question.

Evan frowned. "Who else would I go with?"

Barty was going to kill Pandora. And Regulus and Dorcas for good measure.

But then Evan kissed him. Anything but his lips was forgotten.

[shimmershifts]

an open letter to those who have not yet shifted.

i don't know how many of you will see this, let alone how many will read it entirely. this letter is for those who have been trying to shift for two years, five years, more. those who cannot give up, and those who will not give up, and maybe even those who already have. to preface, this letter will not rehash everything you already know. you've scrolled every forum, you've seen every method, you've read every tip. you've trialed, and errored, and persevered... but you're still here. law of assumption, manifestation, belief, intention. but you're still here. you've been told all about shifting... right? you already know what shifting is... right? you should already know how to shift... right? but you're still here.

this letter is not intended to debase or invalidate those who do already believe in those things and who are satisfied with that. this is for those who have been trying that way for 2 years, 5 years, and more, and still haven't shifted. this is for those who might want an alternative perspective.

what you've been told

in my personal opinion, the online shifting community as it currently stands is very... rigid. narrow. there are a few dominant views, and then the many who drown out any possible dissent or disagreement. i do understand why this happens. reality shifting is already a marginal belief, hounded by anti-shifters and disbelieved and debunked on all sides, so it makes sense that people feel the instinct to close ranks at any sign of an outsider. unfortunately, this has led to a community that raises its hackles at even other reality shifters who simply don't believe the exact same way that you do. law of assumption. manifestation. intent. (and dare i say it, the multiverse.)

i don't believe in any of that, in the context of shifting.

now, wait! don't go yet, stay with me. it's okay if you do. i'm not intending to change the minds of those who already believe in these things. i'm not going to go at anyone and say "i'm right, you're wrong, and you must change your mind to agree with me!" that would be silly, and counterproductive. let's lower our guards, and extend an olive branch, please. if you feel these things serve your journey, then carry on. you're allowed to disagree with me, i won't be upset. you're allowed to think i'm wrong, if you want. literally no worries at all.

but i am a little tired frankly of certain ideas being treated as the only options, and often in a rude or hostile manner. if you are someone who has spent five years trying to shift, and you see yet another post that boils down to "all you have to do is want it hard enough" does that not hurt your soul? the following sections of this post are for those who these ideas have not been working for. for those who have not yet shifted. it's been two years. five years. more. and you're still here. are you open to another possibility?

what is reality shifting?

i've told you what i don't believe, but what about what i do? i'll try to keep this as concise as possible for the sake of brevity and comprehension, knowing i could potentially clarify in future posts. but please continue with the understanding that im a chronic overexplainer, and my curse is the fact that the extra words don't always actually increase understanding. bear with me.

reality shifting: broadly speaking, this refers to shifting your linear experience of reality from one, to another. this has been known by many other names in the past, across continents and cultures, even in pre-agriculture societies. i'd include ideas like persistent realms, quantum jumping, focus 21, etc. language is subjective, and people may describe or understand the same experience in different ways.

i believe reality shifting is a haphazard side effect of our limited ability to perceive and comprehend reality. let me explain. space, as we understand it, is three dimensional. but reality isn't. it's our bodies and minds limiting our perception and understanding that makes all of reality seem that way to us at surface level.

1D: let's consider a hypothetical one dimensional existence. everything would a straight line, and the only way to perceive anything else would be as a single point directly in front or directly behind you. forwards and backward. the 2D and 3D are beyond your limited ability to physically sense or feel, let alone to comprehend. Forget about the 4D (time). due to your lack of comprehension, you cannot move at will in two dimensional planes, let alone three dimensional space or even time. you are static, a single point.

2D: let's consider a hypothetical two dimensional existence. it would be a flat, infinite planar expanse. you might be a square, or a circle. you can move freely in two dimensional directions (forward, backwards, side to side), but not in the 3D. No up, no down. If you tried to perceive a three dimensional object, you would only be able to comprehend it as linear, a line on the horizon where it intersects your 2 dimensional plane. you would perceive the 3D as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it. the 4D, or time, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

3D: what about our three dimensional existence? congratulations, you now are a form, such as a sphere, or a cube. you can move freely in a voluminous, infinite three dimensional space. Forward, backwards, side to side, up, and down. if you *try* to perceive the fourth dimension (time), you can only comprehend it as linear, a line where it intersects your 3 dimensional space. You perceive it as moving around or within you on its own, without the ability to direct it yourself. any dimensions higher than that, if you could perceive it, would be static, a singular point at a time.

quick 4D sidebar: clearing this one up now because this will confuse some of you who are involved in other communities. in many law of assumption and manifestation communities, "4D" has been used to refer to your imagination, inner world, a bridge to "higher vibrational states", etc. i don't use it that way. i use it in the sense of the mathematical concept, or linking three-dimensional space with time. 4D=time.

4D and 5D: so, time is the fourth dimension. that means it is four dimensional, yet due to our limitations as 3D creatures, we can only perceive it as linear. we perceive it as moving around us, without our direction, forwards, (or backwards in some cultures). what about the 5th dimension? the static one? the one we can only perceive one point of at a time? let's call this 5th dimension... reality. due to our limited perception, it may not seem like it, but time and reality are just like space in that all of it exists at once. if you were a 5th dimensional creature, you wouldn't see a bunch of different realities, you'd just see one the way we just see one 3D universe around us right now.

tip: think of it this way, if a three dimensional creature moving through time is only able to perceive it linearly, it may think that each point of time exists separately, passing by in chronological order. this would be like a character in a book, the character experiences each page one at a time as we turn the page. but we know that actually, the entire book exists all at the same time, and already did exist before we picked it up and started reading it, and continues to exist even when we set it down. the same is true of time, and reality. even if we perceive it as linear, or a point, all of it actually exists simultaneously, like space.

still, we can only perceive one point of reality at a time. i believe when we reality shift, we are by some freak of nature (or nurture) finding a way to trigger a "movement" in this "5th dimension," and therefor shifting our linear experience of time and our singular perceptual experience of one reality to another. ("movement" is a bit of an abstraction here, as movement generally refers to 3D space. you're not actually moving anywhere, you're already there, you just... can't see it at the same time as this.)

ok, so how the heavens do i shift?

if you read through all of the above, i assume that's what you're asking by now. "get to the point shimmer! how do i shift?" if you don't need intention, belief, assumption, manifestation, three gallons of water, crystals, or anything else then what do you need to shift?

if we boil shifting down to its absolute core, all you need to do in order to shift is to shift. (put down the pitch forks, and the flaming feathers and tar. i'll elaborate.)

shifting involves finding a way for us 3 dimensional creatures to trigger a shift in a dimensional direction that we do not have the capacity to perceive. so what i mean by "all you have to do to shift, is to shift" is that there is no physical movement, or secret password we can whisper that makes us shift, not inherently. it's sort of like being told to find your invisible and non corporeal primordial tail, and then swish it in a direction that doesn't spatially exist. find your "move in the 5D button", and then press it. except, there is no button.

so how do we "move" from one point of reality to the other? well, the first clue to this is in noticing what part of us is actually doing the "moving".

you don't make it happen with your three dimensional form. there is no body part or mass or motor function in your 3D body that triggers a shift. there's nothing that allows a three dimensional form to move in five dimensional directions... you just can't. your body stays here. that's good news actually, in my opinion. there is no need to force yourself into strange bodily positions, or chug water, or whatever else. your 3D body is irrelevant, because it's not going anywhere. you don't have to do anything with your body to shift. some people can shift awake, asleep, in the shower, walking around, etc.

you also don't necessarily do it with the fourth dimension, time. there is no specific amount of time that you'll shift after. it might seem you've spent a lot of time trying to shift, but the actual shift itself is instantaneous. some people shift their first try, and some of you might be on your second decade of attempts. again, the time factor being irrelevant is good news because this means it doesn't have to take time.

i also don't think we do it with just intent or belief. the intention word gets used so much it basically means nothing, but the general idea is that intent is the driving force that manifests your desired outcome. in the context of shifting, people use it like "set your intention to shift, and you will" or "intent makes you shift." or the dreaded "you just have to believe harder." personally, i don't think that's true. i don't think intention makes you shift. if it did, you all would have shifted by now, right? i think looking anyone who's been trying to shift for 4 years dead in the eye and telling them they just haven't intended to shift yet is honestly a bit cruel and unusual. some people who intend to shift will shift, but in my opinion, its a case of correlation, and not causation. there are also people who shift without intending to, or who intend to shift but don't.

it's also not really our thoughts that shift. or our mind as a concept, or our entire self. we know this because you don't turn into a comatose vegetable when you shift to a different reality. your thoughts, mind, and self here are unaffected by your awareness shifting away from it. if you successfully "permashifted" to hogwarts tonight, your self here would still wake up in the morning and go to work.

so what does shift? only our linear experience of our own awareness. so in order to reality shift, we just need to find a way to trigger our awareness to shift from one point of reality to another in a non linear fashion, and then integrate that into our linear experience. aha! you think. great! now how do i do that...? unfortunately, this is not an exact science (yet.) once you begin shifting regularly, i think it gets "easier" in some regards because you get a sense for how your awareness "feels" and what works for you. for those who haven't shifted, i can't say "take three deep breaths and recite the secret words, and then you'll shift." there is nothing specific you can physically do that will for certain make you shift. there's no secret passwords.

there is no key to shifting. the good news is, this means there is also no lock.

what we can do is get ourselves primed, into a state that increases the chances our awareness is triggered to shift. ie, find the "move in the 5D" button, (you know, the one that doesn't exist) and learn how to press it. and because it is our awareness that shifts, my "methods" have to do with priming your awareness for shifting. you don't need to believe, which is a good thing because it means doubts won't hold you back. you don't necessarily need to intend, which is a good thing because it means there are no secret blockages in your way. no "subconscious", no "reprogramming", no "delusion is the solution." you don't need any of that. you also don't have to do anything specific with your body or space unless you feel like it and want to. you don't need a script, but you can make one if you want. it's whatever, it's irrelevant darling, it's non-consequential.

these three methods below basically encompass all shifting methods out there. i might expand on techniques for these methods later, but for now i'll go over the basics.

method one: pure awareness

it basically boils down to two steps. get into a state of pure awareness, and then shift.

the first step for this method is actually a simple one, sort of, but i think it's unkind to call it easy. it can be easy, if you just happen to have a perfect technique that works for you on your first try. if so, congrats! if not, don't despair. it comes more naturally to some than others, at first. you can probably build the skills and try different techniques necessary for you to get there.

but what is pure awareness? it's currently very often being called "the void state", but i'm not using that term for a few reasons. one, i think using the term "the void state" or calling it "the void" is making people think it's some sort of place that they're trying to go. it's not. it's not a physical place at all, and that's kind of the point. most of the time, your awareness is perceiving reality through the confines concept of 3D reality, because that's the data input it's receiving from your brain and body. that grounds you in this reality, and allows you to go about your day to day life. your goal with the pure awareness method is to focus on just your awareness, absent of all 3D distraction data and input. that way, your awareness is primed to be triggered to shift its focus to the 3D perception of a different point of reality when you come out of that state.

i might make a post about techniques for getting into the state of pure awareness, but this post is already long enough.

method two: destabilization of awareness

this method gets over complicated, but it basically boils down to two steps. destabilize your awareness, and then shift.

honestly, most shifting methods i see online are in some way doing this. lucid dreams, the hypnogogic state, SATS, self-hypnosis, "symptoms", and also all those iterations of the "raven method" the "staircase method" the "alice in wonderland method" etc are all basically ways to destabilize your awareness from the linear perception it is so used to in this point of reality, offering the opportunity of triggering a shift to a different one. they're all sort of either distracting or subverting your focus on the 3D here in this point of reality.

basically, you'll be trying to discombobulate yourself to the point your awareness is not focused on 3D reality, and trigger a shift.

method three: absence of awareness

sleep method gang, rise up. i'm serious. this method involves reducing your awareness to zero, or as close to it as possible, another potentially prime state to trigger a shift. (and by sleep method, i don't mean lucid dreamers or SATS, i mean simply going to sleep here, having a period of complete unawareness, like totally dreamless sleep, and then waking up in your DR.)

this absence of awareness during sleep is (in my experience) the most common cause of accidental or unintentional shifts, but you might be one of those who can trigger a shift to desired realities with this too.

sleeping is not the only way to get to the state of the lack of awareness. i'd say total distraction methods also count for this. you're not asleep, your body is awake, but you're so "zoned out" (or alternatively in a meditative state such that) you're absolutely not aware of the 3D experience of this point of reality anymore.

this is completely different from the state of pure awareness by the way, because in the state of pure awareness you are aware. like, in pure awareness you have a full train of thought and total control. the absence of awareness is the opposite. it feels sort of like a "blip" where reality time and space passed you by and you were not aware of it.

[scruffycatdaddy]

There he is. The bastard on the bride’s side of the chapel. I can’t believe that my most devout follower would fall in love with His most devout follower. If it wouldn’t cause a war in the heaven’s id hunt down whichever god twisted the fates to make this happen. Dumber wars were fought for less reason…(those Olympians are so vain…)

“Sulking because your ex is here?”

The cackling voice I knew so well.

���Well if it isn’t my favorite Olympian sorceress! I hope you aren’t whom I have to blame for this comedy of errors?”

Hecate cackles “I know better than to garner the ire of a god of revelry. Your piscean nature is not worth the trouble.”

I could always trust Hecate. She understood the chaos of my mind and could easily overpower me. But instead she chose friendship and respects me. The mother of my devout prays to her so it’s natural she would come to give her blessings and behalf of his mother. This family is very blessed with the eclectic pantheon assembled.

“You still miss him?”

“I can’t hide my feelings from you so no point in me denying it.”

“It doesn’t take sorcery to read your face my friend. Revelry misses the Bounty.”

He is a god of Bounty. Many revere him as an autumnal lord of the harvest. But as revelry takes many forms, so does harvest.

“There are rumors of a war coming. Perhaps that is why fate has brought these two together?”

“The fates bring together two commoners to get me back with my Ex? That’s insanity.”

“You two were the ‘it’ couple. And together on the same side again-“

“I have shirked that mantle. It is what drove us apart and destroyed what we had.”

“And yet it was what you did best. Who knew a god of revelry and a god of harvest together would be the most dangerous war gods seen in millennia!?”

“Hecate, please the ceremony is starting.”

The minister was quite a clever man. To weave a ceremony together to honor each of us here was no small feat. He does not have to worry about offending me. I am not a jealous god. Well…except when it came to him.

