#i fear this may be slightly mid but whatever

[z0mbatz]

infamous doomed yaoi pose has claimed two new victims…

[byhees]

surprising them during long-distance

heeseung would be surprised beyond words; would drop whatever he’s doing, hands frozen mid-air. wouldn’t dare to waste another living, breathing second, in fear that he may be dreaming— “i missed you so, so much”, he’d mumble, arms wrapped tightly around your figure, as though apprehensive to let you go…

jay would immediately rush over to pick you up in his arms, his hands holding you steady as he gently spins you around in his grasp; “please tell me i’m not imagining you in front of me”, he’d mumble, voice lightly muffled as he buries his face into the crook of your neck, taking in the faint scent of your shampoo, mixed with the warmth radiating off your body— all signs that tell him, he’s definitely not just imagining things…

jake would be absolutely gobsmacked to see you, his pretty girl, perched right by the edge of his bed, that smile decorating your features knocking the wind out of his body; doesn’t hesitate to engulf you in a tight hug, his arms wrapping around your form, his chin resting atop your head— “you don’t know just how much i’ve missed this, baby”…

sunghoon would pause mid-stride, his pretty eyes slowly widening into large saucers, his plump lips parted ever so slowly; “yn..?” he’d mumble, and when you’d laugh ever so softly at his reaction, he wouldn’t waste another moment, crashing into your embrace, his face buried into the hem of your shirt— “ please don’t let go”, he’d murmur, arms tightly nestled around your waist…

sunoo would be shocked beyond belief, his mouth immediately being rendered agape at the sight; “oh my.. baby, you’re here? when? how?”— would bombard you with a million questions, all the while basking in your presence, an arm naturally snaking around your form. he’d have this cheery grin glued over his features…

jungwon wouldn’t believe his eyes; perhaps he’d missed you so much, he’s started to materialise his thoughts of you into reality? but when you’d run up to him, body almost melting into his warmth, your arms finding recluse around his build, all the confusion and flabbergast would dissipate into nothing, a wide-toothed smile decorating his pretty face. “you should’ve told me you were coming; i look like a mess”, he’d mumble, tone soft— if only he knew how endearing he looked, hair lightly tousled, face slightly puffy from a rough night of sleep…

riki would stand by the doorway, completely unaware of how to react; he’d be hit with a wave of emotions— puzzlement, disbelief, and last but not least, euphoria. would be, practically, attached to you by the hip, his body never tearing away from your own, his hands never not fiddling with your own; “no, please, keep going— tell me everything, every good, or bad, moment; just.. keep talking”, he’d mumble, finding your voice so much more relaxing in person…

[ozzgin]

Ok, could I just say I LOVE how you write for your Baki characters, they're always a treat 🥺✨️

May I request another prehistoric reader, but when they revived her along with Pickle, she just looked so roughed up that she looks like the definition of surviving

What could cause such scars? Well they wouldn't have to wait long since turns out she's like really clumsy, like "nearly losing an eye by tripping on air and onto a metal pole" clumsy

Pickle just has to be by her side every time to catch her before she actually lose something

I love the idea! I can definitely picture it, thank you for the suggestion and the kind words!

Baki Headcanons: Prehistoric! Clumsy Reader

Featuring Pickle and his challengers and one tough looking reader that turns out to be just extremely clumsy.

The men scan your features with a cautious defensiveness. Here you are, standing tall next to Pickle, with a similarly toned body yet peppered with scars and old wounds. Assuming you have the same survival skills as Pickle, what could you have possibly fought to leave you with such extensive damage? The air is tense as they analyze the possibilities. A T.Rex? It was your main source of food. Multiple of them? Entire packs of ancient elite predators? Were you the main hunter of the pack, taking on challenges that left the other humans scurrying away in fear?

It doesn’t take too long for the mystery to solve itself. The first one to pick up on it is Baki, who just happened to be visiting the enclosure. You’re in the middle of a playful scuffle with Pickle when you decide to impress the newcomer with your signature move. You extend one arm and twist your body slightly, as if gaining traction. Pickle can immediately tell what is about to happen and growls at you, but it’s too late. You swing, and the fist lands in your own face. Baki gasps in shock and you blink a few times in order to process the succession of events. Good Lord, you’re just clumsy. Terribly so.

Now, they have to admit, being this dangerous to yourself and making it this far is rather impressive. Whether in a good or a bad way is another story. The major force of reason in your life seems to be Pickle. Whenever possible, he’s there to stop your ungainly displays. He’s lifted you from the ground more times than he could ever care to count. Truth be told, he does enjoy the fact that you’re this dependent on him. Outside of your clumsiness you’re quite capable and he likes to have one area where he can prove himself as a partner to you.

It’s almost like you and Pickle crawled out of a slapstick comedy. The men are nearly temped to fabricate their own scenarios to check whether you come out unscathed. They’d rather not upset Pickle more than necessary, however. And witnessing your lack of coordination first-hand has also awakened a similar worry towards your safety.

Before they know it, they’re stopping mid-conversation to check on whatever shenanigans you’re up to, ready to interfere. Retsu will silently interrupt your failure and pretend nothing has ever happened, sparing your embarrassment. So does Katsumi, after having a good laugh about it. He finds you extremely entertaining and always compliments your gift of getting into trouble.

Jack doesn’t like to make his empathy known. He’ll ‘accidentally’ step in front of you moments before you’re about to crash into a wall. He just so happens to hold the edge of the barrier right before your head collides with it. Move along, there’s nothing to see.

With Baki there's always a 50% chance he'll fail miserably together with you instead. He's about to stop you from tripping and in doing so his chin hits the pavement at the same time as you. Thankfully Pickle has two hands.

Even Yuujirou is forced to comply with the unspoken rule. He’s been told repeatedly of the importance you and Pickle hold from a cultural and scientifically perspective and he doesn’t disagree with it. Depending on his mood he will laugh at your misfortune or arrogantly scold you, but either way he will prevent your injury. He’s also secretly impressed by your durability.

[hyper-fixated-delusions]

It’s like you’re my mirror.

Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader.

A/N: I hope you enjoy and I apologize for any mistakes! Also comments, reblogs, shares and likes are super appreciated, thank you! :)

Translation: “Mi amor.” My love.

“Mami.” Mommy.

Word count: 1,002.

Masterlist.

Wanda had just gotten home from grocery shopping when she noticed her house was quiet. A little too quiet, considering Billy and Tommy were out from kindergarten early today.

But as she began to move about the kitchen putting away the groceries she thought nothing of it, thinking that maybe her wife and sons were upstairs in their room, watching a movie like they did every Tuesday on their early dismissal day.

As Wanda finished putting the last of groceries away and still not a peep was heard throughout the house she began heading upstairs to search the rooms.

Her first stop was Billy and Tommy’s room, thinking maybe the twins got bored of watching the film mid way like they always did and decided to come play with their toys instead, but as she checked the room it was completely spotless and empty. Letting her know they were probably still with you, so she made her way to your shared bedroom.

Wanda knocks softly on the door, pushing it open slowly and peeking her head in as to not disturb you and the boys from whatever she expected to see you watching, but the sight that greets her instead has her completely enamored.

There in front of her very own eyes were a sleeping Y/N, Billy and Tommy. Feeling her heart swell with happiness at the way her sons and wife were sleeping.

The three of them were laying on their left side, lips pouty, faces serene; not an ounce of worry on their features. Each hugging a pillow in the same way, as the trio also had a leg slightly bent.

Wanda quickly makes her way downstairs to retrieve her phone so she can snap a quick few photos to show you once you wake up to help diminish the fears that have been pestering you these past few weeks.

Fears over the possibility that your sons may never display some of your traits. Fears that your boys will never fully accept you because you are not their biological mother.

Smiling as she looks at the pictures, Wanda feels her heart swell at the prospect of easing your worries and decides to let you and the boys continue on napping while she gets started on a late lunch.

Humming to herself as she moves around the kitchen making a quick light meal, she squeals in surprise when she feels arms suddenly wrap around her waist from behind.

"Y/N!" Wanda exclaims, heart beating wildly in her chest, "you scared the hell out of me," she laughs, turning in your arms, taking in the sight of your disheveled hair and slightly sleepy eyes.

"I'm sorry mi amor, I tried calling you, but you were in your own world," you smile tenderly, your eyes closing as Wanda runs a hand through your hair to tame it.

"Did you nap okay?" The redhead asks softly.

"Mm-hmm," you hum contentedly, Wanda's ministrations causing you comfort, "but I missed you," you pout slightly, "sleeping without you is never fun, but I had great company so I can’t complain,” you wink. “The boys had an exciting day today. According to them, their school put on a little decathlon of sorts all the physical activity must have tired them out," you laugh softly, "both fell asleep during the first 5 minutes of the movie and seeing them sleep made me sleepy so I decided to nap as well, sorry I wasn't awake to help you put the groceries away," you apologize and Wanda shakes her head pressing light kisses to your lips.

"No need to worry my love, I know how stressful these past few weeks have been, I'm just glad you got some rest," your wife says, hands caressing your face softly and smile widening as she remembers the pictures she took while you were asleep, "also I want to show you something exciting that happened while you were sleeping," Wanda says, eyes shining bright with happiness.

"Aww man, what'd I miss?" You say with a small frown at the prospect of missing out on something cool.

Wanda laughs at your expression, "you're going to love this, trust me," she says as she begins to pull the pictures up, handing you her phone so you can see what she is so excited about, "here," the redhead says, biting her lip in anticipation.

As you hold the cellular device in your hand and inspect the image of you and the twins mirroring each other while asleep, you can't help but let out a watery laugh, "oh my god babe," you whisper softly, "my boys, Max, they're really my boys," you chuckle, as you look at Wanda, tears pouring out of your eyes in happiness.

The redhead approaches you, hands cradling your face tenderly, "they are baby, they are your boys, and they love you so so much, it's clear to see. I mean they mirror you for crying out loud," Wanda laughs tearily, feeling her own emotions well up at the fact that you are so happy at this realization. "I have never doubted that they were yours my love, you may not have had them and biology be damned, but they are your sons, what more proof do we need baby?" Your wife says and you smile happily.

