#i think i wouldnt dread things as much if i didnt have to wake up at 5am

[senseiwu]

:/ time for another week

[shigayokagayama]

incomplete list of weird/interesting manga-anime discrepancies

-you know the bit where they break into the girls highschool in episode 2? yea thats chapter 56. spliced into the middle of chapter 4. its supposed to go before the bit with the ghost family as a lead up to the mogami arc with mob starting to consider evil spirits as just as much “people” as living humans are. all things considered its kind of weird how well it fits its anime placement

-ritsu in the manga gets introduced in the same chapter as teru. you dont see mobs family at all for the first few chapters. infact i dont think his parents appear until like. chapter 25????? every interaction you see between mob and any of his family is completely made up for the anime

-in the manga during the claw arc instead of reigen sending them away all the lackeys just stood there awkwardly during the fight w the scars fdnjksndkjgnd

-mogami arc got GUTTED my god. the part where the fake psychics tried to murder minori got removed, shinras role in the arc got reduced to basically nothing, they move mogamiland ritsu to a bridge like 50 feet away instead of having him walk right over mob, mob only gets beat up like twice, the cat lives, the boxcutter bit is totally removed, the fight with the spirits is made a lot more abstract and less graphic. like im glad this one took the hit instead of the separation arc bc i cant imagine that arc ever being effective as one episode but wow.

-putting the “mob finding his family dead” thing at the end of the episode instead of in the middle of a chapter where it originally was was an objectively hilarious move

-rip the scene of teru outsmarting all three claw guys and saying “say old man have you ever been tortured before” unfortunately all scenes of teru being competent are not plot relevant and must die. also teru can make shadow clones

-hey remember those weird satellite people in claw keeping the viewer updated on where all the characters were in that infinite arc?

-mob with a gun.

-mob getting briefly knocked out while fighting toichiro and dimple possessing him then getting kicked out was replaced w toichiro just throwing him out the window or somethhing???

-toichiro saying that he only kept the super five around as spare batteries and draining serizawas power getting cut was a personal affront to me

-every single emotion mob cycled through in the anime got a 100% meter. the kid was super emotionally unstable in that fight

-that old man whos house they went to whos wraith made everyone asleep that they exorcised? yea they anime team made that up. they never went to his house in the manga, he just went to spirits and such for a shoulder massage

-manga reigen got 0 money for helping the yokai dude. it wasnt on the table. also most of the stuff he was saying was lifted from a video game serizawa played which he pointed out. also serizawa thought getting arrested was a type of spell

-takenakas general meanness was significantly toned down manga takenaka was a huge bitch

-in general the alien arc was a lot funnier in the manga? like the scene where reigen crashes they had reached a dead end on an extremely narrow path and were driving in reverse while tome and takenaka were screaming at each other in the back and inukawa was 5 seconds from snapping and killing everyone in the car. these might be my favorite pages in the entire manga they as so fucking funny

-originally when tome said she wouldnt keep climbing reigen suggested mob carry her with telekinesis (which horrified her) and mob said he was too motion sick to use his powers (obvious lie) but could carry her instead which got her to get up

-mezato asking mob to sign a t shirt for the psycho helmet cult in exchange for relationship advice got cut

-i cry every day that the sequence of ???% waking up didnt get animated it set a very different tone than the anime did. the anime was like. slow build up of dread. the manga was immediately bone deep horror i was literally sitting in my room yelling “WHAT???” over and over again at my computer as i clicked through it

-shigeo and mob conversation cut down significantly, all the references to the body improvement club being mob making a new self rather than embracing who he really is and being scared that all the friends hes made wouldnt like the real him removed </3

-the scene where reigen takes his shoes off is made a lot less somber and depressing. it feels less like “oh he knows hes going to die” and more like. triumphant? in the anime

-100% shigeo kageyama is an anime addition they added specifically to ruin my “the first time we see mob 100% is to fight dimple and the last time is to stop himself from fighting dimple” observation

-anime teru generally seems like hes in a better place than manga teru? manga teru seems very melancholy and like he doesn’t really know what to do with his life or his place in the world (which seems to put shigeo off) but anime teru is like wanna go shopping ^_^ *sips tea happily*