“If there is anyone here who does not believe these two shall marry, speak now or forever hold your peace.”

All eyes were on me and him. We locked eyes for what seemed like an eternity. His eyes still radiate the warmth I knew all those years ago. Even now hardened by the trials we had been through, I could feel his love for me as I’m sure he felt mine for him. Maybe…maybe after all the time we could find something…even just friendship. It would be nice to spend time with him again.

Suddenly, a loud explosion and I was knocked out.

As I came to I saw lightning crawling across the sky and my devout lays lifeless next to his bride. Rage. Carnage. Destruction. This was a deliberate attack against me and I would not let this go unanswered!

I gather myself and look to the sky. That Olympian bastard. We settled the score a long time ago. What cruel long game was he playing here?

“This gathering is heresy! The mixing of pantheons has been forbidden and you gods have done nothing to prevent this! For your crimes against divinity, I have destroyed this bloodline and will destroy your followers!”

I see Hecate protecting as many as she can from the lightning strikes. The other gods are doing their part. But this gathering is a peaceful one. There is only myself and him who can stop this. I look and see He is standing by his devout and blessing her with funeral rites. I walk to him.

“For her sake, not mine, bless him and the others here so they can move on.”

“I am petty, but not so petty that you have to petition on your own’s behalf using my devout’s name.”

“Listen. I just-“

“Shut up you timid prick. To be a war god, you sure are nonconfrontational.”

I had no words to say. He was right. I wanted to speak to him time and time again but I wouldn’t.

“I miss you.” That was all I could mustard out of my lips.

“…I miss you too. But right now I am furious and an elder god to fight. Do you still have some fight left in you?”

His form shifted. From the opulence of harvest golds and shades of autumn, he became enshrouded with a simple black cloak and his sickle became crude yet sharp.

I locked eyes with him again as fire burns from my eyes. My form shifting to that of a warrior with one hundred weapons at his disposal.

“For you my love? Always. Let’s make him regret bringing us back together.”

You are a god whose most devout follower is marrying your rival God’s follower. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem except you both are asked to bless the union, and for that both of you must attend.

[count-on-mi]

Twice Interactive Story Part 14 Push & Pull (Jihyo, Feat. Sana, Dahyun)

You put a penguin doll in Mina's arm before you leave quietly, you see Mina smiles again when she gets something in her arms again.

You get in your car and check your phone to see did anyone find you, Nayeon is not on the list. There are messages from Dahyun, Momo and Jihyo.

Dahyun 'Oppa, I am coming over tonight, remember pick me up!'

Jihyo 'Y/N, are you ok? I saw Nayeon cries when she back home last night, and she leaves again this morning.'

Momo 'Y/N, why would Nayeon know our relationship, you told her? She send me this' Momo's message and attached with a photo of Nayeon's selfie when you are fucking in doggy style just two nights before with a message 'Leave my boyfriend alone.'

You finally understand why she will stop moving for a while suddenly that time, she was taking photos.

I check how long ago the message from Dahyun was and respond accordingly. I tell Jihyo that things have changed and she doesn't have to worry about it. I tell Momo that I didn't tell Nayeon anything and that I just told her that I still went to you as a personal trainer. After all that I go home quickly to change.

You reply to Dahyun that you are going to pick her up tonight and reply to others accordingly.

You arrived home and see Jihyo resting on the sofa, 'Welcome back, Y/N. What happened yesterday, Nayeon leaves in the morning before I wake up.' You did not reply but immediately check your wardrobe, Nayeon did not bring her belongings back to her home, is it means there is still a chance for you?

"It’s nothing Jihyo, don't worry about it. My relationship status may have changed, so sex might be off the table now." I tell Jihyo as I poke my head out from my room. I start to pack Nayeon's clothes in a bag or suitcase before I have to pick up Dahyun.

'I'm definitely not asking for sex now, Y/N. But did Nayeon just find out that you have friends with benefits, I can feel it from her reactions. It's just like me before.' Jihyo comes in and helps you pack Nayeon's belongings.

"It was one person particularly. Nayeon sent a message to them about staying away from me. That being said that doesn't change anything with you staying here that way Daniel doesn't find you. Also my sisters are staying for a while." After I finish packing, I check the time.

Seeing still have some time left before you going to pick up Dahyun, you and Jihyo back to living room for some coffee.

Jihyo and you just chit-chat while waiting, 'I'm curious Y/N, if you have one more chance, will you still hook up with other girls and then break up with Nayeon? She's definitely not like me that can tolerate so much time.'

"There are two paths, if it's relationship over I'm just going to be single for a while. If she chooses to stay with me for some reason, I'll won't do it again. I've learned my lesson. If you don't kind my asking, why did you deal with it for so long?"

Jihyo looks at the ground when she hears your question, 'I once believed he will change for me, I innocently thought the marriage could make him tied to me, but I was wrong.'

'So you and Nayeon have officially broken up? Maybe we two injured souls can try to be together?' Jihyo teases you.

I chuckle before looking away "I don't know if we are broken up, if we are I wouldn't mind trying with you. But would you really be willing to try again with someone like me?"

'You know you are playboy too huh, Y/N?' Jihyo spanks your shoulder and giggles. 'I don't know, my heart always comes before my mind. But I guess I have a lot of competitors, your colleague, your friend with benefits, and also your little secretary. Mina is so obvious you know?'

"Mina does make it obvious, she'd be your biggest challenge. She's always so helpful and willing to put me first. She should really find someone better." I say with a laugh.

'Maybe She thinks you are the best for her.' Jihyo smirks and looks at the clock, '30 minutes before you got to go, a quick one?' Jihyo comes closer to you and sits on your lap.

"I don't know, what if Nayeon comes back?"

'OK, so you gonna abstinence until you know the results? Can you do it, haha? Jihyo catches your cock before she backs to her room, 'I will miss you, big guy.'

'Hey, Y/N, better finish dinner with your sister before coming back, don't wanna act like your new girlfriend when we first meet, so awkward.'

"Yeah, I will." I walk out of the apartment and head to my car to get to the airport early.

You waiting for Dahyun at the terminal while playing your phone, and you receive Momo's message that she wants to see you tonight. When you wanna reply to her, you see Dahyun rushing to you, 'Oppa!'

'Hey, Dubu, still so tiny huh.' 'Yah, Oppa.' Dahyun wants to hit your head but she's too short to reach it, so she just hit your chest.'

'Where is Nayeon eooni, I thought she is with you already.' Dahyun turns around and try to search for Nayeon.

"She won't be around Dahyun. Let's get you something to eat. What do you want to eat?" I ask to distract her.

You help Dahyun get the suitcase and guide her to your car. 'I miss the food you cook, Oppa. How about you cook for me.'

Remember what Jihyo told you, you only can reject Dahyun's request. 'Sorry, Dubu, not many ingredients left at home, maybe next time? We will just casually eat tonight.'

'Ok... I forgot how long did we last meet each other, you are much thinner, so much stress on work?'

'Nah, Dubu, just as usual, I'm fine. Did you start finding jobs, you have graduated for half a year already.'

'Ummm, I am trying, just give me sometime, oppa. I am working on it.'

"Ah Dubu, you need to look harder. And if you don't choose a place to eat I'll choose." I say as I start driving.

You drive to a random restaurant and have dinner with Dahyun, you two talk about all the things that happened from last time you meet.

'OH, Oppa, I guess I don't need to share a room with Chaeyoung, right? if Nayeon eooni is not here.' Dahyun smirks.

Your home has 3 rooms, usually, Chaeyoung and Dahyun need to sleep together when Nayeon is staying, as you don't want to cause any embarrassment to your sisters, although Nayeon is not here, now Jihyo has occupied 1 of them, maybe it's time that you should tell Dahyun you have a guest.

I explain to Dahyun the situation Jihyo is going through and that she will have to share a room with Chaeyoung.

'OH, come on, Oppa, I have expected I can have my own room at your home.' Dahyun shows a sad face. You caress Dahyun's head, 'Dubu is a good girl, right? You should understand what situation Jihyo is facing, you won't be happy too right?  And you can occupy the room until Chae arrives, don't be sad!'

'Yes, but does Nayeon eooni knows you bring a girl home?' You are a little bit frustrated that Dahyun is keep mentioning Nayeon.

"Dahyun, Nayeon and I are going through a rough patch right now. I'd appreciate it if you didn't mention her." We finish the meals and begin our ride home.

Dahyun's emotions are hard to describe, but you can catch her happiness before it disappears when she hear Nayeon and you have some arguments. You two did not talk about Nayeon again through the dinner.

You two finished the dinner and ready to back home. 'Oppa, what if we buy some snacks and watch movie together tonight?' In the meantime, you remember Momo wants to see you tonight either.

I quickly send Momo a message and ask if we could meet another time for the reason that I'm picking up Dahyun from the airport.

'Y/N, I am just so afraid that why Nayeon will know what happens, if you can't come today, how about tomorrow.' Momo replies immediately. You then drive to some snacks before back to home.

Jihyo is sitting on the sofa again when you arrive, 'OH hi Y/N, and little sister, your brother should have mentioned about me, Nice to meet you, sorry for disturbing your family day.'

I send Momo another message to say I'll meet her tomorrow, then I introduce Dahyun to Jihyo. I ask Dahyun "Dahyun would it be alright if Jihyo joined us for the movie?"

'Sure Oppa, your friend is my friend too.' Then you three sit on the sofa and start watching the movie.

You sit between Jihyo and Dahyun, each of you covering a blanket or pillow while enjoying the movie. You suddenly feel Jihyo 's chest pressing on your arm, you turn around to check Dahyun, she is too focusing on the movie and not paying attention to you.

Jihyo put a finger on her lips, tell you to keep quiet, and start caressing your cock under the blanket.

I keep quiet recognizing that if I said anything it would give it all away.

Jihyo is happy that you are so obedience and not making any noise, she put your hands into your pants and start stroking you slowly.

Seeing your body shivers from the sensation, Jihyo blows hot winds into your ear and whispers to you, 'You seems so excited when I am stroking you next to your baby sister, enjoying it?'

I whisper back "stop it, you're going to get us in trouble."

'Relax, Y/N. Let me handle it, Dahyun won't know what's happening, she loves the movie so much.' Jihyo starts stroking you faster.

You try your best to not release any moans, but Jihyo's hand is really good, and you wanna cum. Jihyo feels your cock pulsing in her hands, 'Cum for me, I am ready.' Jihyo then kisses you to cover your moan.

I cum in Jihyo’s hand, I'm grateful for the kiss as I'd otherwise release a huge moan. Once we break it off, I whisper to her "I'm going to get you back for this."

'Wow so many, you are really so excited, don't you?' Jihyo pulls out her hand and start licking it. 'You know where to find me if you want to thank me.' Jihyo whispers again before she moves to bathroom to clean her hands.

You notice Dahyun is still focusing on the movie and doesn't know Jihyo has left for bathroom.

As much as I want to get Jihyo back at this moment, I keep myself in my seat for a time before going to the bathroom.

You wait for Jihyo's return before you go to the bathroom to tidy up yourself, Dahyun finally out of her concentration and wanna sit closer to you.

'Oppa, that part is so good, isn't it? The tension is so strong.' Dahyun tries to talk about the film, but actually you are totally into Jihyo's handjob at that moment, so you could just simply answer her yes.

'Oppa, the smell is so strange suddenly, what is it?' Dahyun turning around to check what smelling strange in the living room.

"I'm not sure, did you fart Dahyun?" I joke to her, as I make sure she shouldn't see anything.

'Ya, Oppa!' Dahyun spanks you and then move back to her seat. You just giggle and start watching the movie. Finally, Jihyo has come out from the bathroom, you rush inside immediately before Dahyun could find out anything.

The rest of the night just spend normally, all of you are going to bed after movie has ended. You see Jihyo winks at you before she enters her room.

I help Dahyun get set up in her room before going back to my own.

You help Dahyun unpack her luggage, and you see some formal dressing in her suitcase, Dahyun pushes you out before you ask any questions. 'Now get out, let my enjoy my own room.'

'Aren't you have whole of the house when Chae is living in dorm, huh?'

'That's different, Oppa. Goodnight.'

You go back to your room, laying on your bed, ready to end the day. Your phone buzzes, and it's Sana message.

'I heard you have some fun with Mina alone today huh? On sick leave together and she applies it for you. The office is talking about you two again, I wish I was there too.' Sana attached a photo of her opening her clits for you.

"I was hungover from the night before Sana. I was in no condition to come in." After I respond, I just lay back and relax for a minute.

'Oh, sex after drunk? I wanna try with you too.' Sana attaches a video this time, a self cam in a high angle, she is not wearing bra in the pajamas, you can see her nipples clearly while she is playing with her tits.

"Sana just get some sleep." I delete the conversation logs after keeping things safe for myself.

'It's Friday night, why can't I have some fun before I sleep?' Sana sends you another video where she is sucking her finger while looking at the camera seductively.

You back up the video to the locked folder and prepare to clear the message log again, Sana's text comes again, 'Maybe we can try phone sex tonight? If Mina or your girlfriend is not beside you😏😏'

"Not interested Sana. You enjoy yourself." I respond before I head to the kitchen to make myself a snack.

You head to Kitchen and grab some chocolate for night snacks, you check your conversation logs with Nayeon, she still hasn’t online since last night.

You sigh and return to your room, you see Jihyo slightly opens the door of her room, enough for you to peek inside.

I look at the door debating if I should go, but first I check on Dahyun. Putting my ear to her door to see if she's awake or not.

You hear no sound from Dahyun's room, she should be asleep already. You back to the corridor and your phone buzzes again, It's Sana again.

This time the video is she masturbating with a dildo and moaning your name, 'having a dildo in my pussy, but it's nothing when comparing with you.'

"Sana, nothing is going to compare to me" and then emoji with the tongue sticking out is what I respond with. I put my phone to vibrate only and then I head back to Jihyo’s room.

You slowly enter Jihyo's room and lock the door. Jihyo is sleeping on her bed, with a sexy lace pajamas, you can see her got body inside the pajamas. You don't understand why Daniel would still hook up with others even he has a such needy and hot wife at home.

I get beside Jihyo and pull down her pajama bottoms before I start teasing her pussy. I get my other hand ready to cover her mouth, so she doesn't make noise.

Jihyo wakes up from your assault, she grabs your hand on her mouth in her pajamas to play with her tits and turns around to make out with you. You can see the lust burning in her eyes, seems she is really needy as her husband ignores her for a long time.

