#i have to post cringe or else ill die

[spectrerie]

Ok I have no idea if your requests are on or not because I literally never request but I love your writing so here I am! Anyways I can’t stop thinking about ghost x hacker reader who works with 141 and they have to go with the guys on a mission to like hack through security systems or something (idk) but ghost absolutely refuses to let them go like he is so against it. And maybe while they’re on the mission the reader gets hurt or something idrk I haven’t thought that far ahead but I thought you would do so good with this idea!!! Thank you!!

Hello!!!!!!! This request is so good! I got a bit carried away and wrote 3.5k words on it lmaoo, but I'm happy with it now, so I'll post it as an answer to this ask

If you die, I swear I'll kill you.

Simon Ghost Riley x gn!reader

Please enjoy this anon, and anyone else who reads it.

TW: injury, slight workplace bullying, enemies(?) to friends

“With all due respect, sir, no. I don’t need to babysit some egg-head while I’m in the field.” Ghost sat with his arms crossed, knees apart, filling his chair and the room with his presence. 

You glanced at Price, you’d both expected this reaction, but it still hurt to hear him say it so easily.  For nearly two years you’d put your best foot forward. Did everything to get him to like you until it became clear that he never would. You were ready to settle for respect, for a crumb of acknowledgement. Though soon that too was clearly out of your reach. Now you were just happy to keep out of his way. You weren’t part of the 141, no matter how much information you’d stolen for them, no matter how much data you mined for them, no matter how many sleepless nights you’d given them. You weren’t a soldier. Ghost made sure to remind you of that at every chance he got. 

At every debrief he treated you like you were just a piece of the furniture. He ignored you with ease, asking questions to everyone but you. Making plans and strategising with everyone’s strengths in mind but yours. Any information he needed about what you could do he’d obtained through Captain Price. Often with you in the same room, going over your head like you were some machinery he’d be crazy to speak to. 

You typed and looked through files. You were a glorified intern as far as he was concerned. 

“Well Lieutenant, it’s not up to you, is it? Owl is going with you, and that’s final.” 

A part of you cringed at the nickname despite the joy it normally filled you with. You’d felt honoured when Soap had coined it. The night owl of the 141, playing with mice and bringing veritable feasts of information back to the nest. But hearing it used in front of Ghost felt wrong. You could feel his eyes roll without even looking at him. 

You didn’t need a call sign. 

You didn’t need to be closer to the 141.  

You didn’t even need a name, because they didn’t need you. 

“Yes, sir.” He said as he stood to attention, mumbling his acknowledgement to the Captain            as he prepared for his dismissal. 

“Final brief at 0400. Wheels up at 0500, understood?” Price barked out at the two of you. You both gave your acknowledgement and he nodded, satisfied for now. 

“Alright, dismissed.” 

Ghost made a quick exit, as though being in your presence was more than enough to make him ill. You sighed and began to move, but a hand at your shoulder stopped you. 

“Owl, don’t let him get to you. You’re a part of this team, and you’re needed on this mission. I wouldn’t send you out if I didn’t believe you needed to be there.” 

You nodded, dropping you head to pull back the tears that threatened to fall. 

“Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.” 

“I know you won’t. Your intel has always been good. We don’t have the time to wait for the boys to bring the drives back, if they even knew what to look for, time isn’t on our side.” 

You knew that better than anyone. If only Lieutenant Riley would admit that you weren’t an incompetent civilian, maybe things would go along quicker. 

 — — — 

“Alright boys, this one should be simple, yeah? We go in, subdue any hostiles, grab the tech and get the fuck out. I don’t want any mistakes, I don’t want any problems,” Ghost’s eyes stopped at you as he said the last word, “I don’t want any bad news, understood?” He said as his voice boomed over the sound of the plane's engine. 

“Yes sir!” The group called out as one. This would be easy, as he said. You didn’t have to do too much, just follow the group and live long enough to break through the encrypted drives. From their you could relay the information back to Price and Laswell. Simple. 

Your eyes drew closed as you took in a breath, trying to centre yourself. Get in, get the drives, get out. Job done. You repeated your mantra until you fell into a fitful sleep.

You woke with a start as your name was barked out. 

Lieutenant Riley stood over you, arms crossed. An obvious scowl beneath his mask. 

“Gotten enough beauty sleep, sunshine?” 

The plane was empty, your teammates stood out on the makeshift runway, watching your change out of earshot. The late evening sun hung low on the horizon, casting long shadows into the plane.

“I’m sorry sir, I just wanted to be rested for the mission.” 

“Well, aren’t you considerate, thank you so much, Pigeon.” His voice dripped with a saccharine sarcasm that cut you to your core. You hate that he’d made a mockery of the callsign you were so fond of. You were sure other people had slept on the flight over. Why was he singling you out so cruelly? 

“Are you still on your bloody arse?” He barked out, loud enough too draw the attention of your teammates. “Sorry, sir!” you replied as you jumped up. Your body was yanked back with a start, bucking against the fastening that had kept you in your seat. Your head knocked back against the body of the plane, tilting your helmet over your eyes. 

“Oh fucking hell, Pigeon. If you get yourself killed on this bloody mission, I’ll murder you.” His hand made quick work of your seatbelt, snatching it off you in one sharp motion, sending you lurching forward.

If only you’d had the confidence to tell him off. 

If only you had the kind of easy relationship with him that he had with everyone else, one that transcended rank enough to quip back at him. 

If only he didn’t hate you. 

If only he could see you. Not just look at you scornfully, but see you. See your efforts, see your strength. 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” You said with your eyes focused on the floor. Your gaze could have cut two pinholes in the undercarriage of the plane. You grabbed your gear and rushed down the gangway, thankful Ghost hadn’t pointed out all the things he found wrong with your apology. With your posture, with your face, with your breathing, with your existence. 

“Alright. It’s 30 klicks to their base, but we’ll have to trek the last 5k. Johnny, you get us in, Gaz and I will clear a path while you watch our six. You,” Lieutenant Riley said with derision, “don’t die and find the drives after we’ve swept the place, understood?” You nodded sharply. 

“Alright lads, this one’s easy. Any hostiles will be eliminated on sight, in and out, home in time for Eastenders.” Soap and Gaz laughed easily at Simon’s joke. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to show any crumb of happiness in front of him. Maybe he’d yank your tongue out if you so much  as chuckled and bring it home for his dog. 

As you made your way to the jeep Soap fell into step with you. 

“Ye alright?” He asked, a gentle smile playing on his face. How could you be alright? He was always so kind to you, and Kyle always treated you with respect. Even the KorTac boys said ‘hello’, or ‘thanks for the intel’ once in a while whenever you ran into them. Ghost seemed pissed that he had to breathe the same air as you. 

A short sigh escaped before you could regain your composure, “yeah, I’m okay. It’s just… I don’t want to mess up. It’s my first time really out in the field and—” and Lieutenant Riley, your best friend and our commanding officer hates my guts and doesn’t care to hide it. “And I just want to do well.” Soap nodded, though he couldn’t really understand. He’d been a soldier since he was 18. He’d proven himself time and time again even before he ever saw active duty. His abilities were undeniable. 

You, as Ghost loved to remind you and everyone around you, were a desk jockey egg-head recruited after you’d been caught ransoming credit card companies and running stings on pedophiles with your ‘internet pals’. Caught or betrayed, the thought still plagued you, though the end result had been a job offer from the British Army in lieu of prison time. Soap and Gaz thought you were a genius, some sort of cyber Robin Hood fighting the good fight from smokey internet cafes or 6 monitor supercomputers. Captain Price saw you as a clever kid with good intentions but questionable methods. 

Ghost… well Ghost made no secret of the fact he thought you were an egg-head. An energy  drink guzzling college drop-out with a lot of free time and no common sense. A basement dweller with more waifu body pillows than real life friends. A useless kid with no place in battle, regardless of the fact that your intel was what told him where to go more times than not. 

“He doesn’t hate you, he’s just… well he’s just Ghost. He’s never worked with you, I’m sure things will change after this.” You nodded, thankful for the reassurance though you didn’t really buy much of it. As you opened the jeep door and slid into one of the back seats you noticed Ghost’s eyes were trained on you through the rearview mirror. Watching for something to pick on you for, of course. 

You held his gaze as you closed the door and dropped your gear bag between your feet. ‘That’s right Lt, I can sit down without strangling myself on the seatbelt’ you longed to say to him. You settled for holding his gaze and raising your eyebrows at him. As the jeep rumbled to life you could have sworn you heard a laugh. 

— — — 

Ghost glanced at the pistol holstered on you thigh, as well as the knife sheathed at your hip. The urge to ramble about your right to protect yourself and defend your teammates bubbled up in your chest, the citric need to bite back at him almost won. Thankfully he spoke before you did. 

“You do know how to use that, right?” He whispered to you, crouched to your right, Gaz to your left. You’d gone through basic gun training and safety as well as first aid at Captain Price’s insistence once you’d begun working more and more with the 141. A fact you were sure Ghost knew. He’d never let you carry a weapon without a direct order from Price. A direct order not to snatch it on sight and send you to sit in a corner and think about how stupid you were. 

“Of course, sir,” you quipped back. Your sarcasm was cut with anxiety. This was real. You didn’t have to kill anyone, you just had to keep up and not die. But this was so real. A gun range was nothing in comparison. The slide of the gravel beneath your boots, the heat of your comrades beside you, the dull green of the night vision. This was real. 

“Ghost, do you copy? 30 seconds to detonation.” Soap’s voice was tinny through the comm on Ghost’s shoulder. 

30 seconds? 

Seconds?!

Your heart pumped a punishing beat as the reality of it all sunk deeper and deeper. 

A hand on your knee brought you back to the moment. “Look at me,” the last voice you’d ever expect to comfort you was all that filled your ears. The surprise washed away the fear for a moment as you looked into Ghost’s eyes. 

“The second you hear the blast, stay low and follow us, okay? You’ll want to jump up, don’t.”

“Okay.” 

His dark eyes stared into you as he spoke. “Keep your weapon in your hands, keep your eyes on me, keep up, and keep calm. This is the fun part.” A low chuckled from Gaz calmed you further. 

“I’ve got your six, just focus on moving with the group, okay?” Gaz whispered beside you. 

“Okay.”

All you could do was agree, any eloquence you’d had before had long since dissipated. 

A deafening boom rang out and the urge to run flooded every nerve in your body. You watched Ghost. 

Keep your eyes on me

You focused on Ghost’s broad back as you moved with him. Focused on keeping close. On surviving. 

The next minutes were a blur of gun fire and barked out commands. The muzzle flash of the weapons around you was enough to make the night vision useless and so with shaky hands and shallow breaths you pushed the goggles up as you moved through a maze of rooms with Ghost as your guide. 

A heavy hand against your chest stopped you before you had a chance to run into your Lieutenant. 

“Gaz, now.” He barked quickly as a heavy boot made contact with the door, pushing it from the frame. Garrick fired as he moved deftly into the room, sweeping the corner as Ghost fired at a figure hunched over a laptop. 

Everything was happening too quickly. You were pushed into the room, or pulled, you couldn’t know. As your body entered your mind stayed back and watched as a figure rose from a position under the desk. Before you could even see their eyes they hit the floor with a thud. 

A wave of nausea spread through you as you moved to where they’d been, pushing the bodies away from the computer as you grabbed it and began to type a series of commands into the terminal. Your hands shook as you pushed a thumb-drive into a port and watched as your code froze the deletion process. You left that to work as you pulled open desk drawers and riffled through their contents, shovelling everything in sight into your pack. 

“Hurry up!” 

You obeyed, moving quicker as you grabbed files and thick plastic drives with greedy, shaking hands. The final drawer was locked tight. You wanted to call out for a key but shame held you tongue. You pulled at it and it held firm. Ghost could have yanked it open with one hand, you were sure. His presence in the room motivated you to think like a soldier. Think like him. 

‘I’m not useless. I’m not useless. I’m not useless.’ You chanted to yourself as you reached to you side and gripped your knife. Jamming it into a gap in the drawer you pushed your whole weight onto it and heard a click. 

Yes. You weren’t useless after all. 

“Owl! Wait!” 

With unbridled euphoria you yanked the drawer open and felt your body and mind reconnect with a violent snap. Like a spark to gas you ignited with something you couldn’t recognise. Warmth spread through your middle as you glanced down into the drawer. It was empty. 

“Oh shit.”

“Soap call in a medevac, now!” 

Why was it empty? Were they all shouting because it was empty?

Your hand dug into the wooden cube, patting around until you felt something give. You pushed up into it and heard something drop. Another hard drive. 

“Owl, Owl you need to move, now.” 

A firm hand grasped you by the shoulder and you shook it off. You bent down to pick up the drive and a white hot pain seared your abdomen. You ignored it, and with a sharp wince you grabbed the final drive. 

Why were your hands shaking so much? Was it the excitement of war?

You turned to collect the laptop but it was already in Gaz’s hands. He was shoving it into your pack as Ghost grabbed the drive in your hand and tossed it to him. 