-manga shigeo deliberately threw the cake directly in reigens face and my fury over them making this ambiguous will last until i am dead

[tyranitarkisser]

Im thinking about Hinabuki in the context of right after the events of sdr2 where everyone who died is in their death comas and the survivors have decided to pretty much spend the rest of their lives on the real Jabberwock and become one anothers found family. I think at first Hajime would be ashamed of the talent he was given when he became Izuru Kamukura and swear off using them just on principle. Or, if he does use his powers he feels obligated to use them to clean up his mess somehow. He could be a doctor or surgeon, a professor, or something else that would help bring hope back into the world. Except quite frankly he couldnt give a rats ass about hope and the world, even if his alter ego was responsible for the apocalypse... that stuff is more Naegi and the Future Foundations deal anyway. He cares about himself and his friends who are responsible for all the same fucked up things he is. Theres no telling what the world would think if he were to show his face again, and he really doesnt care to entertain that thought anyway.

Enough time passes and eventually Ibuki and Nidai wake up and recover. Well, mostly - Nidai is paralyzed from the shock of technically dying twice but being a robot the second time so it didnt quite register in his brain as quite real enough to kill him in the real world? Idk. Id just like to see more of him, and Akane can help him take care of himself. But i like Nidai and Ibuki waking up because they are both relatively low stakes characters that wouldnt really take away the narrative impact of everyones deaths in the Neo World Program and the lesson it taught the survivors - at least, not as much as if, say, Gundam or Komaeda woke up. Teruteru, Impostor, Mikan, and Gundam pass away after a year or so. Kuzuryuu is still hanging onto a thread of hope that Peko will wake up soon, and no one really knows what they would do if Komaeda woke up and theyre kind of dreading it if it does happen.

Anyway Ibuki wakes up, and not really having made any friends before she was killed, Hajime tries to offer her company and the two get close. Lets say in this canon he did all of her freetime events and knows her more serious side when she isnt playing an exaggerated caricature of herself, and through time together they start a relationship! He learns that she has trouble making genuine connections with people and her nonserious personality is both a coping mechanism and also partially the reason why she cant make friends, but luckily she has Hajime who is interested in her for who she really is, and eventually, the other survivors get to meet Ibukis more serious side thanks to Hajime. He assures her that who she is is fine and it isnt so scary to allow people to know the real you after all.

Conversely, Ibuki finds it ridiculous that after all that trouble Hajime doesnt want to use the talent he was given, because whether or not he used it for evil as Izuru that doesnt change the fact that he has them now so he might as well use them. She encourages him to use his abilities selfishly, as a creative outlet. She inspires him to make art and music he never would have imagined he would be capable of but somehow it comes so naturally that it blurs the lines between his artificial talent and his raw feelings. He takes on a more punk/alternative look and lets Ibuki pierce his ears (she wants to pierce his face but thats where he draws the line NO face piercings for Hajime)

I think an alternative look for him would be fitting not just from Ibukis influence but also consider his more edgy and skeptical personality... i dont think it would be so unthinkable that kind of aesthetic would resonate with him. How many kids in high school have no concept of style but as adults learn how to better express their personality? Even still he isnt exploding with personality like Ibuki is, hes still the same serious and apprehensive Hajime Hinata hes always been, only now hes okay with that. It took destroying the world for him to be comfortable with himself but hey, whatever works right?

[goremet-chef]

vent/rant

its so fucking ABSURD man. "whats with the attitude?" you want me to kill the mood even more? want me to say im depressed cuz my cat is dead and i didnt even realize that on the 21st, that would be the last time id ever see her again? is that what you fucking want?

its so NON EXISTANT to EVERYONE, it means fucking nothing to them!!! how could you care so little, just because we didnt live with her? she was the last remnant of my home. a home free of yelling and violence and blood, home where my friends live, home where i was safe and now shes gone, she was the last one. i thought i had longer with her, at least with riley i got to say goodbye properly

the same thing happened with domino, when i was younger. i felt so betrayed that they didnt even let me say bye to him, i feel a similar anger now.. but i live 2 hours away, there was no convenient way for them to let me do that. i think just..

