#i do not have much experience with death or the elderly and this is something i feel wholeheartedly when i see moments like this

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | one

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

Pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  Rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  Summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. Warnings/Tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], slow burn [ish], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset [boys are problems], mentions of family drama/turmoil, passing mention of death [elderly neighbor], brief non-violent use of a pocket knife, mention of stabbing [as self-defense], furniture building, reader described as female, hair long enough to tie up, no other physical descriptions, eventual smut, protective!joel, soft!joel, no use of y/n. Word Count: 4.6k Series Masterlist | part two a/n: this is my first time writing with this sort of format so pls be gentle. i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. i have no outline for this. but i’ve got a whim and a direction and i’m going with it. **please read the warnings/tags for every part as they will be updated**

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

You’d done it. Finally. No one ever thought you would, including you. And yet, here you were, lugging your sparse personal belongings out of the back of a U-Haul truck and in through the front door of your new home. And for once in your adult life, it wasn’t in some impersonal apartment building or complex. It was a house. In a town that was actually affordable, though it was further from home than you might’ve preferred. A town that was away from family, which had been the impetus, but also away from friends, which hadn’t been. 

There was a perk to this being the first house you’d ever moved into. Being confined to seven hundred square feet had meant there was only so much room to fill. And it had all been cozy. But now there was a bit more space to work with. Not to say this house was large by any stretch of the imagination – it was on the smaller side of all the houses in the neighborhood – but you had rooms now. And as you loaded in different boxes and suitcases full of clothes and books, you realized how much of the space was going to be left empty. With the exception of a mattress, bed frame, dresser, a couple chairs, and bookcases, you left every other large piece of furniture behind. Couches, dining table, kitchen chairs, media console, TV… you planned on buying all of that in town. You only wanted to bring what you felt you could move yourself. 

It was the season of life you were in. Young enough for people to say you had time before focusing on creating a family for yourself, but not young enough to avoid their awkward and worried glances when you told them you were only focused on your career. It was odd; never something that settled right. With each birthday, every time a candle was added, the world around you seemed less secure with your aloneness. As if you, a single female, were something of a threat to the rest of the world. Your solitude, an act of rebellion. God forbid you didn’t have a man to look after you. In your experience, boys didn’t do too good a job at much. Were they useful? Absolutely. You’d much rather delegate tasks to a boy than have to do them yourself. Mow the lawn, fix a creaky door, seal a drafty window, get you off… sure, there were any number of things a boy could do, but not only were they not necessary, you generally found you were better at any job than they were. That had been instilled in you long before you began dating. 

How many times had it been proven that dad could not be held accountable for his entire emotional spectrum? And instead you, a mere child, were to be responsible for it. Though it wasn’t always bad – somewhere deep down you knew your parents had done the absolute best they knew how to do with the tools they had – but the emotion dad was never short on was anger. Thus, it was the emotion he was most comfortable expressing. And yes, you apparently were the catalyst for all of his loud expressions of anger and rage. Everything was always conditional. I’m sorry but you did this… 

I love you but…

By the time dating had entered your life (which only happened post-college), let’s just say no therapist was surprised by the pattern of boys you chose to have in your life. All of them modeled the thing you were familiar with, which only served to imbed the quality you hated most about yourself. There was a tendency to accept any treatment a boy was willing to give you, without expressing needs or desires or even if there was a problem. Boundaries? Never heard of her. As far as boys were concerned, they seemed to have carte blanche over you. Your own resentment and anger would grow by the lack of your needs (which had never been verbally expressed) being met, until you’d had enough and cut them off. Every new relationship felt like a complete betrayal of yourself.

The highly independent and ‘don’t need a man’ personality quirk had strung a ribbon of apathy around your life. You liked to think of it that way. Like a Christmas bow around a present. Realizing you didn’t care about forming intimate relationships with men seemed a little less painful when given the image of a box neatly wrapped beneath a tree donning tinsel and colorful lights. It was at that point, while pondering your ribbon of apathy and clumsily shoving your mattress up the front porch steps, that a voice interrupted your progress.

“Lemme help ya’ with that, ma’am,”

The voice had arms. And those arms were simultaneously reaching for the same end of the mattress you already had hands on. Instinctively, you tugged your bed out of reach, “I got it.” But hands kept coming. They were insistent. Of course they were a man’s hands. A woman would’ve listened the first time. So with an extra strong tug and a tone that spat fire, you turned toward the owner of the hands and stood your ground, “I said, I got it!”

Dark brown eyes that almost looked black had the sun not been playing in their favor. They were soft. Gentle. Despite the fact that he’d just gotten yelled at. And those soft dark brown eyes… well they looked dumbfounded. Whether it was because of the volume of the statement or the fact that people generally didn’t turn down friendly help here in the South, he lifted his hands off the mattress and held them up innocently. 

The force with which your action had been committed meant that the moment he released  the bed, you went stumbling over, the entire thing thudding down on the porch. You shot him another icy glare as he slowly backed off the steps, though he remained in place and watched you crouch down to lift your mattress once again; the pad now harboring dirty stains.

“Can I help you with something in the truck?” He offered again. Unwanted persistence was a uniquely male quality.

“I don’t need your help, thanks. I got it,”

He watched for just a second longer at the image of you fumbling with the heavy mattress, barely able to keep it upright. Then he turned on his heels and went back from whence he came. Which you came to realize, when you looked over your shoulder to ensure he’d actually gone, was across the street and a few houses down. Fuck. Back in California, not too many people were neighborly but it wasn’t a point you were hoping to make. Especially not on the first day. There was a quaintness to the idea of a neighborhood full of people who liked and looked out for one another. You’d just hoped that would’ve come in the form of some old, opinionated woman sipping tea in a rocking chair on her front porch. The kind that maybe the kids were afraid of, but she was awesome. That’s when it came to mind that maybe that was the void in the neighborhood you were filling. You were to be the crotchety old woman, yelling at “those darn kids”. Fabulous.

Unfortunately (for no other reason than your own ego) you only got the mattress in through the threshold of the front door before it fell to the side and flopped back down to the floor. With a sigh and a thought that maybe it wasn’t so bad if it just lived there, you stepped over it and padded into the kitchen. Managed to place the boxes designated to the room in it, but had yet to unpack anything. You turned on the tap and tilted your head to the side, leaning in to take a sip of water directly from it. Only to find that upon turning off the tap and looking out the bay window by the sink, the man that had offered to help was visible from his yard. He wheeled out his trash and recycling bins to the curb. Resting his hands on his hips, he glanced around and took stock of the neighborhood. All seemed quiet and to his liking.

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Joel liked routine. Habit-forming had become a sort of habit. It meant he knew what his days looked like. It meant he was prepared. And after having been handed a life where being ill-prepared meant something was going wrong, there was great comfort in knowing how things were going to go day by day. Though he wasn’t rigid. He could include new things in his routine. For instance…

One morning he woke up, made his usual pot of coffee before work, and stood out on his porch. It’d be one of his only moments to slow down and actually notice the day. That’s when he noticed something new in his routine. A “For Sale” sign went up on Mrs. Wilson’s front lawn. Everyone in the neighborhood had been expecting it because, well, Mrs. Wilson had passed away. In her sleep one night. Joel thought that must’ve been the nicest way to go. And every morning, he’d go out on his porch and ponder Mrs. Wilson before carrying on with the rest of his routine. As such, he saw when it sold and went into escrow. He saw Mrs. Wilson’s son move out all of his mother’s old furniture until the place was left empty. Everything was routine. 

That is, until the U-Haul showed up this morning. It was a small one and he remembered thinking there was no way that little truck contained enough furniture to fill up that house. But he brushed it off, continued with his routine, and went off to work. Though he had to admit, he was wholly curious about the new neighbor he was about to inherit.

He left his jobsite early afternoon, his truck ambling back to his house when another neighbor waved him down to stop him.

“Hey, Mr. Cole,” Joel smiled at the elderly man. Mr. Cole had been the first one to greet Joel when he’d first moved into town. Mr. Cole knew everything going on in the neighborhood, courtesy of Mrs. Cole.

“You see that gal move into Mrs. Wilson’s house?”

Joel nodded, “saw that woman move in, yeah.”

“Mighty pretty,”

Joel chuckled, “surely not as pretty as Mrs. Cole,”

“I don’t know,”

Joel laughed a little harder. “I’ll see ya’ around. Stop snoopin’.”

He’d only just arrived back home and parked his truck in the driveway when he saw you struggling with the mattress. And his mama raised him better than that so he went to offer his help. There hadn’t been a fiber in his being that thought you’d snap back like you had. That’s why he tried a second time. And when the second snap was stronger than the first, he raised his hands and backed off.

Shit. Out-of-towners were getting meaner and meaner.

He meandered to his house and only looked back once, just in time to see the mattress fall to the floor just inside the front door. He smiled to himself and continued on with his routine as much as possible. Tomorrow was trash day which meant the bins needed to be brought out.  Simple enough task, just the way he liked it. He liked it even more when he spotted a glimpse of you looking at him through your kitchen window. 

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You forwent unpacking anything that day. It wasn’t worth it. Nothing you pulled out would truly have a place to live until you got the furniture situation handled. And seeing as though your bed was still in the entryway, you figured there were bigger problems to handle. But just by looking at the hallway, and the thin doorways, you knew you were going to have a hell of a time bending and twisting the mattress to your will… and the architecture. Grocery shopping proved to be more time-sensitive, and once the fridge was as fully stocked as your bank account would allow, it already started to feel more like home. Which also meant, the way you’d snapped at your neighbor started to bother you more. You had to live in this person’s realm – whatever that looked like. He was your neighbor, and short of literally becoming the crotchety old woman that never left her home, there wasn’t a way for you to avoid him altogether. He seemed to have a lot of friends on the block. That’s also when you decided to suck up to your pride. To apologize to this man who really didn’t deserve an apology at all. Whatever it took to just live in peace.

The more you thought about it, the more it angered you. That was pretty par for the course. It would’ve been more odd if a man wasn’t pissing you off. It was still running through your mind as you plucked a six-pack from your fridge and crossed the street in the direction of his house. You thought about how you were going to have to plaster a phony smile on your face and make niceties to this person who you didn’t want to get to know. You just wanted to live. And you thought you’d have more time. As you ascended his porch steps, you made for the front door, zeroed in on it.

“Hey,” 

The voice startled you, tripping over your own feet and stumbling, very nearly losing the six-pack of bottles to the wooden porch. You glanced over at him, and in the dim light his porch light gave off, watched him take an acoustic guitar out of his lap and set it beside his chair.

“Hi,” you mumbled and walked in his direction. “I’m your new neighbor,”

“I know. You yelled at me,”

You rolled your eyes, “I didn’t yell at you. I was just letting you know–”

“S’for me?”

You looked back down at him and noticed how he pointed at the six-pack of beer. “We got off on the wrong foot and I just want to live in peace and quiet so,” gesturing to the beer, “peace offering.” You handed the pack to him.

Joel cradled the cardboard sleeve in his lap and pulled out a bottle. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I just came to drop them off,”

He flicked his eyes up and pulled out a second bottle. Then, setting the remaining bottles on the floor beside him, he twisted the first cap off. “S’not nice to yell at someone and then refuse their offer to share a drink,”

“I didn’t yell at you,”

“Sit down.”

And for whatever reason, you listened. In the past, had any man spoken to you like that, especially one you didn’t know from Adam, you’d’ve smacked him. But not this time. This time you sat in the chair perched next to his and awkwardly took the open beer from his hand when he passed it over to you.

The silence that ensued was tense and palpable. Neither willing to bend first. Joel kept his eyes focused on his beer bottle and you kept your focus on… him. Naturally suspicious and wary, you thought if you kept your gaze on him, you’d catch him before he did anything out of hand. But really all you noticed was the way his nose had a slight downward curve to it. And the way the graying hair at the back of his head curled along his neck. And the way his beard, also graying, came in in patches, but in the most endearing way. Wrinkles and worry lines had etched their way deep in his forehead. Crow’s feet found a home in the corners of his eyes. Both told you this was a man who had felt and lived a lot of life: the good and the bad. You thought you saw a small scar on his cheek just below his eye, but you couldn’t be sure. The man was middle-aged. His skin and hands gave the appearance he was a blue-collar, working man who’d spent his life in the beating sun.

“Get everything moved in?” He took a sip and eyed you, aware that you were nodding, but still the glance he gave you made you think he knew you were lying. Obviously you were.

“My bed is still by the front door,” you relented.

“Not where I’d recommend a bedroom be, but to each their own,”

“I can’t get it down the hallway by myself.” You tried to ignore that he seemed to light up at the admission. You? Needing his help? “It’s too narrow,”

“Want help?”

You looked at him almost incredulously. Had you treated California neighbors the way you treated them, you'd have been lucky if you didn’t find your car keyed the next day. But he was offering his help? Again?

“You’d help me after the way I yelled at you?”

He pursed his lips and shrugged. “You didn’t yell at me,” another smile flashed over his face and he looked over at you again.

You hated that it made you smile, too. Yet you waved him off. “That’s alright. I’ll figure out a way,”

Joel chuckled and shook his head, taking a pause before he downed another long sip of his beer.

“What?” You urged. 

“S’nothin’,'' he shook his head again with another grin. “Know you probably could figure out a way, but… s’just that you don’t need to. Why won’t you let me help you?”

