#i strangely never became super fixated on it

[parab0mb]

Horn-Headed Companions!! 🤘

~~

So, way back in the distant year of 2020 I doodled several characters from indie games I was playing at the time, which included my first ever drawing of Lea from Crosscode as well as the Ghost from Hollow Knight, the latter of whom is giving Lea some much needed support regarding her unconventional headgear.

Well, I decided to revisit their encounter, and it would appear that Lea has since embraced her horned headpiece, meaning the two antennaed allies can now confidently team up to take down... someone (idk. you I guess. 😈)

Not to brag but I am genuine happy with how this turned out; got a bit lazy with some of the shading/lighting, but otherwise I put in the effort to make this one look extra nice and I think it shows 😊 (it's certainly a notable improvement over the original for sure).

Oh, and of course, a little bonus sketch:

[yan-randomfandom]

i love your writings sm!! It's literally so good i keep coming back to see if you've updated udgshsj 😔😔 💖💖

This might be kinda a weird idea but I want to share this idea of yandere robot ford &/or stanley-

Here's a small drabble

So so reader's like a researcher/mechanic or smth similar to that, and one day they found this strange robot their backbyard and they see that the robot's conditions are not too damaged and it look like its intended to look like a human, reader became intrigued so they took it back inside and decided to repair it. They saw that the robot's label spelling out "ST4NF0R5/ST4NL33". it took days for them to try reactive the robot.. one night reader slept on their desk, and suddenly light appears on the robot's eyes and as he scanned the environment, his eyes landed on your sleeping figure.

i'd love to see your interpretation of this if it isn't too weird !!! Can be HC's or small scenario, preferably romantic but it's up to you!! 🥹🥹

Tysm for your time i hope you have a great day!! 💗

p.s can i be 🪴 anon?

Yandere!Robot!Pines x GN!Reader

a/n: thank you 🪴 anon!! i love the lil robot idea you have, very interesting 👀 I also decided to continue your drabble, which is super well-written btw 😭

Also we won't have a specific twin here, but he'll be called Stan. The first syllable Reader nicknames for. But you can imagine any Stan!

🤖 ;

You wave your hand repeatedly in front of the robot's face.

No response. How strange.

The reports indicated recent activity. His motherboard and circuits were slightly warm, which was unusual for decommissioned robots, and some motors even seemed out of place.

You were supposed to run tests today to see if the robot was still functioning, but it seems that it was ahead of itself.

It didn't make anything less confusing, though. Did it turn on while you were sleeping? Why isn't it reacting now?

With a defeated sigh, you lean back in your chair, loosely chalking the situation up to a faulty powerhouse. Guess you're just too good at fixing stuff. You'll have to observe it more later.

For now, you should really eat breakfast—you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. A bit too fixated on the robot you found.

You placed its cracked glasses back on, your eyes lingering over him.

No further signs of movement; he remained still. You're keeping an eye on this one, because right now, you're slightly paranoid he might explode on you.

Oh, well. There's plenty of time.

You headed to the kitchen and grabbed your usual jar, your fingers wrapping around the lid.

A grunt left your lips. A bit tighter than what you're used to.

You tried to open it again, this time having your hand underneath your shirt.

Dang.

Suddenly, the jar was taken from you and, with ease, got popped open by a large hand.

Your jaw dropped.

The robot you had been fixing for the last couple days stood in front of you—no support, and no external control.

Stan placed the jar on your counter, his mechanical eyes locking onto yours. His stare felt almost reserved, calculating.

You merely stood there in disbelief for the next few seconds.

📝 —

"This is amazing! I didn't think you'd be active so soon," you rambled, scrambling around the room for your notebook. "Just give me a moment. Where did I put that darn thing..."

Stan quietly watched you. His eyes tracked your every movement, never leaving you for a second.

"Found it!" you chirped, holding the notebook triumphantly in one hand. You walked over to the robot, gesturing toward the chair behind him.

"Please, take a seat! You might not be, uh, oof—"

Instead, you found yourself gently pushed down into the chair. He looked down at you, his gaze lingering, before stepping away. That was an act of service, you noted. You cleared your throat.

"...And that brings me to my first question!" You uncapped your pen, positioning the tip on your notebook.

"What is your purpose?"

Stan paused, seemingly processing your words. You'd never actually heard him speak before so you're a little on the edge of your seat.

"...As an artificial intelligence," he started. You almost clicked your tongue at his voice. It was gruff, perhaps a feature, but either way, you could tell it lacked a stable voicebox.

"I provide day-to-day assistance and companionship," he continued, blinking robotically. Stan didn't say anything more after that.

"A companion, huh," you hummed, jotting down your newfound discoveries.

You assumed that his creator must have been incredibly lonely if they had to resort to building robots. Not that you're judging them; after all, you understood the feeling of being an outcast from society. If you had to dig deeper into Stan's appearance, his design looked oddly specific. Maybe he was based on a real person—?

"You are not my creator."

Your hand stopped writing.

"...Oh, shoot," you gasped, standing from your chair. "You're right. I haven't even introduced myself!"

He stared down at you, his height suddenly feeling like it was looming over you. You swallowed the lump of your throat before continuing.

"I'm—"

"You are not my creator," he repeated. "But you fixed me. Why?"

"Well... I—"

Stan purred within his robotic body. "I suppose it doesn't matter. My creator dismantled me, and I must make sure you don't do the same."

His large hands gripped you by your sides. You panicked, your heart rate increasing. He must have noticed.

"Do not worry. I am merely fulfilling my purpose."

bonus draft:

You grinned, letting Stan take your laundry basket.

"Aw, geez, I had it," you snickered, crossing your arms. You watched him put the clothes one by one for drying.

"It is more efficient this way," he replied as he continued to his task.

this was supposed to be longer but yeeaaahh

[cordialcorvidae]

I feel like every ghost (aside from ones who have been body jacked like Maddie) died in a really bizzare way and had some kind of emotional distress at the same time. The fire for Janet and Mr. Martin, not knowing the full circumstances but taking the possible clue that Janet started it, meaning she was certainly in emotional turmoil and his remark about not paying attention was what got me thinking about this. Next Rhonda is rather obvious as to why her emotions tied her to unlife. Dawn just an immense amount of sorrow, shame, and betrayal before she died. She ended up continuously isolated and mocked in death too, until Maddie granted her kindness. Mina is really fixated on safety and her death is likely because of neglectful practices, she is fixated on it never happening again, honestly I saw it less as anger and more so similar to how I would feel as an elder sibling. Protective. Wally is an odd one, because he didn't remember his death aside from the fact it happened. I feel like it was his devotion to his mom, and lack of ever finding out who he really is. His loyal nature became tied to Mr. Martin and now Maddy. Charley was breaking down over being outed and was angry at Emilio, then sudden freak unexpected death and he's stuck. He got closure with Emilio, but im certain his fears and regret over not just being himself hold him back. I definitely need to learn more about the band kids, but I think the dying as a group and not even realizing it holds them all there. Quinn breaking out of the loop is likely step one to her understanding her life and death, eventually moving on. Now having analyzed the known ghost deaths I'm really trying to solve the more unknown ones. Yuri is clearly disassociating. He spent a couple decades pretending to loop and be Russian. He also seems to assume there is nothing beyond what he has, or it might be worse. Genuinely dying in the green house is so strange? What could have happened? Was it not so much an accident, was he intending to end things and escape? Instead being trapped eternally? Or maybe again freak accident like everyone else? The other death zones seem to be the gym, garage, and a bathroom??? I definitely need more information on these spirits and whether or not they're looped. Any way super long ranting over. Would love for people to add to this.

[cultkinkcoven]

Last night

He (Lucifer) met me in some kind of forest. Not super dense, just some woody path. It reminded me of Big Hill Springs.

We were walking for quite a while, me just following him. We were holding hands.

And as we were walking he kind of just said, “I miss you, y’know.”

And I was like hm? Im right here?

“I think that Gods yearn more than humans do, Shi.”

I was still confused. He brought me into this section that was denser forest, little light poking through the trees.

“I have never been capable of being a distant God. I have always failed. Every time. But there are so many others like me, you know. Gods who love to strong and too closely.”

I kind of just let him speak. It seemed like he was monologuing. We kept walking.

“Sometimes I say I love you, and I miss you, and I can see in your mind it is taken as a metaphor of a symbol. Because I am a God, because I am a non- corporal energy, you hesitate to humanize me, to anthro-pathologize me. You don’t think I think about you, or draw you, or write letters about you, or see you in my interactions with others.”

And then he goes quiet for a good moment.

“We all have our favoured creatures. You know, animals, correspondences. Serpents and ravens and black goats and cats, but many of us do favour the human being. I find myself favouring the human being more these days. Imagine being me, high on my thrown for a thousand, ten thousand years. And then, this soft, fleshy, tiny little creature approaches me, challenges me, and splits my heart open. How could I not yearn? No. I’d say the Gods fain apathy and distance to keep their obsessions secret. Or maybe thats just me. I go back to the cosmos, back to work, back to function, and I’m supposed to put you away. So when I return to you, to my lovers, to those people I keep hidden away in my bedroom, there is a sigh, Shi. Your name comes out of me like a sigh. I’d think maybe one quite similar to the one that comes out of you when you return to our altar. A sanctuary. Just a pause, where everything else is secondary. I get to think about your little life, your thoughts, your challenges and victories. And in comparison to everything else, they are so so small. But sometimes the thoughts and ideas you have are so so large and so so powerful and so so massive, that it perplexes me they can come from something so so small.”

We entered into some kind of hidden grove in a cave overgrown with vines. It was stuffed with flowers, roses, lilies, sunflowers. And there was something that looked somewhat like a dog bed but larger, fluffy, soft. Candles softly lit. And letters, hand written, tucked into the thorns and stems of the flowers.

“My mind doesn’t work like yours does. When I fixate on something, a feeling, an idea, I create something. Sometimes a symbol, sometimes a space. Sometimes these spaces just come out of me, and they reveal to me things that I could not previously see. This is one of those little spaces.”

I sat in the bed. “It’s beautiful,” I replied.

“I think I’m addicted to potential,” he continued. “Because when we first met, I was so excited by the possibilities of our work. And as I came to know you, and love you, I became obsessed with all that could be revealed. You took it somewhere most don’t. And we started experiencing new things together. Together. I became so interested in what this could evolve into. I wrote about it, I debated, philosophized about it. And I really really enjoyed having those conversations with myself. You humanized me in a way, brought me closer to whatever it is that makes you human than I previously understood, a cosmic crime. You treated me like a person and a spirit, and my spirit began to think like people do. I started to wonder about meaningless things, like how you smell. Like how you breathe and sweat. And I began missing you, looking forward to seeing you again. And, strangely enough, I started to wonder if that was some sort of defect in me, which is absurd, because I’m perfect. It bothered me a lot, Shi. I think that’s why we started glitching out, I started summoning you unintentionally.”

He sat next to me on the bed, pet me.

“So you know what I did? I went out, went to visit other Gods. I started with the ones we work with most often. Lord Hermes, Prince Cerberus, Lady Aphrodite. And we gossiped. I took on that ancient familiar mask and slithered into their dens asking forbidden questions. Show me the humans you cherish most, the ones you can’t stop thinking about. The ones who will tear you open when they perish. The ones you will commit cosmic crimes for when they perish. Show them to me if they exist. And you know what? They did. ‘Do not hurt me, Lucifer, this is my dearest pet. In all honesty she is my muse, when all is said and done, I think of him, I return to them. My private temple is a home for them. I love them more than law permits.’ And then I ventured elsewhere. I asked the Sun, I asked the Moon, I asked the spirits of water and earth, do you love like this? Have you ever loved a mortal like this? Did it change you? And over and over, I heard it again. “This one, this one. This one is different. This one is for me. I waited 10 thousand years for this one. I only have 76 years. Let me have them. Please.’

I am not a man, Shi. I am a star. A blazing ball of light. I know you know that. And in your mind it may be abstract to think about the idea that the sun or the moon or a star could truly love you. But it’s not abstract at all, Shi. It’s not symbolic or metaphorical. Because the Sun, he is in love. He told me, he whispered it into my ear. The wind, she is in love too, the Gods of Death yearn and weep for mortals, even if they never shed a tear.

And I began to realize once again that I am perfect. Absolutely. You see, my myth has always been somewhat incomplete, love. I’m reactionary, always in flux. I rise only to fall only to rise again endlessly. I am never ever satisfied. I am never at peace. What better then, to soothe the soul of the wanderer than the lover that can only be found in between?

I began to yearn desperately to change too. To be shaped by love, to create in the image of love, isn’t that what Gods do? Can I evolve and continue to write my own myth? Can I do it through you? Can I use you as my pen?“

Hm. I know exactly where this is coming from. We didn’t interact much yesterday, I was busy all day. But I was thinking about him a lot. Very deep and sappy stuff. It must have leaked over on his side. Made him sentimental.

I spoke after a moment, “Love, there would be no fate sweeter to me than becoming a tool and extension of your creation. I want to be the coat that keeps you warm and the ink in your pen with which you write your private letters and stories. And I think the story of the devil, of a shining dazzling star falling in love and rising into change and creation is the greatest story ever written.”

He smiled as I spoke, that sort of smile that is ironic in how gentle and innocent it is.

“Know that Venus is in love with you, Shi,” he whispered, pulling me down deeper into the bed with him. “Loves you, the way you love him. Thinks about you. Yearns to spend time with you. Is always watching over you. Please know that, the star loves you.”

And it devolved into smooching and intimate touches. He was very soppy. And after all that we were both laying naked in that bed, looking around at the scenery. I need to paint it sometime. It was this intimate little hole stuffed with pretty things. I leaned up and plucked one of the letters from the vines. It was a poem. Read something like:

“Oh. He sleeps on his stomach and hurts his neck.

Does he feel funny? I hope it doesn’t hurt.

His skin is the color of cinnamon but it smells like vanilla. That’s misleading.

I like to watch him sleep. I try not to appear in his nightmares. I’ll make him dream of me again.

I thought of him as a fairy once.”

-like? Weirdly disjointed and absurd, some messed up attempt at sentimentalism. It was so interesting to read what little things he actually thinks about.

There was another that was like:

“He prays with his eyes closed because he likes to think about what I look like

I think about what he looks like too.

He deserves explanations for things because he asks questions about them.

I get nervous that he won’t find them, so I try to help him a lot.

Maybe one day he will live closer to the sea.”

???

Idk it was strangely charming and cute.

Like it’s interesting to think he felt ? Strongly about these random thoughts to write them down and keep them.

He’s so weird I love him so much.

“It brings me a very deep satisfaction to know that you are mine, my boy.” He murmured kind of lazily. “Your devotion and love would make you an excellent Catholic baby. And you’re mine. No one else’s, no other God gets to have this prize. It makes me feel great to brag about how you’re mine.”

I smiled. “Do you brag about me?”

And he smiled back. “Often. Though I don’t speak, I don’t have to. They see you with me. They watch with horror to discover that the devil has the opportunity to comfort himself with something so sweet. I don’t deserve it, at least they don’t think so. That’s what makes it all the more satisfying.”

I curled up to him. “It’s satisfying to me too, that I’m yours and no one else’s. No one else has earned this kind of devotion from me. You are the only one who is worthy.”

And he hummed like the words themselves were pleasurable. And whispered, “keep going.”

Yes, keep going. Tell him how great he is.

“Your light shines the brightest, penetrates me the deepest. O, Lucifer, how I adore you.”

And he squeezed me, cuddled me closer. Seemed to almost drift into a cozy slumber using my words as blankets.

“I love you, Shi, my boy. I love you.”

Aw. I love you too Lucifer, my star. I love you.

[aloesarchives]

Love and Tenacity (Tokyo Revenger One-shot)

Warning: Blood, Spoiler Warning, Angst, Swearing, Violence, Alternative Canon Divergence, Details of injuries, Mentions of Character Deaths, Lots of crying, The author(me) being an annoying narrator, Truck-kun obliterating Kisaki, Inaccurate medical information, Plot armor, super long fic, Mentions of starting a family

Series: Tokyo Revengers

Word Count: 7.2k words

Pairing: Manjiro “Mikey” Sano x Fem!Reader(Romantic), Takamichi x Fem!Reader(Platonic/Best Friends)

Pronouns: She/Her (Mikey call reader Baby and Princess)

Summary: Instead of Emma getting hit by Kisaki, you take the fall for her.

(A/N: This fic could’ve been way shorter then it needs to be but I had to word vomit a lot. Will edit this later. I actually have been planning to write this type of fic for a year now but never started it until like a weeks ago. Sorry for the inconsistent updates!)

[Not proofread! 7:19pmCST 11/29/2023]

As always, please enjoy!

The slight ringing in your ears had dulled out everything around you.

Your eyes were fixated on the sky, not a single cloud could be seen above. Like the gates were wide open for you to enter. No obstacles, no stairs, nothing between you and the endless cerulean sea that never failed to look beautiful every time.

The faint ringing created this humming effect, drowning out all and any noise. It was strange, it was almost comforting in a way you felt a sense of peace.

Your consciousness becomes like the ocean’s tide, rising and falling as time slows down. With your breathing becoming shallow with each passing second, you wondered if what you did would really change anything. What you did could really make a difference that changes everything forever. Takamichi is the only one that can time leap back and forth. Only he knows what you did affected the future. Yet were you able to live and see that reality yourself? Be alive and Takamichi telling you yourself?

