#i just wish i could have more time to understand

[princesscolumbia]

So I'm writing a major sci-fi project that I'm expecting to take several years, if not upward of a decade, to complete. Part 1 takes place in a timeline where fascism has already set itself in place and is managing to dig in so deep that it'll take some very, very extreme measures to pull out the roots. In part 2 I visit a parallel timeline where fascism is getting its hooks into a galactic power and trying to go all "Earthgov in Babylon 5 season 2-4."

In both cases I'm having to dig into the cause of fascism and what causes entire groups of people to willfully step into situations where their own best interest is being actively worked against. What is it about fascism that makes it so appealing to large populations that they look at history and say, "...nah, it won't happen that way this time."

And I'm having to struggle against my own presupposition that humanity is fundamentally always looking out for the best way forward and actually learns from the mistakes that litter the past.

Fascism is so stupid! So much of the implementation of fascism in the early days relies on people being absolutely brick stupid. "I have precisely one way of effecting major change on the nation/world I live in...but I'm le-tired, so I'm not going to vote." "I haven't read a single book since I got out of high school," (said proudly, as though this is somehow an achievement). "History is just a bunch of boring dates about dead people, but by god World War 2 was the greatest moment in all the record of all the world! What do you mean, how did it start? Pearl Harbor, duh!" "What do you mean, we need to protect the rights of trannies and illegals?! They're criminals, they don't deserve rights! What'd'you mean I gotta prove it?! Just look at 'em, you can always tell!"

The worst part is there's no "Evil fascists playbook that we're going to pass down to our children's children," it's just the worst parts of base human nature that are repeated generation after generation. Over and over again throughout history good people have done their damnedest to codify the sorts of behaviors and cultural practices that would stop fascism, but so often the efforts are made with the idea in mind that there is some secret cabal of people that are orchestrating the complete, catastrophic downfall of mankind to prop up only one (1) central ruling body, and if we can just stop those people then that'll stop evil for sure this time!

There's a reason we look at movies like Idiocracy and have this bone-chilling reaction that this is what our future will look like. Even a cyberpunk dystopia would be better than the truth because at least we could commit crime to steal from the wealthy and powerful what should be ours by protected right, such as healthcare or even water. But the truth is so viscerally terrifying because there is no dictatorship that will result in the upward spiral of humanity advancing to the next stage of evolutionary existence. There's no technological leap that will push us to being better than we were that can be enforced by a single hegemony. Fascism and tyranny are fear responses to a world that's bigger than one person can control and understand. Whenever a fascist state rises, its fall begins the moment it stabilizes from the ruins of the nation it replaces. In every case, the fascist country was already in the process of collapsing by the time its neighbors began the process of fighting back and containing it. The Third Reich was going to collapse before a decade was out whether the Allies did anything to stop them or not because the foundation it was built on was white supremacist fairy floss and paranoid wishes. The Soviet Union shattered because an empire founded on misinformation and violent intimidation couldn't scale to the degrees they were attempting. Even the PRC is being eaten from the inside by movements that are inherently more humanitarian and forward thinking.

The drive to be better to your fellow people is simply going to cause any fascist state to topple because 'being a better person' is an internal drive to each individual and 'subsume yourself to the state' is inherently opposed to it. The fascist state cannot abide individual excellence, people are born with the desire to grow and excel beyond their circumstances all the time. Fascism is inherently temporary, inherently self-destructive, and inherently a dead end.

This isn't to say it shouldn't be fought. Fascism is CATASTROPHICALLY destructive! Even a proto-fascist state like present-day (at the time of this writing...please tell me this will be out of date in two year's time!) United States of America is capable of doing massive amounts of irreparable harm in it's infantile flailing as it struggles to get its feet under it. Fascists need to be stopped. They need to be put down so hard the only thing needed for a grave is to fill in the hole from dropping them so hard. They need to have the fear of every god and goddess ever revealed, conceived, or imagined put in them and done so with a massive neon sign that can be read for the rest of human history that will tell fascists loud and clear what WILL happen to them if they ever try that shit again.

But the thing is; the fascists only seem to be working from the same playbook! Pick any evil empire throughout history that matches the definition of a fascist state and you'll see the exact...same...pattern, every single time. And it's not like these people read! They don't sit down and pour through documents looking for all the best ways to oppress a population and destroy the Earth, they just do it because fascism is stupid! If they actually read books and studied history they'd see that what they're doing, how they're behaving, and the way they're thinking is a failing formula. They will NOT be regarded as heroes! They will NOT be the great founders of a continent/world/solar system/galaxy spanning nation! They will be hated and reviled and hunted while they're alive and their deaths will be celebrated in ways that make the people celebrating Scrooge's death in A Christmas Carol's dark future timeline look like the most sentimental of mourning wakes. They will have their names listed with Haman and Caesar and George and Hitler and Pol Pot and Stalin and Regan as "People to find a way to make a pact with the devil to resurrect just so you can kill them again EVEN HARDER!" Their families will be ashamed of them. Their freaking mustache style will become known as "History's Worst Fashion Not" for men. They will be the butt of jokes about how the world could only be better without them in it.

THEY WOULD KNOW THAT THEY ARE ON A DEAD END PATH IF THEY JUST LEARNED FROM HISTORY!

But they don't read. And they don't want you to read. Not because they have this clever plan or ploy to ensure you don't get any ideas, but because just the thought that you might be smarter than them hurts their pwecious widdle fee-fees.

And, honestly? That's just so galling!

Like, we want Hitler to have been some magically charismatic individual who managed to superhumanly hypnotize an entire generation of Germans into becoming mass murderers. We want a generational cabal of secret elders in obscenely wealthy families who rigorously trains their children in the art of oppressing the lower classes. We want Trump to be this unstoppable business mogul with the entire world's wealthiest oligarchs in his pocket, ready to wield unspeakable power to shatter hundreds of years of progress in pursuit of human betterment.

We want these people to be megalomaniacal masterminds because the thought that all this damage and destruction and fear and terror and murder happening because a bunch of paranoid, infantile morons who you suspect would wet their own pants if they thought it'd be the next popular trend and secure them more power is just an insult to you. It's an insult to the people of [insert your country here]. It's an insult to the entire human race. It's an insult to all our daughter species that (universe willing) we'll eventually create to succeed us. To think that a whiny, pathetic, wet rag of a human being should manage to capture enough people's attention that they'll just hand over their rights, liberties, and freedoms in exchange for transparent lies makes anyone with a brain and a conscience recoil in atavistic horror.

What’s really occurring is an attack on the American mind. Ignorance is the handmaiden of tyranny.

[crow-caller]

I really do think looking at bad writing is one of the best ways to learn about writing in general, especially for beginners.

the thing is, writing in general is highly subjective- a good sentence will be good in different ways to different people, or not impress someone at all.

a bad sentence? most people can spot bad sentences easy, especially if it is presented to them as 'here's an example of a bad sentence, let's unpack why.'

bad writing can also be very funny, which I think is again often more engaging than 'here's a work of literary genius go analyze it'. Like here's some bad writing from lightlark3:

The moment it was out of Horus’s grip, his body became bones. The flesh turned to ash. He became a corpse.

it's dumb as hell, but I think could foster a solid discussion when you ask 'why? what is the author intending to say? what about it makes it feel 'clunky'? How would you write the same idea?'

[cvnt4him]

Hi! I hope you’re doing well, I’ve been a silent fan for a while and I really appreciate and love your work so I wanted to request how Katsuki and/or izuku would would react to reader flashing them during or after a heated argument If you could :)) you decide if you want it to be smut or not, Thank you!!

ty for your love and support! I giggled while reading this lol

Katsukiᡣ𐭩

during an argument.

Katsuki was really heated this evening and you certainly hadn't made anything better with your bickering. It's not as if you yourself were upset, you were just nagging a bit. Katsuki, as someone who is normally really clean and good at picking up behind himself, just trudged through your front door shedding his shoes in the living room and flopping down onto your couch. Not greeting or saying hello to you, not offering to help or take a load off of you. Nothing.

You understand he's been working today but a hello would've been more than enough for you. You've just missed him a bit more than normal that morning and wanted to feel his touch. You spoke only a word to him about how you felt and he was already giving you an attitude. You could only scoff at his sass and angry voice. Most of the time when he got angry you'd get angry, but this time you couldn't handle him.

You really didn't feel like arguing or just yelling back at him. With a blank face you just stared at him as he spat words out at you while he sat back against the couch. You sigh to yourself and simply lift your shirt and allow your boobs to freely fall out. Katsuki who was staring directly at you watched your every movement as he spoke, not expecting you to do that he suddenly stops speaking.

You raise one brow and try your hardest not to snicker at his surprised expression, a dust of pink brushing his cheeks. You heard a small breath leave his slackened jaw as he stared you up and down for a couple of minutes. You pull your shirt down and clear your throat before addressing him.

“ now then.. are you done? Jesus, katsuki, all I wanted was a hello and for you to not throw your things-”

Before you could finish your sentence he was quick to get up and throw you over his shoulder. You yell out and question what he's doing.

“ if yer so keen on talking over me; let's see if you can even get a word out when I'm through with ya.”

Izukuᡣ𐭩

after an argument.

You just wanted to feel appreciated was all, you did your best with dinner and looking well for him only to get nothing in return. You wish you hadn't had blown up on him, and it really did break your heart having him yell at you...but goodness that angry expression he had, the way he grit his teeth and breathed heavily. You could see a tinge of regret behind his eyes, he isn't one to normally snap so easily.

The two of you took a bit of a break from each other, just taking 5 minutes in separate rooms to cook off. You were never really angry, sure a bit upset but you just wanted your husband. That need for him never went away it only grew.

Izuku, ready to apologize, walked back into your shared bedroom to address the situation. He felt he'd gone too far and that arguing and him raising his voice wasn't necessary. Things could've been resolved in better ways by simply talking them out.

As you heard your husband out, watching as he spoke with his hands as well as his apologetic voice. You simply smiled at him, watching as his sad eyes had trouble staying connected to yours. Your hands slowly brang themselves up to your shirt and you lifted it just as slowly allowing you to tease him a bit. He immediately stopped talking and his eyes flickered from your eyes straight to your bare chest his jaw falling slack as his eyes widened. A small noise leaving him as he completely forgot what he was talking about.

You remove your shirt as a whole and walk towards him in only your underwear, his hand immediately flying to your sides as he gulps down struggling to look at you.

“ I know another way....you can make it up to me.”

“...deal.”

[motthe]

there's no death here | robert "bob" reynolds [part 3]

ཐིཋྀ wrote this part very late and half asleep so bear with any mistakes or things that could've been written better

warnings: child abuse and threat of death, mental health crisis, heavy mentions of sexual assault, lots of violence and panic, one moment where this feels a bit like a crack fic but shock does weird things so yeah

masterlist | ao3

A week and a half went by.

The mental training wasn't easy by any means. Every shame room you had to coerce Bob to drag you into was not without its own consequences to your own mental health, but each time you were able to show Bob how to detach. How to accept the pain, understand it, and ultimately let it pass.

