#even though i never rp -sob-

[milliesfishes]

so yk how there has been a lot of you or your kid getting kidnapped WHAT IF instead, it was Billy or Coryo that got kidnapped and like you want to go out and hunt down those who would even THINK about taking your man away from you but like maybe you can't because you have your daughter to take care of or you have other responsibilites

just didn't know if anyone has thought of this yet but anyways I LOVE YOU SM MILLIE ❤️❤️❤️ !! KEEP UP THE GREAT WORK!!!

omg I love you!!!!! this is so sweet, please rp with your own thoughts on it if you want to! ౨ৎ꣑ৎbilly is kidnapped౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x billy the kid

He was taken.

Those are the words emerging from the mouth of one of Billy's men, the words you're hearing. But they are some of the last ones you've ever wanted to hear.

You nearly drop the baby perched on your hip, stunned into stiffened pose. The man before you appears nervous, and you thank him for delivering the information before retreating inside the house.

In your husband's line of work, danger lurked around every corner, breathed down the necks of everyone he loved. It revealed itself in the form of men with sneers painted on their lips, in anxieties whispered into your ear late in the throes of the night by your lover. Though he was the picture of a fearless protector, he was scared.

Billy's fear never was directed at himself. No, he only sook to protect you, you and your daughter named for his mother. The arrival Kathleen, Kat as he called her, had only heightened his protective instincts, spurring them into action.

Your home was a location of utmost secret, known only by a select few of his gang when it was absolutely necessary. He guarded you and your daughter under lock and key, determined to keep you hidden from any sign of danger even hinting in your direction.

But he hadn't been attentive enough toward himself. And now your stomach was plummeting as you imagined Billy bound and gagged in a dark location, gun removed from his side, blood spattering his face.

Kat babbled, tugging on a strand of your hair, and you looked down at her again, breaths shallow. She had dark hair just the same as Billy's, winding into stubborn curls. And her eyes... the color of forget-me-nots, just like his.

The one desire at the forefront of your mind was one to mount your horse and ride north, where the man had said your husband was being held. Under Billy's tutelage, you were proficient in gunslinging, and your small size was an advantage in a fight, he'd said.

With the amount of pain and passion you felt right now, taking on an army of a thousand men was child's play. For your love, the father of your child, there was hardly a thing you wouldn't do to see him return home safe. To be nestled in his arms soundly as he assured you that everything was okay.

But as you looked down at Kat, you knew you didn't have a prayer of leaving. Billy wouldn't want you to abandon your daughter to come running after him, no matter how much danger he was in. Having to choose between your husband and your daughter was an impossible road you hoped you would never be forced to venture down again.

For the rest of your waking hours, you did your best to stay distracted, entertaining Kat to the best of your ability and hiding any sign of fear or worry from her bright eyes. No need for you to know her beloved father was twisted in the web of fate once again, in a danger you could hardly imagine.

Putting her to bed, you kissed Kat goodnight, watching her sleepy eyes flutter shut, tiny fist clutching the corner of her favorite blanket. Turning around, you shut the door behind you, hand flying to your mouth as your eyes squeezed shut, tears escaping despite the motion. Stifling the awful sob you wanted to release, your chest tightened and horrifying thoughts played before your eyes in the form of images you prayed would never come to life.

Your Billy was strong and steadfast, and he was more than capable of handling himself. He'd done it all those years before settling down with you after all; gotten himself into life-threatening conundrums and emerging virtually unscathed.

What if this is the one time out of a hundred?

Stumbling to your bedroom, you were helpless once the door was shut, closing your own arms around yourself in an attempt at comfort and dissolving into tears. The way your body shuddered crescendoed into a quiet cry, eluding your attempts to keep quiet as not to disturb Kat. The last thing she needed was a desolate mother.

You had the foolish thought that maybe now that your baby was asleep you could make your way in Billy's direction, but it was quickly reasoned with. What if she woke up and needed you? What if you never came back?

Helplessly, you brought yourself over to the bed, collapsing into the warmth of Billy's side. His scent engulfed you, making it nearly plausible to pretend he was there. Beside you, about to sheath you in his arms and mutter that he'd been wanting to hold you all night.

Minutes disguised themselves as hours, tormenting you with the length of them. Every second was like squeezing honey from a bottle, watching the thick golden drops lazily make their way down the side, in no hurry to appear when you wanted them to.

Surely his gang had infiltrated where he was being held. And now they might be cutting his ropes, tossing him a gun and telling him to hurry on home. It was a childish fantasy. The rope of possibility had tendrils that wove into a thousand different destinies. The chances of everything happening your way were slim to none, and you braced yourself for news that he wasn't ever going to come back.

Any minute now the same bearer of bad news from earlier would return, hat both real and proverbially in his hand as he delivered information you could never be ready to hear. A series of thoughts about life without him revealed themselves, and you tried to push them aside. Sleeping alone beside his empty spot, raising Kat without him, telling her about her brave, kindhearted father whom the world misunderstood-

Loss overwhelmed your being, and you muffled your sobs in his pillow, determined only to cry in the darkness where your daughter's eyes would never find you.

You were unsure of how long it had been when you stopped. It was too dark to see the clock on the bedside, and your emotion had weakened you too much to check, anyways. Face sticky and damp with tears, you pulled the sheet up around your body in a gesture you hoped would be comforting. But the only thing that would truly calm you was tied up in a faraway unknown place.

Lost in the cavern of your discouragement, you allowed the cold, hardened fingers of grief drag you deeper into the depths. Though it was springtime, you knew without him life would be forever winter. The ghost of his memory would trail behind you like a second shadow with every one of your breaths. Kat would be the only thing to stop you from crawling beneath the earth to join him, his grave your new lover's bed.

Senses numbed, you were too long gone to hear the door open. But when warm fingers grazed your skin, you leapt up, whipping your head around and preparing yourself to attack whoever had broken in. There was a knife hidden in the bedside table that you were willing to use.

But the silhouette blurred by the night was familiar. You'd lost track of how many times you felt that touch, whether the intention be domestic or passionate. It was always loving.

Reaching over to the bedside, you fumbled for a match, striking it and holding the flame to the melted candle. Lifting the burning light, features revealed themselves as you moved it upwards. A time-worn gun belt, brown leather suspenders, dotted stubble...eyes bluer than the sky on a summer's day.

Lips parting in shock, you set the candle back down, hands moving of their own accord to cup his face. The prickle of his half-beard scratched at your soft palms, and his warmth exuded outward, drawing you in just as it always had.

"Billy..." you breathed, gasping in disbelief. Your fingers grasped at his face, as if checking to see if he wouldn't crumble under your fingers like some cruel vision.

His roughened hands came to your own cheeks, and your lower lip trembled, his next words a catalyst. "Oh, baby...baby 'm here."

You threw yourself into his arms, instantly surrounded by the warmth and love that could only come from being held like this by him. Home. He was home and this was home. All was right with the world.

"You're alive," you croaked into his chest, the sound and feel of his heartbeat a steady song proving he hadn't departed into the next realm yet. It nearly made you hysterical- the knowledge that Billy had been ripped from you and sewn back at your side within a day.

"I'm here my love," he promised, voice cracking barely as he buried his face in your hair. "I'll always come back to you...'m so sorry..."

"I wanted to come after you." Voice hitching at those words, you shuddered, your body's leftover tension from fear of his absence releasing. He was the one person in this life you could let your guard down with. "I wanted...but Kat..."

"Shh," Billy soothed, sitting down on the bed and keeping you right against him. His body began to rock back and forth, an immediate response to your distress. "You did exactly the right thing, darlin'. My brave girl...havin' to go through all this by yourself..."

"You were the one in danger," you whispered, lifting your head from the comfort of his chest. "And you...did you...?"

"Hush now," he murmured, hand petting over your hair in a way that melted you. "I'm here. I'm safe and I've gotcha again. That's all that matters."

There it was again. The protective streak, the curtain of iron that separated his two worlds. You did not press or ask further questions. Whatever his reasoning, it was likely for the best.

Billy gently positioned you to lie down before reaching below and tugging his boots off, kicking them aside. He stripped himself of his work clothes, and you imagined the state of them. Bloody, likely, dusty most definitely. Tomorrow you would scrub the substance from them and ignore the circumstances, merely happy he had come home.

The haven of his arms was yours once again as he crawled in behind you, kisses pressed to the back of your head as he settled. You knotted your hand with his resting on your stomach, filing the worries of tonight away where they wouldn't disturb you until the next morning.

Tucking his chin into the space between your neck and shoulder, Billy nosed a careful kiss into the space, his quiet last assurances echoing in your mind long after the words escaped his mouth.

"You're safe, my love. I'll keep you safe."

[soundlessroom]

When your Light dims

This was a script to a comic I planned, but never drew. I uploaded it once on my RP Blog, which is no more. So I am uploading it here again since I did receive really nice feedback.

"When your light dims, I'll be waiting for you."

These were Gale's last words to her. He didn't even say it himself, but rather a leftover of life force in his corpse. It made her question, for the first time ever, if any of what the corpses said were true. Not that she doubted Gale, but those words were so bittersweet, she couldn't help but sob. The spell broke before even five questions were answered. Her arms were tight around Gale, her tears mixing with the blood in his robe while she felt her nose running, her voice cracking, getting a headache from the lack of breath.

He was gone.

It was hard to move on, hard to have one's future ripped from one's hand so badly, all the plans they had, all those things she couldn't tell him. On Jaheira's advice, she began to write letters to Gale he would never receive.

About them helping to rebuild Baldur's Gate, about her travels to Waterdeep and meeting his mother, about the many stories she told and wondered if her favorite wizard would be angry at his mother for telling her those, or if he would just slide embarrassed under the table. The scratches of Tara she deserved when hearing upon his fate.

But time passed, people got older. She noted down how Wyll was even in his old age truly the blade of the frontier and only accepted her help when he truly couldn't stand up anymore from his chair.

Gale, I bet you would have looked breathtaking with silver hair. Your little strands already were driving me almost crazy. I began counting them, just like you did with my freckles. I never finished though. It was a wonderful way to spend time in the quiet with you.

How she spent her adventuring time with Jaheira and the Harpers, always on a search for a cure or a way so Astarion could go back into the sun. Also, how Jaheira, just like Wyll, denied any help of her, but her children loved and cared under big nagging their mother to the end. How resilient could a woman be? Ceres was sure Jaheira would die on the battlefield just like Minsc, but she wasn't as reckless.

Tell me, Gale, did you ever want children? If yes, how would you name them? If not, how many dogs would I be allowed to adopt? And how would we name those? What about a Tressym family?

After she left the Harpers, she tried to meet with Shadowheart as often as she could.

Did you know she really got her little farm? It's so much more work than she anticipated, but she never looked so happy. And despite having a farm, she somehow managed to smell like the flowers from her garden.

You always smelled like a library. I loved it. I loved your scent so much. Do you remember how I stole your robe after you went into the river? I said it was for a prank, but I was too shy to admit that your scent alone made me feel like there was nothing but a happy end waiting for us."

But when Shadowheart showed her first wrinkles and gray strands, it was then that Ceres too noticed that she was getting older. It began with Astarion more often than not suggesting a break. The roads they managed to pass got shorter, to explore dungeons always included a long rest.

I heard of a spell called wish that could heal Astarion. Also, that one can use a divine favor to cure him. I am sure you knew that, didn't you? Astarion immediately dismissed the chance a god would help him. Who can blame him? In all those centuries, they never came to help us. I wonder, if I would have agreed with you to get the Crown of Karsus, would you be alive? Was I wrong to stop you? (I love you so much.)

The days get heavier, longer. Astarion suggested we should visit Halsin again in Reithwyn, haven't seen him for so long. I was really giddy at this suggestion. But were the roads always this bumpy? Or do they just build worse carriages over the centuries? Astarion said he didn't notice anything. It's hard to tell how old my body is, except when I look at my hands. I see wrinkles, I see veins, I think I got more freckles and your old count does not count anymore. When we meet, you have to start anew. Halsin got me immediately an own room. Despite being older than me, he still looks like on the first day. Maybe I should have become a druid too.

I still can't stop thinking about the spell to heal Astarion. I wonder if you need to be a chosen or a cleric for a divine favor. For sure, I did everything Eilistraee would be proud of me. I will try my luck. If she doesn't listen to one of Baldur's Gate's heroes, maybe at least Astarion found a home at Halsin's side.

My last days I spend with praying. My knees hurt, my limbs ache. I am at a point where I pray because I cannot get up anymore without the help of one of the people from Reithwyn. It makes me wonder, if Mystra had made you a chosen again, would you have stopped aging like Elminster one day? Would you be next to me, with long, silver hair, and help me up? Would you be the one, forced to watch me age, while you live eternally? Maybe what I am doing is for naught, but it's all I can do, while my body is too weak to even pass the city's border.

I cannot leave the bed, so I am reading all those letters I wrote to you, so I won't forget anything I wanted to tell you. But as my hands are shaking, writing this last letter to you, I know at least how to greet you. I will look into your wonderful, hazelnut eyes, and tell you... ... .. .

[averagetmntfan]

a special thank you to my moots.

(TW: suicidal thoughts, ig?)

ahem- so as I have mentioned, today is my 1 year old this platform! I honestly cant believe it’s been this..long? A lot has happened, too. And honestly for the longest time, it wasn’t going well. Like- at all.

(rant continues under the cut:)

I’m don’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. Im doing much better than before, so it’s really not a big deal anymore. I’m just giving some brief context for my 2023- early 2024 school year.

so, I made this blog a couple days before the whole situation went down. Which I think I briefly mentioned on here.

so for a bit, I had felt very uh- isolated in my friend group. I had kinda always been the odd one out. We had different interests. Their sort of fun was hangin’ out, gossiping and what not. And I was into cartoons, and art. I never really told them, though. There were sorta judgy, and I was very insecure. Because they make fun of people. And I didn’t wanna end up by myself.

