#how she used to be just as cold and cruel and she just barely began softening uo when being shown care by the dummies

[77ngiez]

hey guys do we realize that the main difference betwen how kai and midori developed is that kai was given the chance to learn what normal life and love and family was like by working with chidouins while midori was kept under asunaros thumb all his life. do we realize that just a few changes could have kai acting just as cruel and merciless as midori. do we realize that midori is a victim of asunaro too, and though that doesn't excuse his actions it does make them more tragic. do we realize this or are we all being serious when we say midori is the only character who isn't worth redemption.

[solelifauna]

Definitely NOT Invincible (Yandere Invincible & Reader)

(Y/n) Grayson, daughter of one of the greatest heroes, learns just how NOT invincible she is. Thrown back in time after her death, she must warn the Guardians of the Globe of the oncoming slaughter while she also battles her own monsters (both figuratively and literally). However, her father and brother begin to gain interest in her strange behavior, something (y/n) could rather do without.

(Y/n) Grayson,  the youngest member of the Grayson family, born to Nolan and Debbie Grayson, with your older brother, Mark, only three years your senior. Life growing up was idyllic in many ways—you had a loving father, mother, and brother who, at least for the first few years of your life, seemed completely normal. But you always knew something was different about your family, especially about your father and brother.

From an early age, you noticed how often your father would leave at odd hours, saying he was "called into work." When Mark turned 10, he and your dad started spending more time together, and they began excluding you from their bonding sessions. You were curious, but it wasn’t until your parents finally sat you down that you learned the truth: your father was Omni-Man, a powerful alien sent to protect Earth, and your brother had just started developing powers like his.

Excited by the revelation, you had a flood of questions—what it felt like to fly, whether you'd get powers, and what space was like. Though your father answered your questions kindly, the growing divide between you and your family was undeniable. Mark, once your geeky, lovable older brother, started to change. By the time you were 12 and he was 15, that change became frightening.

As Mark's powers grew stronger, so did his sense of superiority. He began referring to others as "humans" in a dismissive tone, something that deeply unsettled you. He no longer saw himself as part of the same species, despite being half-human. While he still had moments of warmth and humor with your family, outside of the home, Mark was becoming someone else—cold, calculating, and even cruel.

He rose in popularity at school thanks to his new powers, good looks, and charisma. He became the star athlete, using his power to brutalize opponents on the field, often injuring them far beyond what was acceptable, and then charming others to get out of trouble. One day, he came home covered in blood after beating a kid so badly that the other boy was left mangled and broken. Mark’s behavior was alarming, but what terrified you most was that your father approved of it. Omni-Man encouraged Mark’s aggressive dominance, much to your mother’s distress and your growing fear.

While Mark and your father’s relationship grew stronger, you felt more and more left out. Your own 10th birthday had passed, and your powers had yet to manifest. Nolan began spending less time with you, focusing on Mark's training, leaving you chasing the bond you once had with him. Debbie tried to bridge the gap, but you couldn’t help feeling the loss of both your father’s and brother’s attention.

The real turning point came when you were 12. One day after school, you were hanging out with your friends Hallie, Connor, and Weston in the reclusive meadow near your school. It was a peaceful, secluded spot until you were suddenly attacked by a strange creature—something none of you had ever seen before. It was monstrous, something straight out of the Dungeons & Dragons games you played. You barely managed to kill it, naming it a "Demogorgon" after the game. The four of you hid the body, terrified and confused.

You didn’t know what to tell your parents, but the scratches and bruises covering you were impossible to hide. Your father didn’t have time to deal with what seemed like childish nonsense, and the local law enforcement was baffled by the sudden attacks happening in your area. The creature you killed wasn’t a one-time event; strange attacks began occurring more frequently, leaving the community on edge. Still, your father was too occupied with his work for the government, and Mark was too wrapped up in his own world to help.

As time passed, it became painfully clear that your father was growing distant. You idolized him, but without powers of your own, it seemed like you were losing him. Mark, meanwhile, reveled in his strength, and with your father’s approval, his behavior became more dangerous and reckless. He started using his powers in more violent ways, and the line between heroism and cruelty began to blur for him. You watched your once-loving family dynamic twist into something darker.

Despite this, you chased after them both, desperate to stay close to the people you loved. You begged to join their training sessions, hoping that maybe your powers would eventually show. Yet, with each passing day, you felt the weight of their growing alienation. Mark was becoming someone you barely recognized—a far cry from the nerdy older brother who used to sneak you extra cookies at night and argue about comic book trivia.

Now, you and your friends are facing a looming threat from these mysterious creatures. The attacks are increasing, and no one seems able to stop them—not your father, not Mark, and not the authorities. As the danger mounts, you realize that you and your friends are the only ones who know the truth about the creatures. You’ll have to rely on each other to survive and solve the mystery behind these attacks.

Now at 15, your life had already turned into a living nightmare, but that year? That year, everything truly fell apart. You’d made it to high school, but the past three years had felt like an eternity. Your father was still physically there, but the emotional distance between you two had grown insurmountable. When he did spend time with you, it felt more like an obligation than a genuine connection. You weren’t stupid—you could see it in his eyes. He’d written you off the moment it became clear you didn’t have powers. To him, you were just another weak human, barely worth his time.

Mark wasn’t much better. He oscillated between two extremes: sometimes he was distant, barely acknowledging your existence at home or school. Other times, you’d catch glimpses of your old brother, the one who’d stay up late with you, watching cheesy movies and tucking you in when you fell asleep. Those rare moments of warmth became your lifeline. You clung to them desperately, as if each one could push back the growing darkness in your family.

But then there was the other thing—the real problem. The Demogorgon situation. What had started as a single encounter had become a full-on invasion. No one else seemed capable of dealing with it. Not your dad, not Mark, not the heroes the world adored. So you and your friends had decided to do it yourselves.

At first, it seemed impossible to hide the cuts, bruises, and sprains from fighting the monsters. But with your mom working full time and your father and brother too wrapped up in their own twisted lives to care, no one really noticed. You didn’t blame your mom—she was drowning in her own problems, trying to keep the family together despite everything.

You were fortunate enough to meet Haymitch—a rugged, grizzled man who’d been hunting the creatures for longer than you could imagine. He tried to tell you to back off, to leave it to the adults. But of course, you didn’t listen. You and your friends had been through too much, seen too much. In your stubborn teenage way, you refused to step aside, leaving him no choice but to train you. Over time, he became something of a mentor and a father figure, filling the void that your real father had left behind.

But that year? That year, the world came crashing down.

It started with the Guardians of the Globe. They were the strongest superhero team on the planet, and they were slaughtered—every last one of them. Except for your father. At first, the news rocked the world. Omni-Man was hailed as the tragic survivor, the hero who narrowly escaped death. But you knew better. Something felt wrong about the whole thing. Your gut told you there was more to the story, but you couldn’t imagine the scope of the horror that was to come.

Soon after, the truth emerged.

Your father didn’t come to Earth to protect it—he came to conquer it. And Mark, your once-nerdy, sometimes-kind brother, had fallen right in line with him. Together, they unleashed chaos on the planet. They pillaged cities, tearing through anyone who stood in their way. Mark, now going by the name Invincible, seemed to take after your father in the worst possible ways. The sweet boy who used to protect you from bullies was now a monster, crushing anyone—heroes, civilians, soldiers—who dared oppose him.

The world was plunged into ruin.

You and your friends ran, barely escaping the destruction. You thought maybe your father would have taken you, but no. You weren’t a Viltrumite. You weren’t powerful. You were just… nothing to him. Weak. Disposable. He had already whisked your mom away to a “safe location”—where, you didn’t know—but you were left behind. Haymitch stayed with you, leading your ragtag group as you all tried to survive in a world turned upside down.

You’d never felt so betrayed, so alone.

But even in the wreckage of your life, there was a flicker of hope. You had your friends, and you had Haymitch. And most importantly, you had a burning desire to stop your father and brother. Even if you didn’t have their powers, even if you didn’t have Viltrumite strength, you had something they didn’t—humanity.

And you were going to fight back.

Months passed, and the world’s governments were in tatters. Omni-Man and Invincible’s conquest was nearly complete. Entire cities lay in ruins, and any resistance from the human military or remaining superheroes was swiftly crushed. Yet, even amid the chaos, pockets of resistance formed. Small groups of survivors, including former heroes, started to organize, desperate to reclaim their planet.

You and your friends became part of that underground movement, thanks to Haymitch’s connections. He was no stranger to fighting overwhelming odds, and with his help, you quickly became proficient in guerrilla tactics. You might not have powers, but you had your wits, and you knew how to strike fast and hard, using the terrain and the enemy’s overconfidence against them.

Every day was a struggle, a fight for survival. You missed your mom, wondering if she was safe or if she even knew what was happening. As for your father… well, you weren’t sure what you felt anymore. Love? Hatred? Betrayal? It was all tangled up in a knot too painful to untangle.

And Mark. God, what had happened to him? Was he too far gone, or was there still a part of him that remembered what it meant to be human? The Mark you once knew wouldn’t have done this. But now, the lines were blurred. You didn’t know if he could be saved, or if he was beyond redemption.

The day started out like any other grim scavenging run. You, Hallie, Connor, Weston, and Haymitch had been searching for rations—anything to keep your group alive. The world had become a brutal place, where food and supplies were scarce, and desperation drove people to violence. It was only a matter of time before you crossed paths with another group, and when you did, tension rose immediately.

The air was thick with the potential for bloodshed. Hands hovered near weapons, and the slightest wrong move could trigger a firefight. But as the seconds ticked by, you realized that these weren’t just scavengers—they were survivors, just like you. What’s more, they were part of something bigger. The remnants of humanity’s greatest defenders had gathered in secret, forming a larger resistance led by the surviving heroes who had managed to evade the massacre Omni-Man and Invincible left in their wake.

After a tense exchange, they extended an offer: come with them. They said kids shouldn’t be out here, fighting for their lives like this. It took your group time to weigh the options, but the decision was unanimous—you’d all go. You’d join the resistance and help however you could.

Those weeks spent with the resistance were the best you’d had since the world fell apart. There was food, shelter, and—most importantly—hope. You trained alongside the heroes, working with them to organize missions, raid supply caches, and defend what little remained of civilization. For a while, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’d have a chance to fight back against the Viltrumite tyrants.

But in the back of your mind, you dreaded the inevitable. Every night, the fear gnawed at you—Omni-Man and Invincible would find this place. They always did. And when they did, there would be no mercy. No escape.

That day came sooner than you expected.

You were talking with another resistance member when the alarms blared. Panic rippled through the compound as the distant sound of gunfire echoed closer and closer. Then, the ground shook beneath your feet as the roof was torn open with monstrous strength. Invincible descended into the fray, a twisted grin plastered on his blood-splattered face. Omni-Man followed, cold and detached as ever, watching the carnage unfold like it was just another day.

The heroes fought valiantly, but one by one, they fell. Invincible tore through them with savage glee, while Omni-Man dealt crushing blows with deadly precision. It was a massacre.

You were frozen in place, too terrified to move, when you heard a booming voice cut through the chaos—your father’s voice. "To the rest of you," he called out over the battle, "you will die today. There’s no point in fighting." His words sent a chill through your bones.

Everything happened so fast. You tried to run, but before you could escape, a powerful hand grabbed the back of your shirt and lifted you effortlessly into the air. The breath was knocked out of your lungs as you were spun around to face the monster holding you.

It was your father. Omni-Man.

Your mind reeled as you looked at his face, stained with blood—an expression of cold indifference as he gazed down at you. You wanted to scream, to beg, to ask him why, but the words wouldn’t come. All you could do was stare at the man who once cradled you in his arms, who used to play tea party with you, who had been your hero.

But now? Now, he barely recognized you as his daughter.

You struggled, kicking and thrashing, but it was useless. His grip was iron. His gaze pierced through you like you were nothing. Then he spoke, his voice calm and emotionless.

"It really is a shame you turned out like this. So weak."

The words hit you harder than any physical blow could. Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked into his face, searching for any sign of the man you once loved. But there was nothing.

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if considering his next move. Then, his large hand enveloped your head, cradling it—just like he used to when you were little—before he squeezed.

The pain was blinding. It was as if your skull had exploded under the pressure. You couldn’t scream, couldn’t think. Everything went dark.

You were dead.

Your father killed you.

You didn’t even get to graduate high school. You didn’t get to have your first crush. You were dead.

But then, you started to feel.

You were supposed to be dead. The pain should have been gone. Darkness should have consumed you. But you could feel again.

You violently jerked awake, gasping for air, your heart pounding in your chest like it was about to burst. Your mind scrambled to make sense of what was happening. 

You should be dead. Your father crushed your skull.

Your hands frantically touched your face, your head, everything. You were whole. You were alive.

Your heart raced, your breathing ragged as you clutched your chest, desperately trying to calm the frantic beating. You forced yourself to focus, but only one thought kept swirling around in your mind:

‘How the fuck am I still alive?’

Last you remembered, your fathe—Omni-Man—was crushing your skull in, revealing just how much of a useless, weak, waste of Viltrumite DNA he thought you were. Then... nothing.

That’s when you noticed your surroundings.

Wait– this wasn’t the battlefield or a bunker. This was your bedroom. The walls were familiar, decorated with posters of bands you loved when things were still normal. The faded rug beneath your feet had that same worn-out spot where you always paced while talking on the phone with your friends.

But this wasn’t possible. You watched your house get destroyed when Invincible and Omni-Man tore through your neighborhood. You watched it crumble along with everything else. You scrambled to your feet, heart racing again as your mind tried to make sense of it all. That’s when you stopped dead in front of your mirror.

Your reflection stared back at you, wide-eyed and pale, but something was off. Way off. Your scars. The ones you had earned during your time in the resistance, the ones that covered your face, arms, and body from fighting to survive—they were gone. Not all of them—no, the scars from your battles with the Demogorgons were still there, thin lines across your skin like faint echoes of the hell you’d been through. But the deeper, newer scars from the resistance, from facing Omni-Man and Invincible’s destruction? They were gone.

Your breath caught in your throat as your mind raced to make sense of this.

Wait a minute.

Something clicked, a horrifying realization dawning on you. You spun around, desperately searching for your phone. After a frantic few seconds of tearing through your sheets, you finally found it, buried under your blanket. Hands shaking, you powered it on, staring intently at the screen as the date loaded.

October 13th, 20XX.

Four months before the Guardians of the Globe were slaughtered. Five months before the world would fall to ruin.

“Fuck,” you breathed out, the word escaping in a half-choked whisper.

Your bitch ass time traveled.

[wesstars]

love, at second glance

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: that’s what you do when you love somebody else… wc: 1k tags: all characters 18+; no ghostface au. angst, horribly excessive use of italics (seriously, everything in italics is either a quote, a thought, or actual emphasis. it’s terrible) a/n: what’s up y’all (title from 715 - CR∑∑KS by bon iver)

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Tara wondered when it all began.

You and me, me and you.

A mantra that used to be comforting, it now left her mouth dry, mind frantic. 

Sometimes, when it got real bad like it did today, she’d drive out to your—our—deserted garage, and look up into a pitch black night, blinking away tears. It was easy to scream at the sky: how could you forget about me about us about milkshakes shared about distances closed about how I love you and love you and love you—but to you, she’d say nothing.

She couldn’t say anything, while you basked in the glow of a new hand to hold. It was all over in a helpless shrug. That was it, and really, it wasn’t your fault. Nobody’s fault. You couldn’t help it, Tara reasoned, you weren’t cruel. Even at the very end, you were endlessly kind. Commitment was a choice, but love, love happened to you away from Tara and she couldn’t do anything but watch.

Tara switched the engine off, leaning back in her seat. The stars shone barely brighter than the city lights. It was strange, the way that when she was on the brink of losing everything, the world looked that much more beautiful. Every breath in that particularly cold winter felt like it was being swallowed up by the vastness of air itself, precious in its scarcity. 

“But I love you.”

You said nothing for a moment, a troubled little frown twisting on your lips. “Tara, I—”

“I love you.” She heard, rather than felt, herself repeating it. As if stopping you from speaking would make that cold reality any less crushing. “That’s all.”

It was odd, Tara decided, to go online and see your life in the pictures she used to be part of. She put her phone down. From tide pulls to seasons changing, there wasn’t exactly a world where she envisioned herself going on without you. There was something in that sinking feeling, like you were holding her down with a hand on her chest, when she saw you laughing with your friends, with anyone, a smile so brilliant it couldn’t possibly have Tara as the cause. 

You’d always wanted a little cabin in the woods (“not in a creepy way,” you’d insist) surrounded by mist, and it would always be raining. “You’re the only sunshine I need, Tara Carpenter.” She could still hear the way you’d tease her, lying on your side next to her, tracing the bridge of her nose with your fingertip. So easy it was, to tumble back into those shining memories where absolutely nothing would go wrong, you wouldn't let it, because she was yours.

The top floor of the lot was empty, and the moon spilled onto the windshield, into the empty passenger seat. She was lucky, you both were lucky, to have even come as close to the sun as the two of you did. Tara knew, deep inside herself, that if she just let it all go, she would be okay. The blood would rush back into her fingertips—you wouldn’t be there to massage the feeling back into them, the way you often did on winter nights like this—and then she would be okay.

Tara thought that she remembered too much for someone so hurt. Your hand on her thigh while you drove, wiping her lipstick off your cheek, the way you seemed so so so unhappy when you sat her down for one last time. You didn’t even look the same then, like you were somebody else, you weren’t hers anymore. It was getting colder in the car, but Tara didn’t feel anything but the searing coil of shame. 

Sunkissed March found you and Tara lying side by side on a picnic blanket, sodas losing their fizz as time forgot to move the two of you. A breeze ruffled the leaves, and if she really listened, Tara could hear the frogs in the nearby pond. You loved it here—you said it reminded you of hot summers spent in the countryside, the days as long as wildflowers. Not half an hour ago, you were braiding together the stems of daisies into a lush crown. 

“For you, Queen Carpenter,” you said in a posh accent. “A gift from your humble knight—each braid represents a ‘forever,’ and each flower is an ‘always.’” You set the crown atop Tara’s head, kissing the tip of her nose as she rolled her eyes.

“And what has compelled my knight to bring me such a gift?”

“Only all of the love I carry for you, your majesty.” You scooped her up in your arms, smiling as she giggled, rolling the two of you over to settle into the knolls of grass.

There was a certain bravery in the way your fingers wrapped loosely around hers, the way the heels of both your shoes made indents in the dirt—proclaiming, we were here. Even in her doze, Tara could feel you there, each moment stretching on like strings of eternity, unfailingly. 

The moment did end, as moments do. The crown, dried and shrunk, still hung from the rear view mirror in the car. The daisies themselves were long gone, but the dried stems had somehow stayed bound together. Tara’s head dropped into her hands, eyes sore and red. She’d thought so much and so often about where the two of you went wrong, she felt like she had turned over every stone in your path, ones that didn’t carry with them the weight of a goodbye. Tara would give anything to even know what it would take for you to stand in the sun with her one more time.

