#especially one that they made with their own two hands

[aventurineswife]

Hello, I just had the cutest idea, for Jing Yuan, Blade, Sunday, and Jiaoqiu, what if the reader dressed up their toddler in a mini version of their father's outfit, ngl lie I think that would be so cute.

Little Reflections

Tags: Jing Yuan x Reader, Blade x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Jiaoqiu x Reader, Fluff, Family Bonding, Domestic Moments, Miniature Costumes, Parental Love, Tender Interactions, Slice of Life.

Jing Yuan lounged on a garden bench in the Luofu’s arboretum, a cup of tea balanced delicately in his hand. The peaceful atmosphere seemed to mirror his unhurried demeanor. Despite his reputation as the "Dozing General," his eyes missed nothing—especially not the sound of small, uneven footsteps heading his way.

He turned his head, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. You approached, holding the hand of your toddler, who waddled toward him with as much dignity as a two-year-old could muster. Jing Yuan's sharp gaze softened when he noticed what the child was wearing: a perfectly tailored miniature version of his own uniform.

The tiny cape draped over your child’s shoulders fluttered with each step, and the golden accents on their blouse glimmered in the sunlight. Even the nian-inspired armor on their right arm had been lovingly recreated, though made of light fabric instead of metal.

“Look who’s decided to join the Cloud Knights,” Jing Yuan teased, setting down his cup. He crouched and opened his arms as the toddler tottered into his embrace.

“Say hello to General Jing Yuan,” you teased back, watching as the child babbled nonsensical sounds, clearly more interested in tugging at Jing Yuan's ponytail ribbon than any formality.

Jing Yuan chuckled, adjusting the red ribbon so it wouldn’t be pulled loose. “I must say, this little knight already looks the part. Who made this for them?”

“I had some help from the tailors,” you admitted. “But the design is all mine. Do you like it?”

Jing Yuan stood, cradling the toddler in one arm while placing a hand on your shoulder with the other. “Like it? I love it. Though I think they might upstage me at the next council meeting.”

You laughed. “Well, maybe they’ll share the workload, too.”

Jing Yuan smirked, looking down at the child now trying to gnaw on the tassel hanging from their hip. “Perhaps. But for now, I’ll enjoy having both of my little stars by my side.”

Blade was rarely one to let emotions show, but when he stepped into your living quarters and saw your toddler standing proudly in the middle of the room, even he paused.

The child was dressed in a miniature version of Blade’s attire, complete with a tiny replica of his tailcoat. The red inner lining peeked out with every wobbling step they took toward him, and the dark blue embroidery shimmered faintly in the dim light. They even had a bandaged arm and a toy sword strapped to their waist.

“Is this your idea?” Blade asked, his voice soft but laced with curiosity.

You smiled from where you sat nearby, a sewing kit still on the table. “Do you like it? They wanted to look like their papa.”

The child reached Blade and tugged at his coat, their bright red eyes looking up at him expectantly. Blade knelt, his usually piercing gaze softening as he reached out to brush a hand over the child’s head.

“You’ve done well,” he murmured, though it was unclear whether he was speaking to you or the toddler.

The child giggled, gripping the toy sword and thrusting it forward with all their might. “Fight bad guys!” they announced, their high-pitched voice echoing in the room.

Blade chuckled—a rare, genuine sound that you hadn’t heard in a long time. “You’ll need a lot more training for that.”

You approached, resting a hand on Blade’s shoulder. “I thought it might make you smile. Do you like it?”

He stood, the child now perched on his arm, their small hands gripping his coat. “I do,” he admitted quietly. “It’s...perfect.”

Sunday was deep in thought when you entered his study, guiding your toddler into the room. His sharp eyes shifted from his documents to the sight before him, and he froze.

The child wore a small version of his regal Halovian outfit, complete with a tiny halo hovering above their head—a clever accessory you’d crafted using lightweight materials. The gold cross-shaped cutouts on their gloves and the navy wing-like vest were lovingly recreated, and the soft gray blazer hung slightly oversized on their small frame.

“Is this...my little successor?” Sunday’s voice was tinged with amusement, though his piercing gaze softened as he took in the sight.

You grinned. “They wanted to dress like their papa. What do you think?”

The toddler toddled toward him, their hands reaching out to grab at the papers on his desk. Sunday leaned down and scooped them up, careful not to disturb the halo balancing atop their head.

“I think they’re a vision of perfection,” he said, his tone warm. “Though I might need to keep them away from my work.”

The child giggled, their small hands patting Sunday’s face. “Papa!” they exclaimed, clearly delighted to have his attention.

Sunday chuckled, pressing a kiss to their forehead. “Perhaps this is a sign,” he mused, looking at you. “A reminder to step away from work every now and then.”

You smiled. “I thought it might bring some joy to your day.”

“It has,” he said, cradling the child in one arm. “Though I think our little angel might outshine me in this outfit.”

Jiaoqiu sat quietly on the veranda, his feather fan resting on his lap. Despite his blindness, his ears perked up at the sound of light footsteps approaching, accompanied by your soft laughter.

“Who’s there?” he asked gently, his closed eyes tilting toward the noise.

“It’s us,” you replied, guiding your toddler closer. “And we brought a surprise.”

The child toddled forward, their tiny hands gripping the edge of Jiaoqiu’s robes. They were dressed in a miniature version of his healer’s attire, complete with a feather fan of their own. The soft salmon-colored fabric matched Jiaoqiu’s hair perfectly, and their fluffy fox ears twitched with excitement.

Jiaoqiu’s lips curved into a smile as he reached out, his fingers brushing over the child’s outfit. “What’s this?” he murmured.

“They wanted to be like you,” you explained, kneeling beside him. “Do you like it?”

The child climbed onto Jiaoqiu’s lap, giggling as they waved their tiny fan. Jiaoqiu let out a soft laugh, his hands resting gently on the child’s shoulders.

“It’s perfect,” he said, his voice warm. “Though I think they’ll make a better healer than I ever could.”

You leaned against his shoulder, watching as he playfully ruffled the child’s hair. “I just thought it might make you smile.”

Jiaoqiu turned his face toward you, his gentle expression full of gratitude. “It did,” he said quietly. “Thank you—for reminding me that even in the darkness, there is light.”

[lockandkeyblade]

Yanno what I don't even go to Batman but we're gonna give this a roll. ----------------------------------------------- If you'd asked him back when the idea first came to mind, Danny would politely attest that staking out the Batcave for a meme probably doesn't even rank in the top five stupidest things he's ever done. Number one will always remain stepping into a defunct machine and blindly feeling up the walls.

Number two has a habit of changing, depending on whatever the most recent comment to leave his mouth without thinking is. Letting his mouth vomit out the unthinkable has a bad habit of launching Sam and Tucker at each other's throats, or someone half as scary at him. Three to five also alternate, from Pariah Dark, to the events that would've lead him straight to Dan, to accepting his Kingly duties, whenever those reared their ugly heads.

Of course, that's when the idea first comes to mind.

By the time Phantom actually finds the Batcave, it's at least in the top ten. Because the Batcave can't be hidden beneath an abandoned building, or a Fortune 500 office. No. It just so happens to be smack bang in the middle of a series of complex (and partially man made) tunnels beneath the Wayne Estate, New Jersey. And if that doesn't clue him into potentially knowing the identity of one of the most terrifying superheroes of all time, then his brain was officially dead.

Just like the other 50% of him will be, if it ever crosses Batman's mind that a seemingly meta vigilante from buttfuck nowhere Minnesota likely knows his civilian identity. Which is almost, almost enough to scare him off the mission entirely.

Except he has to do it. He has to. For the Vine.

Forget that Vine is a long lost art. Forget that TikTok is an endless pit of nightmarish content that even Technus seemed reluctant to go near. His follower count may be at a measly 103, but they're his followers. They deserve this.

So an idea spawned after nearly two days without sleep and far too many shots of espresso sprawls into a several week long covert operation... after he finds the Batcave.

Because the cave should be renamed Bathive, with all the activity constantly going on in it. If it's not Batman, it's Robin. Or Nightwing. Red Robin. BlackBat.

And just the once, Red Hood, who stopped and stared at the space where Phantom was hovering near the ceiling with a green reflectiveness in his eyes that had the ghost-teen waving his hands in front of his own face, just to ensure he was still invisible. There'd been something off in that reaction, something uncomfortably familiar.

If he hadn't already been certain that the Bats all had a little exposure to the Infinite Realms, that still would have confirmed it. Not that it matters.

What matters is the lack of opportunity to do what no halfa has done before. No matter when he staked it out, day and night, there was always someone there. Once the initial rush of being in the BATCAVE had worn off, the entire exercise became a little dull, Danny had to admit. Especially when he was doing his utmost not to listen to any sensitive conversations that might be happening 10 feet below him at any given time.

It takes a mass breakout from Arkham Asylum for him to finally get five minutes alone with the Batcomputer, three seconds to type in the address for Archive of Our own, seven seconds to snap a photo-- and five seconds to set off the alarm.

He flies out of there like a bat (ha!) out of hell, prize clutched firmly in his hands. Adrenalin, a chronic lack of sleep, and several more espressos on the flight back home make the question of post, or not to post, an absolute breeze to answer.

He shares the video with his feed, accompanied by the prerequisite background music, and promptly crashes out for twelve hours straight. His last thoughts are happy, drunken little daydreams that his 103 followers will all like it.

They do like it, in fact. They like it very much.

And so do 1,394,576 other people. And counting.

Now it's in the top five stupidest things he's ever done.

Danny goes all the way to Gotham, finds the Batcave, stalks the bats long enough to figure out the passcode to the Batcomputer.

Just to do the "If there's a screen A03 will be seen." trend on Tiktok, not expecting it to blow up as big as it did.

How was he supposed to expect anything else? He was chronically unpopular for a hero, most of his tiktoks only got a solid 100 likes, entirely from the teenagers in Amity who were fans of him (something about him looking photoshopped or like AI?)

While Phantom and therefore Amity Park is under a microscope, a smart thing to do would be to lay low or cooperate with the heroes to show he's not a threat.

Instead, he posts a follow-up tiktok from The Watchtower

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Epilogue

AN: You can blame Mexico and Onyx Storm for my delay on this one. But for those who are curious, here is our sweet little epilogue for Joel and Freckles. Thank you so much to everyone who read, commented, shared, and encouraged me while writing this story. I love you, and so does Joel and Freckles. XO

Series Masterlist | My Masterlist

Five Years Later

“You wanna come,” he practically taunts, “Don’t you, sweet girl?” 

Every muscle in your body is weak, causing the leather cuffs of the St. Andrews Cross to rub at your wrists and ankles. He’s been teasing you for hours, stopping every time you’re about to shatter. 

This night has been a long while in the making. After five years with your firm you were finally given the lead on a big case; a case that your boss handed to you and said this was your chance to earn your partnership. You spent upwards of eighty to ninety hours a week preparing and Joel could not have been more perfect during that time. He’d often show up with food or coffee for you and your team of junior lawyers, interns, and paralegals. He never complained when you’d bring work home; however, every time you said something negative about yourself, Joel would mark it on the fridge. Over the three and a half weeks of prep work thirty ticks ended up on the small piece of paper that was hung with a Berkeley magnet. You didn’t have time to ask Joel what they meant, and truthfully, you didn’t really care; you trusted that whatever he planned to do with those ticks was for your own good. 

During the trial, another twelve ticks were added. When the verdict was announced and you had won your case, Joel was there in the courtroom, smiling warmly at you when you glanced back at him. When you got home that evening, after a celebratory round or two of cocktails, Joel made you kneel in front of him as he explained that each tick, all forty two of them, symbolized a denied orgasm, a punishment meant to remind you not to talk bad about things that Joel owns. Especially brilliant lawyers who win their first big case and secure themselves as partner.  

As he strapped you to the padded X shaped piece of furniture tonight, he said, ‘if you’re the sweet girl I know you to be, then you won’t whine when I stop. Instead, you’ll say “Thank you, Mister Miller” and I’ll count that as two. Forty two orgasms being denied is not going to be easy, so do yourself a favour and don’t whine; you don’t want to know what happens if you do.’

The only response to his teasing that you can muster now is a whimper and a nod. He clicks his tongue in disappointment. “Use your words, honey.”

Your voice is almost silent. “Yes, Mister Miller.”

He walks behind you, trailing the small vibrator along your skin. “Such a good girl for me tonight. Saying yes to everything. Remind me, how many orgasms have I denied you so far?”

Your pussy throbs with the deep timber of his voice, this is truly torture and your safeword is on the tip of your tongue. “Twenty one,” you mumble.