But anyways- usually, they’d all leave. And tell me to watch their stuff. And since I’m sort of a pushover irl, I didn’t really argue about it. But when I say all of them leave-? I meant all of them. All 4 of em. And it often did upset me.

also they’d talk to people I didn’t even know- which, okay yeah- but I couldn’t talk to them. I didn’t wanna get dirty looks. I’m not a very outgoing person. I like to think I keep to myself often.

So, Halloween comes around. And this stuff doesn’t end. And for a bit more context, one of my friends was getting super annoying by me. And I’m pretty sure she didn’t like me, like- at all. She easily got annoyed at me. And only me.

so she went to the Halloween dance- last block of the day

blah blah skip to after school and I text the group- “where are u guys?” None of them respond. So I search a lil bit, then head outside. Where- guess what? All of them were.

I asked “Why didn’t you answer the text?”

and my friends that gets annoyed at my easily said a snarky “my phone was off.” And was generally just being fucking bitch. And I use to be a big crybaby and stuff- and eventually grew out of it. But this- this sentence really upset me. I stormed off, avoiding all of them.

eventually I got on my bus and- well. Uh. Let my feelings out, if you will. I remember it very cleary, too. It was one of the most tears I had shed in a long time.

I get home, and the girl texts the gc, clamming I stormed off for “no reason” and I had enough. Saying smth “I obviously didnt storm off for no fucking reason”

a bit more of arguing keeps going, and a lot more sobs. It was one of the worst days I had ever had.

a few more days go by, and the situation gets worse. I avoid all of them, and hung out w/ a diff friend. I ranted/vent to her, telling her my friend was a Hippocrate for complaining about our other friends leaving, even tho she did the EXACT same fucking thing.

Which, was talking shit. So that wasn’t great and rlly bad of me. And I guess karma hit hard bc she texted me after school, saying I was talking shit abt her. Bc my friend was friends with her friends. So..awkward..

and really- the next day, it was over. I was free. But at what cost, really? I lost all my friends. Became an outcast, really. It was pathetic, now that I think about it.

for the rest of the year, I rarely spoke to them. And never talked to the other girl.

I spent most my time in the library, reading. And skipping out on eating. I was so unhappy. I don’t wanna say depressed but- very close.

it really made me hate who I was. It made me feel like a terrible person.

And that’s when I really did start using Tumblr more. It was sort of an escape, of mine. And god, I’m so glad I set up and account. I Met do many amazing and unique people one here.

This is sort of corny but, I really think this has helped me through a lot. Since a few months early I lost my privileges to tik tok, and discord. Which, yeah. Sucked.

but so many things had happened-! Joined a rp group, met a new online friend (which we are now very very close<3), found out about a LOT of facts, found other people who shared my interests!

so here we are, one year later.

it was really something. I’ve met so many wonderful people on here, man. Especially my moots. You guys know who you are. I’m not gonna tag you guys, but I’ll do a quick smth smth ig

FIRST OF- my first closest moots-!! Ghosty, cookie, Sleepy, Ally, And my Pooks, Ari. So many awesome things happened with these guys. A lot of funny moments, too. Lmao.

AND ALL MY RAMSHACKLE PEEPS- dew, anomaly, Schnozz, reboot, Bailey, lilac,- you guys are literally AWESOME UGH- I seriously enjoy every interaction I have with you guys. It genuinely makes me so happy

sorry this is super corny and stuff, I really wanted to make something meaningful for this. Thank you guys for being so amazing.<3

— jj

[doublejango]

Hello! I read your post on being present in roleplaying and it got me curious as I've never done it myself (outside of drama improv, if that even counts, lol), but it's always felt like a formative staple in fandom community even though I've never really understood it.

I wanted to ask a couple of questions if that's okay. Namely, what actually is roleplaying, what it's like, and where one can find a community to try it out.

Otherwise, I thought your post was really good as it also applies to OCs in novels and experiencing real life, so if all else, we can just leave it at that, lol

Aw hi! And thank you, this was so sweet!!!

I mean, I am not an expert on RP or anything, I've only been back on Tumblr since February. I'm also absolutely not an expert on writing, just an enthusiastic lover of spilling words onto the page, so take everything with a grain of salt <3

Roleplaying is basically just shared storytelling. It can take a lot of forms--like LARP, which stands for Live Action Role Play, or tabletop games like D&D. With those, it is a lot like improv acting, I imagine. You have a character, you have parameters, and you shape the story by acting things out as you go--no plan, no script, just doing what feels right for your character while also working to build the "Yes, And" vibes.

Written RP is a lot like that. At least, to me it feels a lot like that. It feels like a game where we both pick our favorite characters and our favorite writing styles, then dive in hard. Maybe we explore whatever aspects of canon (if one or both of us is a canon character) left us howling and sobbing. Maybe we mix worlds--like Blitz hanging out with Cardan, from the Folk of the Air series. Maybe we just become absolute crack monsters. Whatever we do with it, it's essentially collaborative storytelling built on respect of each other's preferences and needs, and love of not just the results, but the process. It's fun, it's like--making a really satisfying with (usually) just one other person.

On tumblr, you can often find roleplaying communities (or RPCs) for just about anything just by checking for relevant tags, like helluva boss rp for me. If there's something you love, there's probably an RPC for it, and if not? There's usually someone who will be interested in checking your character out and talking about inspiration with you.

A lot of RPers--most, from what I have seen--will have a pinned post on their blog that communicates their rules/preferences. For example, since my character is a filth-goblin and a violent little feral monster, I am not okay with the idea of interacting with minors, so I put that in my rules. I'm also very anti-censorship and shaming, so that's in my rules, too. Whatever is most important to you, whatever you know you won't be able to handle in an RP partner, put that in your rules post. If you find the RPC tags for a fandom you like (and Tumblr will often help you with this by promoting other posts and blogs similar to the things you search for, once it figures out that's what you like), you can find roleplayers' blogs and check their rules out to get an idea of what sort of things might be most common, what sort of things other players seem to hope to find in rules.

If the idea of digging into tags overwhelms you, or you take a look around and decide nope, Tumblr RP is not for me, but I still want to try written RP, you can also look for blogs that are designed to help people meet so they can write together, often on Discord. @rphunter is an excellent example of those blogs and can be a great place to start, or even just a way to start seeing how people talk about RP.

TL;DR -- It's like creating fanfiction together (or original fiction, sometimes!), because we love the game, respect each other, and are cheerful nerds who just like to play. Roleplay is a very social hobby, and a lot of fun! If you're curious about it, I hope you give it a try! And hey I may be slow about answering questions, and may just babble and be the worst source ever, but I will always try <3 So please never feel bad for asking.

[hazbinhoteloc-ninlil]

Asking about Adam;

//A.N: This was originally going to be an RP, but due to burnout, paired with a desire to move the story along I have decided to progress the plot of Ninlil’s end Via a canon Story. Please know I will be doing my best to represent @theholyone-hh as close to his character as I can. However, I will never do as well as the original Mod who runs him so if he seems a bit OOC, I do apologize. //

TW: depressive episode, feelings of worthlessness, anxiety and yearning. Clumsy attempts at comfort, maybe some bad decisions. Some realizations Because of the topics discussed this will be a 16+ fic. If you’re feeling these types of emotions please go seek out proper help.

This isn’t going to be super long, but it is gonna be a longer story, strap in folks.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Enjoy my story below the cut;

Ninlil had slowly been going mad, between the time that had been spent in her cage combined with her heartbreak of being left behind while others moved on, she had fallen into a depression.

Even now she laid in her bed, staring at the ceiling well into the day, yet to eat, yet to clean herself - not that such a thing was truly needed in heaven, though it still showed a lack of her own self care - and yet say hello to her keeper Host.

The winged woman started to question if what she had done was worth it… not even her sacrifice and subsequent soul selling, before that… when she was alive. Were her actions worth it?

She was always the care taker, always the protector. And yes, those she watched over never asked her to do so, she had done it because she loved them and didn’t know how else to show it…

The things she had done, the blood she had spilled, the lives she had prematurely ended for the sake of preserving her beloved…

Was it for nothing? Did she waste her time… did she waste her life?

Her breathing turned harsh as tears ran down her cheeks. A whine lodged in her throat that she simply refused to let out…

Had she truly being abandoned by those whom she sacrificed Everything for? Was she selfish for wanting them to care a bit more and not move on so fast?

But… she wanted them to move on, she wanted them to be happy, she wanted them to find peace… why did it hurt now that they were actually doing it thanks to her sacrifice…

Was she a bad person for hoping they’d still try to save her even though she knew that it was futile and if they dared to try it could result in them getting hurt? Or worse, their very souls being destroyed?

No… no, she couldn’t be selfish… she had given up too much to waste on such self-serving wishes…

But then why did it still hurt so much?

Her breathing turned harsh as she gripped the angelic fabric over her chest, the erratic and rhythmic beating of her heart a brand against her palm. Just like the warm golden hearts gripped in her hand with the fabric were a constant reminder of what exactly she had done.

She had died for love… twice…

Did that make her honorable… or a fool?

Her other hand covered her mouth as a sob forced it’s way out and she curled up into herself, laying on her side as she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror…

Her eyes weren’t hers anymore…

They were His.

Haha! Pathetic!… I’m pathetic! She thought to herself with bitterness as she tried desperately to hold back her tears.

She didn’t hear the door click open as God stepped in.

“Birdy?”

His voice came out hesitantly.

“What is wrong? What ails you?”

Now,

God was very very old, God was wise and God saw all…

But, still, he was ill-equipped at dealing with emotions. Having been alone for as long as he has, his emotional maturity is stunted, and he didn’t know exactly what humans required.

They were little things to him. God looking at humans, as humans might a smaller creature, like song birds or squirrels or even ants at times.

True, his Birdy has taught him many a valuable lesson. She has taught him about how humans utilize Free Will differently, how humans had feelings and needed to be treated like people, how children make mistakes, how pride is a powerful thing, that 10,000 years is a long time…

She was patient and a good teacher, his sweet little Birdy, a child herself compared to his vast and endless existence, but still wise and gentle.

He liked her. It’s why he kept her.

Perhaps, in his mind, he was aware that he should release her from his sculptors cabin and allow her to Roam and Experience the heavens he had created to house the mortal souls… souls like her…

But he enjoyed her company too much.

And she never asked him to leave.

So why bring it up?

Still though, as he let himself into her private room, he still thought himself ill-equipped to deal with… whatever this was.

Part of him wanted to just leave the room, but something stopped him.

“Birdy… talk to me child. Why do you weep?”

He sat on the foot of the bed, his massive height making it creak, but it held under his weight because he willed it to.

“Did you hurt yourself?”

He awkwardly - but gently - patted her back in a sorry gesture of comfort.

But for Ninlil, it was enough to know he was trying, and it made her sob harder. Not in pain, but that someone cared, and it was the very person she had sold her soul to so that he’d stop hurting the people she had been growing to love… that she did love.

It’d be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad.

She cried for 30 more minutes before the sobs finally ceased and she just breathed manually and with steady concentration to force her body and her mind to calm itself. Still curled in on herself in a vain attempt at self-comfort.

During her sobs, her head had ended up on Gods lap, his hand - still awkward- petting her hair.

“What brought this on my Birdy? What has happened?”

God asked softly, seeing that Ninlil had finally calmed.

There was a tense beat of silence before Ninlil spoke, her voice raspy and thick from her sobs.

“…. Have I been good? Did I make the right call? Was my sacrifice not in vain?”

It was God’s turn to be silent. Mulling over her words and wondering if there was a correct answer. He settled on the truth.

“You, have surpassed all expectations I had for you… You have restored my faith in humanity and for your sacrifices and good deeds, I deemed it fit to restore your divinity. You’ve been a bit more than, Good.”

He paused as he thought over his next words.

“As for the outcome of your sacrifices… I suppose it depends on what you deem as a success… Lucifer has moved on with his damned bride. They seem to have re-found their happiness, the First Man and the Second Woman are moving on and finding their peace as well. Though Adam still needs to undergo his final two remaining punishments.”

His hand jerked as Ninlil flinched beneath him, having not expected that movement from her. He expected her next words even less, though, at this point he supposed he should’ve seen it coming. She was a loyal woman after all.

The dedication she had to the original duo and the Morningstar was indeed admirable.

“Is there anyway you can leave it at the nightmares he’s already had? Maybe as payment for the tail feathers you took?” Her voice pleading.

“Pet.”

He growled, his voice low and full of warning.

“Your feathers were taken as punishment for placing your soul and my Power in danger by allowing yourself contact with a damned soul before your divinity was properly settled…”

He eyes her until she shrunk beneath his gaze, surrendering to his presence.

“And you know the deal, 3 nightmares, and then freedom. You will not sacrifice more of yourself for him. As you’ve already mentioned so many times; We are all over 10,000 years old. He can handle himself.”

He ran a hand through her hair again as if to push his order into her head, both in comfort and a mocking reminder he saw her as just that… a pet.

“Yes sir…” she conceded, knowing there was nothing she could do. Not against him. Not when he owned her soul. She felt her desire to argue his words and plead her case for her beloveds die in her chest before it was even a proper thought. His hold on her complete.

“Good girl.”

He carefully pat her head again. Praising her and rewarding her obedience.

Indeed she was a good child. He had chosen well.

“Now. What can I do to make you feel better and forget about all this, sad nonsense?”

He waved a hand frivolously at the word, as if her depression was a minor inconvenience.