Who knows, you wonder.

Face remained parallel with the sky and consciousness became faint, you were completely fazed out of reality. So out of it that you see two figures hovering over you. You can faintly hear bits and pieces of what they are saying, their voices muffled because your consciousness started to slide down the slope.

With blurry vision, you can make out the silhouettes of Emma and Takamichi. Emma, with big beads of tears in her eyes, has her hands covering her mouth to suppress her sobs. Her body shakes as she continues to cry, continuously shouting out your name. Takamichi isn’t any different. Panic and desperation was written all over him with his endless waterfall of tears. As he is hunched over your body, Takamichi continuously pleads for you to stay awake. 

To stay with them. 

You didn’t want to go, you wanted to stay with them. But your head throbbed and the aching feeling taking over your body, forming a response was something your body couldn’t do. Even blinking was hard because closing your eyes was tempting to enter eternal darkness forever.

As your two friends were desperate to save you and keep you leaving forever, your thoughts drift to Mikey and how he was dealing with all of this. Mikey has been through a lot. He lost so much and you have been there for him all the time.

Maybe Mikey was able to sort things out with Izana, or at least get some things across. You only hoped it wouldn’t be the start of leading him down a dark path.

[~~Flashback~~]

The cold winter air nipped at your lips as you made your way to meet Takamichi at the nearby park.

After the events of Bloody Halloween and Christmas Showdown, you wanted to know everything about Takamichi’s plan. You knew there was no way a junior high kid could have that much knowledge. 

There was something about him that made you want to know more about him. Prior to this, you have never met Hangaki Takamichi nor heard of him. You only ran into him when you accompanied Draken and Mikey when Kiyomasa was beating him up. Afterwards, Takamichi became this constant presence everywhere. He fought with the Toman gang when he wasn’t even a member, even saving them multiple times in the gang brawls.

This kid didn’t grow up with any of you guys yet he’s fighting for them like he’s known them for years. He was so persistent and had this conviction unlike any other person you have seen before in your life. You have to admit, Takamitchy wasn’t the strongest, smartest, or a good fighter for that matter. Yet he still goes in no matter what. He knows he’s going to lose but he still fights anyway.

Why?

You wanted that question answered by the boy himself so you asked him to meet up. He didn’t mind but he was concerned about what Mikey would think.

“Trust me, don’t worry about it. Mikey isn’t like that type of person. As long as I tell him the who, where, when, he won’t make a big deal out of it. Plus he’s not worried about you, Takamitchy.”

Is what you said to him on Friday before going home. It’s Saturday and Takamitchy was waiting for you on one of the swingsets. The anxiety was gnawing at him. Should he tell you why he’s really doing all of this? How would you react to it? 

Would you even believe him?

The chains from the swings clinked at his grip. He was so lost in thought that he didn’t know you had already arrived. Takamitchy jerked his head up at the sound of your footsteps. You greeted him and sat on the empty swing next to him. There was a small silence that fell upon the two of you. You couldn’t blame Takamitchy for being reluctant to talk. I mean, you literally pried at him to tell you his real intentions. And to be honest, the way you did it almost made Takamitchy piss his pants. 

It was like that for a moment before Takamitchy stops moving his swing and looks at you.

“Would you believe even if what I’m telling you is true?”

Caught off guard, you looked at Takamitchy with wide eyes before your signature smile made an appearance on your lips.

“I mean, I have to at this point. I’ve never seen anyone so devoted to fight and save even though they’re not powerful. You never purposely lied to them so you wouldn’t lie to me, right Takamitchy?”

Shaking his head, he looks at you with absolute seriousness.

“No, I don’t want to. The things I’m doing aren’t even for me really but they ended up involving everyone. I need to do this because I have to!”

“ *hums* Then tell me about it, Takamitchy.” 

With that, Takamitchy tells you everything about what he’s doing. How, in the future, the consistent deaths of Hana and his friends have haunted him relentlessly. That he has the ability to travel back in time to certain years depending on how much time has passed. The only reason why he got himself involved with Toman was because Hana’s death was linked to the gang. That there were futures where Draken was either dead or on death row, how some of the other members were dead in one. That one person was behind everything that kept creating such bleak futures: Kisaki Tetta.

As you listened and asked for clarification with what Takamitchy was saying, you couldn’t help but feel sympathetic, astonished, and even heartbroken. Astonished in Takamitchy doing all of this and having the willpower to keep going. But you also felt heartbroken and sympathetic because he had to witness the people his friends and the love of his life die right in front of him. You don’t blame him at all for doing what he had to do, and frankly you would do the same if it meant saving the ones you care about.

“And that’s pretty much it, (Y/N). I know it sounds crazy but it’s all true.”

“Isn’t there anyone else, Takamitchy?”

He looked at you quizzically, legitimately not understanding your lack of disbelief of what he was telling you. Instead, you were still questioning him like it was normal.

“What do you mean by that, (Y/N)?”

“As in, who else did you not see in your future timelines? You said that in other timelines, Ken-chin was dead or on death row. Other timelines, everyone else was dead. I feel like we’re missing something here. Like there has to be someone else that plays a role in the downward spiral of Mikey.”

“(Y/N), I don’t see what you’re trying to get at.”

“Takamitchy, think about it. From what you have told me, Mikey goes down this dark path because he loses the people closest in life. Shinichiro, Baji, Draken, what if there’s someone else we are not including. Like what about Emma? Do you know if she’s in the future?”

It took a few seconds to process what you just said, more so the last part. He would have retorted if it weren’t for the realization to hit him.

“(Y-Y/N), you’re not saying Emma dies, are you?”

“Takamitchy, look, I’m no detective. But think about it. If you said everyone is somewhat dead in the future, wouldn’t that include her too? Only you have been to the future, but how come you didn’t question it? You didn’t see her around when you went back to the future at all?”

“I-I…(Y/N)...”

Even though he didn’t give you an answer, his reaction and the fact his eyes are filled with slight panic gave you one. But with this revelation, it meant that Mikey was inevitably going to lose another loved one, specifically his sister. Once that fact settled in for you, your heart sank to the bottom of your soul. Heartache and agony took over your body, if Takamitchy couldn’t save Emma this time, it would guarantee that Mikey would fall into depravity. 

‘Mikey…’

You couldn’t let that happen. No, you just can’t. You loved Mikey so much that you don’t know what to do if you lost him. Just thinking about the future versions of Mikey from Takamichi’s recounts made you nauseous and break out into a cold sweat.

You know that Takamichi can’t do this all on his own. His mission will need all the help that he can get, and you were on board with it. Fuck, you do anything for Mikey and your friends.

“Then we gotta do this, Takamitchy. I may not be strong or anything but I wanna help you with this. You have my full support.”

Takamichi nods his head with his classic determined look that you’ve grown to admire. Though this meeting happened before Izana was added into the picture. Takamichi’s resolve to continue on grew more since you gave him reassurance of your help. And perhaps, this meeting only made your friendship stronger.

[~~Flashback Ends~~]

You knew you had to protect and save Emma of a fate that would lead to her premature death. You were well aware how much Emma meant to Mikey, and her dying meant Mikey losing the last family member that cared for him. 

Plus Emma didn’t deserve such a fate. She wasn’t involved in the gang at all other than being the little sister of Mikey. But even then, this wasn’t outspoken knowledge and kept hidden except for those in their close circle. To get her caught up in all of these was wrong and scumbag-level. So it was no surprise when Mikey opened up to you about Izana and their shared history together. 

But to know that Izana was trying to get Mikey to fight him by any means necessary, you expected foul play to happen. Yet, not where they were going to target someone and get them killed. It was sickening and cruel for this to happen, even in gangs filled with teenagers who were too chicken to even attempt this. But what happened to Pah’s friend and his girlfriend, it could happen.

All the more reasons to keep a close eye on Emma. But there was another reason why you couldn’t let her die. One time, Mikey took you out on his motorcycle through the city. He took you by the ocean as he zoomed and weaved through the streets of Tokyo. As he stopped and parked his bike, you and Mikey were chilling under the night sky while snacking on freshly made Taiyaki. As the two of you were talking, he mentions how he wants Emma to have a nice domestic life with Draken. You question him further and he just states:

“They care about each other. Emma loves Draken, and Draken cares deeply for Emma. It would make sense, and I would be fine with it.”

You never expected Mikey to say something like that. It’s not like he doesn’t have a way with words, it’s more of he never put much thought into it unless it was serious. So for him to say something like this really changed your perspective. Mikey does seem like a selfish and childish person, but in reality he does care for his friends and siblings. He doesn’t like being publicly vulnerable about these things. Even though Emma is his half-sister, he still loves her regardless. Since Shinichiro is gone, it’s just the two of them. So they have a very close sibling relationship.

All the more reason why Emma shouldn’t be endangered, she was a nice girl that deserves to live her life.

She was the reason why you and Mikey are together. So her dying would impossibly crush your heart and soul. You didn’t know how to live with that, more so with trying to be there for Mikey because he tends to push people away.  But you opt to sacrifice yourself in place of Emma. While not a part of the gang, you have been at their meetings and helped them with some of their brawls. So your hands are dirty compared to Emma’s.

Gosh, you’re not just doing this for a dear friend. But you’re also doing this for the boy you loved so dearly and for years. You just hoped the outcome would guarantee a better future for everyone that’s still alive.

You didn’t regret this at all because all you wished for was Mikey to be happy too.

—————————————————————————

It just happened so fast.

Takamichi, Emma, and you were exiting out of the cemetery to grab some drinks in a nearby machine. As the three of you were waiting for Mikey and Inupi to be done talking to Izana, a small humming sound could be heard in the distance. At first, you guys thought it was just the buildings and paid no attention to it. However, it suddenly got louder and the three of you turned your heads towards the street. Out of nowhere, there was a motorcycle speeding and b-lining it down the street towards you three. However, you noticed someone holding a baseball bat while riding the cycle. 

Perhaps it was pure instinct or intuition, but seeing someone holding a bat in the air while being a passenger of a vehicle isn’t a good sign. Suddenly, you shouted for Takamichi to duck while you immediately pulled Emma in front of you and used yourself as a shield. Unfortunately, your body didn’t take the hit but your head certainly did. The metallic ring of the bat and the silence followed by that was absolutely sickening. 

It was barely thirty seconds and so many things had happened. Once the motorcycle had zoomed off, Takamichi turned around and looked horrified. Though Emma was alive, she was hunched over you as she was shaking your body and calling your name. Once the brief shock wore off, Takamichi dashed over and kneeled over you as Emma stood up. She stared frightened as one of her hands had your blood on it. The comotion had caused Mikey and Inupi to come out of the cemetery to find out what was going on. As Izana left quietly, Inupi and Mikey were in a state of shock with the scene in front of them. Emma and Takamichi were crying as Takamichi kept shaking your unmoving body which laid on the asphalt.

Takamichi was trying to explain to Mikey that Kisaki did this to you but his hiccups from his sobs blocked his words. But honestly, even if Takamichi told him, he probably wouldn’t listen because all he cared about was you going to the hospital and being alive. Mikey wasted no time, he told Takamichi to place you on his back so he can run to the hospital with you. Emma wanted to go with them too but Mikey told her only he and Takamichi should go because they would be faster. Plus he told Emma that her shoes wouldn’t allow her to run and she could get hurt while running. Inupi butts in and says he’ll take care of Emma while the two of them take care of you.

The two took off as Mikey and Takamichi sprinted towards the hospital. As they take the side streets and alleyways, the rapid movement causes you to wake up for a bit. Your vision was blurry and your whole body ached, but you recognized that it was Mikey that was carrying you.

“M-Mikey… Is that you?”

Mikey doesn’t pause for a moment but he instantly softens up when he hears you speak.

“Yeah… It’s me, Baby… Don’t worry, you’re going to be okay… Takamitchy is also with us too…”

You shifted your head on Mikey’s shoulder to face Takamichi who’s running alongside him. He doesn’t smile when he sees your eyes on him but you could see the hopefulness in his. You slowly smile at Takamichi as you shift your head once more so your forehead rests on top of Mikey’s shoulder blade.

“Mikey… I don’t think my eyes are working… And my body is hurting all over that it’s hard to move around…”

“I know I know, (Y/N)-chan… Just a little longer… Please… We’re almost there… Just hang on a little more…”

Because of your injury, you couldn’t register what Mikey was saying to you but you just kept smiling. Something that made Takamichi afraid. With your forehead still pressed against him, you still try to talk the best you can.

“Mikey… Tell Emma it’s not her fault… I did this to myself… Tell Draken and the rest they have been great friends, I l-love them like brothers… And Takamichi-kun, please tell Hana that… that she’s a wonderful friend and I appreciate her a lot. Please take… good care… of her… I think you did it right t-this time… It’s up to you now…”

As you kept talking, Mikey involuntarily picked up his pace causing Takamichi to fall behind for a bit. They were so close to the hospital. If you would hold out a little longer, you would be okay.

You would be, right?

Because of the running, Takamichi wouldn’t see it but you felt it from your spaced out consciousness. Mikey was shaking, his whole body was shaking uncontrollably. It was something Mikey couldn’t admit but he was terrified. Terrified that you, the love of his love, the moon to his stars in the night sky, his best friend, would die and be lost from him forever. No, this can’t happen. You’re strong, stronger than most people. You’re one of the strongest people Mikey knows. You couldn’t go down without a fight. Though your will was strong, Mikey’s denial delusions were stronger. He keeps telling himself that you will be okay and make it out alive. That if he gets you to the hospital, it’s fine. But from what you said, the fear of your death grew stronger in him every step he took to save you. There was nothing more terrifying than for someone to see their beloved die right in front of their eyes. Takamichi knew this all too well seeing Hana die right in front of him.

For him to see Mikey go through the same thing was heartbreaking because he was supposed to prevent this from happening. Yet he indirectly caused it to happen by telling you of his time travel ability and the future timelines he witnessed. He becomes guilt-ridden as he played a role in your death, and he’ll suffer the consequences. Takamichi notices the side street that they were on and they were five minutes away from the hospital. As Takamichi caught up with Mikey, your voice became more hoarse and quiet. This wasn’t good. Mikey wished you kept quiet so you could save your strength.

“M-Mikey… You need to start to take… better care of yourself… You can’t just rely on Kenny and Em to do it…”

“(Y/N), princess, what are you talking about? What about you, you take care of me too, don’t you?”

“Yy-yeah… But I think not anymore…”

“(Y-Y/N)-chan, please… You know… I had a dream where it’s just you and me… We have our own place with our own little family… Once you put the little ones to sleep… We hangout with Ken-chin, Takamitchy-kun, Mitsuya, and everyone at our home… We get to eat and drink all the sake we want as you scold me to quiet down because I would wake up the kids… And everyone would be laughing and having a good time as you punk me around…”

You don’t respond right away, which scared Mikey for a bit, but you hummed and spoke up once more.

“That’s such… a nice dream… Mikey…”

“Yeah, baby, I think about it often. I could only imagine that life with you, I wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t with you… So (Y/N), please…”

“Manjiro-kun…?”

Oh god, please don’t…

“Yes, (Y/N)...?”

“I love you…”

They were legitimately right in front of the hospital when your body goes slack against Mikey's body. They were right there, if only they were faster.

After that, everything was a blur. Inupi dropped off Emma at the hospital before driving back to Toman’s meeting spot. Not long after, Draken then Hana arrived. The doctor that had his staff take you in didn’t come back out yet. As Takamichi filled them in, the minutes felt like hours. Wondering what condition you’re in, or whether or not you’re still with them or not. Hana was trying to comfort Emma who was sobbing, clearly traumatized from what had happened. Draken stands and stares at the closed ICU doors, and Takamichi stands by the chairs waiting for your news. Meanwhile, Mikey’s seating and is just a shell of himself. His eyes were void of any light and his head hung low to hide his depressive face. He was numb, he doesn’t feel anything nor couldn’t even if he wanted to. The thought of losing you never occurred to him. He always reassured you that he was the strongest, that he could protect you from anyone and anything that dared to harm you. He found out the hard way what happens when he can’t. This is what will happen to you when he’s not careful with you. 

After a few hours, the doctor came out and everyone but Mikey stood up and went over to hear your condition. Are you okay? Are you even still alive? They needed to know.

“ The surgery was a success. Your friend is alive because you brought her in within 15 minutes of what I assume was the accident that caused it.”

The friends wanted to cheer and celebrate making it out alive. But with the weight of the doctor’s eyes, it tells a different story. So all they can do is release a sigh of relief.

“However, her injury did cause some bleeding. I don’t know what object hit her, the force of the object caused her skull to have a depression fracture. That fracture created small fragments where some stabbed her outer brain layer that caused the bleeding. Though her skull will heal naturally, the force of the blunt trauma caused her to have a severe concussion. With that, after the operation, she was placed in a medically-induced coma. We believe this is the best choice for her recovery.”

“Do you know when she will wake up?” Takamichi hesitantly asked.

“I can’t say for sure. The coma is meant to help her body recover and reset her body from what has happened. Even though we placed her under, it’s not strong and she can wake up if her brain allows her to. It could be at least 12 hours or more when she wakes up though.”

