#every time i think about the scene of him chanting i think of

[pumpkinpatchmaniac]

ARCANE SEASON 2 ARC 3 SPOILERS‼️‼️

I noticed this while watching episode 7: “Pretend like its the first time”, not that small of a detail but:

(I’m sorry if it is incoherent i just really needed to get this out.)

During the innovative party scene where Ekko dances with Powder, the song that plays is ”ma meilleure ennemie” by Stromae & Pomme, which translates to ”my best (female) enemy��� which clearly refers to Powder, or Jinx.

In the intro begins a small chant where they say

Je t’aime, je t’attends […]

Meaning “ i love you, i am waiting for you” which clearly explains Ekko before coming to terms that Jinx no longer is Powder, since he fell inlove with Powder he keeps waiting for Powder to come back. This mental dilemma of having to accept that even if its the same body, same face its not the same person anymore, which is later supported by the first chorus where Stromae sings

La pire des bénédiction, La plus belle des malédictions

“The worse of all blessings, the best of all curses”, Powder was the best thing that happened to him while Jinx was the worse thing which makes this relationship with her- this connection, both a blessing and a curse.

But what made the scene more interesting was when they danced and the part

Mais ma meilleure ennemie, c'est toi [but my best enemy, that is you.]

Fuis-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi [flee from me, the worse is you and i]

Mais si tu cherches encore ma voix [but if you keep searching for my voice]

Oublie-moi, le pire, c'est toi et moi [forget me, the worse is you and i]

I know we all wanted Ekko to stay in that timeline and be happy with Powder but remember season 1 where- whilst every Jinx or Vi centric episodes always began with a flashback, the Ekko centric one started from the present. Indicating that Ekko forces himself to always look forward than trying to let the past get to him. For exempel in - please correct me if i’m wrong, season 1 episode 5 when Vi said that she should’ve been there to help Ekko, he only says ”that’s is a good way to drive yourself crazy”. He immidiantly shut down any thought of what could’ve been, indirectly forcing Vi to think about the present. Especially afterwards when Vi talks about getting Powder back when Ekko has already fully acknowledge that there is only Jinx. All of this makes him being in that timeline more difficult for him since it is exactly what he wanted to avoid, being stuck in what could’ve been.

Dancing with Powder just engraves this furthee into him, this is unhealthy for Ekko since it’s the relation ship between him and Jinx. As to reiterate ”if you keep searching for Powder’s, voice, stop, it will just drive you crazy”

Also to refer to the pre-chorus!

First one:

Tu sais c'qu'on dit [you know what they say]

Sois près d'tes amis les plus chers [stay close to your dearest friends]

Mais aussi [but even]

Encore plus près d'tes adversaires [even closer to your adversaries (i.e antagonists, villains)

And the second one

Je t'avais dit : "Ne regarde pas en arrière" [i have told you : “dont look back]

Le passé qui te suit te fait la guerre [the past will follow you and take you to war]

(This is pretty self explanatory)

Additionally, before the kiss scene where Ekko says “can we pretend like it’s the first the first time”, further insinuates the whole, “this is my present even thought it’s a part of your past”.

TL:DR

This scene hurts

(Authors note:

I know it is not a small detail and not that significant but i really wanna acknowledge how every part of the Arcane series have a significance into the story. And honestly i needed to vent. It was so fun last night watching the scene and hearing ”le pire, c’est toi et moi” and just go ”oh, word?”. I am not French but i studied it so it just felt good from that POV too.

Edit: i was not aware that Arcane gets critizied over how litteral the songs are to the scene but i still stand by my point about why i really liked the song and this scene specifically)

[derpycatsu]

ohhh so hes pathetic. ok. got it. Deploy The Hyperfixation

[iannmin]

HEAD OVER HEELS | p.sh 박성화

pairings + warnings: heels!obssessed!hwa x fem!reader, creampie, breeding kink (literally breeding everywhere >_<), just pure smut so mdni! 18+, unprotected sex, exhibitionism (?)

synopsis: “get hot on ya heels”

a/n: just got some inspiration looking at some of the reblogs from my previous works on hwa and one of them said that hwa may have a kink of loving to their s/o in heels, so credits to whoever who said that i love you

you owned a lot of heels, but “a lot” would definitely be an understatement. the heels came in tens, even dozens - from the classic YSL’s to the fancy Dolce & Gabbana’s, but regardless the type, it all boiled down to a single reason: park seonghwa.

hwa would always buy you heels everytime he goes out for shopping with his bandmates. his poor and innocent friends thought that it was “nothing more than an act of love” but oh,, you knew for sure that it wasn’t. it was simple, really, he loved how you looked in them when you two were having a lil baby making session <3. so when he hastily kicked off his shoes and fumbled his way over to the bedroom at one in the morning where you were just about to tuck yourself to bed,, you weren’t surprise at all.

“jagiya, look hehe” he shook the huge shopping bag, smug look smeared all over his face. “let’s do it now” don’t get mistaken,, hwa had his priorities set straight so he didn’t care one bit when he carelessly tore the luxurious Louis Vuitton wrapping in half like a spoilt child. you barely uttered a reply but he was already holding both of your ankles, slipping on the wine red heels on your feet. it took a few moments for hwa to soak in the sight - you in his plain white tee with your lace panties coupled with the pair of high heels….god,, and when it finally came to him, hwa could only mumble “f-fuck…s’pretty….gonna ruin you princess” before instantly reaching for the buckles on his belt.

jeans and belt pooling around his knees with his veiny cock slapping against his abdomen, he set you up in a mating press, hooking both of your legs over his shoulder. gently kissing each side of your ankles, he aligned his girthy tip against your hole.

“hah…fuck…wanna breed you so bad…you’ll be such a pretty mommy f’me” *schlop!* in an instant, his hips slammed tightly against yours and his girthy base came into contact with your folds. that’s it. seven-inch all in at once. this was the feeling you’d never seemed to get used to no matter how many times the both of you did it, so it got you instantly gripping on hwa’s shoulder blades. “nnnggh….hwa…feels s’full…s’good...” tears were threatening to spill from your eyes, so he reached in for a sloppy kiss, a string of saliva connecting from both of your coated lips.

but,, of course you were wrong to think that it was the end because hwa was pussy-drunk. extremely drunk with the thought of you. all he desired was to pound that tight pussy loose and watch it seep with his cum. so he did exactly that. with sweaty bangs sticking to his forehead, he buried his head into your neck, deep groans casting vibrations against your skin. with every hard thrust, your nails dug deeper into his shoulders, whimpers turning a pitch higher. "h-hwa...gonna cum..."

"hold on for me princess, i wanna try something.." hwa instantly flipped you on your stomach - ass up, face down in a doggy-style position, and when he entered your sensitive hole again to continue his pounding ordeal, you swear you felt his cock reach in about an inch deeper. oh boy,, you were going to lose your mind very soon.

it took the both of you no more than half a minute to reach your highs and when it did, it felt straight out of a porn scene. with hwa's groans turned into nothing but an endless chant of curses and high-pitched whimpers, and your moans turned into broken sobs, he pressed his hip as deep as it could have gone against yours, releasing loads and loads of hot white cum, filling you up full. and when hwa finally pulled out, his cum was everywhere - seeping out of your hole, dripping down your thighs and heels, coating your wine-red heels in a layer of translucent fluid. he hate to admit it but the sight of you nearly got him hard again.

"fuck...princess, i love you so much, could do this everyday"

[mandarinmoons]

dad!spencer

DAD SPENCER SPENCER AS DAD

yknow that scene where JJ calls Will and Henry over the phone so she can read to Henry? or atleast I think she read to him it was so long ago that I watched 😭 anyway, what about that with Spencer and a toddler Bailey? he’s on a case but he still wants to make sure he’s present for his daughter even if he’s not physically there

<333

Your ears rang as Bailey’s cries echoed through the house. She had been fussy and inconsolable for days and you knew why, her dad was gone.

Spencer flew out to a case all the way in Nebraska leaving you to take care of Bailey all by yourself until he got back. You weren’t cross with him, you knew his schedule was hectic and that he tried his best to be a part of both of your lives.

For Bailey however it was a different story. The second her dad walked out the door she was upset and ran to the door to run after him. The only way she would fall asleep is by draping one of Spencer’s shirts over her, her breathing would calm down and a moment later she would be at ease.

It had been four days since Spencer left and there had only been limited text messages between you two. The case turned out to be more complicated than initially thought and it was taking up more of the team’s time.

You and Bailey were cuddling on the couch watching one of her favorite cartoons. Bailey had a crying fit and after some time she managed to calm down a bit and now here you were, caressing her back as her tear filled eyes were focused on the TV in front of her.

As you felt yourself doze off and your head leaned to the side, your phone rang which caused Bailey to get fuzzy.

“Shh there there,” you sat up and pulled Bailey into your lap as you dug your phone out of your pocket, seeing it was Spencer calling you sighed in relief and immediately put it on speaker.

“Hey Agent Daddy,” hearing your words made Spencer chuckle and Bailey’s eyes went big as she heard the laughter.

“Hey you two, how are my favorite girls doing?”

“We’re doing okay, Bailey misses you a lot.”

“She does?” Bailey immediately made grabby hands at the phone.

“C’mon, say hi to daddy.”

Bailey got the phone in her hands and chanted “daddy, daddy, daddy!” in an excited voice.

“Hi baby, do you miss me?”

“Yes.”

“Hey, daddy will be home soon, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Spence, do you think you could sing to her a bit?”

“Yes yes, daddy sing!”

Both you and Spencer laughed as Bailey grew excited over hearing her dad sing to her.

As Spencer sang along to the lullaby he recited to Bailey every night before bed, she nuzzled into your chest as her cheek was squished against you, her eyes fluttering shut as she relaxed.

You pried the phone from her hands gently and took it off from speaker mode, pressed it to your ear and quietly spoke as to not wake up your daughter.

“She’s finally asleep.”

“Has she really not slept these past few days?”

“Well only when she tires herself out from crying.”

Spencer chuckled lightly, “I feel bad now.”

“Hey it’s okay. You’ll be home soon so she’ll feel better in no time.”

“I hope so.”

Silence took over the line for a moment and you could hear Spencer trying to cover up a yawn, he was dead tired but still managed to make time to call you.

“You should go to sleep, I don’t want to keep you up for too long. You still have a lot of work to do.”

