#i also didn’t draw him looking dead tired for once

[4m4non]

a little Dazai doodle i did :3c

don’t ask why he looks like so young idk either

[wickjump]

// cw for graphic descriptions of corpses/child death

can we talk for a little bit about how fucking horrifying it must’ve been for asriel to see chara’s corpse. his entire life, he grew up thinking that when you die, you turn to dust. he never had any reason to be taught otherwise.

so imagine his surprise when instead of the dust he’d assumed would come from his sibling’s death, it’s an empty husk of their body. skin turns paler and bluer and eyes glaze over, almost watery in how they look. they’re heavier than they’ve ever been before, and it takes asriel so long to get their body from their home to the barrier. and the entire time chara is looking at him with eyes that didn’t recognize him, eyes that don’t recognize everything. unfocused. cloudy. and when they’re lifted, their neck no longer holds up their head and it drops back and asriel has to keep pushing forward while carrying his sibling’s dead body in his arms, and you have to just think about how young they both were, too. that they were kids during all this.

as someone who did not have many experiences with corpses and then was forced to have experiences regarding a corpse at a young enough age, it’s fucked and i think that should be acknowledged because asriel didn’t know anything about corpses before. he likely didn’t even know humans didn’t turn to dust after they died. and he had to carry his best friend, his sibling’s corpse. y’all draw chara’s corpse with closed peaceful eyes and they look like they’re asleep. hell no. iirc most dead bodies eyes’ are at least a little bit open cause of muscle relaxation. chara would’ve looked wide a-fucking-wake. and buttercup poisoning also has rashes as a side effect too. like they’d have had plenty of rashes and blisters.

their body was anything but peaceful, and anything but calm while asriel had to drag it to the barrier, desperate to not let chara’s sacrifice go to waste. it was much less stoic and a lot more desperate and horrifying than is acknowledged. it wasn’t asriel majestically carrying chara’s body to the barrier before absorbing the soul. it was likely asriel having to sneak chara’s corpse away from their parents in the night while they talked about what to do now, trying his hardest to pick chara up and carry them but they’re so heavy now and a few times he ends up dropping them, maybe even dragging them once it gets tiring enough, only absorbing their soul when he’s reached the barrier, and when he does it’s scary how light chara is in comparison. this is asriel’s best friend, his sibling, someone he cared about. and now they look at him with distant eyes and a mouth slightly parted with blisters around their lips.

and it’s a death asriel regrets ever agreeing to because they look like a stranger like this. they’re not the same chara that would make scary faces and play with him in the flowerbed, it can’t be. internally he still associates death with dust, and because chara isn’t dust, some part of him is convinced they aren’t dead yet, even if he knows they are. he’s never had to cope with the idea of an empty husk of a body before, once lively yet now limp and motionless. that concept must be terrifying to a monster asriel’s age.

LIKE HELLO. ???? THATS TRAUMATIZING. CAN WE ELABORATE ON THAT MORE. BECAUSE HELLO WHAT

[fieldofdaisiies]

Whispers of the Forgotten | pt. 4

pairing: azriel x reader | type: angst | words: 2,6k words | masterlist

You are alone. The room is dark. Silent. Not a single noise audible. Not a single candle burning. Nothing but deafening silence and darkness, almost like an endless void.

And you. You are alone with your thoughts. Your fears. Your memories. 

Nesta has left a moment ago, the wooden door is now closed, the room dark. She had asked you a few times if it would be alright to leave you alone, and of course, you said yes. You decided that you like Nesta. She has a powerful aura around her and is definitely not one to mess with. You would have loved to talk to her a bit more, but you couldn’t keep her here. 

But damn, do you hate being alone now. You said you would be alright, but deep inside you knew you wouldn’t, but you didn’t want to keep her here. You couldn’t do this to her.

You are miserable and considered one of the most dangerous beings in this world — what would she do here? With you. She definitely has better things to do...

But now that you are alone, the room suddenly scares you. Being alone does. You didn’t want to keep her here, but you also don’t want to be alone.

Your curl your fingers towards your palms, drawing blood when your sharp nails pierce into your flesh. But the pain…you don’t even notice it anymore, having done this so many times over the past centuries. Whenever you were scared, or panic.king It was not in order to harm or hurt yourself, but to remind yourself that what is happening to you real, not some wild nightmare or hallucination, that you haven’t gone mad.

You lift your gaze and turn your head slightly, your neck aching. You realise quickly that you can’t stay here. You don’t want to stay here. Not alone. Not in the dark. Never again. You can’t do this. You can’t stay here right now. 

No one told you you had to stay in your room, only in the Library. So the Library is where you want to be. Outside of this room. In the light. Surrounded by books and maybe one or the other person – the priestesses.

You shoot to the door and rip it open, dashing toward the first light source you spot. The large, towering bookshelves at the end of the corridor are lit and this is where you are heading right now, tired feet still carrying you over the floor rather quickly.

Once surrounded by many books, the scent of the old pages seeping into your nostrils, you inhale deeply and close your eyes for a moment, trying to level your breathing and still your mind.

The Valkyries once had breathing techniques you still like to use. Mind-stilling techniques that helped you to not go insane in your time in the Prison.

You hand reaches out and you brush over some books.

It is a soft, female voice that startles you slightly when you hear it behind you. “You must be, Y/N.”

You spin around and are met with a beautiful, tall female with teal eyes. She kindly smiles at you and you nod.

“I‘m Gwyn. I also live here. Welcome to the Library.”

You meet her gaze and stop dead in your tracks. "Gwyn?"

"Yes," she says, "actually Gwyneth Berdara, but I prefer Gwyn. Just Gwyn."

You look at her in slight surprise, feeling both nostalgic and sad. Your friend, a former member of the Wild Hunt, was called Gwyn. He is dead now.

"You are not scared?" You don't want to think about him, the friend you have lost. Another person who left the world too soon.

You swallow around a lump in your throat and your sharp fingernails brush over the spine of a book. You are thankful for the sweater Nesta has offered you on your way down here, having seen how much you shivered, now hanging loosely over your shoulders, the nightgown beneath still the same you have been wearing for centuries.

"Of you?" Gwyn asks with a smile and takes one step closer. You almost want to warn her to not get too close, but you know you would never hurt her. It’s only what you’ve heard your whole life. Don’t get too close to the demon. Stay away from the evil female. 

The Bloodthirsty Baroness comes at midnight to steal your soul and leave you to bleed out. The Silent Reaper executes you before you can defend yourself. Not once have you done such a thing - only tales and legends made you seem like this demonic monster. You only ever avenged victims, took care of those who hurt them, and devoured the revenge you exerted. But you never hurt someone only to hurt them.

"Yes, of me." You meet her eyes again and see how she shakes her head.

"I have a lot of respect for you, but scared? I know you won’t harm me, so I'm not scared."

"Because the High Lord would kill me for it."

Her warm, soft palm lands on your chest before you have time to react. It startles you, massively, and you nearly choke on a breath. Your eyeballs threaten to fall out of their sockets by how wide your eyes are open — she is touching you. You are not irritated or shocked about the audacity, you are confused, startled, about her...kindness.

She smiles when she takes in the shock on your face.

"I am not scared of you because I know you have a good heart. Right in there, you are good, and I don’t have to be afraid of you, with the High Lord’s protection or without it. I know you wouldn’t harm me."

She pulls back her hand and you almost want to reach for her and just pull her into an embrace. She reminds you of your sister and right now you would give the world for just a simple hug from your sister. Or just a simple hug. Just someone caring enough for you to hold you.

“The fangs? The claws, the—”

“Incredibly amazing assets and most definitely very handy in battle. And as I said, I have a lot of respect for you, I can feel your power and I know what you are probably capable of. I am incredibly impressed by you and your powers, but they don't scare me.”

You almost want to laugh about the powers part. Because right now...you don't have them. Not with the amulet not being in your possession, not with some training. Every ounce of power you had, slowly drained from your body during the imprisonment.

But you shake your head and inhale deeply. You don't want to let your anger and frustration show right now, it wouldn't be fair when Gwyn has only been kind to you.

With a little chuckle slipping through your lips you shake your head. “You have a heart of pure gold, Gwyn.”

She only smiles politely, but a faint blush stains her cheeks. “You want company this evening?”

A sigh of relief leaves you. “There is nothing I would rather want." You sling your arms around yourself. "If you don’t mind, of course.”

───── ⋆⋅ ☽☾ ⋅⋆ ─────

The following day – armed with several books Gwyn helped you collect in the Library– you start to read up on Koschei, on spells and curses, on anything that could be important. 

You dive into one book after the other, each one captivating you so much you forget about the time and world around you as you gather information, noting things done or remembering by heart. Your mind is sharp, fully focused on the book, eyes scanning every single word, taking it all in. There is so much that is important, you let your head fall back and then you inhale deeply. 

Hopefully, they will give you back your amulet soon. You need it and you also want it back. It has been in your family’s possession for centuries, until Azriel–

You don’t dwell on this thought, straightening up and focusing back on the task at hand – going through yet another book and some pieces of parchment that come along with it. 

By the special request of Rhysand High Lord of the Night Court, you are always working upstairs, in the living room of the House of Wind. It doesn’t bother you; most of the time you are alone, some tending to business inside the house, others training (Gwyn told you so) on the rooftop. 

Sunlight brushes your skin and you revel in the feel of it. You haven’t felt, nor seen, sunlight in so long it now feels like balm against your skin. It is so good, you haven’t felt that alive in so long. 

You are still kept somehow locked in, but it almost feels like freedom. You are allowed to roam freely in the House of Wind and the Library. You haven’t got your powers back, but as long as you are in here, you don’t need them. You only need a bit of sunlight, some wonderful conversations with Gwyn, a soft bed to sleep in and good food. It is enough and slowly contentment crawls back into your body – nothing you’ve never thought to ever happen again. 

But now there is hope for you to find happiness again. Not with Azriel, and also not with him in your life, but there will be a way to avoid him somehow. Once you have your powers back and Koschei is defeated they might let you leave. You would go to the continent or even further away. As far away from the male who caused you that much pain as possible. 

“If you need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

The voice startles you and you almost shriek, jumping up in your chair, snatching the book close. Your heart races like a wild horse and you whip around to look at Nesta. 

There is a smile on her face, one that is too kind and empathetic – you are not used to that sort of friendly behaviour towards you. 

“I am fine.” You'r answer is too quick. Too tight, and Nesta purses her lips.

“You may pretend to be, and you are damn good at it, but I know you are not.” She closes the door behind her and moves toward the table, bracing her slim hands upon the surface, manicured nails tapping against it. “What you have gone through…I think none of us can imagine, but I don’t want you to have to swallow it all up.”

Her throat bobs when she swallows. “I know what it does to someone, not opening up or not having anyone to talk to.”

“I don’t need anyone to talk to.” You meet her gaze. “I don’t need anyone.” You want this statement to be strong and steadfast, but your voice gives you away, breaking slightly towards the end, so you quickly add. “All my life, I’ve been alone. I was orphaned when I was a babe, later no one ever cared about me, then my powers manifested and everyone got scared and they started to fear and hate me.”

“You were part of the Wild Hunt.” Nesta interrupts you and you don’t like it. But her statement surprises you. How the hell does she know? Well, Rhysand has probably told everyone. How he knew? Either from his father or Azriel.

“I was.”

She claims the seat across you and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. 

“I’m sure they cared about you.” Neither of you looks away and power stretches out between you. You are both strong-willed and powerful, neither of you is giving in now. You wonder if she really only wants to help you, be there for you. There is not a kernel of bad blood inside her body, your soul detects nothing, and so it makes you truly think she might only want to be nice to you. But why?

“We didn’t care about each other. We tolerated each other, had our backs when we went out for the hunt, but that was it.” Slowly, you scrape a talon down the cover of the book. 

“Did you give yourself your nicknames?”

Does none of them have manners? No knocking, no announcing oneself, just showing up. 

You turn to Gwyn and raise your brow at her. You can’t be mad at her, she was too kind to you the other evening, and her words have strung cords within your heart you thought no longer to exist. So, inhaling deeply and calming your heart, your decide to be polite to her.

“The Bloodthirsty Baroness.” Gwyn walks up to Nesta, nothing but curiosity shimmering within her teal eyes. "The Silent Reaper."

Your eyes flick to her and in a smooth, polished voice you say, “I earned myself the titles.”

Neither Gwyn nor Nesta show a reaction but a chill courses through the room, cooling the temperature at least two degrees.

“But probably not for the reason you think," you silently add. You move the book away from you and flex your fingers, then curl them towards your palms. “I wasn’t bloodthirsty for innocent people, I only took revenge for those who could no longer do so. My hands were drenched in blood, but it wasn’t spilled in vain.”

“See,” Gwyn says with a small smile and slumps into the chair next to Nesta. “I knew you had a good heart.”

A cold chuckle parts your lips. “I wouldn’t quite say that I have a good heart, but I’m not quite as cruel as the legends and stories paint me. And the silent part is definitely true - always appearing at midnight, taking the souls of those with me who deserved it. No noise could be heard, no one could be seen and no trace was left behind.”

A smirk appears on Nesta’s face and she slowly bows her head. “Are you alright with being here?” She changes the topic and you are incredibly thankful for it. Or would be, if she hadn’t asked this question. 

You can’t quite say no, because being here is not the worst place you have ever been at, but then, with Azriel always being somewhere around, it kind of is (not as bad as the Prison though…)

“It is alright.”

“I asked if you are alright.”

You chuckle again and give your head a shake. “I’m alright.” 

Now, Nesta dips her chin and seems content with your answer. Insufferable, you think, but you have to admit you actually like her. She partly reminds you of yourself. 

There is a little spark inside your mind, just a very small thought, a fleeting moment, that lets you think what if. What if you stayed here and became friends with Nesta and Gwyn. You could see yourself being friends with them and–

You immediately cut off your string of thouhgts. 

This is bullshit. You won’t stay here. The first chance you get, you will be gone. Far away and never return. People who live here have hurt you, and you will never find forgiveness for them.

“Shall we let you work again?”

With a smile you dip your chin at Gwyn. “That would be nice. I’ve found quite some things already.” You don’t really know why you share so much, but you are all in this together, so why keep things from them. And so you continue, letting them in on what you have found out already, sharing some bits and pieces with them that could be of interest. 

When the sun already starts to set outside and Gwyn and Nesta leave for training with the other priestesses you are for the first time reminded how much time you have spent bent over the books this day.

“Nesta,” you call after her once she is nearly out of the door. 

She slowly turns to you, waiting, but Gwyn is already gone, her humming filling the otherwise silent corridor. 

“Thank you for offering me to talk to you whenever I need it. And thank you…just thank you.” You smile a little sheepishly but she returns it with a bright grin. “Anytime,” she says and you add, “If you get a chance, just tell Gwyn thank you from me again as well.”

She bows her head and is gone in the next moment. 

