#every monday gives me serotonin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pancakefancake · 2 years ago

Text

This may be my longest and most unhinged review thus far, and I have a feeling it’s only going to become more feral as the story progresses.

Eris waking up (covered in sweat) hearing her calling HIS name through the wind and then the wind fucking caressing his chest?

Real time reaction:

“‘Go to her’ his soul BEGGED.” It is Monday morning and I am not fucking okay. It’s a good thing I’m traveling today instead of working because this is the only thing I will be thinking about.

“He realized he’d never addressed her by name before”

I don’t think you get enough praise for the little extra touches you give, the hyperlinked descriptions to give that extra depth of vision and immersion. Something I feel like low key annoys me when others do it because it’s often done so carelessly, but you do it with such intention. Top tier. Just next level. Plus the sound choices? Ugh, just so impressive.

I could literally just copy every single piece of this and be like and THIS IS PERFECT and THIS IS PERFECT and THIS IS ALSO PERFECT.

“You’re quite frustrating, you know” I hope you know I would die for you.

Riling him up on purpose and realizing how much she LIKES it. I need water.

His CONSTANT surprise by her??? Will literally never not give me heaps of serotonin. “What would you do differently?” And his answer?????? The care. God. I am obsessed. Your version of Eris Vanserra is going to kill me.

The fierce conviction of “You are not your father. There is much I must learn of you, Eris Vanserra, but that I am sure.” Not to mention that subtle but irresistible, tantalizing promise that she WILL learn more?? Like that was not a question or a request!!

The absolute, chaotic, hot mess of an internal monologue our lil ginger snap has makes me feral. Like he is just so ✨soft✨ and the juxtaposition of how everyone else views him and the irony of knowing what’s going on underneath his mask has me so obsessed. Like, you are a phenomenal writer, but creating THAT? legendary.

God, his body just finally peace-ing out because he’s safe and COMPLETE. Oooof.

When he finally wakes and she’s made him dinner?? And he can’t stop himself dreaming of the future?? Soft.

Literally every bit of exchange between the two of them. ESPECIALLY the bit around the tea. Iconic. “You are the magic.” I am not well. Never going to stop being absolutely blown away with your ability to write witty, captivating, and perfectly characterized dialogue. I read A LOT and you do this better than at least 95% of published authors.

The instant jealousy. As someone who in real life is so annoyed by and intolerant of unjustified jealousy, I am unapologetically obsessed with it here.

I really can’t say enough wonderful things about this chapter. Top tier. Iconic. Perfection. I 100% mean it when I say this masterpiece lives in my brain rent free.

You deserve a marvelous week, my love. You have fucking earned it. ❤️

chapter xi - gust & flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Eris Vanserra has been a prisoner in his own home since the day he was born. He has done what he had to in order to survive and protect the few he loves. And he is playing the long game. Waiting, waiting, and waiting for the right time to make his move, to usurp his wicked father and become High Lord of Autumn Court. But things become even more complicated when a human girl drops into his life. Perhaps Eris can wait no longer to take his throne.

Word Count: 3,700+

Warnings: spoilers for entire ACOTAR series

masterlist

“Eris…” She hummed to him. “Eris Vanserra.”

Then her voice grew more urgent. “Eris…Eris…ERIS!”

He finally shot up in bed.

Sweat covered Eris’ naked torso as he awoke. Yet goosebumps covered his skin.

Eris looked to the windows in his bedchambers, and saw that one was open, and there was a strong wind coming through.

He paused, not remembering leaving it open before he went to bed.

Slowly, he emerged from his bed and walked to the window.

Eris stood at the opening, hands gripping the sill.

A part of him waited for her voice to call out for him still, even now that he was awake. But the wind was quiet, only slightly brushing by him, and cooling the sweat on his muscular chest.

It was hard to decipher what was actually Y/N calling to him and what was the bond messing with his head. Everything about the two of them felt unprecedented due to Y/N not being merely mortal.

Eris looked at the block on his nightstand. He had only been sleeping for barely two hours when he’d awoken. That was the most he'd gotten in weeks.

Go to her, his soul begged.

Eris suddenly found himself considering his responsibilities in the next couple of days. They were lesser than usual. Why did his heart lighten at that realization?

Eris closed the window slowly, making sure to secure it this time.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Rhysand and Feyre had granted access to Velaris to Eris not long after his first visit to the Night Court where he left Y/N with them. They hadn’t really known what to expect in regards to Eris actually taking advantage of the privilege.

Eris had never explored the mystery city. But the bond or perhaps Y/N’s magic – maybe both – seemed to be guiding him.

He finally turned a tight corner and stopped in his tracks.

Y/N sat outside what he presumed was her shop. She’d pulled a chair out and seemed to be taking in the morning sun with a large mug of coffee.

It took Eris a second to realize that there was a spoon in the mug that was stirring itself, while Y/N’s hands kept warm by cupping the sides. He smirked at the little bit of magic.

Then he noticed that Y/N was mumbling under her breath, as if trying to hide it from anyone who might be wandering past.

A part of Eris wanted to turn around and forget this whole idea.

But it was nearly impossible to ignore how much better he felt just seeing his mate. The tension in his shoulders was gone, he stood up straighter, the migraine had finally weakened, and the exhaustion had been replaced with a sudden pierce of energy and awareness.

Eris’ body moved on its own accord.

It was only when he was a few feet away that Y/N’s eyes met his and they widened in surprise at his appearance.

Y/N had been talking, mid sentence, when she noticed him.

“Sorry,” she blurted out without even meaning to.

“Never apologize to me, Y/N.”

Eris blinked, suddenly realizing he’d never addressed her by her own name before.

But then he remembered what Cassian had told him: that many thought Y/N to be crazy due to her gifts in witchcraft. And Eris’ hands clenched into fists at his sides, thinking of anyone saying such things about his mate.

“What are you doing here?” Y/N blurted out. She blinked rapidly. “I-I-I mean, what are you doing in Velaris?”

“News of your store has reached even Autumn Court…” Eris said. But then added, “But I have business with the High Lord and Lady.”

Though he caught how his words came through his mask still – cold and emotionless.

And Y/N caught it, too. For she shifted in her seat with discomfort, unsure of how to respond to the clashing of his words with his tone.

Eris cleared his throat and looked at the ground.

Damn himself. He couldn’t even talk to his mate without sounding like some arse.

“Are you quite well?”

His head shot up at the question.

Surely she wasn’t talking to him.

But she was.

In fact, Y/N's gaze studied him with genuine concern. He caught how they lingered on the deep shadows beneath his amber eyes.

While Eris never dressed and groomed less than perfection every day of his life, it appeared his exhaustion was impossible to hide.

Eris bowed his head. “It seems a good night’s sleep has rather been a challenge for me, as of late…”

He didn’t see the point in trying to lie to Y/N. The truth was quite clear and he did not wish to seem like he thought her some fool.

Y/N gave him a sympathetic look. “I’m familiar.”

Eris wouldn’t meet her gaze now.

But he heard her slowly stand from her chair and walk to him.

“Would you like to come in for some tea?”

Eris’ gaze once again shot up to meet her’s.

Y/N stepped even closer with an encouraging smile. “P-Please, I insist.”

Eris shifted his weight. “I will not be in your way? Your shop has just opened.”

Y/N shook her head. “Business is usually slow in the mornings, especially this early in the week. I promise it is no bother.”

Eris finally nodded and put a few steps between them as he followed her into the store. Just before stepping in, he looked around them, half expecting that Spymaster to be watching from the darkness or perhaps even one his his shadows.

Y/N led them to what appeared to be a backroom in the the store.

A fire was already kindling in the small hearth. Above it hung dozens of herbs drying from being upside down and hanging in front of the warmth. There was a desk shoved into the corner, with a dozen quills and some notebooks strewn across its surface.

Eris assumed this was where Y/N did all of her conjuring and casting for her merchandise.

Despite it being her place of work, Eris still felt like he was tainting her personal space, her closest thing to home and sanctuary.

“Please, do sit.” Y/N gestured to a small table with three chairs opposite the room from the fireplace.

Eris watched Y/N as she started moving about the room. He studied her outfit: a full quilted skirt and a simple white, button-up shirt with the sleeves already rolled up for her work. It looked less Night Court than the other outfits he’d seen her in.

A few moments later, Y/N placed a large mug of tea in front of Eris while she had poured herself another mug of coffee.

“You are quite frustrating, you know?” Y/N smirked at him before taking a sip of coffee.

Eris tilted his head. “How so?”

“You save my life, bring me here – a court where you hold no true friends. Your own brother doesn’t seem fond of you. And even he seemed confused that you helped me at all in the first place.”

“Anything else?” Eris quipped.

Yes,” Y/N huffed as she sat back and crossed her arms. “T-They tell me too little.”

Eris couldn’t help but smirk. “They as in the wind?”

She hesitated before nodding.

“The Night Court is the safest court in the fae realm for a mortal,” Eris finally explained, as if it were obvious. “I do not have connections in the mortal realm.”

That was not entirely true. He could’ve brought Y/N to the Exiles’ manor. But he didn’t see Jurian or Vassa as capable enough to protect his mate. Furthermore, they owed him nothing.

Y/N’s voice was almost a whisper as she asked, “Are things really so terrible in Autumn Court?”

Eris only nodded.

“It may seem hard to believe and though my circumstances were menacing…” She took in a shaky breath. “There was a moment where I couldn’t ignore how…beautiful it was.”

Eris froze at such a confession. Y/N was dragged and tortured like a slave through his court, yet she still found the beauty in it, same as him.

“It is not the land that is terrible,” he corrected. “But its ruler and those who stay loyal to him, despite his evil.”

“And that is why sleep evades you?” Y/N asked carefully.

Eris lifted his tea again and simply said, “Perhaps.”

A peaceful silence settled between them. There was only the crackling of the fire, something brewing in a cauldron above it, and the soft ticking of a clock on another wall.

“You speak of overthrowing your own father so carelessly…I cannot help but ask: what will you do to make it better?”

Eris was rendered speechless. He realized that no one had ever asked him that – mostly because his plans to usurp his father were a dangerous secret. And the few that knew – which was mostly Rhysand’s inner circle – saw him as no less evil than Beron.

Y/N interpreted his silence as offense.

“Excuse me,” she quickly apologized. “I’ve f-f-finally spoken out of turn.”

Her head bowed in shame as she sipped her coffee more.

“The farmers,” Eris muttered without realizing it.

Y/N looked at him with confusion. “The farmers?”

“My father pays them poorly. He does it so they’re competitive, desperate, and will do anything for more money or his favor. I would pay them the wage they deserve.”

“What else?” Y/N encouraged.

Unbeknownst to Eris, she had seen a spark light in those amber eyes of his. And she wanted to make it burn even brighter.

“I would banish all the courtier’s who did nothing to stand against my father’s malevolence, all because they gained either power or riches from it. I would view the other court’s as allies, not enemies who would strike Autumn at any moment.”

Eris took in a deep breath, as if sharing such a thing was the greatest relief. “Autumn Court would become prosperous from my people’s contentment and harmony, not from their fear and pain.”

Y/N watched him in shy wonderment.

“But perhaps I am no better than my father,” Eris muttered, staring into his tea.

Y/N surprised him by leaning forward with utter determination on her face. “The winds say nothing but hideous things about Beron Vanserra.” She hissed his father’s name as if it were venomous. “Was it not him who allowed my trading through his court?”

She huffed and leaned back, her face softening. “You are not your father. There is much I must learn of you, Eris Vanserra, but that I am sure of. Because you saved my life in the woods that day.”

The breath had been knocked from Eris’ chest. He could not breathe, he could not speak. All he could do was feel the heavy beating of his heart and the string between him and Y/N get pulled even tighter.

If Y/N saw the impact her words had on him, she didn’t show it.

But their moment was interrupted by the shops entrance bell dinging.

“Excuse me,” Y/N said politely as she stood. “I will be right back.”

As soon as she left the backroom, a gasp left Eris. It was like he had been drowning until that very moment when those words left Y/N’s lips. Now his lungs were fighting for every breath.

It took a few minutes for him to gain control of himself again.

And then he suddenly felt a crest of fatigue.

Now that Eris was finally in the presence of his mate again, surrounded by her scent and her safe space, could his body finally find rest?

Eris didn’t mean to, but before Y/N returned, he slumped back in his chair and allowed his eyes to slowly close.

–🍁–🍁–🍁–

Eris awoke to the sound of something lightly hitting the table in front of him.

He jolted awake, quickly remembered where he was by catching Y/N’s sent.

Before him on the table, a bowl of stew had been placed.

He looked up to see that it was Y/N who had placed it there and she was ladling another portion into a bowl for herself.

“How long was I asleep for?” Eris asked hurriedly.

Y/N smirked. “About 6 hours.”

Eris’ eyes snapped to the now empty tea he had been drinking.

“You put something in my drink,” he accused.

Y/N sat across from him with her own bowl of stew. “I did. But it should not have been that strong. You are more tired than you let on.”

It was not the tea, Eris thought. You. You are the magic.

“Are you upset with me?” Y/N asked before taking her first bite of stew.

He narrowed his gaze, the mask slightly returning. “I suppose it would not matter if I was.”

“I promise you were perfectly safe back here,” Y/N added. “I checked on you throughout the day.”

That’s when Eris realized that there had also been a blanket placed on his lap.

He looked at the bowl of stew in front of him again.

“Do you need to return to the House of Wind?” Eris asked, expecting one of Rhysand’s bats to interrupt them at any moment to fly her home.

“They had an important meeting in Day Court...or Winter Court. Can’t remember.”

But Eris knew she did remember. Y/N just didn’t trust Eris enough with that information. It could be nothing important, yet she still protected her friends and the Night Court from him.

“Thank you…for the stew,” Eris told her softly.

“I’m sure it doesn’t compare to the food at your Court,” she admitted.

Eris didn’t correct her. He was too busy thinking of this happening once she felt the mating bond, once it had been awoken for her…and she made him this same meal to accept their bond. Eris knew this didn’t answer the magic, he would’ve felt it. But that didn’t stop him from dreaming of the future.

“You know, Lucien actually asked me to dinner not too long ago,” Y/N said through a smile before blowing on a spoonful of stew.

Eris’ spoon clattered to the table as he growled, “Stay away from him.”

The growl alone made Y/N laugh at the male, “What ever for?”

His reaction was exactly the one she had been fishing for and came out triumphant. It seemed rather easy to taunt Eris. And for some reason, Y/N got such joy from it.

“I’ve seen many a female fall for his hollow charm. You can do better.”

Y/N smirked at that. “Oh, can I?”

Eris refused to elaborate, choosing to take another bite instead.

Yes, he wanted Y/N to find someone else to love – someone better, safer. But to love Lucien would be the Cauldron’s greatest tortures. And she would be no safer from Beron with him.

“If I’m being honest,” Y/N started quietly. “I rather pity him.”

Eris made a noise of disgust. “What for?”

“I do not know much about these mating bonds of faes. But is it not heartbreaking that Elain will not so much as give him a chance?”

Did Eris dare ask the question that was screaming in his mind to be let out?

“And what do you think of it all?”

“What?”

“Mating bonds.”

Her brow furrowed in thought. “At first it seemed so…magical.”

“Spoken from a witch...” Eris answered gruffly.

She glared at him, but continued. “But then Feyre said it didn’t guarantee the two would be happy or in love. And it seemed…r-rather cruel.” She blinked and shook her head. “Look at Lucien…I fear he is lonely. Will he just live the rest of his immortality unloved? And that…that is the true dark side of it all.”

Eris felt sick at the her words.

Y/N was so unaware that she spoke of the same thing to her own mate. But to her, it was impossible to have one the begin with.

“Your mother and father are they…?”

Eris cleared his throat in attempt to push back all the emotions that threatened to expose themselves. “No. No, my mother’s marriage to my father was arranged. No female with any sense would ever agree to marry my father.”

“And do you have–”

But Y/N’s question was interrupted by the shop bell dinging once again.

“Oi!” Cassian yelled into the shop. “Are you sleeping in the back again?”

“Cassian, must you always be yelling?” Feyre giggled.

“Back so soon?” Y/N called back through a smile.

“Why?" Cassian laughed. "Did you think we forgot about yo–”

Feyre and Cassian froze in the doorway when they spotted Eris.

Y/N shrunk in her seat, not sure how to handle their reaction to her guest.

Feyre recovered first. “Eris, we were not expecting you.”

“I had already warned him that you were all on court business,” Y/N answered.

“Ready to go home, Y/N?” Cassian asked.

“Yes. Store has already been cleaned. I just have to put out the fire and lock up.”

With a wave of Eris hand, the fire extinguished, as well as every candle in the store.

Y/N paused in awe at it.

She had assumed Eris had some abilities due to being High Fae and the heir to Autumn Court. But it was still amazing to see.

“Perhaps we shall wait for you outside,” Feyre answered as she shoved Cassian in the direction of the entrance.

“Oh, I almost forgot!” Y/N jumped to her feet and handed Eris a wicker basket that was covered with a grey linen cloth.

Eris squinted. “What is this?”

“Sleep candles,” Y/N answered as if it were obvious. “They’re enchanted, but filled with mostly lavender and then some mugwort, rose petals, and rosemary.”

She pointed to a bundle of waxy leaves. “Eucalyptus. Hang it near your bathtub. The steam will impel its relaxing elements.”

Finally she pointed to a jar filled with tea leaves. “This is the poison I gave you earlier today,” she explained with a mischievous smirk.

“Very funny,” Eris cut.

He tried not to let his heart warm from her handing him such thoughtful gifts.

So, instead, he coldly asked, “How much?”

“Free,” Y/N answered, clearly expecting such a question.

Finally, she realized how dark it had gotten in her shop after Eris blew out every flame.

“I never really properly thanked you…for what you did for me.”

“I didn’t do it for your gratitude,” Eris answered harshly.

But at least his words were true.

Y/N shook her head at him, almost amused by his severity. “Take the candles and tea, Eris. I have to lock up.”

He started walking out the back room when he paused. “Thank you…for dinner. And for the sleep. And for the…company.”

Eris didn’t look at her as he finally finished with, “I am sure you could see how much I needed it.”

Y/N looked at him with such sincere sympathy. “You are welcome to rest here anytime.”

Eris walked outside to find Cassian and Feyre talking hurriedly, yet quietly, between each other. It stopped as soon as they spotted Eris walking out of the store. Both their gazes snapped to the basket in his grasp.

“Testing the merchandise?” Cassian asked with a playfulness in his eyes.

Feyre elbowed him in the ribs.

Eris had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at the two of them. “I shall take my leave.”

“Wait,” Feyre stepped forward.

Y/N emerged from her store, starting to lock it behind her.

“We have matters to discuss,” Feyre added, ignoring Y/N’s presence.

Cassian stepped to Y/N with a knowing smirk and his arms held out.

“Shall we?” He asked with a tilt of his head.

Y/N groaned. “I’m never going to grow to like flying, you know.”

Cassian lifted her into his arms like she weighed nothing. And Eris tried to push down the feeling of jealousy and rage he had at seeing another male holding his mate.