"I love you so much, Max. Thank you, thank you so much for giving me this beautiful gift. Mi amor, words will never be able to explain what this means to me," you smile tearfully, kissing Wanda softly.

As both you and your wife get lost in each other for a moment, a pair of voices interrupt your loving make out session, “mami!” Both you and Wanda hear exclaimed, making you pull apart with a small laugh.

“Your boys beckon you, my love,” your wife says with a beaming smile.

“My boys,” you say happily, placing a quick kiss to Wanda’s lips before you make your way to the stairs with a huge grin on your face.

[innuendostudios]

by a wide margin the weirdest video essay I've ever release: List of Songs that Represent "Smart Music" Ranked from Most to Least Appropriate to Put in a Video Essay

this video is sponsored by Nebula, where you can watch ad-free and (sometimes, slightly) better edited versions of my videos for 40% off an annual subscription. just follow this link.

as a quick note: YouTube has already demonetized this video, as two different corporations are claiming copyright on recordings they do not own the copyright to - both are Creative Commons recordings of public domain music, that, in one case, YouTube has misidentified as a different recording, and, in the other, YouTube has the music in its database as under copyright despite it being having been released under CC BY-SA 3.0. I am disputing these false claims and will (hopefully) get whatever money I am owed, but, for now, YouTube is not paying me a dime for this.

so it would be a bigger help than usual if you would either watch the video on Nebula or back me on Patreon.

thanks. transcript below the cut!

List of Songs That Represent “Smart Music” Ranked From Most To Least Appropriate To Put In A Video Essay (And Presented In Drill Bit Order).

1. Clair de Lune, Debussy

This has been top dog ever since the teaser for Godzilla: King of the Monsters, and cemented its position against challengers with a showcase in Everything Everywhere All at Once. Said film could have been the shark-jumping moment where the song was irretrievably lost to irony, given directors Kwan and Scheinert (Daniels)’s style mercilessly marries the aesthetics of prestige and shitpost. Yes, despite its silliness, EEAAO is achingly sincere, but could the general public be trusted to recognize that? But then it won Best Picture, so apparently yes! Beautiful, delicate, to score a film or video with Clair de Lune signals a desire to be seen not only as an intellectual, but as an aesthete. The song could lose potency if the Clair de Lune sequence were parodied enough, but how does one parody EEAAO???

9. Gymnopedie No. 1, Satie

I fear we must, as a society, and as a community of video essayists, move on from Gymnopedie No. 1. It held the title longer than, I think, any champion previous, and for that it deserves merit. But its time is over. It is, like the phrase “mad dated,” mad dated. It is saying “lmao” out loud. Did you know the original screenplay for 2005 film The Island specifically stated that, in the weird culty enclave in which the film opens, Gymnopedie No. 1 must be playing over the loudspeaker? I don’t think Michael Bay followed that directive (I’m not rewatching the movie to find out), but that is how long this was the “Smart Music” song - since 5 months after YouTube launched. If you must - absolutely must - put Satie in a video essay, use Gnossienne No. 1, though it too is on its way to passe. At this point I’m prepared to say Vexations or GTFO.

2. Ave Maria, Schubert/Liszt

Nothing was certain after Satie vacated the throne, and for a while it seemed we might have a Starks vs. Baratheons situation between Schubert and Debussy. Following several appearances in pretentious YouTube videos, the Ave Maria made its strongest showing yet by scoring the opening scene of the grimdarkest Batman film so far, an entire twenty days before getting fully Lannister’d by Everything Everywhere All at Once. Unbowed, unbent, and unbroken, still she nips at the heels of the king, and may yet take his place. No one else poses a comparable threat. Hers is a curious strategy, being a religious, Christmas, and even classic Disney standard now repurposed as “Smart Music;” she gets a big boost every December, but can she take the top spot before this cyclical exposure nudges her back into a prior niche?

8. Moonlight Sonata, Beethoven

If you were in a film program in the mid-2000s, you are sick to death of Moonlight Sonata. Also if you were in a music class where you were asked to determine a song’s time signature by ear - how am I supposed to tell the difference between waltz time and 4/4 with all triplets without the sheet music in front of me? To say scoring a video with Moonlight Sonata is a hack move - you’d have to be a hack to not already know! This was the soundtrack to the blind cave salamander level of Earthworm Jim 2, there’s no coming back from that! I mean, the association with Tallarico Studios alone… It’s done. Roll over, Beethoven.

3. Cello Suite No. 1 (Prelude), Bach

This one is firmly-rooted. It is not going anywhere, both in the sense that nothing could soon push it off the list but it’s hard to imagine rising any higher. It is just slightly too beautiful, too expressive, too legato to fall into the stiffness of Habanera or the pomposity of a De Beers ad, but just close enough to them in tone to always read as a hipper alternative. So you’ll never be overexposed, but never go that long without hearing the Yo-Yo Ma version. And so here it stays, third on the podium, solid bronze, the waterbender, the Plup; with you as always is Prelude to Cello Suite No. 1. (Frankly surprised it took us this long to get to Johann, but don’t worry - he’ll be Bach.)

7. Air on the G String, Bach/Wilhelmj

Told ya. It’s not that she isn’t a beautiful piece of music, and it’s not that she already had her time. In truth, she never got her flowers. Inasmuch as she had a run, it was squished between the omnipresences of Beethoven and Satie. You’ll still hear from her now and then; she crops up, like a lucky penny. And you’ll smile, every time, but you know the stars in your eyes are not present joy, but nostalgia. A fondness for what was and what could’ve been - what should have been. Why - why couldn’t this have had the legs of Gymnopedie? I mean, even the Fucking Champs version - could that have made a run? Could TikTok pick up on it? But comes the day you have to accept - if it was gonna happen, it would’ve happened by now. Air on the G String grows weary; let her rest.

4. Duo des Fleurs, Delibes

Bit of a dark horse, this one. Didn’t exactly come out of nowhere - it’s been here the whole time - but you didn’t see it coming! It’s like that time I went snorkeling, and I wondered, “Where are the fish?” I was told there would be tropical fish, but all I saw was blue. Then I caught one flitting by my head and, as soon my eyes registered the shape, I realized they were everywhere! I just hadn’t taken them in. This is the one that makes you ask, where did I hear that before? Was this the one at the end of Margaret? No! How did it go? How do I hum dyads? But then it shows up and, oh yeah, that’s the one! The really pretty one. I knew it’d come around again. Has staying power, could make a run for the top if it sees an opening, but seemingly content, for now, to dance around the periphery, appreciated when heard if only half-remembered the next day.

6. Prelude in E Minor Op. 28 No. 4, Chopin

The bottom end of acceptability. Anything lower, you must avoid. But you can use Prelude in E. It is a risk, and it takes skill. But you can use Prelude in E. It is not for the faint of heart. This is the ending of Fez we’re talking about here. This is that one TED Talk about how everyone loves classical music they just don’t know it yet. This was all over Anatomy of a Fall. Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer something lighter? Nocturne in E-flat [Op. 9 No. 2] is very nice. Prelude has just enough penetration that some people are going to recognize it, and enough clout that those who do are going to expect things of the person who puts it in a video essay. You can’t just throw this under a rant about The Snyder Cut. But you can - with care, with effort, and with grace - use Prelude in E.

5. Spiegel im Spiegel, Part

We are not ready for Spiegel im Spiegel. The rare “Smart Music” that is, rather than classical, contemporary minimalist. This is - I have been led to believe - all over the film festival circuit. It is the go-to for aspiring arthouse directors. So I assume it is only a matter of time until it reaches general cultural awareness. But we - the YouTube video essay community - are not, at this point in time, pretentious enough to pull off Spiegel im Spiegel. This is not a statement on the song: it is a lovely, sparse, and unpretentious piece of music, which is why pretentious people are drawn to it. And we are not there yet. But I believe in us.

POSTSCRIPTUM

The List of Songs that Represent “Smart Music” is not ranked by quality; they are all, as a baseline, masterpieces. They are ordered, instead, by their possession of antipodal qualities. Beethoven’s Fifth may be a beautiful piece but it’s too well-known - to the casual listener, it reads only as “classical music.” Vltava is a beautiful piece, but it’s not recognizable enough - to most, it will read only as “music.” Pachelbel’s Canon works in too many contexts. Mozart’s Lacrimosa no longer works in any context but “Shit’s About To Go Off.” The Song that Represents “Smart Music” must balance these humors: suggestive, but not too specific; recognizable, but not overfamiliar. The kind of thing one imagines cultured people listen to, and fancies oneself cultured for having noticed it. Just popular enough to signify obscurity to a large number of people.

This impossibility of being both popular and obscure is what keeps the list in motion. Many songs drift back into obscurity before reaching the top, but, once in the primary position, a song begins its slow procession to overexposure. And when, at last, it is too popular to be niche, it does not slip to number 2; it plummets to the bottom, as did Icarus.

Due to this slow but constant movement, new songs will, at intervals, join the ranks, taking the place of those that became gauche. And if, dear listener, you were aiming to trendset, to score your next whatever-it-is-you-do with the newest Song to Represent “Smart Music,” and were I a gambling man… Bach’s Prelude in C. And I’ll tell you why: it appears in the Netflix series Bodies alongside Chopin (#6), mirroring Satie’s dual appearance in The Queen’s Gambit (#9); its arpeggiated structure makes it usable in scenarios similar to the Cello Suite (#3) (Johann did love him some broken chords); and it forms the basis of the Gounod version of Ave Maria, if you would like a Cool Person’s Alternative to Schubert (#2). You may feel I’m playing too safe, but I tell you truly: this song is due. But if I can impart one piece of wisdom let it be this: whatever you do, whoever you are, you cannot use Fur Elise. You cannot. You can’t do it. It can’t be allowed. Don’t fu-

[theunholybastard]

Kinktober: October 2nd - Titfucking (Papa Emeritus III x Female!Reader)

Tags: Marathon Sex, Titfucking, Established Relationship, Praise, Body Worship, Overstimulation, Cum-Shot, Cum-Eating, 1st Person POV

I blink my eyes open, awakened by the feeling of Terzo pressing soft kisses across my neck and shoulders. I didn't even realize I drifted off in the first place. I must've passed out from exhaustion after that last orgasm. I grunt, feeling the soreness affecting my body already. I already know I'll be walking funny tomorrow, and my thighs and hips will most likely be littered with bruises. This horny bastard will be the death of me.