“No! No, I have to decrypt the—”

“You have to move. Now.” Ghost retorted sharply as he angled himself to block your view of Gaz. 

When had they stripped you of your pack? 

Why was Lieutenant Riley suddenly pushing you out the door you’d all just come through?

How were you able to see your group moving through the halls? Watching the retreat from an unnatural vantage point, making note of the thick trail of something syrupy behind you. 

Was that blood? Did your sloppiness get one of them injured?

— — — 

The jeep you’d left 5 kilometres away speed into view in front of the compound you’d just sacked. 

Was it moving or were you? 

Hands pushed you into it and began pulling off the kevlar and fabric of covering your torso. 

‘Is it bad?” Soap’s voice came from the front of the vehicle. 

“No, its not too bad,” Ghost said to you rather than Soap. You craned your head down to look at the wound, but a strong hand tilted your chin away. 

“I thought I told you to keep your eyes on me, Pigeon” he said lowly as you searched his face for some clue of what was happening. His derisive diminutive sounded odd now, it was laced with something tender. 

“Sorry lieutenant, I just wanted to—” you didn’t know how to finish. 

I just wanted to see for myself? 

I just wanted to be a part of the team?

“— I just wanted to impress you. I’m sorry, sir.” You mumbled as your lids grew heavy. 

The pressure on your stomach increased as Ghost spoke to you in low whispers. “Impress me? How? By falling asleep? We’ve already talked about that, soldier. I told you to keep your eyes on me. That’s an order.” 

“Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” 

— — — 

Your eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of a white stucco ceiling. 

Shit. 

Ghost would kill you for falling asleep again. As you tried to sit up your body barked out in protest. A dull ache blanketed your left side and pulsed through you. 

A hand pushed you back down gently. Resting for a beat on your shoulder before pulling away.

“Slow down, kid. You’ll rip your stitches out.” You knew that voice. You turned your head to look at the Lieutenant. You’d already known it was him, all that surprised you was the lack of contempt in his voice. 

You couldn’t speak. You just looked around, taking in the small makeshift clinic you’d found yourself in. 

“The hospital was too far,” Ghost said, answering the question you mind was already forming, “so they set this up in a safe house nearby.” You nodded, laying back against the pillows. “Sir? What happened?” 

You heard Lieutenant Riley sigh as you stared up at the ceiling above you. Too timid to look at him as he recounted your failures on the mission. 

“The drawer was rigged. If you’d been taller, or wider, the shrapnel that hit you would have been fatal, Owl.” 

The name drew your eyes to him before you could stop yourself. 

“I’ve graduated from Pigeon?” You asked, trying to cut the tension in the small room. He laughed,  and the sound was enough to make the pain in your abdomen dissipate. 

You’d made him laugh.

You had made Ghost laugh. 

“You got injured, and didn’t give up. That was a tough thing you did, Owl. I’m proud of you.” 

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, it took everything you had not to let them fall. A warm  on hand your head was what completely undid you. Hot tears slipped out of your closed eyes as Lieutenant Riley stroked your hair more gently than you’d ever thought a man of his size was capable of. 

“You did well, don’t worry.” 

You gathered yourself, remembering the objective of the mission. “How long was I out, sir? Has the  operation window passed?” 

He pulled his hand back slowly before he spoke. “Intel over here took a look at some of the materials before sending them back with Soap and Gaz. The boys back home will decrypt as much as they can while you’re healing up here. Doc said you’d be okay to fly within 48 hours.” 

You nodded, trying to keep your disappointment in check. You wouldn’t even get a chance to do what you were good at. 

“But,” Ghost said slowly, drawing your attention away from the pity party you’d already began throwing for yourself. “No one could make heads or tails of what was on the laptop.” 

“So its useless then?” You asked, trying to push the hurt out of your voice. 

“Oh I wouldn’t say that,” Ghost let out a low chuckle. God, you’d become addicted to that sound already. “Whatever you plugged into it before you got hurt completely stumped everyone, they said only you’d be able to retrieve anything from it.” 

A warm pride filled your chest. No one could do what you could. You weren’t useless. 

“So… unfortunately for you, Pigeon. I’ve brought you some homework while I babysit you. Are you up for it?” 

Ghost dropped the laptop onto your lap. Your thumb-drive was still plugged into it, filled with malware and viruses you’d cooked up over the years. 

You smiled at him, beaming with pride as you opened the device. “Of course, just keep your eyes on me, sir. I’ll be done in no time.” 

[not-alien-girl-v]

I would die if you wrote something about James being embarrassed for having a cold in front of the reader. I imagine how much James would cringe when he sees other sick people, and I can certainly imagine him wanting to die again if he accidentally sneezes whilst trying to hold it in. AND IF THIS MAN SEES YOU TRYNA FUSS OVER HIM, OH HELL NAH HE’S GONNA FEEL GUILTY ASF😭😭

Warning: mentions of germs and sickness and general grossness

Note: i’m writing this in our current 2022, the post-covid world which felt a little icky so beware of that. i kind of made him babygirl in this so for that i apologize but james not being babygirl makes no sense to me

Flu season. It comes around every year, infesting the hotel lobby with germs. Germs germs germs, the dirty kind, the kind that make you sick, the icky, gross kind of sick where you can’t breathe and nose is all runny.

Despite being deceased for nearly a century (97 years, but who’s counting?), James still had a body in death, though he can’t die again, nothing can happen to his soul, he can still catch certain pesky illnesses. He had survived the Spanish Influenza in 1918, he had nearly gotten COVID-19 in 2020, and since then he has learned his lesson: beware of the sick, and wear a mask amongst the masses.

Since he knew of this simple solution to avoid sickness, he found there to be little to no excuse for catching a virus, especially in this day and age, with all of the vaccines and boosters and recommendations from the CDC, you’d have to be an idiot to still be sick.

He’d walk through the lobby of his hotel, past the bars, hearing the infected cough and wheeze, and he’d grimace in disgust at them. The least they could do was take their illness to their own homes.

That was until this morning, when he noticed a slight tickle in his throat that no amount of whiskey could satisfy. Strange, that liquor usually fixed all of his problems as quick as they came.

He was a man, he was certain, and a real one at that, which meant he was not to act childish over a small tickle in his throat. He had things to do, places to be and plenty of people to order around in a day that just couldn’t wait. But soon, that tickle turned to a cough that he couldn’t contain in him.

With each word he spoke, the threat of him coughing hung loosely in his throat, his lungs seemed to inflate at half mass, leaving a croaky wheeze in the absence of air in them. Along with his cough, he felt dizziness, headaches, and slight nausea.

He kept this all to himself, suffering in silence because he knew you knew how much he hated sick people, much more being sick, and he didn’t want your pity. But that all was interrupted once you caught him taking a COVID test in your shared bathroom.

You had just returned to the hotel from a trip to the thrift store, something James rarely approved of, not understanding the appeal of buying things second hand when he could afford any luxury clothing you desired, when you noticed him in the bathroom.

Odd, since it was the middle of the day, he usually would be out and about the hotel by now. The door was open so you pushed it open a little further, him not taking any notice to you, and you spotted him struggling to set a 15 minute timer on his iPhone with the test kid splayed out in front of him.

“James?” You called out to him, startling him while he jumped in surprise.

He steadied himself with one strong hand latched onto the bathroom counter, “yes darling?” You moved a bit closer to him and he awkwardly blocked the test from your view with his body.

“What are you doing?” You questioned and he looked around the room desperately for something else to talk about.

“My love, did you go to that dreaded second hand shop again? You know how I feel about that,” he dismissed your question but knew you wouldn’t leave it alone, why would you?

“Don’t change the subject. What is that?” You popped your head behind him.

“Oh this?” He acted as if he’s only just now understood what you meant. He grabbed the testing kit and began to pack it up. “It’s just- um- protocol nowadays for staff and residents of the hotel, we all have to test once weekly.”

It was rare to see him stumble over his words, rarer to see him so nervous while talking to you, he usually has a natural sense of charm when conversing with you but today, he seemed jittery and a bit loopy. Obviously, there was something wrong.

“Hmm,” you hummed at him, clearly seeing through his lie because you had never heard anything about it, which, if his lie was to be the truth, you would have, given that you were a full time resident as well.

He left you with a warm smile and walked out of the bathroom, returning to his desk where he filled out paperwork. You followed, but instead draped yourself along the couch a few feet from his desk.

He was mostly silent for a good 10 minutes until you heard a strange noise, something similar to a stifled cough emit from him. “What was that?” You asked, now completely catching onto him.

“Whatever do you mean?” He didn’t even look up from his work on his desk when responding to you.

“That noise you just made?”

He cringed internally, “what noise?” He figured he could perhaps gaslight you out of thinking he was sick.

You narrowed your eyes at him and he didn’t react at all. Then, like clockwork, he sneezed, and there was absolutely no covering it up from you. He just rested his head in both his hands while you sauntered over to his desk.

You gently removed his paperwork from the center and set it aside, then hoisted yourself onto the desk in front of him.

“James,” you spoke sternly.

“I’m fine, please, don’t fret, I’m a ghost, I’ll be fine,” he reasoned with you and held your two hands in both of his. You crossed one leg over the other.

“How many times have I told you that even in death, you still need to value and prioritize your health?” He was too embarrassed to answer your question, since he knew it was too many times to count.

Wrapping your hand around the back of his neck, you leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “go lay down.”

For once, he did as he’s told and reluctantly strips off his day clothes and climbs into bed. You came and sat right by his resting body and layed a hand atop his thigh. His phone alarm blared from the bathroom and he made a move to get up but you restrained him with your hand firm on his leg. In the bathroom you checked, “it’s negative!” You hollered to him.

Emerging to the doorway now, “I’m going to run downstairs really quick, I’ll be back soon,” you told him.

“Take all the time you need, I assure you my dear, I’m fine.”

You squinted your eyes at him but ultimately left the room, hoping that he doesn’t go back to work the moment you leave his sight.

You bought some painkillers from the small shop downstairs along with a Gatorade and a sympathetic look from Liz assured you that James’s condition wasn’t unnoticed by the rest of the hotel staff.

Of course the second you re-entered his hotel suite, he was rushing to situate things at his desk. “James!” you scolded. His eyes met yours and he realized he had far beyond ran out of time.

He just held his hands up in the air in surrender and returned to his bed. The second he settled himself into the center of the mattress, you came and seated yourself in his lab, effectively pinning him down. He sat up and looked at you with a pointed look. “Here,” you handed him the gatorade and painkillers and he took them without a fight, and you were thankful due to his newfound sense of complacency.

He set both objects down on his nightstand once he finished and rested both his hands lightly on your waist. “You truly won’t allow me to continue working today?” You nodded with a smile, and you knew he’d allow you to do whatever you pleased, even if it was just ordering him around, which you found yourself enjoying more than you expected.

“Get some rest. In a few hours, we can talk.” You commanded him and he nodded and situated himself to be laying back down. Finally, you crawled off of him, and cuddled up beside him as you joined him in an afternoon nap.

[yuukei-yikes]

please just rewrite kagepro i'm BEGGING i love your head cannons !!! love you jin but vinnie on top. also haruka is so AAAAAAA and it's so interesting how you talk ab his weird vibes w the dan !! it's like "whoops konoha's gone but have this silly guy instead" and said silly guy is extremely guilty about htis. sorry this is all over the place but yeah. the silly guy filter

i went a lil crazy on this reply. partly an analysis, partly str headcanons. in general about haruka and how he feels about his livelihood 💥💥💥

haruka's survival guilt misadventures💗💗💗

since he saw everything konoha saw it's like he became one-sided friends with everyone because he knew everyone konoha knew and of course cared for them just as much but none of them know him. he knows first hand how much everyone loved konoha because he saw it!!!

i think generally post str haruka&takane deal with a lot of existential crisis LMAO takane because she says it felt like the whole time she was ene could've been a dream and etcetc sorry i wont sidetrack to takane like i keep doing. erm. but her too okay... anyways haruka

He Should've Died Years Ago and didn't and like... in over the dimension he mentions how he used to believe in the prospect of heaven but then as time went on and his condition worsened and his time to go approached, he became more depressed and his thoughts became SUPER negative. he was like THERE IS NO HEAVEN EVERYONE IS JUST LYING TO MAKE U FEEL BETTER BUT AFTER DEATH THERE IS ONLY DARKNESS. and then he does die and neither of these things happen, he doesnt go to heaven and he doesnt stop existing. if we're staying on theme with the heaven thing he mentions, instead he essentially ends up going to hell. he literally gets stuck in Personified Hell watching the konoha cringe comp like. come on.

