#i left him but i do still love him. i dont think i could survive being with him and i do feel optimistic about my future sometimes without

[monards]

i know hoyo is setting up rhine to have good intent and whatever in her trying to 'save' khaneri'ah or whatever; but i REALLY hope they stay with the cruel persona thats been built up for her. because it would be so wonderful to see a character who had good intent in the beginning just get absolutely corrupted; with the inability to ever go back to that prior state purely because of what had happened. also because there is NO way in her turning back after all that shit

[shilohtx]

i know I must be pretty normal cause my last two and most significant long running relationships ended with one of us in the mental hospital + one of us in jail. respectively

[mangoshorthand]

Hii I'm a real sucker for your smuts and I was wondering if you could do a five one where he walks in on reader riding their pillow and thinking about him while doing it (and they haven't had intercourse in a long while because of apocalypse stuff and all that) and the aftermath where you can do anything with it after but I'd really like it if five was being gentle to the reader :<

Sorry this is a long req I hope you write it and it's okay if you dont wanna, thankiee 🫶

Your welkiee! Hope you enjoy. 😊 Lucky Fucking Pillow | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 3k words, Rated E

It had been four weeks: four fearful, lonely, miserable weeks. You felt stupid, irritated with him. You hated the fact you were waiting at home for him like the sweetheart of a world war two vet, living on the letters he sent from the front lines. 

You held it together until just before he left, duffel bag over his shoulder.

“The situation’s dangerous; unpredictable. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

On the floors below you, you could hear a bustle of activity as his siblings made similar preparations to leave.

“Why is this your responsibility?”

He looked at you, disbelievingly, the hand not supporting the bag went directly into his pocket.

“This is the world. Am I supposed to sit at home and wait to be subsumed by another apocalypse?”

You shook your head, bringing your knees up to your chest, not able to articulate what you were feeling.

“Let me come with you then.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, picked up the last of his morning coffee and knocked it back, shaking his head. 

“I’m not having this discussion again. I’d want you beside me in anything else, but not in this. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. Your best chance of survival is staying well away.”

“What if you die? What am I supposed to do?”

From slight irritation, he softened further. Bending from the waist, he kissed your forehead.

“I love you, okay.”

He crossed to the door, but a strangled sob made him turn back. Your face was suddenly red, tear-streaked. When you spoke, the words tore themselves from a tight throat. 

“Don’t go!” 

He closed his eyes, hand still on the door handle. He let out a breath and dropped the duffel bag, turning back around, crossing the room in two strides and holding you close, your head against his chest.

“I have to, angel. I’m so sorry.”

Since then, your days had been spent scouring the horizon for impending doom and following the news incessantly for any hints of what was going on. Your nights had been spent sleepless, remembering Five’s caresses and trying to get your head around the fact that you and everyone else could die at any moment.

You at least knew he wasn’t dead. He got messages to you sporadically; short dispatches from the field. They appeared mostly via an ancient telegraph machine stowed in Reginald’s old office. The most recent of these hadn’t been very encouraging:

We’ve got a plan, but it’s tenuous. If it doesn’t work, we’ll really be fucked. If that’s the case, then I hope to see you on the other side, -F x

smut below cut

They were four sexless weeks too. You quickly discovered that it takes more than the threat of imminent death to crush the human capacity for horniness. Before that month, you would have thought it would be a deluge of cold water on your libido, but that was far from the case. 

On the contrary, knowing that time could be short, all you could think about was having Five in your arms again: running your hands all over his body, the feeling of his lips on yours and the sensations of his lovemaking. 

As you lay in bed, his phantom was a heavy, intoxicating presence. Your need for him was strong tonight. You rolled to look at his empty side of the bed and imagined his head on the pillow. His eyes (that fickle forest green that masqueraded as blue in some lights and brown in others), you imagined them shaded by his hair. You saw his raised eyebrow, his smile, soft and suggestive, with the dimple that only appeared on one side of his face, recessing two large freckles by his mouth.

You pulled his pillow to you and buried your face in it. It smelled of him. You inhaled it deeply: his aftershave, his antiperspirant, his shampoo, a hint of coffee and something more  indefinable: a more fundamental scent that was all him.

It was this last smell that made your stomach flip, that made you breathe in the scent of the pillow again. It awakened something primal in you: ripples from your center outwards; flutters down each of your limbs. 

Before you knew it, you were stripping off your panties and kneeling up in bed. One hand held his pillow to your face and the other held your own pillow between your legs. When you started to grind, it was him beneath you. In imagination, he was teasing you: not allowing you to get on his dick until you came from humping his leg.

It wasn’t enough friction, so you sped up your hips, snapping them back and forth desperately. There was a whisper of something, a tingle from your neglected pussy, so you chased it, sinking deeper into the fantasy and imagining his hands squeezing your hips, guiding you as you rode him.

“Oh, Five,” you whispered, feeling your body begin to respond, wetness gathering between your labia, “Five, fuck.”

You threw your head back and closed your eyes.

“Hm,” said an approving voice from the doorway, “that lucky fucking pillow.”

You gave a violent start, dropped his pillow and turned around. There he was, framed in the open doorway. You gave a grateful, ecstatic cry.

“Five!” 

In nothing but your t-shirt, you were across the room in a leap and bound and throwing yourself against him, holding him to you with sudden, tight urgency.

He immediately stiffened and let out a sharp groan of pain. You loosened your grip

“Oh my god, what happened? You’re hurt! Are you okay? Is it over? Is everyone okay? Is the world okay?”

He was holding himself stiffly, but now his pain had faded, his face was amused. He leaned forward and kissed your lips. On your side, the kiss was desperate, joy-filled; on his, more passionate. His tongue flicked between your lips before he broke away.

“How about this? l answer each of your questions if, each time, you answer me one in return?” he said, smirking. 

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, smiling gently, “but that wasn’t a question.”

You were too happy to see him to have space to be irritated by this game.

“Fine. What happened to you?”

He moved as if to put his bag down on the chair. Seeing his wince, you took it off him and placed it there yourself.

“Thanks. It’s just a wound. There was an explosion. I was hit by a piece of flying steel.”

“Shit,” you whispered, looking down at his chest and the bandages that must be underneath his shirt, “oh my god, are you okay?”

“Hey,” he admonished, “it’s your turn to answer a question now. What were you doing when I came in?”

You looked at him with annoyance.

“You know what I was doing.”

“Yes,” he smirked, “I want to hear you describe it.”

“I was masturbating.”

“How were you masturbating?” he pushed.

“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” you said, using his own tactic against him, “How long will it take to heal? Are you seriously hurt?”

“That was two questions,” he said, stepping towards you, “but I’m feeling generous: I’m not seriously hurt. It’s a flesh wound. It’ll heal nicely.”

You looked at him with concern and he shook his head with a smile. 

“Now it’s my turn: what exactly were you thinking about when you were humping that pillow?”

“You,” you mumbled, “I missed you.”

“What exactly? You didn’t answer properly.”

You feel your face flush.

“I was thinking about fucking you. On top. Riding you.”

Five’s smirk grew, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows suggestively. You hurried on.

“Is the family okay?”

“All present and correct.” he said, moving even closer to you and stroking your hip in gentle circles.

It was a long, long month without you. There was barely time to think, let alone have the privacy for any ‘self care’ sessions of his own. Now that it was all over, his dick was complaining rather vocally about this neglect; insisting that if it didn’t get inside something warm and tight within the next five minutes, it would be most seriously displeased with the rest of him. 

As if to punctuate the point, it was now requisitioning rather a lot of blood from his brain, leaving him rock hard and almost lightheaded with the rush. 

“You’re so horny for me, aren’t you? Humping your pillow like a dirty little girl?”

“Was that a question?”

“Yes.”

You sighed as his hand snaked around to your ass. He stroked one of your buttocks up and down slowly, palm cupping the curve of your skin.

“Then yes: I’m horny for you.”

“How horny?” he said, immediately, squeezing you gently.

“Did you save the world?”

“Are you wet for me?” he said, huskily.

The fingertips of his other hand came to rest on your thigh. His eyes, dark in the low light of the bedroom, captured yours and held them firmly, authoritatively.

“If you’re not going to answer my question, I’ll have to find out for myself.” 

You looked back at him and his lips twitched. Slowly, he walked his middle and index fingers between your legs and parted your labia. He let out a low ‘oh’ as he felt the sopping folds waiting for him.

A jolt twitched down the boner now pressing insistently against the crotch of his pants. 

“How about you ditch the pillow and have a piece of the real thing?”

His fingers slipped slickly up and down your slit and you nodded, trying not to let your knees go weak. Your hands came to the hem of your shirt, pulled it over your head and discarded it so that you were standing naked before him. 

As your breasts bounced free, his befuddled mind could only think how much he’d missed them. He bent forward eagerly to try and take a nipple into his mouth, but froze mid-stoop with a wince and harsh intake of breath.

“Ow. Shit.”

He straightened up slowly, stiffly and leaned against the door, experimentally stretching out his limbs.

“You okay?” you said, worried. 

“I’m fine.” he muttered, hand over his injury, “Got a bad case of hornybrain. Made me forget I was impaled by a steel bar for a hot second there.”

You winced in sympathy and rubbed his clothed stomach in circles. When the pain had abated and he was again looking at you with lust behind his eyes, you leaned in and whispered to him.

“Looks like you’re going to have to stay still and let me do all the work.”

His lips parted but no words came out, for once unable to think of anything cocky to say. You could see the glisten of saliva on his tongue. You smirked and lowered yourself so that you were kneeling in front of him.

He laid his head against the door and exhaled as you deftly freed him of his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He squeezed his eyes closed, thoroughly undone by the mere suggestion of being sucked. He was even hornier than he realized. 

He groaned in a strange mix of satisfaction and need as you licked him through his underwear, using one hand to pull the fabric taught around the thick five and a half inches imprinted there in harsh relief. The stretch and your saliva made the white material semi transparent and you felt a pleasant twist in your stomach as the hint of soft, flushed skin beneath. You lost yourself, aware of nothing but the perfect outline of his glans beneath your tongue and the heady, pheromonal smell of him. 

He made another tight, needy sound as you put your lips around his still-clothed head.

“Please.”

How could you refuse him? Pulling at the elastic and reaching in, you pulled him out to twitch in the open air. It looked painfully hard, as always curving slightly to your left but otherwise sticking straight out like an exclamation point to his arousal.

Slowly, still inhaling that intoxicating scent, you took him into your mouth, slowly sucking him. You hummed appreciatively at his solid, hot skin between your lips. You were in heaven there, happy to keep sucking him as long as he’d let you.

“You don’t know how much I need this,” he said, weakly, knees buckling as you built to a steady rhythm. You paid close attention to his head, enjoying the little pop it made as it left the tight seal of your lips.

He looked down at you with hazy eyes, watching the way your lips pouted as you slid your lips up his length. When you caught his eyes, the pupils suddenly widened and he immediately looked away, head snapping straight back to look up at the ceiling.

“I can’t look at you right now,” he breathed, by way of explanation, “You’re too perfect; I’ll come too fast.”

You flushed, glowing with his praise. Though Five was a loving partner, his compliments were usually hidden beneath layers of self-consciousness and sarcasm. Him saying this now was evidence of how overwhelmed he was: inhibitions swept away in the rush of reunion. 

Slowly, you withdrew and laid your head against his stomach so that his cock rested on your cheek. You looked up at him adoringly, simultaneously enjoying the intensity of his arousal and giving him time to calm down.

“I love you Five.”

“I love you too, baby.” he said, voice breathy and hoarse, “Now, please god, take me to bed and treat me like that pillow.”

You smiled, rose to your feet and led him to the bed, helping him out of the pants around his ankles. Standing by his side of the bed, you kissed his lips gently, enjoying the way his dick stabbed and pressed periodically at your thighs. When you broke apart, you looked into his eyes, at his soft look with his thick eyelashes shading his eyes. 

Aware of his injury, you supported him as he lay down, helping him to ease onto the mattress with the bare minimum of pain. His solid presence in your arms as he let you assist him was bliss.

Though you were being careful not to place any weight where it would hurt him, he pulled you into his arms. 

“Please,” he whispered, “I want you to fuck me. Ride me. Just use me to get off. Use me like a goddamn dildo. I don’t care.  I need you.”

You smirked at this.

“Who are you and what have you done with Five?”

“Please.”

More begging. You didn’t have it in you to tease him, not when you too were desperate to feel his body against yours, to feel him inside you, to mingle your sighs and your pleasure with his.

You slipped him inside you and gasped. The resumption of this perfect coupling alone told you just how much you needed it. You knew you missed it, but now he was inside you again, you realized that it made you whole. His small keen as he slid home was enough to send a fluttering shudder from your center outwards.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, leaning close to him.

He nodded, biting his lower lip and caressing your hips.