The problem was, you had steps ingrained in you from years of therapy. Bob had nothing but his own hands holding him together.

Bringing him into your psyche with a firm grip, you allowed him to see your own broken days of youth. There was a time you'd both lived on the streets. But where he fell into drugs, you were tangled up in petty thievery and coercion of strangers giving you a place to stay and warm food.

“By fifteen I could insert memories or mess with them,” you'd told him over lunch. “It was enough to get people to trust me.”

“Better than a meth-crazed chicken,” he grumbled, still very much beside himself that you had managed to slip you both into that particular memory. 

“Yeah, wasn't too bad until I screwed with the wrong person.” The cold tone had surprised both of you. It took a moment to wave the dark cloud out from over you—a story for another time. “Look we all have shit days, but we can outgrow them.”

You allowed him to walk through some old therapy sessions to get a taste of the environment. Dr. Arlington had been of monumental help to you and you hoped, with Bob's consent, she could be the same for him. While it had been some time since you'd seen her, you knew she could be trusted around super people and their psychological problems.

“I can't help you with the underlying issues. I wish I could,” you sighed, making sure to keep pace with Bob as you walked. It had been a nice day and as much as the man was a homebody, you pushed him to get some fresh air at least once a day. The public gardens nearby were usually peaceful in the earlier hours and he'd agreed to have easier lessons here for today, which mainly meant building up walls and you breaking them down.

“I know I need therapy,” he murmured, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “But what if we start talking about something and I snap?”

That's the part I'm helping you with, you assured, smiling as he blinked and worked to shake you out of his head. “Better,” you said. A little light came back into his eyes.

“I can section off pieces of your powers,” you continued, “but only the psychic parts and not for long given your strength.”

His slate blue gaze skated the grooves in the sidewalk, tongue working inside his cheek. It popped as he sighed, a breeze sending little hairs across his forehead. “Everything feels like a risk.”

“Life is a risk, constantly,” you huffed, both of you pausing as a flock of pigeons flew by to land in the center green. Perfect timing.

You shouldered your bag around to grab the bag of cooked rice within, guiding Bob towards the nearest bench. It wasn't until he was watching the birds eat that you finished your earlier statement.

“The best part is when you don't have to take risks alone. Little less scary.” A jogger going by scattered the birds but they quickly swarmed your feet again. “And you can trust your team for that. And hopefully me too with a bit more time.”

You caught Bob staring as you scattered another handful of rice. He didn't turn away even when you hummed in question.

“How can you be so nice?” he mumbled.

You just laughed because he made it easy to be kind, but that part he didn't see.

By the end of the first month, Bob was scheduled and going to therapy twice a week. You drove him there and back, always in the next room with a gentle presence at the border of his consciousness in case he grew to be too stressed. If he ever felt out of control, you were there to shield him.

Better yet, Dr. Arlington adored him, but that she told you in confidence as you caught up over the phone.

“You're calming,” Bob told you, looking cozy in the corner of your favorite café.

It was a lazy Tuesday afternoon after his fourth therapy session. He'd been a man of few words today when you picked him up. You hadn't pushed, noticing the dark circles under his eyes and a new sweater adorning him. It was all muted stripes and fall tones. The weather had gotten colder and while you hated to be chilly the aesthetic fit him alarmingly well.

“Am I?” you asked, setting his tea in front of him. “It’s still a little hot. Be careful.”

“You don't think so?” He was getting a lot better at holding eye contact in these quiet conversations between lessons.

“I dunno,” you hummed, popping the cap off your drink. The steam left your chin sticky as you blew into it. “I'm happy you find me calming. I feel like a mess most days.”

“You're really put together from where I'm standing,” he mumbled through a smile and the soft jab at himself left you brave enough to nudge his foot under the table, passing looks that would've felt too much at the Watchtower. Too big.

He grabbed the door on your way out, your arms brushing. Even through your clothes, you felt his warmth and the sudden need to inch a bit closer. A bit deeper. 

Don't. The warning was distant. A ripple in the ocean of your mind. Don't do that. You have to be an anchor.

You shut your eyes and took a breath before thanking him, keeping space between you as you returned to the car.

It was late when you shot up in bed, every hair on your body singing at the sense of wrongness in the air. There hadn't been a nightmare and reaching out with your mind, you found no others in the vicinity of your apartment.

Focus. You gripped the bedsheets under you, slowing your breath and closing your eyes. Something was wavering at the edge of your consciousness, whipping like a red flag at the coast. You tried to pinpoint it, but the problem was too far away. Just on the horizon. 

Your eyes snapped open.

“Bob,” you whispered, springing from bed.

Your phone blared against your bedside table as your feet touched the floor. Buchanan trailed across the screen.

“Bucky? I'm on the way,” you said, grabbing your bag and shoving your feet into sneakers by the door.

“Damn, you feel it from there?” Bucky scoffed.

“Give me a report,” you demanded, scaling the stairs to the ground floor. Thank God you were only on the second level. “What happened?”

“Not sure. Walker was up and found a wall of black where Bob reads. Yelena already tried to go in.”

“Tried?”

“Tell her to fucking hurry!”

That sounded like her.

“Usually we get transported in the weird memory room things, but it's not pulling us in. On the bright side—”

“Don't talk about a ‘bright side’ when there's literally an entire part of the room blacked out!”

That sounded like Ava.

“—it's not spreading,” Bucky finished as a roar broke through the speaker. “Don't throw a fucking chair at it!”

“I break through darkness to save Bob!”

“We don't need to be breaking anything! You’re gonna piss it off!”

“You just throw shield at it, why not chair?!”

Shit, you'd just ran a red light. Well, whatever. This was more important than—you glanced at the dashboard clock—4AM traffic laws.

“I'll be there as fast as I can. In the car now.”

“Okay. I'll unlock the elevator for you. Alexei quit—!”

The call went dead. You tossed your phone into the passenger seat and floored it.

The minutes went by in flashes. You didn't stop to find a parking space or grab your purse. You shoulder checked one of the sliding glass doors when they failed to open fast enough off and slammed into the elevator that was open and waiting.

Panting up a storm, the floor had barely begun to rise when something kicked against your mental barrier. The psychic blow had you careening back against the wall, gasping as you fought to hold them intact.

“Hurts. Hurts. I don't want to be here. Stop yelling. Please. Don't hurt them. I always ruin everything. Stop. Please.”

“Oh, Bob,” you choked, hand going straight to your chest. Even through your shield you could hear his thoughts screaming out of the void. Every word was distraught, beating against you like armored fists. You wanted to let him in, open your arms and wrap them around him and show him he wasn't alone. Whatever he was seeing wasn't real.

Hearing the ding of the elevator, you ran head first as the doors opened and about crashed into Ava.

“Sorry!” you gasped out, scanning the room. It took less than a second to spot the clouds of ink seeping from Bob's book nook. The rest of the team was huddled on the outskirts, arguing before they turned at your entrance.

“I thought you were helping him!” Yelena yelled at you as you approached.

“I'm doing my best. Healing isn't linear!” you yelled right back, sweating through your tee and moving towards the darkness.

Bucky intercepted before you could reach out for it. He wore the wartorn look of a leader as his metal fingers clutched your elbow.

“Let's stop and think about this for a sec,” he grunted.

“If you can't get in I can try to force my way in.” You looked at him, eyes watering, “Please. I can feel him. He's in pain.”

“What, we're supposed to just send her in there alone?” Walker snapped. “It took all of us to pull him out last time.”

“Last time it snatched us, but this? This is different,” Yelena hissed, running her hands back over her hair. Her piercing eyes landed on you. “If you can figure out a way to get us in, we can help him.”

“I'll try, but I can't just pull you all into his psyche. Your minds—they don't move the same,” you explained in a rush.

“What the fuck is a sigh-key?” Walker grumbled.

Bucky let go, pointing a harsh finger over your shoulder. You turned to find Alexei rolling his eyes and letting go of the couch.

“Whatever, just do what you can,” Yelena said and maybe you made a face or maybe she noticed herself how cruel her tone was becoming but she added, softer, “please.”

Nodding, you ushered them back towards the elevator and double checked your mental shields as you stood at the precipice of the darkness. There was nothing beyond it, just a wall of rippling smoke.

“Okay,” you whispered, listening to the stream of thoughts pouring out. “I’m coming, Bob.”

One slip of your shield was all it took. There was a resounding THUMP as your physical body was wrenched out of reality. Your feet hit a new floor, knees buckling as you crashed down breathless.

Okay, guess that's letting me in. You'd been in numerous shame rooms, had felt the mental landscape like any other space you would create for yourself in meditation. This was one step further as your heartbeat rose to your throat. He brought all of me into his psyche.

The amount of energy that would take—it was far more similar to Ava with how she could phase out of one room and into another. You could link someone to your mind, show them everything, speak to them but you couldn't bring them in, not like this.

You knew Bob was powerful, but this was on a whole other level.

A door opened, lighting up the space you occupied. The figure of your mother was backlit as the hall light stretched into your childhood bedroom.

No. Fuck, not this one again. She walked straight by you, humming a song that had chills breaking down your spine. You tried to mute the scene and found you had no control as you had once had before. Now it blocks me.

Your toddler-self turned over in her bed, blinking wearily as your mother sat down next to her. “Mama?”

You shook your head, hating how hard the floor was against your hands and knees as you pushed off it and towards the door. Your body crashed against it, hands smacking over the fake hallway.

“Bob?” you called loudly, reaching out with your mind and wincing at the onslaught. His voices echoed and bounced every which way here. Bob, it's me. Where are you?

“I'm sorry, baby, it's time to go,” your mother whispered and you refused to turn around, but you could feel the phantom touch of her hand brushing back your hair.

“Go where?”

Bob! Can you hear me? Where are you?

You turned from the fake hall and sprinted towards the window, attempting to open it. Out of the corner of your eye you could see your mother's hand settle over your little self's throat.

“It'll be better, I promise,” she whispered, sniffling.

“Bob!” you screamed, banging on the glass.

“(Name)?”

You jerked your head up at the sound of him in your head and noticed movement in the window's reflection. You recognized that sweater.

Whipping your head around, you found that same fake hall before turning back. You could just make out his horrified expression as he found you through the window. Bob! I'm here!

You blocked out the sounds of little legs thrashing against a bed and the hysterical crying of your mother as you backed up a couple of steps.

This wasn't real anymore. You were done with this place.

Yelling, you ran and threw yourself into the window. The wooden frame splintered as glass shattered. Halfway through, gravity shifted as your body ripped backwards. You saw your legs above you a split second before your upper back hit cold, wet ground.

A crumpled mess, you whimpered at the aches building in your body before noticing your old bedroom hanging above you. The door opened to your mother's outline once more.

“Come back,” she called, hands reaching out. “It'll be better, baby. I promise.”

“Fuck you,” you spit, turning over broken glass shards. “Oh God dammit. No.”

Metal bars greeted you a few feet away, the door opening into another poster board hall as a familiar uniform stepped over you, ignoring your presence completely.

“Nothing without your little mind tricks, huh?”

This was the one shame room Bob hadn't encountered with you, yet, and by far the worst.