Terzo chuckles against my bare skin. "Welcome back, sleepyhead." He murmurs playfully. "You too tired to go another round, principessa?"

"You aren't?" I groan, surprised at the stamina this man has. We've been at this for three consecutive rounds already. I haven't even gotten out of bed today, and now I think I never will. I'm exhausted, achy, sweaty, and if I have one more orgasm I fear I'll have a heart attack. He, however, looks annoyingly perfect as always; Hovering over me, completely unaffected, ready for round four. How does he still have the energy to even get it up?

He laughs and continues to trail his kisses up to my jaw. I shiver slightly at the feeling, letting my eyes fall shut once again. They only open back up when I feel his half-hard cock pressing against my hip. "Baby, no..." I sigh, bringing a still shakey hand up to nudge him off. He complies and pulls away, pouting in false sympathy. I swear, if I wasn't still on the verge of passing out, I'd punch him in his stupid, gorgeous face.

"Awe, have you had enough, amore mio?" He teases, a cocky smirk plastered across his face. I roll my eyes.

"I had enough 3 rounds ago." I scoff dryly. I'm not actually as annoyed as I may be acting, truth be told I love when he overstimulates me, pushes me to my absolute limits. And goddamn, does he know that. "But seriously Terz, I'm way too sore. No more, please..." Terzo nods understandingly and kisses my sweat-dampened forehead. As much of a depraved pervert Terzo can be, I know he'd never want to push me too far to the point it's more pain than pleasure.

"Do you mind if I get myself off then?" He asked, stroking himself lazily as he gazes deeply into my eyes, searching them for any reluctance. "Just stay away from my bottom half and you're good." I snort. He smirks again, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

"Just the bottom half? So is the, eh... top half still open for business?" He leans in closer, dropping his voice lower and wiggling his brows suggestively in attempts to be seductive. This fucking guy.

"Why? You want to use my mouth, Papa?" I coo flirtatiously, trying to be sexy back, immediately followed by a very unsexy yawn. I'd be willing to do anything above the waist to get him off, so maybe he'd finally be sated and leave me alone. Though to be honest, I might fall asleep mid-blowjob. He shook his head, his gaze falling from my eyes to my tits, his eyes fogged with lust.

"Not this time, bella mia. I'd much prefer to use these beauties, if you don't mind." He purrs, groping my breasts tenderly and leaning down to press little kisses to my nipples. I bite my lower lip as I suck in a breath. He takes one of my nipples into his mouth, sucking gently and rolling his tongue around. I whimper at the feeling, my body relaxing as I let him do whatever he wants to me.

"May I, principessa?" He pops his mouth off my breast, looking up at me expectantly. I take a shaky breath and nod. Normally he would not accept that as an answer and keep teasing me till I used my words, but he sensed how tired I was and decided not to push it, too needy to get off.

He climbed back on top of me, straddling my body to where his cock was in perfect alignment with my breasts. He uses one hand to fondle them while the other strokes his now fully-erect cock, taking his time to soak up my appearance. He smiles down at me, showering me in praises I barely retain from my levels of exhaustion. I'm so relaxed I'm nearly half-asleep. That's exactly how Terzo wanted me right now; limp and pliant, but still conscious enough to see and feel what he's doing to me.

Eventually, he spat on his cock to lube it up, and placed his member in between my mounds. He squeezed my breasts around his slick-covered cock and began to thrust. He let out a primal grunt as he threw his head back and pounded madly. It's embarrassing how aroused I was at the sight of him fucking my tits as if it was my cunt. I let out an involuntary moan, which caused him to smile cockily.

"Y-you enjoying the show, principessa? You like watching me fuck these pretty tits? Merda, so f-fucking perfect!" He growls, his hips snapping faster as he humped me like a rabid animal. "S-such a perfect girl for me, letting me use your body however I please. Can't wait to paint these beautiful tits with my seed, f-fuck!" By the way he was panting and the way his hips stuttered, I knew he was getting close. I use my last remaining energy to encourage him to reach his climax.

"Terzo, please... please cover my tits, please cum for me, Papa!" I whine, causing him to let out a long, borderline scream-like moan as he finished, coating my breasts with his warm, thick spend. Finally, after four orgasms, he looks completely disheveled, hair falling in his face, eyes shut tight and mouth hanging agape as if he was about to fall asleep right on top of me.

Finally, sleepiness takes ahold of me. The last thing I remember is Terzo clumsily shuffling off of me to lick his cum from my breasts, my eyes fluttering shut in bliss as I drift off into a deep sleep.

-

[xcyphoz0a]

ACT I/ scene vi/ keep quiet, please.

writing included after the 5th photo! tw/ panic attack

previous / act list / next

you hide your phone under the desk, and turn your head to the teacher to listen to the lecture.

yet that familiar and squeamish feeling of your heart starting to run a marathon comes settling into your chest, urging you to leave.

why, why, why?

during school? couldn’t it wait?

stumbling out of class, it’s obvious how pale you are.

your heart beats, million beats per minute as you feel like you can’t take control of your own body anymore. your motor control doesn’t work, and you’re just thankful that you managed to slide down to a corner where barely anyone visits.

perhaps it was your fear, your sobs choked in silent plea as tears cover your vision.

you can’t help but want to run away, just for your inability to stand as footsteps start to become closer towards your direction.

they stop, and you can feel that they’re in front of you, looking at you with mild amusement as they try to contain their laughter.

barely managing to raise your head, you cannot help but feel both mortified and relieved at the same time to see not a laughing, but a concerned kunikuzushi, standing idle in front of your crouched form.

but your tears don’t stop as they seem to pour harder than ever, with your breaths becoming even more unstable, air not reaching your lungs as you feel as if you would suffocate.

kuni, eyes widening at your worsening situation, makes haste in crouching in front of you, hesitant to make contact as his hands stay mid air, unsure whether it would be alright for him to comfort you with his… colourful choices of words.

yet the way you look even more pained, his hands reach out to pull you in, rather awkwardly but to his best, before his thoughts manage to process what he did. your tears soak through his shirt on his shoulder, though he doesn’t care as he does his best to let you calm down. his hand comes to pat your back, attempting a comforting motion as he lets out a sigh in relief as he feels your state becoming more stable.

snapping back to his self, his face explodes into a warm shade of pink, as he waits for you to calm down. your arms loosen from his back as you rub out your tears, smiling lightly in gratitude. 

“...thank you.”

kuni nearly spits out a ‘whatever’, until he remembers how shaken up you still may be,

“are you okay?”

your eyes widen slightly at his surprisingly considerate response.

“mhm.”

once you leave, washing your face with cold water, you thank your deskmate again during the last class of the day.

“y’know, why did you decide to help me? i thought you’d laugh…aha–actually, never mind. thanks!”

“i’m not horribly mean.”

“well, i know now–i don’t mean it in a bad way i swear–” your hands flail around, attempting to explain yourself, although cut off by kuni.

“would you… never mind. forget i said anything.” he turns his head away from you, chin propped up on his hand.

you smile weakly, “penny for your thoughts? you shouldn’t let thoughts rot in your mind.”

he shakes his head, as the teacher leaves the classroom, ending the last lesson of the day.

previous / act list / next

taglist/ @lalalaloveallmydays @shyentsmissingink @raineyun @minstarrs @3lectraheart

[sanders1665]

Blue Café, mid-morning. The aroma of fresh coffee and baked goods fills the air. Memphis leans back in his chair, nursing a steaming cup of dark roast. Erydan sits across from him, his tea untouched, as Memphis glances at him, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Memphis: You know, I’ve followed this UFO stuff my entire life. Ancient mysteries, strange phenomena, all of it. And after years of reading, researching, and just… paying attention, I’ve come to one conclusion.

Erydan (leaning in slightly): I’m all ears.

Memphis: They’re real. Whatever they are, they exist. And it’s not just one group or species. There are many of them, and they’ve been with us all along. Watching, nudging, maybe even guiding us in small, deliberate ways.

Erydan (eyebrows raised): Always? How far back are we talking?

Memphis (nodding): Farther than most people realize. Look, we have documented accounts going back hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Think about Ezekiel’s wheel—an object described as “a wheel within a wheel,” glowing with fire and moving in ways that sound eerily similar to what modern pilots describe when they encounter UFOs. And it’s not just biblical accounts. Look at ancient cave art and pictographs.

Erydan: The ones with the strange figures?

Memphis: Exactly. Isolated cultures all over the world drew the same kind of thing—beings descending from the sky, objects that look like ships, or figures in what appear to be suits. These people had no way to communicate with each other, yet their stories align. That’s not coincidence.

Erydan: And it’s still happening now?

Memphis: Absolutely. We’re seeing the same phenomenon, but with modern eyes. Every day, new videos surface. Sure, some are hoaxes, but not all of them. The Pentagon’s recent declassified reports on unidentified aerial phenomena? Those are credible. And it’s not just conspiracy theorists saying this anymore—it’s military pilots, radar operators, and even government officials.

Erydan (thoughtful): So, what’s the big picture? Why are they here?

Memphis (pausing): That’s the question, isn’t it? My theory? They’ve been observing us for millennia, maybe even shaping us subtly. Think about the leaps humanity has made. Agriculture, writing, electricity, flight. Sure, we like to think we’re the geniuses behind it all, but what if we’ve had help? Little nudges, ideas planted in the right minds at the right times.

Erydan (grinning): So you’re saying aliens invented the lightbulb?

Memphis (laughing): Not exactly. I’m saying they may have sparked the inspiration. A whisper here, a vision there, just enough to keep us moving forward without overwhelming us.

Erydan: And you don’t find that unnerving?

Memphis (shaking his head): Not at all. If they wanted to harm us, they’ve had countless opportunities. They’ve been here this long without wiping us out or enslaving us. That tells me they’re not hostile. I don’t fear an attack by any of them. In fact, it’s comforting.

Erydan: Comforting how?