i hc everyone in the daze can sort of move freely and meet each other EXCEPT haruka precisely bc he still has a link to his body/the outside world. i think it's SO interesting that the daze is truly another dimension and swallows people as they are BUT HARUKA specifically it's his consciousness/spirit/whatever. we dont talk about this enough. the concept of spirits and shit being canon in kagepro. like HE IS THE ONLY ONE who is just a mind with no actual physical body?? so bc of the link to the outside he still has bc of it, he can't move freely inside the daze and can't do anything other than sit there and just Watch what konoha does, hibihiyo timeloop and all. so like. LITERALLY FUCKING HELL. he's alone not only for the 2 years but also for however long konoha was in hibihiyos loop. i think he can only move around in the eighth novel because he has finally lost the link to his body

and haruka speaks of how lonely his life is and by the way he speaks i think he had sort of repressed the way he felt about his illness. cuz he grew up lonely, not only already sick but seeing first hand the way his illness is killing/kills someone else, his mother. cuz before she died he had to see her suffer through it, right.. there is no mention of how she was as a person but i imagine she was either really depressed haruka ended up sick too OR... She was like his dad and talked about it a little insensibly. his father being really cold and straight to the point with "you will also die like her, give or take in 6 years" when he is TEN!!!HE WAS SO SMALL!!!! at the beginning of his novel haruka is like. yeah i have like a year left to live. but oh whatever. everyone dies I'll just hit the sack a little before ideal that's fine.

i could go on for longer abt haruka's parents and different hcs about the kind of people they are but teehee. i won't sidetrack.

haruka grows up conditioned to think that way and represses his feeling of sadness because that's what he was taught to do by his parents and it essentially became his coping mechanism. takane says it herself at one point abt how haruka has a "yeah whatever" attitude. like word for word

it's only by the next summer when that year actually goes by and he is DYING that he starts despairing and becoming super negative about it and ends up begging for his life because he doesnt wanna die.

that defense mechanism that has fallen apart since then because of his despair when dying sort of built itself back up when haruka enters the daze. once inside the daze doesn't haruka always seem so offbeat and exactly like "yeah whatever"?? because what else is he supposed to do lmao. there is nothing to hope for. there is nothing here. there is no one or nothing to smile at or for. there's just this thing piloting his body outside doing shit he'd like to do and meeting people he'd like to meet. in fact he even seems bitter

that's why str haruka is generally more serious? ofc he's still happy and all cheerful like always but in the canon content str haruka feels like. he really feels grown up, compared to others. same goes for characters like ayano&takane, mostly bc we see them again after a timeskip but still. with haruka especially i think!! thats also why i think jin chose him specifically to express this weird growing up feeling.

so. erm. now he's back and of course he's happy and excited but all these feelings HAVE a lasting impact. they dont just disappear u know. he thought he'd die, then he did. and now he's alive?? and on top of it an adult?? and has to figure out what the hell to do?? being back from the dead after is already a complicated situation by itself. and there's all these complicated feelings with all these people he loves but they dont even know him and he's very happy everyone seems to be willing to get to know him but he can sense how sad they are about konoha, because he Saw the friendship they established with it.

and haruka's like... i am the only person here who ended up bizarrely benefiting from everything that happened. because for everyone else, if for example clearing eyes wasnt evil, they kind of would've made it through. mekatrio wouldve suffered their sad backstories, them+ayano&kenjirou would've suffered ayaka's loss anyway yeah, but further than that it wouldn't have gone downhill. takane and ayano wouldnt have had to die, shintaro wouldnt have become a shut in, kano wouldve never hidden anything from his siblings, hibiya and hiyori wouldn't meet that fate in the city. and haruka would die at 17 years old, period!!!

he is so guilty for being alive when the very thing that helped him survive put everyone else through so much pain. he is so guilty for being thankful for it. ofc its NOT LIKE THAT, OF COURSE HE SHOULDNT BE GUILTY, but i think that's how haruka sort of receives this sudden survival.

not only that but... someone else died for him to be here too. haruka isn't only guilty for that bizarre gratitude but also... konoha!!!

how much does he deserve this when u put konoha in question too?? people who loved haruka, like takane and shintaro, have already mourned him. while konoha is being mourned by like 7 more people. people that again, HARUKA ALSO LOVES BUT THEY DON'T REALLY KNOW HIM!! technically thats not fair then. so maybe konoha deserves it more!?!?! of course haruka is human and konoha isn't, and it's HIS body, but it's because of konoha his body is functioning at all now. so is he robbing it of its life?? but didnt it also rob haruka the body in the first place, by tossing him out and leaving him behind?? this is all the shit i think haruka is conflicted over lmao. who deserved it more or at all... but does it even matter bc konoha IS here and its helping haruka stay alive by playing its awakening eyes role.

but also by feeling guilty over the life he's so happy to have back isn't he undervaluing everyone's willingness to get to know him and honor konoha?? undervaluing takane&shintaro's excitement to reunite with him?? undervaluing even his own happiness at having another chance at life?? well. he has to navigate through it. and he paints pictures at the same time because groceries need to be bought and bills needs to be paid, and aw man, MORE dishes?? he JUST washed those. and after that he should remember to clean the bathroom, its been a while. and do the laundry the dirty clothes pile is getting ridiculous. AND REPEAT!!!!!! because ur a grown up :3

but... he does love painting these pics... and he does love all the snacks he buys after doing groceries!!! and clean clothes are so nice especially when theyre warm from the sun!!! rent is worrying but he's got a roommate who helps him pay it!!! he's always loved his roommate too and has wanted to see her again for so long and now she's there right next to him when he wakes up everyday!!!!!!! and if it were that they can't pay rent they've got so many friends willing to help out!!!!! and he also loves all these friends!!!!! his life...... IS GOOD!!! LIFE... IS GOOD....!!!!!!!!!

he loves life he loves being alive. even if there are so many complicated feelings haruka is so happy he is alive. and wherever it is konoha is happy too. embrace the world with childlike wonder and joy, OKAY?? PEACE AND LOVE ON PLANET EARTH.

[general-sleepy]

Assigning Saw Traps to Dracula Characters:

Because this is how my mind works. Also, I previously mentioned I was playing with this and @animate-mush encouraged my bad behavior. (With brief summaries of the traps if you're not as disastrously obsessed with the Saw series as I am.

Seward: I can honestly really see Jack in Lawrence's place in the Bathroom Trap (the main setup of the first movie, you wake up in a room with a stranger and you have to murder them or several of your loved ones will be killed; also in order to murder them you have to cut off your foot). Both of them are physicians who are emotionally disconnected and generally don't appreciate their lives. Honestly, though, I don't think the self-amputation aspect of the trap would be that huge of a deal for Jack. He might think it's kind of morbidly interesting.

Jonathan: I wasn't sure about this at first, but I decided Jonathan could take Adam's role in the Bathroom Trap. Adam is being punished for being passive, which is also a trait of Jonathan at the beginning of the novel; though due to politeness and a desire to please, rather than Adam's internalized homophobia unspecified mental illness. So, they have to suffer the wages of their own passivity, being helpless to another (implicitly more important) person's whims. Honestly, I can see John Kramer looking at Jonathan and getting big "pawn in someone else's game" energy. (Note that this applies to Jonathan pre-novel; post-novel, John would be very sore about Jon's willingness to die for/with Mina, because loving someone so much you couldn't live without them is pretty cringe tbh).

Arthur: Jigsaw would honestly struggle to find a reason to throw Art into a murder game. Maybe if he didn't process the grief of losing nearly everyone he loves in a few months in exactly the way John Kramer approved of. He'd probably get stuck in one of the more basic ones. Maybe the Venus Fly Trap (there's like a mini iron maiden around your neck and you have to cut out your eye to get the key surgically implanted behind it to get out of it). Arthur's a tough guy, though; honestly, I think he could get through it.

Quincey: Maybe Rigg's game (being faced with a variety of people in Saw traps and being encouraged not to help them, because either they deserve to die or they can only recover by "helping" themselves). We know that Quincey is self-sacrificing and willing to put his neck out to help near-strangers because for some reason he believes concern for others is a valuable reason to risk your own life. However, I imagine that Quincey would help rescue a victim of domestic violence, instead of deciding that she won't learn anything unless she pulls herself up by her bootstraps and helps herself (by killing her husband and suffering horrible pain, because DV victims are just complacent).

Lucy: Lucy and William Easton don't have a lot in common, but I realized his trap would fit for her. William's trap is super complicated, but mostly he has to go through a variety of situations where he decides who lives and who dies. Like, having to decide whether to kill a healthy young orphan with no friends or family and a chronically ill wife and mother, both of whom have done literally nothing wrong. Or having to decide which two of five people to save from being shot in the chest with a shotgun. This is the worst thing that could happen to Lucy, a boundlessly loving people-pleaser. That might be why he puts her in a trap, to encourage her to stand up for herself or something.

Mina: My immediate instinct was the Angel Trap (you're hooked up to this rig that is going to rip your ribs open unless you can fish the key out of a bottle of acid before it melts), mostly because of her and Kerry giving me kind of similar vibes. Kerry, a cop, is put in the trap because she's apparently obsessed with death more than the living, though really it seems like she's just too close to catching Jigsaw. Mina is fascinated by ghost stories and reads about criminology. She's, in a way, suicidal, and John Kramer absolutely cannot stand that. John would say that becoming a vampire is still close enough to living that you should still appreciate it.

Van Helsing: I was struggling to figure this out until I saw Saw X. Van Helsing is obsessed with brains and intellect and feels himself to be intellectually superior, so I think the brain surgery trap (you have to cut out a certain amount of your own brain tissue or your head gets roasted in a kind of mini-brazen bull) would fit. Maybe the instructions/insult tape would be something like, "You think you know what's going on in my brain, let's see if you know what's going on in yours." Something dumb like that.

[aurore-parle-de-ses-idees]

17 with Corunir and Est maybe? which one of them is in the Situation is up to you

17- tending to an injury/wound/illness

sometime vaguely post-canon, in my own version of the angle i put into est-verse a few months before lotro the angle was announced lmao

They return to Bâr Randir in the warm afternoon, the sunlight filtered gold and green through the first changing leaves. It will be cooler come night, but for now they shed their cloaks and outer layers gladly, lounging in the grass and losing themselves in easy chatter while they tend to their equipment. 

It’s only when Corunir cringes at the rasp of a whetstone on steel that Esterín looks at him more closely. He’s at the edge of their loose circle, in the shadow of the building and half turned away, speaking only sparingly, something drawn tight in his face even at the inoffensive noise. She sets down her half-mended bag and crouches beside him.

“Corunir?” she asks softly. He offers her a wan, pinched smile and sighs just as quietly. Her eyes go almost involuntarily to the scar that only just shows beneath his hair, then back to his face in question. He ducks his head in admission and she takes his hand and draws him up. “Leave it,” she says when he reaches for his scattered gear. “I’ll come back for it.” She waves briefly to Braigiar and the others and tugs Corunir gently into Bâr Randir.

He slumps against the wall the moment they are beyond the reach of the sun, pressing his forehead to the cool stones. “You could have said,” she says idly, keeping only the lightest of touches against his arm.

“It wasn’t all that bad yet,” he protests, but he doesn’t open his eyes. He lets Esterín duck under one arm and pull him along, down the familiar halls to her own room. “I wanted to enjoy the afternoon while I could. This weather won’t last much longer.” Esterín frowns.

“Can you much enjoy it at all like this?” He shrugs.

“As much as I could enjoy being anywhere else when it gets bad.” Esterín only hums noncommittally and stops before her door. Corunir blinks his eyes open with a wince and pulls away.

Her room here is small, not much more than bed and table and a wide chest, but it’s hers. Her only great regret is the lack of windows, tucked on the inside of the circular hall on this level rather than the outside, but days like this it’s something of a blessing. It’s cool, and dark, and far from the noise of the common areas or the yards outside- and far nearer than Corunir’s own home deeper in Dol Halcalan. Corunir sits heavily on the edge of the bed and rests his elbows on his knees, grinding the heels of his hands into his eyes. Esterín calls forth a small, dim light and keeps the bulk of her body between it and Corunir, searching through her desk by feel more than anything.

She’s gotten much better at this, the cooling rune, tucking a small, round stone carved with tight, narrow lines into a sleeve of fine sand or dried beans. She doesn’t often use it for herself, whatever pain she would seek to soothe too often driving her to distraction beyond the careful control required to keep it only cool and not cold, letting in no more than a breath of winter to chill the weighted sleeve. It’s terribly useful for this, though, especially when so little else seems to help. Corunir droops over himself more and more while she watches, waiting for the cool to spread through the bag. It always seems to get so much worse all at once, leaving him quiet and oversensitive and strangely pale, flinching back from noise and light and even gentle touches, and there is so little she can do but let him alone to sleep the worst of it off. It comes like this more rarely, now, but Esterín never fails to feel wildly insufficient.

She touches his shoulder gently, letting the light die away, but his teeth are still clenched against the great pain she knows is growing in his head. “Lie down,” she says softly, holding out the cold sleeve, and it never really is a reassuring thing when he goes unprotesting, nearly falling flat with a long exhale and letting her lay the bag over his eyes. He catches her wrist in a weak grip before she pulls away entirely, squeezing once before letting her go. “Sleep,” she says, and leaves him to rest.