To him… perhaps it was…

Ninlil sighed as she sat up and began to comb her fingers through her hair, attempting to regain her composure and her appearance.

“I need to wash, I probably look a mess… afterwards… I’d like to rest in the sun for a bit if that’s okay with you Sir.”

She looked up at him, and she wondered if she looked as pathetic as she felt. Emotionally drained, physically exhausted, eyes red and puffy, skin pale from crying.

Though if she did, God made no mention of it. Instead, he simply nodded.

“I shall allow this, I will meet you outside, do hurry.”

Ninlil nodded as she felt obedience wrap around her, urging her to hurry and obey. The side effect of her deal.

Still she took care in her task, allowing herself to be a bit pampered after her earlier violent purge of emotions.

Still though; She was outside, laying in the sun-warmed grass in under 20 minutes, God beside her, joining her. Enjoying the basking rays of golden warmth.

———————————

There they stayed for hours. Sunbathing as though it could wash the darkness within her mind away.

Though, there were certain thoughts that still plagued her. Her mind still running.

She wanted to check on Adam, she wanted to check on Lucifer and check on Eve… she wished they were the ones beside her right now, enjoying the sunshine rays. And comforting her after her cries…

But alas, God wouldn’t permit that…

Her mind still wondered, thinking to other people she missed.

Her brother… Though, god was lenient enough to grant the siblings some free time together.

Yes, seeing Conner again after seven years had brought more happiness into her life than she could remember. She felt as though her heart was gonna burst. God allowed Conner over, and allowed her to leave with him… so long as she was back before sundown.

How she had missed him…

It had given her endless relief when she had learned that her long deceased grandparents had been the ones to take Conner in. He was still with family. And even better,

He was slowly growing. He would eventually have the chance to be an adult. He wouldn’t be a child forever.

She had wept with joy upon learning that.

Her thoughts wondered agin,

To another man she loved…

To a human she had loved…

Adam…

No not That Adam…

Her Adam, the human Adam, the brilliant doctor who was full of light and life.

The man she had ended her human life to protect…

The man she had condemned herself to hell for.

Her first love…

“Sir?” She found herself speaking up.

God lazily rolled his head to look at her, having been enjoying the sun’s rays.

“Hmm?”

“May-“ She hesitated, suddenly nervous.

“Well? Spit it out Birdy.”

God rolled his eyes impatiently as he adjusted so he was lying on his back. Still enjoying the sun.

Ninlil took a deep breath and asked. “May I see someone on earth?”

God froze. Before he narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“Who?”

“There was a man I left behind a little over five years ago. I loved him very much…. He’s the reason I willingly damned myself to hell. I would like to check on him. See if he’s doing okay.” Ninlil would speak a little too quickly, needing to force herself to make sure her words were slow.

God thought about it for a bit before he sighed.

“I… suppose I can grant you this. You have been good lately and I suppose you deserve a reward.”

He raised a hand and with a crackle of pure divine energy, summoned a viewing sphere that glowed even in the bright daylight.

“Well, what was the mortal’s name?”

Ninlil but her lip. “Adam…”

God froze and slowly turned to look at Ninlil and Ninlil was quick to raise her hands in defense.

“Not that Adam! This Adam was a surgeon! A very talented one! They are NOT the same man! They just happen to share the same name I promise!”

God still started at her just long enough for Ninlil’s heart to drop before he sighed and shook his head.

“Oh child, what am I gonna do with you….”

He asked her. Before he turned his body to properly face her. The glowing sphere of divine light between them. And his face very serious.

“Do you love this man?”

The question gave Ninlil a pause…

She hadn’t thought about that in a while. And even a month ago the answer would been easy.

Yes, everything she had done was for him.

The deals, the murders, the monsterzation of herself, the burial of her peace, the always going, the never resting… EVERYTHING… was for him…

Even a month ago, his face alone was the picture in her mind when she thought of the word ‘Love’…

But now, so much has happened.

Now, three other faces flashed in her mind when she thought of that word… two in the forefront…

Lucifer… and Adam…

The former angel who she died for as she had her human beloved, the former angel who made her laugh, the former angel who carried her with a shocking strength when she was too weak to move on her own…

And the First Man. Adam. The man who held her safe as she took her last breath once again, the man who begged her to stay with him even as she bled out. Who held her safe when she wept through the anniversary of her brother’s death, who made her smile and laugh again, who made her feel important and baked with her. Who reminded her what is was to feel strong, yet cared for.

She did still love her Beloved… but she didn’t just love him alone anymore… she… didn’t know how to feel…

“I… don’t know….” She found herself saying, unable to help but feel like she was betraying her beloved in that moment. Tears welling up in her eyes again.

“Birdy, i would make another Deal with you. Because seeing you hurting does not please me.”

Ninlil gulped. “What would the deal be sir?”

“If whatever you see, causes you pain, and pushes you deeper into your sadness. I will remove this mortal from your memories so that you won’t hurt from them ever again…

But, if you are pleased with what you see, than I will ensure his safety for the rest of his mortal life…. If he’s as good as you say, He will know no hardships and can focus his energy on helping others.”

He holds out a hand.

“Deal?”

Ninlil started at his hand as her thoughts raced, her eyes wide and flowing with tears that left mini rivers down her cheeks as her head struggled to wrap itself around God’s words.

He would be safe… forever safe, free from any harm that may befall him. Just as she had sacrificed everything in hopes of accomplishing…

Or,

He would be forgotten, the reason for everything she had sacrificed, the reason she had gone to hell in the first place. The reason she had suffered as she had suffered and made the choices that had shaped her as a woman… simply… gone…

Was it worth it…

Was she that curious….

‘Yes’ She decided. ‘Yes she was, she needed to know that she hadn’t died in vain… she needed to see him…”

She placed her hand in his much larger grip and squeezed.

“Deal.”

The constraints of the deal wrapped around her like chains, and she felt a twinge of fear for a bad outcome. Suddenly aware that she was currently unable to lie to the ancient being before Her.

As the deal settled, the glowing sphere began to glow impossibly brighter. And images began to dance in the shadows before becoming clear.

She saw her beloved… the human Adam…

He was smiling, talking to a patient and giving what looked like a good diagnosis. The patient, who had been holding the hand of their spouse while listening to Adam’s words burst into tears and held their loved one in a tight embrace before enthusiastically shaking Adam’s hand and offering a load of sincere, tear-filled thank you’s.

Then Adam had gone through the rest of his day, conducting surgeries, talking to patients, and reassuring an old man who didn’t have enough money for his wife’s broken wrist that if he instead paid with some fresh venison, consider the price waived.

He was always like that. Ninlil remembered, So generous and kind, becoming a doctor not for the money, but for the pure joy of making others feel better.

That desire to help people no matter what is what had attracted Ninlil to him in the first place… how she would have done anything to protect that smile.

He was good… so good.

Perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a shock that when he ended the day, he went to his truck, and once he had slid in, and fished in his pocket and pulled out a ring…

Ninlil froze, not even daring to breathe.

She watched unblinkingly as he carefully slid that ring onto a very specific finger…

She sat in silence as she watched him drive home listening to the music she had long associated with him…

And she moved not even a muscle as she watched him eventually pull into a driveway, into a garage, only to step out and walk into his house.

And into the arms of a woman wearing a matching ring…

A breath left Ninlil lungs as she still continued to stare at the seeing sphere.

He had gotten married, he had moved on…

Of course he had, she reminded herself. It’s been over five years…

She watched as the couple chatted and laughed, sitting down to eat dinner before cleaning up together and dancing in the living room…

It was a picture of a perfect romance… homely, domestic and innocent…

It was everything Ninlil has never had… and everything she had wanted…

Everything she secretly wished to still eventually have one day.

When they settled in the couch to watch some movie, Ninlil found herself reaching to touch the sphere, murmuring to herself. Her eyes still fixed in the screen as tears continued to roll down her cheeks.

“He got married… he’s safe, he’s happy, he moved on… I…” She smiled, letting out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t die for nothing….”

She watched them for a few more minutes, fixated on their smiles and laughter… zoned in on their true happiness.

But when they decided to share a kiss and retreat to their bedroom, God shut down the sphere.

“Are you satisfied with what you saw my Birdy?”

Ninlil nodded, her eyes still on where the sphere was.

“I am…” Her voice broke, but not with anguish. With relief.

God nodded and carefully picked Ninlil up. The winged woman letting him. Abruptly becoming aware that the sun had set while she was focused on the visions within the sphere.

God took her inside and sat her on the crafting table before taking his own seat and grabbing a chunk of clay.

“True to my promise, I will make sure that mortal remains safe.”

He said as he shaped the clay in his hands into a great golden eagle. Molding the clay with the knowledge and skill of a master. The eagle as detailed as the actually thing before he gave it a spark and breathed life into it, making it become the actual thing and sending it to earth.

“He shall never know another day of hardship, not so long as he remains pure intentioned.”

“Thank you sir.” Ninlil responded, bowing her head in obedience. “You don’t realize how much I appreciate your generosity.”

He waved off her words with a huff. But was happy she was no longer crying as she had been before. Those sounds weren’t pleasant to him.

He kept his Birdy by his side, where they talked and learned from each other well into the night before he eventually retired into his room, and Ninlil was close behind to do the same.

As she laid in her bed, she stared at the ceiling and thought about what she had seen today.

Adam was safe, happy, and moved on… her chest hurt a bit at the thought, but more overwhelmingly, she was genuinely happy her beloved still wasn’t mourning a dead woman.

5 years… 5 years was long enough to mourn. He deserved this happiness.

Her mind filled with a sense of peace as she gave her blessing.

“May your cup always be full, your heart happy, your mind peaceful, and your wallet forever filled with prosperity, I loved you Adam…” she whispered as she stared at the ceiling in the privacy of her room. “But you’re no longer mine…My heart releases you. I wish you all the best of love and luck my former beloved”

She sighed and closed her eyes as other faces filled her mind…

How she missed them… how she wanted to be back in their arms…

In her mind, in her room, in the depth of the night. Ninlil began to formulate a plan. The last semblance of her whole, un-splintered mind grasping onto this hope. Given a purpose once more, she rattled against the chains of complacency, the Watchdog opening her eyes again.

She had to get back to them…

The only thing left to figure out was How?

————————————————

Authors note; THIS TOOK ME TWO DAYS! But it’s not proofread, please forgive any spelling errors! I hope you enjoyed!

Tagging list:

@hunters-trashblog @sinner-master-adam @chaoticmoron @rayhandle @first--woman @theholyone-hh @green-static @stampy-offical @lolmerfolk @god-the-lord

[moronkyne]

fools!david

imagine fools!david audio is like an hour of rainsounds titled

"Audio RP | Lonely Alpha visits late bestfriends grave" or something like that

it's just Asher realistically scream sobbing over dead David and wondering why he didn't confess his feelings b4 it was too late. Oh, you wanted sub-David? Kinky shit? Too bad.

You get Asher & David AU angst.

They are soulmates, platonic or not. They were meant to be there in each other's lives.

They were meant to eventually be pushed away by death. Whether it's Gabe's death, Ashers, or Davids, death is the way that this goes, death is what changes the course of their lives.

They can never be happy. NEVER. I HC they dated as teens for a little. Transmasc Asher. They dated when Asher identified as a girl. They broke up bc David said he had identified as straight even though he didn't know how to be there for Asher and it was ripping him apart They can't be together. No matter the universe. They will always have that fault about their friendship. Always that fallout, always a reason to not let themselves be as they truly should. IF IM NOT HAPPY, NOBODY IS oh yeah, happy fools!verse re-entry w/ milo btw

[vergeltvng]

Quizzes and other tests Masterpost

What's the color palette of your name?

tagged by @vikasgarden

Which "The National" song best describes the way you love?

THE PULL OF YOU

“ i know i can get attached and then unattached / to my own versions of others / my view of you comes back and drops away ”. your love is nervous and frightened and love, to you, feels like a curse at best. you wish to be free of it, but it keeps haunting you —— at times you manage to pull away and breathe again, others it feels as if you will choke without it. loving you can be exhausting, excruciating in a way: loving you is a little like loving the storm, never knowing when lightning will crack, but learning to appreciate the rain.

tagged by @heartofglass-mindofstone

What color is your aura?

GARNET

brooches, anthologies, stained glass, leaves, dining chairs, long robes, curtains. your essence is garnet: you are a quiet flame that dwells beneath your soft surface. self-confidence armors you; many would call you stubborn, though protective of what has come to dwell in your heart. always just a whisper away is your temper, promising to make the world bend if it would make your loved ones smile. you are the guardian. you are the volcano. you find kinship in like-minded individuals of terracotta, tawny, crimson, and umber, who share your proactive nature. you are also drawn to the vibrant indigo and marigold, who will help you grow and teach you to name what's inside of you. however, you may struggle to get along with the internal personalities of teal and hickory who are too willing to be silent.

tagged by @merry-andrews (@homelander-rp-blog)

What are your hands covered in?

BLOOD

Do you hear the screams of them, as you take and take and take? You never stop taking, right? Because the world took so much from you. It’s fair, right? Even as you dig your hands into their chest and pull, trying to rip apart something that has hurt you. Even as they grasp weakly at your wrists, sobbing and pleading, saying that they’re sorry. It must have hurt. Hurt much more than this for you to do it. Their chest heaves and you hold their heart in your hands. It looks the same as yours. Isn’t that interesting?

tagged by @hochglvnz @heartofglass-mindofstone

Which tarot card are you?

