#i .. found this in my drafts and have no recollection of making it

[gvaine]

why are they clapping like that

[aiqingdemeimiao]

ben as emojis

[mrs-nate-humphrey]

dan: i can't help being affection nate to you

nate: that's it, we're getting divorced.

[give-bucky-his-boyfriend-back]

Superneightural

[pedropascallme]

Celebrity Crushes

Pairing: Damien Haas x gn!Reader

Summary: "He had never said it was for a video, though maybe at this point you should’ve been able to guess that being asked for a list of three top choices was for this series."

Warnings: Brief mention of being drunk but otherwise none :)

AN: Hi guys!! I wrote this in 20 minutes so it’s…rough around the edges….but you’ve been so sweet and patient with me while I get my shit together now that I’m back from school!! I have many many WIPs that I plan on publishing soon that will have much more substance than this, but I still hope this helps hold you over for another week or so <3

You delayed your own emergence from sleep. Your bed was comfortable, warmer than usual, maybe thanks to the open blinds that let sunlight dapple the room. It was so easy to fall back into the snug embrace of slumber as you stretched against your sheets. You rolled over, eyes still heavily lidded and blinking to avoid the light as you felt around for your phone on the nightstand.

You yawned, stretching again; you let your back arch off the bed, feet poking out from beneath your blanket as you let your ankles crack—a quiet, congenial noise, and an even more satisfying feeling.

There were several messages waiting for you when you unlocked your phone.

Ang: UM??

Ang: New games vid????

Ang: 😵‍💫😵‍💫

You: What?

Ang: Dude🫠

You: What??

You: Isn’t it a Shayne guesses

You: I just woke up

Ang: Hold on

They were not the messages you’d been anticipating on a peaceful morning off from work. Angela’s texts woke you up immediately, her words burying themselves in your head as adrenaline took hold, muscles tensing, and you felt something pull at your stomach.

Had someone said something? Had you said something? Had you been somewhere you weren’t meant to be? Did it even involve you? Was she simply acknowledging something fucked up or funny that you had played no part in?

You held your phone in a vice grip, white-knuckling it and waiting to hear how exactly the new upload pertained to you—if it pertained to you—and whether you’d still have a job or any friends by the end of the day.

You felt a soft buzz on your fingers and snapped your attention to the screen, hoping to see Angela’s name.

Court: Was the new video planned or…

You: What is happening

You: Angela texted me too

You: I literally just woke up

Court: omg🥹

You felt hot. Not in the cozy way you had been when you woke up, but in a burnt cheeks and stomachache way. This was not something you had ever woken up to before, it was not at all routine, and you worried that your time at Smosh was up based solely on the manner in which your friends were texting you.

Another buzz. Kiana this time.

Kiana: I told Spencer not to keep it in the final cut

Kiana: But it’s really cute actually

You wanted to throw up. Shakily leaning back in bed, you tried to type out a response to Kiana that would help you wrap your mind around what exactly it was that you should be worried about.

Another buzz alerted you to Angela’s late reply, and you abandoned the message you had been drafting for Kiana.

Ang: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vzUs87BMpsc

Ang: 26 minute mark & then watch to the end

Ang: 🥴🥴🫶🏻

You had been right. It was another installment of Shayne Guesses, but you had no recollection of sending in a formal submission of…

“Can I identify someone, based on their top three celebrity crushes?”

Your heart jumped to your throat.

If this was going where you thought it was, you’d send in your letter of resignation by tonight.

You found the timestamp Angela had sent you, and immediately grimaced, folding your body into itself. You wiped a hand over your face, as if rubbing your eyes hard enough would make this all go away, leaving you to wake up fresh and unabashed.

“Ok—ok, I can work with this,” Shayne’s eyes darted over the screen, shouting a laugh when he took in the options given to him. “So Pedro Pascal—expected—Cillian Murphy, and he looks younger there. Is that what he looks like now? No…”

“No, that’s from like, 2000-something,” Spencer responded off camera, “I did not choose that picture.”

“Ok, 2000s Cillian Murphy, Pedro Pascal, and Damien Haas.” Shayne paused to stifle a chuckle. “This is the second time you’ve broken your own rule!” He stared pointedly at Spencer.

“Bro, that’s Shez from Fire Emblem!” Spencer argued, still out of frame, and Shayne bit the inside of his cheek.

“I mean,” Shayne looked at the list of names in front of him, “I feel like, you know, maybe it’s not…maybe it isn’t super obvious to people watching, but I think it’s a pretty easy guess for anybody in the office.”

“So what’s your answer?” Spencer asked.

“Oh, come on, like you need to ask,” Shayne crossed his arms before triumphantly declaring your name. “Final answer, look—” He clicked to the next page, and there was your headshot.

Your headshot.

Because Damien was one of your celebrity crushes.

One whom you worked with, and were friends with, and hung out with, and ate lunch with.

You felt your eye twitch.

You paused the video in a huff, too mortified to follow Angela’s instructions and watch it to the end.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so besides yourself with embarrassment. You were deeply confused as to how that list had even made it into the upload when you hadn’t sent it in.

You racked your brain, trying to remember if you’d drunkenly sent an email, or given an ok when you were only half awake.

You could recall, vaguely, a text exchange with Spencer a few weeks ago, where he had asked, out of the blue, about your top three celebrity crushes. And you gave your answers, sent a few googled pictures, all in good fun, to your friend.

He had never said it was for a video, though maybe at this point you should’ve been able to guess that being asked for a list of three top choices was for this series.

You: Charles.

You: What happened to confidentiality.

Spence: I CNA EXPLIAN

Spence: CAN

Spence: EXPLAIN

You: 🤨

Spence: LISTEN

Spence: I THOUGTH YOU KNWE

Spence: I THOIGHT IT WASSON PURPOSE

Spence: I THOUGHT HE KNEW??

Spence: BECAUSE HIS??

Spence: Please don’t kill me I have a family.

Spence: And I’ll buy you lunch.

You: You’ll buy me lunch for a month.

Spence: A week

You: Two weeks

Spence: Deal🤑

Spence: I love you❤️❤️

Spence: And I’m sorry I went over y’all’s heads

You weren’t mad.

Honestly, you couldn’t bring yourself to be genuinely angry; it was hard to be mad at one of your dearest friends over something that was so clearly a misunderstanding. Especially when it had no real bearing on your career or public image.

This just meant that people would now be fully aware that you had the hots for a coworker.

And said coworker would also be fully aware of it. You tried to push down the shame.

You: Accepted

You: I love you too❤️

You: I want Thai tomorrow

Spence: Would you settle for shirt?

You: I'll kill you.

Spence: Don’t you have another smosh man to bother🧐

You smiled at your own reassuring words, and Spencer’s acknowledgement of his fuckup was equally as helpful in improving your mood, as was his casual banter. For a moment that was enough to make you forget why your stomach was still in knots.

It could be argued that it was an open secret, it certainly seemed as though your friends were more shocked to see your list make it into the final cut of the video than they were to see the list itself. You counted on your fingers: who had you told, who figured it out like a child's simple jigsaw puzzle, who had asked point-blank after seeing you interact with Damien.

You ran out of fingers.

Still, you felt that you’d been cautious enough about it, to the point that Damien himself, at least, hadn’t seemed to figure it out, despite the amount of time you spent together, and the large portion of that time that you spent with a dopey grin on your face and a blush creeping up your cheeks.