Slowly, you began to grind against him, rolling your hips with him inside you, moving on top of him just as you did the pillow. This time, it really was Five beneath you, his cock twitching inside you, hitting and charging that sweet spot inside you until it felt like you were buzzing with his electricity.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, “Five!”

“I-don’t-deserve you,” he panted, “So perfect. Perfect. Beautiful girl…so goddamn sexy. I love you. I-fucking- Ah!”

He always got more talkative yet less coherent the closer he got. He was watching your swinging breasts, hanging a few inches above his face. You leaned forwards immediately, keen to give him what he couldn’t take for himself a few minutes before.

He took the hint eagerly, taking your nipple into his mouth and groaning along with you at the change of angle. He suckled enthusiastically, hungrily; hand leaving your hip to rub your breast with his palm. 

His groans now sent miniature, warm vibrations onto your nipple, creating a new center for charge to build upon. As it crackled down your limbs, stoking the heat in your stomach and groin, you moaned, wanting to ride him hard- ride him like a bike - but you were reluctant to let loose in case you hurt him. 

Instead, you rolled your hips upon him desperately. Judging by the sudden shout from him and the ache from your pussy, this motion was to both of your liking. You were on the edge now, teetering.

“Gonna come. Gonna come.” he whispered, urgently, removing his mouth from your titty with a wet sound.

He meant this to warn you but, instead, his desperate voice gave you the final push.

As you came, your pussy clenched, squeezing him suddenly. His eyes shot open and he all-but squealed at the unexpected stimulation. His hips surged upwards, the pain from his chest eclipsed for the moment by this maddening, raging orgasm. It felt like your pussy was milking it from him, pulling his rapid shots of come up into itself. 

At last, you came to a stop. 

“Is the world safe?” you asked, after a warm breathless minute or two.

“Yes,” he said weakly, “the world’s all okay.”

You carefully climbed off him, laid beside him and held him. There was the fresh smell of his shampoo and antiperspirant. The smell of home if ever there was one.  After a minute or two becoming heavier in your arms, he spoke again.

“Well, the world’s certainly all okay now.”

He stroked your stomach as if you were made of paper-thin glass, inclining his head towards yours as he spoke again.

"I meant what I said: you are perfect, you know."

Megalist

Request info + rules

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See request info + rules for request status and more.

[justcallmesakira]

BESTIE IF U DONT DO THIS REQ N I WILL FACKING EAT UR MUTUALS

DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER DAZAI WITH A SISTER!!

she has black cat energy and err makes suicidal jokes here and then but never does t and chuuyas always the one who pulls her away from dazais tendencies because he DOES NOT want reader to follow dazais steps and err dazai and reader have a 2 year gap and err basically dazai took her away with him when he left and thats were she sort of stopped talking BECAUSE BOOM CHIKA BOOM ODAS DEATH LEFT HER MORE TRAUAMATIZED THAN THE KIDS ASAGIRI BLEW UP!!! so errr crack and chuuya and reader is ummmm AHEM AHEM AHEM (cough coug)

AND BASICALLY MORI HAS THIS like obsession of bringing reader back to the mafia like he constantly says stuff like "Dazai, my offer still stands but please remember that i would really really love to see your dear sister back first" LIKE YKNOW WHAT I AM SAYING???????????

DAZAI AND HIS YOUNGER SISTER!

Sypnosis: you are the younger sister of Da-dazai! Is he a great brother or not? UPPP TO YOU! >< oh and maybe hide your secret vists with chuuya please!!

Genre: crack and heavy angst! (dont question it)

Warnings: suicidal themes! cans of gasoline, glitter bombs, reader is very quiet type, manipulation (for good use!)

A/N: yummy yummy

uh oh! this is gonna be so damn messy

so um first of all! i really think reader would be very intelligent like dazai like oh fuck! i just got under a whole rubble of rocks by some guy who btw is the enemy of my brother quick! think of something

and then theres this bsd aesthetic plan you make and just survive! to the shock of your horror... :D

okay but in all seriousness! he defiently jokingly gave you his suicide guide to if u ever felt inspired by him

VERY VERY NORMAL BROTHER ACTIVITY!!1

dazai stop influencing people around you to plug off them self challenge impossible: GO!!

if you do however join his meticulous activites kunikidas actually going to blow up

😇

but imagine how cute it would be a black cat energy young sis and a golden retriver brother like bish forget romantic relationships like dazai who sometimes forget he left his sister at work!

but ynkow mf dazai always wants to keep close to you because he was never really there (like my fake as friends🙄) back in the mafia! woohoo

so now you can asks him for whatever you want but now he actually feels guilty because you have now become the silent type and dont really talk that much

Great job dazai! best brother everr!❤️

Imagine running away from the mafia with ur lil sister then realising she doesnt even want to talk anymore and that you might actually failed as a big brother even after buying her a whole lotta stuff

COULDNT BE OSAMU DAZAI GUYS!!!

tell him to take you to an amusement park and he will! but dont be surprised if you see him trying to run to jump off a bridge because he does not have for the sake of god any money!

AYY dazai cosplaying toji to get milk? real or fake??? find out here!

dont click on the link :3

ANYWAYS he definetly tries his best to get you back to talking sure the only thing he could do is talk to himself with you beside him doodling some stuff but yknow...it genuinely makes him form a sad smile when he gets reminded that maybe if he were a better brother and actually comforted you it would have ended better

"I saw a cat today yknow! it had a black eye and orange patterns. Somehow it looked wise" dazai said relazing on the chair, his hands behind his head, the whole night of yokohama was quiet only the flicker of the dim light placed underneath the balcony ceiling could be heard.

The night was calm too, it had a soft storm-like feel to it. Dazai knew you were listening thats probably why he would talk to you all these months, no one else was there for him anyway. So its better than nothing.

All of a sudden amdist the silence several pokes tapped on his shoulder which made his eyes widen slightly. You held up your sktechbook infront of his face, a bunch of doodles of him and a full sketch of his side profile

"(Name)... This is amazing! Wow you could be a talented artist yknow!!" he said you didnt know whether he was just flattering you or not because of the emptiness in his eyes. Depression changes a person. But the slight flicker of light in his made it visible to your loud mind. Dazai was glad you made some progress.

Okay now hb your interactions with da agency??

I am pretty sure both you and him joined da agency together (gotta make sure his sister ACTUALLY doesn`t follow his steps!😋😋😋😋)

kunikida may act all cold around you and view u as some kid especially when you randomly make the most random ass suicidal jokes in the middle of a meeting but...

Lets say he sort of checks up on both of you every morning! cant let the dogs out now kunikida! you never know what they do....

iykwimyk

now yosano girlypop is the only person who shows genuine concern for you when you get hurt why? because she was bamboozled when she found out you are dazais sibling like

"huh- are you actually capable of being a brother? more so having family"

dazai be at the corner weeping because of the amount of slander

DESERVEDDDD😍😍😍

I can totally see fukuzawa patting both of you and dazais head after you two collaborated on a mission

IDWGDHYWDFYUDFILOVEFATHERRELATIONSHIPS

he prob randomly call you for tea i mean not too randomly but he likes your black cat energy

speaking of which ranpo and you bully da heck out of criminals before they ultimately mistake you for some god!! /nj

kenji and kyouka just chills around you and tries debating what you and dazai have in common.

belonging in the mental asylum. thats whats common between you two/nj again😁😁

With chuuya

NAWWWWH BRO NAWW☠️

Chuuyas gonna end upl like this emoji☠️☠️☠️

Okay maybe i am over exaggerating this but yknow dazai is like really smart

UNFORTUNATELY!!!

So he will definitely know when ever you two act a little🤭😝😘🤗😍🥰👍

Hes going to get tjat expression from chapter 114 and chew chuuyas expensive tuxedo!!

I bet after he finds out hes straight up going to give chuuya a flashback of stormbringer era!! 😍😁

#verynormalbrother

"W-w-w-what da SKIBIDI [name]??? YOU WILL NOT AND NEVER MEET CHUUYA AGAIN" "wow... and i thought you were trying to become a better brother :(" "YOUNG LA- i-" ":("

He was about to say lad

like manipulative ass brother like sister ig! :33333333

He prob had suspicions back in the mafia especially because of how you mostly stuck around chuuya when he wasnt there

YOUR FAULT BRO!!!

And then u rizzed chuuya up with double black eyes (get it?)

"You know [name] it still hurt me, though i promised i would never say it infront of your face but.." Chuuya said seriousness in his tone looking at you eyes "But please stop looking at me with those cat like eyes they deeply remind of someone and I DO NOT like it"

He ended this funny note with a genuine fear and irritation in his eyes. you only nodded and continued to stare at him, your eyes rivaling a black hole not that hole by the way.

A tingling feeling gathered in himself as chuuya looks at your blank stare "Dont look at me like that!" he raised his flustered voice, a small hue of pink appearing on his cheek which only grew as you held on to his sleeve, snuggling against it like a cat.

But before he could be more flushed a really dark aura crept up behind you and then, right then you knew you fucked up bad.

"i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-i-cant believe this!" your brothers voice perked up behind you genuine horror on his face as if he just saw his bestfriend die infront of him twice.

"Oh my fucki-" chuuya sighed, both of you are caught. "[name] ICANTBELIEVETHISOMGIAMGOINGTOENDMYSELFLIKEMYOTHERVERSIONFROMANOTHERUNIVERSEWHOLOWEREDYOURSTANDERDSICANTBELIEVETHISHIT" dazai rapped at super speed, an anger and shock unwordable enough for you to be confused at whatever hes yapping about. "DAZAI what the fuck??" now chuuya was confused too.

"ANDYOU, HERMANADAPUTA (sisterfucker in english) YOUUGLYSHORTMFWITHNOFLAGSNONOTHING,YOUTRUSTISSUED?IWILLGIVEYOUPRISONFORLIFEISSUES" "WHAT IS YOU BROTHER YAPPING ABOUT?"

And all you could do was watch in horror as the scene unfolds infront of you. But safe to say you got in big trouble when you went back home!

anyways dazais going to go full on 8 cans of gasoline on the portmafia if more is obsessed with you like him

and then you realised..

"fOr tHe fIrSt TiMe iN fOrEVer" he actually did/nj

Okay okay but in all seriousness (litearlly @justcallmesakira catchphrase guys!!) Dazai would genuinely become more protective of you if mori was targeting towards you.

i would run away to antarctica too if mori even tried interacting with me

SHES A RUNNER SHES A TRACKSTAR!!!!!🏃💨

But if you are intelligent then i guess you met fyodor too? And maybe some sort of rivalry goes on between you two like "oh its my brothers enemy, gotta help my bro blow him up!"

I have nothing much to say because dazai would make secret plans (which you alrdy know) to make sure mori doesnt get too close with you

Like oh he was planning to approach you that day? BOOM dazai is already there. Yeah like that

If mori says that however... Dazai will reply with a dark eyed gloom,tilting his head back creepily "You will have to need more then the whole of port mafia to interact with my sister"

Dazai hates mori alot and though he knows that you are old enough to handle situations that doesnt mean he wont care for his only sister. You are the only thing left that he can protect without feeling inhumanity or faraway.

A/N: HATE THISSSS NOOOUUU

Tags: @inojuuy @biscuits-spooky-corner @terururuko @little-miss-chaoss @saelique @silverbladexyz @typcallysid14 @nezuko-kamado-cute-demon

[alastorsfuckassbob]

You're Never Fully Dressed-

Alastorxfem!reader

oh boy everyone's favorite! Please I have never written before, I just figured I'd give it a shot it was 1:35 and I was not feeling sleepy so an hour later here it is, its not edited so SORRY ABOUT THAT- all of my friends are normal and would definitely not proof read this hot garbo!

Basic Plot!! Yikes another song fic i know i KNOWW, the reader knew our good pal Al in her life but oopsies he "left" her (he died duh) and now shes taking a sad hot girl bubble bath to reminisce!!

Lyrics are bolded, past events Italics for the most part.

ALSO Please DNI if you're a minor k thanks bye!! You are responsible for your own internet consumption, so here are the warnings! If you don't want to view that ✨dont✨

Warnings include:

-Swearing

-Violence

-Alcohol Use but not abuse! (its hell duh)

-Abusive Relationships

-Slight Innuendo but not a strong one!

-Angst

The fire danced, flitting left and right. It was different than any other fire set in hell, it wasn't meant to hurt anyone or destroy anything. It was just a small flame, melancholically melting the dripping wax down the white lilac scented pillar. Floral scents were hard to come by unless you made them yourself, it was hell after all, its not like theres a flower garden planted on every corner. The candles single wick didn't produce more than a drop of light. It just flickered every now and then, entertaining its own little lonesome sway. Your demeanor softened as you looked at it from the petal filled bath you currently resided in.