[the-living-embodiment-of-moss]

TW suicidalness, self hatred

i just talked to my mom about going to a gender care specialist. I thought it would help me and her and everyone around. I even told her what it was and in detail why I think it would help. it trailed off into how she didn't think it would help at all, she didn't know why I wanted a gender dysphoria diagnosis. it trailed off into how I didn't show any "signs" as a kid, and the thinks that the reason I think I'm a boy is because of social pressure. which traveled off into that she doesn't believe that I'm trans.

she doesn't believe me.

she doesn't see me as a boy, she thinks I'm faking.

I might not write the rest of this correctly, because I'm going emotionally and memorially numb (trauma response)

but I just, I can't even look at trans content right now. I can't think about gender right now, if I see any feminine pronoun it's gonna get worse.

it's been almost two years since I've come out, and she doesn't believe me.

she admitted she might not even believe me at six years.

I'VE SPENT PROBABLY HUNDREDS OF HOURS, trying to fix myself. make myself acceptable. make people see me as a boy, to work on myself.

I've worked so hard. I've been through depression, I've been through starvation, self harm, suicide attempt you name it.

I've spent so much time on myself for her, and she doesn't see me as the one thing I have set in stone. I feel useless.

sorry if this is cringe. even typing it I know it is. but I just want to kill myself. I can't wait. I can't look at her, listen to her bullshit again. I see my trans friends and most trans people I've met online at my age or even younger, getting support, hormones, binders. I'm so sick of it. I feel so ill.

I just want to kill myself. I want to have the courage to go downstairs, grab a kitchen knife, and shove it through my stomach. I wish I had killed myself in the 6th grade.

I want to run away. I want to see her crying, knowing it's her fucking fault for most of my hurt. my ptsd, my anxiety, extreme boundary issues, it comes from her.

and she's fucking up my life once again.

this is so fucking cringe. I'm crying uncontrollably. my friends probably hate me and that's why I'll never be fucking good enough for anybody.

I hate myself. I'm not even a dog. I'm not even a boy. if I never get to be either, then I'm nothing but a shell.

I'm sorry if this continues, I thought it went away. but if you don't hear from me for a week or two, I might be gone. probably wish I am, or you'll be hearing a lot of vents.

sorry this is so cringe, I'm sorry if you read it.

this isn't even the way I wanted to word it. this is just fucking useless bullshit like anything else I do.

a few seconds later, she apologized and she booked an appointment.

I feel sorry for her, she has really bad bipolar and just went through a divorce. and she loves me. I'm just not sure if I can forgive everything she's done.

please take this whole post with a giant grain of salt. I'm not gonna die, it was just a lot of raw emotions. I just need some reassurance, time, and a emotional support system. I'll be alright.

[remcycl333]

Void/LOA success by 💇‍♀️anon

This post is gonna be a bit lengthy , blunt and unbelievable 😭 also very sloppily written cause i’m havijh so much fun. i really have got out of my comfort zone and I’m so happy i did. No you do not have to follow every step I did! This is simply for motives and inspo.

So, yeah it's obvious i was one who struggled with void and loa blah blah blah for a LONG TIME! I was a hardcore druggie, physical and mentally abused all my life, had a very rare illness and so much more. But who gaf ab the old story. ☠️

So after a day of sending that cringe ass message to u i ended up prioritizing myself. It’s clear I was idolizing void and I’ve been doubting in LOA too like ??? So in the 3D i moved in with my one and only friend, got a job at a fastfood place (pls this is sorta embarrassing), and decided homeschool was much better for me. Also between that time I learned how to correctly manifest and shiz by you and @theandreiaeffect<3. And girlllll literally less than the next week I manifested perfect mental and physical health, my dream job, desired appearance, and 7,000,000$ with a 15,000,000$ home me and my bestie now live in. I was already so happy how it was. Yet after that crazy ass week passed by i woke up in the fucking void. I have no clue how but i did.

Now for what I manifested in void.

- ‘i heard a rumor’ power - a power of this girl from a netflix show. basically you say ‘i heard a rumor ____’ and it happens. its like a brainwash power? its simple to explain but idk. (If u watch that show my fav character is klaus whats urs?)

- Time travel(?) - so when i got in void it was prolly like september 11th 2022. i just said in the void ‘it is August 30th’ and when i woke up it was august 30th as you can tell so now I’m just relapsing my days but in a goodway.

- changed family - my bestie is like family and i changed her appearance to her desired appearance, more cousins, siblings, aunts etc. my dad being a famous nfl star.

- Revenge - basically just fucking with my abusers life the same way they fucked with mine. I have no regrets so🤷‍♀️

- Name and age revision - I always hated my full name so i changed it. I was 17 and just revised that i’m 21. yeah it was a big gap but idc it was worth it for me honestly. i also manifested i’m not gonna die till like 90 and age like wine so.

- a bf- oh let me tell u. i’ve always had a crush on ralph macchio. and now i have a boyfriend who is his twin but even more attractive. his personality and the way he showers me with love is mwah.

- Removing phobias - i’ve always been scared of animals🤦‍♀️ not anymore tho now i have 2 cute lil puppies and a parrot:)

- Vegan restaurants and shops opening up close to me - I’ve been vegan since the beginning of the year due to animal cruelty and just not enjoying meat.

- Immune from getting preggo til 25 - its self explanatory what i be doing but i’m not ready for a baby yet so🤫

- Being protected and safe 24/7 - anyone around me also is aswell its like a invisible barrier to danger

Now those are just a handful of what I manifested. I literally manifested sooooo many other priv things. Just get ur shit together. I have nothing else to tell u. Honestly idk how LOA coaches don’t get fed up with y’all constantly crying ab how u dont got ur shit when u are the reason why. U have a cheatcode to life. Not many people are spiritually awoken. Do you know how fortunate you are to have discover LOA???? Keep this in mind and maybe ya know manifest ur dream life. To Rem, I thought I’d be on tumblr way longer as your anon, but I’d rather go live my life to the fullest for a while. I hope my story leaves an imprint on the LOA community. Andreia, you have also really inspired me. I’m so fucking happy I made a whole 180 with my life. Rem and Andreia, i will NEVER forget what you have done for me. Thank you so much really. I love u guys so much🥲🥲

yesss im so proud of u!!! when u said u traveled back in time from september i got the chills! and baby go live your life and enjoy it, you deserve it!!! come back whenever u want and update us <3

[deadmans-girl]

first post :,)) be nice

“I Promise” - ledger!joker

(i do not own this GIF)

who: ledger!joker and gender neutral mc

genre: fluff ?

content: j finally lets you see his face, very intimate moment

part: 1/1

ALL WORK IS MY OWN! PLEASE DO NOT REPOST!

you had been a partner and confidante of j for many months now. you had a mutual understanding of each other and unspoken respect. sometimes he would stay with you for days at a time, crawling in through your window in the middle of the night. yet, you didn’t know what you were. you loved him, but you never knew how he felt about you. he would die before being that vulnerable, doesn’t matter who it is. the two of you have even had nights together where he was able to be intimate, but he had a difficult time with trusting anyone. you were no exception. aside from the clown guise and the performance-like way of speaking, underneath the paint was a broken man. he didn’t let anyone see who he was underneath that smudged facade.

one night he did his usual routine of randomly coming through the window. usually he does so with a giggle and a sarcastic comment as he startles you awake from your sleep. he took great pleasure in scaring you. this night, however, was different. when you woke up you saw he was covered in blood. presumably a mix of his and someone else’s. he didn’t even make a sarcastic comment about your very concerned face. there was no doubt that he got himself into some trouble. the unusual thing about this was that he was not laughing….and when do you ever see a clown not laughing?

“j, are you alright?” you said. you swung your legs out of bed and rushed over to him. he looked defeated and worn. standing before you was no longer Gotham’s most wanted criminal, but this… shell of a broken man. he didn’t speak a word, but you knew he would never tell you what happened. he just leaned forwards to rest his forehead onto your bare shoulder. goosebumps appeared as you could feel his breath so close. you cringed as you felt the blood on his skin being smudged onto yours. his greasy curls fell over your shoulder blades as you stood there, dumbfounded.

you stood him up straight to meet his now slightly annoyed face. you met his eyes and gestured towards your bathroom. you took his hand and led him silently down the hall. you sat him down on the toilet and took off his jacket. you frowned as you saw his bloodstained shirt as well. as you tossed it on the floor, he didn’t say anything. he wasn’t phased by it, but he was now avoiding your eyes.

“let me just clean up your top half off, okay? then ill get you a new shirt. you can shower in the morning.” you said. he grunted in agreement and didn’t even try to argue with you. it was weird how he was allowing all of this. he was obviously so exhausted that he didn’t even care. you were afraid he was going to collapse any second.

he wasn’t flinching at your touch, but he was obviously uncomfortable to be shirtless in front of you. you took a warm washcloth and cleaned up all the stained blood around his collarbones. thankfully, it seemed that he wasn’t the one who was bleeding as much as the other person. you would never admit that you took pride in this. you got him a shirt and then you did something never in a million years you thought you would do. you hesitated for a second before starting to carefully remove the smeared grease from his face. at first he panicked and grabbed your arm to stop you. he looked at your pleading expression and loosened his grip. he then breathed in deeply and said quietly-

“go ahead.” in a gravelly voice. you put down the washcloth and took his face in your hands. he looked up at you with parted lips and a very, very confused face. you smiled at him and said “thank you.” for a second, you swore you could’ve seen a small smile form for just a second before disappearing.

as you wiped away the greasepaint, it felt like you were wiping away years of pain and abuse. he didn’t talk about his childhood much, you just knew it wasn’t a ….preferable situation. you gently wiped until the face of a scared little boy was visible. it was like you suddenly could see right through him. you saw his face and never wanted him to wear the makeup again. he was very handsome, with red lips and big brown eyes. he also had deep dark circles and of course… his scars. they weren’t very bad anymore, time had seemed to healed them. he looked at you curiously and followed you with his eyes. he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. if you weren’t in love before, there was no doubt you were now.

you held his face again, before planting a soft kiss to his forehead. he closed his eyes and for once seemed to relax into someones touch. your touch. “cmon” you said. you took his hand once more and led him to your bed.

as you laid down next to him, cautious to not get too close, he already had his eyes shut. you faced the way opposite from him and also shut your eyes. you felt a million sparks as he wrapped his big arms around your body. he pulled you closer until his lips were practically on the back of your neck. you felt his heartbeat speed up on the skin of your back as he spoke four simple words. you felt his soft breaths as he spoke: “don’t ever leave me.”

it was far from a perfect world. you and he were far from perfect people. in this moment, however, you understood that there aren’t good people and there aren’t bad people. the world was broken along with the people in it. you understood this the moment you were able to see that even the joker was human. holding you in your own bed was a man covered in someone else’s blood not even five minutes ago, and still, you loved him. he may never speak it. he might not ever even understand it. nevertheless, you knew that he loved you too in that moment.

you started to tear up. you were suddenly glad that he couldn’t see your face. you replied “i promise.” as you felt him smile into your neck. you both drifted off to sleep, his grip on you not faltering once.

[krustybob]

[yuukei-yikes]

can we get uhhhhhh some hibiya thoughts

yes. yes. yes. i fucking love hibiya. he's LITERALLY A LITTLE GUY when i got into kagepro he was one of my faves actually cuz he was the closest to my age at the time. i was 13… im 22 now! lol thats not weird at all *eye twitch* sry ive been weird abt the passage of time lately. erm wait this isnt my therapy session <- doesnt go to therapy

HIBIYA. LITTLE GUY. my thoughts on him………honestly, i recently reread all the novels and god his intro chapters were HARD to read. all the creepy stuff abt hiyori yknow. i was cringing so hard. i kinda wanna ignore it bc i'd rather do that with the weird bits kagepro has to offer, but not to get rid of it completely. like id take away hibiyas whole thing abt a collection of hiyori pics but still keep the aspect of him that worships her. and how that dynamic would COMPLETELY go away post str.

post str hibiya is VERY different from how he started out. i mean. 10 year old timeloop…. he hasn't grown at all mentally like he has to process all this with his 12 year old brain, but going through all he did he just kinda looks at things rly differently now. not obsessed with hiyori, for one…. and she's also different to him. their relationship changes drastically bc now they both respect each other LOL listen i know im annoying with my codependent relationship headcanons but… eyes hibiya and hiyori

these bitches are 12. spent 10 years watching each other die over and over and literally die for each other. AND THEN THEY GET EACH OTHER BACK? ERM. yeah theyre NOT letting go of each other. its not so much codependency as much as it is awful awful awful separation anxiety. god are there any fics of hibiya and hiyori going back home and having a breakdown at having to separate and go to their own houses (bc in the city they were living together so it doesnt hit that they need to separate until they go home)???