Memphis: It means we’re not alone. It means someone’s been watching out for us, even if they’re staying in the background. Look at all the UFO sightings around nuclear facilities. Those incidents suggest they’re keeping us from self-destructing. That’s not the behavior of an enemy.

Erydan (sipping his tea, thoughtful): So, to you, it’s not just a phenomenon—it’s a relationship.

Memphis: Exactly. This is a global phenomenon. It’s historical, it’s modern, and it’s consistent. The clear message to me is: We are not alone. We’ve never been alone.

Erydan: And what do you think they want?

Memphis (shrugging): Hard to say. Maybe they’re just curious, like scientists watching an experiment. Maybe they’re waiting for us to mature as a species. Or maybe—just maybe—they’re trying to guide us to a point where we can join them out there.

Erydan (leaning back): A hopeful thought.

Memphis: Hopeful, yeah. But it also comes with responsibility. If they’re watching us, if they’re rooting for us, then we’ve got to make sure we’re worth rooting for.

Erydan (raising his tea): To the watchers in the sky, then.

Memphis (clinking his coffee cup against Erydan’s): May we make them proud.

[verrerdises]

privacy | gyehyeon x reader

Summary || You frequently visit the Privacy Cafe near your college campus. You love the coffee and the atmosphere, but there's one problem... The guy at the register is breathtakingly beautiful and your legs turn to jelly when you see him. You've done your best to avoid him, but perhaps fate has other plans.

Word count || 1.9k

Oddly enough, he remembered when they first came in. It was shortly after the new semester began; it tended to get quite busy during that time. Yongseung had came to pay him a visit and briefly talked about his classes and professors. As he rambled, though, that's when he spotted them.

To everyone else, they were simply another customer of the cafe. They took a silent look around the place; the ends of their lips curled into a comforted smile. They then turned to chat with their friend as they got in line. Their eyes scanned the menu above before the two of them eventually made eye contact. He tried to give them a polite smile, but they were quick to pull away and awkwardly shuffled behind their friend. 

It actually became a sort of routine for them. The stranger would arrive then anxiously scan for him. If he was at the register, they would wait until someone else took over before scurrying over to place their order. Or sometimes they'd place their order online to avoid him altogether. He always found this behavior confusing. They had never shared a word, not even a syllable, to each other, so why the fear?

He initially tried not to let it bother him. After all, why should he care so much? It's not like he was curious about them or whatever... It's certainly also not because he found them to be awfully cute, especially when they turn red and duck their head. 

No, absolutely not.

A bit over a month had passed since their initial arrival. By this point, he had began to give up on learning the reason behind it all. His coworkers theorized that they may simply find him intimidating. "I mean, look at you," Hoyoung explained once, "you're a ridiculously handsome guy who keeps a neutral expression most of the time." Gyehyeon saw some truth behind his words, but surely that can't be it? 

He let out a long exhale through his nose as he recalled the conversation. Hoyoung was currently out of town for a wedding, making him work at the register. It was a slow day and they were approaching the last hour of the night. He heard the bell jingle and tiredly muttered out his greeting without glancing up. All he was thinking about was the nice platter of fruit and cheese waiting for him back at the apartment. 

Gyehyeon hid a yawn behind a hand and tiredly rubbed his eye. "How may I help y-" He paused mid-rub when the familiar stranger stood in front of him. "Oh," he offered a polite smile, "you're here later than usual. I was starting to wonder where you went..." 

The stranger rubbed their hands down their jacket before shoving them into their pockets. "Ha, that's... wait, you were wondering?" Their voice became quiet. Their ears began to burn red. It only made Gyehyeon's smile grow. "Mhm." he answered, "You usually come by in the afternoon. I'm assuming after your classes?"

"Oh! Okay, yeah, that's right." Their eyes kept averting their gaze. "I... was finishing up a project. I just turned it in, actually, so I came to get a little treat, y'know?"

He was mildly surprised at their slightly talkative nature. Or maybe it was stemming from their anxiety. He kept his smile. "That's a good idea. You deserve to treat yourself every once in a while." Fingers gently pressed on the screen in front of him as he placed their usual order. "Here, does everything look correct on your screen?"

They glanced down to theirs and blinked, eyes growing slightly in surprise. "Y...Yeah! Actually, that's... exactly what I was gonna order." They finally peer up at him, eyes locked. "How did you know?"

It was his ears' turn to burn red. He shyly turned his head away and rubbed his neck. "Well, you come here a lot, and it's part of my job... Is there... anything else?"

He thought he caught a brief smile from them. "Can you add one chocolate donut and one strawberry?" They add. He silently nodded and included the treats in the order. "Okay, you're all set. Um... what's your name?"

"(y/n). It's (y/n)." They lock eyes once again, but it only lasted for a few seconds before the two of them broke away and hid their blush. "I'll call you when your order's ready," Gyehyeon muttered. (y/n) gave them a shy smile then grabbed a seat nearby. He took the chance to turn away and take some deep breaths. It was hard to suppress the big grin that wanted to spread. Calm yourself, Gyehyeon... 

He decided to focus on preparing their order. But even then, his mind kept wandering. He stole a few glances towards (y/n); they were scrolling on their phone, but there was a subtle smile and blush on their face. It's so cute...

He felt relieved that they didn't seem to hate him. And they seemed so sweet. He still wondered why they never came to talk to him before. He hummed to himself then finished the order. "(y/n)?" he called out to them and placed it on the counter for pick up.

They came up to grab it, muttering a quiet "thank you". They began to return to their seat, and Gyehyeon noticed the time. "Oh, we're closing in about 10 minutes, just so you know." He quickly informed them. They paused in their steps and he watched them take a deep breath before turning on their heel. 

"Are you doing anything after this? I...I know it's late, but..." Their gaze slowly lowered to the ground. They shook their head frantically. "Y...Y'know what, never-mind. Forget I asked--"

"No, I'm not doing anything." Gyehyeon softly chuckled. "I will need a ride home though." He took a look around. "Although, I'm not sure about where we can go this late at night."

"I... was thinking the roof of the parking garage?" They anxiously tapped their foot. "Enjoy some late-night coffee and donuts."

He raised a curious brow. "Huh, I never would've thought of that. Yeah... that sounds just fine," his warm smile returned. "Don't let your coffee get too cold though." He nodded to their drink. 

"Oh! Right, thank you, I'll just... wait here then," They awkwardly returned to their seat and took a few sips of their drink. 

Gyehyeon let out another chuckle and turned their focus to their closing duties. Luckily, it didn't take long. He finally shut off a light and stepped out from behind the bar. (y/n) rose from their seat. "Ready?" they asked.

"Mhm, and..." he shook a small bag, "I grabbed us more donuts." 

That shy smile returned and they led the way outside. It was a bit awkward being in their car. After all, this is the first conversation they've shared, but he felt like he's learned so much about them from simply observing. He leaned his head back against the headrest, fighting back another yawn. It didn't help that (y/n) was playing gentle music on the radio.

"Oh, sorry, is my music putting you to sleep?" They turn it down some but stopped when he shook his head. "A little, but don't apologize. I like it. It's soothing." He had so many questions he wanted to ask them, but his exhaustion was starting to get the better of him.

He hadn't realized he fell asleep until he felt the car slow to a stop. He blinked then slowly sat up, rubbing at his eyes. "Did I fall asleep...?" he mumbled. 

"Yeah," they giggled softly. "Come on, some fresh air might wake you up." They exit the car and moved to open the trunk door, then climbing inside. He quietly followed suit and the two of them pulled out their donuts to now eat their late night snack. He... hadn't experienced this before. He's the type to stay at home once it got late. But he had to admit, this was serene in its own right. 

And he was fully comfortable in this silence. On the other hand, it looked as if (y/n) had something to say. He smiled gently at them, "Something on your mind?"

They nervously swallowed a piece of donut. "Well..." A sigh, "I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I ever acted weird around you. You're just so..." They began to lose their voice and ducked their head. His heart softened at the sight. "I'm so... what?" Yet, he felt the urge to tease. The heat slowly crawled up their neck. 

"... Pretty..." they whispered. "Like, ridiculously pretty. Ugh, I hope that didn't sound weird!" They take a nervous bite of the donut. He retained his smile and shook his head. "No, not weird at all. But thank you." He stared down at his own donut as he collected his thoughts. "... Actually, I thought you hated me for whatever reason."

They groaned in response. "See, that's the exact opposite of what I wanted. So, I'm really sorry-"

"It's okay," he tilted his head at them. "Really. I'm just glad we got it cleared up." He shifted closer to them, and he felt their fingers twitch as they made contact. "Does this mean you'll stop running away from me?" he asked softly.

The red reached their ears. "I'll... try."

"Hmph," he laughed lightly, "that's better than nothing." A yawn suddenly came out. "Ooh, sorry."

(y/n) seemed to want to use this as a chance to escape. "It is getting late." They quickly comment, "You looked like you had a long shift." 

He couldn't even argue and only gave a nod. He silently made his way back to the passenger seat, gave them his address, and promptly lulled himself to sleep.

When he awoke for the second time, they made it outside his apartment. He rubbed his eyes then grabbed his bag. "Mmm, thanks for driving me, (y/n). I'll... see you at the usual time on Monday?"

(y/n) gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah. Usual time. Good night, Gyehyeon."

The walk to his bed was a bit of a blur, honestly. All he remembered was unlocking the door then beelining it to the soft mattress. Not even a whisper of a dream occurred as he quickly fell asleep. 

When he awoke the next morning, he'll be honest, it felt like he was in a haze. As if last night was the dream. He shook his messy hair and groggily got up to get ready for the day. It didn't take him long to enter the kitchen, where he was pleasantly surprised to see Hoyoung. 

"Good morning," his friend chirped. "Well, afternoon, actually."

"Afternoon??" Gyehyeon furrowed his brow. His head whipped around to check the time. "I slept in until 2??"

"Yeah. I know you don't work weekends, so I let you sleep." He was finishing cooking up some lunch. "Oh, I was cleaning up a bit and was gonna throw this bag away, but there was a phone number on it. Dunno if it was important to you."