“I know,” Cassian laughed before launching them into the air.

Y/N yelped and Eris caught her hiding her face in Cassian’s neck.

“She’s fine,” Feyre told him as she had closely watched Eris’ reaction to his mate being flown further and further away from him by another male.

Eris ignored the High Lady’s comment and turned to her, already knowing he would not like this conversation.

“What is this about?” He asked with cold annoyance. “Have we changed our minds about my visiting rights to the Night Court?”

“I don’t know what you’re doing,” Feyre began. “Though I wish I didn’t have to care, I do. Because Y/N has become one of us.”

“Yes,” Eris growled. “That has become abundantly clear.”

“I’m going to show you something. Something she said. Lower your shields.”

Eris wanted to refuse such a request, but did as she asked.

Images of Y/N flooded his mind. She was drunk and beautiful, warming the room of what looked to be a pleasure house.

“I-I’ve had my fair share of lovers during my travels – with mortal men…”

“Lovers,” Y/N repeated her own words in a giggle. “As if they were even worthy of the title.”

Y/N’s face suddenly became somewhat sober, twisting into something almost sad.

Her eyes grew distant. “It never really ended up feeling how I wanted it to. I was always left feeling…used.”

She let out a drunken, huff of a laugh. “So I stopped bothering…”

Then Feyre was out of Eris head and his shields returned.

Eris was breathing heavily, nostrils flared. His chest expanded quickly. And his hands were in fists at his side, both surrounded by a ball of deadly flame.

Whatever males had ever touched Y/N to make her feel such a way…

Everything in Eris’ being wanted to find each of them and torture them until they were begging him for death.

Feyre stepped closer and lowered her voice as she uttered, “I do not know what your intentions are with Y/N. But understand…if you do anything to treat her in a similar matter, my Court will counter accordingly.”

Eris held the High Lady’s glare, not backing down.

And then he winnowed back to Autumn Court.

––––––––

please, please, please be nice and leave a comment. leave a book report. dissect what you must. it would bring me such joy.

476 notes · View notes

yukihime-mikeys-girl · 3 years ago

Text

Madness

I am back to where I belong and I successfully worked on the chapter I had promised. I'm so sorry for the delay.

Without wasting any more lines... please enjoy. The next chapter will be up, coming Monday/Tuesday. I had to cut this chapter in half since it was getting longer than what I had anticipated. Please forgive me, it's 5:30 am as I finished proof reading this.

Warnings : humping, cursing, mentions of alcohol, smoking, cigarette burns, fluff, slow burn angst, jealousy, toxic relationships, hurt, abuse, smut?

Minors DNI

taglist is open

-Yuki❄

Sanzu x OC

Masterlist

Sanzu had planned on fixing his relationship with y/n before he did anything that could make her misunderstand, that he only wanted her body. Even so, he could not stop himself from kissing her neck.

‘This much should be allowed right?’

He tried to pacify himself, because if he had to be honest, he had missed her taste so much in these past 8 years. So much, that this very moment, when he had her in his arms felt like a dream. And he was afraid to wake up.

“Say something princess.”, he whispered between open mouthed kisses.

y/n did not plan to be swayed by Sanzu, but her mind had stopped functioning, the moment he had stripped naked and stepped into the tub. Now, his kisses were testing her patience. She was struggling to stay sane under his touch.

y/n unconsciously turned her head to give Sanzu more access to her neck, while moaning under his touch.

“Nghh...... Wh-what do you want me t-to say?”, she managed to stammer. Her eyes were shut as she melted blissfully into his kisses.

Continuing the trail of kisses to reach her cheek, while slowly using his left hand to turn her head towards his own, he stopped the kisses right next to her lips. Breathing in her scent deeply, he kept his lips on her face, as he spoke into her soft skin, “Tell me how much you missed me princess.”

Before she could answer, he captured her lips with his own and licked her bottom lip asking for permission to deepen the kiss.

Lost in a Sanzu fog, y/n failed to hear what he said as her heart was beating erratically. It had been so fucking long that she felt like this.

So damned fucking long.

She opened her mouth, letting his tongue dance with hers as he tried to reach every nook and cranny of her mouth, ravishing her, as if he were having his life’s last meal ever.

As Sanzu felt that y/n was struggling to breathe, he broke the kiss. Bumping foreheads, they both panted for their breaths, as if having run a marathon.

That had to be the hottest kiss in their entire twisted relationship. Or maybe it was just that it had been so long since they’d kissed like this, they’d both seemed to forget how it had felt.

Hugging her even closer, Sanzu repeated his request as he was yet to get a reply from y/n.

“Baby, you never replied.”

“Hmm? What did you ask, Haru?”, y/n asked as she got more comfortable in his embrace while still floating on the serotonin of kissing Sanzu after so long.

“I asked you to tell me how much you missed me, Princess.”, Sanzu whispered in her ear.

y/n felt a chill run up her spine. He could not be fucking asking this question to her, trying to gloss over the past with just one fucking kiss.

‘Sanzu had no right to ask her this. He was the one who had left. How could he be so fucking disillusioned to the point that he had expected her to wait for an eternity while he was out doing who knows what.’

y/n scoffed internally as she straightened from his embrace. The scene from two years ago, of him flirting with her tormentor flashed in her mind as she thought about this. Standing up, she icily replied, “It’s getting late. The water is cold. I am clean now. Please let me go. I need to get dressed.”

Sanzu felt a sharp stab in his chest at her change in attitude. But he didn’t say anything. He knew he’d crossed a line with that question. He’d gotten ahead of himself and it had seemed to slip out of his mouth in the heat of the moment. He regretted it, but he was not disheartened. He planned to make sure that she’d never be able to leave his side. Ever.

Now that she was with him, there was no way he would let her escape. No. The pain of losing her was worse than death. He was not ready to experience it all over again. Because no amount of drugs, Sake or bloodlust would keep him sane now that he remembered what it was like to be with her.

Over time, the pain of leaving her behind had numbed itself. It had taken 7 years for that stabbing hurt to change into a dull pain he’d feel on sunny days. Because they reminded him of her. Too much. So much so that he’d curled up into a ball on the floor, because he felt short of breath and it seemed to hurt everywhere.

Ran had to break through his door once, after hearing Sanzu groan on the phone, when he’d called the junkie to discuss an upcoming mission.

But Sanzu could not utter the words out loud, that his breathlessness stemmed from his missing y/n.

_______________________________________

1 year ago –

Mikey was putting on his shirt as his doorbell rang. He was not expecting any visitors at this hour.

y/n had to leave. She was showering in his bathroom.

It was pouring heavily outside.

Opening the door, he saw Sanzu standing drenched in the rain. His face betrayed no emotions, however, his eyes were bloodshot.

It seemed he had cried his eyes out in the rain.

Sanzu was about to enter when Mikey placed a hand on his chest to stop him at the door.

“What do you need?”

“I need information on Nakahara. I need his files. Kokonoi said he’d submitted them to you.”

“Wait here while I go fetch them. I have a guest and do not wish to disturb them.”

“Yes boss.”

Mikey shut the door on Sanzu’s face as he pinched his eyes together.

‘What a bother that the woman he loves is showering in his own home. It would be so easy to break him. All he had to do was bring him inside and wait for him to see y/n naked except for the flimsy towel wrapped around her body.’

But Mikey needed his loyal mad dog. He was an important chess piece.

Mikey would never admit that deep, deep in his heart, he was scared of losing y/n as his mistress. If he messed up the delicate game that she was playing, then he could kiss their sessions goodbye.

And also his family jewels.

Sighing, he went into his study to bring the files that Sanzu had asked for. As he was rummaging, he heard a soft knock on the open door.

Looking up, he saw y/n wearing an extremely flimsy dress, which seemed to cover... almost nothing. It left nothing for him to imagine.

He salivated as he saw her wiping her hair while leaning on his door.

As if in a trance, he left rummaging and walked over to her as he tried to pull her by her waist towards himself.

‘I want her’, was the only thought in his mind.

Smack!

A loud slap echoed as his face started to redden from the impact.

It also brought him out of his hazy lust.

“Mikeyyy~ I think you know. No touching.”, she whispered seductively as she licked his cheek where her palm had made the mark. Blowing on it to cool it, she bit his cheek playfully as she asked, “Who’s at the door?”

Mikey gulped.

This was it. This was the moment. He could either continue just like this or change things between them.

Mikey wanted more. He wanted to touch her, feel her skin with his own hands, kiss her, be inside her.

But reality was different.

He was never allowed to touch her out of his own volition. He always had to sit like a meek dog.

‘Maybe I can change things a little.’, Mikey thought desperately. He was getting tired of humping her stilettoes every time.

He went out and asked Sanzu to give him 10 more minutes and called a guard inside.

“Hold the phone properly and take a clear picture of when I kiss the woman who’s inside. As soon as you click it, upload it to my cloud. Here.”, Mikey instructed him as he gave him his phone.

“Yes Boss.”, he replied.

Mikey then motioned for him to wait for a few seconds before following him inside.

As Mikey reached his bedroom, he gave the guard the signal to get ready as he pulled an unsuspecting y/n by her waist and kissed her as if his life depended on it. He made sure to hold her hands still as he did this because he knew, unlike him, she used her hands in a fight.

y/n was completely taken by surprise by the kiss and had no time to react. By the time she realized what was happening, Mikey had successfully pinned her arms motionless. All she could do was bite his tongue which seemed to explore her mouth thirstily.

Mikey yelped as he separated from her. His tongue was bleeding a little from her vicious bite.

“Ouch, y/n! That hurt!”

Before he could say anything more, he felt a fist connect with his cheek. y/n had punched him hard enough for him to land on his ass on the floor.

The guard who was clicking the pictures was about to drop the phone to save Mikey, when he motioned for the guard to stay still.

Mike smiled from below as he said, “That was uncalled for, but I’ll forgive you this time.”

“That was completely called for you jerk!”, she fumed.

“What had I said about the no touch rule?”

“Well, that kiss was an introduction to the amendments that I want to make to our contract, y/n.”

y/n scoffed.

“Do you even know who you are trying to bargain with?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.”, Mikey grinned evilly as he stood up and walked to the guard to take his phone.

“You see, I asked him to take a picture of us kissing like two fools in love for a reason.”

y/n felt her breath hitch. She knew something was wrong. Something was not going according to plan.

“Even though we’re not, that kiss could fool anyone into thinking we’re a couple.”, Mikey continued.

“You asked me who was at the door, right? It’s your beloved Sanzu Haruchiyo. He’s here to pick up some files for work. You know y/n, he looked like a sad kitty who was left in the rain. He’s drenched completely.”

‘No! Haru no! not you. You of all people cannot know I’m here. You cannot know this dirty secret of mine. No. Please no!’, y/n started to panic on the inside.

_______________________________________

She was dressed in that flimsy nightgown from a set which Mikey had brought. Since her clothes were wet, she had no other choice but to wear it.

And because he was well behaved in their past few sessions, she had brought over her favorite flowers today to his house. Purple columbines. She never gifted them to anyone except for Haru. Now, she had just brought them over because it was her birthday today and she felt especially lonely tonight.

There was no need to remind Mikey that it was her birthday today. No, there certainly was no reason for it. She just didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts today.

She had ordered the bouquet from Mikey’s account overseas a week ago. They had finally arrived on time and she had picked them up and trudged towards Mikey’s penthouse. A session with him might just help her forget her lonely thoughts.

_______________________________________

Mikey saw the fear in her eyes. She could mask her feelings well, but he knew fear when he saw it.

Feeling his plan working, he continued to torture her more.

“His eyes are puffy and bloodshot. I think he was crying.”

“What... What do you want from me, you bastard!?”, y/n growled. She could not let her tears fall.

“You see, I want to be able to touch you too. I want our sessions amended. We fuck after a session. I want to kiss your lips as I pound into you. You’re going to let me hold you from time to time when we’re mid play as well. And most importantly, we’re going to have a set schedule to our meetings. Once every week. Saturdays. I’m not completely evil. I’ll let you rest on Sundays since I know you only have the weekends to yourself. If you can agree to these conditions, I’ll keep this picture between us. If not, I can send it right away to Sanzu. Don’t even think about trying to destroy my phone. I’ve backed it up to my cloud too.”

y/n felt backed into a corner. There was no way she was letting this scumbag get away with threatening her, but somehow, he did.

He got away and got a great deal out of it too.

No matter what, her first priority was keeping Sanzu safe and in the dark. He liked the sweet innocent her. The ‘her’ who had died when he’d said goodbye with that kiss. The ‘her’ who liked simple things in life, like hugging her boyfriend, reading books in the sun and eating ice cream in the rain.

Now, even though 7 years had passed, she still wanted to keep that image of hers intact. She could not let him know how far she had fallen. She could not let him know how much she had sacrificed so that she could have power over Mikey, thereby ensuring his safety. She just could not.

Because the ‘her’ who was standing here today was a ruthless vicious yandere bitch. The ‘her’ who would be jealous if he tried to cheat on the past ‘her’.

She knew who she had become, and that she was a far cry from the sweet girl that her Haru loved. Yet, she could not seem to let go of the past. She wanted to at least keep the façade of the sweet girl when she gathered the courage to meet him.

_______________________________________

Sighing out loud, y/n wordlessly walked to Mikey’s bedside drawer and pulled out their contract. She knew he kept it there. He had given her the password to the drawer too.

Picking a pen from nearby, she quickly scribbled at the end and signed.

Capping the pen shut, she walked to Mikey and hugged him.

He felt her go limp in his arms as he caught her body. This was the first time she had shown her vulnerable side to him. He felt a wicked sense of pride at knowing that this was how she was with Sanzu and yet, here he was finally getting the same treatment.

He held onto her waist possessively and dragged her into the hall. His bedroom was still filthy from their previous session. Sucking on her neck to create a hickey, he whispered to her.

“Good girl. I should have done this ages ago.”

y/n whispered back to him, “There’s one thing I won’t allow. You don’t get to have sex with me. Everything else is fine, but no dick in this pussy.”

“Hmm? Why so?”

“Because I am saving myself for my Haru. This is non-negotiable Mikey. If you disagree, I’ll kill you right now and then hang myself. I rather Haru find you and me dead, than give you my virginity.”

Mikey was stunned. The shock of knowing that she was a virgin did not seem to sit right with him. ‘She’s an experienced Dom but still a virgin! How?!’

But now was not the time to ponder over this. It also seemed like a small price to pay in exchange for getting to feel her up on a regular basis.

“Mmm... okay. I agree. I won’t put it inside you. There are a lot of other ways to get me to nut and I look forward to it~”, Mikey said as he kissed her below her jaw.

“Now go wait inside while I send Sanzu away.”

“Please give him a jacket. It’s cold outside. He’s already soaked.”

Mikey heard the quiver in her voice. His jealousy flared. How in the world had that junkie gotten such a goddess to be whipped for him, he’d never know.

“Mikey give Haru a jacket, or else you’re in for a very painful session today.”, y/n threatened weakly since Mikey didn’t respond to her.

“Alright, alright! Jeez... I’ll give him a jacket.”

Walking to the door, Mikey grabbed his own jacket which he had worn and opened the door. Sanzu was still waiting outside, shivering.

Handing him the jacket, another thought crossed Mikey’s mind as he mischievously gave one purple columbine bloom from the bouquet to Sanzu, without saying anything.

He wanted to vent his jealousy. The jealousy of how y/n was madly in love with this druggie and not him.

Sanzu’s eyes became as wide as saucers when he saw the flower. It didn’t usually grow in Japan. ‘How had Mikey gotten hold of this specific flower in this color?’

Sanzu ended up just opening and closing his mouth a couple of times. He’d forgotten how to speak.

“What is it?”, Mikey asked impatiently.

“H-How did you get a hold of this flower?”

“A client sealed a deal today and brought it over. I’m happy about it so I thought I’d give you one bloom out of the entire bouquet.”, Mikey said. He knew he was playing with fire here, but he could not help it.

“They’re her favorites! She never gave them to anyone but me. She’d said it was because she didn’t want to share me with anyone else. That I was hers and hers alone. Forever.”, Sanzu muttered in a daze as he kept staring at the flower.

Mikey controlled his surprise well behind his poker face. He knew y/n liked purple columbines, but he didn’t know the story behind why she loved it and what they meant to her. Sanzu’s words made him feel some sort of way on the inside.

It had been long since he’d felt such care. It’d been long since he felt like he belonged to someone. Like someone who cared. Even if she still saw him as her bratty sub, she still cared enough to bring those flowers to his house.

Mikey felt a rainbow of emotions in that moment. He wasn’t able to pin point if it was happiness, comfort, sadness, jealousy, pride or plain old emptiness. But there was one standing tall in all, and it was guilt.

Guilt for taking advantage of a situation.

A what if crept into his mind, thinking if he hadn’t done what he just did, would she have stopped loving Sanzu and started to love him eventually, seeing as she had brought these flowers to his house today?

Shaking his head physically to rid himself of those thoughts, he asked Sanzu, “who is she?”

“My y/n.”

“Yeah well, they’re not from anyone named y/n.”, Mikey lied through his teeth.

Sanzu felt that something didn’t add up. But not being one to question his boss, he thanked Mikey and took his leave.

_______________________________________

It was still pouring heavily outside.

But it didn’t seem to quench Sanzu’s thirst for his y/n at all.

He was outside Mikey’s building, walking on the pavement, while inhaling the non-existent scent from the flower. He kissed the flower tenderly, hoping against all odds that it would somehow bring y/n in front of him. But it did nothing. He was still standing alone in the rain.

Sanzu trudged along and walked aimlessly. His feet seemed to be on autopilot as he walked towards Snowdrop.

He felt tired.

Tired of waiting, tired of searching, tired of being lonely.

There was a certain purple haired man who was shamelessly chasing him, but he felt nothing for him.

He couldn’t feel the butterflies in his stomach. He didn’t feel his heart racing when he saw the elder Haitani. He didn’t blush and nor did he get any urge to be physical with him.

It wasn’t that Sanzu was straight, no. He knew he was bi right from when he’d read those yaoi mangas with y/n. He’d even ogled at men’s asses with her, just as she freely showed him hot women on the street.

They both were happy to be pervs together.

But he didn’t feel that rush of emotions with anyone but her.

So, instead of doing the healthy thing and moving on from her, he decided it was time to set Ran Haitani straight. Tell him to look elsewhere, because he was about to waste his time on a lovestruck fool like Sanzu.

He brought his phone out and scrolled through his contacts and called Ran.

Ran picked up on the first ring.

“Hello?”

“I’m sorry Ran. I can never love you back. Because you see, I don’t have the fucking space! I’m so consumed by y/n that I don’t have the time to even breathe for another person... Fuck, I’m so sorry. I wish I could love you. Believe me, I tried in my own way, but I can’t. I can’t seem to get her out of my head even though it has been seven fucking years! Seven fucking years, Ran!!”

Ran panicked internally. He could hear the heavy rain and Sanzu’s speech was coming in short gasps. He cut him short and asked with as much patience as he could muster, without letting his anxiety creep out.