Oddly you felt at peace, understood, almost comforted. You had learned to dance the same way it seemed. You caught yourself when you fell, twisting and turning to please an audience. It was a cruel existence. At least the flame looked content in some way, at least it would never know what it was like to contort under the will of another. Yet it was still a light in darkness, shining for no other reason than to survive...All it could ever do was take, even if it didn't want to, fire needs to burn. To burn it must destroy. You sighed sinking deeper into the bubbly water. You didn't want to think about your past. Not anymore. You didn't have to anymore anyway. Life had not been kind to you and that constant displeasure followed you through your death and into the pits of hell. Funny how suffering could follow biting desperately at your heels and the man who was so "desperately" in love with you in life just couldn't find it within himself to stay...God you sounded bitter. To be fair you were. After all he had ruined your life and he didn't even know it...It wasn't that bad was it? You probably would still be in hell regardless, even without his "involvement" or lack of- you had always been a sinner. It wasn't worth it to be upset, not anymore he's most likely dead, you definitely are, whose to say if he'd even wind up down here. You paused a moment, laughing at the silly conclusion overthinking had led you to.. no that fucker is definitely in hell. Sweet as he was up front, he had a dark side that went much deeper than his soft exterior could cover. You closed your eyes..

1923- Central New Orleans

Suddenly it was 1923. The flower lined streets of late spring in New Orleans. His smile never wavering as he dragged you from store to store. As your dear companion, and biggest supporter, he had asked you to assist him at the radio station. Now that you had finished school you would need a job anyway. You'd always had a beautiful voice and a knack for writing. It just made sense. His hand squeezed yours lightly pulling you from your thoughts. In his hands, he held a burgundy day dress and a matching bow.

"Darling, would you try this on for me? I believe it is high time you were rewarded for all of your hard work. I believe you would simply sparkle in this color"

You smile softly at his gentle tone, taking the delicate dress in your hands. You find yourself caught in his eyes. It feels like you two are the only people on the planet

You feel the familiar sensation of tears on your face, you open your eyes again, you hadn't realized you'd started crying.

you let out the shrill scream you didn't know you were holding in. the fluke of champagne you had so tediously been savoring since you began your bath cracked slightly. You downed the rest of the glass, and grabbed the bottle sitting lazily on the floor. You didn't want to think about him or your life anymore...but it consumed you. You had so many more important things to fret about in your..current..environment. Songs to sing, bitches to kill, people to fuck. A grand glorious array of newer shinier problems, and yet you were stuck sulking about the past. You take a deep breath shaking slightly despite the warm vanilla scented water surrounding you. You remove your hand from the water motioning to the shadow hiding behind a vase (of no more than slightly wilted roses). It slinks forward at your beckoning, climbing to the white marble countertop of your vanity, it clicks the worn down knob of your rickety old radio. light jazzy music trickles out and fills the air with lovesick nostalgia you weren't entirely prepared to let in. No matter what he had done...you would always fall back to him. Even if he was nothing more than ill-fated failed fourteen year "endeavor". fourteen years is quite a long time, even if the majority of it was spent more or less platonically. You really did love him. Love doesn't always follow those that leave, you are testimony and truth to that. You let your mind wander guided by the static filled notes of the radio.

Hey, hobo man

Hey, Dapper Dan

You've both got your style

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

Even through the shudder of the static, it really did sound like him. Despite being the "host" of the station. He had his fair share of performances. For such a Hell bound soul he had the voice of an angel.

You close your eyes once again and allow the melody to take you back to an easier time.

1926- New Orleans, Your apartment

You sing along with whatever tune the radio gives you. You're at peace, simply existing for no other reason than to be with your friend.

"Dance with me my little canary, your voice lights a fire within me"

He pulls you in by the waist. His hands splayed across your hips holding them with a gentleness you'd never expected him to hold for you. He leans his head down against the yours and places a chaste kiss on your forehead

"Alastor" you giggle, the sensation tickling you slightly. "You are quite ridiculous"

"Ridiculous?" he feigns hurt. "My darling I am so far from ridiculous the word does not find sense within my ears" he spins you around and into his chest, you roll your eyes ignoring his antics

"Dearest are you aware you are speaking with the future of radio?"

"The future of radio? Please Love, don't jest. The 20s surely have more in store than you" You laugh into his chest and he shockingly laughs with you.

Neither of you know it but you are both so drunk on the sound. To you, his laugh sounds like the swift church bells that used to ring throughout your home town whenever someone got married. It feels familiar and yet like a distant memory. It makes you want to hear it over and over again until your ears stop working, and even then you'd settle in just fine feeling the vibrations of his chest. He sounds like home. To him, your laugh sounds like the rushing creek and smooth algae covered stones resting deep beneath the trees draped in Spanish moss of his mothers cabin in the woods. Just hearing your laugh he can feel the spotted sunlight speckling his freckled face underneath the big willow tree. You sound like home. Everything about you- it felt like home to him. His hands were crafted to hold soft curves of your body. His ears were made to hear your voice and your voice alone. You were purpose, his home. You don't know it, but it is that realization that sparked the idea of marriage into his heart.

That fire was put out not long after.

You at least had those nine years as his friend, three years as his "copain" if you will- and two years as his fiancée...and so many years alone. You only spent 14 years in the company of this man. You had lived before knowing him a good 17 years, and a good long bit after.

Why were you so stuck?

You hum along subconsciously, the objects in your bathroom begin to glow a familiar pink, levitating slightly in the air as you continue to hum. Your ability isn't weak by any means, but for some reason you were. You were nothing in comparison to hells overlords, especially the newest trio of Vs. Your power is so deeply connected to your voice, how can you hold power when it doesn't belong to you anymore? You drift back to the memory of your arrival. Scared, alone, dressed a great deal less than modestly, and equipped with nothing more than a pair of horns, some wings you couldn't quite use yet, and a thin devil like tail. It was only your third hour in hell. You didn't understand the rules. You were playing a twisted game in which you didn't realize you were just another piece of.

Shock can make a person anxious and fear will make them stupid. He was tall and smelled distinctly of cigars, soured whiskey, and something pungently sweet you couldn't name. It burned your nose as you inhaled it. You would become well aquatinted with the smell of lust in the years to come, you just didn't know it yet. It seemed innocent at first, just a simple contract, no different than a job. All you had to do was sing and dance at a club, in exchange for safety. But it was different and it wasn't innocent. He was cruel and yet no different than so many of the men you had dealt with in life. He agreed to your terms of anonymity and thats about it. You had your private life and his life. Valentino never played fair. You didn't know that yet, and now you're hells favorite sinner, a least no one knew it was you. If he had asked you another day later you would have realized you could have probably fended for yourself, with some difficulty anyway. At least you wouldn't have to be in this mess. You wouldn't be fucking six people before noon. You wouldn't be constantly covered in bruises and scars...Maybe you could have found him, Alastor that is. Maybe you could have at least been friends again. Its silly to hope for anything more since your romantic relationship ended...✨the way it did✨

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But brother

You're never fully dressed

Without a smile!

1931- New Orleans, The river

The two of you sit beside each other in a small wooden row boat. Your hair is tied back with your signature crimson ribbon. He fiddles with the pocket of his jacket. The Louisiana soundscape of crickets, frogs and running water accompanies your conversation. Fireflies light up the air, almost bringing the stars down to your fingertips. With a buzz and a gentle green glow, the small creature lands on your hand. Your smile leaks wonderment and Alastor can hardly contain the love he feels for you.

As a Radio Host, he is quite agile in the way of words, yet something about you has him constantly at a loss. He takes a deep breath, unsure of what to say his voice wavers as he begins to speak.

"y/n, I want to thank you for the effect you've had in my lif-"

"My love look at the stars!" You didn't mean to cut him off, Your arms stretched upwards your face turning to meet his. The stars were so much brighter then they were in the city, it was only natural for you to be excited

"Yes doll, I see them, they're the same as they were last night and many many nights before hand"

You let out an impatient huff

"that doesn't make them any less beautiful." a mischievous glint hides in your eyes "now wouldn't it be so dreadfully terrible if I got bored looking at you just because I've already seen you before?" You fake a yawn and look at him eyes seething with boredom

"It would be so dreadful considering I was about to propose to you"

There is no other word to describe what you felt other than shocked. You had been an item for quite some time, but you never figured he would stick around (and "seal the deal" if you will).

Tears begin to run down your face rambling small words of agreement and love. You had never expected him to..love you that way. He was who he was, a dreadfully popular radio host, and you weren't really anything more than an assistant. People really only listened for him..yet in this moment, he was speaking only for you.

"I love you so dearly my y/n. If life without you exists I do not want to exist through it"

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

1934: New Orleans, Alastor's house

The house was empty. He was gone. Fully and truly gone. It had been a year since you'd seen or heard from him and six months since the birth of your son. It didn't feel like your house, it didn't feel like your life anymore. It was all still his. His things still bled into your side of the closet, his last purchase, a book, dust encrusted and unread. The blankets and pillows set on the couch exactly as you both had left them after falling asleep to the rain the night before he left wordlessly. You found yourself sporting one of his shirts more often than your own...until eventually they didn't smell like him anymore. The whole house used to reek of his signature vanilla smell. Theres nothing left here but dust and the crooked board of the desk he insisted he could build himself "just fine".

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

That matters

1936- New Orleans; ✨that shitty bar you performed at✨

"Get the fuck up you bitch"

You felt his hand tangle in your hair and pull you to your knees. All you could do was groan in pain.

"I'm so sorry it won't happen again I promise"

You mutter almost to yourself. He rolls his eyes shoving you into the counter smashing a glass in the process. Your vision blurs for a second seeing the glass shards decorating your h/c locks in a halo. You feel the blood trickle down your forehead.

"Do you think anyone else would hire you? A whore with nothing to her name and a useless ugly bastard child from god knows who?" You feel angered at his words. Insulting you is one thing, but your child?

But then it sinks in, he's right. The 30s are a sick decade, nothing progressive about them. No one else would hire you. You are lucky to work here..despite it all. You tell yourself anything is better than living on the streets. The mantra doesn't dull the pain but it makes it easier to put up with. You don't have a choice. You have a child to take care of.

"Get rid of him"

you stay silent unsure if you heard him correctly.

"Get rid of the boy. I don't care if you leave him in a box on the street or kill him yourself"

He reaches for a small silver knife under the bar's counter. He places it against your throat.

" y/n..You won't like it if I do it dearest, besides you are saving him the shame of having a mother like you. At least if he's adopted elsewhere he has a chance at a half decent life" he took a deep swig from his un-shattered glass of whiskey, looking at you with such deep distain.

You had never hated anyone the way you hated that man..But he was right. You would never be able to give your baby the best life. It would never get better because you couldn't make it better. So you found a young couple not to far from New Orleans, they took him in, and he got to be happy. he ended up living a successful life. He still is. If nothing else theres that. You know your own misery doesn't automatically allow others to be happier, but at times its what keeps you going.

Your mind is flooded with more and more thoughts. Thousands of little memories pilling themselves on top of you. Who would've thought, even deceased, even owned by Valentino, even trapped in an ever so violent place, the real plight of hell would be your thoughts. You light a cigarette and get out of the tub. You throw on a dark red robe and sit on the vanity's counter to brush your damp hair. The song continues into a jazzy interlude before it reprises again

Your clothes may be Beau Brummelly

They stand out a mile

But, brother

You're never fully dressed

You're never dressed

Without a smile

You stretch out your wings in the mirror, looking at your demonic self. No matter how many times you catch yourself in the mirror, even after ten years of this hellish existence. It still strikes you as odd. You look more or less the same. The same hair color and skin tone, although slightly more grey. The tail was just fucking weird no matter how long you had it. The song erupts into the finale distracting you from your thoughts. You begin to sing along with it, smiling softly. It really does sound like him. The same pink glow takes over the room as well as your body, Your eyes begin to glow that same soft pink, your hair floating above your shoulders.

Who cares what they're wearing

On Main Street

Or Saville Row

It's what you wear from ear to ear

And not from head to toe

You're never fully dressed without a smile

The last line comes out much quieter than the rest. A sense of sadness overtakes you once again as you realize how pathetic this whole night turned out. You'd spent the whole night "Simping", as Velvette would say, over a relationship that ended decades ago. Yikes. The static from the radio clicks up a few notches, You cover your ears at the sudden noise. You quickly reach for the dial in order to turn off the device..And then you hear it. You hear him.

"Dearest.." Its almost unintelligible through the static

You think you've finally fucking lost it. Ten years in Hell and you've officially gone "delulu"...another Velvette saying but it feels fitting.

“y/n.”

He called softly, the static in his voice heavy and nearly unreadable.

You almost didn't believe it.

"Y/n" He repeats the static fizzling out leaving his voice raw and almost natural. Fuck this was real. You didn’t respond. You didn’t know how to. You weren't sure if he could even hear you..how he would respond? Would it be worse if he did? It had been an entire decade since you fell, All of this time- he never bothered to contact you. Why now? Why so much later?... Had he forgotten about you? Did he just..die? You cant discern which is worse...that he had left you and your son and lived a long guilt free life...or that he made no attempt to even speak to you in the decade you had inhabited the same existence.