Maybe he hadn’t seen the video. Maybe he’d never see the video. Maybe he wasn’t even planning on being online today at all.

Or maybe you could change your name and disappear for a while.

Maybe you’d be in the clear.

You took deep breaths, trying to settle your brain and your heart and the shakiness of your hands.

And then Damien’s name lit up your phone screen, and the results of your impromptu meditation were immediately gone, thrown out the window with your composure.

Damimen: Very interesting list

You: I’m so sorry

Damimen: What?

Damimen: Why?

You: I didn’t mean for you to find out this way

You: Very publicly on a Wednesday morning

Damimen: Who said I was just finding out?

You: Shut up

You: I’m good at keeping secrets

Damimen: I know

Damimen: Angela and Chanse aren’t tho

You: Oh god dammit

Damimen: Which is why I knew not to tell them anything about my list

Damimen: And I mean

Damimen: Stuff that I'd generally like to be kept under wraps

You: So the launch codes are safe?

Damimen: Are they safe if they're with me?

Damimen: 🤯

You: MR PRESIDENT!!

You: Wait

You: Joking aside

You: What are you talking about

You: Wdym “not telling them about your list”

Damimen: Did you not watch the whole video?

You: Got kinda distracted

You: Needed to make Spencer fear for his life a little

Damimen: ???

Damimen: Watch til the end

Damimen: And then come over?

Damimen: If you want?

You furrowed your brow, questions still unanswered, but pleased that he wasn’t upset with you.

You found your way back to the video, clicking forward again until you saw Damien’s headshot and then rewinding to see his list.

Pictures of you.

Three pictures of you. Pictures he had taken when you were together; at the ren faire, getting coffee, in the office.

And now the texts from everybody remarking on how cute the video was made sense. They hadn’t been referring to your list, they’d been referring to Damien’s more than forward response that worked in tandem with yours.

“Not a lot of variety to this one,” Shayne laughed into his hands, “I don’t really have to guess cause there’s only one name left on this list, but even if there wasn’t…This is Damien. Yeah, no, this is Damien. Final answer.”

“How do you know?” Spencer pushed.

“Well I mean, I, y’know, I received these pictures from Damien when they were taken,” Shayne spoke as if it should’ve been apparent, “But also. Come on. I know. See,” he clicked to the next page, where Damien’s name and picture appeared. Shayne raised his arms in triumph.

Your mouth fell open and your lips curved up into a subtle smile.

If you hadn’t been obvious, you’d certainly been oblivious.

The pictures of you that Damien had taken lined up on the screen paired with Shayne’s assurance in his answer, the knowing chuckles from off screen, it all made your heart skip. You felt it sinking from your throat and back into your chest where it belonged, thrumming contentedly.

Damien’s handle on your heart didn’t worry you. If anything, it relaxed you, made you feel safe, collected despite the rollercoaster of a morning you’d had. The discovery of a crush requited made you feel giddy; young and in love.

You: On my way

You: Gimme 20 minutes

You: And send me those pictures

You: 😘

Damimen: 🫡🥰

[dixons-sunshine]

Date Night | Scud Frohmeyer x Fem!Reader

A/N: I don’t even know how to summarize this. I have no idea what this is. I was going through some of my old drafts and I stumbled across this and I have no recollection of ever writing this? This is honestly not that great to me but I haven’t posted for Scud in a hot minute, so here is...this lol.

���Shit. Shit!”

That singular word seemed to be the only thing able to leave your mouth at that moment. You were in a haste to get ready, acutely aware that your date would show up at your door at any given moment.

And you could not, for the life of you, find your shoes.

“Calm down, babe,” your roommate, Emma, told you with a light laugh, walking into your room whilst holding up the very footwear you had nearly destroyed your room looking for. “I found them.”

Pure, unadulterated relief flooded through your body. “Oh my god, thank you!” You rushed forward and took the shoes from her, giving her a quick hug before moving to sit down on your bed. You slipped them on, and in the nick of time as well. A knock could be heard from the front door, making your heart nearly leap from your chest. “How do I look?” you inquired, standing up and smoothing out the wrinkles that had formed on your shirt.

“You look good enough to eat,” Emma told you, eliciting a small laugh from you. “Go on now. I did not lend you my favourite shirt just so that you can chicken out of your date. Go have fun.”

“Thank you,” you replied, sending her a smile. “I’ll be back by midnight.”

“I highly doubt that,” she laughed. “Now go!”

“Okay!” you chuckled. You sent her one last look before making your way out of your room and towards the front door. You took a deep breath, before opening the door.

Your breath hitched at the sight in front of you. You locked eyes with those familiar blue ones of Joshua “Scud” Frohmeyer, the aforementioned man holding a bouquet of flowers in his hands. His eyes widened slightly, his gaze trailing over your body, making you duck your head shyly.

Wow.” Those were the first words that fell from Scud’s lips. “You look amazin’.” He shook his head to clear his thoughts, clearing his throat and extending the bouquet towards you. “I got this for you.”

You gave him a shy smile. “Thank you,” you said softly, gently taking it from his hands. You sniffed at the flowers, the sweet aroma filling your senses. “You didn’t have to.”

“‘Course I did,” Scud replied with a smile, watching as you gently placed the bouquet down on the table next to the door. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Just let me get a vase for this.”

“No need. I got it,” Emma’s voice rang out from behind you, startling you. You turned around to face her, watching as she took the flowers into her hands. “I expect her back in one piece,” she told Scud ‘threateningly’.

Scud simply chuckled and gave her a mock salute. “Yes, ma’am. You have nothin’ to worry about.” He extended his arm towards you. “Let’s go, beautiful.”

Emma gently pushed you forward, urging you to link your arm through Scud’s. When you were out of the door, she sent you one last smile before closing the door. “Have fun, kids!”

The two of you shared a look. You laughed lightly and shook your head. “So where are we going?” you asked him as the two of you started walking down the stairs of your apartment building.

“Do you trust me?” Scud asked you, his blue eyes flickering over to you.

You nodded. “Of course I do.”

“Then jus’ trust me when I say you’ll like what I have planned.”

“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” you asked jokingly, successfully eliciting a laugh from the man.

“Nah,” he replied easily, “I like you too much.”

“Well that’s reassuring,” you laughed.

Scud chuckled again. “I thought you trusted me?”

“I’m not so sure anymore.” You were just joking. You did trust him. He knew you did. He knew you were just teasing him.

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see how the night plays out.”

Everything Taglist: @francisofthespook @angelsanarchy @negansbestie @holdmytesseract @lovergyal @dixonsdarkelf (comment/DM/inbox me to be added/removed!)

[yan-lorkai]

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Uh.... Apparently I wrote this in the middle of the night but also I have no recollection of it. The things I found on my drafts are so funny lol. Enjoy??? And on another note, gonna finish my others requests this week, I promise! 🥺🤞

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, domestic fluff, I think, soft!Sebby, nudeness, kidnapping but reader doesn't care anymore.

That night, as the moon shone in the starry sky, Sebastian prepared a hot bath for his beloved. The scents of herbs and flowers filled the air, he had even lit several candles of different colors to create an even more comfortable atmosphere. Sebastian was perfect in every way, even though the beginning of your relationship was turbulent, everything had now improved.