The abrupt knock on the window should’ve startled Tara more than it did, given that it was four in the morning in an empty parking lot, and she was supposed to be all alone. But all she could do was watch with wide eyes as the knock came from you, at your tight lipped smile. She rolled down the window, unable to feel anything but shock as she took in your mismatched shoes with untied laces, your shirt way too thin for the cold night. You weren’t looking at her, guilt evident in the hunch of your shoulders. Your voice comes out exactly as she remembered it. 

“Hey… can we talk?”

--

a/n cont'd: don't super feel like i like this but writing it came naturally so

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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[moon-child-goddess]

Whispers of Regret

Pairings:  Druig X Reader (Fem) 

Summary: Druig says something he wishes he could take back.

Warnings: I used Fem pronouns, Angst, mention of name calling, some language, groveling.

Author's note: I wrote this in a hour and it’s 2 am so I will come back and edit later. I just feel bad that I abandoned you all.

Druigs blood ran cold through his veins as soon as he realized what he had said out loud. The words had tumbled out of his mouth before his brain could register them. He was tired and exhausted from all the missions he had lately. It was no excuse, and he knew it.

Y/N’s body tensed a low gasp escaping her lips. The smile she had plastered on earlier fell. Never in a thousand years would she have expected him to be so cruel. A burning sensation formed behind her eyelids as she fought off tears. She refused to cry in front of him, not in here in this crowd either. Besides Druig didn’t deserve those tears.

The words bounced around in her mind as she took a deep breath. She was at a loss of what to do. She wouldn’t cause a scene at Tonys charity gala. Y/N’s nostrils flared as she began to lose some of her resolve.  She downed the rest of the champagne in her glass.

How dare he speak to her like that. All she wanted to do was make the gala easy on Druig so he could relax and enjoy his time. But he wanted to call her worthless and a bitch?

Druig ran a hand over his face mumbling her name, but cut himself off at the glare she sent him.  It was so full of anger. An anger he had never seen directed at him. He wanted to fix this. He had to fix it.  There was a twitch in his hand as he moved to reach out to her. But he stopped, because she hated being touched when she was feeling big emotions like anger. She liked her space so she could think and control herself.

“Darling please, I am sorry.” The words were barely spoken above a whisper almost drowned out by the lively chatter of other guests.

Y/N shook her head some strands falling out of her up do. She needed to get out of there. This event was not theirs to ruin. Home was somewhere she could be alone, and a walk would cool her down. Maybe even pick up some greasy food truck tacos.

A tsunami of panic washed through Druig as he watched her briskly walk away towards the doors. Druig took off after Y/N trying to match her pace, but his long strides couldn’t match her speed. Even in her heels she was fast. He had to fix this.

An older women stopped the girl.  In a millisecond Y/N’s frown tuned into her effortless smile. Hiding any emotion but happiness. Out of the corner of her eye she watched as the blue-eyed man come closer.

“Please excuse me. I am not feeling well and was going to head home.” Y/N explained, before slipping through the doors.

“Y/N- Y/N please.” The words came out as a plea he knew she would ignore. Which she did and kept putting distance between them.

Druig cursed himself. He knew he was stupid and there was no excuse for taking his cranky anger out on her. He never should have uttered those words to her. And now he couldn’t take them back. They would always echo in the back of her mind if he could fix this, and that terrified him.  

An instant regret hit her as a shiver ran through here. She regretted the decision not to pick up her coat.   But it would have given him enough time to catch up to her.  Her steps were in the opposite direction of their home. She opted to take the long way, so she could get some greasy food truck tacos. Her comfort food. It was also time to avoid the man behind her.

“Darling. Please get in the car. Let me get you home safely.”  His words were hard to understand against the sounds of traffic.  

“No.” there was nothing behind the words. They were just dry. Not a hint of anger or sadness just empty. Druig winced there was going to be a lot of groveling and he would do whatever needed to fix this.

“I will say nothing and act like your Uber driver then leave.” It was late and cold. A bad combination in New York.

“No.”  She crossed the road not bothering to look both ways. Her hope was that he would get cut off by a car giving her more space to disappear.

“Why not?” He knew why. He just was at a loss on what to do.  She was going to catch a cold in her strapless dress.

“Because I am mad at you.” She called out against the sound of a car horn. Behind the wheel was a man annoyed that she was taking forever to cross.

The noise made her blood boil a little more. She wanted to stop and scream at the driver to come dodge potholes in a pencil heel, and she would honk at him. But she continued straight.

Druig however, turned and glared at the driver before flipping them off. Gold flashed through his eyes for the briefest second. He wanted to make them apologize to her and grovel. But he was the one who needed to apologize and… well grovel. The time he took to stop gave her more than enough time to slip away into a group of tourists.

It was loud and the lights were making it hard for him to find her. He frantically searched through the crowd of people. A few of them cursing him as he pushed through them. As he was about to give up and use his powers, he caught a glimpse of her silk dress.

“Darling Please let me make sure you get home safe.” His accent made her flinch.  She didn’t believe he would have found her that quickly. She thought for sure she was going to find him sitting in front of their door.  

“Stop please. I need to think. I beg you to please let me be.” The pleading in her tone broke him. He knew he had messed up and that the least he could do was respect her wishes.  

“Ok. Call me if you need a ride. I will pick you up.”. Before turning to walk away he reached out wanting to touch her to remind her that he loved her. But shook his head and gave her the space she wanted.

The food truck she had her sights on was just a few more blocks away. That was her plan food, some tears then she will face the issue at hand.

-----

Once she made it to their apartment Druig was sitting by the front door. He looked defeated. His hair was a mess, the tie he wore was loosened. She was almost certain he had cried. It was funny though because she still couldn’t bring herself to cry. She was just angry, the kind that made you feel numb. Right now all she carved was her bed.

Without saying a word, she dropped the container of food she bought for him at his feet.  She knew he hadn’t eaten and as livid as she was, she still cared about his well-being.

“Y/N?” His voice was thick and caught in his throat.

“I just want to go to bed.” She turned the key; the sound of the deadbolt was loud in the brief moment of silence. “We will talk in the morning.”

“OK. I will sleep in the guestroom then.”  

“No.” She never could sleep well when he was gone. There would be a pillow barrier, but she wanted him there.  

“Sleep in our room. Just don’t- don’t touch me. I still need my space right now. I am angry and haven’t come to terms with it yet.”

“I am very-“ Y/N cut him off. Apologies weren’t going to fix this. She wanted him to take back the words, but even if he did, they would be an echo in the back of her mind.

“I swear if you say sorry one more time I will leave.”

She walked to their room in the dark pulling out the bobby pins holding her hair up.  Druig stayed in the kitchen eating the food she gave him. By the time he was in the room Y/N was in bed holding a pillow to her chest. Face buried in it. She put pillows up by her side so her back was facing Druig and he couldn’t touch her.

The bed dipped when he laid down. He faced her wanting to say something because he was stubborn. He could use his powers on her but that was a line that he wouldn’t cross. In fact, he would beg her to break up with him if he ever did something so despicable.

Y/N laid there for hours listening to his soft snores. She couldn’t sleep, the words were playing over in her mind like some personal horror movie.  She got up and made her way to the living room.

Sitting on the couch she stared out the window with a blank look. Eventually the tears she thought would never fall did. At first, they were slow before she let out a sob. She buried her face in the closest throw pillow not wanting to wake him up.

That hope was lost though, because the lights flicked on. He was kneeling in front of her. His heart shattered at the sight. It was all his fault.

“Baby can I touch you? Please?” He begged. Desperate to comfort her.

She nodded, needing the comfort he could give her. His warm hand rubbed circles on her back.  

“You are not those words I spoke.”

At those words Y/N turned her face to look at him. Another tear trailed down her cheek. Druig caught it with his other hand.

“Then why? Why did you say them?” She whispered, closing her eyes.

“I didn’t mean to I was tired and took my frustration out on you. I never should have; I should have had better control over my emotions. I will never say those words to you again.” His fingers tangled in her hair thumb moving up and down her cheek.

“You are my beautiful darling and I will grovel for this till we die.”

Y/N nodded slightly. She stayed silent and more tears fell.

“Please.” That word held a lot of emotion creating a thick cloud around her heart. “Tell me what to do to make this better.”

“Tell me you love me. Make those words go away.”

Druig smiled. He told her that all the time because he did love her. More than he thought he could love anyone. She was the reason he kept going.

“Y/N I love you and you are the best thing to happen in my eternal life. You are the reason I keep going and haven’t lost full faith in humanity. You are my everything…my world.  I didn’t mean those words and will never mean words like that.”

She reached out to him silently asking for a hug. Which he obliged pulling her close. She buried her face in his neck inhaling. She fit there like he was made to hold her. As if his existence was to comfort her and make her happy.

“I am still mad you” She murmured. Druig chuckled his breath fanning the crown of her head eyes closed holding her tighter.

“Completely fair my love. Just know I love you.

A sniffle came from Y/N before murmuring. “I love you too.”

[strangererotica]

EXPLICIT CONTENT | MINORS DNI

Jim Hopper x Reader | angsty smut | includes infidelity, Reader is married to a different public servant of Hawkins (can you guess who, @umnitsa ? 😉) Hopper is married as well, death of Hopper’s daughter mentioned, Hopper is a real ass here, unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, ANGST ANGST ANGST…

@mrshopper84 @travelingtwentysomething @beefrobeefcal @braincell-pingpong @skye-44 @midwest-princess @riotrhythm

──────────────────────

“This isn’t right.”

At first, Hopper didn’t hear you speak. He was too distracted by the taste of your soft skin on his tongue, his mouth pressed to your neck in an open kiss. When your words did register in his mind, he disregarded them. Who gave a fuck whether what the two of you were doing was right or wrong? Hadn’t you both earned some happiness? You, with a husband too absorbed in his work to pay you any attention, and Hopper, whose wife had grown so cold and distant after the death of their daughter that she barely let him touch her anymore?

“This isn’t right, Hopper,” you repeated, insistent this time. His grip on your hips tightened, almost hurting. You were sitting on his lap in his office, after hours at the station. In the darkness, just the two of you, just how you liked it. How you needed it to be, to avoid a scandal that would turn the small town of Hawkins upside down...

You became frustrated at Hopper’s disregard for your words, pulling back from him. His jaw tightened, his lips a thin, hard line. “And what makes you think I fuckin’ care if it’s right or wrong?” he asked, his voice husky and impatient. “I want you.” Hopper bounced his knee under you, making you gasp as your cunt settled against the thick outline of his cock. Hopper exhaled as you shifted on top of the erection painfully straining against his uniform. “I want you,” he reiterated, speaking through grit teeth. “I want you and that asshole you’re married to doesn’t.” Hopper’s words stung already, but they were about to get worse.

“That new secretary he just hired? Remember her?” You braced yourself for what you already knew was coming. “He’s fucking her, did y’know that?” Hopper didn’t waste time softening the blow of his words with pretty euphemisms. Why should he? You’d come this far, let him touch you already. You were straddling Hopper’s lap for fucks sake. You wanted this as much as he did, and he’d be damned if he let you pretend to have grown a conscience between the time you straddled his lap and now…

Hopper knew you were a smart woman. You must have known your husband was having an affair, that he’d been unfaithful for as long as the two of you had been married. “Mrs. Kline,” Hopper uttered your name through a cruel smirk. He reached for the strand of hair spilling down your shoulder, gently tucking it behind your ear. You shivered as Hopper’s thumb grazed your earlobe, his skin warm. “Don’t let this time we have go to waste,” Hopper told you. “We both know things aren’t going to change anytime soon, for either one of us.”

You shifted a little on top of his thighs, Hopper’s cock pulsing against your cunt in response. You’d already soaked through your panties, a wet patch leaking through onto Hopper’s pants. He’d have to wash those himself, later. Couldn’t risk his wife finding them in the laundry and asking questions. But a bit of deception was a small price to pay if it meant finally getting inside you.

“Larry is-,” you began, but Hopper bucked you on his knee again, silencing you.

“Mm-mm,” he chastised, shaking his head. “Don’t say the bastard’s name. Not when you’re with me.”

Hopper swallowed any words you may have had left in a kiss. His tongue licked back the apprehension sitting on the edge of yours, the things you knew you should say, but didn’t want to. Mainly, the word “no.” You didn’t want to tell Hopper no.

His large hands held you down against his lap, thumbs finding purchase in the space where your hips and thighs met. Being the mayor’s wife, you’d interacted with the Chief of Police several times over the years. But never like this. The time you’d spent together had been social, limited to local events. Always public, always within the gaze of the people of Hawkins. The eyes of the public on you had forced both you and Hopper to keep your desire for one another a secret. But now, years later, you’d both grown weary of pretending, of keeping things professional. His hand slipped between your legs, gliding under the waist of your panties. You gasped as Hopper inserted two of his thick, calloused fingers inside you without warning. A cocky little grin pulled at his lips. “Just warming you up, sweetheart,” he drawled confidently, adding “Christ you’re fuckin’ tight…Might send you back to Lare a little broken, y’know…?”

You moaned into Hopper’s chest as he fingered you, humping against his palm. No matter how fucking good his fingers felt inside you, he was still Jim Hopper. The same man who’d developed a reputation for drinking and drug use while on the job. The same man whose wife was presumably sleeping soundly right now, at the home she shared with Hopper, having bought the lie he’d sold her about needing to stay late at the station for ‘work.’ He was working, but not the way he’d implied. Hopper’s fingers working inside you were an altogether different kind of work, the way he manipulated your cunt yet another form of manipulation he was very skilled at, in addition to lying to his wife.

“You’re so close,” Hopper gloated at your ear in a low, smug voice. The fact that he was getting you off with nothing but his fingers was stroking Hopper’s ego, just like his fingers were stroking your insides. He held a misplaced sense of pride in being able to do for you what your husband couldn’t, or wouldn’t, do. It was something Hopper could accomplish, something he could succeed at, in contrast with his crumbling marriage. Maybe instead of thrusting his fingers up another woman’s cunt, he should have been at home with his wife, working on repairing his marriage. But Hopper wasn’t interested in what he should be doing. All he wanted to do, was you.

The sound of Hopper’s chair creaked loudly in the small office at the impact of you grinding on his lap. He smacked your ass with the hand that wasn’t between your legs, then carefully removed the one that was. You whimpered at being suddenly empty, pouting up at Hopper in frustration. He didn’t deny you for long, quickly working his belt and pants undone, his cock springing free and smacking thick and wet against your cunt with an audible slap. Hopper lifted you by your hips, guiding you onto his plump, leaking tip and letting you sink onto him at your own pace.

Hungry, greedy, your cunt swallowed Hopper with minimal difficulty. You managed to take him whole, your clit pressed against the coarse dark hair above Hopper’s cock. He growled behind grit teeth, as the sensation of being consumed by you overtook him. It had been years since Hopper had been with a woman besides his wife. The grip of fresh pussy moving up and down his shaft caused Hopper’s brain to temporarily glaze over. He was lurched back into awareness by the harsh ring of the telephone sitting on his desk.

“Ignore it,” Hopper panted, speaking to himself as much as you. A moment later, the phone ceased ringing. When the shrill sound began again less than a minute later, Hopper pulled his lips from your throat and cursed. He knew there was only one person who would be trying to reach him here at this time of night. Hopper reached for the phone, gently lifting it from the receiver. He brought his index finger against his lips, instructing you to remain quiet. Forcing his voice as steady as possible, considering you were grinding up and down on his cock, Hopper spoke: “Diane?” You nuzzled your face into Hopper’s neck, muffling your own sounds into his shirt. A woman’s voice on the other end of the line spoke, but you couldn’t make out the words. You didn’t want to. All you wanted was to keep riding Hopper, moving closer and closer to your peak.

“I can’t-I uh-,” Hopper stammered, swallowing. You could feel the heat radiating from his chest, the sweat blooming beneath the hair peeking out from his shirt collar. “I’m gonna be a little longer, sweetheart,” Hopper managed, clearing his throat. He closed his eyes in an attempt to remove the image of your breasts bouncing in front of him with every descent you made on his cock. His wife’s voice chattered away on the other end of the line. “Thirty minutes,” Hopper said, and inwardly, you grimaced. You wanted all night with him, but under the circumstances, both your options and Hopper’s were limited.

“Yeah,” Hopper grunted, followed by a rushed “love you too,” before he quickly replaced the phone on top of the receiver. You paused, meeting his eyes in the dim light of his office. “Is that true?” you asked tentatively, your voice breathless. Hopper’s hands were all over you again, as if the phone call had never happened. His expression conveyed annoyance as he sorted out what you were asking him, his response a confused “what?”

“She said I love you,” you explained. “Your wife. And you said it back.” Hopper’s eyebrows lifted incredulously. “Yeah,” he said. “What’s your point?”

“Did you mean it?” you asked, despising how pitiful and small you sounded in this moment. Hopper exhaled, the cruel smirk returning to his lips. “How is that any of your fucking business?” he asked through a humorless chuckle. His smile evaporated as a darker look replaced it. “Now you listen to me, because here’s how this is gonna work-.” His hands slid down your thighs, squeezing a little too hard. “-You’re gonna keep these legs spread till I come in between them and then we’re gonna part ways like this never fuckin’ happened, understand?” You nodded, forcing the tears behind your eyes not to fall. You wouldn’t give Hopper the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt you anymore than he already had.

Hopper nodded, satisfied with your compliance. “Good girl,” he said, without any sentiment behind his words. Hopper’s arms crushed you against him as he bucked up into you. His shoulders tensed, the muscles in his stomach tightening. Hopper’s grunts of exertion grew sharper, till his body stilled tight against yours, his cum spilling inside you. With his forehead pressed to your shoulder, Hopper panted hot and labored against your chest.

The absence of sound in the office, apart from Hopper’s breath, was far from quiet. A sick tension hung in the air, his cold words repeating back in your mind on a loop. After a moment, Hopper patted your ass and instructed you to “get up.” He held onto the base of his cock as you slid off it, a thick trail of semen gushing out and landing on his thigh. Hopper cursed, almost as if implying the mess was your fault. He turned his back to you, lighting a cigarette. Feeling unsatisfied and worse, ashamed, your voice was trembling when you quietly asked, “should I…go?”

Hopper’s shoulders moved in small chuckle, and he turned to face you. His cock was still hanging out, as if he was in no hurry to put it away. You, by contrast, had already begun to dress. Hopper sucked a long drag out of his cigarette, exhaling as he informed you flatly, “yeah, we’re done here.” He reached for his coat and made his way to the door. Even though you were fully dressed by now, you felt more exposed than ever. He waved his hand ahead of him, ushering you out the front door of the station. “See yourself out,” Hopper directed. The hurt inside you was beginning to boil over into rage. You’d never felt more used in your life, even after being humiliated by your husband’s affairs for years. “Fuck you, Jim,” you spat at him, your saliva landing on his cheek. Hopper’s eyebrows lifted in a look of amusement. “Well that already happened,” he taunted.

The cold night air was oddly welcoming as you burst through the station door and out into the parking lot. You found your vehicle and quickly got inside, your hands squeezing the steering wheel till your fingers cracked. You left the station and made your way home to your husband, while another man’s cum slowly leaked out of you onto the driver’s seat the whole way home.