hiyori would still be kinda bitchy and bossy but definitely not horrible to hibiya. and also her attitude hits different when she's also always holding his hand and refusing to go anywhere without him and throwing tantrums when any of the dan members even imply any activity that would require to separate them. and she wouldnt rly be embarrassed abt it i think hiyori would be super open and vocal abt HIBIYA HAS TO BE WITH ME ALL THE TIME !!!!!! and hibiya isnt even flustered hes just like *NODDING NODDING NODDING* bc he's the same with her. girl… SEPARATION ANXIETY HIBIHIYO<3 mekadan so sick in the head <3 they have 78 undiagnosed mental illnesses <3

not to make it abt my future headcanons of psych major hibiya but. new generations man. hibiya is 10000% the one in the dan going like GUYS WHAT HAPPENED TO US WAS SOOOO MESSED UP and everyone's like lol yeah !!!! and he's like DONT LOL ABOUT THIS IM FUCKING SERIOUS??? especially since he's such a fucking outsider to everything like everyone else's been experiencing all these tragedies since they were born and he just kinda. had a normal life before? and like i said NEW GENERATIONS MAN THEYRE PSYCHOANALYSING THEMSELVES AND EVERYONE AROUND THEM…. the dan is so used to this shit that they kinda lmao rock and roll thru it and hibiyas like NO. NO. NO. EVERYONE. THERAPY. NOW!!!!!! it becomes his special interest he starts getting all into psychology and when he comes back to the city for his visits suddenly he's diagnosing everyone with stuff and the dans like *shaking* MAKE THE KID SHUT UP also realises he has separation anxiety with hiyori and works on it. hiyori is surprisingly the one most terrified of letting go. and like i said…. 10 year long time loop being processed in a 12/13 year old brain.. hibiya is SUPER self aware. he makes sure of it

ok and. heh. haruka. THE WHOLE HIBIYA HIYORI AND HARUKA THING COULD BE ITS OWN POST… SO… IM LEAVING IT HERE CUZ THIS IS ALREADY SUPER LONG but im just gonna say. hibiya's IN DENIAL of konoha being gone. he keeps expecting haruka to go away. hibiya THINKS he's super mature, and he is for his age bc of all this shit and his willingness to understand his problems and everyone else's. and everyone else also think he is mature, but this is just something he can't stop being a 12 year old about. his friend is gone! WHY does it have to be gone!?!? especially in an ending where hiyori is back. if she wasnt, then he'd be more accepting of the losses bc there were 2 both konoha and hiyori and like it becomes another whole thing abt letting go and mourning but if she is back…everything is supposed to be perfect!! everyone made it back!! why couldn't konoha? why does it have to be gone? its not fair! he doesnt care this haruka was the body's true owner!! konoha was his friend! it also deserved to live as much as this haruka guy!!! why is HE more important!!!?!?!?!? and he just. he's just insanely immature abt it. and he knows he is but truth is he's just really fucking sad and regretful about konoha being gone. i could also talk about hiyori and harukas feelings abt it but heheh yeah this is super long. erm. hibiyita el chiquito <3 hibiya throwing a tantrum in front of the whole dan abt how it isnt fair and how he wishes haruka would just die. LMAO. he is 12. if anyone has fic commissions open Eye eye

also erm wholesome one before i end it. he makes little miniature dolls of the whole dan<3 he's BAD at typing on his new smartphone but since he lives away hes always texting in the gc<3 he gets super into mobile games<3 amongus fan hibiya asking all his grownup friends with jobs and no time for amongus if anyone can play with him<3 they do bc theyre busy but there will always be time to amongus with friends<3

[plume-pigmented-pili]

Hey hey! here’s a little something I wrote for Eli a few months ago. They convinced me i should post it, so here i am lol

———

Tw: Descriptions of a Cold, sickness (non graphic), feelings unwanted, coughing, headaches, misunderstandings, hurt/comfort. Let me know if I need to add more!

Words: 5.2k

Pairing: Prinxiety (Written as Romantic but could be read as platonic i guess)

“Virgil is miserable. Its the middle of the night, and Virgil is stuck in bed, unable to sleep, with a horrible cold. The actual cold isn’t why he’s miserable, though.

Is it selfish to want to be cared for?”

—

Through Sickness and Health

Virgil could hear the clock on the opposite wall ticking just a tad too fast, and didn’t need to even look over at it to know it was way too late to be awake. Sure, he didn’t have the best sleep schedule, but at least he was usually enjoying himself when he stayed up, and it was rarely this late. It wasn’t even his fault this time.

But here Virgil was, laying in bed curled under all the blankets he owned, wishing he was dead. On paper, that sounds a lot worse than it really was, but who could blame him? The sweet release of death sounded like heaven compared to suffering here any longer. His throat was sandpaper dry, nose clogged with snot, and what felt like a small bomb went off in his skull with every movement.

That, though, wasn’t the main reason he was suffering.

He’d been sick before, he knew it would be over soon, but no physical pain could compare to the hurt he felt, knowing that the others knew of his illness, and didn’t give a single damn.

There was no way they didn’t know what was happening - even if he’d tried to hide it, which he hadn’t, it’s not like acting was ever his specialty - but not a single one of them had batted an eye since he came down with this stress induced cold.

Well, that wasn’t completely true. Patton had asked if he was feeling alright on day two, when Virgil had shuffled downstairs around three in the afternoon to grab a snack, hoodie flipped up as he dug around, his hands clearly shaky from fever yet he’d been too tired to try and hide it. He’d told Patton, in the least shaky voice he could muster, that he just wasn’t feeling very well.

In hindsight, it had probably been incredibly selfish of him to expect Patton to come to his aid and comfort him, maybe offer to tuck him in on the couch and make him something healthy to eat. He’d seen Patton do just that plus more when Logan or Roman were feeling under the weather after all. But despite knowing it was selfish, he couldn’t help the disappointment and sinking feeling he’d felt when Patton had simply responded with a gentle, almost pitying, “I’m sorry kiddo, thank you for telling me.” before walking away rather hurriedly, leaving it there.

The conversation rolled around in his head, as it had been for the past 5 days. Nobody had come to check on him, not even the resident fatherly side to see if he was feeling any better. He’d been downstairs one other time since that little exchange with Patton, but when he’d walked in on Roman and Logan talking casually in the living room, they’d both given him short, obviously forced smiles, and sunk out. That’d been on day three, and Virgil hadn’t gone back down there since. He wasn’t that hungry anyway.

Maybe they didn’t want to get sick? Or maybe they thought he was gross, and didn’t want to be near him. Did they think he would be rude to them?

All this thinking was making Virgil’s head hurt more. And it really didn’t matter the reason. They didn’t care, they clearly wanted to avoid him.

It hurt, worse than his actual sickness, having to stay away from everyone for days on end. It reminded him of the old days before he was accepted, when he wasn’t welcome anywhere else but the confinement of his room. He missed Patton’s warm greeting each time he walked into a room, or the rants Logan would get lost in that were strangely so calming. Most notably, though, he missed Roman.

He missed their stupid banter that always left him feeling more confident, and the never ending singing that Virgil pretended not to adore. Hell, he missed just talking to the creative side. He’d give anything just to have a conversation with him, just to lift his spirits a little. He longed for one of the warm, solid hugs that only Roman could give.

He would probably even give up his Disney posters, his entire MCR song library, or get banned from every Hot Topic in the country, just to be held and cuddled right at this moment. To be held in warm, secure arms, wrapped in the scent of cinnamon and roses, and drift to sleep knowing he wouldn’t be alone in the morning.

That last one had about a zero percent chance of happening, even if he wasn’t sick and contagious, but Virgil’s sleep deprived, fever ridden brain had decided to be sentimental, and Virgil couldn’t even stop it. At least he wasn’t gone enough to consider asking for any of that comfort he craved. it’d be easier for everyone to just wait in his room until he was better. Then maybe things would be normal again.

And that was his plan, until someone knocked on his door.

The anxious side’s gaze shot over to the clock, grimacing when the quick movement made his eyeballs throb. Who the Hell was knocking on his door at nearly 3:45 in the morning?

“Who-“ Virgil cringed at how his gravely voice broke, cleared his throat, then tried again. “Who is it?”

“I knew you were awake!” Romans voice, surprisingly enough, came from the other side of the door. He was clearly trying to stay quiet, but for some reason, he sounded really… relieved, and chipper. A second later, the Prince added a bit more bashfully, “Uh, unless i just woke you up by knocking, and if that’s the case I sincerely apologize, I didn’t mea-“

“No, I w’s already awake…” Virgil interrupted with a slight slur, groggy brain trying to keep up with what was happening. Being the embodiment of Anxiety, though, meant he didn’t get to stop being anxious just because he was sick. Why was he here? Was he angry? Virgil couldn’t recall doing anything that could offend anyone since he’d been self-quarantined, but then again, he couldn’t really remember his last name at the moment either. He mumbled to himself as he untangled his legs from the covers, cursing the universe under his breath because his head felt two times it’s normal size. Then he took a deep breath and sat up. He didn’t want to make Roman uncomfortable or grossed out seeing him all sick in bed, cause holy shit would that be embarrassing. He still didn’t look great, but it was a small step. “Come in Pr’ncey.”

The door swung open, revealing a timid, bed headed Roman, who seemed to relax a little when noticing Virgil sitting up in bed. “Hey there.. sorry to barge in, I hope i’m not bothering you.” he said, voice still lowered and really quite gentle as he shut the door behind him.

Virgil went to shake his head, but stopped himself before he could cause himself fucking brain damage and just shrugged instead. “ y’re not both’ring me. ‘sup?” yikes, all this sitting up and trying to look presentable business was making him realize how exhausted he was. His eyelids felt heavy already.

Roman took a few steps forward, keeping his eyes steadily on Virgil like he was waiting for him to keel over and die, or cough on him. It seemed pretty damn dramatic, even for Roman. “I… just wanted to check on you. I’ve uh, been a little worried about you, and i couldn’t sleep.” The Prince said, hesitant as he lowered himself on the foot of the bed.

Virgil blinked a few times, curling his legs up so his knees were to his chest to make sure Roman wouldn’t touch his feet under the 5 layers of blankets he had over him. Or maybe it was the sudden, treacherous hope that was rising in him, a hope he was trying to stifle. Roman was… worried about him? Roman of all sides? I mean, he wasn’t surprised that he cared, he and Roman were friends now after all. Virgil was just surprised he cared about this. He thought they were all in agreement to avoid him or something.

Virgil was about to open his mouth and say… something - he didn’t really know what he was going to say. It felt like his train of thought was chugging along through molasses - but he was interrupted before he could get any words out.

“Dude… no offense, but you look like actual death. And why in the name of Hades are you buried under so many blankets?” The Prince asked with what sounded like genuine confusion, at least for the second part.

Virgil huffed and pulled the blankets tighter around him, the movement causing him to shiver. He couldn’t decide what to focus on; The cold air on his back, the rising sensation of relief knowing Roman cared, or how weird that question had been. Quite honestly, Virgil wasn’t offended because he knew he looked like shit. he was just a little confused. He thought Roman would have known he’d look like shit. “What do you mean why do I have so many blankets. I literally feel like ’m freezing to death. ’s part of the package, shouldn’t you know this?” He practically deadpanned, not even for the snarkiness like usual. His speech was just dull.

But that only left Roman looking more confused, and probably a good deal more concerned if his expression was anything to go by. “I-... I didn’t know that, no.. I’m sorry. Do you want another blanket or something…?” he asked carefully, still awfully and almost painfully cautious.

And Virgil… was at a loss for how this could possibly be new information to Roman. it was pretty common knowledge even if you’ve never had a fever before. But instead of dwelling, Virgil once again stopped himself from shaking his head, sighing instead. “No, it won’ help.” he said shortly. The effort would be futile, but it was endearing that Roman at least asked. “Thanks though. That’s.. really nice of you t’ offer.” The anxious side offered a bit more quietly.

There was an awkward silence that followed, Roman shuffling his feet against the carpet slightly as he looked around the room. Virgil saw the other’s eyes catch on the pile of used tissues in the floor, another bout of confusion flashing in his bright green eyes, but he didn’t mention it this time. Maybe it was a lack of sleep making the Prince act so clueless at the moment. “I… I guess i’ve just.. i don’t know, everything is more boring without you around. Nobody to insult without actually offending them.” Roman spoke again after a moment, sending a half smile in Virgil’s direction.

A little smirk matched with a snort is what the Prince was rewarded with, Virgil's spirits lifted regardless of his misery. It felt nice knowing he was missed, and it made his chest warm knowing it was coming from Roman. For some reason, knowing he could make things more bearable for his counterpart was.. rewarding, in a way. And Roman looked proud of himself, before he continued a bit more solemnly. “You’ve been cooped up in here for so long, like what, 5 says now?”

That got Virgil to sigh, and maybe there was some defensiveness laying beneath the surface, made worse thanks to being miserable, but all he managed was a mildly annoyed side eye to Roman as he responded in a mumble, still doing his best not to run Roman off. “‘t’s not my fault.”

Roman was quick to shake his head, slight guilt in his expression. “I know! I-I’m not trying to make you feel bad, i guess i just- i don’t know, i’m just talking out loud… sorry.” Roman’s voice had quieted, eyes trained on the floor somewhat shamefully as he seemed to search for his words. “I just.. I just wish…” but once again, he trailed off, shaking his head and seeming to give up. “I’m sorry.”