“Poor, sweet girl,” He says from behind you, leaning in closely to whisper in your ear. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, Mister Miller.” You swallow the dry lump in your throat.

“Should I let you pick how you want to come?”

He completes his circle around you and the crossing, stepping in close to you. He uses the little vibrator to gently tease your nipples. You can barely form a thought and just let a small ‘yes’ mixed with moans leave your lips as your sweat covered back arches off the padded back of the cross. The heat of Joel’s body this close makes you feel like you’re on fire. 

“Want to come on my fingers?” He asks, then easily slips three of them inside of you. Your gaze shoots to his as a strangled cry fills the room. 

“Yesyes - fuuuuck, please.” You feel your pussy tightening around his digits.

“What about my cock? You love being stuffed full of my thick cock while I strum your clit. Don’t you? My perfect little slut.” He teases you further by pumping his fingers forward once, revelling in the feel of you clenching tighter around him. He doesn’t give you a chance to respond as he continues.

“No, I know,” his fingers slip out from your pussy and you gasp, unable to protest in your weakened state. Not that you would protest; you know better than to do that, and he told you not to whine tonight. You are a good girl, you know that what your dom says is best. Plus, you need to come so badly that you think you might actually die if you don’t, and Joel is just sadistic enough to keep you like this for days. 

He gets onto his knees, his warm breath hitting your cunt as he speaks. “What if I put my lips around this swollen little clit? Huh? Suck her into my mouth and drink up every ounce of your cum?”

He uses his thumbs to pull the lips of your pussy further apart. He’s so close that your breath catches in your throat at the promise of relief. He blows cool air along your soaked pussy; you clench your molars together and focus on your breathing. You don’t come until he tells you. 

“Would you like that, my sweet girl?”

The restraints cut at your wrists when you try to push your hips to his mouth. “Yes. Yes. Please, Mister Miller.”

He stands abruptly, hand wrapping around the hair at the nape of your neck before he tugs to bring your gaze up to his. The pull of your hair relaxes the muscles of your neck and upper back and you melt into the padded cross.

His eyes darken as he asks, “You really would say yes to anything, wouldn’t you?” 

“Y-yes. I just need to come. Please.” He releases your hair, stepping back and crossing his arms. The veins on his forearms pop, the sleeves of his rolled black dress shirt tightening under his biceps. Since officially retiring, he’s had a strict exercise regime. He was sexy when you met him almost ten years ago, but like a fine wine, he gets better with each passing year.

The gravel in his voice returns, “But you’d say yes even if I told you we were done for the night and it was time to get dressed. Right?” 

Your eyes clench close, head falling back as the panic of not getting to come tonight races through your mind. You take a calming breath before whispering, “Yes, Mister Miller.” 

“Eyes on me, sweet girl.” You peel your eyes open and tilt your chin down to look at him. His hands are now buried in his pockets, and there’s a shift in how he’s looking at you, a slight softness to his dark eyes. 

“And what if I asked you to marry me?” His voice is shy and raspy.

He slowly pulls a ring out of his pocket and holds it up for you. A thin, gold band with a single, albeit very large, solitaire diamond on it sends sparkles all around the room. Tears line your lash line, mirroring his. He clears his throat softly.

“Here’s what we’re going to do, sweet girl. Listen carefully for me,” he pockets the ring and steps closely, wiping the happy tear that rolls down your cheek. The rough whorls on his thumb send goosebumps cascading down your body. “First, I’m going to make you come. Then, I’m going to untie you, get you all cleaned up, and get some sugar into you.”

You nod, leaning into his touch as cups your face. His eyes dart towards the bed as he says, “After that, we are getting to that bed so I can kiss you until neither of us can breathe.”

“And then,” he smiles sweetly, a tear rolling from the corner of his deep brown and honey flecked eye to his greying beard. “And then I’m going to ask you to marry me.”

[markleessodalite]

They Can Hear Us...: n.jm

content: bf!jaemin drags you to an event you don't really want to attend, so you try to devise an escape plan... but he's not one to be fooled.

warnings: fem!reader, lots and lots of kisses, maybe a tiny bit suggestive(?) but mostly just fluff, nothing else to warn about afaik

word count: 0.5k

a/n: i had a mini hoard of drabbles that i was saving to post later, but i've read over them so much to the point where now i hate every single one :/ but n e waiz i got some extra days off work this upcoming week and i'm hoping to do NOTHING but write the whole time :3 (also if you're one of the anons who sent in requests i promise i'm gonna get to those asap!!!)

“Jaemin! Stop. I mean it!” you half-heartedly scold your boyfriend, although your soft tone and light giggles clearly indicate a message that’s opposite to the words leaving your lips.

Jaemin plants another teasing kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hmm, are you sure?” He kisses the tip of your nose, then your cheek, making his way down your jaw and to your exposed shoulder as he laces his fingers with yours. “Seems like you kinda like it, huh? Love this dress, by the way.” His free hand rubs gentle lines along your back, with only just enough restraint to not mess up the delicate fabric of your one-shoulder gown.

You knew he loved this dress, particularly how you look in this dress, which is exactly why you wore it to this gala. You weren’t especially excited to be here, but Jaemin was over the moon eager to take you, show you off to everyone else there, his girlfriend who looks like an absolute princess under ballroom lights with her arm linked in his. Of course, you knew that after about 5 minutes of you in this dress, he wouldn’t be able to focus on whatever charity event is going on around you two– which is how you’ve found yourself hidden in an offshoot hallway, Jaemin cornering you against the wall, planting light and playful (but very obviously needy) kisses anywhere his lips can reach.

Hey, it got you out of sitting at that boring table with those boring people listening to that boring speaker, right? All part of your coy little plan.

The only sound filling your ears now is your own soft giggles against Jaemin’s low chuckles and whispers, with him now developing a game to entertain himself with: trying to find that one particular spot that will drive you crazy.

“Here?” He plants a kiss behind your ear.

“Nope.” You bite down on your lip to stifle any noise that could possibly slip through. You may be vaguely hidden, but you’re definitely still within earshot of the rest of the gala.

“Mmm. Then… here?” He hovers around the middle of your neck before leaving another kiss.

“No…” You can’t help the giggle that slips through your teeth.

“Okay… what about… here?” He leaves a kiss in the nook between the bottom of your neck and your collarbone, before biting down teasingly, drawing a squeal from you before you can catch it.

“Jaemin!” You can’t help but laugh, amused at Jaemin’s quick victory in his own game.

“Shh! Y/n, you know they can hear us…” Jaemin buries his face further in your neck, and you look over him to see the silhouettes of the other guests, turning their attention from the monotone speaker to figure out what direction the hushed giggles are coming from.

Here it is. Exactly the opportunity you need to convince him to go home.

“Then why don’t we go somewhere they can’t hear us, Jaem?”

He lifts his head from your shoulder to look in your eyes, and you know right away he sees through your little escape plan. And he’s not falling for it.

“No. I kinda like this little game. Round two? Let’s see if you can keep quiet, babe.” He smirks proudly at your shocked face before his lips crash into your neck again, and you realize he’ll play this game he’s made up for as long as this gala lasts. Can you handle Jaemin teasing you for several more hours without making a sound?

[mercy-burning]

Here We’re In Love (Apricity)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!Reader Summary: Spencer teaches you why he's become so fond of your mornings together. Category: Fluff (who am I) Content: Domestic fluff, a light dusting of erotic tension but nothing explicit, the first "I love you", happy tears Word Count: 1.2k

MASTERLIST

(AKA Mercy learned a new word and got The Feels, so she had to plug it into a fic. Obviously.)

----------------------------

There was once a time in Spencer's life when being in bed didn't generate a strong feeling of any kind. It was simply a task needed to end the day and transition into another, a means to an end, and least of all a luxury; Even when he was a child, responsibility outranked reveling in the comfort of a warm bed.

These days, though, it seems like all he wants to do is be in bed. Not because he feels depressed or exhausted in any extreme, but it's hard for him not to ache for an entire day spent solely enveloped in the warm embrace of linen, made even warmer by your presence. Since you've been with him, it brings something so normal and safe amongst the chaos of his daily life—not just in bed of course, but especially in bed. Especially in the mornings. It has quickly become his favorite part of the day, and he finds himself never wanting it to end.

His eyes open to find you already awake before sunrise, staring at him like he always gets caught staring at you. You try to remain still and calm, but the minute cinch in your expression tells him that you're probably chanting Ha-Ha! Got you! on repeat in your head, and the thought makes him huff a laugh.

"What's so funny?" you ask seriously.

Spencer's smile remains as he shifts, close enough to touch his forehead to your own. "Absolutely nothing."

"You've always been a terrible liar."

"I don't know what you mean."

The giggles between the two of you steadily increase with every sentence, until your laughs turn into lazy kisses and then to sighs.

Sunlight eventually breaches the shades, signaling a different type of warmth and the start of a new day, and Spencer selfishly begs it not to be so, his hands reaching for you as you try to escape the bed.

"Stay," he groans, successfully keeping you next to him. "You don't have anywhere to be today, and neither do I..."

Bringing one of his hands to your lips, you laugh. "I know... But I don't want to spend all day in bed..."

"Then we won't... Just a few more hours?"

Your laugh this time is a full-blown cackle. The sound makes his heart soar. "Hours?"

"Yes, hours... This is the most comfortable place in the whole world. Don't you think that deserves hours of your time?"

"I suppose..." Snuggling back into the covers and adoringly rolling your eyes as your head hits the pillow once more, you've finally succumbed to your boyfriend's charms, a feat that feeds his silly pride and also warms him to the core.

You tell him you won't fall asleep and demand him to follow suit, to which he happily agrees, and then you're talking him through your plans for the day. Your voice is just as strong of a comfort as your touch, every syllable bright and soft, and certainly more pleasant than the incessant chirping of birds that some people seem to find soothing first thing in the morning for one reason or another.

As you talk to him, Spencer feels like he's sinking further into the mattress, like your voice and your smile and your fingers absentmindedly trailing the veins of his arms as you speak are casting him into an inescapable state of magnificent solitude.

He'd begged you for hours, but the unexaggerated truth is that he could stay like this forever.

Sensing the trance you seem to have put him under, you pause and tilt your head to study him. Still, your fingers stay true to their wanderlust and dance along the surface of his skin like it's second nature.

"You're looking at me funny."

"Hmm?"

Even as he raises an eyebrow, acknowledging you acknowledging him, it's like he can't be bothered to care. The dreamy haze in his eyes as it bores into you is a comfort in itself, but it's also very... tingle-inducing.

A familiar blaze heats your insides and every surface of your skin, and even without so much as a suggestive hum from him, you still find yourself shying away. "Stop it!"

You half-expect him to argue that he's not doing anything wrong in that cheeky way of his, but he remains silent and thoughtful, studying you carefully.

"Are you familiar with the concept of 'apricity'?"

Usually when he teaches you new things, he isn't staring at you like that. His voice isn't quiet and wistful and teetering on the edge of melancholy.

Unsure of what to make of it all, you shake your head. "No..."

"The word itself comes from the early 1600s. It's archaic, but the feeling is quite beautiful, and relevant to many people whether they know it or not. Apricity defines the feeling of the sun's natural warmth in the cold, usually harsh, winter."

You consider this, and try the word on your tongue, repeating it slowly and nodding. A small smile forms on your lips. "I like it. I guess it's nice to know that oddly-specific feeling has a name..."

Spencer hums and grabs your hand. "You have no idea..."

You laugh softly again. "No, I don't... Enlighten me?"

He considers this for a moment, then smiles, pulling you close to him. "That's just it— You enlighten my very existence. Just by being here in this bed with me."

As he attacks your neck with kisses, you can't help the string of laughter that escapes you. "Oh really?"

"Absolutely." The word is a confident rumble into your skin that soaks through, straight from his lips and down into to the depths of your soul and beyond. It erases any doubt you've ever harbored, lifts you into the light, and manifests as its own form of sunshine, settled right in the nooks and crannies of your heart.

Spencer pulls away briefly to look at you, taking your head in his gentle hands. His voice is soft, but firm.

"I guess what I mean is that... My life can be really dark and frigid a lot of the time... But ever since I've known you, it's like those moments aren't really so terrible anymore, because I know what true, natural love feels like. When I'm here, with you, I truly believe that nothing can hurt me. All I feel is warmth. Your warmth... You're my apricity."

An involuntary pout accompanies your wide, watering eyes as you lean into his touch, a tightness at your throat even as you try to tell him the easiest thing in the world.