"Seems like you really want this Jihyo." I say as my fingers go under her panties and inside if her.

'Stop teasing me, Y/N! Put it In!' Jihyo bites your lips and row over you, wanting to ride you.

Her tits keep bouncing as she breathes heavily, you put your hand on it and start playing with it.

I roll her over so I'm on top again. Covering her mouth again, and thrusting my fingers into her pussy. "Oh no, Jihyo. You teased me earlier, it's my turn."

Jihyo's tits till bouncing, her body twists due to the sensation, 'Ah, faster Y/N, please put it in. At least I let you cum.' Jihyo starts to moan louder to contest your teasing.

"Don't worry I'll let you cum." I say as I kiss her. "Get any louder and I'll stop right now." I continue kissing Jihyo to make her be quiet.

Jihyo cannot hide her moan so she just grab your head to kiss harder, you are feeling her become tighter, you thrust your finger faster until she reaches her orgasm.

'Ummm....' Jihyo moans in your mouth when she reaches her orgasm, you finally let go of her lips and let her catch her breath, but still slowly thrust your finger in her pussy.

Her bouncing tits are so eye-catching, so you just can't wait to suck her nipples.

As much as I want to continue this I continue, i pull my fingers out and have Jihyo suck them clean before I leave.

You let Jihyo clean your fingers before you leave, 'What? That's all?' Jihyo looks in disbelief when she sees you leaving her room.

"Yep, I just wanted to get back at you." I walk back over to her, rub her pussy again. "Don't you worry, I'll make sure to fill you up next time." I kiss her cheek and then leave.

'I wear this pajama for you, Y/N. Even Daniel hasn't seen me wearing it.' Jihyo said with a sad face. You comeback and give her one more kiss and leave eventually.

You back to your room and finally start to sleep, it's already midnight. You think about tomorrow's date with Momo before you fall asleep.

I'll wake the next morning well rested and ready for the day.

[shizuturnspages]

Come to think of it, The child reader khaenri'ah has abyss powers, And I doubt very much that kaeya and Albedo will be able to contain the reader due to its abysmal power, since without memory it can double space, seriously corrupt people and brainwash. I think, he asked me how the Yandere would deal with the little reader. Since the reader will want to leave or escape at any time regardless of her own age :0

The Abyss That Calls

Synopsis: The Abyss calls to you. But so do they. And no matter how many times you try to leave— They will always bring you back. Pairings: [Separate] Yandere Dainsleif, Pierro, Kaeya, Albedo, & Capitano x Abyssal Khaenri’ahn Child Reader

Dainsleif

Dainsleif should have known.

From the moment he saw you, from the moment he recognized the Abyss lingering beneath your skin, he should have realized—

You were never meant to walk beside him.

And yet, he cannot let go.

"You are playing with forces you do not understand," he warns, gripping your wrist.

You glare at him, the space around you twisting, flickering in and out of existence.

"You should know better than anyone," you snap, "that I have no choice."

Dainsleif’s grip tightens, his expression unreadable.

"You do have a choice," he insists. "You are more than what the Abyss made you."

Your golden eyes glow—brighter than his own.

"Are you?"

For the first time, Dainsleif hesitates.

And in that moment, you vanish.

He curses under his breath, but he does not panic.

Because no matter where you run—

He will always find you.

Pierro

Pierro does not act immediately.

No, he plans.

You are a valuable piece—a living fragment of Khaenri’ah, a child with the power to warp reality itself.

You are far too precious to let slip away.

"You are restless," Pierro observes, watching as you pace within your gilded cage.

Your gaze flickers toward him, wary.

"You are keeping me here against my will."

Pierro smiles, but there is no warmth in it.

"You misunderstand," he says smoothly. "I am protecting you."

You scoff, but before you can retort, Pierro steps closer—

And suddenly, your mind blurs.

A pulse of foreign magic invades your thoughts, subtle but insidious, like a hand gently guiding you toward obedience.

"You belong here," Pierro murmurs, his voice like silk. "You know that, don’t you?"

Your breath catches.

For a brief moment—just a fleeting second—

You almost believe him.

Kaeya

Kaeya is not stupid.

He knows he cannot contain you.

Not through force, not through power—

But through trust.

"You want to leave?" Kaeya hums, tilting his head. "Then go ahead."

You narrow your eyes, suspicious.

"You’re letting me leave?"

Kaeya grins. "Of course. I wouldn’t dream of keeping you somewhere you don’t want to be."

You hesitate.

You should take this opportunity—

But something feels wrong.

Kaeya sighs dramatically, kneeling before you, voice dropping to a whisper.

"But I do wonder…" His fingers gently brush against your wrist. "What happens when the Abyss no longer wants you?"

Your pulse stutters.

"What?"

Kaeya smiles, but his eyes are cold.

"What if you go back and find that the Abyss has moved on?"

His grip tightens just slightly, his words like venom.

"What if you are truly alone?"

Your throat goes dry.

And in that moment of hesitation, Kaeya leans closer—

And anchors you to him.

Albedo

Albedo does not stop you.

Not at first.

He watches, studies, observes as you warp reality, as you bend space itself to your will.

It is fascinating.

It is terrifying.

And it is unacceptable.

"Do you understand what you are doing?" Albedo finally asks, voice eerily calm.

You scowl, stepping further away. "I am going home."

Albedo hums, nodding as if he accepts this—

And then, in an instant, he moves.

The space around you shifts, symbols forming in the air, an intricate alchemical formula closing in around you.

You snarl, trying to warp away—

But your body does not respond.

Your vision blurs. Your power dims.

Albedo watches you struggle, expression unreadable.

"You are remarkable," he murmurs, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You try to flinch away, but your body refuses to listen.

"This is merely an experiment," Albedo assures you. "To see how far you can go before I must intervene."

Your breath hitches.

"You can’t do this," you whisper.

Albedo tilts his head.

"But I already have."

Capitano

Capitano does not play games.

He does not use words, does not rely on manipulation.

He acts.

"You will stay," he states simply, voice like thunder.

You glare at him. "You cannot control me."

Capitano steps forward, unfazed.

"No," he agrees. "But I can contain you."

The Abyss flares around you, but Capitano does not flinch.

Instead, he lunges.

You barely have time to react before his hand clamps down on your wrist, his grip like iron, crushing and unbreakable.

Your magic flickers.

Your breath catches.

"You are still young," Capitano says, his voice unnervingly gentle. "You do not yet understand your place."

His other hand rises, cupping the side of your face, his touch firm but careful.

"You will learn."

You snarl, thrashing against him, but he does not budge.

And when his grip tightens—

You realize that no matter how far you run—

You will never escape him.

[sirazaroff]

Hey :)! Just asking but how does Glinda hide her scars on the visible parts of her body(like hands or the one on her face). And if anyone ever noticed did Morrible say that Glinda got attacked by the Wicked Witch?(you don’t have to respond with a drawing :), hope you have a good day/night)

Hey there! Thank you for the inquiry, I know yall are waiting on me to say SOMETHING since first posting the two ideas. Such a tease I am~

I will make a disclaimer that my ignorant ass has yet to know what goes down in act 2. I have plans to change that soon enough. Here’s my current take on things but I’ll make an update if they no longer have any merit in the timeline.

And speaking of a timeline, just keep in mind that after she’s struck on the back, the final beats of act 2 start to play out: Glinda going to Kiamo Ko and witnessing Elphaba’s ‘death’. The Wizard leaving and Morrible tries to grab power before Glinda can, and then failing. Glinda takes over as ruler and changes Oz in Elphaba’s vision.

——————

So, why does Glinda cover her scars?

It’s cause of her image as hope to the masses. The Good Witch can’t be appearing all busted up like that, people will ask questions. They’ll be afraid that the Wizard can’t actually help them, or at the least that Glinda can’t. Truthfully she’d rather people believe the truth but between the threat of more punishments from Morrible, and the fact that she’s putting her own public image and safety at risk, it’s better to just hide the scars. No one ever really sees them and so they never question it.

——————

Now let’s talk about how she covers them.

My thought process is that with her hands she would hide those with gloves during the frequency of the beatings. Gauze underneath, hoping they won’t bleed thru while she’s away from the palace. When Morrible eased up on this, Glinda switched over to covering them with makeup since they could finally heal over.

For her lip, Morrible gave her 3 days to figure out how to deal with the fresh wound before throwing her back into the spotlight. The pain of this caused Glinda to resent smiling. This scar would also be hidden with makeup once healed.

Now once she’s struck by lighting, all of this goes out the window. Glinda is quite literally bedridden for a few weeks and her absence is dully felt. Ozians are aware something happened at the palace, but they’re not sure what and who did it. In that instance it was easier to just blame everything on the Witch and rile up the public. (This narrative falls apart after Morrible tries to make for a power grab. Ozians will learn that it was she who hurt Glinda).

When Glinda can finally stand again, she’s in no shape to work. Of course that doesn’t stop the Wizard from having Glinda stand out on her balcony and address the worried masses.

From here on out Glinda doesn’t cover up any of her scars, only her demeanor. Even if she wanted to cover her back, it’s too large and touching the entry point sends a jolt that feels as sharp as when she was first stricken. She’s riddled with constant pain and walks with a limp, but when in public she acts like everything is peachy and is full of smiles. Glinda does this mostly because the people need a leader and if she shows her true ailments, there’s bound to be a threat for power by those taking advantage. Years down the line she’ll eventually retreat within the palace, unable to physically do much anymore but drink in an effort to numb the pain.

[bokettochild]

apparently i like making myslef hurt and suffer

because i'm wondering

how would Sablya react if she heard about "Mrs. Kitt Tailor" and their MANY kids?

i know she's from another au but dang it my mind is wandering and it hurts

I will be entirely honest, I have had thoughts on this SO MANY times, but never been sure if there was a point in writing it! That said @apparitianhanako actually asked me a while ago to write this! It just fell by the wayside.

I got hit by a wave of inspiration when I saw this ask though, although unfortunately I am running on like...four hours of sleep, and, thus, brain function is CRAP, so I cannot vouch for the quality here, but I guess here's an answer fic! (NOT Violet Incident canon or TBBU/BoHH canon)

-

 It’s one of those days that’s actually not as bad. 

 There aren’t a majority of either the good or the bad, mostly just a sort of lingering gray that overtakes it all. A grey unlike the twilight, unlike the shadows, and very, very different from even those long stormy nights that Link loved so much. 

 To look at him, you’d never think a man like that would love storms, and yet he does. Many’s a night they’d curl up before the fire, huddled in close under some quilt or another that his mother and sisters had made and he’d tried his very best to add too, even despite his trembling hands. Many’s a night she’d brew them tea and he’d hold her close, eyes turned to the windows and sharing story after story from his childhood, from his homeland; the fae stories that even her grandfather doesn’t know, and never could tell with the eloquence of the man she’d loved. The selkie stories he’d learned from his grandmother and passes on to anyone who’ll listen. The stories of the old, the new, the unknown, the unexplained. Her Link may not have been rich to the world’s eyes but he was rich in stories, and to the two of them that was often better. 

 They had been anyway. She still loves them, but there’s something lacking in new ones now, maybe the roll of his voice or the intent way he’d tune his telling to its listener, engage and entrance them with his words until they’d feel there themselves. A book’s pages don’t capture it right and no one knows how to say it. 

 Sometimes she wonders how he’d describe the greyness. Would he spin it like the deep sea that drinks down whatever is cast within, leaving a peaceful stillness above and a roaring torrent below? Would he tell it like a sky before a storm? The wind before a blast? The air in a second before magic speaks its words over the earth? 

 But he’s not here to say it. 

 That’s sort of her own fault though. Proud though she is, Sablya knows the faults not solely his, and that’s the source of the grey. 

 Pride’s a dangerous thing; she’s been warned all her life. It’s the thing that sends soldiers to their deaths and ruins lives and loves. Still, even with that knowledge, it’s a powerful force to try and deny, and it’s the only one that’s stopped her on some days from straying towards the castle to try and fix things. 

 And then, some days, it’s weak, so very weak, and she manages to step out anyway, heading for the gates and intending, with all her heart, to wander in to his office and ask, like anyone who comes to him, if he can help her to restore the family that she lost in the war, to bring her Link home to her. 

 Something always stops her though. 

 Pride, perhaps, stops her at the gate. Doubt and anger at the steps, her own unwillingness to face the world some days stops her making it past her own doorstep. But the times she’s made it to his door, hand on the knob and ready to knock, it’s the voices inside, the tired sound of his voice and the tears he’s no doubt meaning to ease from whomever it is that’s come to see him, seeking, like herself, to find what was lost. It’s doubt then, and fear, and bitterness that has her certain that he’d say the same to her as he’s said in her hearing to so many bereaved; “your soldier isn’t coming home, ma’am. I’m sorry.” 

 Today though isn’t a day where that doubt creeps in. It's one of those ones where even pride has taken a backseat and she’s got a moment to look about her home and feel the most dangerous feeling of all; hope. 

 Link’s a man who’s good to his word, who never breaks a promise, never defiles a vow. The vows they made on their wedding day, surely, were meant with as much if not more heart than any other he’s made. They’d sworn ‘through good and bad, easy times and hard, sickness and health’, and though she’s failed, broken that promise, on a day like today, she has faith that he wouldn’t. 

 He came home after all, and he never pushed when she’s said no, said go, said leave. He’s never failed a vow yet, so surely, this is one he will keep. Surely, he’ll at least let her try to speak to him, if only enough to discuss, to give words to the greyness that bubbled up that day that the war ended and he’d come home. 

 On another day, maybe she’ll laugh at herself for her hope, for the naivety, but on this day, Sablya Taylor has no intentions of letting a past or future version of herself stop her for at least today. After all, she’d heard from a neighbor that Link is back. Wherever it is that he’s gone, he’s back now. 

 “And looking a good deal in better health then last I saw him!” The old lady had chirped at her over the garden wall yesterday evening as she’d been working at the wash. 

 It’s a spark, a bit of hope that’s dangerous but oh so powerful, and it has her setting out that very morning. 

 She’s not sure if it’s the castle or an inn he’ll visit, because Hylia knows it won’t be his mother’s place, not on the slim chance that Mister Taylor the senior will actually be there. Of all the things that have changed, she knows for a fact that Link’s relationship with his step-father will be the last to do so; the two men despise each other, and to have them in the same room, never mind sleeping in the same house, would take a genuine miracle! 