Ok that was all like exposition and shit..considering part two but I AM VERY TIRED RN

[mako-neexu]

i forgot to address it but i love seeing this panel of da vinci chan and romani. (delusions below)

in a perspective like this, even if its just a dream, its terrifying. underneath what is usually a sweet portrayal of them, you can see here that they did something once- maybe more than twice to ritsuka's body without her consent. in salem manga, they altered gudako's body to the point where she feels like it isnt her body anymore just so the grand order can keep going.

considering that fujimaru ritsuka, simply a teenager who survived out of 47 master candidates like them, not to mention that they knew nothing about magic in the first place, was forced to go on a quest for survival. considering how she is young, of course she is prone to mistakes. and especially if it is the most endangering ones of all like with tiamat at the 7th singularity or like the lion king at the camelot singularity.

in order to reach "solomon" and stop him, it makes sense that, as the last Master left, da vinci and romani would do anything- everything to keep fujimaru ritsuka from dying so that they would have the chance to fight "solomon". of course that includes surgical removal of her tissues and replacing them with alternative tissues to reinforce her body and protect her magical circuits that allow for master aptitude.

of course its evident that ritsuka loves da vinci and romani, in a scene like this, i think its terrifying to see which i really like a lot since i dont often see romani and da vinci framed like this. most of the time, they are drawn in a bittersweet way after all. again, it could just be the dream framing it like this to make it seem they are inhuman here. but theres still a kernel of truth to this scene. such as replacing maybe 56% of ritsuka with genetically modified tissues that are not her own against her consent and will. (she's only half lucid at the panels shown so it is most likely that romani and da vinci operated on her without asking her first)

and the cold tone of romani and da vinci chan in the chapter could just be them sad about how ritsuka is injured... even if in the current chapter they are addressing mostly how they are disappointed by the fact that they've failed one mission after another all because of ritsuka's carelessness, and that the most they addressed about her is making sure her master aptitude and magical circuits are intact for repair to continue the grand order.

[everybodyloveshippos]

btw i dont just love dahlia for the 'womens wrongs!!' i love violent women !!!' thing. (likes, yes but-) i do love dahlias character bcus she IS complicated and working through shit but shes also funny and competitive and cares enough to ask if guen is okay, she has tenderness she rarely shows and a soft side that was taken from her. she spent years around cutthroat nobility in thay, cultivating her ability to survive, she apparently wanted something to believe in enough to believe in szass tam for a time. thats so interesting. she is insecure, she lashes out at drizzt when she fears being left behind for the ghost he is chasing. she and drizzt are tragically doomed to be terrible for eachother and he cant love her even though he thinks he could. he wants to fix her. he wont break up with her. she wants to die by his hand or be loved by him. she says to her sons face that he was her only weapon against her rapist and that he doesnt have to forgive her. she tries to be in his life after all that. she wants artemis to live. she loves him but she cant meet him where he is now. theyre the same. and she still leaves because she isnt in a place to be selfless like the main heroes of the story right now, especially after all the trauma she went though in menzo. i love Dahlia Syn'dalay sm

[zhvakinnn]

If only you know what i know

Sae itoshi x GN reader

Warnings: no fluff, angst

🍓as always i don't know much English so if something is wrong correct me 🍓

"let's stop this mess"

"what?." You're confused at sae's words

"i wanna end this relationship"

You're eyes are widen and you raise your head from his shoulder to look at him

"what do you mean, did i do something wrong, i didn't forget any important things?"

Sae stop you from talking and just walked to the bedroom

"sae please what's wrong? Please i don't wanna end this relationship you promise me that we'll always be together I love you-"

You're words was cut by sae

"sometimes love cant be promise, you think ive loved you?"

You became silent frozen while his there taking all his clothes his really leaving you

You didn't think of anything and just hug him

"please sae please.. dont leave.. i love you"

He shrugged you off him and drag his bag

You kissed him and he gave in but pushed you away

"please sae-"

"i cheated on you.."

"what"

Theres so many happening here you wanna ask everything

"you don't deserve me, i fucked another woman than you i slept with her and kisses he-"

Sae's words didn't continue when a hand slap on his face

"how could you do this to me?. Sae i loved you, we've been together for 5 years..5 fucking years and this is what i get for loving you.!?...you know what its better if you leave now"

Sae nodded and said goodbye but you didn't make any eye contact with him you're just waiting for him to get the hell out of your apartment

"you have cancer, and I'm afraid that.. that you're son wont survive in this case, there are warnings that you didn't notice in him, its either he kept on nose bleeding"

Sae washes his nose it kept on bleeding but he shrugged it and thought it was just because of heat

"or losing weight"

When he step on the scale the nurse said he lost 3kg before he lost 2kg he kept losing weight every check up

---------------------------------------------------

He curse himself, he was panicking everything went on his mind but the one that was pinned is you, how are you gonna react to this

His been covering his hair with wigs because he didn't want you to see it

He quits soccer yet you didn't know he excused that its their break so he can spend more time with you before he say his final goodbyes

His good at hiding his weak legs

If he tells you this you will never move on, you will not stop until his better, he knows your stubborn that's why its better to make you cry now when his still alive than his dead body

You didn't know that was the last kissed

Only 7 days now..

He looked up and tears suddenly fell from his eyes

If only you know what i know

He smiled and left a note saying

I love you too..

Masterlist | about me | rules

[j4ystar]

the exit — park sunghoon

➞ sunghoon x gn!reader

➞ figureskater!au idol!au

➞ synopsis : sunghoon, your ex boyfriend, claims that he is over you yet he finds himself keeping up with your skating career three years after you break up. he figures that watching your competition will help him find closure.

➞ angst??????????

➞ word count : 3.7k

➞ tw : nothing i dont think, lmk if im missing anything

ᓚᘏᗢ aj — life makes my head hurt

there are several videos of sunghoon skating online for most of enhypen’s fans to watch. including the videos posted of sunghoon and his former pair, y/f/n, aka you. despite sunghoon moving on from skating and becoming an idol, you remained on the ice. moving on and leaving korea to train in canada. moving on and becoming a famous competitive skater to represent south korea in just a few years, even making it to the olympics to compete at such a young age. moving on with a different partner. his fans sometimes refuse to believe that he competed in a pair with someone at your level, often engenes wondered if he remained a skater, would he be competing in the olympics with you. 

sunghoon was admittedly watching your competition videos in his room, at night, with a blanket draped over him and the screen brightly illuminating his face. fans commented on his lives often, bringing it up on weverse. asking if he still keeps in touch with you, even asking for collabs like that of his collab with cha junhwan, another one of his former skating friends. 

in reality, it had hurt sunghoon to be reminded of you everywhere he went even two years after he stopped. he loved skating, even if by the end he wasn’t happy on the ice anymore. if there was one thing about being on the ice that made him happy, it was going through everything with you. the one truth suspended from enhypens fans was the fact you and sunghoon used to date. his last competition before he left for iland concluded with an outstanding gold medal for the best skating pair award, along with the gut wrenching feeling of having to tell you that he was going to be leaving and quitting skating to pursue his dream of becoming an idol.. not to mention the break up that he was in in tears after telling you. you couldn’t even be upset that he was leaving either, you respected his decisions even if that meant you two were going to be apart. if becoming an idol was truly what he wanted to do then how could you possibly get mad at him for that? the break up was understandable, yet messy, something not uncommon for two teenagers navigating their first relationship. if something tore him apart, it was probably that he was parting ways with both his first loves. 

he was wondering if you were watching him through a screen the same way he was with you. he’d watch you glide across the ice and perform tricks that his 12 year old self couldn’t imagine doing. he’d watch as your long time assigned partner would get to be with you 24/7, how their hands would circle around your waist and holster you up on the ice with such effortlessness and grace. sometimes he wishes he could say that that should’ve been him. but he feels different now, he’s no longer the figure skater that he once was, he was sunghoon from enhypen. 

sunghoon rubs his eyes, tired, he had an early schedule in the morning yet here he was watching the videos he swore he would shut off when jay came in and scolded him for not resting yet. 

you were sunghoon’s number one fan and his biggest supporter when he began his training to become an idol. though it clashed with skating practices, you were understanding. then, he told you about his admission into the survival show, i-land, where he was hoping to debut to become an idol full time. meaning leaving you behind. you were upset at the time of the break up, any sane person would be. especially if you loved the person. you continued to support sunghoon throughout i-land, watching the show and voting for him. you remembered his mother calling you and asking you to write a letter for him to read, despite sending a letter for him to read, his reaction was not added to the aired episode and you assumed that the show had either cut out the reaction or the letter wasn’t added to the list of mail in the first place. you never bothered to ask. after his confirmed debut, you congratulated him, and after that, you left to go to canada where you would be training with junhwan, the other figure skater that you and sunghoon were friends with. you were so occupied with practice that your calls and texts to sunghoon lessened and soon halted entirely. 

in the earlier days, you would watch enhypen’s comebacks, even staying up at ridiculous hours just to watch the release. you would contemplate shooting sunghoon a text telling him about how his comeback was great but you never managed to garner the courage to actually send it to him. as the months pass, you are swarmed with practice and schooling. reports of you and sunghoon in the past are replaced with you and your new skating partner and it's plastered over every form of social media that you have. 

you return to south korea after two years of training abroad in canada. you continue practicing in the rink for hours, though now you are a student in yonsei university in seoul. you and your partner become aware of your eligibility to compete in the 2022 olympics in beijing. 

–

“i’m going to have y/n and sunghoon pair up for this next competition.” you and sunghoon’s eyes widen in unison, your coaches almost chuckle at the sight of dismay written all over your faces. even the other members in the club you were in were shocked that sunghoon was competing in a category outside of individuals. but for good reason. sunghoon had never ventured out of individual performances. sunghoon liked being alone, he had never performed with a partner before. he knew of you, he knew you were one level higher than him but you still qualified for the junior category your pairs skate would be judged under. you on the other hand, never switched partners before. sunghoon was in the practice block before yours, you would arrive 30 minutes earlier to get dressed and then stretch, in those 30 minutes you would watch sunghoon dance on the ice. you were enamored and spent more time gawking than stretching. though you were positive that he never knew. 

the other members of the club scattered, their respective coaches giving them more detail on the pieces that they were assigned to be doing. you and sunghoon still frozen and your coach standing in front of you with her clipboard in her arms. 

“i know you’re not used to it yet but we are just trying something new. we promise if this doesn’t end up working then we can switch you back after the competition.” she tells you two. you both nod shyly, your hands clasped behind your back.

an hour later, you and sunghoon take a break to get water and just rest. but it’s still incredibly tense. you were beginning to miss your old partner, the two of you had competed in multiple competitions together, wins tethering from between first place gold and second place silver. you were thinking that things really weren’t going to work out between you and sunghoon. 

“you know, it’s going to be really hard to win first place when we can’t even talk to each other.” you tell him. his back is turned to you as he sets his bottle down on the rink wall. he doesn’t say anything in response so you continue. “you want to win right?” you ask. sunghoon turns around to look at you. 

“of course i want to win.” he tells you blatantly. “then why don’t you talk to me? we can’t be like this if we are partners.” you place your hand on your waist and look at him expectedly. “i didn’t want to be partners.” you roll your eyes at the 15 year old boy. “and you think i wanted to be partners? i want park jihoon back.” sunghoon hates park jihoon. hate is a strong word, he doesn’t hate jihoon, he just mildly dislikes him. he’s loud and annoying, and he disrupts the peace in sunghoons head. 

“why?” 

“why?! i don't know, he’s better than you!” you want to raise your voice, but knowing the rink, voices are amplified in there. “no he’s not, i’m so much better.” sunghoon understands he is far too old to be acting like this but he was getting frustrated trying to convince you that park jihoon was a menace and the bane of his existence and that park sunghoon was the better skater, he’ll show you. 

you thought that your plan to talk to sunghoon had immediately backfired with how much sunghoon expressed that he hated your former partner. but it in fact did help you get closer. within the month leading up to the competition, you and sunghoon had gotten so much closer than you and jihoon ever were. you were sure that sunghoon was going to be going up a level after this because of how hard he was practicing. you would arrive to practice and sunghoon would already be there. 

what you thought was your last performance with sunghoon turned out to just be the very beginning. after getting first place during that competition, your coach asks if you guys want to stay partners for the next competition coming up and the two of you agree that you should remain partners.

–

sunghoon remembers watching your skating performance in beijing on his phone during his break while practicing in the dance studio. he remembers watching you go on for the competitive pairs category, and then the singles free skate. he watches through the camera that follows you as you explore the big rink. you’re smiling. a big, bright, vibrant smile. your smile makes his heart clench in a hot pain. you were always very particular when skating, something that made sunghoon initially ticked off and bothered at first but he realized that was what made you such a disciplined and perfect skater. you were so confident in your strides. despite being the other half of a pair, you always seemed to stand out more than your partner. he remembered that as teenagers, you told him you never feared getting injured because you were careless and naive as a child and that helped you lose the fear of falling and getting hurt. sunghoon probably witness your naivety while practicing more times than not. sunghoon thought that he wasn’t very confident, his coaches would often point out his lack of motivation and confidence, which to outsiders from the skating community may seem harsh and unnecessary jabs, but to sunghoon it was normal because you had to have confidence to survive in figure skating. 