the SUDDENNESS of the decision is what breaks my heart. she didnt know she wasnt gonna wake up ever again, she probably had no idea what was happening and its. its not like i wanted to see her die, the same way we watched riley get worse until we realized there was no saving him and he wasnt gonna get better, but.. was there really nothing we couldve done? nothing at all? was euthanasia the ONLY course of action? maybe we could have saved her, but its too late now. it doesnt matter anymore

im still kind of in denial, honestly.. it doesnt feel real. some part of me thinks it was a sick joke from my sibling. i know its not, i know its real, but with how everyones acting like it didnt happen at all, you couldnt blame me for feeling that way. part of me really hopes it was a joke but. i know if i ask ill just get confirmation that it wasnt

i wish i was there at least. that way i wouldnt be stuck in this limbo of thinking its not real. i know when riley was put down, id still go to my grandmas room and go to the living room at night somewhat hoping that he'd be there when i looked, but of course he never was. one time i was zoned out and i subconsciously reached over to pet him and feeling time stop when i froze and saw i was reaching for nothing, it hurt so fucking bad, it still hurts so fucking bad man. looking up and seeing the little box he was inside, it fucking sucks i hate this so much

i wish i was there, because at least my grandma gets it. those were her cats, have been for years. she always played it off like they werent because technically artemis and riley were OUR cats, but my mom lost her home and my grandma took us in when i was like.. 8 or 9. and she decided to go back and get them for us. im so grateful she did, because they wouldnt have lived as long as they had out there.

she gets it, because she loved them too. my mom didnt love them. my brother didnt love them. my older sister literally just completely abandoned and probably forgot about riley, who was HER cat. i remember he used to attack my feet from under the bed, when i was a little kid. the only one who came close to loving them like how we do was my oldest sibling, and even still he doesnt seem sad about it at all. like i know hes sad cuz he loved her but he rarely ever saw her, it was more like a passing claim of "oh, thats my cat", yknow?

my grandma gets it. i know she knows its really hard for me. it was so hard when domino was gone. when riley was sick, she tried to be lighthearted about it and even when i saw him for the last time, and we were both crying, she told me to say bye to him in kind of a goofy voice. i know she doesnt want to see me hurting like that, and it was kind of dreadful at the time, but im really glad she let me say goodbye to him, because it was a goodbye i meant. it wasnt "goodbye, see you later", it was the real one and i didnt get to give that to arty. i just said bye like normal, because i thought shed be okay! i thought whatever was wrong with her, we could fix. i cant believe it was so cut and dry

and i cant stand it here, they dont have and kind of sympathy, i think my mom doesnt even KNOW that i know. which means she just didnt plan on telling me at all. even my sibling was confused as to why she wouldnt have. its like they cant fathom why id be sad for more than a day or two, but i loved her! i fucking loved her, i loved all of them

i dont believe in the afterlife, but part of me wants to believe that they can at least know how much i miss them, how much i love them. its the only sort of comfort i have, even if i dont really believe it. i hope they can hear me cry and they know that its because i love them so fucking much and i want to see them again

it doesnt help that, exactly like when riley was put to sleep, im having dreams about her. dreams where shes dead, but im hallucinating her and i can see her again and im petting her and its so real.. shes there in my head and everyone around me tells me "its not real" but i dont even care! i dont care if its not real, because seeing her is enough. arty, i love you so much girl, im so fucking sorry we couldnt do anything. im sorry to riley too, and domino, and talcum. im sorry marceline, im sorry ellie. i know its not my fault, there was really just nothing we could do, but man i wish that wasnt true

they lived their whole lives with us, which is why its so crazy to me that most of my family doesnt really care. no one is gonna remember them, so ill drown myself in the grief just to honor their memory, because they deserve to be cried over. they deserve to be missed, to have someone who loves them after everything. their loss should be mourned, how could i think back on their whole lives and do anything but? i know people say "oh, remember the good times! they wouldnt want you to be sad" but the good times are gone. crying affirms the fact that i loved them and ill keep loving them until im dead too, because they deserve that

[teeth--eater]

Hm. I think it is time for some unfinished Ranboo lore. I was just doing a writing warmup but I dont think I'm gonna finish it so here's ranboo! Also! This is meant to take place after Ranboos Interlude, so like tiny baby spoiler warning. RANBOO BACKSTORY UNDER THE CUT

aslo big warning for disassociation

The spoiler is just ranboo and Tommy interacting but I think everyone knew that was gonna happen anyway.