I knew it was coming. I can get past it. You refused to look behind you, taking deep breaths as you pushed off your shoulder to get upright. Glass was embedded in too many places—you instantly blocked the pain out. All receptors shut away into a little corner for later.

While you couldn't affect the landscape around you anymore, you still had your own mind to control. That was something.

Bob, where are you? you called.

“You're getting closer. Hold on, let me get try this way.”

“Don't…touch me.”

You covered your ears, hating to recognize your own slurred speech as you kicked at the fake wall. I'm out of here. That prick is dead. I'm free.

“They call you a witch. Do you look like one under there, too?”

You kicked harder, eyes watering as the voices slipped in. It was like someone had turned up the volume as the jangling of handcuffs echoed against stone and your tired, pleading voice swarmed your head.

You let out an ear-piercing scream as you flung yourself away from the wall and dove at the uniformed man, ripping him away from your teen self and slamming him against the ground.

“Don't touch her!” you yelled, split flying as those cold eyes stared up at you.

“Finally,” a voice reiterated from his mouth, echoing into your mind. “A way to break you.”

You froze, nails digging into the neck of your tormentor. This wasn't the man you remembered anymore, but that voice was one you recognized now tinged with hatred.

“Void,” you whispered.

The man lunged up at you, darkness settling over his skin as a hand grabbed your throat and threw you to the side. You wheezed, grabbing at his arm as a man made of darkness settled over you, eyes pinpricks of molten silver staring down into your very soul.

The sound of your name caught your attention as well as his. There was a hole in the wall of the jail cell, hands ripping chunks of stone out as flashes of Bob's face came and went.

“Let her go!” he yelled, halfway through before you felt the ground around you sink. You couldn't take a breath as you went under, Void's hand squeezing.

“See what happens when you ask for help?” You thrashed, attempting to bring your legs out from under him but his weight pinned you into the dark liquid. “You ruin everything, Robert.”

Don't listen to him! You projected, grunting as the pressure. You still couldn't feel any pain, but not being able to breathe was never comfortable. You can take control of this, Bob. Pull yourself out!

“You keep trying to teach him, but he'll never learn.” Void's fingers dug between the tendons of your neck. “Give up. Go back to your worthless job and pretend to be the hero you will never become.”

Bob's yell was muffled through the water you were half under as he landed on top of Void. He punched and kicked and pulled, but the darkness wasn't letting you go. “Fuck. How do I fix this? She's helped me and I'm hurting her. Figure this out. Do something! Come on!”

Fear crept in as you saw the ink of Void bleeding into Bob. It wanted to overtake him. Control him.

Weeks ago, he had told you the one thing Void wanted above all else was for him to end up alone. He'd tried everything that day in New York to make as many people as possible suffer the same fate.

“You don't die there,” he had explained. “You're just…stuck. Stuck with the pain and it gets worse and worse.”

“He didn't try to kill any of you?” you'd asked and Bob's tired eyes had found yours, empty of hope.

“I think death would be too easy for him.”

He wants us to suffer. You reminded yourself. He won't end it.

Focusing your direction on your mind, you rammed it against Void above you, imagining your thoughts—fine needles digging into his head.

“That won't work here, mind reader.”

Panic was overwhelming you, but you’d trained for these situations. You could hear Nat yelling instructions, remember Wanda's soft guidance at the back of your mind. If landing hits on him, physical or mental, wasn't going to work you needed a new angle.

You dug your mind into Void's mass, meat hooks into skin and felt your heart thunder as those pinprick eyes shuddered and shock crowded the consciousness around you all. Even Bob stopped fighting behind him.

Got you.

His entire upper half flew down over you, sending all three of you into a sea of black. You continued to drag him into yourself as you sank, gathering the darkness like bundles of clothes slipping from your arms and holding it close to your core. Bob was caught up in it, that sweater brushing your hands as you dug your fingers into it.

You felt all of Bob's terror and hatred, every negative emotion bubbling up and held it tight.

Its okay, you told him. I'm right here. Everyone's waiting for you.

“I messed up again. He took over.”

Then take it back. You've done it before, so do it again. That angry mass fought against your hooks. Panic licked up your consciousness. Grab him by the scruff and put him in the corner or something!

Your words shocked Bob enough that everything went blank. You took the chance to hold tight and slam your shields up and over, crowding over that endless pit stuck between the two of you.

Void struggled, slipping through your fingers like congealed oil before another pair of hands encompassed yours helping you drag it somewhere deeper, somewhere safer. A door closed, or maybe a lid sealed and there was a flash before reality split open.

Both of you were panting, your arms between each other and hands tangled. Bob's face was close enough your noses skimmed and your weight settled in his lap, your legs tense around his waist as his folded around you.

“S-scruff?” he choked through a breath, blue eyes wide. “Like a kitten's scruff?”

You tried to nod but you were too close and far too tense. “Uh, yeah. I think so?”

Bob sucked in a breath and tumbled into hysterics, tears slipping down his cheeks. It was fine until his tune changed and the sobs took on the sadder variety, leaving you to pull from his hands and wrap your arms around him.

You noticed the city through the windows a few feet away as he bawled into your shoulder. The reflections of the New Avengers lay behind you, all of them different types of disbelief.

“Was he laughing?” Walker whispered as you rubbed Bob's back.

“He's crying now,” Ava murmured.

“Hugs are really best weapon against Void,” Alexei stated, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I'm sorry,” Bob gasped out, pulling back and wiping at his cheeks as your arms fell away. “That came out of nowhere and I was hurting you, but then you made a joke and I'm still in shock I think.”

“I told you I'm messy,” you mumbled, rolling off his lap and checking over your body. Your pajamas weren't ripped anywhere and there was no blood. Releasing your pain receptors only had aches surfacing. Okay. No actual injuries, noted.

“What happened in there?” Yelena asked, careful as she approached. “Bob, you okay?”

He nodded, the backs of his hands smoothing over his eyes. He blinked a few times before he frowned at you, taking something in.

“Uh, there was… What happened again?” he mumbled, eyes going distant.

Walker groaned in the background as Bucky sighed out, “Figures.”

“It's okay. It'll come back to you when you're ready,” you said, grunting as you got to your feet. The amnesia you'd heard about and it was a very logical reaction to trauma. Seeing it happen in real time was a bit overwhelming on your side of things, but easy enough to handle.

“You good?” Bucky stepped forward to help you up, steadying you as the world swayed a bit.

“That was…a lot,” you admitted, glancing at Bob as Yelena pulled him to his feet. “But we learned some stuff and we made it out.”

“Did I do it again?” Bob murmured, guilt weighing on his features.

“You did amazing,” you swore to him, offering a smile when he looked at you.

“Why are you in your pajamas?” he questioned, eyes lowering to your half-shoved on sneakers.

“Oh shit, my car!” you gasped, darting towards the elevator before Bucky wrapped his prosthetic arm around your waist and dragged you back.

“I'll handle it. Just stay with him for now.”

“Maybe it's best you stay here tonight,” Yelena suggested, eyes shifting between you and Bob. “You're sure you both are okay?”

“Nothing therapy can't fix,” you promised, trailing after Bucky. “I think I parked on the curb. My purse and phone are somewhere in there.”

“Got it.”

“I help as well,” Alexei said, winking at you as he went by. “As thanks for your help. Also to see the car. I hear it's nice model.”

“Yeah, well, might have some bumps now after that drive,” you sighed, thanking them again as the elevator doors closed on the men.

“Are we good now?” Ava sighed. Everyone left in the room remained silent. Yelena shrugged. “I'll take that as a yes. Good night.”

You watched her phase out of the room, the weight of your body beginning to take a toll. Sleep sounded nice.

“So,” trailed Walker, easing up next to you, “you two seem close.”

You sidestepped away from him, assuming he meant Bucky. “Yeah, we were around the same people. I've known him for a few years now so it would be a little weird if we weren't.”

“No, I meant Bob,” he said.

“What?” Both of you turned as Bob shuffled down from the book nook. He ducked his head at the attention. “Sorry, I thought I heard my name.”

“Let's get you back to bed, Bob,” Yelena advised, a hand on his back. He didn't argue, but you'd be blind to miss the countless glances he took of you over his shoulder as she guided him away.

Your mind crossed the distance, smoothing over his. It's okay. I won't be far.

“He hurt you didn't he? I hurt you.”

Technically, no. I shut my pain receptors off.

“Wait, you can do that?”

I can do a lot of things, but they're not very superhero based.

“I think you'd be a great hero.”

Your heart skipped. Thanks. Try to get some sleep. I'm here if you need me.

You retreated a bit, crossing your arms and sighing. A clearing of the throat had you looking at Walker who had a knowing look on his face.

“Word of advice,” he murmured, nose scrunching, “you could do better.”

“Word of warning,” you replied, eyes narrowing, “I can make you shit your pants.”

He nodded slowly, raising his hands in surrender before heading off.

Left alone in the living room of the New Avengers, you let your head fall into your hands with a quiet groan.

[keferon]

Thinking of post (or future) spellbound Au, where when Shockwave is released as a demon, thus killed, he’d experience an afterlife bliss. Being able to spread his wings without the heaviness of corruption and darkness bringing him down. He is now physically (or as physically as a spirit I guess can get) and wholly light, rid of all things that would weigh him. He was finally free. (I��m imagining for him he looks like his old self but others could see him as just a beautiful spark that spritz and fizzles through the air, like a sparkler with no wand)

It’s all joyous until he catches a glimpse of Blurr however. His frame heavily hunched over, cradling the glassy remains of the potion he gave Shockwave, he stays there for a while. Unable to see Shockwave’s free spark. Unable to look at it knowing that if he does then he’ll become nothing but bitter with himself, knowing that the spark can now be wherever it pleases, and all he wants to do it keep it in his grasp. He knows that if he sees Shockwaves spark he’ll want to keep it, but he also knows that he has to let it free and then it will leave and then he’ll be alone. Afraid that once he lets go then it’ll finally be all over… and then there will be nothing but himself.

Blurr never truly confessed to Shockwave, afraid that it’d make more things complicated, afraid it would’ve just become another heavy weight upon his once bounded. So now that the deed was done all he wanted to do was hold on to the glass, in hopes that with Shockwave his feelings will also leave.

Shockwave was confused, he was aware that Blurr was interested in him, but a part of him wished that Blurr might’ve been more infatuated with his situation and pitied him rather than giving him actual attraction. A part of him wanted Blurr to be able to give up on him, because he set him free, a part wished he knew that Blurr’s decision to kill release him was because he wanted to complete his part of the contract. But a part of him knew that was wrong. Blurr’s posture wasn’t helping it, and when his spark finally etched closer to his once bounded, his light twinkled off of the mech’s feature. His trembling hunch, his shakiness, he found that Blurr was crying and in solemn understanding he finally knew that Blurr did indeed, loved him. But before he could reach for Blurr’s shoulder to comfort him, before Blurr finished wiping his tears to finally brave himself and look up at Shockwave’s free spark. His light dwindles and dissolves, and he dies a final time.