“Yeah,” Spencer yawned and rubbed his eyes as he looked at the time, 8:47 PM in the evening and yet it felt like it was 1 AM for him.

“Be safe, yeah? Think about how happy Bailey will be once you get home.”

Spencer smiled as he thought about his little girl running into his arms as soon as he walked through the front door.

“Give her a kiss from me please.”

“I will, good night.”

“Good night.”

As the call ended you looked down at Bailey and watched her sleep peacefully in your arms. Her hand was gripping your shirt and you chuckled as you remembered what you wore, the same shirt of Spencer’s that you draped on her as she slept.

Taglist: @radioactiveinvisible @whoisspence @sreidisms @lanascinnamongirls @luvkatryna @sp3ncelle @iluvreid @khxna @keiva1000 @reidstheyfriend @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @cynbx @kimm4710 @niktwazny303 @reidsdaisies @mindfullycriminal @cumulo-stratus @themarauderseraslut @gayfor-rosadiaz @gubsbuubs @multifandomsimp69 @chyozai

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Let me know your thoughts in the comments and like & reblog to support <3

[unhappy-last-resort]

Run Run Run (Yandere Sylus X GN Reader)

Warnings: Chase scene, is probably ooc

A/N: I know nothing about this man, just saw him on the feed and he gave me a brain worm which I cannot allow to stay.

My shoes skid across the wet gravel, struggling to find traction as my palms hit the ground and pull me forward. Each breath burns in my lungs as I keep my eyes trained forward. All I gotta do is weave through these alleyways and into the main shopping center and I'll be safe.

Even with the wind rushing past my ears, heart pounding in my chest so loudly I think anyone could hear it, and the loud crunch of my shoes on gravel, I can still hear him behind me, each sound of his dress shoes hitting the ground like a countdown to an invisible clock. I managed to put some distance between us, but not by much. If I just run a little harder, maybe I can lose him.

I can see my first turn coming up just ahead, I gotta make sure that I don't slip. Just as I'm about to turn the corner, I spot a small dry patch of gravel and plant my foot on it as I pivot, launching myself forward and down into yet another dark alleyway, my muscles screaming at me to stop. I'm almost there, as long I just keep going, I can make it out of this!

Just breath in, out, in, out, in, out. Steady breathes, steady feet, I can do this, I will make it home! Another turn, I grab onto a water spout on the corner to keep me from slipping, just two more turns! I push to run faster as I hear a cackle behind me.

“Go on, little rabbit! Keep running!” I can hear the grin in his voice, the pure joy in his voice. If only I hadn't stuck around in that hotel to see what was going on. Damn it, why didn't I wait before calling the police! Then I wouldn't be stuck in this stupid fucking situation.

I sniffle and blink my growing tears away, I can't cry, not yet, I have to run! Another turn, I feel the sole of my shoe lose grip for a moment and for a second I feel every fiber of being come alive as a fresh feeling of panic surges in my veins, time slowing down as it feels like I'm watching myself through a window and I can hear steady footsteps approach from behind like a drum getting louder and louder with each step. The white hair, the blood red eyes. For a moment I imagine him turning into a demon, wings sprouting behind his back, knees cracking backwards into hooves, a big, toothy grin filled with pointed teeth and yellowed eyeballs filled with malicious glee at having found its new human to torture and feast on-

My shoe catches friction and I keep running. I have to make it, I have to make it, I have to make it. Just one more, just one more, just one more. I chant it in my head over and over, probably a hundred times within a minute. There it is! The last turn! I just gotta run through there and then I'll be surrounded by people and safe-

My heart drops as I see the puddle around it. My soul sinking into the ground with it.

No! I can't lose hope! I just gotta keep going, keep running, and be mindful. That's it! As I approach the turn at a breakneck speed, I feel part of myself reeling, waiting for the moment that I slip and fall. The second I do, the second I mess up even once, it's over for me.

My foot hits the puddle, water soaking through the material of my sneakers and wetting my socks and my heel digs into the mud. I can see it, the lights, the people, the stores, the cars. It feels like seeing heaven for the first time, but I'm not at heaven yet. My other foot hits the gravel and I can feel a new feeling take over my veins. Hope.

The end of nightmare is just a few steps away, just a few more. I've reached to where the light touches the walls beside me, it's gold and pink, giving a new sense of warmth to cold, blue alley. I stretch out my hand, tears stinging my eyes as I reach to grab the light and-

A feather?

The breath is knocked out of my lungs as I hit the ground with a thud. Small, stabbing little pains shoot throughout my back and press on my skull. My vision is blurry, but I can make out a shadow above me.

“I gotta admit,” The voice, it echoes in my head and turns into an internal mockery of my failure. “That was getting tough. Unfortunately, for you...”

He leans down toward me and his eyes glow red. Red, red, red.

“I have some questions I'd like to ask.”

[americanwh0rerstory]

jack off [Tate Langdon]

summery: Y/N isn’t around so tate jacks off thinking about them

content warning: Masturbation, use of Y/N, f!reader, cumming on a photograph, poorly described masturbation in an attempt for me to learn how to write

A/N: just a quick scenario, not the greatest but it’s something

NSFW MDNI: CONSUMPTION IS OWN FAULT

“f-fuck” he groans, his grip tightening around his shaft as he pumps his hand up and down it repeatedly, occasionally looking at how his foreskin rolls over his tip with every up stroke. he lay on your bed with his legs spread, dick standing at attention, and his shirt hitched up slightly exposing his midriff. Soft whines and gasps escaped from between his slightly parted lips when he sped up, his breath coming in quick and desperate pants from the increase in speed

“Y/N, don’t stop” he whines, his voice needy and desperate like it always was when he was around you, he craved your touch yet that was the downside of being dead: he had to wait for you to be ready, to have free time. he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind momentarily though and began daydreaming about your hands wrapping around his cock, how your tongue looks giving small kitten licks to his slit when beads of precum formed, how your boobs bounced with every exaggerated movement, the soft skin on your thighs… fuck he needed you

his daydreams got him bucking into his hand even faster and with more desperation if that was even possible. his hand moving at lightning speed, rubbing vigorously up and down his shaft. “Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, please Y/N” he whined, chanting your name like it was a ritual to summon you but much to his dismay it didn’t. he just kept daydreaming whilst sliding his hand over his cock before he noticed the photo on your nightstand

he retrieved the photo with his free hand, it was a photo of you and your friends. it wasn’t a lot but it was good enough for him. he stared at the photo, only at you though, his movements faster now that he had a visual representation of you. he imagined undressing you, removing you from the clothes in the photo, kissing down your torso, tasting your nectar…

“Y/N- fuck-“ he moans loudly, his body trembling as his orgasm rippled through him. he watched as his cum spilled over the photo, coating your smiling face in a glossy sheen of tate.

once he caught his breath, he replaced the photo and pulled his shirt off. he knew you liked to wear his clothes so he left his shirt folded on your bed for you, and also as a sign that he had been in there whilst you was out. he left the shirt on your pillow and the cum-covered photo on your nightstand before leaving the room, going back to waiting for you

A/N: how the fuck does one write cumming scenes. how am i meant to describe how it feels. i think this is the only downside to my smut

[bruciemilf]

No Capes! AU where Bruce and everyone else is an actor.

Famous Hollywood moguls Thomas and Martha would've rather died in real life than make Bruce a child actor so he didn't start till he was 24

It's an ongoing gag that Thomas always tweets "On my way to die again! As if you didn't know" with every Gray Ghost remake

The Waynes are always just. So chaotic

Bruce and Selina constantly bring stray cats on set; Bruce just hides them under his black shirt famously known as a void with no end.

Behind the Scenes cuts have images of this man pulling 10 cats from under there and the director is convinced he has a cryptid on set

They have to edit so much footage because Bruce always says "sorry" after "punching" someone. "Bruce, they have padding, they're fine!" "And no health Insurance. Do something about that."

Sometimes he forgets to take off the costume after filming. The record set for how many Subways he sent into a panic is infinite

That being said, Bruce's kids aren't afraid of him at all, and WILL run up to him everytime they visit to chant "dork! Dork! Dork!" While flocking around him. He cries from happiness

But he cries all the time, so it's hard to tell for what

The movie's soundtrack is just Bruce's middle school playlist, " They said they needed something rotten and terrible, like, -- poison for the ears. If you listen to it you get sick."

Bruce's biggest "diva moment" was refusing to give up the eyeliner and he still sends apology cards to the cast and crew for his " horrible behavior"

"He just kinda said no a bit loud and ran out of the studio while sobbing quietly."

Literally every villain on set is a sweetheart. Selina does her own make-up as well as Bruce's and Oz's and you can see Carmine lurking like a little gobling behind them just to scare her

There's this joke that none of Selina's streams ever go well because the crew is her curse. She's trying to talk about how to steal on set, meanwhile, Bruce next to her, "Did you know cats have no collarbone. Also, the electric chair was invented by a dentist."

You'd think everyone's favorite duo would be Bruce and Selina, and you wouldn't be wrong, but the public can't wait for Bruce and Carmine to have a press conference or interview together

Mostly because Carmine obviously dealt some shady cards in his past and Bruce is so clueless . " Have I ever tried coke...No, I like Pepsi." While Carmine is trying not to laugh behind him

Edward is just as bad. He's trying to tell the director that's not how bombs are made, and someone's head exploding wouldn't look like that, and Bruce is like :O Eddie, I didn't know you were a gamer

Edward is a menace on set and Bruce stays blind to it because he like him. There's rows of videos of Bruce stopping mid scene, going " Eddie," before jumping on the guy like the kitten he's NOT

Alfred still brings Bruce lunch and snacks and he throws down with Oz for no reason. He always brings the kids (read; they sneak in) and it's very clear they're not getting any shooting done that day

Dick, age 10, impatiently asks why Gray Ghost can't have a sidekick. In the last moments of the movie Dick runs in, improvises a scene with Bruce, and the fans love him too much not to include him after

You just leave Bruce alone when his babies are on set; Damian is strapped to his chest cause he's so small that everyone almost steps on him, Jason is giving the writers tip, Tim is taking pics of everyone, and Bruce smothers them with kisses constantly

[sigmalaussene]

Top ten weird ways Oswald Cobbepot gets called in Gotham

As I was rewatching Gotham, I decided to write down every name that people in the show canonically call Oswald Cobblepot aka the Penguin. It was a wild ride. Please enjoy

10. "Funny looking fellow"

(season one)

We start with a simple one. This isn't even an insult, it's just a fact. He is, indeed, a funny looking fellow. I'm pretty sure they say it more than once too.