Carefully he adjusted the water temperature, making sure it was perfect and exactly how you like it. His beloved mate deserved the best after such a stressful day.

With a calm smile on his lips, Sebastian entered the room he shared with you. There the demon's heart leaped inside his chest, something he would never have believed possible before. You were sitting in your armchair, with a tired expression and your eyes heavy with sleep. Sebastian approached silently, wrapping you in his strong arms.

"Bassy?” You opened your eyes, holding back a yawn but settling comfortably into his arms.

"Shh, go back to sleep darling, I'll take care of you now." He whispered in your ear as he carries you to the bathroom. And you gave yourself to your loved one's care without question, trusting him completely.

If it were a few months ago though, Sebastian thinks with grace, you would force your eyes open and fight against his touch, fight against everything he would do because you used to fear him. Sometimes you still would evade him but now just to tease him and to see the expressions on his face. "It's priceless", you often say.

With skill and delicacy, Sebastian undressed you, revealing the soft skin he adored so much. He let your body sink into the hot water, listening to your sleepy sighs of delight with a smile. Tenderness adorned every movement he made, washing every inch of your body, his fingers gliding gently across your skin, massaging your tense muscles and making you let out soft giggles.

You are such a precious little thing. Giving yourself over to him and his sick love, a love that consumed and consumed and never stopped growing. A love that took away everything you knew, but gave you everything you needed. Sebastian didn't care if it was unhealthy or selfish, he only cared that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

He loved every detail of you, every imperfection that made you unique in his eyes. In other times this feeling would have been a source of shame for the demon, but now it was something he was proud of.

When the bath came to an end, you woke up as the heat of the water left you, but you were soon wrapped in the soft, fluffy towel. Sebastian took you back to the bedroom, humming as he sat you down on the bed and dried every part of your body.

You smiled. "You know you didn't have to do all that."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at your statement. What kind of lover would he be if he couldn't do that? Instead of answering you, he inquired. "What do you want to wear to bed?"

Normally you would wear your pajamas, but for the last few days you have been sleeping in one of his shirts. They were long and had his signature scent even after they were washed, they were comfortable just like you had said after this became a constant occurrence. The look on your face already responded and Sebastian promptly presented you with the white shirt, helping you put it on with the same delicacy used when he bathed you.

You pulled him closer as he reached to fasten the buttons and left several small, noisy kisses across his face. If he was a human, you knew that at that moment he would have blushed due to the expression that inhabited his face at that moment.

He helped you lie down right away, kissing your forehead. The candles were extinguished, the covers were placed over you to protect you from the cold, he walked away to put the towel to dry and when he returned your eyes were already closed. It was difficult not to feel drowsy when all that surrounded your small house were wide woods that stretched out immensely.

"Sleep well, my beloved mate," Sebastian whispered, caressing your face very, very sofly.

The demon also changed his clothes before joining your side, pulling you closer until your back was flush against his chest and resting his head in the crook of your neck. As sleep enveloped you completely, Sebastian smiled, watching your nose curl and your eyebrows twitch, listening to your sighs and snores and feeling your heart beating.

Demons don't usually sleep, but they can if they want. Before you, Sebastian used to think all of this was beneath him. But now that he has you, now that he has experienced love for the first time, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him too without thinking twice.

[difficultdomains]

i‘m drunk and at a party rn but hEAR ME tf out cause all i can coherently think about rn is going to a party with geto.

even tho you arrive together, you‘re quickly pulled apart in different directions because there are just too many people you haven‘t seen in a while, too many new faces to meet and befriend.

you bump into each other occasionally, sneaking glances and smiles or even a fleeting hand on your waist as he squeezes past you through the crowd with his friends. you wink at him once from across the room and he swears he can instantly feel the heat creeping down his cheekbones (he’ll blame it on the whiskey highball he‘s drinking tho if anyone is quick enough to notice).

and when the night slowly starts fizzling out, your alcohol-fueled elation mellows down and your social battery comes dangerously close to being depleted, you know exactly where to find him. sprawled out on a couch in a slightly calmer area, thighs parted and relaxed, one arm resting lazily on the backrest. you can‘t help the heart eyes you shoot him when you spot him sitting there, with a couple more stray hairs having escaped his half-up half-down hairdo. he pats his thigh when you approach and you are quick to oblige, pulling him closer to whisper „you ready to leave?“ in his ear, your question being immediately met with enthusiastic nods.

he insists on the both of you saying your goodbyes to everyone, too polite to pull an irish exit on your friends. and when you‘re done, you stumble out into the cold, catching an uber home.

it doesn‘t take long until you fall into bed together, hair untied and skincare done, tangled up in the sheets you giggle and laugh inbetween kisses and recollections of the night‘s events. when you tell him how you saw one of the guys fall asleep during some random drinking game, a laugh so sweet escapes him, it makes you wish you could hear it again and again and again.

it also doesn‘t take long until your words run dry and your lightweight kisses sharpen into nips and bites, the flush on your faces no longer just caused by the residual alcohol coursing through your veins but rather by the precise, well-rehearsed motions of your hands. one slow pull here, one lazy push there and finally the fabric of his sweats and your sleep shorts is no longer separating you from each other. the pace he sets is slow, languid, bordering on sleepy - eyelids heavy from exhaustion and pleasure. your nails dig into the soft shirt he‘s still wearing, gasps and pants intermingling between your lips until the tension you‘re both feeling builds and snaps like a rubber band.

after that, you don‘t just fall asleep, you black out, body heat ramped up enough for your sheets to be crumpled and hanging down the edge of the bed instead of wrapped around the both of you.

a/n: i am no longer drunk or at that party lmao but i found this in my drafts this morning - so to honour drunk me‘s dedication to sitting in a corner for 10 mins and writing this down, i‘m posting it in its og form

[sorasan000]

Thoughts on how Kishiar tries to gauge and size people up, as of ch.1230. Although it dives right into early KishiYu.

It's no secret that one of the ways Kishiar gathers information on his opponents and/or enemies and then uses this to his advantage is by giving them exactly what they want at the time. During the night of Lenore's death, Kishiar was able to get his hands on a letter that may or may not have implied Katchian's involvement in Lenore's presence that night, and that single letter would have brought him in a dark spotlight had it been discovered. Instead of taking it for himself, Kishiar had a servant deliver it to his faction, just to see how he'd move. Meanwhile, he kept the other letter that was given to him that provided even more hardcore evidence against him for the real Apeto trials later on.

In the current trial for Katchian and Marin, it sounds like Kishiar is offering Katchian a hand in drafting his own defense, unbeknownst to him. This signals to me that he's already in that mode again. Whether he's toying with him, making sure he's condemned to the end, or he's found some other use for him now that he's been abandoned by the Diarcas I can't tell right now.

Anyway, this all reminds me of various interactions that he had with Yuder in the beginning. Yuder was a tough one to crack, but Kishiar didn't give up. Knowing how he operates in reconnaissance mode makes it easy to tell when he's doing it. There's a compliment I want to throw the manhwa's way for a specific moment: his first proposition for sex and how it's framed and drawn.