With a small, barely-there smile on your lips you focus your attention back to the task at hand. Spending so much time researching seems like a good thing to make time pass, you realise and reach for yet another book. It is big and has a thick velvety binding. Your fingers stroke over the golden lettering that says something about darkness and its creatures. 

When you flip it open the first lovely being revealed to you is the Naaga. You haven’t seen them in a long time, you think, but you have had both good and bad memories with those little beasts. You flick through more pages, getting lost in every little word you read, reminding you of a time long ago. 

So enthralled by the knowledge you gather from the book, you haven’t noticed that someone opened the door, nor that someone has walked in.

Not someone – Azriel. 

"Can we talk?"

tags (crossed-out I couldn't tag) : @juulle987 @marimorena06 @danikasthings @younxii@nightcourtwritings @mrofontaine @lunalilyf @whor-3-crux @tired-all-the-time @anni-was-here @ummmmmwat @azbracadabra @j-pendragonx @hollyismentallyillhelp @famousbasementpainter @bsenpai @lena-davina @red-highlady @thesugatoyourtae @azrielsbabyg @aroseinvelaris @moony-thoughts @wrensical003 @cherryjain17 @moonfawnx @crushedcloudsx @devilsfoodcake22  @valeridarkness @azrielscertifiedslut @mulansaucey @cynicalpotato95 @hanasakr @high-bi-andreadytocry @eerievixen @feyretopia @moonlightazriel @randomness-it-is @brekkershadowsinger @eliieee23 @girasoli-e-sorrisi @illyrianvalkyriecarynthian  @kennedy-brooke @highladyofillyria @theworthlessqueen @marina468 @topaz125 @illyrian-dreamer @azriels-mate123 @eos-princess @courtofjurdan @a-frog-with-a-laptop @insufferablebookaddict @callmeblaire

[redskull199987]

What about a Mike x fem!reader where reader helps mike through one of his nightmares?

Lifeless Stars

Mike Schmidt x fem!reader Request

Word Count:1.6k

Warnings:very angsty again, but also lots of fluff and comfort too, I also may have added Abby a bit into this because I love her and I wish I had a sister like her:,), also Movie spoilers

Summary:After the events at the Pizza-Plex, You and Mike both have problems coping with what happened. But at least you have each other…and a sweet little Girl, whose goal it was to make you smile again...

Masterlist

You felt tired. Terribly tired actually. The Sun had long disappeared behind the Horizon. The House was quiet and all lights were shut off, as the entirety of your little family had withdrawn behind the warmth and comfort of your blankets. 

And theoretically, you should have been asleep. But much to your dismay, you weren’t. You had been awake for hours, downright tired to the verge of passing out, but sleep just wasn’t able to find you.

Maybe it was because of what had happened a few days ago at the Pizza-Plex. The events were still burned into your skull, the images still vivid and every time you closed your eyes, it didn’t take long before that damn Golden Bonnie crept his way up into your dreams. You supposed, that was the reason you were unable to sleep tonight.

With a sigh, you quietly tried to sit up while not waking up Mike, who had his head laying on top of your shoulder and his arm slung around your waist. As cautious as possible, you pushed him off of you and stood up. You looked at Mike once more and gently pulled the blanket back up to his face again, before making your way into the kitchen.

 ‘Maybe a cup of tea could help’, you thought. And you seriously hoped it would. Your last resort would be Mike’s sleeping pills, but you really didn’t want to use them, knowing of how much trouble they always brought Mike.

So, without turning on the lights, the house only illuminated by the shine of the Moon, you stood in the kitchen, waiting for the water to boil, so that you could put on your tea. Your eyes wandered all over the room, gazing at the various pots and plates that were standing in random places. Abby’s drawing of you guys and the kids on the fridge or the Picture of Mike and his brother, when he was still alive. You sincerely hoped that he had found peace too. That he was in a better Place now, looking down on Abby and Mike with a smile on his face while patiently waiting for the day of their reunion.

The sound of the tea pot pulled you out of your thoughts. Quickly, you poured the steaming water into your cup and set it down on the kitchen table to let it cool down a bit, so that you would not burn your tongue when drinking it.

With another heavy sigh, you walked over to the couch and flopped down on it. Your body felt heavy. Too heavy. With a small hiss, you lifted your shirt, taking a look at your still healing injury. Mike might have had it worse than you, but Afton had still managed to nab at you with his damn knife. You got way more lucky than Vanessa though, since she was still in the Hospital. You really hoped that she would wake up soon, so that you could thank her properly. If it hadn't been for her, you would probably all be dead.

A noise from your bedroom suddenly caught your attention. With furrowed brows, you swiftly jogged back through the dark hallways. You could swear, it almost gave you a heart attack, when you abruptly ran into Mike, causing the two of you to stumble to the ground.

“Mike?”, You groaned quietly, blinking in the dark trying to spot him,”Mike, are you okay?”

You didn't receive an answer, but instead, you felt a pair of hands, searching for your own in the darkness.

“Mike, I’m here.”, you mumbled, reaching out for your boyfriend. Your hands hastily found his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. Only now, you noticed that he was trembling. His breathing was fast and heavy and he was slightly sweaty.

“Mike..”, you whispered, lacing your fingers with his,”Come with me.”

You quickly pulled him to his feet and guided him to the bathroom. Once you were inside, you switched on the lights and closed the door. You saw how Mike slightly flinched away, as soon as the dim light illuminated the room. You gazed at him with concern on your face, before motioning to the bathroom counter. He quickly understood and sat down on it.

With your eyes still on Mike, his hands were still trembling, you grabbed a cloth and held it under the water, before coming back to him.

With a reassuring smile on your face, you slowly stepped in between his legs. Mike almost automatically grabbed your waist, pulling your body closer to his.

“Hey.”, you tenderly grasped his cheek, making him look at you. Without another word you raised the cloth to his face, slowly wiping the sweat off of his forehead. Mike only closed his eyes, seemingly just trying to enjoy your sweet touch on his face.

“What happened?”, You finally asked, when he had calmed down again. His hands were no longer trembling anymore and his breathing had returned to normal. 

“I had a nightmare.”, Mike explained, his gaze now focusing on the ground,”I dreamed that..that, I wasn’t able to save Abby. That they took her, just like Garret. And I couldn't do anything. I was just staring like a useless piece of shit-”

“Mike.”, you said firmly, turning his face back to you,”Don’t say that. It was just a dream. Abby is safe. She’s with us. Nothing can happen to her.”

Mike didn’t say anything in return, so you tried something else instead of just talking to him. You swiftly raised your other hand, but not to his face, but to his chest. Your palm rested right above his heart, that you could feel beating rapidly. Mike only looked at you in confusion.

“Mike..”, You mumbled, searching for the right words,”What I can feel under the palm of my hand, is the Heart of a Big Brother, that’s only beating for his sister. A heart that’s beating because it’s owner decided to stay alive for his sister. To be there for her and give her the life she deserves. And not only for her, but also for me. I know what you did to save us and I will be forever grateful for that. So are Abby and Vanessa. You saved us. We’re alive because of you, Mike.”

You could feel tears well up in your eyes, because as you said them, you realized how true they were. You owed Mike your life and you would forever be grateful to have him in your life.

“I love you.”, was all that Mike was able to mutter in response, before he pulled you into him by your waist, connecting your lips in a sweet and tender kiss. You felt him holding onto you tightly and as you parted, he gently leaned his forehead against yours.

“Thank you, Y/N.”, Mike mumbled, kissing you once more on your temple.

Your sweet moment was interrupted, as you saw the lights in the hallway suddenly go on. Mike and you only looked at each other for a second, before he jumped off of the bathroom counter. He pulled you behind his body, as the two of you quietly walked over to the door. With one final step, you walked into the hallway and all your tension quickly dissolved into relief, as you saw who the culprit was.

Abby was sitting at the Kitchen table, sipping on the tea you had made earlier.

“Hey, you little thief.”, You smiled and sat down next to her, “That was mine.”

Abby looked at you apologetically, but not really:”Sorry.”

“It’s fine.”, you smiled and ruffled her hair affectionately.

“Why are you up, Abbs?”, Mike asked, also sitting down next to the two of you.

“Couldn’t sleep.”, the girl answered shyly,”So, I drew a picture for you guys.”

Wordlessly, she slid a piece of paper over to you and Mike. The two of you looked at each other for a second, before glancing at the drawing. Your heart bloomed with joy, as you realized what it was.

In the drawing, you could see Mike, Abby, Vanessa and you playing together. It looked like Hide and Seek and while Mike was the Seeker, Abby, Vanessa and You all hid from him with a smile on your faces.

“That’s really beautiful, Abby.”, you mumbled, trying not to tear up.

“Let's put it on the fridge, hm?”, Mike suggested and promptly did what he just proposed.

Abby only smiled at you and instantaneously jumped up, giving you and Mike a big beary hug. You could only embrace the girl in your arms. You had grown so much closer over the years and you were extremely grateful for that. You really did love her like a sister,

“Let’s all go to bed now, shall we?”, Mike proposed,  a smile now also on his face.

Abby and You could only nod, as sleep was now finally catching up to you. You could barely remember what happened afterwards…

Bonus:

Your eyes only opened reluctantly, but the sun had been poking your face for a while, so you decided to give it a shot. But as you tried to sit up, you realized that it was of no use. This morning, you did not only feel the weight of one body on you, but two.

 You blinked around a few times, before realized what was going on. Abby had asked to stay with Mike and you for the Night, so that she could fall asleep faster and thus here you were. With Mike clinging onto your left side and Abby onto your right.

But all you could do was smile at your little family and close your eyes again, pulling the two of them closer. You really were grateful for everything. And you always would be.

[bepisbee]

Artist

It just started as something stupid. His teacher had once again taken away his book for reading in class. His work was done! Vio still got angry at that. It was almost out of spite, that he began doodling in notebooks. It looked like he was working, and the teachers were satisfied. Sure he was excited that Grandpa Smith had allowed them to enroll after their adventure, but he was tired of them being so strict. He kept it up for the year and forgot the next when he got a better teacher.

He never kicked the habit, though. When he was finished with his book and couldn’t get up for another, when he wasn’t allowed to after a test, (which he also thought was stupid and made him angry), and sometimes just to unwind.

He started drawing places and people. Current and past. Detailed drawings. By the time they were all adults it was more than just a little habit, it was something he honestly enjoyed. It was also something he never bothered to tell his brothers.

Vio rolled up his purple knit sweater sleeves, sitting cross legged on the Smith’s rooftop. Crisp fall air bit at his nose and fingertips, but Vio found the sensation refreshing and satisfying. Where Blue wouldn’t be caught dead in the cold, he enjoyed it immensely. He drew the landscape beyond the home. His page was about three-quarters into the well worn book. He wished he had known that night it would be last time in a long time he would see that sight, or he would have finished the drawing.

In his defense, no one expects several different versions of himself to appear from a portal, despite being able to except seeing four.

Vio’s eyes are half lidded, out of focus, as their team talks. He was lost in thought, the topic of tonight’s ‘get to know you’ was hobbies.

“What about you?” Hyrule gently nudges his arm. Vio looked up,

“Hm?”

“He’s boring!” Blue interjects, waving a hand dismissively. “He reads and studies.”

“Oh,” he puts together what he was asked when not paying attention. “Well, I uh.” He looks sheepishly at his fellow color, mild guilt over keeping this from them. It’s not like it was some huge secret or anything, but by the time he felt comfortable saying anything it was too late since he had started. “Actually I do.” he mumbles and goes into his bag.

“Other than reading?” Blue snorts. “That doesn’t count we all already know that.”

“Blue, be nice.” Green scolds.

Vio hesitates, then silently hands over a very well worn drawing book. Hyrule seemed surprised.

“May I?” he opens it.

“Go ahead.” Vio takes a deep breath and lets it out, nervous. Red comes over, eyes bright in curiosity himself. Hyrule flips through some pages.

“Woah…” his admiration and awe brings over more of the chain, who lean over Hyrules shoulder to see. He stops flipping and stares with furrowed brows a moment. “Who is this?” He turns over to the page in question. He had forgotten about that one, Vio’s breath left him for a moment. It was a detailed work he had done on Shadow Link. From memory, but this was the best out of theirs. It was his profile, staring out the fire tower window in a rare moment of calm contemplation. It was one of the most realistically drawn pages in the book. Hyrule flipped to another page, “There’s a few of this guy, there all amazing. I feel like I am actually looking at them!”

Red froze when he saw what he was talking about, between the stiffness in his shoulders and Vio’s silence the group picked dup on the tension immediately. Hyrule sputtered to hand the book back.

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to intrude on something personal!” Vio puts his hands up and softly pushes it back towards him.

“No, no. It’s alright. I gave you permission to look. I forgot what was all in this one…” His tone was so much softer than the chain had ever heard. It even had Time looking over, who had been minding his own business. “Do you remember when we told you about our last adventure? When I had tried to convert our living shadow to our side from within?” He got nods. Red sat down next to him silently in support. “That’s them.” he pointed to the page it was on now, Shadow laughing over something stupid, fangs flashed. “There’s a little more to it than just that.”

“Well, no shit.” Legend snarks, trying to loosen the tension, “No one draws someone like that just because.”

“I tried to draw Wolfie once, but he wouldn’t sit still long enough for me to memorize the patterns on his fur.” Vio glanced at Twi, who grinned.

Vio smiles, “Yeah.” he was glad someone picked up on it. “We were…” he glanced at his brothers, “Close. I’m not sure what I would label it as.” his gaze lands with sad longing on the drawing. “I would do just about anything to just see them again.” Legend’s playful gaze, softened.

“I get that.” he put a hand on his shoulder as he walked back to spot around the fire. Some understanding passed between them. Twi also shared a look with Vio for a moment. Hyrule handed back the book.

“Thank you for sharing. Your drawings are really good! Maybe you could draw some of us sometime?” Vio flipped it to a more recent page and turned it around. Wild leaning over a pot with a contemplative look while Wind was running up behind her in the background, arms overflowing with different mushrooms, truffles, and plants. The next page with Wars and Sky sparing playfully, scarf billowing in the wind. in the corner of a page was a doodle of the wind waker and Twi’s clawshot with a few curious notes. Some similar doodles around the edges.

He flipped it to the unfinished page of the landscape from the roof.

“Cool!!” Wind pointed. “Hey, it’s me!” he beamed.

“...If you would like I could draw people for you, when we see them next. So you can keep it with you. Like Sun, or Aryll.” he offers. “Or I can do my best on descriptions.” he meets Legend’s eyes for a moment.

“That sounds really nice Vio,” Hyrule sits back down in his spot now too. “I wish I could draw like that. I don’t have many hobbies outside of my magic.” he changes the subject. Just like that it was over and moved on. He felt a little lighter after sharing, though. Blue stopped him that evening before bed, quietly mumbling an apology for making him sound like he only cared about books, he really hadn’t meant it like that but sometimes his ribbing sounded more serious than he meant. Vio gave him a shoulder pat, a true gesture of acceptance, considering his aversion to touch. They were good. They would always be. And if Vio maybe drew the chain sleeping at the camp, well who would know? He was just grateful Hyrule hadn’t commented on his tiny corner doodles of Shadow, and what he might think about things.