9. "The Dapper Gangland Kingpin"

(season two)

This one it's just silly, especially since it was written on a newspaper. Just... that's weird ? Idk it's silly it makes me chuckle

8. "Yellow rat snitch"

(season one)

We start getting a little weirder. Why a rat? And, more importantly, why yellow???

7. "Stupid lame birdbrain"

(season four)

Just so mean. Especially since this scene it's his dumb husband making a room full of people chant it

6. "Golden goose"

(season one)

Right back to season one and it's incredible dialogue. This one is particularly amazing thanks to Oswald's reply to it, which was, of course: "Honk honk". I can't even start to describe that scene. It's a classic.

5. "Beaky nosed freak"

(season five)

Definitely the best nickname the last season had to offer. Like, you know that moment when a guy kills your bestfriend/girlfriend and you call him the silliest name you can think of? This is one of those times.

4. "Scaley faced bitch"

(season one)

This is the first one in the show, directly from the first episode. I am a firm supporter of calling men bitches when they deserve it, and he did, so I wholeheartedly approve this message. Adding the scaley face part just makes it more poetic.

3. "Sad little breadhead"

(season two)

This one from never fails. Imagine it delivered with the most condicending tone in the world. Just amazing. Makes me laugh every time.

2. "Fruitcake leprechaun"

(season two)

This. This is the one that started it all. It was thinking about this one that I decided that this rewatch I was gonna write down all the nicknames. I dont know if it has something to do with english not being my first language, so I don't have the background of the word "fruitcake" used as an homophobic remark, but this name is one of the funniest things I have ever heard in my life.

1. "Limping little chickenbutt second banana"

(season one)

This couldn't not be on the first place. I am obsessed with the writers of this show, i want to get inside their brains. Because like what does it mean? How did they come up with this? I need to know every thought that crossed their mind for them to write this. This is art. This is poetry. Incredible. Amazing. Absolutely insane. Kudos to the actor who played Maroni because if they gave me that line I wouldn't be able to say it with a straight face.

Bonus:

(For the fans, he is also called "the only thing Nygma cares about". Just... you know, in case you forgot)

Some recurrent nicknames are: "Pengy", "Ozzie", "freak", "cockroach", "punk", bird related names (bird/birdman, feathered friend, chicken, turkey...) and "little"/"tiny" followed by almost anything (man, friend, dirtbag, bastard, creep, twerp, freak, weasel...)

Edit: i realize i didn't mention "Major Crumblepot" and that's on me sorry guys

His haircut is described as "disco vampire hair" at one point (another classic)

He is also called "specimen", which is really funny, and "dewdropper"?? for some reason I don't remember but it was in my notes and I couldn't ignore it lmao

[pedrospatch]

Lonely Too Long l (To Hell and Back Drabble)

Series Masterlist

Summary: After escaping a group of brutal slavers, you are left with permanent physical and emotional scars. Unwilling to put your trust in another human being ever again, you spend a year fighting for survival alone in the post outbreak world. But when you choose to save the life of a man named Joel Miller, the wall that you’ve built to protect yourself slowly begins to crumble.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+ only, minors DNI. Flashback of implied SA, but no descriptions. Soft Joel, Joel sings to reader. *If you happen to be reading the series, I recommend reading this one because it starts setting up Joel and reader’s relationship. This is also the last flashback she’s going to have since it’s a heavier one than the last two.

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: Dust to Dust is one of my favorite songs by The Civil Wars. I know the song did not come out until like 2013, but we’re just going to pretend. Also, I know that the gif is video game Joel, but god I love him just as much and it fits this scene so we are gonna roll with it. I know this might not be everyone’s cup of tea but I wanted to write it so I did. 🤌🏼 I am still organizing the taglist for this series, it will be start with the next chapter. This was mostly for me but hopefully some people out there enjoy it too. 🤍

You couldn’t scream.

You’re trying to cry out, but you can’t.

Chest tight, your lungs won’t expand.

You couldn’t breathe. 

One hand around your neck, the other is fumbling with the zipper of your jeans.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he grinned, his fingers roughly scraping against the skin of your lower stomach.

In the corner, your cellmate is curled into a little ball in the floor, hands covering her ears and her eyes squeezed shut.

She’s probably praying she won’t be next.

She’s seventeen so even in the midst of your own chaos, you can’t help but pray she isn’t next too.

You thrashed around underneath him. It’s futile, but all you can think about is getting him off you.

Grin fading, he let out a heavy, irritated sigh. His hand left the waistband of your jeans. He reached behind him and pulled out his gun, bringing it up to into your view—it caused you to cease any and all movements. “Listen to me,” he said, pressing the barrel of the pistol against your temple. “It’s simple, really. Keep squirming and I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do you understand, dollface?”

When he received no response, he dug the barrel deeper into your skin, his finger on the trigger.

“Do you understand?” He repeated, his tone low.

Nearly paralyzed, all you could do was nod. 

“Good.” He roughly flipped you over.

The sound of his belt buckle clanking rang loudly in your ears. As he yanked your jeans down to the middle of your thighs, you closed your eyes.

Both your mind and your body went numb.

A light, late night rainstorm came out of nowhere, sweeping over the town. The soft, pitter pattering sound of raindrops on the window above your bed had almost lulled you into slumber.

Almost.

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

The words blended into a steady but silent chant.

You’re safe.

You’re safe.

You’re fucking safe.

Slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead, you exhaled a long, heavy sigh and stared up into the the darkness of the bedroom.

You couldn’t be certain as to what time it was, but it had to be well into the middle of the night. You’d been tossing and turning for a couple of hours but somehow it felt like a hell of a lot longer than that.

You were fucking exhausted. You nearly ached for some sleep, but every damn time that you closed your eyes, vivid images of the past came creeping in and chased it further and further away.

Your brain just couldn’t seem to wrap itself around the fact that this place wasn’t dangerous.

That you didn’t have to sleep with one eye open.

That nobody was going to hurt you.

That you were safe in a soft bed in a real house.

You weren’t lying on a dirty cot in a human cage.

Sighing again, you thought about Joel who was in his bedroom down the hallway, sleeping.

It brought you comfort knowing he was close. But for some reason you couldn’t quite explain, part of you couldn’t help but feel he wasn’t close enough.

You. The same woman who vowed never to trust another human being ever again—you wanted him fucking closer. Actually, it wasn’t a want so much as it was a need.

You needed him to be closer.

Sitting up, you tossed the sheets back and swung your legs over the edge of the mattress, your bare feet meeting the cold, hardwood floors. You stood and quietly padded out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards Joel’s.

“You know where to find me if you need anythin’,” he’d assured you before he had gone off to bed.

You stopped in front of his door and lifted a curled first, knocking lightly. About a minute or two went by, and just when you started to realize that you’d made a mistake and whirled around to make a run for it back to your own room where you could hop back into bed and pretend that the thought of this hadn’t ever even crossed your mind, he opened up his bedroom door.

“Thought I heard a knock,” Joel mumbled sleepily, rubbing at his eyes with one of his hands. He wore nothing but his sweatpants, his hair looking about ten times more disheveled than usual. “Everythin’ alright?”

You swallowed dryly, trying your hardest not to let your eyes wander away from his face—it proved to be almost too difficult to keep from staring. Joel’s shoulders were broad, his chest was wide, and his stomach was soft; his sweatpants hung on the low side on his hips and revealed the trail of dark curls that started at his lower belly and descended until it disappeared underneath the elastic waistband.

You caught yourself before they could go lower.

“Somethin’ the matter, darlin’?” he asked, stifling a yawn. Thankfully he hasn’t seemed to notice you gawking at him. He rubbed at his eyes once again and then observed you, trying to figure out what it was that had brought you to his room at this hour. “You need somethin’? Are you cold? Did you need an extra blanket?”

You lightly shook your head in response. No.

He tried again. “Are you still hungry?” he asked as he gestured towards the stairs. “I can make you another sandwich if you want—”

He was cut off by another shake of your head that told him that wasn’t it.

“You just can’t sleep,” Joel realized after a minute. He frowned—he could see how tired you were and for as much as he didn’t want to think about it, he had a feeling that he knew what it was that was on your mind and keeping you awake. “What can I do to help, sweetness?”

You blinked, standing there almost dumbfounded.

Clearly, you hadn’t thought this through.

You would knock on Joel’s door and then what?

You would talk to him about what’s on your mind?

Letting out a tiny frustrated huff that was directed at yourself, you waved a dismissive hand in the air.

Forget it. There’s nothing you can do.

As you turned around to leave, Joel reached out to take your arm. He curled his fingers lightly around your elbow. “Well now, hold on a minute. You’re at my door for a reason,” he said. He watched as your eyes flickered to his hand around your arm, but he couldn’t be sure if his touch had bothered you. He dropped it, not wanting to risk pushing you too far or crossing a line, not when he had made progress with you, progress he didn’t want to lose. “You not bein’ able to sleep—it have anythin’ to do with you still not feelin’ safe?”

You hesitated.

“It’s alright, darlin’. You can be honest with me.”

The sheepish expression on your face said it all.

No, I can’t sleep because I don’t feel safe.

“Would it help if you slept with me?”

You raised your eyebrows at him, eyes widening at his proposal. At least, the way he’d said it.

Excuse me?

Realizing how it had sounded, Joel flushed. “What I mean is, would it help if you slept in my bed?” He winced. That hadn’t sounded all that much better. “You sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor,” he sputtered out quickly. “That’s what I meant. That way I’m right next to you and you ain’t alone.”

Gnawing nervously on your bottom lip, you took a minute to think it over.

If you wanted him closer, this was your chance.

But why? Why did you want him to be closer? Why did you need to have him at your side?

You’d been on your own for an entire fucking year.

And it had been by choice.

You didn’t want to be around other people, sure as hell didn’t need to be around other people.

And then Joel Miller makes his appearance and all of a sudden, you’re at his door in the middle of the damn night because you feel the need to have him at your side?

Finally, you nodded your head. Okay.

“Come in.” He stepped aside, allowing you in. Not wanting you to feel trapped in his room, he left the door open. “And you’re free to go on back to your own room whenever you feel like it.”