–

“are you alright?” you immediately glide over to sunghoon as he currently takes a fall after not being able to complete a spin. sunghoon brushes your concern aside and gets up nodding. he swipes the ice shavings off his pants and tells you to run it back one more time. 

“i think we should take a break.” you tell him worriedly. sunghoon shakes his head. “i’m fine. we can keep going.” you sigh at his persistence. “we’re taking a break, i’m calling it.” you grab his hand and begin leading him towards the door of the rink. you jump onto the cushioned floor, sitting on one of the hockey players benches and tap at the seat beside you for sunghoon to sit down and join you. he follows your lead, sitting beside you but a fair inches apart. 

“have you been getting enough sleep lately? are you feeling alright?” you barely give him space to talk before placing the back of your hand against his forehead. sunghoon feels himself reddening. he wants to swat at you to stop and he wants to complain about you pushing your boundaries again. but he doesn’t say anything as he lets you continue on with your alleged prognosis. 

“you don’t have a fever, i don’t think you’re sick.” you conclude, sitting back down but continuing to look at him. he feels weak under your suspecting gaze. he doesn’t want you to think somethings wrong with him when obviously nothing is wrong with him. just the undeniable feeling of his stomach doing acrobatics and his heart racing whenever you get close. at first sunghoon thought that perhaps he has fallen ill. but why does that feeling only bubble up when you’re around, or whenever he thinks about you? when he lays in his bed at night and stares at his ceilings until you start coming up in his mind and then he goes to kick his duvet off because he becomes a blushing mess. or when he has to hold your hand in the routine and suddenly he has to keep letting go because he has to wipe his hand on his training sweater before grabbing your hand again. or when he instinctively brings his arms out whenever you attempt to do jumps just in case you hurt yourself when you fall. or times where he has to remind you to put your blade guards on because of the amount of times you’d forget and have to buy a new pair. or when he would be at school and you text him dumb pictures of yourself at school since you two attended different schools. or when both your parents would be late picking you up from practice so you would go buy snacks at a nearby store and just talk. 

sunghoon is 16 years old and he is sure that he has feelings for you. it's an indescribable fuzzy feeling that he can’t seem to get rid of. he shakes himself out of his small recollection of memories, his vision clearing and seeing you again, curiously looking at him, semi bundled up in your training gear. 

“do you want to go to the store after practice? my treat.” he suggests. though his knees are wobbling as he proposes the idea to you. you give him a confused look and then nod, looking away from him and out to the rink, watching the other skaters around. sunghoon sits and stares at you with a soft smile, breathing in and out deeply.

“you never treat me.” 

“just this once.” 

–

your nerves always spiked before competitions. like any sane person would. in the back of your mind, you’d always remember how sunghoon would talk you out of your nerves and it would work because he always knew what to say. somehow sunghoon would never show his anxiousness to you, he’d only help you overcome yours. 

you and your partner are warming up on the ice after the short intermission after the individual category had finished up. you and your partner were the first pair performing. as you’re skating around, as if it were another normal day in the arena. you look up to look amongst the people. your eyes scanning the bleachers promptly before returning to your warm up routine. 

sunghoon watches from the bleachers, hidden behind a cap and a mask. a bouquet of flowers and a penguin plush in his lap, he gently grips the paper covered stems with one hand and his other hand lays on his knee as he trains his eyes onto your figure. you practice some loops here and there, you mainly focus on stretching out your legs and making sure you can maintain your flexibility. you haven’t changed much, physically, you had grown a tad bit taller, your hair coloured remained the same colour it had been since you were younger. he understood there wasn’t much leeway with hair colours in the industry. neither of you were teenagers anymore.

as the performance started, the lights around the rink dimmed and were replaced with much softer lights, along with two spotlights, one for you and one for your partner. somehow you were even more graceful, your technique had improved drastically, there was no way you couldn’t improve when you train with former olympic champions. he watched as you and your partner danced so fluidly on the ice.

he hoped that coming here would finally give him closure. he confesses that he is not over you. not after three painful years of not talking. not after the break up that he initiated for his sake. as the performance comes to a close, you and your partner return to the center of the rink to collect hollers and praise from around the arena. cue the multitudes of flowers and plush toys being thrown onto the ice for the maintenance crew to clean after. sunghoon stands up, hoping that the height would give him an advantage of getting the bouquet and the plush of a penguin onto the rink, close enough to you, for you to see. 

you clasp your hand into your partners and bow gratefully for those who cheer your performance. you decide to pick a plush among the rest, eyes landing on a giraffe a few feet away and skating over to grab it. as you come closer to it, a stuffed penguin bounces its way over to you and slides just by the tip of your skates. there is a ribbon around its neck and a small card attached to it that has a name written on it. you tuck the giraffe under your arm before bending down and crouching to grab the penguin plush. 

the staff begin ushering you and your partner off the stage but you move with their prodding words. sunghoon’s name is written in black ink on the card and you look up in attempt to find the familiar face. your eyes land on someone standing on the bleachers, ready to get up and leave, he stares back at you, the flowers in hand, before stepping down the steps. 

you quickly skate off the ice, uncomfortably waddling down the hallway trying to reach the lobby where you think he would exit. as you round the corner and push the double doors open to expose the cold arena air conditioning air. you find who you think is sunghoon walking towards the door, flowers still in hand. 

“sunghoon?” 

sunghoon turns at the sound of your voice. a hand coming to his mask to pull it down. you’re still in your costume getup and so obviously freezing as the adrenaline from the performance starts to wear down. sunghoon begins peeling his jacket off, worried you would catch a cold when he knows that you can’t afford to miss a day of practice. you bring the plushie to your chest, hugging it tightly with both arms. he walks with fast steps, his jacket ruffling as he comes to drape it over your shoulders. 

–

you sat down on one of the benches outside the girls changing room, sunghoon stands in front of you, head down, occasional sniffles coming from him as he struggled to get the words out his mouth. you felt helpless, watching your boyfriend attempt to grapple with the words he needed to convey the news he dreaded telling you. 

your hand comes to grab his, your thumb rubbing over his skin as you patiently wait for sunghoon to voice out his thoughts. 

“i’m not gonna be skating for a while, i’m going to start focusing on becoming an idol… i feel it would best benefit us if we took some time apart from one another.” 

sunghoon begs you to say something through the painful silence it takes for you to comprehend what he has just said. he feels awful just dropping the bomb on you right there. a day so glorious, rewarding and memorable for the both of you was just ruined by his need to tell you. 

“i don’t know what to say… i’m really proud of you sunghoon.” sunghoon knew you would be understanding. he hated that you weren’t mad at him. he wished that you had yelled at him, told him you hated him, anything to break his heart even more, something to seal and confirm that you didn’t love him anymore. but you were just happy, smiling, supportive as per usual. he had counted on you to push him in his skating career since you two were kids, now that he was pursuing his idol career, you were still there supporting him. 

you tell him you’re a bit bummed out that he had to leave, that he thought breaking up would be the best idea because it would cause less pain on both ends. 

sunghoon still received the letter you had written to him when he was in i-land, he received it in the lunch box his parents sent him, though he didn’t read it until he was hidden way from the cameras and the other occupants of the house. tucked under his blanket in the shared room, he read your letter. for the first time in the show, for the first time in a while, he had cried. 

–

“hey.” 

you and sunghoon sit beside each other on the loveseat of the lobby lounge room. you still have his jacket over you, the penguin squished into your lap. 

“it’s been a while.” you start, he nods, you watch as he plays with his fingers. “why’d you come here?” you ask him, adjusting the ribbon tied around the penguin's neck. 

“i had to see you,” he admits quietly. “i… don’t understand.” you whisper back. he looks at you, eyes glassy. 

“i wanted to say that i’m sorry,” he breathes in deeply “because i never moved on from you. and i was the one who ended us in the first place. you made skating bearable for me, you made me happy and when we broke up i thought that i was doing alright until i continued to keep up with what you were doing and suddenly i started missing you.”

“but you don’t love me anymore?” 

sunghoon sits there, mouth agape for a moment, thinking as if he had to calculate an answer. 

“i’ll always love you.”

butterflies didn’t erupt, not like they used to. of course you still loved sunghoon. but you were two different people at this point. you had your entire career ahead of you and sunghoon was the same. 

[emeryhiro]

Hi. I love your analysis of the episodes and the trailer. I love what we got. But I don't quite understand why Daryl says that he and Isabelle talked so that the three of them could go to America. If she wants Daryl to stay, she manipulates him. If Daryl is angry and cold with her. where did this family "three of them together" come from. It's weird and destroys all my expectations for Caryl.

Hey Anon😊

Thank you for the kind words 🩵

Unfortunatly I can't give you a sure answer but I'll share and explain my opinion/thoughts on it.

I agree with you on the fact that this line feels out of place and doesn't really make sense in terms of where the story and characters are going.

To put it in simple terms I think this is just Daryl trying to have his cake and eat it too. But to be more specific, I believe that as he starts to see the cracks in the Nest's system, he'll also start to realise the danger that Laurent is in, and we can't deny that he cares for the kid and feels a sense of responsibility for him because he knows Laurent wasn't raised for that world and wouldn't really make it long without Daryl around to teach him.

We also know for a fact that Daryl wants to go home, cast and crew have said this many time, and Norman even said it again yesterday in their SDCC IGN interview (timestamp 2:15).

So we know that Daryl want's to go home, that he doesn't think he'd ever be happy in France, and that he can't stay in France, but we also knows that he can't leave Laurent behind while he's in danger, he's not that guy, especially with Genet's impending attack which Laurent would never survive.

If he can't leave without Laurent, his next best option is to take Laurent back to America with him and away from all conflict, somewhere where he knows he can get what he wants (being with his family), keep Laurent safe, and give him a regular childhood in the commonwealth. At the same time, however, he also knows that as long as Isabelle is alive, Laurent wouldn't leave her, and also Daryl wouldn't feel right separating a child from the only biological family he has left. Which is how I think he came to the conclusion that the best thing he can do is to take both of them.

I dont expect his plans for the "three of them together" to go anywhere. I think that's just Daryl being naive and overly pessimistic about what he can achieve.

Regarding how he feels about Isabelle, I know that he can sense he's being used and manipulated but it's now too late for him to get out of this on his own, he's now emotionally invested in Laurent and can't bring himself to leave him, which is what Isabelle wanted all along. I've mentioned this a few times before, and I'll say it again, I believe that the longer he spends away from Carol the more he regresses into his old self, and that version of Daryl would have accepted this treatment from Isabelle becasue he wouldn't have believe that he deserved any better. We see this same pattern of behaviour develop between Daryl and Leah when he was in the woods, searching for Rick, and away from Carol for years. I know there's a lot more to both these situations which I may write it's own post about instead of making my response here unberably long to read.

Once Carol and Daryl are reunited, he'll start to think clearly again, because firstly, Carol would see right through Isabelle and never stand for or allow the manipulation, and secondly, once Daryl see's Carol again, there will be no more distractions, he's mindset will heal and completely shift, and like always Carol will be his number one priority, not Laurent, not the Nest, and definitly not Isabelle.

Yes, he'll still want to help/save them, but never at the expense of Carol and her safety. I expect that there will be some conflict between Carol and Daryl, or as Norman describes it, some "bickering like an old married couple", which I guess would revolve around:

The two of them finally being reunited and having the chance to leave without further risk, and

Daryl feeling guilty about leaving before he resolves things at the Nest and making sure that Laurent is safe and set.

However, untimetly I think the choice would be up to Carol and Daryl would follow her no matter what she decides. And in her true selfless nature, Carol would never leave before helping the people that Daryl cares about, especially if she see's him so torn about it.