"I love you," you manage to get out through a sob. It sounds utterly lame in comparison to the poetic metaphor he's just confessed to you, but given the fact that it's the first time the words have left your mouth, they seem to have the same effect on him regardless.

Spencer matches your pout and the two of you are drawn together like a summer thunderstorm— boldly, brightly, and full of life. The tears fall between you in a heap of pouring rain, but there's nothing gloomy in the love that carries you through it.

"I love you, too," he whispers, pulling away for a moment.

You kiss him again, then tell him, "I never want to leave this bed."

He kisses you and laughs, wiping away your tears as you both fall back, head to the pillows once more.

"I'm not going to fight you on that one."

You say it's fine if it's all in my mind Oh, you look so real but it feels like a lie, so

Don't pinch me in case I'm asleep In case you're not here 'cause this is a dream And we've never met so we're not in love In case I'm asleep, don't pull the–

Don't touch me, this coma is nice Too good to be true, so just let me lie Down in the sheets, 'cause here we're in love In case I'm asleep, don't pull the-

Plug Oh-oh-oh

--Pull The Plug, Ashe

[tricoloreddango]

All’s fair in love and war, part 2 [final]

Yandere Mydei x female reader

Summary: You end up pregnant with your enemy’s child. Mydei takes advantage of your misfortune.

Contents: pregnant reader, babytrapping, Mydei’s lore spoilers, reader gets called a degrading word (not by Mydei), arranged marriage (coerced), violence, overprotective Mydei, Hades and Persephone elements, suggestiveness, overprotectiveness, angst, murder mentions. [part one]

Word count: 3.9k

Today was the most nervous day for you in a while. You and Mydei were anticipating your father’s arrival, and you felt nothing but terrified to admit the truth about the fact that you got pregnant with his most despised foe. Mydei has been trying to be reassuring, stating that at least you will put this conflict between his and your father’s people to an end; along with him promising you to be the one doing the talking. The idea of letting any harm come to you was much more ridiculous especially.

And you should have been assured. But seeing how composed Mydei looked, you didn’t really like his nonchalance. It was as if the situation worked out for him a bit too well. Just how happy Mydei was at the prospect of starting a family with you? All of this reaction made you feel out of place and misunderstood.

When your father entered the ruins of Kremnos you agreed to meet at, Mydei put his body slightly ahead of you, as if willing to guard you and your baby in case of aggression.

Your father was quick to judge, “What is the meaning of this, my daughter?” His voice was angry already, making you feel an unease already. Of course he wouldn’t like to see you and Mydei together, and he was confused when did you two even met.

“Father, listen…” you started nervously but Mydei interjected. He was straight to the point as usual, hating a small talk. “I want to marry your daughter. Give me her hand in marriage.” The absolute shock on your father’s face made you extremely guilty immediately. You were about to have your betrayal revealed… and the idea of admitting that you let an enemy spill his seed inside of you was the most shameful.

“What did you just say?” he asked even more angrily and walked towards you both. Mydei put his arm ahead of you to stop him. “What are you doing with him? Are you telling me you agree if you’re here with him?!”

“She is—” Mydei tried to say but your father wasn’t having it. “No, you bastard. Let her speak before I feel like disinheriting her!

Tears filled your eyes and while your dad softened for a moment at the sigh, having loved you ever since you were just a baby, he was still too angry and confused. “Speak,” he repeated.

You’ve been preparing yourself for this for the past week, but all the strength you’ve gathered was gone when facing your father, like a bobble being burst. “Father…” you started crying. “I’m pregnant. With Lord Mydei,” you admitted with shame.

You’ve never seen murderous look on your father’s face. He automatically assumed this man must have taken advantage of you, not even for a moment thinking you’d do this willingly. Well, you didn’t want to get pregnant—that wasn’t planned. But your affair was your choice. So he immediately tried to attack Mydei. You panicked as you saw him charge and screamed before a deadly fight could erupt, “No, it’s my fault!”

That stopped old man in tracks. First there was confusion painted on his face, then disbelief, and then… disgust. His own daughter…? Your mother will faint once she receives a letter later from his temporary location. The commander and his wife will become grandparents, yet he wasn’t sure of the joy it’s supposed to bring.

You were crying ugly, knowing how much you disappointed your father by choosing to sleep with his and yours enemy. You were a warrior too, now reduced to a future mother with a man so hated by your people and a mere baby crying from the consequences of your own actions, no matter how strong you were when fighting. “I didn’t mean to get pregnant, I swore I was using—”

“Be quiet,” he said coldly. “Watch your mouth,” Mydei said in your defense; not that your parent cared. “My daughter is nothing but a whore and you’re telling me to watch my—” Your father didn’t finish his sentence as he got punched in the face by your lover. You gasped and grabbed onto Mydei’s naked chest. As much as hearing such terms from your father hurt incredibly, you still loved him and felt protective enough to not let any pain come to him.

“Mydei, stop this! You two stop this!” you screamed and now were sobbing hard. Mydei turned around to look at you, something like worry flashing across his face. He wasn’t an expert in pregnancies but the medic have told him you need to avoid stress, for your and baby’s sake. Mydei pulled you to his side to hold you and rubbed your arm up and down. You couldn’t help but lean onto him, feeling weak and in need of comfort. “Don’t cry,” he said more gently before his voice was rough again as he spoke to the opponent. “Get up. We’re going to explain everything before I will beat you up for real,” he threatened.

Your father wanted to fight and curse further, however he needed many answers. The disgust at your betrayal didn’t leave though. You winced at how much bruised his cheek was now.

“Good. Now listen to me very carefully,” Mydei started. “It’s true your daughter has been sleeping with your opponent and that she ended up conceiving my child. But me offering this marriage could be beneficial for both sides.”

“Beneficial? How is this betrayal beneficial-” your father asked with another portion of anger but then he finally understood the meaning of this union. “… You speak of a treaty. You want me to sacrifice my daughter to end this war?” The idea was clearly uncomfortable to him. While he wasn’t a lenient person and he was mad at you stabbing him in the back, he still felt a natural sense of patently duty towards you. “You really are a scoundrel,” he scoffed. “She’s not an offering to gods!”

“I’m not sacrificing your daughter,” Mydei said seriously. “I’m only making sure this child is not born out of wedlock. Us setting a peace is just an extra part. You wouldn’t want your child to end up as a lonely mother, would you?”

Of course your father didn’t want that. Not only it’d be distasteful in the eyes of his people, he doubted you’d manage on your own. It was only a matter of him not being able to accept that for all these months, you’ve been lying behind his back.

But it didn’t mean this marriage wouldn’t be a blessing in a way. His people were tired. He was tired. You were tired. Yours and theirs safety and wellbeing came first. Your father looked at you, glad your tears were disappearing. He needed you coherent for you to answer him truthfully, “Do you even want this or is he pressuring you to marry?” Mydei clenched his jaw, staring your father coldly.

Now this was a difficult and complex question for you. You have never planned to marry Mydei, have a child—so you weren’t happy about this situation. On the other hand, a sense of duty towards your tribe, having remembered all the lost lives and souls; it kept you thinking you should do this. To you, this wasn’t even about the child having their future secured.

“It’s my decision, father…” you spoke hesitantly, but then you forced conviction into your voice, “… I think Lord Mydei is right. Not only this child needs a father, I also want our people to finally rest easy. I know they need some closure…” You felt Mydei tighten his grip on you at your words. You didn’t even dare to look at his face, scared you’ll see the same triumph you have seen the day you announced the news.

Your father closed his eyes, a thought on his face. He had to make a difficult decision. There was no good answer as in both cases there is something to give up: it was about choosing a lesser evil. Giving his daughter away to his enemy or denying his people or the end to this conflict. He opened his eyes, the shade exactly like yours, his blood running through your veins.

“You know what this means? That I’ll have to give you away to this man?” he asked, and you noticed a slight tremble in his tone. His flesh and blood, being taken away from him sounded most excruciating to a parent. You nodded, already feeling like crying again. None of you wanted to be separated from each other, even if your father might never forgive you.

“In that case… you better take a good care of my dear child, Lord Mydei,” he said seriously, not hiding his resignation.

“I will,” Mydei said with honesty. He didn’t care about anything else, now that he finally had you for himself. He was scared of the idea of being a father, but he loved this child already—even if your belly was barely showing, especially under your clothes; maybe because he was denied of childhood himself after his father’s sins…

“I won’t let any harm come to my betrothed or her child,” he added with an honor.

Your father took his words as truthful, however he had a condition. There’s no way he’d leave you in the lion’s jaw with no space. “We’ve made a responsible decision already, but… I have to ask you for one more thing.”

Mydei didn’t have a good feeling about the proposal, but he put his free hand in front of himself as a gesture that he’s willing to hear him out.

“As much as I’m letting you wed my daughter, I cannot possibly never see her again. Especially her mother, I don’t want her to curse me either. That’s why I want a quarter of a year with our daughter in our home. Once she gives birth and recovers, that is.”

Mydei was right in the idea that he wouldn’t like it. The idea of having you (and assumedly your daughter or son) gone for three whole months every year was maddening. Every minute away from you got him feral and worried you’re being seen by another man or at risk. As a result of hearing this ridiculous statement, he squeezed on your arm hard enough to hurt. When you winced in pain, he immediately let it go—he didn’t mean to cause you any harm, it was simply he was still learning how to be gentle for a sake of your pregnancy. He looked down at you, making sure you’re alright.

Instead, he saw your begging eyes. You were desperate to keep in touch with your family; however there was something else at play—for all the suspicious feelings you had towards Mydei lately, you felt like having a break for him as well. Maybe even your child will need it—who knows what kind of father your fiance will become.

Mydei hated the idea of having you out and baby of his reach and being out of control with that deal. It was a realization that you’d probably become unhappy and unwilling should you be stuck with him all year that made him hesitant to deny you. If seeing your family makes you happy… maybe you will also be desperate to return to him sooner than a quarter of every next year. Would his child love him enough to betray you and demand he or she miss their daddy and want to go back early?

He made that hard decision, “Very well then. But don’t even assume I won’t drag her back if you extend three months even by just a day.”

When Mydei was leading you away to return safely, you had to look back at your father for the last time before you’ll have to wait long months to see him again. Living outside of Okhema and Kremnos made a distance too long for your father to feel like you’re near him, so he mouthed “I love you.”

He’ll take a blame on himself. Neither did the pain on his face mattered, when his heart just broke.

☆

When you two have returned to the house Mydei has kept himself at, with few servants that remained loyal to him even after he abandoned his role as a future king in Kremnos, you’ve realized this will be your new home only now. Homesickness overwhelmed you already.

Entering his chambers, Mydei placed you on bed and helped you remove your shoes. You had no idea why, considering you were in a stage too early to have swollen feet yet. Was he becoming soft with you?

“How do you feel?” he asked from below you. “Any nausea yet?” You shook your head. “Good.” Mydei sat down next to you on bed. “The healer has told me that if a father was in a healthy state before a woman conceives, the pregnancy should be easier on her. I don’t even drink alcohol, so I hope you’ll get to rest easy for the remaining time of your heaviness…”

It was at least one thing for you to be soothened about.

Being emotionally exhausted after parting with your father, haven’t seen your mother in months as you participated in war, you felt shameless enough to put your head on his shoulder. “That’s reassuring,” you said with a little yawn. Mydei knew this probably wasn’t a good moment, but he found you oddly adorable when you appeared tired like this, softening his heart at some extent. Perhaps, he simply liked the idea of you being dependent on him… he had you in his grasp anyway. And it will remain that way until you take your last breath—not that he didn’t wish for you to become immortal too somehow.

Seeing you being all worn out, he helped you lay down before he put himself next to you. Having an affair with you for months, he had enough time to learn some forms of affection despite his rough personality… no matter what a sick man you’ve made him to be. He wanted to be angry at you for having him so obsessed with you yet he didn’t remember the last time he had felt so alive in his immortal life.

Mydei let you turn on your side for him to hold, even feel the calm rhythm of his heart. You’ve made him at peace when his mind was at war all the time.

You squirmed a little when you felt his hand land on your lower stomach. You were still unused to the idea of carrying a life in your womb, a child from him of all people. “I think you’re strong enough to go through this state smoothly as well,” he added eventually.

But it wasn’t your physique you’ve doubted. Pregnancies tended to be difficult for women, however what got you truly worried was forced assimilation in Okhema and the idea of your life having changed so drastically upon one of the nights with Mydei.