 Gossip is a sure compass though, and she’s only got to say his name before some shopkeeper or market vendor is pointing the way they last saw a blue scarf trailing. 

 It’s not long at all either before she sees it for herself. 

 There he is. Standing tall only a short distance from some stall or another, chatting away in an almost animated fashion with another man.  

 For a second, her feet stall, freezing. 

 He looks himself again. Gone are the heavy bags beneath his eyes, the near perpetual five-o'clock-shadow and scowl from too long hours in the office, too many nights in a bar. He’s clean shaven (but gosh does she miss his beard, patchy as it was!), combed but not coiffed, clean but not polished, a laugh on his lips and a scowl on his brow as he nudges at the man beside him. 

 A man who looks a shocking about like a certain best-friend she knows is dead, hair just a shade or so darker, with hints of auburn, but smile just as toothy and the voice that sounds in answer to her Link just as tinged with Ordon’s drawl. 

 For a minute, she has to shake herself and question if she hasn’t traveled back in time somehow. Except... except she can’t have, because the scars over his eyes aren’t familiar and the blue scarf is somethings he’s only seen once; when he came home. He’d not had that before, so she knows it can’t be the past 

 She sort of wishes it was though. It would certainly make this much easier. 

 Sablya steps towards the two men, lips parting even though she’s got no clue what she’s about to say. 

 And then they move. 

 It’s not far, just to another stall, but then the man who could be Gassun’s twin is stepping away and another, brown haired and with a near angelic smile on his lips, takes his place, trading softer words that earn kinder smiles and easier motions than the last. 

 It takes her a second to work up her nerve, but the moment she does, they’re drifting off again, and once more, another lad comes, though the second man stays, and a boy who she thinks she’s seen linger by her husband’s side before joins the conversation. 

  It keeps happening that way. She’ll be a second from stepping over, only to start and lose nerve when Link goes to speak to someone else. It’s annoying. She’s annoyed at herself and her own lack of nerve. Pities sakes, what would Mother and Father think o such behavior? What would her grandparents think? Bushka? They’ll all tell her to buck up and talk to her husband! So, with a huff and a heave and as strong of steps as she can manage considering she knows she’s wronged him, Sablya steps over. 

 And then her feet stop cold again, just an arm’s length away, as another figure glides over. 

 It’s not the fact that the person is there, not when she’s expecting it now, it’s the way their hand slips into the crook of Link’s arm with a familiarity none of the rest had shown. Its the way they turn to speak to him, drawing his gaze, something dark and dangerous deep in their own. It’s the fact that, unlike the rest who’d come and gone, the figure at Link’s side now wears a skirt and has the fine features of a woman, not a man. 

 “Darling,” the word is tense, the grip the same, but the dark stare that lifts past heavy lashes, pressing and pointed, has her heart catching up in her throat to see directed at her husband, “I fear I must ask your help.” 

 It’s nothing, she tries to assure herself It’s normal. Women throw themselves at her husband even with her at his side, they always have. He’s a good-looking man and an honest one too, and she’s never minded before that the world can see it. Now though, now after the war, after everything, after the sorceress, her gut still churns a bit. 

 She wants him to catch that nimble yet firm hand and tug it off, to step back and ask, in that not yet cold, but very much warning tone what it is that the lady wants. Because, beautiful though the creature on his arm is, enchanting as her gaze must be up close, what with how hypnotizing it nearly is from afar, he’s still a married man. He made a promise, and whether or not they’ve spoken in ages doesn’t change that. 

 Link’s brows furrow, and she’s ready to see the gentle push, but instead he leans in, just a bit closer, head down and whispers soft as he answers, nearly too low to be heard. “What happened this time?” Fervent, worried, attentive, not a bit of hesitation in his manner and gaze fixed solely on the vision beside him. 

 There’s a wince, the grip of that hand tightening and his coming to settle over the top, assuring, comforting, promising in motions she herself knows so well and hates to see granted to another. As though unawares though, the other woman goes on. “I fear our girls have gotten to mischief.” 

 Our girls? Surely, she doesn’t mean- 

 Link stiffens slightly, tensing in the shoulders. “All of them?” 

 A nod. “Five magics, all going mad, and believe it or not, dear captain, they’re scattered.” 

 Link sighs. That great, heavy sort of thing he won’t sound unless he’s truly comfortable in a person’s presence. It’s a sort of pride of his own, she’s often thought, that he won’t falter before any save those he trusts, and the implications of it sounding in the space between himself and this other woman makes her heart scream. “Why did we think this was a good idea?” 

 “Having kids?” The woman sighs in kind, “we didn’t. It happened, and now we have seven gremlins to mind and stop from destroying this city.” 

 “Let’s get to it then,” and he’s striking out a couple whispers late, parting now but with a wry smile that the other echoes, moving off in the other direction calmly as though trying her hardest not to attract attention. Link doing the same in the opposite direction, no doubt with direction from the dark-eyed lady on where to go. 

 She could follow him. 

 She could follow the lady, but desperately, she both does and doesn’t want that woman to know. There’s no ring on his hand, not with his profession being what it is, so, surely another woman might make a mistake. The fact of it is clear though; she is something to him, but the desperate hope that the lady didn’t know battles with the wish that Link has somehow been tricked, seduced by the siren’s song of that woman’s sweet voice, perhaps under the spell of the magic that drapes over her like a cloak. She wants to believe it’s not his fault, yet the idea of blaming the lady seems so wrong without knowing for sure. 

 She should follow him. 

 She should stalk after and drag him to the side, out of sight and earshot and demand to know what she just saw. Yes, they’re separated, but could he not do her the basic dignity of divorce if he was so set on starting again? She has her failings, and she’s aware that they’re significant, but regardless, that isn’t an excuse! 

 Or is it? Is she to blame? Was it her words and actions? 

 And yet, her feet move without though, mind spinning, there were children mentioned. Not one- seven. Seven children, and while certainly the lady looks young, she’d also said it happened by chance. No one in their right mind, not even Link with his bleeding heart for strays and street kids, would adopt or take on seven children. She knows he took two, in the war, under his wing. She knows she’d been bitter, thinking he was replacing their own lost little one with blonde-haired boys he hoped would fill a hole. 

  But seven? With a woman like that? And all old enough to wander, freely? To have magic? 

 The captain’s wife has the sinking feeling that such a thing wouldn’t be possible in the time since the war ended and their marriage had followed suit. Even if her words did somehow drive Link to break a vow, a promise, his own honor and her heart with it, the times wouldn’t match. 

 He’d have to have had met this woman long before, and the children- gods, is she the second woman? 

 Her mind spins and trips on itself, feet the same until she finds herself on a street she can’t name, ducking into the nearest ally to drop her head to her hands and breathe. 

 She can’t cry. She won’t cry. If she cries than she’ll never stop and- 

 “Are you okay, miss?” 

 Sablya starts, dashing what tears had escaped away and turning about to the source of the voice, finding a young figure before her. It could be a child, but then again, it might not be. Whatever they are, boy, girl, young or grown, they’re staring at her with warm amber eyes and a worried frown. 

 “Pardon?” 

 “You seem upset,” the short figure observes, blinking up at her slowly, gaze weighted more than it should be for so young a person. “is everything alright?” 

 She means to answer, to say she’s fine. Regardless of anything, she won’t be admitting her troubles or ruined marriage to a random stranger, but it’s at that very moment that Fate chooses to spit in her face and another figure darts around the corner on the far side of the alley, calling out. “Scarlet, luv, come along, your sister-” and the words cut off. 

 She stares. 

 The dark-eyed woman stares back. 

 Of all the chances, of all the people, she does not expect it to be the same lady as took her own husband’s arm with such certainty, but yet, here she is. Here she is, pretty and powerful, if not physically than at least with magic far exceeding Sablya’s own. 

 Link likes powerful women, she finds herself thinking, bitter. He likes strong women. He likes women who stand with confidence as the lady before her does now, even as confusion touches ethereal eyes. He likes women who entrance him, and no doubt, anyone would be so before this figure. 

 “Mama,” and oh gods, is this one of those seven? “I don’t think she’s okay.” 

 The strange lady steps forwards, magic reaching, cautious but gentle, eyes searching and ears flicking. “Are you hurt, miss?” 

 Her heart is irrevocably shattered into a million pieces, if that answers the question. 

 The sweet face of the strange, young yet world weary, and still somehow near regal despite tattered dress, creases up in a frown. “Is there anything we can help with?” 

 She wants to say yes. She wants to demand answers. She wants to whisper a plea to tell her it’s a lie, that she’s wrong, but in the same breath, she’s looking into the face of the younger, the child, her Link’s child, and wondering how on earth she could dare to shatter a second family after ruining her own. Does this kid deserve to be told something so terrible? Does this lady? Could she leave them in peace and let Link go on, happy as he’d looked beside them, weary but warm, himself again like he hasn’t been in forever? 

 As though to add insult to injury, the man in question himself rounds the corner a second later, four more children, near identical save the one’s dark hair, all on his heels. “I see you found Perri and Scarlette already, which is a blessing because-” the words die as he looks up from small figures to where she and the other woman stand, now both having turned. 

 Link’s eyes widen, feet stuttering as he draws up sharp. “Oh shit.” 

 “Language!” One of the kids pipes up, only for a sibling to slap a hand over their mouth. 

 She can’t move. 

 Link doesn’t seem to be able to either. 

 “You know her?” The lady asks. 

 Link’s gaze is heavier than the very sky and it’s every star, his words clipped and short. “That’s my wife.” 

 Dark eyes turn on her in a moment, now also wide. She expects a scream, a hiss, maybe tears exploding forth as they threaten to from her own soul, perhaps a fit of rage as magic snaps and growls. Instead though, the strange lady just sags, hands over her face and a heavy sigh seeming to carry her last breath intro the alleyway. “I hate my life.” 

 “Second that.”   

 “Well thanks,” and the sugar sweet tone is abruptly gone, the gentle manner lost as a scowl, so drastically different from the angelic expression before that it would almost be comedic if it wasn’t so confusing, is shot Link’s way. “Stick a knife in my heart yourself, why don’t you.” 

 “Vet!” 

 “A wife?” and there it is, “you didn’t think to say something?” 

 “What, like you would have believed me?” 

 “I procured you a fake wedding ring and- you know what, no,” hands fly up and the stranger, who is suddenly so much less gracious and gentle and is now a whole new person altogether, something that leaves Sablya floundering at the sight of, is turning to look at her. “You must be so confused.” 

 “Oh shit.” Link sounds again, more emphatic this time. 

 “Hi,” and the expression of exhaustion that joins an outstretched hand held her way nearly makes her feel ready to keel over herself, “I’m terribly sorry. I’m a friend of your horrid husband and I would like to assure you right here and now that I am not sleeping with him, nor will I ever.” 

 Link chokes. 

 Sablya stares. 

 The... lady(?) draws back, apparently realizing her hand won’t be taken and that Sablya herself might not be able to even properly think at the moment. “I can only imagine what you just saw, or are thinking, and because Link here is shit at explaining crap to do with anything in this regard, I’ll do the honors.” Words followed with a mutter to the ground of “someone kill me,” that, despite everything, she somehow doesn’t manage to take personally. 

 Which is how she ends up leading six strangers and her estranged husband back to her house and the privacy it offers, to be told a story around her kitchen table by a boy who looks like a goddess about how he, a wolf-man, and four of the five not actually children in the current company had accidentally convinced not only Castletown but the whole country, in multiple eras of history, that Link was married to a goddess and the father of seven children. 

 In short, it is not how she expected to finally sit down with her husband, but after the whirlwind she just suffered, it does ease some tension between them when the story ends and she finds herself breaking down into a hysteric combination of laughter and tears that leaves everyone else staring awkwardly and her own husband, her Link, her not a cheater and, in fact, still true to his word Link, trying his very best to help her calm down enough to breathe again. In all honesty, it’s almost all worth it. Especially when Link gives up talking and she finds him setting an arm around her shoulders instead. He’s all hesitant and slow, wary, but when she doesn’t push him off, he eases and, a second later, tugs her in close like he used to on grey afternoons before the fire. 

 They're both shaking. 

 She’s not sure if or when her hand will ever unwind from that blasted scarf of his, but, somehow, she doesn’t think it will happen before his head lifts from her shoulder. 

 Blessedly though, her husband’s friend sees fit to usher the rest out, leaving them alone. 

 It’s not how she planned to sit down and talk things out with Link, but if anything, this will most certainly make for an interesting story for him to tell someday. Once, of course, they’ve made up and a very, very long time has passed so that she can actually laugh at this all. A very long time indeed. 

 As long as he wants that time, that is. 

 She hopes he does. She doesn’t want it without him. 

[astracora]

EVER's Tool - Chapter 4

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc, Caleb x gn!mc (Zayne POV/MC POV/Caleb POV)

Warnings: Hurt/No Comfort, Angst, Talk of EVER Experiments and Torture, Violence, Gore, Suicide Ideation, Spoilers for all current story as of Caleb release.

Word Count: 10112

Written: 14th February 2025

Notes: Established-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. My notes today are that I fought for my life with this one (dramatic), because I cannot multitask for shit, and I am grinding tkrb instead of writing. Oopsies. Happy Valentines Day all, I hope you have/had a good day. ❤️ Take some nasty angst as a present. I'm going to sleep (aka grind more tkrb and fall asleep until my phone hits me in the face when I drop it).

Now Playing: The Dark of You, By Breaking Benjamin

Masterlist AO3

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Zayne is a doctor, he understands the concept of amnesia. He has experience with dementia patients, those who have been in accidents. He knows that some never get their memories back, he knows that pushing and rushing can create emotional strain, stress and anxiety. That asking questions the patient has no answers for, can hurt them.

He knows, objectively, that he should not bombard you with information. That he could make it worse, even worse he could aggravate your heart, and cause a relapse. He could hurt you, rather than help you, by trying to bring you back to yourself. If he rushes… if he loses the logical part of his brain… if he isn't careful.

He does not sleep when he is given a cot by the scientist you sneered at. He sits and he thinks and he stews. Working through the situation in his mind, he takes the tracker Sylus gave him off, and sticks it somewhere out of sight. Just in case. He doubts EVER are stupid enough to not have signal blockers in place, but he also knows that if it is cut off at some point, that will give his family something to work with.

If they know he has it though, there's a chance they'll move him. Or worse. He has a chance, right now, and he needs to be careful. He has to be smart.