And also hypothetically, even if the 3 of them did make it back to the US/Commonwealth, Isabelle would never be able to manipulate and abuse Daryl again, not while he's around and empowered by Carol and the rest of their family.

~~~

I hope this makes sense, and that I explain myself well, I know I sometimes have the habit of getting carried away 😅 I completely understand your frustration, I sometimes feel that way myself but in circumstances like this where something seem's out of character I personally just try to both look at the bigger picture and delve into what I know about the character.

Please feel free to let me know you thoughts on what I've said, even if you agree or diagree, or if there was anything else you'd like to discuss. I always enjoy these discussions and seeing different persepctives🩵

[kittyamore0]

𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡'𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫

༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉

༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉

[PART II]

RATING: SFW

FANDOM/GENRE: Horror, dark romance, scream 6, Ghostface, Ethan Landry

WRITING STYLE: One-shot

TAGS: @kittiescrownedsoul, @zspen, @h34rtsformilli, @alice121804, @kylespencersvocalcords, @babywantskith

REMINDER: Do NOT translate, transfer, modfiy, copy or steal my ideas!

CW: Attempted murder, stalking, stabbing, breaking and entering, usage of a knife, knife mentions, fighting, shouting/screaming, swearing, blood, passing out

༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉

"You fuck up!" An angry Quinn slams her hand on the small, wooden coffee table. "I wasn't going to sit there and watch you kill the love of my life!" Quinn scoffs. "Richie didn't care about trying to kill Sam!" Ethan rolled his eyes. "That's because he was with Amber! He didn't care about Sam, none of them did! Billy, Stu...I care about [Name!]"

Quinn lets out a frustrated groan. "You fucking virgin..." Ethan shrugged. "That changed with [Nam ]" Quinn pretends to gag. "Dude, overshare!" Ethan raises his hands in a 'whatever' matter.

"Dad won't be happy about this. You're messing up the plan...!" Ethan mumbled 'i dont care...' to which Quinn responded by bumping into him, hard.

She slammed the door shut, making Ethan flinch. "Cranky..." He faked shivered.

↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔

You hummed while listening to music on your headphones, glancing outside your house window, remembering your terrifying experience on the makeshift ladder while trying to escape.

You shook your head and lifted your shoulders up and down, continuing on munching on your small snack.

Your phone rang. You were hesitant to pick up after seeing the callers ID, 'unknown caller,' but it could be Gale, prank-ers, etc...

You decided to play the safe game by hanging up, nibbling on your sweet treats.

You received another phone call again. You started getting pissed off and grabbed it in a swift motion, 'Tara' it read.

You took a deep breath in before answering and putting the phone to your ear.

"Hey, Tara, whats up?"

You could hear faint breathing from the other side.

"Hello, [Name]..."

Your breathing stopped, all of your movements stopped.

That same fucking deep, moderated Ghostface voice.

"How have you been since the last time we met, hmm? That ladder stunt you pulled was impressive, but incredibly bitchy at the same time..."

You turned to your window and then your door.

"You're acting like you wouldn't pull something like that if you were on the brick of death, cocky asshole."

They chuckled.

"You've got a point, so vulgar though..."

You scoffed.

"Says the fucker who said my surviving skills were bitchy!" "Feisty, i like it..."

You grimaced.

"Fuck you, you perv!"

You ran to your knife holder, pulling out a knife. You were about to hang up until you heard Ghostface shriek.

"Hang up and ill have you hanging on those trees on your front porch like ornaments, and we all know Its too early for Christmas so you'll be an early Christmas gift! You hear me?!"

You smiled and flashed a smile grin.

"You think I'm scared of you now? Maybe at when i was on the ladder, but this is my house and I'm for sure not gonna let you parade around MY house trying to kill me and doing whatever the fuck you want!"

You hanged up, stuffing your phone in your pocket. At first, it was quiet. You stayed still trying to figure out where Ghostface could be hiding.

You heard some clothes shuffling in the background. There. You swung your head to the left of you and a gloved hand holding a knife came in contact with your right that held nothing.

You kicked the figure in the back of their knee, making them fumble forwards. You held your knife and swung it at them, but they had also lifted their knife, clashing it against yours.

During that process, the knife in your hand flew from the impact. "Fuck!" They tried stabbing you again, but you dodged by crouching under their arm and running to the kitchen counters.

They were hot on your tail. Your current goal was to get another knife, but chances were slim with this fucker running and partying. You pulled on one of your cabinets, letting it fly right into Ghostfaces mask, hitting them directly without the mask too.

You reached out to the knife holder, until the clothed arms slithered around your waist. They raised the knife and let it sink into your waist. You scream in pain.

You lifted your right foot up and then down, kicking them from your behind, pushing them back too. The knife went with them as they flew.

You took this chance to run upstairs, going into your bedrooms closet and stuffing yourself behind a suitcase.

↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔

"Goddammit...where did she go?" Ethan huffed in frustration. Text after text, Quinn didn't respond. He passed the room she was staying in, sending another text, but hearing the notification come from her room.

He opened the door to her room, slowly going in after curiosity got to him. He spotted Quinns phone on her bed. "She probably forgot to take this..." He grabbed her phone while it switched on.

'Tara and [Name] have to be got to be taken care of.'

What...?

He opened her phone, and paused before putting the password in. He scrolled through messages until he found the message between Quinn and detective Bailey.

Quinn: Im telling you. That fucker, [Name], has Ethan under control! He beat the shit out of me for trying to kill her. If i wasn't wearing the mask, i would have a massive black eye! Detective Bailey: Tara troublesome too. More than Mindy. Quinn: Mindy's such a fuck ass. Nagging about whose this whose that, what can be the killer or what cannot. Killer history! I never asked for it. Detective Bailey: Well, we have to be patient. Quinn: No, the fuck we dont. I dont even have the patience either. That bitch, [Name], is getting me on my nerves. I have a plan anyways. Detective Bailey: And what is that plan, Quinn? Quinn: You go for Tara, i go for [Name]. We get rid of them and dont tell Ethan the plan. Detective Bailey: What do you suggest we do other than what you said? Quinn: I just need Taras phone, to call [Name], then you can have your way with Tara while i have mine with [Name]. Detective Bailey: Alright.

"Shit!" Ethan rushed out of Quinns room, running towards his own. He fell foward into his room, scrambling to get his own Ghostface costume.

"No...no, no, no!" Tears build up in his eyes

↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔↔ᰔᩚ↔

You sighed in relief, feeling your phone still in the same place you had left it.

You dialed the police, explaining your situation to them. They asked you to stay on call, but the closet door burst opened. Ghostface. Out of panic, you hanged up and put a hand over your mouth, also putting your phone on silent and low light.

They rummaged through your clothes, even taking some out. They grunted and slammed the door.

After a few minutes of silence, you crawled out of your closet. You put a hand over your chest, in relief that they werent here, but wait... something felt wrong?

You turned around to see Ghostface charging at you. You yelped and threw yourself to the left again, making them miss their hit and run.

They turned around and lifted the knife in their hand. You ducked under their arm and grabbed the lamp of the nearby, throwing it at their mask, causing them to grunt.

You tried to take another swing before Ghostface held your right arm that held the lamp. You brought your foot up and kicked their arm away. You hit them with the lamp. Right and then left, their head went.

You ran out of the room and slammed the door closed. You heard your door crack from how hard the door hit. Your throat felt tight, the collar of your shirt was snatched, but as soon as it was snatched, it was let go.

You heard a grunt and felt the Ghostface chasing you not so hot on your trail anymore. You turned around to see two Ghostface brawling it out.

"What the fuck...?" One of them jumped at you and hugged your body, pushing you away from the other one trying to snatch up.

The Ghostface that was holding you pushed you aside and punched the first Ghostface to appear. The first Ghostface to appear hit the back of their head on the hallway mirror.

The second Ghostface grabbed the same mirror and smashed it on the other Ghostface head, making them go limp and all movements stilled.

The other turned to you, and you stayed put, unsure of what to do. Suddenly, they embraced you, before pushing you away. "Leave. You're bleeding..." You nodded, confused.

You turned around and ran downstairs, limping your way onto your porch and streets. Your vision went black and everything had caught up to you. You were just saved by a Ghostface and your waist is bleeding as in status SOS!

Your head throbbed and everything twisted and turned in your vision.

The last thing you remember was losing your breath before hitting the concrete ground.

༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉

༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉༉𓆩❀˚𓆪༉

[triglycercule]

So i've seen a lot people state that due to horror's circumstances surrounding his eye and the *cough* forced *cough* removal of it, its basically turned him into a zombie as he can no longer die to phyiscal attacks and if he were to be harmed, he be KO for a bit before gettingg up and continuing like nothing had happened. Do you have any clue where I could find the origin of this because I REALLY don't know if its been a rumor spread across the fandom or its been started ofifically by sourapple somewhere and I can't find it.

(btw I love you headcannons their so great)

hello!!!! thank you 4 the ask :333 alright lets get into it ‼️

from what i've seen of my scouring of horrortale content there isn't exactly a DIRECT confirmation of SAS being like "oh btw horror's immortal lul". i think that the horror's immortal unless the eye is destroyed thing came from the scene where horror's eye is put into the core to power it and then he comes back to life. one of the royal guards literally says that the eye is keeping him alive!!!! so the train of thought probably went off 4 some people that "hey since horror's eye literally REVIVED him from the dead and he's still alive doesn't that mean that as long as the eye is intact he'll stay alive?"

however just because the eye is keeping him alive doesn't mean that he can't take damage, we dont know that because nobody has actually attempted to attack horror b4!!! actually there WAS the one scene where horror paps bashed him over the head 4 a stick (the only person we've seen attack current day horror is paps 😭😭😭) BUT it wasn't like a total OH CRAP HE'S BLEEDING AND DEAD type thing (didn't pierce through his body either it was a blunt hit) like we saw right before horror got reanimated. it was probably just a bit of a headache thing,,,,

BUT ALSO just because we've never seen him get hit HARD on screen before like he did back @ the core, he is the only ht character to be able to sustain himself and deal with the chronic pain of starvation for SEVEN YEARS (snowdin has humans, toriel probably finds her own unique way, & everywhere else past snowdin it's just monster on monster cannibalism left and right) so he probably has some sort of increased defense to damage to be able to deal with that likely because the of eye since aside from it there's not much else seperating him from the normal horrortale monster (which are seen dying just a couple of months in)

personally i dont think he would be fully immortal because just. how would that work??? it's not like the core has the power to jumpstart his life a second time since he literally destroyed it???? and even if the core wasn't obliterated it would be the one TAKING power and energy from horror, not the other way around which could feasibly revive him (in my eyes),,,,, maybe it's something comparable to how boss monsters' souls survive a few seconds after they dust away but with horror's eye instead and by putting it in the suspended state necessary to power the core that achieved some sort of "temporary (permanent?) in between dusting" state 4 horror,,,,,

SO BASICALLY!!! it hasnt been OFFICIALLY stated by SAS that horror is 100% immortal, but he does seem to have some sort of increased defense to be able to deal w hunger pains & a hit from paps that would probably kill him if he still had his 1 HP from prior to the core incident. we dont know for sure if he's actually immortal immortal since horror's only been shown to take a fatal hit once and that was when his eye was put into the core, so it mightve just been a one off thing and if he takes another fatal hit, he would actually die. we'd never really know until we see horror get into a fight and get hit HARD! basically it's just a fanon theory that's supported by a LOT of canon material

[padfootagain]

Running

Yet another character I’m writing for, I guess…

Answering an anonymous request even if I was planning on writing something like this anyway: ‘aaahhh i saw that you were opening request for the darkling but i dont have any original ideas for him i just want to comfort him and have a softer aleksander idk i JUST NEED COMFORT like having the darkling breaking down over something and the reader comforting him and just loads of fluff i need him so baaad’

Thank you so much for your request, anon! Changed it a little bit, but I hope you’ll like it anyway!

Going to use Ben as the physical description for him although I’m going to use some character traits that are a mix of book and show, because… you know me by now, do I really need to give you a reason for this artistic choice? I don’t think so.

I loved the idea in the book (that was not used enough in the show in my opinion) that Aleksander’s amplifying abilities were a threat for his life, because he was a target for Grisha too. So… I used it a bit here, I love that detail. Adds to the whole tragic of his character, I reckon.

Anyways! I hope you all like this fic! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: Blood, mentions of war and violence, angst, hurt/comfort, pretty sad…

Summary: After a particularly violent battle, only a handful of soldiers remain. The aftermath is difficult for everyone, while you travel across the country in search of a safe place. Even the most stoic ones can show weakness sometimes…

Word count: 3472

Masterlist

It was cold.

It was dark, but that was a good thing, it meant that you were hidden.

It was cold, strong wind coming from the Fjerdan border up North, blowing and howling through the tall pine trees.

It was night time, stars lighting up the sky, a shy moon only in its first quarter. So far up North, there could have been Northern Lights. But not tonight.

Tonight was for grieving, not admiring.

You were exhausted. You were in shock. You were still bleeding.

And yet, there was a man before you, a friend, Andrei was his name. Lying in the young snow, tainting the white ice with crimson blood. The liquid fumed, warmth against the cold. The irony sent of blood against the resin of the pine trees.

There was a friend lying before you, bleeding, on the verge of dying, and you were the only one who could save him. The wound that crossed his abdomen was deep though, and you were no Healer.

Heartrender. You were trained to fight, not to mend. This was only a secondary use of your power to you. But then again, you had no choice, there was no Healer left alive in your army.

An army? What a joke. There was but a handful left of you. Most of them wounded, just like you were. You were part of the lucky ones though, you had but a only a flesh wound. It was painful, and made you weaker than your usual self, but your life was not endangered by the cut across your thigh. You limped though, for travelling, it wasn’t the best…