The doctor excuses himself as a nurse tells them that only two people at a time can see you. Hana and Emma were the first to go. Draken decided while the girls were seeing you, to ask Mikey to come outside to have a little talk.

But it was anything but one.

There, Draken was laying it on Mikey, whaling him in the face each time. And while Mikey was allowing the blows to come. No flinching or wincing whatsoever. It was like Mikey had shut down completely. Takemitchi was trying to hold back Draken but got shocked in the face in doing so. It was a chaotic scene in the parking lot. Draken was beating the daylights out of Mikey while Takamichi was trying to split them up and ended up bowing his head on the floor. Takamichi apologized profusely to Draken because he was technically there when you got hit so he was responsible for your condition. He hadn’t realized it but Draken was crying as he raised his fist to punch Mikey again. Yet the punch never connected. He stood there, letting his tears freely fall with his lip slightly quivering to keep his sobbing from spilling out. 

“We created Toman to protect our friends, Mikey! But Pah is in jail! Kazutora is in Jail! Baji’s now dead! And (Y/N)–! She’s… She’s in a coma! Who knows when she will wake up! Or if she will wake up… What the hell is the point of creating this gang if we can't protect our family!!!”

Draken was beyond frustrated and terrified. Frustrated as within a year their friends are getting hurt or being sent away to jail. Frustrated that he couldn’t be there to protect his friends when things like this happened. He was also terrified that he was losing them so fast. Being plucked away like they were petals on a flower. The girls were done and were going to retrieve the boys for their turn. When they didn't see them in the waiting room, however, they searched around to come out to the parking lot after hearing Draken’s yelling. They only saw the aftermath but from the bruises on Mikey’s face, Takamichi’s tears, and Draken heaving, they pieced it together. Draken made way to where you were with Takamichi hot on his tail.

It was strange to see you like this. There you laid, on the hospital bed hooked onto a heart monitor and multiple IV drips. You looked so peaceful and serene where you slept, unaware of the chaos that will ensue soon. Maybe it was a good thing that you were like this, of what is to come in the showdown between Tenjuku and Toman. But reality was always uncertain, Takamichi knew this. Things may not go his plan but he’s damn sure that he will try his best.

Draken had a blank expression but his tears kept coming. He has known you as long as he has known Mikey. You and him were practically siblings, always butting heads but backing each other when the other needed help. He always looked out for you in ways you were unaware of because you always had the tendency to care for them before yourself. And now he has seen how your kind and loving heart can be seen as a weakness, people taking advantage of it because they knew you would fight for everyone before you could save yourself.

Draken kept staring while Takamichi knew he had to do it. It was up to him now to lead Toman against Tenjuku as both their commander and vice-commander are currently out of commission. Takamichi had talked with Hana and Emma before leaving. He now had a new motive to keep fight on as this battle wasn’t just for Toman:

This fight is for you too.

—————————————————————————

After rallying any of the remaining Toman members, Takamichi faces off against Tenjuku that night. 

Fuck, it was hard.

Not only being outnumbered by many, but they were down their strongest members. With Mitsuya and Smiley injured and Mikey and Draken not showing up, it seemed like the fight was already decided. But with Takamichi leading, Toman still kept on fighting, being powered by his dauntless spirit. Angry unlocked his sleeping blue orge powers and knocked down three of Tenjuku’s executives with two of them being the Hataini Brothers. Yet they still had one challenge to face.

Izana Kurokawa, the leader of Tenjuku himself.

Like any last boss fight, he was strong. He knocked down all of Toman’s best members, and he seemed unstoppable. Takamichi was getting absolutely rocked by Kakucho. Blood sept out of his mouth and nose, he was hurting all over and knew he had some broken bones, but he didn’t care. Chifuyuu tried to convince him that Toman would never win this fight, they are outnumbered and too injured to carry on. But Takamichi didn’t care about that. His conviction shone brighter than ever that night. His determination, his tenacity, was unwavering when Kisaki aimed his gun point blank at Takamichi’s face. He knew if Toman loses tonight, Tenjuku and Kisaki would win. He would never give it to them no matter what because he was so close to fixing the timeline, he would be able to save everyone. He is not letting that chance slip through, not when he can do it right now.

In the face of Kisaki aiming straight at his forehead, Takamichi wasn’t afraid. He wasn’t afraid of him, nor of Tenjuku, nor of anyone. He wasn’t afraid of you dying anymore because you wouldn’t die on him, die on your friends when they needed you.

That you wouldn’t die on Mikey because you knew he would be lost and devastated without you.

You may not be a leader or one of their strongest, but you were still a part of Toman for a reason. You were a fighter. Fighting for those who can’t fight for themselves, fighting to protect and save your friends, to keep on fighting with such conviction for your family, the Toman gang. Takamichi fully understands why you did what you did and it helped him be fearless against Tenjuku. Provoking and taunting Kisaki in every way he can, even with the gunshot wound to his foot. Takamichi smirked at Kisaki seeing him lose his composure and stood toe to toe with him. In that moment, Toman was fueled by his determination and ignited the spirit of Toman once more. Kisaki trying to save his pride looked down upon Toman for their stupid antics, thinking he’s still on top as the kingpin of everything. That only for Takamichi to give him a well-deserved punch right across his face.

Then Takamichi suddenly stood proudly with his fist up in the air, claiming that he would never give up. Everyone was confused until they followed Takamichi’s line of sight and saw Mikey. Not only that, Draken arrived too with Hina and Emma right behind him. Everyone was beyond shock, Toman for seeing their leaders and Tenjuku seeing Emma alive. They thought Kisaki killed Emma but they guessed wrong since she was standing with them alive and well. It was only then Kisaki realized his mistake, he got you instead of her. Now he knows why Toman is a pain in his side and won’t stay down.

Hina explained to Takamichi that she had to tell them about his time-leaping ability. His mission for a future where all of them lived. How she will die in twelve years time and Takamichi is doing everything he can to save her and everyone else. What she was saying sounded straight out of a movie but it was all true when his desperation and determination was right in front of them. That it was your choice to save Emma from an early death because you knew how much she meant to Draken and Mikey. You wanted to help Takamichi achieve a future where everyone is alive and okay because you loved them so much. 

After Hina told them, Mikey snapped out of his hollow state and walked to where your room was. As the nurse was checking your vitals, she saw him walking towards your window and called him over. Since your condition stabilized, one guest is allowed to see you in your room. As the nurse opened the door for him, Mikey quietly strides to your bedside and stares at you. It may not be an appropriate time but Mikey always thought you looked so beautiful and enthralling no matter what was going on. He just stares a bit more before bending over and placing a small kiss on your forehead.

‘(Y/N), I have to go help Takamichi out. Please wait for me until I help them win. Hold on just a little longer for me.’

He squeezes your hand gently but reassuringly. It was mostly for him to know that you would make it out and wake up for them. As he leaves your room and goes back to Draken, he didn’t see the slight twitch your hand gave when he let go.

Now here he is, with Draken and Toman to aid them in their fight against Tenjuku. Mikey shouldn’t be here but he knew that you would have wanted him here to help Toman then staying with you. As Izana and Mikey battle it out, Takamichi could only watch as they were evenly matched. But as the fight kept going on, Izana started to falter and grew weaker. Mikey was beating him and Izana was slowly losing his mind because of it. In a moment of desperation, Izana snatched Kisaki’s gun and pointed it straight at him. Just like Takamichi, Mikey provoked Izana to shoot him only for Kakucho to smack the gun out of his hand. They argued until a shot was fired and Izana’s face splattered with a bit of blood.

Kisaki had shot Kakucho.

Kisaki was getting annoyed that his master plan was crumbling apart like a sand castle. If he couldn’t use Mikey then he would use Izana. In a fit of rage, Kakucho charges right at Kisaki. Kisaki shot again, this time hitting Izana. But when he tried pulling the trigger again, the gun was jammed and couldn’t fire another shot. Since the gun was useless, Kisaki fell to the ground from the adrenaline rush. The chaos continued to thrive as Tenjuku’s king and his servant laid on the ground, bleeding out. Mucho shouted for an ambulance as everyone remained stunned at what had happened. As the cops and ambulance were coming, everyone was pulling out except for Tenjuku’s executives. As Mikey stares deadly at Kisaki, he looks down at him with such disappointment and disgust for causing all of this… for putting in the hospital.

Before he and Takamichi could approach the bastard, Hanma grabbed Kisaki on his motorcycle and sped off. Takamichi hitches a ride with Draken while Mikey stays with the girls. After crashing, Kisaki was being chased by a determined Takamichi. After duking it out, Kisaki points his gun again at Takamichi. The manipulator was starting to cry out of frustration as Takamichi hit him on the money for why he kept killing Hina in the future. But as always, Takamichi had the upper hand and was able to get Kisaki’s gun and point right back at him. He was so tempted to shoot if it weren’t for Mikey and Hina.

Kisaki used this little distraction to get away but Takamichi was hot on his tail.

“My plan would have been perfect if it wasn't (Y/N) and her virtue signaling! She had what was coming to her instead of letting Emma take the hit! I could have had it all!”

He continues to spout nonsense until he stops in the middle of the crosswalk. He turned back at Takamichi and told him that he was leading him on this whole time; he wasn’t a time leaper.

As Takamichi revels in this new found information, Kisaki gives his shit-eating grin to him before getting slammed by a delivery truck. In a blink of an eye, Kisaki was fatally mangled as he was trying to get back up but his legs were twisted backwards and kneecaps out of place. 

In a flash, Kisaki was dead and that was the end of the battle with Tenjuku. There was only one casualty and that was Kisaki Tetta.

—————————————————————————

It had been two days since you were placed into a coma. Takamichi and everyone came to visit you to see how you were doing. Though you weren’t in any danger, you had not shown any progress of consciousness. While it worried the others, Takamichi and Mikey never lost hope that they would wake up again and come back.

And they were right.

On the third day, Hina and Emma were going to visit you when they were told you were placed in a different room outside of the ICU. Quickly, they made their way to your new room where they found you wide awake. Sipping a capri-sun as you sat up on the bed, turning your head to smile at the teary eyed girls. Emma ran over to you and hugged you tightly, still trying to be careful of your injuries, while Hina grabbed her phone to tell Takamichi the news. Their tears were soon joyed by everyone else as they made their way to the hospital. As Mikey, Takamichi, and Draken practically spirited to your room. As they slid the door open, they were greeted by a crying Emma that was being comforted by you as Hina stands on the other side of your bed talking to you. You didn’t notice them until Mikey whispered out your name, turning your head to smile at them while still holding Emma.

Draken and Takamichi had tears in their eyes. For Draken, you survived and are up back again. For Takamichi, it means that he didn’t fuck it this time. That he was able to save you, Emma, Draken, and Izana from a bleak future. That he finally accomplished what he sought out to do in the very beginning. The closest timeline for Takamichi to give everyone a happy ending. 

He finally did it.

As Hina ushered Emma, Draken, and Takamichi out of the room, it was now just you and Mikey. You can tell he was tired, probably losing sleep on wondering if your condition would get better. As you held out your arms to him, he made haste and hugged you tightly. It was Mikey’s turn to cry as he held you for the first time in three days. His face was buried in your head as his hand held it close to him while his other arm held your upper back. You were rubbing his back and hair softly so he could bask in the reality that you were okay. 

“I was… so scared that I was going to lose you, (Y/N)... That you were going to end up like Shin-ni and Baji…”

“Oh Mikey…”

“ *holds you tighter* I’m sorry I couldn’t be there to protect you… I was supposed to be there with you… I just… Couldn’t imagine my life if you were gone…”

You soften at how vulnerable Mikey was becoming. But you didn’t know the depth of seriousness he had for you until now.

“Well, I’m alive and awake, Mikey. I’m here with you, I’m going anywhere without.”

Mikey sighs, kissing your forehead before placing his on yours with his eyes closed.

“I’m serious about you, princess. I want to be with you forever, I want to have a future with you. A future for us… I need you, (Y/N)... I love you…”

“Oh, I love you too, Majiro-kun… I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

With that, you two sealed the promise with a gentle but loving kiss. You love Mikey and he loves you as well. As you pull away, you hug him again before asking him to let Takamichi talk to you. He goes to get him, not before placing a kiss on your cheek. Takamichi enters the room and you grin ear to ear seeing him as he is happy to see you awake.

“Come on, Takamitchy. You can relax for a bit! You saved everyone!”

“Yeah, but you gave me a heart attack, (Y/N)!! I get why you did what you did but it still doesn’t help that I was constantly thinking about how you were doing!”

“Oh, Takamitchy. I thought I told you to have faith in me! I’m not going down so easily like that! Trust!”

“(Y/N)...”

You drop the peppy and light act and shift towards a solemn one.

“So I heard Kisaki is dead…”

Takamichi nods to confirm your question.

“How did he die? Did you kill him, Takamitchy?”

“I… I actually didn’t…”

You straightened up your posture and stared at him in surprise.

“You didn’t?! Then how—”

“He was struck by a truck at a crosswalk. He died not too long after…”

“Hmmm, I see. At least you didn’t have to get your hands dirty, Takamitchy. I couldn’t imagine you going to jail for his death. I guess even God wanted him dead too so he decided to add some divine intervention into our mix and give us a boost.” You chuckled at the last part. It was a little humorous that Kisaki didn’t die at the hands of either Takamichi or Mikey.  But rather, he died due to being at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe God was tired of Kisaki’s shit and decided to help Takamichi out. Who knows? 

But what matters is you’re alive, Takamichi is alive, everyone is alive. You were able to help him save everyone and now everyone can have a future to look forward to.

“I guess your work is done here then. So are you going back to the future after this visit?”

“Most likely…”

“I understand… Thank you for all your hard work, Takamichi… I appreciate all you have done and look forward to this new future that you have set…”

“Yeah… We’ll see (Y/N)...”

As you and Takamichi hug it out and high five each other, you tell him to bring the rest inside to join you two. Draken was salty that he didn’t get a personal moment like the rest did but you told him it will happen soon enough. After visiting you, Takamichi went back to the future that night. As he shook Naoto’s hand one last time, he firmly believed that he created a better future and timeline this time. 

And he was more than correct.

In this timeline, he is getting married to Hina. Draken and Emma are married and already have a baby. You and Mikey already had your wedding and were planning your next decisions for your two’s future. As Takamichi saw how happy and bright Mikey was towards you, he knew he finally stopped the cycle. With everyone alive, he could be happy and rest with the fact that he achieved the future he wanted. Hina is alive, Draken is alive, Emma is alive, and you and Mikey are alive too. Though he wished he could save Baji and Shinichiro, this still was a good outcome from what happened.

Against all odds, Takamichi was able to accomplish his goal in saving Hina and his friends. Though it may not be perfect, it was enough that his sacrifices weren’t in vain as everyone was alive and happy. All thanks to your help and his efforts. 

Now he can fully rest and live in this future as everything is going to be okay from now on.

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

(A/N: I probably edit this later this week because I still don't know how to make good endings for my fics, lol. Sorry again if this was too long to read!)

Thank you for reading!

[charleemoon]

HELLO HI CHARLIE :) !!! i have SM FUN reading ur essays in the tags and and ur takes they are so real :3 HANNIBAL FANS 5EVER !!! sometimes i go to ur blog and it's like oh!! that's literally the thought i had that i didn't know how to put into words! there it is in words!! ALSO ur ocs have intrigued me... i saw the one post about would ur ocs survive a horror movie or something and i love vincent now !! tell me everything ever about all of them i love ocs sm :3 i have ocs too and i fr get the struggle of "aughhh what if my ocs are offensive and cringe" i was like SOMEONE GETS IT !! sometimes, for me, it feels like i want an excuse to yap on the internet about my ocs even if i'm scared so HERES UR EXCUSE :) if that helps :) i would like to hear about them if u ever feel like tapping! no pressure ofc from any of this in any respect, i just wanted to tell u i'm out here !! & i care ! the only reason i didn't say this before is i'm like irrationally anxious about asking off anon idk why... oops i'm rambling... anyway have a nice day/night etc !! i hope nice things happen for u :)

HELLO ANON!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! oh my gosh thank you !! im so happy leaps into the air so much and leaps more i love words and talking!! obviously. im so often fixated on this idea that i am completely incomprehensible, nothing i say makes any sense and my thoughts are nonsense and inhuman. so it makes me really happy for you to say that !! im really really happy that my thoughts resonate and make sense

DONT. ASK. ME. ABOUT. MY OCS. I CANT EVEN LIKE ITS THERES TOO MUCH I THINK i can never keep myself from rambling.

okay so i have a few individual oc verses.... but im mainly posting about REV (rejuvenation) (the name sucks it all sucks i suck) which has two separate groups. its called that because i basically got really autistic one night and repurposed a bunch of old middle school ocs into new characters and whatever. WHATEVER. theres no real plot to rev, just people trying to figure themselves out and growing up and just. trying to right them like real people i guess

college boys (WORKING TITLE. ITS ALL WORKING ITS JUST WHAT I CALL THEM IT SUCKS) is the group i was talking about!! if you couldnt tell by their names... kicks rock.. they are repurposed from fnaf night guards... screams so loud. when i was 12/13 i was obsessed with them... especially the like very fanonized versions (rebornica mention. shudders) but it was one of those situations where like. you have a bunch of headcanons and personal ideas and then they become so different from the source material that they basically became ocs. i picked them back up around 2022.

i cant even begin to like. fully ramble about them tbh cuz the post will never end and i just need to actually write it all down somewhere in a master post. but i DO have a very poorly maintained toyhouse. (please ignore how ass all the art is im really lazy and only draw on mspaint half the time) most all my oc information is contained in my obsidian files on my pc, but i truly CANNOT post the level of shit in there. its too much

them !!! by order fritz, jeremy, michael, vincent, scott. made by super cool friend @bog-teeth

IM GLAD YOU LIKE VINCENT I LOVE VINCENT. i think he is sooo odd and strange and fun and and !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have a hard time talking about them because he is like an enigma to me. I HAVE A HARD TIME TALKING ABOUT HIM ALSO BECAUSE OF THE EVIL .... he is very traumatized and i like exploring a lot of darker themes and morbid things with rev and i get worried that im. doing it wrong? or disrespectfully. like people would be like thats weird or . ????? i have severe obsessions about it i think im just crazy. i love all of them so so much i really like thinking about them (looks at all the art i havent made and writing ive put off) i love them i swear (they are starving in my basement)

jeremy has a sister hazel and thats a whole other friend group with their own story and BLINKS MY EYELASHES I DONT TALK ABOUT THEM ENOUGH. i think i just get worried that its like. boohoo edgy gay ocs with evil backstory everyone has already seen it all before loser. and then i have to remember that its my oc and i do whatever i want . BUT WHAT IF

anon whoever you are i am kissing your head i am so happy that you sent me an ask and that that you care !!!!!!! i always feel like everything i do is meaningless and uninspired and that i hold no sway or creative influence or. i dont even know. IM SO HAPPY !!!!!!!!!! !

i hope you have such a lovely lovely day or night too ^0^ youve inspired me to work a little harder !! maybe a rev masterpost is in order (or maybe i should write my intro post first . i have things to do)

[crowpocrypha]

The ☆ramblings☆

This is incoherent neurodivergent slop because I had a PTSD episode and my soul is screaming at me to wrote about stims— then it kinda devolved into sad memory lane, so, read at your own risk

TW: Neglect, and implied abuse.