It's difficult, though, when he saw you, when you raised a hand to him, to Sylus. When you fought and you hurt. He fights with himself, reminds himself that he is a doctor. That he can help you, like he would with your heart, like he would with any other injury. He can help you with this.

Even if his heart and mind are screaming at odds.

He's always been fairly good at listening to his mind… he just hopes it doesn't betray his heart.

Regardless of his sense of logic, he cannot simply sleep. There's a feeling over his shoulder that he's waiting to be watched, like if he sleeps someone will snatch him up. It's a paranoid sense of disturbance, that he cannot shake. Unable to relax in any real way. Unable to even feel tired, let alone finally sleep. So he sits, and he thinks.

For hours. He ignores the scientist, Leon. He calls out, asks to talk, and Zayne ignores him. There's nothing to say. He has been through this process, Carter asks, he rejects. They continue the cycle.

He wonders how long EVER will ask, now that he is here. How much patience they can possibly have.

If the anxieties of his family were anything to go on, when they were hunting, pulling in favours, chasing through the underworlds, he doubts it's plentiful. He cannot imagine anyone willing to experiment past the edges of morality, will hesitate too long on the cliff of conscience.

It is when he hears your voice through the feeble door, that he finally raises himself up. Takes the clothes he has been given, there is little else in this room, it's a broom closet, more than a room. He cannot clean up, cannot go through routines that give him some semblance of comfort. So he decides to simply face it, he has to.

"Where is your guest?"

Zayne looks at you, really looks. He had seen you in that cafe, had noticed the claw at your side in a flash out of the side of his vision. It is something else to see it in the lab's bright lights. As you growl at Leon, he sees fangs peeking out under your lips. Inhuman and out of place, though he remembers seeing something similar when you had been cursed by cats.

These are tinged red, from biting into your lip, and you twitch and clench your claw to a fist. He recognises the motion, normally you would seek out a hand, or someone's clothes to hold onto. To ground yourself. Later, twirling a dagger when on a mission, after Sylus taught you how.

His own hand reaches out on impulse as he approaches, to take yours. To ground you. To ground himself. It is a reflex that he has to pull back, reign in and remind. You will not take kindly to a stranger touching you. The feeling is like a shard of ice through his chest, that he is a stranger.

A target.

The kind of realisation that shatters at hope.

He thinks of moments when Rafayel had drunk too much, on days you were out on missions. The Lemurian had bemoaned the tides, the pains of being forgotten, the agony in his chest for things he didn't fully explain. Like he was offering Zayne parts of a puzzle, but holding back the box. He had only gleaned some sense out of the heartbroken Lemurian, placing a head in his lap, and running fingers through hair and over skin, wiping cried pearls away.

That memory was a fragile thing, that he already knew, saw shades of it when you reconnected, when you looked at him and didn't hate him for the way he had hurt you in your youth. Barely recognised stories he shared, only realising later when the recognition took longer to shine in your eyes. That the albums he had seen Caleb tend to with you, were for a purpose. To protect your memory, to strengthen the foundations.

That, despite the pain, he saw the same thing in Rafayel's heart that he saw in Caleb's in his childhood. A sheer determination, that no matter how many things were forgotten, that there would be more memories. Endless as the sky.

It kept the small jasmine of hope protected against the cold.

He still sees you, in the way you talk. There is none of what Xavier and Sylus recollected from their first run-in with you. None of the cold chill to your eyes like the previous day. He recognises this you, though you're short and you're angry. There's a familiarity to the casual tone, to the way you interact. Underneath the new scars he can see, the unfamiliar attachment, and the gold flickering around the edges of your eyes, you are there.

If he can only draw you out.

It should be a relief that you are forced to spend time with him, though the idea of you spending time with him under duress makes him feel sickened, instead he realises it is a threat. That like Carter has teased, multiple times, he would do anything for you. That all he has done in his pursuit of studying the heart, has been to save you.

Can he really keep that moral code, that the you now teases him for, when there is a chain around his love, keeping them at EVER's feet? It is a question that he truly hopes he never finds an answer to. He just needs time.

There are so many questions Zayne wants to ask you, so many things he needs to learn, to understand. Like there's a door he can push open if he gets the right key, and things will settle into place. It's a naive little thing, like every promise he makes against his logical judgement for an eternity.

Instead, his eyes are drawn to your bared arm, the lightning scars visible from yesterday, and he falls into familiarity, "Are you alright?"

He tries to offer the same smile he's offered to his patients, despite how he worries that it might tremble when you flinch away from him. Looking at him like he has lost his mind, irritated by his questioning.

So he tries again, tells you that it's natural for a doctor to worry. It's not a lie. Any real doctor would be concerned for others, their lives, especially if they were injured in front of them. There's a deeper, consistent reasoning. He loves you, your life means more to him than his own ever could. You're hurt, and even if he hadn't been your doctor for so long, not being able to help you, cut more than he expected.

Wrestling with the feeling, of wanting to reach out, to hold your hand, soothe aches and pains. Check your health, make sure you're alright. To be the one to heal you. Instead, he simply watches, the pout on your face as you respond to him in irritation. The way your gaze wavers when you look away. It's akin to embarrassment, a look he's seen on you when he teases, and you aren't sure how to respond.

You're out of your depth. It's endearing, even when you bite without cruelty.

He watches as you look past him, the gold in your eyes flickering, filling your irises. Leaning forwards, he reaches a hand out, waves it but you don't react. The gold flashes silver, and he finally finds his voice, "Darling?"

It slips out, but he watches as you blink. As the gold and silver filter away, and the familiar mismatch of your eyes returns to him. As you look at him, warmth in your eyes for a moment, and a flicker of a warm smile as you shiver, before you are this you again. You avoid his hands again, and sink your fang into your lip. He wants to reach out but he does not want to feel the sting of your withdrawal again.

He finds relief in the fact you have taken care of your wounds, as reserved about it as you are. So he tries something else. Decides to rattle you, watches you make him hot chocolate. You're short with him now, demanding he stay. There's a bite to your words, but your eyes…

You're sad. He doesn't know why, there's too much he doesn't know. What they've done to you, what you've been through in the months you've been separated. The way your shoulder droops as you make his drink, more careful with your actions. Carefully pouring, stirring with your left hand. For a second, he lets himself imagine you're home again. That he's sat working at the kitchen bar, Sylus reading a book nearby, Rafayel playing an overly noisy game on his phone, Xavier half reading a book and half drifting to sleep.

You're making drinks for them, humming and bobbing your head to music that is as familiar to him now as everything else in their home.

When you turn to hand it to him, he is still in that daydream. Taking it with hands too cold, and sipping. It is only when you point out the risk, that he pulls out of the fantasy.

That you are watching him, again, like he is insane, and every moment you call him Doctor is a spear.

He spent so long trying to be Zayne for you again, to overcome walls he had placed between you. Icy thorns, tangled around his heart, forcing his hand to be steadier. Controlled. He has lost so much time running from you, before he could finally open up, finally take your hand freely. Finally have you close to him, opening doors to the tower, letting him walk freely wherever he wanted.

Without fearing the ice as much as he had.

It's like he is back in the moment of when you first walked back through his door, keeping your distance. Calling him doctor, reacting with a lack of recognition when you see his face. There's even more of a frost to you now, and his title is bitten off.

He wonders how many doctors in EVER treat you with the same kindness those in Akso have.

He doubts any.

When you growl his name out, glaring at him, he cannot help the feeling. Like he's won something, he thinks it might be the same feeling he has when he has won a plushie out of the claw machine for you. Victory and pride, and warmth in this chest at the crooked smile you gave him. Even if you and Rafayel often tease him for not being very good at it.

Zayne learns a lot just watching, he's always needed to be observant, and the flickering of the gold of your resonance, over your skin, up your wanderer prosthetic, is uncontrolled. Driven by fluctuating emotions, that you cannot comprehend. He's familiar with the struggle, and he knows it is something you had struggled to learn. Now you are back at the space without the skills to navigate, with no comfort or safety to try.

"Did they hurt you?"

It feels like a stupid question, he can see new scars, that he has not traced with his fingers. He can see the shades of fear in you as you flinch out of his grasp. EVER have hurt you, he knows that.

Yet… he needs to know. Has to understand, if he ever hopes to fix it. He cannot cure something that he cannot see.

There's some guilt, that he could not help, that he has not been here. It's a pointless thing, to feel guilt. He is one man, all of his family cannot fight against EVER without struggling against it. Still… he cannot help but guilt when he sees your hand press to your chest. Is it a physical pain or an emotional one?, he wonders. Unable to ask. Press, push and pull like he wants.

You are not close enough to answer him. Biting back at all of his questions, bristling at him when he pries.

So when you question him, looking at him as you bring up the name he has called you so often, his heart skips. Darling has been as familiar on his tongue, as his own name could be. He remembers the moment he had first called you it, felt the heat on your cheeks, the glistening in your eyes. The way you had turned away to hide it, only to be pulled back to him. So that he could kiss you.

Whispering it against your lips. Tasting the sigh of his name in return. It had taken so much restraint from him to stop, when you needed to breathe. He was so desperate, his control fraying, his mind tumbling around the sensation, the need, the yearning. Everything he wanted, in his hands.

It fits you better than the words of EVER, ever could. You are not their weapon, or their rare beast to keep in a cage. You are his Darling. Rafayel's Cutie. Xavier's Starlight. Sylus' Kitten. You are you.

When Unicorn leaves his lips, he feels sickened by it. It is not you. It's not right, and he watches the flicker of pain in your eyes, like you wish he'd never said it. He wishes he had not, he wishes he could call you anything else. That the pain as you press to your chest was not so stark, that he could ignore it for a moment longer, to whisper your name.

It is patience, it is process. Medicine is not a quick and easy journey. Struggles with memory are never so simple to fix. He cannot say a word and watch you be healed in front of his eyes.

He has to remind himself. He has to remember.

Even if you cannot.

He can, and he can find a path forward.

Out of all the things that he wishes to know, he faces your wary gaze with a simple thing. He finds the doctor's manual, and he processes.

Dealing with those with memory loss. Keep questions simple, without being belittling. Do not ask if they remember certain things. Offer conversation, help build up rapport.

He has to remember, because if he cannot be your lover, he will be your doctor. He has always cared first and foremost about keeping you healthy.

If the look you give him, upon questioning about hobbies, is anything to go on, he has succeeded somewhat in disarming you. He remembers your reaction to finding out he had toothache and had been avoiding the dentist.

Disbelief, amusement, and the need to tease. If you had a tail, it would have flicked.

You have wide eyes, and blink at him. Startled, and he thinks of a cat. Though he would not do Sylus the pleasure of agreeing with the 'Kitten' moniker too loudly.

As you gaze off, you describe Destiny Cafe to him. Starry eyed, with gold flickering around the edges. Fading out of focus. Your words stall, and his heart skips again.

Despite everything, despite the situation you are in… you are drawn to places that you and they have left marks. A place that is as familiar as home, at this point. It tempers, reminding himself that he cannot cling too blindly to hope. Yet… against his will, it is water for the small flower he protects.

If even part of you remembers, there is hope.

He will fix this, he will see you find yourself again, offer you sanctuary even if you do not trust easily, and he will wait and find a way to get out of this nightmare.

He promised a future, and he will not let it go.

After all, you helped cut through the icy thorns for him. He will help you break down EVER's bars around you.

At the very least, he has a chance. If you are to be forced to spend your time with him, then he can use it to his advantage. He can ignore the ache, and find a goal. He chased medicine all his life to cure your heart, he is not one to quit.

Not on you.

Even as he stares his dead childhood friend in the face. As purple and pink eyes look back at him coldly.

As you step back from between them, and raise a brow.

There are questions on Zayne's tongue. So many, too many. What has EVER done to those he cares for, to have laid their damned claws into everything? Is it the fact he feels the distance in Caleb, that keeps him from doing much but holding his gaze. There is a feeling of being watched by a snake, that he has never felt before.

The Caleb he knows, beyond being protective, was warm. Even if most of it was reserved for you.

Zayne has never felt like a threat, not like this.

"How are you?"

His words come out short, when Zayne finally manages to pull himself out of thought, "I have been better." He receives a laugh in response, as empty as the man's eyes. Like he finds the situation of little interest. Like his childhood friends being caged by EVER are not a concern to him.

This waking nightmare feels less real by the moment, as he looks at the uniform. As he picks out the Farspace Fleet insignia. As he sees the colonel badge. As he pieces the vision together.

There is a biting, and vicious question that is out of his character, but is full of frustration and anger at all the things he has seen. That reminds him of Sylus on the floor, in pain, gasping. That makes him see the wanderer claw out the corner of his eye. That sees him stitching up a deep gash in Xavier's chest. That hears the eulogy from the bathroom as Rafayel mourns.

How could you stand there and see this happen?

How could you see this and not fight?

How could you claim to care for them, and turn a blind eye to their suffering?

So much, too much. Overwhelmed and hurting.

If there is a god Zayne can believe in, he wishes they would make this nightmare end.

"You two know each other?" You finally speak up, looking between them, and Zayne sees it. The wary look in your eye as you look at Caleb, the way you do not stand closer to either of them. Whatever the situation has become, you are not sure where you stand.

Caleb must notice it too, looking down at you. There's more warmth in his eyes when his gaze holds yours, and Zayne almost can trick himself into believing it's the same Caleb he knows.

"We used to be old friends, didn't we?"

"I suppose so."

"So that's how they plan to convince you, Zayne? An old friend?"

He almost laughs, it has no humour, and it would be a broken rattling thing, but he almost does. "Yes, I suppose you could say that."

You look incredulous at him, brow raised and chewing on your lip, like the idea is more confusing to you, than anything else right now. Like your dead best friend, is not the biggest question here. Like he is the odd one. He isn't lying to you either, the chain EVER want to place on him, is a reminder. Of the person he fought so hard to save, who is right in the grasp of people who would break you with such little effort.

It's simply not Caleb, who keeps him tethered.

It is not Caleb who reminds him that he is at EVER's mercy.

You say something under your breath, that he does not catch, shrugging to yourself.

"How about we chat, for a bit, Zayne? I'm sure Pipsqueak can go find some food, you haven't eaten yet, have you?"

This causes you to bristle, and Zayne watches as you move in front of him. Facing Caleb. There's a height difference, and you have to look up at him, but there's an immovable force. A tenseness to your claw, that reminds him that you are well trained.

And he is your job.

"Pipsqueak?" A flicker of doubt over Caleb's face, almost makes Zayne's anger temper. Almost.