You sucked in a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you’re a nice guy…” you trailed off realizing you didn’t know his name more than referring to him to yourself as that nosy neighbor guy.

He seemed to pick up on it and pointed to himself, “Joel. Miller,”

“But I don’t need a guy to get on with life, y’know? I’m a self-sufficient woman. I don’t need to rely on anyone but myself.”

Joel finished off his beer and stood up from his chair, “acceptin’ help when it’s offered isn’t relying on anyone else. It just makes life easier.” He started down the steps and crossed over his lawn.

“Where’re you going?!”

“To move your bed!”

Leaping up from your chair, you ran after him, in quick pursuit as he neared your home. You knew it was a wreck inside. Trash and boxes everywhere. Not ready for any visitors, even ones you didn’t want there in the first place. 

“Really! It’s alright.” When that didn’t stop him from advancing toward your house, you tried another path, “the bed frame’s not even put together!”

“Then I’ll put it together,” he said over his shoulder, nearly in your front yard now. 

You managed to lunge forward and grab onto his jacket sleeve, effectively stopping his advance. At least for the time being. “I don’t usually let men I don’t know into my home,”

“What?”

“You know… in case they’re crazy and kill me.”

Joel furrowed his eyebrows, utterly perplexed. He tried to make heads or tails of you as a whole and was having a hell of a time trying to do so. But he shoved his hand into the back pocket of his jeans and produced from it, a pocket knife. He unfolded it, which gave you some pause, but then he quickly held it out for you to take. You did, and as soon as the small weapon left his hand, he turned and continued toward your porch.

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with this?!”

“Stab me,”

“What?!”

He ascended the porch steps and waited at your front door, where you soon joined him. “If I do something weird, and you think I’m gonna kill you in your own house, you can stab me. Full permission,”

You looked down at the knife, and then back up at Joel. 

“Can you open your door?”

Gulping down nerves, “it’s unlocked.”

“Still,” Joel pressed a smile, “I’m not in the habit of letting myself into women’s homes. I’d prefer if you opened it and let me in.”

For the second time today, you found yourself doing something all because a man told you to do so and you wondered if the move was making you soft. Regardless, you reached past Joel, pressed down on the lever, and nudged the door open. It stopped short from opening all the way as it hit the edge of your mattress. Joel flicked his eyes at you, as if silently saying see, you need me.

He shimmied his way in, with you close behind, half-heartedly pointing the pocket knife in his direction. He bent over and picked the mattress up off the floor, seemingly with ease. Though you did hear his knees click when he crouched down, but due to his age, you thought better than to bring it to attention. Hell, even your knees creaked every now and again.

“I’ll go backwards and steer it. Think you can be the muscle?” He waited until you nodded and set the knife down, and gathered your hair in a messy bun on top of your head to keep it out of the way. Poised at the other end of the mattress, he lined it up for its plight down the hallway. “Alright, nice and easy,” he began to pull, feeling more frictionless movement as you began helping on the other end. It wasn’t too hard; more awkward than anything. But he guessed the mattress weighed as much as, if not more than, you, so by yourself it must’ve been like dragging dead weight around. “Easy, easy,” he murmured, tilting the mattress to the side to accommodate for the doorjamb, “that’s it. Take it slow,” he elongated the end of the word, completely focused on the side of the mattress as it brushed along the door. “We’re in,”

You helped him lean the mattress out of the way and against the wall. “Thanks for your help, Joel,” you backed up toward the door, hoping he’d follow you.

But he ignored you completely, and instead found the parts to your metal bed frame laying on the floor. He lowered himself to his knees and inspected it. “You got a Phillips head?”

“Joel…”

“S’gonna take me ten minutes. The longer you stall, the longer I’m gonna be here.”

He had a point. And a very good one at that. So you turned and all but ran down the hall, searching for the box you’d so astutely labeled as “tools”. A fear set in that the longer you were away, the more time Joel had to go through your belongings (albeit sparse). You didn’t want him getting too comfortable in your home, least of all in your bedroom. So you rushed, tore open the “tools” box, dug through it until you found the screwdriver, and then raced back down the hall as if you’d have time to catch him snooping. But as soon as you arrived back in your bedroom doorway, you didn’t find him snooping. You found him still on his knees, crawling around, laying the different parts out to make the square your bed would soon sit on. 

Joel smiled when he noticed you returned, and held his hand up to take the screwdriver from you. Only when he grabbed it, his face turned to horror and he grimaced at the pink floral design on the handle. “What’s this?”

“A screwdriver,”

“It’s got flowers on it,” he protested.

“It’s cute!”

He chuckled and started putting the bed frame together. “Y’know they charged you thirty percent more because they slapped flowers on it and marketed it toward women,”

You sat on the floor beside him and watched him work. “Well if I have to be the man in my life, my tools are gonna be a little more feminine,”

Joel glanced at you momentarily. Just long enough to question your statement, but not long enough for you to really notice he’d stopped working at all. “What about the actual man in your life?”

“Don’t have one. Don’t need one. I’ve got my floral tool set to prove it,”

A hum was the only acknowledgement Joel gave to that. As if that answered all his questions.

“What?”

“You talk a lot about how you don’t need anyone. I’m gatherin’ you actually only mean you don’t need a man. Which is fine and all, but s’just that that seems kinda lonely.” He set the screwdriver down and held the next two pieces together. “You remind me of me ten years ago. Stubborn. Determined to be alone.” He moved on to the next piece, “thing is… if you don’t need anyone, it also kind of implies that you’re not needed by anyone. And what good is life if you can’t give yourself to someone in that way?”

Jaw-dropped, you gathered yourself, eyes widening. “Wow, your wife must love having you as a husband,”

He smiled and chuckled, “I don’t have a wife.”

“So what do you know about giving yourself to someone and being needed?”

Joel flashed his eyes to you. Gentle and filled with love, “I have a daughter. Sarah. She’s in college now. She’s quite literally the best thing that’s ever happened in my life,”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a father,”

“‘Cause I look so young?” He grinned and tightened one final screw. With the frame now positioned where it needed to be, he stood up and went back to your mattress. You scooted out of the way as he single-handedly maneuvered it onto the frame and adjusted it until it was just perfect. “Check it off the to-do list. Now you can get a good night’s sleep,”

You admired his work and it wasn’t lost on you that it only took him a third of the time it would’ve taken you. Before you’d even gotten through that realization, Joel had already passed you and had made his way back out to the hall, where he walked down it back toward your front door. You followed after him, remaining quiet as he picked up his pocket knife from where you’d left it and tucked it back into his pant pocket. His hand got to the doorknob and you still hadn’t spoken, so he was the one to bite the bullet.

“You know, I never got your name.”

Heat crept up your neck, trying to make a home in your cheeks, as you mentioned your name to him. He smiled and nodded but offered nothing more, so you figured it was still your turn. “Thanks for your help, Joel,”

“No problem,” he waved you off.

“Maybe if more guys were like you, I wouldn’t hate them so much,”

“Give it time. You’ll be back to yellin’ at me soon.” He opened the front door and took a step through it. “Give me a holler if you need something, you know where I live,”

“Will do,”

He started to close the door but then opened it again and poked his head through. “Make sure you lock the door this time,”

You pressed a smile and approached the door where he waited until your hand was on the knob. With one last quiet goodbye, he pulled the door shut and you followed it up by locking it. Then with little time to spare, you ran to the window in the living room to watch him walk away. He pressed his hands into his pockets and looked around. Then a smile stretched over his face and he kicked at the grass before he crossed the street and moseyed back to his house.

[lacunasbalustrade]

random thought but one of my fav things while watching korean idol variety shows is when idols call their mothers or grandmothers when making traditional food/snacks (i see this most when they’re making kimchi) and idk,, it’s a very tender and warm sight. the way their tone changes into something more familiar and lighthearted when their family member picks up the call and the way their family members are so readily available to help them. it’s those rare moments of familial love and sincerity that stick with me.

[irasamu]

 . . . (🍷) ֶָ֢ 𔓘 LURE ME IN, PULL ME OUT. SAVE ME ; a osamu dazai fic. ❞

❛ ━━ ･ ❪ did i not die yet?

my heart beats and pumps,

pumps the blood which flows throughout,

though tonight i throw up this blood.

blood coats my hand red,

if i had died, why would i bled?

fleeting through my fingers,

fingers of mine tries to grasp my life,

life which i tried to grasp all this while!

blood coats the floor red,

and red it became the more i bleed.

fleeting is this life though my heart beats,

i am not dead yet, though i bleed.

soon my fate will meet death.

and i will die, won't i? ❫ ･ ━━ ❜

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . i don't really expect this one to be liked as this is an experimental fic anyway but I still want to know your opinion on it if you read it.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍷 ꒱ . . . tw ; pm!dazai, fem!reader, non established relationship, suggestive themes, kissing, fluff (?), angst, somewhat gore.

the weather hasn't really been the most pleasant since the last three or four hours but you assume it to be normal due to the season it came with.

with a hazy gaze, you stare at the dark grey sky outside as you wait for the first reaction to happen, for the first drop of rain to descend from its grace and onto the hard earth ground.

was this what icarus felt too?

but then again icarus wasn't a teenager in love with a boy who looked at love as not feelings and emotions but rather as chemical reactions and hormones stimulated by the brain.

icarus burned. you do too. perhaps not in the same way but you burn too.

"are you waiting for cats too dear?" a voice so gentle yet tired spoke up and you looked up to see an elderly woman smiling kindly at you. your eyes fell down to see a group of stray cats and you pondered.

her voice felt so warm admist the coldness of the weather that clinged to your skin.

you looked back up at the old woman and nodded, smiling a bit. "yeah. a grumpy one."

the old lady laughed at your words and she approached you, sitting down on the steps of your house next to you and the stray cats followed her. there were five in total, you counted as they surrounded the old lady's feet.

one of the five cats pawed at your leg. you looked down at it and extended your hand to pet it's head before you looked up at the sky again in deep thought.

"so when does your grumpy cat come?" the old lady's voice reached your ears, her words were pure but why did it still feel like she was laughing at you?

mocking you for being so hopeless.

"whenever he wants to." you whisper out. if the old lady wasn't sitting next to you, she wouldn't have heard you. your words were too sad to her though ignorance is bliss. the old lady thought nothing much of your words as she laughed.

"dearie, that's cats for you -- especially stray ones. they come and go. not having a proper house. no owner who showers them with love and so when we give them love, they get confused. they feel weird and dislike it. they leave. and when they are away -- they realize. they want it back. and so these cute furballs come back to get confused again." her words held years of experience. they soothed you and gave you a reason behind the behavior that hurts, effortlessly brightening your mood. it almost felt unnatural how easily her words convinced you and settled within you as if she's luring you in her.

you smiled at the old lady albeit weakly but your lips were tugged upwards by genuine gratitude and hope as you smiled at her, filled with fascination towards her.

"though love is like kummatty or the pied piper of hamelin. it lures you in even when you know it's dangerous. so dearie --" the old lady's voice suddenly dropped down a few octaves as a grave expression took over her old and wrinkled features. you would've have found it a bit unsettling had it not been for the cat at your feet that had your undivided attention. " -- be careful while loving, it'll lure you in one day and . . . even if it isn't love, something else will lure you in."

you felt the old lady shifting next to you before she stood up, causing you to twist your neck to look up at her. the old woman smiled at you kindly and slowly -- as safely as her feeble legs would allow her to -- climbed down the stairs and left. she went on along the sidewalk, though you raised your eyebrows in awe as you saw the five cats following behind her, stumbling and falling over each other. the cats looked like young apprentices following their mentor in olden days where as soon as a kid was old enough to realise how poverty took a liking to his home, he was send off to fend for himself and to bring in some earnings.

you looked at the front again, placing your chin on your knees which were brought near to your chest as you looked up at the sky again, the grey clouds began to clear up a bit though it still looked like it'll rain soon.

the cold breeze made you shiver a bit. though not for long.

you look away from the sky, no longer finding it intresting enough to admire as the images of the cats -- especially the one rubbing itself against your leg -- kept repeating in your mind, making you smile.

how does one get lured?

how does one forget everything and decide to follow a particular path?

"what are you doing outside dumbass?" you hear the cold and void of emotion like voice, causing you to look up to see dazai standing there as he looked down at you with his eyebrows raised, trying to decipher the reason to sit outside during such weather as it's definitely an odd choice.

"waiting for yo --" you stop rather abruptly as you look at him from head to toe to see him covered in blood at many places -- his cheek was stained and so was his white shirt though the black coat hid it well. you looked down and alas so were his boots, stained in blood.

with a panicked urgency, you quickly stood up and grabbed his hand though this time he didn't try to subtly pull it back as he let you step closer to him and leaned in when you placed your palm on his bloodied cheek.

"how did you --"

" -- it's not mine. don't overreact." the mafioso said in a bored tone as he stared at you. he looked at you for a while before he slowly grinned and you wanted to take a step back and shrink into nothingness. that would be better then staring at his cold and empty eyes.

dazai extended his hand to grasp your other wrist, not seeming to mind your sudden stiffness. he had seen this reaction one too many times when curious minds tried to pick apart the mask of the demon but failed, finding the mask glued to the face by some super force.

he tugged at your hand to pull you closer and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a hug.

dazai osamu is still a child. he does not act like it. but he is the same as you. a teenager. not even seventeen yet.

he is a child at core like you are and even if it may not seem like it, you'll pretend it does.