THE MOON

You are imaginative, often lost in fantasies. Your intuition is powerful and you can often trust your gut instincts. Just like the moon, you have lots of different sides and interests and people perceive you as mysterious.

tagged by @vikasgarden

Let me describe you in one adjective

ENDLESS

you're empty, aren't you? you contain multitudes, as everyone does. but you've looked into your own vastness and found it unbearable to know how much of yourself you contain. just because the ocean is huge and unexplored and filled with miles of nothing but water doesn't mean people don't find it beautiful anyway. after all, emptiness can only be filled if someone puts something there to grow.

tagged by @vikasgarden

How do strangers perceive you?

THE GROUND BENEATH US IS SOLID

sitting under a tree in summer. the sound of light rain on a metal roof and old wooden coffee tables. getting so absorbed in a story that hours pass without you noticing. you probably judge people who don't use coasters. your best feature is your hands. you're often pretty logical, but you're also very gentle. you're not aggressive, but you do have strong opinions. you like gardening. you have a deep need for comfort and security. you like things to make sense. you're afraid of circumstances out of control, but letting go helps you live so much more vividly than you could ever imagine.

tagged by @vikasgarden

What's your role in the tragic play?

MISUNDERSTOOD VILLAIN

prepare for an onslaught of both the most dehumanizing and hateful takes, and flood of thirst comments. you are chronically misunderstood. whether or not you're actually evil is debatable. you may be acting out for revenge, to defend someone you love, or even just to protect yourself. you're a pretty jaded person. you don't trust or even really like most people. maybe you did at one point. but that part of you is gone, and you don't go a single day without grieving it. you think a lot about what your life could have been. you're stuck in the past. you're angry and maybe you don't even want to be, but this is the only way you can see to survive. you're open, but less in a trusting way and more like a wound. you don't like to let people see you, but the hurt spills out of you before you can stop it. you're impulsive, even as you try hard to plan and prepare. maybe someday your side of the story will finally be heard. until then, you can convince yourself that being hated is safer anyway.

tagged by @a-neverending-story

What part of this haunted house are you?

THE SPIRIT

You’re trapped here, aren’t you, even if you like to say it’s of your own volition. I know better, and I bet you do, too. There’s this sickening kind of resentment that lives in your stomach, always trying to claw up and out through your mouth. People think they are entitled to your time and your being simply because you exist, which makes you feel both seen and entirely invisible at the same time. It feeds that anger inside of you, and it is a matter of time, every time, before that resentment turns sour, climbs out of your lungs, and rears its head at whoever is closest. This is your home. You’re the keeper of this house, and, in turn, it keeps you.

tagged by @homelander-rp-blog

What's your red flag?

OBSESSIVE

youre always fixated on certain things, preventing you from moving on.

tagged by @vikasgarden

What color are you?

RED

You are all that is hot and passionate. You are love and hate. You are the heart that beats and the blood that pumps it. You are beauty and destruction. You are red, you are perfect. please visit me̵ a̷g̸a̵i̷n̷.

tagged by @vikasgarden

(What the fuck?! I even did it twice to confirm that this quiz successfully wasted my time, haha!)

How difficult are you as a person?

You are an extremely difficult person to get along with (85.71%).

tagged by @heartofglass-mindofstone & @chaoticjoke (ages ago)

Testing your susceptibility to anger

This makes you 47.2% more susceptible to anger than the average person.

tagged by @a-neverending-story

[millenniumdueled]

Regrouping

(( rp from Discord with @redeyesandchilifries and @blueeyesking, formatted for easy reading! hopefully? ))

Yugi.

As the golden light disappears onto his chest, the Other Yugi feels that warm bloom through him, filling him with a pleasant feeling he'd almost forgotten. Though he's still in the crumbling remains of Dartz's temple, he feels home. Whole. Complete.

For just a moment, he disappears into his own soul, closing his eyes to meet his Partner inside their shared heart. And there he sees him. Yugi Mutou, his other half. With his sweet smile and soft eyes, and all the warmth of a summer morning. He reaches out to take the hands of his Other Self as his smile somehow grows even brighter. "i'm so happy to see you again," he says with both a chuckle and a sob. "I missed you so, so much. Partner, I-- I'm sorry…" Despite the tears that fall from his eyes, the Pharaoh smiles as he holds onto Yugi's hands. "shhhh, other me, what are you talking about? i'm so proud of you," Yugi says, with breathless adoration. Oh, how he wants to stay like this forever. To just hold his Partner and never let him go again. But as the raging waves shake the crumbling temple, the two are pulled out of their emotional reunion, and back to the reality, and urgency, of their situation. For the first time in weeks, Yugi opens his own eyes. It's a little disorienting, to occupy a physical body again after so long as nothing more than a trapped soul. But he wastes no time, blinking away the discomfort before rushing to the side of Kaiba and his friends on the temple floor.

Seto Kaiba

Seto groans as he raises his bruised body, touching the back of his head where it hit the stone floor, checking for blood. No… he's fine, just battered. He then notices Mokuba holding his arm, immediately taking all of his attention with more than a little alarm; Seto gently shakes his little brother's shoulder, yelling over the din of the temple's rumbling, "Mokuba. Mokuba! Are you alright?" The older Kaiba hardly notices or cares when Yugi runs over to everyone.

mokuba

Mokuba groans as his consciousness returns, but he doesn't immediately open his eyes. His head hurts. His body feels heavy. He feels his brother shift beside him and snuggles closer, almost forgetting where they are or the danger they'd been in, as his mind isn't quite awake yet. But the urgency in Seto's voice as he calls his name has Mokuba quickly sitting up in alarm. Instantly, he remembers the Duel, remembers watching the awful way Seto had twitched and writhed against the seal as Dartz had cast him out from it. "Nii-sama!!" he gasps, eyes wide as he looks up at his brother in shock and excitement. "you-- you're okay!!" He pulls his attention away from Seto, looking around at the others as Yugi goes to Téa and Tristan to check on those two. "does that mean-- did Yugi win? is it over???"

But Yugi glances over at the brothers' touching reunion, bites his lip, and shakes his head.

Seto Kaiba

Seto finally fixes his gaze on Yugi, after it had briefly, almost imperceptibly softened at Mokuba's awakening, again intense and disdainful. "What do you mean, Yugi."

yugi!

Once he helps his friends up and ensures they're okay, Yugi walks over to the Kaibas. "my other self beat dartz, but that didn't stop the leviathan. it… consumed dartz, instead. i guess it didn't matter which powerful soul it took…"

Seto Kaiba

He doesn't accept a hand up, but does help Mokuba up, himself. He dusts them both off with a few pats, fussing over his little brother a little. "…I see. Ironic, and fitting. But it's still been awakened, then. We gotta get out of here."

yugi!

Yugi smiles a little as he watches the brothers, especially Seto's rare display of caring. But he nods solemnly in agreement with his suggestion. "yup… but… we can't give up hope yet. we can still save everyone. we just need to regroup and-- see if joey's okay too." Téa's already motioning to the door to the chamber they're in. "So let's go!!" she urges

Joey

He. Is. RUNNING. From the moment he awoke in the helicopter, Joey knew what that meant. He just knew that Yugi was right there. And there was no man alive that was going to keep him apart one second longer. Toward the temple, up the steps, down the halls, right into the chamber. "OUTTA MY WAY!! YUGI!!!" He barrels straight for him, not even stopping once he reaches him. He roughly yanks Yugi up, spinning on the ball of his foot as he hugs him tight. "He did it!! You're here!! Ahaha, we're really back!!"

yugi!

As Yugi starts to lead the group out of the chamber, the sound of a familiar voice echoes down the stone halls and stops him dead in his tracks. The realization hits him after a second, and immediately his spirits seem to lift, a big smile growing on his face as his violet eyes go wide. And then, before he can react, he's swept off his feet. He can't help but to break into gleeful laughter, throwing his arms around the other man he's missed so, so much. "joey!!!" he cries, returning the gesture with the tightest squeeze he can. "i'm here-- you're here!!! i'm so glad you're okay, you have no idea--!!!"

Joey

"I should be sayin' that to you!" Joey laughs, spinning around once more for good measure. "Hey, don't leave us out!" Tristan teases, jogging over for a hug of his own and waving an arm for Téa to join in as well. The two got theirs, now it's group hug time!

yugi!

Yugi's all smiles as he's spun around by his excitable best friend again, feeling his Other Self chuckle at them from inside his heart as well. He's just about to remind them they still have work to do, but then Tristan comes running over with Téa at his side and well-- the world can wait for one more hug. "get over here guys!" yugi giggles, one arm around Joey and one outstretched invitingly. But as Tea wraps her arms around Yugi and Joey, Yugi keeps his arm open, violet eyes and friendly smile fixed on the loner brothers.

Seto Kaiba

Seto crosses his arms, but has a playful smirk on his face as he shakes his head. He intones to Mokuba, "We were so over, but now we're so back." He isn't actually sure if he's getting that song reference right; he doesn't care about pop music like Mokuba.

mokuba

Mokuba gives his brother a perplexed look, but just snickers and shouts a "yeah!!" in agreement. As he catches Yugi's fixated stare and gesture, he rolls his eyes. But he still smiles as he lumbers over with exaggerated objection, pulling Seto by the hand toward the group. "ohhhh my godddd you and your dumb friendship, the world is ENDING you NERDS," he complains loudly, though he slings an arm around Yugi in a side hug. Looks down and smirks a little and leans a bit too much weight on him, just really rubbing it in how much bigger he is than Yugi now. Get bullied, shortstuff.

Seto Kaiba

Seto refuses to join the hug. But he does put a hand on Yugi's shoulder, and an arm around his little brother. "We can celebrate after we get out of the crumbling temple, idiots.*

Joey

This is one of those small, brief moments that's going to stick in his mind forever, he thinks. Out loud, Joey cracks a joke. "Man, I just ran up all them steps!" Tristan gives him a playful jab as they disentangle. "A'right, a'right, let's vamoose!"

yugi!

Oh, Yugi will never forget this moment, and neither will his Other Half. Even Mokuba's antagonizing warms their heart. They both promise to hold onto his memory forever as they all separate….. "oh! one second!" Yugi pipes up one more time. He takes his deck from his DuelDisk to search for something, then holds out two cards. "now that you're both back…. i think you're gonna need these."

Seto Kaiba

Seto takes his Fang of Critias without much gratitude, but with care, after they all step back from Yugi. "We surely will. I hope you used my card well," he adds, with a sharp but somehow also lighthearted Look at the other Duelist.

Joey

Joey accepts his card back with a grin. It's more familiar this time, this weird feeling of being reunited with an old friend, but still stands out enough for him to Notice. "Thanks for takin' care of it for me, hope he helped! Okay, now let's not get crushed!!"

yugi!

Yugi's learned enough to pick up on the subtleties of Kaiba's expressions, and returns his Look with a sweet but knowing smile. "other me couldn't have done it without you," he affirms to Kaiba, then adds, "both of you. now--" "let's go already!!" Mokuba cuts him off, starting to race ahead the way they'd come before.

[dryeyed]

SHIPPING INFO.   answer the following for your muse(s) so people know how shipping works on your blog.

     What’s your OTP for your Muse(s)?

erasermic... sobs

whatever's going on with orion and shouta (lovingly)

     What are you willing to RP when it comes to shipping?

anything within the realm of possibility with shouta. i need the ship to be grounded in his reality, including what he could be swayed / influenced like with another muse. it has to feel real to me, there has to be something deeper than a shallow and surface-level dynamic. i'm really not all that picky once we've made it there LOL, there is a full range of shit that i'm not thinking about off the top of my head atm

     How large does the age gap have to be to make it uncomfortable?

no one younger than him by 4-5 years. ages above him are a hit or miss.

     Are you selective when shipping?

i definitely think so. i'm reserved with it, i don't just go giving out my muses' hearts because honestly. i'm tired of having ships with people and then for whatever the reason was, having the entire friendship fizzle out with a mun and then having gap where their muse once was. i've lost muse for a few characters that way and it's been shittier and shittier every single time, so i try to 'pick' / vibe it out with a little bit more... idk. scrutiny isn't the word for it but something along the like. tldr i need to be able to see an actual future between the muses + have a strong connection with the person on the other end. i'd like to be good friends, rather than someone to occasionally pass notes to.

there's also the fact that shouta is not a romance-centric muse whatsoever. bro is fighting for his life against the man in the mirror, he is in the trenches, life is slowly killing him. he's very walled up and difficult to get through to, and this could prove pretty difficult to build meaningful and lasting connections with him on.

     How far do steamy moments have to go before they’re considered NSFW?

i'll be honest i haven't written smut in a loooong time, and even then i was never really confident in my abilities to effectively write a sex scene. i think anything past suggestive talk and wandering hands will fade to black on blog. but i'd probably be open to discussion with current ship partners on like. discord or smth. i don't need to write nsfw for a ship to feel whole to me, sometimes plotting it's fun too, but. lmao. idk. could be fun to fuck around and find out at the same time

     Who are other muses you ship your muse with?

god do i ship shouta with mic sooo much. so much. their dynamic can be explored in soo many different ways, and they're just all so fun and exciting to me i just hfgkldfghfl i want to gnaw on my toes i love them.

i've thought about shouta with toshinori. i think they could work, i think it'd be cute, but also remains to be seen. they're cute in every sense tbh

counting ocs, i definitely ship shouta with @gravesung's orion aisa. a flavor of erasermic but to the right and folded and crumpled yet shaped to be something even better. he is a delight to read and learn about, both as mun and shouta himself, and there's just something so enticing about the unknown. someone you once knew coming back into your life for possibly better or for possibly worse, for possibly fruity reasons. mwah mwah mwah i love them

     Does one have to ask to ship with you?

i'd love to be asked tbh. if we've hardly interacted, i'd like to wait a little until we've talked/written more. but at the same time if it's possibly heading that way, it'd be fun to find out. i do turn into a massive gremlin with ships, though, and if that's not something that can be handled or matched then that's a pass from me

     How often do you like to ship?

i do like to write romance. i really, really like to write romance. i think a lot of it is personal yearning / maladaptive daydreaming / general love for love lmfaoooo. but at the same time... it's not ever something i want to just jump right into, or write it right off the bat in a dynamic. this may be the demi in me but i tend not to just dive right into pre-established romance. i need to both have plotting and written interaction happen for me to get a sense of how they mesh, what they'd look like in the mindspace so that writing the scenes don't feel forced in the slightest bit. i also would like to consider myself to be friends with the muns of the muses i'm shipping with, and i will admit i tend to be pickier on that front. mayb it's the neurodivergence. mayb it's the trust issues and inherent cynicism

     Are you multiship?

yuh. i've done singleship before and i think i'd only do it again under very specific circumstances, but i'd also rather not close myself off to a possible dynamic that could occur out of nowhere. things happen, and that's the exciting part of it.