[mischiefmaker615]

Take Me to Church

Inspiration: "Take Me to Church" by Hozier

Summary: Even a god can worship..

Requester: @slytherinqueen4life

Rating: R

Loki’s POV

Those eyes.. those eyes hold far more cruelty than I ever had in all the nine realms..

So much power.. power I could never ask for, for they demand submission.

My submission..

Her beautiful hair fell over her shoulders, framing her gaze while she kept me beneath her. Her nails dug into my shoulders, indicating through strength just how much she was taking me in.

I could watch her all day..

How she dragged herself up and down while I felt every inch of her grip me like a vice. I knew what she was doing, and gods knew how long she’d keep me over this cruel edge before she’d decide for when I could fall..

‘’Norns..’’ I breathed out, barely a whisper while my hips bucked instinctually up now and again and would earn myself another squeeze of her cunt. Gods she could ride me all day I’d still never tire..

And just before I could feel that heavenly state of bliss, her cruelty would begin again and she would seat herself down on my cock, rendering me immobile once more while I remained with her cold chains around my wrists. Gods knew I could break these, easily, but there was something about her.. her fierceness, her power, her domination that kept me from taking control.

She could have It all if it pleased her.. that’s all I could live for..

She would wait until she had me fidgeting, aching to rut into her again but I knew better than to move. Rewards were far but oh so worth the wait. As my eyes closed, willing patience once more before she decided to move her hips again- she removed herself entirely from my cock.

Confusion more than anything had me raise my head to look upon her, fully prepared to beg if I needed to for her to return and sheath my cock once more- but she had different plans.

Her knees brought her up my body, her dainty yet capable hands helping her along while she crawled to my gaze, her own piercing mine.

Gods yes.. just as I find myself struggling often to predict her next move, this one I found myself guessing easily..

Eagerly..

My nails dug into my palms, willing myself to remain patient, even while my mouth watered in demand. My cock hardened impossibly more and my muscles tensed to remain still.

Her knees finally.. finally planted themselves beside my head, and yet she still cruelly waited until she found me fidgeting once more.

Damn her sometimes..

But one found no room to complain when their mouth was busy.

I found hear her nails digging into the fabricated headboard while my impatient breaths fanned her cunt. Her thigh muscles tensed and I dared wondered if she was as desperate as I was while she kept up her cruel game.

Norns let me give you my life if you grant me this very moment to worship you in the bedroom.. to hold onto my promises I’ve vowed when you’ve so diligently and deliciously broke yours..

But not this one..

She finally sank herself down, a mix between a sigh and a gasp leaving her lips when her cunt enveloped my tongue. She began to slowly pull herself up, only to sink herself more onto my muscle I kept upward for her.

The mere taste of her had me humming against her flesh, the vibrations enough to earn me a faster pace while her hips began to tilt and sway back and forth. This action allowed her to use the tip of my nose to grind against her clit, the part of her I would help myself whenever she would offer it to my lips. Now and again she would oblige, grant for mere moments of mercy where I would lift my head up eagerly to suck upon her swollen bud and caress it with my tongue.

I could die like this.. gladly suffocate with her thighs pressed against my cheeks and her scent intoxicating my senses..

Another moan of pleasure from me would give another level of speed from her. Her legs would begin to shake while she would switch her position to where she so desperately needed me. Once she would remove her bud from my lips she would then hump it against my nose, indicating how much she needed my tongue inside her before she would switch off again.

My tongue couldn’t get any deeper in her- despite it’s attempts to reach her soul. It would desperately thrust up into her, acting as the one part of me that remained at attention for it’s turn.. but not now.. this was her pleasure, and she was going to take it..

Another moan left my lips, already feeling her walls began to flutter while I caressed her entrance, having found out just how close she was before she quickly moved her clit back to my mouth with a failed attention to hide what I already knew.

I knew what she wanted and how she would end this.

With desperate pants leaving her mouth, I felt her fingers glide into my hair, helping to lift my head and press my face more into her cunt while she weighed herself more upon her knees in an attempt to get closer. I ate like I was a starving man with the idea that only her essence could revive me from Hel’s torment..

With just the beginning of her moan, I was ready for her and she drew herself up quickly before my tongue shot right into her core, my nose and mouth pressing up into her with eager movements, I had her coming with a cry.

She was mewling upon shaking limbs, my name flowing from her lips as if I were the one to have dominated her..

With a single sound of a click, I could feel my arms sink into the mattress once she’s released me from my bounds. Her game was over, she was raising her white flag and recovering from battle while I feel her legs muster enough strength to raise herself from my mouth.

This wasn’t over.

Upon her surrender my hands instantly flew to her hips, stopping her in her tracks as she even dared flex a muscle to dismount from her perch. Her breath hitched, showing she had taken on a sudden confused state but she and I both knew that once she resigned, I was back in control and therefore making sure she planted herself back onto my face and stayed there until I have had enough.

Her moans and cries fell upon deaf ears.

 She’s brought me upon her religion and I fully intended on committing until I am at her mercy once more and begging for salvation. As cruel as she may be out there, behind these walls she’s granted me heaven.

So let me worship.. and take me to church..

(perhaps a failed attempt at being poetic but my brain demanded his POV on this one Lol)

(DM a song for your own Musical Mischief Loki one shot :D )

Tag List: @foxherder13 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @fire-in-her-veinz @nervouseden @kathren1sky-blog @eleniblue @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @queenofstarsign85 @gemini-serpentis

[phantomchick]

The ending of Oshi no Ko vs The beginning (chapter 166 vs 10)

So as you can see, there's clear evidence of intentional parallels happening here. This is the aftermath of Ai's death that mirrors the aftermath of Aqua's. Aka already claimed to have the ending planned well in advance months ago so it's not a big surprise that even the ending panels of the first (not counting the prologue) and last chapters match.

And yet Oshi no Ko still falls flat despite fulfilling its promise of a revenge-tragedy.

I think the biggest problem it has is the way the last chapter tells us instead of shows us as chapter 10 did.

Yes chapter 10 also used narrative text boxes a lot, but I argue that the effect then was much more immersive.

With them being used with precision to move us through a time skip with only the most necessary information about the fall out for the characters, even the distance had the effect of doing characterisation work with Aqua describing in a narrative text box how the policemen hid the scene from Ruby but Aqua felt his mother's body going cold beneath him as they arrived - this use of the text boxes casual tone over child Aqua sitting in his dead mother's lap gave a sense of disassociation and shock to the scene.

Even the textboxes turning black to mirror Aqua's dark emotions concerning his revenge as the star in his eye turned black showed how much attention was being paid to their use.

Ruby.

Ruby felt much more real in chapter 10, her rant about the internet's callous response to Ai's murder felt real and emotionally charged. In comparison, for all she's the main subject of the last chapter, she feels like a 2d cut out of herself, barely in there for all we see her struggling through Akane's observant gaze.

She expresses her motivation to be an idol despite hardship by acknowledging that Aqua's right about idolwork being difficult and cruel but reminding him that despite the darkside of the entertainment industry, their mother 'shone' very brightly. The talk about how Ruby shines more the darker things get and how this is a good thing because it reaches out to people trapped in darkness of their own (just like her when she was a terminally ill cancer patient) is clearly meant to echo this idea.

Frankly it fails.

Ruby feels hollow.

To the point where we barely get any insight into Ruby's real feelings at all or any emotional connection with her in comparison, by 166 it's genuinely unclear whether or not she's lying even to the portrait of her dead family when she's 'alone' on her way out the door.

We don't see a conversation between her and her adoptive mother about Aqua, we don't see her talking to Akane at all. We see her grief and her success from a deified distance, just like the fans do. And it alienates us from the character.

Lies are love and she has two stars in her eyes. Just like her mother did.

I think this more than anything condemns the idol industry, she has to keep lying even to herself about her job being fun because otherwise what was all that pain and suffering and loss for?

Aqua died in a murder-suicide (shout out to Taiki for experiencing a loved one doing this twice, poor guy) to give his little sister success in a job that she has to get up at 5.30 for, devote her entire youth to and will have to quit in less than a decade. It has to matter, that she provides escapism for people who are suffering like she did, but it doesn't change the grim reality of her exploitation.

I think the lack of dialogue in the final chapter and the loss of voice for Ruby in the last few arcs mirrors the loss of agency she experiences as she becomes the ultimate idol, everyone's star.

But that doesn't change the fact that from a reader perspective it's just bad writing. Aka failed to carry his audience with him to the finish line and his messages about the idol industry were blurred by the rushed plot after the movie arc began.

If it weren't for Mengo's art hard carrying the clumsily executed story, I can honestly say that I don't think many would have read this manga all the way to the end.

[brookghaib-blog]

Whispers of the past pt.5

Pairing : Hoshina Soshiro x reader

Summary: 10 years ago, Y/N went missing after being attacked by a kaiju, now working by Gen Narumi's side as his secret weapon, she hides herself in hopes that one day she reconnects with her first love, Hoshina Soshiro.

an: for a note, the timeline for this would be like days close to the practical exam for the thrid division. I never really gave you a timeline, so my bad, there you go :)

pt.4 - pt.6

--

Chisuka's pov:

After Captain Narumi left my apartment, my emotions were a tangled mess. The almost-kiss left me shaken and confused, and I needed to clear my head. I decided to walk to the convenience store, hoping the night air would help.

The night was cool, a slight breeze rustling the leaves of the trees lining the quiet streets. The occasional distant sound of a car or the murmur of voices drifted through the air. The lights of the convenience store shone like a beacon, offering a brief escape from the whirlwind of my thoughts.

As I wandered the aisles, picking up a few essentials, I tried to focus on the mundane task at hand. The routine helped to ground me, but I couldn’t shake the lingering unease from earlier. After paying for my items, I stepped outside, the night air feeling refreshing against my skin.

I started my walk back home, the streets even quieter than before. The soft hum of the city was barely audible, a soothing background noise. But as I walked, a strange sensation began to creep over me. My kaiju senses, always heightened, were picking up something unusual. I scanned the area, my eyes darting from shadow to shadow, but everything seemed normal at first glance.

Just as I turned down a quieter street, I saw him. A man stood under the dim light of a streetlamp, his back to me. He was dressed in a nondescript suit, his posture relaxed. At first, he seemed like any other late-night wanderer, but something about him set off alarm bells in my mind. My kaiju instincts screamed that he wasn’t what he appeared to be.

I slowed my pace, my heart pounding in my chest. As I drew closer, the man turned slightly, just enough for me to catch a glimpse of his eyes. They glinted with an unnatural light, a predator’s gleam.

"Good evening," he said, his voice smooth and cold. "Out for a late-night stroll?"

I stopped, keeping my distance. "Just heading home," I replied cautiously, my muscles tensing in readiness.

The man smiled, a predatory grin that sent shivers down my spine. "You shouldn’t be out alone at this hour. It’s not safe."

In a flash, his form shifted, his human facade melting away to reveal his true nature. He was a kaiju, a humanoid one, his body radiating with a sinister energy.

My heart skipped a beat. This was no ordinary kaiju. He was intelligent, cunning, and far more dangerous than any I had encountered before.

"You're one of them, aren’t you?" he said, his voice dripping with malice. "A human turned kaiju. How… interesting."

Before I could respond, he lunged at me, his claws slashing through the air. I barely had time to react, transforming into my kaiju form to block his attack. Our claws met with a resounding clash, the force of the impact sending shockwaves through the ground.

The street erupted into chaos as we fought, our massive forms tearing through the concrete and asphalt. I struck out with my claws, aiming for his vital points, but he was fast, dodging and countering with precision.

"You can’t hide what you are," he taunted, his eyes glowing with malevolence. "I'll take your body for myself."

His words fueled my anger, giving me strength. I roared, pushing him back with a powerful strike. He stumbled but quickly regained his footing, a cruel smile on his lips.

"You think you can beat me?" he sneered. "You’re just a failed experiment."

I growled, my claws slicing through the air as I launched myself at him. We clashed again, the force of our blows shaking the buildings around us. I could feel his strength, his power, and I knew this fight wouldn’t be easy.

But I wasn’t alone. I had the skills, the training, and the determination to protect those I cared about. And I wouldn’t let this monster win.

Our battle raged on, the street becoming a war zone. I managed to land a few solid hits, but Kaiju No. 9 was relentless. He fought with a savage fury, each strike more vicious than the last.

Suddenly, he lunged forward, his claws aiming for my throat. I twisted to avoid the blow, but he was too fast. His claws grazed my neck, a searing pain shooting through me. I stumbled back, trying to regain my balance.

"Is that all you’ve got?" he jeered, advancing on me.

I snarled, refusing to back down. Summoning all my strength, I launched myself at him, my claws aiming for his heart. He dodged, but I managed to land a solid hit on his shoulder, sending him crashing into a nearby wall.

He roared in pain, his eyes blazing with fury. "You’ll pay for that," he hissed, his voice a venomous promise.

But before he could retaliate, the distant sound of sirens filled the air. The Defense Force was on their way. The third division. If they saw me like this, they’d capture me for sure. And this other kaiju—whatever he was—would be taken too.

With a final, powerful strike, I sent the figure sprawling. He scrambled to his feet, a look of panic in his eyes. "I have to go," he said, more to himself than to me. Before I could react, he turned and ran, disappearing into the shadows.

I hesitated, torn between pursuing him and escaping before the Defense Force arrived. In the end, survival won out. I turned and fled, my kaiju form melting away as I ran. By the time the third division arrived, I was long gone, just another shadow in the night.

Breathing heavily, I finally stopped in a secluded alleyway, leaning against the cool brick wall to catch my breath. My mind raced with questions. Who was that figure? What was he? And why did he seem so human?

As the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion set in. I knew I had to get back to my apartment, but the events of the night weighed heavily on me. I had fought to protect the innocent, but in the process, I had encountered something—or someone—new. Someone who didn’t fit into the neat categories of human or kaiju.

I finally reached my apartment, slipping inside and locking the door behind me. The small space felt even smaller after the events of the night, the walls closing in around me. I sank onto the couch, my mind still racing.

I had so many questions and no answers. But one thing was clear: the world was far more complicated than I had ever imagined. And in this new, uncertain landscape, I would have to navigate carefully, relying on my instincts and my newfound allies.

As I sat there, my thoughts drifting back to the strange figure I had fought, I couldn’t shake the feeling that our paths would cross again. And when they did, I would be ready.

The next morning, I awoke to the sunlight streaming through the curtains. The events of the previous night felt like a distant dream, but the lingering soreness in my muscles was a stark reminder of the battle I had fought.

I made my way to the kitchen, the familiar routine of making coffee grounding me. As I sipped the hot drink, I replayed the encounter in my mind, trying to make sense of it. Who was that figure? What was his connection to the kaiju? And why did he seem so conflicted?

--

I made my way to the First Division base. The streets were still quiet, the city slowly waking up around me. The events of the previous night weighed heavily on my mind, and I knew I needed to talk to Captain Narumi about what had happened.

When I arrived at the base, I was greeted by the familiar sight of the bustling headquarters. Soldiers and staff moved with purpose, preparing for another day of battling kaiju threats. I made my way through the corridors, nodding to a few familiar faces, until I reached Captain Narumi's office.

I knocked on the door, and a moment later, it opened to reveal Narumi's sharp, observant eyes. He took one look at me and seemed to sense the urgency of my visit.

"Chisuka," he said, stepping aside to let me in. "Come in."

I entered the office, feeling the weight of his gaze on me. Narumi closed the door behind us and motioned for me to sit. I took a seat, my thoughts racing as I tried to find the right words to explain what had happened.

"Captain," I began, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I need to tell you about something that happened last night."

Narumi leaned forward, his expression serious. "Go on."

I took a deep breath and began recounting the events of the night before. "After you left my apartment, I went to the convenience store to clear my head. On my way back, I encountered a man… or at least, he appeared to be a man. But my kaiju senses told me otherwise."

Narumi's eyes narrowed slightly. "A kaiju in human form?"

I nodded. "Yes. He revealed himself to be a Kaiju. He was disguise as a human, if not for my senses I wouldn't have suspected. He attacked me, claiming he wanted my body for himself, I think he wanted to use it for disguise, although he didn't seem to know who I was, but he knew what I was."

Narumi's expression darkened, his eyes reflecting a mix of concern and anger. "An humanoid kaiju… we've heard rumors about him, but this is the first confirmed encounter. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I replied, though the memory of the fight still sent shivers down my spine. "We fought, and it was a close call. The Defence Force was on their way, so he fled before they arrived. But he knew what I was, Captain. He knew I was a human turned kaiju."

Narumi leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as he processed the information. "This changes things," he said finally. "This kaiju seems like a serious threat, and the fact that he can take on human form… it complicates matters."

I nodded, feeling a sense of relief that he understood the gravity of the situation. "I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. We need to be prepared for whatever he might do next."

Narumi's eyes met mine, a steely determination in his gaze. "We'll take this to the higher-ups. They need to know about this kaiju and his abilities. And we'll increase our patrols and surveillance to ensure he doesn't catch us off guard again."

I felt a surge of gratitude for Narumi's support and quick action. Despite the confusion and fear from the previous night, I knew I could count on him.

"Thank you, Captain," I said sincerely. "I appreciate your support."

Narumi nodded, a rare softness in his expression. "We're in this together, Chisuka. We'll do whatever it takes to protect you and our people."

As I left his office, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. This threat of was real and immediate, but I wasn't alone in facing it. With Narumi and the First Division by my side, I knew we had a fighting chance.

"failed experiment". What did he mean by that.. could it be... there's another human like me?

--

Later that day, I found myself in the training area, needing to blow off some steam. The encounter with the humanoid kaiju had left me on edge, and I needed to channel my energy into something productive.

I went through a series of combat drills, pushing my body to its limits. The physical exertion helped clear my mind, each punch and kick a release of the tension that had been building inside me. As I trained, I couldn't help but think about the implications of what had happened. This was a new kind of enemy, one that could blend in with humans and strike without warning. It was a sobering thought, but also one that fueled my determination.

As I finished my session, I noticed Captain Narumi watching from the edge of the training area. He approached, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Good work, Chisuka," he said, nodding in approval. "Your skills are improving."

"Thank you, Captain," I replied, wiping the sweat from my brow. "I needed to clear my head after last night."

He nodded, understanding. "I wanted to let you know that I've informed the higher-ups about the kaiju you reported. They're taking the threat seriously, and we'll be increasing our patrols and surveillance."

I felt a sense of relief at his words. "That's good to hear. We can't afford to let our guard down."

Narumi's gaze softened slightly. "I also wanted to check on you. I know last night was intense, and I wanted to make sure you're okay."

I appreciated his concern, but I knew I had to stay strong. "I'm fine, Captain. Just more determined than ever to protect our people."

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. "That's the spirit. We'll face whatever comes our way, together."

As he walked away, I couldn't help but feel a renewed sense of hope. The fight against the kaiju was far from over, but with allies like Captain Narumi by my side, I knew we had a chance.

--

Third person pov:

The news of the kaiju’s ability to disguise itself as a human sent ripples through the Defense Force. It was a game-changer, a revelation that required immediate action. Captain Gen Narumi decided to call a meeting with the leaders of all divisions to discuss the implications and formulate a strategy. This was a threat that affected everyone, and unity was more critical than ever.