"you stink." you mumble as you ignore the nervous pleading of your heart, nuzzling your face against his bandaged neck.

"no i don't." dazai replied back as he left a small and quick peck to your hair before he moved back.

you roll your eyes at his denial of this topic, knowing that even he knows how he smells of a mix of cigarettes and blood, the smell lingers and hugs him like a sick stalker.

"why do you even have blood on you?" you asked as you quickly opened the door to your house and stepped aside to let him enter first. with a smug wink aimed at you, dazai entered and took of his shoes.

for being such a peculiar boy, he did have some manners as evident by the way he placed his shoes at one corner. you placed your slippers next to his and locked the door before you followed after him.

"curious kitty. aren't you?" his voice is full of mirth, he looked over his shoulder to let you see his expression which is full of amusement as if he finds it entertaining to watch you try to get some kind of information out of him.

you grumbled as you pushed his shoulder though he only chuckled, not minding the pushes at all.

dazai tried to walk towards the living room but you grabbed the back of his suit coat to pull him towards your room instead and he exclaimed in surprise, though he didn't resist or fight back, simply letting you drag him as if he didn't have enough energy or interest in pushing your hands off.

you led him to the bathroom attached in your room, dazai nearly raised his eyebrows in amusement but stopped himself since he wasn't really amused enough. this house in which only you live isn't surprising to dazai as through his connections, he had dug into your background and found out that this house and some wealth were the will of your grandfather who left it all to you. your parents were out of the picture.

"but really, why are you covered in this much blood?" you ask as you signal him to sit on the sink counter while you kneel down to open the cabinet below, getting out a few clean towel rolls and bandages.

though the bandage roll fell from your hands and rolled on the tiled floor when dazai grabbed your jaw in a quick movement, pulling you towards him as he glared at you. eyes void of emotions but that only makes him more terrifying.

"you are a good girl -- always were and always will be. don't test your luck by being a curious kitten. stay my good girl. don't ask unnecessary questions." his voice is low and calm, his words coming out in a murmur.

your eyes were open wide, you nodded quickly. the sharpness in dazai's eyes disappeared and was replaced by a sudden softness. he stopped grabbing your jaw and instead raised his hand to cup your cheek. he pulled you in closer using the gentle hold on your cheek and pecked the bridge of your nose.

once he lets go of you, you stepped back, bending down to pick the the bandage roll which you began to buy and keep ever since meeting him.

you stand again as you face him, not looking him in the eye after the sudden cold outburst while the confident and casual air around you had disappeared. and this caused dazai to heave out a sigh.

"what i did -- i did for you." he revealed only this much as if to just let you see the tip of the iceberg, to let you know of the peace lingering above the calmness.

you placed your hand on his thigh as you leaned up to gently pull on the bandage which covered one of his eyes, whispering, "why?"

dazai stopped as you tugged at the bandage and it fell down in your opened palm. he too wonders why is he even doing this?

you are of no use to the mafia.

you don't give him the same reactions as chuuya does.

yet you are still intresting.

is it the feeling of your soft palms as you cup his cheek with one hand while you softly rub the wet towel on his face with the other to clean it? could be.

dazai wrapped his legs around your waist to pull you closer, you felt your heart beating as he cupped both of your cheeks and pulled you to peck your forehead. "i just do."

you wanted to ask many things but refrain from doing so, choosing to enjoy the feeling of his hands as one of them remained cupping your jaw while the other rested near your ass, on your lower back, to keep you in place as you wrap a new bandage around his eye.

to be honest, dazai knew. he knew why he did what he did and does what he does, it's just that he doesn't see the need to tell you the answer which is being yelled by his heart and seeing how you relaxed again and lost some of your initial fear, dazai feels -- no, he knows, that you either know or have a good grasp of what most of his answer could've been anyway.

"you are weird." you decide to sigh out these words with a smile, moving your face back from his grasp as you pull down at his coat and he lets you, letting you take it off.

is the rush of happiness what icarus felt too? perhaps if icarus didn't dream too high, he would be lured into the deep forests as well.

dazai watched with curious eyes. you stepped out of the bathroom for a while, a matching set of grey sweatshirt and sweatpants. the sight makes dazai to raise his eyebrows, a silent order for you to explain.

"you need some colors in your life and wardrobe. you look so edgy wearing that." you point at his suit and dazai almost rolled his eyes, had the thought of you going out of your way to buy something for someone like him had not entered his mind and settled there.

from there on, the thought grew vines which traveled and gripped at his heart.

"did you buy this for me? you want to be my sugar mommy or something?" dazai smirked yet squealed as you stepped near him, grabbing a handful of his skin and pinching him on his thigh. you don't speak much, the words of the old lady repeating in your mind while you unbutton his shirt and scrub at his hands to get the blood off of him.

the way you look so quiet as you seemed to stare at nothing while cleaning the blood made dazai hesitate to break this silence. he looked at you and he felt his heart beat racing when he saw the hazy look in your eyes. behind you, the sky once again grew hazy and dazai glared at the window behind you. yet you didn't notice anything it seemed, too busy in unbuttoning dazai's shirt button by button.

the cat who sat outside at the windowsill snarled in return.

"you are my kitten." dazai began quietly and you looked up at him with puzzlement dancing all over your features. a confused smile takes over your lips and dazai leans near you, you feel your heartbeat racing as he leans his head till his lips hovered above your's. "you are mine and i'll protect you against everything."

dazai closed the distance between you and him, his hand came to hold your waist and pull you towards him. you closed your eyes as you let your feelings overtake you, wrapping your arms around the neck of the boy who still sat on the sink counter.

his eyes remained open, a blue light eliminated from his palm -- of the hand that was wrapped around your waist -- felt like the first drop of rain of despair for the cat whose fur raised and it glared at dazai.

"you don't need to know what i do and why i do it. just stay as you are now." dazai whispered as soon as he pulled back from the kiss, he hopped down from the counter and removed his unbuttoned shirt. he tossed it on your face, not paying heed to the way you groaned.

"stay as i am now? what's that supposed to mean cryptic bastard?" you ask as you slowly walked behind him, stopping as he sits in the bathtub and his feet nearly dangled off the small bathtub. dazai shooted a finger gun at you which made you scoff while you reached for the water faucet, he isn't going to answer, is he?

the cat blinked, like a stalker it's eyes remained even when dazai leaned up and grabbed your forearm to pull you on top of him. your squeals and his laughs were like poison to the cat. the same cat who affectionately rubbed itself against your leg in the morning is the same cat who now watched with great disgust.

icarus flew. if he didn't, he would've drowned.

the pied piper would've lured him in with masks of interests in his dreams. or perhaps kummatty would've made him think to never stop believing in his dreams, he would've have turned him into a bird and icarus would've flew away and never returned.

"stay as you are -- meaning stay as my little kitty cat. can you meow or purr for me?" dazai raised his eyebrows, it always brought him entertaining joy to see your reactions and even if they aren't as loud or amusing as chuuya's, the way you purse your lips and look away after replying with something snarky always stayed at the back of dazai's mind. it repeated whenever he smoked in the loneliness of the shipping container he calls his shelter.

you know better then to take this moment for granted. you look back at dazai and smile tiredly, resting your head against his shoulder as you wrap your arms around his waist and do not mind the flowing water soak your clothes and make you wet for you feel yourself nearly giggling at the way your legs are on either sides of dazai's waist and his hands wrapped around you. when you leaned your body on him, his arms around you tightened their hold.

he raised one of his hands to pat and comb through your hair while he smirked, tilting his head at the cat. said cat snarled at him again before it hopped down your windowsill and left.

the cat walked for a while before it jumped into a drain and immediately found itself sitting on the lap of the old woman who hummed. the old woman moved back and forth on her rocking chair, humming a tune which enchanted many and it was evident by the way children sat by her feet and mimicked her motions of rocking back and forth. their lips sealed tight by threads being sewed yet they tried to hum along with the old woman, causing blood to flow down their chins yet they didn't mind as theu stared at the old lady with unnaturally wide eyes.

the old lady stopped humming and immediately the children stabbed their fingers into their eyes, blood oozing out as they curled their fingers into their eyeballs.

"you are so so cute. my belladon--" you make dazai to stop speaking, making him go speechless when you splashed a bit of water onto him after having enough of his cheesy flirting though it did get your heart to beat faster but the young age you are is one where intimate feelings such as this makes you cower and feel like hiding behind the exterior of pretend coolness. it's a defense mechanism of sorts but dazai has always broken through every defense so what is yours infront of him?

your smug grin disappeared as you saw him cough without intending to stop soon. you leaned closer to his face as you tried to grasp at the curves of his jaws so you would be able to have a better view of his face and check for any damage you may have caused yet the moment your fingers grasp his jaw, dazai grabbed both of your wrists as he leaned forwards to kiss you again. and you let him. his arms came to wrap around you again.

and once again you missed the blue glow they emitted as all you could focus on was the gentle way dazai's hands inched closer to you till one of them rested at your nape and the other at your hip while he left little pecks and kisses on your lips, not pulling or letting you pull back once.

the pied piper or kummatty may just be figures associated with children and to scare them by exaggerating (though is it a exaggeration?) abduction but the old lady you met -- the one who is currently smiling cruelly as she watches children pull out their eyeballs and see the optic nerve -- is one who will try to lure you in and dazai won't let it.

it isn't related to the mafia, the child abducting old lady isn't a concern of port mafia and neither is she a danger to dazai's life. his nullifying ability will act if she ever tries to activate her ability on him which works by the contact of her or her cats with the victim.

though you do not need to know of this or even worry as dazai will make sure you don't end up in the old lady's grasp and don't suffer the same fate as many of her previous victims. he always was a bit more protective and possessive when it came to you anyway.

after all, he is a good boy --- an angel.

[h8ani]

You don't mean to hold onto the past but, you do. You hold onto him with every piece of you and you're only going to hurt others in the process.

Takashi Mitsuya x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: nsfw, female reader, non-canon events, reader deals with grief, major character death, descriptions of a dead body, mentions of blood, mentions of a panic attack, unprotected sex, hurt & no comfort

Here is my entry for @bioticlaw TUN collab! I don't know why I choose sadness and angst but I hope anyone who reads this enjoys what I wrote! I tried my hardest with this one :')

taglist: @kkittycries @blackfire2013 @benkeibear @suyacho @shujistars

join my taglist -> here

Grief: (noun) deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone's death. 

Grief is the response to loss, particularly to the loss of someone or something that has died. Death is the tragedy in the young, too many opportunities and experiences cut short. There’s a different kind of mourning you feel when someone you love dies young, you’re angry; the unfairness in the world makes you want to scream and cry, all the lost occasions and celebrations you’ll never get with your person. It’s different when they never get to grow old with you, getting to have the same initiations in life that you had to go through; the heartbreaks, the ceremonies, all the celebratory times in one’s life all cut too short by the angel of death himself. Death is a right of passage for the elderly, the old have lived their lives fully, looking back on the memories that they made because they had a full life to live, a life they had lived absolutely.

The death in your life was one no person should have to endure. The loss of your one true love; Ken Ryuguji. The sorrow you feel should be a testament to the love you had, the pain stands as a witness of your bond with him and how it still survives even when time has spent since his passing. 

Ken was a true gem, a diamond in the rough of the people in your life. He was a protector by nature when it came to you, always shielding you from danger since you two were young, it continued even after you two grew up from little kids to young adults although by then you were able to defend yourself without needing his presence. It’s a shame you were never able to do the same for him. 

The memories of seeing him were ones engraved in your mind, the blood that pooled around his cold, lifeless body still haunts every aspect of your being. Most nights you cry yourself to sleep, the recollections of that unforgettable night being the only thing you’re able to think of when the moon shines brightly through your window, the darkness of the night mirroring just how you felt inside most days. No matter what you do to stop them, the tears continue to flow. 

You wish you could think of the happy memories, lord knows there were plenty of them to blur out the bad. Your favorite memories hazily glow in the glum thoughts, the light trying to brighten but eventually being downcast into the murkiness of your heartbreak. You still think back to when you’d be on the back of his bike – your arms wrapped tightly around his waist as the bike was revved up and exceeded speeds that weren’t legal in any way but you didn’t care. You could’ve driven for hours and ended up who knows where and you wouldn’t care. You would’ve been content just being with Ken forever. 

But forever doesn’t exist.

The suffering you endure from the memories of that very night – it’s like razor blades filled inside one of the many stuffed animals he had given you throughout the years, the more you clung to them the deeper the cuts go, and no chance in healing as you embed them deeper and deeper. 

You gasp aloud, body shooting up in a frenzy as you look around, the heavy comforter that was once draped over you was now kicked down and bunched down at your feet. Your throat constricted against itself as you tried to heave as much air in your lungs as possible. The room was spinning even when the darkness surrounded you with no form of light peeking out anywhere. You squeezed your eyes shut, the tears that had already been welling up fell down your cheeks now. You’re so focused on catching your breath and centering yourself that you don’t hear the calling of your name from beside you, the low buzz in your ears greater than his voice could reach. 