“… Yeah. Mydeimos?” you asked quietly. “Yes, love?” he asked with a rub of your belly, bit happy at the sound of his name. Maybe your form was bloated just barely, nonetheless it made him territorial already. He’ll protect you and this child, slaughter any enemy deciding to cross you, and maybe one day you’ll ask for another babe. For now, he needed to prepare a wedding ceremony. He won this fight nonetheless; even if he had to do something so disgusting to you. He felt guilty sometimes, until the thoughts of you filled his mind again and instead he wanted you even more.

“Thank you,” you murmured against his chest, your eyes closing already. “What are you thanking me for?” he kissed your cheek.

“I’m glad you didn’t separate me from my family,” you admitted meekly.

“I couldn’t go that far, so don’t thank me. I only want you to care about our family just as much.”

You didn’t manage to agree as you fell asleep, leaving him without your promise. Mydei sighed and pulled you closer to him, with his palm on your stomach still, for him to imagine how big and much more his you’ll be soon.

☆

As your belly grew, so did Mydei’s newfound tendency to be overbearing. He seemed to be more stressed out than you at times, desperate to make sure your wellbeing is secured. To him, it didn’t matter how suffocated you might have felt—he kept you close regardless. Especially now that you were wife and husband. Mydei needed both your safety and love, for all the times he didn’t feel safe or loved himself.

When it came to you, you were founding yourself to be more accepting of the situation. Not happy though. No, your mind was more about getting used to the idea, as you knew you had no choice and needed to get through it sometimes. You can’t take time back but you can make the future work.

Mydei have noticed you became more quiet after separation, but he blamed it on you missing home than you actually being unhappy at the prospect of becoming a mother. Perhaps he was a fool but he had all the confidence in you, one day, loving him so much you could die; the same way he loved you and this child.

You were four months pregnant at this point. Mydei was so bad he didn’t even want you to walk too much, finding some excuses about you provoking painful feet or risking tripping over. No, you were much better sitting on his lap while he sat on his throne.

“Open your mouth,” he said teasingly and fed you few pomegranate seeds. He wanted you to eat well for the baby, and a healer recommended fruits for additional vitamins. The idea of sharing his favorite food with you felt nice too—even if it’s a merely sized way of bonding.

When you parted your lips for him, he slipped few pomegranate seeds into your mouth you quite enjoyed, his finger accidentally brushed over your lips and spreading crimson juice here. The unintentional art looked beautiful on you nevertheless. You were carrying a meaning of pomegranate on your plumpness, both fertile and in marriage union. Should you ever die, he will simply hunt your soul back to him.

Observing your beauty, he felt a familiar urge to push his thumb into your mouth and see you suckle on it, like you have done so submissively during many nights. No matter, he’ll wait until your hormones strike you enough for you to feel desire all the time… he’ll just have to be more delicate with you in this state, and you surely will let him rock your body with his hands on your bump. He’ll knead your breasts too, chasing away all the soreness.

He put an empty pomegranate shell away, hopefully not as empty as you, and wrapped his arms around you, typically one hand on your belly. It could be any moment a baby kicks so he was always ready like this.

“Say… do you think it’ll be a girl or boy?” he asked with curiosity, pushing his excitement into the back of his mind so you don’t think of him as too eager.

You looked at him in thought, your mouth suddenly dry. “Well, I didn’t really think about that… I just want them to be healthy.”

He chuckled at your words. In his eyes, you were such a good mother already. “Their gender doesn’t matter to me either… I’ll help them become a strong warrior regardless. My parents…” he stopped for a moment. The bitterness of his father’s murder and his own murder reminded in him until many years later. He cleared his throat, despite it feeling choked. “My parents were a king and a queen, both warriors of the equal strength as none of them won during their first clashing of blades… I won’t discriminate no matter the result of your birth. I’m sure our child will be strong as you and I are.”

You still noticed how giddy he sounded, so odd for Mydei; you learned how to read him; no matter how much he tried to hide his vulnerabilities. You felt some form of affection for him too, however, you didn’t like how easily you soaked in his emotions sometimes. It was unsettling how intense he was when he thought you didn’t notice.

But the mention of warriors… it made you feel nostalgic. You missed the battlefield and the freedom and pride it brought. “Yeah, I would like to train them too…” you said hopefully. Something angry flashed in Mydei’s eyes for a moment, not sure if he should let you continue fighting whether you will recover after a birth or not. What if you fly away from him? At the same time, he didn’t want to make you miserable. “Well, you shouldn’t get rusty. I suppose some sparring with me should help you get back in healthy shape after birth,” he said, all resigned. You’ve made him too soft for his liking, but even more fierce with his enemies that could threaten you and the unborn.

But the short look of excitement in your eyes was worth it. He really didn’t intend to make you unhappy in any way… it was just his desire to both own you and keep you safe, something he had grown enough during your months of passionate nights before your pregnancy; it only burst open and swallowed you when his tragic plan had worked.

You both jumped when the baby suddenly kicked in your belly, for the first time. You felt it hardly from the inside and for him it was under his rough-skinned palm. He looked at you in awe, until he saw your eyes well up with tears, thinking it perhaps hurt. “Are you okay?” he asked slightly panicked.

“Huh? Yes… I just… feel touched. That child really exists,” you said with a smile. Sometimes about them being alive and proofing it was your comfort to your loneliness; unless you were becoming delusional and desperate for relief.

Seeing your rare moment of happiness and smile was a soothing balm to his soul. This boy or girl were really the key to making you his—not only did you agree to marry him, you also were starting to appreciate an aspect of becoming a mother. He didn’t care if it was your hormones, a stereotype of a mother’s instinct or your affection for him. He shall make sure this remains eternal.

When Mydei placed his lips on his and stroked your belly, you let him. He didn’t cry now but he felt like he will once he sees the blessing he produced in the world.

As he kissed you rather gently for him, you having taught him how to be more soft for your sake, he thought many things. How beautiful you’ve become even if your skin appeared dull, how much he liked taking care of you, how he finally had an idea of family back in his life, how much of his you were…

…that’s why you shall never know the truth about your past herb treatment, not needing to leave you heartbroken. Neither will the healer spill it out for you, as he was now six feet underground.

He just couldn’t had let you go, scared you’ll finally leave back to where you’ve came from, should the conflict end on its own. And you fell right into his trap.

[sensitivepluto]

On the Down-low

Short & Sweet - Day 3: Secret Meeting

Touya Todoroki x Gn!Reader

[TW]: injury & care, cursing, pet names, Touya Todoroki in general

This is @thewritingstar's prompt list - here's the link to the post!

After those texts you'd rushed to his place immediately, your first aid kit in hand. As annoyed as he made you, the wound he shared with you didn't look good. You'd never admit it to him, but his dangerous lifestyle often had you lying awake at night with worry.

When you finally made your way up the fire escape to his window, you rapped your knuckles against the cold glass. And then after a few moments you did it again...and again. Why wasn't he answering? Did he pass out? Maybe you should go around to the-

You watched as a shirtless Touya stumbled to the window and opened it haphazardly for you. By the time you'd wiggled yourself in he was already collapsed face down on his old creaky bed.

"Touya..." you sighed, unhappy that he'd gotten himself injured again.

"I don't want to hear another lecture, doll. Can you help or no?" He grumbled. "Also stop calling me that. It's Dabi now and you know it."

A disapproving hum left your lips and you joined him on the bed. Of course you knew what he was doing was all a means to an end, but it didn't mean you approved of it. Especially since all he was doing was injuring himself.

Trying not to waste anymore time, you took a look at his back. The gash was worse than the picture he sent you told. A deep gash spread across his back, starting at the shoulder and cutting diagonally to his hip. You lightly touched at either sides of the wound, inspecting the inflamed skin. It definitely needed stitching

No words were shared between the two of you for quite some time. You unpacked your first aid kit for alcohol and cotton rounds. The kit wasn't much, but it was what you had. You soaked the pad in alcohol before positioning yourself over Dabi.

"This is going to sting." You warned before delicately running the pad over his back. The man hissed in pain, causing you to hesitate. You worked as fast as you could, cleaning the wound and prepping it to be closed.

"Jesus fuck..." He growled. It made your heart ache to watch him in pain, but it needed to be done. You reached over to his bedside table, grabbing his stapler and a row of staples. If you weren't so engrossed in your task, maybe you would have noticed Dabi staring you down. Most of his face tucked into his arm. His eyes were half-lidded as he watched you prep his stapler, your faced scrunched in focus.

"Okay, are you ready for the staples?" You asked, finally catching his eyes with your own. He held your gaze for a moment before looking off lazily.

"Go for it, doll." You nodded and adjusted yourself back over him, steadying yourself. Of course you'd helped him with his staples in the past, but no matter how many times you did it left you uneasy. Nonetheless you took a deep breath and started.

Click...one...Click...two...Click...three.

Twenty. It took twenty staples to finally close the wound. You were amazed that Dabi took it without a word. Maybe a hiss or a grunt in tender areas, but otherwise completely silent.

A thought overtook your brain while you cleaned up your mess. The many cotton pads littering the bed, as well as searching for a gauze wrap for Dabi - of course you never found one. All the while, his gaze studied you.

"So why was it you wanted me to sneak in again?" You questioned, your back turned to him. The thought on your mind finally in the open. He rolled his eyes at the question.

"Didn't want to get the league involved." He posed. You turned to look at him with question in your eyes.

"What do you mean 'get them involved?' They've seen you injured before, no?" The man grunted and pushed himself up to sit on the bed.

"Doesn't matter..." He trailed off, not making eye contact with you. You thought for a moment and rounded the bed, coming closer to him.

"Unless..." You teased. "You simply just wanted me to take care of you." The statement sat in the air between you. He looked at you with those lazy, piercing blue eyes. "Am I right?" You pressed.

Dabi rolled his eyes once more. "Don't test me, sweetheart." He warned. You feigned offense.

"Oh no? I guess I'll just leave you alone then. Go on home." You turned to leave dramatically, but his hand caught your wrist in an instant. Dabi pulled you in so you were face to face with him.

"You are not going anywhere tonight, doll." A dangerous smirk pulled on his lips. And you smiled at the implication. It was going to be a long night.

[mistressofthemanor]

masterofthemanor

The smile on his face remained bright even as she nudged him in a mock-reprimanding way, to which he jerked up a bit and away from her, though he didn't keep that small distance he'd created between them for too long as he snuggled back against her within a few moments. "Nice to hear that" He murmured sincerely, draping his arm over her body once again, already dreading the moment he'd have to let go of her, so he secretly hoped she'd grow sleepy sooner than she'd feel the urge to drag him into the bathroom and under the shower, for in that case, she would fall asleep in his arms and he could hold her in his embrace for the rest of the night without any interruption. He listened to her carefully as she explained what was on her mind, revealing that she had similar thoughts to his own. She was grateful that they'd gotten another chance from fate and she was grateful for him. He'd found her words to be touching and thought-provoking, however, no matter how many answers had come to his mind - from witty to honest - in connection with her question, he'd been rendered speechless by her sudden statement. Albeit being foreseeable, he hadn't expected her to bluntly tell him that she loved him... she loved him... and at once, everything other than the truth seemed irrational to respond with. He wanted to be honest with her, even if it meant he'd become vulnerable at once... even if it meant throwing everything away he'd stood for for the past two years.. even if he had to face it all and be honest with himself first. He wanted to allow himself to be loved and to love again. He wanted to trust her. Badly. "And I've never stopped loving you, Cissa" Holding her gaze, he breathed back slowly, allowing every single one of his words to sink in before he'd moved on. "We've been through a lot... Good and bad times, but what we have- it's unconditional, forgiving and unbreakable" He continued as he made sure he had her undivided attention, taking his time to properly express his feelings as he admired her in the dim light, hoovering above him with an intent look with her dark locks cascading down, tempting him to brush his fingers through them, though he resisted the urge. "We belong together, no matter how much we try to deny it or fight it" He concluded as he brought his hand up to his face to rest it over her petite hand, unaware of just how exactly true that had been to the both of them, especially as he couldn't be sure whether she'd tried to deny or fight her feelings during those past weeks.

The silence stretched between them, heavy, electric. Even Narcissa was startled by the confession, by the way it landed in the space between them like something fragile and unshakable all at once. Without words, Narcissa could see it on his face that she had perhaps spoken too soon. She wanted to immediately speak to cover up and make things right again, but she realized that she didn't feel those words were a mistake, nor did she feel she had said them too soon. She said them when she was ready. The only thing she considered saying was that if he wasn't ready, she understood and he did not have to rush into anything. However, he began to speak and she also knew that he wouldn't say those words to please her. He had never been that way. He always was honest and allowed his feelings to speak true, as she remembered many times when she would ask for his forgiveness about an issue and he would explain that he was not ready to give it and that it would take time. She began to mentally prepare herself for that and finding herself searching for a feeling of peace for when it came.