     Are you ship obsessed or ship more-or-less?

i feel like i'm overthinking this question. i definitely think i tend to favor or have more muse/motivation to write some romantic threads and dynamics, but at the same time it's not a necessity. i wasn't actively seeking out my ships across blogs, they just came into fruition with plotting. a lot of other dynamics can also give me the same amount of feelings and motivation, though, i guess it just depends on where i've been mentally at that point in time, and what's getting me the most.

     What is your favorite ship in your current fandom?

i fell in love with erasermic and i fell in love with them hard. easily my comfort ship throughout the summer and i'm excited to keep taking them with me into the future, to grow with them because honestly. i don't see myself leaving shouta or hizashi behind anytime soon, nor bnha as a whole (even if i fucking hate it sooo much sometimes lmao). i go back and forth on if i like erasermight or mightmic, i think i like them. i think i could be convinced. but i'm also eh. i also took one look at izuku, katsuki, and shouto, saw my kanto pokedex trainers and immediately saw them as Something. tbh i don't really have a lot of ships for bnha? atleast at this point in time lmao.

     Finally, how does one ship with you?

LMAO be gay with me lets scream and be absolutely unhinged

tagged by :   @implde thank you <3 <3

tagging :   steal and tag me!

[smartylina]

I’m breaking the rules and not going on anon, because I’ve got some STUFF to say and you’re gonna hear it, bestie!

I love you to absolute pieces. There aren’t words (in any language!) to describe how much you mean to me, and how happy I am that you took my advice what seems like forever ago!

If it wasn’t for you, I would’ve given up last year and hung my rp hat up for good and I am so grateful to you for rekindling my love for this hobby. Who could have thought that one little innocent comment and piece of advice would bring us here?!

Coming from someone who is hard on themselves, you are too hard on yourself bestie! You’re an amazing, incredibly talented, detail oriented writer and it’s clear how much love and passion you have for Malina or any of your characters with every reply. And how much passion you share with me for this goofy movie and cartoon that we both love so much.

I love your writing so much, and your ability to continue learning even though you have your impressive degree and are currently teaching English. I will never not be impressed with your ability to write so well in two languages. Not to mention also being able to speak a third and . . . fourth? I can’t remember how many you know, but I could absolutely never. 😂

For anyone who has seen Malina on the dash and hasn’t interacted yet, YOU ARE MISSING OUT. Not only is the muse ON POINT, multi faceted, backed by canon and headcanon, continuously explored by the mun, AND incredibly lovable— but the mun is an absolute sweetheart who deserves the world and then some, and is one of if not the sweetest, most adorable and friendly person I’ve met in all of my years in this hobby.

ILU BESTIE, and you can fight me all you want but I’m winning this one!

NEVER. CHANGE. ❤️

AND I'M BREAKING THE RULES TOO THEN! AND I'M GOING TO FIGHT YOU!

I CAN'T DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I ADORE YOU!! You're the absolute best and deserve an award for being the most gorgeous person ever! I thank you for your wonderful words and the love you give me! I'm so glad I gathered the courage to talk to you on Twitter! I asked for advice because I was too shy to say "I WANT TO BE YOUR SECOND MALINA BUT IDK IF I SHOULD START RPING, GIVE ME ADVICE." AHAHAH. Bless you for asking for a Malina here! And thank you for loving this franchise as much as I do!

Writing has always been a big help for me to practice English qwq I know the language mainly bc I read and wrote fanfics at home. And with you I'm learning new vocabulary and remember grammar so you're like my teacher! And I'm here to teach my kids IRL, I want them to meet skilled, beautiful and wonderful people like you but they must speak English first! >:(

I'll go and yell and sob at you in DMS so this wont be longer but TYSM I LOVE YOU MORE BESTIE!! LET'S KEEP WRITING KUZLINA ALL DAY AND NIGHT LONG!! ♡ ❤️

And ty for the smol promo Awww 🥺

[sav1ored]

🍒 Don't roast me too bad bestie 🫶

send  me  🍒  +  a  url  and  i  will  write  positivity  for  them. || @twiicetheheart

//. where do i even begin to say when it comes to my lovely michi ? i already told you i've been lurking on my old ass ramsay blog stealing aesthetics/musing that are negan relatable --- but I've also realized I've come across fond moments between us, can you believe that we've also known each other since around 2017 ? At least that's what it shows when I find things of us back in my many ramsay blogs. BUT WOW ! I was shook by that cause I didn't realize how long it had been ?!

But let's start with just how fantastic you are inside and outside. HOW MUCH I ADORE YOU AND HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU--- yes you know why, we don't have to speak of that. LMAO. I am just happy to have you in my life, always. My fellow Virgos sita for life, always. I hope you know that no matter what, you always had/have a place in my heart and have brought so many beautiful memories into my life that I am thankful for. And I do cherish to this day. And we have so many more memories to create between us, all the food places we can eat LMAO ! Also the ribs matt already promised to make us. UGH--- I'm already drooling at how much food we can pig out together. And also I'm hoping when we go see a horror movie together, we get it all to ourselves like we did when we watched Annabelle xD ! I found my old post talking about that and how we got sushi before the movies. I was like LOOK AT US always getting food even back then AHAH !!! Where is our restaurant au LMAO xD xD ! Or food blog au AHHA !

Seriously though let's also mention how precious your oc is, and how much I adore her, and how much I live for her. She's so perfect, you can tell just how much love you put into her, how lovely she is--- and how much love she brings out of my muses. like negan and Soldier Boy for example. I MEAN FIRST OFF--- soldier boy x Michelle came out of nowhere OMFG--- like in started out at a coffee shop, to a hug and now I'm like.... damn just kiss already-- I TOLD YOU I WAS BAD A SLOW BURNS AHHA. No but that's the fun part of finding someone you roleplay with and having chem with them and their muses ! cause obviously I love the way our muses just work together when we write--- it just flows beautifully, I'm honestly thankful to have you as one of my fave rp partners on here, and it's an honor to write with someone as amazing as you, it's an honor to be able to call you one of my close friends, the fact the connection is still there just goes to show how strong our friendship was/ and still is.

I love you so much. Never change, and keep being amazing, and keep making me sob with our things or with yours and jen stuff. cause I love y'all so much. <3

[chainsofaether]

More detailed Body horror

TW // Body horror

I have have no idea if this is good. I have so little experience with body horror and I'm not really sure about my writing. But the trigger warning is there for a reason. This is much, much more detailed then what I did earlier. Honestly it could be even more so but I'm only just getting in to writing again.

Everything will be below the cut for obvious reasons. Plus it's 2800ish words so it's modestly long. I want to say I'm proud of it? Maybe? Ask me in the morning.

I don't know if this gets it out of my system though. It was incredible easy to write. I'm not really sure what that says about me. Go look at my previous post if you want something nicer. This is not that.

This is in no way cannon. This is just me thinking through what Nyxathe loosing herself to her aether looks like. It's not even that easy to trigger so I doubt it will really come up to this degree in rp. But it's probably good to have a general idea.

Also @thefreelanceangel. You seemed to want to see something like this. So tagging you so you can make that decision.

Anyway I hope anyone that reads it likes it. Let me know what you think. If you don't read it or can't finish it I don't blame you.

It was dark. That was the first thing Nyxathe noticed. The second, the hard ground beneath her. She tried to push herself to her feet then slipped falling hard ground, blasting the breath from her lungs. She laid there a moment feeling the pain radiate through the hands that caught her. Slowly the pain subsided and she reached out to the aether around her.

Then she noticed how thick it was. A hint of panic. She reached out again but this time for the ward she was constantly surrounded by. Gone.

Her breathing picked up. This time she forced herself to her feet ignoring whatever injuries she might have had. Only fully standing did she realize her hair had grown to reach the ground and longer still. She forced down the panic trying to ground her emotions to keep a clear head.

Then her vision bloomed as she shifted from that one born of light to the vision born of aether. The sight of the cave told her that she was somewhere, likely, underground or in a cave at least. The Aether here was ridiculously thick, dangerously so even. Likely around the corruption wrought by the calamity. But that wasn’t the immediate concern, no what else she say worried her far more greatly. Something hinted at by her hair.

She was glowing in brilliant red with streaks of black roiling about. It was beautiful to behold, and equally terrifying. Instinctively she reached for the crystal that was always around her neck. Gone too.

All her protections had been stripped away.

Clearly someone had done this to her but her memory failed her even if the list of people could only be so big. Few knew the danger this particular situation would pose to her. It took all her will to resist the panic brought on by the danger of the situation, and worse she could feel her will unraveling in the face of her anger. She need to keep a stable mind.

Could she get out of the cave? That would buy her more then enough time to deal with the problems. But navigating in the blur that was the aether around her would be difficult and there was no actual light to see by. Either way she might never find the way out in time. So the only option was to try and fix the problem here and now. Rebuild the ward. Stabilize her own aether.

In a cave. With no tools. Not even her crystal to guide her. She couldn’t help but laugh at he madness of the idea. How utterly hopeless that felt. She laughed, chocked back a sob and then reached for the aether around her.

Such a familiar act at first. Such pure confidence in the face of the situation. Then it slipped between her fingers, across her mind like liquid through sieve.

That was enough to break her. The hopelessness wrapped around her mind and crumpled to the floor with a gasp of panic. If she couldn’t even reach the sate of mind to work the aether she was doomed, or worse. There really seemed no path. Unfortunately she could already feel the changes to her body.

She wasn’t just radiating aether, she was radiating heat. Her body was burning up, well beyond a fever at this point. She brushed her hand across her face to just wipe away the sweat that had built up there in desperate attempt to cool her. One doomed to fail. But in the motion she noticed her nails. They were longer, sharper too. If she was careless she could probably cut herself.

She wasn’t really sure how much time passed. She’d given up looking at the aether, instead just sitting in the dark thinking. She couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been meant to sleep longer, this left her some power to escape. Or maybe they knew she had no real hope of getting out. That slowly she’d lose herself. She was still thinking clearly though so why couldn’t she reach the aether? Poison? Could it?

It that was true then could she do something? Maybe turn her new nature in to a cure? It would be dangerous, suicidal even. But if she could burn out this possible poison she might be able to drag herself back at the last moment. She glanced around in the dark seeing nothing. That alone made her choice for her.

In all the panic and worry she only now realize she was naked. Not that it mattered in this situation. Even if some was here they wouldn’t see even the barest hint of pale flesh.

She pressed her hand to her chest and dragged up every trick she’d learned as an apprentice then willed the aether in her to change. To become more extreme. To turn to a bonfire that would push back even Ifrit for a moment.

It was agony and she screamed. Screamed until her throat was raw and bloody then screamed more as the heat burnt through her. Part of her was sure that she could smell burning flesh. Gods she was cooking herself. But the magic was getting easier. A good sign it had been some foul poison.

Then her eye exploded. The useless one, the cloudy red. She screamed again, if she’d ever stopped, at that sudden fresh agony. The wet dribbling down her check. A macabre tear. The heat she could feel in the empty socket.

It didn’t matter though because finally she could reach the aether again and calling up fire to light this cave SO SHE COULD HUNT THE BASTARD THAT DID THIS TO HER. The thought rages a moment. Then the fire bloomed and pulled her thoughts straight again. She could see. It was so easy to reach for fire after what she’d done to herself, but she should have just reached for light regardless of how far it seemed.

Nyxathe had forgotten something.

The fire bloomed. Then expanded in to a fireball in the next moment. The blast tossed Nyxathe like a rag doll across the cave. Worse the air in the cave was consumed. The blast had knocked the air from her lung and when she tried to breath found nothing there to refill them. Her vision blurred, she’d hit her head and worse she was suffocating. Her vision swam, then went black as she dropped to the floor.

Slowly air filtered back in to the room but Nyxathe was too far gone to really notice. It kept her alive at least. Though perhaps she’d have preferred to suffocate considering the risk she’d taken. Time was precious at this point and she was wasting it unconscious on the floor. Changing her aether further had made her able to use magic, but it had also pushed her close to the edge. An edge she likely couldn’t come back from once she went over.

Tick tock.

The thing that woke her was bones breaking. A grisly snap of her arm. Then a leg. Then both her other leg and arm. Loud in the otherwise silent cave. It was hard to figure if the pain or the sound woke her not that it matted. By the time she managed to even look her arms were already twisted beyond recognition. Could she fix this? This was so far beyond what she’d ever done to herself or even in experiment.

Wait. Why could she see? There was still no light but oddly she could easily see. But not just from one eye but both. She couldn’t help but reach for her face to feel that supposedly empty socket with her mangled claw like hands.

Fire! She pulled her hand back immediately, so quickly she scratched her face with her new claws. Instead of blood liquid fire spilled forth Though more oddly yet the wound simply healed over in a moment. Leaving only the smell of cooking flesh as notice it happened at all.