You feel a gentle hand on your back, the slow movements of his hand seemingly calming you down in a matter of seconds. “Sorry…” you mutter out, voice hoarse and quiet, you glance over to see your boyfriend, a worried expression etched all over his face. 

“No apologies tonight, okay?” Mitsuya says as he sees your broken figure, he pulls you closer to him as he lays you both back into the bed. Your head rests against his shoulder while he continues to rub small circles along your back. A shaky sigh escapes your lips as you melt into him feeling the tingle in your body slowly dissipate while you calm down. 

Mitsuya knew what he was getting into when he finally decided to approach you, he had known you since you both were kids; being introduced to each other by Draken himself, he also knew of the relationship that you and Draken had, Mistuya was also the one who realized that you were the unlucky soul who found Draken’s body, but how could you not when you were pinged the location. 

It was something out of a movie, a horror movie that no one should have to live through. Mitsuya remembers hearing that you found Draken’s body but when you opened up enough to tell him the events that happened that very night a shiver ran through his spine. 

You rushed through the story when trying to talk to him about it, tears pricking your eyes because you were so tired of crying and just wanted to stop. When you finally got to the part that took an eerily chill turn Mitsuya could feel his own throat start to contract, the bile in his throat slowly rising up. You got the location ping from Draken himself, it was a random spot, an area behind a field that was frequently packed during the summer when little league would be in full swing, but you knew it. You went to go meet him, confused as to why he was so M.I.A during the day and why he didn’t tell you about the reason for this random location drop. You finally saw him, lying in a patch of grass staring up at the stars until realizing what you were actually looking at. 

Draken was dead. 

His face looked peaceful but the torn, dirty clothes he was wearing said differently. The grass was stained red around him and it dragged on as if his body was moved. Days later you found out that he had been dead for hours prior to getting the location ping that was sent to your phone, a silent yet deafening message being sent to you.

Mitsuya listened to everything, seeing how you were when reiterating the story to him, watching how you fidgeted and struggled to finish the story towards the end. You were never the same after that, the lasting effects of witnessing and living through something so traumatizing was something you dealt with on a daily basis. You told him that the first few months you had nightmares every night, some so bad that you forced yourself to stay awake for days on end which only made you incoherent at work. Therapy was something you now go to three times a week, it does help but he sees the anger behind your eyes when you say you shouldn’t need it. 

You were closed off when Mitsuya came to you, another result of what you had been through. He remembers vividly of your warnings to him, you were so adamant on telling him that you weren’t the same girl he once knew, you couldn’t be. If you could’ve given him a powerpoint presentation as to why he shouldn’t be with you, you would have if you were given the time. But he didn’t care, he just smiled that same comforting smile he’s always had at you just waiting on you to finish the 15th reason as to why he’d be better off with someone else. 

The look on your face when he just waited for you to finish and proceed to ask you out on a date was something he cherished, the little gap your lips made in astonishment and wide eyes was something to snicker at. He was going to be the one to break down this concrete wall you had built up. 

Days turned into weeks which turned to months and here you were, almost a year together and if you were being completely honest you were surprised. You didn’t expect a relationship to come from him, but when it did, the guilt that started to eat away at you displayed so vividly that you were so sure that he was going to cut and run at the earliest convenience, but he stayed, he kept his feet planted firmly down and promised to help you, he told you that you weren’t alone in this and for the first time in a long time you didn’t feel alone. 

Mitsuya was never a rebound to you, you never wanted him to be just someone to take up the space that Ken once filled up, you don’t think that anyone could truly do that. Being with Mitsuya you learned that it’s okay to keep ahold of those memories you held so close when it came to Ken, that still loving Ken was okay even if you were now with Mitsuya. With the relationship you now had it was easier than you had expected because he had seen all of you, all of your troubles and hardships, and what you needed. There were no points of uncertainty because he was there to help you through it all. If that’s the secret to the strong bond and how it formed so fast for you two you’d be happy to say it aloud and shout it from the rooftops, although you still have your troubles it’s easier to talk to someone who isn’t being paid to listen. 

Despite the fact that your relationship with him wasn’t always like this and your feelings for Mitsuya were more of a slow agonizing burn than something that blossomed like a beautiful flower in the springtime. Your feelings crept up slowly, once treating him like a foreign object that was protruding into you deeper and deeper until you felt the ache subside, you caught yourself waiting on his calls, always happening around the same time, and just like clockwork you let it ring three times before answering. You started to miss his absence and sweet words, always knowing what calms you down when you’re more anxious about the world around you. You genuinely liked him, although the thoughts of uncertainty always loomed in the back of your mind. The guilt eats you away in random moments of the day, when you feel content it hits harder than you’d like. Would Ken be upset with you? This was his friend, his close friend to be exact and it felt wrong. Continuing on with life was something you needed to do, you had to keep going on, so why did you still feel this way? Was it too soon to move on? Should you have stayed alone and dealt with this all yourself rather than finding solace in another person? Was it fair for you to find happiness while Ken couldn’t feel anything anymore? He was gone, dead and buried yet here you are alive and tormented by nothing but the thoughts of him and what could’ve been. 

“We’ll get through this.” Mitsuya’s voice brings you back to him, his voice was as quiet as a whisper but came through so loud in your head. He always has a way of bringing you back down. Your throat still hurt and you could still feel the drum of your heart pounding against your chest. “We’ll get past this.”

Past this… Past Ken… God, if only he was still here. You wouldn’t be like this, you wouldn’t be in pain and constantly having a battle within yourself, you wouldn’t be– 

“I love you.” Mitsuya’s voice cut in. 

Suddenly everything stopped; time, sound, your breathing. The words that left his lips danced around in the atmosphere circling around you both. You raise your head and look at him, lavender eyes wide open as he stares right back at you. He’s terrified, the silence in the air making him more nervous than he’d like to be. 

It slipped, of course he feels that way but he didn’t want to say it until he was absolutely sure you felt the same. A childlike way of going about things but who could blame him when you looked the way you did right now, you were stunned, you might as well have been hit with a stun gun with the way you seemed to be frozen just from three simple words that carried so much weight to them and worry was now creeping up on him, God knows you’ve tried pushing him away before but now this just might be the final blow to send you running away from him for good. 

“Say it again.” You speak up, albeit quietly and unsure of the words that you had just heard but still understood by Mitsuya. 

He swallows down the fear that creeps up his throat, the look he gives you is uncommon yet raw, shifting to face you more, his hand grazes up your arm until it rests against your cheek, and his thumb brushes against the soft skin as he takes a deep needed breath. “I love you–” 

Mitsuya felt your lips on him before he could finish let alone process what was happening. Your eyes squeezed together tight and hands squeezed around his wrist even tighter. If a single kiss could condense a million thoughts and promises in one, this would be it. He kisses you back, lips forming against yours and bleeding all the passion between the words he said to you behind it. Your lips were warm and soft against his which was a stark contrast to your bodies, his was cold to the touch; chest pricked with goosebumps as your warm hands roamed over him. He snaked an arm around you quickly tugging you closer all while shifting to hover over you. You feel his weight bare more on top of you, one hand holding himself up as his other slides under your shirt just enough to feel your skin against his. 

Your skin felt like a million fireworks were being set off on top of it, the way his hand set them off in an instant made you feel so many things: excitement, regret, acceptance, guilt.  

The thought of Ken slips into your mind. Of all times to be here, you thought. You were always so shy with him, the memories of your first time flooded in like a dam that had finally burst. His face; rosy cheeks and the beads of sweat that graced his body, he was praising you the entire time, telling you how good you were doing and how beautiful you looked under his body. His hands; how strong they were when you finally switched positions, he so easily lifted you up and brought you back down his cock with such ease. And his mouth; the way he effortlessly spewed such filth on top of the sweet and loving words he’d call you. And his-

You shake those thoughts away, needing wanting to focus on the man in front of you. 

Your hands find their way to his hair, fingers grazing the side where his tattoo stays hidden. Strong hands find place at your waist and soon fingers dexterously hook into the waistband of your bottoms and tug them down.

He wishes he could take his time with you, wanting to go as slow as he can to savor this moment, but the way he’s tugging your top off and pulling his sweats down he can’t help it. Your hands move quickly as well, tugging at his boxers with a slight tremor. Nerves running rampant at this very moment, you want this, you need this with him. You want to get this right. 

You’re both so sweaty as his cock is thrusted back into you continuously. The oversensitivity for how long you two have been going is catching up to you and tears well up in your eyeline ready to fall. Just a little more and you’ll get there, teetering on the edge of ecstasy and falling back down to losing your high. 

Mitsuya’s thrusts weren’t rough but were just enough to pull the small whimpers from you. His hands were on your hips pushing you deeper into the mattress with every thrust that kissed your walls, it was needy, the way your legs hooked behind him pulling him deeper and deeper just chasing that high you couldn’t reach. Your brows furrowed in frustration and he saw that, he saw how you’ve been trying for so long just to finally cum. His thumb pressed into your clit rubbing small, quick circles to help you but that barely did anything. 

Your walls fluttered around him for the nth time that night but almost like a mental block you don’t reach your peak, your walls stop gripping around him while a pout forms on your face and a huffed out sigh that was quietly heard. You couldn’t get yourself to finish. 

Mitsuya swallows thickly as the words he’s about to say cause a deep churn in his stomach. “If you need to say…” he swallows them down, hips slowing down in the process yet still flush against yours, “his name. If that makes all of this easier for you, then say it.”

You snap your head up to look at him. Disbelief filling your brain from the words he just said. His name. Say Ken’s name…

“Takashi-”

“It’s fine-fuck.” He groans, his hips slowly pulling out until just the tip then slowly thrusts back in, a certain fervor behind it that makes your ears ring. His pace picks up, the shallow sound of his hips meeting yours until another groan leaves him. “You need this.”

He leans down and his lips latch onto the sweet spot to your neck, licking a stripe up until you visibly shiver. Your arms hook under his own, holding him tight against your chest. His own groans of pleasure in your ear spurring you on further. 

You squeeze your eyes shut, tears finally falling past your waterline as you allow yourself to think about him, bringing those thoughts you so desperately tried pushing away earlier this night. You think about how Ken would grab you, hold you, kiss you, touch you. Imagining that he was the one to touch you now, cock buried deep within your walls and groaning from how tight you squeeze him. If you thought hard enough Mitsuya’s voice melded into his, the same deep vibrato you loved to hear, especially in the morning. Mitsuya’s cock buried in you soon blended in your thoughts of Ken, finally feeling as if it was Ken who was fucking you.

His name slips out of your lips before you realize what you’re doing, a gasp rips from you as you open your eyes wide. You meet Mitsuya’s pretty purple eyes that are already staring down at you. You couldn’t decipher what it was; he had a different appearance behind his eyes. “Again.” He says before thrusting into you harder, each thrust of his soon becoming rougher than the last and hitting all the sensitive spots inside that make you choke on your own moans. 

“Fuck…Ken.” You moan his name, this time a bit louder than the last. You clench down tighter than you have for the night, you were so close, Mitsuya could tell from the glossy look you had. 

“Come on baby, cum for me.” His voice was desperate, he needed you to cum, he needed to feel you unravel underneath him even if it wasn’t him who you had on your mind. 

He leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, hips slamming in rougher that had you squealing out. His tip hitting deeper the harder he fucks up into you. You look up at him seeing that his eyes never left yours. “I love you.” is all you utter before finally crashing down. Body shaking as you orgasm, Mitsuya’s hips sputter as your own orgasm causes his, a flurry of curse words leaving his lips as he paints your walls with his cum.

It’s silent in the aftermath, just the sounds of heavy breathing from the both of you and the sound of the blankets shuffling as he pulls out, laying beside you. 

You both are at a loss for words, how has someone as pure hearted as Mitsuya lasted this long in a world so cold and fucked up? How did he end up with you? Were you also just the last string left he had left of Draken? Had his feelings been blinded by the pain he felt from losing him? How did you end up with someone so kind and understanding? Knowing no one else in this world would have the patience that he has had for you. How did a once calm night turn into tension that couldn’t be cut with the sharpest blade? 

You really fucked up this time, you both think to yourselves. 

Eventually, Mitsuya turns to flick the bedside lamp off, soon enveloping you in the darkness that you felt was your heart. You felt the blankets now cover you as you were pulled into him, the warmth of his body and his arm holding you tight allowing you to feel relieved in some way, you still felt cold inside, nonetheless. A sigh leaves both of your chests while you close your eyes and let the darkness take over. 

The last thought before falling asleep was of Ken.

Oh, how you missed him. 

If only it really was him.

networks: @enchantedforest-network @bitchcraftinc @ghostqueue

[thereal-evanrosier]

do you have felix rosier headcanons? i want (desperately) to hear about them

okay i tried to think of some good things for the entire day so I'm giving you my best!

