#i live and die by sad loud house drawings

[sliipppy]

hi tumblr nation been a while been playing funger termina

[halfelven]

if this read more doesn’t work i swear to fucking god…

anyway don’t read this it’s stream of consciousness that went places i didn’t expect and it’s sad even though i say it’s funny at the top

homophobia and abuse and csa and lots of awful things warning

a funny thing about my mother is that she’s all oh you have to marry a man! and oh that’s not what is Intended. actually. correction. i have to marry a man if i want a family. (i do.) however she was always telling me to never marry and just focus on my career. in that old fashioned sort of well maybe you’re gay but just don’t act on it way.

but even more so in a you won’t be happy just being a housewife way. (i wouldn’t) which is interesting since she is very smart and was a stay at home mother (and homeschool teacher) (to a genius child) (maybe that made her more fulfilled) (i’m not saying that’s me i’m talking about my little brother. he was off the charts in mathematics. he died when he was only 8 and he was already doing advanced mathematics in his head. was obsessed with prime numbers. he was probably smarter than me though that’s hard to judge because we had slightly different strengths. he was better with mathematics. and i’m very good at mathematics.

(i miss him every day. i don’t like to say this out loud but it’s so hard to find people to have conversations with that span multiple subjects and draw conclusions from combining different fields. we were locked up in a house together but we had access to someone’s old the great lectures or something on VHS. so we’d watch those together. watched a million documentaries on PBS. read a million books. discussed it for hours.

(and oh that reminds me of how i still have a certain nostalgia for my childhood. we had a wood stove—cheaper than using oil during the coldest days—and we’d sit by the fire and read poetry and play chess and parcheesi and scrabble and put on skits and do improv and have hours long discussions or arguments about everything we’d read and recite poetry by candlelight and read through shakespeare’s complete works, each playing so many characters and every night even through high school our mother would read us a story and we’d draw or paint and she did the voices even when she moved from picture books to austen and dickens.

(and i can see why she said she thought we had a happy childhood. in another life where we had enough food and met with other friends and my father didn’t torture us and my brother didn’t die. it could have been summers of berry picking and watching the fireflies without the hideous weight of that man’s anger upon us. i could be doubly sick with longing for the winter days where we just read and played and didn’t long for an ending to this pain. and where me and my sister didn’t make up stories of girls being brutally tortured and murdered and raped. (in varying orders) at an age most children don’t know about sex.

(my mother doesn’t know that. he had her leave the room after the bible portion of our daily devotions. to make breakfast. she made porridge and he told us how women deserved to be raped just for existing. he also was a socialist. he was a pacifist. he voted republican because he was a single issue anti abortion voter. he believed that gay people should be killed for it. he said the world was ending and he stole my youth. but anyway. my mother didn’t know.

(i draw a goddamn diagram of my mother’s life to try to get people to understand. lived in a tiny little isolated village until she was 19. met him when she had dropped out of college because she wouldn’t be fulfilled working as a chemical output inspector. the ones who make sure companies aren’t lying and dumping pollutants. it was too boring. he was 39 and she was 19 and searching for meaning in life. they were married at 20 and 40. twice her age. convinced her the world was ending. hid the worst parts of him because he knew she wouldn’t accept it. still abused her. made it all about your immortal soul. it was a doomsday cult. he was a pedophile. there was never a time i was free.)

which is to say everything in my life is complicated and i was just trying to say something funny about my mother. that she has that oh but can’t you just pretend you aren’t kind of homophobia. she also doesn’t really watch movies since she falls asleep. BUT she knows which of my favourites have beautiful women in them and she comes running to see just that part. “tell me when arwen comes on” then she just stands and watches arwen til she’s gone and says she’s so beautiful and leaves. hmm. want to think about that, äiti?

[gardensnakie]

Who's better at poetry, Stranger or Sunny?

I automatically assume that Sunny would lean more onto the drawing side of art rather than writing, let alone poetry. I think it depends on how people see the character because based on Canon occurrences, Sunny takes a lot of inspiration from the outside world, like from comic books and movies when he dreams. He creates new adventures and scenarios that would lead most to assume that he would be a good writer if he practiced. In addition to his more darker thoughts, and his sad poem skill, it seems possible he'd be good at it. But the thing is, Sunny has trouble identifying how he feels, that includes speaking and even writing those feelings down. If he were to attempt to journal anything for those 4 years that he was stuck in the house, that would ruin the world he created for himself where mari didn't die. With how much he was repressing his feelings, trying to organize them into words would be a long shot. That's why Sunny turns to drawing, in can be incoherent as he wants without directly including the thing he wants to ignore. (And sunnys drawings are cool, I'm a sucker for violent, surrealism art) Even after the truth, I think sunnys poetry would be good and cool to read (I'm not sure, I'm no critic but I'd like to think sunnys poetry would be very vivid, sometimes incoherent) His poetry would be for his eyes only, I don't think he'd actively try to get better at it but use it as a way to be less stressed.

With rare access to pen and paper, Stranger has a lot to say but speaks in a cryptic way as a way to hold back. Of maybe it's because Omori/Sunny refuses to hear anything of the truth that Stranger is simply cursed to never say it out loud. Or maybe Stranger doesn't want to frighten them away and chooses his words carefully in order to keep him from retreating further into repression. I like to think about the second possibility. Stranger is capable of altering his words in a vague, but concise way to lead, question, or warn The Dreamer. He also has access to the Lost Library and practically most of the horrors residing in Blackspace. Every idea is different down there, it changes constantly, the abstract rooms and delusions is a gold mine for inspiration. Horrible inspiration, actually. (Kinda reminds me how most artists are troubled in some way, "thank you for the trauma, I need it for my art" kinda way)

Stranger had been down there longer since Sunny avoided blackspace as much as he could. Who knows? During that time, Stranger must've talked to himself a lot. He may speak strangely, not really using the words 'I feel' because spiraling is far too easy in a quiet place like that. He can't really draw. With personified fears and ideas from The Dreamer in all those rooms, Stranger doesn't want to draw them again as a mean to express his own feelings. How can you express the hell in your head when there is hell all around you? So melodramatic. At least Sunny sat in denial, surrounded by color. Stranger reminds me of someone doodle silly things, at least draw something where he hoped to be instead of living in darkness. Though, it'd probably make him more sad, so he'd abandon it somewhere. If he could, Stranger would write a lot. His thoughts could be like a little rule book to keep himself sane. Anger, guilt, shame, vile thoughts, disgusting actions, Stranger would make sure certain mistakes don't happen twice. He'd remember his purpose, helping Sunny remember. Certainly making him feel less worthless. If all this writing was possible, Stranger would be the one with tons of poems.

Ramble. Ramble. Ramble. Jeez, that was a lot of crap. Sorry if you were expecting a yes or no with a few sentences of reasoning, I wanted to reinforce a lot. It gave me a few ideas in the process, but all of it is pretty loose and theorizable (i didnt read check this, so sorry if certain sentences of explanation are a little awkward). But yeah, whaddya think?

[uroborosymphony]

              @stillresolved sent :

She lingers at the door to the guest bedroom. The last time she and Ara had spoken, it was…well, it didn’t end great. Although that probably is the last thing on Ara’s mind. Not the unthinkable (for her) has happened. Annie didn’t need any explanation to know what had gone down between Ara and Ara’s, well, now ex-boyfriend. It’s been a few weeks since Ara has barricaded herself in the guest room and for once, it’s Annie who has been the active one, the one moving between the interior and exterior of the house. It’s odd, actually, being the one relied on for once between them. Ara was always the strong one even back then. But Annie knocks on the door and opens it a moment later. “Are…Are you hungry?” She asks, holding up a plate of apple slices. “I…I cut up an apple for you. I peeled the skin too.” ( and i'm here too!!!....for some wholesome and sads arannie content 🥺🥺🥺 )

The room is silent. Sitting down the bed of the guest room, Ara's knees are brought against her chest, tight. In this position she has been staying for hours today. She does that, sometimes as she lets time flies, as she converses with what she sees and hears in her head. Time has felt like a dragger slowly slinding inside her core, a core she has been stripped of it seems, losing the track of the days and nights passing. The tears sometimes couldn't stop, she would cry, and cry, and cry without never being able to sleep. The hunger became rare, the anger was raw and her mind has never been so loud. There is this cloud, of loss and solitude that surrounds her, wraps her, digests her a little more everyday. Sometimes, the voices and the faces she sees, they talk to her, they stay with her, they hold her hand. Other times, they make her hurt even more, they make her break every single mirror in the house, they make her want to die. It has been months now, that despite the painkillers her mind has never stopped but to get loud, louder, to the point everyone around could hear it. The abyss of a depression she finds herself in doesn't only come from the love of her life breaking her heart, it comes from the love of her life abandoning her, it comes from not being able anymore to fight her own drowning mind. I'm not Sick, I'm not sick, I'm Not sick, I'M NOT SICK.

She would say, to them, to him, to herself, she would yell, sometimes without even nobody around her saying the words to begin with, out of nowhere, dissociating, depersonalizing, moments and places and times where she couldn't tell the difference between what was real, what was not. There were eyes landing on her, whispers behind her back, nights at the Black Cat or at the garage where Grey and Taiyang found themselves having to take her away, tame her down. She remembers of these times they would whisper to each other, behind a door, away from her. The voice of Annie by the door takes her out of her reveries and contemplations. Annie and Ara, in the end they understand each other. They're both mad girls now. On the wall of the guest room Ara wrote, Ara draw, everything she was hearing, everything she was seeing, everything that has been building inside : the tales of a martyr, choosen as the savior and the bringer of a new world, the fires to purify it all, the persecutors perishing from the savior's hand. Her drawing is beautiful, macabre, tragic, the lines are either strong and mad or shaky and broken. There are words too, words written over and over and over again like mantras. To anybody, it would be hard to look at, it's unstable it's uneasy - to Ara, it brings her peace, as if she finally takes it all out to contemplate, she watches it for hours.. Hours, to the point it shall become the new reality. Yes, perhaps even more real than everything she has lived until now. Why cry... when none of everything she experienced with Taiyang, with the gang, here in seoul, is real? "Come in.." Speaks Ara from the bed without moving an inch. Her torments have transformed her eyes, the lines of her features, they are grave, saddened, she lost weight. Her eyes they twitch sometimes, they wander around, they widen and retract. Her lines, they soften for Annie, Annie always manages to pierce through the isolated monster that Ara was turning into. In fact, not once she has been wondering if she was a burden to Annie, if she was the dead weight in the closet Annie became scared of kicking out. They take care of each other, the same way Ara stayed with Annie when it was Annie's mind spiraling on her. "I'm hungry yes..." Ara did a lose weight, the type of consequences she herself couldn't see, couldn't care about much. Annie managed to make her eat, little by little, apples are fine now, the peeled skin is an adorable touch. "Can you sleep near me tonight, please? I can't fall asleep I think your presence helps..."

[tormentum-ab-intra]

When I Am Gone

CWs and general content notes: characters thinking one’s going to die/expectation of death as the focus, (but one of them’s okay with it,) (they’re both really bad at feelings but in opposite ways,) angst with a happy ending, some blood, brief mentions of (unnamed) (monster) corpses, treating of envenomated wounds/brief needle mentions, brief mentions of alcohol (but no actual drinking,) brief references to (fantasy) religion

Word count: 2,423! --

“Ansel?” Aban’s voice carries easily in the stillness, hoarse though it is, close though Ansel isn’t. A town like this is never loud at night. People here rise with the sun, sleep with the sun, and when danger comes creeping in from the neighboring dark, they don’t run, they don’t fight; they hide. Usually it works. Sometimes it doesn’t.

The night is cool and still. Silent, apart from the chirr of cicadas and the fervent prayers in the hearts of the townsfolk; the last of the priory’s bells stopped ringing hours ago. Aban doesn’t miss the melody.

Bells and prayers may work fine to make certain creatures wary, and cantrips at the door may even turn one away for a time, but it won’t stop them once they’re hungry enough not to mind that little discomfort standing between them and a meal.

That’s what guys like Ansel and Aban are for. With the right blade or spell or methods, anything can be put down. Even kings. Even gods. That’s blasphemy, though, so Aban makes the sign of Shoik with one hand and puts the thought out of his mind.

He wonders how much of the town is really sleeping, and how many are lying awake in bed, listening, waiting for the noise to start up again. He wonders if the thing they’re hunting is waiting too, or if it’s creeping closer even now, hungry and soon to strike.

Eyes on the shadows, Aban says Ansel’s name again, but this time doesn’t wait for the response he knows isn’t coming. “Will you be sad, when I am gone?”

Somehow, the next rasp of stone against iron as Ansel sharpens his blade manages to sound annoyed.

“I think you will,” Aban continues. “Without me, who else is going to rush forth to save you in the nick of time, allowing himself to be tragically wounded in your st--”

“You’re not dying, Aban.”

Yep. Annoyed. Aban laughs, and wonders if Ansel cares how weak it sounds. “Aren’t I, though?”

Ansel lowers his blade, and baleful eyes turn to stare at Aban, daring him to say more. He isn’t near enough to smack him though, so dare Aban does.

“I mean, really. When’s the last time you lost this much blood and lived to tell?”

Ansel’s ever-present smile, the one Aban’s never seen him without in all the years they’ve known each other, turns sharp and sneering. “Last week.” Except last week they had Aanethe with them, and his sigils and healing magic did a hell of a lot more for Ansel than these makeshift bandages are doing for Aban. “You’re fine,” Ansel says, the sign of Mascah bending his fingers. He’s praying. He does care.

“I’m fine,” Aban agrees, crooking bloodied fingers to match. Say it, and make it so.

Ansel resumes sharpening his blade. “That’s what I just said.”

Aban takes that for the command to stop talking that it is, worrying at the fraying edges of his torn-shirt bandages with restless hands. He should be out there, searching between all the little shops and houses, hunting down their quarry before it can decide to come hunting for them -- or worse, start hunting townsfolk again. Instead he’s sitting here, worse than useless. Bleeding out. A liability.

Ansel should be out there, too, finishing the job they started. Instead he’s stuck here, sharpening knives that don’t need it. Babysitting. That, or he’s hoping the noise and the smell of blood will draw the thing they’re hunting to them.

Hard to say.

It wouldn’t be the first time Aban’s been used as bait, though it’d be the first he’s been so while too hurt to stand on his own. He wonders if that’s supposed to bother him.

The scrape of the whetstone is grating, but familiar. Ansel knows what he’s doing. Aban isn’t worried.

It’s still warm when Ansel drops it on the headman’s doorstep. Warm and bloody and twitching. Someone cracks the door open to stare at it, eyes damn near popping out of their skull, and it stares right back, stares until the twitching stops and the bleeding slows and its eyes glaze over.

“What…is it?”

Ansel turns to leave, tracking bloody boot prints down the tidy, cobbled path leading up to the house. “Dead.”

“Wait, but --”

“Figure it out!” Diplomacy is Alabastard’s thing, not Ansel’s, and he doesn’t have the time. He ignores the questions aimed at his back and makes for the alley where he left Aban.

The now-empty alley, as ill fate would have it. Where the fuck has he gotten off to?

Ansel draws his blade and stops at the mouth of the alley, eyes roving, tracing shadows, rooftops, and alcoves. “Aban?”

The wind rustles through laden clotheslines. Shutters rattle. Nothing breathes.