But that is not what happened. Her eyes searched his as he immediately returned her feelings. It was as if she was waiting for a "but" that never came. Her heart raced a bit faster and the corners of her lips turned upward ever so slightly, finding herself to soften even more at his words. He was right; they had been through a lot and no person or thing could strip them from the memories tied to one another. Blinking almost immediately, she wasn't on the verge of tears but his feelings had made her misty eyed. This was it. They had finally made it back to one another and though the past was not easy forgotten, they could move forward....together, as one. Leaning down, she rested her forehead first to his and only waited a moment before her soft lips brushed against his as she felt the weight of all the years between them dissolve into something light. She didn't deepen the kiss but she made sure he knew how valued and cherished he was in that moment. It meant the world that he felt the same and she reminded herself once again that he would not have said it if it was not true or if he didn't feel ready to say it. Pulling back slightly, she smiled, "I don't want you or I to fight against one another anymore. I want to fight for you...beside you...with you," she breathed softly, sealing her promise with another kiss.

Bones of Contention

[akanemnon]

(I have two statements, I’ll start with the least relevant one first and the more relevant last so it (hopefully) sticks more.)

NOTE (mainly for the irrelevant one): I have no ill intent behind anything I’m typing and just want to thank Akane for unintentionally teaching me a thing or two about art.

Irrelevant statement: I’ve seen many people talk about how your AU and overall artwork inspired them to do comics (heck, even I once told you this), but something else your art has helped me with greatly is anatomy.

My countless drawings I made of your KFC gang helped me simultaneously with fat and very lanky bodies, height differences, etc.

Now I’m kinda wishing I drew your version of Susie so I can properly learn how to draw muscles. Not all of my own characters are human and muscles are something I can kinda draw, but it always comes out a little weird looking…but I’ve been kinda nervous to draw TR!Susie and Ralsei in fear of then looking to different…

Relevant statement: I can see why you were proud of this page. I love the heart-to-heart between Kris and Susie. It makes me wonder if we may see a backstory or may learn a little more on Susie’s past.

Kris and Frisk are the main focus, so this “mini”-page felt like a nice change of pace and a good addition to the script that leaves me with some pretty cool predictions. Even though I’m probably getting my hopes up because as you said, this wasn’t originally part of the script, I still wonder where you may go with this…

Representation is something incredibly powerful. Not only does it help with being feel seen in a medium you like, it also INSPIRES artists to step out of their comfort zone and try their own hands at drawing different body types, sizes, etc...

Muscles are kinda sorta difficult. Like with most things in art, it all comes back to anatomy. That is the basis of drawing bodies. If you got that down is when you can start to stylize. Of course you don't need to study every single muscle in the body, but something that helps is using references or do figure drawing for example! There are plenty of free images online just for that kind of stuff. An artist who doesn't use references is just willingly making things harder for themself. In case of drawing muscles, look up all sorts of different athletes! It all depends on what kind of built you are going for. Athletes train their bodies specifically for the sport they're are doing, so the muscle distribution and built will be dependant on that.

As for your other statement... as you said, the focus of the story is on Kris and Frisk, so there isn't exactly enough room to wrap up everyone's dynamics. Especially considering how close we are to the trial. Which is basically the final showdown. We got 46 pages left to go. So you'll see how the story will play out. There is still room for these characters to grow after Twin Runes ends. But that will be all up for interpretation. Because after Twin Runes ends I will start The Other Script.

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed listened silently, cradling the mug of tea in his hands. It sounds like Dyson had been busy the night before, and he looks exhausted. It was a feeling Ed was very familiar with.

He couldn't help but feel like the attack on the server was because of him, especially given who it came from and that it happened so shortly after... yesterday.

Was it retaliation? A contingency? Had everything that happened here been a distraction? Any and all were likely.

He shuddered at the mention of the Master Control Program. He'd met the original when he was very young, in what was now Mackey's office and had at that time been his father's. Nightmares of that encounter had plagued him throughout his childhood. The thought of there being a second one... Had Dyson not have said it was destroyed already, Ed would have been out of his seat and halfway to Encom to tear it apart with his own two hands before the former general could have said anything else. To hear that it was gone was a huge relief.

Ed let Tron see the report first. Considering the monitor was more directly involved with Encom's security, it made since to let him have the report first, though Ed would most certainly would look through it afterward.

He had no intention of sitting on the sidelines, and he'd rather deal with the crisis at Encom than sit around waiting to hear news about yesterday's aftermath. He really did not want to think about it, anyway.

"I take it Alan is already working on things from this side?" Ed asked. From Dyson's mention, it sounded like he was, and Ed wouldn't be surprised to hear it.

Ed blinked awake to the early morning sunshine streaming in through his window, a very physical--yet comforting warmth and weight on his chest and feathers tickling his cheek. There is another familiar weight next to him. His brother and sister.

So that hadn't been a dream. The events of the day prior still didn't feel real, and Ed dreaded facing the consequences of them in any form.

For now, he could avoid consequences, at least until his siblings wake up.

He had guest. He should make breakfast. Ed had no idea who was still at his house besides Eve and Sam. Yori, most likely. And Tron. But. Jet? Beck? He doubted Alan stayed. And thinking of breakfast... Ed had no idea what he had to make breakfast with. They'd talked about Jet and Beck doing groceries, but Ed couldn't remember if they ever went.

Ed glanced at the clock on his nightstand, and attempted to decipher the blurry numbers, trying to calculate how long would be acceptable to stay in bed before he actually had to get up and solve the issue of breakfast. Until Sam woke up should be acceptable, though he might have to wake up Eve for breakfast since she would sleep until noon if anyone let her.

And then after breakfast, he'd have to face the consequences of everything that had happened the previous day.

[vest0]

🌈 I DID IT! I FINISHED!

Aaah, I'm so happy, and here more info about them! :D

If you have any questions or would like to request art on them, I will be only glad!

about;

These designs are made for a more human look and their anatomy consists of the familiar human one, except for the helmets, and starscream's wings. they will have a bot version, but later~

answers to possible questions:

Can I use your arts for my own purposes, or publish it somewhere?

sure, why not? the main thing is credit me, and preferably leave a link to my Tumblr!

Is this plot based on canon and can I criticize the idea for not being canon?

the plot includes a small part of the canon, but most of it was invented by me and my management of Megastars. regarding criticism - uh, criticism is allowed, but not on the topic of canons AND the pairing, plsss!

can I draw fanart for you/create my own idea related to this idea?

YESS, PLEASE DO?? Any fan work is like a diamond to me!! I will be very pleased and interested to see everything in your performance! (Actually, NSFW allowed too, but pls keep it within the limits of adequacy,,)

🌟 Starscream;

height - 5,2 or 158 cm.

weight - 50 kg

gender - she / her OR he / his. In my arts it's more as a female.

sexuality - bisexual (♀️), homosexual (♂️)

features - In the female version, Starscream has a small chest, but her hips are wider than her shoulders. Her wings are mobile but suitable for flight in the human version.

Starscream is one of the best Seekers, and as a fighter, is extremely valuable to the Decepticons. In the past, Starscream was an Autobot, the only Seeker among them, and was responsible for air operations. She joined the ranks of the Autobots at the beginning of the war. Before chaos and hostility between the two factions began on Cybertron, Starscream excelled in fights without rules, and led a cruel lifestyle. Frequent fights, a lot of skirmishes with other bots, she was at the center of criminal society, and often resorted to physical violence, or even murder. Thanks to her small size, Starscream was agile and fast, and her honed skills gave her an advantage against the enemy. She has always been an extremely cruel person, and quickly acquired the nickname "angel of death". She knew about Megatron while he was a gladiator. His arena fights delighted the young fem, and once she was even able to meet the great gladiator. After the war began, Starscream realized all the horror, and desperately sought to find redemption from the Autobots, which soon happened. Starscream had a very difficult time, because containing her true essence seemed like torture, but over time, she learned to control herself, not giving in to emotions in emergency cases. It was quite difficult with the realization that her former idol created such chaos, and this became the motivation to go to the end and win the burning war. Among the Autobots, Starscream stood out for her detachment and arrogance. It was difficult for her to communicate with others as friends, because it was unusual for her character and nature. She felt that she did not completely belong to this place, but she was held by the good goal of ending the war and returning peace. She is a cold, rude and very cunning person, hiding under her beautiful, scarlet eyes her cruel and terrifying spark, capable of tearing anyone apart without mercy, if necessary. Her fearlessness even in front of those who are twice her size plays into her hands, giving her more audacity and ardor.

Starscream's toxic and freedom-loving nature is precisely the reason why Megatron wanted her in his ranks, close to himself. No one had ever dared to challenge the lord before, but Starscream was not at all intimidated by Megatron's formidable status. This was exactly what the big bot lacked, someone who challenges him, especially doing it so passionately.

⛓ Megatron;

height - 6,7 or 201 cm.

weight - 110 kg

gender - he/his OR she/her (in my arts it's more as a male).

sexuality - Pansexual

features - There is a scar along his lip and scars all over his body. He often wears a sword belt, which emphasizes his strong and large body. He wears only closed shoes, such as combat boots or just boots.

In the distant past, Megatron was known as a fearsome gladiator in the Kaon arena, crushing his enemies with extreme cruelty and power. He didn't end up in the arena because of a happy life, but his success and fame became the initial impetus for something more than just being a beast entertaining the public. Megatron spent a lot of time training, not sparing his own body and strength. Each new fight became more and more furious and frighteningly cruel, and under the applause of the audience, Megatron began to learn eloquent monologues, wanting to get deeper into the hearts of his fans. Soon the fights turned into a real mess, after which, with a proudly raised fist, Megatron gave a speech, inspiring the people to a coup. It seemed to him for a long time that the council did not care about its own people, because in Kaon there was too much inexplicable disorder, which seemed to be turned a blind eye to. All this did not please the mature revolutionary at all.

The rage towards the indifference of the council grew with each passing day, and, unfortunately, the gladiator's speeches boiling with revolution were noticed too late. Megatron, thanks to his eloquence and self-confidence, was able to inspire many sparks in a short time, calling on them to join "justice". But, everything got out of control when Megatron was overshadowed by blind hatred. His long-time and best friend, Orion, stood against him, who saw the path to a prosperous life in a completely different way. But Megatron did not stop. The once good intention to return justice turned into a thirst for power at any cost, for Megatron could not bear the weight of the leader, and succumbed to anger, turning into a tyrant. The first years, the inexperienced lord created chaos, senselessly destroying Cybertron city after city, but with each new year he gained experience, learning to behave more thoughtfully and wisely than to succumb to eclipsing emotions. When he fully realized his role, Cybertron was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. Megatron acted thoughtfully and tactically, which made the war against the Autobots even more intense and dangerous. There were many supplies needed by the Decepticons at the Autobot base, so sometimes there were secret operations to steal these resources, but one time, Megatron himself fell under the watchful eye of the air commander. He was neutralized with a couple of easy movements, when the silhouette of a familiar bot shone before his eyes. It was Starscream. And something in Megatron's spark clicked. An old acquaintance had achieved heights during the war, and her pressure kindled an incomprehensible warmth in the Decepticon. This was their first meeting in all this long time. And they are enemies. The gray bot was able to avoid a sad fate and escaped, but clearly decided for himself one thing - Starscream will be in his ranks, at any cost.

Megatron is stubborn and stands his ground, so Starscream has long tolerated the Lord's attempts to turn his head. Whether on the battlefield or when they were alone. Megatron even came to the Autobot base itself more than once, just to see his object of attention again, and to use enticing speeches. Starscream does not admit it, but she really likes the Decepticon Lord's pressure and his attractive impudence.

THAT'S IT, THANK U SM FOR READING MY SILLY HEADCANON IDEAS! <3

Hope u like it, and I'll wait for your questions, if you have something on your mind 🌟

[prettylynnpup]

The Neighbor

You'd been hearing tale on and off about someone moving in to that empty house across the street. These tales weren't new though - it seems like there'e been at least one "rumor" per year, and they've always been wrong.

At least, they used to be wrong. Until xe moved in.

9:30 PM, you'd just gotten off of work and finally made it home when you got a knock on your door. "Who the fuck would knock at 9:30?" You pondered to yourself. Because, as far as you remembered, nobody in this neighborhood would knock so much as past 6.