The meeting was scheduled for the following morning, and the conference room buzzed with tension and anticipation as the division captains filed in. The room was large, equipped with state-of-the-art technology, screens displaying real-time data from various sectors, and a large oval table where the leaders now gathered.

Narumi stood at the head of the table, his expression as stern as ever. He waited until everyone was seated before starting the meeting.

"Thank you all for coming on such short notice," Narumi began, his voice steady and authoritative. "We have a situation that requires immediate attention. Last night, one of our operatives, Chisuka, encountered a kaiju. A different kind. This kaiju has the ability to disguise itself as a human."

A murmur of shock and concern swept through the room. Mina Ashiro, Captain of the Third Division, leaned forward, her eyes sharp. "A kaiju that can mimic human form? That's unprecedented."

Narumi nodded. "Indeed. This changes our entire approach. We can no longer assume that kaiju threats are limited to monstrous forms. It is intelligent and dangerous. It engaged in direct combat with Chisuka and managed to escape before the Third Division arrived."

Vice-Captain Soshiro Hoshina, sitting beside Mina, clenched his fists. "We need to increase our vigilance. If it can blend in with humans, it could be anywhere, even within our ranks."

Narumi's expression darkened. "Exactly. That's why we need a coordinated effort from all divisions. We must enhance our surveillance and improve our detection methods. This kaiju poses a unique threat, and we cannot afford to let it slip through our fingers."

Captain Mina added, "We should also educate our personnel about this new threat. They need to be aware of the possibility and trained to identify any signs of deception."

Captain Narumi nodded in agreement. "I've already spoken to the higher-ups, and they are prioritizing the development of new detection technologies. In the meantime, we need to rely on our instincts and experience. Chisuka managed to sense the kaiju despite its human disguise. We need to tap into those skills across our divisions."

As the discussion continued, the captains brainstormed various strategies, from increased patrols and surveillance to joint training exercises. The room was filled with a sense of urgency, but also determination. They knew the stakes were high, but they were prepared to face the challenge head-on.

After a thorough discussion, Narumi concluded the meeting. "We'll reconvene in a week to assess our progress and adjust our strategies as needed. Stay vigilant and keep your teams informed. Dismissed."

The captains rose from their seats, their minds already racing with plans and strategies. As they exited the room, Narumi stayed behind, his thoughts lingering on the encounter. The threat was real, and it was closer than they had ever imagined.

Later that day, Captain Narumi found himself in his office, poring over reports and data. The weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders, but he was resolute. The Defense Force had faced many challenges before, and they had always emerged stronger. This would be no different.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. "Come in," he called.

The door opened to reveal Chisuka, her expression a mix of determination and concern. "Captain, I wanted to update you on my findings from last night."

Narumi gestured for her to take a seat. "Go ahead."

Chisuka recounted the details of her encounter with the kaiju providing as much information as she could. Naruto listened intently, absorbing every detail.

"Your instincts were spot on," Narumi said after she finished. "We need to harness that ability. You'll be instrumental in our efforts to track and identify the kaiju."

Chisuka nodded. "I'll do whatever it takes, Captain. We can't let this kaiju go unchecked."

Narumi leaned back in his chair, a thoughtful look on his face. "Agreed. We're facing a new kind of enemy, but we're not alone. With the combined efforts of all divisions, we'll find a way to stop it. And Chisuka, your role in this will be crucial."

She met his gaze, a steely resolve in her eyes. "I'm ready, Captain. Let's bring this kaiju down."

Narumi nodded, a hint of a smile breaking through his stern exterior. "Let's do it. It's time for you to be in action"

--

Hoshina's pov:

The morning air was crisp as Captain Mina Ashiro and I strolled through the practice camp of the First Division. The camp was alive with activity—soldiers sparring, honing their skills, and new recruits undergoing their first drills. It was a familiar scene, one that brought a sense of both nostalgia and pride.

"Have you seen the new recruits in action yet?" Mina asked, her voice carrying a hint of curiosity as she scanned the training grounds.

"Not yet," I replied, my gaze sweeping over the soldiers as we walked. "But I've heard good things. They're a promising bunch. That Kafka, he's hiding some potential, even if the suit is not matching with his body yet, his determination is something that will bring him greatness, I'm very intrigued by him."

Mina nodded, her attention momentarily drawn to a group of recruits practicing hand-to-hand combat. "We've been fortunate to attract some talented individuals. With the kaiju threat growing, we need every capable hand we can get."

As we continued our walk, discussing our latests plans for Shinomiya, the third strongest member of our team, even as a newbie that girl had an amzing strength, we may need her to give her a special spot sooner, the number of kaiju attacks have been increasing too much, it's a waste have someone like her and not put her in the right spot.

Then, I saw her.

Y/N.

She was engaged in rigorous combat training, her movements fluid and precise. She moved with a grace that spoke of years of discipline and dedication. Her face was focused, determined, a far cry from the carefree girl I had known. She wore the uniform of the First Division, blending seamlessly into the ranks of soldiers preparing for battle.

My heart skipped a beat as recognition dawned on me. It was her. Y/N L/N—the girl I had loved and lost. The girl who had disappeared without a trace, leaving behind unanswered questions and a void in my heart.

Mina noticed my distraction and followed my gaze. "What is it, Hoshina?"

I hesitated, torn between the past and the present. "Nothing," I said finally, forcing myself to tear my eyes away from Y/N. "Just thinking about the new recruits."

Mina studied me for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "You seem… preoccupied. Is everything alright?"

I nodded, a tight smile forming on my lips. "Just a lot on my mind, that's all."

As we walked away from the training area, I couldn't shake the image of her from my thoughts. Seeing her again after all these years—it stirred up emotions I had long tried to bury.

All this time she was close and I didn't know, how could this happen, what was she doing here? What is going on, does this means she dissapeared because she wanted to? How could she...No, Soshino you don't know anything.

But as much as I tried to push her from my mind, a part of me couldn't help but wonder about Y/N—about where she had been all these years, and what had brought her back into my life now.

As we continued our rounds through the camp, discussing strategies and reviewing the progress of the new recruits, I couldn't help but steal glances back towards the training grounds. She remained focused on her training, unaware of the memories and emotions she had stirred within me.

I kept my thoughts to myself, the weight of the past heavy on my shoulders.

It was a twist of fate—a thread of destiny weaving its way through our lives once more. Y/N L/N, I found you.

[kenmjiro]

ೄ◌ྀ ˊˎ Scars and bad memories | Carl Grimes

Carl grimes (TWD) x Fem reader

TWS: angst, kissing, mention of child abuse

Carl was locked in his room throwing darts, he did this frequently since they let him out of the infirmary after losing his eye.

He was distant, he didn't talk to anyone except his father and Michonne occasionally, he didn't leave his room and that had me worried, I have come to see him every day, but he doesn't speak to me and barely looks at me

We had been together for 6 months before this happened, but I just don't know what will become of us anymore. It hurts me to see him like this, but I will continue fighting, because I love him and I will do everything possible to prove it.

With my legs trembling with nervousness I decided to go in, I wiped the sweat that was accumulating on my palms on my pants, I gathered my courage and pushed the door.

When I saw Carl with his back to me, he was throwing darts from the side where he had been shot, and there were no darts on the target, they had all hit the door and he seemed more and more frustrated and absent.

“What are you doing here again?” His voice sounded so cold and hard that for a moment I thought I had hit an ice barrier, and as soon as I could answer, a cruel lump of anguish had formed in my throat.

“I-I came to see little Judd.”

He didn't even look at me and continued throwing darts at him.

“She's in her room, so don't bother me.

That hurt me, but I'm not a weak girl and my duty is to help Carl, there's no time to get depressed.

“Talking to me like that won’t give you back your eye.” I knew that my comment would piss him off and I waited expecting the worst from him, that he would run me out of his room or yell at me, whatever he did to hurt me I didn't care, I needed to remove all that indifference that was consuming his feelings.

“You think I care? Go chase squirrels, you silly little girl.”

“No thanks, I already had lunch.” My sarcastic response seemed to bother him more and he began to throw the darts with more fury than before, but half of them hit the door and the rest fell to the ground.

“Do you remember when we met and I had a huge bow with me?”

“No." He cut me off abruptly, trying to silence me.

“You said it was impossible for a girl as short and skinny as me to have enough strength to shoot it, you made fun of me for days until she saw me shoot it.”

The memory seemed to have softened his bad mood; he stared vacantly at a spot on the wall and smiled imperceptibly.

“Yes, I still don't understand how you did it... You were tiny.” He gave a small, fleeting chuckle. "You still are."

Carl had spoken almost in a whisper, but since we were alone, that was enough for me. In the end he gave up throwing the darts and looked at the ground.

“I just needed my arms, correct posture...and an eye. “Carl turned around to look at me, he seemed angry, but at the same time I could see that I was getting to him.

“What are you getting at, y/n?”

“You don't need everything to shoot a bow, or a gun, or to throw darts, you just...you just have to have the way.

“Yeah? and when you lose an eye… what is the Y/n way?” Carl began to approach me in a threatening manner. " which ?!?"

“I can teach you.”

I raised my hand to caress his face, but he moved away from it as if my touch burned him.

“Oh yeah? Try it, see what you can do as a hunter.”

“First stand up straight, put one foot on the shooting line and the other behind.” With my hands I gently corrected his posture and pushed his leg so that it was aligned. “stand on your side and fix your target with your dominant eye.”

“You will say with the only eye I have left.”

His voice was bitter and sarcastic, but he was relenting.

“That's all you need, sheriff.”

I carefully took his throwing arm and told him to take it back to throw the dart, I left his side and he looked at me skeptical, but he threw, and it took him half a second to realize that he had hit right. the target. He hid his surprise and finally spoke to me without his tone of indifference and bitterness.

“Not bad hunter, now I understand how being so little you had better aim than dad.”

“You see, everything has its side... You just have to find it.”

He looked down so that his hair hid how heartbroken and sad he was, but he knew him better than I knew myself, he knew how he felt.

“And how do I find the side to this?”

She pointed to the side of his face where there was only a thick bandage.

I approached him calmly and hugged him, he didn't return the gesture, but his entire body was trembling.

“Why are you still looking for me?” His voice was barely a whisper full of pain. “I'm horrible, I can't force you to stay with me like this, please don't feel sorry for me and just leave.”

My heart hurt so much hearing his voice, so fragile, so vulnerable.

“I don't feel sorry, I love you. Please believe in me, we will get through this together, let me help you. ”

"You do not have to do it. “I’ll be fine alone… You don’t deserve to spend your life with a monster, full of scars and bad memories.”

My heart broke at his words, I separated from him and forced him to sit down on the bed in the room, it's time for me to show him my own scars, I calmly took off the blouse I was wearing and then the small tank top, leaving me only with a sports bra.

“Do you see this scar?” I said pointing to my stomach “When my uncle got drunk he was very violent, he tried to hit my mother, but she locked herself in her room and left me alone with him. "She was scared, and trying to escape I fell on a glass table... her blood must have scared him, because she left me lying there and walked away."

“and-I didn't-I had no idea…”

“and you see these marks here?” I took off the leather wrist guards I always wore. “A year before I found them I ran into a group of unpleasant people... Our leader made them angry and as punishment they handcuffed me and other kids to a fence and attracted the attention of some walkers so that our parents could see it, I I tore the skin on my wrists to free myself, I didn't even care about the pain, I just had to pull. And do you see this ugly mark?” I brushed the hair off my shoulder and showed him a large asterisk-shaped scar. “I had a small accident with Daryl when we went out to look for Beth, a guy tried to shoot me at point-blank range, luckily Daryl was able to deflect the shot and it didn't hit me.” in the heart as was his plan.”

“...Why didn't you ever show me all this?”

“Because I'm horrible... How could I expect you to love someone who carried only scars and horrible memories?” Carl looked at me bewildered and looked away.

“It’s not the same Y/n.”

“Of course... we are both full of scars and these remind us that we were stronger than what tried to kill us, we are survivors and this is our life... and I want to share my scars and my bad memories with you and I want you to you do the same. Carl, I love you and I want to experience all the good that is left in the world with you.” Without realizing it, I had walked until I was in front of Carl and I knelt down so I could look him in the face, my eyes were full of tears and my voice was shaking, “and don't think that you can decide for me, I want to be by your side... “Just… Unless you don’t love me anymore…”

He didn't let me finish and silenced my crying with a kiss. He knelt down next to me and kissed me passionately. His arms wrapped around me with strength and desperation. My cheeks were wet, but he didn't care. With his fingers he delicately caressed each one of my scars and I did the same.

“Of course I love you, forgive me for acting like an idiot, I…”

This time it was my turn to silence his lips, my entire body vibrated as the temperature rose, in desperation I lightly pulled his hair, wishing he would never leave me. When our lungs were begging for air we did not separate slightly, his lips were red and swollen from what had happened before, we both gasped to catch our breath.

“You know, it's very unfair that even with a scar like that you still manage to look so perfect.” Carl laughed lightly and leaned down to kiss my shoulder.

“Says the girl who, even with all her scars, looks like an angel.”

I blushed at his comment, it was always the same, he managed to take my breath away just with a phrase like that.

“Shut up and kiss me sheriff.”

“With pleasure, hunter. ”

The kisses continued just like the memories and the scars.

Even though we had both lost a part of ourselves and even though destiny had marked us, it no longer mattered to us, because being together we were finally complete.

[allybxtch]

The last sacrifice

bakugo x reader (angst)

the final battle between heroes and villains roared as an infernal storm. the air was loaded with dust, ashes and the acre smell of destruction. screams, explosions and the rumble of the powers facing themselves in a deafening chaos. Y/N, with his elementary manipulation quirk, was in the heart of this cataclysm, fighting side by side with his teammates to defeat Shigaraki and his sinister amalgam with All For One, now known as Shigarafo.

things had twisted in a way that not even the most experienced heroes had planned. Shigarafo seemed unstoppable, each attack absorbed and redirected with brutal efficiency. the heroes fell after another, and despair began to leak into the ranks.

Y/N, covered with dust and sweat, was looking for Katsuki Bakugo with her eyes. she knew that he was there, somewhere, giving everything of himself as always. she recalled the moments they had shared, their fights, their laughs, and that deep link that had united them as a couple and, although they were no longer together, love persisted.

suddenly, she saw he. Bakugo was throwing directly against Shigarafo, with a fierce determination and a desperate glow in his eyes. Y/N felt a knot in the stomach. Something was not right.

"Katsuki, no!" she shouted, her voice barely audible about the rumble of the battle. she threw herself towards him, using the air to boost and gain speed, but the debris and the flying attacks delayed her.

Bakugo was face to face with Shigarafo, his explosions resonated with almost deafening force. Y/N watched the scene on slow camera, every second stretching in eternity. Katsuki, in his typical challenging style, refused to go back.

—I’m going to kill you here and now!— Bakugo, his palms lit in a blinding shine.

—Pathetic— Shigarafo replied, his cold eyes and devoid of compassion.

Y/N arrived just in time to see how Shigarafo extended his hand to Bakugo. the explosion was deafening, but it wasn't Bakugo. the hero fell to the ground, his inert body and his shattered heart.

—KATSUKI!— Y/N shout was heartbreaking, a mixture of horror, pain and fury. the vision of Bakugo collapsed, his blood staining the ground, plunged her into an uncontrollable rage.

she ran towards him, falling on her knees next to him. —Katsuki, please look at me...— she reached his face with trembling hands, his blood staining her. His eyes were open, but empty. Life had escaped from him. Y/N felt her heart break into a thousand pieces, the pain was unbearable. —No, no, no...— she murmured, trying to deny the reality she had in front of her.

the control she had always maintained over her powers was broken. the air around her began to vibrate with a chaotic energy while manipulating fire, water, earth and air simultaneously. the earth shuddered, the fire roared, the water swirled and the air became a furious gale.

—You're going to pay for this!— Y/N shouted, her voice trembling with the intensity of her anger and pain.

Shigarafo turned to her, a cruel smile deforming her lips. —Do you want to join him in death, girl? I thought the heroes were smarter—

Y/N launched a massive attack, combining all her elements in a devastating assault. Shigarafo dodged it easily, counterattacking with a brutality that Y/N could barely handle. but she didn't stop. every blow received, every wound inflicted, only increased its resolution.

the battle between them was a whirlwind of power and destruction, both fighting with desperate ferocity. but the simultaneous use of all its elements began to take its toll on Y/N. her body trembled, her forces faltered, but she couldn't stop. she couldn't fail now.

—I won't let you win!— she shouted, throwing everything she had against Shigarafo. Her heart beat with a mixture of fury and sadness, prompting her to continue despite the pain she felt in every fiber of her being.

in a moment of distraction, she saw Nejire in danger. without thinking about it, she threw herself to protect her, receiving the blow destined for her friend. the sharp pain in her belly made her fall to her knees. she looked down and saw Shigarafo's hand going through her, the blood gushing out and staining her suit.

—No...— she murmured, the pain and weakness overwhelming her.

Shigarafo pushed her back, her laughter resonating in her ears. —Pathetic, just like him—

Y/N fell to the ground, her vision clouding. everything around her seemed to fade, pain and despair dominating her senses. she remembered the moments with Bakugo, his arrogant smile, his laughter, his determination. everything they had shared, everything they could never have.

—Katsuki...— she whispered, her voice barely a breath. she felt her life fading, the cold taking over her.

in the distance, she saw her companions fighting, the battle continuing relentlessly. but her eyes were only looking for Bakugo, hoping that, somehow, he would get up, that all this was just a nightmare.

the memories of their time together flooded her mind. the shared nights, the promises, the fights and reconciliations. everything he had meant to her, and everything she had lost in an instant.

the world around her became blurred, the sounds fading into a distant murmur. Y/N closed her eyes, clinging to Bakugo's image, his smile, his love.

in her last moments, a tear rolled down her cheek, mixing with blood and dust. —Katsuki... I'm sorry...—

and so, in the midst of the final battle, Bakugo's sacrifice and Y/N’s despair became a reminder of the brutality of war and the price of heroism.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

hiii, this is my first time posting something I write. oh, also tell you that English isn’t my first language but i try my best

this is something about the last chapter of mha. you can tell me what you think, thank u (I’m sorry for the aesthetics, I don’t know much about that)

[simplydannie]

Previous: Part 1 || Part 2

A03 link here!

Floyd is called as everyone in Bergentown worries about Velvet….

The snarky, spicey girl they once knew replaced by this broken, fragile thing. Floyd figures it has something to do with her brother as she explodes at the mention of his name…

They both also discover that someone is on the hunt for her…but who?

Velvet hugged herself as she stared at the breakfast that lay infront of her. When they had given it to her it was warm, but that was about an hour ago…She wasn’t hungry, not one bit. It was probably what, a day since she’s had a proper meal?

Standing at the doorway of the dining area were Poppy, Branch…and Floyd. They stared at her in silence, observing her actions and movements. It was obvious, this wasn’t the Velvet they had seen back at the Rage Dome. That Velvet was fierce, determined, eager, uncaring….vicious. This girl in front of them was broken…

“Has she said anything?” Floyd looked at Poppy and Branch.