“‘s fine, Princey.” Virgil mumbled back, eyes dropping to his lap where he picked at a loose string on his bedspread. Another silence followed, Virgil trying to sniffle as silently as he could. Despite how weird this interaction had been so far, and how slightly awkward it’s gotten, Virgil was honestly just trying to soak in the mere presence of another side while it lasted. He’d never liked being alone for so long. His stomach was starting to hurt for a reason aside from sickness. This sure was a good way to get Roman to leave early, the others were probably right for leaving him alone so far.

Suddenly, Virgil squeezed the blankets in his fist to try and stop a sudden tickle in his throat, the sensation coming out of nowhere. Unfortunately though, his instincts won out just seconds later as he was forced to cough, the sound gargled and gross even when he covered the whole bottom half of his face with his covers. Dammit, dammit, stupid fucking cough. And Roman just got there too. He wasn’t ready for the creative side to leave again yet.

“S- Sorry, sorry ‘bout that. Shit.” He mumbled rather quickly, hoping to by just a few minutes longer of the creative side’s company before it was taken away again for who knows how long. His head felt like it was being split open, no thanks to the effort it took to cough. Who the Hell’s idea was sickness? They should be fired.

Much to his surprise though, when Virgil hesitantly looked up to gauge how put off Roman was by his display, he only saw an overwhelming about of worry, but even more importantly, alarm.

“Apologies, but is this like- normal??” Roman asked with eyes noticeably wider, studying Virgil's pained expression, hunched over posture, the mess of dirty tissues around, and the way the bright numbers of his digital clock on his nightstand was covered carefully, with a washcloth no doubt.

Virgil drew in a deep, slow breath through his nose as he rubbed on his temples to try and alleviate some pain, eyes closed and head tilted down. Roman’s ridiculous questions were just making his headache worse, and honestly he didn’t even understand how the Hell he was so confused. Was this his plan? To come in here and confuse Virgil and his already incapacitated brain? ‘Cause if so, he was doing a brilliant job. “Roman, what the hell are you talking about.”

It came out less like a question, more like a very tired statement, but he was answered with confused stammering, Roman gesturing almost desperately to Virgil and his state. “What do you mean what am I talking about?? Dude, you’re clearly not doing well. I mean, I wasn’t gonna bring it up, but you’re sweating like a sinner in church, you’re covered in a thousand blankets, you were just hacking up a lung and you’re barely able to speak right from, what i’m assuming, is a nose full of mucus!”

“Yeah, okay, I get it. I look like shit, Pr’ncey, enough said.” Virgil snapped, glaring up at Roman and accidentally moving his head up to look at him too fast, sending a flare of agony through his skull. He cursed under his breath and winced, but powered through it even as Roman lifted a hand to- to what, help? It didn’t matter, Virgil moved away from the effort. “No, don’t touch me, alright? I don’t wan’ your pity.”

Virgil knew all of this was coming out more aggressive than he ever would allow if he was feeling himself. Hell, even now he was begging himself to just shut up and stay calm. But after almost 2 full days with no sleep, and 5 days of nonstop pain, coughing, being unable to breath properly, the feeling of fire in his throat every time he tried to eat, and then on top of that, being shunned by the 3 people he wanted- needed, more than anything. Well, he really couldn’t stop his composure from cracking and shattering.

Roman looked ready to respond, seemingly struck with more pity than before, but Virgil’s hand shot up to stop him. “I don’t want to hear it, Princey. Why the Hell are you even here anyway? If you’ve missed me so much, why did you wait 5 f’cking days to come see me? T’ come ‘check on me’? And, by th’ way, so far you’ve really only been fucking with me and making me feel worse, so in reality it probably would ‘ve been better had you just kept up your streak of avoiding me like ev’ryone else!”

Virgil was breathing heavily, head pounding and lungs burning after raising his voice just a bit too much at the end of his rant. He replayed the words back in his mind, heart sinking when he realized how aggressive he’d gotten. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, why couldn’t he slow his breathing?? Jesus christ, he wasn’t about to break down on top of all that other shit he just unleashed. Perfect, he was just proving the other side’s point for them.

With his body now starting to shake, jaw clenched to hold back tears because this week has been bullshit, and he felt like curling up and disappearing, if not to escape his aching body then to at least escape the anger he knew would result from that whole verbal meltdown he just had. Obviously Roman would be leaving, but would he yell first? Tell him how annoying and selfish he was, and how he didn’t get to be a huge asshole just because he was feeling a little under the weather? Or would he leave in silence, just exit the room with that silent, cold anger that Roman only showed when he was really upset.

Maybe he’d tell everyone else what happened, how he’d tried to extend an olive branch, test it out just to see if maybe his illness hadn’t made him into a pathetic prick, but Virgil lashed out as expected and ran him off. Would Logan and Patton get mad at him too? Come in and tell him off for being so horrible to his own family, that he couldn’t even be a decent person for 5 minutes.

Maybe things wouldn’t go back to normal even after he’s recovered, all because he couldn’t just control himself.

“Virgil, what are you talking about?” Roman asked exasperated, and Virgil dragged his hands down his face. He meant to make more of a growl in frustration, but it came out closer to a pained whine. His eyes stung for a new reason now. He just wanted this to stop. Why wouldn’t Roman just stop?

“What. What am I talking about what. I can’t do this- this whole vague shit righ’now, jus’ spit it out.” He hated how short tempered he was sounding, but Roman didn’t seem to be fazed. Virgil could see the Prince waving his hands around in his peripheral, looking tongue tied.

“The- The part where you think i’m fucking with you?? Why you think we’re avoiding you?? Why you’re so-... so….” Roman trailed off, a look of realization crossing his face, which quickly turned to horror and guilt. “Wait a… w-wait a second, Virgil, are you- are you sick??”

To say Roman sounded appalled would be an understatement, his eyes wide in shock, brows drawn, mouth slightly agape. Virgil’s head spun, suddenly dizzy as his brain tried to figure out why Roman sounded so horrified- why he sounded so surprised. He couldn’t stand it, he couldn’t understand what was going on. He felt nauseous and he just wanted to sleep. Before he knew it, tears were trekking down his face, thick tears springing from his eyes making the pressure behind them even more unbearable. A sob tore painfully from his throat, instantly catching the Prince’s full attention.

“Oh my… Virgil-“

Virgil shrunk away from the Prince’s voice, curling up once more into a ball, trying to hide from everything. His lip wobbled, he could feel it, but he was too tired to be embarrassed or feel pathetic. He pulled the covers closer around him. “R-Roman, please jus’-“ He hiccuped on a sob, hissed through his teeth as the action sent a sharp pain through his lungs. “I don’ know i-if you’re tryin’ to joke ‘r somethin’, but— but ’s n- not funny, o-okay?”

Instead of speaking clearly at a normal volume, Virgil was nearly mumbling the entire time he was speaking, slurring through words even worse than when the conversation started. Was it just him, or was the room spinning? “Please, i… i need you t’...” Virgil huffed for breath, exhaustion wearing on him like a switch was just suddenly flipped. It nearly took all his energy to try and get a deep breath.

“Ro…”

Virgil was met with a warm, broad chest, and strong arms wrapping around him before he even knew he was slumping forward. His ears were ringing, drowning out what sounded like a familiar voice speaking to him. They sounded distressed, he hoped they were okay. What was combing through his hair? He couldn’t quite remember what was going on before then, but all he knew was, he was safe now.

Then, the world went dark.

———

Virgil came into consciousness a little while later, his brain the kind of blissfully empty that only comes after passing out, apparently. He couldn’t grasp where he was before, existing in a reality where there is no past for a few moments. His head was vaguely aching, like a dull throb faded into the background, and his lungs stung only a little when he breathed in deeply. In his sleepy state though, Virgil didn’t concern himself with those feelings.

Virgil couldn’t see anything, he noticed not long after, but he could hear murmuring and the distant sound of water running.

Next, he realized he knew he wasn’t in his own room anymore, both because this wasn’t his mattress, and the room didn’t smell like his own.

He could smell.. cinnamon… and peaches… and ink. Somewhere in his groggy brain, Virgil recognized the smell, but at the moment it was just out of his reach. It didn’t bother him, though, not when he was so relaxed and calm. He felt like he was one with the bed, and the soft, fluffy sheets encasing him.

A few more seconds of coming to, and Virgil realized his eyes were covered with something damp, and cool… soft too. It felt amazing against his warm skin. oh right, i’m sick, a thought entered his mind gently.

Then, a lot less gently, the events from before he passed out rushed to the forefront of his mind, practically smacking him in the face. Because yes, he’d passed out, right in front of Roman like an idiot, oh shit, why isn’t he in his room, where is he-

“Virgil? Hey woah, calm down buddy- here,” Virgil heard someone quickly cross the room, and tended his body for all of two seconds before the washcloth over his eyes was being lifted.

Virgil blinked blearily, squinting his eyes even though the room was almost completely shrouded in darkness, save for a thin line of light coming from the cracked bathroom door. Someone was sat beside him on the side of the bed, but he was too blurry for Virgil to make out details.

“There you are. Hey Hot Topic, how are you feeling?” the person asked, speaking more gently than anyone had spoken to Virgil in a long time. Strangely though, Virgil wasn’t upset by it. It was.. nice…

Wait a minute, he knew that voice.

“R- Roman..? I.. Where…?” Distantly, Virgil knew he sounded like shit, which meant he probably looked like shit, and directly after asking that half assed question, he realized he had to be in the Princes room. “Oh.. fuckin’- I passed out on you..” he groaned, moving his hands up to scrub the blurriness from his eyes.

It worked, surprisingly, and now that Virgil could see, he realized that yes, Roman was the one sitting next to him, and yes he was in Roman’s room, in Roman’s bed. He also noticed how tossed Roman’s hair was, and the bright red with little snowmen pajamas the Prince wore. They were really adorable.

“Yes, I’m afraid you did.. and I’m also afraid that I am partly to blame for it.” Roman sighed, casting his eyes down as he pressed his lips in a line.

Virgil’s brows drew together, and, because he was so delirious, he reached out to grab gently at Romans sleeve. “How is it your fault that I passed out?” he asked incredulously. At least he could speak properly now. Now? Now since when? Oh geez, “Wait how long have I been out? A few hours? Days? Years?! Did I fall into a coma?!”

The corner of Roman’s lip lifted in amusement, and he gently lay a hand over Virgil’s, on his sleeve. “No, no nothing like that, Dark Knight. It’s only been an hour or so. I.. hope you don’t mind, but I had to bring you in here. Your fever was… really high.” The Prince of Creativity said, solemn by the end.

“I think i’ve managed to get it down, so it’s not so dangerous anymore, but Logan will definitely have to keep an eye on it today.”

That got Virgil's attention. “Wait- Logan? Uh.. yeah, not to burst your bubble Princey, but I doubt that’ll be happening.” There was a slight bitterness to his tone as he wrapped his free arm around his midsection, and though there wasn’t as much bitterness as there usually would be, Roman still picked up on it loud and clear.

He inclined his head, as if in agreement, and Virgil stomach only sunk a little bit before Roman was speaking again.

“That’s where you’re wrong, Virgil. You see, there seems to have been a grave misunderstanding. This is how I’m partially responsible for your passing out, same as Logan and Patton are also partly to blame.”

Virgil’s eyes widened, breath hitching at the sheer ridiculousness of that suggestion. No!! How could it be their fault? He’s the one that got so sick and couldn’t keep himself healthy enough not to fucking pass out. He opened his mouth to say as much, but Roman held up a finger before he could get out a single word, silencing him.

“A few days ago, 5 to be exact, it came to Patton’s attention that you weren’t feeling yourself. He told me and Logan that you told him you weren’t feeling very well, and that we should all give you some space the next few days.” Roman said carefully. Ah yes, that conversation. The one that’s haunted Virgil for nearly a week. Virgil remembered it well.

With a hesitant, still very lost nod from Virgil, Roman continued. “It seems that Patton, and in turn, Logan and I, assumed that your strange behavior was linked to.. well, anxiety.” He gave Virgil’s hand a light squeeze, any sign of a smile gone and replaced with pained regret. The Prince swallowed, just as Virgil pieced it together.

“Because of these more stressful times Thomas is experiencing, we wrongly thought that you were having a rough week, leading to worse anxiety. So… we’ve been leaving you on your own, thinking we were helping you..”

Virgil.. didn’t know what to say. He looked up and found Roman’s red, sorrowful eyes. When he focused, he could see they were just a little bit bloodshot, even in the dark. Proof that he had previously cried, no doubt about this. When Virgil didn’t speak, still too shocked as his slowed brain processes this, Roman continued, quietly choking back a sob just after he averted his gaze to the floor.

“V-Virgil-“ he voice cracked. Virgil’s heart was sinking in his chest. Roman had never looked so heartbroken. “Virgil I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were sick, none of us did! I-I swear I didn’t know, I would have never left you alone if I had, Virgil, Star, i’m so so s-sorry,”

Roman was practically full on crying by that point, though he clearly tried to keep it to himself and stay quiet. Virgil was grateful for the effort, but there were much more important things to focus on at the moment. He may not be completely himself, but he still couldn’t let Roman be so sad.