“If this is your idea of a joke, Aban, I’m going to stab you in your fucking neck when I find you.” Ansel’s eyes catch on fresh blood on some of the alley walls. It’s there, and on the ground, and about a dozen other places besides the spot where he left Aban. Crates, neatly stacked last he saw, lie smashed and scattered.

Dammit.

Looks like the job isn’t finished yet after all. It’ll be extra for the second problem the headman forgot to mention, and if he has to spend it all on rites and booze for Aban’s fucking funeral…

“Dumb bastard,” he mutters, advancing slowly. “Hang on. I’ll find you.”

He finds Aban clear on the opposite side of the block, in some random house’s garden, lying pinned beneath a corpse. Not a moving one, thankfully. Ansel can’t decide whether to be annoyed that Aban’s singing or just glad he still can. “New friend of yours?”

The singing comes to an abrupt stop, and Aban beams at him through messy hair and grit and blood. “Oh, yes! We’ve come to an agreement!” The creature’s teeth are still embedded in his shoulder, the hilt of his blade sticking out from its back. “Never did catch her name, though.”

“I told you to stay put.”

“My new friend had other plans.”

Ansel laughs in spite of himself; sharp, and derisive, because if it weren’t it’d be fond, and Aban would never shut up about it. “Whatever. Let’s get you out of here.”

This corpse is heavier than the last, and Ansel doesn’t bother dragging it all the way back to the headman’s house. Someone will find it in the morning. Aban’s only half as heavy, but twice as clingy. Cold fingers hook into Ansel’s shirt. A cold face burrows against the side of his neck. Ansel allows it, just this once, and wastes no time in carrying his friend back to safety.

“Ansel?”

“Yeah.”

Their room at the inn is dark, save for the candles standing lit on the table. Ansel gives the needle a sharp tug, pulling the thread taut, and lays a heavy hand on Aban’s shoulder to keep him steady. The skin around the wound he’s stitching looks mottled and clammy, and the booze he poured over it for want of an antiseptic smells like a wasted buzz and a headache in the making. Boiled water would’ve been better, but this room doesn’t have a stove.

“I think --” Hissing, Aban shifts restlessly beneath Ansel’s hand. “You must want to kill me faster.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Ansel jabs the needle through skin again and pulls.

“You’re not --” Another hiss, then something closer to a whimper that Ansel refuses to feel guilty about. “You’re not being very careful.” Aban’s fingers dig into Ansel’s knee, but his grip’s so weak it barely hurts.

“Yeah, well, I’m not a damn medic, Aban. Suck it up. You’ll get over it.”

“Just like you’ll get over it when I’m gone, hmm?”

“When y -- would you stop that?!” Ansel bangs his fist on the table, fixed smile stretched thin, patience stretched thinner. “You’re not fucking going anywhere!”

Aban looks at him shrewdly. “You don’t believe that,” he says softly. He’s right. “So when I am gone, do you want my things?”

“No.” He’s going to finish making sure Aban doesn’t bleed to death in the next few hours, then they’re going home, and Aanethe will take care of it. That’s how it always works. That’s how it has to work. Aban will keep his things, and Ansel will keep trying to steal them when he isn’t looking.

Aban sighs. “Alright,” he says. It’s appeasement, not agreement; he’s just too tired to argue. He still wants Ansel to have his things, and Ansel will sooner bury another teammate than give them to anyone else.

“Ansel?”

“Fucking -- what!” Aban’s fingers are shaking where they cling to Ansel’s shirt, and for once Ansel almost feels bad for snapping. A little softer, he asks, “What now?”

“When I am gone, will you take care of Asa for me?”

Gritting his teeth, Ansel pulls the cloak around Aban’s shoulders a little tighter, urges their horse to run a little faster. “No -- okay, fine. Yes. Whatever.”

“And Abra?”

“Yeah.”

“And --”

“Just -- stop. Shut up. I’ll take care of your stupid cats. But you’re fine, alright? You’ll be fine.” Or all his efforts to keep Aban alive will have been for nothing, all the time they’ve spent together up ‘till now will have been for worse than nothing, and the day they first met will be his greatest regret.

“If you say so.”

“I do.”

Aban lets his head drop against Ansel’s shoulder, watching the landscape blur past. “You’re the boss.”

After that, they ride in silence.

“You’re fucking kidding me.” The door to Aban’s room shuts with a soft click, and just like that, Ansel’s locked away from what may very well be his teammate’s final moments. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

Aanethe stands between him and the door, unimpressed. Bored. “I don’t see why you’re making such a big deal of things. Don’t you hate the guy anyway?”

Ansel doesn’t have an answer for that, mostly because any other day, Aanethe would be right. On some level he’s aware he’s being irrational. Today though, he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care how annoying Aban is, or how many times he’s wished to never see his stupid face again. He needs to be in that room. He needs to know what’s going on.

Mind made up, Ansel takes a step forward, but Aanethe does the same with a hand out to stop him, more exasperated than anything else. “We told you, we need --”

“Yeah, absolute focus, I got that part.” The sigils inked on Ansel’s hands and forearms burn with uncast magic, the heat rising along with his anger until his sleeves begin to smolder. “I’m not a fucking child, Aanethe. I can sit quiet and give you your space, or whatever.”

Aanethe’s raised brow and the glance he casts at Ansel’s hands say he doesn’t believe him. “Then you can sit quiet and give us space outside this room.” Aanethe waves a hand dismissively. Ansel wants to strangle him.

“And if he dies? I’m supposed to just wait out here then, too?”

Aanethe shrugs. “Yes. But, but, but, I’m told you’ll have first pick of his belongings! Silver linings, hm? Yes?” He smiles, like that’s supposed to be reassuring.

It isn’t.

“If you don’t save him,” Ansel bites out, sigils smoking, nails biting into his palms, “you’ll be next. You, then Ambrose.”

“Is that supposed to be a joke?” Aanethe peers down at him through the spectacles perched on the end of his nose, eyes blank, lips twitching at the corners, like he’s trying to decide whether it’d be appropriate to laugh or not. There’s blood -- Aban’s -- on the hand he raises to pat Ansel’s cheek. “Don’t be ridiculous,” he says, genial. “You can’t kill us, little slayer. Don’t you think we’re just a bit above your paygrade?”

Fucking jackass.

Ansel stalks off without another word. If he stays he’ll start swinging, and Aanethe has better things to be doing with his time than getting his ass beat. Namely, fixing Aban.

At this point, a drink seems long overdue.

Ansel ignores the creaking of floorboards behind him. He isn’t in the mood for another of Alabaster’s pep talks. He isn’t in the mood for anything, really, not since being sent away by Aanethe. They won’t let him see Aban, they won’t let him ask questions; all he’s been doing for three days is wait. All he can do now is wait. “Not now, Alabastard. Save it for the funeral.”

“Really? Who’s died?”

Ansel stiffens, breath caught in his throat, pulse tapping in his ears, as footsteps cross the veranda towards him. The voice isn’t Alabaster’s. He’s hearing things. It’s Alba playing tricks. It’s his imagination, projecting to fill a void that shouldn’t be.

“Nothing to say?”

Not to you. Not if you’re…

Ansel stays looking out at the courtyard, willing the ghost to disappear. It isn’t real if he doesn’t acknowledge it. He isn’t gone until Aanethe declares it.

Not until Ansel sees a body.

The thing wearing Aban’s likeness stops just behind him. “I’m disappointed!” it says. “I thought you might have missed me a bit more than that.” It sounds just like him, somehow. Maybe it really is Aban’s ghost, here to sit with him one last time. It might stay to haunt him if he ignores it, so he won’t turn to face it just yet.

Except the warmth at his back feels real. The arms wrapping around his waist feel real. Weight settles on Ansel’s shoulder, hair brushing the side of his neck, and Ansel holds his breath. He’s waiting for the ghost to dissipate, or for their poltergeist to start laughing, to change back, to go away.

It doesn’t.

“You were right,” Aban says, and his arms around Ansel’s waist wind a little bit tighter. Ansel traces familiar scars with his fingertips, and those feel real, too. “Now you don’t get to have all my lovely things. Are you disappointed?”

With not quite a laugh, not quite a sob, Ansel closes his eyes, fingers bent in prayer. “Angry, too.” His voice sounds strange in his own ears. Strangled. “I should kill you myself.”

“Ansel,” Aban murmurs, soft, almost coaxing. “Don’t cry, Ansel. It’s…weird.”

“I’m not.” He’s lying, of course; his shoulders are shaking. The courtyard’s gone blurry, and his words still sound choked and thin. He still can’t turn around; not because it’s a ghost, but because it isn’t.

“Alright,” Aban says, still holding him. Appeasement, not agreement. “I understand. I missed you, too.”

[jacksnaces]

Inconvenient Qualities Pt. 1

I do not dance. I was told I look stupid and everyone is going to laugh. I hate my smile. My mom spent so long trying to teach me how to smile exactly right. She showed me what a good smile was like. I never did figure it out. I do not draw or paint anymore. I thought I was getting good, but I mean she was always my biggest critic. I hate my laugh. I hate how loud I talk. I wish I could join in on the stupid little games. I cannot react. You could have just got me tickets to Noah Kahan but I’d be too worried of looking stupid. I do not know how to use my words. I cannot express emotions. I cannot say I love you even when I mean it. She made that such a big deal. Went as far as to get onto me. But dad always encouraged it. But never did he stand up for it. Now I struggle telling family that I love them. I cannot sing. Sometimes if the music is loud enough I will join in. But I over think it. I wanted to write music but that is also on the list of things I’m unable to do. And it is funny. I am a hopeless romantic yet doing something as simple as buying flowers or writing a letter is so incredibly difficult to do. I cannot buy the things I need. So instead I buy things I want. I do not understand that one. Owning more than one pair of shoes makes me anxious, I must be clean. Used to I had to be fully put together even just to go to the store. Luckily this one I have mostly broken. I have learned not to give a fuck. I cannot take pictures of myself. I judge every photo taken so harshly. And that sucks because I love pictures. Sometimes hearing footsteps through the house or the sound of the knob being touch causes me to panic. Sending texts absolutely scares me. I was taught to worry how others perceived me. I was taught defending myself was considered talking back. Finally, my brain took it upon itself to quit trying to calmly explain and go straight into fight mode. I think there is a second side of me living in my brain. But also, I am scared I have made that up just to keep from accepting fault. Which is funny cause like I still accept what I did, and I am still striving to fix it. I have been taught I am not allowed to go to sleep until I have solved the problem. I have been taught my needs come second and they do not get met unless I am needed. I struggle with food. I was told I will get fat and be ugly if I was not careful but also, I was not allowed to leave the table until every bite was gone. My sensory issues was me just being dramatic. My meltdowns was just so all the attention would be on me. I was and still am too young to have depression or anxiety and I never did go to war so there is no way to have PTSD. I am just living in a delusional world out of spite of my mom. She makes sure to remind me I’m not actually trans, but I’m doing this out of spite. Funny. You may wanna be careful, as I only have emotions to try to gaslight those around me. And watch out for the fact that I cannot accept responsibility. That one still cracks me up. I spent so many years trying to be perfect, but it will never be enough. I will never be worth loving. Not unconditionally at least. I do nothing but destroy everything around me just for fun. Not because the fact I was autistic was hidden from me and the mental abuse I endured. I can’t do arts and crafts as that was childish and dumb. Plus, her father always had a say. Could not join any school plays cause as dramatic as I was, I wasn’t good enough to be in theater. I was a slob. Despite me keeping the house and yard perfect. I just did not have time for my laundry after helping put hers away. I do not love my siblings because I could not stand being touched. I am going to taint them and ruin them just because I exist. I will never become anything in life. I will die sad and lonely, living on my parents’ couch. Inconvinent qualities that the trauma formed. So may lies pushed into my brain. Little by little I am taking it back.

[devildomwriter]

Obey Me As Tumblr #12

Satan: Do you ever get the urge to clean your entire room and then 5 minutes after you start you’re like nah son and you just lay on the floor

•

MC: I get bloody noses a lot and I can usually feel it about 30 seconds before it starts dripping. Today in class my nose started to bleed but right before I turned to this very religious boy who sits next to me and whispered “hail Satan” as my nose started to drip. He freaked and fell back and hit his head. He had to go home for the rest of the day.

Satan: You’re amazing

Lucifer: Well done

•

Leviathan: If corals get stressed they die so if I was a coral I would be dead

Mammon: What do coral even get stressed about?

Barbatos: Current events

Leviathan: Get out.

•

Belphegor: What if rocks are actually soft but just tense up when you touch them?

Solomon: How stoned are you right now?

Satan: Was that a fucking pun?

•

Beelzebub: I was waiting on the pizza delivery guy to call me to say my pizza is here and when my phone rang I accidentally answered with “pizza?” instead of hello and he replied “yes this is pizza.”

•

Mammon: What is a baby worm called?

Lucifer: There is no term for a baby worm. It is just called a worm.

Diavolo: This makes me sad, I’m calling them squigglets

•

Mammon: My younger brother was trying to express that someone died with his very limited vocabulary and what he finally said was “his ghost fell out.”

It’s been fucking me up all week

•

Mammon: When you feel your clothes fresh out of the oven

Mammon: OKAY SO I REALIZED I USED OVEN INSTED OF DISHWASHER BUT I KINDA FORGOT WHAT IT WAS CALLED AND USED THE NEXT BEST GUESS I COULD THINK OF

Beelzebub: dishwasher

Belphegor: Washing machine.

You’re referring to a washing machine

Asmodeus: Pretty sure they meant a dryer

•

MC: Why don’t humans have a specific noise that means “there are bees let’s leave immediately” why are elephants more advanced than us

Solomon: We do have a specific noise, it sounds like this:

“there are bees let’s leave immediately”

•

Mammon: Please don’t touch my thigh my dick will rise like Apollo 13

MC: But Apollo 13 exploded

Solomon: That’s the goal

•

Satan: Windows 8 can suck my dick

Simeon: I can’t believe how far technology has come

•

Asmodeus: I don’t understand why people use Gaylord as an insult. Maybe I want to be lord of the gays. Bow down to me.

•

Mammon: You just jealous of me that I fuck 20 x more girls than you

Leviathan: 20 x 0 = 0

Simeon: He sank the boat he was working on just to kill the captain

•

Belphegor: Why isn’t eleven pronounced onety-one

Thirteen: I’M LAUGHING SO HARD BECAUSE I THOUGHT OF 22 AND I SAID “TOOTY TWO” OUT LOUD AT 4AM OH GOD

Luke: Threety Three

Mammon: Fourty four

Mammon: I have realized my mistake

•

Simeon: Right now a baby is being born

Right now someone clogged the toilet and is running out of the bathroom as fast as they can

Life goes on

Solomon: Hopefully this is not the same person

•

Satan: I just walked past two of my brothers in the living room and one of them said “I don’t think they’re right-handed or left-handed, they’re just dogs.”

•

Solomon: Crystals for banishing someone: any of them if you throw them hard enough

•

Beelzebub: I think now that we’re in the 21st century we can stop villainizing the witch from Hansel and Gretel. Some kids ate her house. She gets to eat them. It was a fair deal.