"My job is to protect him, Caleb. I can't leave him alone."

There's a laugh, warm and jovial, as Caleb extends a hand towards your head, and goes to pat it, but you carefully move back a little more. Forcing Zayne back a step to avoid you bumping into him. It tapers out, the humour, and his eyes narrow up at Zayne like it is his fault, this is happening. "From me?"

"From everyone." Your voice is cold, the empty look in your eyes is back. The wall around you that forces the shocked, irritated looks to the back of his mind. The version of you he saw outside your home. Ready to hurt anyone in your path to fulfill your role.

The weapon EVER are so ready to throw at others.

Zayne watches, and he waits, in the course of your conversation he learned you carry out your jobs, no matter what. Even if you bristled at the orders. He wonders if you could bring Caleb to his knees like you did with Sylus, angry and snarling.

Caleb's eyes narrow, and then soften, his hands up. Appeasing, his smile is wide but Zayne can't feel the warmth from it. Too busy overlapping the chill in his gaze, with the friend he grew up with. "Alright Pipsqueak, I get it. No leaving the doctor alone, why don't I go and get us connected rooms sorted so it's easier to guard him?"

Your hackles raise, then ease, then settle. The gold that was drifting down your claw, now dissipates, leaving flickering around your eyes once more. You don't smile, but you do nod, "That would be helpful, thank you Caleb." This time when the hand extends to your head, you do not pull from Caleb, and Zayne finds himself irritatingly jealous.

It is a feeling he is not very familiar with, so used to reaching out and touching you. To knowing you inside and out. To being more than confident in every moment spent, every day lived, and every experience had by your side.

Now he is nothing more than a stranger, watching you pull away from him, into someone else's arms.

He's only slightly relieved when you seem to have enough of being touched, pulling back and indicating for him to follow, "Let's go, before there's no food left." You glance at Caleb, then back at Zayne, then urge him to keep up as you leave. He follows, as quickly as he can. Unwilling to strain the new found relationship, when he sees how wary you are of someone you trusted implicitly.

That if he came to it… he has no idea if you would align yourself with EVER, or with Caleb. Which is a question that while he never thought he would ask, he certainly never thought the answer would be so clouded in mystery.

As he leaves, his head slightly turns to glance at Caleb. The flash of hurt in purple eyes quickly smothered, makes him think he is not the only one with the question.

—---

Your time with Zayne is time you aren't sure how to fill. You cannot remember the last time you spent an extended period of time with anyone.

So you do what you can think of. Imagining he's a pet you have to take care of. It's an insulting assessment, but you know the basics for it better than you know the basics of general human survival. Eat, sleep, repeat, you think. Truthfully though, you don't want to parade the man around EVER's compound.

As you enter the canteen you see all the faceless white coats who you barely want to acknowledge, look up at your entrance. Unlike Zayne, who takes a cursory look around him, you keep eyes forward. There's nothing to be gained from their curiosity. Just more agony, and more probing questions.

At least the doctor's questions aren't met at the end of a scalpel you can feel in your flesh, like one of their cruel vivisections.

"Pick." You indicate the menu, looking over at the machines. It's a simple automated system, the less people in the compound the better. You see the OTTO bouncing about as they clean up, or bring trays to people.

It's a simple enough system, so you don't have to explain it, while you stand by his side and look around.

Shooting particularly sharp eyes at some scientists staring far too much at your new charge.

You hope, your only charge.

"Done." You look back and see he's inputted his choice, and then see that he's inputted for chocolate cake. He at least has the decency to look a little red faced when you raise a brow at him.

He's a mystery you won't entertain.

You can't.

So you shrug and shove in an order for whatever won't turn your stomach. You haven't eaten properly, besides some fruit slices, and you doubt you'll keep the prepared food down much longer than usual. Still, if you don't try you worry Leon will find out and inform the lab coats. Then you'll be hooked up to an IV, and forced through the process of keeping your body workable.

They can't risk a knife rusting, after all.

The canteen is as silent as it always is when you enter, like if they talk you'll bite. You're used to the treatment, but Zayne lets out a small chuckle, "Is it against the rules to talk when you're a member of EVER?"

You almost laugh, almost, biting it back down because it's not exactly inaccurate. Everyone here knows something, that if they shared would get them killed. Still, it's not that threat keeping them silent. "They're too curious about you Doctor Li." You respond, taking the trays away from the OTTO, shoving them at the Doctor so you're free just in case, and leading him to a table that keeps his back to the wall.

"Eat."

"Am I going to be ordered around a lot, going forwards? Is the correct response, yes zir?"

"The correct response is to eat. If you drop down out of malnutrition, I've failed my job."

"Ah, can't have a stain on your record now, can we?" There's no venom when he says it, and when you look at him, he does not look at you like he's picking a fight. His eyes aren't cold, in fact they're as warm as they always seem to be, but the words do hurt.

You aren't sure why. It should be a badge of honour, that you've never failed. Even in all your ignorance, though, you know blood on your hand is nothing to sing for.

Not in front of a man who has made promises to save people. You are diametrically opposed. 

He should hate you, for everything you represent. Instead he simply seems at peace to eat, next to you.

Surely it is an insanity, to sit next to a killer, and not even check your food for poison?

Still, would you hurt him? Not right now, you have your orders. To keep him safe, protect him. From anyone, even yourself.

Even Caleb…

The cold look in his eyes is embedded in your mind, the way he glared at Zayne, someone who should have been his friend. You look up at Zayne, watching him eat cake as if he hasn't a care in the world, but you notice the tapping of his finger against the table. It's quiet, and he's looking off as he eats.

You remember the anxious energy you get in your hand without your dagger to twirl.

Perhaps that's something you can understand. The mask. It makes him easier to understand, to believe.

You still can't bring yourself to ask.

Do you really want to know more about this man, to humanise him more than he already is, if the order comes down that he's not needed anymore?

"When did Caleb return?"

He does not give you the reprieve of avoiding it, but you're not even sure how to respond. If you should even tell him anything. You remember him picking at the fact this is personal information. It's not a threat to EVER. For all reasoning you have no orders to keep this secret. There's little stopping you sharing whatever you like.

Information is dangerous, in anyone's hands. Even if you feel a little foolish for thinking this doctor might not be one of them.

"Does it matter?"

He pushes some of the cake over to you, when he realises you've barely eaten anything. Picked at some vegetables, speared them around the plate and then ignored them. You hesitate before taking a bite, the sweetness spreading over your tongue.

For a moment you hear laughter, and see a warm smile, as you eat. Before it fades, and you hear him speak again, "He was dead for a year. I mourned him. I just want to understand what happened."

You see the flash of pain in his eyes, the way his tapping speeds up for a moment, before he pulls his restless hands out of your view. Steadying himself with an exhale.

You aren't sure what part of your twisted heart compels you… but you don't want to hide this information, "Yesterday, I saw him again yesterday. He told me he was gone for a year, but I don't remember anything beyond that."

"Nothing?"

You bristle, the idea of sharing anymore about it does not appeal, no matter how warm his eyes are. You aren't sure if it's protectivity over your own being, or if it's fear. So you clamp shut again, sitting back and pushing the cake back to him.

He seems to accept the close of topic, and tries something else, "Have you noticed anything-" He pauses, seems to think of how to word it, "Odd, about him?"

"Odd about me, Zayne? Am I so different?"

You look to the side, as Caleb approaches, his hat pulled down to cover his eyes somewhat. He's smiling, but it's the same smile you saw earlier. Chilling, and unwelcoming, even though when he turns to look at you. It blooms brighter.

You can't quite figure out what it means.

Why he would level a glare at someone he called a friend.

Or why it would make you feel like stepping away that you noticed it.

Zayne lets out a sigh, and you're impressed when his expression does not change at being heard, or when he simply raises his head to nod in greeting, "It's been a year. Everyone changes with time, Colonel."

"Please, how long have we known each other? It's Caleb." He pulls out a chair to join you both at the table, a steady smile on his face. Warmer now, like he's thawed.

You wait for a sign the frost is returning.

"Still have a sweet tooth? It seems some things don't change."

"If it isn't broken." Is the level response, as he finishes.

"I'm sure your dentist wouldn't agree." You respond, looking down at your plate, before you blink. Why… did you-

The chuckle is small, and warm eyes watch you when you raise your head at the sound. The doctor nods, "He wouldn't, no."

You try to hold his gaze, stunned at the way he watches you, at the words out of your mouth before you'd even processed you were speaking, and let out a tch. Turning your face away, catching Caleb watching you.

His expression is flat, before his eyes meet yours, and he smiles at you. Warm and sunny, "Are you finished?"

You look down at the still full plate and ache a little at the waste. You go through this process every now and then, order, stomach a bite, feel torn up, and stop. "I'm not hungry."

Zayne doesn't bring up your growling stomach from earlier, he simply watches like he wants to say something to you, but isn't sure what or where to begin. You can only imagine what an actually good doctor might say.

You're going to be sick. You're not taking care of yourself. You need to eat.

You know that, you know logically you need to…

You think about the pastries in the cafe, the only thing you'd managed to keep down. Maybe you could convince Leon to get you more.

Or would they turn to ashes in your mouth if you eat them in EVER's walls.

"How about I cook for you next time? It's been a while, after all." You flinch, looking up at Caleb. Like he's seen through you, like he knows more than you want him to. That feeling like he and the doctor can see through you. Read whatever they want through walls.

You want to shiver at it, but you also don't want them to see more. If there's even a point, anymore, to hiding.

"Surely you're busy with work for the fleet?" Zayne interrupts, "Do you have the time to spend here?"

A muscle in Caleb's jaw jumps, and you watch his eyes change, as he looks at Zayne, "I have plenty of time for when Pipsqueak needs me."

This time when Caleb talks, he keeps his gaze mostly on Zayne, but his voice is warmer, "How about we go to see Skyhaven soon, Pipsqueak, and I can make you food there?"

It's like you're watching a tug of war, in a game you don't even remember seeing start. You suddenly want to ask if friend is even the word for whatever these two are. You're almost sure a friend isn't supposed to glare at you.

Almost.

But you can feel eyes at your back, can feel too many people curious about the Colonel, and his conversation with EVER's pet, and the new doctor. Can already tell the second you leave this room, the gossip will become unbearable. You'll hear it in whispers for weeks at the least. Until another horrible thing happens to draw the vulture's attention.

So you push back out of your seat and look at Zayne, "We should go."

Before you can begin to force the man out of the room, Caleb stands, "What about a tour? I've sorted out the rooms, so we may as well show our dear doctor around, right Pipsqueak?"

"Can't we just give him a map?"

You barely have time to react when he ruffles your hair again, laughing at you, "Come on, be a tour guide for a little bit, instead of a guard."

There's a biting remark on the tip of your tongue, to the effect of 'I'm only spending time here to guard him.' It feels like too much effort though, to argue when you can see the immovable object that is Caleb.

Especially when Zayne steps over and nods, "It would be prudent to see the place properly."

You're sure he wants to investigate to figure out how to escape, if he's foolish enough to think that's an option, you may as well make your life easier and show him how it's not. At the very least you won't have to chase him through the corridors at any point, while he tries to find one door that will let him outside.

It doesn't sound like a good use of the time you don't spend sleeping.

"Fine."

So you follow along, truthfully, Caleb does the tour. You barely know where anything other than the training room and Leon's lab is. You can find your way mostly, but if anyone asked what rooms were what you'd be pointing them at the signs.

There's a small voice in the back of your mind, that wonders why Caleb, of all people, knows the place inside and out.

You remind yourself that EVER brought him back. Maybe in this specific compound.

It's a good enough reason.

So you allow yourself to be led around, nodding on occasion but mostly watching. Zayne, to try to puzzle out what is going through his head, and Caleb, to try to understand the feeling you've felt since that cold smile had shown on his face.

"Do you not spend much time in the compound?" Zayne asks you at some point while you're shrugging at an anecdote Caleb offers about a specific lab's work.

"I told you, I train, I get experimented on, I go to sleep. I only need three rooms for that. The rest of this place is a maze I have no interest getting lost in."

"They need more signs, otherwise one day I'm going to get a message from you going 'Hey Caleb I'm lost.' again."

Again?

It's cold. You're so cold.

Hair soaked to your skin, the chill biting at you.

Your chest aches and hurts and twists. Sobbing and choking and gasping on air.

It's so cold and you just want it to stop.

It's too much, why won't it stop?

"Pipsqueak, I found you."

"Pipsqueak?"

You stumble back at hands on your skin. Caleb pulls his own back to show you it, as you leave his grasp. The Doctor with his own outstretched. You shake your head, clearing it, fighting through the crackling edges of broken ghosts.

"I'm fine." It's broken and choked and cracking. You're not fine. You can't be. You need to be fixed, you need whatever is wrong with you to stop. "Just tired."

They don't believe you, you see the doubt in eyes. Worry, things you don't want to see.

You don't deserve it and you don't want it.

You can't keep looking at them.

"The joined room is ready, we can go back there, you can get some sleep, and Zayne can be safe in the next room over." Caleb offers, trying to catch your gaze, as you stubbornly keep your eyes away. "I can get him a book or something, that'll waste a few hours."

You're barely listening. You need to see Philip. Need him to fix your head.

If you tell him, maybe you won't be subjected to something more painful.

You force a nod, "Sure. Sleep." You're barely aware enough to be ashamed of how your voice breaks, how your fingers are trembling, so you shove them into pockets, and clench your claw into a fist. "Let's go."

You're a better tool than this, you're better at what you do than this… yet as you walk away, at no point do you turn to check your charge is safely following.

—----

Caleb tries to tell himself that you're fine, that you will be fine. As he sits near the bed where you're curled up in on yourself, he tells himself that. Over and over like a mantra. That you'll be alright.

He's angry, and frustrated, that part of EVER's plans involve dangling you around Zayne like some treat he'll get if he's a well behaved dog. If he follows their orders and does what they ask. That you don't understand the game you're being played as a pawn in. That you don't have the answers.

There is a tearing in his heart, that cannot decide whether telling you is better than keeping it secret. The more you know, the better prepared you will be… the more you know, the more at risk you are of fighting back. He cannot put ammo in your hands, that will inevitably end up in your own head.

It is not a risk he will take. Not now, not now he finally has you back.

He gently takes your hand, to press a kiss to the back of it, as you talk in your sleep. Another trait that has not dissipated along with your memories.