Branch shrugged, “She said she was done with Rageous; that she didn’t want anything to do with that place.”

“And Veneer?”

“She came without him…Told us not to worry about it.”

“…They’ve have to had a fallout…An argument…She did blame him for them going to prison….Maybe they went their seperate ways and misses him.” Poppy looked at Floyd and Branch.

“Really? Velvet missing Veneer. Maybe when Bergens fly.” Branch scoffed. Floyd nudged his brother, his face taking on a more serious dimenor… Floyd didnt find that funny…not one bit. Yes, she was hard, even cruel…but the reality of it all…she had deeply cared for Veneer, they were inseperable. So whatever happned to cause their fallout, it had to be bad.

Taking a deep breath Floyd made his way towards the Rageon. He hadnt seen Velvet in almost a year, the closer he got, the more he realized just how different she really looked: thinner, paler…lost. Her hair was not in its normal ponytail, it draped loose around her face, a purple beanie sitting on top. The Troll hopped on a chair then on to the table. He slowly approached her…

“….Velvet?”

Hearing his voice, Velvet looked up, their eyes meeting for the first time in a long while, “…Floyd. What do you want?” Her tone was cold and distant.

“I heard you were in town. I wanted to see you…see how you’ve been.”

She chuckled, “Yeah right. What the hell do you really want Floyd? Another apology? Well we already said our sorries and paid for it in prison, thank you very much.”

She was still the same old Velvet, that much was certain…the same yet different, “No Velvet, I don’t want an apology. I genuinely wanted to see how you were doing… The others…they’ve been…worried about you.”

“Worried?”

“…They have Velvet. You seem…different. Is…Is everything okay? You can tell us you know, talk to us…”

“HA! Talk to you guys. Please. I don’t need you little rats to be showering me with roses and songs.” She mimiced.

“Velvet please. We want to help with whatever happened. Obiviously you and Veneer had some sort of fallout…”

Her head snapped up at the sound the word…at the sound of the name… “What did you say….”

Oblivious, Floyd continued to speak, “You and Veneer, something happened between the two of you, that much we know….You’re always together.”

Her eyes. There was a glow to her eyes…the color changed from their normal blue tint into a pink hue. Velvet slammed her fists on the table, causing it rattle underneath her. Floyd jumped back at her sudden reaction, as he noticed the glow in her eyes, the anger behind them.

“DON’T YOU DARE MENTION HIS NAME!” She yelled at the top of her lungs. In a blink of an eye, Branch had made his way to stand next to Floyd. The two looked at each other; both confused, both lost, “NEVER EVER MENTION THAT NAME AGAIN! EVER! ESPECIALLY YOU FLOYD! YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO SAY IT EVER AGAIN!”

“….Velvet….” Floyd began to say as he reached his tiny hand. But the Rageon couldn’t bare it anymore….the tears began to fall.

“AHHHH!” She smashed the dishes of food against the wall. Velvet growled and stalked away back into her room. She didn’t need them seeing her like this…vulnerable. There was only one person who she had ever been vulnerable with…and now he was gone.

“Velvet!” Floyd cried out again.

SLAM!

The sound of the door being shut echoed throughout the halls…

The days went by….

Floyd remained in the Bergen castle keeping an eye on the young Rageon… something was wrong, he knew that much. Yes, Velvet was always one to blow a casket, one with a short temper, but at the mention of her brother’s name? That struck him odd. He was determined to find out what happened between them, what caused them to rift part, what caused her to come all the who out here…. Alone.

She didn’t want to be seen by anyone, yet she couldn’t remain in her room all the time. It was easier for the memories to come back in the quietness and loneliness, and Velvet couldn’t stand thinking about him right now….

So she’d do something she’d done back home… she’d sneak out the window. She’d leave only in the night when she knew everyone was asleep, when Bergentown was most empty. Velvet wouldn’t do much, she’d sit down on benches, climb the wall and stare off, take a small walk on the trail…

That evening in particular Velvet made her way through a small trail that took her to a hill that overlooked Bergentown. She sat down hugging her knees, the stupid purple beanie placed over her head… she allowed for silent tears to fall.

“What’s wrong?” She heard a voice say. Velvet turned and there next to her… was her brother.

“You should know what’s wrong… moron.” She sniffed and wiped her tears.

“You’d never tell me what was wrong. That was always the problem.” Veneer sat in a manspread on the grass staring out to the little town, “I see you finally made it.”

“Shut up…”

“It’s not that bad right? Sure maybe quieter than what we were used too, but I think we needed that change. Don’t you.” Veneer turned to smile at his sister. She only sat silent still hugging her knees.

“You’re wearing the beanie!”

“…. Why did you like wearing this stupid thing so much….”

“Cause it was dads.”

Velvet froze. She had forgotten… this belonged to their father once. Veneer so wanted to be like him, he loved him… she did once too. Why didn’t they run to him when they were in danger? Why did she have to convince her brother to do otherwise?

“….. why did you have to leave me?” She whispered, her tone so low, almost silent.

“Because, my journey was over. This is yours now.” He reached over placing a hand on her shoulder….she felt it, she could feel his touch…

When she looked, there was no one there, he was gone….

“Come back…. Please come back…. I can’t do this alone….” Burying her face into her knees she began to cry. Everything felt hopeless, she felt helpless…. She was alone…. Was she really though? Her father was still out there. Was he even looking for them? Did he even care?…. Should she go back?

“Velvet!” She heard her name being called out… she knew the little voice… Floyd. With a grunt she stood up and began walking off.

“Hey! Hey wait!” Floyd moved his tiny legs as quick as he could as Velvet stomped farther and farther away from him…

….Eyes had been watching her from the bushes. It had been used to track her scent. She was alone. She had been still, but then that little Troll came in and made her move. It waited, but a voice beaming from its collar ordered a command, “Kill that little Troll if it get’s in your way. Bring the girl now!”…..

“Velvet! Come on are you seriously going to have me follow! I’ve already walked a hundred miles right now.” Floyd began to loosen his breath. He heaved over breathing hard…his health really hadn’t been the same since the whole ordeal in Mount Rageous. With a heavy grunt, Velvet turned around and snatched Floyd up by his hair, “Woah! Hey! A little nicer would do.”

“If I am going to carry you, you’re going to shut up.” She demanded, placing him on her shoulder. Floyd looked at her as she treaded back to Bergentown in silence.

“….Velvet?” He began to say.

“Oh my gosh don’t! Don’t say anything. Don’t even ask anything, or i swear I’ll flick you off my shoulder.” She mumbled. Floyd quickly shut his mouth…. Perhaps right now wasn’t the time to mention anything…especially Veneer….

The hairs on his head quickly perked up, a chill going down his tiny, little spine. Velvet noticed his change in mood and stance…. Did he sense something?

“The hell is wrong with you?” She asked arching her eyebrow towards him, “I’ve never seen a Troll act like this before…”

“…..Something….isn’t….right….”

SWOOSH!

From out of the nearby bushes pounced a big creature: It’s color and spots-like a leopard, but it’s body and fur like that of a wolf, six legs coming out of it’s body, big huge fangs bearing at Velvet as it starred at her with glowing yellow eyes….she recognized this creature….she’d only hear about it and see pictures…

“…What the hell is one of these doing way out here?” She muttered. The creature launched at her. She screamed as she dove to the ground, the creature only missing her by mere inches. Floyd held on for dear life. He noticed the collar around its neck…it belonged to someone…

“VELVET RUN!” He yelled. Without a single hesitation or protest, the young got to her feet and took off running back to Bergentown. The creature leaped and took off in hot pursuit behind her. What the hell was she thinking? She can’t out run it. So Velvet reach out for branches and twigs, logs, brush, anything she can toss in its path to slow it down. Floyd turned to face behind, staring at the creature as it neared their heels.

“DUCK NOW!!” He screamed as it leaped towards her again. She screamed again as its sharp claws grazed her arm. She cried and winced in pain as blood began to trickle down, “VELS!” Floyd cried. She got up again and ran…She could see the Bergen gates ahead.

“Help! Help!” She cried as she saw some guards standing amongst the walls entrance. They heard her cries and noticed her desperation as they saw what was at her tail. They couldn’t risk opening the gate and letting that thing in. Tossing a roped ladder, they cried out to her, “HURRY UP!”

….Velvet panted as she began to run out breath. She let out a yell as she leaped towards the ladder, grabbing hold as they began pulling her up…Thankfully, that thing wasn’t much of a jumper…it wouldn’t be able to leap the Bergen wall. It tried, only barely scraping her foot as Velvet was pulled up to safety. The Bergen guards peeked over.

“What in the world?” One murmured.

“…Looks like it can’t jump…at least not this high…Go around the wall! Make sure everything is secure. That nothing can get in. NOW!” The chief commanded, “What the hell is that thing?”

“…..A Bandersnatch…” Velvet murmured holding her arm, “…I don’t get it…They’re only find in the woods near Under Rageous…how the hell did one get all the way out here?” Noticing her bleeding arm, some guards quickly ran for a first aid kit.

“It had a collar around its neck. Seemed pretty well groomed too.”

“What, that hell creature belongs to someone?” She looked down at the tiny Troll.

Floyd nodded, his face still twisted in thought, “Didn’t seem like we were in its territory either…Seemed really fixated on you too.” He looked up at the Rageon. Velvet stifled a laugh.

“What? Someone sent that thing after me? Ha!” Her smile faded as soon as it appeared as the memory of that day 3 months ago came to mind…The day he was….Was it possible that someone was after her? They weren’t able totally catch her, she ran off before they could, luckily making it out of the woods of the under-city alive…

“…Velvet? What’s wrong?”

She turned to look down at the little Troll. Should she tell them? Were they now in any kind of danger? After they bandaged her up, Velvet took a peek over the wall…there it was, the Bandersnatch still glaring up Velvet, waiting, thinking…plotting.

“Shit.” She murmured. Suddenly she gasped touching her head…The beanie!…It was still on her head. She sighed in relief…The beanie…The purple beanie that was once….

“….I need to make a call.” She looked up the Bergens.

“Sure. Follow me.”

Floyd looked at her, confusion across his face. He saw the Bandersnatch pace before finally lying down, staring intently at the wall…it was hunting, and he was sure it was hunting Velvet. He ran off towards the castle…

Velvet was led into the security room which contained a landline. She waited till she was alone, her hand hovering over the phone, her breath shakey, palms sweaty, “….Screw it….” She picked up the landline and dialed the number. She was hoping there would be no answer on the other line, but at the same time, she wanted to hear his voice, she wanted to hear something familiar again… Her and her brother were the only two to know this number. It was given to them long ago to use for emergencies…

“Velvet?” The voice sounded from the other side. She could tell there was a mix of fear and worry. Velvet didn’t respond, she wanted to hear him say her name again… “Velvet? Please tell me that it’s you…Please.”

“…..Hey dad…..” She finally said. Agitation flowed through her veins: she should be angry at her father, hate him. But here she was missing him, loving the sound of his voice, wanting him to hold her like he did when she was smaller…

“Where are you?”

“….I….I don’t want to tell you…”

“Dammit Velvet. Where are you? You’re in danger!”

….A moment of silence passed between them…. He finally spoke…His voice soft…

“….I found him…You’re brother…I also found the bastards who did it….”

“….What did you do to them?” She asked.

“They wont be making the same mistake again…EVER.”

“..Good…I wish i could’ve done that myself.”

“He’s home…He’s next to your mother now….I need you to come home too.”

“…I can’t…”

“Why not?”

“….Because…..Because….” I can’t be somewhere where he isn’t anymore. Everything is going to remind me of him…And I still haven’t forgiven you, is what she wanted to say…but she couldn’t, “…I just can’t dad…”

“Dammit Velvet you’re in danger. I have men looking for you outside around Rageous. How close are you? How far?”

“….I just…wanted you to know i was okay…I…I….”, I love you dad, and I’m sorry i couldn’t protect him.. “Bye dad.”

“Velvet!”…..

She hung up…

For the first time in her life, Velvet didn’t know what to do. She didn’t have a plan….her plan was to call her dad and tell him about what happened…but hearing his voice…it was different. Who was after her? What the hell did they want?…And were they the same ones that sent the goons after them? The same ones that killed her brother?

“Dammit! Dammit!” Vaughn pounded a fist against the desk as soon as Velvet hung up on him, “Why the hell did she have to take after me?” The number she had dialed had patched her through encrypted cell phone….He had done this for a reason long ago: if ever his children were in trouble, or they were forced to call him, that number would patch them through…and he’d be able to track them.

He looked up at the map that displayed on the screen, a red markings around the area the call originated from….

Why the hell was she all the way in Bergentown?

[mustainegf]

→ Masterpost

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

It was a few blurred days of fear and exhaustion and more intense tides of emotion. My body was no longer my own; it seemed to be taken over by the tiny little life inside me.

For one thing, morning sickness was up and down, a cruel reminder of how really big a change was upon me, raging hormones, tears without any notice.

Through all this, James would not leave my mind. I knew I had to tell him. I just needed somehow to get him to hear me. But every time I'd pick up the phone, fear would just debilitate me. What if he didn’t care? What if he was too wrapped up in his world to hear me?

I finally mustered the courage to dial his number on this fourth day. With every click that rang, my heart pounded even more loudly. It was still in the mid hours of the afternoon, so hopefully he wouldn't be too busy. Maybe he would be at a quieter place, more willing to listen.

To my complete surprise, he answered after a few rings. "Hey," he said, slurring, and I could almost smell the alcohol on his breath as he said hello to me, even over the phone. Voices and laughter discernible in the background. The racket of all the noise made my heart sink.

"James," I began, working to keep my voice on steady ground. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

“Uh, Yeah, sure, what's up?" he replied, but even I could tell that his attention was elsewhere, that he wasn't focusing on me.

"James, are you even listening? This is serious- I need you sober." Silence again, then the sound of more talk. "I'm listening. Just.. just talk."

But he wasn't. I could hear it in his voice, see it in my mind's head.

"James, please," I begged. "I can't do this with you like this. Call me when you're fucking sober." My voice cracked on the last word, and I hung up before he could speak again, slamming the phone back down on the receiver.

I collapsed, clutching at my stomach as sobs shook me, sinking to sit on the cold kitchen floor. All the crushing loneliness, the fear, the disappointment. I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling that odd combination of love and horrifying fear.

"I'm sorry, baby," I wept. "I’m so sorry."

had hoped, naively, that James would be able to hear, be there for us at this moment.

"Daddy just doesn't get it…" I whispered to the baby.

There I sat for maybe hours, the tears finally melting into a weary tiredness. I couldn't rely on James, not yet. I had to find my strength, for me and for the little thing who was trying to grow inside me-it wasn't going to be easy.

I would do everything in my power to protect this baby, to give it the love it deserved. Any way that I could. Even if it meant doing it alone.

Hours melded into a weary blend of fatigue and sorrow. I had barely moved from the bed, my mind and body spent from the whipsaw that James' phone call had put my heart through. As dusk began to fall, I was jolted from my mood by a gentle rapping on my door.

I dragged myself into my feet and shambled towards the door. Wearily, I opened it.

Standing there was Connie, one of my best friends and Cliff's sister. The concern in her eyes was evident as she scanned me from top to bottom. Without even asking for an invitation, she stepped inside.

"You don’t look good," she whispered, shutting the door behind her. "What is happening?"

I tried to smile, but it felt superficial. "It's a really long story, Connie. There’s a lot in my head right now."

She took my hand and pulled me toward the couch, her eyes locked on my face. "Tell me what's wrong. I’ll listen."

I hesitated, feeling my secret crush in on me. I had wanted to keep it for myself until I had a clean idea about what to do, but the look in Connie's eyes made it difficult to continue with the charade.

She was one of the very few people I really trusted, and I knew she would be there for me no matter what.

I began, hardly above a whisper. “I'm pregnant."

Connie's eyes pulled full-wide, her arms drawing me smack into a tight hug. "Oh my god, wait is it…" she whispered. "Is it James’..?”

I clung to her with a nod, the tears beginning to flow for the millionth time. "I don't know what to do. I tried to tell James today, but he was drunk and surrounded by people. He could hardly listen to me."

She pulled back, a look of pure ferocity on her face. "That asshole. I'm sorry, he really needs to just get his act together. This is serious.”

I nodded, scrubbing at my eyes. "I know..."

Connie blew a breath, settling back against the couch cushions and taking my hand. "I'm here for you, and I know Cliff would be too."

The mention of Cliff lifted my lips a fraction. He used to be James's band member. Until a few years back, after the accident. I missed him. "That means a lot." I stammered.

She squeezed my hand, then peered deeper into my face. "But I can see something else is bothering you. What is it?"

I took s deep breath. My hesitation was clawing at me from the inside out. Connie wasn't letting up, wasn't being gentle- this was a hard truth to give voice to. "It's just… I'm scared. Scared of being a single mom, of raising a baby without James. And scared that maybe, deep down, I'm not strong enough for this."

Softening her eyes, she reached out to gently touch my cheek. "You're actually one of the strongest people I've known. You've been through so much already."

She smiled, but her face turned serious in the next second. "Hun, you should know something. About James.” Her words instantly gained my attention.

“Kirk told me that he is struggling much harder than he lets on. The partying, the drinking, it's worse than we thought. I think he's spiraling."

I felt as if she had punched me in the face. "I knew things were tough for him, but I didn't think it was that serious."

Connie nodded. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't know how. Maybe... maybe this baby is just the wake up call he needs. Maybe this is what he needs to turn his life around."

I let my breath out in a sigh and felt the weight settle in on me once again. "I hope so. I really do. I can't fix James. He has to want to fix himself."

She nodded. "You're right. And I’ll be here to help you."

We sat there a while longer. It felt good to have Connie there, reminding me I wasn't completely alone.

And maybe, just maybe, James and I weren't past redemption after all.

It was late. I was so tired. I was tired physically. My body hurt. My eyes were tired. My eyes were burning, actually burning, from lack of sleep. But I just could not seem to fall asleep. The baby refused to let me rest. Sighing in defeat, for the moment, I gave up on sleep and reached for the photo album on my bedside table.

I had placed it there because I found myself drawn to it more and more these days. The familiar faces and places greeted me as I flipped it open.

The first picture that vulgarly caught my eye was one of us at a concert, perhaps from around 84’. We were so young, so full of life and dreams. James had his long blonde hair, strewn all over his shoulders, with just that unmistakable grin lighting up his lovely face. He was in his element then, a rising metal star, and, right there beside him, was I, beaming with pride for the man.

I traced my finger over his face, the tears Well up again. How had we ended up this way? I missed him so much it hurt. The Man in these photos seemed to be a million miles away, fundamentally, another person.

But as I continued to turn the Pages, I was remembering the boy he was, the sweet, shy boy Who stole my heart.

Another photo showed us at a friend's house, James goofing off with his bandmates. He had his arm slung around me. He was pulling me in close. We both wore matching goofy smiles. He was wearing his favorite misfits shirt, and I remembered how he could always tell me stories about the bands that he loved.

I smiled through the tears, for all I could do was remember how adorable and dorky he had been. Beneath the rock star facade was this tender, sweet man who loved hard.