•

MC: When I was a child my cat died and the only way I could rationalize it was drawing her being crucified because I went to catholic school and I thought that just happened to everyone when they died

Raphael: I can’t comment on this just fucking look at it

•

Leviathan: It’s weird to think horses were ever ‘prey animals’ because what fucking predator looks at a 8 foot tall ENORMOUS beast with pitch black devils eyes, terrifying teeth and extremely powerful legs and thinks ‘yeah let’s go attack that one’

Satan: Well moose are still prey animals so

Asmodeus: That’s fucked up, a moose is like a horse with extra weapons

Michael: Would you rather they be predators

Mammon: SHIT SHIT SHIT IM SO SORRY

Last • Next

[blorbologist]

Maggie’s Airplane Saga fics compiled!

YEEHAW, I’m back! Bachelorette was fun, travel to and fro was not - I’m whipping up a Perc’ahlia fic based on part of my hell lmao. 

In the meantime, here’s all the stuff I cracked out over those seven hours, plus another one made last night using one of the leftover prompts.

Cleaned up and posted to AO3:

Haunt me in burgundy

Prompt[s]: Imodna Whumptober 13, "Can't make an omelette without breaking a few legs," fracture, dislocation and 14, "Die a hero or live long enough to become a villain," desperate measures, failed escape.

T / Imodna / Imogen and Laudna. Missing scene for episode 35, spoilers for it and episode 34. Lotta sads and ow.

I mean - sure. If you stuck her in a neat red barn, full of Rexxentrum Red hens, slathered the place red paint just to make a point, yeah, she would agree that’s pretty damn red. Imogen would also think you tacky and miserable, not that she’d say it or think it loud.

It would be red, sure, but not red.

Red the color. Not red the experience.

--

Contacts

Prompt: "Perc’ahlia, Why am I in your phone as 'himbo number two'?"

G / Perc’ahlia / Percy and Vex. Modern AU, works for both CR1 and TLOVM with no spoilers past the Briarwoods arc.

There’s a pause, before he inputs the new number. And then his thumb draws over the contacts.

And then his scrolling stops.

Here we go.

"Why am I in your phone as 'himbo number two'?"

(For the record, it’s actually HIMbo #2, but Percy says it with more dignity than it actually has.)

--

Tickle his fancy, tickle her too

Prompt:  “Perc’ahlia 29. tickling the other one”

T / Perc’ahlia / Percy, Vex and the rest of Vox Machina. Modern AU, works for both CR1 and TLOVM (with minor spoilers. Ignore the Tary guy shhh).

Vex is ticklish. Outrageously so.

Percival, it should be noted, grew up with six siblings.

He is very, very good at getting past even the best guard for the sake of a good laugh.

And maybe he’s never heard something quite so delicate from Vex. No, delicate is the wrong word - brutal, instead, in its joy, something she couldn’t hold back if she tried.

--

Too roomy to be alone here 

Prompt: "Cassandra has a bad day (sickness, or just exhaustion) and says she wants a member of their family that is gone now. And of course, Percy and or Vex giving the hugs she deserves after that."

G / Cassandra de Rolo with hints of Vex’ahlia, Delilah Briarwood and Julius de Rolo + more de Rolo family members. TLOVM and CR1 compliant.

All that to say that the nursery was declared Cass’ room and broadly considered such by the whole family.

Delilah and Sylas had more practical motivations behind housing her there.

--

Tumblr: 

Take a break

Prompt: “Keyleth/Vax/Gil? Any fluffy comfort for them would be absolutely incredibleeeee”

G / Keyleth/Vax/Gilmore / Just some fluff set shortly after the Chroma Conclave arc <33

“You need a vacation,” Keyleth declares. Corrects: “Really need a vacation.”

Gilmore’s Glorious Goods is… well. Not glorious, devoid of goods. It’s pretty much just Gilmore, right now, in a ruin of an office. He’s leaning back to smile at them, but the disarray of his hair speaks to resting his face in his palms, to running his fingers through the rich length of it.

--

Sound is a touch

Prompt: “Perc’ahlia 24. whispering in their ear, lips touching the skin”

G / Perc’ahlia / tiny leetol fluff moment, both pre-C1 and TLOVM season 1 compliant. 

“Hm. Should we tell him?”

Vex’s ears are, as a rule, a no-go. Dangerzone. A good way to get her smiles to turn so saccharine you can taste the sugar used to hide the bile.

It’s not like they’re too sensitive, or not sensitive at all and time is better spent elsewhere. It’s just - you know. Half-elf. Sometimes they got tugged for being too long, others boxed for being too blunt.

They’re a touchy subject. Pun intended, not that she’d admit to it.

[bcdwhcre]

“Betrayal,” Pt. 2 Levi x Reader

Summary: after being tortured and accused for a crime you didn’t commit, it changed you in ways you didn’t think was possible

Warnings: none, maybe like a bit of torture

PART ONE

.

.

.

It’s been a few weeks since the incident with the MPs, your wounds have healed into scars and everything was now fully healed.

The few scars on your face had made you insecure and felt as if they were ugly. The scar on your cheek, the one below your lips and one on your forehead. They weren’t all that big but to you it felt like they were huge.

Levi had assured you time and time again that the scars made you look just as beautiful but you couldn’t help but get flashbacks every time you looked at any of your scars that were on your body.

The way your blood would boil at the constant reminders of what they did to you. The way you wanted to murder all of them in cold blood, it made your skin hot just thinking about it.

Your nightmares had continued, every night to be exact. They never stopped, they were a constant cycle over and over and over.

Levi has tried his best to be your support system and even though he’s noticed a few changes in your behavior, he assumed you were fine since you continued being your clingy and affectionate self when you were around him.

But deep down you had a huge amount of rage and hatred that wanted to spill out of your body. You’ve kept everything inside and locked away, only for his sake and to not worry him any longer.

But one night you laid in bed beside Levi, his arm tightly around your waist and his breathing fanning over the nape of your neck as he slept peacefully.

Your mind was clouded and you suddenly forgot about everything, your mind set on one thing- the military police.

You had slipped out of bed carefully, sneaking out of the base in your hood and ODM gear as you tried to get your mind off of things as you flew through the quiet empty town, settling on top of a roof.

You look down at your reflection in the blade, your fingertips just barely brushing over your scars and suddenly your mind had switched to defensive mode like you were a robot.

The way your feet had moved without even realizing and you snuck into one of the MPs houses, the one that had caused you the most pain.

Your head had tilted, watching him sleep. He looked peaceful for such a coward, you were sick just looking at him. When you walked closer, the floorboard creaking just loud enough to wake him up and you pointed the blade at his face.

“Don’t make a sound or else this will be going straight through your neck.” You threatened, his eyes wide and full of fear.

He stared at you, instantly recognizing your face, you weren’t hard to remember especially considering you were a scout dating the famous Captain but the main reason why he knew you is because he spent so much time torturing you.

“What do you want?” He said barely above a whisper, his lips quivering as he spoke.

“What do I want? Hm, what do I want? How about some fucking peace.” You started off, your feet making their way closer to where he laid and you ran the blade down to his chest.

“For once, I don’t want to fucking think about the cowards who punished me for nothing. Who tortured me to no end because they assumed. What a bunch of fucking idiots that people put their trust in to protect them, huh?” You laughed at his face, pressing the blade just enough to draw blood and he winced but shut his mouth when you stood in front of him over the bed.

“Is this some kind of sick revenge fantasy that you have? You think you’re going to get away so easily?”

“Yes and yes. Unlike you, I know how to hide a body.” You whispered the last part, in an instant you flung your blade and sliced it through his throat like butter, watching the blood gush out, splattering everywhere in the room and hearing his gasps for breath.

“Have fun in hell.” You pushed him down on the bed, watching the life drain from his eyes.

After you were done cleaning the mess you had made, you snuck back inside the base and went inside the bedroom where Levi still slept. You glanced down at your bloody clothes and cursed to yourself as you dug through the drawers for some clean clothes.

“Y/N?” You froze, your eyes wide and your hands already beginning to shake as you heard him shuffling behind you.

“Stop.” You said, making him stop from getting up off the bed and he rubbed his eyes as he tried to focus them on you.

“Why? What are you doing?” He leaned over, turning on the bedside lamp and before you could say anything, the light was on and shined up the room clearly.

You hung your head low, your back facing him but he noticed the spots of blood on your clothes and instantly ran to where you were, thinking you were injured.

When he flung you around, he stopped in his spot and stared down at the bloody clothes you wore and his eyes moved up to meet your gaze.

“What- what happened? Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Why is there blood on you?”

Within seconds, tears started streaming down your face and he grabbed onto you, embracing you in a tight hug. He knew deep down what you had done but he didn’t want to speak up about it, all he did was comfort you.

As your mind was set back to the harsh reality of what you did and what happened, you couldn’t help but cry into his shoulder and listen to him mumbling soft words in your ears, reminding you just how precious you truly are.

“It’s okay, look at me.” He cupped your cheeks, brushing the tears away and stared down at your eyes, full of fear and emptiness.

“It’s okay, I’ll clean everything up and no one isn’t going to know a thing, alright? This will be our secret.” He whispered, the pained expression on his face had made you want to die- the last thing you wanted to do was drag Levi into your mess.

“I already got rid of everything except this outfit.” You managed to stumble out between your sniffles, making him nod his head.

“Okay good, take them off and throw them in a bag. I’ll burn them tomorrow, okay?” He tried to be as soft as possible, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head.

Your tears had stopped but your red puffy eyes continued to stare at him as he helped take off your clothes, throwing them in a bag and you sucked in a sharp breath.

-

The next day had rolled around quick, you had stayed in bed from the overbearing guilt you felt and Levi was happy to take the day off again and help you deal with it, trying his best to keep you happy.

He kept you in his arms, your head on his chest and his hands rubbing soothing circles on your back as you stared at the wall, deep into thought.

“I want them all dead, Levi.” You said without even realizing what had fell from your lips, his eyes glancing down at you and he nodded.

“I know, I want them dead too, believe me.” He brushed the strands of hair back from your face and he caressed your cheek.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this, it isn’t fair. I just wanted them to feel the way I did and I just wanted this overbearing pain to leave my body and it did while I watched him die, I felt relieved.” You admitted, your sad eyes meeting his and he completely understood.

The amount of people Levi had killed in his past has been way too many, the pain and the guilt weighing him down but the way he felt better when he got rid of the people who didn’t deserve to live- it made him feel somewhat normal.

“Don’t be sorry, I’ll always support you.. you know how many people I’ve killed? You’re not getting rid of me.” He chuckled, making you smile up at him and thought about the times he had gone off the deep end.

“If you need help with the rest of the guards, I’ll do it.” He fully admitted, his thumb rubbing over the scar on your cheek.

“Why would I want to drag you further into this?”

“You’re not. You’re my world, I’m not going to let you go through it alone. I’ll kill them all.” He shook his head, pressing his lips to your forehead then pulling back to look at you before he spoke again.

“No matter what.”

.

.

.

Here’s part two to betrayal like y’all having been askinnnnng. Hope you enjoyed it.

• Main Masterlist •

• AOT Masterlist •

[petite-ely]

Afraid // JJ Maybank

Six - Too much to risk

Pairing: JJ Maybank x fem routledge! reader

Warnings: Mention gun, being shot at, swearing, slight mention of death, maybe some mistakes oopsie, tell me if I missed something

Description: A small improvised visits by Petekin leads to a hectic afternoon in the marsh.

A/n : Hellooo guys, gals and pals, this is quite a long part. I really wanted to finish the first episode. also I really don’t know how to had a little read mor thing I don’t know how. Sorry! hope you like it!

Previously next

Afraid masterlist

gif by @robinsbuckly

Song recommendation

It was now far later in the morning, meaning the sun had fully risen and it was a much more reasonable hour to be up at. JJ had left a while ago and John B was still peacefully sleeping (and loudly snoring). Y/n hadn’t been able to go to sleep after her talk with the blond boy and she was now sitting on the couch reading her book (actually reading this time). So, when she heard the front door open, she didn’t bother looking up, assuming it was one of her friends. Who else would just come in like that anyway?

"Hey, there’s coffee made in the kitchen if you want any,” she said, still not pulling her gaze of off her book.

“That’s kind of you to offer, but I’ve already had two cups this morning, I don’t think it would be reasonable for me to have more.” Y/n’s book fell to the ground.  

“Sheriff Peterkin, I’m so sorry. I-I thought you were someone else-” she got up from her seat, “-do you, do you need anything, water or uh-”

“You don’t have to bother sweetheart, I’m not planning on staying that long. I just want to talk for a bit,” answered the adult.

“Okay,” she took a pause to swallow. “I’ll go get John B.”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll go get him myself.” Y/n nodded, watching as she disappeared into the hallway leading to her brother’s room.  

She started pacing around the living room, ferociously biting the nails on her left hand. It wasn’t every day a cop showed up in your house. She had absolutely no idea why Peterkin would want to talk. Actually, she had about 25 different ideas, starting with the fact her uncle hadn’t been on the island for about 3 months. And the party last night, what if she knew about the gun? Would JJ be in trouble? Whatever it was, it wasn’t good, that she was certain of it.

>>

The conversation went on for much longer than expected. Basically, Peterkin knew about their uncle being awol and she offered to help get  dcs off of their back for a while if they helped her in return. She had also mentioned that it wouldn’t be good if they had seen a shipwreck, which of course they denied despite that being actually true. Y/n didn’t fully understand what Peterkin meant. But she knew that it meant there was something valuable in that boat. And Jonh B knew it too. Yet, he was afraid, which was understandable, considering everything. They were pretty much guaranteed to be put in foster care if they got caught. Not good at all.

“You know what? I'm calling it off,” announced John B.

Y/n raised her head from her sketchbook, dropping her pencil on the low table in front of her to listen to what her brother had to say. She had been drawing silently while the other pogues, all sitting in different ridiculous positions across the backyard, talked and did their own things. She was only half listening to what they were saying, sketching messily the outline of the château. It wasn't very good, but it was calming to do. When she heard the seriousness in her brother’s tone, she closed her sketchbook, otherwise she’d be too distracted.

“Peterkin told us that if we stayed out of the marsh, she’d help with dcs.” The girl grimaced remembering the woman’s words.  

“And you believed her?” “Yes, JJ I believed her.”

“You really think that she’d help us?” asked y/n. “It’s been more than 6 months, bird. If she really wanted to help, she would have helped earlier, no?”  

“Yeah, she’s a cop, an actual cop. And you think she’s telling the truth?” added JJ.

“Look,” John B glanced at y/n. “All we gotta do is stay out of the marsh for a couple days and she’ll help us.”

“I know, I was there.” Kiara snickered softly at her friend’s words. “But I don’t know, I feel like we’re getting tricked or something. What if she’s like trying to lure us out of there-” she gestured to the water behind them, “-because there’s something she doesn’t want us to see, uh? What if it’s about dad?”  

J.B rubbed the back of his neck before turning his body slightly to face the ocean. “Look,” he addressed his sister. “I get that you’re curious and you want to know what’s down there, but I'm only trying to do what’s best for us. And I think it would be better if we listened to Peterkin. I’m just trying to keep you safe, to protect you, bug.” His voice softened as he finished his sentence.

“And it didn’t help that JJ was shooting a gun last night!” Y/n raised her eyebrows at Pope, her face clearly showing intrigue. She wondered where this conversation would lead, a fight between the two boys most likely. Her gaze shifted to JJ who seemed annoyed at the Routledge boy’s words.

“You know what, I should’ve let Topper drown your ass.” John B laughed. “Topper was gonna drown me?” “Sure looked like it.”