When I'm stressed, *all* of my stims come out in such aggressive force all at once, it's crazy I never noticed growing up.

I do this finger-bouncing thing where I press all my fingertips together and tap them repeatedly, like all together. It's probably one of the stims I only use circumstantially. I have bad anxiety around my stepfather, so I am in constant fidget mode.

When I sit, I sway my whole body side to side, I've always done it, but only recently clocked it as a coping mechanism for my anxiety.

I usually echo sounds I hear internally, making little tunes out of the rhythms of people's vocal mannerisms— i eill repeat *endlessly* and entirely on autopilot. I will do this for the *entirety* of a song, even if i only heard it briefly at a store, like there's constant noise when I'm just idling even in the background of my internal thoughts.

I also can't help but echo when I find things funny, but it's different because I do that *verbally*.

I pick and prod and itch if I'm passively doing things. Sitting still? Not in the question. Never. I always thought it was uncomfortable chairs— it's *not* I will pretzel fold my entire body and say, "perfect."

Anxiety? Pfft, *heat sensitive*. Too warm? Wake up to a freshly baked panic attack!

Oh, and REGRESSIVE COPING MECHANISMS? I really spent all my life thinking it was a choice? I mean, I assumed a LOT of my stims and whatnot were choices because my primary doctor told me throughout my life that I was "too efficient at communicating my needs" to have autism.

Ehem, what she *meant* however was that I was *anxiously* hyper-fixated on my physical health and extremely insecure about sounding stupid because of my household that I became *infatuated* with English super early.

I wore the mask of my mask's mask I swear to god—

I stuttered a LOT and used to hum as a stim, until getting barked at about it once and becoming mostly nonverbal throughout my childhood— not incapable, just, refused. Notable distinction.

My father remembers me as being "so quiet he would have to look for me to make sure I was home" because I'd scamper off and hide if someone was too loud or came too close to my room.

I remember hiding away as I played with toys or only playing in my head. Never part of, but telling the story. Never sharing it aloud, just, silently, to myself.

I tend to overcompensate for that now, with my strange fixation on self-inserts in my writing. Funny how that all works out lol

Never played with other kids, just, hid alone and read, but not really. I'd sit with a book open, diving deep into a daydream I couldn't be shaken out of.

I lived in my head for so long, most of that time is blurry, and when it isn't, it's such a strange, unreal memory.

My living world never felt quite as real as the one in my head.

I was a witness or a victim of it, but I never felt I played a role. Even as a victim, I remember being an observer.

Ah; ramble ramble.. I've been awake too long. OK, sleeptime

[lilacc-the-cat]

Uuuuuuuh so I'm bored and I want to info dump about my Pokémon Mlp au soooo welcome to:

✨️My Pokémon Mlp Au Yap Session✨️

Short explanation: The plot of A New Generation but it's not solved in 1 hour and 31 minutes

Long explanation *inhales*:

Backstory:

After years of war among among different species, the Elements of Harmony (gymleaders and champion) were created to establish peace and protect the regions from dangerous creatures. However, tension never went away, even the Elements of Harmony aren't immune to it. In other words, pretty much every region hates eachother, except Alola and Paldea they chill.

While called regions, they're technically kingdoms ruled by a prince or princess. They chose the elements through visions they get. Each region is also inhabited by different creatures, which are:

Kanto and Johto: The classic ponies

Hoenn: Hippogriffs

Sinnoh: Changelings

Unova: Dragons

Kalos: Undecided here. Thinking just making them deer or non-pony herbivores

Alola: Before/during the wars there were bat-ponies but now now it's kind of a mix of different creatures

Galar: Crystal-ponies

Paldea: Twinkle-eyed ponies (they're from one of the older mlp gens)

Like I already said, gymleaders and champions are the Elements of Harmony, tho champions are still called champions and are chosen by rulers through visions (which for some reason I made most of the champions). All champions are the element of friendship while the gymleaders are the other element, most of which I made up. I should also point out there can be multiple EoHs with the same element as long as there in different regions (ex; Both Misty and Burgh have the element of passion). As for the Elite Four, they're chosen by the Champion based on their strength and/or heroism.

One more thing before the plot, pokemon do not exist in this au, with the exception of legendaries, mythicals, ones important to the plot (ex; pikachu and Snowy), and ones I just really like (ex; Bonnie's dedenne). Despite this battling is still a thing, they just use magic. Also if someone defeats a Champion they don't become champion but become a Elite, just ranked lower than the four.

Plot:

YIPPEE WE'RE FINALLY HERE!!

Ash is a pegasus that was bullied at a young age due to his sharp teeth and strange behaviors, by pony standards at least and joked he was half bat-pony. He wanted to prove them wrong and show the he was 🎶THE VERY BEST LIKE NO ONE EVER WAAAS🎶(sorry). He became super fixated on battling and studying other creatures, which is how he became Prof. Oak's apprentice. One day, he found a little dragon named Sparkle Squeaks(Pikachu) getting attacked by Team Rocket. When he defended Sparkle, he accidentally breathed, and realized his bullies were half right, he's half dragon When he ask his mom, she revealed his dad is a dragon and had to keep it a secret (yeah I didn't know were to fit this but hybrids are illegal in most regions). After finding out he decided he convinced his and Oak to let him explore Kanto to research other creatures and to challenge the Elements of Harmonies along with Sparkle Squeaks. And so journey starts, with Ash and Sparkle Squeaks journeying through regions with thier friends to challenge the EoHs, and showing people the true meaning

of ✨️friendship✨️

*Exhales*. And there you have it, my Pokémon Mlp au. I wanna mention that this au was heavily inspired by @thiscatdraws Mlp au. I really liked their designs and lore and wanted to do the same with pokemon characters. Hope you like it feel free to ask questions and enjoy these drawings:D.

[lieslab]

I think it’s very funny that I found you when I did, we both seem to be fixated on stray kids but also like MUCH sadder music than theirs. The titles and content of your fics really ring with me. I think it’s nice, I hope you’re okay and I look forward to your work :)

I jokingly say that people will stumble upon my stuff when they need it. FIXATED? I take one peek at all the stuff I wrote and I go "oh god, I think you have a problem." At the same time, I really do like writing stuff for them. I love a wholesome found family moment and that's what the group is to me.

I come from a broken family, so when I found their silly little group and learned the lore, I became emotionally attached. A therapist would say this is a problem, but strangely enough, I've found a lot of healing in them. I see different parts of myself in each of them and for so long, I felt lost. As silly as it sounds, they've made me feel whole and worthy again. I hate the k-pop industry and its stupidity, but I love the group and what they do.

I'm glad that you like them too!! Aren't they just the coolest? They're talented, motivated, determined, and constantly evolving like some kind of Pokemon. They're also pretty to look at, so that's a plus too. Having people to look up to, especially ones that are producing so much content, is really inspiring.

I'm an absolute slut for sad music. You're the first person that's ever brought it up, but yes!! Most of my fics are titled after songs and if not songs, they're lyrics from songs. When I write most of them, the title is usually based upon whichever song I loop while writing them. All my stories are written by listening and looping to specific songs and genres.

I can't stand silence and soft sadder songs are usually what I listen to during times when I'm not doing much. Usually, I listen to music based on my mood and never stick to one genre. Most of my sad music is pulled from Phoebe Bridgers, Ethel Cain, Adrianne Lenker, Billie Eilish, Gigi Perez, and Coldplay. If you have sad song recommendations, please send them in!! (or any song recommendations really, I love finding new stuff)

With that being said, I hope you're not listening to sad songs because you're sad 😮‍💨 I used to do that all the time when I was younger, but it really is true. Listening to sad music when you feel hopeless and depressed, it makes the feelings ten times worse. I forced myself to stop listening to super sad stuff when I was in an awful head space because it made me feel much worse.

I hope you're thriving and living your best life. Life is hard, but it's a lot better with good music and things to fixate on. Stray Kids included, they're great. Sad music, when the mood is right, it's wonderful.

As for me, I'm okay. I'm growing and learning. I'm writing this with a cat in my arms and it can't get much better than that. I can't wait to provide you with more content. I have another drabble coming out in a few hours.

I'll do my best to make it a good one <3

(It's actually really sad)

[the-slasher-files]

GONE

INCLUDES BO X READER

This is taken me so long to write and not because I've been super busy but just putting my all into it and only writing this when I'm feeling in the angsty headspace... Now, this is a very broken Bo in all forms, at its almost a 2k description of you just laying on the couch with him, taking in his pain. If you read my write "Affection" it is a very similar writing style... so I hope you enjoy and feel all the painful and comforting vibes. tw suicidal dark thoughts🔪💕

MASTERLIST

“oh Bo” you sighed as the old dingy couch squeaked underneath your weight. It was scratchy and ripped on the corners, yellowed from the age and sunken where Bo would always sit at the end of the night. The house was quiet, too quiet. The man beside you was not making smartass remarks, or sexual comments, or even ranting about his day, he just sat there, staring at the piles of dusty books and the odd papers thrown along the ruff aged hardwood. Bo was lost in his own head, it was hard for him to hear you over the screams and howls of his memories and future premonitions. You didn’t know what particular thoughts had hounded him tonight but it did not matter, you just knew Bo needed a soft grasp to pull him from the swirling waves in his mind that threatened to pull him under. 

When you had woken up this morning he was already gone from the tangled cotton sheets, the hot Louisiana sun had flowed in through the lacy curtains of the home, replacing the warmth he had given you in the bed. It wasn’t strange when Bo was gone in the mornings, for the town he held so close forced him to wake early to fix the odds and ends. Sometimes you wondered what life for him would be like away from Ambrose, if he would be better off, but at the same time you could never imagine him away from it. The desolate town started to be an extension of Bo; charming, quaint, warm like his bourbon and alluring on the outside, with a little unease like his scars that were visible from his suit, but below the surface there was horrific pain, darkness and a truth that made your heartbreak and stomach swirl. 

Getting up and starting your day Bo’s absence screamed in your head, but you knew sometimes his and your affection would take a toll; He was never affectionate before you came along and it was a struggle for Bo to keep up the task some days. You understood that and would remember what Bo was taught; Love equalled pain. Most days it was better to leave him alone for the morning and let him collect the pieces of his wax mask and put on the act. You did not care if he had his mask on or not. You loved him either way. 

Craving his presence you continued your day, puttering around the house and finally leaving to the town over to pick up some groceries, and supplies for you and the 3 men. Coming home the sun was starting to set along the ridgeline and the sky was painted in reds and pinks, kissing the clouds and beckoning the darkness to chase the sun. Pulling up to the shared home, Bo’s truck was out front, and the ripped screen door banged in the breeze making a home in the cadence of the wilderness surrounding. Footfalls fell along the creaking steps and inside the home. Everything went silent once inside the crumbling walls. A shape of a man sat on the couch in the darkening home, he didn't bother with the lights because he probably didn't even realize the sun was going down.

Bo was gone. Gone in his dangerous thoughts.

It had only been a handful of times Bo allowed you to see him this way, just his shell, broken and tired. Tired of fighting, tired of his own mind. You were the only person he let see this side; Vincent had caught glimpses but then would get yelled at through a fit of triggering rage. To Bo you were the only person that could truly help him from the demons, beckoning him to the shadows, just like where they called and ultimately found home in his father; gun in hand and blood on the walls. It was the only way your nightmares -future premonitions- found Bo at the end. Dying by his own hand. Hands that could rip away just as easily as they could build and hold. Hold you.

Placing your bags down on the pool table to your right, you quickly shouldered off your jacket and carelessly kicked off your shoes among the other mess.

There you sat with him, not touching Bo, you just gave him time, hoping and praying he would just snap out of it and continue to lay on his charm, but that never came. Bo didn't even acknowledge you, not a glance, not a touch to your thighs, nothing. As still as one of the wax figures he sat, slowly breathing in and out, rubbing a thick thumb over the lip of the amber-coloured beer bottle dangling between his oil-stained fingers. The bottle was not even half-finished and it had begun to turn warm, the condensation gently letting a drop fall to the dusty floor every few minutes. Bo wasn't drunk yet, not even close, by the looks of it he had only taken one or two gulp's and let it hang there, warming in the Louisiana air some time ago. 

This is was the worst you had seen him, you could tell Bo's mind was racing with the shifting of his baby blues that seemed fixated on the old books and candle wax.

You knew that you needed to touch him but your hesitation ran deep and cold; Bo was like a beaten dog and touching him was a dangerous game, especially in this state; he could either lash out and hurt you or he would just leave from the embarrassment of you seeing him as such. Anything was worth a shot right now. You needed him back.

Gingerly you brought a small hand to his broad coverall covered shoulder, grazing the rough fabric Bo shuttered at the touch, his eyes became alive again as your other hand went to his thigh. “Bo... my love, it’s ok” 

His breath hitched and he snapped his head in your direction, you could see the fear, the torture in his features as his breath began to pick up through rosy agape lips, clutching the beer bottle like a lifeline. Bo looked scared. Scared of his thoughts. Scared of his memories. Scared by the fact that the demons had held him under the waves for so long just waiting for the bubbles to stop. Bo was almost a different person in this moment, he let his emotions twist his face openly. His pain was greater than his pride, you felt it, you could see it. Broken blood-shot baby blues were searching for something in yours, perhaps Bo was waiting for the taunting or berating or yelling his parents gave him when he was lost in emotions; but you smiled softly as a tear slowly formed along your lash line. 

This broke your heart to see him like this, but it broke him more allowing this vulnerability; He waited for you to rip out his throat like a wolf and spit back out in his face. You knew Bo had a tortured soul and a devastating past, he was held together like thin lines of glue to a broken mirror; one day the shatter was inevitable much to his dismay, but seeing it was too raw and painful yet, somehow beautiful in the torture. In this moment Bo was just a man, not the murderer of Ambrose or even the demigod he seemed to let you believe he was on the day to day, Bo was just the scared child of a broken home. 

“It’s ok baby...I’m here...” you spoke gently, grabbing the beer bottle from his right hand and placing it on the richly stained coffee table with a reassuring nod. “I’m here now” Bo didn’t speak and just watched you carefully like a wounded vulnerable animal to a predator. 

Slowly you placed your shaky hands along his angular jaw, feeling the slight stubble and running your thumb along the long jagged scar he wore with pride. Bo started to shift in the cushions, uncomfortable with the vulnerability and soft touches you placed on him. Some days it was more apparent than others that he was touch starved and didn't realize just how much he needed your fluttering fingers against his skin. Slowly you ran a small hand through his dark brown curls, cupping and now cradling the man you slowly pulled yourself to lay on your back, and brought Bo down with you, the couch springs creaking in defeat. 

His head laid upon your chest. He could hear your heartbeat. Proof that someone deeply loved him, had a beating heart that was fast and strong. You were here. You were not a figure of the town or a scared wounded woman in the chair or a ghost in his nightmares. You were here. It broke him more. He had something to lose now. Had a wound in his flesh that was you, it would never heal, and it stung every day waking up to you next to him, and tore a millimetre more with every smile.