Vio looked at the page wistfully, homesick. At least he had good friends, and his brothers. It made him feel a little less lonely. He turned to the page of Shadow’s profile. Vio fell asleep like that, leaned up against the log and page on Shadow.

In the morning, he had a blanket around his shoulders.

[irisintheafterglow]

End Game #2 (volleyball captain!gojo x you)

summary: you sneak out to play volleyball.

word count: 1.5k

cw/tags: mild language, jjk volleyball au, misunderstandings, a little angst but nothing too bad, commitment issues lol, subtle pining !!!!

note: ok part 2 because this au has given me motivation again. also i don't know if i should make the rest of the team the second-gen jjk sorcerers (yuuji, megumi, nobara, inumaki, etc) so if you have any thoughts on that lmk. i'm thinking yes make them part of the team but that'd negate their age gap so as long as that's fine i think it'll work. anyways hope you enjoy!!

likes/reblogs/feedback are always appreciated <3

A knocking on your window jolts you from your daze as you stare blankly at the unfinished document in front of you. It was only supposed to take two hours, you told yourself, but those two hours had doubled as you kept rewriting and re-wording every sentence you typed. Squeezing your eyes shut, you rest your face in your hands and pray for the teacher to postpone the due date. 

More insistent knocking draws your attention again, despite willfully ignoring it the first time. You lean back in your chair and groan, waiting for him to become impatient and start his Shakespearean monologuing. 

“Are you going to make me sit out here in the cold? In the dead of night? How cruel is this earthly plane–” You slide the window open, meeting Satoru’s eyes with a tired stare, and his voice catches in his throat. “Wow," he manages. “You look like shit.” You blink once, twice, a hand leaning on the window frame and the other on your hip. 

“What are you doing here, Satoru?” 

The mouth turns into a sly grin. “I need a partner.”

It’s late, and you’re unfazed. “I have a boyfriend.”

“That’s not what I mean, wait…what?” You laugh at the genuine confusion that paints his face, turning back into your room to grab your shoes. He slides through the window easily like he’d done a million times before, landing softly on the carpet and leaning back against the ledge. Poorly masked concern leaks into his voice and you smirk. “Since when were you seeing someone?” 

“Since never, Satoru. I already have my hands full dealing with you and your team; a relationship would essentially be another item on my schedule.” You slip on mismatched socks and some worn-out sneakers, shutting your laptop with a scowl. The essay would have to wait until you were done taking out your frustration on a volleyball. He watches you intently, blue eyes glowing in the moonlight. You’d known Satoru for years, but you always found that it was most challenging to read his emotions at night. It was like certain emotions were nocturnal. By day, Satoru was the goofiest person you knew; by night, you sometimes caught him staring at you in ways you knew he didn’t look at anyone else. You pushed whatever motives he may have into the back of your mind, dismissing his nightly flirtations the same way you ignored the daytime ones. 

You stand in front of him expectantly with your hands on your hips, and he peers up at you, eyes twinkling like the stars. “Shall we?” His fake chivalry makes the corner of your mouth turn up. 

“We need a ball first, Satoru.” You maneuver through your window after him, allowing him to briefly place his hands on your hips as you jump down from the ledge. His hands linger on your body for a moment before his senses come back. 

“I left it in your yard.” 

Your mouth drops in disbelief. “In the flowerbed?” You’re both whisper-yelling in front of your house, and you hope none of the neighbors decided to take a late-night stroll. 

He puts his hands up in surrender, shrugging as you turn on your phone flashlight to find the ball. “There was nowhere else to put it!” 

“I swear if you crushed those pink asters that I’ve been–”

“That you’ve been tending for years, I know.” You shoot him a glare over your shoulder as you bend over, fishing out the ball among the dark foliage. “You should grow red asters.” 

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion, Satoru,” you quip, tossing him the ball and running a hand over the petals to ensure they weren’t damaged too badly.  

He takes your spunk in stride, falling into step next to you. “I think they’re pretty. D’you know they’re supposed to symbolize devotion?” 

Your body runs on autopilot, crossing neighborhood sidewalks with Satoru at your side as you head toward the small park a few blocks from your house. He spins the ball on a slender finger absentmindedly as you walk. He continues his attempts to convince you to plant red asters the entire way to the park, even after you’ve taken your regular position across from him near the playground. “I’ll think about it, okay? Will you stop telling me how to garden now?”

“I wasn’t telling you to do anything; I was just suggesting it.” He throws you the ball, underhanded, and your arms move together mechanically to bump it back to him. 

“Yeah, just like you were suggesting that I call you captain earlier today.” Nimble fingers set it gracefully back to you, and you almost miss spiking the ball watching it arch in the air. 

He receives it easily, bumping it back. “I still don’t understand why you refuse.”

“Because I’m not one of your players, Satoru. I’m outside of the game. I make sure you all have water bottles and stuff.” Set. 

“You’re still just as much part of the team as anyone else is.” Spike. 

“Agree to disagree, then.” Bump. 

There was a separate reason as to why you didn’t want to call him captain, one that you would take to your grave. It was a line, you considered it, just like acknowledging his flirting. If you crossed that line, you were truly integrated into the team, truly connected to Satoru. You were the team’s manager, still separate from the rest of the players. As nice as it was to have somewhere to go after school besides your house, it was just as nice having a foot in the door just in case things suddenly went south. It was how you were, and you weren’t in the mood to verbalize your commitment issues with the one guy who’d probably tease you the most about it. 

Satoru’s face is unreadable again as he sets the ball, but you could see the gears turning in his head. “Are we still having that practice match with Kyoto next week?” 

Of all the things he would ask you, you didn’t think it would be practice-related. “As far as I’m aware, yeah. They offered to buy dinner if we won, by the way.” Spike. 

“Does that mean we have to pay for their food if we lose?” Bump. 

“Probably.” Set. 

“Then, no. Definitely not.” Spike. 

“Why?” You stick your tongue out teasingly. “Got plans?” Bump. 

“No, not yet at least.” Set. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spike. 

Bump. He shrugs nonchalantly, running a hand through his moonlit hair that you knew he only did when he was nervous. “Was thinking about asking someone out after the match.”

Set. “Oh.” The surprise moves past your lips before you can stop it, and you kick yourself mentally for feeling a bit of disappointment at his plans. You tended to get dinner with Satoru after practice matches, always some shitty fast food place where he talked about how much the other team sucked as he wolfed down three burgers. Sometimes Suguru or Shoko or Nanami would join you, but the one constant after hosting rival teams was dinner with Satoru. His intentions bothered you deep in your chest, but you couldn’t figure out why. 

Spike. “Yeah.” A layer of awkwardness settles between you two that you’d never felt before. It wasn’t that you were distressed that he was gonna ask someone on a date; your body just felt physically unable to create words. 

Bump. “Well, have fun with that then.” You fight to keep your voice even, eyes on the ball to look away from Satoru’s piercing stare. He was trying to read you, and you weren’t going to let him. 

Set. “Aren’t you going to ask me who they are?”

Spike, a hard spike. The ball speeds toward Satoru faster than he expects it, forcing him to catch it instead of sending it back toward you. “No, Satoru. Unlike the rest of the country’s population, I really couldn’t give two shits about who you decide is worthy of your attention.” The words fall from your mouth with more venom than you intend, and you bite down on your bottom lip guiltily. “I’m sorry. It’s late.” 

He watches you again, mysterious eyes analyzing your thoughts like a science experiment. “Yeah, it’s alright. It’s my fault, anyway, making you come out this time of night.” He smiles one of those make-everything-better smiles, and you feel a little lighter that he wasn’t too angry. “I’ll take you home.” 

Several minutes that felt like hours later, you’re back in your room as Satoru sits on the windowsill again, about to leave. “Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’m gonna ask them to dinner.” 

“Really? Why not?”

With his back to you, you had no idea what his expression was. You didn’t know if he was angry with you, but something in his voice told you he was hiding something. 

“Just doesn’t seem like the right time.” Before you could formulate a response, the old Satoru is back in a snap, tilting his head toward you playfully. “But, hey. You never know. Maybe someday I’ll get the balls to ask them,” he murmurs before he disappears, leaping down from your window into the night. 

You can’t tell if you’re relieved or disappointed that he wasn’t going to ask out that mystery person.

[capitalisticveins]

my feelings are still hurt from hearing Milo scream in pain from the bone is his arm literally being crushed in half soo…

Angst headcannons on ANYONE but my baby❤️ because who knows how much I can take??

First request! These are Angst headcanons for nearly everyone...except Milo and Sweetheart (when I say nearly everyone I mean nearly everyone)

Some characters show up more than once, some only show up once, hope you enjoy! [also the format is really weird for some reason and idk how to fix it? im sorry :( ]

Precious is scared to think anything in fear of Regulus listening in.

Huxley and Damien haven’t seen Lovely since Inversion, and haven't seen them return to classes either. To them, Lovely is dead. (well i mean they are dead but y’know what I mean)

Lovely is resentful of Sam for how much of his power he recovered after being turned compared to them, and they hate that they feel that way.

When Elliott heard about Sunshine getting into the crash, he nearly had a panic attack when he heard that they were in critical condition. The person at the front desk could barely understand him when he demanded to see Sunshine.

It took Cutie 2 months to finally pursue therapy, but due to how much the price of therapy skyrocketed in Dahlia after Inversion, they had to look for help outside of town, and is having their friend house sit until they come back.

Both Anton’s and James’ listeners have forgotten what they look like. James’ listener doesn’t even know if he’s okay.

Tank didn’t fully hate Quinn after telling the Department what he did. They were angry, but they didn’t hate him. It wasn’t until he ambushed them and their friend while on a walk did they feel any disdain.

Vincent sees Alexis as a step-sister. The feeling isn’t mutual.

Asher claws at his scars constantly, which creates more scars which he also claws through. It’s a cycle not even Baaabe can end.

Ollie gets tired through all the work assigned to him at Vesta, but he’s never told Babe, or anyone. He just keeps taking the work with a smile and insists on helping people with their work. It’s gotten to the point where he has to slip out of Babe’s arms in their sleep to finish up.

Caelum wishes to have a seat at the double wedding, but he won’t.

Cam’s insomniac listener hasn’t had a visit from him in a while, and it’s gotten harder to fall asleep. Whenever they can’t fall asleep, they simply dim the lights, play calming music, and draw a mysterious man that is stuck in the back of their head, but they can’t recall where they’ve seen him from. They usually do this until 8am, and it messes with the rest of their day.

Guy and Honey have had only 1 major “argument”. Guy was constantly distracting Honey on purpose while they were studying for their finals, something they’ve been stressing over. Eventually they grew angry at him whining outside their door and yelled at him to leave them alone and “pester someone who can tolerate him” before slamming the door and returning to their studies. They didn’t apologize right away, they just both sort of acted casually after a week. It wasn’t until a year after they graduated that the event leaked into Honey’s mind, and they randomly apologized to him. Guy felt that he deserved the reprimand, and they had a talk before they decided to play Mortal Kombat together.

Tank acts tough and violent, but they are petrified of Quinn. They’ve been with him the longest, they know what he’s like, what he can do. They’ve planned out everything they’ll say and do when they encounter him, but if they see him, they’re practically frozen.

Sam has openly refused getting into a car if he sees Lovely in the driver’s seat. He expressed that he’d rather run around the Earth than get into a car with “the second coming of road Satan”. Lovely laughs at the memory but Sam was dead serious.

When they’re not being worked on, or in sleep mode, the Asset sort of just…stares at their hands, and tells anyone questioning that they’re simply recalibrating data. They’re not. They’re reflecting on what happened to them when the obsession code was inserted, and trying to recall what they were like before. They can’t remember.

Freelancer has had MANY “not so nice” thoughts before Caelum revealed himself, and they returned after Inversion.

Angel’s cat died a little while ago. They didn’t tell David, they just drove to Milo’s house under the guise of “going to the store”, and played with Aggro.

Lasko nearly turned down the offer of being a professor at D.A.M.N

The Asset used to go into sleep mode when getting worked on or have upgrades installed. Not anymore. They make sure to keep an eye on the person working on them, and question every code they write, scanning to see if their heart accelerates to catch them in a lie.

Cam has been the only person working at D.U.M.P who questions Warden’s whereabouts.

Fred and Brighteyes haven’t spoken since their argument. Both because Fred can hold a grudge, and because Bright refuses to leave their room if Fred is out there.

Geordi tried talking to Cutie again, but they wouldn’t respond to his texts, or look at them, so he had to visit the house. You can imagine his surprise when someone he remembers seeing from the Pool Party inside their home telling him Cutie is out of town, and you can imagine his surprise when he came back months later and was told the same thing.

Seer Obscura is incredibly superstitious. No walking under ladders, no umbrellas indoors, no stepping on cracks, no going around a pole, none of that. They’re terrified of being killed by some horrible luck

David didn’t consider getting into an official relationship with Angel at first. He thought they wouldn’t last for more than a month. Angel thought otherwise, so while David wasn’t giving it his all for the first few weeks of the relationship, Angel was.

Lasko hasn’t spoken to his mom since he abruptly ran away, and neither of his parents have made an attempt to contact him, despite him trying to contact them.

Warden has grown dependent on Vega in the month they’ve been with him, and becomes distraught when he’s not in the room. 

Baaabe is usually hard-headed and speaks with passion, but after Inversion, they grew to be more soft-spoken, especially around Asher.

When Starlight was first released from Hell, they sneezed after about a minute, so Avior was stuck looking at them sneezing super slowly for a month and a half.

(last one isn't angst lmao)

[patchwork-oil]

❧ "Blue Hour”

Chapter 1/?

Pairing: Karkat/Reader (Gender Neutral) Word count: 2,101 Warnings: strong language

Summary: You and your roommate Karkat have a somewhat typical Friday night.

Author’s Note: First x reader I'm posting! Kinda excited :3 dunno if I'll continue this but it was fun to make regardless. I know x readers don't tend to be in first person, but it's my favorite way to read them so :,) you're stuck with that.... The whole theme of my writing is that it's hugely self-indulgent. since like. the homestuck x reader tag is super dead askhjfd

   It’s blue hour isn’t it? I can hardly tell if there are clouds in the sky right now. Looking up between the buildings feels as though I might be about to fall into a deep, dark pool. The street below looks like it’s underwater, the lights from all buildings nearby look… tired? Like I’m looking back at the past through an old, sad movie.

  The front door jingles and opens. 

   Oh, Karkat’s home. What the hell was I doing just now?

   I could have sworn I was doing… something on my laptop. Oh, right. Just watching some YouTube. But, I paused it? To look at the clouds? I’m really out of it right now, I guess. 

   Unconsciously I shake the distraction out of my head. It hasn’t been that long since I got back from my job at the grocery store, I must have spaced out trying to relax to some videos. Whatever, there are much more important things to think about at a time like now. 