For a moment, Caleb wonders what Zayne saw when he saw you. He's no fool, and he has kept a close eye. Has seen how close you have gotten to their common companion. Has watched dates with that 'family', the word turns his stomach, and seen the touches. The kisses, the contact. Has seen you smile and laugh and live happily with them.

He can touch you now though. His lips on your skin. His hand on your head. His body at your side in your sleep.

He is the only one you can really trust here, because he will never abandon you.

He will do whatever it takes, to protect you.

In a world with just the two of you.

His mind unwillingly calls up the cold look you had levelled him with. The way you had stood in front of Zayne like a guardian, had moved away from his touch, like he was the thing to fight against. That he was the enemy.

Caleb tries not to think of it, of the wary, chilled look. No recognition or acknowledgement. He tries to focus instead on the heat of you through his left hand. The scent of the shampoo you use. The soft exhales through your parted lips.

Today had called images into his mind that while he would hate to forget any part of you, the particular memories of his childhood were unnecessary. That even for a split second, as he'd walked with Zayne and you, he had felt like that young boy, playing with a younger you. That everytime he had turned around you were there, pulling Zayne along with you, in case he was left behind.

That there were days in warm summer sun where you had spent time on swing sets. Where on cooler days after school, you had studied together, Caleb trying to outpace Zayne so that he could be the one to show you how to do calculations. That he tried not to see times when you used your change to buy sweets, to share with Zayne so he wouldn't be embarrassed about his sweet tooth.

That he'd do something stupid to impress or appease one of your requests, falling or catching himself on something, only for Zayne to help clean his wounds and take care of his injuries. As much as he frowned and said he was fine. The older boy had simply carried on wiping with antiseptic, and carefully bandaging him up.

That all he needed to do was think about what games to keep you entertained, or what school work hung over your heads. That those warmer days faded after as you became older teens. As Zayne left, and he never really understood why. As your heart ached more and more, and you finally faced your painful reality.

As he watched his world start to shatter again. 

That finding time to just watch the sunset by the river was harder and harder to do, no matter how much time he wanted to make for you. How as time passed, that small smile and warm laugh got weaker and weaker, more withdrawn. Before you stopped altogether.

He had forgotten, he supposed, how cruel the world was to you both. Allowed himself to be foolish, allowed himself to forget Gran's words. 'Keep them safe'.

Now he was dealing with what he had wrought in his ignorance. His blind foolishness, had led to this outcome.

So he had to find a way to keep you safe.

He had to protect your world together.

No matter what it is that lies as a threat.

The door to Zayne's room is easily opened, and he does not knock, does not ask for entry. He pushes the door open and steps inside. He watches Zayne sit up, ice in his hand, the cold swirls travelling over his skin. He watches as the man's eyes move past him, through the gap in the door, to where you sleep.

Irritation swirls. A protective craving and bite. The thought of a rotting apple falling to the floor. He pushes it closed, so he won't be able to see you. He doesn't deserve to see you. He didn't protect you well enough either.

He failed to fix your heart too.

Zayne is just as foolish, if not more so, than he is.

"You're prone to sneaking around now Caleb?" If there's something to be said for Zayne, it is that his expression does not change when he looks at Caleb. When he sees the threat. He's always had little change to his face, even as kids. You were convinced he hated you for a long time, because of it. Caleb had known differently, but telling you so would require telling you how much Zayne had liked you.

It hadn't been a conversation he wanted to have.

"I wouldn't want to raise my Pipsqueak's ire again, now would I?"

"Their job is just to protect me, unless you plan to kill me-"

Caleb barely keeps himself from twitching, but he isn't convinced his expression is as level as he likes, the impulse to bare teeth at the man is immense. To suggest he would ever go out of his way to ruin one of your jobs, without a good reason. That the man has the gall to flaunt his 'protection', in Caleb's face. A reminder of the leash about your neck, that now this man holds.

That you are a tool for him, is his misconception.

It is pulled back, as he reminds himself he has a mask for this moment. That his every day as a colonel, has taught him how to lie, and keep things hidden. That the very act of wearing it was how he survived. How he got back to you. That without it, without every lie he has ever told, he would not be able to keep you safe now.

"No, I wouldn't want them to fail one of their orders for EVER. That would be disastrous. They have a clean record, you won't be the reason that changes." He leans against the wall, and indicates to Zayne with a finger outstretched, "I just wanted to remind you not to do anything stupid."

"I would have believed my old friend would know me to be anything but stupid, after all, I helped you with your studies too."

It irritates him, the reminder, the knowledge of times he hadn't been enough, and had needed someone else to cover where he lacked. It wasn't true anymore, he didn't need Zayne's helping hand. He doesn't need anyone's hand, except for yours.

"What strikes me as stupid, is the situation we have found ourselves in. Or perhaps, foolish, is a better term. After all, what could possibly have convinced you that this is the right place for them to be?"

Like he understands, like the choice was ever that easy.

"This, or a grave, Zayne, which would you choose?"

"Better to die with your mind intact, than live as a monster."

He laughs, it is a scoff and it is bitter, and he turns away from the man. Thinks about moments in that testing facility. At every electric shock through his limbs to make him work like the tool they needed him to be. To make his arm function, to make him a reliable weapon.

A monster. He thinks about how he despises the thing they put to him, that perhaps it's true and the cybernetics make him a monster. That his right arm is dirty and filthy and every choice he has made, made him a beast. If he is a beast, however, he will be a beast for you. In service to you. That even if you do not know it, the fact your right arm carries the beast of burden too, makes him feel like you two still are the only two that matter in this filthy place.

That at the very least, even though he wishes it had never happened, he shares the connection that only you can understand. With your claw soaked and stained in blood he knows you cannot wash clean.

Just like he cannot.

"A monster, mhm? Is that what they are now, to you?"

Zayne does not respond, just looks at him, cool, calm eyes watching him. Caleb tries not to remember moments in childhood, when he'd gotten hurt, and Zayne had simply watched him  until he finally cracked and confessed so. So the younger boy could help him with his cuts.

They aren't kids anymore.

"I'm keeping them safe, what could you possibly understand of that?"

"Safe? In EVER's den? With them watching every move, keeping track of everything that happens? Holding onto them like they're some kind of attack dog?"

It's the first time Caleb has seen real emotion leak out of him. That in all the time, watching and keeping an eye on him, that Zayne bites. He watches the ice spread up his arm, as his emotions fluctuate.

So he really still can't control it, is a thought that flickers through his mind. A reminder of seeing through the camera, as you resonate with him. Keeping him from hurting himself, or others. Easing the out of control ice down.

You're not here, though, and Caleb watches as the hand tightens. Then eases open, and the ice fades back away, as the cold man warms back up.

It's another reminder, that Zayne cannot help you. When he cannot even really help himself.

An assurance, to Caleb, that he is the best place to keep you safe.

"At least they have me protecting them."

"Who is protecting them from you?"

He's a controlled man, he tries to be. Violence is to be used carefully. His EVOL is a tool, a powerful one, that he has harnessed and learned out of need and through pain. That every experiment his was subjected to, as a child, and as an adult, has made him stronger. That when he needs it, he can use it with a wave of his hand.

That he can bring forth a black hole like it's nothing.

For a split second, his hand twitches, and he feels his anger pull. Zayne's shoulders slump, and he chokes on nothing, before Caleb pulls it back. Reels himself in, steadies it. He cannot kill the man. He cannot hurt him, not when you will suffer it.

He will not hurt you. Ever. You are the one thing in this world he values, that he cares for. You are everything. His beacon and his home base. No matter what, you are where he belongs.

You do not need protecting from him, because he loves you. More than you'll ever understand, more than you'll ever know. More than he'll ever tell you. "I would never hurt them. Ever." It feels wet, like he's close to tears, choked out on the feeling.

The idea of his hands ever being responsible for your pain.

He will never be a weapon to hurt you. No matter what anyone else intends.

"You are, keeping them here, helping EVER, is hurting them. You have to be smarter than this Caleb, surely?"

"Don't act like you could understand this. All you have to do is help them, and they'll leave you alone. Let you do your work, and you won't have to look over your shoulder anymore-" It's not true, it's never true. Caleb knows that, he knows Zayne will never be safe from them anymore. No one will ever be safe from EVER. There is not a safe place in this world anymore. "Pipsqueak can't. Pipsqueak will never be safe from them. They always find us, they always will."

There is nowhere he can run with you, nowhere he can hide you. There is no place EVER cannot touch. He hates every time he realises, every time he remembers the simple fact. That even if he took you to another world, they would follow.

"Caleb-" Zayne tries, trying to catch his gaze, and he simply turns away. Staring directly at the wall. Like if he could look out through it, he could see something better.

Zayne can't understand. Not really.

He hasn't lived through the tests, the iron grip over your lives.

The snapshot of time without EVER's cruelty was too short, before they found you both again.

This entire world is filthy. It's ruined everything. Every happy moment, and every bit of joy. It has done nothing but hurt you, taken from you. There is nothing to be gained from a world that does nothing but hurt. When the day comes and he figures out how to destroy it, he'll do so gladly.

He'll build somewhere better, where you can be happy, and safe. Where the two of you will finally be free, away from pain. Where he won't have to lie to you again. Where he can finally touch you at will and tell you every secret in his heart.

It is a dream within a dream, he wants nothing more than to make it a reality.

"All you need to do Zayne, is stay in line. Don't cause issues, don't make their job harder. Let this pass, and accept your new reality."

The words do not stop him from sighing, or speaking out again, voice steady but desperate. As though he truly needs Caleb to understand.

"If you really knew them, you would know this isn't what they would want. You urged them to be a hunter, you wanted them to help people to protect the world. Surely you know they don't want to abandon everything they care about? The people they love?" He exhales, "Do they look happy to you? Is this what you want to protect so badly? Do they want all this blood on their hands?"

This time, his anger truly gets the best of him. It's an ice cold chill that rivals Zayne's EVOL. He clearly does not expect it, because it takes too long for him to react as Caleb tightens his cybernetic hand around the man's throat and squeezes. He can't feel it, but he can watch. The pain flickering through Zayne's eyes. The shock. As his hand raises sluggishly to tighten a grip around his wrist. As the ice spears through Caleb's synthetic skin and tries to pry through the cybernetics.

He watches with a degree of glee, as he sees Zayne see the cybernetics. As he comes face to face with the way EVER has rebuilt him. There is pain in him at the damage the ice causes. He knows he'll have to go through repairs again, agony waiting on the horizon. It is with irritation that when the sensation of his arm comes back to him, it is through the pain, and is the feeling of Zayne's skin under his iron grip.

His sensations should be saved for you, as rare as they are.

Still, at least he knows it will leave a reminding bruise.

"Don't you dare act like you know them better than me, Zayne. Everything I have ever done, has been for them. Everything I am, every choice I've made. For them."

The creak of the door filters through his anger, reminds him that he cannot kill the man, not if he doesn't have to. Not if it leaves you punished for no reason. Not if you give him that look again, cold and wary. Like he is not the only person you can trust.

Like he's not your only real ally in this world.

You're in pain, but he can help you, and when he has, you'll never feel pain like this ever again.

You'll understand one day, that there's nothing redeemable about this world. That he can build a better one just for you. As good a heart as you have, as much as you care. He knows you'll understand.

You have to.

He backs away, releases Zayne like he scorches to touch. Pushing him back and away, and feels himself laugh under the strain of his aching heart, "If it comes down to a choice, Zayne, of your life or theirs. It will be an easy choice to make. If I have to kill you, no matter their mission, no matter what will happen, if the alternative is EVER's chip in their head, then I will do it."

Zayne rubs at the skin around his neck, and as Caleb turns, walking back to the door, back to you. Where he belongs. He hears a raw and scratchy voice behind him, rough with pain, "When you wake up from this dream Caleb, you're going to be horrified of what you've wrought."

He finds himself laughing again but it doesn't feel funny, and looks back to smile, "Well Doctor, at least I'm not living in a nightmare."

—---

You're inside a cage. The bars are rusted and it's too small to stand in. Hands and knees, with a dirty dog bowl as the only other thing in there.

You crawl to the gate, grab at it with the claw. Pull and tug and rattle it, but no matter how much you try it does not open. No matter how rusted the bars are they do not break. You don't stop, pulling and clawing at them, until the lights switch on.

A man in a black uniform, hat pulled low enters. You cannot see his face, can't make him out. No matter how you crane your neck to try to look up at him.

When your mouth opens, instead of words, you whine. Hurt and wounded like an injured dog.

He exhales, and reaches for the gate. Opens it, and then leaves.

It's a moment, when you wait. For him to come back and lock it again. To bring you a new bowl. To do anything. As you hesitate on the threshold.

When your sad, hurting heart tells you one thing.

He is never coming back.

Unneeded, unwanted, and worthless.

You have been abandoned.

You crawl out of the cage, drag yourself over the ground, your legs too shaky and unused to the space to stand to do more than stumble and fall as you try to raise yourself up. Scrapping and tearing each time you make impact with the floor.

As you reach the door he left through, the lights flick back off, and you fall through the floor.

It is almost a quiet bliss as you fall now. The ground will approach, and you will hit it. The assurance, and the knowledge of that fact, comforts you.

Because you ache, and you hurt, and no one is coming back for you.

The claw is so cold on your skin, as you wrap your arms around yourself. Seeking out any degree of comfort, any reminder of what it felt like.

Surely, at one point, you knew that. Knew kindness and warmth.

You can hear the whine in your throat, the feeling like you want to sob but can't. Falling backwards into the abyss.

When your body slows, stopping, floating. You wait for the sudden impact, for the assurance of the end.

You wait, and you wait, and it does not come.

Flickering blue lights and static.

There is no sudden relief, there is no release.

You're going to wake back up in the cage again. Left to stare at the dirty bowl as company. Waiting for something that never arrives.

[gearsandhammers]

NOT GOOD WITH WORDS : VIKTOR X M!READER

synopsis : viktor's always been a reserved guy, but you make him feel things he's never felt before. he's cried during sad movies, laughed with jayce, but never has he felt like how he does when he's with you. will he finally do something about it?

warnings / tw : you, viktor, and jayce are academy students , viktor is clueless about love , socially awkward vitkor , grammarly is my beta

pairing : viktor x male reader | m/m (could be m/gn)

author's notes : hiya! okay so the letter written in this fic is actually one i wrote 2 years ago that i legitimately have no recollection of and just found.. i didn't read it through fully and kinda just copy pasted it so hopefully its not dogshit but oh well... valentine's day has always been lonely for me, so i hope this can bring comfort to anyone who's spending val's day alone this year─ but you're not alone. anyways as always have a good read and an amazing day/night! xo, kai

Viktor's only been at the academy for one year, but he's found his place pretty quickly. He and Jayce are thick as thieves, and you've been hanging out with them too, as of late. He tries to hide it, but Viktor has a huge crush on you. At this point, Jayce can't even tell if Viktor has figured it out yet. He knows Viktor hasn't ever been in a relationship, but he has no clue if he's ever had a crush before. Scratch that, he knows he hasn't, the way Viktor acts around you.