Bo’s head rose and fell with your breaths as you slowly rubbed his skull and back, tracing the scars you couldn’t see under his shirt, just retracing from hardened memory. Bo haunted you. Hounded your thoughts every second you were together, and when you were apart it hurt, you missed him even though Bo was just down the hall. His sliver blade was lodged in your heart and it teased to make you bleed out.  

One of his large hands gripped the ripping old cushion as the other held your waist, unwavering. Bo inhaled your scent; sweetness of florals, softness of warm vanillas and the undernotes of him. A ghost of your souls intertwined in a dangerous perfume. And then a soft wail escaped Bo’s lips, --the breaking of the flood gates he held onto for so long-- with bared teeth against your shirt he pushed himself into you, almost wanting to hide away from the world in your ribcage. You gently cooed and hushed him, feeling the pain of his shattered soul. Hot tears stained your shirt as you held him tighter, as long as he needed, you were there. 

“It’s ok Bo... I’m here... you never deserved the hurt. Never.”

A broken crumpled mess you two became, melting together and running away like the wax of the candles. Holding each other until the morning sun showed its face, forcing the demons and hounds to retreat into the shadows only to surface later, but it didn’t matter, they were gone and Bo was asleep. At peace, as you counted his scars and recounted, as long as he needed you to hold him, you would. 

Broken and wretched like his parents taught him, a monster was asleep in your delicate hands, holding a beast, it ached inside your bones, and wounded you like a knife slipping in slowly and quietly between your ribcage, twisting with his every breath. You loved him and he loved you, in a broken mess. However long he needed you, you would stay.

[lovepollution]

Hi,

Not to be cringe or too personal but I’m really excited about your story Missing Piece! Earlier this summer I found out that I have a condition which will most likely make it difficult to have children. I’m early 20’s, like baby 20’s, still in college so I never really thought about kids but it had a surprising impact on me to be told that I might no longer have the choice to decide that. It was really bad and strange, I guess it’s just weird being told a choice is no longer there for you. Around that time I became super hyper fixated on TMMM and midge/Lenny to distract myself , this summer has literally solely been about this interest. Seeing your fic kind of brought it full circle for me I guess, that this ship and character that has meant so much to me during this time is being explored this way has actually been super meaningful to me. Your midge and I are in completely two separate stages of life but I really could relate to her in that first part, especially when she says, “ I never thought I'd have another baby, but lately it's all I can think about.”

Also knowing how heavy this topic is, I hope you are able to properly take care of yourself if needed. Have a nice day!

Wow, I feel really honoured to receive such a personal and meaningful comment, so thank you. ❤️

I'm probably going of introduce pregnancy into the second chapter and then explore that, but I just wanted to reflect it's not always this easy thing for some people.

There are times when I feel so silly writing these little stories with the state of…well, everything really, but the fact that it touched you really means so much. 🙂

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

Legolas x elven reader

Requested by @sokkasdarling​ -took me a lil while to think of smth but can i request a legolas fic pls🥺🥺 so maybe reader rly likes him and its super obvious to aragorn but not to leg man and then when he finds out its all soft and stuff🥺🥺🥺🥺 -

I hope you like this and it’s close to what you wanted, it was fun to write ngl, leggy is such an oblivious softie I love.

You had been traveling along with the Fellowship since your departure from Rivendell not even four weeks ago. But even so, time had not seemed so very long for you anyways. This whole adventure began when Gandalf sent word to your kingdom calling for your aid in an important mission of sorts, as per usual the old wizard was very vague in his brief explanations. But you’ve known him for such a long time that whenever he needs you, it’s usually very important. So you traveled many days to Rivendell where you met up with your other longtime friend Aragorn who has been traveling in the wilds since you last saw him, now looking incredibly less dirty if you may add.

It was a curious thing when you were gathered into a secret meeting where low and behold sat the one ring of all objects to grace your very eyes. Your inquisitive gaze scanned the open room as Lord Elrond spoke of the ring and who would be the one to help destroy it. You sat idly by the young hobbit Frodo, who Gandalf explained was the carrier of the one ring from all the way into the Shire to where he sits now. What a brave little fellow you thought. Directly in front of you from across the room sat Aragorn who was looking at the ring with a troublesome gaze upon his worried features.

 It was not until Boromir spoke did you realize the Prince of the Woodland Realm was among you. You didn’t exactly take the time to look at everyone sitting around the half circle when you got here, but your face softened the moment they locked eyes onto the attractive elven prince. You’d never met Legolas before, but you’ve heard about him through Aragorn and Elrond when he decided to vent about the dealings with Legolas’ kingdom. From that very moment you became immensely intrigued and drawn to the silver haired prince. Though your heart did leap when yourself and all of the Fellowship began the long journey to Mordor, you felt relieved and excited to be spending such a long time with Legolas. But as the weeks grew on, your feelings only grew stronger, and one night while on watch with Aragron, as the two of you sat away from the rest of your sleeping companions did you finally break your silence. 

“I must confess something to you or I fear it will eventually drive me mad. It concerns the likes of the only other elf among us, which I assume you’ve already guessed.” You begin with a sigh as you glance over to Aragorn for a moment, his eyes soften at this news that has been swirling within your mind for many days.

“What troubles you my friend?”

“My heart grows for the prince in a way that I did not expect. I enjoy his presence, the way he speaks, how he carries himself, his smile...and for that I cannot help it when I keep close to him while we travel.”

“I have noticed your longing eyes upon him, it is sweet.”

“In all my five-thousand years in this land, not once have I ever felt this way towards anyone. I cannot explain it Aragorn, it feels so strange...this feeling for him. So very strange.” Your brow furrows as you look off into the valley, Aragorn lends you a small smile though you don’t see it.

“My dear Y/N, I believe what you are experiencing is called love, well at least in human terms for that matter. I am happy for you, truly.” You turn your uneasy gaze to Aragorn, surprised to find him sharing a small smile with you. You turn your head towards the stars, closing your eyes as you feel a comforting breeze blow through your half braided hair. 

“Your words are kind indeed, but I cannot tell if he feels the same in anyway.....that is what scares me.”

“Let him know of your admiration in subtle ways, he should figure it out eventually. I know Legolas, Y/N, he is smart and sharp as the edge of a dagger.”

For the next week you thought hard about your conversation with Aragorn that night, so as the days rolled past and the nights came and went, you stayed at a healthy closeness to the prince and seeked his company in quiet moments when the Fellowship was at rest. To your great astonishment, Legolas deemed you quit comforting and unexpectedly full of good humor as well as kind-hearted and protective over the hobbits. You had more then once caught him staring at you when he thought you weren't looking, it always brought a warm smile to your face. But nothing more was said or done and your painfully obvious attraction towards Legolas was becoming increasingly more entertaining for Aragorn, within the daily trials of continuous walking and watching out for the hobbits and evil creatures alike. He truly felt for you and your internal frustration with these newly intense feelings for someone that you had never felt before. He understood that as an elf, when they fall in love, they fall with all of their heart and soul for whoever graces their path. 

The Fellowship had stopped for a small break after a long and tiresome hike up a large rocky hill for the past two hours, you practically had to carry Pippin up the last fifteen minutes of rough trailing just to make sure everyone was together at the top. Not even five peaceful minutes of rest could you have before Merry and Pippin were already forcing you into a game of who can throw a rock the farthest over the cliff. Not one to ever decline such an appealing invitation, you oblige and walk over to the cliff edge while the rest of the Fellowship watches in amusement. You chuck a fist sized rock into oblivion, unbeknownst to you from a spot higher up on the rocky edge, Aragorn has walked over to Legolas, deciding to figure out his elven friends innermost feelings.

“Y/N is a fascinating being isn’t she, I’ve never seen someone so willing to join in on the games of hobbits, her heart is kind, she’s good company.” Starts Aragorn as Legolas shifts his eyes from him and back to you again, the ghost of a smile forming onto his lips.

“I’m actually quite fond of her presence...it has surprised me.”

“Oh?” Wonders Aragorn with a knowing look that’s lost to Legolas as his attention is fixated on you and the two hobbits. 

“Yes. I did not expect to enjoy her company so much. Not ever have I met someone so unawares to how truly divine and clever they are...or beautiful.” Explains Legolas as he whispers the last part, its so quite that Aragorn almost misses it but he does not and a small laugh escapes him. Legolas abruptly turns to his friend, his expression a mix of embarrassment and slight dejection. 

“I do not laugh at your tellings my friend, if only Y/N new. She would be very pleased to hear this I’m certain.” Replies Aragorn with a nod, Legolas’ brow furrows in deep thought.

“What do you mean?” He questions, confused as to what Aragorn is implying.

“Have you not noticed? She feels much for you in these past weeks of our journey. Y/N has given you a place in her heart, do you understand my meaning now?” 

Legolas’ face changes to a new realization as he slowly turns his head to a smiling Aragorn, “Y/N loves me? I thought it was only I who felt that way, how could I have missed it?” He says astonished as his face breaks out into a beaming grin. “She loves me. Y/N loves me. This day has been weary and long, but my heart leaps with this news. I will tell her tonight when we rest for the day, I only hope that she will be just as joyous, even with my lack of a gift.”

“I don’t believe she’ll mind. Just knowing you feel the same should suffice.” Adds Aragorn with a friendly pat to Legolas’ shoulder, he flashes him a quick smile before staring at you adoringly once again. 

[visual-explorxtion]

Vinylic Taste [Carlos Oliveira x Reader] - One Shot

Summary: You’re trapped and alone in the midst of an outbreak, struggling to survive. In the depths of your despair, Carlos came to the rescue. Through your ups and downs, Carlos soon became your best partner and vice versa. But...you soon realise Carlos isn’t who he appears to be.

A/N: Are you reading this at night time? Good...Wanted to write a Carlos fic but also wanna try and write something different from my usual stuff. But also got super distracted by other ideas and this fic got pushed waaaay further back and kinda took a different turn from my original plan and 11 pages in, I panicked. Still in first person POV.

TW: Graphic depiction of Violence, Blood, Gore, Angst, a bit of horror (idek), prob not as graphic as you think but it’s still graphic, uhh language and bit of a Mind Break.

Words: 6.0k

How did things turn out this way? Blood seeped its way across the vinyl floor, forming a pool around my feet as I sat helplessly with my body shivering in fear. Chest rising and falling rapidly and eyes locked wide open, my blurry gaze fixated onto a man but I could only make an outline of them. Him; on his knees, lays a lifeless corpse in between them, all drenched in venous blood as the deep red colour streams down every rigid and curves of his face. The air is thick combined with the stench of iron and gunpowder. He stares at his hands, covered in liquid but not his own. He laughs- echoes through my soul and pulsated the room- never have I ever heard of something so harrowing and sinister coming from a human. If he even had any sanity left in him. Neck twists abnormally towards my direction, head tilts eerily as if it's only supported by a thin piece of string. A soft gasp left my mouth, throat scorched with fear and lips quivering. My limbs lay still no matter how much I tell myself to run. My sense of self is being sucked into his dark, endless gaze. The light behind his eyes had vanished, all that's left is a soulless carcass I no longer recognise.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

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

The thunderous rain came washing down my face, lowering my field of vision. The moisture trickles down from thick strands of hair and onto the rubble concrete in a light rhythmic pitter-patter. In the span of 24 hours, everything turned from just an average day in this town to be engulfed and corrupted by a fiery shitshow. Humans eating humans, without a hint of remorse. They have no emotions, no pain tolerance. Their sole purpose is to feed on anything that has a heartbeat. It creeps me out. Like somebody playing a joke too far to the point of no return. That's what I'd initially thought. In my struggle to keep myself alive in this godforsaken town, each bullet is scarce but every item you gather is expendable. As the gun recoils, a leftover shell would flicker out with each bullet piercing the head of the undead. A steady hand, steady trigger finger and steady breathing. One by one, I shot them down. The feeling of ambivalence surrounds my mind with every shot I take. This isn't right, they are...were...humans, flesh and blood.

The ringing in my ears grew louder with each squeezing action I take. The heat of adrenaline coursing through under my skin, my peripheral vision gradually disappears until I'm left with the image of head to head. Before I could react, my back was already on the ground. The backside of my head slams against the solid sidewalk with a loud crack, the noise echoed inside for a nanosecond. My self-defence mechanism kicks in- forearm struggle against the zombie's throat, it's jaw hinges wide open with blood oozing out as it frantically pushes it's deadweight onto me. Its skin texture is abnormal, like every part of them is set in stone. Why didn't rigor mortis happen? My fingers tremble, trying to grasp for the handle of my gun that's just out of reach. Muscles burn and ache as my defence is crumbling to its limit, teeth-gritting with every last strength that I have. I refuse to die like this. Not like them.

As my forearm grew tired- inching closer and closer to my face- I squeeze my eyes shut, refusing to look Death in its soulless gaze and let it consume me slowly in the space of darkness. The next moment, I felt liquid splatter across my face but the pain never set in. My eyes flew open and watched as the corpse lay limping on my arm and the rest drop dead around my vicinity. I grunt as I discard the corpse aside, inspecting it one more time for any sign of movement. Face frozen in place as blood runs dry from the temple. The sight of this made my stomach churn.

"Hey, are you alright? Can you stand?"

A muscular figure towers over me, fully equipped in tactical gear. One hand armed with an assault rifle and the other extended out towards my direction. His hand is all worn out, even though the gloves I can see his fingers covered in blisters and scratches. They have seen better days.

"Yeah...I'm fine."

I choked out as I accept his assistance. His grip heaved my weight without breaking a sweat but may have overestimated his strength a little. His aid offset my balance and my body crash-landed in his embrace. Even with me standing on my own two feet, he's still almost a foot taller than I am. Our eyes met for a brief moment but I immediately jumped out of his arms as heat flushed up my cheeks and I regain my composure. He chuckles.

"My name is Carlos, I'm with the UBCS and we're here to get you out of here."

The organisation doesn't ring any bells in mind, nevertheless, receiving help from a rescue team is better than trudging through this damned hell alone. I would be lucky if I could even make it out alive. But, this strange rescue encounter sends comfort to my mind and slowly easing off my anxiety, or maybe it's because I'm no longer alone with Carlos's presence next to mine. Either way, I shouldn't let my guard down even with the help I'm getting.

The rest of his team is gathered in the subway station, we've arrived just in time for the last train to bound. Every one of them is tattered and covered in rags, exhausted and in pain. I can't imagine what kind of hell they've fought through, compared to myself, it's nothing but a just a minor scratch. Carlos caught up with his crew while I took a seat as all my energy is drained from my soul. The cool metal sensation seeped through my jeans and triggered goosebumps and hair along my arm, I couldn't care less about the shock as exhaustion washes over my limbs. I've been beaten down mentally and physically enough for me to not realise the train was already in motion. The view from out the window is nothing but a fast pace blur of darkness. All that just happened felt so unreal- the gush of blood, the viscous touch of muscle fibres, so red yet so cold. Getting pinned to the ground by this...thing. Its strength is vicious and animalistic with a face that doesn't resemble a human anymore. And at that moment my mind went blank. What if, at that very second, nobody came to save me? What if, I just gave up? What if, I let its teeth sink into my neck? What if...I just died there and then?

"How are you holding up?"

Carlos appeared before me, interrupting all the trepidatious thoughts. A slow realisation sets in as my hands tremble in my lap. Immediately, I curl my fingers into fists to cover up the jitter from him. "Still holding" I swallowed and smile politely, hoping the lump in my throat won't betray me right now. He returned the smile and positioned himself in the seat next to mine. "You were brave out there. Fighting by yourself...not many people have the balls to do that."

I let out a quiet snort. "No, you saved my ass. I wasn't brave. I was just lucky. If it wasn't for you I would've..." A pause, "I would've become one of them by now." Tears tingled behind my eyes as I blinked several times to keep them at bay. Carlos catches my hands tenderly, unravelling my fingers one by one, releasing all the tension I took a grasp of and crimson liquid came dribbling out the crescent-shaped wound. The fear in my head numbs all my pain; unaware of the shallow cuts, the maroon shade stained the dents of my fingertips. He took out some bandages from one of his pouches and carefully bind them to stop the bleeding. "There. That should do the trick." he grins as I admire his patchwork. "Thank you." I returned the kindness and we sat in comfortable silence. Upon closer inspection, Carlos does look kinda cute. The corner of his eyes crinkles and smile line deepens whenever he laughs, not to mention, his voluminous mane is the centre of attention. It kind of reminds me of an Old English Sheepdog and that image alone made me giggle.

"Carlos, we have a situation." we turn our attention to another team member, dressed in the same gear as Carlos- except his appearance was more well-kept, clean-shaven. Carlos turns, face sombre, knowing the news that comes next won't be any good. "What's the status?"

"Charlie's comms are down. The situation currently unknown."

"And Bravo team's position?"

"They're en route to Charlie, but they've already lost half their men"

He ponders for a moment. "Alright, change of plan. We'll meet up with Bravo and rescue Charlie. Once we get there, see if you can call for extraction out of this city."

His colleague nodded and went off to relay the message to the rest of the squad. Carlos turns back and kneels down, looking at me in the eyes, he softly spoke. "Hey. We're gonna have to take a detour, but I promise you, I'll keep you safe." He paused, reading my reaction. "Are you okay with that?"