   “Karkaaat-” I announce once I open the door to the living room, drawing out his name as long as I could.

   “Fucking hell! What!” He grouched something about just getting back home, a single moment of peace would be nice. He hides his startled jump by trying to put his coat on the rack by the door. 

   “You said you’re cooking tonight,“ I accuse, “and I have never been more in the mood for chicken than I am in this moment right now.” I point a finger at him like I’m in a courtroom and my last name is Wright.

   Karkat makes a look like some sort of wince. “Uh huh. And I’m the unfortunate slob who has to do something about that.” It was almost phrased like a question. He exaggerates every move as he closes the door and steps inside. 

   “You are!” I nod “When you lost the chess match with John yesterday, you also made your roommate look like a loser, remember?”

   “Yes, I get it, I get it. You’re annoying and I have to pay for it.”

   “I’m just saying we both know John is going to ridicule me for even thinking about supporting you at the tournament so you should be the one who has to pay the medical bill for the… embarrassment. In the form of food. Tonight. As dinner…” He looks up at me from taking off his shoes, not amused and highly confused. “I’m losing my train of thought. You said you’d make dinner anyway! Why am I trying to convince you?”

   “I didn’t even say anything,” he chuckles, “that was 100% you.” 

   “I picked up chicken and broccoli from the store today!” As I walked past him to the fridge, I hit him on the arm. 

   “Fucker,” he spits.

   “And I’ll do the dishes like usual.” Placing the chicken on the counter, I reach for the broccoli-

   “Just sit your ass down! If I have to deal with your sniveling prongs making a mess all over the meal block, (Name), I swear to God we are not having a repeat of pasta night.” He starts to make big shooing gestures, ushering me out.

   “You really suffocate my creative spirit, KK,” I playfully sigh, knowing full well I shouldn’t be allowed in the kitchen with my track record of spilling anything that can be spilled. Sometimes even things that can’t be spilled. 

   “Last time I checked, we don’t need ‘creativity’ over an open flame.” 

   “You may be right.” I giggle. “Thanks for cooking though.” 

   He mumbles some affirmation and gets to work. My gaze lingers on his back for just a moment before going back to my room to grab my Switch. I’ll always feel guilty about not helping out but I know that even if I were more graceful in the kitchen, he prefers to have control over everything. I will, however, be within earshot if he needs an extra hand. Starting up something casual on the Switch, I plop down onto the couch. 

   Maybe there was something in those clouds today. I can’t stay focused on one thing for too long. I’ve abandoned the game, still holding it my hands while its quiet soundtrack plays. Every time Karkat uttered a curse over the food, I caught myself looking up, watching him for a while, then looking away. 

   We’d been roommates for ages now, since the last year of college. We quickly clicked, which was super fortunate for me. There was no way I wanted to live on my own after school, and as luck would have it, he wasn’t opposed to staying as roommates either. He, for the most part, enjoys cooking, I clean the dishes since he says he hates doing that, he doesn’t mind to remind me when I forget to do a chore around the house, and I’m not bothered by how he gets loud on calls with his friends. It’s such a ruminating day today…

   “Hello? Do you have slime in your hear ducts?”

   Eh? Ruminating over. 

   “Earth to (name).” 

   “I’m here! I’m awake,” I jostle suddenly.

   Karkat just started putting everything on the table—the nice one we worked together to buy so we had somewhere to play his tabletop games. Though, it also takes up the majority of the small apartment. 

   “Sure you are. You weren’t even looking at the game, you looked like you were undressing the meal vault with your mind.” 

   A surprised laugh escapes from me as I get off the couch. 

   “Food’s ready.” 

   “Yay! Thank you again, it smells really really good.” 

   “Mhm.”

   We squeeze into the chairs and dig in, it tastes just as good as it smells. I’m honestly pretty lucky Karkat is cool with cooking for me. We used to eat in our rooms, both because of the lack of a table but also because we both preferred eating alone. It’s likely we’re only eating here to get our money’s worth, but there’s still something satisfying about a warm homemade meal over a nice table. 

   “Kar?” 

   He only looks up in response, food’s probably keeping him from his usual yelling. 

   “I got a new game if you want to play with me tonight,” I swallow and continue, “since it’s Friday and whatever.”

   He sighs loudly once he’s done chewing. 

   “Cooking for you and entertaining your screen addiction? Seriously, (Last Name), have I been put on this planet, cursed by the twisted gods who hide their sorry asses among the stars where they know my mortal wrath can’t reach, to be the player 2 at your beck and call?” Despite his long-windedness, his voice is softer than usual, making me smile before I even process what he said–a good sign he’s totally up for a game. 

   I perk up, “It’s called Heave Ho, I’ve watched other people play it so I got it myself. I think you’ll really like it.” 

   “If it wasn’t Saturday tomorrow I wouldn’t even think about it.” 

   “Yay!” I kick him under the table and he kicks me back just as hard. “This is super fuckin’ good by the way, I’d eat this every night.”

   “I only followed a recipe, you don’t have to slobber all over my bulge about it.” 

   “Gross, in front of my chicken?” 

_________________

   “Could you! Fucking! Hold on for one second! Do you think you’re capable of doing that?”

   “Hahah-I’m trying, I’m trying! I swear to god the button is unpressing its-hahaha-elf!”

   “It’s not ‘unpressing’ itself you’re CLEARLY letting go–just fucking–HOLD ME UP!”

   “I AM! What! Pfft bahaha-you don’t think I’m doing everything I can?”

   “You’re swinging in the wrong direction–(NAME) YOU–AGH-”

   A short “splat” noise follows and I erupt in laughter. Karkat throws his head backwards on the couch and groans sounds of anguish into his hands. I can’t help putting down my controller, my character dying as a result, and holding my sides to try and keep them from splitting. 

   “You thought I would like this game?! You thought, no–” he turns so he’s facing me on the couch, “(Name) you thought,” he grabs me by both arms, which I don’t really process because I’m still laughing “You thought there was some way in ever-loving Hell we could play this game without me bursting a fucking blood vessel and dying here in this room right now?!”

   “Sto-op!” I can only manage to squeal between gasps at air in my laughter. “I can’t–I can’t,”

   “Literally the most hopeless display at cooperative gameplay I’ve ever fucking seen and you make me play every damn game you buy.” He lets go of me and I fall backwards onto the arm of the couch, still giggling away. Distantly, I can hear him also laughing. It fills me with accomplishment, knowing I chose a game he would enjoy. I knew this game would be ragey, but it’s also primarily skill-based. As long as he knows I’m trying, which he can trust from how often we play together, he’ll have a good time.

   Finally I can manage one big gulp of air before I’m back in position. He was holding his head up with one hand, massaging the bridge of his nose, surely trying to hide the sharp-toothed grin he can’t shake. I knock my shoulder into his to snap him out, and after collecting himself he retaliates with enough strength to nearly push me off the couch. I rebound and get comfortable again, sitting cross-legged with one leg over his.

   “We. Just-“ I giggle “-need to regroup.”

   “Oh really? Oh really, is that all?”

“Stop it—I’m being so real Karkat I might piss if you make me laugh again don’t even test me. Pick up the controller, we can do this.”

   “No, we have to do this. We’re going to beat this level.”

   “YES! That’s the spirit.”

   We muse over our plan a little more. Deciding how exactly we should angle our characters to achieve the perfect toss—right into the goal. A couple more failed attempts go by calmly, “all part of the plan” I repeat like a mantra. 

   A calculated silence falls over the apartment. Blue hour is far from over and the windows we forgot to close display a full dark scene of a quiet cityscape. Some bright apartments far away are blinking sleepily.

   “FUCKING-“

   “No no no, focus-“

   Our characters swing, the game music hums idly, our characters stare blankly back at us. 

   We launch ourselves at the goal. 

   Everything is still.

   A successful note starts to ring.

   “YES HOLY SHIT!”

   “Oh my god!”

   We both start to pump the air with a wave accomplishment washing over us. Confetti in the game starts to fall and I turn to look at Karkat-

   -at the same time he turns to look at me. 

   Both our smiles drop to surprise and a beat goes by. I push myself off of him and he takes his hand off from my back—

   “I’m sorry, sorry, I didn’t realize I was so close-” I start.

   “No- you’re fine, I didn’t… Notice. I wasn’t paying attention, sorry.”

   We both nervously laugh. The soundtrack went quiet, briefly, before it automatically moved onto the next level with a funny sound effect. 

   What. 

   The FUCK–why was I–I had somehow managed to get myself half on top of Karkat while we played–and then when we looked at each other we were so close- and what the fuck he stared at me I think? How long did we look at each other? What the fuck was that? And his arm, I can’t-

   “Oh man! We left the blinds open, let me just close them really quick.” I stand up, speeding without really thinking about it, to the window. 

   “(Name)?” Nope. Ignoring that. 

   I prop myself up by two arms over the back of the couch, moving so rigidly it nearly hurts. 

   “We beat the level! That’s pretty cool! So. Maybe it’s about time y’know we call it a day. Right? Yeah.”

   He still doesn’t say anything while I start to pull the switch out of the dock and lock the joycons back in place. 

   “Um? Sorry, again, I’m just gonna go back to my room. So um! Goodnight!” I robot over to my door. 

   “What the- (Name)!”

   “Oh, and for the food! Thanks again!”

   And slam it shut by accident. I don’t hear anything from the other room for a moment, not for the minute or two I strained myself to listen. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding and slump against the door. 

   Ever so slowly, I ghost my hand over my mouth.

   Why am I freaking out so much?

Next Chapter

Author's Note: Yay! Hope you enjoyed :) I will mayyybe write a second part, bc this is definitely not finished haha. I dont know the best x reader tags! if you're willing to help me out id love to know :3

[undreaming-fanfiction]

With This Ring (13)

Chapter 12 here, Ao3 here

The whole rush to the church was a blur to Steve. He was distantly aware of Eddie’s sped up summary of the last day that sounded more like a drunken nightmare instead of something that could have ever happened. He didn't bother adding any details, instead focusing on the feel of Robin and Eddie’s arms under his. Steve had originally started speed walking and tried to keep his pained expression at bay, but a few whispers behind him put a prompt end to that. They both grabbed him, supported his weight enough to lessen the pain in his ankle and off they went.

Robin, to her credit, remained mostly quiet. Maybe it was the shortness of breath - as Eddie had said before, not needing any oxygen had its merits - but she took the whole story in literal stride. Only when Eddie finished with tossing the tape in the mail did she say something.

“I wish I could have seen Dick’s face when you did the stabby thing. He deserved that. And more.” Her tone didn’t betray much, but there was a hidden sting.

Eddie laughed. “Damn right he did. Although you’ve surprised me, Buckley. You seem pretty chill with the whole living dead thing.”

She kept her eyes on the road, carefully synchronizing her steps with Steve. “Trust me, I’m freaking out on the inside. But I saw you up close. You…don’t look right. Having a crazy explanation is better than guessing and coming up with an even crazier one.” After a few seconds of silence, she added, “and also I don’t have time to faint, scream my head off, or do whatever you’re expecting. Nancy’s about to marry that douchebag, and I can only handle one crisis at a time.”

“Wise.”

As they arrived at the church door, Steve turned to face them. “How do I look?” 

It wasn’t really a question. He was disheveled and for how crazy his heart was beating, he was dead tired. No pun intended. 

Eddie smirked at him and tucked a rogue hair strand behind Steve’s ear. “Perfect, like always.” 

“Yeah yeah, but you also look like someone who was supposed to crash the wedding five minutes ago,” snapped Robin and pushed him towards the door. “Let’s go!” 

That was an order he could easily follow. Steve straightened his back and pushed the heavy doors open. 

He was met with dozens of pairs of eyes. Frightened, relieved, confused…but mostly judging.

The church wasn’t nearly as full as Steve expected, but his stomach still gave an uncomfortable squeeze, as if it begged him not to draw any more attention to themselves. But he had to do it, had to be in the spotlight again. Especially when Nancy was about to have her life ruined in a way much worse than had been in her stars just a few days prior. 

Swallowing down the rising panic, Steve took a deep breath. “I object!” 

If Brenner’s stare could kill, Steve would be hanged, stabbed, stoned and set on fire all at once. 

But as cheesy as it may have sounded, he was afraid of nothing when he had Eddie by his side. 

“You’re late, young man,” Brenner said. “You had your chance already, you squandered it. Isn’t ruining one wedding enough for you?” 

“Not at all, sir.” Steve was marching ahead, still holding Eddie’s hand and focusing on not letting his pain show. This wasn’t a place to show weakness. “This one is far more enjoyable to ruin. Because the bride actually doesn’t want to marry him. I doubt God looks kindly at coercion.” 

Nancy smiled at him with so much warmth and disbelief it made his heart jump. “Steve, you came! You’re okay!” she whispered. She bit her lip when she saw Robin behind his back, sneaking to the side and making her way to the altar. To do what, Steve wasn’t sure, but he would support her no matter what, even if she tried to abduct Nancy by throwing her over her shoulder. 

But before he could respond, another voice interrupted them. “You dare to speak about God when you keep this company?!” 

Jason Carver was shaking. He stared at Eddie with a look so hateful and terrified that he must have seen through the ruse, even though Eddie was still far away. Eddie wasn’t facing any of the wedding guests, but Carver’s expression betrayed that he knew. 

“I don’t know what dark entity brought you back, freak, but you don’t belong here. You can’t be in the house of God! I won’t allow you to ruin more lives than you already have!” 

Nancy took a step back, watching Jason with confusion. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t you see? He’s dead! His…his eyes are all wrong. He was gone for over a year and now he’s come back…different.” Jason was pale under his usual tan. He was licking his lips between sentences, staring at Eddie as if he’d been sent to drag him to hell. “You should be dead and I don’t care what black magic you are using, you will return to the grave. The dead have no right to walk amongst the living!” 

“Ooooh, scary!” muttered Eddie, but Jason wasn’t listening. His focus had shifted to the wedding guests.

He turned to the seated people of Hawkins and raised arms. “I wouldn’t lie to you. I know how preposterous it sounds, but take a single look at his face and tell me, is this the Eddie Munson you knew?!”

More people turned to Eddie, studying him and flinching as the realization hit them. “No,” was the resounding answer. 

Jason continued his speech, turning to pastor Brenner. “Pastor, you are a man of God. Will you allow this? Will you allow this abomination to disturb this joyful day?!” 

“No!” shouted one of Jason’s friends. Steve recognized him - it was Patrick, Jason’s teammate and a constant sidekick. “Not in this town!” 

There it was, that famous magnetic personality. Jason could rally crowds, inspire bravery and righteous anger with his speeches, just like he had when Chrissy disappeared. Steve could see the wedding guests stirring in their seats, some slowly getting up, moving towards him and Eddie. He grasped his hand, disregarding its coldness – it provided much more warmth to him than many had in life. So what if he was supposed to be dead! 

Dead…

Steve took a deep, sharp breath. Was this…?

The mob in fancy clothes was approaching. 