YOU HAVE SUCH A BRILLIANT EVIL BRAIN AND I MEAN IT AS A COMPLIMENT

[heartsforkatsuki]

loser monologue. ｡°✩ k.bakugo

pov ; katsuki hopelessly yearns for you

pairings ; katsuki bakugo x GN!reader

tags ; yearning depressed bakugo, so much angst, hurt no comfort, hurt, so much hurt, not really a happy ending.

also bakugo started writing as a coping mechanism

song ; loser monologue by signs crushes motorist listen to it pls it’s important

it’s been officially a year after you and katsuki broke up now, and you were officially moved on.

6 months ago, you started dating a new guy, yo shindo.

today, though, katsuki still dreaded every day he had to wake up without you.

when he woke up, the first thing he did was check his calendar, and when he saw the date, he rolled right onto his back and stared at the ceiling, blinking his tears back.

to top it off, he didn’t have work today. which meant no distractions. he couldn’t help his cravings.

he spent the morning staring at old candid pictures he’d take of you, some of them pictures you’d never even seen.

smiling softly at old pictures of you two in a cafe together, and his stomach dropping when he sees that loving look in your eye that is now forlorn.

he couldn’t help but daydream and fantasize about how your skin would feel against his again.

how perfectly you fit in his arms when he held you, like you two were the final attaching pieces in a puzzle.

how smooth your skin would feel when he’s trace circles on it, how his hands fit perfectly on your bare hips.

just breathing your scent one more time would be enough.

he knows it’ll never happen, but he can’t stop himself from dreaming.

he thinks about you for hours , until his stomach makes its final drop when he realizes he’s spent the past four hours dreaming of things that wont ever, ever happen.

so he writes,

you’re so beautiful , and funny. everytime i see your picture or name, my stomach flips and i get butterflies.

he’ll play your voice notes and videos of you on repeat, goosebumps rising all over him when he hears your voice say his name.

he’s tried, so hard, to not look at you, to delete the pictures, to block your number even though you don’t text.

but he can’t , he can’t stop how he feels.

he doesn’t know how long he’s gonna feel like this, but he knows it won’t end anytime soon.

when he sees you posting with your new boyfriend, it makes him sick to his stomach.

today, of all days, you have a monthly anniversary with him. of course.

any other guy would’ve lost interest, stopped loving. but not katsuki.

it just makes him miss you more.

if you knew how i really felt i wouldn’t be writing this shit right now. you’d understand how much you mean to me.

he wasn’t lying. you meant everything to him, but he lost everything when you left.

he wished you’d pine like he did, staring at pictures, unable to move on. but he knows you don’t.

he wishes he could be with you, feeling the warmth of your skin next to his, seeing you smile when he teases you.

he misses the feeling of twirling your hair in his fingers , seeing it shine as the sun hit you and made you glow.

to talk, touch, laugh, make out , anything. i’ll take anything if it comes from you.

[hellfiremunsonn]

Not So Into It. Eddie Munson x Reader.

Not So Into It.

I DO NOT ALLOW MY WRITING TO BE REPUBLISHED ANYWHERE OTHER THAN MY OWN BLOG WITHOUT MY CONSENT

Summary:��Sometimes you try to push through when you shouldn't and Eddie notices right away.

18 + IF YOU ARE NOT 18 OR OLDER DO NOT READ OR INTERACT WITH MY WRITING. IT IS NOT INTENDED FOR MINORS. I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR THE MEDIA YOU CONSUME.

Warnings: Fem reader though no real fem descriptions used, pet names obv. Not entirely explicit. Reader tries to endure the rest of sex though she's not really feeling it anymore. Eddie is super sweet and makes sure she knows its fine whenever she wants to stop. (IF THERES ANYTHING I MISSED LET ME KNOW)

AN: Slightly self indulgent (as most of my fics are) I've realized recently that I've pushed through having sex with partners despite no longer being in the mood, because it's 'easier' that asking them to stop, and making them upset. (rather the fear of making them upset) so I was day dreaming about how Eddie would react and then started writing this. Also I did not make a header for this and it feels naked and I hate it so I'll probably add one later maybe or not idk I have ADHD.

Word count: 764

You've been at it for maybe about fifteen minutes now. The roll of eddies hips as he thrusts into you lazily, occasionally picking up speed before slowing back down. Kissing you all over, and murmuring words of filthy praise.

And it's wonderful it is; And the foreplay before hand was even better, but now you've sort of just, lost interest in it. But Eddie is fucking into you so nicely, and he's so worked up that you don't want to stop him.

Especially because he spent so much time working you up on his fingers and with his mouth, so only for you to 'spoil' it by stopping so soon felt mean. So instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face into the crook of it, trying to encourage him to go faster, to chase that release you know he wants, and you want to give it to him. 

It doesn't take Eddie long to notice that you're no longer into it when you sort of go quiet. You're not clinging to him like you usually do, and when you do make any noise, it's not full of pleasure and want, it's more involuntary. He pulls back enough to catch a glimpse of your face, watching how you close your eyes almost immediately, biting at your lip as if you're pretending it feels good. 

"Babe?" Eddie murmurs out, a little breathless and hoarse, slowing his hips until you open your eyes. 

"Yeah baby? Why'd you stop?" you say cheerfully, cringing at the sound of your own voice because you know it doesn't sound very convincing. 

"Are you okay?" He asks instead of answering your question, his eyes searching your face for something.

"Yeah" you reply quickly, because you are technically okay, you just don't really want to be having sex anymore. 

"You're not really into it right now though are you?" It's more of a statement than a question, because he knows you.

You hesitate for a moment, debating lying, but how could you when you have the most wonderful boyfriend in the world looking down at you like that. "Well... N-no not really, but it's okay you can finish, I don't want to like blue ball-"

"Blue ball me?" He scolds, rolling his eyes before pulling out of you slowly, pulling his boxers back up over his hips and moving to sit next to you. 

You cover your face with your hands. Face heating up in embarrassment and guilt. "I'm sorry" you mumble, feeling an annoying wave of emotions creep up on you. 

"Sorry? baby you've got nothing to be sorry about" Eddies confused, and his heart hurts seeing you upset, especially over something like this. "It's okay that you wanted to stop, it's always okay when you want to stop" He says firmly, pausing so you understand the sincerity of his words."I just wish you had said something sooner" he murmurs softly, reaching up to gently tug your hands away from your face, sighing when he sees your wet eyes and the tears that roll down your temples. "C'mere" he says while tugging at your hands once more, pulling you over to him until your head rests against his chest, warm where your cheek is pressed. 

"I just didn't want you to be upset" You mumble. You know it's stupid, because Eddie has never once been upset when stopping before and you've never felt like you had to perform for him, but you just couldn't help the lingering guilt of past experiences creep up on you. "You d-did all that work for me, it's not fair that you have to stop"

"Baby I'm going to stop you right there... no pun intended" He giggles. "I don't care if I do all the work and then some, I like pleasing you just to please you, it barely has anything to do with me, and if I was really that desperate, I could literally just go jerk off" he says this so easily, because truthfully it is, and deep down you know that, because consent and love are two beautiful things especially when combined. 

"Now why don't we get you dressed back up on some comfy clothes, and we can cuddle for as long as you want. Sound good?" He trails his fingers across your hairline, down from your temple to your jaw and back up until you give him the smallest nod. He kisses you on the forehead and helps you get dressed before pulling you back against his chest where he holds you until you feel just a little bit more normal again. 

[justarandomweeb]

Yandere LL x Earth Liaison Reader

No beta read we die like fucking men and I swear I'm a dummy in English (not a first language) OH YEAH the characters might be a bit ooc since I haven't finished mtmte

Edit: um chat... this shit was not supposed to be posted um- whoops I guess??? I can't take this shit out um, I thought Tumblr ate this drabble, turns out I accidentaly posted it???

'FUCK FUCK FUCK!' a lone human curse in their head as they crouch walk inside the vents, navigating the never ending maze, watching your steps and sound. You knew those bots have good hearing, but they're not your priority to be worrying. It was Skids and those with him inside the vents, you can hear the heavy bodies thuding and thumping. He knew the ship like the back of his hand, you would say. You could have used your inbuilt digital map over the paper map you crudly and hastily drew, but you knew it would be a matter of time before Perceptor or who over is smart enough hacks into your watch and pings your location.

You wished you would've seen the signs, no...

You wished you had never dreamed of meeting aliens as a child, riding a rocket ship, and fly through space. You wished you never pushed so hard for that silly dream that soon became a nightmare.

Yet, you were blind to it. Ignoring the signs, thinking, 'Oh, it must be a cultural thing' or 'They probably are curious about humans and our culture, most of them haven't met one.' The ones who didn't liked organics in general became more softer, yet possessive as the rest of others. The prisoners coaxed you to free them from their cells, just so they'd 'express' their love. The enemies bribing you to join them, promising you unbroken loyalty and adoration.

Those innocent questions became... intimate and invasive.

Megatron, he didn't want to be near you. You didn't know if it's out of guilt or a still prejudice against the organics. You knew his history, the war, and the devastating impacts he caused. You were willing to give him a chance. You talked to him. At first, it was one-sided, and then he replied back, with small answers, acknowledgments, and comebacks. You'd tease him when you saw a small smirk. He'd deny. You joined his poetry sessions, exchanging poetry to one another, critiquing and praising each other. You'd read him classic human literature, and he'd read you cybertronian literature in those moments it was just you and him. When did it all go wrong...

Ultra Magnus he intimidated you, a big guy with those stern eyes and broad shoulders. Of course, a big man like him would be the goody to shoes, abid to the law like its his only identity. You thought you could never relate to him outside of work, that he and you will never understand one another. You'd talk when the air was empty. You'd tell him about the dumb decisions you've made when you were a kid, stealing gums and candies, sneaking in an abandoned building with friends, attending street racing, laughing at your own idiocy and stupid antics, but you reminisce the bond you had with your friends. Ultra Magnus would criticize your actions, listing all of the laws and rules you've broken. But this time, he just listened, didn't list down your crimes, keeping quiet. You don't know what he was thinking other than the possible charges you'd have if you'd have gotten caught. When did it go wrong...

When you first met Rodimus, he reminded you of a frat boy who was given leadership in a silver plate. Not taking anything seriously, meteor surfing, delaying his reports, not even paying attention half of the time on the meetings. You'd chase him down, trying to get his attention. You've felt like a mother trying to discipline an unruly child, but this child is giant fucking robot leading an expedition in outerspace. That what you'd have thought of him, till you saw his struggles. The guilt of the deaths of crewmates, what he could have done if he did things differently. You'd shoulder his burdens, cradling his helm. You'd look at him eye to eye, telling him not to blame himself that he did what he could. You'd help him out with reports. You'd hold his giant servos that it helped him be grounded on the meetings. You'd laugh at his jokes, bite back with scarastic comebacks. You final smiled at him, when those days where he feels down, you'd let him in your lap again. When did it go wrong...