Joel picked up his discarded tee shirt from earlier, a small labored grunt escaping him as he brought himself back into an upright position, the bones in his lower back crackling with protest. Turning over his shirt right side out, he tugged it on as you took a look around his bedroom, a larger space dimly lit by the small lamp on his nightstand.

That’s when you saw it.

Perched on a stand, it was nestled in the corner.

A guitar.

Curiously, you walked over and knelt in front of it.

You reached out and softly ran your fingers across the strings, smiling to yourself at the sound it had made.

“Found that while out on patrol with Tommy a few weeks ago,” Joel stated as he came up behind you slowly. “Gibson. Little worse for wear, but in damn good condition all things considerin’. Woulda been a crime to leave it out there,” he chuckled. “I know Ellie’s been wantin’ to learn, it’s the main reason it came back home with me. I haven’t shown her yet since I still gotta clean and polish her up.” He took a brief pause. “You know how to play?”

You ran your fingers across the strings once more, and a loud, terrible noise that wasn’t even close to music caused him to wince. You then looked up at him over your shoulder with an amused grin.

Does it sound like I know how to play?

Joel couldn’t help but laugh. “I’ll take that as a no, then.” He leaned over and picked up the guitar. He walked over and took a seat on the side of his bed, patting the seat beside him. “C’mere, sweetness.”

Getting up to your feet, you wrapped Joel’s flannel closer around your body as you padded over to his bed, perching yourself next to him.

Head down and focused, he began to strum a few notes. You couldn’t help but to be mesmerized by how his large hands moved on the instrument, the way his long, thick fingers—

Swallowing dryly, you cut the thought short.

Curiously, you put a hand on his shoulder.

Joel paused the tune. “What is it, darlin’?”

With your opposite hand, you touched your throat and then pointed at him. Can you sing?

He gave a half hearted shrug. “I do like to sing,” he admitted almost bashfully. “Always been fond of it ever since I was a kid.” He chuckled. “Before goin’ into construction, I wanted to be a musician. But I knew it would never pay the bills.”

You squeezed Joel’s shoulder and gestured to the guitar, then to his throat again. Will you sing me a song?

Joel felt the back of his neck burn and he cleared his throat awkwardly. “Normally, I would probably say no,” he admitted. “But, seein’ as you saved my life and all, I’d be a real asshole if I said no to you.”

Lifting your chin, you shot him a smug look. That is very true. So go on then, Johnny Cash. Play me a song.

“Alright. Any requests?”

You nudged him lightly. Very funny.

“Okay, um. Gimme a minute to think of a song.”

Withdrawing your hand from his shoulder, you sat back against his pillows and pulled your legs up to your chest, hugging your knees.

Nervously, Joel inhaled and exhaled a deep breath and began strumming the guitar. Chills shot down your spinal cord as a hauntingly beautiful melody filled his bedroom. He turned and angled his body towards to you as he began to sing.

“You’ve held your head up,

you’ve fought the fight

you bear the scars, you’ve done your time

listen to me, you’ve been lonely too long…”

Your mouth fell open slightly.

“Let me in the walls you’ve built around

we can light a match and burn them down…”

The rich baritone of his voice caused goosebumps to eruprt all over your flesh. Furiously, you rubbed at your bare legs, but it was useless.

With every note Joel sang to you, more appeared.

With every note Joel sang to you, the harder you found it to breathe steady.

With every note Joel sang to you, the more beats your heart seemed to be skipping.

“Let me hold your hand

and dance ‘round and ‘round the flames

in front of us, dust to dust…”

Joel glanced up, his dark brown eyes holding your gaze as he sang the final verse of the song.

“You’re like a mirror, reflectin’ me

takes one to know one, so take it from me

you’ve been lonely

you’ve been lonely too long.”

Even if you could speak to him, you would’ve been left speechless—all that you could do was stare at him in complete awe.

Joel set the guitar down. “I’m alright,” he said with a sheepish little laugh. “My voice ain’t nowhere as nice as yours.”

You stiffened slightly.

What are you talking about?

“Don’t look at me like that. I know it was you who I heard singin’ back at that cabin when I was comin’ back around.” He gave you a crooked grin. “Earlier I was just playin’ dumb, but I know it was you. You have a gorgeous voice, and I’d love to hear it again someday.”

Hugging your legs closer to yourself, you dropped your head down onto your knees, embarrassed.

What was the matter with you?

Here was a man who had taken you in, offered you a warm bed under his own roof—gave you clothes and fed you, even offered to give up his own damn bed and sleep on the cold hard floor beside you to make you feel safe enough to sleep.

And you still couldn’t say a fucking word to him.

“Hey. Look at me.”

Forcing your head up, your gaze met his.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” Joel assured you. “It’s just like I told you downstairs. We’re gonna take it one step at a time.” Lifting one of his hands, he reached out holding it out to you, his palm face upwards. “And I swear, once you find your voice, I’m gonna do all that I can do to make sure you never lose it again.”

Biting your lower lip, you placed your hand in his.

Joel have it a gentle squeeze. “Atta girl.”

Much sooner than you would have liked, he let go of your hand and stood up.

“We should get some sleep. You’re gonna need all the rest you can get before you meet my kid. Ellie. She’ll be here first thing and I should warn you she can be, uh, she can be a lot to process.” He let out an amused snort and reached for a pillow, tossing it onto the floor. “You can have all the blankets, I’ll just take this throw here—”

As Joel reached past you for a green flannel throw blanket, you grabbed his arm to stop him. His face was just inches from yours.

Close.

But again somehow still not close enough.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he asked, softly.

Warm and laced with mint from the toothpaste he had used to brush his teeth before bed, his breath tickled the tip of of your nose, sending a pleasant shiver up your spine.

Your eyes looked right into his as you scooter over to the other side of his bed—it was firm, cold. Like no one had ever occupied that space before. But it was foolish to think that a man like Joel Miller had never had another woman share his bed before.

You patted the spot beside you.

Sleep up here.

“You sure about this, darlin’?”

You patted the empty spot again. Yes I’m sure.

Joel squinted at you. “You ain’t gonna strangle me in my sleep, are you now?”

His half serious joke was met with a glare.

Keep it up with wise cracks and I just might.

He held his hands up in defense. “Just checkin.”

As you crawled underneath his dark green sheets, Joel slid into bed beside you, making sure to leave a good three foot gap between the both of you; he murmured a quiet goodnight and switched off the lamp on his nightstand before rolling over onto his stomach—not even two minutes later and his soft snores filled the room.

You turned onto your side, facing him. Through a beam of moonlight steaming in through a crack in the curtains, you could just make out the outlines of his facial features. He’d fallen asleep facing you.

Closing your eyes, your body sank further into the mattress, heavy with exhaustion.

Taut, tense muscles finally relaxed.

Tight jaw finally unclenched.

You’re safe.

You slowly started drifting off to sleep.

With Joel beside you, no nightmares came to visit.

[chiiyuuvv]

fuma as a crush and bf ₊˚ෆ

crush/bf!fuma x fem!reader 0.7k words requested!

▸ 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘺?

When fuma has a crush on you, he’d..

(♡•♡) give you small smiles whenever you enter the room, whenever you open your mouth to speak, whenever you make eye contact.. It’s just his way of saying hello without sounding like an idiot. 

(♡•♡) stutter whenever you talk to him. It’s part of the reason why he likes to stick to small smiles. Not because he hates your presence, he just hates the fact that he stutters so much around you, his cheeks burning red as he bats his eyes to the floor, finding his shoes extra shiny

(♡•♡) be protective over you. He likes to call himself subtle, but anyone walking by can see the glares he gives to men when they try to even take a glance at you. You don’t know it yet, but you’re his girl, so no one is going to be looking at you in any type of way >:(

(♡•♡) follow you like a lost puppy. Or should I say, “she said she likes this, so I’m going to do the same thing” knowing good and well he despises whatever action you’re doing. If you decide to put bows in his hair, he’d be cringing on the inside, but hey, at least you’re happy 🤷‍♀️

(♡•♡) confess when you’re trapped inside a run down elevator. Usually fuma would like to keep his feelings to himself, but he hates when he begins to second guess the situation, thinking about all the possible ways something could go wrong. It limits him from being happy, and he hates feeling trapped inside a box. So as you’re sitting there in silence, he’d randomly blurt out the feelings he’s been holding back, finally able to get them off his chest. He doesn’t expect you to like him back, so to say he was a little shocked when you got up and kissed him was an understatement. 

When you’re dating fuma, he’d..

♥‿♥ want to go grocery shopping together! He’d insist on carrying all the baskets and paying for all your purchases, your only job is to point at the things you want so he can get them for you. Likes to socialize when waiting in the checkout line, his arm wrapped around your waist while he pushes your head to his shoulder; he’s not exactly a pda type of guy, but he does crave your warmth from time to time :3

♥‿♥ put his hand on your thigh whenever you’re in a dinner setting. This isn’t to rile you up in any type of way, just like a comforting reminder, chanting the words, “I’m here,” if you somehow manage to forget. He’d also feed you snacks if you’re out on a picnic or something. It honestly reminds me of High School Musical, the scene where Troy and Gabriella are trying to throw grapes into each other's mouths. It’s romantic yet silly, something fuma cherishes.

♥‿♥ want you to go to the gym with him. You don’t even have to work out, he just likes it when you’re watching him do his form. He feels powerful almost, knowing he’s the reason why you drool, which keeps him motivated to do better 😋

♥‿♥ be your #1 supporter. Like I said before, fuma doesn’t like being trapped inside a box, so he��d encourage himself to step out of his shell and face his fears, the same goes for you. He understands why you’re scared, but he wants you to understand that he will be with you every step of the way. When you finally face your fear, fuma would be so proud of you, spending the rest of the day (or week (or month)) spoiling you, celebrating your victory. And if you didn’t, fuma would console you, because at least you tried your hardest, you know?

♥‿♥ nag at you. Fuma is not only your boyfriend.. He’s your mother atp. Nags at you for going outside without a jacket. Nags at you for staying inside and playing pokemon all day. Nags at you for refusing to eat your vegetables – he’d give you one stern look, and right then and there did you know that you messed up. He doesn’t want to seem mean, but he wants you to take care of your health is all :(( 

︴bonus! @kehnarii, i told you were thoughts were in good hands!!