She was becoming a monster, though her mind was still hers. She was going to kill the bastard that had done this to her. She would find them and rip their guts out with her bare hands. Her mind was hers.

Nxyathe didn’t notice how much the rage had consumed her mind. She spent more time fantasizing about pulling a person apart piece by piece then she did her escape, her safety. The other thing she didn’t recognize was the hunger. Gods she felt so hungry.

Eventually her limbs seemed stable enough to stand and so she did. She knew she was taller though her hands hung lower too. Like she’d been stretched out. In a more lucid moment she wondered what else had happened that she couldn't see.

Slowly she limped toward what she could see as an exit, stumbling along with her ungainly limbs. All the while she could feel something in her changing yet again. Her chest hurt, or something inside. Her jaw too. Unconsciously she licked her lips without notice that her tongue had gained more then a bit of length.

Traveling in the dim light she could see now was hard but easier then the total dark. Plus she could feel the air moving. Leading her to fresher air and hopefully an exit.

Had it been an hour or twenty minutes? Five? She honestly couldn't tell. Her mind was a mess spiraling all about. Jumping between hunger and violence then back to lucid thought. The only thing that finally broke that spiral was the sound of water, and then a moment later a brighter light.

She rushed toward the sound, the light, and didn’t even stop when she stumbled in to the water. A small pool but gods it felt so good. Cool against her burning skin and recently warped limbs. Slowly the water stilled and for the first time she could see her reflection.

It was still her face. Mostly. Her hair was comically long now and a complete mess from dragging it through the cave. More a concern was her eye. Gone and replaced but nothing but an orb of fire, one that she could apparently see from.

Had that piece of her become nothing but aether? A bit of her analytical mind clung to the calm though and pulled her back to the reality of the situation. The rage stepped back a moment the cool water letting her think for the first in a while. Horror was the only reasonable response. At how she’d been thinking. At what she was changing in to. That blast had robbed her of precious time and now she might well be beyond help. If she could get out of the cave and stop herself…

She laughed. Her throat still hurt. How big was this place? Where was this place? Even if she got out she might be in middle of the forest. This could be leagues from her lab. She wouldn’t be getting to her lab more then likely. Who ever had done this to her had known about her. Deeply. It hurt to think that someone she trusted might have betrayed her in such a lethal way but that was the only explanation.

A sigh was her only response to the thought. She looked down at the water splashing at her reflection as she notice the line down her jaw. Another bad sign, but no point dwelling on it. She couldn’t stay here clearly. But the water was helping. Question is how to carry some of it? She was naked. Did she really have to risk further journey with her mind degrading as rapidly as it had been. She shifted in the water and felt her hair drag behind her.

Of course. Her hair. If she completely soaked the mess that she was dragging along she might be able to stay cooler longer. It was the best she had in any case so she dunked her head under the surface and ruffled her hair to get as much water in it with out cutting herself with her new claws.

A few minutes later she was soaked and wrapped in hair. Offering some kind of warped modesty. Normally she’d probably be shivering but instead she just felt the heat radiating off her body. Still she felt cool. That pain in her jaw had gotten worse as if to counter the good news. It didn’t matter though. She had to keep moving if she got out of the cave she could at least stop the changes. Maybe.

So she started again. Walking was getting easier, not a nice thought, but a convenience in spite of the horror. In fact she was moving much faster. Her stride was much bigger and she felt surprisingly good in contrast to how much pain she’d felt earlier. Better to not consider that.

Another few minutes, or was it an hour, passed. She had no way of knowing where she was going or if it was right. The only clue was that these caves has started to look worked. More worked anyway. Ages ago. So Gelmorra then. Shit.

That was beyond bad. Even if she could get out would the Elementals see her as some abomination and immediately try and kill her? Or if they lacked the strength then send the Wailers after her? Another problem for future her. Present her was concerned about the pain in her sides, something was shifting under her skin. She could feel it. See it even. Not to mention she could feel her hair drying out and her body getting even warmer. With the warmth came the madness.

Of course it hard to notice madness. Nyxathe was particularly vigilant but the changes to her body were distracting in a way that would have been impossible for her to describe.

Then almost suddenly maddening pain at her sides. She dropped to her knees wanting to scream but finding no breath in her lungs to scream with. Just open mouth raised to the rock above as her body was wracked with spasm after spasm. Something in her twisted then pushed against the skin from the inside. Finally she found a breath and howled her agony to echo down the tunnels. Her fingers grasped at the stone to just squeeze at anything. Those claw cut in to the stone with disturbing ease. Not that she noticed.

A moment later bone ripped from her sides splattering viscera and liquid fire on the stone around around her. A rib? Outside… Flesh wrapped around it with impossible speed to form a new limb on either side. First muscles wrapped in fire spilling that cooked flesh smell in the air. Was her mouth watering? Then skin quickly grew over that, pale with dark lines where veins might be.

A second pair of arms? That was her first thought. Though they looked nothing like normal arms. Longer then they should be and able to bend more then her original. Claws again on the end where hands should be. What for? Grabbing. Holding. As if there was any logic to this. She shook her head and another though crossed her mind.

Gods she was hungry.

How long had it been? She almost certainly had been down here for a better part of a day considering how far the changes had gone. That thought holding in her mind she pushed back to her feet. There was still pain wracking her body but the idea of getting out. Getting out to kill them all. Getting out to safety.

She’d eat them to to quell this incessant pain in her stomach. Her tongue loped out of mouth to lip her lips going fair enough to brush against her chin. She was drooling. How embarrassing. She used one of her original claws to wipe the spit away.

She didn’t even notice the line on her chin had gotten deeper. Sign of another change coming.

None of that mattered though. She smelt fresh air, replacing the smell of burning flesh, not so far away. She hear the sounds of life. That pulled her along. The idea of freedom. Of Food.

A few minutes later she was pulling herself up a collapsed incline. Careful. Careful. She didn’t want to draw attention. Up and out of the cave in to the light. Dim light, for luck it was starlight barely making it through the trees. Still she could see easily, compared to the cave it might well be full sun.

She pulled herself to her full height, closer to Ten fulms then nine much less her original six. Still she felt it more comfortable to lean forward and lope along using her upper arms to help push along. Closer to eight then. All stretched and wrapped in to comedic horror of what she was.

Would she even notice?

Head raised to the air she sniffed the night air. A campfire. People. Hunters? Bandits. It didn’t matter much. She turned that direction and started.

She was so hungry.

She was drooling again. How embarrassing.

I think I'm way to tired to do any explaining after writing all this. I ended her a bit before the rest of the transformation. The part I have thought out anyway. Mostly because it would have been another two pages probably since the only scene I had in my head was her jaw splitting open as she descended on some hapless hunter to take a chunk out of them.

She wouldn't really be interested in the flesh as a note. Her body is just screaming for more aether. But she's not a voidsent, or like, and she's not really of state of mind to get use magic to get it. So she has to eat like everyone else. She just needs a lot and people are the best source. Or animals if she stumbles on them. Though I imagine animal probably get the out of there the moment they sense her.

Terrifying thought that she feeds enough to stabilize her mind enough to use magic again. I'll have to give that some thought.

Anyway if anyone that gets this far wants a deep dive in to my thoughts about all this I guess tell me in the comments and I write up something after I've rested.

[starrbar]

Alright, I was encouraged by the smol family of HeroKel shippers on here, so now that I have my ass in order, here's the Headspace Abuse AU I spawned out of some horny energy last month. xD

CONTENT WARNINGS: Physical abuse, neglect, gaslighting(?), spiders, brocon/incest if you choose to see it ;3 Also spoilers for Omori!

If you stumble across this post as someone who despises this kind of content, I sincerely apologize for that. I don't intend to main-tag this, but I'm not 100% positive how tagging works on Tumblr anymore. The Read More should cover that though. Have a nice day!

In one of the playthroughs of Omori I really like, they have this ongoing joke where Kel is just bullied all the time, especially by Hero and Aubrey.  Every time Kel says anything, Hero says stuff like, "Kel, I'm going to BEAT YOU when we get home" or "Ohh Keeeel, I'm getting the BELT!!" and it's just met with Kel screaming, "NOOOO NOT AGAIN PLEASE!" and everyone's laughing about it and stuff.  And man, I'm REALLY not usually into any kind of incest kinks (just personally not my thing), but I'd lowkey be fine with an rp/fic where Hero just abuses Kel all the time and has him basically trained to obey and cower out of fear. x'D

Adding onto that, I also had so much fun with the Basil deaths in Black Space, so now I just imagine like Basil is the Kenny of the group, and he just dies horrible deaths all the time and comes back later, and no one even bats an eye beyond giggling or saying, "Oh wow, he's gonna feel that in the morning, tee hee!"

And then when Basil goes missing, Hero and Aubrey start putting Kel through a lot more shit because even they they don't really notice it, Basil's constant deaths and pained screaming do keep them pretty entertained.

Omori isn't phased by any of it ofc, since he's kiiiind of the one pulling the strings here.

I'm not sure how Mari would respond to everything.  Maybe it would be funny if she just acted like she always does and almost as if the stuff happening is just silly goofy bickering or stubbed toes, and she'll say stuff like, "Awww, don't worry, Basil!  All you have to do for a spider bite is (I don't even know, but like generic advice for a single, non-venonous spider bite)!"  And Basil is just like, "-gross sobbing- O-okay...!" while being devoured alive by a billion spiders or chomped in half by a giant one ahahaha.

Then she'll tell Kel, "Aww, Hero got mad at you?  Well... you did step on his foot after all.  But just apologize and talk it over and I'm sure he'll come around in no time! ^u^" and this is like, what you tell someone if all the angry person did was snap at them or get upset and leave for a bit.  But Hero literally broke a branch off the nearest tree and beat Kel with it until it broke lmao.

It's like... ultra horrific tbh?  But I kind of love soaking in more of that type of freaky shit.  It's almost appealing BECAUSE it's the absolute last thing that should ever be happening??

Kel is an absolute sweetie and deserves the world, Hero is a kind and patient big brother who immediately apologized and improved himself the one time he was ever really mean to Kel, and Aubrey is honestly a very good person despite putting on an edgy face when she got older and trying to push people away.  She's never out to truly hurt anyone.

So it's kinda fun to twist them up in this awful way, especially since the game itself kind of already did most of the work for me and all I did was enjoy that and also take a meme from a video series and run with it.

I mean holy shit, there's legit a whole scene in Black Space where Basil's DW friends all beat him to death and then act like everything is normal and fun. It's CANON, and everything I wrote here is of a similar caliber, just with the invitation to view it as abusive shipping if the reader desires.

Basically I'm roleplaying with myself and enjoying the sadistic story I end up with x'D

[supernovaa-remnant]

Mblglbkhkmbb dream squashing wils cheeks gently and kissing the top of his fluffy hair head. Will was feeling down so he was shuffling around the place with his head down and posture like an old walking cane, that's how Dream could reach his head

/dsmp /rp

(takes place in the same universe as this post where there was no l'manburg war)

"he doesn't love me anymore!" wilbur wails in a dramatic fashion.

he buries his face in his hands, and, for a moment, all that can be heard are his muffled sobs echoing around the cavern.

"wil, not that this isn't, uh, important, but you kinda told me this was a life or death emergency involving a tyrannical government," techno says.

wilbur's head shoots up as he looks at techno as though the blood god had personally gone and murdered his entire family. which, considering techno is best friends with the brunet's dad, would never happen, but the analogy works well enough.

"you don't understand, techno! it is life or death, and it's all because of schlatt! he definitely counts as a tyrannical government for what he's done to me." a look of annoyance passes over wilbur's face, momentarily halting his sobs.

"so... you're upset... because dream had to cancel one of your cuddle sessions to talk politics with schlatt? and you've been in this ravine ever since?"

"exactly!"

techno stares unimpressed at wilbur's display, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms. they have a brief stare off before wilbur decides he wasn't done with the theatrics and promptly bursts into tears again.

chat seems to be amused by the display, but techno, having spent years around wilbur through many stages of his life, figures it's best to just let this run its course. he occupies the time by looking around the ravine and crinkling his nose as he sees the state wilbur has been living in. the ravine is cold and damp, and the scraps of wool on the ground where wilbur has been sleeping do nothing to ease the concern building within techno.

ignoring chat cooing at his concern, techno spares one more look to wilbur, who has now begun to recite a monologue about abandonment as he leans himself against the stone walls.

"yeah, I'm gonna go get dream."

wilbur doesn't even look up when techno begins ascending the steps.

~*~*~*~*~

when techno showed up at the community house during what sapnap had dubbed "dream team hours," dream wasn't expecting to get pulled away to where wilbur had disappeared to. but with both sapnap and george urging him to go—

("dude you've been hanging out with us non-stop for days. go make sure he's okay." "dream stop being an idiot. you've been interrupting all of our sleep with how much you pace around at night in worry. leave before we get dragged into another almost-war.")

—combined with the hint of concern in techno's voice, it really wasn't surprising that he found himself in a ravine, watching wilbur pace around with his head drooped downward and his arms holding himself in a mockery of a hug.

"wil?" dream calls out softly, recognizing the way wilbur's fingers curl into his arms as a sign of his anxiety. "can I touch you?"

wilbur mutters out a quiet but audible yes, and dream wastes no time in closing the distance between them. he brings his hands up and softly cups wilbur's face in his palms squishing them ever so slightly and grinning when the action makes wilbur's dark eyes light up with hints of amusement. then, dream leans up and places a soft kiss atop wilbur's head, smiling softly into the fluffy hair.

"you scared me," dream says as he gently moves wilbur's head into the crook of his neck.

"I know," wilbur mumbles, wrapping his arms around dream's waist.