You walk to your door, not knowing what to expect, and you open it. On the other side of the door is a girl you've never seen before. Long black hair, a black dress, chains, some green accents, and a collar were the things you thought most notable about xer. You weren't sure why, but you were especially taken in by that collar, almost like it was stealing your vision away from xer beautiful-

"Hey, neighbor. I just wanted to stop by because I'm still meeting everyone in the neighborhood. Name's Fern."

*click*

Fern... You couldn't stop repeating xer name in your head, no matter how hard you tried. You could swear that you heard a click when xe said xer name, but you elect to ignore it. The name kept repeating and repeating, making it harder to think. At least, until xe waved a hand in your face.

"Hey! Earth to uh, whatever your name is, are you doing okay?"

'Yes! I'm splendid actually!' You wanted to say in response, but found yourself letting out a gentle bark.

"What was that? I think I misheard you?" Fern probes.

You bark again, more confidently.

"I guess I didn't mishear you then, did I?" A glimmer seems to appear in Fern's eye when xe realizes that, yes, you did just bark at xer twice.

"How about we operate like this: one bark for yes, two for no?"

You bark once in response. If you're not going to be able to use your words then goddamn it will you find another way to communicate with the gorgeous owner woman standing on the other side of your door.

"Do you know why it is that you're barking?"

You bark twice. No clue.

"So you didn't notice?"

You turn your head in confusion. Notice what? Did xe do something while you weren't paying attention?

"And you 100% don't remember me at all?"

You bark twice. 'No.' These questions were starting to get really strange. What did xe mean, remember xer? This is xer first time over to your door, right?

"Good. Good puppy."

*click*

A shock went down your spine as you felt yourself get turned on at that phrase. You were painfully embarrassed to be turned on in front of new company, and even more so by the thing that turned you on. Being called a good puppy? You'd never been into petplay - you tried being an owner for your last partner and it just really didn't work out.

Fern walks into your house, heading straight for your kitchen.

'Hey! What are you doing in here? Get out of my house!' Oh right, all you can do is bark. So, you follow xer around your house and bark and bark and bark while xe rummages through your cabinets.

"Puppy, sit."

Your body obeys. You're now on the floor, entirely against your own will. You try to get up, but your arms are so heavy and your paws hands feel so stupid.

"There we go!" Fern loudly announces as xe finds whatever it is that xe was looking for. After a few seconds of fiddling, xe moves behind you and your tail starts wagging gently.

Wait, you don't have a tail, right? How would you be able to feel wagging if you don't have a tail? What the fuck is going on?

*click!*

You feel something tighten around your neck... Your owner put your collar on! Yay!!! You love your owner and you're so glad that xe's back!

Wait... N-no, you don't... That's not right... Something's wrong...

"There we go, that's my sweet pet~"

You start panting... Owner's words feel so good... Maybe you should just fully give in, but only this once right? You won't submit any more after this...

*click!*

You feel a tug from your collar... Owner leashed you today! Thank goodness, you wouldn't want to get lost. Owner picks up a set of keys from the ground and locks that old house, and you and owner start the journey to xer house.

"Finally, fully my little puppy~"

Support me on Ko-fi?

[dindjarindiaries]

Omega and Crosshair's story in The Bad Batch season 3 mirrors Hunter and Omega's story in The Bad Batch season 1, but with Omega taking on Hunter's role and Crosshair taking on Omega's.

Something the show did really well in season 3 was prove just how far Omega has come, and how she's become so much like all her brothers in different ways. Personally, I see a lot of Hunter in her, mainly for the way she's always tried to emulate him ever since season 1. That's what started to lead me on this path to discovering that, in season 3, she takes on Hunter's previous role from season 1, especially where Crosshair is concerned.

As always with any analysis, this is a disclaimer that you may view these episodes in an entirely different way due to various biases, one of the most notable being based upon your own favorite characters and your own life experience. All I ask is that you read through carefully before chiming in with any counterarguments!

The basis of this analysis, or at least what clued me in to this, are these two moments, and the similarities of the stories Hunter & Omega and Omega & Crosshair have in seasons 1 and 3, respectively.

It's important to note straightaway that these two stories do not line up exactly the same. There are, rather, thematic similarities, and enough potential parallels that bring everything together just enough to show us how everything falls into place and brings season 1 full circle in season 3.

At the beginning of season 3, Omega and Crosshair are both imprisoned in the same place. Regardless, they're both being treated very differently. Omega has more of an illusion of freedom in having time on her own while she tends to her tasks. Crosshair, on the other hand, is either held in his cell or is actively being tortured/conditioned.

Metaphorically, this was also where Hunter (and the rest of the Batch) and Omega were in season 1, too. Hunter and the boys had the illusion of freedom in getting to leave Kamino and participate in missions, but they still had a duty to serve the Republic with no real choice ever being presented. Omega, on the other hand, was confined to Kamino, even kept hidden for the most part as Nala Se's lab assistant.

The dynamic between Omega and Crosshair shifts when Omega gets older. As I pointed out in this analysis, Omega's growth, and her shift into the role of Hunter, is made evident through the use of shadows when she talks to Crosshair in his cell. When she's younger, she looks as if she has Crosshair's marksman tattoo. When she's older, the left half of her face is concealed in a shadow, like Hunter's skull tattoo.

While this is showing Omega's growth by taking her from emulating the youngest of the Batch to the oldest, it's also foreshadowing how Crosshair is going to be taking on younger Omega's role, too.

It kicks off the strongest in episode 3, when it's time to make their escape. Omega insists on freeing Crosshair and taking him with her, despite him telling her that she should've left him behind—and that he wouldn't have thought twice about leaving her behind, either. But Omega refused to leave him behind. Why?

She's one of us. We're not leaving her there.

She learned that lesson from Hunter, who brought his entire squad back to Kamino just to free her from where she was being confined. Omega, now embodying Hunter's role, does the same for Crosshair here. She takes the risk to come free him and to make their escape together.

From then on, Omega actually calls a lot of the shots, if not all of them. Like Hunter, she's the strategist, guiding Crosshair but also considering and listening to his insight. Crosshair obeys, albeit more reluctantly than Omega used to obey Hunter—although she still used to protest if Hunter was sidelining her for her protection, so there are a few little similarities there.

(I would be remiss not to note here that the only glimpses we really get of Omega being a child again rather than the leader she learned to be from Hunter is when she's actually with Hunter. The face she makes when she runs to him during their reunion, melting into his embrace, snuggling Lula on the Marauder, leaning her head on his shoulder on Pabu... he's the safe space where she can fully relax and just be a kid again, because even if she's always gonna be Hunter for others, he's the only Hunter for her.)

After the reunion, we see Crosshair struggling at first to be back with his squad as their new history stands between them, mostly due to Crosshair's own guilt and hesitance and Hunter's desire to learn more and understand what happened. Because of their issues, Hunter doesn't have the established trust he needs yet to help Crosshair the way Omega can. That's why Omega, in a way, takes on the role Hunter used to have in Crosshair's life—at least, in this season.

Omega is very protective of Crosshair during this time, in a way that's reminiscent of how fiercely protective Hunter always has been of Omega. Of course, Crosshair is also very protective of Omega, too, and we also saw this with Omega regarding Hunter (and the others) in season 1. She was constantly worried about them when they were on missions without her, and that relieved way she says Hunter's name when she realizes he's alive after his shootout with Cad Bane will always get me.

The biggest thematic similarity between season 1 Omega and season 3 Crosshair, however, is their motivation, as far as the rest of the squad is concerned. Omega tries her hardest to earn their trust and their approval by training with her bow, strategizing, following orders, and more. Crosshair wants the same thing; he wants to regain the trust and approval he had from his brothers before everything happened. He practices shooting with his rifle and is frustrated when he can't protect them the way he wants to.

Just as Omega's past haunted her in the form of bounty hunters throughout season 1, Crosshair's past haunts him in the form of his hand tremor and CX-2. Omega's worst fear became returning to Kamino, and Crosshair's is returning to Tantiss. This is what they're trying to run from the entire season, despite the fact that all paths start to lead right back to those places.

Eventually, the Empire becomes a threat again, and escape becomes impossible for season 1 Hunter and season 3 Omega, respectively. Both of them give themselves up to protect others. Hunter orders Tech to leave him on Daro, while Omega insists on turning herself in to protect Pabu and her brothers. They both do so without fear, intent on either getting themselves out of their situation or depending on their squad to help them.

(Crosshair technically substituting for Tech here, too... I'm emotional.)

This is when we get the pinnacle of season 1 Omega's and season 3 Crosshair's arcs: they go back to the place they fear the most solely for the sake of their Hunter-figure. This action alone proves the growth they've done over the course of the story, as the trust, connection, and love they truly, deeply have for that person they look up to encourages them to be brave and to face their greatest fears to save them.

Season 1 Omega returns to Kamino for Hunter, and season 3 Crosshair returns to Tantiss for Omega. We all know that Omega is exhibiting peak Hunter behavior here as she looks after the younger children imprisoned with her to help them escape, but that's beside the point currently. We fast forward to their reunions, when the immediate threat is gone and the Hunter-figures realize what their Omega-figures sacrificed to save them.

Not only that, but they're also reminded that it was because of their own initial actions that the Omega-figures found the bravery and inspiration to conquer their fear. Season 1 Omega reminds Hunter that he had gone back to Kamino for her first, and season 3 Crosshair doesn't have to say anything for Omega to remember the way she risked her own escape attempt to free him from his cell first. They never gave up on each other.

I, of course, don't miss the significance of Hunter being in the latter scene when this all happens. Again, while Omega may act like Hunter to many others, only Hunter himself can take on that role in her own life. Here, Hunter gets to see how his actions when they first took in Omega have influenced her and, now, his youngest brother. It's such a heartfelt and rewarding full-circle moment, with Omega being the mend between these two formerly torn-apart brothers. It's such a large step ahead from where they were before.

The epilogue essentially becomes a lighthearted display of the similarities between Hunter and Omega. He stresses that he and his brothers want to keep her safe, and after reassuring him that she will be, she asks him to look over their other two brothers—proving that both of them are still protective as Hunter-figures over those they see as their Omega-figures. All the while, of course, they're protective over one another, too, even if it goes without saying.

Essentially, Hunter became who he had to be to take care of Omega, and Omega followed that example to take care of Crosshair. This is, in my opinion, probably why we didn't get as much Hunter and Omega in season 3 as we did Crosshair and Omega, but not for the reason many may think. It was because Omega was already in Hunter's role, and Crosshair was in Omega's role.

It's really sweet to see how full circle the story has come from season 1. Crosshair is getting the treatment and attention Omega got in season 1, but he's getting it from Omega herself, because that's what Crosshair really needed. Hunter couldn't be in that role anymore because of their own hurt—plus, their relationship is just different. Instead, we get to see what Omega learned being passed on as she grew, and how it ultimately helped to heal Crosshair and the rest of them.

If you enjoyed this analysis, here are some other ones I've done:

Hunter and Crosshair in "The Return"

Crosshair taking the shot in "The Calvary Has Arrived"

[bloodblanks]

one umbrella cover two [mr. scarletella x reader] — chapter xiv.

You and Mr. Scarletella find each other again.

note: reader is not player (mc).

author’s note: dead dove: do not eat. this fanfiction will contain dark and explicit content, including heavy dub-con, stockholm syndrome, violence, and similar themes.

this specific chapter contains graphic depictions of suicide and self-injury.

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

Had he been wrong in hoping for something more?

He gently rotated his left wrist, allowing the Syrah to swirl in its glass. The movement came out a bit ragged; the deep laceration running down the length of his wrist was debilitating his motions. His right wrist was in much worse condition. The vertical gash on this side was much deeper, the blade having severed every blood vessel in its way, carving down into the fatty, gelatinous innards of his arm. He didn’t try to use it; his left hand was sufficient for holding the wine glass. Instead, he let the limb hang limply to his side, floating in the crimson waters of his much too extravagant bathtub.

As he brought the wine to his lips, taking a small sip of the liquid, he found himself ruminating over the choices that led up to this point.

From the completion of the project to the eventual residence he took up in the apartment—the chain of actions he enacted was nothing short of a spiral of infatuation, a descent into madness itself.

For he knew it wasn’t just mere curiosity anymore when he pushed on with the construction. He knew it was something deeper, something conjured up in the depths of his ghostly heart, a yearning for the mystery that surrounded this place.

How could he not?

It wouldn’t have been fair to expect him to deny himself of his attraction, not when the allure of the supernatural occurrences were a stark contrast to everything he’s ever known. Throughout his life, everything he knew of was controlled and predictable. This? This was anything but. This was the existence of something that stood utterly defiant to the world he knew.