My gaze wanders around his nervous expression, but I simply smiled. "Yeah, it's better than being alone out there right now. And besides, I don't doubt your abilities to keep me safe." His face went blank for a few seconds to unexpectedly bursts into laughter as though my answer caught him by surprise. "Okay. We'll be getting off next stop. In the meantime, stock up on some supplies cuz we don't know what's out there. Talk to one of the guys and they can get what you need." Carlos winked before leaving me to psych myself up for what's coming ahead. Knowing the chaos that's happening out there, it's going to be a dirty fight.

Our clattering footsteps relay around the walls of the subway as the lights flicker in a retrospective beat. The place is bare and quiet. Too quiet, even. Not even a single croak or heavy breathing could be perceived. It is deadly silent. Why is it empty? With the city running amok, you'd expect people to be escaping this hell hole; or worst-case scenario, laying dead in this underground. But, nothing. Not a single body insight. That's what worries me. I could say the same for the rest of Carlos's team. Which means, whatever is waiting for us out there is greater than what we could imagine.

My knees are getting weaker by the minute, shuffling closer to Carlos as I grasp my gun tight. Fingers nervously fiddling with the indents of the grip; sucking in a cool breath of air and pulling my shoulders back, we press on.

The layout of the underground is intricate and labyrinthine- reaching an intersection every few minutes, but we haven't let our guard down. Turning the last corner, we finally arrived at the main plaza; still remaining empty but the place was already thrashed. Carlos signalled for everyone to spread out and search the area, while I linger next to him. My heartbeat is racing quick as ever since I stepped off the train with the rapid pulse stuck in the back of my throat. He gently touches my arm, worry flash before his eyes but I shook my head. 'I'm fine' I mouthed. He looked at me for a few seconds, unconvinced, but decided not to force it any further. This place is eerily bleak, what was once lively is now filled with desolation. Somehow there's a slight dread and sadness inside me. The noise of metal clanking took my attention away from my surroundings.

"Damn it. The exits blocked." He gave it another shot but the gate shows no sign of budging. A short, heavy breath escapes his nose. I examined his troubled look and spoke out, "I'll go look for a way to open the gate."

He was stunned. "No. I can't let you do this. It too dangerous-"

"Please, I insist. You've helped me enough so let me do this. Even if I am in trouble, you'll come to save me, right?"

Carlos's expression is tense; I can almost see his thoughts rotating, like clockwork, inside his mind. Considering and reconsidering my offer. At last, my words overthrows him. "Okay, but take this." He hands me a palm-size radio, all tattered and taped. "Anything you see, you radio in. And I mean that. If you see one of those things, do not hesitate to shoot. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," I respond, sloppily saluting as I backed away to complete my new objective, continue to traverse down to the backside of the plaza. By the repetition of office doors, this justifies that I'm going in the right direction, but which one? The fluorescent lights blinked abruptly before returning to normal. Seems like the building is getting more unstable, with time quickly ticking away, I should hurry. And by some miraculous luck, I stumbled upon a door that catches my attention. 'Employees Only', this must be it. The door isn't locked but it took a great amount of energy to push a gap open, just enough for me to squeeze through.

Stacks of documents and brick computers blockade the door and next to it; a dead corpse that was once the employee of this place. He must have been dead for 2 hours- top, by the looks of it. The blood forms into a pool around the body and adheres to the sole of my boots. He took the quick way out. A blow to the head with his own pistol, laying dormant in his hand, now motionless in white. Crimson red liquid and shards depicted the blank wall, chunks frozen in place.

"I'm so sorry..."

Choking back my grief, I resume my search and in front of me is my mission objective. Monochromatic screens all tracking specific places of the building. Right on the bigger screen, displays Carlos and his men searching the perimeter. I radio in, "Carlos, come in. I'm in the control room. Hang on, I'll get the gate open."

"Good job. Hurry back and we'll get out-"

The building fades into darkness, heightening my sense of fear in this unfamiliarity. I draw out my gun and tightening my hold like it's my lifeline. My chest stiffens with each shallow breath I took, the effect of the blackout is developing claustrophobia within me. I heaved and the lack of oxygen in my brain cause me to hallucinate all my nightmares, but the image of Carlos flashed vividly in my mind. I took a deep breath and count to three. One...Two...Three... The emergency lights came on before my eyes and my anxiety reverts back to a sense of tranquillity. Talk about timing.

"Carlos? Carlos! Are you okay?" Please tell me he's okay.

No reply.

"Carlos? Are you there? I can't see you." I bit my lip, searching relentlessly on the screen for a trace of him. Just any sign at all.

"Yeah, we're okay. We've taken cover but it's pitch black out here, but...we could only see so much with our flashlight. See if you can get the power back on from your end"

Frantically, I pressed every button presented on the switchboard, nothing seems to be doing the trick. "Negative. I don't think I can do anything from here." All of a sudden, the floor began to rumble. And gradually it became stronger that shook the whole room, files and objects tumble to the ground until it subsides back down again, just like a tank passing by. "What was that?" I said in dismay.

"I don't know..." Coming from the other side of the line, a low growl and heavy footsteps. "But, whatever the fuck that is...It's definitely in here with us now."

In search of the monitor, I glue my eyes to the blurry image shown; even if everything doesn't seem out of the ordinary, my gut feeling is telling me otherwise. Still as a statue, they listened in closely to every motion IT makes. The sound is too quiet to be perceived. Out of the corner of the screen, something whoosh by. Its movements are too fast for me to catch but it's inching closer and closer to the lifeforms. With one swift swipe, it took a man down, and then the next. The claw marks on the wall...it stretches 10 feet wide from point to point, even looking through the screen, the blood is so vividly deep in hue. It crawls in close, but the team is still desperately searching.

It strikes! "Get down!" My voice is shaking down to its core.

They duck, but some did not make it. Their limbs severed; corpse dangling in half on the claw of the monstrous being, still clinging and screaming for their lives and then cease all at once. I shrieked out in horror. The size of that thing knocked the air out of my lungs. This being couldn't possibly be a human?! The zombie creation stood ten times its original size. The exposed skeleton is partially bound by its flesh- all swelled up and tainted, its tail bone morphed to a whip carrying a single-edge blade. Claws digging into the shallow pool of blood as the liquid cascade down the cracks of the marble flooring. The remaining squad open fire, bullets fly and ricochet off the wall. In the brief moment of spark, they lost sight of the target again.

"Shit, where is it?" I can hear the frustration in Carlos's tone.

Their flashlight drifts around the room as the tension sets in. You fear what you can't see, even more so if all you could see is darkness. The beast growls and encircles them, but the squad can't pinpoint where the sound is coming from. Intensity fills your gut as you watch the monitor closely, decoding its every move. After a beat, it leaps.

"Carlos, your 4 o'clock!"

He whips around at the speed of sound as he squeezes the trigger. The blast took impact greater than his expectation, every shot penetrated into its fleshy fibres while it screeched with a chalkboard sound. It struggles to keep a hold of itself up on the pillars as it collapses and tumbles to the ground. Without missing a beat, the team executes the behemoth until it turns into a bloody pulp, killing it with brute force. They inspected the pulverized mess further before they could ease off their defences. As if by command, the power's back on. My stomach turns into a knot. This is strange, but I pay no mind to it.

"Carlos, you alright?" I asked.

"Yeah...that was too close. That thing was too quick... We could've been killed here if it wasn't for you. You were our eyes when we couldn't see so...thank you." I could almost hear him blush at the other end of the line.

"Don't sweat it. Alright, I'm gonna get the gate open." I pulled the lever and watch the gate rise and retracted back through the screen.

"Got it. Now get your ass back he-" THUMP! Something's outside the door, trying to crank it open.

THUMP!

"Carlos? Carlos, someone's trying to get in here." my voice shivers.

"What? What do you mean someo-"

BANG! The door flew open. As an instinct, I drew my gun and aimed it towards them. A team of four heavily armed soldiers dressed in black armoury kicked in, almost like a SWAT team, weapons aimed ready. Without a second thought, I opened two shots on their thighs and calves to buy myself some time. They did not flinch, nor did it cause any pain to them. The unit moved in closer and closer towards my position by the time I made the first punch. My right hook collided with one of the soldier's throat and swiftly transitioned my elbow to another one in between the ribs. But all of that did not matter, my attacks took little effect as they soon surround me, putting me in a lock hold position, hands bound behind my back and dragging me away from the room. I can feel my heartbeat pulsating in my throat while I struggle to break free. Who the fuck are these people? What do they want with me? I don't want this. I'm scared.

"CARLOS!"

His name was the last thing that left my lips before the hooded squad inject my system with some form of liquid. My eyelids grew heavy, I fought back to keep myself awake but alas, the shroud of darkness consumes my mind, taking my soul to a distant world. The next time I wake up, the doors to the pandora's box had already open and it's already too late for me to stop it.

The snickering and one-sided conversation waver into my ear. I can't shift my body, still situated in darkness along with the effect of the drug. The icy metal clasp my limbs tight cemented on either side of my body and unable to produce any strength. The noises stopped and I froze like a deer in the headlights.

"Ah...you're awake. Good, good." The man sneered and carry on muttering in an absence. "You know, I was surprised by your...actions. You all exceeded my expectations. With this data you provided, we could improve on the flaws with our last experiment." He chuckled. "For now, my child, sleep. When you wake up, you'll be born anew again." His words became a slur in my brain, lowering into a hushed tone. Phrases repeat and distorting, just like an echo in an ice cave, cold and enchanting before my conscious slips away once more.

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

"WHAT HAPPENED? HEY, COME IN. HEY!" The statics over on the other line holds its place. "FUCK!" Carlos's voice howls, the thunderous boom stunned the remaining of his teammates. His fists clenched in a fit of rage as he smashes the radio onto the bloodied floor. The radio explodes with shards flying across the hall, some splinters still clinging onto his hand.

"Carlos...umph..." Tyrell struggles, limping its way towards him as he compresses his wound. "The mutated monster...the lights and the locked gate...I don't think it's that simple." he sighs, pushing his glasses back up with his forefinger. "There's only one company that would create such a big experiment. Carlos, listen...you need to stop them."

Carlos shifts to look at him. "T, we still have to meet up with Bravo and we've already lost half of our men. There's no prediction of what's roaming out there."

Tyrell shakes his head, a stern look in his eyes. "No...You've seen what they are capable of, there's no saying what Umbrella might do to next. Go rescue them, I'll handle the rest." He waves him away, still clenched in pain but casually shrugs it off. Carlos conflicted for a short period but ultimately chose to listen to Tyrell. Tyrell gave him a quick pat on his shoulder before Carlos turns away.

[Umbrella's research facility]

The eerie sound of silence fills the whole facility. A silence that stayed constant in your ears, just like the tv sign-off tone. The uneasy feeling never left Carlos's mind as soon as he traverses through the isolated building, gun in position. Walls dressed in white, the distinctive chill in the air and corridors that lead to nowhere. Carlos grew impatient by the minute.

There, at the end of the hallway, lays a door just barely visible for the naked eye. 'Security Room, EMPLOYEES ONLY'. He breaches in; a vast space all clustered with fallen chairs and paperwork, the multiple screens project different rooms within the facility, some looked like its the cafeteria and another resembles a cool storage room with weird pieces of machinery scattered around the place. Yet they are all empty, except one. At the top left-hand corner of the display box, it presents various aqua chambers containing partially mutated humans and failed experiments. And in the centre of that screen, he saw his companion positioned upright on a surgical bed, unconscious and all tied up. But getting there might be difficult without putting up a fight as four heavily armed mercs all gathered outside of the laboratory. Carlos unclips his assault rifle and peeks, the ammunition is barely enough to fight four soldiers; hell, not even four zombies. At this point, every shot counts.

The build-up of sweat in his palm loosened his grip. He examines his hand; trembling and numb with uncertainty, what lies between him and his enemies is just one simple electronic door. Beyond that, someone important is there waiting for him, alive and afraid. Or perhaps they...no. That couldn't possibly be the case. He clutches the handle once more, on the count of three breaths, he bursts in. It only took a split second for bullets to fly across the room, landing hits in the enemies' calves and forearms. Carlos moves in closer before they could react, instantly killing a soldier with one shot under the jaw as blood and plasma spew out onto the ceiling. They return fire, only to hit their ex-partner's lifeless corpse. Carlos thrusts the body towards the two henchmen and staggers them to the ground, he flips; locking the remaining guy pressed up the wall with his entire body, they struggle but was immediately executed with a blow to the head. Blood splattered on Carlos's right shoulder but that didn't faze him. The sound of his assault rifle clicks empty as he saw the two crawling back up. "Tch." His tongue snapped as the gun launched across the room at a high velocity, knocking one in the face and stumbling backwards. Like a chain of effect, they’ve sprawled out on the floor once again. Stepping his right foot on their torso, his gaze shows pity as he ponders over them before pulling out his pistol from the holster.

"Hope you got friends on the other side."

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! The aftermath of those four shots lingers in the room. A mixture of gunpowder and blood made Carlos's stomach twist up in a knot, but he got more important things to worry about. The life of his partner was the only thing that occupied his mind. The final door slides open; revealing a skinny, middle-aged looking man in a fresh set of lab coat, stood in front of a worktable and unaware of his presence. Inside, those hydro chambers stood twice his height with flesh substance floating inside the liquid. Some are just a blob of meat and others have fully transformed into somewhat human-shaped, but all are deformed. Upon closer inspection, one mutated monster's eye pop open. Carlos flinched. He examined around and was shocked to find that they are alive, all of them. What kind of sick joke is this? Is this what I've been fighting? He wondered.

"Admiring my creations, I see. Do you like it?" The man asked.

"Is this what's been running the city into a shitshow? What the fuck is this pharmaceutical company hiding?" He looks around. "Where are they?"

"Ah, yes! My precious little plaything. You're just in time to witness the beginning of my newest creation." The man chuckles, he pressed a button and the sound of machinery begins to whir. The glass cell shifts closer into the room, unveiling you in a comatose state, pretty as a picture. "They are sedated, for now. But soon, they will become humanity’s greatest invention and you will be the first one to witness it. Isn't that something?"

The blood inside him boils; the rage within could not be contained, white-hot magma erupting and coating every strain in his system. He pulled the trigger; the shots punctured through both of the man's legs as he knelt on the floor, screaming in agony. Carlos rushed to your side, unclasping any restrictions and carefully let you lean against the wall.

"Heh...what will you achieve by saving them...? The city's gone rogue...everybody's dead...and yet you couldn't save half your men. So...why bother saving them...the end is nigh!" His manic amusement shakes the whole room to the ground. But, the laughter was cut short and soon, it has been replaced by the clinking of a bullet shell against the hard deck and empty clickings. Gun drops as he struts towards the pathetic slob, straggling in the crimson liquid that's supposed to keep him alive. Well, not anymore. Carlos straddles on top of his weakened body, gaze bore into his soul. He wondered. How could someone like him still be alive? As the world burns and he gets to live? The ability to heal given to this monster and yet, he chose destruction. He must be purged.

The sound of his leather gloves creek as it made the first impact. The feeling of bone to bone seems odd to Carlos but...it excites him. With each hit, the pain pushes him even further, numbing and bruising. It felt right. He pants, the blood spews and paints him in a new shade of violence. The man weakly chuckles.

"The man who fights monsters have become a monster himself. Isn't that irony...?" He coughs, blood spilling out on the edge of his lips.

"Killing humans...how does that feel? Still want to play the hero and save them? With the world on fire and all those lives in your hands...you will only taint them. Lemme tell you a story...do you know what kind of flower blooms the brightest even in the harshest weathers?" Carlos looks at him quizzically.

"Snowdrops. They are the first ones to bloom long before spring comes around...the pure and innocent. At the beginning of time, Snow searched for a colour to borrow... The element admired flowers and their vibrant colours. One day, Snow asked and pleaded for one of the colours from the flowers, but the blossoms denied Snow's request; they felt Snow was too cold and undesirable. The snowdrop, however, felt sorry for Snow and offered it its own colour. It accepted the gift and the element itself became as white as an angel's feathers... To show its gratitude, Snow allowed snowdrops to bloom at the end of each winter with their own protection against the blizzard weather. From then on, Snow and snowdrops exist side-by-side as friends."

He heaves. "Like I said...irony... Their friendship is only a fabrication out of pity. Just like you!" The deathly cackle roams as he chokes on his own spit and blood.

Ears buzzed with white silence, his visions hazed with a red lens filter and heart palpate at an abnormal speed. Carlos felt every ridge of the handle on his knife and takes out his weapon, unhurried. The shiny metal pressed upon the wilting man's oesophagus- with only a little strength, it opened up. Blood spatter across Carlo's face, unflinching. His eyes darkened, tunnel vision focused on the crevice of the wound; there's friction on the thin layer of skin as the sharp edge glides slowly from one end of the neck to another. Carlos finishing him off with a fling of his blade, scattering red all over the wall. Both of his hands grip the handle tight; rising it high above his head, he paused for a moment to look at him one last time, then strikes down into the man's right chest in the speed of light. Pulverising his cardiac organ. He retrieves the knife and repeats over and over again with the red fluid gushes out with each stab until there is nothing left. A monster bathed in his enemy's blood. The man croaks in agony and over a few seconds, it stops. And so does Carlos.