"you can't just run off like that without telling people."

"I know. I'm sorry."

dream sighs, tilting his head to nuzzle his face in wilbur's curls. "I'm sorry, too. I should've rescheduled with schlatt instead of backing out of an already made commitment."

"so we both fucked up," wilbur says, chuckling slightly, but dream can still feel the slight shakes caused by the brunet's anxiety.

"not the end of the world," dream reassures, and he feels some of the tension drain from wilbur's shoulders. "how about we go find a nice place to cuddle, then we can maybe make some pizza."

wilbur hums, and dream holds back a laugh as the vibrations tickle his skin. "can we go somewhere quiet?"

"anywhere you'd like, wil. anywhere you'd like."

[districtxii]

it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball (everlark fic from 2012)

Posting this here on the new dedicated Hunger Games blog. It's the only complete fic I ever posted for this fandom, for a fic exchange back in 2012, even though I spent many hours in private RP.

Link to AO3.

Rating: T Warnings: none Word Count: 6,019 Post-Trilogy hurt/comfort everlark

it's not hard to fall when you float like a cannonball

🌿

My eyes follow the marks Peeta makes on the page, opposite a long burst of painstakingly neat handwriting that belongs to me. I can see where the pressure of my writing darkened and thickened the lines, corresponding with the moments when I clenched my teeth in anger or struggled for deep breaths that wouldn't turn into easy, overwhelming sobs. Some days it's harder than others, to write down those things that I refuse to forget.

Peeta had reached out and squeezed my shoulder, his thumb running up a cord of tension in my neck, his hand as steady as it is now while he draws on the paper. He asked me if I wanted to stop and I snapped at him, but his hand stayed in place for a while anyway. Finally, I wiped roughly at my face, drying beneath my eyes and against my cheeks and kept writing, causing yet another of the dark marks on a line.

I can't stop writing, even when it's harder to write down the things that had felt like hope, that had made me smile at the time. The things that I might say made me happy are the ones that bring me most dangerously close to stopping. They're all gone now, those moments, taken away or simply over, but I can't forget them. Peeta has forgotten too much, lost too much in his mind, for the both of us.

The sketch begins to take shape from the initial, seemingly random soft lines that look a little chaotic to me. I rub beneath my strained eyes and lean forward across the kitchen table against my elbows to watch more closely as the page becomes something almost living, the ghost of a moment I recalled on the page beside it. When I glance up at him, there is a faint smile on Peeta's lips and I know I'm not returning it. Instead, my mouth is a little agape and I reach for the book impulsively. The edge of the cover brushes against my fingertips as Peeta slides it over to me so I can see the image in the direction it's meant to be seen. I can't help but marvel at how deep the piece of paper has become, as if I could step into it. He captures the past as easily as any photograph, more easily. The drawing looks, feels real, and it's not even finished yet.

“It's good,” I say, remembering that I should probably give Peeta some kind of positive feedback for simply being here with me, for holding onto what he knows. It's more than that, though. It's so easy to forget. For such a long time I was without him. First he was left behind, taken by the Capitol, while I spent all that time in District 13, wishing for a person to be safe, to be there with me—a person who would never really come home. Then Peeta did come back, different, and then gone forever. The boy with the bread, the boy on the beach, not mine anymore and unreachable. Even with the pieces of him that seem to come back and to become a bit more real, natural each day, it's easy to lose just how much of it he was there for. I spent so much time trying and failing to steel myself against the raw, painful truth that the steady, naively adoring, real Peeta was gone, dead, killed in some cold sterile room in the Capitol, that I still don't dare let myself believe that he'll really come back, stay with me. But he was there for so much of what has happened to me, since that first reaping, and what he has drawn matches what's in my head, but he hasn't drawn it just from my writing. It's in his head, too. It belongs to him and he's sorted it free from the shiny, false memories the Capitol gave him.

“Thanks,” he replies in a leading tone that I'm sure is trying to draw a returned smile from me, like he doesn't believe I mean the compliment, but only in jest.

“... I'm going to get some air,” I announce abruptly, pushing the book back firmly into Peeta's possession and getting up from my chair.

“I'll come with you,” Peeta asserts, getting up with an urgency that almost startles me and still makes me worry about his leg. We just stare at each other for a moment and he reaches out to carefully close the book and set it out of harm's way. It's just a reminder that there's no one ever there besides us to spill anything on it or to damage it at all. The world is so still now.

“I'm going out into the woods,” I tell him, almost hoping that it will deter him from following me, but I guess it might be a bit of a test, too. I'm just not sure what I'm testing for.

“... And I'll make too much noise,” Peeta supplies, not quite a question. He looks down, away from me, apparently disappointed.

“No,” I say quickly and then wonder why I did. Now I've trapped myself, though, and have to keep going with the train of thought. “... No, I'm not going to hunt. If anything it might... keep anything from wanting to sneak up on me.”

Peeta's expression brightens a little and he pushes up the chair I had been sitting in, too and moves to follow me out the door. There's a little spark of satisfaction that runs through me when I see some kind of life go back into him at the promise of coming into the woods with me, but I don't trust it. I take a few backward steps and then turn around, tensely leading the way out the door, my thumbs sliding down into my trouser pockets for a moment until I pull them back out, compelled to fidget.

I'm meandering toward town and eventually on to the fence, so Peeta easily catches pace with me and we walk along in silence for a while. It only occurs to me after several minutes to glance over at him to see whether he seems to be enjoying it. I remember the last time he and I walked into town together. I'd asked him if he would run away with me—not just with me, though. My family, his, Haymitch—all gone now except for Haymitch who has enough liquor to last him at least another week or two. For a moment I want to hide my eyes from what remains of the 12 I knew, from what they're building back on top of it, but I keep my feet moving, going through the motions.

“Are you alright?” Peeta asks.

“Great,” I reply, a little breathlessly. I'm a little surprised at my attempt at sarcasm, but then I'm too busy worrying about seeing the raw earth above the mass grave that the Meadow has become. It still isn't much easier and Peeta being with me makes me even more aware. Soon we're passing by where the bakery once was and I notice the momentary falter and subsequent quickening of his step. All the things I know about his family with the exception of his father are somehow negative and fill me with resentment. His bruised face, the way the one brother who could have didn't step up to take his place, but if he had then I'd never have known Peeta at all. The thought gives me pause and I wonder if I should ask him if he misses them, but I know he must and I don't want to talk about all the things I miss anymore today. Instead, I reach out and brush my fingertips along the edge of Peeta's hand, not quite taking it in mine but drawing his attention down to my fingers and then up to my face. I expect some conversation to follow but instead Peeta takes my hand, apparently perceiving some invitation, and I don't revoke it.

When we finally reach the edge of 12, Peeta finally lets go and reaches down to hold up a section of the fencing for me as if I hadn't been crawling under on my own for years. This earns him a strange look from me for a moment, but I'm about to just accept it and squirm my way beneath to show him how at the very least when he speaks up.

“Finally getting out of the district with you... Running away,” he muses lowly, offering a sad smile in place of the hopeful, searching one I've gotten almost used to getting sometimes. The thought that his thoughts run along the same tracks that mine do, that the moments that make up my memory of the past are so entwined with his, makes something catch in my throat and I try to swallow it. I search his eyes for a moment and then look abruptly down at the ground at the looser section of the fence down at the bottom that's familiar.

“We can't run away anymore, Peeta,” I say simply, not sure why his name rolls from my tongue. There's nothing left worth running from and what's left of 12 is all that's left of home. Then I take a deep breath and get down closer to the ground to step through and roll my body beneath the fence to the other side. “Like this,” I say, settling my balance once I've gotten through to the other side. Peeta listlessly lets go of what he'd been trying to hold up for me and instead reaches out for the loose one and tries mimicking my movements with as much grace as he's ever managed. He makes it through, but when he's trying to get his balance again, I hear a metallic snapping that makes me terrified that the electrical current in the fence has gone live again even though I know better. Instead of being electrocuted, Peeta just stumbles back a little and I instinctively reach up to stop his progress backward. My hand against his back seems to give him the stability he needs to stop. He's holding the fencing still when he's much too far out from it because it has snapped away from one of its posts. I stare at it and at the slacked gap that it's now left just above the ground, a window between two places, the woods and the district, that I still can't imagine ever really touching.

The breaths that follow from me are a little halted and I find myself looking back at Peeta and wondering just how it was that he survived two arenas, even with my help—and then without it. I swallow hard and try forcing the kind of tentative, hopeful smile he gives me.

“Are you okay?” I ask.

Peeta nods and looks down at the fencing he's holding and lets it down gently, as if it might minimize the damage. While he does this, I look out beyond him and try to decide where to take him. The idea of taking him to the place where Gale and I looked out for such a long time seems wrong, off, so I set off to guide him deeper into the woods toward the only other landmark I can really think of.

- - -

“I didn't know this was here,” Peeta comments with some measure of awe when we're at the edge of the lake, surveying around it, focusing for a moment on the ancient, untouched building hidden away by time.

“You didn't know any of this was out here,” I remind him. Peeta exhales in the same halted way I had at the fence and hearing it from someone else, I realize it's some attempt at a laugh that something broken within each of us blocks from escaping. “... My father brought me here. That's... how I knew how to swim,” I tell him with the most careful confidence I can, as if someone else might be around to hear us and I don't want them to. There's no one else, but I still feel some kind of vulnerability as I admit it.

“I still don't really know how to swim,” Peeta replies after a moment I realize was filled with some acknowledging reverence.

“I know,” I say quietly, giving him that same attempt at a smile and this time we both manage it at the same time. I walk a few paces around the lake's shore and find a gap in the trees were unobstructed sunlight touches down, warming the earth. Then I sit down, leaning back a little against the heels of my hands and nodding for Peeta to do the same if he wants.

He joins me after a moment and I notice that he's looking at me in the light with startling clarity, his gaze moving down until it falls against my stomach. I straighten a little and draw up my knees, tugging down at my shirt but finding that an extra fold of fabric bunches against my thin body. I'm not actually emaciated the way I got dangerously close to being at one point since we got home, but I'm not wearing the clothes that still hang in my closet that were from Cinna, tailored for the girl I used to be.

“I could teach you,” I decide quickly, looking up to Peeta's face and hoping to catch his eyes, to steal them away from my body.

“What?” he asks, startled.

“I could teach you how to swim,” I say more idly, hugging my knees and then leaning my chin against one of them.

“Are you sure--” Peeta starts to ask dubiously, looking out at the water contemplatively.

“I taught Gale,” I say quickly, cutting off any argument and staring out at the water, my face flushed with something I tell myself isn't shame. There's no reason for it to be, but I can't deny that there's a tightness in my stomach that no longer feels like confusion, really. Gale's gone, too, and I don't need him. When silence is what follows, I finally furtively glance over at Peeta and am relieved when I realize he hasn't become angry. Instead, I see him nod if only to himself and then shift to get back up to his feet.

“Okay,” he agrees as he offers me a hand I don't need to help me up. I get up on my own anyway, dusting my hands off on my pants and glancing at the water as I consider what I need to do. Again I've volunteered for something without thinking it through, without letting myself think it through because I can't stand the alternative. Now I've put Peeta's life in my hands again without any hesitation. For a moment all I can see in the water is the potential for him to sink beneath into the shadows provided by the trees. Even if I could get him back to shore, I don't know how to do the pressing on his chest, the kissing him that Finnick had known how to do to breathe air and life back into him. I simply can't let that happen. I can't let Peeta drown, can't let him die.

“You've got to do everything I tell you,” I insist when I face back to him, cementing my demand with a stern expression.

“Yeah,” Peeta agrees with some kind of dismissive reassurance, widening his eyes at me a little. “I know... I've got no idea what to do in water much deeper than a bathtub.”

I catch my breath and nod, first at him and then toward the water.

“Take off your clothes,” I tell him, not making eye contact as my hands go down to the bottom hem of my shirt. I realize too late that I hadn't really thought through the idea of distracting Peeta from looking at me. The only way I can get myself to proceed with taking off my shirt is steeling myself with as many layers of defiance as I can to remind myself why it shouldn't matter. As the fabric catches on my fingers and drags up across my stomach, I remember how I'd once tried everything to insist that I not take off Peeta's pants to examine and clean an almost certainly fatal wound. Now my body is scarred, lines running across it where surgeons have left marks where once different doctors had removed all traces of everything I'd ever touched, but Peeta has scars, too.

“What?” Peeta asks, breaking my resolve with a single syllable and causing me to quickly lower my shirt back down just as it had made its way midway up my abdomen. I look at him, nearly glaring but then realize that it's pointless. He hasn't suddenly grown shy or reprimanding or squeamish I gradually realize. He's just surprised, confused.

“... So the water won't drag. You're less likely to get hurt if you're not all weighed down.”

Peeta considers and smiles wryly.

“Just never thought I'd hear you say that to anyone.”

“You can leave your underwear on if you want,” I say calmly, having resolutely decided to keep mine on. There had been no secrets about my body between my stylists and me, but Peeta is different. He's seen me nearly naked quite a number of times and I think of the way my last arena outfit had torn. Only then does it occur to me that I've brought Peeta back to another shore, another beach, but even as I narrow my eyes at him I cannot imagine being the girl, him being the boy that had lost themselves to something I still can't name in one another's kisses. It just makes my skin flush and a lump of regret weigh on my chest and then my throat.