▸ taglist 🎧 @starryriize , @cherrycolaberry , @kehnarii , @wtfisgoingright

🎬 navi

@chiiyuuvv on tumblr . do not steal works/headers/line dividers

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

More Nekoma HCs

• Teshiro’s really good at those pen spinning tricks, the other first-years pop off when he does it. He also has the best handwriting of the first-years and they borrow his notes before big tests. Lev's handwriting is borderline illegible— he claims its cause he's Russian but everyone calls him out on his bullshit ("Dude, your first language is Japanese??")

• Fukunaga carries around a slide whistle, when he's not on court he plays it every time someone dives for the ball

• Shibayama's the kinda guy to send buzzfeed quizes in the team groupchat and make everyone take them ("Dont you guys wanna know what cat breed you are?"). Most of the team groan but secretly find it endearing. Kuroo unabashadly loves it and commends Shibayama's team spirit

• None of the second-years are good students— Kenma spends class playing mobile games under his desk or napping, Tora doesn't listen but even if he did he wouldn't process anything, and Fukunaga's in his own little world 90% of the time. Kenma skates by with general smarts but Tora and Fukunaga are in the TRENCHES. Kuroo and Kai help tutor them when needed

• The whole team LOVES Akane, that's their cheer captain!! She gets along best with Fukunaga and Kenma because they're closest to Tora but I think she'd also vibe a lot with Yaku cause they have a similar sassy energy (and height but shh). All of them treat her like an absolute queen, mess with her and you got 10 guys knocking at your door

• Tora picks people up a lot, he just grabs them and throws them over his shoulders. The most common victims are the second years but also Shibayama since he's "bite-sized" as Tora so eloquently puts it. He tried it with Yaku a single time which did NOT go well, he hasn't again since

• When Hinata's in town to hang out with Kenma Inkuoka and Lev WILL find a way to crash it no matter what. The just happened to show up at the same arcade, what a conincidence!! Kenma gives them the death glare but unfortunately for him Hinata is more than happy to let them tag along

• Kai is generally really chill but when he yells he's louder than even Tora. The team finds this out at training camp when they're settling in for the night and the first years decide its a great time to have a pillow fight. One flies directly into a sleeping Kai's face. The other teams can hear the reprimanding through the walls (bro doesn't fuck around with his beauty rest)

• Sometimes they do video game nights at Kuroo's but Kenma is either straight-up banned or given severe handicaps. The one time he loses is during MarioKart when Kuroo starts waving his hands in front of his face and Kenma stops playing to wresting him away (he still manages to beat Tora somehow)

• Kuroo and Yaku argue all the time but if anyone else talks shit about them they hop to the other's defense immediately. You do not get away with making fun of Yaku's height unless you're Kuroo himself.

• Kuroo's the biggest fan of Fukunaga's jokes, as a fellow pun enthusiast he appreciates him keeping the court light-hearted. He laughs way too hard even when they're not that funny and sometimes fires a quip or two back. Also Kuroo's definetly the type to literally slap his knee when laughing

• (Ignore the awful picture quality) There's this scene from the Tokyo Battles stage play where Shibayama dances along with Akane and Alisa from the stands and it's the cutest thing ever i'm obsessed. Anyways I think he's the king of the bench cheerleaders, he teaches Teshiro and Inuoka all the little dances and chants

alright thats it for now, long live Nekoma

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

This is one of my favorite scenes because of its layers and I’d like to share it with everyone!

The symbolism for every character here is rough.

The tangerine trees and flag weep as Nami and Chopper stand around Brook and Carrot.

Bellemere, with her beloved trees, and the pirate flag Hiriluk loved so fondly; they cry for they died in a similar way, and now they’ve lost another.

Brook. Has lost another. Carrot, lost a brother.

She doesn’t move, drawn in on herself as she knows the news and is handling it the best way she can as a child, however Brook does something very, very different.

He THROWS himself violently to the floor, and in a rage we NEVER see him in, not like this, he curses himself, and apologizes to the air about him, a mantra of sorts.

I don’t think it’s just an apology to Pedro, no, but to the Rumbars he failed in the EXACT same way.

To Brook, who was acting captain, those men died due to a mistake on his part, an error he didn’t think about or prepare for, and they were butchered, one after another like ants under a stronger man’s boot. The left overs and rotten remains hung about him for 50 years, and he knew he failed Yorki entirely.

He believes in this moment, that he, after being given power by Luffy, has failed Pedro ALONE entirely, just like he did before.

“If only I.”

Chopper was there with him. It was a we if anything but no, not to Brook.

“If only I was stronger,”

A chant he probably already has said before many, many times during the nights and days and hoary mornings and fantasy moments of the dusk alone and with others; if only he had been stronger, maybe those men would have made it to live like he’s been blessed to now.

Jinbe speaks up, giving advice just like Fisher would have, and now we see TWO captains, one disabled, throwing his beloved hair into the dirt, forgetting his own promise to a little boy who waits beside an aging tired man, and a man who’s lead strong since his mentor died.

It’s such a wonderful scene of morals, and reactions, and grief and loss and even PTSD.

Oh Brook,, it’s not your fault. Never was, but, will he ever forgive himself?

[suspiciouslackofclowns]

Thinking of a modern frat Harringroveson au with chubby!Billy, because he’s my favorite, and a scenario that’s similar to that one tumblr(?) post about the girl who lost her keys at a frat party, if anyone knows what I’m talking about.

Specifically the part where she wanders around the house looking the morning after, and no one is particularly helpful until she runs into a guy who sends a text to the group chat with a description of the keys, and suddenly like twenty of them spring into action like soldiers and find her keys in less than a minute?

It’s peak boys will be boys and I love it so much.

So I’m thinking about Billy, Eddie, and Steve being in a frat. Particularly one of the larger ones, so the house is roomy and kind of daunting when first stepping into the foyer.

Steve is taking an exam and he, very miserably, let it be known that he would be gone for most of the afternoon, seeing as his next couple classes were nearly back to back after his test. So, he’s out of the house all day, and Eddie takes the opportunity to have a scary movie marathon with Billy.

Because they might as well do something other than sit around and wait for him to come home, and why not watch something creepy? Steve hates scary movies, so it only makes sense.

The house isn’t buzzing with activity at two in the afternoon on a weekday, so the couple settle into the living room. Have some popcorn, get comfy on the sofa, light a fall-scented candle to match the cooling temperature outside, and it’s perfect.

Until Tommy (I’m picking on him this time, sorry) meanders in about halfway through The Fly.

Maybe it’s a running bit in the house, something born of affection, that it’s acceptable to poke fun at Billy for his size. He’s one of the bigger guys, in every sense, and he gets easily flustered, so he’s teased a lot. They chant his name when he does keg chugs at parties, and they even call him The Tank.

Partly because he can put a lot away, and partly because he’ll do some serious damage if he decides to throw down.

Maybe Tommy takes the joke too far. Instead of giving Billy a pat on the back and calling him big guy, be calls him lardass. Maybe he comments a little too much on Billy’s eating habits, trying to get some kind of rise out of him.

While Billy used to get pissed, used to get in his face and promise to kick his ass before someone intervened, he just gets… uncomfortable now. Usually whenever Tommy enters a room, before he even opens his mouth.

Like right now.

Eddie has his arm around Billy’s shoulders, cradling him against his side, fingers tip-tapping against the blond’s bicep as he noses a kiss into his hair.

“This sweater’s real cute on you,” he murmurs. Billy hums appreciatively, and Eddie smiles as he digs his hand into the bowl of popcorn in his lap. “My cute little muncher.”

A door closes in the close distance, and suddenly Billy goes a bit rigid where he leans against Eddie’s shoulder.

Tommy pads into the room, hands on his hips as he glances between the tv and the couple sitting on the couch. Spreads an amused little smirk, eyes tracing up and down the scene.

“No Steve today?” he wonders. Eddie shakes his head and turns his focus back to the movie. “And did you just call him little?”

The freckled brunet snorts, and Eddie huffs a groan and lolls his head back.

“Can you leave, please? Crawl back into whatever hole you spawned from?”

“Hey, this is the communal living room, I can come in here if I want.” Tommy plops down in the recliner and cocks his head to the side. “You didn’t answer my question.”

Eddie lifts his head again, brows drawn together as he shifts to fish his phone out of his pocket after he pauses the movie. He rubs up and down Billy’s arm where his hand is still resting, and taps on his screen.

“I’m trying to watch a movie with my boyfriend, Hagan. He’s never seen The Fly, and we’re on kind of a schedule ‘cause we have to finish both movies before Stevie gets home,” Eddie says. “I’d say I wouldn’t mind if you watched and just kept your trap shut, but I’d really rather you just leave.”

“So you’re saying I can’t come into the living room in my own house? What would El Presidente think of that?”

Tommy clicks his tongue. Billy shifts when his eyes fix on him.

“I’m saying you make my boyfriend uncomfortable, and I’m saying you should fuck off about it.”

“I make him uncomfortable? I can hardly go anywhere in this place without seeing some kind of perverse display.”

Eddie quirks a brow.

“Perverse display?”

“Well, yeah.” Tommy crosses his arms, and it’s remarkably bratty. “You guys are always feeling him up, or sucking face, and he’s always pigging out. You don’t see how that could be disturbing?”

There’s a beat of silence. Eddie’s mouth pinches into a line when he notices the tinge of red in Billy’s expression. Notices how he leans closer, making himself smaller, and how out of character that is.

Eddie wants to rattle off an insult about how Tommy’s hair is always a mess, his room is filthy, and point out that his girlfriend has been cheating on him since the dawn of time. He wants to tell him how fragile he is if he thinks that two people sharing a kiss is obscene, or that snacking on popcorn is pigging out.

Eddie wants to say all of it so bad, but instead, he types briefly, and hits send.

Instantly, both Billy and Tommy’s phones buzz, and they both pull them out of their pockets. To Tommy’s horror, it’s a notification from the group chat. A voice note with a text attached to it.

Trying to watch a movie and this fuckhead Hagan can’t decide between being fatphobic or homophobic. I think we’ll start looking for an apartment so we can watch movies in peace.

It takes merely seconds for messages to start rolling in. Everything varying from what the fuck to hell no to questioning if the text is genuine, and if Eddie is serious about moving out. Eddie grins, and briefly hopes that Steve remembered to silence his phone before his exam.

Then, Tommy’s phone starts vibrating with a call. His eyes go wide, and he swallows before answering.