- Felix is about 10 years younger than the twins, so he didnt get to spend much time with them in their childhood since they were at hogwarts the entire time. Due to this, he didn't get as "weird" interests as Evan and Pandora and is way different from them

- He doesnt like experiments at all, doesn't want to invent anything, everything he does relies on instructions and things he learned over the years

- He's a ravenclaw, so he can figure things out but simply has no interest in it. why risk your life when you can just find the right book? (referring to last note)

- Felix is loud and outgoing, but also pretty arrogant (its this rich kid thing, he lost it after hogwarts pretty fast), so your "typical straight guy", yet he is pretty empathetic, he really feels what other people feel and wants to help them

-Felix hates danger. He likes to stay where he is safe and can't get hurt, and is very... mistrusting. He's that kind of guy to build a bunker underneath his houses and fill it up with water and can food in case of an apocalypse

- Hes aromantic and bisexual, but pretty oblivious. Since he mostly hangs around straigh guys, it was pretty normal to just have one night stands with pretty girls and not have any feeling for them, thats what men do, right? Felix didnt notice that somethings "wrong", when his friends started dating and he had no desire to do it. It wasnt until he was older, in his 20s or so, that he started exploring his attraction towards men and found out that not wanting a relationship is fine.

- Although he is a ravenclaw, Bill Weasley is one of his best friends. They met on the train and later in some of their lessons and decided to study together. Felix explains everything to Bill and helps him pass his exams that way.

- I can imagine him working at St. Mungos Hospital as a caretaker for elderly people and children

- He loves children, even though he lives alone he adopted a child at some point, because Felix just needed someone to live with him so his life wont be too boring for his liking

- He would be way too good at chess. No one can beat him and it drives his friends insane

- He also is a real art enjoyer. He doesn't tell this many people, only his closest friends, but he will put his feelings onto a canvas when he's overwhelmed or feels too much, and knows all of art history (including the most important painters from the era and their entire life story)

- Felix is absolutely not into death. He gets scared by the most random things and would never watch a horror movie, even if its one for children. He even was about to quit watching coraline, but then Bill convinced him to finish it (he was not happy about it and hates the movie)

[fun-k-board]

Got a cool idea for you my friend.

The insomniac spider-men, both Peter and miles. And how they’d go when y/n offers to do a horror movie night with the likes of classics like Halloween or modern stuff like talk to me

The Insomniac Spider-Men with a horror movie night

Note(s) : I did Headcanons for how the Spider-Men are with horror movies and then a scenario at the end where the reader does the horror movie night.

I don't know anything about Talk To Me so I chose M3GAN instead, and I haven't seen Halloween in years so I'm sorry if I got something wrong.

Peter Parker / Spider-Man

I don't think Peter would really watch movies or shows all that often, he probably hasn't even finished any piece of media since before the spider bite. Even then, he was probably that kid who watched those really bad ones to make fun of with Harry and MJ.

I imagine his tolerance is most likely high, because of his real life experiences, he can handle fake blood, he can handle the fake injuries, most of them can't compare to what he's gone through.

But what he really can't handle? Psychological thrillers, and really good kid actors.

That scene in the shining where the two twins are standing there? He had to hold MJ's hand, Harry made fun of him for an entire month.

He tends to humanise fictional characters, especially the victims in horror movies. Maybe for some slashers he can understand their motives, but most of them hurt people who can't defend themselves and it makes him a little sick.

To see movies where this is used so effectively is honestly a little uncomfortable, he appreciates the mastery of how it's crafted and how realistic the pain is, but he can never watch it all the way through.

Peter's always been terrified of Carrie because he was also bullied, she, in a way, reflected on him. Of course, she also experienced abuse from her mother, unlike Peter, but the scene of everybody screaming in that hall will probably haunt him forever.

In a way, it keeps him grounded, it makes him remember Uncle Ben's words, it makes him remember to use his powers for good, and not for evil.

Miles Morales / Spider-Man

Miles and Ganke most likely sit down and watch some shows or movies every once and a while, he's never been a huge horror fan, and he's never watched any that really stuck with him.

He's mostly impressed with the art direction most of the time, the way they shot that scene in Carrie where it goes all around the prom in one, long, continuous shot?

It's beautiful, it gets him so engrossed he forgets it's supposed to be a scary movie.

Miles can't handle any that tackle and treat the loss of a parent as a main plot point, he could maybe handle it as a side plot, but it reminds him so much of how his dad's death affected him, his hands clam up, he feels sweaty, he just can't handle it.

It never really makes him connect with the story, it just makes me remember it as the 'oh God don't watch that' movie

The ones that get him truly terrified are honestly any that involve children and the elderly as the villains, that's not to say he'll be completely fine if he watches an adult brutally murder people.

Both

Peter and Miles haven't had a day off in months, they've been so focused on saving the city, helping their friends and family, they just don't have time for themselves.

Until today.

You had finally convinced the two, after hours of subtle and not so subtle convincing, they relented, under the promise that if any serious crimes were reported, they would get Ganke to check if the police have it handled or not, if they don't? They're abandoning the movie night.

Which you agreed with, because one night having fun is better than no time to yourself at all.

Peter and Miles sit down on the couch, while you make the popcorn and drinks, carrying the bowls of food and bottles of coke to the table, the microwave hums, drowned out by the two men chatting.

"Can you believe that Electro got out again." Miles sounds exasperated, and he looks it too, he and Electro had fought for what felt like hours, in reality it was only a few minutes, shocking each other until they couldn't fight any more.

"You get used to it, he'll probably stay a month in prison at most." Peter shrugs, leaning back on the couch and wincing slightly, an aching pain in his back started up again, but he was honestly too tired to ask for someone to crack it.

"This job is crazy." Miles laughs, shaking his head with an amused smile. "I can't believe it, each day, fighting bad guys, swinging for hours and hours, it's just... I love it." You cut the conversation short by bringing in the last bowl of popcorn.

"Whooo! Movie time!" You happily say, placing the bowl on the table with the other snacks and drinks, making sure it's perfectly placed before sitting on the couch. You grab the remote next to you and smile at Miles and Peter.

"What should we watch?" Before either can respond, you suddenly gasp, your eyes snapping back to the TV. "Oh! Actually, there's this new horror movie called M3GAN, I bought it a few weeks back and forgot to watch it." You ramble, turning the television on and searching for the movie.

"I guess we go with that one then." Peter mumbles, raising an eyebrow in amusement, you all haven't hung out in a while, even then, you do wish that Harry and MJ could've made it. So, it's clear you're just excited to spend time with them for once.

"It's about this robot that this lady makes after her niece loses her parents in a car accident." You cheerfully say, pressing play on the movie and taking a swig of coke. "After this, we're so watching Halloween."

The movie was something different to the two, when they think horror, both Peter and Miles would typically think 'man with knife stabs people', so it was a refreshing change.

Both men went through a flurry of emotions, the movie was sad, then funny, than horrifying, then funny, then scary, and then funny, it was a constant switch.

The fact that the girl lost her parents and she's clinging to the first thing that shows her respect, the lady stepped up at the end and proved she's a capable mother figure, it broke their hearts, but the jokes made them forget that temporarily.

They laughed, they went quiet in shock, and most of all? Peter cried, he couldn't help it, he isn't ashamed about it either, the girl losing her parents at such a young age reminds him of himself. Miles feels a similar way, he cried like a baby, he sobbed so much at that scene where the girl and the robot have that test and she breaks down.

Now it's time for the next movie.

"Halloween! You can't go wrong with the classics." You click on the movie. "Well, that's a lie, actually, plenty of classics suck." You mutter under your breath, pressing pause and turning to the two Spider-Men.

"Okay, first, bathroom breaks and refill time, you two ate all the popcorn so I'm making double." You get up from the couch and walk to the kitchen, both Peter and Miles go to the bathroom in that time, refilling their drinks with the bottle of coke on the floor, you return a few moments later with the multiple bowls of popcorn.

You all sit down, grab your bowls and drinks, and press play.

Overall, both men did enjoy the experience, they liked the costume of Micheal Myers, the mask and coveralls are iconic, they also both enjoyed the acting, if a bit subpar at times.

The plot was something they found to be interesting, the characters as well, they thought the therapist was a strange and weird character, who seemed a bit more unstable than Micheal.

Laurie Strode is a really inspiring character to the two, a survivor, someone who managed to take down one of the biggest threats her towns ever faced.

Just as the movie ends, you turn to the two men to see if they have any movie recommendations, but to your surprise, they've both fallen asleep.

Peter's mouth hangs open, his body pressed flat against the couch, his arms crossed and occasional light snores escapes his mouth. Miles is leaning his head on his arms, his body bent in an awkward position so he's sitting and leaning on the armrest.

For a few moments, you debate on whether or not you should wake them up, but decide against it. They need the rest. You gently move them into slightly more comfortable positions, placing blankets over the two, you stand up and reach for your phone.

You text MJ and Rio Morales, letting them know that the two would be staying at yours for the night.

[magicaldragons]

'in the name of pain and outrage'

an analysis of the ending

I say this with utmost love, but episode 16 was a shitshow.

i walked into this show accepting it at face value – a show that would take itself lightly, with a compelling subplot marinated in humor, and a dose of sweet romance.

this show tried to include very mature, sobering themes with slapstick humor, which is definitely possible if balanced properly, but i feel this show was not able to achieve this the way do bong soon or others could.

to get some of the discrepancies out of the way:

they never told us that the women's senses were connected, geum joo should not have been able to feel namsoon's thirst – that's something they abruptly added to fuel the tension of the situation.

there is absolutely no reason nam soon would react like that to the drug, when you compare it to how every other user was affected by it.

the strength exerted by gil-joongan did not feel like enough to knock her out like that

and with how easy it would've been to leave the situation, it's very obvious that nam soon taking the drug was an ill-planned way to raise the stakes and increase suspense

the homeless couple truly had nothing of value to add to the show or it's message

none of the show's themes or messages were delivered properly towards the end, and it went against everything it preached.

the immediate tone change after ryu si-o's death did not do any justice to the effort put into his characterization

i do not understand how nam soon became a cop, all technicalities considered

why was she throwing humans out a window from the second floor, even if they're criminals??

they REALLY cheapened the whole marriage conversation by bringing money, property, and heirs into it. that was NOT romantic or wholesome. hee-sik deserves better parents, tf.

side note: i'm pretty disappointed with namsoon's character arc, but lee yoo mi worked within the purview of the script to give us honestly wonderful acting, especially in episode 15.

now, to get into the ending, i'll start with this:

what we got, felt like an empty victory. hollow and out of place.

i've always been an advocate for all parts of a show coming together to create an experience – there's usually no single keystone.

but as soon as si-o died, the rest of the episode felt like a blur, with all loose ends being succinctly wrapped up and prepared for season three. byeon woo seok, and his characterization really carried the show as a unit, and added to its cohesiveness. i did not find myself rooting for geum joo and nam soon's successes afterwards

because they had failed the ONE thing most of us had been hoping for them to do:

to save people who were victims of oppression from those with the power of money, and empower them, including to save si-o from his oppressors, and help him take down pavel.

there is no satisfaction in geum joo doing it by herself, because she has no emotional investment in destroying pavel.

losing hwaja and si-o, watching namsoon & heesik become one dimensional all of a sudden, and seeing tertiary unrelated characters having their loose ends tied, is extremely unsatisfactory – for a show that had an incredible cast and so much potential.

at the same time: i loved the portreyal of gil joongan's mission to help the elderly and her enthusiasm for her future, and the addition of binbin + looking into their past from an additional angle also really elevated the emotional context of si-o's character arc.

i loved each character, truly, and to not see the plot and writers give them the detail and care they deserve, is wholly disappointing.

the show took me on a whole journey, emotionally,,,but to know exactly what would make it better, and be aware of its discrepancies makes me grieve the potential it had to truly leave an impact on its viewers, with a solid takeaway message.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

WIBTA for calling animal control to take my moms dogs?

look. hear me out.

when my mom and i were originally planning on moving, i told her no dogs. she could have any animal she wants, but i will not, under any circumstances, live with a dog. i told her she can wait till our elderly cat passes away (hes 18), and until i move out. ive never had good experiences living with dogs. yes, i know, its because of the owners not training them. im saying, in no uncertain terms, that my mom would be too lazy to train a dog. like i love this woman with my whole entire heart but i know her well enough to know she would give up after two weeks. and then i would be stuck living with a potentially destructive animal.

so what did she do literally a week after we had this conversation? adopt a stray. a pregnant stray. shes a big dog too. my mom is a full time caretaker for my grandparents, and she found the dog wandering around the neighborhood. so she started feeding the dog. and then the dog had 12 puppies. you read that right. TWELVE. PUPPIES. she managed to adopt out 7 of them, but she still has 5 out at my grandparents house, plus dogmom, AND dogdad. my mother has also adopted who we think is the father of the puppies.

i will say she is doing her best to care for the parents and the puppies. she spends most of her time in the yard with them, and she built a pen for the puppies that gives them a ton of room to run around whenever shes not there. they have blankets and she built a roof over the half of the pen where their beds are and she feeds them plenty.

the biggest issue i have with it is all the broken promises. she said she would take them to our local hardware store to set up an adoption table for them several months ago, when they were still small. never happened. this is something that this hardware store does frequently, to help lower the amount of strays in the area. my mom just chose not to do it. every opportunity to adopt them out or send them to a no-kill shelter that has come her way, she has chosen not to take, just because she doesnt want to make the effort.

here arises the main issue. we are down in texas, and there is supposed to be a freeze incoming in just a few days. a major freeze, like the one that knocked out our power grid back in 2021. and my mom has 7 outside dogs who are not allowed inside, as my grandparents are elderly and disabled. theyre not allowed at home either, since we still have our old ass cat and we arent allowed to have extra animals, as per our lease. and it would be hard to hide seven large dogs, anyway.

im concerned that if i dont do something, they will freeze to death out there. blankets can only do so much, and if theyre taken to an animal control shelter, maybe theyll at least have heating? and if the power does go out, theyll at least be safe from the elements. i know animal control is probably evil and calling them is likely a death sentence for an animal too. but the way i see it, its either animal control or die out in the cold.

this is literally the situation that those really depressing ASPCA commercials were written about, except this is my life.

so, WIBTA for calling animal control to take my moms dogs?