“Steve?” whispered Eddie and tugged on his hand, urging him to follow him out of the church. “I’m pretty sure this is our cue to leave. Maybe run. Fast. I’m sure the bride to be will follow.”

But Steve shook his head and let go of Eddie’s hand, a single caress on his knuckles as a promise of return before he took a step forward. 

“How do you know, Jason?” 

The groom stared at him, confused. The charm was temporarily broken and people stopped in their tracks, glancing between the two men. “How do I know what?” asked Jason.

Steve couldn’t help himself, he felt his trademark bitchy smirk tugging on his lips. He might not have been academically smart, but he knew people. And that right there? That was a man sweating underneath his expensive wedding suit, and not because the church was too warm, oh no. 

He took another step forward and motioned for the people to sit, no struggling for confidence this time, no wondering if he deserved the attention, the respect he felt when they returned to their seats, confused but obeying. Because this wasn’t about him – this was about Eddie in every single way. If he was honest with himself, he couldn’t really remember when things hadn’t been about Eddie. 

“How do you know Eddie is dead?” he asked again, loud and clear. “Because that was an impressive monster hunt speech. And yet…no one could have told you Eddie is dead. He’s moving. He’s breathing, when he remembers to. Sure, I told my parents and Robin too, but I know for certain none of them told you. My parents would never say something so preposterous aloud, and Robin didn’t know until just a few minutes ago. The point is - Eddie does look alive if you don’t see him up close. But you are so certain from the second we walked in that he’s dead. Or at least…that he was dead at some point.” 

Jason grew several shades paler, if that was even possible. He was gripping Nancy’s elbow so tightly that she bit her lip in pain and yanked her hand away. Staring at Steve, he was stammering, searching for words. “I…of course he is, I mean look at him, look-“ 

But Steve just shook his head, making his way to the altar. The carpet felt soft under his feet and he had to stifle an urge to laugh – he was dreading this day so much, avoiding it like the plague, and yet joining Nancy at the altar now felt like the most natural thing in the world. It was almost liberating, saving her from a monster that for once wasn’t their forced marriage. 

“Look at what, Jason?” he stretched his words, enunciating and raising his voice so everyone in the church could hear him. “Please enlighten me. Or maybe some of you esteemed guests can!” He turned around and addressed the wedding guests, taking in their faces – Ted Wheeler’s pasty face, trembling in silent rage, confusion in others, fear…but only one face showed what he was looking for. 

Karen Wheeler was clutching her purse so tight her baby blue nails made tiny indents in them, but her mouth was open. She couldn’t hide the horror of the growing realization about who her daughter was to marry. 

Steve smiled at her, motioned for her to speak up. “Tell me, Mrs. Wheeler. When you look at Eddie Munson, the man standing there – sure, he might look a bit tired, maybe pale, but would your immediate thought be…this man is dead?”

She shook her head slowly and Steve didn’t have to look behind him to sense the pride that was swelling from Nancy. The women of this family were strong, after all. “Absolutely not,” she answered, voice loud and clear. “Not unless…I already knew he was dead.” Her eyes bore into Jason, accusing him. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler. My thoughts exactly.” Steve turned back to the guests and extended his hand towards Eddie in a silent plea to join him. “You see, Jason is right. Eddie is dead. As in no heartbeat but still moving, reanimated dead. He’d be able to describe it more eloquently, maybe even present it in a rather disturbing way. But Jason couldn’t have known that – Eddie was assaulted about a year ago and left for dead, buried in a shallow grave…”

That was the first time Steve’s voice faltered, the anger, sadness and injustice of it all squeezing his throat, but Eddie’s cool hand was there again, rejoining him and grounding him as he went on. 

“A shallow grave a short walk from here, in the woods. There was no headstone to see, no indication what happened. As far as everyone knew, Eddie just left one day. And it was so convenient to believe that he ran away after all the rumors about Chrissy Cunningham, about his assumed role in her disappearance. Even if his uncle knew Eddie would never leave his guitar, his beloved books, hell, especially him. He wouldn’t leave Wayne Munson behind, not without a goodbye. But if you asked, someone had an answer…a convenient witness who saw Eddie leave the town.” 

Steve turned to Hopper who stood there with his usual unreadable expression, frowning at the guests and at the world. “Chief. Can you please confirm for all of us here who informed you that Eddie left the town, that he wasn’t missing?” 

Hopper stayed quiet for a moment, fingers looped behind his belt as he considered his answer. “It was Andy…Andrew Conner,” he said gruffly, stabbing Jason with a sharp glare – Jason, who was still grasping what was happening. 

And there it was, the final discrepancy. Nodding, Steve addressed the guests again. “There you have it. The only reason why Eddie Munson wasn’t considered missing was the word of a single young man…a young man who happens to be Jason’s close friend. And yet, before even seeing Eddie up close, Jason immediately believed that Eddie was the spawn of Satan, an unholy zombie or whatever he wants to call his current state. But if his best friend witnessed Eddie leaving the town, how come Jason immediately jumped to this conclusion?” 

Hopper made a sound of reluctant agreement. “Young Harrington here makes a good point. Care to explain that, Carver? Because I’ve been here for the whole shitshow and while you spouted a lot of stuff about black magic and what not, that young man doesn’t look dead to me.” 

Before Jason could respond, Patrick stood up again and pointed a finger at Eddie. “This is absurd. What reason would Jason have to kill Munson? Sure, he didn’t like him, but it’s not like he’d risk prison to get rid of him. You don’t go to jail for vermin.” 

Before anyone could answer, an unexpected sound broke the silence – Eddie started laughing, loud and unrestricted, echoing between the tall church walls. “Oh, but he had a reason,” he growled at Jason, staring daggers at him. “I didn’t really suspect him, didn’t think he had it in him. Or at least I hoped that the Hawkins’ next golden boy wouldn’t do something so utterly stupid. See, Nancy Wheeler isn’t the first woman Mr. Perfect here is about to make unhappy. Do any of you remember who used to date Chrissy Cunningham?” 

The groom grew even paler. “Don’t you dare talk about her!” 

“Oh, but I will!” Eddie uttered, and his eyes were cold, angry. “I will because she is an incredible person that never deserved what she got from you. She felt suffocated by this town, by you, by her family.”

Eddie took another step towards Jason and each word sounded like an accusation. “I know all about you, Jason. She told you about the pain she suffered under her parents, their criticism, their demands, the threat to her health that they were. She decided to confide in you because she thought you cared about her. And what did you do? You told her to be patient and understanding. You told her that this must have been their way to show love, that they were her parents after all and they would never hurt her. All the while she was starving herself for their approval. After that, she came to me for help.” 

Hopper tilted his head. “To you?” 

“Yes, to me. How bad do you think it must have been, to trust the local outcast instead of her perfect shiny boyfriend? She was afraid of everything and everyone, but the night her mother told her that she had a month to lose weight into her wedding dress when Chrissy barely ate enough to function, that was the last straw. She was so weak, so hungry. She told me that the stale cafeteria müsli bar I had in my van was the most delicious thing she’s ever had.

She knew some of my friends had moved out of Hawkins and wanted a starting point for her new life. Someone to crash with. I helped her plan everything, gave her my friend’s number and directions. I made sure I was on that bus with her, I went to Indy with her, helped her find the place. Then I went there to check on her again…because she trusted me. And I would never betray that trust.” Glaring at Jason, Eddie’s fists were clenching and unclenching as the realization sank in - that he finally found the cause for his untimely demise, his murderer. “But I never thought that you’d kill me for it, Carver.” 

Steve expected many things, most likely a fight to break out, for Carver to deny everything, maybe for Hopper to step in and arrest him for…what exactly? But the one thing he never saw coming was Carver’s hands dropping, hanging limply by his sides. What was written on his face was pure shock.

“Chrissy…Chrissy��s alive?” he whispered. 

Once again Eddie’s chuckle echoed in the church, but no matter how many times the sound was brought back, it held no joy, no amusement. It was bitter, so bitter that Steve’s insides felt like ice. “Wait. Fucking wait. I thought that all the shit you were saying about me killing Chrissy was just your way of punishing me for letting her escape your clutches. Are you really…are you telling me you really believed that I murdered her?”

Jason was sweating, shaking even more than he had been before. He looked like he was about to be sick, clutching his mouth and taking deep breaths through his nose. “What else was I supposed to think?” he whispered. “She said she’d be back the next day. You wouldn’t talk to me. She never…she never mentioned wanting to break up, how was I…”

“Of course she didn’t! She told me everything, Jason! How you shut down her attending college, for her own good of course. How you asked her parents to marry her even when she told you she wasn’t ready. And you have the fucking gall to question why she ran away instead of talking things through with a guy who bulldozed over everything she wanted? Who told her to keep starving herself to keep the peace?!”

That snapped Jason out of his stupor. “I loved her, you freak!” he shouted, his voice breaking at the last word. “As if you could ever understand that! She always understood that I wanted only the best for her, she knew it was the right choice when we discussed things. I would have made her happy! It would take only a while. We would appease her parents and she’d be free. She didn’t…she didn’t have to run away from me…”

Eddie’s anger dissipated, and he just seemed sad. Rubbing his temples, he let out a deep sigh. “Look, I can handle being murdered for doing the right thing, but being dead because you’re dumb and didn’t bother to think of other options? Because you’ve got a…murder tunnel vision? I’d be better off not knowing.” 

Jason was staring at the floor, and Steve thought he saw tears in the corners of his eyes. “I never wanted to kill you,” he whispered. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

Eddie’s eyes snapped back towards him. “What? Care to explain this,” he gestured at his own face, his body, “because how do you fucking accidentally murder someone?”

Steve could have sworn he heard Chief Hopper mutter, “yeah, that’s what I’d also like to know.” 

Still talking to the floor, Jason wrapped his arms around his middle. Cornered and finally forced to reveal the truth, he seemed much younger. “You wouldn’t talk to me! You’d always leave when I tried to question you, or you’d say that I’d better get used to Chrissy being gone because it wasn’t changing. So I thought I’d make you talk. I saw you going to those woods, and I followed you. I just wanted to knock you out. I wanted to restrain you, question you. But I…I hit you too hard. You just collapsed and…when I checked, you weren’t breathing.” 

Steve felt sick, and from the look on her face, Nancy did too. She was taking short steps away from Jason, not daring to turn around. Robin, on the other hand, was petrified. Nancy had to tug on her hand several times to make her move. 

But Jason wasn’t stopping them. He was full on crying now, sobbing into his palms. “I was so afraid. I tried to revive you, I swear. But you weren’t getting up, and I thought…I can’t get arrested, not when Chrissy’s still missing. I buried you there and told Andy I saw you leaving on that bus. He’d repeat anything I told him. I thought I’d confess once I found her, but…I never did. I couldn’t stop looking for her because if she wasn’t found, then what I did would have been for nothing. And now you’re telling me that’s exactly what it was. I killed someone for nothing.”

Apart from Jason’s lingering sobs, the church was quiet. Eddie stopped moving and stared at the stained glass window above the altar, at the tinted rays of sun that had no business looking so cheerful. “A mistake until the end,” he said flatly. “How fitting.” 

Steve barely registered the steps behind him. Chief Hopper got up from his seat and, not unkindly, grasped Jason’s arm. “That sounded like a murder confession to me, Carver. You know what that means.”

Jason nodded through his tears, meeting Hopper’s eyes with something that hadn’t been there for years - acceptance. “Yeah. I do. I’m coming with you.”

There was a sudden rush of movement from everywhere - Jason’s parents throwing themselves towards Hopper and being blocked by his officers, Karen Wheeler rushing to Nancy and Robin, Mrs. Henderson and the Sinclairs ushering all the kids outside despite their vehement protesting…it was a lot. But Steve could only concentrate on one thing - Jason Carver stopping in front of Eddie.

“For all it’s worth…I’m sorry,” he said. Glancing towards Nancy who was in a joint embrace with Robin and Karen, he added, “to both of you.” 

With his and the kids’ departure, the church finally went quiet.

Chapter 14 here

[sugutoad]

Matchup Trade for @karlalove2002

╰┈➤ Thank you for doing Matchups at Sugutoad

╰┈➤ Kento Nanami ‘The Accumulation Of Those Little Despairs Is What Makes A Person An Adult’

He had thought no one would care if he died, Haibara was dead and his remaining friends were too busy struggling for their life to acknowledge one another. The short woman who had walked alongside Ino caught his attention, he had seen many beautiful women before but you were ethereal.

That optimism, big brown eyes and brown hair… You were too similar to Haibara. He tried to ignore you at first, he didn’t want any painful memories. Not now. Not ever. But when you would wave shyly at him in the halls as he passed you, he couldn’t help but nod. And smile… a small smile would crack at the corner of his lip. He was a bit too tired to notice though, after all love is shit. Just like work and sorcerers.

His MBTI and yours are quite similar. ISTP and ISTJ. The only difference between the two of you are your last letters. But the truth is, differences are good in a relationship. Not everything the two of you have to go hand in hand to the other person’s opinion. And differences can be good, after all it would be boring to have a partner the exact same as you. New sides of both of you can be opened, ones that have never been truly explored. He is a judger and you are a perceiver. How do you change one another? That’s up to you and he will follow your lead, picking the most logical route.

Not much can be said about zodiacs as they do not represent a person’s identity properly but Nanami, being the Cancer he is, was slightly different around you. See the passage I found, I think it describes the two of you:

“Leo and Cancer both have big feelings, which can make for a solid relationship when both parties engage in healthy communication habits. Leo won't be shy in sharing how they feel, and although Cancer may be a bit more guarded at first, their body language will be a dead giveaway. These two fall fast.”

He wants to spend his time with you. He promised himself that after Itadori is sent to safety, away from the glooming eyes of the elders who controlled all their lives like master puppeteers , he would retire. He didn’t enjoy life as a sorcerer, why must he experience the death of others first hand? Perhaps… if the two of you survive the challenges the world throws at you… you can leave everything. Say your goodbyes and move to Malaysia. 

He wants to spoil you so much. The amount of times you had told the blonde man, he refused. You were his girlfriend, you had to be treated the best. Just sitting with you on the couch, the pearl beaded necklace he brought for you glistening in the light. He was so happy. If you buy him even a loaf of bread, he will complain you spoil him too much. And then proceed to buy a ring for you. Who knows, maybe even a wedding ring? Atelat once a week, he takes you out to a fancy restaurant. His lover should dine in the finest of places. And if you wish to eat at home, he will cook for you, occasionally Ino comes to eat with the two of you. Probably some karaoke with you and Ino may be involved. Nanami would rather sit beside Gojo for five minutes before singing in front of other people.

He was never the time of man who could sit through a whole episode of a show. Always looking at his clock, just to be sure how much he was wasting and how he could make up for it. But after learning you liked anime, he sat down on his coach and watched the ones you had always mentioned about. He wanted to talk with you about it, always making theories and ways the storyline could have been better. Saying things like: ‘why is Naruto so obsessed with Sasuke? Can’t he leave him alone’ or ‘I think Annie is the female Titan, how can they not guess that?!”