"A phone number??" Gyehyeon eyed the small bag on the counter. The same one he used for his donuts. He quietly picked it up and, sure enough, there was a number scribbled onto it. So, last night wasn't a dream after all...

"What, finally found out about that one strange customer of yours?" Hoyoung softly snorted. 

"Mhm," the other nodded. "They drove me home last night. Really nice..."

"Well?" Hoyoung rose a brow. "What're you waiting for? Give them a call, lover boy."

His face flushed at his comment. "It... It's not like that--"

"Okay... whatever you say!" He brushed past him to set up the table. Gyehyeon glanced down at the number again. For someone so shy, this was quite the bold move -

Next time, he'll think of something bolder. 

|| Part of the My House collection ||

[bates--boy]

@nezumivc103221

Nezumi halts with his lips slightly parted; both his eyebrows lift in a display of sincere surprise. Whatever he has wanted to say remains hung in his throat. Words unsaid like a cassette on pause, voice suspended mid-air. Slowly, he turns his face towards Peter and lets out a breath of the softest disbelief. His expression shifts into a somewhat neutral smile. "I'm fine; thank you for the offer, though," Nezumi says politely and amiably, unsure whether he should dub Peter's proposal to be a kind gesture or if he should be worried that he has come across as incompetent to his client. The life of a private investigator often requires the opposite to happen — Nezumi is the one who approaches strangers and represents his clients. It's his thing. He has handled nosy journalists, drunk patrons, entitled elite, ignorant police. He has had it all — or at least most, but he likes to think he can handle anything life throws at him. Nezumi doesn't remember the last time someone has offered to speak on his behalf — a guardian, a friend or a partner — he supposed that he doesn't exactly give the impression he ought to be cared for or that he cannot speak for himself, and he understands it. He has always been the independent one, the carer — and that is as it should be. That is who he wants to be. "I won't be long," Nezumi reassures; he turns to leave, but just before grabbing the doorhandle, he gives Peter a conniving look and attempts at a joke: "But if you hear me scream for help, feel free to rush to my rescue."

"Y'sure?" Peter asked, even as he was watching Nezumi leaving and, even more, was trying to hide the relief in his voice.

There was no nice way to put it: the case was a total bomb. And though Peter was sure that Nezumi was a fine investigator, thorough and top of the line (as far as Peter's knowledge of this type of work went), a man can only get his hopes up with false leads and dud information before he wants to call it quits, demand his money back, and let come what bloody, gorey, and torturous may. Peter still held that thought even when someone had rang him up and dangled just one more bit of hope in front of him: information.

Peter folded his arms on the desk and glanced past Nezumi to the door, the other side of which the informant was presumably still waiting. The guy looked every bit the devil-worshipping metalhead every blue-blooded Christian and his suburban housewife feared during the Satanic Panic, from how the guy was nothing but a block of muscle, to the runic tattoos all over his arms and one side of his face, to every face piercing imaginable. Peter knew he sounded very much like one of the pearl-clutching surburban Christians, but that guy was setting off a few alarms in Peter. Which was exactly why Peter knew that it was better if he, himself went back out there: Nezumi could extract the right information, sure, but if shit went south and the metalhead informant went on a slaughtering spree, Peter could resurrect.

Since Peter knew that carnage was possible, he really wished he hadn't picked his theatre to meet up. He knew he should stop imagining every which wrong way this meeting could turn, at least one of them had to take this seriously, because... was that a joke? Peter raised his eyebrows; dang, he didn't know Nezumi was capable of such a thing! He tried not to smile, himself, lifting a hand to rest his chin in his. "Ha ha, sure thing, buddy," he snarked. "Although, I think you look a little too gymratty to be a damsel in distress."

[doctorstrangereview]

0012: Strange Tales #122

Cover Date: July 1964 On-Sale Date: April 9, 1964

It's Doc's one-year anniversary since first appearing in Strange Tales #110! I've got only 60 more years of stories to review! He gets about a third of the front cover, but it's just the hands on hips pose that Mordo put him in at the wax museum. And the colors of his tunic and tights seem a bit off. As it's a year I suppose it's fitting that Doc's original foe, Nightmare, returns.

Doc returns to his Sanctum Sanctorum completely exhausted. He's fresh off battles with Mordo who kept him out of his body until it was seconds from dissolution and rescuing the Fantastic Four from Namor by moving a palace that weights thousands of tons under the pressure of thousands of feet of water an unknown number of miles. The energy required for this feet must have been astronomical. And since it's his anniversary, we think he may have partied just a bit too hard.

Doc enters his study, sits in yet another cool and funky chair, and pretty much passes out on top of a big old book. He wakes up to a mysterious, grey-robed figure standing in front of him. We know Doc isn't yet too keen on security yet, so his presence doesn't seem to be a huge surprise, but he's not really concerned at first. First he tries a spell, but that doesn't work. Then he tries his All-Purpose Amulet, but that doesn't work. Next, he tries to change to his ectoplasmic form, but that doesn't work. (It's depicted as his ghost form trying to separate from his body, but is being blocked rather than the ability being stripped from him.) Finally, with his bag of tricks exhausted, Doc physically attacks the silent figure, and guess what? That doesn't work. Doc goes right through the figure and we get a close up of his face. It's a mask that Jason Voorhees would have chosen if he wanted to look slightly less intimidating. Ditko giving it a slight smirk is brilliant!

"WTF?" thinks Doc. "Ah! I'm not really awake. My ancient foe wearing the green netting outfit with pointy shoulders got me!" The room melts away and the formerly silent figure finally speaks and traps Doc in a bubble attached to a rod the figure holds. He spins Doc around like a cowboy and his lasso.

"Blah, blah, blah. Your fate is sealed. Away you go!" And Doc in his bubble travels through multiple panels of Ditko fantastique. Doc reveals that he was so tired he forgot to cast his protective sleep spell before passing out. He really needs to ease up on those Wild Turkey shots. He stops in front of Nightmare on his weird, organic looking throne thing that was first seen in Strange Tales #116. Does Ditko have some weird fetish for exotic seating?

Nightmare proceeds to threaten Doc with a number of tortures. First his shrinks Doc so he fits in the palm of Nightmare's hand. Next, Doc is turned to stone. Then Nightmare threatens to banish Doc to the world of nothingness represented by a vault-like door floating in mid-air (or whatever makes up the atmosphere in the dream dimension). Lastly, he opens a pit underneath Doc and says he'd fall forever. But Nightmare isn't ready to inflict any of these punishments yet. He puts Strange in chains. They're sort of cool looking ones that you'd expect to see in locking up the big seven in Bruce Timm's Justice League cartoon.

Doc's had enough. It seems he's been cooking up something while Nightmare's been blabbing about all these cruel and unusual things he intends to subject Doc to with even the courtesy of a safe word. "Turn around, dude in the fishnet body-stocking with pointy shoulders!" Nightmare turns around and sees his ancient enemy, the Gulgol rising from what may be some sort of portal. Nightmare fears this beast because, like New York City, he never sleeps! I have to admit, the Gulgol is adorable!

The mad, baby eyes, the angry looking smile and green diaper are just so cute! Nightmare attempts all sorts of spells to stop the enfant terrible, but all fail. Doc tells him that he summoned the adorable orange guy and can send him back if Nightmare returns his powers. Doc is so clever! Nightmare immediately complies, Doc snaps his fingers and Gulgol vanishes. Now it's Nightmares turn to go "WTF?"

Doc says "Hey green dud, I hypnotized you! I didn't require magic." but uses a lot more words. He uses the now working All-Purpose Amulet to hold off Nightmare and escape while Nightmare shakes his fist while shouting a wordier version of "I'll get you yet!"

Returning to the walking world and brushing off the dust from the ancient scrolls and tomes he slept on top of, he looks out his big round window and says "I will protect the city from strange forces beyond the border of man's imagination" to no one in particular.

Lazy Ditko doesn't even draw the big window properly.

I always like a Nightmare story. Dreams and nightmares mean anything is possible and all the rules can be broken. This has a promising start but fizzles a bit as it proceeds. Ditko seems to get lazy as the story proceeds, mostly using negative space to portray Nightmare's domain. It's disappointing, especially leaving out the big round window's Vishanti symbol. We do get a sense of Doc's tactical intelligence. Stripped of his powers, he still figures a way to pull victory from the jaws of certain defeat. We see the ultimate expression of this in General Strange, but it will be quite a while before I get around to writing that up. Overall, the concept was good, but the execution was half-assed.

[thegreatimpersonator]

hi, it's crush anon! thank you for your response, i appreciate it :)

in response to the anon who suggested limiting contact, i've definitely tried! we see each other at most for two hours a day and i rarely directly talk to him even when we're in close proximity. i kinda go silent and talk with my other friends. the thing is it doesn't seem to work😭

normally when we talk our interactions are limited to hello's. he's actually tried to get me to open up more and be actual friends with him but that makes me really sad and slightly uncomfortable because i, unfortunately, wear my heart on my sleeve and i fear that he'll realize i like him (i already suspect he has an inkling which is insanely mortifying but that's a whole different thing), so i kinda brush him off and keep it brief.

the last time i spoke to him was a little more than a week ago. none of our other close friends were at practice that day so i was colossally bored and accidentally spoke to him in response to a story he told. he seemed really surprised that i was talking and then much to my displeasure KEPT TALKING TO ME. i tried to brush him off and was a little brusque with him once and even though i felt like a real bitch he kinda backed off which was what i wanted. but THEN a little later he was like. "why don't we be friends? i'd really love to be friends" SO NICELY AND KINDLY and HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SAY NO TO THAT????? because i, unfortunately, both don't *want* to say no because i do really like talking to him (wHICH IS THE PROBLEM) but also if i say no then it'll open up the whole thing of why i don't want to be friends at well that won't do either, you see? so i was like "..ok" and he kept happily talking to me for the rest of practice. anyway that left me absolutely DUMBFOUNDED because what do you mean he actually likes my presence???? what do you mean. this isn't good. it would be easier if he hated my guts.