What are these acronyms?

[kit-williams]

Hello its Cuckoo.

Totally fine with waiting and I appreciate the update.

I will admit my last ask did slant a bit more romantic.

So I've brought full fluff with this. How I perceive legions react to receiving unconditional love and care from human(s) in the husbandry altered earth.

Disclaimer: I don't know all the successor chapters so I'm going broad strokes.

Baseline: All marines Chaos, Renegade or Loyal, Do feel displaced. They're all just some level between coping and thriving.

Blood Angels - Honestly not too bad. They were a decently kind legion before and they still are. There is worry about their previous location but also!! There's so much time for art now, and these humans don't venerate them as untouchable so they can actually be More social. Not to mention their humans are willing to aid in their dietary needs.

Rating: Doing crayon drawings with your bonded's youngling while dinner cooks. Life is good.

Imperial Fist - Coping to okay. The most important part of a fortress are the ones who built and man it. And they can't man their fortresses if they're not in the same bloody timeline as them! Still though, so much in need of fortification Here too.

Rating: Coming home to find your Imperial Fist turned your home into a seige proof fortress cause they got separation anxiety while you were at work. Hugs inside their panic room storm cellar are mandatory for the rest of the night.

Thousand Sons - What do you Mean no human here has magic!?!? Utterly baffled by the absence of Psychers. Humans here are even more fragile than back home! Also one of the most aware that the warp is doing something fucky to make this happen. Unbonded TSs are studying this phenomena as much as they can. Bonded ones are studying their humans for latent magic. They are enjoying the many mythological/occult books and paraphernalia available.

Rating: Being coerced into always picking magic themed movies for movie night but not really minding as the way your Thousand Son takes intense focused notes and gets you in on the pantomime is endearing.

Night Lords - What is Wrong!? With!? These!? Humans!? Utterly Baffled that humans here are brave enough to approach them. Did their silhouettes not strike FEAR in the hearts of entire militaries!? Did the mere whisper of their name not bring entire planets into compliance!? Did they not- Wait what are you doing? What is this!?

Affection.

Disgusting

...Okay

...I did not tell you to stop.

Rating: Spooky Scary Tsunderes

Salamanders: Best Day EEEEEEEEVER!!! They are SO happy. There's so much GOOD they can do here. Help the elderly cross the streets, aid lost children, torch human killer warbands into ash...finger painting.And the forging, The Forging! Showing these humans a proper 40th millenia forge (or as close as possible) and there are so many who want to learn! They have a whole new interconnected family to look after and only occasional minor life and death situations.

Rating: Finger painting with the daycare children while your bonded who works there buzzes around giving out snacks and compliments, before the group switches to forge practice. Vulcan Would be Proud.

Emperors Children/Noise Marines: Putting these in the same blurb because they're cut from the same cloth. They both love art of all kinds. Its just the type of art in question. Emperors Children are drawn to classic mediums, while Noise Marines skew more modern. Both groups also partake in much Much primping. Beauticians to special effects make up artists find themselves the muses of EC/NM. EC's are more concerned by the current situation, but they can't deny this Terra has many experiences to offer. And so many cute humans who adore their attention and beauty treatments. It's really quite gratifying. The Noise Marines are much more go with the flow. This world is ripe with new sensations and they're eager to indulge, especially in the music scene. Even if these settlements pale in comparison to those of their universe they still have excellent entertainments like bars, dance clubs and Skating Rinks.

Rating: Having a back and forth home spa day/makeup session with your EC/NM while listening to ya'lls favorite playlist. Then tearing up the dance floor when you go out that night.

Iron Warriors: What is this?

Affection?

... ... what's the catch?

None, you already fixed and improved every appliance in my house. I never even knew things could run so efficiently you did an amazing job!

... ...

You okay?

... fine (literally bursting with joy but has No idea how to handle it and will Not show it.)

Whats that, Appreciation? Legitimate thank yous? Downright basic human decency. Every Iron Warrior is waiting to be pinched, cause this Must be a dream.

So many millenia of doing all the empire's Worst Jobs. So many times they were derided for their brutality, yet they were leaned on for it. They could be nothing else.

But here, Here! In this bizarre Terra, they can be...anything! Forgemasters, engineers, artists, architects, anything! Anything and everything! After so long of getting the imperium's short stick, and then falling into the rot of chaos, Finally they are given what they've always desired. And they will Not allow Anything to take this happiness away be it Chaos or Loyalist.

Rating: (thinking about everybody in their old universe while holding their bonded human for cuddle time) Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, hate you slightly less, fuck you...

Thank you for understanding I really like what you wrote but yeah it leans heavily into the "non canon" canon of Husbandry (GOD DAMN IT I MIGHT JUST HAVE TO MAKE A LEWD HUSBANDRY AU TAG)

SO I love this. And I kinda agree! Though some of these are a bit memey/community fueled slants but honestly legion stereotypes kinda have a curl of truth to them.

EC in my headcanon also make a lot of the clothes as everybody came in just their armor so they make the clothes.

Night Lords are very on point. They never said to stop. And when they bond they bond HARD sure they might act tsundere but they crave that bond.

Iron Warriors are completely on point. Continue to praise them they will siege and burn down everything for their humans.

I love your depiction of these. Do you have more ideas?

[yan-lorkai]

*･゜ﾟ A/N: It's currently midnight but I had this idea and it won't leave me alone until I write it. I guess it's no surprise to anyone but I love soft yanderes, so writing this was a good experience as it gets out of my comfort zone a bit lol.

*･゜ﾟ Warnings: Gn!reader, Kidnapping, cannibalism, your basic yandere content. I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

Repulsion. Repulsion was what you felt as you were forced to sit there and watch as Floyd took delight in beating up some poor bastard who had the gall to try to help you escape, his teary eyes looking your way as if he wanted to to ask you for help, but all that left his lips were screams of pain and pleas for mercy.

Pleas that wouldn't have been necessary if he hadn't helped loosen your bonds and given you the key. Pleas that wouldn't be necessary if he'd just turned a blind eye in your direction and told anyone who asked that he never saw you anywhere. But unfortunately he was foolish. And he helped you. And now he would pay the price with his life and you would lose a little more of your sanity as you watched his death helplessly, letting the guilt gnaw at you a little more.

You felt the impact of each blow as if Floyd were hitting you with those bloody fists, as if the hot blood was seeping through invisible wounds and smearing your skin and clothes with the red, iron liquid. And a lump formed in his throat as you struggled not to cry or scream. If you did that, maybe Jade would torture you too.

"Shh, my pearl." Azul whispered behind you. The hot breath on your neck sent unpleasant shock waves through your body, but you bit your bottom lip to keep from reacting when his gloved hands came to rest on your shoulders and squeezed hard. "Watch and see what happens when you try to escape. Regardless of who it is, the result will always be the same for the person who helps you, I don't care if it's a child, an elderly person or even one of the strongest wizards in Twisted Wonderland . They will die and his blood is on your hands."

You dared to look away from the scene to your hands. No, you thought quickly, it definitely wasn't your fault. It was the fault of Azul's innocent smiles and sweet words that attracted you, it was the fault of the delicious desserts that Jade offered you after a tiring day and especially the friendship that Floyd offered, the way he protected you and made you laugh.

You were too innocent, you trusted too much.

And maybe, just maybe, if you had listened to the other students and walked away from them, you wouldn't be here. But you were everything they loved most; a change, a breath of new wind, something from another world. They would never get bored with you around and they wouldn't let you go now.

A hand squeezed your cheek hard enough to make you grunt and a pair of bicolored eyes came into view. It was Jade who, with his polite smile, pretended to sympathize with your situation. In other times, you would have thrown yourself into his arms and allowed yourself to tell him your whole heart. But now you held each word inside your mind as your teary eyes met his.

"You haven't even received your punishment yet and you're already crying, oh, what a disgrace." He smiled, wiping away your tears with his fingertips. He found your suffering obviously amusing and he didn't intend to hide it. If anything, he wanted more. He wanted you to scream and cry and fight, but he knew you wouldn't because you were afraid of the consequences.

And you were right to be afraid.

"We didn't know how else to communicate to you that we wouldn't do you any harm if you behaved," Jade walked away again and not being able to see him, even though you could hear the sound of him opening and closing a drawer at your back and his stifled giggles, made your palms sweat and your heart beat faster than ever. "So we had to be resourceful with your punishment, our dear pearl needs to learn that your actions have dire consequences."

Azul rested his face against your neck again and sniffed at your scent as if it were from another world—and it was. Because you were from another world and you had an addictive scent that made his cheeks flush, made him want to bite you until blood burst from your skin.

"It pains us to have to commit such barbarity," The cecaelia whispered gently in your ear. It seemed to pain him the next course of action the three of them had agreed to take, but you knew that tone of voice. You were perfectly aware of the soft way his timbre trembled so that his victim would believe his words more. You could still feel him smiling behind your back. "but it's exactly as Jade said. We must correct Your behavior, my dear."

Floyd laughed. A laugh even more evil than any you've ever heard and when you dared raise your eyes to the scene that would give you nightmares, you realized that the boy was no longer alive. A lot of blood flowed from his head and his eyes were forever scarred with an expression of terror and pain behind them. A death caused by you.

Because it's your fault, you repeated Azul's words. And his blood is on your hands.

You shook your head vehemently. It wasn't true and you couldn't allow yourself to think about it, but thinking and feeling it was difficult when tears started to fall from your eyes and sobs escaped your throat. Everything you had kept inside you was now slipping out of your eyes.

Azul promptly stared at your face with affection and carefully wiped your tears away. But the touch of his hands made you panic even more and you pressed your body harder against the chair to get away from his dirty touch. And he obviously leaned closer and closer until your bodies were close enough to make you feel suffocated. He loves to make you feel that way.

"Swallow that cry, angelfish." He murmured, licking a tear that rolled down your cheek like it was the finest liquor. "We still haven't given you a reason to cry."

You rubbed your eyes until they reddened, until the tears subsided, and you tried to control your breathing under the pressure of Azul's intimidating stare. Ignoring him couldn't be your best option so you tried to follow his order, even though you had every reason to cry and feel the way you did; they lied to you, kidnapped you and hurt a lot of people.

And now, you swallowed hard, now they've killed a boy. His parents would probably sit in their living room and wonder what had become of their beloved son. And it was your fault. Because he asked for help, involved him in this and it took his life.

"Ehehe, Azul, we're ready." Floyd announced humming. The eel was so excited for what was going to happen next that he was almost bouncing.

And suddenly a pungent smell hit you. A smell you may never forget now or a hundred years from now, the smell of flesh and blood mingling together. But the worst was yet to come.

Jade carried a plate of ground human meat. You didn't want to think about what that entailed and you didn't want to look at the boy's body to confirm your suspicions, just thinking about it made bile start to rise in your throat and make you dizzy. They wouldn't. Or would they?

"You know, little shrimp," Floyd got too close to you, stroking your face with his bloody hands and still, laughing when you tried to wipe the blood off your cheeks and ended up spreading it even more. You could see the fascination in his eyes. "Where we come from, it's common to eat your opponent to consume his essence."

Jade confirmed with a smile. "Exactly. And now, you will consume your victim's flesh and absorb all of its nutrients, especially the strength and endurance it had to withstand each of my brother's blows."

This must have been a nightmare. You felt pressure in your throat and thought you were about to throw up if things continued at this rate, eating human flesh was one of the things you never thought they'd force you to do - but then again, they weren't normal humans. They were merfolk.

You looked at Azul with a look flecked with tears and pleading, but he still had that same disconcerting smile on his face, like he loved every second of it. As if he had given the idea that it was ongoing at that moment. And a part of you knew that apologies wouldn't buy your forgiveness out of this situation, nor would any plan your agitated mind could form work.

The eels were brutal, it's true, but they were controlled by Azul. Their ringleader. And you knew at that moment that Azul had no intention of helping you, if anything he wanted you to eat human flesh and become like them, a monster. He wanted to make you think you weren't as good as you thought you were, that was his benevolence.

"Hey little shrimp, say ah!" Floyd moved far enough away to take a handful of human flesh in his hand. The scene turned your stomach in the same second. It was disgusting the way he kept smiling as if nothing unusual had happened, as if the blood staining his hands and the screaming were normal occurrences of his day that didn't disturb him in the slightest.

You dodged your face from all of Floyd's attempts to feed you that meat. You felt your whole body shiver at just the thought of that thing making contact with your mouth, the smell, the taste, everything made your head ache slightly.

"We were even nice and didn't grind him in front of you." Jade laughed.

Your wrists were bound against the arms of the chair and in that moment you struggled against the bonds. Within seconds it became obvious that running away was something you wouldn't have the pleasure of achieving again no matter how hard you tried. Azul's slender fingers trailed over your skin, raising terrible shivers down your back that made him laugh, and his hands closed over your chin forcing your mouth open.