He has your drawings hanging in his room, it’s so embarrassing to you yet cute. Whenever he is doing his work, he glances to the side to see your art pieces and reminds himself that you also work hard to create those pieces willingly.

He is so patient. When you want to say something, he will sit in front of you and listen to your thoughts. Nanami doesn’t care how long he has to wait, he just wants you to be revealed and not anxiety filled. He often smiles at your jokes, well most of the time. When a dirty joke spills from your sweet lips, a look of disgust appears in his face. He may or may not scold you for being so childish, depends upon his mood that particular day.

[artsy0wl]

It’s Me, Leibchen

Back with another wonderful little Logurt fic of mine. While I try to plan out my next one, I thought I would share this. This takes place during and after the events of the Wolverine and the X-Men episode Hunting Grounds (I have one or two that take places around this episode lol), Kurt’s being Kurt, and Logan tries to keep his distance because he doesn’t want to hurt him again.

Also, the following are lil German phrases that Kurt’ll be using.

Leibchen: Sweetheart

Kleine blau Katzchen: Little blue kitten

Ja: yes

Ich leibe Logan: I love wLogan

Bist nicht ein Monster: You are not a monster

Ich leibe dich: I love you

Ich vergebe dir: I forgive you

I'll think of something else.

And that's exactly what Kurt would do. He wasn't going to take Wanda's suggestion. He wasn't going to kill Logan. Not when he could be saved.

Drawing him to Kurt was a risk. In this condition, Logan was unpredictable and feral. He wasn’t in control of his actions either. One wrong move could kill Kurt, but that wouldn’t stop him from trying.

A low growl was Kurt’s only warning before Logan attacked. Adamantium claws slashed at Kurt, but missed, flying through a puff of smoke. Landing on Logan's back, Kurt tried to pry the equipment off of Logan.

Unfortunately, the electrical current from it and Logan’s struggling caused the blue mutant to retreat. What followed, was a barrage of swipes in his direction, which he dodged before teleporting again. Once again landing on Logan’s back, Kurt tried to yank the equipment off of Logan, but the electrical current send him flying.

The next thing Kurt knew, Wanda was trying to stall Logan. Dark smoke formed as Kurt moved to get her out of harm’s way. Kurt brought them to a sturdy branch high off the ground, looking for Logan. Clearly his plan wasn’t working, but he wasn’t going to give up.

“Enough hiding.” Wanda lectured. “He needs to be stopped. Permanently if need be.”

Kurt flinched at the lethal implication in her tone. She wanted him dead, despite knowing he wasn’t in control. Spotting Logan, he concocted one last ditch effort.

“I know what I have to do.” Kurt stated, jumping out from their hiding place.

“He’ll kill you!” Wanda shouted.

“He won’t!”

Kurt landed in front of Logan, not making a move as they locked eyes. He was going to have to get close if he was going to do this. Logan ran at him, claws engaged, as Kurt mirrored the action. Dodging the first few strikes, Kurt looked for an opening.

Claws dug deep into Kurt’s arm, which prompted a hiss from the blue mutant and an audible gasp from Wanda. Ignoring the sting, Kurt’s hands grabbed the sides of Logan’s face, causing the Canadian to pause.

“Leibchen, it’s me.” Kurt whispered. “Your kleine blau Kätzchen. You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

Logan didn’t seem to react, too confused or tired to do so. Or maybe he was recognizing Kurt. Kurt gently kissed Logan’s forehead, hoping it would distract Logan from his hands reaching out for the helmet.

A sharp gasp escaped Kurt as claws jabbed into his side. Logan’s face, though stuck in an eerie grin, seemed agitated.

“It’s okay.” Kurt assured, holding back the urge to cough up blood. “We’re almost there.”

Not waiting for a response, he quickly grabbed onto the helmet, ripping off of Logan. Kurt ignored the pain and electrocution, focusing on the helmet. It was immediately followed by a wave of numb relief as Kurt looked into Logan’s eyes. Blue eyes shook before focusing on Kurt.

“Elf?” Logan gasped.

“Ja.” Kurt affirmed. “It’s me liebchen.”

Kurt let out a gasp, clenching at his side. Yellow eyes dimmed as his legs gave out. Logan grabbed Kurt, picking him up. Wondering why . Blue eyes flashed between confusion, fear, and horror when he saw three deep gashes in Kurt's side. It only grew when he realized the blood on his claws. Kurt let out a harsh cough.

“Elf?” Logan gasped, not getting a response as Kurt lost consciousness. “Elf!” No response. “Kurt!”

~

Light dismissed darkness as Kurt slowly woke up. The first thing he realized, were the white walls and lack of trees. A dull pain in his side was the next thing he noticed, fingers inspecting the damage. They found where Kurt had been stabbed, running along the bandage softly and carefully.

Anxiety rose as he remembered what happened. He began searching the room, praying he wasn’t alone and that Wanda didn’t do something drastic. He spotted Wanda standing in the doorframe. Her eyes were sorrowful and her face grim.

“He wants you to know, you’ll never have to deal with the monster again.” Wanda stated.

“Is he…?” Kurt began.

“He’s alive. Fought tooth and nail with Mojo and Spiral, not letting anyone touch you until we got you here.”

“Then why…”

“One good look at the damage he caused, including internal bleeding and a cracked rib, he knew he couldn’t be with you anymore. For your sake.”

Dark hair flinched as Kurt shook his head. His heart felt like it was being ripped from his chest and he grew more anxious. If Logan was in pain, Kurt couldn’t forgive himself for letting it happen. Kurt sat up, weakly getting off the bed.

“Are you crazy?” Wanda gasped, catching him before he lost balance. “You need rest.”

“Not when he’s hurt.” Kurt refused, pulling away from Wanda when he regained balance.

"He's not hurt. You are."

"His soul is hurt."

Kurt limped towards to the door. It was pitiful, but determined, and Wanda wasn't sure what had gotten into him. In her mind, Kurt had no reason to consul Logan. Logan had hurt him. Stabbed him. Mind control or not, that shouldn't be so freely tossed aside.

"Why do you care so much?" She asked.

"Ich liebe Logan. Er ist mein liebchen." Kurt stated, surprising her a little. She had not heard exactly what he said to Logan, so she hadn't thought they were that close. “And he’s hurt. Not in body, but in spirit. So I have to go.”

~

The Danger Room. No surprise. Beating things up took Logan’s mind off a lot of things. It also relieved some stress and anger. But Kurt knew better. He wasn’t here to unwind. He was hear avoiding the guilt he felt. The shame. That’s why Kurt was here.

Logan was destroying dummies left and right. No one else was in the Danger Room, probably too scared to be in the same room as Logan in his current state. He was so invested in it that he hadn’t realized he had company.

“Logan.” Kurt sighed, startling the Canadian.

Kurt took a step towards Logan, who replied by stepping back. “Stay back!” Logan gasped.

Kurt shook his head. “I can’t do that Leibechen.” He inched closer to Logan, arms open.

Logan’s heart sank, looking at Kurt’s wound. “Elf, I’m not your leibchen. I’m a monster.”

“You’re not. You’re my lovely, grumpy lone wolf. Mein Leibchen.”

“Your leibchen wouldn’t hurt you. Your leibchen wouldn’t stab you. A monster does that.”

“Bist nicht ein Monster. Mind control does not make you a monster. Mojo is.” Kurt’s legs gave out, causing him to fall.

“Kurt!”

Logan grabbed Kurt, cradling him. Kurt was unharmed, merely drained. But that did not stop Kurt from gently kissing Logan.

“Ich leibe dich.” Kurt sighed. “Ich vergebe dir.”

Logan said nothing, holding onto Kurt warmly and closely. Hearing those six words meant more to him than anything. They were calming. They were peace.

[aurumacadicus]

More serial killer Bucky I guess. 😒 Tw: blood and gore and self harm and depression and suicidal thoughts and beloveds this man is a serial killer. This is past revenge he gets too much pleasure out of it. He chooses not to hurt Tony much but that’s an exception not the rule. He once tried to strangle Steve for getting in his way and Steve almost broke his neck in response these men went to sleep and woke up WRONG. They are not nice people.

Also I’m saying this so no one gets on my ass: The illnesses Bucky mentions are in quotations because until he actually researches them, Bucky thinks they’re fake. They didn’t have that shit back before he fell from the train and he is ASTOUNDED to know that he and Steve probably have some form of PTSD. But that’s future Bucky’s problem. He’s got Hydra to kill.

Watch out for under the cut.

—

“You need to go check on Tony,” Steve says. “I’ve got too many enemies on my tail. I can’t go. He’s not answering his phone.”

Bucky takes a deep breath and lets it back out. “I’m on my own job.”

“He’s not answering his phone and I can’t get to him,” Steve says flatly. “If he’s dead when I get back, that’s your fucking problem.” He hangs up before Bucky can say anything in response. The dial tone sounds judgmental.

Bucky looks at his phone for a moment, sighing, then crushes the Hydra goon’s throat in his metal fist, not caring about the blood splattering over him. He would have preferred to draw it out, but he hadn’t started his homicidal bender just to watch the kid who got him out of it die. His phone rings again. He answers it.

“I told him you killed his parents, by the way,” Steve says, voice clipped. “So he might try to shoot you. I don’t know,” he adds, sounding frustrated. “He might hand the gun to you to finish the job, too. He’s taking this medicine. I think sometimes it helps and sometimes it doesn’t.” He sighs angrily. “I kinda thought they’d be able to fix this by now. The human body is a mistake. Have you heard of AIM?”

"No," Bucky says simply. He’s been hyper-focused on Hydra.

“Fucking piece of shit future things were supposed to be better without me--” Steve says, and then there’s the sound of shooting, and then he hangs up again.

Bucky considers looking into AIM, then decides he can deal with them if and when he runs out of Nazis to kill.

Tony’s front door is unlocked. It irritates him. Most people are scared off by locked doors, go looking for easier targets then. A locked door would at least buy someone time to protect themselves if the invader was intent on getting in.

“Are you here to kill me?” Tony asks where he’s sprawled out on the couch. “Finish the Stark family off forever?” His head lolls forward, and he blinks at him slowly, bruises under his eyes, greasy hair sticking to his damp forehead.

Bucky walks over to grab him by the front of the shirt with his metal hand. Tony doesn’t stand up when he tugs on it, so he shrugs, dragging him over to where he assumes the bedroom is. That seems to warrant a reaction, apparently, because he scrabbles uselessly with his grip. He makes his way through the bedroom to the bathroom.

“What is this?” Tony finally asks. “Is this a prosthetic? Why is it made out of metal?”

“To torture me,” Bucky answers. It could be a joke. It mostly isn’t. He opens the shower door and thrusts Tony inside. He means to draw his hand back, but Tony had a grip on him, so he slides a few inches before Bucky stops. “You’re gross.”

“It’s not gonna kill me to stay gross a little longer,” Tony huffs, twisting his arm this way and that. “This is sloppy. They really were trying to torture you, huh?”

“Chronic pain makes you tired. When you’re tired, you’re easy to control,” Bucky says. He sounds like he’s repeating it. He doesn’t know where he’s heard it before. One of the Hydra scientists, probably. It makes sense.

Tony’s face twitches, but whatever was there, it’s gone before Bucky can parse it. “I could do better,” he says, wrinkling his nose in disdain.

“You can’t even bathe yourself regularly,” Bucky says flatly. “Melding metal with a nervous system? Please.”

Tony jerks his head up to glare at him, and it’s the most emotion he’s seen on his face. “Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.”

He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it at him, and Bucky ducks on instinct. He stoops to pick it up and wonders why, remembers someone yelling at a bunch of little girls to pick their clothes up after they bathe. It sounds like his voice, maybe. He decides not to think about it. It wouldn’t help. He takes a moment to examine Tony’s arms. All he sees is the faded pink lines, he notices with approval. The scars will probably always be visible, but at least it doesn’t look like he’s got any new marks.

Tony throws his pants at him. He catches them and can’t help but think he aimed them at his head on purpose. His aim isn’t very good. But then, his everything isn’t very good right now. His ribs are too visible. He could use a few good meals.

Tony shoves his boxers down, and Bucky can’t help the noise he makes when he sees the wounds inside of his thighs. Razor marks in two rows from mid thigh up to the crease almost up to where thigh met pelvis.

Bucky has his flesh hand around Tony’s throat before he even realizes, shoving him up against the tiles with a snarl. He feels Tony’s throat work beneath his hand, but there’s no pleasure in it--there’s no fear in Tony’s wide eyes, no anxiety. He doesn’t even struggle. Bucky drops him, disgusted, and Tony drops to the floor with a gasp as he spits, “You’d be happy if I killed you, wouldn’t you?”

Tony clutches at his throat, as he continues sucking in air, but he doesn’t answer, staring up at him from under his lashes with what might be disappointment, if Bucky was generous, except that he mostly looks like he feels nothing at all.

It’s wrong. People shouldn’t want to... What had Steve said? Medicine. Tony was sick. Something was making him feel like this.

“Shower,” Bucky tells him sharply, catches sight of the razor on the shower shelf, and reaches in to snatch it.

Tony looks like he wants to complain, but thinks better of it in response to Bucky’s sharp glare.

Bucky waits for the shower to start before he goes through the bathroom cupboards and drawers, then out into the bedroom. He finds a couple more razors. Takes those too. Finds a couple orange bottles and examines them. Googles the names to figure out what they are. Doesn’t understand any of the words, really.

“What’s serotonin?” Bucky asks when Tony comes out of the bathroom, and Tony lets out a startled bark of laughter. “They didn’t have that when I was in the army,” he continues defensively, and Tony laughs harder.

Tony gets dressed, and Bucky googles what the fuck a dopamine is. Doesn’t care that Tony’s getting close until his hands are on his metal wrist. “This really is garbage,” he huffs, unimpressed. “I know I could do better.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Bucky says flatly. “You’re still trying to die. You don’t even lock your door.” He slants Tony a sharp look. “Is that because you’re hoping someone will come in and hurt you?”

“Maybe, but so far it’s just been your contrarian ass,” Tony grumbles. “Saved my life twice even though you regularly kill people. Even my own parents. So unfair.”

Bucky turns his judgmental slant to a full-on glare, outraged. Tony doesn’t even notice, making him turn his arm so he can examine the elbow joints in motion. “Do you have any self-preservation in that emaciated body of yours?”

“Celebrities are supposed to be thin,” Tony scoffs.

“I don’t know what that means,” Bucky tells him, unimpressed, and then jerks his arm free and stands. “Answer your fucking phone.”

“I was mugged,��� Tony says with a blase shrug, and then snaps, “Don’t fucking choke me if you’re not gonna finish the job,” when Bucky reaches out for him again.

Bucky pauses to consider this. Maybe a good slap would help?

Tony tips his head back to look up at him, purring, “Or unless you’re gonna finish the job, if you know what I mean. I like when my daddy chokes me while I’m riding him.”