“Sanzu, sweetie, tell me where are you? let’s meet and talk okay? You don’t sound so good.”

“Fuck you Haitani! You had one job. One fucking job!”, Sanzu continued to sob into the call, ignoring Ran’s questions.

Ran meanwhile put the phone on speaker and checked the GPS on Sanzu’s phone. All the guilt he had felt for the past one year for installing the tracker on his phone seemed to be washed away when he saw Sanzu’s pin beeping close to Snowdrop. Quickly grabbing a couple of thick jackets and his car keys, he all but flew to the garage, all the while making sure that Sanzu kept talking.

“Yes sweetie, tell me what was my job?”, Ran asked as calmly as possible. Keeping Sanzu on the call was important. He sounded as if he was about to do something stupid.

His hands were shaking while opening the lock to his car.

‘Please don’t do anything stupid. Please.’, he prayed.

“Your one fucking job was to fall in love with someone nice, someone who can give you the time of day and love you back. Why’d you have to fall for a wreck like me, you retard?”

Ran controlled his emotions as he said in the same gentle tone, “Mhm, and what gives you the right to say that you are a wreck?”

Sanzu’s rage boiled over as he growled into the phone, “Fuck you Haitani!, what’s good about me? Huh? You’re just wasting your time on me. I cannot love you. I will never love you. We will never fuck. Because I still love her and I will die loving her. Even if I cannot see her, my heart does not have the space to allow anyone else into it... I... can’t... anymore...”

Sanzu began sobbing softly in the end. He was feeling his heart beating erratically, while there was a slow burning fire beginning in the pit of his stomach.

A car swerved to a stop in front of him as a bumbling Ran flew out of it.

Ran rushed to Sanzu and hugged him into his own jacket.

Sanzu was drenched to the bone.

But Sanzu felt like the cold had seeped into his heart a long time ago .

_______________________________________

Ran had helped him a lot in the past couple of years. At first, he was reluctant to accept Ran’s help, but he’d slowly started to open up. Not completely, but still; he’d spoken about y/n to him on more than one occasion. He knew he was taking advantage of the fact that Ran had feelings for him. But he just felt so lonely at times. He’d gotten himself shit drunk every time before he would have the courage to sink into Ran’s embrace and reminisce about y/n. He knew he was hurting Ran, but he was too far gone in his own pain to stop this reckless behaviour.

Ran, on the other hand was ecstatic. He was used to getting what he wanted the easy way. He had the money, the good looks and the power to get it all, but this was Sanzu. Sanzu had it all too. He was also an elite of Bonten. In fact, since he was Mikey’s second in command, he actually had more power than Ran.

Not that Ran would force Sanzu into anything. No. He was not that kind of a person. But it had been more than a year and Sanzu was still acting oblivious to his feelings. So, when Sanzu finally started melting slowly, he was delirious with joy. Even though he knew that Sanzu was only using him because he missed y/n, nonetheless, Ran was the only one privy to the pink haired druggie’s deepest thoughts, desires and emotions. Something which no one knew, except for y/n.

‘But she wasn’t here, was she? She had broken his heart and was somewhere far, far away.’ She was conveniently out of the picture. Ran had grandiose dreams about being Sanzu’s knight in shining armour. He planned on being the shoulder, Sanzu could lean on when he felt heartbroken, so that he could comfort him and end up making him fall in love; show him that unlike that woman, he would be there for his beloved junkie.

But now she was back. No matter how much he tried, he had shamelessly fallen in love with her when he’d seen her in the dingy cellar. Even though her face was covered with blood, grime, cuts and bruises, he still found her so fucking attractive, that he had groaned internally. Why the fuck was his taste so twisted? He had gone and fallen in love twice in his life, and the same two fucking people were in a relationship.

Ran was sure if he died, the root cause would be heartbreak and it would be because of these two star-crossed lovers that he’d gotten himself involved with.

_______________________________________

After getting out of the tub, y/n walked towards the bed where Sanzu had laid out the bathrobe for her. Wrapping it around herself, she padded towards the mirror to see how bad the damage was. It hurt just below her chest every time she stretched even for a little bit.

The room was dark, save for the continuous dim soft night lights that ran throughout the room at the bottom. y/n was about to switch on the light which lined Sanzu’s mirror, when one of his hands covered hers over the switch and the other covered her eyes.

“I’m sorry I misspoke before. Please rest for today. The doctor will be here shortly. I do not want you getting hurt. Please, y/n, just lie down and the doctor treat all your wounds.”, Sanzu said in a soft whisper in her ear.

He felt tears on his palm which was covering her eyes, yet there was no sound. He was furious at the two scum who had made his y/n feel like this. He planned to make a quick call to Ran once Sakamoto was done bandaging her wounds.

Sanzu moved both his hands to her waist as he gently guided her to his own bed. After helping her lie down in a position which she deemed the least painful, he flipped his phone open to call Sakamoto, who was waiting nearby.

“Come up now. She might fall asleep so treat her wounds with utmost care. If not, I’ll get Tsubaki to ‘help’ you.”

Sakamoto felt the bone chilling threat that Sanzu had promised. He was usually never called by this man. Even if he was, he was always asked to cause pain to the person he was working with. He had never been able to, but over the years, he’d steeled his stomach and learnt a few torturous methods of healing people from Tsubaki.

_______________________________________

Bonten had Tsubaki and Sakamoto. They were opposites of each other. Though both were doctors; who were friends since childhood, it was always the boisterous Tsubaki who had bossed over the meek Sakamoto. If Tsubaki was the one who filled anthills with water, Sakamoto was the one who would free the butterflies which were caught in nets. No matter which angle an outsider would see from, they looked like two people who should never get along well. However, Bonten knew better. Everyone except Tsubaki knew, that Sakamoto was crazy in love with her. He always had been. It was the reason why he was able to handle the requests he was given by Bonten.

Tsubaki was always called when they needed to torture yet keep people alive. She was ruthless in the way she helped take care of wounds on the people to be tortured. She never used anaesthesia. There were a few times when she had performed operations and surgeries to collect kidneys without anaesthesia, just because the face of the goods didn’t look good. Mikey had kept her around for the very fact that she was just as ruthless as the others in Bonten. However, her only condition was that Sakamoto be hired along with her. She always saw him as someone who needed to be protected by her.

Sakamoto could never handle hurting insects, much less humans. So when he was hired by Bonten, he had retched out his insides the first time he was forced to remove a bullet from Kokonoi’s stomach. This was because Koko had stupidly asked him to not give him anaesthesia and then howled at the amount of pain that he’d gone through.

Sakamoto had managed to keep still till he reached his house, a two-bedroom home that he shared with Tsubaki. Once inside, he’d rushed to the bathroom and hurled the whole night, while Tsubaki took care of him. Suffice to say, the affection he’d felt from Tsubaki that night spurred him on, in a twisted way to try and learn torturous methods of cure, just so that he could come back and get babied by Tsubaki.

_______________________________________

Sakamoto entered Sanzu’s house. He’d never been here ever before, so he was pleasantly surprised to see Sanzu’s house so neat, chic and modern. He’d half expected him to live in a rich dump littered with cigarettes, drugs and bottles of alcohol strewn around.

Sanzu stopped Sakamoto at the door and whispered menacingly.

“If she’s asleep, don’t you dare wake her up. She’s extremely tired and needs to rest. Even I know that much. And don’t touch her unnecessarily. I’ll be right beside you to break your fingers if I feel you even thinking a single dirty thought about her.”

Sakamoto gulped audibly. Who was this woman who had Sanzu behaving so possessively? Nonetheless, he nodded in agreement as he was led to Sanzu’s bedroom. Sanzu meanwhile moved towards the kitchen to prepare a bowl of rice porridge for her to eat if she were to wake up in the middle of the night.

_______________________________________

y/n was lying peacefully, tucked into the plush covers. Even though the room was comfortably dark, she was wide awake. Now that it was safe, and the adrenalin was no more fueling her fight or flight instinct, she felt horrible pain take over every part of her.

After being coddled by Sanzu in the tub and also while being tucked into bed, y/n finally felt reality hit her. How a co-worker that she knew had turned out to be the person who wanted her dead with no dignity left; how Sanzu and his Bonten elites had reached just in the nick of time to save her and most importantly, how her gamble had miraculously worked. Smiling to herself, she waited for Sanzu to return.

However, the man entering the room was not Sanzu, it was a stranger. Sanzu was nowhere to be seen. Although he gave off pleasant vibes, y/n was not one to risk it. She tried to move, only to feel her body give up on her. The abuse from the past week coupled with no sleep had made her body like stone. The only thing that seemed to work was her voice.

And so, y/n screamed bloody murder at the top of her lungs.

_______________________________________

Sakamoto flinched when he heard her scream. He stopped in his tracks. Sanzu pushed past him to walk towards y/n. He swiftly grabbed her limp body into his arms as he shushed her.

“Baby, I’m right here. Shh, it’s alright.”, he cooed tenderly to her.

Once she seemed to calm down, he whispered to her, “He’s the doctor I called over to take a look at your bruises. Don’t worry, you’re safe here. No one will ever trouble you ever again. I’ll always protect you, my princess.”

“C-can you p-please stay beside me? I don’t trust anyone but you, Haru. P-please.”, she stammered out of fear.

“Of course, I’ll be right by you. Okay?”

“Mmm”

Sanzu kissed her cheek as he moved to the other side of the bed to sit atop the covers. He felt a sick sense of pride at seeing the woman he loved being afraid of everyone except him. He casually started cooking plans on how to continue and encourage this behaviour so that she could never leave him.

She needed only him. No one else. There was no need for her to have contact with anyone else but him.

That way, he could keep her safe and always with him.

He held her shoulders gently and made her sit up as he signalled Sakamoto to come over.

Sakamoto finally came in and placed his bag beside her. Sitting at the edge of the bed, he first checked her pulse on her wrist. He could feel Sanzu glaring daggers at him as he did so, since he had to hold y/n's wrist.

“l/n-san, I’m a doctor, so please don’t feel shy to tell me things, okay? I can help you better that way.”, Sakamoto took on a gentle tone as he spoke to her. He felt as if he was trying to tame a cornered wild animal.

“Okay, Dr. Sakamoto.”

“Good. Now, tell me where all does it hurt?”

“Umm, well... it hurts a lot when I try to stretch or stand up straight. And I feel like my skin is burning everywhere. I’m holding in the pain.”

“l/n-san, I am lifting your robes, okay? I need to see if there are bruises.

“No Sakamoto! You are not touching my woman anywhere or going to look at her naked body.” Sanzu snarled as he instinctively pulled y/n into his embrace.

“Ow, Haru, it hurts. Let him check since he’s a doctor, besides, you’re here for me, so he cannot do anything.”

Sanzu’s twisted pride at her words tried to make it’s way in the form of a smug smile on his lips. Not one to show his emotions to outsiders, he tried to nonchalantly say, “Hmph, you better keep your mind clean Sakamoto. And I dare you to breathe a word about her to anyone.”

“Calm down Sanzu, I am a doctor first and foremost. And you already know that I have someone I cannot seem to get. I have no interest in Ms. l/n like that.”, Sakamoto huffed. He was starting to get pissed off at how possessive Sanzu was behaving. But he dared not voice it, for he knew how wild Sanzu could get if he got mad.

“l/n-san, it seems that you might have bruised your ribs.”, Sakamoto said as he touched y/n just below her breasts. She had winced and gripped Sanzu’s hand tightly.

Sanzu held in his jealousy because of the way she squeezed his hand. He could feel that she was barely holding onto the scream and the entirety of it was directed in the painful grip that she had over his palm.

“Sanzu, I need to bandage the lower portion of her body, so you need to hold her still. l/n san, this might hurt a little bit, so please bear with me. You need to keep the lower half of your body straight for a couple of weeks so that the bruised ribs do not get aggravated.”

“Mhm, okay doctor.”

“Ahem, Sanzu, I need your help here. l/n san, are you able to lift your arms up?”, Sakamoto asked, as he gestured by holding his arms at shoulder length.

“Let me try...”, y/n raised them just a little and yelped in pain.

“Hmm, I figured as much. Sanzu, please support l/n san’s arms so that they can be held at shoulder length while I wrap the bandages around her torso.”

Sanzu grunted in agreement. He then gently slid his arms below hers and very slowly lifted them higher and higher as Sakamoto had instructed. It looked as if y/n was leaning on a window sill. A handsome, lithe, strong window sill that had bright pink hair and chiseled features.

Once Sakamoto was done wrapping her up, he pulled out an ointment from his bag and handed it to Sanzu.

“You need to apply this and wrap up the places where she has these types of red bruises.”, Sakamoto spoke as he pointed to the red welts on her arms.

“Don’t worry, l/n san, this ointment will help cool the bruises. Since it’s a little oily, wrapping the area in a bandage is cleaner.”

“Thank you very much, Doctor Sakamoto. I do feel a bit better now.”

“Mhm, please call me if you face any other problems.”

“I will.”

“No she won’t. You’re not allowed to look at her body the next time.”

“Haru!”

“What!? He’s already seen enough skin. He should be thankful that I haven’t blinded him yet.”

Slapping her small palm on Sanzu’s mouth, y/n smiled sheepishly as she said, “Please do not listen to him. I will call you if I have any further complications.”

Immediately turning to Sanzu who was about to lick her palm, she retorted, “Don’t you dare lick my hand Haru, or else I’m leaving right now!”

Sanzu stopped his tongue on time. Even though she could not escape in her current state, he still took her threat seriously. He could not afford to lose her again.

Sakamoto hid his fear behind a mask of his business smile as he packed up his things. He dared not show his shock at the fact that such a tiny weak and frail woman was able to tame the wild card of Bonten to such an extent.

Sanzu was known to not listen to anyone except maybe Mikey at times, when he felt like it. The rest had to send in their requests to him via Mikey if they needed any sort of help from the resident druggie.

So, seeing him so meek and tame, listening to the woman sitting in front of him like a good little trained dog shocked Sakamoto to the core. Sanzu was the equivalent of a well-trained, vicious Doberman Pinscher, which would bark at anyone coming close to it’s baby master. However, his behaviour towards her was a complete 180 degree turn of what it was towards others. He’d turn into a fluffball who would be walked upon by her and yet, he’d just smile and let her be.

If Sakamoto was honest, he had nearly pissed his pants the moment he saw her playfully putting her palm on Sanzu’s mouth. He fought his reflex to warn her against doing so, because he had seen how delicately the druggie had handled her while he was wrapping her bruised ribs.

Standing, Sakamoto bowed to the two love birds and left towards the entrance.

Sanzu kissed y/n's cheek as he said, “I’ll see him out and bring you a bowl of porridge. Till then, here’s the remote to the TV. Find what you like and wait for me, okay?”

“Mhm... don’t be too long and don’t harass the doctor please. I’ll be very angry if I know that you have. He was only doing his job.”

“...”

“Haru, you won’t get a taste of my pussy ever, if you do anything to the doctor. I. Mean. It.”

“Okay okay! Jeez, I was just going to threaten him a little bit.”

y/n pouted and closed her legs as if to show him what his punishment would be.

Groaning, Sanzu ran a hand through his hair as he promised not to do anything to Sakamoto.

Grumbling to himself over how the stupid doctor had cockblocked him, he went to close the door. He knew long before that Sakamoto would have run away but he still wanted to mess with y/n for a bit when he said that.

Sanzu waited for the porridge to be done, as he stood in the kitchen. He called up Ran in the meanwhile.

“Hey pretty boy, finally remember me?”, Ran’s voice came a little more grumpier than he wanted to sound.

Sanzu sighed audibly and pinched his eyes as he spoke softly, “Ran, stop it... You know I can’t meet you like before.”

_______________________________________

Unknown to Sanzu, y/n heard this as she was standing close to the entrance of his bedroom.

And it hurt.

It hurt to know that she was the only one stuck in the past, whereas he had moved on to another man.

Not even a woman, but a man.

Not any man. The man who put Gods to shame.

Haitani fucking Ran.

She stood no chance of getting him back.

Slowly walking towards his bed, she switched on the TV and set the volume loud on some random channel. Her mind seemed to be in a mess.

_______________________________________

Oblivious to the fact that y/n had heard him, Sanzu continued on the phone.

“I never led you on, Haitani. We’re just friends. Be glad that I consider you one. Because no one else fits the bill.”

Swallowing his jealousy for y/n, Ran laughed it off and said airily, “Now now, don’t get your panties in a bunch Sanzu-kun. You know I always flirt with you. Don’t take it seriously, unless you have fallen for me~”

“Cut the crap and listen.”

“Such a spoilsport. What do you need done?”

“What’s the status of Kriss and Naoki?”

“Sir! Bullets were removed in the most painful manner. Tsubaki had a ball. She made them scream till Naoki passed out. Kriss, is still screaming since the past few hours. Tsubaki seems to be taking her time, saying that the bullet was shattered, so she’s still plugged her ears and is removing the bullets with blunt rusted tools.”

Sanzu smiled evilly. He had high hopes from Tsubaki to torture the two rats. She had outperformed. It was close to 11 at night and if Kriss was still screaming, it had to be a good 4 hours by now.

“Good. I need you to do a couple of things.”

“Anything for you, my master~”

“Ran stop flirting and listen to me for a goddamned minute for once!”, Sanzu screamed into the phone. He slapped his hand on his face when he realized what he had screamed and how, y/n might have heard it. Peeping into his room, he saw her watching the television.

Sighing to himself, he hissed into his phone, “Listen here, you little shit. I don’t want to mess things up with y/n. You of all people know this. Don’t, please, I beg you, please don’t do this. I don’t want her to misunderstand.”

Ran felt a pang of hurt. It seemed that replacing his hard-earned place in Sanzu’s heart was very easy for Sanzu. It hadn’t even been a few hours since y/n had entered their lives and Sanzu’s attitude towards Ran was back to what it was 5 years ago. It was all back to square one between them. The only difference: He had begged to be left alone.

Sanzu never begged anyone. It seemed there was still hope for him if he could play his cards right.

‘Sanzu, I fucking helped you to try and get over her and this is my reward when she came back. Fine. I’ll get you, or her. No matter what, I will fucking be the third wheel in your relationship.’ Ran thought maliciously.

“Okay lover boy, I’ll flirt less with you. Tell me, what do you need?”

“First, tell Tsubaki she’ll get the promised amount and a bit more by tomorrow. I cannot leave y/n alone tonight, so I’ll wire the money to her once I inspect her handiwork.”

“So you’re not coming here as you promised?”, Ran asked sounding like a puppy left in the rain.

“No, I am not. Which is why I need your help with the second thing.”

“Hmph, I’m doing it, only because you have a pretty mug, you druggie.”

Sanzu chose to ignore Ran’s flirting as he continued, “Pull out Kriss’s nails completely and dip her fingers in hot bubbling beeswax. Any other wax which has a higher boiling point and can hurt more, that will work too. This will be step one of her pain. She hurt my princess so she deserves a lot more. I will personally make her life a living hell. She is going to wish that she was dead.”

Sanzu let out a crazed laugh as he finished speaking.