It was because he wasn’t completely himself that Virgil automatically sat up (taking his time to do so, trying not to upset his head), and leaned himself right against Roman, chest to chest, looping his arms around to loosely hold Princey in a hug.

It all made sense now, why he’d been ignored all week, and why nobody came to check on him or try to help. He felt a little (read: a lot) stupid for thinking that anyone in his famILY would do anything but show him the upmost care and attention when he needed it. They thought they were helping, and honestly, had he in fact been having a bad week of heightened anxiety, giving him space would have been the right thing for them to do.

Roman was quick to return Virgil’s hug, though to his credit, his hug was a lot stronger and more secure than Virgil’s. He buried his face in Virgil’s hair, a steady stream of teary apologies spilling from him. A steady stream that Virgil hastily tried to end.

“Roman, it’s okay… i’m not upset, I promise it’s okay. I know you were doing what you thought would help me. Please don’t cry, Princey.” He said softly.

It might have been a few more minutes, or a few hours, that the two sides sat together in each other’s arms. Roman’s cries and apologies slowly quieted to a stop, though the gentle combing of fingers through Virgil’s hair only continued as they sat.

“Hey… Roman?” Virgil whispered after a few more moments, the whole mindscape quiet, save for the quiet sniffles from both Virgil and Roman every once in a while.

“Yes, sweet Midnight?” came an equally gentle response. Neither side moved, Virgil too content with his face snuggly buried against his counterpart’s shoulder, and Roman too content with having Anxiety safe in his arms.

“Would… well, you can say no, but would you mind.. if I stay in here..? I don’t… really want to be alone…” a hint of Virgil’s usual anxious tendencies showed itself despite the tiredness that was starting to cover the darker side. Instead of head-swimming exhaustion though, this time Virgil felt pleasantly heavy and relaxed.

Without uttering another word, Roman pulled them both down to lay their heads on the pillows, lifting one hand to gently flick his wrist and manipulate the covers around them. The light in the bathroom turned off with a soft click of Roman’s fingers, one that Virgil hardly registered as he shuffled somehow closer to the Prince, still tucked safely in his arms.

As he fell softly and smoothly into the first restful sleep he’s had in days, Virgil noticed that he wasn’t freezing cold anymore. The dull throb in his head had gone away almost entirely, and it felt that much easier to breathe. But most importantly, Virgil felt less alone than he had in a long, long time.

Needless to say, Virgil was feeling better already.

[scope-dogg]

Even now I curse the day, and yet I think few come within the compass of my curse, where I did not some notorious ill as call out a poster, or else devise his cancellation - post cringe or plot the way to do it - accuse some innocent of some ill depravity while indulging in it myself! Send anon hate to good posters so that they may lose heart - ruin good posts with provocative replies and bid the OP quench the ensuing flamestorm with their tears. Oft have I digg'd up a mutual's old cringe post from years ago and set it up in clear view 'pon the dash even when their shame almost was forgot! And in my reblog, as on the bark of trees, have with my keyboard carved in Roman letters "Let not thy sorrow die, though thy clout is dead!"

I have made a thousand terrible posts as easily as one would reblog a straycatj post. And nothing vexes me heartily indeed - save that I may not make ten thousand more.

[rocorambles]

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.  

OR

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that. 

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back. 

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands. 

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals. 

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.” 

Crap. 

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend. 

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway. 

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed. 

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself. 

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one. 

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.  

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?” 

Oh. OH. 

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds. 

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret. 

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside. 

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip. 

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit. 

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after. 

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate. 

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room. 

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you. 

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me." 

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant. 

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway. 

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow." 

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away. 

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other. 

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words. 

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you. 

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?” 

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum. 

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman. 

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?” 

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full. 

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure. 

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you. 

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.” 

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you. 

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him. 

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other. 

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face. 

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture. 

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting. 

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

[bondsmagii]

After being on the internet for so long I've noticed that Tiktok has a lot of similarities with tumblr(the old PEAK userbase tumblr not the chill current one) what with a lot of people faking and romanticizing mental illnesses to an unhealthy degree, but also has every single awful aspect of influencer culture that instagram brought to the table and lovecraftian algorithm like YT's.What do you think?I've been thinking about this a lot so I would like to hear someone else's opinion on this

I'm gonna be honest with you pal. I don't have TikTok and I don't plan to get it. the only TikToks I've ever seen are the peer reviewed ones that cross my dash. having said that, from what I've seen/heard others saying about it, your analysis seems pretty spot on. it definitely focuses heavily of viral culture, getting famous or becoming an influencer, and I have noticed from some TikToks that there seems to be a huge emphasis on putting your face first and foremost. it seems to have blended influencer culture with react culture; everyone thinks just because they have a camera they suddenly have something interesting to post about, and it's resulted in a whole lot of shit content and the occasional funny video that breaks out.

thankfully like most viral trends, it'll likely die down and be replaced by something else in a few years, likely of equal but different annoyance. what concerns me the most about TikTok (aside from the open and obvious data mining, of course) is the fact that a lot of TikTok users are very young, and they've put their faces and all their cringiest moments just out there on the internet. they'll regret that when they're older, and every day I thank god that I went through my cringe teenage years when the internet was still completely anonymous.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Drowning is amazing! Please continue!!!

Thank you! I am glad that you like it!

And I wrote it. It's a late post though, sorry.

Drowning Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@shydragonrider

Warnings: feverish whumpee, drugged whumpee, head trauma mention, pneumonia, pills (antibiotics), exhaustion, betrayal, talk of medical settings, mentions of attempted murder, anxiety, thoughts of anticipated retribution, nightmares

~

Hero scrambled to her feet, nervousness eating at her stomach. There was Villain, standing six feet tall and raging with anger, in her doorway. Not only did he look like he just went on a killing frenzy, he had a knife.

A knife and a true intent to kill.

"Villain," Hero cautioned, approaching the tall man. He glared, snarling down at Hero.

"I know you have him, Hero," he said, not even acknowledging Hero's quiet plea to step down. "Now, where is he before I bomb the place."

Hero noted that he still had a hospital gown on. His right forearm had blood dripping down it- the remnants of where he had ripped the IV out. The side of his head was still stitched up and hued in a deep royal purple shade. His damaged right eye was swollen, but not nearly as bruised as his temple.

"Where is he!" Villain hollered again and rushed at Hero. He stumbled a little bit and swayed as if a dense feeling of nausea washed over him- and considering the state of the villain's head, she wouldn't be surprised if he was indeed nauseous.

"He isn't here," Hero lied, but it was obvious that she didn't mean it.

"I know you took him home with you," Villain clenched his jaw, the bruise pulsating. "Why else wouldn't you visit me earlier?"

"Villain, I did visit you earlier," Hero tried to reason. "Remember?"

"No, no, no," Villain shook his head. "Only doctors and needles and fogginess and..." His voice trailed off ad his gaze darkened. "Not you."

"I'm sorry," Hero apologized, grabbing the villain's hands. She felt the knife loosening, but Villain didn't let go. Both breathed deeply, trying to calm themselves. Hero couldn't afford to get protective- if that was the correct word- and if Villain blew up again, by golly she would be.

But, the villain was obviously on another page. He suddenly punched Hero in the stomach, jabbed her jaw with the hilt, and lumbered into the house.

Hero doubled over, panting for breath as she tried to reorientate herself. After a good minute of puffing out breaths, she followed Villain.

She found him slamming his hip into her bedroom room. Instinctively, Hero lept on top of him, pulling him back. Thoughts rushed through her head. She had no means of restraints other than a pair of handcuffs in the bathroom cabinet- don't ask. She didn't even have a good enough room to lock such an explosive person in.

She had to take the handcuff route and somehow lead the maniac into the bathroom. Linking her arms around Villain's armpits, she attempted to drag the thrashing man down the hall, but, half-drugged and injured or not, he was still much taller and much bigger. He dug his heels deep into the hardwood floor and grit his teeth. He was going to kill Supervillain if it was the last thing he would do, and nothing, not even someone like Hero would stop him.

He yanked himself out of Hero's grasp and face planted into a wall, knocking down a sunset painting that Hero herself did. He weakly tried to use his arms to push himself back up, but they trembled and collapsed under his weight.

Hero returned her arms back to the position that caused Villain so much strife and dragged him. The villain had clearly exhausted himself to the point of compliance, so it really was an effortless task. She brought him to the bathroom, leaned his now lolling head against the baby blue wall and grabbed her horribly placed handcuffs. Putting them on deftly, she crouched down next to Villain.

"You are supposed to be in the hospital, you know," she lightly scolded him.

"I know," came the reply, so timid that Hero couldn't even correspond the rabid wolf that entered her den with the completely subdued fawn resting in her bathroom. His eyes were closing, too weary to stay open.

"Let's go get some sleep," Hero offered and pulled Villain to his shaky feet. But as she led him to the door, she noticed that he would not be able to make it to the living room without collapsing, so she scooped him up. Now that he was just hanging there limply, it was easy- there wasn't a fight, just complete and utter trust to allow the other to care for the wounded and exhausted one.

Once Villain was settled upon the couch, sleeping soundly, Hero went back upstairs to check on Supervillain. Unlocking the door with the key that worked for every lock, she pushed the door open and walked inside.

Hero scrunched up her nose. After spending sometime in fresh, lavender scented air, the revolting scent of sickness and sweat was like a trash can that had to be taken out to the curb.

But nonetheless, she walked over to the unconscious supervillain. His face was even paler, signifying that his fever spiked again, and he was shivering profoundly. She tossed another blanket over him and performed the hourly task of slipping the thermometer under his tongue. It beeped and like everytime, it revealed a nerve-wracking temperature.

Hero ran her hand through the grimey hair with a sigh and knelt down next to him. He was getting worse. Heck, he hardly looked like he was breathing, yet the consistent rise and collapse of his chest proved otherwise. Silent whimpers slipped through barely parted lips, a little trail of saliva streamed over parched lips. Eyes were closed, but barely. Hero could see distressed pupils shifting about as placid facial expressions contorted into ones of utter misery and pain.

"Hey," Hero whispered, grabbing his boiling hand. It didn't nothing to stop the unconscious torture Supervillain was enduring. His breaths sped up and he started to outwardly gasp, but never awoke.

"Supervillain?" Hero's voice was risen in pitch. "Hey, now. Wake up for me." She shook him, tapped repeatedly at his flushed cheeks, but nothing seemed to work.

Until he bolted up screaming.

No. Screaming was not the correct word for the desperate screech that tore itself away from Supervillain's face. It filled every crevice of the room- possibly even the house- with the haggard voice of terror. It made Hero cringe, her tired body jumping backwards. After the screaming festival was over with, Supervillain resumed a crying sound. Sobs turned into coughs as the sick man dealt with both illness from the pneumonia and whatever fear drove him into such a defensive fright.

Hero wrapped her arm around Supervillain, lethargically seating herself next to him. He turned his body over and pressed his face into Hero's side, relishing in the warming comfort it brought with a contented sigh. Soon after, he fell back asleep, mouth parting to draw in more precious oxygen.

Hero leaned against the pillow, allowing her ward to sleep cuddled up to her. Her own eyelids drooped, reminding her of the dire need to sleep. She contemplated sleeping next to the supervillain, but once Villain awoke it would be a catastrophe. Yet, the instinctual pull towards the awaiting slumber was too hard to resist. Hero scooted down into a more comfortable position, pulled Supervillain onto her chest and fell asleep next to him.

It was sometime before she felt something move beside her. Hero blearily opened her eyes- still heavy with left over sleep- to find Supervillain awake, still hugging her, but staring at something by the foot of the bed. At first Hero brushed it off as another feverish hallucination, but then she saw a shadow move.

Her eyes opening all the way, Hero's head darted to where her other unplanned guest was leisurely standing, using his knife to pick at his nails. Didn't she remove that toy from him?

"What did I say?" Villain asked, pressing his palms into the bedrail. "I say: you are housing Supervillain. No, she replies, blushing the entire time. And then what do I find? The criminal mastermind himself sleeping over the little princess with the tiara. Figures." Villain rolled his eyes, or his eye because the other was still sealed shut by the purple tarp that obscured the machine of sight from the world.

"I-i couldn't just leave him."

"He tried to kill you."

Supervillain whimpered, cowering deeper into bed as Villain's blantant mention of the past triggered his anxiety. Hero would surely get back at him once he was healed. She was just waiting so that she could redo the damage already done to his lungs. Make him suffer the agony he was experiencing. Supervillain let out a quiet sob and squeezed his eyes shut.

As complex as these thoughts seemed, the thinking of them only took a moment because soon, Hero was replying to Villain's accusation.

"And you tried to kill him," she retorted. "Twice. I stopped you both times."

"And knocked me out and hospitalized me in the process. Hero, we are the victims here. Not him," Villain shot a pointed glare at the scared supervillain with a sneer.

"You gave him pneumonia! He can die!"

"Okay, okay. One, I could've died from head trauma. Two, if he was going to die, take him to a freaking hospital. And three, you helped push him into the tank. Remember that."