Andrei seemed to choke on his own blood, the barrier you had created to keep the rushing blood out of his lungs breaking for a mere second, but it was enough. You focused, sweat glistening across your dirty forehead under the silvery starlight. You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but you were too tired, too unexperienced to treat such a serious wound…

He was the tenth man you were healing tonight. Your whole body was shaking from the strain of it all by now.

The gurgling noise drew worried glances and blank ones your way, and you tried to ignore them all, these soldiers of the Second Army, who had fought and survived out of pure luck, just like you had.

This idiot of a King had sent you right into a trap. You stood no chance…

You blinked your tears away as images of the battle flashed before your eyes. Bodies falling, hands moving in the air for summoning, the loud pangs of gunpowder detonating, the grunts, the shouts and the scent of blood and sweat and urine heavy in the air, and blank stares turned to the sky that would never see again…

You felt your power wavering, but you forced yourself to focus on Andrei again. Because he was not dead. And despite your exhaustion, you could still save him… maybe it was a fool’s hope, but no one could survive without hope…

“Will he make it?”

The deep voice behind you made you jump, and you turned to look up at the Darkling.

Tall figure standing before the moon. The silvery light coming through the branches made some kind of hallo around him.

He was covered with mud, blood and ashes too. Just like everyone else. He was dishevelled, his black kefta partially torn apart, with dark circles under his even-darker eyes. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still something so powerful about him…

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. Somehow, speaking to someone else made it all more real…

“I’m doing my best, sir,” you answered, your voice shaking.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at your shape sitting in the snow.

“It’s only a flesh wound. I’m okay.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fists. Always a bad sign. But his gaze was still stern and calm when it met yours again.

You couldn’t say that you knew him well, but then, you reckoned that no one truly did. He kept people at bay, it was safer that way.

Still, you thought that you knew him enough to recognize the anger in his set jaw, the frustration in his tight fists…

You were surprised, though, when he kneeled in the snow by your side.

“You are no Healer,” he said, it was more of a statement than a question, as if he was reminding you.

“No, I’m a Heartrender, sir. I’m trying my best, but the wound is very deep.”

You felt a little stupid for reminding him of your Corporalnik status. He knew who you were. Better than anyone, in a way. There had been long nights in his War Room spent talking about your childhood, about his longing for a safe haven for Grisha, about dreams unreachable even through the dark…

But then again, nothing more than that. Just talking, for long hours. And he hadn’t shown you any sign that anything more would happen, and neither had you. To you, it was ridiculous to think so, anyway. He was the Darkling, after all.

You didn’t know he enjoyed these moments as much as you did though; that despite his better judgement, he longed for them.

How could you know? He was good at keeping a mask on. He had had centuries to master this talent to perfection.

“Allow me,” he spoke, voice soft, barely audible above the howling of the wind in the branches and the cracking frost of snow. Still, it was delicate, velvety almost…

You nodded, although you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He was the Darkling, after all. You trusted him blindly.

You started when he gently pulled on your dirty red sleeve, pushing it up your forearm to reveal your wrist.

“Keep working,” he instructed, and you obeyed.

He found your pulse easily, without looking for it at all, as if it called for his fingertips. He simply rested the pads of his fingers against your wrist, and they naturally landed on the pulsing blood. As if his fingers were meant to rest there…

You felt a surge of power cursing your entire body; and if you were still shaking, this time it was because of power instead of fatigue.

You stared at him, gaze intense and unwavering, for several seconds, and he held your gaze too. There were no feelings to be read in the two inky orbs that stared back at your soul, but you couldn’t escape from them anyway.

You had heard many rumours about the Darkling’s amplifying abilities, you guessed they were all true.

“Will you be able to save him now?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, asking a mere question, as if there wasn’t a life depending on it.

You nodded and focused on Andrei without another word, the Darkling following the movements of your hands to keep the contact between your skins. Your heart was beating faster than ever, and you weren’t certain if it came from the sudden surge of power running through you now, or by the Darkling’s nearness…

It took you a while before Andrei was stable enough for him to be transported safely in the morning. Or maybe you would start moving again before dawn, you weren’t sure, you didn’t even know where you were going…

You lowered your hands at long last, feeling exhaustion rush over you once more despite the Darkling’s amplification, but you were surprised when he didn’t let go. You expected the lack of contact to happen as soon as you would be done, for his fingers to run away, to flee your skin and leave in their trail only a cold gush of wind. Instead, his fingers remained there, pressed to your pulse, and when you looked up at him, he looked like he was the one holding an amplifier in his hand, instead of the other way around.

You got caught in his eyes again, trapped in two dark orbs that captured everyone who dared to look at them, and you knew it. He had something dangerous, magnetic about him. You had seen him at court enough to know that he played with his charisma to manipulate people to do his bidding as much as possible. But what could he manipulate you to do now? You had almost died today. You had killed under his command, you had watched your friends die, you had run away wrapped in his protective shadows…

What else could he get from you? There was nothing more to extract anyway. Maybe that was why you didn’t doubt his sincerity when he spoke again.

“Please, follow me, Y/N. I need your help.”

You didn’t question where you were heading, how you could help. Instead, you stood up despite your exhaustion, and followed him through the trees. You didn’t walk far, it was too dangerous to venture away from the group, but he guided you where you wouldn’t be disturbed, where you couldn’t be seen by the remnants of the Second Army.

And his fingers were still there, burning against the skin of your wrist… unwavering, unfaltering, eternal…

When he stopped, turned towards you again, the Darkling was shaking slightly. You wondered if it was because of you, because of how he had helped you. After all, he was a living amplifier. Did he tire out if he helped someone else use their powers?

He gave you a smile that you found shier than his usual ones. You were used to see them filled with nothing but confidence, or threat sometimes. Now, the gesture was almost tender.

“I know you are tired,” he breathed, eyes capturing your gaze once more. “But my shoulder is very painful.”

“I can help,” you assured him, moving your hands into position, and his smile widened.

“Always so brave…” he muttered, but there was fondness in his deep voice. “Still, we should sit, for your leg.”

You nodded, and the two of you sat down side by side, not caring about the cold of the snow under you. He had a pretty nasty cut running across his shoulder, but it wasn’t very deep. It was much easier to heal than Andrei’s wounds.

“If you are too tired, it can wait till morning,” he offered, but you shook your head, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you help me, I can heal you now.”

He nodded, a silent order for you to get to work. Or rather… it looked perhaps more like a question, like he asked for a favour. You were happy to comply either way.

He felt better now, his shoulder almost completely healed in a matter of minutes, the throbbing pain fading away a little more with each movement of your fingers over his shoulder, despite the itchy sensation that came with the mending of his flesh. And the reassuring warmth of your skin against his…

Earlier that day, he looked for you through the battlefield. He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You wouldn’t linger the way he would. Like his darkness, you would be gone with the first signs of dawn.

Still, at the most violent part of the battle, his eyes looked for you, without him noticing. Like they were meant to search for your frame through the chaos.

He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows…

“How is your leg?” he asked once the pain across his arm and back had almost vanished, knowing you were almost done.

“It’s just a flesh wound. It’s nothing. And to be honest, I’m too tired to think about it.”

“I’ll bandage it for you.”

He wasn’t asking for permission this time, he was stating a fact, almost giving an order. You nodded in a silent agreement.

You wondered how he did it. Once you were done, there was still a long, reddened line crossing his shoulder blade. It must have been extremely painful, and yet, he had remained stern for hours, not a single wince forming on his features throughout your crazy run through the battlefield, through the forest…

Was he so used to being hurt after so many battles that he had mastered hiding his pain to perfection?

You could never have guessed how true that was…

“I’m done,” you spoke at last. “It might remain painful for a few days, I’m sorry.”

But he smiled at you, his head tilted a little to the side, something amused on his features now.

“There is no need to be sorry, you’ve done a good job.”

He moved his shoulder a little, as if to prove a point.

His fingers didn’t move away from your pulse though… burning…. Burning through your skin…

“Do you need anything else, sir?” you asked, thinking that was the reason behind his lingering touch.

It wasn’t. It simply… it simply felt good. To touch somebody, no matter how innocent that touch might be. Skin against skin. Feeling your pulse, the rhythm of your heartbeat, directly under his fingertips…

It was a luxury to him. Had always been. When you were to be a prey, you needed to choose the moments to reveal your weaknesses carefully, or you would be devoured.

He was more of a predator himself now. He had grown into one, had taken a hold of these shadows that scared him as a child, had become ruthless with time. For the most part, at least.

Still, he craved for it. The simple contact of another human’s skin against his, even if it were to last for a mere moment, for just a second…

And you had been allowing him to touch you for what felt like hours now. He could barely breathe at the thought.

He trusted you enough to let you feel it. The power that ran through his bones. The curse that made him undying. That made him linger even after all was gone. That made him run away again, and again, without any place to fall down to…

He let you feel it, running through your veins, and he trusted you enough to believe that you would not crave for more after he would pull away. He hoped that if you touched him again, it would be to touch him, not his power.

He moved his fingers to hold your wrist more firmly, and his thumb grazed the inside of your wrist, brushing your pulse, making your heart stumble. You were used to it now, to the power of the amplifier. You weren’t used to his touch, though. You weren’t sure you would ever be…

You weren’t certain why you started crying. Why now. You had not shed a tear during the battle, afterwards, as you fled, as you healed your friends, as you saw their dead bodies… You hadn’t cried at all despite everything that had happened. And yet… yet now you were letting a tear roll down your cheek, looking down at the snow to flee the Darkling’s gaze, to run from everything…

You shuddered, leaned into his touch, when he brushed your tear away from your cheek, touch gentle, delicate, barely there at all… almost like a dream… like a passing thing, one of his shadows…

“I’m sorry for today,” he whispered, and you looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning a little.

It was shaking, fragile. Deep still, laced with something that came from darkness but he looked so human now…

“None of this was your fault,” you replied, letting him brush another of your tears away.

“It was though. I was the one in charge. It was my fault.”

“It was the King’s fault. Even you have to obey sometimes.”

He clenched his jaw for a second, because you were right. Even he had to obey. Had to let Grisha die over nothing but a piece of land.

One day though, he wouldn’t have to. He would be the one to take decisions, and then the Grisha would be safe, at long last. It was an old promise he had made to himself, he intended to keep it…

But the worry quickly disappeared from his gaze, he relaxed again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.

“Only sometimes, though.”

You exchanged a smile, and you felt safer now. Safer than you had felt ever since you had left the protection of the Little Palace. But was it surprising? He was the reason why the Little Palace was safe to begin with…

You didn’t know why, but you were certain nothing would happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, some heavy denial after being so close to Death all day… you weren’t sure. But then again, no one could survive without hope…

And he should never have touched you like this. He shouldn’t have let you feel the power you could earn from him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow fond of you in the first place, because maybe now it was something a little more than that… He was too old, he had lived too many lives to fall into this kind of traps.

Or was he?

It was better not to tread on this. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would disappear with the first signs of dawn, and he would linger on. The curse of this power running through his bones…

Slowly, he pulled his fingers away from your face, released your wrist, left your pulse, ran from the steady beat of it. And all that was left against his skin was a cold, howling gush of wind.

There was nothing he could hold onto anyway. He would outlast them all. He would outlast you, by a hundred years, maybe even more, maybe even a thousand.

He would remember those eyes though, he knew he would. And it would hurt to remember them, in the deepest darkness he summoned. Two eyes staring right into his souls. Two eyes he could have fallen for, in another life, one that could end with yours…

He saw your lower lip trembling a little as you looked up at him, the way your eyes dropped to look at your wrist, where his fingers had been. And then he was afraid of his own shadows all over again, the same he was as a child.

Were you rubbing that spot on your wrist because of his touch, or because of the power it had given you for a moment?

You didn’t look up at him as you reached for his arm, hand clinging to his torn, dirty, stained kefta. You were pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do this, to lean against him, to hold onto his arm, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. It didn’t matter. You missed the effect he had on you too much for that.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

He was grateful that you weren’t looking at him. He could let tears form in his dark eyes then, although he couldn’t let them run down his cheeks, couldn’t let them free. Appearing, that was already a lot…

You couldn’t feel his amplifying powers through his kefta. It required skin-on-skin contact. And yet, you were still there, pressing yourself against him, holding tight, as if to a lifeline.

When he wrapped his arm around your frame, pulling you closer, holding you tight, he was shaking a little. It was okay, he didn’t mind, and neither did you. It felt too good to mind.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

When he reached for your hand, when he pressed his lips to your head, he didn’t mind that you would feel what he was. The power hidden in his bones, that promised him an eternity, but only spent alone.