This isn't a sexy, flirtatious moment for either of them. This is a man who has repeatedly tried and failed to figure out what this young man's deal is. He reported a detail about the southern army troops that would have otherwise gone unnoticed even by himself. He acted to save the life of the group by displaying a power he was not previously known to have, waving it off like it was nothing. During this walk he seems to hit a limit to his wall of patience and cuts straight to throwing the last bone he could think to throw.

One of Duke Diarca's methods of espionage in the past was sending spies with the intent to seduce and sleep with him. He would entertain these beauties up until it was time to have sex, and then he'd just break down in fake wails and tears to avoid it and then send them packing.

My guess about this moment and why the atmosphere feels so tense is because Kishiar is seeing how Yuder moves. If he agrees, he has reason to keep suspecting him. If not, he's back to trying to crack a puzzle. A grand puzzle indeed because the way Yuder reacted to a member of the imperial family saying this was still unbecoming of a commoner who apparently had little social tact.

Meanwhile, said young man knows to some degree that this proposition, though surprising and momentarily infuriating, is not serious simply because of a mix of his sharp observation skills, his recollection of when the proposition happened before, and his memories of how previous life Kishiar moved.

[writingjourney]

WIP Wednesday

Because I know I've been sort of quiet and haven't shared any writing in a while, here is a tiny little snippet of the Dracopia Friday Nights fic that I'm slowly chipping away at!! (gn!reader)

⛧ ✦ ⛧

A picturesque landscape stretches out in all directions as the black Bentley carries you towards your destination. Fall has painted the trees in vibrant shades of orange and red that glow amidst the darker evergreens in the last rays of a quickly fading sunset. As you leave the city, roads become quiet. Your driver is silent, occasionally glancing at you through the rearview mirror.

You are too occupied to really take note, staring outside while you can still see anything. Here, where the Carpathians begin to rise, rolling hills and dense forests, vast fields and the occasional house by the side of the road. About twenty minutes later you pass through the open gate in an old stone wall that leads up a steep dirt road lined with ever more trees. By now the sun has left completely and you struggle to make out your surroundings.

Eventually, the car stops in the courtyard of what must be Emeritus Castle. It is not the actual name of the medieval building but rather one the latest owner chose for it. According to your research he purchased it fifty years ago, though the land and title might have transferred to an heir by now.

The driver helps you with the door, then retrieves your luggage from the trunk of the Bentley. From what you can tell most of the medieval structure has been preserved. Besides the gatehouse you passed through, it consists of the main tower and its turrets, a keep that connects it to another, smaller tower, and a few additional buildings that hug the thick wall that encloses the whole castle. The round walk seems intact and you wonder what the view would be like from up there but then the monk ushers you over the threshold and into the cool stone walls of the castle.

Inside, the halls are illuminated by sconces and candles that flicker excitedly in the draft you carry with you. As you follow the man you try to keep track of where you go, two hallways down, two staircases up, another long hallway and then you round a corner into yet another hallway. The floorboards creak with every step where they replace the stone, carpets muffling the sounds of your steps. The man stops in front of a door that looks like many of the others you walked past.

“Your room,” he says as he unlocks the door with an old iron key. “You can wait here until the other guests arrive. We will gather in the courtyard in three hours.”

“Do you not… need my name? Or an ID?”

“I know who you are, heh.”

He says your name, then, and hands you the key, not without a hint of satisfaction. You briefly wonder if they are doing background checks on their guests and whether he might have found your old Facebook account with the embarrassing pictures from a decade ago but then your hand brushes the sleek black leather gloves he’s wearing and a violent shiver tears through your whole body. A darker, less faded shape remains on the back of his hand, almost like a cross, as though whatever was on there has been ripped off. A monk who fell from grace? He pulls away the moment the key rests in your palm and you are left with a lingering sense of dread. Who exactly does the Count employ here?

As you recollect yourself the man carries your luggage inside the room. A rather large wooden bed takes up most of the small space and he places your suitcase on top of the white sheets. Then he begins to light a few candles that are scattered around the room, methodically, and not with a lighter but with matchsticks.

“No electricity?” you ask, noting the severe lack of light switches and wall sockets.

“No no, they did not have that in medieval times, no?”

“No, I suppose not.” You reach for your pocket, pausing at the sight of your phone. “I guess I should turn it off to save the battery then…”

The man looks up at you briefly and as the candle illuminates his masked face you notice his eyes for the very first time. Startled, you take a step back, spooked by how one of his irises is so pale that you can hardly tell where it ends. His other eye is darker, perhaps green, but it is hard to tell in the orange glow of the candles. He must have rimmed them with pitch black make up as there is no skin peeking through the eye holes of the mask, despite the skin on his wrist being rather pale. He looks eery and for the first time you wonder if coming here was a mistake.

“I will leave you now,” he says. “Remember, courtyard, three hours.”

“Is there a clock anywhere so I can see the time?”

“A colleague will call you all downstairs, eh? You can unpack in the meantime.”

He does not wait for a reply. His black robes swish past you as he hurries out of the room and closes the door behind him. You are left with a lingering sense of danger, and only after half an hour does your heart rate begin to fully go down to a normal resting pulse.

[memoirofasparklemuff1n]

no body, no crime- r.c. x reader chapter 3- imposter syndrome

summary: three years after your disappearance you return to the outer banks, only with no recollection of your time away. now that you're back, weird things start happening and everyone seems to be hiding secrets. the nightmare is far from over.

warnings: 18+ MDNI not because of this chapter but for the story in general <3

a/n: i had this in my drafts for so long, specifically the text messages that took me forever. my dad has pneumonia so i've been pretty busy along with school this past few weeks. also, my first language isn't english, so sorry for any mistakes. anyway, tyyy to @sematarygirls for inspiring me with gone girl <3

masterlist

i met someone very special today. who? and the whole not belonging bit hit too close to home. i guess feelings never really leave even when memories disappear.

i took a deep breath and decided i had to find a person that fit in this, somehow. kildare is full of secrets and i could feel it, as if on cue my phone buzzed. oh right, somewhere during my hospital stay and coming home my mom had given me one. she said that now that i was back, the police would come and give me back my old belongings. i dreaded it because i knew the amount of questions i would get. i honestly could not for the life of me tell the truth, not yet. especially since my memories weren’t particularly stellar at the moment after the accident. i should probably make a list or something of things i have to do and piece together in order to have my story straight. a to-do list of things to investigate before it was too late.

i shook my head and sighed. i held the journal in my hands and stared at the wall. im in danger, that much i know. the doctor had said i was found by a passerby unconscious in a car accident. i was then taken to the hospital and the police began to investigate my possible identity. they apparently ran the license plates and contacted the owner who had reported the car missing three months before. my mother then told me that by the state i was, it was obvious i could not be questioned. thus, the police then notified all of the other departments to see if they were looking for someone with my description because it was standard procedure to check for missing people, you guessed it, they hit the jackpot. y/n gilbert. and the rest i honestly, didn’t want to hear because i knew the police would explain everything when they would question me so for now i just have to find out how to protect myself and my family. i needed to be star. but i barely know her, so i have to get to know her me so i can be safe.

my phone buzzed again, pulling me out of my thoughts. i unlocked it, seeing sarah had texted me.

i smiled to myself when i saw the group chat:

i threw my phone as far away from me as possible. they saved a seat for star me. as if she i were dead and in a way she i was. that girl was never coming back. i heard it buzzing for a bit and i read silently as they wrote. i laughed when i saw what they were going on about:

after it went silent i decided to just turn it off for the night. i was exhausted honestly, the day had been overwhelming and the journal didn’t help at all.