Ran shuddered for a second. He knew Sanzu was ruthless and usually kept this form of torture only for those who had crossed Mikey and/or taken matters to the very extreme. It was also the very last torture that he’d used. Hearing him say now that this was step one, chilled Ran’s bones.

‘How precious was l/n y/n to Sanzu that he was pulling out the big guns for her revenge?’

“I’ll be coming by tomorrow morning to see how it’s going. Make sure that tonight, all her nails are pulled out and her fingers are dipped into the wax.”

“Isn’t it a little excessive for the first step?”, Ran questioned. He wanted to probe how far Sanzu could go for this girl.

“...”

“Sanzu, you there?”

“Ran, I am giving this order as your superior, as Bonten’s second in command. Do not question me unless you want to be treated the same way.”, came Sanzu’s cold declaration.

“... You don’t need to get so uptight. I’ll see to it that it’s done. Make that woman scream all night.”

“Good.”, Sanzu sighed. He then continued in a deflated voice, “Nothing is above y/n for me, Ran. Nothing and no one is above her for me. I’ll stoop to the depths of hell for her. Ran, you of all people know how much she means to me. Or at least I have blabbed about her to you. I know I have.”

Ran could hear how tired Sanzu sounded. Feeling guilty for adding to his stress just now, he whispered into the phone, “Haruchiyo, I’m sorry. I know it all and yet, I said things I should not have, I promise, I will help you get revenge for l/n-san. Please don’t be mad at me.”

_____________________________________

Sanzu could sense that Ran was close to tears with the way his voice quivered at the end. He’d only called him Haruchiyo when he thought Sanzu was drunk out of his mind, when his voice was laced with his passion.

Sanzu had heard him go on and on a couple of times, when Ran had poured his heart out to the druggie, thinking that he was drunk and out cold. Those were the two times, he’d heard Ran call him Haruchiyo.

Sanzu realized what calling him Haruchiyo meant to Ran.

It was the way y/n always called him Haru.

This was Ran’s way of showing his affection. The affection, which spilt into their conversation today.

Ran would do anything for his ‘Haruchiyo’.

_____________________________________

Ran was the one who had comforted him. Because he was madly in love with him.

But he sounded hurt as he apologized and asked Sanzu not to be mad.

And Sanzu finally realized why.

He was asking Ran to help him with his revenge for y/n.

He was asking the man who had a crush on him to help with his revenge for the woman who was his love rival.

Sanzu felt like shit.

He opened his mouth to speak but he didn’t know how to comfort this man.

Luckily, Ran ended the call before things could get awkward.

Sanzu switched off the porridge which was done and slumped to the floor with a thud, clutching his head.

This triangle was becoming a lot more complicated than he had expected.

And it seemed that the storm was just beginning. Someone was bound to get hurt.

“I don’t wanna hurt you Ran.”, he whispered to himself.

_______________________________________

Even with the TV on, y/n had heard Sanzu yell, asking the elder Haitani to stop flirting with him. He had sounded exasperated. But there seemed to be a sort of closeness even at that volume.

The type of closeness that she’d shared with him eight years ago.

And it stabbed her like a sharp knife.

Here she was, waiting for him for eight fucking years and he had hopped off into the arms of another man.

‘Baby, had I seen this happen two years ago, I would have left you alone to be with him. But blame your own bad luck that we met now. I’ll make sure that I’m the only one on your mind. And I will tame the Haitani for trying to steal you.’ y/n thought maliciously.

She heard the thump of someone falling after a while, so she rushed outside, only to hear Sanzu whisper to himself, “I don’t wanna hurt you Ran.”

She stopped in her tracks and grinned through the pain.

‘I’ll make you watch, Haru. I’ll make your life a living hell for cheating on me.’

Previous | Yuki's❄ ramblings | Next

Tags : @parkjimin1010smuts @fl4mepillar @violetpenguinkris @bontensbabygirl @luno614 @sano-obsessed

89 notes · View notes

aquagustd · 3 years ago

Text

lexicon love - KNJ

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: who is the tall, mysterious stranger with an impeccable taste in books that visits your café every day?

genre: fluff

word count: 1.7K

warnings/tags: idol au, s2l, book café owner!y/n, writer!y/n, meetcute, y/n is as clumsy as namjoon, no warnings except dimples

a/n: my first namjoon fic!

↳part of the Serotonin Series

∞

The security door makes a soft beep as you push it open, shuffling to the power outlet behind the counter to turn on the lights. The hazy blue sky casts a dull light into the café. The cool Autumn’s morning breeze causes a shiver to run down your spine, therefore you opt to leave your coat on until the heating kicks in.

It won’t be long until customers start to pour in. You glance at the clock above the coffee machines, 6:43AM, Soobin will be in to cover his Monday morning shift any minute now.

Always the early bird, the bell above the front entrance door chimes as Soobin walks in, umbrella in hand.

“Morning Y/N noona”, he gives a bright smile as he makes his way around the counter to deposit his bag and umbrella in the lower shelves.

“Morning Soobin, I haven’t looked at the weather forecast for today,” you point to his umbrella, questioning.

“Ah, light showers later this afternoon as well as for the rest of the week,” he smiles while tying his apron.

“Ooh, I love this chilly weather, it makes me appreciate all the hot drinks, not to mention the stream of customers,” you wiggle your eyebrows, and he laughs.

“Ah yes, I better get to work then, are you okay? You seem a bit tired.”

You rub your temples, “I hardly got any sleep last night, had some editing to do plus I was working on the newspaper article for next week. I just got a bit held up because I got home late last night.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, noona. I know you can’t say no to anyone,” he raises his eyebrows, concerned.

“Don’t worry about me, ah look,” the bell chimes, “you have customers. I’ll be in the office if you need me.”

He’s right, you can’t say no to anyone, it seems like you’re the only editor in this town with all the calls you get. You barely have time for your weekly newspaper segments and must work around all your editing jobs instead of the other way around.

You sit at the office desk and boot up the computer to check the weekly sales of the book department.

It seems like most customers prefer to sit at the café and read, your book sales have declined since last month, but it’s nothing you’re too worried about because the café sales seem to have skyrocketed ever since you started stocking up on pastries, cakes and the like from Odeng’s Bakery.

You make your way to the service desk near the second entrance and can already spot a few patrons on the couches near the bookshelves.

The enticing smell of coffee greets you when you see that Soobin had left your regular coffee order and a croissant with strawberry jam ready for you to tuck into on the counter.

The day goes by hassle free and its around 3PM when the café is filled with the quiet chatter of all the college and high school students who are taking up ninety percent of the seat space.

But as you scan the area, you spot him.

The, you’ve assumed from his build, guy, who goes by the name ‘RR’ when he signs for rentals and purchases. Apparently, claiming the single couch and table at the far back section of the shelves as his.

He never approached the service desk, and his coffee order never changes. You see Mina, the afternoon shift waitress, take a slice of vanilla sponge or a few beignets to his table now and again.

He always has his face mask on with his hood over his head, in the more humid weather you wonder if he’s frying up in there. You peeked at the books he signed for and his list is filled with a wide spectrum of literary pieces. From fiction to non-fiction to autobiographies to poetry, the list is endless.

He’s tall and is well-read? Attractive.

Could he also be some sociopath with a strong affinity to books and coffee? Maybe.

But he comes to your café every day, even on Sundays, where he arrives a little earlier than usual, 11AM, to be precise. So, there will be a day where he’ll have to interact with you at the service desk. You thought about approaching him a few times, but what will you say?

Hi, I went through your reading list and I just want to say I love your sexy brain?

No. That’d be weird. So, you opt to just watch him from afar.

But you’re not…keeping tabs on him or anything. You find him intriguing, and you want to know more about this tall stranger, whose taste in books is so vast. Yes.

It seems that day has arrived.

You say your goodbyes to Mina, lock up the cash register and switch off all the computers but before you can turn off the main switch, you notice a figure, at the back of the shelves.

Particularly where tall guy usually sits.

Now’s your chance, you think.

As you slowly approach him, you notice he is slumped in his seat and his head hangs low, chin against his chest, cap secured over his hair.

“Excuse me?”

No response.

As you get closer you notice that his eyes are closed, and you can hear a faint beat from somewhere. You assume it must be his earphones.

You clear your throat. “Excuse me?”

That won’t do, the music is too loud.

You place a hand on his shoulder and shake once, twice, the third time he wakes up with a start and knocks his half full coffee cup, spilling its contents on the table and dripping onto the carpeted floor.

“Oh shit, I’m sorry,” his deep voice startles you and you stare at him.

His mask had fallen off his face when he jerked as he woke up, and you realize that you recognize him.

“RM?” You squeak. “Kim Namjoon.”

Oh no. He thinks. He looks around and sees you’re the only two in the café.

“That’s me, I’m sorry,” he looks at the time on his phone, “I didn’t realize how late it was.”

“It’s totally fine,” you chuckle, and he’s shocked at how calm your voice sounds.

You stare at each other for a few seconds, you could probably hear a pin drop.

He looks around, “Oh! I’m sorry”, he gives a deep bow, “I’ll leave now.”

“No, stay,” you splutter, and he quirks an eyebrow at you.

“I-I mean, I’ve been wondering who you were, I mean not that I’m acquainted with all my customers, but you always come in and I can’t really see your face and you wear that mask all the time and your books, and…” You look at him and he has a bemused expression on his face.

“What I meant to say is…It all makes sense now, I didn’t mean to freak you out.”

He chuckles and the sound makes your insides flutter.

“Y/L/N Y/N.”

“Huh,” your throat suddenly feels dry.

He leans back in the couch, “You know, I buy the local newspaper just for your segments.”

“What,” it comes out a lot softer than you intended and you wonder if he even heard you.

“I really enjoy your reading, the topics you touch on have me, what’s the word,” he looks to the ceiling as if the word is up there and you take the chance to stare at his neck.

“Reflecting…It has me reflecting on a lot of things.”

You blink at him and he stands up, knocking the menu stand on the table and he bends to catch it- unsuccessfully.

“I’m really sorry about the coffee, and about the uhm, random review.”

“Is that what ‘RR’ stands for?”

“What?”

“RR, random review? You always sign off with those initials.”

He laughs and stares at his shoes, two deep dimples making an appearance and you’re smiling at him. You have no idea why.

“’RR’ stands for ‘Runch Randa’, my uhm, old rapper name.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

More silence.

“Once again I am so sorry about the coffee, where are the tissues, I can help you clean it up”, he starts to look behind you towards the service desk, taking a few steps around the table.

You lift your hands up to stop him, “Don’t worry about it, I’ll clean up here.”

He picks up his bag and phone, getting ready to leave. In your haste to step out of his way, the heel on your boot gets caught in a part of the carpet that has buckled, and you brace yourself for the fall and close your eyes.

But your back never meets the floor, instead your body is cradled by two strong arms.

Opening your eyes, you are met with two brown orbs staring directly into yours.

You do not know how long you stand like that, him holding onto you while you grip on his, very large, bicep.

You can’t hold it in anymore and you burst out laughing. He seems to have been broken from a spell, because he immediately straightens up and steadies you with his arms on your shoulders.

“What?” He asks almost exasperatedly.

“Nothing, its just…” And another round of giggles starts up.

He starts laughing too and you both stand there like two clumsy fools.

This whole situation is hilarious to you both. From the few minutes you've spoken to him, he seemed, uncoordinated, yet he managed to catch you.

When things quiet down, you’re still smiling at each other, even if you wanted to stop smiling, you can’t, he has such an infectious smile.

“You should watch your step, Miss,” he has his hands on his hips now, sort of berating.

“ME?” And you gesture to the coffee now sinking into the carpets.

He raises his hands defeatedly.

After you’re done cleaning up the mess, you turn to the door, glad you know who tall guy is now: a very handsome, famous rapper who comes to your book café every day!

He follows you out and you enter the security code.

As you’re walking to your car, you hear a shout of your name. You turn and see he’s still standing by the door, hands in his pocket, shy smile in place with two sweet dimples.

“Coffee, 3PM?”

You beam at him. “Coffee, 3PM.”

a/n: let me know what you think!

#namjoon x reader #namjoon fic #ficscafe #bts fanfiction #namjoon fluff #bts scenarios #serotonin series

313 notes · View notes

rumblelibrary · 3 years ago

Text

The Diary of Doctor Laszlo Kreizler

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Synopsis: Alienist’s notes are private, sometimes gruesome, secrets of others and of himself.Those pages belongs to secrecy and decadence, have a glimpse to this world made of drafts, notes, accidents and reflections. Or maybe it is you the only person that should ever reach for it.

While you read this imagine Laszlo mostly at the end of his day, scraping the ideas and the thoughts, adjusting previous notes with additions, closing the day behind himself with a couple of sentences while sitting in his evening robe, a good glass of whiskey and his glasses bridged almost at the tip of his nose. Or maybe imagine yourself, you sneaky thing, reach for it from a far shelf.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: listen, this is the set of ideas and confessions of a man living in the 1890’s. Most of them will be outdated, rough, even deprecating in some analysis of the roles of men, women and social status, religion, etc.So be prepared, my point is to make Laszlo reflect upon those topics, but to be as faithful as I can to his time. Mention of death, mutilation, self harm and sex. Psychologically troubled young children ahead! Author’s note: The story is placed between season 1 and season 2. Thank you for everyone that encouraged me to keep going. I have to wait for my local drop of serotonin to get fully Laszloed to go through this.

Lyra’s Contellation, Illustration taken from Uranographia by Johann Bode

Routine. Routine is comfort. Habit stabilises the character.

If you follow a routine, you won’t ever be victim of imprudence, of evil jokes of fate. The stability earned through calculated and repeated actions brings a sense of fulfilment that forbids other thoughts to come bashing in, breaking rules, breaking hopes that a solid scheduled routine forbids to have. I take my time to begin this week, I planned the things to do, the next steps for the case, the people to meet, the resources I am allowed to contemplate. I feel good, I feel back to myself and the events of the weekend seem far from me and my own perception. I probably got ahead of myself, carried by some instinctual though and random rush of emotion, to be always in contact with the same people and mostly kids probably doesn’t help my stance in the presence of other adults. I feel silly now reading back the last page, I felt tempted to tear it off, but to keep it there should be a small memento of not losing my temper so easily. I read it over and over and I know I am not as charmed as I thought I was. I am just lonely. I have always been and it is normal to face ups and downs even for a man of my age who is more accustomed to it. To desire a partner is a natural instinct, to find somebody attractive is meant by nature, it is the body calling for the natural fulfilment of the reason we are put on this very Earth. But even in a state of nature my own condition would be forbidding me to be part of the natural process of growing my own kind. I am the type of male that would be excluded because of his impossibility to give the protection to the pack, therefore it is just more reasonable to me to adapt to my condition. No matter what my Potentia generandi might be (the ability to procreate).

With all the smugness that characterises him, Niki showed off that he passed my challenge. But to be really of an help to his antics I didn’t show any kind of surprise. I treated him like he did the bare minimum, like he didn’t prove me any kind of superiority. He has a natural attitude toward challenging the figure of power, he is trying to overpower me, but I won’t satisfy his need. I have noticed he has a very technical brain, he finds ways to solve problems in ingenious way and not by throwing himself into the task. I proceeded giving him to work on a clock, an old broken one we had in the institute, one of the kids hit it with a ball years ago and nobody ever worked on repairing it. I gave him the clock, a couple of screwdrivers and a book. He called me a number of German names I won’t transcribe, but it gave me a certain amount of satisfaction. If my intuitions are right, I am sure the clock will be repaired by next week.

Analysis of the victim’s body through John’s eyes. The drawings and sketches are as detailed as I requested, all of this thanks to you joining him. I deal with art critic section, I am used to notice these things. You assure me, you play yourself low and I wonder why, nevertheless you did notice things neither John or I did, which pleased me. It fooled me, distracted me from my purpose to not give in to your witchery, as I leaned closer watching your pale hand move across the pages tracing this or that line, showing how this must be done with the killer on this side and not that side, with words so deliciously elaborate, your way of composing your speech is compelling, you could sell the drawing of a kid like it was a Botticelli. I noticed the shape of your hands, the way you move them, I wonder if you play an instrument, or played, some habits just stick with you through life. I focused on taking notes, your ideas and instructions giving me a new point of view, a new stimulus. What if that is the only way the killer can communicate? Or what if this is the communication that works for him? Could our killer be mute or deaf? Or that’s how society made him feel? This man, or woman, needs a listener and I am afraid that now, since he got our attention and the public’s, he won’t stop. Another killing could be just as close.

Scheduled: meeting with the parents of Alex Garel for new admission, Monday next week at 11 am. Love at first is a fetish and like all fetishes it is based onto an object that hides a deeper meaning, like gloves mean hands, to love at first sight means to see somebody that you think, and think only, to have the chance to share not only a sensual kind of bond, but an intellectual. Love at first sight is based onto not knowing someone well enough, but having the time to idealise most of that someone. I can see why I feel this attraction, using a particular phrase that Sara often mutters when investigating: you tick all the boxes. I know you do, your beauty is everything but conventional, you’re the kind of face that painters would paint and musicians would write hymns about, but any animal on the street would never be allowed to see. You have the grace of the body and the fire in the eyes, and then you speak. When you speak, I realise, you could bring the world to its knees. Also, you never speak out of context, and if you do it is to ease somebody’s position. You do it often with John or with Stevie, you say something really silly in order to put them back to a place of comfort. Some women would call it self deprecating, but I see that you only pick wisely your fights and your wins. You don’t need to earn your peace and quiet by neglecting, but by lifting up the others. I wonder if you do it with me too, if your silences are just you allowing me to be in a better place while instead your judgment is tearing me apart. I shouldn’t care, but I keep wondering, sometimes I take my time to answer you, I analyse every shade, every peculiarity of your question, I am looking for sarcasm, for a condescending voice, for something to hang on and bare you open. To prove myself you’re not perfect. But deep down I know that you do, you judge me and you do well.

Mother never said so. That’s what one of the girls in my care said today. Ursula. She is tough. Skin as thick as an alligator and the tendency to pull her own hair at night or when under a massive amount of stress, enuresis alongside erratic episodes of mutism. I tried the soft approach, it didn’t work. She is too accustomed to be indulged. Therefore today I pushed her a bit overboard, I teased her over opinions on the female body, the female role, she is only 12, but she is soon to bleed, she knows, I can tell from the way she clenches to her skirts, from the way she looks at me as a threatening figure. I am the incarnation of danger to her. Under her steady silence, I pushed a bit more, asking how her mother taught her to be nice and submissive. Does her mother tells her she is going to be a good wife? The phrase, which I reported at the top of the page, surprised me. What is her mother teaching to her then? What closed her so much, locked her soul away, making a small bird like this choose the silence and the retirement of self inflicted pain over, what? Mankind? Or just Men? Is that even a curse? Should I cure her from a truth that her own mother whispered to her ear one night before bed and made a child decide that the world wasn’t a place to share her time with? Am I the man supposed to teach her that men are worth of trust? In the eyes of modern society, who measures its own value over the modesty of the women, she would be a champion, but at what price? I can’t in any way let her parents bring her back home after our recent meetings. Nevertheless, I have to make up my own mind on how to give her troubled soul ease without making her believe in fables. I, as a man, regard myself not worth of any of the trust they expect me to teach her.