And you didn’t mind it either. You weren’t scared of it. You didn’t crave for it. It felt more like a burden than anything else.

You were right about that.

And he shouldn’t have done any of this, shouldn’t have let himself slip so far. He should have run, the way he always did, the way his mother had taught him to, the way he had learnt by himself. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would be gone with the first signs of dawn…

Still, he remained, for once.

Just for the night, while the world still lingered in darkness, maybe he could have that. Maybe he could have you, for just a few hours, before letting you run away, like he always did.

Maybe, for just a few dark hours, it could be enough.

****************

Taglist : @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black

[jm-2406]

Hi,

I was wondering if I could make a request for a matt murdock x reader idea. You could make it into a headcannon or a dribble I dont mind ✨.

Basically I’ve always found interesting the idea of matt either loosing his powers or his hearing senses (like in season 3)

So id think about something like that happening to him and the reader helping him found himself in his new routine without his vigilante identity.

(insecure and « in need of love » matt is my weakness jsjs)

Lots of angst but a happy ending if possible

(Also its preferable if reader is just a civilian too)

Thanks 🦋

Love me tender.

Summary - an unfortunate accident almost cost your boyfriend's life but you are there to help him recover, even if he gets emotional and says stupid things.

Pairing - Matt Murdock x teacher!reader.

Word count - 855.

Note - I'm sorry for being so late in delivering this, I got my exam results and it was not good. I was upset, so I couldn't get anything done.

Warnings - rushed ending, mentions of accident/injury, Matt and reader having a heart to heart.

Requests - open || find my work - here.

It came as a shock to you when a phone call disturbed your sleep at 3 a.m. informing you about your boyfriend's accident. You were the only person on his emergency contact and the hospital staff were quick to inform you. When you reached the hospital gates, a fear gripped your heart. You were not sure what happened with Matt exactly but you could make out that it was something very serious from the nurse’s words.

“[Y/N] [Y/L/N], I am here to visit Matt Murdock.” You informed the receptionist. She typed something on her computer and directed you towards the ward. That night, you had the biggest shock of your life as you waited for the doctors and nurses treating Matt.

“It was quite a fatal accident, Miss [Y/L/N]. We're lucky that he survived but he might take some time to recover and from what we have gathered, he might have some problems with his external auditory canal.”

“But… he'll be okay, right? He will recover, right?” You asked him. The doctor nodded his head and left because of another case. It was all up to you now, to let him know. You knew how upset he felt if treated with sympathy, you felt like that too. You just wanted him to recover completely before taking any risks with his life.

A few days later, when you were sitting quietly in the living room and grading the test papers, you heard a cracking sound. Rushing to the kitchen, you saw your boyfriend standing and in front of him, a broken glass. “Are you okay? And what are you doing here?” You carefully reached him and brought him back to your room.

Before you could scold him for being so careless and not resting enough, you saw him sitting quietly, too quietly like a statue. He was holding his mask in his hand. It was high time now, you needed to talk. You placed your hand on his shoulder and got his attention. Matt was still quiet.

“You can't carry on like this, Matt.” You said after a moment of silence.

“I don't know what to do. I'm lost, okay. This feeling… the feeling of being helpless and staying at home all day… it kills me. I feel like I failed.”

“No matt. Please don't say things like that.” Your voice was thick with emotions. “We can go through anything if we are together. Please don't shut me out.”

Matt gave you a sad little smile and you knew that you had a long road ahead of you.

A few days passed with you and Matt adjusting to the new life without his vigilante identity. It was a struggle in the beginning but slowly, he recovered… at least physically.

One evening, you were sitting on the couch, watching one of your favourite films when you noticed Matt standing in the corner, lost in his thoughts. “What happened, babe? You alright?” You rushed to him and to your surprise he jerked your hands off him. That had never happened before.

“I think we should take a break.”

“What?” To say you were shocked would be an understatement. You didn't know what came over him suddenly.

“Yes, [Y/N]… we should.” He sounded serious.

“But, at this point? I don't understand Matt. What happened?”

“Because I can't give you a normal life, [Y/N]. Why is it so difficult for you to understand that? You were sitting there, all peacefully, watching a move. We couldn't do that together, or anything normal couples do. How many times we had to cancel our plans because of me being daredevil and trying to save the city. You don't need to go through all of this. You deserve better, [Y/N].” He breathed hard after his confession, sightless eyes following where your figure should be.

“Leave it to me to decide what and who I deserve. I love you, Matt. I know that I never said it before, I didn't want to push you away. I don't want ‘normal’, I just want you.” By the end of it, you had wrapped your arms around his neck and forced him to sit down. It was one of the few raw moments you shared.

“I'm sorry.” He said after a few minutes of silence. “Promise me, you won't do anything stupid like this again.” You asked, gently massaging his scalp. Matt just nodded his head. You knew that you had a long road ahead of you but you were satisfied with the journey. In the end it's just you two, together.

THE END.

[the-record]

omggg your lyric fics are killing meeee !!! your so talented <3 you should defo consider doing graceland too by phoebe bridgers (the ultimate sad yet peaceful lesbian lullaby that haunts my dreams)

graceland too

i didnt know if you wanted this with abby BUT if you wanted it with a different character i would be happy to make a new one :)

i love abs shes so ! this is not proofread!!

i do not use description for reader and the photos do not describe the reader !!

my masterlist

no longer a danger to herself or others she made up her mind and laced up her shoes

“go. just take him.”

light poured in through the curtains, just barely illuminating the room in the early morning. abby slept soundly on your chest, her head rising and falling with your body. you couldnt help but admire her.

she’d been through too much, but she was still perfect to you.

pretty brown lashes that fluttered every so often. soft lips you wanted to admire forever. her hair was starting to grow out and you made a mental note to trim it later so it would grow out evenly.

yelled down the hall but nobody answered so she walked outside without an excuse

her eyes fluttered open slowly, gradually adjusting to the light. you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

her eyes fluttered open slowly, gradually adjusting to the light. you smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to her temple.

“good morning sleepyhead,” you teased as she pulled you tighter. “you sleep okay?” she hummed as she nodded against you. “want some breakfast my love?”

“mmm, not yet.” she nosed her face into your neck.

“whatever you want.”

you ran your hand down her back, nails gently scratching as you went. she sighed and pressed a kiss to your collarbone.

she could do anything she wants to she could do whatever she wants to do she could go home, but she’s not going to...

“i could just lay here forever. how are you so comfortable?” you laughed, shaking abby’s head. “are you laughing at me?” she looked up at you, shocked, as you tried to hide the giggles. “oh my god, you are totally laughing at me! i’ll give you something to laugh about.”

you yelled out just as she gets her fingers in your sides, tickling you. “fuck off! abby stop, shit!” you laughed and tried to push her off, but to no avail. “abby please! im sorry!”

she let up, pulling you to her. “i know, i know.” she smiled, she couldn’t help it. “i love you, you know.”

“i know.” you nodded, leaning on her chest to look up at her. “im so proud of you. you’ve been through so much and look at you.”

so we spent what was left of our serotonin to chew on our cheeks and stare at the moon

“all i did was survive. same as you.”

but you shook your head, sitting up to have this conversation.

“no, not you. manny, owen, mel... your dad. you’ve just, you’ve lost so much.” your hand cupped her cheek and abby gently gripped your wrist. “and then when ellie found you,” you took a breath. “fuck, i thought you died abby. you and lev, i thought you were dead. everyone else was and i couldn’t get you out of my head.” she followed the tear that tracked down your face.

“and then i stumbled across you and lev, and i just couldn’t believe it. i couldn’t believe you were alive.” you sniffed, throwing a smile her way. “and you didn’t even take a second to worry about yourself when we got here, just wanting to take care of lev and i.” you thumb rubbed her cheek gently.

said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment ate a sleeve of saltines on my floor and i knew

“can i be honest?” you nodded, scooting closer to her. “i didnt think i was gonna make it. and, i dont think i cared if i died...” tears filled her eyes but she kept going. “and then, ellie was there. she helped me down, and i saw lev, and i knew i had to get out of there. i had to see you again.

“so i fought ellie, and i didnt give up. i had to help lev, and i had to know you were okay.” she smiled and leaned her forehead against yours. “and it was the one decision i don’t regret. im glad i made it out and back to you.”

she pressed a gentle kiss on your lips and pulled you close to her.

“glad to know you care about me.”

“oh my god lev, go fuck off!”

i would do anything you want me to i would do anything for you i would do anything, i would do anything whatever you want me to do, i will do

[laststandx3]

I'll be bitter for a minute and say it: i think the terror for how good it is, is also very partial on crozier on being #1 mister only good colonizer in the arctic, and i sort of hate it because the change happens only because he sobers up. and sure alchool makes people cruel, but sobering up doesnt make them perfect. he went from let silna be left on the ship without protection/kick her out for the tuunbaq if she doesnt help us/ rip the guy that died to get me a bottle of whisky, anywayy to peace and love on planet earth lets us all take this walk together while i share words of wisdom and love with this other colonizer who's also very sorry he didn't do anything good with his life. Crozier started the journey at least as a heavy day-drinker and i understand how that's different from heavy alcholism but at the same time i can't imagine all of crozier's faults being the consequences of whisky alone. and having him overcoming his alcholism and wising up immediately after being clean for a few weeks is FOR ME a terrible writing choice that paints him as being naturally good and his 'bad' behaviors coming ONLY from the alchool. yes he sees blanky getting hurt and that's starts his sobering up path. but that's not enough for me. the people (other characters state aloud for the audience) he loves more than god loves them are dying left and right. and i really dont care if corzier cares about the crew or not but if he cared he should have cared about them even when he was drunk and not remembring about their wellbeing AFTER he got clean. i'm not saying you cant enjoy crozier. i just believe his character development isnt earned and that he got it only because he's the designed good character that canonically survives in the book. i dont think that him shitting himself for a few weeks while sobering up can count as having the emotional development to go from one extreme to the other. especially because everyone else is also there sufferring physically and psychologically even more than him due to the fact that their all stranded in the arctic and dying of scurvy and no one else in the crew could have the time off work, privacy and attentions to heal. crozier being the 2nd on command and then captain used his power to become a drunk and later to clean up. and i just dont believe that a man who abused his position like that from the beginning just becuase he was pissed he couldnt marry the woman he wanted suddently stops abusing his position because he's now clean and pure. TO ME it's a bad writing choice that is also force-fed to the audience with the line 'more than god loves them' so that you get it for sure that he's the good guy who cares about people not like those others evil characters who would do anything to survive like killing innocents and being racist (the good guys could never. except they canonically did- but wait, not in THIS continent so it doesnt matter) and eating people (which is a sign of being naturally evil, no matter the circumstances) or following a religion in a desperate last chance of survival (again no one on the good guys side would put religion above good sense and the safety of fellow human beings. in this continent?? maybe? ugh)

in summary i think the main flaw i find in the terror is how much it still tries to draw a line between good and evil. instead of just trying to portray the human disperation for their mortal condition. how much having to come face to face with tuunbaq must destroy all of those men convinctions on what life/afterlife are (for what i remember it just addresses it for tozer AND in the SCRIPT) nobody else gets a life shuttering experience. it's either the devil, then good christians should be safe, or it's a different religion, then what?? what do you do when your life looses its meaning? and the answer for most of the charactes was 🤷‍♀️guess we'll think about it after this awesome party we're about to throw. i dont want this to be about religion, but these men are wrecked in every way, there's nobody to save them and everyday they're a little more in pain than the one before. there shouldnt be a camp of the good men lead by the strong and wise one who take care of their sick and lets the dying die peacefully with morphin. while in the bad guys camp they eat people and have evil laugh competitions and kill their sick with knifes bc giving them poison might make them unedible. and specifically those evil guys where also the reason why the expedition happened to hurt the locals, the good guys have nothing to do with it.

i dont think there's nothing wrong (narratively) in doing anything to survive. even if it's something cruel, because those men are at the end of the world alone, it's at least realistic that they'll try everything to avoid death. crozier(and jfj even if offscreen) gets to be cruel at the beginning of the story but by middle point they're shown to be sad (about unrelated things) and spend the last few episodes being kind and brave (and forgiven by the narrative) while their chance at character development is uniquelly given by their ranks. in the meantime the consequences of those cruelness (only hickey, because we dont get to see survivors of jfj trip to China, if he left any) dont get the chance to heal and change because hickey's position of subordiante never allows him to be really safe, and because his torture was public, automatically making every witness taking the side of the perpetrator. hickey's never given weeks off work to recover because he got lashed because of his own actions. hickey doesnt get words of wisdom from a companion because in his mind everyone agreed with crozier in him deserving the lashes, (except maybe tozer? but even that isnt that clear cut) hickey, manson and hartnell also magiaclly heal from the lashes after a few weeks (even when ANYOTHER character cant heal because of scurvy) so the narrative can't held crozier accountable for the pain he caused.

the good guys and the bad guys' actions are treated differently by the show. even when the good guys actions should have consequences and the bad guys' shouldnt. the narrative has already decided which sins will be forgiven and which will be punished. and it's a bit annoying to me because for how wonderful the terror is, i cant help but feel like i'm being spoonfed a narrative about morality when at its core the story is about humanity.