Eddie bites back on a laugh, knowing that only one person besides Steve has yet to have texted back.

“Hello?” Tommy answers.

He cringes briefly, and nods to himself as he pulls his phone away from his ear, and taps the screen.

“Am I on speaker, dipshit?” Jason asks.

“Yes.”

Tommy’s voice is suddenly timid, face hot with shame, and Eddie presses his lips together when a laugh threatens to sputter out.

Over the phone, Jason sighs.

“Hey, Bill? Edd? Can you guys hear me?”

Eddie clears his throat and exhales a calming sigh.

“Sir, yes sir.”

“Good.” There’s some static and some shuffling over the line. “You okay, Billy?”

For a moment, the blond is quiet, but he relaxes a bit when Eddie gives him a soft squeeze.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he says.

“Cool. I’m kinda caught between classes right now or I’d deal with it myself, but I promise it’ll still be handled. I’m really sorry you guys had to put up with this, so I’ll have a couple pizzas sent to the house.”

Eddie nods in approval.

“We appreciate you, boss man,” he says.

“Alright, I’ll let you guys get back to your movie. Hagan, I hope you have street clothes on.”

Then, Jason hangs up. Things are quiet for a moment. Anticipation is thick in the air, and then there’s a new message in the group chat from El Presidente.

Hagan is excommunicado, effective immediately.

Eddie snorts when not a single text rolls through after that, but there’s the sound of movement upstairs.

“John Wick,” Billy murmurs, nodding. “Nice.”

There’s footsteps. Heavy scraping. Tommy stands up from his seat, ready to bolt upstairs to see what the commotion is, but he doesn’t make it further than the base of the stairs before the noise and voices get louder.

Then, things come flying down the steps, and Tommy barely jumps out of the way.

Armfuls of clothes, shoes, a backpack. Tommy’s eyes blow so wide Eddie thinks they might pop out of his head.

The mattress is next, with the sheets still on, and then figures come into view. Argyle and Jonathan carrying a dresser down the stairs in nothing but their socks and underwear, full drawers threatening to slide out and spill clothes everywhere. Patrick is right behind them with a nightstand in his grasp, alarm clock and bong still resting on top. More voices follow, and more and more comes tumbling down the stairs.

Nothing is moved carefully. Wooden legs are skidded across the floor, corners are banged against the guard rail and doorframe, and Tommy’s laptop is thrown like a frisbee out onto the concrete walkway.

It’s beautiful, Eddie thinks, how fast the pile of trash and other belongings accumulates, and how he counts probably fifteen heads as the guys dump everything out into the front yard. They wail at Tommy as they pass, booing and poking and some even pinching him before the guys all disperse like roaches when the light flicks on.

A few pass by the sofa, offering condolences like they’re at a funeral, and Argyle even tousles Billy’s hair before he disappears.

Tommy is left standing there, staring through the open doorway at his entire existence spread out on the ground in front of him. Eddie snorts when he sees the tiny Tommy Hagan has been removed from group notice appear in the bottom of the chat, followed by a plethora of saluting emojis.

He ropes Billy closer into his side and kisses his hair, shutting his phone off.

“You gonna be hungry for pizza?” he murmurs.

Billy tilts his head up to look at him, eyes glassy, and chews his lip.

“Mhmm,” he hums. “You think Stevie’s gonna be stressed when he checks his phone?”

He closes his eyes when Eddie squeezes him and presses a kiss to his forehead. Relaxes into the embrace when the front door shuts.

“I’ll send him a picture when the pizza gets here so he knows you’re okay.”

“Why wait ‘til the pizza gets here?” Billy muses.

He hums a laugh and turns further into Eddie, tucking his face in the crook of his neck and smoothing his hand over his chest. The brunet sighs comfortably as he feels around his lap for the remote, and traces shapes against Billy’s bicep with his free hand.

“‘Cause the only thing cuter than you in your comfy sweater is you having a snack in your comfy sweater.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm. Don’t want him to miss out on it.”

Eddie smiles as he presses play, and Billy chuckles into his neck.

“Me neither.”

[midnight-mourning]

DCA Promptober Day 20: Trapped

Finally, the last part of the mini-series. Hope you enjoy, she's a doozy

Content warning: depictions of blood, injury, and death, reader discresion is advised

Word Count: 2001

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"Come on Tommy, don't be stupid, don't be stupid," You're pacing through the Plex, checking every odd and end location you can think of for where this kid might be. 

Fourteen minutes.

He's moving back toward the security office, yes, but where he started from you have no idea. Furthermore, you can't risk going back there as you've no doubt Moon's prowling around trying to get him. You also don't think it's wise to let the bot know directly that you were flat out rejecting his offer. 

You duck behind another tall plant, eyes scanning across the atrium for any sign of life, "Okay, if I were a teenager, where would I hide?"

Fazerblast? No, too obvious. West arcade? Too open, you'll give him credit where it's due and argue that he's smarter than that. Mazercise was a possibility, it was just a matter of getting there. You had no idea if the other animatronics were also feeling murderous tonight and you'd really rather not find out. Shit, if you had Garcia with you maybe this wouldn't be so hard-

A scream pierces through the Plex, sending fear shooting straight to your core. 

Your feet move before you can stop them, rushing toward the sound without any hesitation. 

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," You start to chant until you come upon the scene of the crime and-

It's not Tom.

One of the janitors is being held up by their neck, blood covered hands desperately grabbing at the clawed hand holding them high above the night-themed attendant. You can only snap out of it when Moon's other hand suddenly plunges forward and-You close your eyes, flinching at the squelch you here before a thud resounds on the ground. 

You keep your eyes close, backing further behind the statue you were hiding behind, until you finally hear bells fade off into the distance. 

Ten minutes.

You peel them open, one after the other, and dare to observe the carnage just briefly. 

Doing so proves useful, as attached to the-most definitely dead-janitor's hip is a walkie talkie. You scan the atrium quickly, see nothing, and move swiftly. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," You whisper as you quickly snatch up the radio from the bloodied corpse. 

Once you have it you bolt back into a darkened corner, turning the channel to the guard frequency.

You speak low, cautious, "Tom, you there?"

"H-here," He whispers back, sounding on edge but, excited, "I, I made it back into the office! Where are you? The bots are going frickin' crazy tonight! We gotta find the others and get out of here, or, or something," You hear him jamming buttons on the control panel, "Why can't I get the front doors to open, or or call the cops, or just anything?"

Relief washes over you, but only briefly. Moon might have been distracted but it hadn't been for long. Your friend's not in the clear yet, "Listen. Lock down the office. If you hear anything in the vents, shut them immediately. But not too long, the stupid power's finicky so you'll need to conserve it. Turn out the lights and the cameras if you need to. Someone's probably flipped the circuit for the door access. I'm gonna try and get them open for you. Once I do, you time it right and get the hell out of dodge, got it?"

"You, you're talking like you aren't coming with," Tom's laugh is nervous, "Why are you talking like you aren't leaving?"

You sigh, looking up at the ceiling and biting your lip. You still had eight minutes. You could save yourself instead. The thought passes by as quickly as it arrived. To your credit, nobody really wants to die, it just happens. And if it's between you and someone else, you'll let it be you.

You'll make sure it's you.

You press on the talk button to the radio, "'Cause I'm not, Tom. Not right this second anyway. I'll worry about me, you worry about you, alright? And don't argue with me about it, we don't have the time for that."

"I-"

"Tom." You hate to be stern, but you will be.

He sighs, it's shaky, "Okay."

"I'll let you know when I'm at the circuit box. Stay safe. Good luck."

"Good luck."

Seven minutes.

It doesn't take long to get to your destination, you know the path well. Just being direct and taking the elevator down also helps. Does fuck all to steel your nerves though. You're scared, you're downright terrified. Dying wasn't on your to-do list for tonight. No, you were planning to spend the night teasing Rhoades and Connor about the Grizzlies game while halfheartedly helping Jenson beat them at ping-pong.

You just don't understand. Was there something that you're missing? Some piece to the puzzle that made all of this make sense. You've gone over it again and again in your head, but you can't find an answer. You can't find-

Three minutes.

A noise down the hallway becomes noticeable to your ears. It sounds like, you strain a bit, Garcia?

You approach slowly, his words becoming clearer as you slink down the hall, keeping a look out for any movement that could result in a deadly outcome. 

His voice is coming from the closet you know the circuit breaker is in. You can make out what he's saying when you're at the crossroads of the two hallways, about ten feet away. 

"Help... Please," He wheezes, then coughs, "Anybody? Somebody..."

You take a step forward and peek down both ends of the hall intersecting where you've come from. It's dark. No signs of life. Or anything else for that matter. 

Still, armed with your flashlight-you'd lost the taser, though you doubt it'd have been much use anyhow-you tip toe over to the door, and pull it open.

"Garcia you're lucky I'm scared of my mind, or I'd be giving you hell right about now-"

He's dead.

One minute.

His body is slouched against the wall, arms splayed out beside him not unlike the bloodstains behind him. There's red running down his head and additionally soaking through his shirt. Laying neatly on his chest and still squeaky clean is his walkie, which repeats that same line over and over again.

A trick.

Time's up.

"That was supposed to lure in someone else, not you, Little Star."

You turn around slowly, thinking that it buys you time you don't have. 

Even slouched over Moon towers over you. Clawed, stained hands scrape against the ground. In this level of darkness you can only see the deep red glow of his eyes. He tilts his head. 

You swallow, "Guess it didn't work then, huh?"

"I gave you another chance," He shifts just a little closer, you take a step back, "You wasted it. Why?"

"I'm a good person?" You try.

Moon chuckles, it turns dark quickly, "You think you're funny, is that it?"

"Maybe?" You squeak.

He sudden looms closer, now eye to eye with you and mere inches away, snarling, "You don't have any right."

You put your hands up, shying away. 

The bot shifts back, tone still unhappy but not as angry, "You don't have any right at all. Not after what you did."

"I'm sorry but I don't-"

You feel a sharp talon on the front of your chest. Not poking through your shirt. Not yet.

"You made a promise. And you didn't keep it."

You're taken back to several months ago. Out on a typical patrol, nothing exciting. You're about to check the Daycare off your mental list when a pair of red eyes greets you on the wall. 