In all of my years practicing with people’s feelings and traumas, I challenged myself to find those same traumas within my own mind. It is a tricky game, terrible, anguishing at times. But it straightens me, the pain of others, the pain of kids mostly, so unadulterated and pure, breaks the curtain between me and the lies that I often surround myself with. Pain is made of method, you can open it up, you can scrutinise it, part it piece by piece dividing it in sectors and, partitions, centre part, side part, heart of the problem. Pain is reliable. Happiness is not. It is random, cruelly sudden, unexpected, it washes over you in such deflecting way only to leave you alone a moment after ashamed and alone. I saw you again today. You were in a table full of what I could only guess as your former university colleagues, I saw pain in you, not heavy but constant. Annoyance, a bit of sadness. Your head titling on side and your eyes drifting on the left, you’re imagining something away from them. A place? An object? Or maybe someone? Your hands play circles at the bottom of the flute of your drink like kids do, your smile only one sided. I don’t see you speak at all, only listen. What could keep your voice down? I almost gulped down my own breath as you looked up and I realised how I must have looked. I was having lunch on my own, in a very private table and even entertaining myself with a newspaper on the side. I wish you didn’t, but you came over, your eyes shining. Did I save you? Or maybe I was just a good excuse to leave that painful meeting behind. Don’t be so nice to me, it is not healthy. Don’t look at me like you expect anything more from me than me listening. I won’t smile back at you, I won’t give you care, attentions or thought. I won’t lean for your perfume, I won’t obsess over that dress you wore, that pin that adorned your neckline keeping your undershirt in place, a silver robin, I remember. I won’t remember the number of the buttons on the side of your glove, three. I won’t observe the little moles just under your ear. A small constellation, I later realised, hidden between your ear and the beginning of your neck. I don’t need to check in my books. It is a constellation. It is Lyra. Why? Why you must be like this? Are you the Lyra? Are you the instrument of Orpheus come to me to drag me out of Hell? The Tartarus holds my soul and you should know already, I am not worth the quarter part of Eurydice to be saved and she never came back anyway. I won’t be now recollecting the way your teeth sunk in the inner side of your cheek when you apologised for the annoyance. You apologised twice, I ignored you both times with a raised hand to request peace and silence. I am not letting you in.

Reserved: Tickets for Wednesday’s evening Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi. The guest female lead promises a beautiful show.

Leonardo, as I am learning through Paul Valery essay, is who I would define as a figure of projective identification of the Subject or, to better explain it, of the knowledge of the Subject that formed and grew through the use of sketches in the experience of the Artist. I have always thought that the finest form of art was the representation of knowledge duly undressed by any personal identification. Leonardo, instead, proceeded to represent the figure through the essence of the artist, a representation technically unlimited on objects and symbols and that keep expressing the transformation and development of Leonardo’s own being.Some artists are testimony of the destruction of the world, of the loss of eternal beauty over decadence. And then you have Leonardo, who creates an art that is the gravity of the world’s system, of the nature, of thoughts and abstractions. I wonder if our killer does the same, if the way they presents the victim through their own personal view, if what we can read there it is their stories, their pains, their needs. Their happiness and troubles. What are they trying to tell me? I need to know, I need to know to save a life, of course, but I also need to know to be able to sleep at night. Hair, hair are the epitome of femininity in any era. I keep studying Ursula and her habit to pull the. I took notes on it: she picks them by the bottom, slowly separates them until she gains an amount her mind defines satisfactory and then she rolls her finger and pulls, she does it until her finger is empty and there are no hair left. I find her process incredibly interesting. In men’s case the display of physical attributes is not as vital, a beard can be appreciated but does not modify the power of seduction of a grown man. On the contrary, for women hair are a vital part of their attractiveness toward the opposite sex, society sees the hair of a woman as part of their vital characteristics, also in ancient times for a woman to cut her hair or have her hair cut was a sign of deep separation from the society. Only heroines or whores wore that mark and the association of the two is so rooted into the way society always parted the role of a woman in two that it is nauseating to think of. I am still fearing to let Ursula go away, the repulsion that she is showing toward her own body makes it difficult even for me to crack her shell open as a man, but my deepest worry is when that hate will take a scarier and deeper tool on her. How a girl with such a fear of what her body can do, like sex or pregnancy, can endure in the future to have an husband? Or even to be courted by anyone?

John is helpless and I admire him for that. He doesn’t hide it, he just is. He is vulnerable and exposed, he is an open well bursting with doubts and feelings and troubled waters. He is genuine in a way I could never be. Maybe that’s why I despise even more him talking about you, how he sees you every morning, how you greet everybody, how you behave even with interns, how you like your coffee. Your talents, your wits, how you said this and acted like that and reasoned through him. How you forbid him to drink even when he felt tempted. How you stayed late over to help him collect all the informations I requested him to get. To him. Not to you. The evil demon of envy scratching in the back of my head screaming like a siren out in the sea, he demands to be heard, he demands to be allowed a part in this game. I won’t allow him that. I won’t allow myself any of that. This is a pure game of chess, if I give in a pawn now, I will lose my knight, and I know it. I advice him to not be so closed minded when he praises you, only to get surprised by the charms of a natural logical mind. I find a way to hurt him, he is an easy target, I look at him as his eyebrows twitch and he summons his patience on me. He lost the plot about you already, his bruised pride taking over. You won’t come into my life.

“Un dì, felice, eterea, mi balenaste innante, e da quel dì tremante vissi d'ignoto amor.” (“On a day, happy and ethereal, you appeared in front of me and from that day, trembling, I lived on an unknown love”)

The words of Alfredo in the first act of the Traviata keep running through me, a chant that won’t let me go, almost painful. The Opera House, that was my hiding place, a place where in plain sight I could let out myself, unleash. The catharsis of the characters involved running through me, I didn’t need anything but their voices and those musical instruments to let out my fears, doubts and anger. When Alfredo came to the scene tonight, the lights were strong and slightly pinkish, the performer bursting out of the seams with passion. My eyes diverted only to see you there. Alone. Those blinding lights gave you the the radiance of a vision singing the notes of greek myths and heroes, that dark blue evening clothing rang through my eyes like it was a bright yellow, the little shiny details that adorned you so clear against the heavy lighting to look like transparent pieces of water collected to adorn your beauty. I wasn’t me, but Alfredo, and I was helpless against you sitting so far and yet too close from me. I was naked in front of thousands. I am aware of the effect you have on me and our last conversation was barely regarded as one. This is infatuation, this is the pure work of a lonely mind and not something worth of any of all the words that I am dissipating here. Yet. I saw you cry at the climax of the opera, Violetta, the protagonist, heartbroken falling on stage consumed by pain and regret for her lost love and ultimate sacrifice. Your eyes shone as you tried to hide the tears and collect yourself. Through my binoculars, I saw your throat tremble and gulp down something more than just a sigh of pain. Your jaw clenched, your gloved hand moves to hide your shaking lips. I reckon, I have never seen such sad lips look more inviting. You look at the wall on your side breathing through your nose and not even that can save you by the strength of the voice of the soprano. You’re defeated and so you brought a fine silk handkerchief to your eyes, your shoulders bent inward in self defence. The Opera won. It won you like it always wins me. I wonder if you felt like this because of a past lover, somebody that broke your heart and made you feel wrong in any way. And because of that little wonder it is even more clear to me why I am a man worth of no trust. Because for a moment, I know, I wished to be the one that broke your heart. That gave you just the pain you’re inflicting on me so mercilessly by offering intoxicating kindness and beauty. To own your thoughts, tears and shame. To be the one man you have to look away from. I want to own all of that and, maybe, I will be freed of you the day you’ll be just another human being that hates Dr Laszlo Kreizler.

Tagged @cazzyimagines @lieutenantn @handmaiden-of-mischief @thesunflowersutra @zemomybeloved @fictionlandslanddreams @charistory @greeneyedblondie44 @apparrio @hb8301 @whatawildone

Let me know if you want to get tagged too <3

#the diary of doctor laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler #dr laszlo kreizler x reader #dr laszlo kreizler imagine #dr laszlo kreizler x you #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler headcanons #thealienist #the alienist fanfic #the alienist fanfiction

73 notes · View notes

reids-rendering-reality · 4 years ago

Text

Blind Date

Summary: Derek Morgan sets up two of his friends for a blind date. They have never heard of each other or seen each other. But something tells Derek’s intuition they would get along well.

Type: fluff

Warnings: talking about serial killers

Word Count: 1.9K

Spencer Reid’s POV

I walked into work on a regular Tuesday morning, coffee in hand, a book tucked under my arm and my bag draped over my shoulder. I wasn’t expecting anything at all, being the first to walk in as per usual. Following my typical routine for paperwork day I sat down at my desk and went through file after file on that big pile in front of me. After about 30 minutes the others walked in. Still, everything appeared completely normal. So normal in fact, that it was almost suspicious.

“Hey, pretty boy,“ Derek said loudly as he walked directly towards me, without even stopping at his desk first, “I have an idea that you’re not going to like at first, but you’ll agree to anyway.“

“If I’m not going to like it, why would I agree to it?“ I asked curiously and looked up at him as he came to a halt right in front of my desk.

“Because I am asking you to and you will thank me later. Now hear me out please.“

“Alright,“ I responded, shifting in my seat towards him and pushing my glasses up a little.

“So, you know how the other day you said that you never go out on dates?” He obviously noticed my face flush as my eyes darted around the room to check if someone else was listening, “I was thinking, how about I play the wingman to help you get a date?”

“You want to play the what?” I asked confused and shocked simultaneously.

“Forget it,” he said hastily, “what I’m trying to say is, I set you up for a date.”

“You did what?” I could hear my voice getting louder the more shocked Derek made me. Again looking around, I noticed Emily exiting the elevator.

“A friend of mine – a female friend, who is also single – recently complained to me how she always dates the bad guys and how she just wishes for a good guy to come along and sweep her off her feet. So I set up a blind date for you guys. Listen, Spencer, I know this is uncomfortable for you, but it’ll be fun. Just agree to it and see what happens. You can become friends with her or never speak to her again afterward. But just give it a shot, maybe you’ll even get lucky,” Derek grinned at me.

I thought about it for a moment. Why was I even considering it? This is a crazy idea! She probably wouldn’t like me anyway and I would just embarrass myself for a few hours before going home and reading the book just as I had planned. But the way Derek was looking at me like he would never let me say now, and just that little sliver of something similar to hope made me nod my head slowly and uncertainly.

“Great! Wait – it was that easy to convince you?” Derek asked, a little shocked.

“It was this easy to convince him to do what?” Emily, who now reached us, interjected.

I went to yell a quick “nothing” before the situation got out of hand, but Derek was faster and began explaining the scenario.

“And he agreed to a blind date? Looks like our genius isn’t that much of a recluse after all,” Emily mused as she walked away towards her desk.

---

Y/N’s POV

To say I was nervous was an understatement. I hadn’t been on a proper date in like forever plus 2. But I promised Derek I wouldn’t bail on him and go to the restaurant anyways.

So here I was, entering a beautiful Vietnamese restaurant that Derek picked out 5 minutes before 8 pm on a Friday. To ensure the blind-dateness of it all, the table was reserved in Derek’s name. And he picked the perfect spot. In the back corner, a little bit further from everyone else, but with a view out the window into Washington D.C’s buzzing nightlife.

The waitress led me to the table, which was not yet occupied. I sat down against the wall to make sure I would see whoever came in. Taking off my coat to reveal my satin dress underneath I shivered lightly at the lack of warmth. Maybe it was the nerves too. Taking a deep breath and looking out the window into the night, I tried to force myself to calm down. I did not want to make a bad impression on one of Derek’s friends. If he was one of his friends? I knew nothing about this man. Just that it was one. A man.

Just as I began getting lost in my thoughts of who would be my dining partner, I noticed footsteps approaching me. My clock read 7:58. At least he’s very punctual. Looking up towards the body the feet belonged to, my heart began beating faster.

In front of me was a tall, handsome man with longish hair, dressed in a fine black suit and a deep crimson shirt. He looked shy, his eyes wide open and his lips slightly parted. He turned to thank the waitress and I examined his portrait. Ugh, he was definitely attractive. I thanked Derek in my thoughts for knowing my type and giving this man a head start.

“Can I sit here?” his voice was quiet as if he were as uncertain as I was. I nodded and smiled slightly, to calm both his nerves and mine. He sat down and for the first time our eyes properly met. And for a second we just stared.

I was the first to look away, my nervousness taking over, “um- I’m Y/N”.

“Hi, I’m Spencer,” he said more confidently now.

After exchanging the expected small talk about how we both knew Derek and what we did for a living, we ordered our food. This is the moment I feared. Chitter chatter out of the way, waiting for the food. What if there was nothing to talk about now?

“You’re studying medicine?” he asked to draw my attention and I nodded, “how are you enjoying it?”

And boy, he should not have asked that. With my heart racing in my chest, so were my words. I began a ramble on how I always wanted to study it and what excited me the most. When I realised how much I was talking I abruptly stopped with an awkward, “so yes. I am enjoying it.”

He grinned slightly, which eased some of my nervousness. I smiled back at him slightly.

“I’ve been meaning to say, you look beautiful tonight,” he said and for the first time that evening, he sounded confident. I guess my ramble eased his nerves too. Tucking a strand of hair behind my ear, I quietly thanked him.

Right then, the waiter came and brought our food. We ate in silence for a little while, but it wasn’t awkward. If anything, it was serene. We looked at each other occasionally, appreciating the other’s presence.

After a while, Spencer spoke up, “did you know that the reason why Vietnamese food is so healthy is partly because they don’t use that much oil? And of course also because the food contains so many vitamins, like C, B1, B6, and B3, but also many trace elements, for example, zinc, copper, magnesium, and potassium.”

I looked up at him as he started talking and nodded attentively, “no. I did not know that. But now I feel encouraged to eat Vietnamese more often.”

We finished our dinner with pleasant conversation, Spencer interjecting a few interesting facts here and there. I quickly realised he must be incredibly intelligent, which made me even more attracted to him. But I must admit, I was pretty proud when I knew some of his facts and could even add to them with my knowledge. For example when we got to the topic of serial killers (which of course was unavoidable given his job):

“So one gene that could make a person psychopathic is the gene coding for monoamine oxidase A. If you have one version of it, the protein becomes ineffective and can’t break down your brain’s monoamines like serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine. One study on a family in Holland found that they all had a version of it where the protein was completely ineffective. And they had unusually high levels of aggression and violence in that family,” Spencer said. His speed was almost hard to keep up with, but me hanging onto every word he said helped.

“I know! But the gene alone doesn’t suffice to make someone more aggressive. A study found that which gene version you have interacts with your environment during childhood. In maltreated children the effect on aggression can be seen way stronger than in children with a normal childhood,” I responded excitedly, leaning forward onto the table.

But Spencer didn’t respond. Instead, he froze, his lips parting as his jaw dropped a little. He stared at me with an emotion that appeared to me like shock mixed with fascination – and maybe awe? I didn’t know what to do so I just looked back at him shyly, feeling a blush creeping onto my cheeks.

That night, Spencer drove me home, like a gentleman. When we arrived at my apartment, he got out of the car and walked me to the door.

“I had a really nice time tonight,” I said softly looking up at him.

“Me too,” he smiled, and then a sudden wave of nervousness washed over him, “would you maybe – I don’t know – want to… do this again some time? Only if you want to of course.”

A smile spread onto my lips as well, “I’d love to.”

---

Spencer’s POV

The Monday following my dinner with Y/N, I walked into the office with a slight bounce in my step. I was still ecstatic over how well it went, and that I even had a chance with her. We had texted all weekend, about anything and everything.

“Hey Reid, come over here,” Derek shouted at me from his desk.

My face instantly flushed as I realised I would now have to spill all the details to him.

“How did the date with Y/N go?” he asked curiously. I could feel the eyes of Emily and JJ on the back of my neck from Emily’s desk.

“Um- it went well, I guess,” I said, shuffling my feet around awkwardly.

“It went well? Come on, Spence, give us more details!” JJ said as the two of them came to join me and Derek as well.

“Yeah, I mean we talked a lot and she enjoyed my fun facts. We will go on a second date soon, we even texted all weekend,” I stuttered, not meeting any of them in the eye.

“See? What did I tell you, Reid? You would not regret this,” Derek told me and then turned to the girls, “am I one hell of a matchmaker or not?”

They giggled slightly as my hands reached up to feel my burning skin.