“Gross. I knew your dad,” Bucky says. Remembers the way Howard looked up at him, blood dripping down his face, and asked, “Sergeant Barnes?” before he beat him to death. “Don’t call me that. You’re twelve.”

“I’m twenty-two,” Tony exclaims, offended.

It's the most emotion Bucky has seen on him, even more than in the bathroom. “Answer your fucking phone,” he says, instead of ‘sounds fake’ or ‘no way.’ “I had to leave in the middle of a job. If I have to do that again, I’ll be very angry.”

“I don’t fucking care,” Tony says, and Bucky has to credit him for being honest.

“Maybe you can fix my arm,” Bucky says, instead of telling him he’s annoying. “If you live long enough.”

Tony’s eyes immediately go to his arm again. Speculative. Interested.

Bucky leaves. Takes a few days to do a deep dive on “depression” and “bipolar” and “anxiety” and wonders when they started existing outside of shell shock, except apparently that isn’t a thing anymore. Takes another few days to research the medication he’d found and texts Steve that he doesn’t think what Tony’s taking is helpful. Suggests different options.

The only response he gets is “why is Tony taking my blood????” and “WHY IS TONY DRAWING ARMS??????? ARE YOU GETTING A NEW ARM????? I’m gonna tell him to put a smiley face on where the star is now.”

[acknowledgetheabsurd]

I have just reread your last two letters and I have a curious impression. When I realize that you live somewhere, that you get up, that you change, that you lie down, that you talk, that you get angry, that you laugh somewhere far from me, surrounded by living beings - well, more or less -, when I learn that Robert [Jaussaud], whom I know, Michel, Janine [Gallimard] come and go around you and that you attend a lot of small daily events, I am astonished and there is something in me that refuses to admit it.

The house, the landscape that surrounds you are for me part of a dream that is reduced to a few words and a postcard; it is not very real. The presence of F[rancine] does not seem very plausible to me either; it is part of the mists that always blur a part of a being; it presents itself to me as a ghost of the past that makes you someone I can never know entirely, someone distinct from me that I can never possess completely - but this image remains vague, a little abstract; it is your unknown. Mixed with him, you disappear for me, from this world leaving me only the memory of the one I knew and which has no relation with the other. If you were dead, it would be the same in a way, and it hurts me in a way too.

However, I understand; but when the image of a being existing for me comes to mingle with you in my reveries and when I suddenly realize that this is true, that Robert [Jaussaud] or Michel [Gallimard] can, if they want to, take your hand right now, then I don't even feel pain anymore. I don't understand anymore, and yet for days and days it goes on. How strange and funny! Michel or Janine can put their arms around your neck, look as long as they want at the turned-up corners of your lips and make for an irreplaceable time a whole existence around you that will be taken away from me forever. It's enough to make you laugh, admit it!

And to think that we will not stop here, and that led by life, we will still disdain - for a trip, for a vacation, for a movie - days and days to come. Ah, that's clever! No, my darling, my love; I don't remember the trucks at the aubede Senlis - I only remember thinking... once, I think... being awakened by the storm and quickly falling back to sleep in a warmth that I now miss to the point of pain - I also remember the bottles of Vichy in the evening, the wait for the waiter who didn't come, I remember how little by little, during those days, I became acquainted with you, with an intimate you, trembling and warm, I remember being aware of a frightening danger and I remember the last bursts of my egoism, until then quite firm, and my abandonment, my acceptance, my consent. Ah, yes, I remember. And I dream, I dream. Constantly.

And I build and I arrange, and that collapses and I start again. Over and over again. Tonight, during the intermission, we got serious. We talked about the children we might have. I tried to be biased, to run away, but Jean and Michel kept drawing me a picture of my daughter, because they had decided that I would have a daughter... with a pointed chin and almond-shaped eyes. Smart guys! Something deep inside me capsized and I dreamed, I dreamed, I dreamed. Alas! Too old now to have children and then could I and would I know how to be a mother? Forgive me, darling. Because there is a land that is forbidden to us, we never dream and this evening I am tired of a life that only ends in the night; I want future projects, of I don't know what.

Don't worry; it lasts the time of a letter; then everything fades away and it's only a matter of starting again.  Perhaps it would be better not to write these desires or these states of mind; perhaps it would give them a consistency that they don't have - and that's why I hate letters in general - but, you know, and I do too, it does me good. I'm going to sleep, my love - I'm going to cook my cold a little. See you tomorrow, my darling; see you tomorrow, my beautiful face, sleep, sleep well; love me. Love me again. Courage. I kiss you with all my soul.

Maria Casarès to Albert Camus, Correspondance, February 6, 1950 [#175]

[thetarttfuldickhead]

A Jamie-centric pre-OT3 Christmas story told in 25 short chapters.

Masterpost / AO3

14.

Another fucking draw. At least they’d actually scored in this one (Obisanya 26, Tartt 74), but what good was that when they let the other team net the ball just as many times? Jamie stared morosely at his Lynx collection, trying to muster the energy to change out of his kit. He was sweaty, his hair was a mess, and his side ached dully from a nasty tackle near the final whistle; taking a shower would be heaven. But he was too tired to move.

It wasn’t so much the game that left him exhausted, even though it sure took its physical toll. The past ten days had been a mad flurry of setting up surprise after surprise for Roy, and that had involved more gift hunting, eavesdropping and secret sneaking around than Jamie had ever thought he’d get up to. Between that and football and team Christmas bonding there’d barely been time for sleeping and eating.

And after all that, he still hadn’t called Mummy. He’d tried to, every single night, but he just. couldn’t. do. it. Apparently his efforts still weren’t up to scratch, which was baffling, to be honest: how fucking sad was Roy that not even the truly fanastic stuff Jamie had pulled for him had made him happy? Christmas was only days away, and Jamie was running out of both ideas and time. Could he get Sade to actually write Roy a song… ? Might be too much, though, even if he managed to figure out how to sort it. It’d give the bugger a heart attack or something, and that would make Keeley sad and probably not count as him doing a nice thing, even if it’d be dead unfair of the universe to blame him for Roy being a frail old man.

Perhaps he could invite Dani out for another brainstorming session; it had worked a treat last time. Jamie was pretty sure that Roy had appreciated his gifts and gestures, from what peeks he’d managed to sneak of the man. Just not appreciated them enough, apparently.

It also seemed like maybe Roy was getting a tiny bit suspicious. Yesterday, he’d kept turning his head every this way and that, and sometimes stopping dead in the street and whirling around, looking a little wild-eyed. At one point Jamie had had to dive behind a couple of large rubbish bins to avoid detection. That was a pair of perfectly ripped trousers he’d never wear again.

Fuck, but he wished that—

“Jamie, are you feeling well?”

Jamie turned to look at Sam, who had stopped by his cubby, already changed and with a concerned pinch to his kind face. He looked just slightly, slightly hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if his question would yield an answer or something sharp and snide. Jamie made an effort to smile. “Yeah, bruv, I’m sound. Just, you know, tired of not winning.

“It is disappointing. But, thanks to you it was a draw instead of a loss. And it was a very nice goal too.”

At the praise, Jamie felt his smile grow easier, more sincere. It had been a very nice goal, hadn’t it? Good of Sam to notice. 

“Yeah, yeah, thanks mate. And yours were great too, you know?” he added, remembering what Dr. Sharon had said about how acknowledging other people’s accomplishments did not diminsh Jamie’s own.

The way Sam’s lips curled into a wide grin, mirroring Jamie’s own, and the way the sight of it made Jamie feel warm had him thinking she was onto something there.

“Thanks, Jamie,” Sam said simply, and gave him a friendly nod before walking back to his own cubby.

Still smiling, Jamie finally began to undress.

---

Once he was showered and changed and Ted had somehow talked them all into feeling determined and hopeful rather than dejected, Jamie hefted his bag and headed for the door. On his way out he passed by Keeley and Rebecca Welton, offering a smile to the former and a polite nod to the latter.

Keeley lit up when she saw him (and fuck, but that still did things to him, didn’t it?). “Hi, Jamie,” she said. “Listen, I was wondering if you could stop by my place tomorrow? I wanted to talk to you about some new tweaks to your brand, now that you’re playing again?”

Jamie perked right up at that. Talking to Keeley and discussing his brand? Fucking brilliant. Much better than spending another day trying to figure out what would possible make Roy Kent happy enough to appease the universe into letting Jamie call his mum.

He’d been working hard. He deserved a little break. Besides, hanging out with Keeley at her place might well yield some new Roy related ideas.

“Yeah, mint, yeah,” he said. Then a thought occurred to him and he frowned. “Or, actually, no, I can’t. The team’s doing a day trip Winchester Christmas Market after our recovery sessions. Sorry.”

He was, too. As much as he was growing to appreciate the lads and was looking forward to the trip, he’d rather spend some time with Keeley (and his brand was in sore need of some brushing up, ‘cause people were still being cunts and hung up about him walking out on City and Amy and stupid shit like that).

“Oh.” Keeley looked disappointed, which cheered him a little. “Tuesday?” she suggested.

“Sure, yeah. I mean, I’ve got training, but I could drop by after? Unless you wanna… “ He nodded towards her closed office door.

“No! I mean… No. There’s been… there’s an issue with the ventilation, yeah, it smells awful in there. Like dying animals and farts and baby vomit. Blegh. You don’t wanna go in there.”

Uh, yeah, no thank you, he sure as hell did not. Jamie made a face. “Yeah, all right,” he said. “I’ll just come by yours then?”

She nodded, looking relieved. “Great! Thank you, Jamie!”

“You’re all right.” He gave her another smile, Rebecca another nod (and noted that she for some reason seemed like she was struggling not to either roll her eyers or laugh, which was kind of rude, considering how hard Keeley worked for her and all, and she really should get Keeley’s office sorted), before heading out to his car.

So. Fun trip with the boys tomorrow – maybe he’d find something nice for Mummy and for Roy at the Christmas market – and then hanging out with Keeley the day after. So-so playing and his mummy issues aside, life wasn't so bad.

[scorpiongrassfield]

Look at the Menu 

Start | Prev

You focus on it, really focus, and find that the menu is only half there. It sort of shifts around as you look at it, but it seems like there are only a few things written down and the rest are blurry. Like your attention is being led away from them in favor of the others. 

Add that to the pile of weird. 

Looking at it too intently makes your head hurt. You decide on a bowl of soup just to be done with it. 

You nudge Pat. “What’s going on with the menu?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” Pat says. 

“Ah, they may have changed it since the last time you were here? They do that sometimes. Reprint and rearrange and such,” Theo offers helpfully. 

“No, look. Try to focus here,” you say, pointing at one of the blurry parts. 

Pat squints their eyes and puts their sunglasses back on in an attempt to see it better. 

“That’s weird,” they say. They put their sunglasses back up on top of their head. 

“What’s weird?” Theo asks. 

You push the menu over to Theo. “When you look here,” you say, tapping the spot, “the menu is unreadable.” 

Theo moues as he looks at the menu. “What do you mean? That’s the breakfast section. A stack of pancakes with eggs, bacon, and a side of fruit,” he says. 

“No way,” Pat says, and takes the menu to look at it again. They blink rapidly. “Huh.” 

They pass the menu back to you. “Look.” 

You look. 

That spot on the menu has filled in. It says what Theo says it does. 

The rest of the menu is filling itself up before your eyes. 

Pat rubs at their eyes, looking tired. “Well. We’re really going to have to look into all of that soon,” they say. 

The waiter comes by to take your order. 

Once they’re gone, everyone is ready to talk again. 

“Theo, have you noticed anything weird going on lately?” you ask. 

Theo tilts his head to the side a bit as he thinks. “Ah, other than finding out I’m a ghost? No, I don’t think so.” he says. 

Pat is strangely silent, so you look over at them. They’re writing in their notebook. 

“You still want to solve this mystery, right?” you ask them. 

“Of course. I can’t let something like this go,” Pat says without looking up from their notebook. 

Maybe convincing them will be easier than you thought. 

You won’t say anything in front of Theo, though. That would be rude.

“Can… Can I help? I’ve never solved a mystery before,” Theo asks earnestly. 

Pat seems to think on it for a minute. “We’ll see, kid,” they say noncommittally. 

Theo smiles like Pat agreed. 

You change the subject a bit. “So, did you make any progress on moving on while I was out?” you ask. You want to know how much time you have to keep your promise. 

Theo’s smile fades. “Well. Um. I guess so?” 

“We called to let George know what happened to him, since no one in the family made contact,” Pat says. 

Oh. That sounds. Rough. 

“At least George knows now,” Theo says. “I couldn’t call because I didn’t have my phone. And also, I guess I didn’t fully know I was dead either. So that was very helpful. Thank you again, Pat.” 

“No problem. That’s what I’m here for,” they say, finally putting their notebook away. 

The waiter comes by with everyone’s food. 

Pat’s got a salad, Theo’s got peach cobbler, and you’ve got your soup. 

Pat starts in on their salad, then pauses, leaf-filled fork halfway to their mouth. 

“Hey, Theo. Wanna help me out with something? It’s for science,” Pat says. 

“Oh! Um, Sure. What can I do?” Theo says, surprised. 

“Try taking a bite of that cobbler for me,” they say. 

Theo’s face falls. “I’m. Not really hungry,” he says. 

“That’s fair. But I want to see if a ghost can eat or not,” they say. 

You thought they were already sure they couldn’t. 

“Here,” Pat says, stabbing a bit of peach and topping onto Theo’s fork. “Just try it, and if you can’t, that’s alright. Experiments are allowed to fail, you know?” they say. 

Theo nods seriously and takes the fork. 

After a moment of hesitation, he pops the food into this mouth. 

His eyebrows draw in as he chews, like he’s confused or displeased. 

You glance over at Pat. They look like their entire understanding of the world just crumbled. 

You look back to Theo, who still looks befuddled. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Well. Clearly I could eat it. But um. It was very strange,” he says. 

“How so?” 

“Ah, it’s just that. I know what their peach cobbler tastes like, usually. It’s very good. But. For some reason… I couldn’t taste it at all,” he says. 

You feel your stomach drop.

Next

[zillyeh]

Business Arrangements

Featuring: Castel, Voss, the he-queen of Delhon City Synopsis: The Castle bakery has been operating in south Delhon city without paying its Underground tax for a long time. Its owner, Castel, takes a little trip to fix that. In the least lethal way possible.

Closing the cafe was always a relief at the end of the night. As much as Castel loved to bake all day, flopping face first onto something soft was far more appealing right now. Gatsby had gone home ages ago- Cas needed to prep a few things for tomorrow- so the only company he had was the sound of his keys jingling as he locked up. Even the street was dead.

That was, of course, until the near silent vehicle pulled to a stop at his curbside. He didn’t notice until the sound of the door rolling open startled him.

“Mr. Baclef, I presume? Heard you was real tall,” called the troll who got out. He was armed unsubtly-two holsters at his chest- and freckled as Castel could ever hope to be. He was also a good two feet shorter, but that sort of thing often didn’t help Cas as much as it should. He wore a lazy, serene smile, and deeply tired looking eyes. They were green in all the places they weren’t teal, and looking in at Castel in a way that bordered on lecherous.