i stood up from the floor and pushed the mattress onto the bed frame. god, it was heavy. i put the bedding as close to how it had been and plopped down on the bed, this time no hard lump sticking into my spine. i looked at the journal on the nightstand, wondering why it was stitched that way so no one could find it. sure, journals are private and we don’t want people to find them but to this extreme? it didn’t make any sense, unless there wasn’t reason to keep writing.

i then took it and hid it under my pillow just in case. it was my only hope of ever getting to stay here as the old y/n.

the breakfast at the country club was amazing, the people not so much. my mom had woken eleanor and i for a much needed “girl time.” and i know she meant well but all i wanted to do was to lie in bed and think. i needed to remember what happened in the accident and the years before that. even the night i went missing was blurry so right now i am in the dark . my mind was spiraling mainly because the police were going to interview me tomorrow and i had to get my story straight. i didn’t want them to discredit me, or worse, close the case. ugh, stupid concussion. what do you mean it could be months before i got my fragmented memories back? if they ever did. i had to start investigating and for that i had to be home reading every single page of that journal. i also had to search my entire bedroom for clues. who knows how many things the police missed. i’m sure they believed i was a runaway but still conducted an investigation for the sake of my family.

“elaine?” a male voice interrupted my thoughts and when i glanced up i was met with a pair of icy blue eyes, a beard and a too bright smile to be genuine. i knew he was faking the surprise, the entire club was staring at us the moment we got out of the car.

“oh hello, ward. how are you? your daughters were at my house yesterday.” my mom smiled but hers seemed genuine.

“yes, they told me. sarah was particularly excited because of y/n,” he looked at me with the same faux warmth of his. hypocrite.

i smiled reluctantly at him, earning a nod in acknowledgment.

“yes, they were very emotional. it was a bittersweet moment, but i think more sweet than bitter.” my mom looked at me and grabbed my hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

ward proceeded with his script, which i’m sure he’d prepared beforehand to make himself look good.

“i wanted to tell you y/n, that whoever was responsible for your disappearance will face the consequences. i personally will make sure of it. you’ve always been a dear friend of sarah’s and eleanor of wheezie’s. you’re family and that is the least i can do.”

eleanor smiled but kept eating quietly, obviously uninterested in the conversation. i was beginning to notice that the constant vigilance from the other club members was pissing her off. that makes two of us.

my mother though, looked at ward as if he’d just told her he discovered the cure for cancer. she was so blind sometimes. “thank you so much, ward. i truly appreciate it and my family as well.”

“of course, elaine. well, i’ll leave you girls alone now. y/n, it’s good to have you back.” he gave me a knowing look and left the same way he’d come from. asshole.

the thing about ward cameron was that he was power hungry and his way of gaining said power was by being “helpful” when in reality those favors always had a price.

“that man is one of the best things to ever happen to outer banks. so kind and willing to help. pity that his son isn’t the same way.”

“what do you mean?” i knew rafe from a distance, mainly through sarah, sometimes seeing his extreme partying lifestyle with her ex boyfriend, topper. somehow where sarah was sweet but sometimes bitchy, rafe was a complete asshole. so i don’t know why my mother’s remark surprised me. well, maybe because he would do anything to get his father’s approval however he could.

“well, don’t repeat this to anyone ok?” she waited until i nodded and then waited for eleanor to do the same. when she did, my mom started gossiping eagerly.

“rafe was arrested for selling drugs and possession of a firearm about a year ago. but nobody found out because ward allegedly asked for it to not go public. if it had been anybody else i’m sure they wouldn’t have done it, but since ward has always been such an active member of the community they took pity on him.” oh mother, how innocent. eleanor and i shared a look that told me she was thinking the same thing.

“mom shh!” eleanor’s eyes widened. “he’s going to pass by us i think.” i looked down and my mom immediately pretended to be talking of her newest vase collection while el and i were suddenly very interested in our food.

i was staring down at my plate when a familiar voice interrupted our conversation.

“hello, mrs. gilbert. i’m very sorry to interrupt, it’s just that my father wanted me to give you this in regards to the project being done with cameron development. he was going to pass later by your home but since he found you here, he asked me to deliver them.” rafe was different somehow. he looked older and stronger. i mean three years had passed since i last saw him but the difference was abysmal. he was healthy, physically at least. his hair that had been styled to the side with gel, was now buzzed short. and despite all of those apparent changes, his attitude was just the same. he ignored my sister and i as if we were children imposing on an adult conversation. the cameron men were horrid, which always made me wonder where wheezie and sarah got all their goodness. el and i shared a glance that told me our thoughts were one and the same.

“thank you, rafe. i’ll notify ward as soon as my husband and i review them.” my mother smiled but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. rafe smiled back and excused himself without sparing us a glance.

i raised my eyebrows slightly while lifting my orange juice to my lips and eleanor said what we’d all been thinking, “jerk.” i spit out the juice laughing, splashing my mom, making eleanor burst out cackling at our mothers expression only for her to join in. we were giggled for a while and i suspected it was a release of years of tension and not at el’s comment.

the shared moment made the rest of the gathering comfortable and the tension was long gone. when we finally returned home, i went straight to my bedroom and lied on bed.

maybe being here wasn’t so bad. i lifted my head and checked my phone for any new messages but none from anybody i was expecting.

my heart dropped as i looked at my screen in utter fear and disbelief.

FINALLY I COULD DO THIS

if you made it this far, thank you!!!! i love seeing people read my silly thoughts. and let me know theories and thoughts. i even accept constructive criticism, i really don't mind.

i know rafe's appearance was short but BEAR WITH ME. the poor reader is traumatized lmaoo plus i want him to be a jerk at first (she won't know what hit her)

anyway, the flashback is almost done. i know i had said chapter 3 was going to be a flashback but i got stumped, i'm sorry.

butttt i now know what i will do <3

i love you all xx

dividers by: @yeossemble

[spectre-squared]

just found this photo on my camera roll dated August 23, 2021. I know for a fact that I made it, because I searched through my photo editing app and found an earlier draft, but I have absolutely no recollection of actually making it lmao

[pharaohbean]

invitation

original upload: june 22nd 2024 on ao3

summary: "'Dan Heng knew the dark well. Dan Heng did not like the dark. And so Dan Heng screamed out into the void for someone to save him.' Dan Heng's thirst for knowledge (and duty as the Archivist of the Astral Express) gets him into tough situations that even he can't pull himself out of. However, they will always be a shooting star nearby."

tags: Dan Heng/Boothill, Dan Heng/Trailblazer, March 7th/Stelle | Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Inspired By Poetry, Pre-Relationship, I Wrote This Instead Of Sleeping

warnings: none

author's note: "i churned this out at 1am all of a sudden after three separate drafts. what the f--- inspired by a poem (did you know literature is my worst subject)"

Dan Heng was not unfamiliar with the dark. However, he wished that that wasn't the case.

Years, decades, maybe even a century—his time spent in the Shackling Prison had not been kind to him even in the simplest of things like keeping time—spent in captivity, even before he emerged from his egg, had made the former High Elder harshly familiar with the darkness and the horrors it brought. Perhaps only because of the pain he’d suffered at the beginning of his life could he now stay calm in his current situation.