This was what I missed, the side of him that would take my hand and promise me everything would be all right, that would stay up late into the night, talking to me about our future and all the things we wanted to do together.

The next picture was of James at this party, trying to look tough while holding this tiny, fluffy little kitten, the contrast just hilarious because he ended up laughing along with everyone else, breaking the tough guy facade.

As I turned another page, I came across a photo from one of our road trips. On rare occasions, we would drive out to the beach, just the two of us, and spent the day swimming and lying in the sand. The picture showed us snugged up in a towel, my head nestled into his shoulder, both of us looking totally content. It was a totally perfect day, one of many that we had.

The tears came easily now; it was all mixed feelings of sadness and nostalgia really. I longed for my Jamie, the little boy who grew to be the man the metal world came to worship. He's this icon of a giant of a man to the world but to me he was my James, my forever love.

But as I looked down at my growing belly, I knew that wasn't possible. Life had moved on. For that reason, and for this baby that was part of him, part of us, I insisted to myself that I would be strong.

I closed the photo album and held it to my chest, whispering into the night, "I miss you, Jamie. I wish you were here."

The night continued on then, my words left for only my ears. Maybe this baby would be the change, the reason James finally would see what was important.

For the time being at least, I would cling to these memories. I would then be strong for our child and believe that someday, James would find his way back to us.

And with that thought, I finally fell asleep with the photo album lying beside me. The silent guardian of the past and hope for the future.

[starkidsonnets]

тоска (n.) tō-skə, see Nabokov

edward nashton drabble

| contains : light angst, attempted depiction of pure-o ocd, edward's depersonalization and emotional turmoil

| word count : 670

| note : edward sees a random chick minding her business on his way home from work and loses his sense of self over it. not that there was much there to begin with. not proofread !

It’s not truly sunny out; it hardly ever is in Gotham. The sun peeks through the thick clouds, though, and the skyline looms like a sentinel, shadows draping the streets in an embrace of muted hues. The air carries a hint of dampness — though, it isn’t terribly windy right now, either, it’s quite still this evening — serving as a reminder of the city’s whispers, secrets hidden in the cracks of the pavement.

It’ll rain soon, surely. But not now.

Although the walk from the subway station exit and his apartment isn’t far, Edward, like many others he’d assume, is grateful he isn’t walking home in the rain today. It’s just warm enough that, if it was raining, the droplets on his clothes and in his hair would him feel sticky and his clothes would cling to the slick of his sweat-soaked skin. But with that cool breeze, it might have also made him feel chilled and brittle, and he’d risk coming down with a cold. Lingering on what might have been will make you miss what is, Rene says.

Focus on the here and now, Edward.

Focus on your steps.

1, 2, 3, 4…

Don’t slouch, Edward. Keep your head up.

1, 2, 3, 4…

Keep it down, you might make eye contact.

1, 2, 3, 4…

But what if you bump into someone? Look up.

1, 2, 3, 4…

God, his chest feels tight. His hands feel sweaty. It stings to blink; when was the last time he blinked? Focus on blinking.

Focus on breathing.

In, out, in out…

1, 2, 3, 4…

Don’t forget to blink.

Focus on…

A white t-shirt. A green cardigan. A lace bra.

A blue polo. A pair of jeans. A little white dress.

Hanging from a clothes line. Who uses clothes lines anymore?

Her, apparently.

Laying in the grass, plucking clovers and daisies, lazily spinning them by their stems between her fingers. She looked sleepy as she laid in the dim ray of sun, watching her clothes ripple in the gentle breeze

She lay nestled in the soft embrace of the afternoon, the dim ray of sun spilling across her like a warm whisper. Her eyelids fluttered gently, heavy with dreams that danced just beyond her reach. The world around her breathed in rhythm with her own, the fabric of her clothes swaying like delicate petals caught in a lazy breeze.

Time seemed to stretch, each second dripping like honey, as Edward stood captivated by her stillness. She was an oasis, radiating tranquility in a world choked with decay. He couldn’t help but wonder how she had found this elusive peace. Did she see beauty where he saw despair? Did she embrace the chaos, wrapping it around her like a shawl, while he remained ensnared in his own turmoil? Her serenity was a cruel reminder of his struggle, a stark contrast that echoed in his heart.

Watching her, this— this mystical stranger—Edward felt the weight of his own anguish, heavy as the dark clouds that loomed overhead. She was the flower that thrived in adversity, while he withered in the shadows, longing for the light she seemed to hold so effortlessly. It taunted him, furthering the idea in his mind that he simply was not worthy of life as simple and pretty as laying in the grass and watching clothes dry.

He wondered, bitterly, longingly, what she had done to earn such peace.

Was she kinder than him? Softer than him? Gentler, prettier..? Did she count her steps, or remind herself to stand up straight or squeeze herself smaller when someone stood too close on the train? Did she have to focus on blinking? On breathing?

Does someone so seemingly weightless need to breathe at all?

Edward forced his feet to walk again just as she began to turn her head. He couldn’t bare to see her face. He couldn’t tell you why.

Focus on getting home.

You’ve lived the moment too deeply.

A moment that wasn’t even yours.

1, 2, 3, 4…

[lavellenchanted]

prompt: fredwina + “can you just look at me? please?” 💕

“Are you insane?” Edwina hisses as she steps out into the gardens, careful to shut the doors quietly behind her in case any of the servants are still awake and downstairs. “If Lady Danbury or my mother finds you here, there will be hell to pay.”

Still playing with the handful of pebbles he had been using to throw at her window, Friedrich only lifts an eyebrow. “Then we will have to be quiet, no? But you did not leave me much choice, Schatz.”

He is still in his suit from the ball, but his waistcoat is now unbuttoned and his cravat hangs loose around his neck. The first few buttons of his shirt are undone, giving Edwina perfect view of the hollow of his throat, and the lines of his collarbones as they meet his chest. It’s a warm night, but she feels a shiver run down her spine.

Glad of the darkness to hide her blush, she looks away and focuses on a nearby flowerpot. She’s highly aware of the fact that she is only in a nightgown and robe, and that her hair is falling loose down her back. If anyone were to see them like this, what’s left of her tattered reputation would be completely destroyed. The thought sends a ripple of resentment through her. Does he not care?

No, of course he doesn’t. She should know that by now.

She can’t quite keep the bitterness from her voice as she replies, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the fact that you have gone out of your way to avoid me this evening.”

“I have not.”

She has.

“You barely looked at me once – you will not even look at me now!” He has the gall to sound frustrated. “And every time I tried to ask you to dance you found a different partner.”

“I simply had a full dance card.”

She did not. She has not had a full dance card since last Season.

Judging by the depth of the silence behind her, he is not impressed by her lying.

“Edwina.” With a quiet start, she realises his voice is suddenly much closer; a moment later she feels the warmth of him standing right behind her, and she hates the way her insides flutter despite herself at his use of her given name. “I think I deserve to know what I have done to cause you such offence that you would rather dance with Lord Collingwood than with me.”

That was particularly spiteful on her part. Lord Collingwood is nearly in his seventies, wears the most terrible wig and has false teeth. He also, as it turns out, has both incredibly bad breath and a poor sense of timing, so her spite backfired and the quadrille she had to dance with him felt more like she was punishing herself than Friedrich.

“You mean besides throwing rocks at my window in the middle of the night?”

 “Liebling. What did I do? You must tell me, otherwise how I can make it right?”

There is such soft earnestness in his voice that she’s not sure whether to laugh or cry. There is no making this right, and it is downright cruel of him to pretend that there is.

“You lied to me. You toyed with me and used me, even knowing that I –” Her voice catches, and she hates herself for it because she does not want to show him any weakness, this infuriatingly golden boy who pretended to patch up her cracks while all the time he was simply prying them further open. “You have made me the fool again.”

“What? What are you talking about? I have never lied to you, Edwina, I swear it.”

“I heard your servants talking, Friedrich, at your card party last week. They were discussing your betrothal, whether you would visit Prussia and have your wedding before you return to the battlefield.”

Bringing her arms up, she wraps them around herself, remembering the cold dread that had settled in her stomach when she caught the conversation and began to understand what the footmen were talking about. The sick feeling when she realised that if Friedrich was betrothed to someone in Prussia, then that betrothal would have already taken place before she had ever met him – that he had had someone waiting for him the entire time she was getting to know him, talking with him, dancing with him.

Falling in love with him.

Last year she had learned what it was to have her heart broken. This year she had learned was it was for her heart to shatter.

“You flirted with me. You made me think – You know what was happened to me last year. And this whole time, you have had a fiancée. How is that not lying?”

“Edwina, look at me.”

Tears gather along her lashes as she shakes her head and she squeezes her eyes shut to try and keep them from falling. She cannot look at him – cannot bear to turn and see how wrong she was about the man she thought she knew. Not again.

“No.”

Suddenly she feels his fingers, warm and callused, gently gripping her chin and she catches her breath. He turns her head around so that, presumably, she is facing him.

“Can you just look at me? Please?” he whispers, so quietly she almost doesn't hear him even though there must only be scant inches between them.

She can already feel her defences crumbling, and when he whispers again, "Please," she cannot stop herself from opening her eyes.

Immediately the tears she's held back slide down her cheeks, but Friedrich wipes them away. The moonlight paints him in silver, and his face is filled with tender sorrow as he gazes down at her. One loose strand of hair falls across his forehead and even now Edwina wants to reach up and brush it back.

"Edwina, schatz," he says, very slowly and carefully. "I promise you, I am not betrothed to anyone."

What?

"But, they said -"

He cuts her off, one corner of his mouth curling in faint, exasperated amusement. "If my servants were talking about my wedding, it is because they are all fully aware of my intention to propose to you before I return home and have assumed you will accept."

Edwina thinks her heart might have stopped beating. She has definitely stopped breathing.

"They ... are?"

"I have not made a secret of how much I enjoy your company. And they could hardly fail to notice when I wrote to my mother to ask her to send my grandmother's ring."

Edwina's head is spinning as she struggles to take in this new information, and her legs feel abruptly rather weak. He had asked for his grandmother's ring? He truly meant to propose?

He has not just been playing with her all this time?

"Oh."

It's an entirely inadequate response, but words are beyond her right now. There is too much happening inside her for her to be able to speak.

"Ja." Friedrich smiles softly at her, reassuring her that he is not angry at her misunderstanding, but there is still a hint of sadness to it. "Meine Liebe, why did you not come and ask me about what you heard?"

She owes him an explanation, but it at the same time she does not know how to explain.

"I don't know - I wanted to, it's just . . ." She sighs. "I was afraid, I suppose."

"Do you still not trust me?"

"I trust you more than anyone." Which is perhaps not saying as much as she wishes, when her trust in anything is so fragile these days. "But I have been so wrong before . . . "

"It is easy to believe you would be again," Friedrich finishes for her. "I understand. But I hope that will not always be so. Just tell me now - do you believe me? That there is no one in my heart but you? Or must I offer more proof?"

A warm blush spreads across her cheeks, and it is amazing how the heart that only a few minutes ago she would sworn was broken beyond repair is now singing in her chest and making her feel as though she could fly if she chose.

Holding his gaze, she asks, "What more proof do you have to offer?"

He blinks in surprise, concern flitting briefly across his face before he slowly starts to grin.

"Only this," he says, and brings his head down to press his lips to hers.

The kiss is soft and chaste at first, a gentle stroke of his mouth against hers - once, twice; then it deepens, as he tilts her head further up to a better angle and teases her lips open with his tongue. Each movement of his mouth is slow and deliberate, like he's content to take all the time in world to make his point, and Edwina feels it through her entire body. Her blood has turned to lightning in her veins and she feels drunk on it, wanting nothing more than to press herself as close to Friedrich as possible and lose herself in his arms.

Brings her hands up, she curls her fingers into his shirt and tugs. She feels him laughing into the kiss and nips his bottom lip with her teeth in remonstration - but he finally sweeps her into his embrace and the world around them disappears, replaced by the sound of their shared breaths and the feel of his heartbeat, thundering just as hard as her own, against her breast, and glorious, blissful taste of his lips and tongue as he kisses her over and over and over.

When they finally break part she has wrapped her arms around his neck and it is only his arms around her keeping her upright. Smiling still, Friedrich gently bumps the side of her nose with his.

"Do you believe me now?"

Voice hushed, Edwina nods and answers, "Yes, I do."

"Good." He presses another soft kiss to the side of her head. "May I also take that as a yes to my proposal?"

"Proposal? I don't recall you actually asking me anything."

"I -" He stares at her for a moment, and then they both dissolve into giggles. "No, I suppose I did not. And I suppose the proper thing would be to speak with your mother first."

Edwina wrinkles her nose. "Technically. But I think we are a little way past proper."

He gives a cheerful sigh. "Well, we must still try. But if I call on you tomorrow and speak to your mother, what will your answer be?"

She smiles, and has no idea that it's the most radiant sight Friedrich's ever seen.

"It will be yes, of course," she says, and kisses him again. After all, there's no longer any reason why she can't.

[cheynovak]

The shadowsinger - Part 1

Characters: Azriel x F/Reader: Y/N     

Summary:  Y/N, the niece of Lucien, has fled an arranged marriage, only to find herself hunted by her cruel uncle, Beron. Lost in the cold woods, she is discovered by Azriel, who is reminded of his own painful past. He brings her back to Velaris, but the journey is only beginning. 

Warnings: Slow burn

English is not my first language 

*This story is my own original story, please do not copy my work, reblog/comments/likes are appreciated* 

The icy wind cut through Y/N's thin cloak, searing her skin as she stumbled through the dense forest. The once vibrant colors of autumn had turned into a bleak winter, with snow starting to fall, slowly covering the trail of blood she left behind. Her legs trembled from exhaustion, but she couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. Not with Beron's men behind her, their footsteps echoing in the distance. 

Y/N was Lucien's niece, a daughter of Autumn, but that title had brought her nothing but pain. Her father had struck a deal with Beron, promising her hand in marriage to some brute from a distant court in exchange for power. She had refused, and when her objections were ignored, she had done the only thing she could think of—she ran. 

But running from the Autumn Court wasn't easy. Not when your own blood hunted you down, intending to drag you back to a life of misery. A life where she'd be bound, broken, and used as a pawn in their games. 

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her vision blurring as the cold seeped into her bones. She had been so close to Velaris, so close to safety, to Lucien. But now, it seemed that her journey would end in these woods, frozen and alone. 

A sharp pain shot through her leg as she tripped over a hidden root, crashing into the snow-covered ground. She cried out, but the sound was swallowed by the howling wind. Y/N's body refused to move, her strength completely spent. 

She didn't even have the energy to be afraid anymore. As her vision faded, she thought of Lucien the one person who had always shown her kindness despite the darkness of their court. She had wanted to reach him, to tell him everything, but now… 

Darkness crept in, and she was too tired to fight it. 

But just as she began to surrender to the cold embrace of death, she felt something, a weird fog surrounding her, the smell of night-chilled mist and cedar filled her nose. Is this what dead feel like, she wondered. The shadow, wrapped around her, as if shielding her from the cold. 

"Hold on," a deep voice murmured, filled with a kind of pain she understood all too well. "I’ve got you." 

-- 

Azriel had been patrolling the borders of Velaris when he sensed it—a faint pulse of life in the woods, so weak it was nearly indistinguishable from the falling snow. His shadows had led him to her, and the sight of her had nearly stopped his heart. 

She was so small, so fragile, her body marred with cuts and bruises. Blood stained the snow around her, and her skin was pale as death. But it was her face, her broken expression, that struck a chord deep within him. It reminded him of Mor, of how he had found her centuries ago, broken and discarded. 

Without hesitation, Azriel scooped her up, his shadows curling around them to provide warmth. He could feel her faint heartbeat, a fluttering thing that was growing weaker by the second. He needed to get her to Velaris, to the House of Wind. She would be safe there, far from the reach of Beron and the Autumn Court. 

His wings beat against the wind as he took off, cradling her close to his chest. The journey was swift, but every second felt like an eternity. He couldn't lose her—not when he had the power to save her. Not when he had failed so many before. 

By the time they reached the House of Wind, Y/N was barely conscious, her body limp in his arms. Azriel moved quickly, alerting the healers and settling her into one of the largest, most comfortable bedrooms, but she was slipping away. 

"Stay with me," he whispered, his voice hoarse as he watched over her, his shadows swirling anxiously. "You’re safe now. You’re in Velaris." 

But she didn't respond. Her breathing was shallow, her skin cold despite the fire roaring in the hearth. He couldn't leave her like this—not even for a moment. 

Azriel stayed by her side, shadows comforting her as best they could, until finally, she let out a small sigh and drifted into unconsciousness. He didn’t move, not even when the healers came, knowing that if he let her out of his sight, he might lose her. 

-- 

When Y/N woke again, alone, it was to the sight of a large, unfamiliar room. The bed she lay in was soft, the blankets thick and warm, but it did nothing to quell the fear that gripped her heart. Where was she? Had Beron's men taken her back to the Autumn Court? Was this some new prison they had locked her in?

She tried to sit up, but her body protested, every muscle aching. Panic rose in her chest, and she looked around frantically, searching for a way out. The room was luxurious, the walls adorned with beautiful art, and the furniture carved from rich wood. It didn't look like a prison, but she knew better than to trust appearances. She noticed a shadowy smoke retrieve out of the room.

She jumped out of bed running out the door afraid didn't look where she was going.

The hallways were wide and grand, with tall ceilings and sunlight streaming through large windows. But she didn't notice the beauty around her, too consumed by the fear that had her heart pounding in her chest. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain through her battered body, but she ignored it, the adrenaline urging her to keep moving. 

She glanced over her shoulder, expecting to see the smoke curling toward her like a predator. But instead, she ran straight into something solid—a wall of muscle that nearly sent her sprawling backward. 

Y/N gasped, looking up into the eyes of the man she had seen before she blacked out. He was real? And he was taller than she remembered, more imposing. His face was a picture of calm, but there was an intensity in his hazel eyes that made her stomach twist with a mix of fear and something else—something she couldn't quite name. 

Her eyes widened when she noticed the broad wings that flared slightly behind him, the dark, powerful wings of an Illyrian warrior. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out any words he might have said. Was this another trick? Another means to control her? Beron had always despised the Illyrians, but perhaps that had changed… perhaps he had found a way to use them against her. 

The man was speaking, his deep voice low and steady, but the sound was muffled as if she were underwater. She stumbled back, trying to escape, but his strong hands caught her arms, holding her in place—not painfully, but firmly enough to keep her from falling. 

He was saying something, his voice cutting through the noise in her head as he gently squeezed her arm, trying to ground her. 

“Hey,” he said, his voice clear now, but still laced with concern. “You’re safe. You’re in Velaris.” 

Y/N flinched at his touch, her entire body tensing as if she expected him to hurt her. But he didn’t. His grip was steady, his hands warm, and despite her fear, she could feel a strange sense of calm trying to break through the panic. 

“Velaris,” he repeated, more gently this time, his eyes never leaving hers. “No one will hurt you here. You’re safe.” 

Safe. The word echoed in her mind, battling against the terror that had consumed her since she fled the Autumn Court. Safe. 