You've been invited to the movie sessions with the Minicons, sharing your favorite movies and series with them. You'd hang out with Rung, help him build his miniature spacescrafts, sitting quietly with him during the sessions of his patients and letting them hold you. It felt therapeutic for them. You'd help out on medbay reaching through the cracks of patients to close the delicate wires, medics freeting over you after a successful operation. You'd gossip with them and talk about the stupid antics those bots done to be sent to medbay, trying to knock sense on those daredevils.

Your time at Lost Light was up. You wished you've stayed longer, but you definitely missed home. Your family and friends are waiting for your return. You were walking through the corridors to the meeting room to talk about your retirement when you heard yelling from the cracks of the doors.

"Can't we destroy their space bridge? Brainstorm and Perceptor can make it seem it malfunctioned. Even blow it up completely for safe measures. Besides, it's the only space bridge that connects to Earth directly."

"Rodimus please, we can't do this to them."

"Please, Mags, I know you'd don't want them gone too! I can see the way you looked at them Mags, you love them too like I do. We all do here. The crew would help out Mags, I talked to everybody on the comms, so please do it for us."

You can't believe what you're hearing, why won't they let you go home. You turn around to see three mechs, your eyes water over the betrayal. You ran before they can catch you, diving into the vents for refuge. You can hear them telling everybody you ran away, you're scared. You didn't ask for this. You're regretting everything. Maybe you should have stayed at home, be a boring office worker over being chased by crazy giant bots who refuse to let you go home.

You wonder... When Did It Go Wrong.

[comatosebunny09]

The way you write Sylus…so accurate like wth 😍 I love how you’re exploring him! Just putting this idea out there, simply because I love this trope (and if it inspires you even better) but the amnesia trope would hit so hard with Sylus x reader… but imagine it’s Sylus who forgets about her for a wild few moments…days or months 👀 and yet remembers ms.hunter just fine 😭 i mean the angst….im sorry but i cannot…but i wanna think about it because ow

Kieran and Luke really trying to remind Sylus that reader is his right hand, that they’re super important to him, but Sylus can’t quite grasp the connection…not that he doesn’t feel anything 👀 oh he feels something. But it’s confusing because how could he not remember someone as beautiful as you, can’t quite grasp how he could forget someone like you…

He finds familiarly in ms.hunter…of course he would, how could he not you think, so you spiral more, perhaps even accept this is how it was supposed to be, in fact it might be better that way, maybe it’s what you deserve for ever thinking he could be yours or would like you the same…

You try help him remember, with the help of Luke and Kieran, but it’s always surface level, you feel embarrassed sharing those small moments that meant more to you, what if had misread them, you don’t want to mislead Sylus, you never knew his true feelings, besides there’s ms.hunter too…

He laughs with her, remembers her, because of there shared history…you never could have come between that, this just proves it’s…you’re forgettable, only a small part in his story in the grand scheme of things, your storyline in his life might have run it’s course now…

…so maybe you leave, maybe you resign. Sylus doesn’t understand, it hurts, his heart, his body…you telling him you’re leaving is painful to him, but you’re just a loyal employee right? He shouldn’t stop you from moving on if you wish…even if every part of him wants to stop you…but it’s the right thing to do, being a good boss, maybe he’s different now he can’t remember too, shouldn’t force you to stay…

But he’s confused because ms.hunter has told him you were special to him, he trusts ms.hunter, doesn’t believe she would mislead him, but maybe she got it wrong, maybe you are special to him but it’s not reciprocated so even if every bone in his body wants to beg you to stay, he doesn’t stop you…

So you leave…

Maybe months pass, maybe it’s been a year…does Sylus end up remembering? Maybe comes searching for you…maybe he never does

💔💔

You are so big-brained for this, honeybun.

This is giving The Vow, minus them being married. But damn it all, retrograde amnesia has impeccable timing.

Right when you and Sylus started to reach a pivotal point in your partnership—your relationship—he lost any recollection of you.

You’re already grieving. Already beating yourself up. The person who’s been almost invincible to you went down, and you couldn’t be there to shield him. There’s a glimmer of hope when he cracks his eyes open after days of being unconscious.

You’re holding his hand, knelt at his bedside, tears brimming in your eyes, a watery smile on your face.

He’s a little groggy, voice smoky in his throat, and you help him sit up against his headboard. He studies the faces around the room—Luke, Kieran, Ms. Hunter. But when his gaze swivels back around to you, he looks confused. It’s like he’s looking right through you rather than at you.

He snatches his hand away from yours. Who the hell are you, and how did you get into his house? His base?

The room is rife with tension. Everyone feels the shift in the atmosphere.

“Who are you?” Sylus asks, halfway vexed.

You’re stricken with something cold. You laugh anxiously, figuring he’s playing a cruel joke. “Come on, boss-man. Don’t play games like that with me. Not now.”

He couldn’t be more serious. He stares at you impassively, not a lick of humor on his face.

The false amusement drops from your features. Your stomach lurches.

Everyone springs into action, trying to lighten the mood. Still thinking he’s playing a sick, cruel joke.

“C’mon, boss! You know her! She’s your right hand!” says Luke, though his voice cracks the slightest bit as if he’s also disbelieving that this is all just a terrible nightmare.

“Yeah! She’s been with you for years!” chimes in Kieran. The distress in his voice is also noticeable.

Emcee smiles nervously, doing her best to lighten the load. She smooths a shaky hand down your rigid back to soothe you before taking hold of Sylus’ hand between her smaller ones, directing his attention to her. He doesn’t snatch away this time, gaze softening when it descends on her.

“Sylus. Do you…remember anything?”

He gazes at his lap for a moment, pensive. “I recognize you, sweetie. The twins. But this woman…” His eyes flit to you. And where their intensity would normally light a fire in your belly, it turns your blood to ice. “I haven’t the foggiest who she is.”

The four of you spend the next few months trying to get him to remember you thereafter. But it’s of no use.

He tries. He really does. He remembers vague things before his concussion. Feels like he should be more familiar with you, given your history as explained by the twins. To him, you’re like a specter. Someone who’s there, but not really.

You start to spiral, too. You still stick by his side, stepping in where you can. But you’re still a foreign concept to him, given he’s used to working alone. He gets snappy with you a few times, but you still persevere in hopes that maybe someday, he’ll remember.

You get so desperate for him to remember, you try everything. You take him to places where small sparks of your relationship started to flicker, long before your feelings were revealed. You talk about minute things that could hopefully jog his memory. It’s embarrassing to you, to house such small, seemingly insignificant things in your heart about him. But you’ll do anything to get the Sylus who started to show a glimmer of passion towards you back.

You even let the twins convince you to kiss him. To reenact the catalyst of your relationship. And you do, one day in his office when he’s unassuming. You pour everything into the union of your mouths. When you pull away, he looks shocked, and for a moment, you think maybe you’ve reignited something. But he gives you that blank stare again after asking, “What was that for,” and you’re beginning to lose hope.

Eventually, he feels so terrible for not remembering you that he makes love to you out of pity. He might not know who you are, but everyone says he should. And he surprisingly feels terrible, watching you run yourself ragged, trying to get him to remember you.

At some point, the grief is too much to bear. He might never get his memories back. He won’t ever look at you the same, and it fucking hurts. So, you run away.

Everyone advises you against it. Everyone fights for you to stay, Emcee being the most vehement about it. You loved him through it all once. She’s sure you can do it again. She’s convinced you can capture his heart all over again.

But you’re not. The way he looks at you now can’t compare to how he looks at his precious dove. He humors you, yes. But he recalls the feelings he has for Emcee as strongly as he does the previous night. To him, you’re like an annoying gnat buzzing around that he just…tolerates.

You don’t want to complicate things more than already have been. So you leave. After six months of fighting for a place back at his side, you leave. And maybe you’re a coward for jumping ship. Maybe he’ll remember once you’re long gone, and maybe he’ll do everything to find you.

For now, the burden of a heavy heart is too much to shoulder. It’s almost as bad as the beginning of your relationship when you’d wordlessly pined for him while he was oblivious to your affections.

Maybe it’s better this way. Maybe he was meant to forget you all along. You should’ve never tried to meddle with fate to begin with.

[vampz1re]

pairing: Vil x Yuu, Idia x Yuu, Malleus x Yuu, (All onesided)

cw: angst, hurt NO comfort, rejection, reader is called yuu, GN reader, one sided from yuus side then swapped! (tell me if there's anything else..?)

note: Heres part 2 of the last post ! Sorry for the really late posts :( . I swear i'm working on some more there's just been a lot going on ! This might be rushed, disorganized or just like not written good enough 😞💔

word count: 1.2k approximately

VIL SCHOENHEIT —

i

"Yuu. May I have a moment?"

His voice was polished as ever, but something about it trembled. You turned, finding Vil standing behind you in the corridor outside the ballroom, his usual poise fraying at the edges.

You nodded, although slightly hesitant. "Of course."

He stepped closer, not quite looking at you. "I owe you an apology. For that day. When you confessed."

You swallowed but said nothing, allowing him to continue

"I thought I was protecting myself. My career. My image. But the truth is, I was afraid of the way you made me feel. Vulnerable. Seen."

His eyes finally met yours, and there was no mask this time. Just honesty.

"I care about you. I think I always did. But I was too proud to admit it. And now I am standing here hoping it's not too late."

It was everything you had once wished to hear. But the ache that used to burn in your chest was long gone.

"I did love you, Vil. But I had to let that go. I couldn’t wait forever for you to look at me the way I looked at you."

Vil's breath hitched, and for a brief moment, the ever-composed actor looked heartbreakingly human.

"I understand," he said softly. "And I’m sorry. For not seeing you clearly until now."

You gave a small smile. "You always did have perfect timing. Just... not the right one."

This time, the loss was all his fault.

IDIA SHROUD —

“Yuu. Um… Could I… talk to you?”

You turned from your book slowly, surprised to see Idia standing just inside the library door. His usual hoodie was wrinkled, his hair a faint, unsure flicker of blue. He wasn’t fidgeting like normal. He looked… still. Intentional.

You marked your page. “Sure. What’s up?”

He hesitated, shifting from foot to foot, then walked over like he might bolt at any moment. But he didn’t.

“I’ve been thinking,” he began quietly. “About that day. When you told me you liked me.”

You felt the familiar ache stir in your chest, but you waited, unsure.

“I said something stupid. No — worse than stupid. I told you that you shouldn’t like me. Like I knew better than you. Like I had the right to decide that.”

His voice cracked slightly. He didn’t meet your eyes as he looked around as if the walls were more interesting.

“I was scared. I thought you were too good. I thought… if I let you get close, you’d see everything that’s wrong with me and leave anyway. So I figured I’d just do it first.”

You said nothing. You’d imagined this conversation before, too many times to count.

“I was wrong. I know that now. I liked you then. I still do. And if there’s even a tiny chance…”

You gave him a soft smile, and it stopped him cold.

“Idia. I waited. I hoped. I wanted so badly for you to say what you’re saying now. But eventually, I had to let it go.”

He looked like he’d been unplugged from the world. No glitch. Just grief.

“I get it,” he whispered. “Too late. As usual.”

You nodded, but gently. “It doesn’t mean your feelings don’t matter. They just… came after I needed them most.”

He understood. He had waited to long and the deadline for the ssr moment had long been gone.