In the end, no matter how much you struggled and fighted, Floyd fed you again and again and again. An eel should after all take good care of his shrimp and that's what e intended to do, even if you tried to scratch his arms or spit out the offered food. He had patience.

Patience because he knew you would love them.

Patience because he knew you would forgive them.

Patience because if he didn't, maybe he'd break your jaw like he broke that boy who tried to help you. Maybe that pain would help you remember your place.

"Ssh, please don't cry." Azul comforted you, rubbing your back and offering wet kisses over your neck. The gesture was comforting when the two of you had first started dating, filled with love and affection, but now it filled you with dread.

"Angelfish, now you're done eating should I suggest this?" Jade offered a gentle smile as he showed you your favorite dessert. But even the smell of dessert made your stomach turn.

At that point you weren't caring what they said or did. You just wanted to sleep and pretend none of that happened, but the lingering taste in your mouth forced you to remember what had happened. And that was something you wouldn't forget, ever. You looked at them. For someone who tells you they love you so much, they certainly only manage to exhaust you physically and mentally.

"They look tired, Azul." Floyd crouched down to your height and his hands were positioned on your shoulders as if he was going to shake you, but his brother stopped him with a shake of his head.

Shock or guilt seemed to shut down your brain and you felt your eyelids slowly close, watching as your three lovers as they like to call themselbes admired your sleepy expression. And you prayed to whatever deity was listening to you at that moment that when you woke up it would all just be a dream, a terrible dream.

[juleshollow]

Saddest moments in SH?

When Tabitha sacrifices her years and, for a while, she just lays on the ground. Defeated. With her back to us; hiding her face, her weakness, her grief. Because she bears her misfortune alone, and yet she has an audience. She doesn’t have the strength to run, so she uses her frail body as a shield. At the very least, she deserves privacy to deal with her pain, but even that is denied.

She's silent and at first you don't know if she's physically unable to say anything. But she responds, if feebly, when Sybil refers to her. It's not that she can't speak, it's that she's so overwhelmed that she needs a moment to come to terms with what's happened. Her life was cut short, and now she'll be a young woman trapped in an elderly body until her untimely death.

Not that she ever got the chance to actually be young, anyway. Tabitha has suffered all her life. We don't know the extent of the abuse she was subjected to, but we catch some glimpses of it. Tabitha closes up whenever we mention her mother, but the people in town tell us a bit more about her character. We can only imagine what it was like living with such a manipulative, negative woman. At home, Tabitha would have been the only target of her malice.

She has always been under tight control, never free to make her own choices. Even after Pearlanne's death, she's stuck with the family business: a job she hates for people who hate her, with great stakes and no way of success. She's doomed to fail, yet she keeps trying, making everything worse in the process. Knowing that everyone in town despises her for it. But she can't stop.

There's something else, something we only suspect for now, but that suspicion is so dark that it surrounds Tabitha in misery. She might have been trying to get pregnant out of duty, to ensure the Scarlet line goes on. She's forced to breed, as if she was an animal. She has no agency whatsoever, even when it comes to her own body and offspring. Because she’s been conditioned to accept orders.

The only time she found happiness was with Stella. With her, she could actually experience something that comes with being a teenager instead of the adult concerns that were always on her mind. Guys… that might have been the first time Tabitha felt loved (...the only time). And it meant that she was, in fact, deserving of love. That her worth was not tied to fulfilling her duty. She could just be a kid, be happy, love and be loved.

Then Pearlanne took that away from her. Tabitha was alone, again. She was hit by the inevitability of her destiny – a painful destiny. Only now it was worse, because she had experienced a happier alternative. Now she knew what she was missing. What she would always miss. Always out of her reach, just close enough to be a constant reminder of her loss.

The sacrifice of one’s years would be too high of a price for anyone, but Tabitha had already paid way too much. She was cursed from birth. Do you realize? There is nothing in her life that she wants. Nothing. And now she’s even deprived of her vitality, her health. So she sits there, swallowing the tragedy that has struck her again. Taking a moment before having to deal with her nightmare of a life with yet another burden, one too heavy.

And you know what? She did it for us. Because, despite her façade as cold and insensitive, of course she feels. She’s just not allowed to show it. And she’s grown fond of us even when she tried to distance herself. We don’t know what ulterior motive led her to invite us to Scarlet Hollow, but she didn’t have to take this fall. But she understands all too well how unfair the sacrifice is, because she’s been dealing with injustice all her life. She knows the pain and she can’t bear to see us going through it. So she comes forward and takes it, thinking that we don’t deserve such harsh punishment. And then she lies there, contemplating…

“What about me? Do I deserve this?”

[silverloreley]

I kind of want to read, kind of want to write...

A story about an immortal falling in love not with a teenager (we have enough of these) or a beautiful young woman, but with a mature woman or one who was never pretty in her life. A story in which he doesn't look young either (who said only youth is attractive?) and young women don't seem that good to him because they lack that light of life experience.

Maybe a story about a vampire who was turned while in his late forties pushing fifty who falls for the mid-fifties housewife with a terribly abusive husband she can't get away from and whose children are already gone from home and won't help her (they're too far, she was good at hiding until they left and it's easier now that they can't see, she's happy she saved them...), but a vampire is already damned, what's some adultery and murder to him? Or charming his way through the scum's workplace to find the right evidence of tax fraud so the shit can go to prison and she can file a quick divorce, the vamp doesn't mind...

Or a story about a deity who is tired of the world and meets this elderly woman who addresses them with kindness and reminds them the world has its ups and downs but love is everywhere, she knew it when her husband was alive and she knows it now, so the deity falls for her so hard and the pain of knowing their time can finish any minute rekindles their own love for the world. (and maybe they'll do their damn best to try to turn her immortal, she'd be one great goddess of wisdom, if only she wanted to...)

Perhaps a story about a demon who trades in souls and meets this short mafia boss lady who's so smart and cunning she managed to stay afloat in the underground for forty-something years after her father's death (no one dares to say her real age) and she's hardened and the demon thought it'd be easy to make her handle that tired soul that lost so much in all those little wars but no, she's willful and the way she smiles, crow's feet becoming so deep they look like war marks, makes the demon want to give his nonexistent soul to her instead.

What about a fairy former king (he long left his place to his son, he ruled far too long and it was time to step down) who doesn't bother to look young (who cares at that point?). He meets this spinster who brews the best beer ever and they say she's a witch, but it's just that her knowledge of plants rivals that of the fairy king himself, so he keeps challenging her, and the more she wins the more he thinks the marks of age and the ill-placed curves of her body and all the other things that make humans think she's ugly are instead the most wonderful things ever, that he found a treasure, but she's too wary and wise to fall for his promises, no matter how genuine they are, until...

Or even about a woman who was never told she was beautiful or even pretty, who felt out of place and undervalued her whole life long and maybe mistaken for one of her brothers from time to time, goes fishing alone one day and accidentally catches a merman (she's bulky and strong enough to hoist him up alone). The merman had seen women like her, with skin baked by the sun and scars from scuffles, often on pirate ships. Still, none had that kindness and frankness in her, so when she sets him free he's so fascinated he follows her home, and every time she goes out at sea he approaches her and tells her stories she never heard of and listens, really listens to her. He wishes so hard he could convince her to follow him down the sea without her thinking he's trying to drown her and even more so that she believes when he says he thinks she's the most incredible person he's ever met.

And if there was a story about a lawyer, who is tired because she fought all her life for everyone but herself (her career was her only pride), and she lost sight of a world beyond law books and grey buildings. Somehow, on her first vacation in far too long, she meets this forest spirit, old as balls, who looks like a tired grandpa who is ill because of pollution. She vows to save his forest from the industrial nightmare up the valley and while they work on it he falls for her so hard and yeah, she for him too, but his appearance depends on the health of the forest itself so he gets more and more handsome while she gets older and more tired and insecure until she doesn't go back in the forest anymore. But the fact she saved it granted her a wish she didn't collect so the spirit cashes it for her and shares his life with her. And maybe she's upset because he got handsome but she stays as normal as she ever was even if the wish makes her seem healthier, but the spirit finds her so perfect she learns to love herself at last.

Just... stories like these. Where do I find them?

[namorslutfanfiction]

Are you okay with writing death? If yes could you do something where reader’s (surface dweller but now lives in Talokan with Namor cause they are married) Aunt dies (and Aunt raised reader)? and like how Namor would comfort them through it?

hmmm oddly specific but ok (you ok nonnie?)

Summary: You were grieving and Namor had centuries of experience in that category. He wasn't going to let you face it alone

Hurt/comfort

He watched from the water as you looked out toward the land. Namor had told you to return home upon receiving the news of your aunt's passing. It had been a week, and the preparations had been made and your aunt had been laid to rest. It was time for you to come back to Talokan.

Namor approached you as you waded into the water. You glanced one last time at the shore then turned to your husband.

"Are you ready, in yakunaj?" Namor asked as he pulled you into his arms.

You nodded quietly against him, tears still leaking from your eyes. Leaving the surface to be with Namor had been the best decision of your life but not being there for your aunt as she passed was your greatest regret. The King rubbed your back comfortingly then lifted the breather up to your face to put you to sleep.

In the coming weeks, Namor noticed that you were still grieving. He knew it was a process but he was worried for you. Your appetite had grown weak and you had been spending more and more time in the tent in the caves. He had given you enough space and now wished to see if he could help.

When he entered the tent, after allowing you to make it your escape the last few weeks, he was in awe of the painting you had added to the wall. It was a portrait of a woman cradling a child that looked very much like you.

"In reina," Namor began as he came to your side, "It is beautiful."

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and you leaned back against him, treasuring his warmth. "Do you think she would have liked it, my aunt?"

"I think she would have loved it. She raised you, right?" Namor asked as you both took a seat at the small table in the center of the tent. He stayed close, holding your hand in his.

"She was practically my mother. You remember, she was the only one who supported me running away with you. She was the only one that really understood me," Tears welled up in your eyes and Namor wrapped an arm around you, "I should have been there. We knew she was getting old. We knew that she wouldn't last. Why didn't I go to her?"

You began sobbing in earnest and Namor pulled you into his lap, brushing your hair and rocking you. "Shhh, my love, do not blame yourself. She would not have blamed you. As you said, she was elderly and knew it was coming."

"But I should have been there," you wept, your hands covering your face.

Namor gently put his hands on your wrists and pulled them way from your face, "Oh, my queen, would she have held it against you? It was sudden, no one could have known that she would pass in her sleep."

The King rocked, humming a low and slow tune as your sobbing died down. You clutched onto Namor, taking comfort in his presence and that he was allowing you to mourn in your own time.

"Do you think I am silly for still crying?" You asked, knowing it was a stupid question but still wanting reassurance.

Namor sighed, "There are some days that I still shed a tear for my mother and her people. Grief takes time. It ebbs and flows like the waves. You will be able to handle it better some days than others. You will learn the methods to travel through it without stumbling as much as you did in the beginning. But it will never leave. And that is beautiful."

You listened intently to his words, "Beautiful?"

"Yes, grief is beautiful. It shows the world, me, and yourself, that you loved someone so much that even with them not beside you, you still hold a place for them in your heart. And that is beautiful," Namor concluded. He kissed your temple but did not relinquish his hold.

"In ajawo, I know she was proud of me. l also know how happy she was when I told her about you. I don't ever want to forget her," You admitted, remembering her immediate love and care for the man that became your husband.

"I have an idea," Namor said, smiling at you.

"An idea for how I won't forget her?" You asked, curiosity piqued through your sadness.

"Whenever we bare a child, whether it is tomorrow or years from now, I hope you would honor that child and name them after your aunt," Namor replied, absentmindedly laying another kiss to your temple.

You felt a tear slip from your eye down your cheek. Namor wiped it away with his thumb, looking at you expectantly, "I would love that, my love. I think she would have been so excited to hear that."

"You'll remember her and every time you see our child, call their name, show them love, her memory will live on. And hopefully in that time, your grief will be less deep and replaced by love," Namor kissed both your cheeks before capturing your lips in a gentle and loving kiss.

"Will you hold me for awhile longer?" You asked him, worried he might have some kingly duties to deal with.

"Of course, in yakunaj, you have me for as long as you need me," Namor said, clutching you tighter and continuing the humming of a song.

.....

so cheesy and fluffy. hope you liked it nonnie.

reviews, comments, and replies. feed me.

[gumnut-logic]

A Sign of Purpose

Okay, this is new fic, but it is weird fic. Since I haven't written for months, I'm going with whatever it is.

So what is it? Well, it reads like the beginning of a new AU. I was reminded of the Soulmate trope today where everyone has a mark somewhere on their body that indicates who they are meant to be with. The traditional idea doesn't work in this fandom very well without the addition of OCs, and I don't have the energy to build a new bunch of OCs right now, so I tried something different. Don't know if it works, but eh, 1500 words of what appears to be some kind of intro to this AU. Don't know if it is worth expanding or exploring, but I wrote something, so yay! :D

I hope you enjoy it at least a little in any case.

-o-o-o-

He rubbed his chest with a wonderfully soft towel. Thank goodness, Scott had taken his advice and really splurged on the quality when it came to the locker room towels.

As to the brand of the towel, he did not have a clue and did not care. As long as they were soft and sucked up water from tired skin.