But it was hard to believe. Hard to trust after everything she had been through. She searched his eyes, looking for any sign of deceit, any hint that this was another cruel game. But all she saw was sincerity, a quiet strength that promised he was telling the truth. 

“I… I saw shadows,” she whispered, her voice trembling. 

“They’re mine,” he said, his tone softening even more. “They won’t harm you. They were just watching over you, keeping you safe.” 

His words were a balm to her frayed nerves, and slowly, the panic began to recede. The man—this Illyrian warrior—he had saved her, hadn’t he? The memories were fuzzy, but she remembered the warmth of his presence, the way his shadows had wrapped around her in the cold, protecting her from the death that had been so close. 

“I’m Azriel,” he said, his grip on her arms loosening now that he saw some of the fear leaving her eyes. “You’re in the House of Wind. No one can reach you here. Not Beron, not anyone.” 

Y/N’s knees felt weak, the fight draining out of her as the reality of his words settled in. Velaris. She had made it. She was in Velaris. And this male, Azriel, had been the one to bring her here, to save her from freezing to death in the woods. 

“Lucien…” she breathed, the name of her uncle a desperate plea. “Is he here? I need to find him.” 

Azriel nodded, his expression softening at the mention of Lucien. “He’ll be here soon,” he assured her. “We sent word to him as soon as we found you.” 

Relief flooded through Y/N, but with it came a bone-deep exhaustion. Her body sagged against Azriel’s as the adrenaline faded, leaving her trembling with fatigue. 

“Easy,” Azriel murmured, gently lifting her up and guiding her back toward the room she had fled from. “You need to rest. I promise, you’re safe here.” She heard him say while she fought her eyes to stay open.  

“Rest now. I’ll be nearby if you need anything.” 

Y/N watched as he quietly left the room, closing the door behind him. The last thing she saw before sleep claimed her was the shadows that lingered in the corners, no longer a source of fear, but a silent promise of protection. 

-- 

For a week, Y/N drifted in and out of consciousness, her body too weak to do anything more than rest and heal. Every time she awoke, she found herself in the same soft bed, the same comforting warmth surrounding her, but she never stayed awake long enough to gather her thoughts. It was as if her body demanded the sleep, pulling her back under before she could fully wake. 

But then, one morning, she heard a familiar voice—a voice that cut through the haze of sleep and pulled her fully awake for the first time since her escape. 

“Lucien?” she whispered, sitting up in bed. 

The room was quiet, the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Her body no longer ached as it had before, and for the first time, she felt a semblance of strength return to her limbs. Pushing back the blankets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed, surprised at how steady she felt. The soft fabric of her borrowed pajamas brushed against her skin as she stood, and she took a moment to steady herself before following the sound of voices down the hallway. 

The House of Wind was vast, its halls echoing with the distant sound of conversation. As Y/N made her way toward the source of the voices, she noticed how quiet the house was, as if it were still asleep. But the closer she got to the kitchen, the more clearly she could hear them—Lucien’s voice, familiar and comforting, and Azriel’s, deep and calm. 

When she reached the doorway, she paused, taking in the scene before her. Lucien was standing near the counter, his back to her, but she would recognize him anywhere. Relief and emotion swelled in her chest at the sight of him, but she held back, not wanting to interrupt. 

Azriel was there too, leaning casually against the wall, his wings tucked neatly behind him. But they weren’t alone. Another Illyrian warrior stood nearby, his presence commanding and intense. A woman with golden-brown hair, elegant and poised, stood beside him, her eyes kind but sharp. And then, seated at the head of the table, were two figures that made Y/N’s breath catch in her throat. 

The High Lord and Lady of the Night Court—Rhysand and Feyre. 

Rhysand’s dark hair framed a face that was as beautiful as it was powerful, his violet eyes watching her with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. Feyre, beside him, was no less striking, her beauty softened by an air of quiet strength. Together, they were a force, a power that Y/N had only ever heard whispers of. 

Her instincts kicked in, and she bowed quickly, feeling a flush of embarrassment as she realized she was still in her pajamas. What kind of impression must she be making, stumbling in like this? 

“Y/N,” Lucien’s voice was warm and full of relief as he turned to her. But before he could say more, Rhysand’s voice cut through the air. 

“There’s no need for bows here,” Rhysand said, his tone gentle but firm. “You’re among friends.” 

Y/N straightened slowly, her heart still pounding. The High Lord’s presence was overwhelming, but his words were kind, putting her slightly at ease. 

Feyre stepped forward, her expression softening as she looked at Y/N. “Are you feeling better?” she asked, her voice laced with concern. “Azriel told us what happened, but we wanted to hear it from you, if you’re ready to talk.” 

Y/N’s gaze flicked to Azriel, who was watching her with that same soft smile she had seen before, his eyes holding a warmth she hadn’t expected. It gave her the courage to speak, to explain. 

As she spoke, the memories of her escape came flooding back— the terror, the desperation, the cold that had nearly claimed her life. She glanced at Lucien, who was listening intently, his face filled with anger and concern. 

“I tried to make it to Velaris,” Y/N continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But I didn’t know where to go. I got lost in the woods, and the cold… I thought I was going to die out there.” 

At that, Elain, who had been standing quietly beside Lucien, gasped softly, her eyes wide with sympathy. Y/N hadn’t even noticed her until now, but there was something gentle and understanding in her gaze that made Y/N feel a little less alone. 

“It was Azriel who found me,” Y/N said, turning her gaze back to him. “He saved me. Brought me here.” 

Azriel’s smile remained, though his eyes were somber. “You were brave to make it as far as you did,” he said softly. “We’re glad you made it.” 

Rhysand nodded, his expression serious. “You can stay here as long as you need,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Beron has no reach in Velaris. You’re safe here.” 

Y/N felt a wave of relief wash over her at his words, the tension in her body finally beginning to ease. She had made it. She was safe. And for the first time in what felt like forever, she believed it. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice filled with gratitude as she looked around the room, at the people who had taken her in, who had offered her a place to heal. 

Azriel walked over to her, inclined his head, his expression softening as he said:

“Welcome to the Night Court.”  

--

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[frozenjokes]

ethoslab unrequited love with the sun (something about autism and albinism)

Etho had never considered himself to be very lucky. Growing up in a dead end, loveless outcrop where most inhabitants were named after some kind of phantom, reminiscent of the cold- it really couldn’t get any more explicit than that, could it. Most mers that grew up there stayed their entire lives, farming and toiling away and speaking very little to anyone else. Etho considered himself to be quite unlucky then, to have inherited their cold, but not the apathy that kept them stuck in the same soulless expanse.

Etho did not get along well with other people. After he left, seeking out other mers, he found the new worlds impossible to navigate, longing for deeper connections but at the same time entirely unable to manage them, to speak, to exist on the plane where everyone else seemed to live without having to claw and fight their way to it. Without having to try.

They knew he was different. They could sense it, even if he’d done nothing at all; just a little too awkward, a little too cold. They found him off putting, Etho knew it in the way their fins would fall just slightly, barely noticeable, but after social rejection after social rejection, it was an expression he began to grow familiar with.

Mers were uncomfortable around him. Something about him, unnerving, just like the phantom he was named after. Many days Etho considered his name a curse, passed down from generations of soulless mers, transferring their cold ineptitude into him. He considered changing it multiple times, but it didn’t matter what he called himself, not when the deep seed of genetic incompetence had already set, the name he’d been given simply a marker of what was already inside.

So after a while, Etho stayed at the sidelines. He watched, hoping to learn how he might live normally, love freely, and care deeply. This did not end up happening.

But he did learn about the sun.

Mermaids used to live with the sun, existing in light and warmth and subsiding on the gifts she bestowed upon them. They talked about the sun like a myth, a divine protector, giver of life and love as far as her light could reach. A mer touched by her rays might shimmer and glow, beautiful in ways that mermaids in the deep could not imagine; literally could not imagine- the sun’s light did not reach this far, so the concept of sight was foreign, but the sentiment made it seem magical, like an ethereal pull on Etho’s heart.

He needed to know more. He badgered every mer he could find in a search for information, even the most talkative, braggadocious mermaids tiring of him in his relentless quest for more.

‘It’s hot up there,’ one had told him, a sentiment Etho had heard a thousand times, but he listened regardless, ‘but at some point, you get used to it. If you stay in the cooler waters, it’s even manageable. But the sun..’ the mer had trailed off, fins waving wistfully, ‘It’s hot, uncomfortable even, but at the same time, I’ve never felt anything like it on my skin. It’s warmth sinks into you, through you, almost overwhelming, but simultaneously I’ve never felt so relaxed. It was like a peace settled over me akin to a silt blanket, I was happy, and I was so suddenly sure this was where we were meant to be. I don’t know why we ever left.”

Etho had been disappointed when that mermaid had moved on, traveling through different settlements and telling their stories. But Etho doubted tales of the surface would stir many others, most mers being content with their lives in the deep and wary of tales about other creatures of the sun, murderous and unpredictable like monsters. After all, for as many stories of wonder coming down from the surface, there were twice as many horrors; attacks from human ships with sharp weapons and cruel spikes, cages and nets and stories that would keep you awake long after the clock struck late.

Etho cared little for those stories. He was only interested in the sun. The sun that was real despite being talked of like a myth, the sun that was brilliant and bright and blessed every creature it touched with unimaginable beauty. It made life warm. It made life happy. Etho had never been more sure she would be the god that could fix him, lay her hands on his heart and melt away all the ice that kept him outcast. Maybe she would take him in, teach him personally how he was meant to be.

Finally, he found the courage to ‘take the plunge’ as humans would say, though this was a little more like ‘unplunging.’

At first it had been terrifying. While mermaid activity was minimal above the level of complete darkness, there had still been a few mers hanging around where the dredges of the first light began. Etho had known they were there, of course, he could sense them, but it was an entirely different thing to see their inky shapes, massive and fast across his poor vision. It was one thing to run into another mer in the deep; it happened all the time and it was pretty shocking, but ultimately a common occurrence. To see someone barreling toward you was an entirely new terror, and Etho had to wonder if this was how fish felt when they were hunted.

Etho got a lot of attention in these waters, and for a long time he had no idea why. It was terrifying to have strangers approach him for no reason at all; they wanted to look at him, he was a different color they said. Etho had taken a good look at himself for a long time, not making much progress toward the sun when he was preoccupied trying to figure out what they were talking about. He figured his eyes just weren’t adjusted yet. He’d heard a lot about that, adjusting. Still, a long while passed before he knew what the rest of the mers were talking about.

He hadn’t known why for years. If there was a word for his coloration in the mermaid language, it had been lost to time, and Joel certainly didn’t know, not that Joel had the experience to know the pale colored scales and skin were odd in the first place. The light sensitivity Joel had plenty to say about (Why are you squinting? What’s wrong with you? It’s not that sunny outside, Etho, get a grip.), but that was another can of worms. Etho had only known what it was called when Bdubs had brought it up; apparently albinism was a condition in humans as much as it was in mermaids. Not that Bdubs knew him as anything but human, but regardless.

Etho considered this to be another symptom of bad luck. Mermaid sight was already poor, especially in comparison to humans, but Etho could hardly see anything at all, probably legally blind as far as human standards went.

But it wasn’t just his sight, no. When the light was low, Etho did alright. He enjoyed the abundance of fish, seeing all sorts of new and fascinating animals. The exploration was incredible, ‘seeing’ was incredible, and even despite his steady loneliness, his first journey to the surface was probably one of the best experiences he’d had his whole life. And he was so excited, so excited to see the sun.

It hurt.

Now, the high light levels of the water’s surface had rendered Etho actually blind; a symptom of spending so much time in the deep. That was okay, expected, and honestly not a massive inconvenience. He’d lived his whole life this way, not a big deal. But he wanted to see it. He had to see the sun.

The sun had other plans.

He’d heard about adjusting to the light, he knew it would take time, but still he practiced, swimming deeper and squinting his eyes open until he couldn’t stand it anymore. Staring toward the sand instead of the sky. Even though he longed to see it, it was just too bright, and even a week later, he couldn’t bring himself to look up.

The night was kinder, and Etho found himself preferring it. He liked the moon as well, though at first he had mistaken it for a lesser sun, surely not as beautiful nor grand. But his body didn’t ache with the weight of light when the sky was dark. Another of his problems was the heat of the surface, suffocating on most days even in semi-deep water, but less so at night. It might even be nice, one day. He was determined for it to be nice, to feel the love and peace the storyteller had promised him, to feel the warmth in his bones and finally know with his whole heart that he had been fixed.

And then the sun set his body on fire.

Etho had been burned before; hydrothermal vents could be a bitch to deal with, but he had never experienced this. The heat of the surface had been something he was pushing himself to get used to; he wanted to like this place, he wanted to learn warmth, but he was always uncomfortable, and usually the depth mattered very little. So one day, he simply decided he would sit somewhere shallow enough that the sun could see him in his completion. It would be sweltering, but Etho was hot everywhere, and he felt that he had waited long enough, his inability to see the sun already a source of great frustration. Firmly, he decided, if he could not see the sun, at the very least the sun would see him.

He’d laid there for hours, trying to make conversation despite the words coming as a great struggle, but before he knew it, he’d paid the price of the ultimate rejection. Etho wasn’t even sure when he’d first noticed; he remembered feeling hot and stiff, more than usual, but the sting came soon after, then the pain, so bright and fiery he had no doubt who had done this to him. He couldn’t move, the effort of pushing water through his gills a monumental task. Mermaids couldn’t cry, they didn’t have the anatomy to do so, but Etho had done the equivalent, wailing his distress in warbled song, loud, begging anyone for help, but mermaids only rarely traveled this far up, and no one heard his great distress. He cried for the sun, too, that she might forgive him, help him, but it did not answer, nor did it heal him. When his skin and scales began to crack and peel, Etho was certain the sun had planned on killing him. Turning him to dust, melting him away, known and loved by no one.

That had hurt the most. That the sun, his idol, the bearer of his greatest worship, had turned her back on him as well. Wanted nothing to do with him, just like the rest of the world.

Turned out he was just more susceptible to sunburn. Also, the sun wasn’t sentient. Unlucky, in his opinion.

Unluckier still, to have been out in that storm years later, to be taken by the current, the waves, and thrusted into Joel’s waiting hands.

But in some ways, at least in the following months, it was a little nice. Joel wasn’t all bad all of the time, and despite being shit company most days, it was a nice reminder that there were, in fact, people worse than Etho. People so cold, no amount of sunshine would ever be able to fix them. Still, they shared small moments often enough that his own loneliness started to be chipped away at, Joel’s company, vibrant and brash and callous as it was.. in a way, it was better than the ocean. The deep. It was more. Like the deep, Joel would never say how he felt, but Etho could see it in little gestures, tenderness that came in small waves, thoughtless and genuine. Most of it was shit. Joel was shit, and treated Etho less than shit most of the time, but there was also a firm feeling of kinship between them, possibly having to do with their shared souls, and Etho guessed with some certainty that Joel would die for him if such a hypothetical opportunity arose. If only Joel dying didn’t mean Etho would meet the same fate. There were a lot of ‘unfortunates’ about their twin souls.

Unlucky to be plucked out of the water by poachers the first time he attempted to leave. Probably inevitable to be saved by Joel, or the two of their lives would have ended right there.

But the second time. The second time, Etho might’ve been the luckiest man in the world. A whole life passing of missed opportunities and squandered friendships and plain misery, the luck he’d had no choice but to save cashed in as the universe threw him directly into Bdubs’s arms.

Etho had hardly been at the mainland for more than a day before he’d gotten himself into trouble. He knew only as much about general human society as Joel did, which is to say, nothing- negative nothing actually, because the information Etho managed to pry out of him was entirely inaccurate, warped by Joel’s frankly insane perception of the world.

Etho had gotten hungry around midday. He hadn’t known exactly what to do about that, but Joel had mentioned something about restaurants, a foreign concept, but Etho got the jist. Restaurants gave you food, just like mermaids shared with each other, hunting for those who could not. Humans just had designated areas to collect that food, that was all. Etho wasn’t even a little thrilled to have to talk to anyone (he’d already been given weird looks all day, no doubt because he was wearing Joel’s clothes, dirty at best and hardly fitting), but a determination had settled inside of him to assimilate here, to be away from Joel and learn to be human when he had no other options.

He couldn’t read, but he could differentiate buildings somewhat by smell, what people were doing. Beyond not being able to read, he struggled in general just seeing, tripping and stumbling, eyes watering under the wrath of the sun. He was so worried about being burned, didn’t know why she was so angry, but alas, he found some reprieve in the darker interiors of the restaurants he attempted to visit, in which he was promptly kicked out.

Etho didn’t really know why, or what he was doing wrong. He’d done his best to learn as much English as he could glean from Joel, but he wasn’t fluent, and everyone here talked so fast- (had Joel been slowing down for him?) Etho couldn’t keep up, overwhelmed into silence on his third attempt, breathing heavy under the adrenaline of repeated rejections. He’d watched humans for so many years, Joel had told him about them as well, but there were so many words and customs he didn’t know, and all at once he would rather go hungry than speak to anyone else ever again.

It was a police car that had pulled up near immediately after he’d left the third restaurant, just as he’d started to walk down the street. Dark patterned cars with lights at the top, the people inside with equally dark, padded uniforms. Etho could see it when he could hardly see anything at all; he was looking out for them, wary of running into anyone who fit the bill. Etho knew about the police because Joel knew about them, and given the violent streaks Joel bragged about from time to time, Etho knew Joel’s encounters with law enforcement were likely warranted. But they had weapons, he knew, were bad tempered- though, given that Joel thought every human was bad tempered and also that he was committing acts of unspeakable violence, Etho was pretty sure he should take those sentiments with a grain of salt. But the possible danger did scare him, especially so soon after several rejections. Did they know? Was he in trouble?

“Hey, are you okay?” the one on the passenger’s side asked, but Etho didn’t look up, didn’t engage. What any mermaid would do if they didn’t want to talk, but humans didn’t like to be ignored. They asked him again, and more aggressively Etho had looked away, saying nothing. He walked faster. He didn’t know what else to do. His feet hurt. He wasn’t used to walking this much. The humans didn’t like that. They stopped their car, the one in the passenger’s side yelling out to him as they slammed the car door, but the sound made Etho jump and he shrunk away, not knowing what he had to do to get them to let him be.

“Leave me alone,” he’d tried. Words that worked well enough on Joel when he needed space. He was overwhelmed, overstimulated, eyes watering from the sun, he just wanted shade, someplace quiet to sit- he’d make his way back to the beach he’d landed afterwards, catch his breath. The officer didn’t like those words, though.

They asked him something he didn’t understand. They sounded irritated, and Etho had no idea what to do with that. When Joel was irritated, Etho simply took the blows and ignored him until he cooled off or went away. This human didn’t like being ignored.

“I don’t know. I don’t understand.” I haven’t done anything wrong. He didn’t know how to communicate that.

The human said something else, and again Etho caught very little of it. They were talking too fast and he was too confused and scared and overwhelmed. He tried ignoring them. They didn’t like that. They reached out, as if to touch or grab him, but he did not want to be touched, he really didn’t want to be touched-

He hit them, smacking their arm in a hard blow, though he wasn’t very strong. His breath hitched in his throat. The other officer got out of the car.