“Boys can you plea-” Y/n tried to stop the small bickers, miserably failing as her brother interrupted her. “Funny.” A loud sigh escaped the girl’s lips and Kiara beside her pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Have you looked in a mirror?” “Tell me some more. Come on.” “They always win don’t they, man?”

“Kooks versus pogues. They always, always win!” You could hear the frustration dripping from his voice. Which was understandable. He had a point, kooks always won, it was time for a change.

“Goddamn!” “Look, it’s okay!” Kie tried to reassure him. “No, it’s not okay!”

“He’s right,” agreed y/n. “They always win, or find a way to avoid the consequences.”

“Exactly, they don’t want us to go down into the marsh, that means there's something valuable down there and you know it.” He said to John B. “I know you do.”

“And I understand why you wouldn’t want to go,” he pointed to Pope. “You’re the golden boy, you got way too much to risk. And you,” he turned to Kiara. “I mean you’re already rich as fuck anyway.” Okay, that was an exaggeration.

“Why would you bother.”

“But us, you, me and y/n, we’ve got nothing to lose!” His eyes glowed with something y/n hadn’t seen in him in a long time. Hope. It made her sad to think about how JJ really had nothing in his life besides the pogues. But if he was hopeful, then maybe, maybe...

“We really don’t.” “Yes, we do have something to lose.”

“If something goes wrong and dcs comes in, y/n and I would be brought to the mainland in foster care. That means placed with families who probably only care about the check that comes in every month and her and I getting separated from one another and from you guys.”

Y/n thought about what her brother had just said. He had a point, if things went wrong, they could lose everything. Each other mainly and the pogues. It was the worst-case scenario. But if they didn’t get caught, it would make their life so much better. Was it worth all the risk though? That was the question.

“Do you understand what that means? How horrible it would be?” The girl got up from her seat and went to stand next to her brother. “I do,” she said. “I understand, bird.”

“I know that you’re scared and so am I.  It’s a pretty big risk. If we get caught, we’re fucked, but listen to what JJ has to say. I think that it might be worth the risk. And if we do get caught-,” she put her hand on his shoulder and turned him around so that he faced her, “we’ll find a way to find each other again. We’re Routledges, we always find a way to solve our problems, don’t we?” Her hand squeezed his shoulder softly. “We’re gonna be alright, bird.”

A small smile drew itself on John B’s lips. “So, what’s the plan,” he said to JJ.

“You got the key to Cameron’s big boat, right?” “No,” J. B’s face scrunched in disagreement.

“There’s scuba gear. We borrow that and then we go down to the wreck this afternoon and that’s what’s gonna save you, man,” exclaimed JJ. “You don’t see rich kids going into foster care, do you?”

Y/n breathed out loudly. She was scared as hell. This was going to be pretty tricky, but she knew something was down there. And if it wasn’t money or something like that, then it was something related to her dad’s disappearance. She could feel it deep into her soul.

>>>

“This is empty, you took empty tanks,” announced Kiara to the group as she furrowed through the bag of oxygen tanks.

Y/n put her head in her hands. Their plan had seemed so perfect and now they didn’t have the one thing they needed for it to work.

“Okay this one’s a quarter full. It’s enough for one of us.” “Love it when a plan comes together.”

“Does anybody know how to dive?” asked the brunette but only to be answered by a chorus of shrugs and denying nods. “Anybody?”

“It’s kind of a kook sport,” JJ looked at her.

“I, … I read about it,” tried Pope.  

“Great, Pope read about it, now someone’s gonna die,” exclaimed Kie dramatically.

“Look.” JJ’s gaze circled the group of friends.  “You put the thing in your mouth and you breathe. How hard can it be?”  

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” confessed y/n.

“Yeah,” agreed Pope. “If you come up too fast, Nitrogen gets in your blood and you get the bends.”

The girl’s eyes widened. She remembered a book she had read a while ago where one of the characters had the decompression sickness (and how tragic their death was).  

“Bends like bend over?” JJ joked as he bent his body in a way to stick his butt up in the air. Typical JJ joke, weird and somehow always a bit sexual. Y/n slapped his arm as a way to tell him off.  

“JJ, the bends is deadly,” she had a stern expression, “it kills you.” “Oh, right.”

“I can- I can dive,” announced J.B. “Yeah, you can dive I’m cool with that.” “Since when can you dive?”  

“No, you can’t dive,” scoffed his sister. “I’ll do it, it’s fine.” “What? The hell?”

“Let’s do some calculations real quick.” Pope pulled out a pen and started writing some numbers. Y/n got up from her seat and went to stand beside him. “So, that boat’s about 30 feet down.” “okay.” “So, it’ll take about 25 minutes at most at that depth.” “Twenty-five.” “Which means you need to make your safety stop at about... 10 feet. Alright? For two minutes.” “Ten feet, two minutes got it.”

They all watched as Kiara jumped straight into the water, her shirt already removed. “Uh, what was that all about?” “I don’t know, but I liked it, a lot.” y/n nudged her brother on the shoulder to get him to stop staring. He cleared his throat.

“Uh, so.” “All righty.”

She sat down on the edge of the boat, waiting for her friend to resurface from underwater. “Yeah. Uh, when you- when you’re down there, you look for the cargo hold. You stick this thing inside and you twist and pull, okay,” explained JJ. “Stick it in, twist and pull.”

“You okay?” asked y/n, while the boys kept on rambling. “Needed a swim?” Kiara rolled her eyes, a small smile on her face.  

“Hey!” she called to guys, John b more specifically. “I tied my t-shirt to the anchor about ten feet down. It’s where you need to do your safety stop.”

The Routledge girl admired her friend in the water. Her body moving gracefully as she swam back towards the boat. She seemed so, at ease. It used to be that way for her too, but now, even looking into the darkest part of the water gave her a feeling of vertigo. She wondered if she could still swim as good as she used to. It had been almost a year since the last time she had dove right into the marsh. It felt so far away. If only she was braver.

She hadn’t realised she had completely zoned out until she heard JJ speak. “Zen. Think Zen, you know.” She joined the group on the other side of the hms, her brother already suited for his dive.

“Hey, if we get caught out here in the marsh we’re basically screwed, so,” reminded Pope, “better get a move on.” “Copy that.”

Kiara got up and planted a small kiss on J. B’s cheek. Y/n looked at the two boys next to her with a confused expression. They both shrugged in answer, clearly just as confused as she was. “Diver down?” “Diver down.” She watched as his figure disappeared slowly into the water.

“All right.” “See ya, dude.”

She went to sit next to Kie. “I only love him as a brother,” she mocked her friend. “Yeah right, my ass.”  

“It’s just a small kiss y/n/n, it doesn’t mean anything. I still mean what I said yesterday. It’s just that,” she took a pause, her eyes squinting at the sun, “I’m just worried for him, you know he’s going through a lot and then there’s the shipwreck and all.”

“Uh huh, I totally get what you mean,” ironized y/n. “Shut up,” Kie nudged her with her elbow. “No, but seriously-” started the girl before being interrupted by the sound of a police siren behind her.

“Shit, guys.” “Guys, that’s the police.”

“Oh no, no, no, no, no, that is not good. Not good at all.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” “Yep that’s the police.” “Just act fricking normal.”

Anxiety bubbled at the pit of y/n’s stomach. Hopefully he wouldn’t recognize her, otherwise she was dead. So dead. She sat down beside Kiara in a somewhat natural position, her legs crossed to keep them from bouncing.

The police boat parked itself beside the hms. Officer Shoupe behind the wheel. “Evenin’ officers,” greeted Pope. “Evening.”

“How you kids doin’ ,” asked Shoupe. “You know the marsh is closed.”

“No.” “No.” “No, wow.” “I didn’t know that.” They all feigned ignorance, hoping to fool the two adults. “Why- why is it closed?” questioned Pope, adjusting his cap nervously.

“Well, we’re conducting a search out here,” informed the man. “Boat went down.” “Oh.” “Oh, no.”

“Seen’ anything?” asked the deputy.

“No.” “No, boats. No.” Y/n’s fingers tapped rhythmically on the boat, trying to keep herself from looking at her brother in the water.

“Where’s your friend you always hang with?” The pace of the rhythm fastened. “He here?” She opened her mouth, trying to think of a good excuse for the missing presence of her brother, but nothing came out.

“He’s working,” lied Kie. All of their heads nodded softly.

“I’m gonna check your little boat out,” announced Shoupe before hopping on the hms. “Yeah.” “Yeah, hop aboard.” The rhythm stopped, y/n’s nails digging into her palms.

He picked up a safety jacket. “You got another one of these?” “Yeah, yeah.”

“Of course, it’s uh, it’s in the hold,” JJ pointed to where the girls were seated. They both got up quickly. “Show him,” instructed Kie. Y/n’s joints were turning white.

“Okay.” JJ opened the hold and pulled out one of the jackets. “Yeah, here we go.” “All right.” The latch closed loudly. Shoupe’s gaze inspected the teens suspiciously. The tension could be cut with a knife.

He climbed on the flat part of the boat. “Be careful.” “Be careful out there, you don’t want to slip.”

He put his sunglasses on, staring at the exact place where John B and the ship were. The pogues exchanged worried glances. Hopefully, he wouldn’t see anything. He stood on the very edge of the boat, his figure towering over the water of the marsh.

“All right,” he finally turned around. Y/n breathed again. “All right.” “All right.”

“Beautiful day, innit?” “Sure is.”

“You let us know if you see anything on your way out,” he ordered as he started the engine. “Will do, will do.”

“We’ll be gone soon, sir.” “Yes, you will,” finally said the man before he vogued away.

Once he was far enough, the group hurried to the side of the boat, all worried about their friend. He’d been under for quite a long time now, there was no way he had any air left.

“He’s definitely out of air,” declared Pope.

At that exact moment, John B surged out of the water. Y/n felt relief take over her body. She felt her whole body unclench and let go of the grip her nails had in her hand.

“There he is!” Exclaimed JJ. “Oh god, Jesus Christ.”

“God damn it, Bird. I’m so glad you’re okay,” spoke y/n.

“Don’t scare us like that!” All of the pogues exclaimed, all so happy that their friend was all right.

“How’d it go down there?” wondered JJ. “Uh,” John b groaned and his sister hurried to the side of the boat to help him get in.

“Did you find anything?”

“Did I find anything?” He repeated throwing a large duffel bag onto the boat.

“Yeah there we go, that’s my boy!” JJ exclaimed excitedly.

“Are you okay?” Y/n asked as he coughed rather loudly. “Yeah, I’m good, but I ran out of air.” Her eyebrows scrunched together on her forehead. God, they were so lucky, what if J.B had ran out of air earlier? Or what if Shoupe had figured out what they were doing? Things could have gotten so bad.

But they didn’t, the girl reminded herself.

“You scared the shit out of me,” confessed Kiara, though it sounded more like a reproach.

“Yeah, same for me,” replied y/n. “Need a hand?” she stuck her hand out at him which he gladly took. The contact of the water with the cuts her nails had made in her hands burned, but she clenched her jaw and ignored the pain. She didn’t want to bother anyone.

“Yeah, the cops were up here but uh, took care of ‘em,” informed Pope.

“My bad.” “You’re all good.” “Yeah, you kinda missed the show, brother.”

“Hey guys?” Kiara’s voice was tinted with worry. “Guys, bogey, two o-clock.”

“What?” They all turned in the direction she was referring to. In the distance they noticed a strange looking boat heading towards them.

“Do you recognize that boat?”

“I’ve never seen it.” Kie put her hand above her eyes to hide herself from the sun. “What are they doing back here? The marsh is closed.”

“Honestly, they could ask us the same thing,” pointed y/n.

“Well, I think it would be better if we didn’t stick around and find out,” said JJ.

“JJ, get the bowline.” “Yeah.”

“Should we wait on ‘em?” asked Pope.

“Uh, I don’t think that would be a great idea,” responded y/n. The boat was coming in very fast and the people driving it looked angry and dangerous. It was much safer to just leave. “Go get the stern, go!” Hurried John B.

The blonde pulled the rope as fast as he possibly could. “Guys, don’t wait for me. Go,” he said. Y/n inspected the unknown boat in the distance, nothing about it seemed familiar. Who could these people be? And what did they want from them? “Let’s go.”

She kept her eyes glued to it as the motor started. “I have a really bad feeling about this,” she confessed, turning her head to John B. behind the wheel. “Yeah, I don’t like this either,” agreed Pope.

“Are they coming for us?” asked JJ. “Sure looks like it.”  

“Maybe they’re fishing?” proposed Pope. Y/n’s gaze paused on the two men. They were intimidating, to say the least. And their eyes, both had looks filled with something threatening. It wasn’t anger or hatred, no, it was the eyes of people who would do anything to get what they wanted and that was scary.

“Go, go, go, go!” “Go into the marsh.” “Let’s go!”

“I’m going. Act natural,” stated John B as he directed the hms towards the nearest channel.  

The white boat sped up, the motor roaring loudly. “Hey guys, they’re following us,” announced y/n. “Oh, this can’t be good.” “Shit”

“Dude, you gotta go faster!” “I’m going!” “Gun it!”

The sound of a gun shooting in the air echoed in the silence of the marsh. The pogues all went down instinctively. “Holy shit, guys!” “Oh my fucking god, what the fuck!”

JJ grabbed the back of y/n’s shirt with his hand, bringing her closer to him. “John b get down!” almost hissed the girl. Another shot fired, y/n clung onto JJ.

“Oh my god, we’re gonna die!” yelled Pope. A third shot fired. Y/n’s eyes caught the net at the back of the boat and an idea sparked in her head. She looked at Kiara, who clearly had thought of the same thing.

“Pope, move,” ordered the brunette as her friend stood to go grab the green net. Another shot flew into the air beside her, the bullet barely missing her.  

“Get down, y/n!” shouted her brother desperately. She headed towards the back of the boat and threw the net into the water. It slid down the current and got caught right into the motor of the men’s boat, making the engine come to a halt abruptly. It clanged loudly and the two men shouted in anger. A sigh of relief left the girl’s lips. Her plan had worked.

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” hurried Pope. A last gunshot was heard but the hms was too far away to be reached.

“Oh my god!” “Whew!” The pogues all cheered and laughed at their small victory. They were all so glad to be away from these men and all in one piece. Kiara pulled y/n into a hug.

“Y/n, don’t you ever do something like that again. You fucking scared the crap out of me,” said John B as they approached the dock of the château. “I can’t promise anything. Who knows when someone else will shoot at us?”

They all hurried themselves onto the dock, excited to know the content of the bag. “What do you guys think it is?” “Maybe it’s like jewelry? Would be a weird place to keep it but who knows?” “Gotta be money, right?”  

“That or a couple of keys with street value to the low- to mid-mils!” JJ’s eyes glistened with excitement. Y/n smiled softly.

“Can we please just open the bag?” burst Pope. The group all started at him.

“Wow Pope,” y/n giggled. “That was a rare outburst of emotions.”

“You guys are literally killing me with anticipation. Open the bag. We almost died over this.”

John B. pulled out a smaller bag which contained a metal canister. Every pair of eyes was fixed onto it as he pried it open and revealed a compass. Y/n kneeled next to her brother not believing what she was seeing. They exchanged a look, neither of them saying anything. They both knew what that object was and what it meant to their father, but what the hell was it doing there?