MALLEUS DRACONIA —

“Yuu. I have been seeking you.”

You looked up in confusion to find Malleus standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, bathed in moonlight, looking every bit the prince he was. But his eyes were soft, uncertain.

“I wished to speak. If you will allow it.”

You nodded slowly. “Alright.”

He approached, each step deliberate, each word careful.

“When you confessed your heart to me, I did not respond. I let the silence between us speak in my place. I did not understand my own feelings, nor the weight of your vulnerability.”

You remembered. That long, still moment. The cold breeze. The way his gaze had drifted away as if he hadn’t heard.

“I now know what that ache in my chest was. What it still is. I love you, Yuu.”

The world was quiet for a moment, but inside, you felt only stillness. No flutter, no pain — just clarity.

“I loved you,” you said, voice gentle and holding a certain weight. “I waited for something. Anything. But when none came, I learned to stop hoping.”

He bowed his head, as if the air itself had become heavier.

“Another has found your heart.”

You gave a soft nod. “And they gave me what I needed when I felt invisible. I’m sorry.."

“There is nothing to forgive,” he said quietly. “I only regret that I did not speak sooner."

You reached for his hand and gave it a light squeeze, smiling softly - the smile not fully reaching your eyes.

“Thank you for coming. I needed to hear it. Even if it’s too late.."

He nodded once, his expression unreadable, then turned toward the trees — his figure blending into the quiet night as gracefully as he had arrived.

[oogaboogasphincter]

Lie to Girls | Joel Miller x f!reader

loosely inspired by Lie To Girls by Sabrina Carpenter

summary: Joel tries to get you back one last time, but he just breaks your heart even more.

warnings/word count: MDNI angst angst angst | 1,100+ words | read part 1 to get caught up on the details of this situationship lol

a/n: i really want to create a longer series about these characters but i only have the patience for oneshots 😭 so if one day these posts disappear, they'll be reincarnated into a series!! 🥳 let me know if you guys prefer multi-chapter series or just one shots, and i hope you enjoy! :)

Being without Joel was numbing. You cried more over the strange, unnamed feeling that fogged your mind than his loss. Your daily routines were messed up. There was no brewed coffee in the morning handed to you with a smile. Your patrol pairing was silently changed. You felt the severity of the cliche when you came home and your couch remained empty, though you didn’t really want him there and that stung the most. You wanted the man you fell in love with, not the man he had become. You were mourning over what was, what could have been, instead of what is. 

Everything had gotten more difficult. Patrol felt meaningless; maybe an invasion would spark that feeling of finding something to fight for again. Distracting yourself bore even less fruit. You’d lay in bed for hours, trying to kindle anything between your thighs — with your fingers, your vibrator, different motions — to no avail. The toy sailed through the dark as you threw it and it crashed into the opposite wall while you turned over in groveling defeat, trying to ignore your swollen yet unsatiated petals and the shame they harbor.

–

One afternoon, there’s a knock at your door. You answer it and it’s him, with his hands on the doorframe like he’s ready to push it in if you hadn’t answered. You turn away, closing the door on him, but he grabs it and yanks it open. You’re too empty to stop him. 

You step back as he comes towards you, backing up until your heels hit the couch and crossing your arms. Somehow your cheeks got wet. He steps forward, slower, like he’s approaching a wounded animal; a dog he tripped over without meaning to that he knows doesn’t understand forgiveness, that makes him helplessly panic in trying to find a way to atone. His footfalls are heavy, cautious, so familiar it’s nauseating. He cradles your face in his hands, fitting his freezing cold palms to your jaw. 

“Babygirl, it’s me,” he says and his broken voice transports you back to a time when you licked his wounds. When you loved him, when he was your entire world. When looking at him was like the sun shining hopeful rays on the dismal world below. When all the horrors felt lighter just because you knew he was there. 

You squeeze your eyes shut as your heart tightens in your chest, wishing him away with all your might.

“It’s me, honey,” he soothes despite his betrayal. He leans in close and presses the curve of his nose to yours. You shake your head in his hands, telling yourself it’s not him, to not fall for his trap again. 

He wraps an arm around your back and his other cradles the back of your head to his chest, pulling you close. He breathes, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, my love.” He bunches his hand in the back of your jacket, crushing you against him. If only he could hold you so close you’d absorb into him and he could heal you from the inside without his medicine being jumbled by his stupid, stubborn mouth. 

“Please,” he prays with a series of delicate kisses to your forehead, “Come back.” 

His hands never stop moving, caressing your back or knotting in your hair with dual nurturing and possession or squeezing your arms. “I’ll stop going to therapy, you were right, it doesn’t do shit for me anyways. I’ll stop unloading all my bullshit on you, baby, just please—”

You pull back and he grants you a few inches, but nothing more. The rain outside robs your attention and you watch through the window as the drops slide down the wind chime, falling below and splatting on the back of the rocking chair Joel used to sit on and strum away on his guitar. You sigh, “Maybe there’s something wrong with me. I don’t know how to live here, in this community with all these people. I feel like an animal.”

His head shakes like his fingers trembling incessantly. He brushes them across your cheeks, murmuring, “You’re no animal, baby.”

“What if I’m comfortable being an animal? I’m good at surviving, not…” The leather couch goads in its comfortability behind you. The plates neatly piled in the kitchen sneer with prejudice at your wrinkled shirt. On the counter sits a vase of flowers, still fresh from when Joel picked them for you a few days ago, and they laugh. “...this.”

He assures solemnly, pitifully, “I can help you.”

A shake of your head, “No.” 

“We can go somewhere else,” he offers hastily as the fright of losing you again starts to settle in. To him, he still has a chance to convince you to come back. He knows there’s a thread of him permanently woven into the tapestry of your heart, one you couldn’t rip out if you wanted to. He takes advantage of its mercy, plucking at it incessantly. Tears fall down your face with every cruel strum. 

“You won’t leave Ellie. You won’t leave Tommy.” You swipe at your tears, casting yourself further out into an isolated ocean with every word you speak. “That’s normal, Joel.”

He pauses, thinking. Impatient with knowing he’s losing the battle, he gruffs, “I’m not letting you go out there by yourself.”

Agitated, you sigh. “Leave me alone,” you order. 

“No!” he barks louder than he meant to, incredulity and anger cranking his brows down low.

Unfortunately, a comforting sense of belonging weighs your heart down. It blooms through the cracks even though the sun hasn’t shone for millennia. The freedom you crave could always be satiated with the proper hand, one that lets you roam as you please but gives you a permanent resting place when the torrents rock you too hard. Joel’s case is tempting and it makes you itch.

Somehow, you get him to sleep in separate beds for the night. He doesn’t speak his vow, but you know he’ll be at your doorstep tomorrow. 

–

You leave the next morning with Joel in your heart, nudging you along the trail up the snowy mountain. He was right; he’d never leave you alone, at least not your spirit. You’d take him in your heart with you across the hills and valleys, across the country until you found a home for the two of you while maintaining just the right amount of physical distance. But for now he was where he needed to be and so were you; him in Jackson and you on the wander. 

You pause at the top of the mountain, looking back down on the town. You wonder how long it’ll take him to notice you’re gone and you start to imagine if he’s already running through your house, throwing apart rooms trying to find you… his distress makes your blood pressure spike and you quash your curiosity with haste. You can’t afford to change your mind again, so you turn with a choked sniffle and leave. You just pray he doesn’t follow you.

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[lunatf-ao3]

idk if my tumblr is acting up but what happened to the second part of the brat reader fic? totally okay if you took it down, I’m just curious c:

NAUGHTY² ♪

[TFP] Optimus Prime/Brat!Reader

[⚠︎]: nsfw, part two, bratty behavior, brat tamer, reader treats badly Optimus, spanking

Just a small posting error, here it is again!

-

"Why are you behaving like this?"

Optimus's voice is calm, a patience you had grown accustomed to. Although this time there was something else, a hint of tiredness that he quickly concealed as he began with another of those speeches that make you roll your eyes.

"I wish to understand you, I'm afraid I don't understand what it is about me that you find so unsatisfactory that you reject my advice in that way. I want you to talk to me, to have the confidence to tell me what you feel, to open up to me. If there is something that bothers you, or that I need to change, I will do it. As your partner, I will be happy to-"

"Oh, shut up, Optimus." Your snort made him fall silent. "I'm not interested in what you have to say."

Optimus was silent for a moment. "I understand."

"...I have spoiled you too much." The Prime admitted to the air, almost to himself, before turning to you again. "You have been very disrespectful and selfish, both for the place we have given you and with the team protecting you. I must admit that I have fed your behavior with indulgence, but I am afraid it is over."

Despite his words, Optimus's voice doesn't manage to speak too harshly to you, letting out a usual sweetness that he knows shouldn't be there. "You need firm discipline."

"Bullshit."

Ignoring your insult, Optimus gently took you between his servos, sitting down on the thick bunk.

"Hey! Get off me! I didn't give you permission to carry me, leave me alone!" He struggles, kicking and biting the tip of one of his flat fingers, trying to hurt him. "I told you to let go of me!"

Optimus didn't respond, settling your body over his knees before gently pulling your pants down to your thighs, wearing your underwear in the process. His expression impassive, stoic as always, and it makes you in bad mood.

In a very bad mood. You cling tightly to his grip, grabbing the edge of a blade on his thigh, a small wound that Optimus didn't bother to close because it was slight. You pull at it hard, trying to rip it off in your fit of rage. If it hurts, you're not paying attention and you don't care.

Faced with your little fit of rage, Optimus quickly took action on the matter before you ended up ripping a chunk out of his thigh. Gently enough not to hurt you, he pushed your head firmly into his lap, immobilizing your upper body.

Before you could say anything again, he gave you a firm slap on the ass.

"What the hell are you doing!" With a shriek, you try to squirm, only to earn two more spanks that make you recoil.

"If it takes you to stop being selfish, I will beat it out of you."

You grit your teeth, you.... You never really thought Optimus would retaliate against you, at least not like this. "You're being an idiot..!"

You mutter, only to earn another lashing. The stinging makes you jump. It hurts enough to make you question whether you should say anything else. You look at his expression out of the corner of your eye, impassive, calm.

"I find it hard to believe you damaged Ratchet's work over a tantrum. I tried to understand why, but I realize there's no reason."

You almost want to scoff, but you'd rather take the manipulative route. You're not good at drawing fake tears, but your falsely sad voice could almost crack. "Why are you treating me like this? I've made mistakes, but that's the only reason you hate me now?"

Another lash, a little harder, you can hear the sound of metal clashing against flesh.

"I love you, do not try to manipulate me. You have upset the whole team, interfered with their work and turned the base into a mess. You can not keep behaving like this without consequences. And if you can not figure it out in words, you will figure it out in another way."

No sooner had he finished speaking than Optimus planted his servo into your ass with much more force, the soft flesh flaring a deep red color with the flat shape of his digits. His blue optics admired the flesh's reaction in silence, before his inevitably soft voice once again made its presence known in the air.

"Count them. You will receive the same amount of spankings as the number of times you have made disasters on this base. understood, little one?"