Ah, him again. You didn't necessarily have a problem with the Daycare Attendant. But much like anyone else you felt either one of them were a bit, unnerving. The naptime attendant seemed to always take particular interest in you while you were on patrol. You'd caught him staring from afar several times, never really approaching say for once in a blue moon. And only to very briefly say hello before hiding away again. 

He must be feeling a bit bolder today. 

You raise your hand in greeting, easy smile on your face, "Evening, Moon."

"Hello," For a such a tall bot, he sometimes spoke so small.

"What're you up to this evening?" Your hands slink into your pockets, "Besides the usual, that is."

He shifts his crouch slightly, bells jingling, "Just, the usual, I suppose."

"Sounds like you need something to spice up your time then. You ever play any games in there?" You nod your head to the Daycare.

He shakes his head slowly, "Not me. Only naps."

You click your tongue, trying your best to not let the pity show, "Bummer. Say, maybe we could do something together sometime."

"Really?"

"Sure," You shrug, "Doesn't have to be a game, we could do whatever you'd like. I promise it'll be fun." 

Knowing how shy he is you doubt he'll actually take you up on that offer. He'll probably forget about it by tomorrow, that's how these machines work, right?

"Do you mean it?" His voice is raspy, but the tone is soft, shy. Cute, even.

You smile, "You bet. Sometime soon, how's that?"

"O-okay."

You give a salute, walking off, "I'll see you later then, Moon-man."

"Goodbye."

Back to now, eyes wide as you stare up at the Attendant with realization.

You didn't just agree to play a game. 

You'd promised a date.

And you'd completely forgotten about it, like a complete and utter jerk.

"Oh, Moon. I didn't," You stop, frowning, "I wasn't trying to-"

"Exactly, you didn't try. You lied. And I despise liars."

He's moving, you need to move. You need to think. Come on. Don't let it all be in vein. 

Your hand acts on its own, swinging upwards with your flashlight in hand and flipping it on. Moon yelps. And while he's blinded you take a slight step back and send a roundhouse kick straight into his faceplate. 

It hurts like hell, but it causes him to stumble backwards. You quickly turn, open the breaker box, and flip the switch. 

Spinning back around, you see Moon's still recovering, you dodge past his blind swinging claws and blot down the hallway. 

"Doors are open. Don't know how long that'll last. See you on the other side, Tom."

Back at the closet, you hear Moon growl out his irritation before taking off after you. And by the sounds of it, is gaining fast. 

Turn the corner, you're not trying to outrun him, just keep him distracted long enough for your coworker to escape. 

Soon enough, you find yourself in a similar predicament to earlier.

You're grabbed and in trying to right yourself slam into the wall, this one doing you in. You hiss at the pain that shoots up your shoulder, which is on fire, you think you might've dislocated it in your rush. 

Moon's hand is still on you, and while his grip is firm, it's not tight. Slowly, he uses both hands and guides you down the wall as you lay back against it. 

Your breathing is heavy as you stare up at the ceiling, out of breath and out of time. 

"Just do it already," You gasp out, "We both know you want to. And I can't say I don't totally deserve it."

You hear a few clicks and wait for your end. 

But when it doesn't come, you look back down, face to face with the bot again. 

His head is tilted to the side. Observing you. 

Once more, you find Moon's hand gripping your chin, he chuckles, "Silly Star, what's the fun in that?"

You pause, not quite understanding what he's saying. 

"You said we could do whatever I'd like, right?" His faceplate spins, "So we're going to do what I'd. Like."

The reality of the situation starts to set in for you.

You're trapped. 

And you think that may be worse than death. 

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If you are physically incapable of roundhouse kicking (as am I) guess what? doesn't matter, you gained the ability for a split second for the purpose of this story. Anywho, virus moon! Or at least, a specific version of virus moon (wink wink nudge nudge). This concludes our little mini-series in the prompts. Twas a good bit of fun, but there are others to write and so, I'll be off. Link to the masterlist is here if you've missed any, thanks for reading!!

[demensrage]

Immortal whispers ⚊ chapter one

── summary: When the god Morax sees a mortal that capture his interest, he comes to realize that there is still so much of human nature that he has no experience of. For his lust for life through her he starts doubting himself and everything that makes an entity eternal. This is the story about a man, who finds out, what the essence of life is, as he will learn that love and death are two greatest gifts of life.

warning: Zhongli!morax x reader, angust, fluff, eventual smut but nothing explicit?

wordcount: 2.5k

go back

chapter two

note: english is not my firts lenguage so please forgive me for the grammatical errors I may commit.

The life of a god can be more or less pleasant; it all depends on the times. But it is true that immortality becomes boring at some point. It's all jokes and laughter, moments of seriousness in which wise decisions must be made. However, when the same situation presents itself over and over, with years of distance and different people, you already know how to act. You don’t have to think. The story has repeated itself so many times that, by inertia, you know the answer.

Thus lived Morax, the great god of contracts, immersed in an endless routine. On the cold nights of Liyue, where the stars twinkled like small beacons of hope, he watched from a distance, his immense and powerful figure camouflaged among the shadows of the mountains. His gaze, always attentive, focused on the lives unfolding before him—ephemeral beings filled with dreams and ambitions, and yet so vulnerable. It was easy to get lost in the flow of time, in the repetition of stories he knew by heart.

But tonight, something was different. The great rite of the Archon's Descent was to take place today, an event that drew thousands of mortals to the squares of Liyue, where devotion mingled with longing. The floating lanterns, made of delicate paper and soft light, ascended to the sky, illuminating the darkness with their warm glow. Each balloon carried a wish, a prayer, rising to the gods like small stars born from human hands.

Morax watched from a distance, feeling the palpable energy in the air. The rituals were meant to honor the gods, to remind mortals that their existence was not in vain. The voices of the believers resonated in hymns, and the offerings were presented with fervor, each gesture imbued with reverence. However, in his chest, a void grew, a reminder that, although surrounded by devotion, he felt increasingly distant.

As the ceremony progressed, the wind brought with it laughter and whispers, blending with the echo of the chants.

"Just like every year, but somehow, their energetic devotions continue to stir my soul," Morax murmured to himself as he walked among them, observing with the same monotony that had invaded him since times he could no longer remember. Although the festivities repeated with the same devotion as always, something in the fervor of the mortals still moved him deep within, as if there remained a spark of hidden emotion behind his serene and distant appearance.

The humans cheered, laughed, and embraced each other, wishing prosperity in their businesses and future contracts. Some drank, others conversed, exchanging stories of success and dreams yet to be fulfilled. It was such a familiar scene, a living painting of the eternal essence of Liyue, where tradition and the human spirit intertwined in perfect harmony.

And then, amid the bustle and music, Morax saw her. She danced with a natural grace, moving through the tumult of singers who raised their voices to exalt the god who dwelled in their hearts. With her skirts gathered in her fists, she twirled and glided around the circle with a unique fluidity. Her feet followed the vibrant rhythm of the music, while her lips never stopped smiling, reflecting a pure and contagious joy.

There was something magnetic about the way she moved; an energy that emanated not just from her body but also from her spirit. She laughed, completely immersed in the moment, and with every step, she conveyed a sense of freedom that the god had almost forgotten existed. She was not just dancing; she was alive, completely alive, and that vitality made everything around her pale in comparison.

Morax, who had witnessed countless rituals and festivities, found himself mesmerized by the simplicity of her happiness. She did not dance to worship a god, nor to be seen by others; she did it for herself, because in that moment, amid all the commotion and the lights of the floating lanterns, she felt whole. That sparkle in her eyes, that laughter rising above the music, was a reminder of what it truly meant to live.

A pang of nostalgia coursed through Morax's heart. Watching her, he felt that unknown impulse awaken within him once more. He wondered what it would feel like to be part of that ephemeral and fleeting world, where moments like this were the true eternity for mortals. And it was in that precise instant, as she laughed and twirled among the lights and the songs, that Morax understood his desire to know her was not mere curiosity. It was the yearning of a god weary of his immortality, seeking in the spark of a mortal the promise of something he had forgotten: the joy of living.

The beauty of that ephemeral being lay in what emanated from her soul. That was what he wished to believe, that was all he wanted to think about, but he would be lying if he said it wasn’t so. She was a woman as beautiful as her soul; the way her smile contrasted with her lovely face, how her skin seemed to be kissed by the sun itself, and her hair, though dark as night, cascaded from the heavens over her shoulders.

To him, humans were not perfect, they never would be, because they were human, and their very nature led them to make mistakes. Morax knew this well; he had seen them fall, rise, and make the same mistake throughout the centuries. It was always repetitive cycles, time and again, with different faces and names, but the same underlying story.

In that instant, when his body moved towards the circle on impulse, and that dancing soul, for a moment as brief as a blink, immersed her body alongside his, he thought the exact opposite. At first glance, even seeing the fire of her soul shine so vibrantly, he found no flaw in her. It was not just her dance that enchanted him; it was the purity of every movement, the honesty of every laugh that escaped her lips.

Morax, invisible and unnoticed, allowed himself to be enveloped by the music and the songs, his energies brushing against the presence of that woman who radiated life in every turn. She danced without worrying about perfection, without seeking the approval of others, and that was what made her different. She moved because she felt it, because each step was an expression of her own essence, something so genuine and simple that Morax, the great god of contracts, found himself completely fascinated.

For the first time, he felt that a mortal could be more than just a fleeting being, and in that brief connection, Morax understood that perhaps mortality held a beauty that even millennia of divine wisdom could not reach.

The music reached its climax, and with it, the beautiful dance he was witnessing. The drums resonated powerfully, lifting the spirits of the crowd as the chants of the devoted filled the night air. The woman spun one last time, her skirts swirling around her like a flash of light in the gloom. Each step seemed synchronized with the very heartbeat of the earth, and her laughter intertwined with the choruses, creating a unique melody that captured the spirit of Liyue.

Morax watched her, his golden eyes fixed on every movement, every gesture, as if he were trying to decipher the enigma she represented. Now, with a curiosity burning in him like never before, he longed to know what offerings she had left him. Would they be as genuine as her smiles? As bright as the being emanating from her own essence? He wanted to know, he needed to know. But beyond simple curiosity, he felt an urgency to understand why his thoughts had strayed toward this particular mortal.

It was not natural for him to feel such curiosity about humanity; he had stopped feeling it years ago when his purpose as a protector and guide began to fade into the monotony of the centuries. He knew them all, had guided them through their worst moments, had fought for them and watched them thrive under his tutelage. Humans were predictable, their lives fleeting, and their actions so repetitive that Morax had ceased to be surprised by their gestures, their rites, their prayers.