The memory swarmed Hero like bees- the reminder of her own grave mistake making her feel a rush of guilt.

"I shouldn't have done that and I can't take him to the hospital or he will be arrested."

"I could've been arrested."

"Not everything's about you!"

Villain was silent, chewing at his bottom lip. "This isn't a decision of intellect, darling, housing him does not justify yours or mine or his actions. Not to mention how much you are going regret this," he pointed out, flinging the knife in his hands carefully.

"Why would I regret this. I am-"

"The Hero Agnecy dear. Did you think that your little medic friend thought it was normal for you to call my injuries in? Or are you that naive?"

Hero was silent, stunned into utter silence, but Villain's words. Medic never came. She never came to help Hero, but that didn't mean that she reported Hero's possible betrayal of the agency. It didn't mean...

She never came.

And Hero brought Villain to the hospital. That was all the proof needed for the Agency to put her on a watchlist.

"You need to go back!" Hero suddenly exclaimed, jostling Supervillain who was just about to doze off again.

"To where? The mangy excuse for a hospital?" Villain snorted. "Heck no." He chuckled. "They will put me back under with restraints this time. The chances of escape will go from 95.6% to zero in a matter of seconds. Its suicidal, not to mention probably stupid beyond reason."

"They are gonna think I busted you out..." Hero's voice trailed off when she saw Villain raise his eyebrow mockingly.

"Not everything is about you," he mimicked in perfect representation of Hero's prior exclamation that could've once been described as an arguement's winning statement.

"Shut up."

Suddenly, Supervillain started hacking, but this time around not only mucus left his lungs, but blood in the color of the deepest crimson.

"Hmm," Villain stayed silent for moment, brow ceasing. Hero thought she could literally see the gears clicking and turning in his head.

"You could be right," Villain agreed. "Going back would be beneficial. Especially for me." He grinned wickedly.

"How?"

"Well... Supervillain needs medicine and care, antibiotics to kick this pneumonia," Villain started to pace. "I could go back and gather some. Tell the docs that I escaped on my own... but for a price."

Hero got a sense of Rumpelstiltskin's classic, "all the magic comes with a price" speech with the twirl of his scaly pointer finger, from the series Once Upon a Time.

"Name it."

"All of my criminal charges are dropped, meaning I get to leave that hospital when I deem ready. Not when the stupid heroes decide that I am redeemed enough."

Well, uh, that... Hero shook her head. She never thought of it, but antibiotics were needed to make Supervillain better. She had to go through with it.

"Second," Villain counted off with his fingers as he threw sarcastically intended smirks. "I get a new motorcycle. Your boyfriend trashed it."

"He's not-" Hero stopped when she saw Villain raise an eyebrow.

"Shush, honey. Lemme talk," He drawled. "I will bring you the antibiotics if you swear you will heed my requests."

All sense of caution and foreboding were lost as Hero rummaged her thoughts over the promise. Supervillain's health for two simple things. It was easy enough.

"Deal," she said, nearly involuntary, but that wasn't entirely accurate because she indeed wanted this.

Villain smirk, running his tongue over his lips as he bounded over to shake Hero's hand. The second the two's flesh met meant that the deal was struck. Hero couldn't back away, nor could Villain.

Hero was in the kitchen tenderly feeding Supervillain some soup and prompting him to drink some gatorade when Villain returned triumphantly with a large red bottle.

"Sweet!" Hero exclaimed and grabbed the much needed tuberware. She opened it and admired the pills inside.

"One twice a day," Villain instructed, sitting down in the empty chair next to Hero. His eyes glinted with excited anticipation, narrowing slightly at the edges at the way Hero regarded the antibiotics.

She then took one and opened Supervillain's jaw. He didn't even attempt to resist and compliantly allowed her to maneuver his mouth around. Even though swallowing the hefty pill was an ordeal in itself, he managed.

Hero, seemingly satisfied, picked him up and carried him to the living room to nap on the couch. Villain followed behind her, shooting glances at his phone every few seconds.

Hero propped him against her shoulder and flicked on the television. A comedy show was on. Supervillain glanced up at it before digging his head into Hero's shoulders, completely disinterested.

Supervillain was asleep, Hero was resting with a relaxed look of tranquility on her face, and Villain was draped across an armchair completely absorbed in his phone and periodically looking out the window when the door made a knocking noise.

Hero tensed, and looked at Villain who had stood up.

"Wait here," he said, but there was no ounce of anticipation in his voice. Hero furrowed her forehead. There was even a hint of buoyancy in his typical monotone voice. Even though he usually spoke in a sarcastic air, he always seemed to drawl.

But this was different. Abnormal. Eerie. And a bit- if not very- concerning.

Hero stood up, leaning Supervillain against the armrest and pressed her ear to the recently shut door.

It was Villain who was speaking, that monotone that would stand out anywhere.

"I have them," he said. "I have them both."

Hero's heart dropped when she heard the click of guns.

[baekhvuns]

I'm just thinking about that legendary reddit post "Seonghwa is not a milf, he won't breastfeed you" he may not breastfeed us, but he's indeed a milfy milf, even without the long hair

I know lol, some people said it was Woo or Mingi in that photo, I remember my discord being in shambles. They were like OMG BOOBS IT CAN'T BE HWA HE'S FLAT while others argued WHAT BOOBS THERE ARE NONE 💀 yeah unfortunately I'm ill so it was clearly Seonghwa to me, should've make bets 😭

Miss Baek I only know like 8 TS songs maybe sjudjsgsjdgsjshhsj so I never heard those mentioned, because her lyrics just don't hit me at all I'm definitely not the target, but racer AU yeah. Ever since DV MV dropped I've been having racer thoughts. Zayn is hot, but I only like Harry's music and aesthetic

TB author is milking it soooo hard I know many people are upset, but some developed Stockholm syndrome I think. I scrolled through the thumbnails of the chapters and no Seojun in sight, so idc. I hoped they'd treat him better in the drama but they legit have some of his scenes to S*h*???

What would I do with your kidney though? 🤔 My brain can create stories but my fingers can't write them 💀 I used to write somehow, but I would probably cringe real hard at my old work rn...

So I've heard, JK has this bad boy look down while Taehyung is like a snobby rich guy vibes. Tbh I can't read for most people lol, maybe if there's no smut but interesting plot, but yeah I just don't feel this way about most idols. I think it's probably because many are a few years younger than me? Well Seonghwa is too but he's speshol 😻 even with Taemin who has been my ult bias for 8464838 years and I find him attractive I just don't see him in THAT way. I read some Hyunjin ff cause I have a friend who used to write for him, but it felt weird 😭 from Ateez I never read anything about Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho. Do you have members like that?

The lyrics to 🐺 are a bit concerning but the howling doesn't bother me anymore, I mean SKZ released Wolfgang and I actually like it I also love Shakira's She Wolf ksushajahhshsgdj still team vampires, but those wolf songs slap what can I say.

Sometimes I look at my red Hwa photocards or stuff I printed myself and die. I printed those Rhythm Ta and Wolf selfies because WOWOWOOOWOWOOOO BARK BARK

Nooo the fansign person is someone else don't worry, but she was a bit upset afterwards cause she didn't manage to tell them everything, she's also reluctant about speaking English, so it was a bit difficult but the boys were sweet. <3

Such a lovely loser https://twitter.com/thinkingabtpsh/status/1525200340634804224?t=vnwiAzxT4SFjLQIUuBt19g&s=19

Also interesting that I wore the same shoes today 👀 I was upset that my friend did too, he also wore a bucket hat and so did I, lol but twinning with Hwa would be cool 🥰 - DV 💖

hihi!

I'm just thinking about that legendary reddit post "Seonghwa is not a milf, he won't breastfeed you" he may not breastfeed us, but he's indeed a milfy milf, even without the long hair

LMFAOOOO STOP IT STOP IT 😭😭😭🤚🏼 he can let us hold them,,, one chance just one 🤌🏼

I know lol, some people said it was Woo or Mingi in that photo, I remember my discord being in shambles. They were like OMG BOOBS IT CAN'T BE HWA HE'S FLAT while others argued WHAT BOOBS THERE ARE NONE 💀 yeah unfortunately I'm ill so it was clearly Seonghwa to me, should've make bets 😭

NOT THE HWA BOOB SLANDER NAURRRRRR 😭😭😭 THAT MAN IS ANYTHING BUT FLAT but mingi is a big boy 👁🤚🏼👁 BDMWDH SHOUDLVE MADE BETS FOR A QUICK MONEY 😭😭😭

Miss Baek I only know like 8 TS songs maybe sjudjsgsjdgsjshhsj so I never heard those mentioned, because her lyrics just don't hit me at all I'm definitely not the target, but racer AU yeah. Ever since DV MV dropped I've been having racer thoughts. Zayn is hot, but I only like Harry's music and aesthetic

RHKWDHWK I JUST KNOW HER TITLE TRACKS 😭😭 racer au got it !!! YES HARRYS MUSIC is so like nostalgic?? almost whimsical in a nostalgic way <3 the aesthetic is so artistic even in the small parts of the videos

TB author is milking it soooo hard I know many people are upset, but some developed Stockholm syndrome I think. I scrolled through the thumbnails of the chapters and no Seojun in sight, so idc. I hoped they'd treat him better in the drama but they legit have some of his scenes to S*h*???

fRRRRR GIRLIE GETTING THE $$$$ stOCKHOLM LMFAOOO PLS THE CALL-OUT FBWKFHWK,,,, i hope they get him a nicer girlie than jugyeong tbh 😭😭😭 he deserves it after the intense heartbreak after heartbreak

What would I do with your kidney though? 🤔 My brain can create stories but my fingers can't write them 💀 I used to write somehow, but I would probably cringe real hard at my old work rn...

YOU USED TO WRITE??? 🤲🏼🤲🏼🤲🏼 i also immensely cringe at my old works 😭😭 what was going oN IN MY BRAINBFMSBD

So I've heard, JK has this bad boy look down while Taehyung is like a snobby rich guy vibes. Tbh I can't read for most people lol, maybe if there's no smut but interesting plot, but yeah I just don't feel this way about most idols. I think it's probably because many are a few years younger than me? Well Seonghwa is too but he's speshol 😻 even with Taemin who has been my ult bias for 8464838 years and I find him attractive I just don't see him in THAT way. I read some Hyunjin ff cause I have a friend who used to write for him, but it felt weird 😭 from Ateez I never read anything about Yunho, Mingi, Wooyoung and Jongho. Do you have members like that?

jk’s always a bad boy, tae’s the ceo, jimin’s in dance relayed or vampire fics rMS ALWAYS IN DILF ONES FHWKDHWK,,, SEONGHWA IS SO SPESHOL 😭😭😭 i truly never read (or if i HAVE TOO) for wooyoung jongho or yeosang or yunho or hongjoong,,,, basically most of them expect hwa,,, unless its like the only thing available i will but i don’t go out of my way to read abt them,, i also cannot read for any other group at all it feels a little weird,,, as in i cant imagine them in that sort of way— in smut especially

do u perhaps also get irritated at the fact that idols r too sexualized 😭😭 as in, someone who’s always talking about how “look at his thighs i just wanna sit and give him a show” or anything along the likes of that,,,, I GENUINELY DO NOT LIKE THAT 😭😭😭 bc sometimes that’s the only thing ppl talk about and i just 🔫🔫

The lyrics to 🐺 are a bit concerning but the howling doesn't bother me anymore, I mean SKZ released Wolfgang and I actually like it I also love Shakira's She Wolf ksushajahhshsgdj still team vampires, but those wolf songs slap what can I say.

Sometimes I look at my red Hwa photocards or stuff I printed myself and die. I printed those Rhythm Ta and Wolf selfies because WOWOWOOOWOWOOOO BARK BARK

SHE WOLF SUPREMACY???? ALWAYS,,, yeha the lyrics can be forgotten i think ive grown past the whole thing abt hating wolf, atp if anyone hates wolf with all their heart is just them being edgy 🔫🔫

YOU PAINT???? HELLO AND HWA????

Nooo the fansign person is someone else don't worry, but she was a bit upset afterwards cause she didn't manage to tell them everything, she's also reluctant about speaking English, so it was a bit difficult but the boys were sweet. <3

OH THANK GOD I WAS ABT TO THROW HANDS BFANBDKWB oH NAURRR 😭😭 hopefully next time bc ateez do he liking amsterdam quite a lot 😭😭😭

Such a lovely loser https://twitter.com/thinkingabtpsh/status/1525200340634804224?t=vnwiAzxT4SFjLQIUuBt19g&s=19 Also interesting that I wore the same shoes today 👀 I was upset that my friend did too, he also wore a bucket hat and so did I, lol but twinning with Hwa would be cool 🥰 - DV 💖

LOVELY LOSER FHWKDH,,, FBAKDHKS HEY U AND UR FRIEND TWINNED 😭😭 TWINNING WITH HWA WOULD BE SO CUTE BC HE’D POINT AND SAY HEY and u have a yn moment ✨🤌🏼