"..."

At your silence, metal clashed with flesh once again. You can only grit your teeth at the sting. "..understood..."

"That is right. I know it hurts, so let's make this quick."

The next caning came fast, a firm one that made you draw your knees in close and let out a tear.

"One..."

-

Your bottom is tender when the last spanking comes, settling one more layer of red on your skin, the pain brings more tears than you are willing to admit, and you doubt you will be able to sit properly for some time.

"Nineteen..."

"Well done." Optimus complimented, pulling your pants up carefully so as not to disturb your irritated skin before hugging you. "Forgive me for taking these measures."

You don't respond, grumpily. The humiliation and anger clear on your face.

Optimus was not bothered by your silence. "Are you going to behave from now on?"

"...Yes." You answer reluctantly, earning a sweet kiss on the side of your face.

"Good girl. Now let me take care of you."

-

"A-Ah!" The choppy gasp of your voice fills the warm room, accompanying the damp steam from Optimus's exhaust pipes. His servos wrap around your hip tightly, guiding you up and down to leap onto his spike.

"Optimus... You're going too hard." Your moan is shaky, almost drunken. You feel like a little sex toy, you don't complain, but Optimus's rhythm was beginning to overwhelm you. The thick metal of his spike was dilating you around him, his thighs slapping your already battered ass with each forced downstroke.

"I am sorry." His voice soft and understanding, but he doesn't slow down, squeezing you tighter. But how could he stop when you were clenching so magnificently around his spike, when he was so close to a release he desperately needed?

You tremble, falling onto his chest to be met by a pillow that your attentive knight had placed there so that you would not be hurt by the sharp parts of his chest. The leader continued without stopping, now grabbing your butt for a firmer grip.

His tip protruded from your belly as, with a snap, he stopped at the deepest point of your little hole, releasing a steady stream of thick strands of warm transfluid.

"One more round, you can."

- - -

Part 1

[stxrrkissed]

── ۶ৎ UNEXPECTED FEELINGS .ᐟ

꣑ꦌ rodrick heffley x fem!reader ৴ LENGTH 1.0k

DESCRIPTION after going head to head with Rodrick, an unexpected kiss turns things around.

CONTENT fluff ꣑ perv!rodrick ꣑ arguing ꣑ some smut talk.

THOUGHTS i don’t usually post this late but i really wanted to put it out. been a hot minute since i dropped something. also thank y’all for 700+ followers, i appreciate y’all so much! part two is in the drafts.

𝒾. mlist 𝒾𝒾. previous fic 𝒾𝒾𝒾. prompts 𝒾𝓋. based on this ask

“MOM!” You shout, running into her as she’s about to leave the house. You’re clearly heated and annoyed at the current events of your life.

“Yes (name)?” She sighs, knowing exactly what’s going to come out of your mouth as she's been hearing it ever since you were forced to move in with the heffley’s because of the house getting infected by termites.

“Can we please leave this house? I can’t stand living with Rodrick, he’s so… so annoying and irritating.” you complain, you and him have been at each other's throats since you moved in and it hasn’t been fun for anyone. It’s like he lives to make you angry, from stopping you watching your favorite show to stopping you from studying quietly for your college classes with his loud music and band practices.

While your parents are using Greg’s room, you occupy Rodrick’s room in the basement, which he wasn’t fond of, his bed isn’t much of a problem but because it’s his room, he doesn’t seem to understand knocking before entering, causing you to have to cover yourself from time to time. You had it up to here with him and just needed to leave, you wish your mom had other friends to move in with for the time being but because she’s best friends with his mom, you’re stuck here.

“Honey, the house is not ready yet. They’ll let us know when but for now, you have to try your best to get along with him. Be grateful that the heffley’’s allowed us to stay with them.”

You open your mouth to rebuttal but she gives you a stern look before leaving, today she’s going out with Susan for a girls day out while Frank went camping with Manny and Greg so technically you’re alone with Rodrick and you’re not happy with that.

You pull out your phone to text your best friend Heather, to see what she’s doing and if she’s available to hang. A smile brews on your face once you see she’s free, meaning you can go over to her house. You go downstairs, pick out a cute outfit, making sure everything you need is in your bag. All you need to do before leaving is take a shower.

A frown now sits on your face once you realize Rodrick’s in the bathroom. ‘He’s been in there for too long’’ you think to yourself as you saw him go in there a few minutes before you had the conversation with your mom. You knock heavily on the door as if you couldn’t take it anymore. “Rodrick, get your ass out of the bathroom right now!”

“Are you blind? Don’t you see me using it?!” He responds back, making you more angry than before. “You've been hogging the bathroom. I’m going out so I need to take a shower, surely you’re done by now!”

Rodrick opens the bathroom door, steam coming out as you take in his appearance which he had a towel wrapped around his torso and his body on display for you as water droplets drip down his chest towards his pelvis. “Hmm, if you like what you see, take a picture it’ll last longer,” he taunts, making you shiver at the thought as you couldn’t see yourself being with him.

“In your dreams, I could never go for someone like you. Now please get out,” you spit out, eyebrows furrowed together as you make eye contact with him. “I don’t think so, maybe you can ask me nicely.”

You roll your eyes as you watch his smirk sit on his lips. “I don’t have time to argue with you, I have somewhere to be!”

“Hmm, do you plan on wearing this?” your eyes widen in shock when you see what he is holding in his hands, one of your red lace panties you had drying on the shower rack. “As if that’s any of your business, give it back, you shouldn’t even be touching what’s not yours!” you yell at him trying to get it back from him but he takes it out of your reach since he’s taller than you, making you jump for it, his eyes watch how your boobs bounce each attempt you make.

Knowing he will remember it during his late night jerking off with your panties, he stole that you don’t know he has. He didn’t think the living with you is such a bad thing, sure he didn’t want to give up his room but sometimes he gets to catch glimpses of your body, like when you first came, he remembers vividly of the short skirt you were wearing as you dropped something and when you bent down to retrieve it, he could see your pretty panties clinging to your pussy, making him hard at the sight.

You finally grab your underwear as he seems distracted at the moment. “I bet these are the only pair you have seen in your life. Can’t imagine a girl putting up with your ass.”

“You’re so annoying, all you do is yap and yap.”

Rodrick knows just the way to push your buttons, watching how you get more angrier than you were before, opening your mouth to say more but before you can, he closes the gap between you, colliding his lips onto yours, you’re frozen in shock, trying to process what’s going on but your body betrays you as you pull yourself towards him, opening your mouth to give him more access.

Rodrick hands grips your hips tightly as his tongue dances along with yours. This feeling that you feel deep inside of you is different from anything you ever felt about him.

When you pull apart from each other, you lean against the doorframe, trying to catch your breath, trying to process what just happened. “Bathroom all yours,” Rodrick comments, with a smirk on his face as he leaves to get dress, leaving you there shock still written on your face. You bring your fingers to your lips, contemplating the feeling you felt during the kiss, not sure if you really wanted it to end.

“What just happened?” You ask yourself, swiveling your body to look in the direction he went but you decide to take your mind off of it for now so you can be on time to Heather’s house, oh how she would love to hear this.

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[thedeadstoryteller1]

Unspoken Words- LADS

Picture this: it's late, and the full moon does nothing to soften the weight in their chest. They sit alone, drowning in the heaviness of thoughts they can’t escape—you. Desperation drives them to grab a pen, their hand shaking as the truth spills out onto the page. Every word is a wound, every sentence a scream they can’t let you hear. Love, regret, promises—they pour everything into the letter you’ll never read. This is their heart, raw and silent. These are their unspoken words.

TW: Angst.

I hate that I’m writing this. I hate you for making me the kind of man who would write this.

You always said I don’t feel things like humans do. That I don’t bleed the same. That my art is my heart because I threw the real one into the ocean a long time ago. You were wrong. I still have it. It just doesn’t beat right anymore. You made it beat wrong.

You and your softness. Your persistence. The way you looked at me like I was worth saving when I’d already made peace with sinking. I never asked you to dive after me. But you did. And now I’m the fool stuck gasping on the shore, watching you walk away with lungs full of air and someone else’s hand in yours.

I could paint you a thousand times and it wouldn’t be enough. I could scorch the world in color and it wouldn’t be loud enough to drown out how much I miss you. But I won’t. Because you don’t deserve to see that part of me. The part that still whispers your name like a curse, like a prayer, like a promise I never had the guts to make.

I hope you choke on the memory of me. I hope you forget me. Both would hurt less than this.

And if this letter ever found you... Know that I never stopped hating you. Or loving you. Maybe they were always the same thing in me.

R.

I don’t even know why I’m writing this. Maybe it’s because the words get stuck when I try to speak them. Maybe because I’m a coward. Maybe both.

I thought I was fine with how things are between us. The quiet moments. The shared silences. The looks. They’re enough... they should be enough. But lately, they’re not.

There’s this part of me I keep locked away. You see the surface, the calm, the Lightseeker everyone expects me to be. But under that— There’s a mess of a man. Someone who doesn't know how to hold onto the good things without breaking them. Someone who’s better with a sword than with words. Someone who looks at you and forgets how to breathe.

You make me feel... like I could be more than the sum of my orders, more than a weapon. But that scares me more than any Wanderer ever has. Because if I let myself have you, if I let myself need you— What happens when the missions stop going my way? What happens when I’m the one who doesn’t make it back? I don’t want to leave you with pieces of me that were never whole to begin with.

But... If I don’t say this now, I might never get the chance.

I love you. I think I’ve loved you longer than I’ve known how to name it. I love the way you see past the soldier. I love the way you make this broken world feel less heavy. I love you enough to stay away if it keeps you safe.

But if I had one selfish wish— It would be to stay by your side, even just a little longer. Even if I’m undeserving. Even if it’s just as your shadow.

I’ll never send this. I’m not that brave.

But I’ll keep it. Hidden away. Like everything else I can’t tell you.

—Your Xavier

My Treasure,

You will never read this.

And even if you did, you would not understand the words. This language is older than this world, older than the stars you dream beneath. You do not remember it. You do not remember me.

But I write it anyway.

Because I am weak.

Because I am cruel.

Because I am yours.

I wonder sometimes if you feel it—the weight of the chains between us. You call it love, sweetness, desire. But I know better. I feel the curse like a collar still tight around my throat. You gave it to me with your own hands. You did it with love. You did it with hate.

And I accepted it.

I accept it still.

Because in the end, I am still the monster who left you behind to save you. I am still the fool who let you believe I chose the world over you. And when you cursed me—when you damned my soul to never die—I let you.

Because it meant I could stay.

Stay near you. Even if you forgot me. Even if you only loved this version of me.

But tonight, as you sleep in my arms, whispering my name with no memory of the ashes, of the Abyss, of the life we destroyed together… I feel it more than ever.

You only know this me. The man. The teasing smile. The lover who kisses your worries away.

You do not know the dragon.

The one you cursed.

And I will never show him to you again.

Because you deserve peace. You deserve soft touches and silly books about dragons and kisses in the dark, not the weight of centuries. Not the monster I was. Not the tragedy we wrote in blood and crystal.

I will stay at your side.