He dragged himself off of the stone brick ground, moss covering the Eras-weathered pathway, with Cloud Piercer rammed into the ground and acted as his pillar. His memories were muddled as he desperately tried to remember how he’d gotten in such a position—why unconscious (dead? Unsure, it was dark) bodies were scattered behind him, why no one from the Express was with him, why—

A flash of bioluminescent sea green had him whipping his head around. Bright blue-green serpentine eyes, dozens of pairs of them, crawled out of the abyss and lit up as they approached him.

They did not look friendly. They were not friendly, Dan Heng remembered that much. It was one against an army, and well—

The Imbibitor Lunae was infamously known for not going down without a fight.

As Archivist of the Astral Express, it was Dan Heng’s duty to make sure that any and all info in the Data Bank was as up-to-date as possible. With some worlds like Jarlio-VI, that simply wasn’t possible—the Space Anchors may have been deactivated due to unuse, or never existed in the first place. But if Dan Heng could fact-check it himself, he would.

It was on one of these solo expeditions—to a low-end yet vibrant planet named Alladonia, an entry just needing some brushing up on—when Dan Heng heard something that caught his interest.

Four men were planning an expedition to a nearby set of ruins—only revealed to them through a cryptic message delivered by an even more cryptic member of the Garden of Recollection—and were talking about hiring a Pathstrider to guard them. Apparently only one of them was a Pathstrider and a Pathstrider of Harmony in your group wasn’t very useful if none of you could fight.

His curiosity piqued, Dan Heng approached the group and asked them about their expedition. Their leader revealed that during their day-to-day life, the Garden of Recollection gave him a very strange… poem? Riddle? And that it would lead him to immeasurable power if they got there first. Dan Heng sighed inside—of course it did—but his thirst for knowledge would not be deterred. So he offered his services, simply wanting to document anything he found there and maybe a little money to cover lodgings and whatnot. The men, overjoyed, agreed.

The journey to the abandoned city was long but mostly uneventful; soon, the group had arrived at their location. Upon reciting the riddle (Dan Heng was half convinced it was a poem with the leader’s emphasized pauses at odd moments) the large stone doors cleverly disguised as mere sides of a cliff opened wide, casting light down into the city carved into two sides of a ravine, but still not enough to illuminate its lower levels.

The five of them had ventured down and down, exploring every little nook and cranny for any info they could find. The riddle/poem was not very helpful in what came next, so they brainstormed on a large platform in the side of the ravine—a town square of sorts, Dan Heng surmised. A large stone bridge crossed the ravine, where a dark river sat gently flowing.

And then the large glowing lizards appeared suddenly, soundless in the dark and attacked their near-defenseless group group and—

Oh. Dan Heng was falling off the bridge now into the river below.

It was warm and cold.

He felt like he was back inside of his egg, tightly insulated from the outside world, and yet the biting cold of the Shackling Prison(?) still seeped through, stabbing him in places he could not reach.

He tried to move his body, open his eyes, do something , but nothing responded to his calls. He screamed and yelled and begged and nothing escaped his lips; tears would fall, never to be seen since they could not be freed.

Then, in his mind’s eye, he saw a shooting star come rushing towards him—a blazing sign of hope and promises. It reminded him of the sight in Penacony, when those people from all over the galaxy had been called together just to provide a moment’s disturbance for the fatal counter-strike.

Dan Heng knew the dark well. Dan Heng did not like the dark. And so Dan Heng screamed out into the void for someone to save him.

When he finally managed to stir, he took into account all five of his sense at once:

Wrapped around his body was a thick, slightly scratchy blanket that made him feel tightly secure—like his egg or his bed at the Express. He could feel flickering heat near him, its warmth caressing his face.

Saltwater (or polluted water, unsure) hung on his tongue; he swallowed on reflex, trying to clear the mildly disgusting taste from his mouth.

The scent of fish wafted into his nose, bringing back memories of times before—good and bad, from hauntings of the Luofu to photographs of the Express.

The crackling of a burning fire filled the empty silence, reminding him of the whirring of the Archives; soon, the fire was joined by the rustle and jangle of metal shifting around and click-clacking across stone bricks to be by his side.

Finally, Dan Heng peeked his eyes open to be met by the warm, hazy glow of the fire and a body crouched next to his. Metal body, no shirt, black and white hair, and eyes that were always targeting someone or something .

“Boot… hill?” Dan Heng mumbled, brow furrowing. His vision blurred and his head swam as he tried to sit up. “Where…?”

“Take it easy there, partner,” Boothill’s mechanical voice said, a hand on Dan Heng’s chest coaxing him back down. “You’ve had quite the adventure, judging by your state.”

Dan Heng tried to think for a moment, but was knocked off his train of thought by a cup of water at his lips. He wrinkled his nose at the thought of drinking the river’s water, and Boothill’s laugh echoed through the place.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it! It’s not from that dirty old river,” the Galaxy Ranger reassured him. Dan Heng hummed hoarsely, then gratefully gulped down the offered cup—slowly, with each long gulp, his mental processes returned to him one by one.

Once the cup was finished, Dan Heng watched as Boothill rifled through a bag on the side, then looked around his surroundings. It seemed that Boothill had set up camp in one of the many lifeless homes, nondescript outside of their unique carvings on the walls.

“What happened?” Dan Heng asked quietly, his eyes flicking back to Boothill. The cyborg looked at him with a wide-eyed expression and something akin to a frown before shrugging.

“Got me beat, partner—I only just got here.”

“Why are you here?” Dan Heng immediately asked, then winced at the bite in his question. The Galaxy Ranger moved to sit next to him, watching carefully as Dan Heng sat up slowly. He pulled a cooked fish off of where it sat near the fire, and the Vidyadhara accepted the food graciously.

Boothill hummed, staring off into space for a few moments. Then, he began to speak:

“Yer a High Elder, aren’t you? Of the Vidyadhara.”

Dan Heng paused mid-chew, anxiety and panic flooding through systems. He quickly swallowed the torn piece and stammered out, “H-how did you know?”

Boothill looked back to him, and his gaze softened to one of… pity, almost. “We’re both Pathstriders of The Hunt. I’d be foolish to not recognize someone like me.”

Dan Heng looked down to the food in his hands, battling against the flood of memories that tried to breach his defenses. He had fought that battle against Dan Feng back while they were still on the Luofu; he was uninterested in fighting it again. “…I gave up the title of Imbibitor Lunae many centuries ago. At least… I tried to.”

Boothill hummed for a moment. “We’re both Pathstriders of The Hunt… and I heard someone like us crying out in despair.”

“Then we need to help them;” Dan Heng went to stand up, ignoring the throbbing in his entire body, “they could still need out help—“

He was halted by Boothill’s hand on his cheek, stilling his movements. The metal plates were cool against his warming cheeks, but not bitingly cold. The cool of a fan on a hot summer's day. Without realizing it, he’d leaned into it ever so slightly.

“I heard you ,” Boothill murmured. “I heard you begging for someone to save you and I came as fast as I could.”

“—Why?” Dan Heng blurted out after a beat, his mind muddling with every passing second. He couldn’t keep up with everything he was learning today. The thought of the motionless bodies of the other men crept into his mind, and then the lizards and the fight and the fall and the coldness—

Dan Heng was swept into Boothill’s arms suddenly; the blanket around him was left behind and his head rested on the junction between his neck and his head. Only then did Dan Heng realize he was shaking.