The mirror at the end of the room blurrily reflected his movements through the steam and habit drew him to stop and take a step towards it, his eyes narrowing on the scar across his left pectoral.

He didn’t know why he did this. It wasn’t as if he expected his Sign to appear. He had lost hope a long time ago.

At least he had thought he had. If there was no hope, then he could just be who he was.

There were a few in the world who had never received their Sign, an imprint of a symbol or icon on their left breast which indicated a person’s ultimate Purpose in life. Most due to accident like his. The scar was old now and in a way more of a Sign than any Purpose. More a reminder of his failure.

He did have to admit that watching each of his brothers gain their Sign when he didn’t had affected him. Scott, of course, had grown up before Virgil, maturity bringing the almost predictable Sign of Flight.

Their parents had been so excited, just after Scott’s sixteenth birthday. The family had celebrated and there had been several excited questions as to what Virgil’s might be.

Their parents were both Stars, both born to reach for space, Dad with wings and Mom with numbers, so it hadn’t been surprising that Scott had aspects of both merging into Flight.

The traditional Reader had been brought in and the new Sign had been examined, interpreted, and aligned with Scott’s interests. The Reader had frowned a lot. Not that Virgil had any experience with Readers, but the elderly man in his carmine robe had muttered about success, challenges, losses and gains.

Scott hadn’t had to do much upon the revelation of his Sign. He had been heading for the Air Force in any case. But it had been good to know his choices were meant to be.

Unlike Virgil.

He sighed and ran the towel down his leg, turning away from the revealing glass.

It was the bruises on that leg that made him grimace, not the long ago loss…

Who was he kidding?

The scar twinged as if to remind him.

He shied away from the memories of losing his mother and the avalanche responsible. He had been lucky to survive with minor injuries.

Just happened that one of those injuries hurt more than the others.

The year that followed was traumatic enough for everyone to forget Virgil’s sixteenth birthday and the importance of that time in his life. Dad had fallen into grief. Scott was juggling the entire family, trying to keep everyone and everything afloat.  Virgil did everything he could to help, but survivor’s guilt and the thought that everything, especially his mother’s death, was his fault, sucked him into a deep dark hole.

His father couldn’t even look at him.

It took Scott finally cracking and a screaming match from hell between him and their father for it all to fall apart. Enough to create a turning point in all their lives and the first shaky step towards recovery.

So it wasn’t until John received his Sign early, that the question of Virgil came up.

John was only thirteen, very young to receive his Purpose, but considering how far advanced he was in his learning, it shouldn’t have been a surprise.

John was Stars, just like his parents. The Reader who visited them frowned at Virgil as he walked past, but nothing was said. The Reading declared John would follow his parents into space, that he would bridge communication across the planet, that he was destined for greatness.

Everyone celebrated. Dad drank soft drink instead of alcohol, but the glasses clinked together all the same and John shone, the centre of attention and, for once in his life, enjoying it.

Virgil slunk away early and spent the next half an hour peering at himself in the mirror, willing the red scar across his breast to reveal something…anything.

By the time Gordon turned sixteen, Virgil was an adult and had comes to terms with his loss…mostly.

It just wasn’t going to happen.

It did affect his life choices. Unlike everyone around him, he had no guide to his true Purpose. His interests flickered back and forth between the arts and the sciences. He loved to paint and play music. But he also loved pulling machines apart and putting them back together. He was handy with his hands and could repair just about anything. He could plan and organise and create. He could do so many things, but he had no idea which he was supposed to do, which direction he was supposed to go.

What was his Purpose?

He had to admit that for at least part of that time, he followed Scott around like a lost shadow. Scott had enough direction for both of them and Virgil willing followed his big brother. After all, what wasn’t to follow? Scott was at the top of everything he did. Academic, sports, socialising…if there was a direction to go, Scott was a good choice.

But Virgil was not Scott.

It came close, though. Virgil gained his pilot’s license not long after his brother, and was a hair’s breadth away from following him into the Air Force.

If he could have. The Air Force did not accept those without a Sign of Purpose. Apparently it was too much of a risk to enlist those not destined to Serve.

There were words, none of them polite, but looking back, Virgil knew he wasn’t military material. He didn’t need a stupid Sign for that. If he was honest with himself, it was simply doing what his big brother was going to do.

Maybe the Sign of Flight had been taken from him by the avalanche?

Grandma had so many hugs for him the day Scott left for the Air Force.

But perhaps Scott leaving was necessary, because it forced him to stop following and work out what he should be by himself.

In the end he chose a bit of everything and the hell to a blasted Purpose.

Looking back, it all seemed so long ago. All the things that had happened since - Scott returning from Bereznik, broken and in pieces. The birth of International Rescue and the Thunderbird that gave his big brother his wings back.

John reaching the Stars he was destined for.

The loss of Dad.

An echo of their father’s Stars appeareing on Scott’s left breast overnight, blurring his Sign of Flight, almost caging it.

Grief.

So much grief.

Virgil straightened and cleared his throat. Even now, a good five years after, it still hurt. Scott had stumbled and it had been Virgil’s turn to juggle the family and support where he could.

Gordon won gold at the Olympics.

Honestly, joyful though it was, it wasn’t really a surprise. After all, The Reader swore he had never seen so many fish in a Sign before. Gords was aquatic life personified.

Until he wasn’t.

So many hundreds of knots worth of speed and a sudden stop did that.

Another hard year. More grief, more challenge. he could have taken it personally and declared his Purpose as one to bear witness to each member of his family going through hell. But since they all were experiencing the same pain, he couldn’t claim any originality or self-centred angst.

But they were lucky. Gordon survived and clawed his way back to health. Some of the fish were now missing due to Gordon’s own set of scars, but as he had so many, the hydrofoil hadn’t got them all.

Plus one scar had warped one of the little fish into a shape Gordon was determined to call shark, so watch out, he had teeth now.

Virgil smirked and found himself grinning into the foggy mirror. You know, the mirror that he pointedly hadn’t been looking at.

A sigh. It annoyed him that even now, the lack of his own Sign, his own Purpose, still bugged him like this. He should be over it. Take a bruise or two and claim that was his Purpose, to take a hit while saving people’s lives.

But yeah, it was bugging him again because he still had one more brother who was due to receive his Sign any day now.

As he hung up the towel and started shoving on his clothing he thought about little Allie. Or not so little, because sixteen was tomorrow, no doubt to be followed by a Sign…predicted to be Stars of some kind. It wasn’t like the kid wasn’t begging to go into space every moment of every day. Stars was pretty much a given. But there were subtleties to Signs that needed interpretation…and celebration.

His littlest brother was growing up.

Pulling his t-shirt over his head, he straightened it across his chest, only to have his hand automatically trace the scar through the thin material.

Would he ever stop hoping?

Apparently not.

-o-o-o-

[llostwriter]

系统错误 | SVSSS Fanfic

CHAPTER 3

In Xuan Ji's opinion, she doesn't whine nearly as often as other people. To be transmigrated, reincarnated, or whatever her current circumstance is. She isn't even sure if she was transmigrated or reincarnated! She is even unaware of her own death! Does she even exist? Wait, of course she does exist. What kind of dumb question is that?? The system claims that she reincarnated, but it gives no indication of how she died. She has been on the phone and in the bus before. Did her bus experience a collision? But shouldn't she experience that pain as other anime and manga characters experienced it as well? 

Before rushing outdoors, she hastily put the black blindfold across her eyes. Having learned the ability of "inner-sight," the sight is translucent black, but she can still see herself surrounded. How much better it would have been if she could use eye contacts in the time period she is in. She wouldn't be forced to wear this obtrusive blindfold. It had only been 10 minutes and she already lost 100 points for it, making her account going negative! If she repeats that 100 more times, she will be buried alive! 

Spotting Xiyin holding the hairpin and enthusiastically waving it like a young child playing with their toy. She wasn't sure whether to be jealous of the young energy of the female or to act as though she doesn't know the female. It didn't matter since Xiyin approached her without hesitation, approaching her like an adorable kitten that needed its owner to survive. Xiyin positioned herself at Xuan Ji's side and then carefully nudged onto her long sleeve. 

"Hm?" To prevent Xiyin from realizing she already knew what the female was about to give her, Xuan Ji pretended to be completely unaware. 

"I just purchased you this hairpin, Xuan- Jie Jie. I hope you'll like it," Xiyin stutters inconsolably while looking to the side. Her cheek begins to flush a peachy-color as she struggles to look squarely at Xuan Ji. 

"Oh...thanks?" Xuan Ji was uncertain of the original Xuan Ji's response. She also doesn't want to lose any more points. 

Walking alongside Xuan Ji, Xiyin nodded but kept her mouth shut as her previous blush subsided. Xiyin presents as a pleasant and attractive young lady with a good body shape who wears light cosmetics. Even though she is only giving an item as a gift, Xiyin appears to admire the original Xuan Ji sufficiently to cause such reactions. 

They fell into an awkward silence because neither of them seemed to know what to say to the other. "Any place that you want to visit?" Xuan Ji immediately regretted the word after she had said it. She should have just kept quiet to avoid losing points for speaking in an ooc-style, but her noisy little mouth wasn't much help. 

"Anywhere that Xuan jiejie wanna goes, A-yin will follow"

Oh then, that was certainly of no use. Not that Xuan Ji will express her ideas in the open and dash Xiyin's hopes. 

Xuan Ji noticed an elderly woman staring at them as though she were waiting or hesitating. When the elderly woman noticed that Xuan Ji was looking at her, she swayed to the side. The woman approached them after gathering the guts to do so and said, "What sect are you two females from?"

"We're not members of a sect", replied Xiyin immediately in response to the query. The elderly woman changes in some way after hearing that. "Is something wrong?" As she kept gazing at the woman though her black blindfold, Xuan Ji asked. 

"Nothing. Simply put, I was concerned that I wouldn't have enough money to pay them if they were cultivators from a larger sect."

Xuan Ji replied, "What is it that you need help with?"

"My son is missing ever since yesterday night, I been attempting to ask around yet ..." 

"We should assist her, "said Xiyin, pulling on Xuan's sleeves as she scowled in sympathy for the elderly woman and expressed concern for her son. Xuan responded by nodding. 

"Please give us the intel on the matter"

[cuubism]

I was watching a video on Youtube of someone criticizing the anti-aging advices shorts on Tiktok and my mind went to Hob, the immortal 30-something, being horrified at people being afraid of growing old with a hint of jealousy as he knows that aging is something that he will never experience.

I went down SUCH a mental rabbit whole of "what even is aging, actually?" while trying to answer this. Like, is aging one's relationship with time? Because Hob definitely gets older numerically as time passes, even if his body doesn't change. Is aging about one's relationship with death, and its nearness? Or is aging about one's relationship to their body? Or is it all of the above?

Because if you are mortal, like... all real people, time does leave a mark on the body. But to say that aging is the body's decay is too simplistic because physical disability also changes your body's functioning without being solely associated with aging (though some disabilities do get worse with age so it's not separate either). Aging-related cosmetic content online is focused on not "looking old" but going from a child to a young adult is also aging, and makes you look older but not "aged" so to speak. When it comes to death, aging does bring you closer to death, but death can also come at any time, whether you're "old" or not.

So I thought about it a lot (too much) and I thought about Sandman as a story about stories, and how the story of a life has a natural arc to it, a rise and fall, and how that is what Hob doesn't experience. He lived through the rising arc of his life but there is never a proper falling arc, a conclusion. There are ups and downs, minor climaxes. But it always returns to this plateau that keeps going straight rather than ultimately falling to an ending.

And... I am trying to see whether I think Hob would be jealous of this or not. Curious, for sure, because he's curious about pretty much every experience. And I think there is some melancholy whenever he loves someone and they age past him, some thought of it would be nice if we could stay on the same life path, at least for a while. And I'm sure he's cared for elderly people at various points in his life too, and seen people age, and die of old age, and held their hands and been through that moment with them. And... I do think he would feel for these very young people becoming so concerned over appearance in the sense that it can take away from actually living life. Hob is all about experiencing life, not, you know, avoiding laughing so you won't get wrinkles. In that respect, I think he would want those young people to really live and appreciate those years instead of spending them fearing what's to come.

The only feeling I can associate with Hob when it comes to aging is gratitude, actually. Not even in relation to physical appearance. But gratitude that he gets to continue on and avoid the downward arc of the conclusion of a life. Although I think that very situation is disturbing to Dream, who's in kind of the same boat, I think Hob might say "well why should a story have an ending anyway?"

There's really only one thing that lingers, and it's the question -- what happens after? It's the one subject of curiosity Hob absolutely cannot sate without giving up all the rest. Do I think it haunts him? No, not really. Tickles the back of his mind sometimes, though, probably.

I think of this poem Aging by Rosmarie Waldrop:

Distant galaxies are moving away from us. Friends, lovers, family. Even the sky shifts toward red. Where every clearness is only. A more welcoming slope of the night. And I don't remember why I opened the door.

Pretty much every door in life is open to Hob if he's willing to commit enough time and effort to it. Except for maybe the most major one. And everybody else lives with this inevitability. Except Hob. Which... well, rejecting inevitability is kind of how he got himself into that situation in the first place. So it tracks. And it's what makes Hob's story so interesting because what is a life without inevitability like? Or, you know, a story without an ending?