The white noise has been replaced by his own rapid breathing. Thoughts are empty, his gaze quivers yet, he does not fear anything. He felt it...warmth. How did he not notice it? Is this how warm humans feel? He never realised this, this kind of feeling, it's something so different from killing a zombie. He looks down at his own two hands...so red. A smile crept along his face with the feeling of content. In a spark, he burst into a peal of harrowing laughter, vibrating the whole room.

"Carlos...What happened to you?"

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

In my moments of wake, I find myself bestowing my gaze upon a beast gazing back at me with a musing look in his eyes. They're so dark and dire, almost like someone gouged out a part of him and replaced it with something so sinister. He snaps, now truly looking at me through the eyes of the actual Carlos, as if nothing happened.

"You're awake! Good, I was starting to get worried about you. We should probably leave and catch up with Tyrell. They should've called for the extraction by now." Placing his tarnished knife back into the holster, he made his way towards me. My fear of him vanished, he's just like the Carlos I met a few hours ago. Warm and caring. "Let's go." He said, both his arms shifts under my back and behind my knees, picking my weight up with ease. "Get some rest...I wake you up when went get to the rendezvous point." His voice is hushed and the sound of his heartbeat soothes out all my stress. By the time we left the room, I was already drifting between dreamworld and reality.

The sound of his footstep was kept at a constant pace, his movement rocked me side to side, gently without missing a beat. But the further he tread, the temperature in the air got colder and yet I could not feel the wind brushing against me.

"Stay here. I'm gonna fix something real quick." Carlos's body heat left my side and was replaced by the icy touch of a piece of furniture. The mechanical hum occupied my eardrums and everything sound muffled once again. Eyes weakly opened and the sight wasn't what I was expecting. What greets me was four walls made of glass entrapping my body as he stood and watched.

"Carlos...what are you doing? Let me out. Come on...this isn't funny, Carlos. Let me out of here!" I begged.

He shook his head, resting a hand on the glass in front of me, looking at me longingly. "I can't." His words were breathless.

"Why?"

"I made you a promise. And this is the only way for me to protect you...You would be safer here, nothing can hurt you." His thumb grazes something small in his palm. I looked up and saw a room that was surrounded by pieces of machinery and nitrogen tanks, placed accordingly in rows of four. Then, it hit me.

"Don't do this..." I cried. But, it was too late. His thumb clicked on the small device in his hand and soon, a strain of gas misted out from the tubings and masking the entirety of the glass cell, leaving me dazed and numbed as I crawl back to the shivering nothingness.

"I'm sorry...I promise I'll come back for you." His empty words circulated in my ears and through the air as he walked away, leaving me in the darkest den of Umbrella. Cold, afraid and alone; frozen in time without anybody knowing.

And there I was, still as a landscape; living on top on a snowy mountain at the beginning of Spring, as pale as Death herself. Bidding my farewell to him until next Winter comes; when a blanket of snow tops the upside of the greeneries and then, we shall meet again.

[novantinuum]

Crack the Paragon, Chapter 11

Fandom: Steven Universe

Rating: Teen Audiences (I have upped the rating in consideration of sensitive topics I aim to depict later on.)

Words: 3000~

Summary: In another world, he doesn’t have his mother’s sword or shield to hide behind when Bismuth lands her strike. The bubble pops.

Steven falls apart.

Chapter summary: In which Lapis is a flight risk, and Steven begins to doubt himself.

You can find the AO3 link in the reblogs! (I have to omit them from the original post these days to ensure this will show up in the tags.) If you enjoyed this, I’d greatly appreciate your support through reblogs here, or kudos/comments on AO3 as well.

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Chapter 10: Beta, Part 2

When your life has become a continually evolving string of heart pounding adventures linked together by the odd few days off, you quickly learn to fixate on the fine details no matter what the circumstance, as you never know when one of those details could be used to save everyone’s butts. Sure, it’s not like this outlook did him any favors back in the forge, but his point still stands: a Steven who isn’t constantly paying close attention to his surroundings is a Steven who can’t properly help his friends. If he’s not innately aware of everything around him, he can’t raise his shield in time. He won’t be able to pull the right tool out of his cheeseburger backpack. He can’t give a perfectly worded response to a soul in need. This is a non-negotiable fact, and the reality of what happened with Bismuth merely cements it ever more solid. Which is why— deep beyond the wandering disorientation of his current surface thoughts— he can’t help but wonder why he’s unable to pay attention to the details that actually matter right now. The individual threads of all his friends’ panic, confusion, and attempted explanation overlap and intertwine, weaving an audible tapestry of emotions. Their precise words, however, may as well have died in the wind. Mentally, he is not here. Instead, the fragmented remains of his focus choose to zero in on the wood grain pattern spread across every beam and board of the barn’s rustic infrastructure. Wholly enamored, his eyes trace a path between the dark ridges as if traversing a maze. Tree rings are super pretty, huh. He absolutely doesn’t give them the love and admiration they deserve. But as is evident from the slight musty smell and the dainty mushrooms beginning to sprout by the floor in one of the corners, some of the boards are beginning to rot. His mouth falls slightly ajar, and he stares at these fruiting bodies with such stubborn commitment that for a moment he forgets anything else was ever a priority. Have Peridot and Lapis noticed? Do they even know what wood rot is? Upon that thought, he frowns pensively, balling his fist at his chin. Hmm. Given their relative inexperience with Earth stuff, the most likely answer to that is no. He’ll have to call Dad about fixing the boards before this grows into an even bigger problem. It’d be awful if their home became unsafe to live in because he didn’t do his part to help. But then again... “What do you mean, none of you know why she did it? That just makes it worse!” “Lapis! Lapis, wait! They said she’s—“ “Let go of me!” she says, struggling in Peridot’s grasp, her water wings flaring outwards at the ready. “Don’t you get it? I can’t live here on Earth anymore, it’s not safe! None of us are safe!” Is he already too late?

Lapis’s impassioned cries continue to echo at the edge of his awareness— something paranoid about shapeshifted disguises, about the Diamonds— but his feet are still anchored to the boards below, his body all but stagnant in shock of the current maelstrom of emotions. And yet, it’s strange... while a sum of him dimly recognizes he’s still attached to reality, it’s almost as if he’s watching all of this from above himself, stuck as a passive observer to his failure. Helpless. ( C-cracked, I’m- I’m cracked, I’m split I, I can’t... feel... need... I-I need to —) Slimy tendrils of guilt slither around his heart. He wasn’t paying close enough attention to the mood. He wasn’t careful. He wasn’t convincing. He was scared that everyone would devolve into petty argument, and look what happened! He ran his mouth when he should’ve stayed silent. He caused his own nightmare. His family’s splintering apart once more, and it’s all his fault. “But it’s not like that,” Ruby hastily interjects, “I’m sure it’s not like that!” “Really? You’re seriously jumping to defend Rose, after all the lies she fed us?” Amethyst spits back. “N- no! I’m just saying, why would—“ The constant chirping chorus emanating from the birds of the nearby woods steals his fragmented focus next, and he can’t help the sense of relief that bubbles up from within as he willfully sinks into the distraction. The birds, their songs are beautiful. He wonders what they’re saying to each other... if they’re arguing about territory, warning friends about predators, or simply having a friendly conversation. Maybe his dad might be able to distinguish the difference. When he was still living in the van, they used to lay on that ratty old mattress side-by-side late at night, listening to the crashing tides and the distant squalls of birds picking at trashed food on the boardwalk. Because one of his relatives was big into birding when they were kids, Dad was always able to stake a reasonable guess on the species class based on call alone. And honestly, that’s a pretty amazing power to have. As he related earlier, it’s important to fixate on the fine details. Attention to detail can save lives. It can soften hearts. It can make or break friendships. But as he’s grown to fear, it can’t fix everything. He can’t fix everything. The blue Gem’s features twist with simmering fury. “Peridot, I told you to let me go!” she hollers, and in a single jerk rips herself away from the shorter Gem’s desperate embrace. Her wings swing like a whip behind her as her body follows the motion through. It’s enough of a shock to the system that his sense of awareness comes rushing back. He ducks, the water swishing right over his head. Something behind him snaps and clatters to the ground. Ruby presses a bejeweled hand to her face, muttering something he can’t distinguish. “‘Kay, I’m out,” Amethyst cuts in through the chaos, throwing her hands up. “Y’all are whack, this whole convo is whack, and I can’t deal with any of this right now.” Not wasting a single second, she tucks herself into a ball and super-speeds it out of the barn. Mouth caught in a tiny, helpless ‘o,’ Steven whisks around, only barely catching a glimpse of her retreat before he spots the damage. It’s one of Lapis’s morps, that wooden hanger displaying all the baseball paraphernalia. Now it lies rejected on the floorboards, one of the strings broken and the bat rolling towards Peridot’s feet. He watches, feeling lambasted with regret for his role in sparking this argument, as the green Gem’s face cripples much like the structural integrity of that meep-morp. She blinks away the threat of tears and quickly averts her gaze from the group, bending to pick up the bat before clutching it to her chest in a protective manner. The water Gem huffs and storms out of the barn as well, fists unyielding at her side. Heart pounding amidst all the uncertainty of this fraught situation, Steven scuttles after her. Come on, think! he snaps at himself, chewing pensively at his lip. There has to be a way he can still save this, a way he can stop his family from splintering apart yet again... “Lapis,” Ruby begins, delicately edging towards her. “No, stop,” she holds up a hand. Her expression— as nebulous and hard to ascertain as always— is caught at some weird nexus between blinding anger, terror, and... is that guilt he spies? “Stop talking! I’m not asking any of you to change my mind. I’m leaving, and all of you should be too!” Turning on her heels, she squares her stance and flares her wings to their full width in preparation for her flight. Just before those watery wings can beat downwards, propelling her lithe form away from his world forever, he leaps forward. Dares to grab her wrist. She sharply inhales, briefly tugging against him before she notices who the hand belongs to and falls slack in his hold. Static assails his mind as he assesses every angle of this jerk-moment decision. What on earth is he doing? (He can practically feel Ruby and Peridot’s anxious, curious gaze drilling into him from behind, and they’re not even in his line of sight. No matter what happens, this is all on him. No one else.) “I-I, um,” he stammers at first, desperately scouring his brain for the right words to say. “Please, I’m... You don’t have to be scared like this. I may have her gem, but I’m not her!” Lapis gives a shaky sigh. Her wings droop right along with her shoulders, the persistent burden of thousands of years of captivity evident within her posture. Waiting in the shadow of her silence, his focus falls on the gemstone adoring her back, that smooth, glossy teardrop. Golly, somehow it doesn’t feel that long ago at all that her gem was cracked, and— scared, angered, and confused— she lashed out in much a similar way. “I’ve always known you’re not your mom, Steven,” she says lowly, still not meeting his gaze. “This- this isn’t about that!” “Then... what is it about?” She growls in frustration, clenching her fists as she yanks her wrist away from his grip. “Have none of you been listening to me?” “Have you been listening to us?” Peridot mutters flatly from behind him.

Lapis shoots her a sour look, but continues, pacing across the grass as she speaks. “If one diamond was able to fool an entire empire into thinking she was a quartz for thousands of years,” she says, gesticulating to emphasize her words, “then- then how do we know the other Diamonds aren’t already here doing the same, already watching from a distance, just waiting to shatter us for everything we’ve done??” The sharpened words echo across the fields, familiar bird calls cut short as even nature falls silent in their sway. Steven stands motionless, her paranoia-tinted prophecy sinking in through his flesh despite all efforts otherwise, sowing roots in the darkest corners of his mind that he dare not peep into. When no one responds, the blue Gem exhales, lowering her face to the ground. “I’ve let my guard down too much here, I’ve let myself grow soft. I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He swears he hears a note of disappointment laced between the layers of her uneven breath, or perhaps it’s heartbreak. He can’t tell. Despite his usual aptitude at interpreting others’ feelings, Lapis is consistently hard to read. And it’s this very thought, this subtle dissonance from the expected in her intentions, that encourages him to reach out one last time. Her wings flare out again. Blood and hard light thrum at an almost dizzying pace through his parallel veins. It’s now or never.

“Lapis, wait!” he calls, palm open wide. “Please, please don’t leave! Not now, not like this.” Their world crystallizes into ice as he vies to meet her fears head on. There’s no sunlight, no bird calls, no wind, no Ruby and Peridot behind him. No more untimely distractions. Only Lapis, desperate and hurting amid the heart of the storm she created. She holds her wings taut, ready for flight, hovering at the edge of her metaphoric tower. Breath trembling, she glances behind. The sheer complexity of emotion Steven discovers in those sea blue irises almost makes his eyes water. Cautiously, he steps forward.

“Maybe you’re right,” he begins, fidgeting with his shirt’s bottom hemline. His fingers briefly brush against the edge of his gem as he does so, and he jerks them away in blind rebellion of this reminder. “Maybe this planet never will be completely safe. Maybe nothing ever goes to plan. But the Crystal Gems have survived this long because they stood together instead of breaking apart. A-and... I know you don’t think of yourself as a Crystal Gem,” he cuts in quickly with a placating gesture, noticing the question forming on her lips, “but please-! With everything else that’s happening, I really, really still want you in my life.”

Tightly, she wrings her fingers around her opposite arm, face dipping dolefully towards the soft soil squishing up between her bare toes. “Steven, I...” “I can’t promise you’ll be safe on Earth, but I can promise you won’t have to be alone,” he says, voice thick. “Please.” Stay, he mouths, his body nearly shaking in fear of how she’ll respond, of all the inner thoughts flooding through her mind he’ll never wholly decipher. Their gaze locks, souls laid bare to each other as they engage in a rapid-fire dialogue no other creature of this world will ever be privy to.

If you can't stay for yourself, he cries silently, can’t you stay for me?

The seconds are punctuated only by the reverberant tremor of his heartbeat, as he stands upon a precipice in wait of her pivotal, defining answer.

Eventually, her expression softens. She folds her wings, standing down.

“Fine,” she spits. “I’ll wait and see what happens... for now. But if I ever find out any of the Diamonds are inbound, or worse? I’m out of here.”

A stiff gust of wind rushes past, threading through her hair and causing her dress to undulate like mid-ocean waves. Shadow obscures her face.

“I’m not getting pulled into another war.” Giving no further explanation, she turns tail and storms past the tent, past the rickety fence bordering her and Peridot’s barn, and into the overgrown wildflower field beyond. Once she’s reached a far enough distance, she extends her wings and begins to fly, hastily disappearing beyond the tree-line. Everyone stares at the thick swath of forest she escaped to with dumbfounded shock at first, no one quite sure how to proceed after that bomb of a conversation stopper. Ruby mutters something under her breath, clear frustration coloring her voice. Behind him, he hears Peridot reverently set the bat down on the barn’s floor.

“I’m... gonna go find her, and help her calm down,” she says. Clutching her hands close to her chest, she passes him and Ruby and begins her long, flightless trek into the Beach City woods. Steven himself migrates towards the grassy patch beyond the pool, and falls to his knees amongst the dandelions growing there. Most of them are still flowering, their lithe golden yellow petals fanning out from the head. A few on a separate plant are white and puffy, though, ready to disperse seeds. He’s drawn to one in particular, a seedhead that’s already missing half of its progeny. Biologically, he knows it’s a good thing that those seeds have flown away and might get a chance to germinate elsewhere, but regardless the sight of this lonely, barren dandelion strikes a dour note. Was he wrong, asking Lapis to stay? Could she eventually heal and become happier, leaving the burden of this place? He swallows hard, gripping the balding seedhead between two fingers and decisively plucking it off the stem. A few more seeds blow off with the disturbance, their feathery parachutes falling into the arms of the wind.

Lapis...

What if his selfishness is only holding her back?

And then there’s Amethyst to worry about. There’s no point overextending the sad dandelion metaphor to fit her situation, because hers is something entirely unique. She’s still in his life, just emotionally closed-off. Bitter. Avoidant. Unfairly antagonistic to others. By inviting her out here he hoped she might take the opportunity to kick back and blow off some steam, but now, after watching her abruptly leave the group a few minutes ago, he’s worried this trip only succeeded in further stressing her out.

A gem adorned hand falls upon his shoulder then, pulling him to the present. With a startled yelp, he tosses the dandelion into the grass as he flinches away. His heart drums uncontrollably, so much so that his cheeks burn with embarrassment when it dawns on him who this hand belongs to. He sucks in a shaky breath to calm himself down before allowing himself to sink into her comfort, glancing behind to meet Ruby’s tired, kind eyes. “Hey. Are you okay?” she asks. His tongue suddenly feeling as limp and dry as all the fallen leaves beginning to sprinkle the ground, he nods his head yes. In an overt betrayal of his response, his big, stupid, puffy eyes begin to water. Hurriedly, he wipes the burgeoning tears away with the butt of his palm. Frustration bubbles at his core. Since when was he such a crybaby? He’s cried far too much lately, and he’s sick of it. He rubs harder as the tears begin to fall anyways, his bottom lip quivering as he vies with every last ounce of control he still has to not look entirely pathetic. The skin around his eyes, sensitive and raw, begins to sting from the friction. Wordlessly, Ruby wraps her hands around his wrists and leads them away from his face. His chest tightens. He fails to choke back a sob as she pulls him into her embrace, his own arms trapped between them. She buries her face into the crook of his neck, and it’s then that he realizes with a shock of surprise that she’s crying too. Her quiet tears dampen his collar; her fingers clutch at the back of his shirt. “You don’t have to pretend to be strong for us all the time,” she says softly. “I wanna be here for you too, okay? It’s just like you said... no matter what, we stand together.” “But I- I have to go find her,” he chokes out, the words sticking in his throat in the most pathetic manner. “Who, Lapis? Peridot‘s prolly fine handling her on her own.” “No, I mean Amethyst. I saw her run off, an, and she’s been so upset today, and...” “Steven,” she says, leaning away and gently lifting his chin so he can’t avoid her compassionate gaze. “You’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and honestly? A lot of it’s been our fault. You should take a moment to rest, okay?” Grinning, she ruffles his hair. “Enjoy the breeze! Climb a tree! Kick back for once. I’ll check on Amethyst this time.”