ANYWAY. so sorry, i got a little side-tracked there. i just really needed to get that off my chest lmao. but the point of all that is that that interaction is probably the most we've talked since we used to be friends. we RARELY talk directly and somehow i have super intense feelings for him. i don't know, it sounds so silly!! how do i like someone that i don't even talk to????

and here's another thing!!! every year for the past four years he leaves from early february to mid may to do a school thing instead. so that ^^^ interaction happened on the last day i'll get to see/talk to him until may. i HOPE TO GOD that the feelings will go away, but seeing as they haven't the last two years in which he has also done this, i'm not holding out hope.

i'm definitely going to try to get over him! do whatever it takes. and if i don't now, well, he's leaving in august and i probably won't ever see him in a capacity where we share more than pleasantries again, so !!!! here's to hoping!!

and to the advice about hating him! i'm going to TRY and use that, but he's such a good person that i don't think i'll be able to trick my brain into believing it. AND ALSO. i was CURSED with the absolute inability to get the ick. the amount of times i sHOULD HAVE gotten the ick from this man?????? the amount of times he has jokingly talked in a baby voice in a way that would normally be positively REPULSING but apparently NOT TO ME is insane????? genuinely who cursed me.

anyway, thank you SO MUCH for listening and responding to me! you have no idea how much it means to me. i've kept all of this locked up for years now and it genuinely has been eating me alive. it feels so good to get it out there to somebody. so thank you!!!! ily <3

sorry i got very carried away with this ask. if anyone has ideas on how to get past this i will try ANYTHING, but i honestly think i've just gotta wait it out at this point.

and very last thing! apologies for all the grammatical and syntax errors. i'm so sorry if this didn't make sense, i typed all of this out in a harried frenzy istg

oof the forced proximity must be a nightmare, definitely doesn’t help the situation. definitely just try and be annoyed by everything, that’s honestly the only thing i can think of that might help. and no problem! i can only imagine how hard it must be because you can’t really talk to anyone about it. hopefully you trick your brain into being annoyed lol. ❤️❤️

[amothersmagik]

I was just over a month away from turning 9. 3rd grade. We were just starting circle time.

My teacher was mid sentence when the classroom phone rang. She put [names changed slightly for privacy] Joe and Caryn in charge of the classroom in a rushed breath as she ran from the room - the fastest I had ever seen her move since a kid got knocked out on the playground by a Dodgeball game gone wrong.

We were told to sit quietly and wait.

We were kids, so of course we immediately started talking. But we all knew. We all knew something was wrong. Mrs T and Mrs W were tough as nails and strict but fun. They didn't rush out without clear directions. They didn't RUSH. Period.

They certainly didn't just leave 50 kids under the age of 10 [two classes that shared teachers and a split set of rooms] unattended!

So we talked. But we were whispering. And no one got up. We looked at each other with childish grins but eyes full of confusion and nerves. First we made jokes and talked to our friends. But when 5mins passed and the teachers hadn't returned, the theories and rumors and gossip started. A student from another room poked their head in. Looking for our teacher to ask to go to the bathroom, since his had also left the room.

Wait - ALL the teachers had run out of their rooms? It was a small, locked-down catholic school with barely 400 kids (or less) on the premises.... but still.....

Just was we began to contemplate this new info, the teachers all came back. With tears and pale faces and fear and grief and so many emotions on their faces; only a few of these emotions were ones kids like us could identify, much less sympathize/empathize with.

But we would. Very soon, we would.

She sat at her desk. With her hands over her mouth for a moment. She consulted with Ms W next door briefly once more. She rubbed a hand over her suddenly very tired, extra pale, and suddenly intensely aged face. She turned back to us all (now once more silent and in our seats; the kid from the other class having scurried back to his room the moment the teachers began reappearing) and slowly walked over and sat down. She took a deep breath.

And she began teaching again.

Eventually, someone got wind of an overheard (read:eavesdropped) piece of the adults' connversations. Thus, the whispers started anew (during recess, where we could hide what we knew from the teachers).

Someone died. Oh, lots of people. A plane crashed. On purpose. No, it was an explosion! No, someone shot someone. No! Billy said for SURE that someone drove into the capital!

That one stopped us for a moment. A split second of pure silence on the playground. Of an elementary school.

The teachers looked up. We all quickly made connversation about polly pockets, pokemon, and whatever it was the boys were talking about.

Then the whispers started again. The teachers too weary and scared to stop the rumor mill. A plane crashed into an important building and lots of people died.

By the time I got picked up, that was the "rumor" that had stuck with me. We would all regret our gossip and feel guilty, shamefaced, over how we reacted and how on-the-nail we were the next day.

At home, the adults were sad. Angry. Scared. Outraged. Appalled. Scared. Disbelieving. Confused. Scared. Skeptical. Nervous. Scared.

I couldn't identify then, what it was I was seeing on my families' faces. I can now, in retrospect. I am probably remembering some of it perfectly, and some may just be retrospecrive extrapolation from an adults view of knowing exactly how that day would affect the next decade or two.

That night, the news was on everywhere. Radio, TV, my dad even grabbed a new newspaper in the evening from the gas station. Voices and pictures. Live updates and re-casts. A cacophony of mournful sounds and feelings.

Grief. Outrage. Fear.

Those feelings would remain for weeks. Months. Years. A lifetime.

Thr candlelight vigil and moment of silence that evening, standing on the porch with one of the adults, looking out, at the sky. Our neighbors, the land around us. For a moment I felt like a patriot, though I barely understood the word. For a moment, in my young soul, I felt the fury, unbearable grief, determination, and pride of a thousand souls. A hundred thousand. A million.

Never Forget.

I have NEVER forgotten that day. The details may have grown fuzy, the exact faces and names blurred. But the feelings? Those remain and will forever. And they have GROWN.

I will NEVER forget what they did to us. That day and the years to come. What that day sparked in what was my then-future. Now-past. War. Fear. Anger. Strength. Patriotism. Lies. Truth. Pride. Honor. Togetherness. Division. Determination. Survival. Above all, survival.

My feelings about what EXACTLY happened that day. The things I know and feel that are strictly my own thoughts, opinions, feelings, knowledge.... are too complicated to discuss here. [Readers may feel free to ask me in private, but only if you are willing to have an open mind, learn, or at least be willing to agree to disagree. My thoughts and opinions on this subject specifically are not something that can be changed by any of you, I promise. Divine judgement will and has been passed.]

However, my long reaching experiences from a metaphysical standpoint, I will share. Not only for me, not only to bring understanding to those who will read this next part with open mind and heart, but also for those I speak of and for. To grieve them, to honor them, to share their stories. To remember them in my own way.

**⚠️If you do not believe in reincarnation, inheriting emotions and memories from others [versions of you or simply others for which you have a connection], and a universal connection for souls, etc, this next part may be of little interest to you. It may make you roll your eyes, or laugh, or scoff. Or it may make you think. It may intrigue you. Either way, whatever your reaction. I will delete any disrespectful, hateful or bully-type comments regarding this post in general but especially this part. These are the experiences I was given. Take it or leave it. Read on or scroll on. Whatever you feel is for you. This is also a trigger warning: the rest of this post is a graphic depiction of three peoples deaths in the towers that day. Here is your chance to exit the reading of this post*

For many years, virtually since the one year anniversary until this date last year, I have been assigned to grieve these people. I have a soulful connection to this event. I feel them. I have relived their memories in my dreams every year for the three days surrounding these moments.

Last year, I did my own version, essentially, of a grief and death ritual and was able to release these connections. The feelings can still be recalled, the memories still crisp in my mine if I think about them, but the sting is lessened, the edges blurred, and compulsory side of it gone. So I am finally able to share these. For their sakes and mine.

She was on the 51st floor when they called for the evacuation. She had felt the shaking, the impact. She had heard rumors that a plane had hit the tower. She didn't know what to believe.

She was on the tenth floor when the smoke started filling the staircase. She was on the 6th when the heat became noticeable. Every floor they reached, more people were added to the scared, confused throng. Every floor, she felt the nervous tension increase a notch. Every minute the smells changed and increased. Sweat, smoke, fear. Every step the sounds became more and more overwhelming. Hurried and panicked voices, alarms blarring, Feet stomping. Bangs and cracks and crashes. Screaming from elsewhere. And this strange roaring or whirring that was getting louder and louder.

She was in a large group now. As she ran her hand along the wall, rounding a corner to descend more steps, she touched the faded black number four. The grit on her fingers transfixed her for a mere second. A combination of smoke, water from the automated sprinklers, and paint peeling from age and the current heat. The wall once pristine white was yellowed.

She felt so confused, so scared. It was so hot. So hard to breathe.

She had just reached the railing to descend to level three when the shaking started.

A rushing wind; hot, stifling. Screaming from above. It got darker and darker as seconds ticked by, almost in slow motion in her mind. She looked up and let out a small breathy scream of horror as she realized: the floors above her were collapsing. As the staircase around her crumbles and collapses, and she feels the debris begin to rain upon her, she closes her eyes and the world goes black.

She was almost out. She was almost there. Instead she remains a lost and missing person. Among the many whose body was never fully recovered. This is the only lost soul whose memory I retained in such detail, semi forced to relive it every year. The two others I was given were much less detailed, much less....full of grity details. But still just as tragic. Still just was heart and soul wrenching.

On the 101st floor the smoke was everywhere. The heat all encompassing. The fire was creeping closer. As she hid beneath the desk, she tried the phones again. Tried again to call for help. All around her her friends and coworkers were trying cell phones and desk phones, yelling to each other across the room and across to other offices, trying to get and share whatever information they had.

Were they supposed to wait here? Try to escape? Time passed and soon their decision was made for them when the fire began filling the hallway outside their set of offices. Shelter in place and wait for rescue. The firemen were there, on their way to get them out.

She looked around and let out a breath of despair and yet somehow acceptance. She looked at the terrified faces of her co-workers, and she knew in that moment. No one was going to reach them in time.

She gave her desk neighbor an attempt at a reassuring smile, took a deep breath, and looked out the window at the sky. The ground rumbled, she said a prayer, and felt the beginning of tears as the floor gave way beneath her.

Whether her family recieved closure or not is unknown to me. I sincerely hope they did.