“Hey! Hey hey hey, wait! I’m so sorry, wait!” Etho didn’t catch anything else the other human said as it burst from out of nowhere, or maybe they were close the entire time, watching- Etho didn’t know, he could hardly see or pay attention to anything at all besides his own terror. The new human was speaking fast, explaining something to the police officers in a flurry of words Etho hadn’t even heard before, but he picked up a few- ‘friend,’ ‘ill,’ ‘running.’ The officers had tensed at first, and they had remained that way for a while, especially when the stranger grabbed Etho’s hand, making him jump nearly out of his skin, but they didn’t let go, and at this point, Etho was relatively certain he was being helped.

“Do you know this man?” the officer addressed him for the first time since the stranger had turned up, sending fear like lightning through his veins. He squeezed his new companion’s hand. They squeezed back.

“I don’t. Speak English.”

Apparently he’d finally said the right thing. Everyone relaxed, like this was the missing puzzle piece that finally made this encounter make sense- the social barriers at least. The stranger took over immediately, delving into a flurry of words that seemed to lighten the tension further. They spoke with so much conviction it struck a chord of jealousy; Etho wanted that, to talk smooth and confident and have the whole world listen and relax in his presence. Not long after, both officers got into their car and drove off. Etho watched them, warily. He still hadn’t let go of the stranger’s hand.

“Are you okay?” they asked, gentler, though seemed to double back, looking embarrassed, but not quite knowing what else to say. Something about the soft awkwardness of the gesture helped Etho to relax, though not his grip.

“I’m okay. Thank you.” Etho paused, realizing a little late the stranger must not know that he had lied, “I do speak English. I try.”

“Oh! That’s good! I’m Bdubs, by the way.”

Etho didn’t know what that word meant. The stranger was feeling.. bdubs? ‘I’m’ was followed by an adjective, typically, wasn’t it? Maybe he was wrong. Etho stared, hoping for clarification. He got nothing for a while. It was quite awkward.

“I don’t know what that means. B..” he’d forgotten the rest of the word.

“Ah!” My name. My name is Bdubs.”

Etho felt so extremely stupid, but he resisted the urge to curl up and die because there was a very nice and generous human in front of him and he was not going to let this one go.

“My name is Etho.”

…

Neither of them said anything. Bdubs kept looking at their hand, Etho as well, but he certainly didn’t want to lose this opportunity, and Bdubs touched him first after all, so Etho arbitrarily decided he should be the one to say when the touch ended.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Etho.” Bdubs glanced at their hand. They pulled a little, and Etho in his terror did not let go. He couldn’t lose this. What was it Bdubs had said about him? Maybe if he acted sad and pathetic this human would take pity on him.

“I am scared and sick and ran away.”

Bdubs made a face. Etho had no idea if it was a good or a bad face. He’d never seen the expression on Joel before. (Communicating with Joel was so easy! He always knew what Etho wanted! Why was this so difficult?)

“You need help?”

“Yes!” Etho was worried he might sound too excited, but Bdubs only frowned, looking worried. “I need help,” he repeated, hoping Bdubs would understand.

“Alright. Come with me, okay? My apartment is just a few blocks from here.”

Etho did not let go of his hand. Often, even now, Etho wondered if the sun had something to do with him. Bdubs was surely hers, bright and boisterous and full of life. Live giving, even if sometimes it stung. Etho wondered about that as well, the nature of the sun, if she was not wrathful, but simply had too much to give, so much that it burned. He wondered if that hurt her, to know her light was hurting them, that she could not simply give without consequence. Where there was good, there was always bad, and vice versa. Bdubs was good.

“You’re really red,” Bdubs had said when they climbed the stairs to his apartment, turning to unlock the door, “How long have you been in the sun?”

“Speak slowly, please.”

“Oh, sorry,” Bdubs paused, maybe to give Etho time to process, “How long have you been in the sun? Outside.”

“Oh. It’s been a while.” Etho paused, internally counting. He didn’t have a good grasp on human measurements of time besides day and night; Joel didn’t do much on a schedule, so Etho hadn’t learned. “Near dawn I left.”

“You look pretty badly burnt.”

“The sun,” Etho tried, somewhat meekly, “No shade on the water.” He had suspected he’d gotten burned, face stiff and stinging and arms red, but he was not pleased to know it was bad. He held up his own arms, inspecting them and sighing, “This sucks.”

Bdubs chuckled, though Etho wasn’t exactly sure why. “Looks like you’ve had a bad day. Are you hungry? Have you had any water recently?”

“Yes.”

Bdubs made a small face, and Etho wondered if he’d said the wrong thing, but the other only nodded, pulling gently, “I’m going to get you something to drink, then.” Etho did not let go of his hand. Bdubs pulled again, so Etho got the message, joining him as he walked to the kitchen instead. Bdubs looked a little baffled by this, but didn’t say anything, so Etho got the impression he didn’t mind.

“Sorry for all those things I said about you, I just wanted to get you out of there. Didn’t look like you were in a good state- Are you.. sober?” Bdubs talked a little bit too fast for Etho to catch everything, but he got the gist, only faltering at the question.

“Ask again?”

“Are you sober?”

“I don’t know that word.”

“Uh- Have you been drinking. Alcohol. Are you high- drugs. Sorry- This feels rude, I just can’t tell.”

“I’m not drunk.” Etho was familiar with that feeling, he always felt so sick when Joel drank. He didn’t understand the appeal at all, though the floaty, far-away feeling was alright. “I don’t know what a drug is.”

“Probably not, then. Are you sick? Hurt?”

“I’m sunburned.”

“Well.. yeah, that’s true. Is something wrong with your eyes? Are they swollen from the sunburn?”

Etho drew back at the first question, defensive, but Bdubs didn’t sound accusatory, only like he genuinely didn’t know, concerned. “They’re sensitive. One doesn’t work very well. I don’t see well.” Etho pointed gingerly to his scar, and Bdubs nodded.

“What’s your first language? You speak a lot of English, but it might be easier for you to explain what’s happened that way. I have some bilingual friends, we might get lucky.”

Etho pursed his lips, unsure how to answer. It didn’t matter what he said, Bdubs would have no way to translate. And there was no way in hell anyone on the surface was learning exactly where he came from.

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t speak another language?”

“Only English. Bad teacher.”

“Seems like you had a pretty good teacher to me!”

“He’s not.” Etho must have looked stony, because Bdubs’ face fell, but the moment presented itself an opportunity, and Etho wouldn’t miss it, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Is-“ Bdubs looked suddenly worried, “Are you in danger? Is someone trying to hurt you?”

“No,” Etho sighed a long breath, exhaustion beginning to take its hold, but not enough to overpower the fierce need to keep Bdubs’ hand in his, “It makes me sad.”

“Ah, okay. But you’re safe?”

“I’m safe.”

And he was safe, here at least, and quite good at making excuses to stay. Language barriers were a beautiful thing it turned out, especially when the barrier was exaggerated from time to time, and your companion was very respectful and a little anxious and really struggling to figure out how to tell you to leave. But Etho was a very good house guest, he cleaned up and was very nice and always did everything Bdubs asked of him. Come on Bdubs, you wouldn’t ask a little guy like me to go out on my own? I won’t make it! I’ll fall into the street and get hit by a car, or get scooped up by a hawk! You don’t want that, do you? You don’t want that!

Etho did wonder what Bdubs talked to his friends about on the phone (a device that Blew His Mind when he discovered it) in those early days, even now. He must’ve been a sight to behold, long ratty hair that nearly met his waist, stumbling around on the sidewalk like a newborn calf, sunburnt to all hell. The skills Etho did and did not possess also must have been quite baffling; he had perfectly good house manners, but had never seen a toilet before in his life. He could kind of speak English, but his vocabulary was extensive only in certain areas. He could talk at great lengths about every plant Bdubs owned in a distinctly educated manner, and the same could be said for various animals, so long as he knew them in the swamp. He could talk about the sun, information he’d needled out of Joel, but usually only as it related to earth and magic, and Bdubs got very confused when Etho started to talk about magic, so he didn’t linger on the subject. He could not, however, name more than five utilities in the apartment. He didn’t know what a woman was. He knew nothing about human culture or society, didn’t understand the simplest of references to the outside world. Etho only learned words that were relevant to Joel, which had sufficed when it was just the two of them. Now, it made him extremely odd.

Bdubs talked about Etho quite a lot to whoever it was he was calling. Scar, Cleo- definitely Cleo, because she was the first one to come over, and she was not happy.

Etho didn’t know what he’d been expecting when Bdubs told him a friend was coming over. Maybe he was imagining Bdubs 2, or something like that, someone kind and safe and overall lovely and not a massive red-headed spitfire, aggressively assertive in the ways Bdubs certainly was not. One look at her dark green eyes was enough to activate Etho’s fight or flight response, and that is exactly what he did. Run, that is. To Bdubs’s room, which he didn’t typically visit too often (he slept on the couch and/or floor), but it seemed like a very secure place to hide.

“He knows he’s in trouble,” Cleo said staunchly, Bdubs immediately stuttering to Etho’s defense.

“He is not in trouble! He’s been a perfectly lovely guest, no problems at all, be gentle, won’t you? You can see he’s not.. It's almost like he’s a little feral, like he was raised by some very distinguished English-speaking bunny rabbits. Be nice.”

Cleo scoffed. “I haven’t done anything. He ran away because I could say a word.”

“He’s not in trouble!”

“You asked for my help getting him out of here. You haven’t been able to move him for two weeks! He’s completely taken advantage of the situation, and you’re too nice to tell it to him how it is.”

“But where will he go once he’s gone? What if he gets hit by a car or scooped up by a hawk never to be seen again?”

“He’s a grown ass man, not a rabbit. Why are you even trying to convince me to stop, you’re the one who doesn’t want him here.”

“That’s- it’s more complicated than that.”

“ ‘There’s a homeless man squatting in my apartment and I don’t know what to do!’ That is what you said. I told you I could help you, and you said yes please Cleo help he won’t leave I can’t get him to leave.”

“But I- I thought you could get to know him first! We could all sit down and have some tea and discuss- I don’t know! Life! He’s so odd, a really interesting fella, you might really like him!”

“Bdubs.”

“Yes, Cleo?”

“I am not adopting your homeless man.”

“Whoa whoa whoa whoa! I never said anything about adoption! I just thought we could hang out, hold hands- he really likes to hold hands, he might like you! Wait here, wait here-“ Etho heard rapid footsteps over an annoyed groan from Cleo, before the door to Bdubs’ room was slowly opened, Bdubs creeping in and over to the other side of the bed where Etho was crouching.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he said, sitting with his legs crossed to get on Etho’s level, “That’s my friend, she’s not going to hurt you or tell you off or anything.” Given the snippets of conversation Etho caught, he was not so sure. “Can you come out? Let me introduce the two of you properly at least.”

As Bdubs’ very good, 10/10 house guest, Etho wanted to. He wanted to, but the fear was still strong, keeping him rooted; that stranger was so much bigger than him, more than capable of snapping him in half without much more than a dirty look- Etho didn’t want to see them, but more than that, he didn’t want Cleo to see him, see his fear written as clear as day on his face.

Wait. Maybe he could do something about that.

Slowly, carefully, Etho got to his feet, eyeing the comforter on Bdubs’ perfectly made bed with great ambition before ripping the blanket off (ripping- more like struggling intently for a whole minute to pull the entire thing, it was heavy), and putting the whole thing over his head, deeply pleased. Etho had no idea how Bdubs reacted, and honestly, that was ideal. He held out his hand. With some hesitation, Bdubs took it.

“Uh,” Bdubs said, pausing as he guided Etho out the door, “This is Etho.”

“Etho, hm?” Cleo sounded amused, if not a little baffled, but that was okay because Etho couldn’t see their face and they couldn’t see his. “Are you sure you haven’t befriended a blanket, or maybe a ghost?” Etho didn’t catch most of the meaning of that, but it sounded friendly.

“He’s shy.”

“Well hello there Etho, I’m Cleo.”

“Her name is Cleo,” Bdubs amended softly, and though Etho didn’t need the help given the previous context, the gesture struck him kindly.

“Hello,” he said, still nervous, but his newfound power of Blanket lended him a confidence that was making this easier, and he didn’t mind at all when Bdubs sat him down, assumedly next to Cleo, whose weight he could feel on the couch beside him. Etho wasn’t quite sure what to do next, but Bdubs helped him along, providing some background and giving him opportunities to jump in and talk. Which. He didn’t talk very much. But he gave a little input on Bdubs’ plants and the sun! Despite much urging from Bdubs though, they did not hold hands. A little disappointing, maybe, in Etho’s opinion at least, but Cleo wasn’t interested. It would have been nice to solidify such a strong alliance. Cleo didn’t linger though, getting up as soon as they finished their tea.

“Good luck with your homeless person, Bdubs.”

“Wait- wait a minute!” Bdubs got up to follow them, but was rubberbanded back by Etho’s grip on his hand.

Cleo laughed, a good sound, and the front door clicked closed, Bdubs sighing in its wake. Etho wasn’t sure he liked that sound- he didn’t want Bdubs to be disappointed! He had a very nice house and a reliable supply of food!

“That was nice,” Etho said instead, forcing as much contentment into his tone as he could manage.

Bdubs paused for a moment, faltering. “You think so?”

“I think so.”

Bdubs chuckled, and through the blanket Etho was pretty sure he saw Bdubs shake his head, “What am I supposed to do..” Etho didn’t entirely catch the meaning, but Bdubs sounded more amused than anything, a decidedly happier sound.

And that was good. For a long while things were good, at worst manageable, but they were getting better, and every day it felt like Etho was getting more confident, less afraid of the outside world.

Maybe it was lucky Etho hadn’t had something unlucky happen to him for so long. Maybe it was the sun’s way of welcoming him into the family despite their rocky relationship at the start.

While Etho was so unbelievably, unimaginably unlucky that his transformation from mermaid to human had been caught on a damn trail camera, he supposed he might be a little lucky that camera belonged to Scar. It was a matter of pros and cons he supposed; on one hand, Scar and by extension Grian had made an entire mess of themselves in front of Bdubs, nearly outing him in the process, but they also promised they wouldn’t say a word, and while Etho didn’t know how much he could trust Grian, he did trust Scar. The camera could’ve belonged to anyone, someone who might want to skin him alive, someone who might try to find him- he didn’t leave the house much, but he dressed in the same exact thing every day, deviating only slightly, and that made him terrifyingly recognizable. The camera could’ve belonged to someone who would want to hurt Mumbo too, pluck him out of the water or drug him and sell his scales and meat before he had the sense to fight back. Etho had been lucky the first time. But there were no guarantees, not ever.

Mumbo.. Mumbo was surely a mer born of the sun.

Etho wished he’d had a Mumbo back in the deep. Mumbo, who he imagined could get along with anyone. Who was generally friendly, but strong, defensive of his friends and outgoing. Mumbo was massive too, erring on the larger side while Etho tended toward the smaller side, a fact that did Etho zero favors in a social setting. Mumbo didn’t seem like the type of mer to care, though. It didn’t seem like societal norms affected him at all; he wore no clothes or accessories, had no partner’s scale even though he’d have zero trouble pulling just about anyone as far as physical attractiveness goes.

He was a little odd, though. Truly, any mermaid that spent this much time on the surface was a certified freak- it made Etho wonder what Mumbo’s friends back home were like. Surely he had loads, even despite the weeks he spent away from them. Did they miss him? Miss the security of someone so confident in his own skin? Mumbo’s fins did not fall when he saw Etho. Often, he sought Etho out on his own. Not even to translate either, he just.. wanted to be around. Etho found himself pulled from the land where he was watching his phone when Mumbo asked him to come in the water, more easily than anyone else would have been able to manage. Maybe in part this was due to the fact that Mumbo simply did not understand phones or what Etho was waiting for. It did take Mumbo a while to understand things sometimes. Etho didn’t mind.

Etho had started to teach him English. Etho didn’t even know why- he hadn’t wanted to at all! He had expected it to be miserable- it just. Started happening. Mumbo had a lot of questions, and Etho couldn’t deflect everything; honestly, it was just easier to answer bluntly, and that made Mumbo happy, so Etho just started answering more and more, and all of the sudden he was planning lessons. And god it was fun! It was rewarding. Etho couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed so hard when Mumbo managed to call Grian annoying, and he didn’t even have the same impulse to laugh in this form.

The only thing that irked Etho about Mumbo is that he seemed to think Etho couldn’t take care of himself, saying so quite rudely multiple times. Etho didn’t have to eat all of the time, and he was Busy, and Mumbo didn’t understand or care What he was doing, just that he wasn’t eating, but mermaids didn’t even HAVE to eat every day, and he was only taking the fish from Mumbo’s dumb courting pile because Scar wouldn’t want them and it was all going to go to waste!

Mumbo could stand to be a little less nurturing- Etho made the mistake of telling him why his back and scales were a tad red when he’d spent too much time in the sun, and now Etho couldn’t go anywhere without a mother hen telling him to ‘be careful!’ and ‘don’t stay out too long!’ and ‘make sure to stay near the sand where the sun can’t get you!’ (not how that works) and ‘stay under me, I’ll block it for you!’ (sickening. also that didn’t stop Etho from getting burnt).

But mostly, it was okay. It was more than okay a lot of the time, and Etho was lucky. He didn’t get to feel lucky very often. It had been so long since he’d made a new friend. And a friend like this- like the sun- Etho wasn’t sure he’d ever been so close with a mermaid before, and it had only been two weeks!

Two.. two weeks..

…

He missed Bdubs. He really, really missed him. He wanted to go home. Mumbo had come to find him around midday, insistent that Etho take a break and go into the water since he didn’t go this morning; ‘Your scales will dry out,’ and ‘Not enough water is just as bad as too much sun.’

Etho knew that. He knew. But he didn’t want to go in the water. He wanted to go home.

He told Mumbo as much.

Mumbo crept halfway out of the water, sidling unsteadily into the leafy alcove Etho had carved out for himself. It was a tight fit, and truth be told, Etho really didn’t want Mumbo in his space right now, but he stopped short when silently, entirely out of nowhere, Mumbo gently took his hand. Touch that was not restricting, allowed escape if Etho didn’t want it. A soft, sickeningly thoughtful sentiment. Mermaids didn’t hold hands. This gesture was human.

‘Come with me, let me teach you to hunt, just for a little while,’ Mumbo whistled, ‘You’ll go home soon. Distract yourself now.’

Etho knew how to catch fish. It was so annoying when Mumbo insisted he didn’t know how- that was not the reason he wasn’t eating! He certainly didn’t need any help!

But he’d take the out.

Gently, Etho squeezed Mumbo’s hand. ‘Okay.’

He’d listen to Mumbo’s gratuitous rambling if it kept the sick ache in his chest at bay. He probably should spend an hour or so in the water anyway..

So they went together. Etho did not let go of Mumbo’s hand, inconvenient for fishing, but extraordinarily entertaining watching Mumbo try and explain to him why they couldn’t hunt like this, Etho pretending simply not to understand. The outing was generally amusing, a suitable revenge for Mumbo’s treating him like a child.

And then Etho started to drown.