With each passing day, each phone call made, and document signed as the project’s manager, he found himself deeper invested into the otherworldly force at play. Every minuscule incident, from the workers’ complaints to the news reports, fed further into his fantasies, as if they were fragments he plucked and gathered to build a concept brand new.

And that was what he fell in love with, completely enamoured by the idea of another world, conjured up to intricate detail in his mind, grander than any possibility on earth.

Because that’s what it was—a possibility. A chance, a potential at something greater, a reprieve from the crushing rain that submerged his world. It was an escape from the monotonous life he lived, a gleaming key to the shackles his family bound to him, and for it to appear at his apartment project—it must be beckoning him, too.

He had confided in the other realm, placed his trust in it when he finished the apartment complex at last, and instead of selling the entire complex as originally planned, claimed one of the flats for himself.

Father was highly displeased with his choice, but he had been smart enough to frame it as a desire for independence. Father liked independence. Father had encouraged independence since he was a child, especially in moments of emotional distress. He supposed he didn’t have much to cry about—everyone around him told him so—but during any moments of weakness, father’s response had always been the same; quickly shutting down any tears that fell.

It was much more work and much less profitable to sell the apartment buildings one by one, but he longed so desperately to find the other realm and the core of the supernatural instances occurring in this building.

If he resided here, he was sure to come across a being, a portal—something. What it was, he didn’t know, but he was vehemently excited to find out.

He worked vigorously during the day—talking to potential buyers, signing contracts, preparing leases. In the evening, despite the stress and exhaustion of the day, he was still energetic, hopeful about a paranormal sighting, even just a missing item; a crumb to add to his incandescent beams of hope.

However, as time passed without any unnatural occurrences—not even a missing sock—the blazing flame in his chest became harder and harder to sustain. The legal documents and affairs began wearing him down, his lack of autonomy now too difficult to ignore, the simple humdrum of everyday life eroding his dreams. Without any fuel to sustain the fire, the once majestic hope he had withered down to pitiful, dying embers.

The downpour grew fiercer, a violent storm saturating every corner of his world.

Perhaps he had been foolish for believing in the supernatural. As he drowned, immersed in his work and alone, he couldn’t help questioning his faith in the other world.

Had he been wrong, after all?

The static in his eardrums began to buzz louder, overshadowing all other sounds. It wasn’t like there was much for him to listen to, anyway. The only calls he received were about work, so mundane that he could recite his half of the conversation without needing to pause or think.

As he sat alone in solitude, he could hear his own thoughts amidst all the noise. A mocking, twisted mimicry of his own voice, echoing the same broken sentence.

You knew it all along, didn’t you?

No, he wanted to scream. It’s not true. But as the voices kept reverberating, as the static kept buzzing, as the rain outside kept splattering against his apartment windows, as the emptiness in his heart grew to be something excruciating, something unbearable—he was no longer able to run from the truth.

There was never any other world. He had only allowed himself to believe otherwise in desperation, in a miserable attempt to escape his reality.

Oh, but he was a fool, hopelessly and madly in love with the phantasm of the abyss, the afterimage branded behind his corneas when he closed his eyes at night. He was irrevocably infatuated with its call and beckon; he had allowed himself to become attached to his ghostly fantasies, only for the revelation to come crashing down twice as hard.

What a tragic existence he was.

He glanced down at the empty glass he had been drinking from. There was a singular streak of burgundy, the rest of the glass reflecting his hollow expression.

At that moment, he came to one final, decisive conclusion: if the other world wouldn’t take him, then he only had one other route of escape.

He refilled his glass of red wine. Walking across the room, he reached into his bedside drawer for the bottle of leftover painkillers from when he had his wisdom teeth removed. Unscrewing the cap, he placed the few remaining pills on his tongue, letting the wine wash them down.

He rummaged through one of his other drawers for a box cutter. Upon finding it, he returned to the dining room, retrieving his glass of wine and making his way into the washroom. He turned on the hot water, watching as the bathtub slowly began filling. When the water rose to the top, he gingerly stepped into the tub, letting the comforting warmth seep through his clothes and soak his skin.

It wasn’t long until the codeine worked its way through his system, rendering his mind fuzzy and body feeling much lighter. He pushed the box cutter’s blade out, placing it on his wrist.

For a minute, he hesitated. Not just out of sheer fear and his body’s built in survival mechanisms, but out of uncertainty. Was this really what he wanted?

Although his head was fogged over, he carefully attempted to ponder the question. He thought about what he would do if he put the blade away right now, before realizing he would return to his insignificant life, where everything had been predetermined for him. Where his family were all empty husks of people, his friends motivated by business potential, and romantic interest from women inseparable from his wealth.

Where him continuing to live meant no more than him dying.

In one harsh movement, he slashed down his forearm, skin and flesh instantly rupturing beneath the unyielding blade.

He inhaled sharply, gritting his teeth in a painful grimace as agony flooded his senses. Despite the opioid dulling the sensation, it was still unmistakably excruciating. He swapped his blade over to his other hand. This time, the incision was much more shallow, both due to his arm lacking strength and his nerves dissipating.

He dropped the blade. It clattered against the pristine washroom tiles.

After a moment—he needed to collect himself and recover from the blinding pain—he reached down to his side, picking up his wine glass. Spurts of red splashed onto the floor. He pitied whoever would have to clean this up.

Letting his other arm fall back down and sink into the water, he watched as scarlet emanated from his wounds, staining the once clear water, turning everything a brilliant shade of red.

He took a sip from his wine, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. The static and the rain began to soften, the everlasting cacophony finally coming to an end—a mellifluous coda.

As his eyes fluttered one last time, he could swear he saw a ghostly silhouette of a woman. How ludicrous, he thought. Even in my last moments, I can’t let go of this dream.

The wine glass shattered against the floor.

—

Me dead?

The vision he just experienced caused him to falter, stumbling as he teetered off balance, the sheer weight of the events nearly toppling him over.

Me dead.

He had died, hadn’t he? The memories were vivid and unmistakable. He had died as a human.

Strange, he thought. He had never feared death before, only ever looked at it as a state of being. You were either alive, or you weren’t. Death was not a concept to be afraid of, it was simply part of his existence as an inhuman entity. He had killed others without thinking twice, much like the other residents of his realm.

A lot afraid.

Yet, at this very moment, the thought of his own death was a cold, heavy stone splashing down into the well of his stomach, flooding his viscera with heavy, glacial waters.

Heart sound loud. Fast.

It was all he could hear, the sound of rushing blood through his bloodstream, pulsing in his eardrums, bouncing off his skull. Once again, he was feeling dizzy, lightheaded and nauseous, the floor shifting beneath his feet, the room spinning like a carousel.

Not understand.

It didn’t make any sense. None of this made any sense. If he died as a human, how could he have become what he is today? He’s never seen any of the dead humans in this place come back to life; not even as an entity.

He reasoned with himself that perhaps those recollections weren’t his, after all. They didn’t line up with anything he knew. If he had passed away then, he wouldn’t still be here, now. And the entity he saw—it couldn’t be possible. He wasn’t entirely sure if the entity was real or not. In the memory, it felt like a sadistic delusion his mind conjured at the last second. However, he knew what the human in his recollections did not; the other world did indeed exist. The entity could have truly existed, but that conflicted with the knowledge he had.

He was the first and only entity in this realm. He didn’t remember it too clearly anymore, but he distinctly could recall waking up here, alone.

Yet even with this knowledge, he found it hard to deny his relation to the visions. Because somehow, deep in his viscera—he knew they were his.

Need search human. Danger around.

But this was no time to contemplate his existence. He staggered as he recomposed himself, muscles tensed and alert as he tried to recall where your voice came from.

Left, right, no— Up.

He rushed around the corner in search of a flight of stairs, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he dashed up the stairs, stepping through the first room he found.

The inside of the room was blanketed in pure ebony. It wasn’t too unusual for spaces to be devoid of light; some of the residents preferred to lurk in the shadows. However, he didn’t think there would be anything relevant to find here, until his form materialized and settled and his leg knocked into an object.

To his surprise, he heard you shriek, his eyes widening as he realized he had located you.

“Y/N?” he breathed.

Silence filled the room, moments passing before you finally spoke.

“Mr. Scarletella?” he heard you reply, your voice just as breathy.

Find human. Find human!

A smile broke out over the entirety of his face, a grin tugging the corners of his lips up from cheek to cheek. In that moment, he felt akin to a Christmas tree, his body wrapped in a myriad of lights that all turned on at the same time. And his heart, oh, his heart was at the centre of it all, a brightly glowing star, completely illuminated by your presence. Shining at the thought of you being safe, being here, being with him.

Happy.

“Me find you,” he reassured you. “Not need afraid.”

You didn’t say anything. Instead, he felt your hands—adorably small—feeling around his legs, seeming looking for something solid to steady yourself.

He reached down, taking one of your hands in his. Instantaneously, your other hand clasped onto his, before he felt your weight as you hoisted yourself back up to your feet.

“You okay?” he asked, wondering to himself if he should look for a light or simply bring you out through the room.

Human not speak.

Once again, you were quiet, leaving him perplexed as to why you weren’t speaking. It was then that he felt your arms wrap around his waist, hands resting on his lower back and face pressing into his stomach.

His eyes snapped open with shock, his body frozen over like a lake on a cold December night.

You were hugging him.

It was the first time in the entirety of his existence that he knew of for this to happen. Never before had he been hugged. He had embraced you once, when comforting you during your initial meeting, but you hadn’t been too responsive. He didn’t blame you; you were scared and in pain.

This was different. This was you holding him, your arms wrapped around his body. This was your initiation, your gesture of affection. His heart soared, the organ ready to burst as it swelled with tender adoration for you.

Me adore human. Me adore you.

Just as he was about to speak—express his fondness for you—you uttered three words that simultaneously froze over and shattered the very space he was in.

“You find me.”

next chapter soon...

if you enjoy my writing, please consider reblogging; i really appreciate the interactions.

thank you everyone for reading and supporting my work! (｡･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

[randomfoggytiger]

Tiger, don't deny what was obvious: they took advantage of the characters to make out all the time. No fictional couple was as effusive in physical contact as they were. And that's because they didn't get along - imagine if they did… even with their real-life partners they weren't as affectionate and, of course, their partners didn't like it - it was nitid that Gillian's husband was uncomfortable, and then Tea, who was an actress and disguised it better, but wasn't very comfortable either. And the current partners of the two I'm sure also prefer their interactions to be every ten years and, better still, remotely. The level of "clinginess" with the other colleagues in the series, doesn't reach 10% of what they had with each other - Gillian, by the way, was very restrained, David who was the most clownish. I don't think they've had any off-screen involvement and never will, but to deny and minimize the chemistry and absurd sexual tension they have is impossible, damn! It's no wonder that they were one of the only pairs that to this day have sparked comments about whether or not they're together. Patrick and Lisbon? Castle and Beckett? Starbuck and Apollo? Bones and Booth? Olivia and Peter? None of them made it. Why are you always so reluctant to admit it?

Let me put it this way:

She also suggested Gillian be naked "cheek-to-cheek" with her newly-wed husband; and by all accounts got along with GA quite well! :DD There's no evidence otherwise, and plenty of evidence for.

Further, DD and GA themselves didn't see the big deal in Mulder or Scully's kiss, or even the appeal of their chemistry until years later (with the benefit of hindsight.) It was just, as they both stated many times, work to them. At best, friends; at worst, frosty coworkers. And having seen their bts interactions and outtakes (yes, FTF kiss included), their behavior matches that thought. Gillian's not the only person David felt up, and vice versa.

Don't know about GA's ex, but Gillian's said she's a difficult person to live with-- I think she and PM prefer to keep separate houses to this day, right? And that's not a knock on her, of course. (I think David, pre-Tea, said the same; and likewise for him.) Just an acknowledgement that, per her own words, her first marriage was rushed into and rocky because her strong personality misaligned with her first husband's. But it also didn't align well enough with David to tempt either to pursue a deeper relationship.

"Why are you always so reluctant to admit it?" Oh, I'm not. XDDD They had/have great chemistry, but they're not the only ones. If you look back to Old Hollywood, there are plenty of examples; and if you interview any actress, then and now, they'll all state that everyone always assumes they're in bed with or dating their costars. Lastly... maybe I'm too cynical, but standing across from another person reading the same lines five to six times in a row, breaking for lunch, and doing it again with lunch breath, day-in-and-out, five-to-six days a week, nine-to-ten months a year does not a romance usually further. Especially when neither is in the habit of communicating.