“You were amazin’ in that dream, y’know? Both of them. You put up a fantastic show for your friends and everyone else and even had me enraptured in your part of the show. It had me fooled, I’ll admit.

“But it’s over,” Boothill’s voice dropped to a mere comforting murmur. “It’s all okay. You can rest now.”

Dan Heng just sat there, petrified in the confusion of emotions flooding him. The cool grasp around him squeezed just a little tighter, and that was all it took for Dan Heng to bury himself into Boothill further.

Dan Heng did not like the darkness—in fact, Dan Heng hated the darkness, fearful of it even.

“It was too dark,” Dan Heng muttered into Boothill’s neck, his voice rising in hysterics as he continued to speak. “Reminded me too much of back then. It was cold, too cold, and too dark and I couldn’t do anything and—“

“Shh.” Boothill tugged the half-sobbing dragon into him ( if that was even possible, Dan Heng’s mind faintly commented). “You’re okay now. No more darkness or cold.”

“…I saw a shooting star. Near the end. It- it reminded me of when you summoned all those Galaxy Rangers in Penacony.”

“I guess the speed at which I flew over here could be compared to a shooting star,” Boothill commented, making Dan Heng snort a little in reply.

Silence lapsed between the two of them before the dragon breathed: “…I’m tired.”

“Well, your Express friends are on their way. You can get some rest before you go back with them.” The cyborg replaced Dan Heng back in the little sleeping bag he’d put him in; Dan Heng rolled himself into a cocoon immediately, much to the Ranger’s confusion and amusement.

Dan Heng glanced at him one more time, his eyes sparkling (with tears? just from relief?) as he quietly asked:

“Will you stay with me?”

Boothill understood immediately. The unspoken words between two Pathstriders of the same Path. Two hunters with too much in their pasts that always came back to them.

“As long as you want me.”

Dan Heng smiled weakly, humming in response to a hand ruffling his hair, then dozed off—not truly sleeping, but letting his mind shut down. Somewhere down the line, behind blurred and foggy memories, he felt arms pick him up and carry him a long way, never letting go until they’d arrived at the Express. Once he felt the familiar aura of the Express encircle him once more, Dan Heng truly allowed himself to fall asleep.

Dan Heng was not unfamiliar with the darkness. He did not like the darkness and was always afraid of returning to it.

But this time, no matter where he went in his dreams, a shooting star was always following after him.

And that— and he— lit up the darkness.

[modevernon]

rainy days # chwe vernon

pairing: vernon x gn!reader genre: f2l, comfort warnings: cursing, mentions of food word count: 1.25k

ever since autumn fell into your hands like a stale, unwanted gift, vernon had been acting strange. well. ‘strange’ was difficult to define. vernon was, by nature, pretty strange.

rather, he ceased to act in his normal, strange way, and that was what bothered you — where were the out-of-the-blue “fried chicken, my place, shrek” text invites? where had those gone? where were the absurd, vine-reminiscent tiktoks and goofy screenshots of infinite challenge? where were the multitude of beanies strewn across your house? where, and when had he taken them back? where was he?

yes, seasonal depression existed. but he had explicitly told you, as you were munching on a cinnamon roll for breakfast three months ago, that fall was his favorite season. and yes, you two had only started hanging out this year, so it wasn’t as if your friendship had ever been set in stone. but even so, you didn’t deserve to be ghosted, or slowly distanced from until he had erased you from his life.

and yet, you could pinpoint the day, the moment, the very conversation during which his demeanor shifted so precisely that you figured something must have gone wrong then, and maybe it was your fault.

so you ran back the dialogue to the best of your recollection: it had been a rainy saturday, the kind of humidity that simply begged you to stay inside, and vernon had been making cold hot chocolate (“so… chocolate milk?” “no, you don’t see the vision!”) as you drafted emails at your desk.

when he completed his little concoction and entered your room with a mug of it, you were enjoying a self-proclaimed break, perched on the edge of the table, scrolling through instagram.

“bro, you have to see this,” you called to him casually, hearing his footsteps approach.

he did approach — slowly. stopping before you, he placed the mug on the table. “am i your bro now?”

eyes still glued to your phone, you knocked jokingly at his arm. “sorry.”

after a beat, you looked up, as if finally absorbing all of what had been said so far. “wait.” vernon gazed back at you patiently. “you’ve never complained about that.”

he opened his mouth slightly, some unforeseeable sentence at the tip of his tongue, then closed it and glanced away. “yeah, well,” and he took a step back, “never said i was complaining.”

then you had taken a sip from the mug, and said to him that it tasted just like chocolate milk, but lukewarm, and he had laughed softly without a rebuttal, and you had showed him the instagram story you had found funny, and he had laughed again without comment, and half an hour later he had left from your apartment and the rain had kept falling and everything had seemed eerily quiet. the end.

except it wasn’t the end — it couldn’t be the end, when vernon’s pretty little face was all you could think about even as weeks, months passed without his presence.

today, you were feeling especially fed up, inhaling a cinnamon roll from the same café you’d visited with vernon in the heat of summer. it was suspiciously warm for late october, as if the weather was actively forcing you to reminisce, and it stayed warm until the sun slipped down and suddenly it was cruelly, unbearably cold — and rainy. wrapped up in blankets, you stirred your (real) hot chocolate, watched the downpour vandalize your windows, and wondered what to do with your fraught, ambivalent heart.

vernon was surprised to get a call past midnight, and more surprised that he was on his phone at the exact minute to pick up. he swiped right, forgetting to read the contact.

“hello?” he spoke first.

“hey.” vernon could tell by one syllable that it was you. he checked the screen to confirm anyway. you continued, voice inexplicable: “what’ve you been up to?”

first question, and he was already feeling guilty. “work,” he replied, with faux detachment, “kinda tiring.”

“tiring?”

“mm-hmm.”

“busier than usual?” your tone was veering from innocent to interrogative.

“yeah, you could say that.” what excuse could he give that wasn’t the reason?

“you still could’ve kept in touch, you know,” you hit back. quiet on the other end of the line. “i had to watch bottoms without you.”

“oh, that’s a great movie,” vernon blurted, then immediately regretted.

he could almost see your eyes narrow. “so you watched it on your own?”

“… yeah. on my own.”

you let his response hang embarrassingly in silence. after a beat — “do you have anything to tell me, hansol?”

oh. hansol. shit was getting real; but vernon tried to dodge the fact. “do you have anything to tell me?”

“stop acting cheeky. it’s not cute.”

“no, i’m serious. you must’ve called to say something.”

“i can’t just call to say hi?”