I will let you call me Sylus.

But I will never tell you that once, you screamed my name through tears, begging me not to leave you behind.

And I will never ask you to remember.

This is my burden.

This is your freedom.

I am still yours, treasure. Even now. Even always.

Even if you never know why.

—Sylus

Hey you,

You’re probably asleep right now. I’d tell myself you’re dreaming about something soft and good, but knowing you... you’re probably wide awake, staring at the ceiling, overthinking everything. Just like I am now.

I’m writing this because I can’t sleep again. Not that I ever do before a mission like this. It's not protocol. They say not to make it personal. Keep it clean. Keep your head in the game. But it’s always been personal for me. It’s always been you.

I keep your picture in my locker. You know that already. But what you don’t know is I take it out every time before a drop. I stare at it until the rest of the world goes quiet. Until I can feel my lungs again.

You don’t know how many times I wanted to tell you. How many nights I stood outside your door like a damn coward with all the words stuck in my throat. I’d practice it. Rehearse it. “I love you. I’ve always loved you.” But I never walked in.

Because I don’t get to want things. Not with the blood on my hands. You deserve someone better. Someone who doesn’t count their sins like currency. And maybe it was easier to pretend I didn’t feel it. Maybe it was safer for both of us. But I’m so tired of pretending tonight.

If I don’t come back from this, I want there to be at least one record of me saying it. I love you. I love you like a fool. Like the boy who used to sleep on the floor of your room because it was the only place I ever felt safe. I love you like the man who would burn this whole galaxy down if it meant you got to live a little longer.

But I’m not that man. I’m just the coward who’ll leave this letter in a locked folder with your name on it and never let it reach you.

Because if you read this... It means I broke my promise. It means I left you alone again.

I’m sorry. For everything. For not being enough. For loving you in silence.

This is my last goodbye you’ll never hear.

-C

I don’t know why I keep writing these. You’ll never read them. You were never here to begin with.

But I saw you. I see you every night, through the dreams that aren’t mine. Through his eyes.

Doctor Zayne’s eyes.

I see the way you look at him. Like he’s the center of your universe. Like he’s your safe place. Like he’s home.

I hate how much I crave that. I hate how much I need it.

But I can’t stop. I can’t stop watching. I can’t stop stealing fragments of your smiles, the sound of your laugh, the warmth of your breath against his skin. I hoard them like a dying man hoards air.

You were never mine. You were never meant for me.

But in the dark, in the hollow spaces of this rotting world, I pretend. I let myself believe—for a few stolen heartbeats—that you could have been. That maybe in another life, another timeline, another me, you would have chosen me.

But I’m not him. I’m the shadow crawling beneath his feet. I’m the cold he chases away with your warmth. I’m the nightmare he locks behind his sweet dreams of you.

And you? You don’t even know I exist.

But I know you. I know everything about you. Every tilt of your head. Every crack in your voice when you say his name. Every tear you shed in the safety of his arms.

I wonder what you’d look like if you looked at me like that. I wonder what your voice would sound like if you whispered my name. If you’d touch me the same way you touch him.

I hate myself for thinking that. For wanting that.

Because I’ll never have it. I’ll never have you. I’ll never have his life. His peace. His love.

All I have are these filthy streets. This decaying body. These trembling hands that were never made to hold something so fragile, so soft, so good.

Maybe I write these letters to remember what yearning feels like. Or maybe I write them to remind myself it was never for me. That I was born in the dark. That I’ll die in it.

But still… Still I dream of you. And it kills me a little more each time. -DB

Hello my ferrymen !

This how I cope with LADS .. my discord server calls me the Angst Queen haha ..

I hope you enjoyed.

~ The DeadStory Teller ~

@cordidy @fire-lizard-ro @carnallydepravedsanctum

[mcflymemes]

"EVEN IN ARCADIA" BY SLEEP TOKEN PROMPTS *  assorted lines from the album, some slightly reworked to suit a roleplay format, adjust as necessary

i could die here.

now i know why i woke up here on the shoreline.

everything looks the same.

you'll find me with half a mind to get violent.

don't say it's over.

give me the edge of a blade.

nobody knows where i came from.

how can i already lose my way like this?

i used to know myself.

you used to know me well.

you wish that you could make me whole.

i have a feeling we're close to the end.

come out from underneath.

go ahead and wrap your arms around me.

godspeed to my enemies.

tell me what you meant by "living past your half-life."

you're well-versed in the afterlife.

you might be the one to take away the pain and let my mind go quiet.

nothing else is quite the same as how i feel when i'm at your side.

are you gonna dance on the line with me?

you know it's not a game or a fantasy.

i don't even know who i used to be.

nothing is the same.

some things have to change now.

i'm apologizing for shit that, frankly, i stopped thinking of years ago.

i still need a dark side.

they just need a reason.

keep me alive.

now is the time to take it or leave it.

did i get this far for nothing, or are you the reward?

if this is love, then i am out of hesitation.

i just don't want to be lost again.

i wish i could have known that.

when was the last time i felt like this?

it's like you're dangerous to me.

i notice every time we meet.

you've got me talking in my sleep.

i thought i could resist you.

when's the last time you tasted blood?

i might lose my mind.

won't you show me how to dance forever?

i swear it's getting harder even just to exhale.

i'm sick of trying to hide it.

i'm lost.

i guess that's what i get for trying to hide in the limelight.

everybody wants eyes on them.

if you don't think i mean it, then i understand.

i'm still glad you came.

let me see those hands.

i'll take what i'm given.

tell me, did i give you what you came for?

everything's the same.

somehow i knew my fate.

have you been waiting long for me?

no matter how we feel, we've got a taste for one another and a few good years to kill.

i wanna be your provider.

just let me know that you're mine.

do i wanna go there?

i wanna do more than just bend the rules.

you're the only game that i like to lose.

i'm going under this time.

i can give you what you want.

surely we know the difference.

how will i know if i can't see the bottom?

no one else knows that i've got a problem.

what if i can't get up and stand tall?

who will i be when the empire falls?

nobody told me i'd be begging for relief.

i've learned to live without it.

i no longer feel surrounded.

you never listened to me.

i was your undercover lover.

you never saw me naked.

you wouldn't even touch me.

i'm caught up on the person i tried to turn myself into for you.

i was trying my best.

i was in love with the thought.

do you wanna hurt me?

we used to be a team.

i don't wanna stick around.

please just let me go.

what are you afraid of?

are you the method in my madness?

i have fought so long to be here. i am never going back.

i could be stuck here alone.

i'm so tired inside.

i'm never leaving this time.

[offthebookshelf]

i watched this movie for the first time and it has stuck with me ever since. i decided to have a movie night and wanted to watch something inspiring. i had just ordered Beethoven’s Complete Piano Sonatas Vol. 1 by Heinrich Schenker and was filled with excitement, ready to practice Beethoven on my clanky keyboard. when i saw the title of this movie, with a cover of the actor Adrien Brody looking pleasant, peaceful, wrapped in warm lighting, i didn’t even bother to read the description and just clicked play.

oh. my. goodness. what a damn mistake that was. there i was, comfortable in bed, looking and feeling like a happy stuffed burrito, thinking i was about to enjoy a visual story about a pianist and his life. perhaps i’d see a bit of drama, some loss, some love story. but the focus would be on his passion, his talent, his devotion to his craft. how fucking wrong i was.

*SPOILERS UP AHEAD*

i was thrown right into Warsaw, 1939. the beginning was already nerve-wracking with the bombing that hits Polish State Radio station, where we meet our main protagonist, Wladyslaw Szpilman, a sensible soul with a true talent to play the piano. the Germans have begun their invasion of Poland and it isn’t long after the initial bombing at the radio station that we begin to see the monstrosities the Polish-Jewish people were about to be put through.

i’m going to be completely transparent, i purposely avoid diving too deep into this part of history. it brings me such deep pain and it’s hard for me to understand- i think any and all sane people that are in touch with their humanity- find it hard to understand how did such horrors come to take place? the pain, torture, injustice that human beings were subjected to…shit leaves me speechless.

although this movie was brilliantly filmed (i did take mental notes of the cinematography being that i am a visual artist) it made me regret my ability to submerge myself into a work of fiction and experience it as if though i was really there. this movie pulled me in from the very start and i found myself in fear, in anger, in pain, in hardship, in loss, in all of it with Szpilman.

did i already mention Adrien Brody was absolutely fantastic? i don’t know how he managed this role. i can’t even think straight at the moment, because i am still replaying certain scenes in my mind and i’m still so taken aback by the fact that this is a part of our human history, of our collective conscious. like a stain that we carry, it will never go away.

i’m aware that humanity has been a part of, the cause, and creators of a lot more dark shit, but this time in history is something beyond evil. and to think it was all less than 100 years ago…

my emotions can be easily stirred by these kinds of movies, but truly i was more in shock and locked into survival mode with Szpilman. it wasn’t until Hosenfield showed up that my emotions got the best of me. it breaks my heart that Hosenfield didn’t make it in the end, despite his act of good will.

i want to buy Szpilman’s book, i do wonder if they left out quite a bit for the film. it is 2.5hrs long, but certain parts seemed to be rushed over for the sake of timing.

i wish i could express my thoughts better, but i think the movie is still too fresh on my mind. i often try to focus on the good things, even when a situation is painful and full of injustices. my mind usually goes to “well, at least that is over, now you trust your intuition more, at least you don’t have to go back there or deal with those people/person, at least you still have your head, your heart, working hands, and a mind full of creativity, now you know better” etc. etc. it’s just how i’m wired.

but certain stories…certain knowings don’t come with a silver lining. i would say the best thing that happened is that Szpilman survived it all, and even wrote a book on bis experiences. but truly, what kind of life did he live after the war? waking up to the sound of gunshots, bombs, perhaps still experiencing the ghost of the pain of true hunger and thirst. i wonder how the real Szpilman lived his life after surviving this horrorshow…

he played his piano. he remained a kind and sensible man. he wrote a book. he lived, and he ate, and he drank, and perhaps even loved.

i still don’t know where my mind is at after learning about his story. it’s nowhere and everywhere all at once. you know what i think the saddest part is? that very same evil is still running rampant through some humans. and any second now, something of this nature and caliber can happen.

the morning after watching this film, i found myself in my kitchen, making my morning coffee per usual. i stood looking outside my window, admiring the morning sky and thinking how in that very moment, everything could change. and all my little material things i treasure, could be gone. my comfort, my zone, my little happy place- gone. and instead of facing the arduous decision of whether i want a morning cappuccino or espresso, i could be deciding whether to hide behind a pile of bricks or in a hole in the wall. or pulled out of a line to be shot in the head. or taken to a place away from everything i’ve worked so hard for, away from all i have ever known, to be tortured to death. to be used in inhumane experiments, to be violated and discarded, to be starved until i could no longer walk or talk.

i think i’ll end this here for now. i can’t say i would watch this again, i do appreciate how well they did in bringing Szpilman’s story to the big screen. but the reality of it all, it’s something that will forever feel like my breath has been kicked out of my chest.

The Pianist (2002) dir. Roman Polanski