“I knew she would be your type, just like you’re exactly hers. Enjoy it, kid, she’s a keeper for sure,” Derek said while patting my shoulder as he left for the coffee machine.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fluff #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid imagine

244 notes · View notes

woozisnoots · 3 years ago

Text

svt in college! | alex edition

° pairing: ot13 x reader ° genre: fluff(?), what my stream of consciousness finds funny, college!au ° word count: 1034 ° warning: slightttt violence ° a/n: i know i have requests to write >< but i really needed to write smth fun :( act as a shot of of serotonin into my veins ahahaha [insert fratboy emoji] disclaimer tho - this was ENTIRELY SELF INDULGENT and very very catered to me which is why vernon’s is unnecessarily long SO IM SORRY !!! i still hope you guys think its fun :D

° masterlist!

seungcheol: a business major, minoring in international relations. has the slightest crush on you but suppresses it pretty well without you realizing because he knows you like someone else. he likes to take you on what he calls bestie dates to a nearby arcade or places to eat when you’re stressed.

jeonghan: a psych major, minoring in communications, whom you oddly spend a lot of time with because he asks for homework help every other day when you’ve only taken 1-2 psych classes in your entire life :P but he’s a good listener and subs in as therapist on the weekdays so you let him stick around.

joshua: an english major. doesn’t know why and slightly regrets it but if it means he can keep the tinie bookshelf he has in his doom to make it look like he’s smart, then that’s motivation to keep him going. you tolerate him because you guys randomly go on trips at 2am and buys you food :D

jun: a childhood education major. the friend of a friend of a friend of someone’s cousin that happen to be your friend and so you see him at parties sometimes :) actually really fun to be around when you’re not too much into the party scene and play hopscotch or bean bag toss outside the persons’ backyard.

soonyoung: the loud dance team captain that won’t give you 5 minutes of quiet time waiting for your chem professor to open the door to the lab room because he has his speakers on at max volume dancing to kelly clarkson,,,, he’s pretty chill otherwise, he’s in my math class. claims hes the eye of the tiger when he comes to class in leopard print

wonwoo: premed that’s somehow taking enough classes to graduate with a literature minor. he and cheol talk a lot because they’re in the same broadcasting club or something of the sort. you guys acknowledge each other’s presence and share a moment of tea together sometimes with cheol.

jihoon: double majoring in music composition and theory. says he absolutely hates it because he thinks the work he does is completely pointless. but then goes on to write you like 27484737 love songs within a week for a single assignment. denies to other people that you’re his best friend and that he hates your guts but you’re the only one allowed in his private studio on school days and can fiddle with his equipment sometimes :3

minghao: an art major minoring in history. eventually wants to be a gallery director so he can hold his own. you make him drag you everyone for his work when you’re bored or have free time bc he takes pictures for the school newspaper/website. you guys strike a negotiation that you drive and he buys snacks.

mingyu: you only know him for playing in your uni’s (american) football team. his tall ass is like linebacker or some shit you don’t even know his major. you had to take a kickboxing class for PE credit and you swept him to the ground and put him a choke hold. you never let him live that down everrr. you also steal his lunch money from his bag when he’s at practice.

seokmin: a musical theatre major, minoring in music composition. you guys met through jihoon. you were absolutely FLOORED when you heard him sing as the lead for the school’s spring musical. it is now tradition that you guys get crepes after every show and make jihoon pay B) he hangs out with you and jihoon a lot and randomly make music together. and ahahaha people think jihoon and seokmin are fighting over you!! >:( that’s absolutely preposterous, seokmin is too good of a soul (you say this as you help him kneed dough for the pizza you guys are making together)

seungkwan: an education major, minoring in music because he wants to teach music to little kiddos ^-^ THE BESTEST OF THE BESTIES!!! like if you’re not hanging out with jihoon/seokmin or cheol, you crash at seungkwan’s apartment and raids his kitchen when you run out of groceries ;D he keeps making fun of you for your car until you remind him that he can’t drive. on the weekends, you guys love to bake muffin, cookie, or cake recipes to prep for the daycare on mondays :3

vernon: okay actually, he doesn’t go to college SHDJSJSHS you met him on the side of the road once when you decided to walk instead of using your car (silly you!) and you saw vernon doing some cool graffiti art (IT WASN’T VANDALISM!!!). which was a total coincidence because at that point, you were ready to take a bus and wait right at the bus stop where he set up. since it was a long wait, you guys talked and he kept you company. you learn that this is actually a big project he’s been working on and is finally getting paid big bucks for something he really likes doing. you learn that he’s a great conversationalist and you miss the bus first bus ride home and have to wait another hour or so whoops! this becomes more and more of a daily thing, slowly getting to know each other. fast forward months later and it’s your birthday :D and you don’t expect anything at all because how would he know, you don’t really like your birthday anyways UNTIL vernon surprises you with a spray paint drawing of your favorite animal! and then asks you out on a date and you guys fall deeply in love

chan: a linguistics major. yeah, he doesn’t know why either, he’s just rolling with it. says he’s liking it so far, but no one really knows if he’s lying or not, including yourself. you drag chan to college events like club fairs and rallies because you’re too embarrassed to go alone and no one else wants to go LOL he begs you to drive him places during your three day weekends because he always wants to go off campus and do stuff with you and the guy pals, but he doesn’t like the freeway :/ its fine though because he pays for gas.

122 notes · View notes

lucemferto · 4 years ago

Text

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT PH1LZA (or Why Philza is a Victim of Narrative Circumstance)

Heyo! Per request I am posting the script to my video of the same name here on tumblr. I must warn you that just reading the script will probably not give you the full experience, so I would encourage you to watch the video (linked above).

There might also still be a lot of grammatical errors in the text, because I don’t proofread.

Intro

LAST TIME ON LUCEM FERTO

Okay, so! I don’t want this to turn into a reaction channel OR a Dream SMP channel for that matter! [echo]

Well, I lied.

[Intro to “Luc is pretentious about the funny blockmen. Episode 2”]

I swear, I’m working on other stuff. It’s just that my dumb lizard brain has only capacity for one interest at a time!

So, something you might not know about me, is that I am on tumblr – who am I kidding, most of you will know me from tumblr. Before starting this whole YouTube thing, I thought that website died years ago – but as per usual reality proves me wrong. I’m also on Twitter and Reddit, but I get the most engagement on tumblr – by far! – and I need those sweet, sweet numbers for the serotonin!

Anyways, one of my favourite past-times on tumblr is to razz Philza Hardcore Minecraft – that’s his full name – for being a frankly awful father [clicking away] – wait, wait, no! Philza fans, this isn’t a hit piece on him, I promise! Please come back!

This is video is meant to be a companion piece to my previous video about Technoblade and the Doomsday event – you can tell by the shared nomenclature – so you should probably watch that one before you proceed. Unless you don’t want to, which is also perfectly understandable.

DISCLAIMER: This video is mostly about the character Philza plays on the Dream SMP. Whenever I talk about the content creator Philza, I will say so properly. Also, Spoiler Warning for Dream SMP Season 2.

… What is that? You’re wondering what the Dream SMP is? Well, if you had just watched the other video like I told you to do, you would know, because I explained it pretty well there. But in case you don’t know, here’s the cliff notes.

Dream SMP is the hottest New Media Series on Twitch right now! It has it all: gaslighting, child soldiers, Machiavellian political intrigue, Hamilton roleplay, desecration of the dead, shounen protagonists, SO! MUCH! AMNESIA! Filicide, furries, a red egg that’s definitely homophobic and teenagers inventing nuclear warfare. And it’s all done in Minecraft – yes, the funny block game where the only way to emote is to crouch.

And you say the perfect brief doesn’t exist!

Now, you might be wondering, why do I want to talk about this? Well, it’s because Content Creator Philza is one of least controversial internet personalities that I can think of. That man exudes pure comfort. So, it’s just very, very amusing to me that his character became one of the most controversial figures on the SMP, only outshone by Tommy and Technoblade.

And it’s not just amusing, it’s also extremely interesting! I want to dig deep to uncover and discuss the dynamics behind why that is. How did it come to this point? How did a man who appears genuinely so pleasant create a character that inspires so much discourse!

Now, if you watched that Technoblade video – like I told you to twice now! – you might know, that I am the resident character analyses hater of fandom! And that impression is false and slanderous! Don’t tell other people that I hate character analyses! I love them!

It’s just that, in the Dream SMP in particular, there is an abundance of character analyses! Every streamer has at least two very good essays written about them, exploring every possible angle to view their characters and backgrounds and everything. All I’m saying is: I don’t have anything to add on that front.

So, instead I want to pursue a different approach – something, that I feel is a bit underrepresented in the fandom! And I’m not just talking narrative analysis – that’s right, this episode we’re going even more pretentious! – I’m talking Transtextual Analysis!

Now, what is Transtextuality? Well, unfortunately it has very little to do with actual Trans people – #transrights, just in case that wasn’t obvious – but instead describes a mode of analysis with which to put – to quote French literary theorist Gérard Genette – “the text in a relationship, whether obvious or concealed, with other texts”.

Basically, you know how the L’Manburg War of Independence heavily quotes and borrows from the hit musical Hamilton? That’s transtextuality! A lot of the analyses surrounding how Tommy mirrors the Greek hero Theseus, who was invoked by Technoblade multiple times in the series, are already doing transtextual analysis! So, it’s really not something that’s new to the Dream SMP fandom.

But how does this apply to Philza and how he is looked at and judged by his parental skills? Well, there are multiple forms of transtextuality, two of which we will discuss today.

But before we continue, I gotta do that annoying YouTuber thing. I know these videos don’t look like much, but I spend a really long time making them. I work fulltime and I try my best to keep up, but sometimes I can’t. So please, like, subscribe, comment to give me some algorithm juice – I really need it – and most importantly share it! Share it with your friends, share it with your family – I’m sure Grandma is very interested in what I have to say about Philza Minecraft.

And I’m trying to be better! If I sound at all different for this video, it’s because I finally bought a new pop filter, so I can hit my plosives without it sounding like there’s a thunderstorm in my room. I hope it makes a difference; it was a very cheap pop filter, so maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it sounds worse – that would be bad!

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, CHILD NEGLEGT!

Intertextuality: Why is Dadza?

You know what’s really interesting about the Dream SMP – aside from, you know, most things about it? Very few of the characters have concrete, fleshed-out backstories – and that’s pretty weird! In no other medium or genre could you get away with something like that – at least for long-form storytelling!

So, how does Dream SMP get away with this? Well, it’s because every character on the Dream SMP is basically a self-insert – and I don’t mean that in the “This character is based on me”-kinda way, but in the “This character, for all intents and purposes, is me!”-way. This, like many things that are fascinating about the Dream SMP, is owed to the fact that this series didn’t start off as a continuous drama – it started off as a Let’s Play.

And while we can talk about how someone’s on-camera/on-mic persona is in some ways a character, it’s still miles off of being an actual, fully-realized, separate character in a storyline.

This is where Intertextuality comes in.

Intertextuality is a subset of Transtextuality. It describes how the hypertext, which is the text, you’re currently engaged with, uses another text, the hypotext, to supplement itself. The interconnection the hypertext establishes with the hypotext, through stuff like allusion for example, uh-hum [Hamilton], can colour how an audience interprets the hypertext. Basically, Hamilton and Theseus are the hypotexts; the Dream SMP is the hypertext.

So, what does this have to do with backstory? Simple: The backstories of the characters in the Dream SMP consist basically of nothing but intertextual references. Through intertextuality their content effectively substitutes their character’s backstory.

You can see it everywhere. Wilbur’s and Schlatt’s relationship and rivalry is hugely enriched, if you are aware of their shared history like SMPLive, for example – I think anyway. I haven’t watched SMPLive, because … there’s only so many hours in the day and I cannot keep up with the Dream SMP and catch up on SMPLive and live a healthy life – which I already don’t do, so…

BadBoyHalo’s and Skeppy’s relationship, which has become the crux of the Crimson-Storyline of Seasons 2 and 3, is hugely supplemented if you know that they’re also very close as streamers and in real life.

Another great example of intertextuality is basically Technoblade’s entire deal. If you just look at him completely within the text of the Dream SMP and try to transplant his entrance to any other medium: It would be extremely weird! Like, he’s just this guy that comes in in the middle of a very climatic arc, no build-up, no explanation what his deal is, and he’s treated like he has always been there. In any other medium that just wouldn’t work – at least not without a flashback or some sort of exposition!

But because of stuff like Minecraft Mondays, the Potato Wars, his Duel against Dream and SMPEarth, we understand that he is a Big Deal!

Anyways, to bring all of this back to Philza Minecraft: What kind of hypotext informs how the audience sees his character? Well, this is where I will have to talk about SBI.

SBI is an acronym that stand for State Bank of India, the 43rd largest bank in the world and…

It also stands for Sleepy Bois Incorporated. Sleepy Bois Incorporated is a loose assembly of content creators, consisting of Philza, Wilbur Soot, TommyInnit and Technoblade. It is most well-known for its very endearing family dynamic – a dynamic that is frequently acknowledged and played up by the creators involved. Tommy is the youngest brother, Wilbur and Techno are the two older brothers and Philza is of course the dad. And when I say, it’s played up, I really mean it! Wilbur seems to be especially enamoured with the idea and leaves no opportunity untaken to bring it up – which we will come back to.

And I’m not saying that they’re faking this and this is somehow an act. While I know none of these people personally, it appears to me, that this is genuinely how they interact – if a little exaggerated for the streaming experience. Even when they’re not consciously playing into the family dynamic, their interactions still very much lend themselves to that interpretation by the viewers.

Philza especially just radiates Dad-Friend energy – so much so that it has become a huge part of his brand identity – yay, I can bring that back (check out my Christmas video if you want to hear me ramble about that). The nickname Dadza stuck even before SBI was a thing.

So, even if we completely disregard SBI – which we shouldn’t for reasons I’ll get back to – Philza has cultivated an image of strong paternal guidance. He is, in my opinion completely deservedly, regarded very positively. He is highly respected and in turn seen as a voice of reason.

All of this would eventually inform the hypotext of the character Philza within Dream SMP.

Interlude: Before Dadza & November 16th

Okay, so now we have established that a) Dream SMP heavily hinges on intertextual readings by the audience to supplement character backstory and b) that Philza’s entire deal is that he’s the dad-friend – more specifically that he’s the dad of SBI (not the bank). I think you know where this is going.

So, yeah, ever since it was on the table that Philza could join the Dream SMP, it was immediately assumed that he would take on the paternal guardian role all these traumatized people on that server so desperately needed – and with good reason! Like I said before, the audience at this point was trained to take intertextual interpretations as basically canon or at the very least canon-adjacent.

I want to emphasize that this is most likely not done deliberately. I’m sure content creators Wilbur and Philza didn’t sit there and said: “Yes! We will rely entirely on the audience’s inclination to interpret our characters intertextually to define character Philza!”. Like, obviously that did not happen.

But it’s also important to remember that unlike with traditional media and the fanbases cultivated there, the separation between the Dream SMP and its audience is almost non-existent – and purposely so. The story events are streamed live, Chats are acknowledged in canon and even outside of livestreams creators are extremely involved with the fandom. So, the weight of fan-expectations is equally amplified and will more likely be incorporated into the writing process. Case in point:

[Wilbur “I miss Philza”/Philza about Wilbur]

During Wilbur’s villain arc, even before his official involvement, Philza became a prevalent point of discussion. The hope that he would be the one to snap Wilbur out of his downward spiral was not only wish-fulfilment on behalf of the fans; it also very much played off of the intertextual reading of the SBI-dynamic in relation to the Dream SMP.

Of course, this still doesn’t make Philza and Wilbur canonically blood-related – but it definitely used the “paternal”-dynamic of SBI to build-up tension and drama.

And that ultimately brings us to November 16th. The Grand Finale of Season 1 and Philza’s first canonical appearance on the SMP.

Now, for this I want to pull back from the transtextual analysis and talk about simply narrative analysis: What is Philza’s narrative purpose on November 16th?

Philza serves as the last threshold on Wilbur’s Villain’s Journey – to appropriate Vogler’s version of the monomyth for a minute here – he is what Vogler calls the “Threshold Guardian”. He is the last enemy the Hero faces before completing his quest – in this particular case Wilbur’s quest is to blow up L’Manberg. Multiple people have at this point tried to dissuade him from this course of action: Tommy, Quackity, Niki and others. So how come this Philza moment is not redundant in terms of dynamics compared to these prior scenes?

Well, it’s through our intertextual understanding of Wilbur’s and Phil’s relationship. Because Philza does not just occupy the role of the Threshold Guardian – he is also implicitly the Mentor. Before Phil there was no character in the storyline that held a higher position of moral authority than Wilbur – Dream and Schlatt, while at points more powerful in terms of actual authority, were never positioned by the narrative as Wilbur’s superiors in the same way as Wilbur was to Tommy, Tubbo or even Niki.

Before November 16th all challenges Wilbur faced were from people narratively subordinated to him. But that trend is broken with Phil. That is why he is the Threshold Guardian, why this confrontation is at the climax of Wilbur’s arc. Because Phil is the last thing tethering Wilbur to whatever morality he held before his villain arc; Phil is the last, moral obstacle Wilbur has to discard before gaining his reward.

And, just a quick sidenote, because I’ve seen it around the fandom a bunch: When I’m referring to Wilbur denouncing his morality, I’m using that in terms of narrative analysis. I’m mentioning it, because Wilbur’s character can very easily be read as mentally ill or neurodivergent and some people have – rightly! – pointed out that the excessive vilifying when talking about his character is … problematic, to say the least.

So, I just want to make clear, this isn’t a character analysis, I’m being purposely broad when talking about Wilbur and Phil.

In the end, Wilbur takes that final step and gets his “reward”: As his final request his mentor takes his life and vanquishes the evil – the dragon of Wilbur’s story slays the dragon of L’Manburg. It’s very Shakespearean in its tragedy – but beyond the larger theatrics it’s not really used to further characterize Phil – at least in the context of Season 1. There’s not a lot of focus on his characters internal conflict during November 16th.

Phil, like Techno, is very utilitarian in how content creator Wilbur writes him: He serves as a moment of hype; an obstacle Wilbur has to face; a participant in the tragic climax of Wilbur’s character and ultimately takes on his implicit and expected role of mentor and guiding figure to the rest of L’Manburg.

I think not a lot of people talk about how Philza does not join Technoblade during November 16th. He takes the side of L’Manburg – he fights against the withers and he joins Tommy, Tubbo and the others at the L’Mantree, thus framing him as loyal to the L’Manburg administration – even though Season 2 would make his loyalty to Techno central to his character. But more on that later.

What’s also important about November 16th is that this is the day when the general intertextual interpretation became canonized text.

[You’re my son!]

Wilbur is made Phil’s canonical, biological son. The intertextual interpretation of SBI as it pertains to these two characters on the SMP was completely reinforced by the narrative. Or to put it in Fandom terms: The headcanon became actual canon. At least when it came to Wilbur … but what about Philza’s “other” children?

Well, that leads to our second form of transtextual analysis:

Paratextuality: Is Dadza?

These titles are just getting better and better.

The Paratext is defined as all those things in a published work that accompany the text. It comes in two forms: One of them is the Peritext, which are non-diegetic elements directly surrounding the text – like chapter titles, author’s notes, and stuff like that. Translated to the medium of the Dream SMP, it would be stuff like this:

[Examples]

And, trust me, I could make a whole separate video about how people on the SMP use their peritext as a tool for storytelling – I’m looking at you, Ranboo – but that’s not what we will talk about in the context of Dadza.

Instead, we will focus on the second form of Paratext, the Epitext, which consists of all authorial and editorial discussions taking place outside of the text. That’s stuff like interviews, private letters or J. K. Rowling’s Twitter Account – you know, before she decided to become a full-time asshole.

[Wilbur: Transrights]

After Season 1 ended, Wilbur indulged pretty heavily in providing epitext for the Dream SMP, something he had not done prior to November 16th. His paratextual additions ranged from the playful, like assigning DnD alignments to various SMP members, to the extremely impactful, like the whole three lives system!

You probably think, you know where this is going. Wilbur provided some epitext about how Tommy and Techno either are or are not biologically related to him … and I have to be honest I thought that too. But then I began looking into the impenetrable web that is the SBI-canon on the Dream SMP and found this!

[Ghostbur explains family]

So, it wasn’t paratext, it was just straight text. Said in character, in canon, without any implication that we the viewers should question this. The text of the SBI family dynamic was explicitly linked to Dream SMP-exclusive lore, namely Fundy being Wilbur’s and Sally the Salmon’s son. This is as clear as Philza’s anguished declaration on November 16th in establishing the intertext as text. And because Wilbur also had a very heavy hand in the discussion of paratext around that time, it gave his character’s words even more “canonical” weight. Metatextually speaking, this very much read like the author giving exposition through his character – exposition that we should understand as reliable.

And, by the way, before I continue, I need to give a huge, huge shoutout to kateis-cakeis on tumblr, I hope I pronounced that right, who was just so quick in providing me with these crucial clips. Without him I would have looked for days because these people don’t archive their shit! And the Dream SMP Wiki was NO help, by the way! I love what you guys do, but stuff like this belongs in the Trivia section on characters’ pages!

Anyways, basically during the entirety of early Season 2 the SBI family dynamic was basically canon to the SMP. Sometimes it was only alluded implicitly, again letting the intertext fill out the rest.