“Deal,” Peeta agrees and then he's pulling off his shirt and I decide to let mine join his at the same time. I get mine over my head just seconds after he's dropped his to the ground and then I'm glad I am wearing a real bra rather than simply wrapping my chest the way I had done before I'd ever gone to the Capitol. I'd owned one bra before then. When I hear my shirt fall down against his I look up for a second and catch him doing the same. I'm not sure if it makes it easier or harder, to have our knowledge of the state of one another's bodies become experience and reality. We don't approach each other and there's nothing said about it, but scarred we are but he's remarkably the same. I just momentarily let myself wonder if he thinks the same about me. Then under some silent agreement we look away from each other again, not quite making full turns toward the water as we both remove our shoes—it takes Peeta a little longer with his artificial left leg but not much anymore—and then our trousers join our shirts on the ground in a mingled pile.

The next time our eyes meet, I hurry over to the edge of the water, feeling the more coarse soil beneath my bare feet. I kneel down and brace myself for the feeling of water completely surrounding my body for the first time since the last arena and am helplessly reminded of Annie for a second. It won't be abrupt, though, or terrifying, to wade out into the water until it's deep enough to lose my footing. I look up when Peeta joins me and my eyes run along the complex artificial limb that he hardly seems to notice at all now.

“What do we do first?” he asks.

“Are you afraid of the water?” I ask, getting back up as I feel less compelled to curl my body in against itself.

“I'm afraid of drowning,” Peeta quips but he doesn't seem very nervous. He trusts me now. He's always trusted me, even when he shouldn't have, as long as he could remember that he wanted to.

“Don't be,” I demand, then let my expression soften, looking over at him less intensely as I swallow down the anger I feel at the suggestion. “I'm not going to let you,” I say more quietly. I reach for his hand again, a little less reluctantly than back in town, taking it gradually with my fingers. “First we need to get you used to the water. We can wade out for a little while, but let me keep a step ahead so I can feel for where it drops off,” I explain, taking the first two steps out into the water. I take a deeper breath, surprised at how cool it is on the warm day. Peeta follows me and I glance back and see his jaw tighten a little once we're deep enough for him to feel the water up to his right knee.

“Colder than you'd think,” he comments.

I look up at the canopy of trees that almost completely surrounds us and nod in that direction as I look back down to meet his eyes.

“Lots of shade and it's not really into the summer yet. We can go in a little faster,” I suggest with a bit more of a smile that I feel tightening my cheeks, almost instantly making them ache. “If you think it'll help.”

“You're the mentor,” he replies easily and for a second I wonder if I should give into the stinging the word causes. Haymitch isn't a mentor anymore and the word doesn't hold the same meaning it did in the world before. I guide Peeta a little further into the water, focusing on its rippling surface to keep him from noticing how my brow has furrowed. I catch our reflections anyway in the part of the water that's illuminated by our gap in the trees and I remember the way Finnick would joke about dying so easily with a rope, how it made us laugh. Laughing then might be one reason I'm alive, we're alive, today even though Finnick is gone. I frown a little more tightly and then all at once I'm letting myself smile again and nodding as I look back up. “Don't let yourself tense up. Your muscles cramping is one of the easiest ways to drown if you can't stand up,” I warn patiently.

Peeta nods and looks apprehensively further out into the lake, but he just tightens his grip on my hand. He trusts me.

He trusts me, so I take his other hand and feel my feet backward along into the lake, letting myself trust him a little, too. Sometimes I feel a tiny plant snap beneath my feet but my feet are tough enough for it to not cause me any real pain and when I'm confident about how far we can go back I try and get a little momentum to draw us both into the water about chest deep. The sound that's drawn abruptly from my mouth is a shrill gasp as the sensation of unexpected cold overwhelms me for a moment. I know I'm breaking the rule I just gave Peeta, my body tense as I try not to shiver, but we're both still firmly on foot. I open my eyes, letting them refocus on Peeta's face and he's grinning but his breath has quickened, too, and I think one of the reasons his teeth show with his smile if that he's trying not to chatter them.

“Try kneeling down,” I get out, leaning a little until I've bent at my knees and feel them knock his, the water rising higher against my body. Peeta follows my instruction and I can feel his body heat and then a faint indication of his heartbeat as I move my cautious grip up from his hand along his arm until I feel the firm muscles just beneath his shoulders. We search each other's eyes and then Peeta's teeth do chatter once and I'm breathing fast, but this time it's that same thing I had recognized earlier as an attempt to laugh. This time I try letting myself and a faint sound comes out and it's unfamiliar, foreign even, but it catches Peeta's attention as much as mine and he smiles in return. “It gets easier after a few minutes,” I try telling him, reminding myself as I find myself wishing that the rest of the water were as warm as I feel where my skin almost touches Peeta's.

He moves abruptly in the water and I flinch, but then he's just reaching for my hair, catching some of it that has come loose on the side opposite my braid that falls along the side of my face. He draws it out a little and examines it quietly before tucking it behind my ear, his hands a little less steady than they usually are. He's still trying not to shiver and so am I. I feel my eyelids closing when his damp fingertips brush against the dry skin of my ear, but I quickly try to just move past it and swallow down what I'm afraid might be sadness coming back again.

“The next thing you need to do is get out where your toes barely touch, and--”

“Katniss,” Peeta interjects, a soft plea. It catches me off guard so I stop and purse my lips to listen. “It's too cold,” he explains without delay, laughing softly without that broken hesitation.

“No, it's--” I try to persuade him gently but then my words catch because I'm breathing deeply again against the cool water. It's not warm enough to just get used to comfortably. Then I'm laughing too and run my hand up to his shoulder on his right only to lightly push. I don't push hard enough to let him go, though. Even though there's no danger, I'm not about to let him think there's any either. I don't want to frighten him and that's also when it's the worst for him, more likely that he'll forget for a while again and have to find some focus, some kind of pain to hang onto what's real. “Okay. We'll try again in June.”

Then I let go of him and wait long enough to make sure he's headed out of the water too and make my way back to the shore. At the edge, we both sit down and I still stubbornly try letting my toes dip into the water. I know that I could swim in it if I needed to, but the season hasn't warmed enough yet to teach Peeta. Peeta must read my expression as disappointment or something because he immediately tries to reassure me.

“I don't think I really need to know how to swim anyway,” he says.

“You should know if you ever--” I start to snap in reply but then I stop arguing and won't even let myself follow that thought through to conclusion. Peeta looks over at me expectantly but doesn't demand completion. Suddenly weary, I look behind us and move a little closer to the pile of our clothes and decide to let my skin dry a little before I put mine back on. I lie back against the ground, feeling grass against my back and the sun warming my skin. Peeta's eyes follow my movements and this time I don't try covering the network of scars on my skin or anything else, deciding that it really doesn't matter.

“Thanks for letting me come with you,” he says, taking a deep breath that isn't quite a sigh before he follows suit and lies down on his back. I wonder if he's disappointed somehow and about what before I realize that I am. There's an emptiness that settles into my chest again and I'm thinking of being back on shore, back on the edge of something I can't have anymore. I look across the space between us, the full width of the pile of our clothes. I've lain beside Peeta so many times now, shielded from nightmares and darkness by his arms, but the light of day somehow chases away his regained freedom to hold me and all at once I hate it.

“Peeta--” I start, not quite sure what I want to say. I'm not very good at saying something, not even when I need to desperately. His name gets his attention, though, and I lock eye contact with him and try and let it invite me in the way I'm certain he'd been trying too so many times before we lost so much, back when I couldn't see. I crawl the short space over to him and inch by inch settle into my place at his side, easing into the feeling of his skin's warmth the way I'd tried to ease into the water's cold.

“Katniss,” I'm answered when I feel him tensing again.

“Shh,” I try to insist, but then I realize that I'm in his space as much as I'm drawing him into mine. I lean against my arm and look down into his eyes and glance down his chest for a moment before I manage to ask. “Is this okay?”

Peeta nods and shifts to tentatively put out his arm for me and I lower myself down, even more drawn to lying beside him now that I have started to feel some sense of relief now that I've begun the slow, arduous process of working through countless seemingly impossible questions so painlessly. For the first time in a while, I'm too tired to resist a feeling so good as relief and I try tucking my head down against Peeta's damp chest, my ear pressed to the place were I can hear his heartbeat. He moves, though and grabs his shirt from the pile of clothes.

“Wait a second,” he instructs quietly, placing the soft fabric over his shoulder and one side of his chest. “It's dry,” he explains when I look at him with a slight frown. Agreeing to what I feel deeply, almost viscerally is a compromise, I nod and finally find the place against him where the old Katniss would have fit with the old Peeta, more than she ever knew. I can't get comfortable against the shirt, though. I let my arm extend over him, feeling his body heat move through me at each place where I can find contact. A breeze blows across the lake and I roll over slightly toward Peeta and he wraps his arm protectively around me. The real Peeta still wants to protect me. I look down at the color of his shirt and take a deep breath, smelling Peeta's skin on it and deciding that I'd rather see it, too, scars and all.

“Peeta, it's okay,” I tell him. Then I look up at his face and catch him looking quizzically at me. “It's okay,” I repeat. “We can still--” But then I stop talking, face flushing as I realize at least in part what I'm asking for and feel ashamed.

“... Katniss, what's wrong?” Peeta prompts, reaching up and touching the bottom of my damp braid, the way he had touched me before. “What are you talking about?”

I don't want to talk about it because I don't know what to say, so I pull back and think about moving away from him again but then remember something that had worked a long time ago. My lips press to his and I can't quite remember what to do. I'm not the girl who simply, clumsily did back on the beach. Instead, it's so unnaturally still for a moment that I'm not sure it counts as a kiss and that it might even be worse than the first time I'd tried for the cameras.

Then Peeta's hand moves from where he'd pinched the very bottom of my braid to the side of my neck where he steadies me gently and his lips move against mine in turn. His movements are tight, halting as my own, unfamiliar and learning how to do it again, even though it'd always come more naturally to him. After just a moment he tilts his chin down and breaks the contact. I can feel my breath mingling warm and damp with his but he doesn't try for my lips again and I don't know if I should start feeling an even deeper ache of regret. I don't know if we've lost everything as much as I thought he had.

“It's okay,” I plead this time. I'm answered with a light peck of a kiss against my lips that doesn't last at all and a nod that I can feel brushing against my own forehead.

“Yeah, Katniss. Of course it's... okay,” he says, once again taking for granted something that terrifies me a little. I nod and pull back enough to meet his eyes and he smiles at me and I do too. “... I just... don't know what you want, sometimes,” he apologizes, glancing down.

“Neither do I,” I say quickly, a little bitterly but then I realize this isn't the place, the moment for that. There actually is a time now for something else, something a little better. “... Stay with me,” I supply after a moment's searching my mind, the threatening hollow in my chest for the words. I grip at the fabric of his shirt with my fingertips but then realize that he can't feel the tugging and instead pull it back down to the ground beneath us. “Not just... when I have nightmares. When we walk through town or... anytime you need to, it's okay. Stay with me.”

Peeta examines my face so intensely that for a moment I wonder if he recognizes me at all and I have to look away.

“... Always,” he says, an echo and a reminder that he does remember. Then I can't look at him because I know my eyes are wet again but this time not because I'm sad or angry. Instead I press a kiss to his bared shoulder and another a little lower, water from the lake touching my lips. Another breeze blows across the water and over us and I hide from the cold against his body's warmth and feel his hand against the skin between my shoulder blades. When my eyes have stopped stinging, I press my cheek down against his chest, my ear down over his heart again, this time without the shirt between us.

“I'll teach you how to swim when it's warmer,” I insist.

“Yeah?” he prompts, sounding almost amused.

“Well I can't teach you to hunt,” I reply and realize I'm teasing. He laughs again, though I know it's not very funny.

“I'll teach you how to bake when we get back,” he offers, bartering.

“I know how to bake,” I argue, rolling toward him a little firmly and then back since I can't push him but he's undeterred.

“Knowing how to make bread isn't the same,” he teases and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“Fine,” I agree. “I'll let you teach me how to bake, or try. Later,” I try to appease him because I want him to be quiet. I hear him start to reply but I quickly hush him and turn my lips down to kiss lightly against his chest again. He starts to speak again and I sigh wearily and press another slightly more sure kiss to his mouth which he returns and I can feel him smiling against my lips. I wonder if he'd lured me into the kiss on purpose, but I decide I don't care as I break it again and feel my nose brush against the side of his. After a few more tentative, shared kisses I finally lie back down against his chest and he's content to be quiet so I close my eyes and let his heartbeat lull me half to sleep, not hidden away, cold in a cave but warm against his skin in the sunlight.

[knife-drawer-rp]

CURVE BALL! Livio and Vash ship!

I think they end up taking over the orphanage or doing the whole 'wandering gunman' thing later on. Vash never changes aside from getting even more scars and Livio gradually does begin to get older. It's hard to tell for him cause he's already got white hair, but his Crows Feet and Laugh Lines come in and he gets even bigger! Maybe they become a known duo on Nomans Land. A lawless hand and barrel of a gun to keep humanity safe from itself.

@bone-pile-rp

NOT ME ACTIVELY SOBBING AT THIS??? I know that Liv has white hair already, but I imagine if you look close enough, as he gets older you can see that some is more grey than white? Tone wise, his natural hair color is warmer while his old man look takes cooler tones? BUT ANYWAYS I totally agree with you though that they can and SHOULD take over the orphanage. Liv stays there more than Vash does (especially since he doesn't want it to be targeted by anyone that wants to hurt him)... But Vash starts calling it "home" at some point. Or second home! The kids would swarm him and ask about all the adventures he had while out on the sands and he'll gladly sit down and tell them about it, even if he's dead tired from the journey. Livio gently telling the kids to give him space cuz he just got back and all that jazz. THAT ALSO BEING SAID. I think anyone with any sense wouldn't THINK of targeting the kids because the retired Double Fang is there and also Vash the fucking Stampede??? No thanks. I have many thoughts and they're disjointed but I'M WEAK