Viktor's never been good with talking, but you've read some of his writing, and your jaw dropped. The way he writes, you'd never be able to tell it was Viktor who wrote it. The way he words things so eloquently, how the letters seem to flow from his pen like it's second nature.

Valentine's Day is either the best or worst day of the year for a lot of people. You've collectively decided to just stay in and try not to think about the fact that it's Valentine's Day. You don't expect to get anything, you never have, so your expectations are basically as low as they can be.

So when you open your locker at the end of the day and there's a sealed envelope sitting there on top of your books, you're a little confused. You look around, thinking at first that it's a prank or something. But when you open the letter and start reading it, your heart swells.

· ─ ─ < ⟨ ৻ꪆ ⟩ > ─ ─ ·

Dearest,

I'm not good with words, but for you, I tried. You're the best thing that's happened to me. I sit here with pen in hand, my heart brimming with emotions that have long been confined within the depths of my being. Today, I gather the courage to express the feelings that have blossomed within me, unfurling like a delicate flower under the warmth of the sun. Please bear with me as I pour my heart out onto this page. From the moment our eyes first met, a spark ignited within me, illuminating a path that led straight to you. You may not have noticed, but in those stolen glances and fleeting moments, my heart began to whisper your name.

With every encounter, my admiration for you grew, and soon, admiration blossomed into something deeper and more profound. Your presence in my life is a symphony of joy and wonder. Your smile, so radiant, has the power to dissolve any worries that burden my soul. Your laughter, like a melody, dances in the air and brings warmth to the coldest of days. Your kindness, a beacon of light in a world sometimes dark and unforgiving, has touched my heart in ways I struggle to put into words. In your company, I feel a sense of belonging, a feeling that I have found my missing puzzle piece. Your words, so genuine and filled with wisdom, captivate my mind and nourish my spirit. Your mere presence electrifies the air around us, creating a magnetic force that draws me closer to you, igniting a fire within my soul.

I am enamored by the intricacies that make you who you are—the way your eyes light up when you speak about your passions, the way your voice carries a quelling melody, and the way your touch lingers on my skin long after you're gone. Every facet of your being, every nuance, has etched itself deeply into my heart. It is true that love can be a tumultuous journey, filled with uncertainties and vulnerabilities. Yet, in the face of these uncertainties, I am willing to take the leap, for the thought of a life without your presence feels incomplete and devoid of color. The thought of never having the opportunity to explore the depths of our connection fills me with an ache that reverberates through my very being.

I am not asking for an immediate answer, nor am I expecting you to reciprocate these feelings. Instead, I write this letter as an offering, a testament to the authenticity of my emotions. My intention is to lay bare the truth of my heart, to let you know that you have become an indelible part of my thoughts, my dreams, and my aspirations. Should you ever find it in your heart to explore the possibility of us, I would be honored to embark on this journey of love with you. But if the feelings I express today do not find a place in your own heart, I will still cherish the moments we've shared, and I will forever hold you in the deepest recesses of my soul.

Thank you for inspiring me to open my heart and embrace the vulnerability that accompanies love. You have given me the gift of experiencing a love so profound and beautiful that it has forever changed me. I love you,

~ V ৻ꪆ

· ─ ─ < ⟨ ৻ꪆ ⟩ > ─ ─ ·

Your jaw hangs open, staring at the cursive V at the bottom of the page. Every sentence left your heart a little heavier, small tears welling in your eyes, but you sniffle and wipe them away. You're in shock as you stare at the page, dumbfounded. Your heart rate picks up, and your brain finally registers that you read. Oh, my gods. Oh my gods, what just happened? I need to find Vik─ wait, oh my. I can't do that, I gotta find... wait, no. I need to find Vik.

You gently put the letter back into the envelope and into your bag. You run around the academy, bumping into a few people along the way, but don't stop to apologize. You finally find him after a full 15 minutes, walking out of the academy, books in hand. "Viktor!" you yell, desperately trying to get his attention. He turns, and his face immediately turns bright red. You run towards him, clutching your bag. You run into him, wrapping your arms around his body, and his cane clatters to the ground. "V- Vik.." You gasp, trying to catch your breath.

"I- I'm sorry. I know I ruined everything and I─" he tries to apologize, but he's interrupted by you. You grab his face, making him look at you. You attempt to search his eyes but fail, your eyes too blurry from the tears you tried to hold back. Tears stream down your face, and you try to blink them away so you can see him.

"V, I- oh my gods, Vik. Please don't apologize, please. You didn't ruin anything. I love you too, V. I love you so so so much, Viktor," you pant. Before he even tries to speak again, your lips collide, and you pull him flush against you. The sensations of your body against his makes his whole body react, going tense. After a few moments, he melts into you, his brain finally recognizing that you actually kissed him. Moments pass, and you pull away to breathe.

"Gods, I love you," he says, in between gasps and sobs, tears flowing from his eyes too. He's still sort of in shock, clearly not expecting this sort of reaction or response from you. He presses his forehead to yours, and you hold his hands.

"Happy Valentine's Day, my love."

[aroundthecoffeepot]

Here are Hetalia fics I highly recommend! It was difficult to keep it to ten fics and, as you will see, I failed L(° O °L) I've tried to select a good range of style, length and genres, so there's something for everyone ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

The list is in descending order of publication date:

A Singular Affair — Part 1 & Part 2 by original_yazzy (England/Prussia) Single dad Arthur, struggling to raise his eleven-year-olds Matthew and Alfred, meets single dad Gilbert, also raising a young son, Ludwig. AU.

This was the first Hetalia human AU fic I read way back in 2009, and it has gone on to mould in my mind of Arthur being this incredibly multifaceted character. I still recall it most fondly.

The Consolations of Philosophy by orphan_account (France/Russia) So if I was a Russianist I would write a proper study in English on Franco-Russian relations during the Enlightenment, since the currently available ones are atrocious. Since I am not, however, HERE, HAVE PORN. With dancing and philosophers in.

A historical fic that has touched my soul indelibly. I don't think I'll ever forget the electrifying feeling of my first read. An absolutely gorgeous piece *chef's kiss*

The Timbered by sadlygrove (Egypt/Greece/Turkey) The dark voice of the Empire does nothing to detract from the beautiful green eyes, like the sea at dawn in both color and chill. Egypt dives in.

M/M/M 3some pwp with dp and possibly the hottest piece of erotic fanfiction I've ever accidentally stumbled across in the fandom's heyday. When I say I couldn't breathe!

Unwritten Rules by jedishampoo (America/France) France/US. France gives Revolutionary America some lessons in diplomacy. Sexy diplomacy.

Funny, sexy, and sweet - just an all-round fun smutty read!

Only This Moment by archestofenemies (England/France) France/England: Victorian gentleman Arthur winds up in the company of the handsome farmer Francis. Will he be able to keep from throwing himself into those muscular, sun-bronzed arms? No. De-anon from the kink meme, finished.

This is the quintessential FrUK fic for me! I don't know who I love more in this fic, Arthur or Francis - they both deserve each other (complimentary)! A joyful read, 11/10!

Untitled.avi by Delgumo (America/Russia) [no summary]

Okay, fair warning, this fic is not for everyone. I first read it on AFFN, and when I say it had me in a grip...!! It was my first real experience of reading a confessional/"unreliable" narrator-type of fiction that truly shook me like no publication has ever managed to do - and I think this would struggle to be professionally published, it is just so visceral and plain horrifying. Truly a difficult read, one I can't recommend to just anyone, but I couldn't leave it off this list as it has completely changed my entire perspective of what not just fanfiction but simply fiction can evoke in a reader.

No Need for Long Goodbyes by Delgumo (America/Canada, America/England, America/Liechtenstein) The pain from a life filled with sexual and physical abuse festers inside of Alfred, pushing him to lash out at the people he loves the most.

Bruh this fic will have you feeling feelings (and not all good) but damn if it ain't the best piece of longfic I've ever read! It probably says something about me that I can't quite explain, but Arthur is my favourite character in here. I'm sorry uwu

Snatch your happiness from the days to come by Mossy_man (China/Russia) Omegaverse self-indulgent porn in communist uniforms. God save the Tzar.

Post-WWII RoChu fic that yanked me back to the heyday of canontalia, and GOD it's just an absolutely rich and beautiful fic! The imageries are to die for! Love it so, so much <3

acuerdo by southerngothics (Southern Italy/Spain) It’s still new to him; four months is an eternity for humans, perhaps, but perspective has shortened and condensed time into a coiled thing, folding over on itself until the entire stretch of it is thin as parchment. Four months is the blink of an eye. And the fighting has not stopped since he set foot upon that little island kingdom; he hasn’t had time to truly process it all. That Romano is his now. That they are together. That every morning he will wake up and Romano will be here, and that every night Romano will be asleep in this bed. It still seems like the far-fetched dream Pedro had cooked up in hushed tones, away from the menacing glares of el Papa. Spain is convinced, somehow, that if he blinks, reality will throw its punch and he’ll be back in Palermo, crushed under that damned France’s boot. In 1282, King Peter III of Aragon is crowned King of Sicily.

Another gorgeous piece of historical prose and a delightful, if disturbing, character study of Spain. How is it @torontofetish's first ever Hetalia fic in the year of our lord 2024? I need more from them!

My gentleness (is not for you) by Mossy_man (China/Mongolia/Russia) Our sex had always been full of misery. Of Mongolia's bitterness and China's sour resentment. But now when they are free from each other he can use another source of approval.

When I say I spent bloody years trying to capture China and Mongolia's relationship, and the one time I requested it of Moss and they delivered in spades... Biting my knuckle raw in envy at their talent, but also fuck writing I get to simply read this piece of pure perfection aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

Bonus:

Holiday fling by Mossy_man (China/Russia) For smuttyandabsurd.

A birthday fic for me, tailored to a personal degree of the author's view of me (apparently?), and a gift I shall cherish all my life ( っ˶´ ˘ `)っ

Welcome to Feedback Fest 2025

Welcome to International Fanworks Day Feedback Fest of 2025! To participate, leave a comment under our post recommending 10 fanworks and spread the joy of fandom! Read more at: https://otw-news.org/yckvy6vh

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[akuma-tenshi]

the way dislyte's writing treats falken annoys me so much bc it's literally just like. "before sander came into his life he was a wreck. he'd taught himself that he could only rely on himself and had to be vigilant and strong at all times. this was a bad way to live and it is a good thing that sander found him and brought him out of poverty and helped his family so he wouldn't have to live like that anymore." and i'll be nodding and smiling and agreeing with them like "fuck man that's rough i'm glad he finally found room to rest and breathe and let his guard down a little"

and then they'll turn around and go "so when sander betrayed him, he realised he had to be vigilant and on-edge so that he'll never be betrayed again. and this is good because he is now a commander in the esper union and his vigilance will protect him and his comrades and the only downside is that he is a little unapproachable and lonely. yep yep yep this is good he is in a very good place mentally."

like maybe i'm just a pessimist but. that can't be good for him, right?? i can't be the only person who looks at his divinate's description (word for word: "Falken took his old friend's betrayal more as a warning than as a shock. The heavens may be vast, but one cannot ignore the ground beneath one's feet. Not letting even a sliver of evil cloud his vision, the hawk examines his surroundings dispassionately, lets not a single grain of sand go unobserved.") and goes "that's not a healthy mindset", right???? like he may believe this is good and right and that this outlook is good, but he's also never really been in a place where he could have his walls down until sander came. it really does feel like he's reverting back to the survival tactics he'd learned pre-union, when he was taking on everything people threw at him just to survive, but now the game's acting like it's a good thing because now he's with the union or whatever.

sure, in this world you have to be vigilant at times to make sure you don't get fucking murdered by miramon or whatever. but like... not all the time. how is he when there isn't a single threat?? how is he during leisure time?? at gatherings?? at night when he's trying to sleep?? from what we see of him, he's still somewhat tense, just not with any threats to justify that tension. most fics i've read have treated this as some kind of harmless quirk, as does the writing (if it's not outright romanticising it), but like,, this is genuinely a harmful mindset, especially if left unchecked.

like..... i'm not insane, right?? i'm not losing my mind for no reason over this random-ass 4-star?? it's so unbelievably frustrating bc i feel like this is such an obvious aspect of falken but i haven't seen ANYONE talk about it beyond, again, just some kind of small quirk to his character and not the absolutely awful unhealthy coping mechanism it is.

idk man. smash like for more cool epic falken content or whatever. it's just insane bc he's my favourite character in the game but i haven't seen many people talk abt him beyond his looks or his relationship with sander. which is,, fine, sander's a major part of his story ((can't really speak on his looks as i'm not a men liker)), but i am begging people to look beyond that and realise falken is at his core a deeply unhealthy person whose shitty coping mechanisms are good for those around him, and thus he never really has to change them bc if they help others, what's the harm??

[afterthelambs]

Idk how to explain it but the general vibe is like

pre-timeskip: Kagehina

post-timeskip: Hinakage

Basically going to Brazil gave Hinata a confidence boost and becoming an adult made Kageyama go from baby to babygirl

[goldkirk]

I get that everyone wants TikTok back but do we understand how bad it is that it’s happening the way it’s happening. Like we do understand how much of a horrifically choreographed process this is to boost and benefit Trump right. Can we all take a second to pause and go “hey wow something’s been getting fucked up and fishy for days now with Trump being turned into the hero about this even by the TikTok company themselves all of a sudden”?? (more chatter in the tags re tech companies and authoritarian autocrats)

[shalom-iamcominghome]

So, I've been a bit open about my mental health on here since it affects how I experience and interact with judaism, but I'm wondering how you all balance it? I've found that antisemitism does not specifically cause the recent episode/s I have been having, but it makes them worse, and I find that it makes it even harder to engage with judaism, so I'm currently in a Sisyphean spiral. I guess for me, my brain has been so high-alert about this stuff that it completely shuts down, but not engaging with my jewish community is just as detrimental to my health as antisemitism is. Plus, I'm just angry at the thought that something like antisemitism would prevent me from being with my community.