“Uh, C- I prefer Castel, but yes.” He stammered, foolishly shoving his keys into his pocket. “Can I… help you?” The tealblood rolled his neck, perhaps thinking of his answer for a bit longer than necessary.

“Wellllll, not me exactly,” he said, stepping in the direction Castel did, drawing one of his guns. “Y’see, an associate of mine, big blue guy, you know him? Yeah you know him- y’see he told me-” He blocked Castel again. “-that-” Once more. “-geeze, you’re awful rude to a guy with a gun aren’t you? Can you at least let me finish? There we go, atta boy. Now. I heard you said something to one of my associates, to the effect of “If your boss wants my business so bad he can talk to me in person”? That you, big guy?”

“I- I don’t recall.” Castel had a knife on his belt by Orphia’s insistence, but it felt more than useless right now.

“Mm, sure you don’t,” the tealblood hummed, haphazardly twirling his weapon in the air. “Well, I’m here to take you up on that. Name’s Voss.”

“You…” Castel cleared his throat a bit, straightening up. “You’re not what I expected.”

“Oh, no, no, no sugar pop, not me. Though I’m downright flattered.” Voss paced a bit closer, almost within touching range. “Uh, why don’t you think of me as say… your chauffeur. Mr. S don’t like to come out in person too much, y’see. Not for this, anyways.”

“I…” A rock sank to the pit of Castel’s stomach and lower. That van was certainly just big enough to fit him.

“Is this a kidnapping?” He asked, a deer in headlights, almost literally. Voss let out a laugh.

“Only if that’s your thing, Castel. Can I call you Cass? I like Cass, less syllables. Anyway. Get in the van please.” Cas tried as subtly as he could to twitch his fingers to his belt.

"And… if I don't?" It was a stall for time- if he could just-

"Oh the list of things that I'm allowed do…" Voss sighed, idly pointing his gun at Castel's sneaking hand. Finger ready on the trigger. "You definitely don’t wanna hear it. If you're half as smart as you are cute you'll go for a drive with us. Hour or two. Tops."

The van was more… comfortable than Castel thought it would be, given the circumstances. Even with his knees nearly folded up to his ears. Voss had bound his hands in front of him for “Safety purposes, y’see.” He also took his knife, just in case. Voss sat cross legged in the back of the van next to him on the floor. At some point after Cas was properly restrained, he’d produced a rubix cube from somewhere.

“So, like.,” he started, fiddling with it without even looking. “Big fan of your blueberry muffins.”

“Ah, you’re the one Dale picks them up for, then?” Castel watched his hands, one side already totally red. Focusing on his hands was perhaps a better idea than thinking too hard about the bumps in the road.

"Uh huh. Got a bad sweet tooth on me. Been tryin' to make a batch half as good, but there's something… missing."

“I use my own blueberries,” Castel sighed, wondering if all kidnappings were this… relaxed. “From my garden.” Sure he’d been threatened with some intense weaponry, but aside from that he’d hardly been touched. Or even yelled at. Maybe he was simply too much of a pushover to be worth that, though.

“Oooh that’ll do it,” Voss said with a nod, orange side done. “I’ll have to see if I can keep one of them bushes alive. Never been great at the whole gar-”

The van went over a bump that jostled the both of them hard. The seats had been removed just to fit all eight something feet of Castel in the back, so he shot up nearly to the roof. Voss just fell over.

“Watch where the FUCK you’re going you dumb asshole!” He shouted, banging on the black glass divider between them and the driver. “We got precious cargo back here! Not to mention our purpleblood buddy!” He sighed frustratedly, then turned back to Castel. “Amature drivers, amiright, Cass?”

“Uh… huh.”

The ride could have been long, could have been short. Anticipation made it feel like days. Every second they spent on the road smacked Castel in the face. He'd told no one to expect him- they know how long it takes him in the back sometimes. He wondered if they'd somehow known that when they sent Voss to pick him up.

"Where exactly-" 

A knock from the other side of the glass cut him off. He hadn’t even noticed that they stopped moving.

"'Bout fucking time," Voss grumbled crawling to Castel's side. He used the pink knife he'd taken off Castel to undo the several zip ties it took to properly restrain him.

"We both know you're smart enough not to try anything, don't we big guy?" Voss said to Cas' puzzled expression. Castel opened his mouth to say something, but lost it when the door rolled open again. He could see nothing past the massive head of the feline that appeared there.

"Oh, oh no, no no, absolutely not-" He started to scramble back further into the van. Voss rolled his eyes, yanking him back through the door with more strength than Cas was expecting. 

"Princess don't bite unless you scare her, Cass." 

Voss shoved him out into a surprisingly large courtyard, with an even more enormous mansion attached. It was not the sort of place that looked like it should fit within city limits, but their drive couldn't have been that long. Could it? 

Taking in his surroundings was low on his list of priorities at the moment. He could only have eyes for Voss and the big cat that was, at the very least, a lusus. The door slamming behind them again jumped Cas out of his thoughts. 

Princess let Voss push Castel past her, following dutifully behind them up the small ramp to the front door. On either side of the double doors was a massive olive and a bigger blueblood- the blue Castel recognized.

"Dalein."

"Hey Cass," he said, more sheepishly than a door guard ought to be. "Uh. Sorry?"

"Don't talk to him," Voss said to either one or both of them. The olive pushed the door in for them. Princess brushed past Castel's long skinny legs, making him jump closer to Voss.

"Aw, skittish much?" Voss teased as they entered the manor. "Would holding my hand help?" Cas wrinkled his nose and said nothing. When his eyes properly adjusted to the inside he gasped.

For as big as his own home was, it wasn't this extravagant. There couldn't possibly be enough marble on Alternia to line those floors and walls, could there be? Certainly not anymore. The lavishly decorated foyer could have fit his bakery in it twenty times at least- not to mention that he could have stood on his own shoulders three times and barely brushed the ceiling. It made him feel… small. He wasn't sure anything ever had.

"Pretty, ain't it?" Voss grinned, pushing him forward. "Where's Mr. Smiles at, huh Princess?"

The tiger made some small noise in the back of her throat, seemingly as acknowledgement as she slinked forward, taking the lead in place of Voss. He held tight to Castel’s arm as he led him deeper into the manor. Dozens of paintings and statues lined the walls, but Cas couldn't absorb what any of them looked like.

What sort of person owned a hive like this? Who needed ceilings high enough to accommodate the tallest trolls on Alternia and then some? That lusus' eyes were an unnaturally bright emerald, but that didn't mean anything. Was he a mutant? Could he be? It would make the secrecy make more sense, as if it already didn't. 

Orphia had warned him once about doing business in the city. He wished he had listened to her- hadn't kept Dale's visits quiet so she didn't worry. Now he was deep in the lion's den with no one expecting him for… hours… 

The shock of being kidnapped was starting to wear off now. Cas wasn’t sure when he’d started shaking, or if it was ever going to stop, or if he’d live past the next twenty minutes, or if he’d ever see anyone again… “Ors” and “what ifs” started piling up in his mind, somewhere between Voss and the tiger. They threatened to topple him over, if his clumsy, jittery legs didn’t do it first. 

He had powers didn’t he? But what use was he like this- anxious, without practice and his actual eye? 

"Ay, Alternia to Castel," Voss said, snapping his fingers up in his face. They had reached a door near the other end of the mansion. Cas didn't realize they'd walked that much already. He swallowed nothing, mouth too dry to even form words.

“Aww, cat got your tongue, kid?” Voss teased. He and Princess swapped places so he could open the door.

The room might as well have been a closet compared to the rest of the hive. The ceiling was just high enough to to accommodate Castel's horns, and the room- office? had about as much space as his bakery's back room. The white walls were interrupted by dark panels of blue and expertly decorated shelves, making it feel like an airy prison.

It wasn't the room that made Castel's heart nearly burst out of his chest, but the jadeblood sitting at the dark wood desk. His horns were familiarly shaped, but far, far taller. Wrong shaped pieces of Salvad's face, weathered and wrinkled, looked at him with a polite smile. His old capped fangs glinted dangerously as he stood. Castel wondered if Salvad knew about him. If his insistence that he didn’t have any curiosity about ancestors and things like that was because he knew about him.

Because he wanted to keep him away from him.

"Mr. Baclef," said the troll with his friend’s beauty marks and moving fangs. “A pleasure to finally meet you. I’m sure you understand my inability to do this sort of thing entirely on your terms, hm?” He extended his hand over his desk. Castel stood frozen until Voschi nudged him in the room. 

“Y-you,” Castel stumbled forward, reaching for his hand as politeness took over his body before his brain. “You’re- I-” He whipped his head around for support or perhaps escape, but Voss stationed himself between him and the door. Smiles’ metal finger was cold against Castel’s clammy hands.

“You can call me Mr. Smiles. Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to a heavy leather chair facing his desk. “We have a couple things to talk about. Won’t take long.” Castel did as he was told, only half hearing him over the sound of his own pulse. He’d screwed up majorly. He should have listened to Orphia- he should have told her the second Dale had started showing up. The second he’d heard Smiles’ name. In his naïvete he’d almost certainly pushed Mr. Smiles to something drastic.

As he spoke, Castel tried to focus on something, anything about him to ground him. He sauntered around his desk, leaning up against it as he gave his pitch.

“I understand how difficult it is to start a business in Delhon, believe me I do.” His accent betrayed old Delhonian. The type of old only heard from the sitting Delhon heiress’ advisor. He had earrings dangling in the mane of his hair. Gold. Shaped like little suns. Eclipsed by black every time he moved his head.

“That section of the city is terribly dangerous, you know. Or it can be, if you’re unlucky. I feel like I’ve been very patient in waiting for the answer I want.”

His curls framed his face the way Salvad’s did on the rare occasions he left his hair down. Thin scars marred his arms, barely visible but very present. Even small in stature, the man was solid. Scarily so. He held himself up about ten feet taller than he looked with centuries of confident violence.

“I won’t let you leave without us coming to an agreement, Baclef.”

He had two guns at his back. Both of them were teal trimmed, but not exactly Voss’ color. Some part of Castel’s stomach churned, but he couldn’t interrogate why before Smiles shot:

“Your ancestor wasn’t this quiet.”

Castel’s attention fully snapped back to what he was saying. Smiles raised his eyebrows, almost amused.

“There you are, hello, welcome back to Alternia.” Smiles poked one of his horns, metal digit sending uncomfortable vibrations down to his scalp. “I was under the impression that La Corps was going to end the lineage of you terrible, terrible people. Unless you crawled out of one of my caverns? Tsk. Wonder if I still have Father Jortis’ number.”

“What do you want from me?” Castel’s mouth was too dry to make the words fully form, but Smiles’ big ears caught every frightened syllable. He flashed him a smile. Cas felt like his veins were full of ice. Perhaps lead, with how difficult fear made it to move.

“Only to keep you safe in Delhon, hon,” he said with a genuine air of concern in his voice. “I have a vested interest in small businesses started up in my territory.”

“I didn’t know,” Castel whispered weakly, head swimming with his ancestor’s journal entries. Was he there? He knew about Jortis, was Smiles hidden on those pages somewhere?

“No, of course not, but it’s an easily rectified situation, isn’t it?” The sweet of Smiles’ tone almost made Castel want to cry. “Give me half The Castle and I’ll keep it very very much not on fire. Maybe even keep your little… caverns breach a secret, hm?”

No! He wanted to yell and fight and tell him off, but Castel was weak. Weak and between four guns, and being threatened with the only thing his ancestor had ever been afraid of catching up to him. What Syraah had been reluctant to say she’d hid them both from when she brought them here so many sweeps ago.

Castel looked Smiles in the eyes for the first real time. Long lashes, deeply tired, feline pupils wide and black with a hate that his tone didn’t betray at all. Without them in little slits, they almost resembled his friend’s. He wasn’t capable of hate like this, though.

“Salvad,” was the word that came out of Castel’s mouth. Thinking of him put him on the tip of his tongue, made him slip. Perhaps he thought evoking him would make him pop out from behind the desk and save him.

To Castel’s surprise, Smiles’ ever present polite smile faltered to a frown. Voss stiffened at the door.

“Excuse me?” Smiles asked, pretense of sweetness entirely gone.

“I- I don’t know why I said that, I’m sorry, please don’t- he has nothing to do with this, if you know where he is leave him a-” 

Smiles pinched his fingers in front of him, and Castel immediately shut his lips. His eyes flicked back to Voss, who shrugged when Cass’ eyes followed. Smiles swore under his breath, something cracked in him from hearing Salvad’s name alone.

“Boss…” Voss’ voice was soft near the door. Almost… sweet? Smiles’ brow knitted together as he closed his eyes, biting his thumb in frustration.

“I know,” he said. “That doesn’t change this.”

Smiles put his mask back up as if he hadn’t been rattled. Leaned against his desk, relaxed. Gripping the edge like he was about to rip it off.

“Mr. Baclef,” he said, his voice dripping venomous sugar now, “You’re going to give me The Castle. You get to run it as you like, I’m just going to keep preventing bricks from flying through your windows.”  

Emboldened by his distress, Castel said:

“No.”

The left handed open slap across the mouth made him wish he’d said anything else. The edges of Smiles’ finger cut under his bad eye, sending immediate rivulets of blood down his cheek. Castel gripped the arms of his chair, stunned that he hadn’t shot him first.

“Fine,” he snarled. “I’m sure your establishment could use some broken glass and scorch marks.” His angry eyes met Voss’. Castel could swear he heard growling outside the door. “Get him out of here. Don’t touch him either.”

“Yessir,” Voss said with a heavy sigh, opening the door again. “Up, kid.”

Castel wiped the blood from his cheek as he stood, neary stumbling his way into a concussion to boot. Voss led him back out- when had they gone upstairs?- past more furious looking orange big cats, past all of Smiles’ fancy things, past Dale again at the door. All of it was a blur, even the van ride back to the bakery. His shaking was too bad, his mind was racing too hard for him to notice anything. It almost felt like a dream- one that was only proven real by the cut on his cheekbone.

Once Castel had been dumped back outside the bakery, he collapsed to the sidewalk. Voss shouted something out after him that he didn’t catch before it drove off again. Sobs wracked him, reoriented him as he scrambled back against the building to ground himself. It was a a type of panic that made him feel like he was going to die. Right there. His heart would give out. None of his street neighbors would dare check on him. Not after tonight, he was certain.

Coming down off of it felt like he’d been punched in the chest a hundred times. Painful in every part of his aching body, but especially his eyes. The only thing he could think of was to pull out his phone. He had to tell. He needed someone. There was only one thing that could help him now, and he was certain she’d react similarly hearing what just happened.

Finding her contact was instant. Calling her made his teeth chatter.

“Cass?” She picked up almost immediately.

“Orphia,” he said, a dry sob interrupting him, “I messed up really, really badly.”