As he looked out the window he was crouching near, the glass long ago blown out, he trembled. The wind rushing through the room was hot. He wiped sweat off his brow and gazed around the room. He quickly shut his eyes, trying to catch his breath that seemed to be permanently out of reach.

His guilt and regret over what he had done to get where he was and the followup realization that none of it mattered anymore is/was palpable to anyone who witnessed his final moments.

He opened his eyes again, glancing across the room once more and just as quickly shut his eyes once more. The image of his secretary sprawled across the floor, eyes wide, one shoe missing, no longer breathing..... burned into his mind for the short remainder of his time on this planet.

The debris had struck her on the head as parts of the ceiling collapsed. The giant crater in the center of the room preventing the few that survived the initial impact from escaping. Now they few were scattered around the remainder of the room, all in similar positions to him. Looking around, scared, just trying to survive.

The smoke began to thicken. Breathing became impossible. His head began to pound. He got dizzy, his face tingly. Oxygen deprivation. He couldn't breath. Edges of his vision grew darker and darker. He laid down and closed his eyes, this time never to reopen.

May they all rest in peace. May there always be justice and judgment against all who were and are responsible. May we never forget what they did.

[mythicalmisery]

Chapter 5 : 🥘

cw: none, filler chapter

Rowan’s gaze slowly lifted to the man who sat down in front of him. He was tall and built, roughly the same age as himself give or take. Despite his stature, he was graceful in the way he moved. His clothes were unremarkable, although ensured some kind of money. Rowan initially thought him to be a humble merchant, but as he observed more closely, he noticed the man's keen vigilance, eyes scanning the drunk patrons for potential threats. This sharp attention suggested either the watchfulness of a seasoned soldier or perhaps, a touch of unwarranted paranoia. He was really counting on the latter. He narrowed his eyes a fraction out of annoyance from being interrupted during his much-needed dinner break. Although, he couldn’t deny he was a little curious about the stranger who had no hesitation pulling up a chair. 

Before he could tell the man to fuck off, he interjected as if he anticipated Rowan’s rather warm greeting.

“I have a proposition for you, from the King,” the man stated rather quickly, fearing he’d lose his nerve perhaps. 

Rowan's hand that was holding his wooden spoon froze mid-air at the man's words and slowly lowered back into the hot stew. He stared at the stranger, trying to read his expressions or pick up any deception. The prolonged silent staring made the other man uncomfortable causing him to fidget in his wooden seat, making it creak under his weight. He wasn’t nervous, a man his size rarely was….more anxious he thought.

"You are a huntsman, are you not?" the man attempted to break the silence, his voice wavering slightly.

“And who are you to speak for the King?” Rowan finally responded, deciding to get straight to the point and ignoring the stranger's question. He merely wanted to finish his damn stew in peace.

“My name is Isaac. I am a trusted advisor to the King and legionnaire of the first order,” he said in a hushed tone, clearly trying to keep their conversation discreet and not reveal himself to the patrons around them. 

“Well Isaac, what makes you think I would want to help your King?” Rowan said testing the waters. He wouldn’t dare let it show but he would be a fool not to feel nervous talking to the King’s legionnaire. He also wouldn’t admit how impressed he was that Isaac held the said position at his age. 

Isaac’s eye twitched, resisting the offense on behalf of his King - Isaac may believe the King a cruel bastard, but it was his King all the same - eliciting a small smirk from Rowan as the right side of his mouth turn up slightly.

“No one is foolish enough to turn down an opportunity to win the favor of the King. He would pay you handsomely, and you could be onto the next town doing whatever it is you do when you finish,” Isaac said pointedly. 

Rowan took in his words. Tempting. He truly was in no condition to turn down a job. Winter was soon approaching and if he didn't travel south in time, it would be a difficult one with what meager funds remained from his last job. He wasn’t one to roll over so easily though. “And what exactly would I be doing?” he inquired. 

“We need a person found, a…servant,” Isaac replied hesitantly, his unease palpable, though Rowan decided not to comment on it just yet.

“Why not send soldiers to bring them back? Why not just get a new servant?”

A loud bang and boisterous laughter from behind made them turn, both men on alert. A drunk man had fallen over from his seat and passed out as his friends howled at his misfortune from above.

Isaac slowly turned his head back to Rowan, suddenly remembering where and just how exposed they were. Vulnerable to prying ears. He leaned in resting his elbows on the wooden table, face enveloped in the candle flame merely six inches in front of him.

“Let's just say the King wants this kept under wraps… Are you interested or not?” Isaac stared intensely, his desperation veiled but slightly cracking  under the flame's flickering light. Rowan figured he was the poor man's last resort, he knew firsthand how hard it was to appease a King.

Rowan leaned back, considering the proposal and weighing the risks. He could feel the heat of the fireplace creeping through the stone behind his shoulder blades. The vagueness on Isaac's part was setting off alarm bells in his mind. Whenever a King sought discretion, it often involved dangerous and unpleasant tasks, leading to casualties. Yet, he needed the money, and a favor from a King was always handy to have. There was also nothing stopping the King from killing him after he completed his mission but he’d cross that bridge when he got there. 

“How much?” he asked, showing no interest in his voice.

“You get paid half up front to expense the trip, and the rest upon fulfillment. 500 Krones.”

On the outside, he simply nodded. On the inside, he almost shit himself. His services didn’t come cheap, he was good at his job and skilled but he was never paid that much for a single job. This supposed servant must either be a culinary god or more than what he appeared. 

“Alright, Isaac. I’m incentivized to take the job, on one condition. Who am I actually looking for? No King is shelling out that kind of money for a lowly servant,” Rowan demanded.

“You’ll receive more details when you agree to take the job,” Isaac replied flatly, lifting his elbow from the table and extending his clammy hand. After a moment of thought and ignoring all his common sense and instincts, Rowan conceded and took the other man's hand within his own, silently cursing himself. 

Isaac leaned back in his creaky chair and looked at the huntsman, his contemplative expression lingering for a moment before he finally spoke in a hushed tone.

“The only thing you need to know…… the servant isn’t exactly a servant.”

“He’s the King’s striker.”

Rowan took in his words as an unfamiliar sense of dread began to snake its way up his spine.

[askthechronoverse]

Chapter Ten: You Don't Even Know Me

Last Chapter •||• Next Chapter

The nighttime had come and Rex's cabin was silent. Rex slept on the couch, sleep fitful and shallow. But that was normal for the man. He blinked in the darkness, having woken up for the hundredth time by the slightest noise. He slowly sat up and yawned, vaguely making out movement in the pitch blackness. Before he could get up, something grabbed him that he couldn't see.

"Don't scream. Don't say a word. We need to have a talk, you and I. You are coming with me." The human recognized the voice very quickly, but there was something fundamentally wrong with it: something broken and filled with raw fear and anxiety, like a horrible hurricane that was brewing for years had finally reached land. Rex knew it all too well because of the benefit of hindsight.

"You don't have to do this. You've been-"

"I said not to say a word. You aren't going to talk your way out of this." The voice hissed as Rex could feel the speaker try to drag him away. There was a pressure against his throat as they moved. "Get up. Now. I'm not playing around." The voice was so cold, like this was something his kidnapper was almost trained to do. Rex complied, swallowing against the pressure on his throat. His kidnapper didn't make himself known, moving to stay behind him as Rex turned to head for the door.

"Please. We can talk here. We're alone. My friend had to leave to-"

"No more talking, not until I speak to you again. You're trying my patience." The voice was so desperate, so scared, but the fact the entity worked with experience scared him to his core. Rex just nodded and let the pressure on his throat and the occasional barked order guide him away from his house.

The morning saw the man trapped behind some rubble from a ruined dojo, asleep. But not for long. A sting woke him up. A sting from an invisible hand. He snapped awake and saw… No one.

“Look… Whatever you need, I can help you. We’re friends. I promi-” Another unseen punch came to Rex’s unshaven face, this one much harder. He touched his jaw, knowing from how much it hurt that the punch was going to leave a mark.

“I told you not to talk. I can’t think when you talk.” The familiar voice sounded so stressed. Rex wanted to reach out and hug them, despite what they had done. After a long, respectful silence, the voice spoke again, this time only slightly calmer. “You’ve been nothing but trouble since you got here. You emboldened Master Doom by simply being here and now… this mess. Granted, you cleaned up your first one, but I’ll need to clean this one myself. I’ll start with making sure you don’t tell the princess what you saw in Doctor Fox’s lab.”

“I barely know what I saw! What the hell even is Project Lotus?” Rex’s voice was raised now, not trying to keep composure. “Tell me what’s wrong and I can help you!”

“You can’t help us.” If a voice could roll its eyes, this one would have. “What could you ever do to help?”

“How about you try me? You may be shocked at what I can and can’t do for a friend who’s hurting.” Rex folded his arms.

“You still think I’m a friend? You don't know me, RJ. From when I was 16 to when I was in my mid 20's, I was with a crew of conmen and thieves in the Frowntown criminal underground. I am capable of being so much more ruthless than you would have ever hoped you could have been. What could possibly make you believe I'm hurting?”

“Bro, what I hear in your voice was what I heard for a long time in mine before a brick, a cat, a dog, a fox, a hawk crocodile, a construction worker, and a warrior woman taught me to lighten up.” He counted each of these off on his hand. “You’re in pain. A deep pain that feels like you’re drowning miles from shore. Let me throw you a life preserver.”

"Despite all of this… despite the way I've been treating you since this mess began… you want to help?"

"I tried to end existence because I was in pain. Kidnapping and the odd punch is small compared to that." Rex got closer to the shadows and put a hand on the now recoiling being's cheek. "I can make sure things don't go farther than what you've done now. You aren't your fear, your pain, or your anger." His voice was soft now, calm and comforting. He could feel the being lean into his hand.

"But you and I…"

"I have a feeling we're more similar than you think. I can wait until you're ready, but we need to be there for Princess Unikitty as well. She's probably so scared and I don't blame her. Having apocalyptic visions could scare anyone."

“Shut up, shut up, shut up… You couldn’t possibly know the kind of torment we’ve been through.” The voice was breaking down to almost nothing now.