“Oh, wow. Yup, that’s about right.” Pope was clearly disappointed by their findings. “Good job, everybody. We found a compass.” Y/n raised a trembling hand to the compass, carefully taking it into her own hands to examine it. Was this really what she thought it was? How could it be? It didn’t make any sense.

JJ removed his hat in frustration. “Dude, what? It’s not worth anything.”

A small smile creeped on Jonh b’s face, his eyes still not looking away from the compass. “This was,” he started.

“This was our father’s,” completed y/n.

Taglist:

 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @poguestyle17 @im-a-stranger-thing @lasnaro @thoughtsofthestars @briandaflores19 @lunaposey @allycat449-blog @ifilwtmfc @kitty084 @coloradogirl07 @ponyboys-sunsets @chaoticbisous @p0gue420 @sloaneemily @babygal-babygal

Tell me if you wanna be added or removed!

[yourfangirlfriend]

It’s Nothing Serious - Chapter Six

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Five and a Half

A/N: idk if this is good but I’ve been putting off writing it and perfect is the enemy of done so here you go, I had fun

It’s not not serious.

At least, this seems to be the mutual conclusion you have both silently reached after that weirdly intimate night you never talked about, either.

And yes, you’re aware of how childish that is.

For two people voluntarily living in one of the more dangerous cities on the continent, it turns out you’re both pretty cowardly. But why put yourselves through the agony of all that when you could both instead play a game of emotional chicken to test where the boundaries are?

You go first the morning the two of you wake up in your bed. You both woke up in a tangle of limbs and slid out of bed after the second snooze alarm went off. He had just pulled on his jeans when he reached for the shirt you had folded the night before.

“Wait,” you said. You walked to the closet and pulled a crisp black shirt off its hanger, continuing to brush your teeth and you walked up and deposited it in his hand. “I washed this after you let me wear it home.”

That night we made pasta and I spilled sauce on my shirt and you took it off and fucked me in your kitchen until the chicken burnt-

He looks up at you, his eyebrows raised.

“What?”

“Nothing,” he shakes his head before pulling it over his shoulders. “Thank you.”

You give him a look before dipping into the bathroom to spit.

After a quick cup of coffee, you’re both striding towards your door when you stop short. He turns and looks at you, waiting for you to take another step and flick the deadbolt. Instead, you ask

“Are you going to be okay? Today, I mean. With...”

His face falls a little, like he was expecting to get out of this without you mentioning it. It makes your heart hurt.

“I’m fine,” he says, curtly. He drops his head to look at his shoes. You swallow.

“So...drinks tonight? Still?” You reach out and bop his hand with yours.

“Not if you don’t open the door.”

You roll your eyes, walking forward and flicking the bolt. You pull the door open and he catches it, holding it back for you as you take the first step out.

“...yeah. I’ll be back around 6,” he says as you finish locking the door. You drop the keys in your purse, straightening up as the two of you walk towards and out the doors.

“Bar or your place?”

“Mine.”

“You sure? It’s my turn to buy,” you say.

“No, it’s not,” he says as he opens the passenger door for you, gesturing that you climb in. You do and watch as he walks around the front to his side. “Besides, mines quieter.”

You nod, staring forward as he starts the car and pulls into the street. Like every morning, his hand falls to your knee and you feel content with his answer.

You can’t help yourself, though, when he pulls up in front of the school and parks, waiting for you to climb out. Usually, it’s a pretty quick, platonic affair- a quick “thanks, Javi” before you open the door and swing your legs out. This morning, though,

“You know,” he says when you reach for the handle. “You...you don’t have to take care of me.”

You drop your hand before turning back to face him. And maybe it’s the coffee you drank took quickly, or maybe it’s the way last night is still lingering in your head, but

“I like taking care of you.”

You reach out and pull his face to yours, letting the kiss linger before pulling away.

“See you tonight,” you said, flashing him a quick smile. If you’re not mistaken, you see the corner of his mouth twitch up before he remembers himself, and gives you a cool masculine nod. You climb out and watch as he drives away before you hear behind you:

“¿Es tu novio?”

You turn around and see three little girls from your class huddled together and giggling that they just caught the teacher doing something naughty. Despite yourself, you smile through your teacher's voice.

“Entrad, niñas. La clase está a punto de empezar.”

He makes the next move when he shows up outside the school, waiting against his car when you walk out that afternoon and he flags you down.

“Hey,” he says when you approach his car.

“Hey,” you say. “What’s up?”

“Was told to go home early,” he says. “Figured...” he waves his hand up, gesturing to you. “You got plans?”

“Was just going to swing by the liquor store. For tonight.”

“It’s not your turn to buy,” he says, moving out of the way so you can open the door. You send him a look.

“It’s the 90s. Let a girl buy you a drink, Javi.”

He smiles, and over his shoulder, you see one of the girls from this morning- Cara - sending you a shit-eating grin.

Despite yourself, you give her a little wave as Javi drives the two of you out of the parking lot.

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

It becomes a game after that. He picks you up from school. You ask him to stay the night again, and he does. The next morning, he kisses you goodbye in front of Steve, whose eyebrows you see pop up from the corner of your eye. That night, you stay over at his and leave the spare toothbrush you brought next to his in the bathroom. The next day, he comes to your house with take-out and a tape and the two of you fall asleep on the couch, drunk and full. Soon, you don’t remember a night where you aren’t sleeping in the same bed or whose turn it is to initiate a sleepover. You just meet at your smoking spot and then, inevitably, one of you will lead the other to their door for the night, and inevitably, the other one will stay.

The small reminders of each other begin to pile up in your respective apartments. A mystery toothbrush appears in your bathroom. Then there’s a jacket and two of his shirts hanging in your closet. A drawer in his bathroom slowly begins to fill with evidence of your presence- hair ties, bobby pins, the odd bit of makeup. During one of your drunk nights, when you are once again lamenting the lack of decoration, you draw a stick-figure portrait of the apartment - you, Javi, Steve, and the creepy silent man who you only ever see leave his place to buy fish - and tape it to his fridge. He tells you you hang around kids too much, but every time you come back, it’s still up.

Then the bigger things happen. You go to dinner with him and Steve. You bring him on a double date with Alessa and Frankie. He kisses you goodbye in front of the school every morning, and you reach out and hold his hand whenever the two of you walk outside- which you do now, by the way. You walk to the grocery store, you walk to the liquor store, you walk to the corner store to buy pre and post-coital smokes, and every time his hand finds yours. You’re still having sex, you still fuck, but now, sometimes, to what would once be your disgust, it’s slower. Softer. There’s eye contact and prolonged kisses and caressing and very little hair pulling.

And god. Now there’s cuddling.

You no longer sit across the sofa to hanger a drink. No, now your legs are in his lap or his arm is around your shoulder or some other horribly intimate design the two of you just naturally find yourself falling into whenever you’re in proximity. Now, after sex, he’s pulling you to him or you’re pulling him to you or you just both mutually descend towards each other. And when you’re all wrapped around each other, the worst thing of all happens. He talks.

It’s not like you hadn’t talked before. You were friends, after all. He already knew about your kids you taught, your parents, and some random, funny stories about your life. In turn, he had told you some stories about his mom, about the ranch, and about the people in his life. But now it’s different. Now, whenever you two are alone in the dark, bodies pressed against each other under the sheet with such softness it’s grotesque, the walls come down. He tells you about his mom's death, and how he didn’t cry for months. He tells you how afraid he is of himself, and how he worries she would hate the person he is. He tells you he doesn’t think he’s a good person, because of the women he’s hurt ( -“The DAY of?” “I’m not proud of it”-) and the people he failed (“-supposed to get her out, keep her safe, and I couldn’t-“) and how, though he won’t go into detail about it, he’s worried how numb he’s become to things, and that he’s only going to get number (“-you see so many people die, there’s got to be a point you just stop feeling that, like self-preservation, and that’s fucking scary-“). You listen. You think you may be the first person who has listened in a while. When he tries to apologize, that he shouldn’t have said that or that he’s a mopey sad sack or you don’t want to hear this, you kiss his hands.

“Javi,” you tell him. “I like listening to you. Anything you have to say.”

Looking back, you think the look he gives you the first time you said that was when you really knew. But now, you’re still playing dumb. You both are.

What’d he call it? Self-preservation?

To pay him back, you tell him about you. You try to match his scars, telling him about growing up in a loud, weird house you’d only learn at the age of fifteen was a commune. You tell him about all the times you caught your parents tripping out naked on drugs and having to drag them to bed, or how you had to watch your sister for days on end as a kid whenever they decided to go out on ‘spirit walks’, and how you eventually enrolled yourself in school after your mothers homeschooling attempts fell to the wayside. That one time when you were six and accidentally took a tab of acid your mother and father’s sometime lover, Sunshine, left on top of your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  You try and tell him the good things, too- how you speak five languages (“what?” “English, Spanish, German, Russian, and some Chinese.” “...what?” “My parents were communists!”), how you used to be really good at gymnastics (“is that why you can’t do a handstand?” “I can do a handstand-“ ), and the things in yourself that you’re afraid of- your denial, your anxiety, your bad habit of never calling your sister back and how that actually reveals you’re a sociopath. And in turn, he listens. He squeezes your hand. He asks you questions when you know he wants to and lets it be silent when you can’t bring yourself to answer.

About three months into this, you find yourself lying on your side one night, staring at his beautiful, stupid, snoring face as he drools against your pillow, and for the first time, you finally, finally, finally let yourself admit it.

It is serious.

---

“Well no shit.”

You scowl at Lisa over your glass.

“What? Like we all didn’t already know? For months?”

“Leave her alone,” Alessa elbows her. “I think it’s sweet.”

“You think everything’s sweet.” Lisa rolls her eyes. “You tell him yet?”

You bite the inside of your lip and look down at your drink. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Timing?”

“You spend all your time together.”

You shake your head, taking a swig.

“Coward.”

“What!”

“I said you’re a coward,” Lisa says as Maritza deposits the tray of shots between the two of you.

“Who’s a coward?” she asks sweetly.

“Eloise.”

“Yeah, I am,” you reach forward and take two of the shot glasses, snatching the one in front of Lisa before downing it.

“Hey!” She yelps.

You flip her off and down the second.

She huffs. “Bitch.”

You shake your head and march towards the bar to order another tray.

----------

To be fair, he knew it would be like this.

He had to. It’s you. It’s both of you. Two weirdly cagey people who don’t like having their guard down and never, ever want to be the one person who sticks themselves out for ridicule. The little dares over the past few months have been one thing, like you’re placing pebbles on a scale, seeing how long it takes until it collapses under the weight. Nightly sleepovers? Pebble. Toothbrushes? Pebbles. Sharing childhood trauma after a round of particularly kinky sex where you had your hands tied to the headboard and it inadvertently reminded you of the time you got your hands stuck in some old handcuffs your sister and you had found and you had to spend three hours with your hands looped around a bed frame because Tanya was seven and when she found your mom they were high on peyote and it turns out it takes five drugged-out hippies to find a tiny pair of keys to free a small girl in the woods after it’s already gotten dark and then he told you about the time his uncle had drunk too much shiner and tried to shoot an apple off his cousins head with a BB gun but missed and now the cousin has one eye kind of like Lorenzo and then you both chain-smoked cigarettes and wondered what a glass eye feels like - alright. Maybe five pebbles.

But...actually saying it?

Stones. Big, ugly stones. The kind that fall on cars.

No wonder you got shit-faced.

“Javvvvvvvi,” you sang through his door. You pounded out the melody that only made sense in your head. “Heyyyyy,”

You hear footsteps approaching from the other side and you stand up straight, ready to drunkenly seduce him with your pose when the door swings open and-

“Can I help you?” She asks, annoyed.

You take the woman in front of you in. She’s tall, with long honey blonde hair that falls across her shoulders. Her waist is bared under the halter top she wears, and you’re only a little jealous of the toned plane of her stomach and the long legs that stretch out from her short shorts.

“I...” you start.

“What are you doing? Get away from the door!” Javi appears from behind her, reaching out to take her arm and pull her back. His eyes fall on you, though, and he drops his hand.

“El- hey- I thought you were-?”

“I was...what uh,” you raise your hand to the woman. “What the fuck?”

“Who the fuck are you?” The woman hisses back. Javi reaches up and takes her arm, pulling her back gently.

“I told you not to answer the door-“

“No, I think I’ll leave-“ you toss your hands up. “Enjoy your night.”

“She’s not- it’s not like that-”

“OH PLEASE, I wasn’t born yester-“

The door behind you opens, and the two or you swivel you hear to see Steve enter holding two bags of food. He looks between you and Javier, then to the door.

“Hey,” he says finally.

You give him a pathetic wave. He waves back before turning to Javi.

“Is she-“

“Yeah,” Javier says. He points to his apartment “Could you actually-?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods a bit too quickly, moving behind him and disappearing into the apartment, closing the door behind him.

Javier turns back to you.

“She needs a place to stay before we move her. I was going to tell you when you got back.”

“Ohhhhhhh,” you draw out. You grimace, before looking back to him. “...Sorry.”

“You really think I’d do that?”

You open your mouth to answer before he cuts in again.

“Are you drunk?”

“I-“ you start before huffing. Fucking cop. “Yes! Of course I’m drunk! It’s tequila night! I even, kindly, I might add,” you reach in your bag and pull out the bottle you picked up on the way home. “Got some for you, too!”

“Who did you think she was?”

“Javi-“ you groan, squeezing your eyes shut. This wasn’t supposed to be your night. Tonight was supposed to be about getting drunk with your friends, then getting drunk with Javi, then having drunk sex on your couch loud enough the upstairs fish guy would have to bury his head in what you only assumed was a pile of rotting fish carcasses in his trash to drown out your moans.

Now it’s this.

You shake your head and nod to your door, beckoning him to follow. It’s tense, and he watches over your shoulder as your hands shake trying to pull the right key. Once you manage to unlock the door, you hurry inside and deposit your things on the table, before turning back and facing him.

You open your mouth to say something-

-and then shut it again. You sigh.

“You thought I was sleeping with her.”

You snap your head back up to see him, cross-armed in front of you. You shake your head.

“This isn’t fair, I’m drunk. You’re not.”

He walks over to the bag you threw on the couch and unscrews the bottle you brought home. He takes a swig, holding eye contact as he gulps a third of the small bottle down, all while you watch flabbergasted.

“Say it,” he says, screwing the cap back on.

“You’re going to be sick-“

“Eloise.”

“Well, it’s not like we’ve talked about it!” You snap. “We never- said! What we’re doing!” You drop your hands to your side and turn, walking to the kitchen and leaning forward onto the counter. Javi follows you up, eying you.

“You thought I was, though?”

“Yes! No? I don’t know!” You bring a hand to your face. “I don’t know. Maybe. I just got scared. I guess...I’ve been scared? Lisa thinks so, the bitch-“

“Scared of what? Me sleeping with someone else?”

“No! Not- necessarily-“

“You really think- Jesus, it’s like we never-“

“Hey, don’t!” You spin to face him. “Don’t turn this around on me. You never brought this up. We haven’t talked about this. We talked about everything else and are doing everything else like dinner dates and sweet sex and fucking movie nights but we haven’t...said anything! Saying things matters!”

He stares at you.

“I didn’t think it did! I thought I was fine with just...letting...ugh!” You bring the heels of your palms to your eyes. “I shouldn’t have done that last shot.”