[Philza clips]

But just as often it was just explicitly talked about – both in the text and in the paratext.

[Fundy clip/Wilbur “Twins” clip/Tommy clip]

So, I know what you’re thinking: “Why is this part called paratext, if the entire family tree is just textual”. Well, that last clip might give you a hint, as to what I will talk about. Notice how Tommy, one of the people most directly impacted by the canonization of SBI lore, is both unaware of and seems generally unenthused about it, to put it nicely? Well, that would soon turn out to be a much bigger deal than anyone could have imagined as he wasn’t the only one.

[Technoblade decanonizes SBI]

Yeah …

This happened on 20th of December. Regular viewers of this channel will remember that I put out a 90-second joke video, where I complain about this very development. And while I was mostly kidding around, the core idea is still true. The paratext provided by Technoblade and established text were in direct contradiction with one another – and that brought a lot of confusion into the fandom. Confusion, that would soon be followed by frustration.

Because Techno only decanonized himself as part of the SBI family dynamic – but what about Tommy and Tubbo, the latter of which was incorporated into the dynamic exclusively within the lore of the Dream SMP. Was this still canon or wasn’t it?

What followed was a muddled mess of contradictions, intertextual implications, text and paratext in conflict with each another. It was for the most part inscrutable to figure out how Tommy and Philza related to one another. I’ll spare you every comment made about this – mostly because I want to spare myself from looking for all of them.

In the end, the current status is that their familial relationship is … unclear. Philza said, again in paratext, that it’s ultimately up to the writers to decide, whether or not Tommy is his son … which, I personally think he and Tommy should be the ones to establish that, but I’ll come back to that later.

But why is all of this important anyway? Why would this ambiguity create such an uproar, such controversy – especially when it comes to Tommy’s character? What makes Tommy’s and Philza’s relationship such a target for discussion in the fandom?

Well … this is where we will have to talk about the storyline of Season 2.

Interlude II: Tommy’s Exile and Dadza in Season 2

Okay, Season 2. This is where the spoilers are, so I will just sneakily drop this again. It took me five seconds to google this gif and I will milk it for every penny it’s worth!

At the beginning of Season 2, Philza’s narrative role has not changed much from where Season 1 ended. He is in L’Manburg dispensing earthly wisdom, being a paternal figure to Fundy, Ghostbur and Tubbo, helping with the nation’s rebuilding efforts; just generally occupying the role of the mentor.

[clips]

And then came … the Exile. The Exile Arc took place between December 3rd and December 15th during Season 2 of the Dream SMP. It revolves around TommyInnit getting exiled from L’Manburg and slowly getting psychologically tortured and broken down by Dream. It’s a really great arc, at least in my opinion, that explores and deepens a lot of Tommy’s character relationships, whether that be Tommy and Dream, Tommy and Tubbo or Tommy and Ranboo. One relationship, however, is noticeably missing.

So, yeah, Philza spends basically the entirety of the exile doing pretty much nothing of consequence. And that’s not a problem specific to him – One big criticism I would levy against the Exile Arc is that a lot of characters are left spinning their wheels. Which is why we get zany stuff like El Rapids, Drywaters, Eret’s Knights of the Roundtable, Boomerville – anyone remember Boomerville, that was a thing for 5 seconds, wasn’t it? – basically a lot of storylines are started and then unceremoniously dropped. Now, I will talk more about this, when I make a video about Season 2 of the Dream SMP … in ten years, look forward to it.

In the case of Philza, this inaction was especially damning, because at this point it was still a considered canon that he was Tommy’s dad. So, the fans were left with a situation, where just a few weeks prior Philza was occupying a paternal role for Fundy and Ghostbur … but now, that his youngest son was in a very concerning predicament – to put it lightly – he was nowhere to be found.

So why is that?

Well, the most obvious answer is that Dream and Tommy didn’t write him into the storyline. We’ve seen that Tommy wasn’t particularly interested in exploring a familial relationship to Philza, at least at the time. And it would just not fit in with what Dream and Tommy tried to do with the Exile Arc: they wanted to tell the story of Tommy being isolated, completely under Dream’s mercy, slowly worn down and manipulated. If Philza had been constant presence for Tommy during that time, it would have definitely shifted the narrative focus. That doesn’t mean that they couldn’t have done that, it’s just a matter of fact that they didn’t.

This also reveals another truth about content creator Philza’s character work, that I think is extremely crucial: He takes what the writers give him. Outside of a few choice moments, he doesn’t seem particularly interested in expanding or even solidifying his character on the SMP.

What I’m saying is that he is very go-with-the-flow: Wilbur wants to enact a Shakespearean tragedy? Philza’s up for it. Fundy wants him as a parental figure and mentor? Philza’s here for him. Tommy, conversely, doesn’t want him as a paternal presence, even though it would make sense for Philza’s character, as it was established so far, to be there? Philza will oblige.

The reason I’m mentioning this is because, while Tommy and Dream were unwilling to utilise Philza in their storyline, someone else was more than happy to. Which leads us back, like it always does, to everyone’s favourite Porky Pig-kinnie in a crown: Technoblade.

Technoblade and Philza, from everything I’ve seen of them, seem to be very good friends – and they share a lot of history even outside SBI. So, it’s commendable that they would collaborate on a storyline together.

A consequence of that, however, is that Philza’s narrative purpose shifts completely with very little transition. His entire character changes from being the Mentor-figure of L’Manberg to being pretty much exclusively defined as Technoblade’s ally; his man on the inside. It is a very sharp turn from the end of Season 1. Their relationship is once again informed via intertext – this time the Antarctic Empire on SMPEarth serves as the hypotext – but there isn’t a huge effort made to smoothly integrate that aspect of Philza’s character into the larger narrative framing around him.

How much the narrative utilisation of Philza has shifted can be very easily observed through the Butcher Army event on December 16th, a story event that I like less and less the more I think about. Here Philza is used to show just how corrupt and violent Tubbo’s administration has becomes. He is no longer the respected mentor, he is now the stand-in for the oppressed populace, similar to Niki’s role in Season 1. On a narrative level, he is here to prove a point.

If you’ve seen my Technoblade video, you know how I feel about … just that entire storyline, so I will not reiterate too much on it. I just want to make clear that I’m not principally against this development – if they wanted to truly explore Tubbo going down a dark path and getting corrupted by power, so much so that he would even treat the person who effectively raised him like a prisoner, I would be extremely here for it, I cannot stress that enough.

The problem I have is that it’s just so sloppily done. It is not coherent with how these characters behaved and, more importantly, how they were narratively framed prior to the Butcher Army event. Fundy gets one token line about Phil being his Grandfather – a far cry from the very emotionally complex relationship they had established at the beginning of Season 2 – and Phil then callously disowns him.

The major problem simply is that we don’t see how Philza changes from Mentor-figure to embittered, oppressed citizen. And there was enough time to build to that. During the entirety of Tommy’s exile Tubbo was pretty much spinning his wheels and Quackity and Fundy were opening up plot cul-de-sacs that didn’t end up going anywhere. This is time they could have spent on developing their relationship to Philza and the dark path they were going down – but again, Season 2 video.

There is not much to say on Philza’s narrative purpose and framing beyond the Butcher Army event. He remains pretty much exclusively Techno’s consigliere with his role as Mentor to L’Manburg a distant memory. He has some cute character moments with Ranboo, because content creator Philza is just big dad-energy whether he wants to or not, and whenever he and Ghostbur share a scene suddenly the narrative remembers that there are people other than Technoblade that should exist in Philza’s inner world. But aside from that, Philza’s storyline in Season 2 remains … pretty definitive is the nicest way I can put it.

Most importantly his relationship with Tommy continues to be completely unexplored – whether by chance or choice – and that combined with ever vaguer paratext leaves “Dadza” in a very peculiar situation.

Conclusion: Is Dadza a Good Dadza?

So, the question to end all questions. The big, obnoxious text, that I will probably have put in the thumbnail – I haven’t made it yet, but I know myself. The honest answer is: I couldn’t tell you.

I have, in the past, been expounding the virtues of narrative analysis. That is because I feel that Narrative Analysis and Textual Analysis, like in this video, can provide certain tools that Character Analysis lacks. Often times I see people trying to get at a writing problem or query and getting frustrated because they’re not using the toolset, they need to figure out what they want to figure out.

But I’d be a hypocrite if I pretended like everything could be solved through the modes of analysis I prefer. And I think the Dadza-issue is exactly such a case.

I set out to explore why the Philza-Tommy-“Dadza”-relationship has become so controversial. It’s a combination of expectations build up through intertextual readings, that were partly canonized – something that is very common for the Dream SMP – conflicting pieces of paratext, which only serve to muddle the issue further and a text that is not only completely uninterested in actually exploring Tommy’s and Philza’s relationship – as it stands right now they might as well be strangers, narratively speaking – but also completely changes Philza’s narrative purpose as it relates to characters like Fundy or Tubbo about half-way through with little to no transition.

That is why I say, that Philza’s character is a victim of narrative circumstance. Because unwittingly, through all of these factors and decisions, there is not coherent reading of Philza that frames his parental skills in a particularly kind light.

The question of how we can judge Phil as a paternal figure ultimately falls within the purview of the character analysis – and that’s a very multifaceted issue, highly dependent on which POV you focus on and how you interpret the other characters in that POV’s periphery.

To put my cards on the table, I think that Philza is a very flawed father/father-figure – and I find that absolutely okay. Flaws are the spice of character building. He is not Cinderella’s Evil Stepmother – but he’s also definitely not Mufasa. If we were to read Philza as a paternal figure, then he would have made a lot of mistakes and decisions to the detriment of his “children” – least of all everything that happened on Doomsday.

But I also have sympathies for Philza fans who are tired of the Dad-Debate and would like to have his character judged independent from his relationship to Ghostbur, Fundy, Tubbo and Tommy.

Ultimately, to bring it all to a point, I’d like to end with saying, that I think that Philza, out of all the characters on the SMP, has the potential to be on of the most intriguing, multifaceted ones. There are all of these different patches of story, character moments and narrative and transtextual implications, that, if brought together, could create a beautiful tapestry of the character Philza.

You have his relationship with Techno, which holds the potential for so much emotional conflict and vulnerabilities, you have his time as mentor of L’Manburg, which is just criminally underused; the complex relationship between him and Ghostbur/Wilbur; and – for me, personally – most intriguingly this weird, almost uncomfortably distant non-relationship with Tommy. That last one is intriguing to me, because it contrasts just so much with our intertextual understanding of the characters and streaming personas – and it just holds the potential for so much conflict, so much drama, so much angst. Which I live for!

And, yes, I do believe that most of this is narrative happenstance, that this was largely not intended by Philza or really any of the writers. It’s just what happens when hybrid-roleplay-improv a long-running, livestreamed storyline in Minecraft.

But I want them to realize the potential they have on their hands, because it could – with barely any adjustments – turn Philza from a victim of narrative circumstance to a champion of it!

Outro

Thank you so much for watching this video. Usually, I don’t record outros this standard, but after this beast of a video I felt it necessary. I hope that whether you’re a Philza fan or a Philza critical or just completely uninvolved in the whole thing, there is at least a little entertainment you could get from this.

I want to take this opportunity to say that my next few videos will probably not be Dream SMP related – a sentence which undoubtedly lost me a bunch of subs – simply because I don’t want to burn out on it. I genuinely enjoy watching the SMP and being exhausted by it would be something I wouldn’t want to force on myself.

But who knows what will happen? The Karl Jacobs video was something I did spur of the moment because the idea just came to me – so I can’t guarantee that the next video won’t be a three-minute joke about Purpled or whatever.

Anyway, my concrete plans for future Dream SMP videos are essays on Season 1 and Season 2 as well as one for Tales from the SMP.

Before that I have a longer video in the works, which I’ve already teased a bunch, so I hope it will finally be finished sometime. And I also may be working on something … eboys-related? Maybe. I’m not making any promises!

118 notes · View notes

mammonprotectionsquad · 3 years ago

Note

Happy Monday!!! ♥️ let’s start the week with a little self ship love: Vanderwood says he has a new trendy restaurant he wants to take to you. After finding the proper attire you two leave. Describe your evening after walking in and being met with this sight:

Lea, hi! Omg I'm so late to this xD

But this topic was kinda funny to me, because the other day, one of my friends and I talked about why we don't really like going to restaurants 😂 the timing is just *chef's kiss*

This was really fun to write, though! Gave me a big boost of serotonin 💕

"This is the place?"

"Mhm."

"Nice. Yeah, it's real fancy. So uh... You showed it to me and now we can leave", I rambled, at the same time turning around to walk back right out of the door again. Though Vanderwood stepped into my way, resulting in me simply bumping into his broad chest.

"Come on, I reserved a table for us", he murmured, hands resting on my hips to keep me in place. "Besides, do you really want to go home already after you got all dolled up?"

"I dressed up for less before."

"Baby girl..."

As much as I felt out of place there, it was impossible to not give in to him. Letting out a defeated sigh, I pouted up at him for good measure, resulting in him pecking my lips.

It didn't take much longer until a waiter led us to our table, handing us the menu as soon as we were seated. And as expected, everything was a bit more on the expansive side, making me feel a little more uncomfortable than I had already been walking into the restaurant. The entire time my face was in a frown, while I tried to look for something I'd like that wouldn't cost too much.

Though when it was time to order, I didn't even get the chance to open my mouth, Vanderwood taking it upon himself to order food and drinks for both of us. Knowing way too well what my favorite dishes are.

"You know I'm perfectly able to order for myself, right?"

"I know you would've only picked a salad", he countered with a raised brow, amusement fairly visible in his brown eyes. "I remember someone saying that we should try some new places, every now and then", he went on, reaching out to take my hand.

"I know I said that. But I didn't mean crazy fancy restaurants where dinner costs as much as our groceries for two weeks or so."

I kept my gaze down as I began to play with his fingers. Something I usually did when I felt nervous for whatever reason. Though in order to make me look up, he reached out with his free hand to cup my cheek, the way his expression softened causing my cheeks to heat up ever so slightly.

"You always insist on spoiling me. Let me return the favor now, hm? Just enjoy the food, I'll take care of everything else."

Once again it was just unfair how easily he was able to make me give in to him. But then again, I knew just how weak I was for him, especially when he was being so sweet.

"Unfair... Also, what happened to Mr "I'm only gonna talk as much as possible and keep it short", huh?", I teased, mainly to distract a bit from how quickly he'd won.

"Well, he got a very chatty girlfriend, who always expects him to answer with more than two words", he countered with a smirk.

And even though I pretended to be offended by that, I couldn't help but chuckle, giving his leg a light nudge with my foot under the table.

"Oh, come on! I'm not that- okay, maybe I am chatty. But I pretty much had to talk for two when we started dating!"

The lighthearted bantering slowly but surely helped to ease the rest of my nerves and the conversation continued comfortably over the main course, making me nearly forget that he'd taken me to such a fancy place. As it happened rather often, my world easily narrowed down on him, nothing else really mattering outside of our little bubble when we were together.

We chatted over everything and nothing, really. Just whatever came to mind. Planning what to cook for dinner, the next couple days. Reminding him that my mom insisted on us visiting her when the weather is nice, so we can catch up while relaxing in the garden. Him in return reminding me that we had to take the dog to the vet in a couple days for her yearly check-up, and so on. All in all, it was a very nice evening, making me glad that I hadn't insisted on going back home before giving the place a try.

While we waited for dessert, Vanderwood reached out to take my hand once again, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. After flashing him a wide smile, I let my gaze wander, taking in all the beautiful decor, which easily made me feel like we were in some kind of fantasy world.

"Cute..."

His voice snapped me out of my thoughts and I looked back at him just in time to see him put his phone back down. With the most fake innocent expression I've ever seen on him.

"Did you just take a picture of me?", I asked in amusement, leaning a bit closer over the table, him mirroring my movements.

"I did. It's my new lockscreen."

No matter how long we've already been together, sometimes his bluntness still surprised me, making me blink a couple times before I laughed quietly.

"Oh, you're allowed to take sneaky pics of me for lockscreen purposes but when I do it you tell me to delete it? Doesn't sound fair to me."

But I had to admit he did let me keep the adorable picture I once took of him, napping on the couch with the dog sleeping on his chest. And I doubted I would've switched that one out anytime soon anyway.

"I did let you keep the ones that didn't look weird", he smirked, leaning in further until his lips brushed against mine.

When dessert arrived, whe both straightened back up, if a little reluctantly, but he refused to let go of my hand. A small thing that easily made my heart skip a beat.

Without really thinking too much about it, I held my fork with a piece of the chocolate cake he'd ordered for me out to him. It was a normal thing we did at home all the time; feeding the other one something in order to share it or when he wanted me to try something new.

"Becky..."

"Yes?"

"We're in a restaurant."

"So? That doesn't mean I can't share my cake with my boyfriend, does it?", I hummed, moving the fork a little closer to his lips.

Even though he let out a long sigh, his cheeks sporting a faint pink tint, he still leaned in to finally eat the cake.

"You're the worst, you know that", he muttered with a playful glare.

"You still love me, though~"

"Mhm... That I do, indeed."

#self ship #self insert #mystic messenger #mysme #vanderwood #mystic messenger vanderwood #mary vanderwood 3rd #vanderwood x becky #my writing

17 notes · View notes

script-nef · 4 years ago

Text

Sex god or nerd? | Kuroo Tetsurou

Inspiration: [“Have you seen him?”]

Category: fluff

800 words; you really don’t understand why people think your boyfriend is a ‘sex god’

"Hey. You ready to go?" Kuroo leans onto the door frame of the classroom, his hair in its usual mess. Soft gasps from female students can be heard as they take in his appearance.

“Oh my god, [Surname], your boyfriend is so hot.” Your friend whispers to you under their breath. “I don’t want to thirst over your boyfriend, because he’s your boyfriend and it’s super wrong, but wow I would die if I had a boyfriend that sexy.” You snort lightly in response. For some reason, the entire school seems to think he’s some sort of a hot bad boy.

“Please, have you seen him?” Her face morphs into one of confusion at that, eyebrows quirking. “Ugh, I’ll show you his true face one day. It’ll completely shatter the image you have of him.” Stuffing the last book into your bag, you bound over to Kuroo and link your arm to his. “Bye! See you on Monday!”

As you walk out of the classroom, excited chatter between girls can be heard.

“I have no idea what she meant by that, but I would love to have someone like that.”

“I know right? I heard he plays volleyball and ugh! Yes please.”

“He’s so cool and suave, I bet he always teases [Surname]-san and is flawlessly sexy.”

“And I learnt about new planets and they’re so cool!”

“Really? It’s nice to see you’re enjoying your new astronomy class, Tetsu.”

“Yeah, it’s so interesting! There’s a planet which is like Saturn, but the rings are about 640 times larger. And one which just water, so that’s not going to be much use but it’s still amazing. Oh, there’s one which is presumed to be made of diamonds! Well, some bits of it at least.” He babbles on about several other fascinating exoplanets, listing their unusual characteristics with so much enthusiasm and joy.