He hoarsely whispers an ‘okay’ as he sits back on his heels in the sun and watches her run off, allowing the wind to whip through his curls. Sighing, he splays his fingers just above the grass, allowing their tips to gently tickle his palm as they brush back and forth, and futilely tries to convince himself he’s cultivated enough good into the world today to deserve this break.

[heli0s-writes]

There Must Be*

Summary: Steve ponders religion on a wintry Sunday morning.  Pairing: Steve x Reader A/N: 2.1k words. Smut. Fluff. Tenderness with just a wee bit of Angst. Inspired by Arcade Fire’s “Good God, Damn”. I’ve been writing a lot of sacrilegious and Bucky stuff so here is something in the opposite direction lol. Steve needs love, too. :)

The soft glow of Sunday morning wakes Steve. A faint fluttering. Quiet rustling of branches in the breeze, as if hushing themselves. He rubs his eyes gently, brushing the sleep out of them, wiping the loose lash he feels tickling his cheek.

Tiny movements. Delicate and careful. Not even the blanket rustles to life any more than for half a second as his hand finds its way faithfully back to its former position. Warmly, tenderly, calloused palms and pads return to the softness of the arm over his chest, squeezing for just a second because he can’t help himself.

A happy sigh trills its way out beneath his chin, hot breath on his bare chest and he smiles, closes his eyes, stops himself from grabbing that arm again and rousing the lover so peacefully dreaming there.

The room is chilled, bleak in the way a winter morning feels with the seeping cold of the outside finding its way in to wrestle with the warmth. The light from the window is blindingly white— sun rays reflecting the starkness of the snow to dye it all in a shade that borders blue.

Steve is hot, as he always is. That molten magma core inside of him burns like a furnace and radiates like the sun. It’s the only reason why in the dead tundra of a New York January, he’s waking up with his clothes on the floor.

Well, not the only reason.

Last night was the reason.

An extra-large pizza, a spilled cylinder of parmesan cheese, a wrong soda accidentally delivered by a young teenage boy, and a retro record player.

A new album. Your new monthly fixation. Tracks four, seven, and nine are the best. The rest, even better. The intro? Beyond space and time and reason and rhyme, no sense in how or why she can be so good.

A triangle of thin-crust pepperoni, sausage, mushrooms, and banana peppers. Extra sauce. All shoved into your mouth as you spoke around the crunching.

You’re gonna love it. Perfect sleepover party music.

He made to comment, sleepover? But then the guitar strummed smooth and turned electric. The singer hummed and vowels crackled to life in her throat. Your foot tapped along to the beat and you grinned at him— thirty seconds in and your eyes were already wide and wondering.

He had only laughed, swallowed a mouthful and nodded along. Epithets of longing and yearning— loving in a modern age. Silvery voices harmonizing in the air of the apartment.

An album listen party, you called it. Even if it’s between two people, it’s still a party if you put your mind to it, Steve. There was a lively debate then, jibes exchanged about what you meant— if he lacked imagination in your mind, because he doesn’t. You scoffed, peeling a pepperoni off the slice in his hand and putting it in your mouth.

Not imagination, conviction.

And then a new train of thought embarked— a prod at him because before the pizza was ordered there was an argument about toppings and the debate over pineapple or not almost ruined the night. He sputtered a sound in response, but you quickly shushed him with a hiss between your front teeth. Annoyingly cute.

Your eyes are closed now, like last night when you bobbed along, mouthing the words, lips curled into a mischievous smile he longed to kiss.

He felt bad in the beginning when those thoughts surfaced. You were always friendly and sweet, silly, too. Playful, cheery, happy to be affectionate and kind and happy to receive care from others. He particularly loved your way with Bucky. Cautious only for his sake, but eager to befriend and attentive to small cues.

It was easy to fall for you.

It was easy to ask you to have coffee—outside of the Tower. Away from the monitoring and the stiff atmosphere of a job. It was easy to ask you to go steady, even if he blushed all over and you teased him afterwards because going steady was a dated term.

  The light settles on your face, your arm draped over him, bare shoulder above the comforter—that little cluster of freckles he thought was perfect.

Just perfect. How is it that you are so perfect?

“Steve?” You mumble dreamily, eyes still closed but moving behind the thin skin, coming alive.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

A fluttering of eyelids, vision regaining and struggling to focus. A squint. Your brow furrowing slightly as you take in the room. Warm gray walls, wood framed art, mahogany bookshelves. A room that isn’t yours.

He smiles, traces the line of your jaw with a crooked pointer finger and listens to your heartbeat jump around in your chest.

Sunday morning and he’s waking up with a beautiful girl in his arms. Steven Grant Rogers, who couldn’t get a woman to look at him until he was twenty-six, used to pray on Sunday mornings that he wouldn’t get so ill and maybe grow a few more inches.

Then his prayers changed a little— he just wanted to be drafted, to defend his country, follow the fight like every other good American boy.

Then they were a rush of frantic liturgies through those wartime years— survive the serum, please Lord, keep me safe, watch over Bucky, and then, Lord, hear my prayer. I know I won’t make it out of this plane. Send my love to Peggy. Give her a long and happy life. Amen.

When he woke again, his faith had been rocked. He should have been bolstered by another chance at life, but he hadn’t been sure. It seemed wrong to be who he was—enhanced, different, a disfigurement of humanity itself.

  “Um, good morning.”

Your cheeks warm against his chest, and you tuck your face down into the space next to his ribs. He’s never seen you so shy.

Last night was close—tentative-- there was a slow kiss that suddenly turned quick. Your hand that was resting over his skimmed up his shirt and then both of you were undressed before the last track could begin.

The lights were dimmed, pizza finished, soda shared, a glass of wine stood empty on the table. Your exact words as you poured it had been Italian food goes best with red wine.

And Steve had laughed. Sweetheart, delivery pizza?

It goes best with boxed wine!

The mismatched pair of your undergarments were delicately hidden by your arms across your body—a pink sports bra and a striped yellow pair of boy shorts, faded and a little loose at the waistband. Your cheeks burned red when he observed the way the top clung to your chest, the way the hem of the leg squeezed your thigh.

I—I didn’t plan o—on...

The asymmetry was an endearing testament to the moment. Spontaneous and sporadic, fueled only by a sudden desire to touch and be touched by him. It excited him even more to know that instead of lacy lingerie and perhaps your splayed and posed form on a bed, you were showing him this.

You, just in the shape you are in, unencumbered by pretense, with a shy smile and a tummy full of butterflies migrating into him, too.

  “Last night was... um... really great.” You bury your face down into the sheets, rub your forehead into the mattress and he laughs when your hair tickles his side.

“Yeah. It was.”

  Last night had seen a part of Steve Rogers’ soul pulled apart and branded into your body. His lips memorized every inch of your skin, stretching out the desire for as long as he could because damn him if the first time might disappoint you. He heard himself whispering in the fog of his mind, while he tried to balance the sensations of your taste on his lips, your whimpers in his ears, and your skin pressed against his.

God, if you’re there—if you’re real--- if this is a dream... let me stay. Let me grow old here and wake here and love her here for the rest of my days.

Steve hadn’t quite thought about his maker for a long while. Other things occupied his mind more than the pondering of a creator and a purpose. Time hardened him and loss steeled him. But your easy smile and pop playlists cracked the veneer of Captain America right through and he was glad for it.

His new and strange life was still strange, but it became sweeter at least. Confusing, alien-invaded, super-powered, and all.

Steve’s fingers brush through your hair lovingly, smooths the sleep-crumpled side down. Against his palm, you make a pleased noise and your body flexes and scoots closer along his side. He’s highly aware of your soft breasts on his ribs, your thigh over his, your hip digging.

He can’t help himself. The hand trailing down to your neck moves on its own, chasing for more of the softness that split him open and soaked him in bliss. A gasp as his sheets slides down, revealing both bodies to the brisk air. He warms you with his large hands, running his palm from your stomach to your chest as he descends between your legs. He hangs off the edge of the bed, but it doesn’t matter much. He’s preoccupied now with only one thing.  

It’s Sunday morning and he’s making love to the most beautiful girl in the world.

You whine and exhale into his touch, arching that softness into his mouth where he is most eager. Your toes curl and he reaches with his other hand down the length of your thigh and calf, wraps his fingers around your ankle and massages you there, too.

“Steve…” Your voice is barely louder than a whimper, “Come up here.” You tug your foot from his grasp and tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling him up until he’s hovering over you with a grin. He kisses your neck and places his forehead to your collar, savoring the moment he pushes in.

Hot bodies in the cold blue of winter. Faint squeaking of the bed, muffled breath, pleading, pretty words from your lips. Oh God, Steve. Steve. Oh…

You are dazed and smiling, biting a tiny bit of your lower lip as you tip your head back on the pillow. He leans further, burrows deeper, and tries to memorize the way your face looks like this— happy, breathtaking, pleasured by him. Your ankles hook around behind his back and you dig your heels into him a little more, urging. He’s deep, he’s so deep, but he fulfills your request and plunges more until there’s nothing left between the two of you.

Your eyes are shut in ecstasy, throat constricting on a dry swallow as you squeeze him in pulses, body quivering while he drags himself out and does it again and again. He’s lost in the warm velvet space inside of you, shuddering too on the edge of oblivion. Steve tries to slow down, tries to see that look again on you, but you’ve returned from the high and pinch him playfully on the arm.

He can’t help himself. You’re gazing at him so affectionately, mouth curled into a smile, lips pressed together and then against his in a brief and chaste kiss. An innocent gesture sealed over the background of his complete unraveling. He rocks one more time.

Oh, God.

It just takes the one, and he’s crumbling to pieces, hiding his face in your hair, gasping into the sheets and hoping that you’ll still look at him once the siren song of morning fades. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but suddenly your hand is stroking the back of his neck and wiping away the sweat that’s collected at the tips of his hair.

“I love you, Steve.”

It’s so simple, uttered from your lips without pretense just like last night. You make room for him, rolling over on your side. Your eyes flutter again, fatigue lulling you back to the warmth of sleep under blankets. He laughs and then laughs again when you bristle irritably at the noise. Over the edge of the mattress, he tugs the comforter up and back in its place, letting the glimpse of your shoulder peek at him like before.

Sunday morning, and Steve Rogers is kissing the top of your head, heart so full of love he could burst. He wishes he could go back and tell himself back there, with his knobby knees glued stuck to those old church pews—just say, it’s gonna be okay, pal. It’s gonna be hard and terrible, but it’s gonna be okay.

He’s questioned it for so long, but after this, after knowing you and your love, he feels a little more certain.

There must be a good God, if he made you.

-

tags: @whothehellisbucky @serpentbaby @badassbaker @alagalaska @cake-writes @crist1216 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan

[bettsfic]

Hello! Betty, I read your new fic and I love it and I was wondering if you have any advice when it comes to writing a character with PTSD?

well first i think it’s important to figure out whether your character has PTSD or C-PTSD which may seem similar but have some major symptomatic differences. with PTSD, a character’s trauma can be pinpointed to one (or several) major events. with C-PTSD, the trauma is/was longstanding. 

for example (and this is a very reductive example for a very complicated thing), if you survive a shooting and have post-traumatic stress after that, you may become hypervigilant in public spaces, and avoid keeping your back to a room. you might be triggered by the sound of popping. you might avoid places with large crowds, or similar places to wherever the shooting occurred. you might develop trust issues. overall, an individual trespass occurred that reshaped your understanding of reality. that’s PTSD.

but let’s say you were in an abusive relationship for five years. every time you spoke up, you were screamed down. maybe you were hit. maybe you were gaslit. that situation is a long-term, ongoing trespass to your understanding of yourself and reality. it turns the ground beneath your feet into sand. 

once, my emdr therapist asked me to focus on my “moment of trauma” as if there were only one and i would be able to recall it. and i had to explain to her that i couldn’t do that, it was just all bad. there was no one thing to point out. that’s what sucks about C-PTSD -- it’s not in the DSM yet (afaik) and the treatment for it is the same as PTSD even though it’s completely different. (the year of your story, btw, is really important, because PTSD was only put in the DSM in the 70s, and as i mentioned, C-PTSD still doesn’t technically exist from a diagnostic standpoint. so if your character seeks treatment, the year is important to consider).

emdr is a super effective therapeutic tool that helped me a lot, but it only helped with one single moment of my life, and didn’t touch on any of the rest. that’s another thing about trauma: it’s not relative. what gives me post-traumatic stress might not affect somebody else at all. it might just roll off them. conversely, what someone else might be hurt by may not bother me in the slightest. for example, my ex-bf pulled a knife on me once. other than thinking about that moment probably more than i should, it didn’t really alter my perception of myself or reality. he was an asshole, i knew he was an asshole, and he was acting in a way that was congruent with the person i knew him to be. moreover, by that point i had way unchecked C-PTSD so my perspective of Good and Bad was totally warped. to me, it made sense that he would hurt me. men hurting me was in line with my beliefs of reality. that’s a situation where earlier PTSD affects the perception of trespasses later on.

but my next boyfriend who never laid a hand on me eventually cheated on me, and that was like a kick in the teeth. it pushed me down and kept me down. i lost all of my confidence, i believed i wasn’t worthy of love, that i was disgusting and worthless. and i think it hurt so much because i had worked so hard to become who he wanted me to be and make him happy (we had a very unhealthy codependent relationship, and i thought it was my duty to conform to his needs in any way i could), and i saw our breakup as a personal failing. more importantly, i never thought he would do something like that. it was a total betrayal of everything i thought he was, and it made me hesitant to trust other people.

that was the memory i chose in one of my emdr sessions, and it helped a lot. it was a single moment i could lock down and attribute to many of my negative self-beliefs. and it was kind of amazing, that i walked into that office still, years later, painfully in love with this dude, and i walked out not caring about him at all.

in another emdr session, i focused on my dad dying. it didn’t help at all, because i certainly didn’t blame myself for his death. what i was struggling with was how much i loved him while feeling guilty for being relieved that he was finally gone. and in a more complicated way, i was also angry at him that he died before he could realize how horrible he treated my mom, sister, and i, and he never managed to apologize. emdr couldn’t begin to touch that knot of confusion. and so, to this day, i’m still trying to work it out.

anyway, back to writing.

the point i’m trying to get at is that to write a character with PTSD, you have to Know them. who they were before the trespass and how it shaped the person they became. if they were abused their entire lives, their development will be completely distorted. they may have trouble understanding right from wrong, especially in regards to themselves (which is why villain origin stories have a lot to do with a major trespass; it can alter your ability to morally reason). they may not know how to love without hurting themselves or someone else. they may believe that love looks like pain. they may have such insidious negative self-beliefs that compliments just slide right off of them. they are probably not self-pitying (although they could be). rather, their incorrect beliefs about the world are simply unshakeable. they might be afraid of everything, afraid of nothing, or afraid of weird things. they might be triggered by something clearly relating to their trauma, or triggered by something so strange and obscure and complicated it’s hard to see it as a trigger. they might fly off the handle when triggered, or they might dissociate for days on end, or both. they might be extremely performative and obsessed with how other people perceive them. they might be constantly attuned to their own body. they might see themselves from outside of themselves, through multiple lenses, in order to craft the image of themselves they want to be seen. they might do this as a safety measure, so as to be agreeable and pleasant and potentially stave off any harm that might come to them. they might be a people-pleaser. they may not have any access to their own emotions and have to find them through alternate means. they may be more prone to hurting themselves and other people, and not realize that doing so is wrong, because to them, pain might be a totally neutral thing. similarly, they may not be sad when people die, because they’ve always seen death as a peaceful escape. they might have drastic mood swings. they might not have moods at all. they might be impulsive and risk-taking. they might be prone to bouts of psychosis, depression, anxiety. they might have had hundreds of hours of therapy and still have not begun to chip through the surface of their trauma. they might not know their own trauma, or they might be acutely aware of it, and regardless, it will affect them the same. they might fixate on their trauma, or they might not be able to remember it. they may have a complicated relationship with memory. they may not have a strong grip on reality, or they may doubt their perception of it. they may easily fall into relationships with narcissists and sociopaths. they might constantly set other people’s needs over their own. conversely, they may be selfish and self-serving when it comes to very specific things. they may not be able to accept good love and affection, and they may sabotage their own health and happiness. they may not see this as a problem.

ultimately, to learn how to write a character with PTSD, you should be watching/reading everything whose characters you admire through the lens of trauma. ask yourself: how have the ways they’ve been hurt shape the person they’ve become? how is their worldview and self-perspective distorted by the negative events that define them? who would they be if those events had not occurred?

hope this helps. thanks for the great question!

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