“Eloise, what are you-“

“I’m not a coward!” You point at him. “I’m not! I’m just- it’s just-“

“No one said you were!”

“Lisa did!”

“Why?”

“Because I haven’t...Ugh! They really make strong drinks at that bar! Because I haven’t said-“

“Jesus Christ, WHAT.”

Ooh, you wish you could just fall apart and have him see what’s running through your mind right now. You feel the anger in your stomach bubble. He’s really annoyed with you for thinking the worst of him, and maybe he has a right, but you two haven’t talked about it. You had just assumed- assumed he felt the same way, assumed the little intimacies have built up in such a way that you had something real and concrete, and especially that you both weren’t fucking other people. But the second she opened the door it felt like your worst fear had come true: you were the idiot who had let their guard down first and got hurt, because they were too stupid to realize what this was, and you couldn’t even be mad. Because you hadn’t talked about it. Because he never technically said he was with you.

But now he’s looking like he’s feeling the exact same way, only he’s the idiot. He’s the idiot for confiding in you and crying on your tits and telling you all those fears and worries and believing you when you kissed his hands and told him you thought he was a good man. He’s worried that you’ve always seen him this way- as the guy who would cut and run and betray you, and maybe if you think that, then it’s true. Maybe he was kidding himself into thinking someone like you could believe in his goodness, after all he’s done.

Fuck, you may be drunk but it does make you insightful.

It may be too late though. Because he’s dropped his hands from his hips, tired of waiting for an explanation. He’s making towards the door, murmuring something about having to work and it all just seems like it’s slipping out of your fingers like you can see he’s building up the wall again and this time you’re not going to be able to tear it down-

“Javi,” you say, your voice strained. He stops and turns to you, and you know you only have a few seconds to do it. You try and form the words, but your tongue isn’t working and maybe Lisa was right, maybe you are a coward, but you have to try.

“I like taking care of you.” You say, pathetically, dropping your hands to your sides.

A beat passes. He brings his hands to his hips, waiting for a further explanation. You sigh and walk down to stand in front of him. “I like having you take care of me...and...I haven’t wanted to tell you, because I don’t want to scare you but maybe that’s just me ‘projecting’ or whatever Alessa said. She’s really annoying now that she’s doing that psychology class-“

“El.” He says, not without softness. You feel his fingers come under your chin, gesturing for you to look up at him.

This wasn’t the plan. This was supposed to be a hookup. Then a friendship. You don’t want to lose that.

But now he’s staring down at you like that, and your drunk brain is turning over itself as you think maybe that train has already left. Maybe it left a long fucking time ago, and the two of you have just been hanging onto the back, waiting for the other person to let go first.

But you don’t want to let go. You never really did. You were just waiting for him to give you a sign so you could make it look like you were jumping off together instead of you pathetically holding on as he disappears behind you.

But from the way his thumb traces your jaw and his other hand reaches forward to take your hand in his, you think maybe he’s been utilizing the same strategy, and he’s been just as scared as you.

Well, now you can either let go or try to pull yourself up.

So.

Are you a coward or not?

He wets his lips before his eyes drop. He looks defeated. And at that moment you decide – fuck it.

Between the gymnastics and dragging your high parents to bed and all this fucking holding you’ve been doing inside of you, you’ve got strong enough arms.

So.

Fuck it.

“El, I don’t-“

“I love you,” you say without thinking. “And yes I’m tequila drunk, but I don’t think that takes away from-“

You’re stopped as he leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting you off. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him in closer and deepening the kiss. You feel him pulling at your top and you shimmy it off and over your head, tossing it to the side before dipping your hands down and unbuckling his belt as he unbuttons his shirt before you. You drop your hand down the front of his pants, jerking him softly as he moans into your mouth. You feel him guiding you to the couch, and when the back of your knees hit the arm you drop down and begin to pull his pants down for him as he rids himself of his shirt. You’re about to take him in your mouth when he pushes you down, your back hitting the cheap leather as he crawls over you, pulling your skirt up to your hips. He pauses.

“You always skip the underwear in girls' night?”

“Only when I’m coming back to you.”

That gets him, because a second later he’s between your legs, thrusting inside of you. You let out a cry and drop your head back, exposing your neck to him as he continues to pump into, his hands reaching behind and you and grabbing a fistful of your hair.

“Say it again,” he says.

“I don’t wear underwear-“

“No,” he growls, dropping his hand down between your legs to play with you. You let out another little cry.

“I love you,” you say. “I-I’ve loved you for a long time- ahhh!” The next thrust hits a little too well. “Ah, fuck, Javi- right there-“

“Keep going-“

“YOU keep going- fuck, has your dick gotten bigger?”

“El-“ he lets out a moan. Taking advantage of the moment, you slip out from under him and switch positions, pressing him back onto the couch and climbing atop of him. His hands settle on your hips as you ride him, pulling sounds from him that echo around your living room. When you cum he’s not long after, and the two of you collapse onto each other, breathing heavily as you come down with his hand holding the back of your neck.

“Hey,” he says finally. You lift your head and sit up, looking down at him. His eyes are glassy, and the look on his face makes you giggle.

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes,” he says. “But a wise woman once said that doesn’t take away from what I have to say.”

“She sounds smart, you should fuck her,” you say, moving to stand. He catches your wrist, pulling you back down onto his lap with a bounce.

“Give a girl a few minutes before round two-“

He cuts you off with a kiss. It’s slow and soft and you melt into it. The way you always melt into him.

When he pulls away, you chase after his grinning lips. He brings a hand to the side of your face, tracing his fingers down the side of your cheek.

“I love you, too.” He says. “I don’t know what that’s worth…but I do.”

You lean in, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck.

"Baby," you say "It's worth everything."

In the morning, you’ll have to contend with the knowing look Steve gives the two of you before asking “Good night?”, a joke that earns him a look from Javi and a deep blush and muttered apology from you. You’ll have to put up with the squeals from Maritza, Lisa, and Alessa when you tell them in the staff room during lunch. You’ll even get a look from your upstairs neighbor when you pass him and his fresh fish that next afternoon.  Most of all, you’ll have to consider what the fuck this means for you and Javi and this scary, exhilarating little life you’re leading.  

But.

Right now, you’re naked and smoking a cigarette on the couch with the man you love who loves you back, and you’re both laughing, and that's more than enough.

taglist: @fuckoffbard

[sometipsygnostalgic]

adventure time wizard city liveblog

 well here we go

my last adventure time liveblog, i havent actually done one of these in MANY years... probably not since 2014

this takes place at the same time as obsidian?

DID-- DID CHOOSE GOOSE JUST DIE

DID BUFO JUST KILL CHOOSE GOOSE

yeah i know that’s bufo, they only made it enormously obvious, tsk tsk

@spaceacepearl​ joked about us seeing choose goose get sent to hell but i diDNT EXPECT IT TO HAPPEN

This music is i assume by one of the many musical artists Adam Muto listed on twitter, it rocks. It’s not as hardcore as Obsidian’s intro, but it’s suitably chill for the scene. 

“get offa my bus kid”

Those wizards in the left and far right groups appear to be new! 

OH MY GOD--

HELP?????? NEW PROFILE PIC TIME

HAHAHAHAH

THE MUSICAL CON DID ME GOOD, I DID REALLY LOUD AUDIBLE LAUGHTER

i bet hanna and co had fun making these signs

my favourite is the cat with “FAMILIARS HAVE RIGHTS”

cadorka..... wow

We’re not even four minutes into the ep and peppermint butler has already killed someone in front of a large group of witnesses

“this smells of DARK MAGIC” “yall kids know thats illegal right” peps watches the other kids nod before later joining in, LOL

i cant believe pep started the great gum wars and got killed by golb

SOMEONE has been playing Overwatch... 

i-- i still cant believe choose goose is fucking dead

how long was he stuck in hell for, or was that recent to together again after new death showed up 

i have to admit im not a big fan of spader, too perfect, and not in that funny way either. i hope they give him some characteristics that make him stand out. 

im getting flashbacks to OK KO and Owl House here...

Cadebra using music is a reference to Abracadaniel’s love of interpretetive dance in Play Date. 

“they only laugh because youre different” “i know” “SO STOP BEING DIFFERENT” oh my god it’s like talking to my own parents cadebra is actually... a LOT like me, less in her hyperactivity but more in her nonchalant enthusiasm and almost acceptance of the inevitable bullying because it means more time in people’s consciousness

ahhh - it’s quietly revealed here that she is responsible and a skilled magician, she is just bored of magic! i like that she parents abracadaniel instead of being downtrodden by his ramblings. 

PEP NO--- oh i see the problem, he hasn’t got his Bug Milk... sorry Martin Olsen fans, no Hunson today. At least we get one more Phil Face for the road! 

candy people in their natural habitat

Ahhh that’s Doctor Calidoneus! The voice actor was at the recent Distant Lands panel alongside Pep and Blaine’s actors. 

“pretty sure hes just trashcandy” - i like you, sassy antler lady

the mystery of how he gets clothes

and once again spader is proving to be the most irritating distant lands character of the lot, there is no subversion here. where is the subversion?  

NANI

what is going on here? are pep and peppermint the same person or not? im sure they must be, but there is something going on here with peppermint butler’s soul being trapped in the body of his child self who hasn’t got the same memories. 

OH, HYNDEN WALCH DID A NEW LINE yes this is what im here for, special over 

peppermint butler cursed himself... of course he did - Shado was correct!!!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUCK

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA WHAT THE FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK

ROCK STUDENT, BLESSED ROCK STUDENT, WAS THAT POOR GUY WHO LOOKS LIKE A JAWBREAKER

love the reference to astral plane, of course pep cant astrally project because cursed pep is still inside of him 

wow, blaine, wow

they have a crush

LITTLE DUDE! COLE SANCHEZ!

i love the dynamic between cadebra and abracadaniel, imo so far it’s the heart of the special. im not really gripped by peppermint butler’s school troubles. i imagine someone else probably will be but i want to run past that shit as far as possible. 

TRDGFYGHJH

WE

WE MADE  A PREDICTION THAT WAS JUST LIKE THIS

PEPPERMINT BUTLER GETTING TURNED INTO THE FOUR COMPONENTS OF PEPPER MINT BUTT LURE WAS IN THE WIZARD CITY PREDICTIONS ART DRAW THAT HASNT BEEN POSTED YET

ILL SHOW YOU WHEN NICK POSTS THE VIDEO and then ill tell you who made the prediction because i... think it was nick himself, insanity 

who plagiarized finn’s signature???

turns out pep really DID take over wizard city!!!!

i love this band

i understand your pain peps

you probably have a bit too much in common with your mother, and i imagine it isn’t easy being turned into a kid and not being able to do stuff that came so easy. you’re disappointing yourself! (he’s literally disappointing himself)

I’m less than halfway through the special, what the fuck. I wasn’t wrong when I said Wizard City had a lot on its plate. It’s noit that I’ve been particularly gripped up to this point, though to be fair I didn’t pause at all during the other specials barring Obsidian. 

that... that poor kid is still a rock

and then the preview happened and bufo casually revealed to the audience that, yes, he killed choose goose

i dont know whats happening with pep but it seems he needs to be exorcised of... pep. which is a shame. i hope they learn to coexist. 

i have to say the background work in this special is really good! like, really damn good. 

WH

WHAT

DID SPADER JUST DIE

IS THIS WHY PEOPLE THINK PEPBUT KILLED HIM 

oh thats right - abracadaniel is cadebra’s uncle! this must be abracadniels sister. sorry, folks, he doesn’t fuck. 

Where are they? Is this anywhere near Wizard City? It’s an unpopulated prewar wasteland. 

THESE ARE JUST HUMANS

OF COURSE SHE WANTS TO PERFORM TO MILQUETOAST HUMANS

my child

is this an art style choice or did they get the people from that one studio to make this

HANNA FINALLY GETS TO FULFIL HER DREAM OF INSERTING KANEDA INTO ADVENTURE TIME

the red jacket he wears and his head pill shape is a big kaneda reference actually, which i suppose makes sense considering he’s a rival to our protagonist, but it’s a bit on the nose

bufo killed one of his own students? but why????

“MY UNCLE’S A COP”

“no one likes a rat”

i actually really like blaine, though im confused. did their VA change halfway through the special?

HOW NATURAL, NO WASTE, IT IS AN ENDLESS CHAIN

did doctor caledonius steal the trophy,,,? 

EVIL SNAIL EVIL SNAIL

MONMSTER HUNJTER DISCOVERY NOISE, this time it’s a tetsucabra

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

I HAVE QUESTIONS

god i wish this is what this special was about, i miss adventure time

these remind me of the comics with their art style :) i wonder who designed them? the one on the right with pb and pep, in particular, very comics-y. 

fdgfhgf because he’s like 500

“pep can be kind of a jerk but he wouldn’t kill anyone”

sorry, cadebra, i have news for you

is doctor calednoius the true villain? if bufo’s out of the picture, she MUST be, 

ANTS

oh no, he might gbe stuck in wizard city :( 

HELP

the writing on the wall...

SPADER LITERALLY FUCKING DIED OH YM JESUS CHRIST

PEPPERMINT BUTLER’S OWN CULT????

THIS IS JUST OK KO NOW

okay im not surprised all the teachers at wizard city are cultists in worship of peps, maybe they killed spader and bufo because they bullied peps T_T

wait no, they thought spader had the potential, but sadly not

HE FUCKING KILLED HIMSELF

sorry, i was distracted by the pretty dope fight sequence and now the special is over????

fucking jesse, hes probably at least partly responsible for the cult nonsense

This credits art is by Maya Petersen!!!! Holy shit it’s adorable!

LRETGFDRGTFGMHGFHFG

LEAF MAN

DO YOU THINK THEY PUT HIM IN RETROSPECTIVELY

DO YOU THINK MAYA PETERSEN DREW THIS AND ADAM PUT IT IN THE EP RETROSPECTIVELY

HE LIVES

MAYBE THIS IS WHY CHOOSE GOOSE WENT TO HELL

okay, it’s over :) 

first thoughts out of the way: not a big fan of this special. it’s like watching a completely different show. it’s not got the PZSHAHH of the normal wizard city stuff and there weren’t a lot of funny jokes or even hearty moments in the thing. 

it suffers from a lack of invested character interactions, much like BMO did. there was not a single main cast member in the whole thing! and like i said before, much of peppermint butler’s character in the show is based on his very sweet relationship to his mother, princess bubblegum, so when they showed a single (hilarious) photo of them together it made me sad we didn’t get any scenes with them together. it would have STOLEN this episode. and they teased the hunson golf photo, and death!!! and jake appeared in a photo T_T last jake appearance. 

it also suffers because Peppermint Butler is clearly not himself, imo he was way more entertaining in the Together Again special, where we seem him back to his “normal” self. 

i dont think peps being a dark wizard was something to “kill off” exactly. i wonder what was going on there? was that actually peps, or was that a spirit he cursed himself with based on himself? we at least know in the future he does become a dark wizard again, and even princess :) this special didn’t answer those questions but lol. 

THE GOOD STUFF, because yes, there was a lot of good stuff! 

God, I’m with Aracle and Maya on this - I LOVE Cadebra and her relationship to Pep. I wish she was even in more of this - I would love to watch the adventures of Cadebra and Pepbut in their first year of school, like in the end credits.

That, imo, is where the heart of the special lay - Peppermint Butler’s attempts to impress himself, versus Cadebra’s self acceptance and desire to follow her dreams of being a goofy goober, no matter what other people thought of her. 