You still can’t quite understand how such a dork can be thought up as a, to quote another student’s words, ‘sex god’. If they spent even 10 minutes with him, they would realise that he’s a total nerd, but the best of its kind.

“You look tired, are you getting enough sleep? Or food?” He’s also a bit of a mother hen, a skill he perfected over the years of looking after Kenma. Now that the smaller boy is “leaving his nest”—his words, not yours—you’re the main target for his concerns.

“I’m fine, Tetsu. If I finish this chemistry project, I can relax for the weekend with you. Can you help me?” Kuroo’s face immediately shifts to one of mischievousness, a sly grin on his lips.

“Oya, oya? Are you asking for my help?” He leans down to your height. “Where’s my payment?” Another thing about your boyfriend is that he uses any chance he comes across to receive affection. Even for small chores, he flat out refuses to do any of them unless you give him a kiss. You sigh lightly, lips attaching and detaching to his in the blink of an eye. Even that is enough to put him in a good mood.

You arrive at the school library, snagging one of the empty study rooms. “Lucky! Ugh, let’s get this over and done with, I want to spend the weekend catching up on TV shows and sleep. I’m so close to falling asleep right now.” Kuroo chuckles at your moans, peppering your face with kisses.

“There you go, some dopamine, oxytocin and serotonin. Now, what are the chemical formulas for them?” His flawlessly smooth transition makes you laugh. He’s quite a gifted teacher, perfect for chemistry help, especially for you since he’s incredibly lenient and affectionate when ‘teaching’.

Hours pass by quickly as giggles and kisses are interspersed throughout the lesson, gifted every two or three minutes. One downside to having him as a teacher is that he can’t keep his hands off of you, and is incredibly dejected if forced to separate with your body. As soon as you relent, he’s back snuggling behind you, whispering concepts and formulas. It’s incredibly distracting.

The library closes down at 8, kicking the two of you out. The walk to your house is filled with extra chemistry revision and little weird facts he picked up from somewhere. And it’s these kinds of moments with Kuroo—walking next to him under the streetlights, his jacket draped over your body because “it’s getting colder and you’re going be sick” and enjoying each other’s presence with linked hands—that warms your heart with affection for your boyfriend. Because he’s so kind, loving and irreplaceably unique in your life.

“Oh, I heard this guy who actually modified his genes to get rid of his lactose intolerance and…”

Despite what anyone thinks, Kuroo Tetsurou is a giant dork and an amazingly sweet boyfriend.

#kuroo x reader #kuroo imagine #kuroo tetsurou x reader #kuroo tetsurou imagine #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu!! imagine #haikyuu one shot #haikyuu!! one shot #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #fluff #insp: phrase #gender neutral reader

432 notes · View notes

rancoeur-the-unfortunate · 3 years ago

Text

Pills (Chapter 29)

(Hello everyone, Rancoeur here. I know it's been a while since I last updated this book and I am truly sorry about that. But it's been so long since I've seen Zim or have even read fanfics about it. So in a way I sorta fell out of love with it. This doesn't mean I'm going to stop updating this though. This book is a monument to how my writing has evolved over the years and is my pride and joy. I will finish it, even if it kills me. It will be awesome and I can't wait for it. Thank you for reading this and please accept this 3300-word chapter as my apology. I know it's a little short and I did want to add more stuff to it but then it just looked bloated and I didn't like that. I hope everyone is staying safe out there. Have a nice day.)

Monday morning, Dib slowly got out of bed and stretched as his alarm clock rang. The boy rubbed his eyes softly before grabbing his glasses from the nightstand and put them on his nose after turning off the said clock. He glanced outside, noticing the dark clouds coming in, and sighed.

"Already looks pretty gross out there," he muttered to himself before he started to get dressed for school.

Honestly, it felt weird to sleep on a bed after sleeping in a tent for a week. Aside from just being comfier it kinda felt... lonely. Like someone was missing.

The boy shook his head as he slid on his coat and began the trek downstairs to greet Gaz and his father. Another rare day of eating with the Professor.

"Hey dad, hey Gaz," he smiled a bit and went to the fridge to grab some juice. When he grabbed what he wanted he pulled back and shut the fridge, only to find his dad right behind him holding a new device to his head. He reeled back in surprise, "dad?!"

His dad smiled at him and waved him off, "no need to worry son, I was just testing out this new invention I'm making on you. Says here your serotonin levels are higher than usual. You must be in a good mood!"

Dib gave his dad a nervous smile and laugh before backing away to the table where his sister was eating with one hand while simultaneously playing her new game with the other.

"Yeah, you haven't mumbled about killing Zim all morning. What's wrong with you?" She spoke between bites of cereal.

"I don't know, I guess I'm just too tired to think about killing Zim," Dib shrugged as he poured himself a bowl.

"That's bull and we both know it. You talk about capturing Zim in your sleep, I can hear it in my room," Gaz tossed a glare his way before going back to her game.

Dib rolled his eyes, "whatever." He muttered as he began eating.

Still, he couldn't help but feel a strange sensation in his chest.

Zim tentatively stepped out of his home. The Dib had told him that the skool children had already forgotten about the drugs, but he still felt fear. Like there were still eyes following him as he marched down the sidewalk. A feeling of uneasiness seemed to wash over him.

Eventually, the blocky, grey building came into view. A few children were loitering about, waiting for the bell to ring. Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Zim just sat on a bench and waited alongside them. Only observing them slightly.

Humans were weird on Mondays, Zim had no idea why though. Something about that particular day of the week seemed to drain all of the energy from the weird meat bags. One kid looked like he was about to fall on his face from exhaustion.

Down the street, he spotted the Dib and his little sister. A part of Zim was fearful. Now that everything had gone relatively back to normal, would Dib go back to trying to expose him?

When the two entered the skool's grounds, they separated. Gaz went to sit on the steps, playing her video game. While Dib glanced about, when he looked his way, the human... smiled at him.

Causally Dib stepped closer and closer until the two were only a few feet apart. There was a moment of silence between them, both of them just staring at each other. It was obvious they both wanted to say something but neither knew how.

Eventually, Dib sighed and spoke a little quietly, "hey uh... can I sit here?" The boy gestured to the spot on the bench next to Zim.

Zim looked surprised for a moment before he crossed his arms and looked away with his usual snark before quipping a quick, "you may."

Dib chuckled to himself, "same old Zim." He said as he sat down beside the green alien.

With that, the two sat in silence once more, the two of them just looking down at the skoolyard. Humans shuffling about like zombies, waiting for something to happen. Eventually, Zim slumped out of his uptight posture and looked down in his lap, fiddling with his thumbs.

It was Dib who once again broke the silence, "so, what evil plan is it this time?"

Zim looked up at the human in surprise, "eh?"

"You know, to take over the world and all that?" Dib smirked and leaned close, "or did you forget your mission."

Zim immediately perked up and sneered in disgust, "of course not! And to answer your first question. WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW!" He shouted that last part accidentally as he pointed an accusatory finger at the boy.

Dib just laughed, clutching his stomach as Zim tried to regain his composure. Zim couldn't help but giggle to himself slightly.

"In all seriousness," Zim started once the two had calmed down. "I don't know... I know I have a mission. But at the same time, that mission was given to me by them." Zim found himself glaring at his own hands. He clenched them into fists.

"It feels so strange, to have a purpose one second only to realize that purpose was only given to you to get you out of the way. And now that I see past all their lies I... I don't know. I have no idea what I should be doing, or what my purpose is now or what I'm even still doing on Earth." Zim sighed and closed his eyes, he knew Dib was looking at him, either pitying him or laughing at his distress.

Instead, he felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder. Zim looked up at Dib who was giving him a comforting yet awkward smile before pulling his hand back and sitting properly.

"If we're being truthful right now I guess I'll be straight with you," Dib spoke as he laid back on the bench and looked up at the sky. "The main reason why I wanted to help you was because I was hoping you'd leave once you realized what your mission was." Dib hummed to himself.

"But now that you're off your drugs and ready to leave... I..." Dib paused, "Don't get me wrong, I still hate your guts." He huffed but then frowned, "but the thought of you leaving now... it just doesn't sit well with me." Dib admitted.

"Funny how the one I considered my worst enemy could become someone I might even call my..." Dib paused again and looked at Zim with an emotion ZIm couldn't decern, "friend."

Zim stared at Dib in complete silence, 'friend?' Dib smiled slightly before going back to looking at the cloudy sky.

Three minutes passed before Zim opened his mouth, "Dib I-" Before he could finish the ever-piercing sound of the bell rang, cutting him off. Simultaneously, Zim was both annoyed and grateful for the interruption.

"Well I guess we'll finish this talk some other time," the human spoke grabbed his bag, and got up. "I'll see you later Zim," Dib gave one last smile before waving goodbye and walking away towards the school building.

It was then that it hit Zim, he'd never seen Dib smile so much before. The boy seemed genuinely happy in Zim's company. It felt so strange, a foreign feeling, a feeling he hadn't felt since, "Skoodge."

Suddenly it felt like all the air had left Zim's respiratory organs and he fell to his knees on the ground. Tears were building in his eyes until eventually, the dam broke, and he started sobbing loudly. Trying and failing to gasp for air. His cardiac spooch felt like it was being squeezed like a stress toy. It hurt and Zim was just figuring out why.

All alone in the Skool courtyard, Zim was crying. Crying like a long-forgotten smeet. Eventually, the Irken just laid down on his side curled into a ball. How could he? What was wrong with him?! How could he have hurt Skoodge like that?! His best friend! His partner! His mate!

How could he have hurt someone so close to him, so one who had seen him at both his best and his worst?

The tears wouldn't stop.

Eventually, his thoughts went back to Dib, the human who even despite their mutual hatred for one another still sought to help him. To get him off those horrid drugs and saw him as a... a friend.

Suddenly it felt like time itself had stopped. A friend.

Zim had a friend. Quietly the little alien stood up and whipped his eyes. He found himself staring up at the sky, just as Dib had. The clouds seemed to have gotten darker, it was likely going to rain soon.

He should probably get inside-

A hand came out from behind him and covered his mouth roughly, cutting off his thoughts as he went into a panic. That was before it all went dark.

"So uh... what is it exactly?" Tallest Purple asked a hand on his chin as he inspected the strange being before him, keeping his distance of course.

"A Murthen, my Tallest, female, foot soldier class." The Doctor spoke, his back upright and arms tucked neatly behind his back as he gave a quick bow.

They all stood on the bridge of the Massive. The two Tallest were near the controls while the Doctor and his captive stood at the other end of the bridge. Behind the Doctor stood Skoodge, the little Irken was practically sweating bullets as he clutched Raz's egg. He kept his mouth shut, but every time he even glanced at the Murthen or her collar it felt like another ton of weight was added to his shoulders.

"A Murthen?" Tallest Red gave a confused and disgusted look at the blue figure, "ok...but what's it doing on our ship."

"I believe she will be a great help to our mission to subdue Zim. Despite her lower rank, she is incredibly capable and has experience in both war and combat.

"I mean, so did Tak," Tallest Purple crossed his arms.

The Doctor actually laughed and it was the most haunting thing anyone in the room had ever heard. "Oh, my Tallest, Raz here, is certainly no Tak, trust me."

"I don't even trust the way you just said trust me," Purple muttered in the background as Tallest Red stepped forward.

"Murthen, Murthen where have I heard that name before?" He squinted his eyes at Raz as Tallest Purple stepped behind him, "was it a planet we conquered."

"I assure you my Tallest, Murth most likely will never be claimed," the Doctor hummed.

'He seems so sure of himself,' Skoodge thought.

"Why's that?" Tallest Red asked skeptically.

"This is why," the Doctor spoke as he raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

Before anyone had any idea what was going on, Raz raised her arm, showing a previously concealed weapon. She aimed it at one of the foodservice drones and fired and a blue beam-like laser shot out.

"AHHHHHH!!!" A scream ripped through the room as the service drone fell to the floor, the donuts he was carrying, splattering beside him. He had been shot in the lower abdomen and was clutching his melting chest in a frenzy. He was quite literally melting on the floor. Eventually, he fell silent as he collapsed on the floor, smoke coming off his body.

The two Tallest jumped back in fear, "WHAT IN THE US WAS THAT?!" Purple screamed.

"Show them," The Doctor gestured to the two with his head.

Raz held out the gun, displaying it in front of the two leaders. It was small and compact, not unlike the blasters the Irkens used. This one however was silver with a grey handle, on the sides of the round barrel were tempered glass that displayed a blue liquid.

"This is just a ground soldier-grade weapon. Yet it has the capabilities to destroy Irken armies. It's filled with a chemical compound known as H2O aka water. Due to our solubility when an Irken comes in contact with it, we tend to melt. However, that's not everything. The water is also mixed with a compound only found in Murthen waters, it is known as Gr4F8 aka Blue Gix. Mixed with water it lowers the boiling point to room temperature and creates energy in the form of light and heat. This creates the beam you just witnessed. This gun alone could destroy our entire empire and that's not even half of it." The Doctor nodded toward Raz and she lowered the gun.

"This is the kind of weaponry that can be expected on Murth, that is why we can not conquer it yet. I'm sure with a bit of studying we could find a way to make ourselves immune to this but until then. We'll just have to leave Murth unconquered. At the moment, however, I believe we should get back to the topic of Zim."

"R-right right, Zim," Tallest Red stuttered, trying to keep his composer. "Are you sure she's fit for the job?"

"Oh my Tallest, you have no idea," the Doctor smiled that irksome smile of his.

"Zim won't know what hit him."

The rest of the discussion seemed to fade out for Skoodge as he stared, wide-eyed at the dead Irken before him. He had just been shot, no warning, no nothing. He was just doing his job and he was shot and then forgotten about. Like his life meant nothing.

Already some of the cleaning drones had come over, collecting the body to be disposed of. Most likely going to be tossed out of the airlock like trash.

Skoodge looked to the egg in his hands, little Mur. Every time he looked at her he just felt more and more guilty. Her carrier was being controlled against her will and he was the cause of it.

Now he had to carry her around, an actual burden on his shoulders.

"Alright then, I guess it's settled, we'll be leaving the quadrant in a few hours to start heading for Earth," Tallest Red's voice cut into Skoodges thoughts and he felt panic run through him, that means they'll be leaving Murth and Raz's family.

Before Skoodge had a chance to voice his concerns, the Doctor was already leaving with Raz in tow.

Quickly Skoodge ran after them, once they were out of the bridge and in one of the Massive's many hallways he spoke up, "Doctor! What about the egg! There's no water on the ship!"

"Your pretty good at stating the obvious," the doctor hummed, not even bothering to look at him.

"B-but-"

"Look Skoodge, I already told you. If you want the egg, you can keep it. But that makes it your problem, not mine," the Doctor growled, getting agitated by the shorter Irken's nagging.

"But Doctor!"

Suddenly the Doctor spun around and pointed glaringly at him, "no! I'm tired of hearing your squeaky insignificant voice!" He shouted, "one more word out of you and I'll reveal the secret about your lack of pills to the Tallest!"

At first, Skoodge was terrified but one look at the child, strapped to his chest and he was quick to shoot a glare of his own. "And reveal yourself?! Fat chance!"

"Oh please! you don't think I don't already have the Tallest under my thumb?!"

Skoodge paused and stared up at the Doctor wide-eyed, "what?"

"You heard me, I've had them on my drugs since day one! I have nothing to fear from them. Just like I have nothing to fear from you! You short, intolerable, idiotic, service drone!" The Doctor raised his hand to smack Skoodge only to collapse to his knee in pain. He grimaced and gripped his right leg in pain, a new bump already showing through his pants.

"Damn it!" He snarled and began to roll up his pant leg, showing the ugly lump on his calf. To even the Doctor's horror, it seemed to be splitting off into two.

"Damn things are getting worse," he muttered to himself and looked to Skoodge expectantly.

Almost on instinct, Skoodge pulled out 4 syringes from his pac only to pause before approaching.

"What the hell are you doing, help me!" The taller Irken demanded.

"No! I will do no such thing until we return Raz and her egg back home!" Skoodge demanded himself.

"And ruin your chances of taking over the control brains and getting Zim back?" The Doctor sneered, gripping his leg tighter now.

"The ends don't justify the means, Doctor!" Skoodge snarled.

"Fine," the Doctor stammered out, already looking out of breath from the pain. "W-with friends like you, who needs enemies," he growled and snapped his fingers, and Raz, who had been standing beside him stoically this whole time, tackled Skoodge.

The scariest part wasn't those sharp webbed fingers, or those strong four arms, no it was those cold eyes. Raz looked completely dead on the inside like she was just a body heading the commands of something that wasn't her. It was terrifying.

She was quick and strong as he pinned his arms and legs down before grabbing the needles from his hands and kicking him away once she got what she was after. Not even bothering to be careful about her egg, thankfully Skoodge used his own body as a shield for the fragile thing.

After that, she knelt before the Doctor and began to siphon out more of that green stuff from the lumps. She managed to get one of the lumps to go down but it seemed the remaining two syringes weren't enough to lessen the larger one. Only reduce it, as Raz got up to get more from Skoodge she was stopped by the Doctor standing up.

"Leave it, this will do for now," he hissed as he pulled his pant leg back down, hiding the bump. "And you," the Doctor glared at Skoodge.

"You're lucky I'm far too busy right now to deal with you. I do however have this to say," he looked down on Skoodge the lighting making him look absolutely terrifying. "If you pull that again, I'll make you watch as I dissect that egg." With that threat, the Doctor turned around and left Skoodge on the floor, Raz following obediently behind him.

Skoodge felt sick to his stomach like he was about to throw up. He clutched the egg tightly, trying desperately not to cry. How was he supposed to go on? He needed to save Zim, but at the same time, just the thought of abandoning Mur and Raz left Skoodge feeling sick.

"Oh, what do I do," Skoodge held up the egg, staring at the little Murthen inside as if she could give him an answer. What worried Skoodge was just how developed she was now. Her four arms had all formed and little pink and purple spots decorated her body, soon to make the pattern of one or both of her parents. Her eyes were slightly open now too. Revealing dark purple eyes.

"Oh Mur, you're going to hatch soon aren't you?" Tears started to form in Skoodge's eyes, "and your carrier won't even be there to witness it." Skoodge covered his mouth with one hand as he scooted to press his back against the wall in revelation, "and it's all my fault."

"I'm a monster," he whispered in horror. Just as he was about to break down, crying. Skoodge felt a shift in the egg and looked down at the little Murthlet inside. She had moved her hands from the clutched position they had before to the shell of the egg. She had just placed all four of them there and it completely mesmerized Skoodge. Four little blue hands with little webbing in between, even tiny little claws on each finger.

Skoodge felt a small blush form on his face in surprise before a small smile crept onto it as well. He placed his forehead on the shell, ignoring the slight burning sensation it caused, and smiled.

"I know I've hurt you and your family. But I swear on my life, I'll keep you safe, I promise."

#pills #invader zim #invader zim zadr #zadr #zim x dib #Zim #Dib #Gaz #Skoodge #the doctor #Raz #Tallest red #Tallest Purple #drugs

7 notes · View notes