“It's just a momentary attachment,” he told himself, trying to rationalize the fascination that overwhelmed him. “And like everything in this life, that feeling will fade away.”

However, as she stepped away from the circle of dancers, still smiling and with flushed cheeks from the effort, Morax could not take his eyes off her. There was something in her laughter, in her freedom, that challenged him to keep watching.

The god of contracts, who had always known every answer before it was even formulated, found himself for the first time without a clear explanation. And as the figure of the woman faded into the crowd, he realized that this time, his curiosity would not be so easily satisfied.

Longing to know more about her, he followed. His steps, though meticulous and silent, could not conceal his divine presence. She could feel it; that imposing and demanding energy sent shivers down her spine, but instead of feeling unsettled, she reveled in it. It was the same sensation that had engulfed her when the chant was coming to an end, that deep vibration in her soul connecting her to something beyond the earthly.

She approached a group of children who, with laughter full of joy, flew silk kites under the soft light of the Chinese lanterns. Their giggles mingled with the wind, and upon seeing her approach, the little ones quickly called out to her.

“Leilani, come! Join us!” they exclaimed, their voices brimming with enthusiasm.

“Leilani…” the god pronounced, savoring her name on his lips like a divine delicacy. The warmth of the sound, the sweetness and the meaning behind her name blossomed in his mind. “Leilani, celestial flower,” he repeated, this time more firmly, enjoying the sensation of knowing something so intimate and delicate about her.

But something unexpected happened. She stopped dead in her tracks. She hadn’t just heard her name once but twice, spoken with a voice that did not belong to any of those present. Leilani looked around, searching for the source of those words. Yet, she found no one. The children continued to play, the wind gently stirred the kites, but that voice, deep and laden with meaning, had no visible owner.

Confusion crossed her face for a moment, and in the depths of her mind, the same sensation of that powerful energy resurfaced. Her heart raced, and though she tried to dismiss the experience as a mere illusion, something inside her told her there was more behind those words. That there was something—or someone—watching her from a place she could not comprehend.

Morax, satisfied yet intrigued, watched calmly from his ethereal form. He savored the confusion in her eyes, but also the spark of curiosity now igniting within her. The connection between them had begun to weave itself, invisible and powerful, like the threads of a spider's web waiting for the moment to envelop them completely.

Ready to return to his divine realm, he decided on a hasty course of action, to walk alongside that young woman, brushing his skin against hers. “Warm, just as I thought,” he said to himself, noticing how she stopped short again when she felt his touch.

She shivered at the electric charge coursing through her body once more. It was gentle, as soft as a warm breeze in spring.

Ready to return to his divine kingdom, Morax chose to make an unexpected, almost impulsive decision, which was strange for someone of his nature. Driven by the curiosity that the young woman had awakened in his immortal soul, he walked beside her, so close that their energies intertwined, brushing her skin with his, like an intangible whisper that shouldn’t be felt but somehow was.

“Warm... just as I thought,” he murmured to himself, pleased to confirm the perception he had held since the very first moment. Not only did her soul shine with intensity, but even her physical presence, though limited by mortal nature, radiated that warmth he longed to touch.

Leilani, unaware of the nature of the being walking beside her, stopped again. This time, it wasn't her name that had paralyzed her, but the palpable sensation of something—or someone—that had brushed against her skin. Her body involuntarily shuddered, a small tremor coursing down her spine and traveling to the tips of her fingers, leaving an electric trace in its wake. It was gentle, as delicate as a warm breeze in the midst of spring, barely perceptible but powerful enough for her heart to beat faster.

Not fully understanding what was happening, Leilani brought a hand to her arm, where she had felt that touch, as if she wanted to make sure it hadn’t been a figment of her imagination. But had it? She stood still for a moment, looking around, hoping to find a logical explanation, some indication of what had transpired. However, the night continued, the lanterns illuminated the sky, and the laughter of the children echoed around her, as if the world had not changed at all.

But for her, something had changed. That sensation, that energy, lingered in the air, wrapping around her almost imperceptibly. It was neither painful nor bothersome, but it was disconcerting, as if a part of her was being watched, or worse yet, touched by something she could not see.

Morax, for his part, watched her reaction with interest. He had anticipated that shiver, that spark of surprise in her eyes. It was the natural result of such intimate and ethereal contact, something no mortal could fully comprehend. Yet, far from satiating his curiosity, that brief brush had awakened in him a deeper desire to know her. This was only the beginning.

“We shall meet again, sweet soul,” Morax whispered, letting his voice fade away like an echo in the night wind before ascending to the place to which he belonged, enveloped in the divine energy that characterized him.

Leilani held her breath. Something in that whisper had touched the depths of her being, but before she could process what had happened or even ask for an explanation, she felt the small, cheerful arms of the children wrap around her. Their laughter pulled her back to the reality of the present, momentarily dispelling the confusion she felt.

“What are you waiting for? Come on, we’ll let you use our kites!” they exclaimed with the same joy she had shared moments before during the dance.

Smiling, though with a slight confusion still lingering in her gaze, Leilani let the children's laughter guide her back to the festive surroundings. The sensation on her skin, the voice that had resonated in her mind—all seemed to fade away, but a part of her knew that something had changed. Unbeknownst to her, she had caught the attention of an immortal being.

© 2024 demensrage. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[suffersinfandom]

So there’s a lot of debate over who’s responsible for Ed’s turn to the Kraken (or, as I like to call it, “the Krakening”), and I think that’s partly because no one person can be blamed. Ed is a deeply hurt and traumatized individual thanks to his life pre-canon, and that hurt can be attributed to a lot of things -- his father, Hornigold, the society he grew up in, the culture of piracy, toxic masculinity.

But there are three key events that we actually see happen between the dock and Ed pushing Lucius overboard, and these three events in combination are the lead-up to the Krakening:

Event one: Stede running away. Stede doesn’t show up at the dock and Ed, convinced that he’s unlovable and of course Stede wouldn’t come for him, accepts abandonment and heartbreak.

Event two: Izzy. “I should’ve let the English kill you.” “This, whatever it is that you’ve become, is a fate worse than death.” “This! This is Blackbeard, not some namby pamby in a silk gown pining for his boyfriend!” “I serve Blackbeard, not Edward. Edward better watch his fucking step.”

Event three: the crew’s chanting. After Izzy leaves, Ed faintly hears the crew laughing and asking for another song. This is the last time we see Ed before he pushes Lucius overboard.

Okay.

After Stede panics and runs and Ed returns to the Revenge alone, he cries and eats marmalade in a blanket fort. He’s heartbroken and sad, not smearing on the eyeliner and hitting the rhino horn. Lucius gets through to Ed with “maybe life just begins again,” Ed sings his little song in front of the crew, and then he starts cleaning up. 

I’ve seen this scene in S1 compared to the scene in S2 where Ed is tidying his cabin up on the day he’s decided to die. While we should absolutely read these scenes as parallels, I think it’s a mistake to say that they’re the same thing -- that is, scenes of Ed cleaning his depression mess, cheered up by what he thinks is his impending death. 

In fact, I think that the S2 scene is sadder when we have these two contrasting Eds. Ed in S1 is newly hopeful. He’s still sad, but he has a community that cares about him and the hope that he can be different. He doesn’t have to be the dread pirate Blackbeard; he can just be Ed in the space that Stede created, even if Stede himself is gone. Ed doesn’t have the same dark energy in S1 that he has in S2 after he has firmly rejected hope for change and anything beyond Blackbeard. S1 is life beginning again; S2 is life coming to an end. 

See above: S1 Ed (bright-eyed, a little manic, open, hopeful that life can begin again)

See below: S2 Ed (dull-eyed, very manic, vaguely menacing, only hope is death)

So event one -- Stede leaving -- isn’t responsible for the Krakening. We can’t know what might have happened if Izzy had, say, been tossed overboard in a mutiny, but it wouldn’t have been the season two we got. In my opinion, every indication points to Ed recovering in the company of the crew. 

Next we have the confrontation with Izzy. This, I think, is the real turn. 

Izzy is cruel here. He hates Ed being soft so much that he tells Ed he’d be better off dead. His wording is an implication that Ed is alive at Izzy’s pleasure (“I should have let the English kill you”) as well as a warning that Izzy’s loyalty to Blackbeard does not extend to Edward. 

I don’t think that Ed interprets Izzy as a direct threat, but Izzy is -- as always -- acting as a manifestation of toxic masculinity. This scene is the world saying that Ed can’t be soft and gentle if he wants to survive. He can’t mourn lost love. He doesn’t have the luxury of healing in a community.

Ed, still raw and sad, is being reminded that he’s not allowed to be just Ed. Just Ed has been told his entire life that he’s not meant for fine things, and whenever he reaches for a fine thing -- friendship, love, community -- he’s told that pirates don’t have friends, he’s unlovable, and he’d better watch his fucking step. Just Ed wasn’t enough for Stede, so how can he be enough for anyone else? For the crew? For Izzy and everyone else in a world that seems to want Blackbeard?

After event two, Ed is on the precipice. He’s unbalanced and uncertain. He isn’t sure that life can begin again after all. And then he hears the crew.

Offscreen and far away, the crew asks “Eddie” for another song. We know that there’s no maliciousness in that because the crew likes the Ed they’ve seen, but Ed is vulnerable. He doesn’t hear friends; he’s not used to having friends. He’s used to Jack and Izzy, who both betrayed him. He’s used to the people on the party boat who pretended to like him and then turned on him. If Ed isn’t valuable, lovable, or even worth liking, then why would the crew genuinely want him to come back? They must be mocking him. 

Lucius gave Ed hope that he could have fine things. Izzy yanked that hope away and, in this moment of doubt, Ed can only hear further confirmation that he was wrong to want better than the violence of Blackbeard.

It’s not a coincidence that the first things Ed purges are his red silk and Lucius. The silk is now a warning against reaching for fine things, and Lucius is the one who encouraged him to be soft and vulnerable in front of the crew -- something that he thinks the crew rejected. Ed moves to protect himself by abandoning all hope for things that he has been told aren’t for people like him.

In conclusion: a lot of things contributed to the Krakening and the main villain here, as it often is in this show, is toxic masculinity and patriarchy.