It turned out that Cadebra is a responsible student and family member. I really liked that. Her scenes with Abracadaniel were, somehow, my favourite in the entire special! 

I like that theres a lot of cool magic towards the end of this special, and a lot of HORRIFYING DEATH. It wouldn’t be adventure time if you didn’t randomly kill off child characters. Poor Spader, I hated you but damn, what a grim fate. 

I like that Bufo and Caledonius had this crush/hatred thing going on, but they were part of the same cult in the end. 

I didn’t like the giant peps scene at the end, the monster was extremely milquetoast compared to the madness we usually get in AT. Obsidian, for example, had the awesome Larvo design. Nemesis had some INSANE dark magic!!!!  I wish they drew more from that episode. 

Considering how much Steve Little appears in this special, I do feel bad for Mace (little Peps). He said he would have really benefitted from coaching, but recieved none. He had to re-record his lines 3 times! Judging from his description of events, Wizard City was a hard time for him. 

The wizard school did remind me, heavily, of both The Owl House and OK KO. Personally I was hoping AT would offer me something more insane, but I do love both of those shows, and I know Wizard City was on a really tight schedule. 

I think they should have spent less time on the school bullying plot, and skipped straight to MURDER. 

We did have a cold opening, not on par with Together Again’s at all, but damn!

I am wondering where I would put this in the watch list? I do think it should sit after Obsidian as the third special. The intro scene makes it clear this takes place at the same time as Obsidian!!!

Well, that was it, the last ep of AT for the next few years at least T_T

i think together again was the better finale, definitely. but wizard city feels pretty detached from AT for me, despite the familiar characters it tonally isn’t like the show other than the awesome brutal death scenes. I thought the last 11 minutes was easily the best in the special! Which, honestly, is how it should be, though I do wish it gripped me more. Maybe I’m just not the target audience for Wizard City? It feels like something I would find very compelling if I was a bit younger! 

[daraanna]

Little promise

“I want to ask for your son's hand!”Naruto choked on the milk, and Hinata put down the pink scarf she was knitting and looked surprised at the five-year-old black-haired girl, then she looked at her madly blushing son standing behind his friend.

“W-what ..?”asked Hokage candidate  as soon as he caught his breath.

............... 1 hour ago ..........

Boruto wasn't sure what he thought about Sarada. They often spent time together because their parents were friends. He generally liked to play with her. She knew how to make paper shurikens and was the best at throwing them at the target (not that he would ever admit it out loud). However, she was a girl... and since she started her friendship with Cho-cho, she was even more girlish. And Shikadai said girls are troublesome, and he is the smartest guy in their pack. Also Sarada was kind of weird, shy around strangers, when they play together with others, she rarely spoke. However, when it was just two of them, she was very bossy and sometimes scary when she got pissed off. She was acting even stranger now. Since she came to his house, she had been sitting at the carpet drawing something. She was grumpy and didn't speak to him at all. He was about to leave her, when he heard a soft sob.

He looked towards his friend who was wiping her cheek with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Are you crying?" He asked, getting closer to her.

"O-of course not" she replied, looking away from him.

"Don’t lie to me" he sighed, sitting down next to her. Girls are so weird. “What happened ..?”

“Two years have passed since dad is on a mission” she stuttered quietly ”And Cho-cho said that true lovers are always together, which means that my parents ...” started crying again, this time she had to take off her glasses to dry her eyes.

Boruto rolled his eyes, this  is exactly why she should spend more time with him not with Cho-cho.

“It makes no sense! My dad gets a mission all the time and nothing happens!.

“Your papa didn’t disappear for two years!”She shouted, hiding her face in her arms  ”I don't want to be alone ...”

“You just exaggerate! Saraaada-chan, don't cry!” He snorted, poking her arm, but it didn't help. “I will not leave you alone is my promise, dattebasa!”

“You are not my family, idiot!”

This is what he get for comforting her? Though he preferred to be angry with him rather than cry.

“Um ... But I could be ...”

He felt her confused gaze on him.

"I could be your husband ..." he replied quietly. He wasn't entirely sure about this plan. Shikadai told him that marriage also is troublesome. On the other hand, if he had to marry someone, it would better be Sarada than some strange woman ... And this way he could make sure that she did not cry anymore.

“Uhhh gross! When you are married you have to kiss and do other lovey-dovey things! “She squealed.

“Well, yes, but I thought about that ... maybe we can make an agreement? I mean no kisses and being sloppy like parents ...” suddenly he felt terribly embarrassed and sad at the same time? Sarada's refusal hurt a lot more than he had expected. It’s not that he like her... Like like-like her. He involuntarily squeeze his pink T-shirt, nervously playing with its hem. “We could share toys and play and train all day until we become the most super cool ninja in the history of the village!”

Uchiha looked at him with a stern gaze, but after some time, she replied “It sounds good, but no kisses, dirty stuff or cuddling...”

 “No cuddling !? What if someone has a nightmare?”he asked worried.

“Fine, in case of nightmare cuddles are allowed.”

“And what if I scratches my knee, or someone yells at us, or when I will not be able to fall asleep?”

“Tch cuddles only in justified situations, no for some lovey-dovey stupid things!” she decided stretching out her hand to him ”You agree?”

“Yes”replied the boy squeezing her hand with a smile”So now we are engaged?”

“I think so...”

“But... Shouldn't I ask your parents  to agree or something? Just like in the movies?”

Sarada sighed and get sad again, hiding her face in her hands. But after a while she straightened up smiling.

"I have an idea!"She shouted, taking his hand and dragging him to the kitchen.

...............................

“I want to ask for your son's hand!”Naruto choked on the milk, and Hinata put down the pink scarf she was knitting and looked surprised at the five-year-old black-haired girl, then she looked at her madly blushing son standing behind his friend.

“W-what ..?”asked Hokage candidate  as soon as he caught his breath.

"Boruto and I are getting married and we need your blessing," replied determined girl. Hinata looked at her son, whose face now resembled a plump tomato. It was familiar sight to her and she was not surprised when a moment later little Uzumaki lost consciousness and fell to the ground. Sarada let out a loud scream that miraculously did not wake up Himawari sleeping in the living room. Uchiha grabbed her fiancé shoulders and began to cry again.

“Boruto, don't die! I'm too young to be a widow!”

.............................................

Boruto survived it don’t worry he just get little  overloaded just like Hinata did after Naruto return to the village :3

Also don’t thing that I don’t like Cho-cho or something It just Boruto being jealous that Sarada get new friend and spends less time with him.

Also this fic actually could be a good prequel to Broken promise, what do you think?    

[127-mile]

Lonely hearts club.

Pairing: Sicheng x gender neutral reader.

Genre: College!au, strangers to lovers | Fluff, humor.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption.

Plot: Johnny decided to throw a Valentine's day party for him and his single friends. Guests must draw a name from a bowl to be paired with for the duration of the party. Sicheng picked your name.

Prompt: “We should do this again.”

Word count: +2.3k.

A/N: Happy Valentine’s day, guys. This is part of the “Candy hearts collab”. The collab’s masterlist is in my main masterlist, go read the other writers’ works.

"Welcome to the Lonely hearts club," Johnny begins to say, hands on his hips. "if we are here today, it is because we all are single on this special day. So instead of getting drunk on our own, I decided to make a little game out of this party." from the makeshift bar, he takes a bowl filled with little pieces of paper. "You will all draw a name from this bowl, and will be paired with this person for the duration of the party."

"Is that why you asked me to write everyone's names instead of studying earlier?" you ask, and Johnny nods, lips curling into a smile. You watch as a few guests get up to leave, but Johnny shakes something in front of them. The key of the house. "I am not giving you a choice. The only way for you to leave is through the windows, but it will probably startle the alarms, so except if you want to spend the night in jail, you should come and pick a name."

Johnny thought of everything, and you are not surprised.

"Are you going to draw a name, or are you going to watch and laugh at us?" you ask the host of the party, and he nibbles on his lower lip. "I'm not watching you all fall in love while crying over my sad and pathetic romantic life." he is always so dramatic.

You take a step back when the guests come to pick up a piece of paper, and you grab a cup to fill it with vodka. Maybe if you are drunk enough, the person with whom you'll have to be paired will leave and let you enjoy the rest of the night.

"Are you here to force me into the living room, or to hide from Johnny and his crazy idea?" you hear when you head to the kitchen where you know you will be safe, but you are not alone. Your eyes meet the ones of a young man, blond hair, and soft brown eyes. "I am hiding, do not worry."

"Then you are allowed to stay."

You roll your eyes, and you sit on the kitchen counter. You listen to the names being called, the laughs that follow, and even the sound of the bowl falling and breaking when Johnny's name is being shouted by someone. "We are going to be here for awhile, so might as well make the most of it. I'm Sicheng."

You were not expecting the stranger to talk, but you are not mad about it. He has a nice voice, even muffled by the hubbub coming from the living room. "I'm Y/n, nice to meet you Sicheng. Are you friends with Johnny, or Jaehyun?" you ask, and he takes a sip from his bottle of beer.

"I am unfortunately friends with both of them." oh, that must hurts, you think. "I'm truly sorry that you have to put up with both of them." you say in a comforting voice, and it makes Sicheng laugh. Oh, this is a really pretty sound. "I hope you'll find better friends after this party. I'm not offering my help, as I am friends with Johnny."

"Y/n! It's your turn!" oh fuck.

You get down from the counter, and you crouch behind the kitchen island which was a great idea, because Johnny enters the room immediately. "Win, have you seen Y/n?" you turn your head towards the young man, and you put you index finger against your lips, and he just shrugs. "I have no idea who Y/n even is."

Johnny heaves a sigh, but he does not leave the room. "Alright, then it's your turn Sicheng." Sicheng's eyes widen, he really thought he would be safe in this room, but turns out, nowhere is safe when Johnny has an idea. "Do I have to?" Johnny scoffs. "Yes. Don't make me pick a name for you."

Sicheng glares at you, and he leaves the kitchen. The guests are scattered around the living room and the garden, so Johnny and Jaehyun's eyes are the only one he feels on his back as he picks a piece of paper from the floor. The bowl is effectively broken, and no one bothered to clean.

He laughs when he reads the name on the paper, and he turns it towards the two boys. "Y/n! Come out, your party buddy is waiting for you."

A party buddy? What the fuck is a party buddy? You stay hidden, but then another voice is heard, and you have no choice but to straighten up. "Y/n, we can hide in the kitchen some more if you want."

You rest your shoulder against the doorframe, arms crossed against your chest. "Did you cheat?" you ask when you see your name written on the piece of paper in between his fingers, and he shakes his head. "I would never! Fate is just funny like that."

"You two already know each other? That's cool! Go now, have fun, get drunk, don't throw up on the couch, and don't fuck in my parents' bed." Johnny says before disappearing in the garden with Jaehyun by his side. "We needs new friends." you mutter, and Sicheng agrees.

Without a word, you go back to the kitchen and you sit back down on the counter. "Do you think we did something terrible in our past lives to have them as friends?" you wonder out loud, and Sicheng just sighs. "Or we did something so great that they decided to slap us with some humility by giving us these friends."

He sure is right.

The first hour goes by quickly, and smoothly.

Sicheng talks about his studies, and his dream of opening a dance studio in town, and you talk about your own projects. The advantage of being in the kitchen is that no one is bothering you. Sometimes Johnny comes in to grab beers from the fridge, but he leaves right away.

"Should we go and visit Johnny's room?" Sicheng suddenly asks, and you smile. "I thought you would never ask."

You were not planning on spending an entire night with the same person, so you take what you can get to be a little bit more entertain. Not that Sicheng is boring, far from that, but the atmosphere is not the one of a Valentine's Day party. It is quite the opposite. The guests are awkward with each other, so they drink cup after cup of alcohol, and even inhebriated, it does not help them get the stick out of their asses.

Tomorrow morning is going to be a mess, you know it. You also know that Johnny is going to regret his decision of having this kind of party.

"Do you know which bedroom it is?" Sicheng asks as you walk through the corridor of the first floor. "I'm pretty sure this is this one." you say, poiting at a door with Johnny's name painted on it. "Oh, he is that kind of loser then."

"It's his childhood's bedroom, don't be so mean." you whisper, but in a way, he is right. Johnny is kind of a loser.

Unlike the other doors, this one is not unlocked. "He is making it too easy." you step inside the bedroom, and as expected, it looks really childish. The wallpaper is blue with cars on it, the bed is way too small for Johnny's long legs and plushies are all around the room, which is not too different from his actual bedroom.

"Look!" you join Sicheng in front of a whill covered with photos of Johnny's growth into adulthood. You take your phone out, and you snap a few pictures of the photos, and when Sicheng looks at you, you just shrug. "I need blackmail material for the next time he tries to pull a stunt like this."

You sit on the edge of the bed, and you look up. "Oh no, that's disgusting." you mutter as you see yourself on the mirror glue to the ceiling. "Does a kid really need a mirror on the ceiling? Ew!"

"I'm pretty sure he got it installed when his parents started traveling. For his conquests, I guess." Sicheng explains, and that makes sense, but that's still disgusting. Fucking someone in his childhood's bedroom, in a child's bed. The thing is, you are not even surprised.

"Do you think Johnny was serious when he talked about the alarms going off if we try to open a window?" you shrug, and you watch as Sicheng gets up to walk to the window. "We should try."

You open your eyes wide. "Do you really want to finish the night in jail? Johnny is stupid enough to tell the cops that we actually tried to break in the house while he was having a party." especially if he is drunk.

"We won't if we run fast enough."

Sicheng has something in his voice, something that prompts you on your feet and behind him. "Except if we die from the gall." you say in a low voice close to his ear and you see the skin of his arm break into goosebumps. "You are right. We should try from downstairs' bathroom."

"I have to get my things back anyway." together, you leave Johnny's bedroom and when you both have your jackets and bags, Sicheng locks the door behind you. "Isn't it a bit too mean to lock the door?" Sicheng looks back and he decides to unlock the door. He wants to piss off Johnny, but he does not want the guests to trash his house with vomit.

"Are you ready?" he asks, and you nod.

When he opens the window, nothing happens at first. And after a couple of seconds, an alarm echoes in the house. "Why can't they just have those silent alarm with a notification on their phone, it'd be way more discreet."

"Sicheng, get out of the bathroom, we don't have time!" he shakes his head with vigor and he slings a leg on the other side of the window and he gets out of the bathroom, face immediately whipped by the cold wind. You do the same, and he helps you to avoid you from tripping.

You hear screams inside the house, and you try not to imagine Johnny's face when he understands that someone actually opened a window to leave. "We are so dead." you say before running.

Sicheng runs and laughs at the same time, and hearing him laugh is enough to make you laugh too. His laugh is addicting, just like his presence, and you are glad Johnny did this. If you had not had to hide in the kitchen, you would not have met Sicheng, and that would have been a shame.

After a few minutes of intense run, Sicheng grabds your wrist and pushes you into a dark alley. "I think we're far enough." he says in a sigh, and you nod. You are breathless, hands on your knees, you break into a fit of giggles despite the burn in your lungs. "We are the worst friends ever." you breath out.

"They are the worst, we did what we had to do." he answers, and he is right. You freeze when you hear your phone rings in the pocket of your jacket. You take it out, and you bite the inside of your cheek when you see Johnny's picture on the screen.