“that’s what you wanted to say? hi?” the words came out far more acerbic than he had intended.

and for the first time, your voice faltered. “didn’t… didn’t you miss me?”

to answer that would be to burst a dam. he felt no choice but to fall back on old tricks. “did you miss me?”

you huffed. vernon knew he was pushing your limit, but it was all he could do. now it was quiet on your end, and he was contemplating a better way to weasel out of this when the bell of his apartment abruptly rang.

perfect. “um— hey, so sorry to cut this short, but i just— there’s a friend coming over, they’re at the door—” and he walked hastily toward it. “we can talk later.” and he hung up before you had the time to reply, simultaneously opening the door to find you, drenched, no umbrella in sight, staring daggers into him.

he was so stunned that he couldn’t exclaim. you kept staring until you grew tired of it, and blinked away. with your hair dripping so much, it was impossible to tell whether your face was wet with tears or rain.

just as vernon began to take up his hand to wipe your cheek, you spoke again. “really hard fucking way to get me to ask you out.”

his hand froze. to what? “of course i missed you, hansol. i missed you so much, i couldn't do anything else. i missed you so much, i ran here while it was pouring, and you know i hate going outside when it's like this. i missed you so much, it’s been driving me insane! what the hell did i do that was so wrong?” your voice was breaking, fracturing. “can’t you tell me?”

the way vernon stood made him look like a film on pause. only his eyes trembled, ever so slightly, drinking you in with excruciating care because heaven knows how much he missed you too.

before he could think of what to say back, his body moved reflexively into yours, arms wrapped around you, head buried in your neck. you were so cold against him, so tense with emotion that his embrace left you melting.

“i thought you didn’t want me,” he breathed, still enveloped in you, “the way i wanted you.”

you sighed, somewhere between relief and exasperation. “why would you assume that, idiot?” it wasn’t really a question. “someone who’s usually so slow to act.”

at that comment, vernon peeled — slowly — away from you to face you again. “i’ll be fast this time,” he vowed, and you tilted your head in puzzlement. “you’re asking me out? my answer is yes.”

a/n: excuse my like two month hiatus. kung chi pak chi summoned me back.

[sechsviciado]

when doves cry

reaperken/touka ; written circa nov/dec 2022

no warnings or ratings really?

-

so after my slight reaperken/touka rambling yesterday i figured that i really have nothing to lose from posting this small snippet of a fic (oneshot??) thats been sitting in my google drafts for nearly the past two years; if this is crappy i can always just delete it but ive wanted to contribute a bit more to keep tokyo ghoul tumblr alive so i figure why not?

i felt so smart when i came up with the title since ken was a dove during that entire reaper arc until the events of cochlea. i didnt really pay attention to prince's lyrics in the song but looking back at it now i guess some apply? not really any inspiration was gained from it though, i just grew up with music from the 60s-90s so the title kind of came to my mind and it happened to be a prince reference. not really any ratings or warnings yet?? its nowhere near finished and im not sure if ill even finish it because i feel my writing heavily lacks.

anyway, without further ado

how many months had it been?

it had been months — years — since he recalled feeling this exact way. of course, haise had felt this way too, but it would never compare to the feelings he had for her before that brief period of time where he had lost recognition of everything and everyone who once meant something to him. ironically, it's when he felt most at peace with the butterflies in his stomach, beating against his rib cage and the cage surrounding the longing which could never be released. he’s regained his memories now, but he knew something was different within him even when he laid his glassy eyes on her again on that first visit to :re as sasaki haise. why did he feel so entrapped and yet so wrongly distant even when he had no recollection of her prior on that first visit to the cafe?

it would never be the same.

it would never compare to the feeling of falling in love with her and the realization that came with it. the realization that left him in a state of both a mix of surprise and agitation for days and with a feeling that could only be described as his heart skipping a beat and yet crumbling at the same time. it would never happen, would it? he had chosen to face that reality when he was still his old self, naive and too ashamed of his actions to actually face her after all the pain he caused her as a result of the pain which engulfed his entire life, too. too ashamed to accept his new reality, hiding behind his eyepatch — too ashamed to admit he had fallen in love so easily. he wasn't any different now.

haise may have fallen in love with her through the lens of a reborn figure with a fresh start and no boundaries to stand behind (apart from his obvious shyness and the weird sense of familiarity), but it just occurred by fate. the same fate that had snatched him from her years prior had found a way to bring him back into her arms and make him belong to her once again. he can't help but believe that maybe there was some future destined between them; the embittered part of his heart and soul makes him realize even that destiny would probably be cursed or filled with further strife.

though he supposed that didn't matter now.

not when he was even more distant from her than when he was an amnesiac with no recollection of her apart from the same old feeling of confusing comfort and longing. it's humorous and yet painful to think about how low he'd fallen in this aspect, not even being able to face her once again. despite his older age, he was still just a boy when it came to this same ancient rush, wasn't he? it doesn't matter. she surely didn't want anything to do with him anyways, especially not after everything that he's done. he's betrayed her and everyone who was once a part of him once again, and he’s chosen to accept that painful reality ever since he vowed to stop dreaming and flung tsukiyama off that building. facades all break down eventually.

though he supposed that didn't matter now, either.

he’d be disposed of soon enough before any of this could matter at all — before hinami was to be the one to disappear from the purgatory that was life as a ghoul. there was no heaven and there was no hell; there was no afterlife. heaven was bliss and safety on earth while hell was anguish and pain.

it was selfish of him to hope touka would feel any sort of pain after all of the grief and rage he's put her through time and time again, but he hoped he'd at least be remembered by the person he felt he loved most in this lifetime — the one who hadn't thrown him aside but who had instead built a nest for him as if though her life depended on it. he can't help but wonder… he’s had everyone he's ever known and cared for snatched from his hands by the same twisted fate that led him to await his upcoming death, he doesn't know if the puddle of both coldness and warmth in his stomach is either fear or love.

he'd truly cherish any memory he had of her before he’d be killed.

he vaguely remembers telling her, years ago, that he'd be sad if she died; he just hopes she would be saddened at his death, too.

[ewaneneollav]

when my dad was a child, his mom took him on a cross-country road trip, to relocate to the west coast i think, but she abandoned him in a diner - said she’d be right back & sped off - he was adopted by a lady named Rose who was just a waitress in that diner. he remembers her fondly, she very much became “his mother.” it seems he’s probably had an interesting life but there’s a lot of gaps in my understanding. i’d bet at least a hundred dollars he has a draft of some kind of memoir in his google drive account

he spent most of his life living in california, i think. i have no idea what dragged him to missouri where he ended up meeting my mom & growing roots there. maybe some of his birth family is there - he tends to refer to them in “hick-y” ways, an “it sucks but i gotta love them” kind of tone.  they’re all trumpers now i’m pretty sure. but he did tell me at some point they’re concentrated more around both texas & michigan, so i don’t know

at some point there was a big meeting where everyone appeared on tv, some obscure late night show i think? it would not surprise me if there were no archive of it i have no marked recollection of ever meeting any members of his family whether adoptive or biological

i am left-handed, i have green eyes, & they made my initials abc on purpose. i mostly lived with my mom but as a child i liked my dad more. perhaps because he “shared the asperger’s.” over time this grew into a marked alienation from him as i found his way of living & relating to the world sort of markedly inane & alienated, in ways perhaps “touched by the asperger’s”

in my lifetime he actually had a daughter he wasn’t there for whatsoever, only her mother raised her. just a couple years back he actually finally went & met with her in kansas city, i think it was, or maybe tulsa? somewhere. it was a very major thing for him

i have little understanding of where either half (or, third? (or, certain things on my mom’s side might make it even a bit more bleary & watery than that)) of my family “came from” & generally regard myself as having kind of sprung up from the dirt in missouri without explanation. i have many half-siblings, none of whom have really remained in my life. mostly out of mutual apathy