Everything must be taken in context: the idea that they were both drawn to each other but held apart by, *gasp*, forces against their will... doesn't add up, particularly when DD and GA had a window of opportunity here or there to act on if they wanted. They didn't; to this day, they don't really know each other well.

Also: "Gillian, by the way, was very restrained, David who was the most clownish"... I disagree. Combine the fact that she affectionately grapples onto others openly (example here) with the admittance that that she relied on DD to teach her the ropes in Season 1 (per her own words) and with our knowledge that she's naturally shy, and we can collect a few data points (then verify with footage from their red carpet events): David does the same thing he always does-- hand at back, arm on shoulder, head-tilt to the side, etc.-- because he doesn't change; and GA does what she always does-- lean in, reach out, tease, let him lean in so she can hear him (he's tall)-- because she doesn't change.

That's just who she is-- physically effusive-- and just who he is-- physically reassuring. It made for great tv... but, to be honest, nobody really talks about either of them anymore off of Tumblr (and maybe Twitter) except to remember/rewatch the "good old days" fondly or hope to see them again in some new MOTW or mytharc episode.

TLDR: they had fantastic, very rare chemistry; but they alone weren't the only tv/movie couples to be talked about (especially after the relationship resolved on-screen.) DD, GA, Tea, etc. are built different. And sometimes/most often, chemistry isn't all that will make a relationship work-- in my humble opinion, that's merely a fraction of the whole. :D

[pupdoc0916]

Chuckle

“Alright!  This is the first good snow we’ve had since you guys got here.  Time to have some fun!”

Sonic’s feet moved swiftly back and forth as they pattered through the deep snow.  His normal red shoes were gone, replaced with heavy red winter boots.  In his hand was a cheap plastic sled that Tails had adjusted and transformed into a usable yellow snowboard.  His greens eyes flicked from one brother to the next, excitement almost boiling over.

“You do remember when I beat you on the mountain.” Knuckles stated nonchalantly, his own eyes studying his green board, dwarfed in his large gloved hand.

Sonic couldn’t help but roll his eyes.  “Yeah, OK, first off…you didn’t beat me…”

“I knocked you off the mountain cliff…”

“AND SECOND…” the hedgehog continued, voice rising in a combination of annoyance and mirth.  “This time no one is trying to kill the other…so we can actually have a good time!”

Knuckles shrugged.  “So you believe.”

Sonic shook his head and leaned toward Tails.  “I can’t with this guy…” he said behind his one hand, the other throwing a thumb in Knuckles’ direction.  Tails gave an amused grin in response.

“I can hear you…”

“I meant you too!”

“Alright, alright…” Tails interrupted, the snow coming up to his knees.  He tugged gently at his scarf that Maddie had insisted he wear.  “I’m all for a good race, but did we have to go half way up the mountain?”

“Of course.”  Sonic yelled.  “Sled hills are for amateurs…which we are not!”

“It’s pretty steep…”

“And that’s half the fun!” the hedgehog continued.  He adjusted the thick puffer jacket around his chest and pulled his hat down over his quills.  He looked down the steep hill, exhilarated by the challenge presented.  The mountain hill was littered with trees, rocks, and out crofts that made for an excellent competition.  One he intended on winning.

“Are there rules?” the fox kit asked, eyebrows raised, blue eyes sliding from one older brother to the other, obviously concerned by the level of competition that tended to arise between the two.  “Because I think there should be rules.”

“Eh, what’s the fun in rules…?” Sonic flipped his hand toward the youngest dismissively.  

“I agree with the fox…” Knuckles voiced.  “Rules will make it fair so that I can boast without argument when I beat you to the bottom.”

Sonic shoved the echidna’s shoulder, probably more forcefully than necessary.

“I’m the fastest thing alive.  You really think you’re going to beat me?”

“I fully intend to.”

Tails let out a hefty sigh, causing the older boys to re-focus, gazes falling back on the fox.  Tails pulled his eyebrows up in mock annoyance.  This pulled an exasperated sigh from the hedgehog in turn.

“Alright fine…rules…”  Sonic started, his voice dripping withe artificial displeasure.  He brought his hand up to his chin in thought.  He watched as his brothers shifted in their winter gear.  Knuckles seemed especially affronted by the layers that their mom had insisted they put on.

As Sonic stared, a sly grin began to make its way across his lips.  His grip on his board tightened and his muscles began to tense.

“The rules are…”  Sonic subtly turned toward the slope, continuing to keep his eyes on his unsuspecting brothers.  “…that there are no rules!”

And with that he jumped forward, slipping the board underneath his feet and started down the slope.  He could barely hear an angry high pitched “Hey!” as the snow began to kick up around him.  He definitely heard the loud growl as it pierced the air, causing him to look behind and grin at the late surge of red as the warrior began his descent.

No time to focus on the the angry ball of echidna.  Time to win.

He looked forward with a cocky grin and immediately had to veer to his right to avoid the oncoming tree.

“Whoa!” he shouted to himself as he caught his balance through the sudden movement.  “Better focus…”

He drifted quickly to his left, feeling the board float under his feet as he shifted his weight.  Glide to the right to avoid another tree, then a drift back left.  What appeared to be a ramp shaped out croft appeared before him and he narrowed his eyes and aimed right for it.

“Whoo!” he shouted as his body became airborne, the frigid wind whipping past his face and through his quills, biting at his nose.  He leaned down and grabbed the board with his hand, allowing himself to angle to the side in a flare of show.

As he descended to the ground he let go of his board and pushed it back down under his body for a smooth landing.  As the board hit the snow he adjusted his balance, finishing with grace and thrilled with his performance, adrenaline kicking. 

“Sonic pulls off the perfect jump and the crowd goes wild!”  He pumped his arms in the air as he imitated the cry of spectators with hisses and whistles.

A charge went off near his board causing the snow to blast upward and pulling him back to the race at hand.  He lowered his center of gravity to keep his balance.

“What the…!” 

“You said no rules!” His little brother’s voice cut through the breeze and out of the corner of Sonic’s eye he could see the yellow ball of fluff barreling down the slope behind him.  A flick of a small wrist and another charge hit the ground  in front of his board.  Sonic had to made a sharp adjustment to stay balanced.

“Hey!”

A diabolical giggle resonated through the air and Sonic’s eyes narrowed.  “Watch your back, Sonic!”

The hedgehog drifted sharply away from the scheming fox, avoiding another tree and continuing down.  He began to settle into a new path well out of the kit’s aim when out of nowhere a large red form materialized from his left and closed the distance.

An elbow reached out to bump Sonic, causing his board to careen into the scattered forest.  Sonic had to overcorrect to ensure he missed a few oncoming trees, almost causing him to lose his balance.

“Come on, hedgehog…keep up!” the echidna growled.  Sonic narrowed his eyes in response.

“Oh, I’ll keep up!” he shouted back, his gaze zeroing in on his target.  Sonic changed his trajectory, now aiming for his boastful older brother.  He closed in quickly, zipping just in front of Knuckles, causing the echidna to cut sharply to the side to avoid collision, his board veering off course.  

Sonic smirked at the drifting echidna and turned back forward, only to find himself heading straight for a large tree.

He let out a gasp and clenched his eyes pulling to the side.  He braced himself expecting to careen off when his board made contact with the trunk, but instead he was nudged further to the side, just avoiding the edge of the tree.  He looked back to his left where the contact was made and saw Knuckle’s board graze the tree instead causing the echidna to be knocked from the surface.  Knuckles went airborne from the force, but quickly recovered, rolling into a ball to protect him from the ground collision.

Sonic watched in horror as the eldest flew uncontrollably down the slope without his board.  

“Knuckles!” he shouted, still in disbelief that his brother had pushed him out of the way of the tree.  He winced as he watched his brother’s shoulder collide with a boulder, knocking him further off course.  

Sonic pushed himself forward on his board, race forgotten, as he tried to catch up.  He wasn’t sure what he would do once he did, but he had to try and slow his brother’s fall.  The ball that was the warrior suddenly hit the edge of a rocky off shoot causing the echidna to go airborne.  Sonic watched in awe as Knuckles unfurled and straightened his body, catching the cool air under his quills and picked up a glide.  As his body drifted down to the snowy surface the glide allowed him to land in a more controlled manner, immediately returning to his balled up form for protection.

The rolling echidna bounced off a tree, causing the trunk to crack, flipped a few times then landed in an unceremonious heap at the bottom of the hill.

Sonic quickly caught up, jumping off his board while it was still in motion and racing to his brother’s side.

“Knuckles?!”  the hedgehog gasped.  The warrior lay face down, quills and hair covered in clumps and drifts of snow.  Sonic leaned forward and shook the echidna’s shoulder.  “Knuckles, come on…answer me!”

The panic began to rise in Sonic’s chest at the motionless form.  He barely heard Tails come up next to him as he feared for his brother’s life.

Just as Sonic was about to drown in his dread a rumble began to materialize, flowing toward the younger boy’s ears as it was carried by the swirling winter wind.   Sonic jolted forward as he realized the sound was coming from the prone form, his hands hovering over Knuckles body.

“Knuckles?” he asked softly.

With his question the rumble gained volume and with narrowed eyes Sonic began to recognize the sound for what it was.

Knuckles was chuckling…

The hedgehog’s ears twitched forward, attention now trained toward the red being.  A scowl took over Sonic’s face as he continued to listen to the escalating tone.

No…Knuckles was…laughing!

The deep chortle transformed into fits as the echidna rolled to his back and grabbed at his side as he raucously howled, amused tears forming at the corner of his eyes.

Sonic and Tails just stared, mouths hanging open, as they watched their brother continue to cackle, his fist bumping the ground in his mirth.

“I’ve never heard Knuckles laugh before…”  Tails said quietly, eyes wide in awe.

“Knuckles…”  Sonic started, a look of disbelief apparent.  “What is going on?  Why are you…”

In an instant a red leg kicked out, catching behind Sonic’s legs, and with a yelp Sonic’s feet were knocked out from under him and he landed heavily into the deep snow.

The laughter from the echidna crescendoed as purple eyes watched him, and Sonic realized his mouth was hanging open as he lay like a star fish in the frozen precipitation. 

Sonic wasn’t sure if his brother’s laugh was infectious, if he hit his funny bone on the way down, or the level of silly absurdity finally hit him, but an eruption of laughter came from his chest in response.  He rolled toward the echidna, knocking the larger boy back into the snow and they lay on their backs cackling uncontrollably.

The small fox just stared at the pair, shaking his head lightly in utter disbelief, until Sonic grabbed his arm and pulled him into the snow with the hysterical pair.  Tails tumbled forward, landing next to Sonic, a surprised giggle escaping him.

The trio continued to laugh, practically crying in their escalating mirth as they lay in the cold snow, their quills covered in the falling snow and freezing ice. 

After some time, the chuckles began to quiet, the boys catching their breath and wiping tears from their eyes.  Sonic finally sat up and propped himself into a sitting position leaning back on his hands and looked at the snow covered echidna to his left.

“Don’t scare me like that.” he said with a grin still plastered to his face.

“You should have seen your face…” Knuckles wheezed, sitting himself up next to the blue blur.

“I didn’t even know you could laugh like that…” Sonic replied lightly.

“You’ve never done anything funny enough to make me laugh.”

This caused Tails to snort in amusement as Sonic clutched at his imaginary pearls, eyes wide.  “Excuse you me…I’m hilarious!”

Knuckles let out a huff, his mouth still twisted into a grin.

The boys sat together, a comfortable silence overtaking them as they watched the snow drift lightly to the ground.  It was Tails who finally broke through the settling calm.

“So…are we going home?”

“Home?” Knuckles asked, shaking some snow from his quills.  “Are you kidding?  I am going again!”

Sonic jumped to his feet in excitement.  “Hell yeah we are!”

Tails just looked back and forth from one brother to the next, eyes narrowed.  

“You guys are nuts…” he muttered, his grin spanning from ear to ear.

“I am winning the next round…” Knuckles stated firmly.  “It will be easier without distracted hedgehogs to save…”

“Yeah right…” Sonic jested, picking up his board.  “Gotta find your board first.”

“It is in the dust I drown you in when I made it to the bottom first.”

“You rolled to the bottom!  That’s hardly a fair win!”

“You said it yourself…no rules…”  Tails spoke up with a shrug of his shoulders.  “I think that means that Knuckles won the first round.”

“HA!  Thank you, brother!"

Sonic opened his mouth to protest, but no words came forward.  He huffed loudly, then turned, grabbed his board, and began to make his way back up the slope.

“The next round is totally mine…”

@year-of-the-echidna