"Johnny, why are you calling me, we are in the same house!" you exclaim in faux surprise, and Sicheng puts a hand on his mouth to muffle a laugh. "My hearing is pretty good, so yes, I definitely heard the alarm. But that does not answer my question, why are you calling me?" you nod, even though Johnny can't see it.

"Sicheng and I are in the house, we are watching you right now, you can't see us?" he is going to hate you both, and you are ready, really. "How many drinks did you have tonight? Because we are waving at you right now! Just turn around!" Johnny starts to mumble about the alcohol he has in his cup, so you take the opportunity to hang up.

"Did he believe you?" Sicheng asks, and you shrug. "I don't know, but what I know is that he thinks he is more drunk than he actually is, which is a good thing." Sicheng threads his fingers through his hair, and he inhales deeply.

"I'm starving, do you want to go eat something?"

And that's how you find yourself sitting in the booth of a fast food, in the middle of the night. "I thought this place would be empty tonight." you say, looking around.

A few couples are here, sharing fries and sodas, some people are alone, either enjoying a night light every other nights, a boy is even crying in the corner. "Poor boy probably got dumped."

"I would dump him with this haircut too." Sicheng grumbles, mouth full of fries, and you roll your eyes. Johnny has been texting you for the past twenty minutes, wondering why he can't find you, and every time the screen lights up, you chuckle. Poor boy.

"Well, all in all, that was a pretty nice party." you state, and the young man nods. "I think so too."

"We should do this again." he adds right away, and you tilt your head to the side. "Bothering Johnny?" Sicheng laughs softly, but he shakes his head. "No. This. Together. You know, like a date?" his cheeks take on a soft pink hue, and you can't help but smile. "I'd love that."

Tonight was your last night as part of the Lonely Hearts Club, and that's thanks to Johnny and his crazy ideas.

[ranmanjuu]

titled “shin shin”.txt

came across a post... a long, long while ago about a god of death type reader and got super interested, since of all the cyikemen games, ikesen is the one most surrounded by death on a larger scale (cause, war and stuff), so i wrote this at... 2020? almost one year before, at 21th of july. i had more of it written, but i really didn’t like it cause it felt too “quirky wattpad reader” and plus me just copying from the original prlogue without adding anything, so... yeah. enjoy!

(also, very important that anyone who wants to do whatever with this idea, feel free, no need to ask me)

You didn’t like your existence

To call it “your life” would be simply wrong; you don’t breathe, you don’t eat, you don’t sleep. All you are is a walking, talking existence that has a job to do until you fade away. You didn’t even like your job.

To lead a soul from their death to the Land of the Dead was a grim job. You learnt their regrets, their anger, their sadness, all which you knew was personal. But you had to be there. You had to ensure that their soul is at peace, so when the time comes to cross to the afterlife, they don’t get reincarnated as a ghost, stuck forever with their past emotions.

Shinigami, was your kinds’ name. God of Death.

You were a part of the blanket term ‘yokai’, or as some would call in other names such as ‘ayakashi’. Those who fall under the category were spirits, demons, animal-like creatures, or, similar to you, gods. For as long as you’ve known, supernatural creatures didn’t mesh with humans well most of the time.

Fear of unknown from both parties led to anger, rashness, and cut communication and involvement altogether for perhaps half your life.

You’ve existed for long; you stopped remembering the exact number after 1.000 years. All you did now was remember the year you came to the world, and do the math. But that doesn’t matter much, does it? The only thing you concerned yourself with is when you’ll fade away.

However, for your own sake, you do take a break. Such a job is heavy for the heart, and a walk doesn’t help as much, but it’s a nice thing nonetheless.

Kyoto. You were just done leading a soul that got caught in a traffic accident. You never traveled outside of the country, but would it really matter if you did? You still appreciated everything as it were; there has to be some light in a life to look forward to.

This particular city was rich in human history, you knew that. Maybe it’d be a fun thing to do, even if you didn’t have much an interest in it.

“All your famous warlord knowledge, packed in a mag! Come get one now!” A boy’s shouts filled the nearby streets, attracting attention from the occasional passerby’s. Including you. A Quick Guide To Your Warlords, the magazine read on the cover. Sounds interesting, and you were bored, so you took one and stuffed it in your pocket.

With a blank mind, you were brought forth to a temple by your wandering legs. Honno-ji. A small, quiet, quaint place. The setting sky burned up above as the small cries of the crickets sounded all around.

You’ve heard some stories of the small memorial in front of you. One of the unifiers of Japan died here—betrayed, as you remembered. But you can’t draw an exact name.

While drowning in your thoughts, the approaching presence coming to you was acknowledged but not paid mind to further. Until you shift your eyes to the side as said figure was in your peripheral vision—a man dressed in a lab coat. The two of you said no words, only continuing to gaze at the stone in front of you.

You only started to react when the sky above you turned darker and darker—not by the setting sun, but by the awfully black and almost purple clouds gathering up above you. That’s unusual, you’ve never seen anything like that in your life.

The once bright and bold sky now rained down drops of water on your face. You didn’t even notice you shifted to your human form—and a look at your hands covered in specks of droplets confirmed that.

“What poor timing.” The man next to you said, causing your eyes to glance at him. He looked solemnly to the monument, then to you, “Are you alright? Do you have an umbrella?”

“No, unfortunately. I didn’t expect it to rain. . .” your eyes linger to above his head, where a set of numbers and a small text was visible to you only. The death profile, as the others call. A set of information that shinigamis can see in most creatures, usually entailing their names, time of death, and cause of it.

It’s a cursing bit of information; always reminding you of what you are.

Out of nowhere, a thunder ripped through the clouds and hit directly on the small monument—a loud crackle following along. Your arm flew up to protect the man next to you by reflex, as your body stood there in momentary shock. You’ve seen death by  lightning, but that was unlikely to happen now.

You whipped your head towards the human next to you, who seems the slightest bit appalled, but stood his ground. A strange thing catches your attention. . .

His death date. It’s flickering—changing.

From a century where he was supposed to die. . .to the 15-16th century.

A date of death changing has been a rare thing that happens, however unlikely, but—it’s never jumped that far before! To the past, too?

Utter shock froze you in place as the numbers flicker back and forth, leading your attention away from everything else—him asking you if you were okay, and most importantly—

—the black ball that formed where the stone was.

“Watch ou—“ before you can warn the man, the image of him next to you twisted and distorted, slowly getting sucked in whatever it was.

And so were you.

Wait! He isn’t supposed to die yet—!

The world faded to black.

       Ugh. . .my head. . .

Your vision fades in and out, clear then blurry, until you’re finally wide awake. The scenery around you changed drastically, what was first a small place in the city of Kyoto is now. . .a dark forest. You’ve seen this kind of environment before in your memories—you just don’t know how you got here.

The lab coat guy—!

You immediately stood up from the dirt beneath you, looking around and trying to sense his soul around you. Nothing. Pursing your lips in slight unease, you started making your way through the criminally underlighted woods.

You’ve roamed around in the forest before. Most of your time on this world, you didn’t settle in a house or anything, you preferred to just wander around like a lost ghost. You didn’t have a need for one—you don’t need shelter, not food, not clothes, nor drinks. You were a lost ghost.

The branches and rocks and whatever else you tripped on didn’t bother you. All you were focusing on is now just. . .walking. Without even a set destination. The only guidance you had was the occasional moonlight that peeked through the trees up above.

As minutes pass by, you start feeling a faint presence of human souls.

It’s distant, and not much from how weak it is, but I should go and see.

All other senses were rendered useless for now as you focused on the source of the souls, and slowly marched your way to it. It grew closer and closer, until you saw a faint light coming in the middle of the forest.

Two people, you now concluded. Your footsteps remained silent and your presence unknown as you creep near the light.

A fire was set in a small clearing, and you can now see the two people. A man with dark hair, dressed in monk’s clothes and a scar marking his face, with another feminime-looking boy, purple-haired in armor.

“Are you ready for this, Ranmaru?” The monk spoke in a low voice. “You’re about to kill the demon. Bring him down for good.”

Kill, huh. An assassination was about to commence.

“. . .Yes, Master Kennyo.” The boy—Ranmaru—spoke, wavering in unease but still tried to be certain.

‘Master Kennyo’ smiled; a bitter, unresting one, “Good. They’ve light the fire at Honno-ji, arrive there and kill him. I will follow shortly once the fire has spread,”

“. . .Understood.”

Clutching his sword until it shook in his hand, Ranmaru turned around and walked off from the clearing.

You overheard the conversation and calmly watched his figure fade away. It isn’t your place to intervene—not if this is fate, but even so—you’ll follow him. At least you can rest the soul of the victim.

In silent steps trailing him, you heard a last piece from Kennyo. “Finally, we’ll have our revenge. . .”

      You took your time in following Ranmaru’s path. If whoever’s assassinated dies, it’s soul will still remain until they can go to the afterlife. Time stops for them as long as it takes to get their soul guided away from the living land. Is it immoral in a way? Perhaps.

Unless. . .you can stop them from getting killed. But often when you try to intervene, the death happens either way.

So what’s the point?

Nihilistic thoughts aside, you sensed more human souls coming your way; five, from what you can tell. But you paid no mind to that. Until it got nearer, and nearer, and nearer, and—

“Oof.” In your blank stated mind, you bumped into someone, causing them to huff in surprise. You yourself paused and looked—a brown haired man wearing red armor, “Hey, watch where you’re going—!”

His complaints died on his tongue as soon as he finally saw who he bumped into. His expression, from a slightly irritated frown, turned more into one of confusion, “Huh? Hey, what’s someone like you doing here in the woods? Nighttime, also? Such weird clothing, too. . .”

His spoken words made you raise an eyebrow, “Ignoring all that, I’m sorry for bumping into you. I just had some business is all.”

“In the dead of night? What are you, an. . .enchantress? Those stories of w-witches in the forest?” The man’s voice wavered more with each passing word. The quirk in your eyebrow deepens.

“I assure you, I’m not—“

“Yuki~! We leave you for a few seconds and you’ve already found yourself a partner?” A velvet and rich voice arose from behind the dark bushes and trees, all of them being pushed aside to reveal an auburn haired man, this one more built in his body.

The one you’ve been talking to—Yuki—blushed and shook his head vehemently, “Ugh, no! I’m not like you; we just bumped into each other is all. And I think it’s some kind of witch, too—”

The redhead man tutted at Yuki in a disapproving manner, “Now, now, Yuki. Have I not taught you how to talk properly in front of such a beauty all this time?” His attention turns to you, and in a second, his eyes lit in passion, “Forgive me for his prudeness, my goddess, dear Yuki needs a lot more lessons than I thought. However. . .if you want to be with a real man, I’m always up for service.”

“Will you stop flirting with everything you meet. It’s disgusting.”

Three more people emerge from the shadows, the small bits of moonlight pouring to their features. The one who spoke was a blond one, cladded in blue armor and with eyes that said he wanted to have nothing to do with any of this.

“But Kenshin, you can’t just turn away at such a beauty laid in front of your eyes.” The flirt replied to the cold comment with a smirk.

“Stop. Or I’ll kill you.”

The bickering of the two were left unnoticed as another man with dark blue hair stepped up, far closer than what you were expecting. His hand reaches and caresses lightly on your clothes, “I have never seen such a design or material like this before. How fascinating. Would you like to switch with one of my kimonos?”

“Yoshimoto, I’ve already claimed them! Don’t steal them right under my nose.” Flirt Man threw a light complaint, turning away from Kenshin for a moment.

“Art is to be appreciated by everyone, Shingen.” Yoshimoto simply responds, now tugging lightly at the sleeves of your shirt.

Okay, you’ll admit it. You’re slightly overwhelmed.

So far, you haven’t said anything, mainly because you don’t want to. It feels like anything you say won’t make the situation better anyway. But still. . .even in your long life, this is quite bizzare.

You observed each of them one by one. Then your eyes landed to the last one, the same brown haired man you saw earlier. Now, in. . .some sort of ninja attire. While you tilted your head in slight curiosity, you’re at least satisfied to see he was safe.

And his death date has changed, too. . .

Speaking of death, you’re finally reminded of following. . .who was it, Ranmaru? to an assassination.

Gently freeing yourself from Yoshimoto’s admiring touches to your clothes, you bowed slightly in front of them, “I appreciate meeting all of you, but I have to go.”

You don’t see Sasuke opening his mouth to say something, and neither do the others, as you walked off to the darkness.

       You thought by losing your way from your unofficial guide, you wouldn’t find the destination. But luckily, even going in the same direction as he did led you to it. Honno-ji. This time, it’s in the midst of drowning in fire. You made your way through the front door and entered where the fire wouldn’t reach you—but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

And in the middle of the room not yet entirely covered in flames, was who you assume the victim, sleeping. The cause of death, “died in an assassination while the building was set on fire”, said as much. Dressed in black armor, you could tell he was important, somehow. Not everyone can casually wear one, despite the past few people you’ve met been donning it.

The text displayed above the man’s head displayed the same old. Nobunaga Oda.

On the other side, you see a silhouette approaching steadily, sword in hand. Ranmaru, you guessed. You double checked yourself to make sure you weren’t visible to the human’s eye, and you were just fine with watching another death as you have—

Until, for the second time today, the death date for Nobunaga Oda flickered.

You froze as what was 21st of July, 1582, blinked into a later date. Much later.

What. . .?! That was the second time today—what am I supposed to—

Your chest felt heavy, and your hands trembled in uncertainty of what you should do. Do you save him? Watch him die? Would he even die at this moment? Or would it be later? You’ve never been in this position—the answer was always clear. And now you’re terrified.

Your body swayed back and forth violently, as two sides fought in your head of what to do. But time was running out—he’d be assassinated if you didn’t take this chance. And he’d die. That’s the same as you killing him, you thought, and you’ve sworn to never do such a thing.

From your disarrayed thoughts, your legs moved on their own and walked to him. You’re saving him, then.

[nameless-shrimp]

I just realized I never asked to put on your tag list and I'm sad about that. Add me pretty please (◍•ᴗ•◍)

Dazai always knew you're an amazing artist. He framed very work he was allowed to. The pieces on the refrigerator of your shared home, hanging in the living, in his safe houses, on his desk at work, really anywhere he could. He loved all of them equally, despite having favorites. However, your recently finished piece of art was Dazai's favorite.

You'd been working on for a long time and absolutely refused to show Dazai until it was done. So the brunette knew it was something special. Seeing it for the for time though, Dazai was absolutely stunned.

It was a picture of the two of you kissing at the alter.

Dazai would never admit it out loud, but he was tearing up looking at it. The two of you never got to have a proper wedding since you eloped at eighteen, two months after leaving the Port Mafia.

"Let's get married again, my love."

oh yes. of course, my dear, you'll be added to all of the taglists if you're comfortable with that? hehe, you're so supportive and i only wanna be able to do the same - so feel free to tag me in anything you write and i hope to try to get to it. 💖🥰

AAAH OH MY GOSH PLEASE 😭🙈 my heart. the idea of drawing for dazai and him putting my art all around him makes me so happy. he is so supportive and oh my gosh, the ending. talking about marriage, and the illustration of the altar. i just might die. what have you done to me? 🥺💘 oh how happy i am just reading that.

as always, thank you for bringing me fics to my inbox. i am so happy to get them and i love reading them every time. i think you know the key to my heart already 😭