“I know the feeling I described because I still have it. I may be all devil may care and lackadaisical, but I’m still hurting from years of being trapped, scared and alone with no chance of rescue. If what you feel now is even half of what I feel every morning… well, I want to see you rise above the pain. Especially a friend who has been so supportive to me.” Rex looked down for a second.

"Why can't I believe you?" The being snapped back.

"I don't know. Why can't you? Tell me why you can't believe me." Rex was calm, speaking like he was in a casual conversation. "You know my backstory. You have to know. I'm not exactly shy about it anymore."

"Because… this isn't the same kind of pain. I had…no. I owe you no explanation." The last part of the sentence was rushed.

"No, it probably isn't. But you sound like you're so alone and in the dark right now, you can't see the hand extended in front of you, trying to reach out." By this point, the bravado in his voice was gone. "It's gonna be hard. But I'm the one person right now who may have a ghost of a chance of understanding you. Let me in."

"I suppose you aren't incorrect. You are so insistent on being involved in this." The voice cracked, sounding raw.

"You pulled me into this. Literally. My bro wanted me to meet him on Syspocalypstar. I would have been out of the equation in the morning. But now that I'm here, let me be useful to you. We're not so different, you and I." His voice remained soft. "You're scared and angry. That's all the reason you needed. But you still have yet to tell me why." Rex pulled his hand away, trying to lure the wavering kidnapper out from hiding. He frowned when this didn't work.

"If I tell you, can you promise to not tell the princess?"

"I can't. If this is something that is gonna cause her pain down the road because she didn't know-"

"It would cause her pain to know the truth in the present. I can't do this much longer, but I know I must. It's part of my job, one I had forced on me. It's one I take very seriously." The voice was stern now, so much so he sounded almost like a different person.

"I'm offering to share that burden. Whatever is going to happen, you know I'm more than capable of protecting this kingdom." Rex's voice was just as stern. "Let me in. You know how stubborn I can get."

"I… you confuse me so much, RJ. I would have thought you would have been so angry with me. I was almost counting on that famous rage of yours." The voice's disappointed tone could be felt.

"Lost a lot of it because of friends like you. You can't be that angry when you know your friends love you, I guess." The being started to break down now.

"Of course you would be understanding. Why wouldn't you be?" The being's voice was a cross between a growl and a groan. "You're making this so much harder, and it was already hard enough with how I feel about you…"

"Making what harder?" Rex leaned in, curious. Maybe he was going to get an inkling of a plan. "What feelings?"

"I have a job to do. You need to do yours." The voice was completely unraveled now. "Repeat your actions from before the Unification of the Planets." He ignored the question asking him to elaborate on how he felt.

"You… want me to start… Armommageddeon?" Rex backed away. "I couldn't if I wanted to! I was able to do it because of very specific tim-"

"That doesn't matter. She thinks this world is going to end and, if my understanding is correct, she thinks you are the reason why. I need to fulfill a fabricated prophecy."

"I can't help you do that! We fought for months to get this kingdom back and you want to destroy it? You ain't thinkin' straight!"

"I only think straight. This is the only way to keep her from knowing the truth…" The voice cracked like ice on a raging river.

Rex took a slow, deliberate breath. "Why destroy this place? Wouldn't that make things worse?"

"No. She'll just continue to think she saw the future and was able to stop a villian from destroying her new home." The voice was tired but sure, speaking with a calculated coldness.

"What happens if she sees these 'visions' again? Do you want to destroy your own kingdom everytime?"

"I have a job to do. If I have to destroy the kingdom every day until I am forgotten in the Bin of Storaj to achieve that goal, I will do what I must." Despite the sureness behind the words, the voice shook, like the speaker wanted nothing more than to melt away.

"This villain routine isn't you. You're kind, thoughtful, loyal. You're… one of my closest friends. In two different timelines, I looked forward to spending time with you. Please. Don't do this."

"What do you propose I do, RJ? If you know me so damn well, what should I do‽" The voice was in near panic now, accented by the sound of teardrops hitting the fractured concrete.

"I keep tellin' ya: be honest with me! Tell me what she's going through! Help me help her!" Rex's voice was desperate, his hand reaching out to the being.

"...You know nothing. All you need to know is that I can't drag her into this." The speaker sounded like they just wanted to run from this whole thing.

"Then don't waste your time with me and go find her. I'm fine. She's not. Abandon the whole "gonna destroy everything" plan and do your actual job." Rex shook his head. If he knew better, he could have suspected this voice was simply stalling at this point.

"I… I don't know what I want…I do have a job to do… but is it selfish of me to want things to continue, to want everything to just fall apart?"

"Look, I have no idea. I don't know what the issue is. What is Project Lotus?"

"It's a failsafe, several contingency plans stacked into each other like nesting dolls. We made an agreement in the first days of this kingdom to keep her from knowing the truth." The voice spoke with more confidence now. "Project Lotus is that agreement. …I can't believe I'm doing this… It may be better to show you than tell you. Follow me." The being started to head down the mountain, pulling the Master Breaker after him. 

[midlife-crisisperson]

What if Hiccup died?

This is my first post- i know it may not be the best , but enjoy

Word count: 1109

He watched as the limp body of his best friend plumped fast towards the sea. He had to rescue him, but he knew he couldn’t. Hearing Grimmel’s shouts as he took off the light fury’s metal head piece, shaking her head lightly, her pupils slowly took almond shape as she became aware of her situation narrowing once more; her eyes settled on her mate’s body. He had made a decision, as he saw the panic in her eyes, he trusted her even if she didn’t, looking her,

“Save him”

He had let go of her neck, she looked at him in shock, her head turned back to her mate, flying at him as fast as she could, reaching him in time. And crashing on the cliff, pieces of the Earth disturbed due to the impact, his eyes soften,a small smile was plastered on his face, at the slight of his best friend safety. The screams of Grimmel brought him back to reality, both of them fighting in mid air, Grimmel clawed at his suit, ripping off parts of his chest plate along with his wings, letting it falling into the sea below, Hiccup in turned push him off, making him lose his grasp of the dragon suit. Only being able to grab onto Hiccup’s prosthetic leg, trying to make his way back up to Hiccup.

Hiccup could see the water coming closer and closer, he knew what that meant, and this time no one would save him, and he accepted it. Looking one last time up at the cliff, he saw Astrid getting off Stormfly, tears collected up at the corners of his eyes. The woman he loved with all of his heart was up there, and yet he was down here. Memories flooded in his head, the first time they had met, the pity that was evident in her eyes that had slowly turned into love for him. To the time when he had given her his betrothal necklace back to her, and the declaration of love that he had for her along the kiss that in suited afterwards. To the playful time Astrid had poke, at the spring that would release his fin, after the defeat of Drago Bludvist. He remembered it all, all the memories that they had made together, his tears flowed his face only to be picked up the wind and be whisked away. Closing his eyes, with a sad smile plastered on his face. He accepted his fate,

Feeling the familiar gush of water wrapping around him, as his lungs had began to hurt for air, yet he felt so tired, too tried to do anything else but open his eyes slightly, only to see the world around in a blur, and hearing the faintest call,

“HICCUP!”

The voice sounded so familiar and yet so foreign to him,before being surrounded by comforting black.

𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻𖢻

Stormfly had landing them next to Cloudjumper, getting off and giving her dragon a small pat, she turned her head to the slight infront of her, toothles was laying down with one of Grimmel’s needles laying a few feet away. His mate, the light fury, standing guard over him, still wary of the humans, taking a look around expecting to see the messy auburn hair boy, make his way to the nightfury, except she didn’t. Panic had ensue her, a million thoughts ran through her head as she ran over to see if maybe toothless was covering him up with his wings, keeping him safe from whatever they had fought.

“TOOTHLESS! TOOTHLESS!” She shouted,

The dragon stirred lightly at the call of his name, and yet his wings didn’t hide Hiccup, panic arose in her once more,

“Toothless, Toothless , Where’s Hiccup?” She asked, panic evident in her voice.

That question alerted Toothless, fully aware of where he was, he slowly looked around and yet he couldn’t spot his best friend.Rising to his feet, he looked at Astrid whose eyes widened in fear, ‘I don’t know’.

He looked at his mate for answers, letting out a soft warble, ‘ Where’s Hiccup? ‘

Her eyes widened with guilt, looking down unable to look at him in the eye, before walking over to the cliff side, both of them followed her. Seeing a falling Hiccup, rapidly making his way down into the sea, Toothless didn’t hesitate for a sec, simply jumping off the cliff side, Astrid had done the same, calling out for Stormfly with a whistle, while falling.

Astrid had grabbed onto Toothless, trying to catch him time, her eyes blurred with tears, as she saw him crash into the water, in an last attempt, she pushed off Toothless, reaching her hand out,

“HICCUP!”

She had to get him out, she had to, she couldn’t lose him,Stormfly had grabbed her feet, stoping her mere feet above the water. Feeling familiar sting in her eyes, she closed them, closing her hand tightly, hearing the water splash for a second time, gave her hope,

“Please, find him Toothless” she pleaded softly,

Mounting onto her dragon once more, she could see, a large black spot emerging from the sea, Toothless had emerged pull out a limp Hiccup.

They landed on the beach nearby, quickly dismounting her dragon, and the reality of it all finally hit her, the man she loved with all her heart was laying limp just mere feet away, and her body wouldn’t, didn’t want move, no matter how hard she tried to tell her legs to move they wouldn’t, Toothless was trying to wake him up with his snout, just the like the first time Hiccup had fallen unconscious after the fight with the Red death. Licking him with slobber, knowing how it annoyed Hiccup, but he would always allow it, and yet he didn’t stirred.

Her legs seemed to have finally listen her, making her way to Hiccup’s body, kneeling down, pulling his limp body onto her lap, and using one of her hand to cup his face, she felt her throat close up, as a single tear rolled down her face,

“Oh Hiccup, please” she pleaded,droplets of tears landing on Hiccup’s face, her soft weeps unable to the wake the man.

Cupping the back of his head with her hands and bringing their foreheads together,

“Please, open you’re eyes Hiccup”

Closing her eyes, hoping, praying to the gods that by some miracle he’d opened his eyes, and she’d be able to see his dark forest green eyes once more; but he didn’t.