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

There are good days and there are bad days.

Ranboo knows his power comes at a lofty price, but he dosent always feel it. He sees it in others, or at least he had when he had been around other enderians. The way their eyes would glaze over and theyd stop talking in the middle of their sentences, the way the ones who spent more time around the Void would go catatonic for days at a time.

With knowledge comes power. With power comes risk. And End, what a risk it was.

If Ranboo had a choice at all, he wouldnt have Seen. Ever. He was perfectly content with his magic locked away inside his chest, smiling and friendly and whole. He had seen his neighbors go through the Seeing when they reached twelve cycles, and they came back different. Hollowed. Speaking in hushed tones to others who had Seen, giving him blank stares when he asked how the ceremony went.

He didnt want to be like them. He didnt want to lose himself.

He woke up on the dawn of his twelfth year to his mother standing over his bed, somthing glinting in her eye. Ranboo had wondered, briefly, what she was like before she had Seen. When her short black fur had been snow-white like Ranboo's.

She took him to the door where a trio of guards walked him to the Well Of the Void, circled with the Elders. They gave him empty smiles when he approached. Ranboo could hear the Void whispering as he walked closer, and dread curled in him. He lunged away from the endlessness, shrieking and clawing.

He wonders if things would have been different if he had just let it happen.

As much as he didn't want to See, he couldn't refuse. Literally. He was compliant only because they held him down.

Once they actually shoved him into the Well of the Void, that was when he began thrashing in earnest. He couldnt move with the hand holding his head down, but luckily, or perhaps unluckily depending on how you look at things, his magic was unleashed, and he disappeared in a zap of purple.

Ranboo reappeared lying on his back several feet away, twitching and gasping. The Elders thought him dead until he managed a weak keen.

He hadn't completed the ritual, and yet his powers were unleashed. Hence his...markings.

From that moment on, he was singled out. He had somehow managed to fail in something that should be End Given for his kind. Only half-marked. An abomination. A degenerate.

He was lucky to escape with even half his mind. It could have been so much worse.

He keeps telling himself that.

But today is one of the bad days.

He wakes up and isnt... there. He can recognize that he's floating, but cant bring himself to the surface no matter how hard he tries.

Time passes, Ranboo dosen't know how long hes been sitting in his bed, staring at the wall. His eyes can't focus long enough to read the clock.

Eventually, there is a pounding on his door, and Tommy is shouting through it.

"Get up bitchboy it's time for breakfast!" The human bellows. Ranboo dosent so much as twitch. He tries to get up, but his body won't respond to his commands. Tommy shouts something else, and Ranboo cannot respond. His mind starts to slip further and soon he cant even understand what Tommy is saying.

He keeps trying to tug himself back up into his own body, but he can't. Hes lost somewhere in his own head and he cant get out. His door opens and a human peeks their head in, looking confused. By all accounts, Ranboo should be panicking. One of the universe's most deadly predators is in his room, but he cant bring himself to be afraid. The human's face triggers a feeling of safety, for some odd reason. Perhaps it's one of their lesser-known hunting techniques, but Ranboo can't shove away the feeling that the human wont hurt him.

So he lets the human come closer, walking to his bedside slowly, head tilted in the human way of expressing confusion.

"-boo? Ranboo?"

Oh that's him. How does the human know his name? Oh well, whatever the reason, Ranboo should at least try to answer.

He tries to open his mouth, but cant manage more than a weak hum. The human perks up slightly, and starts speaking at a rapid fire pace that Ranboo cant follow in his current state.

The human seems to realize this, because they grab his hand and squeeze. Not enough to hurt, though Ranboo doubts he can feel pain so deeply in his own mind.

"-go get Phil." The human says, sounding concerned. Ranboo dosen't recognize the name, but it brings up flashes of feelings, not quite memories. Safety, catharsis, freedom. He doesn't stop the human from leaving, maybe they will bring the safe feeling back with them.

Time passes, and Ranboo drifts weightlessly. Feeling for all the world like his soul is not in his body.

There are footsteps, two of them, one pounding and the other clicking. The door was left open, so the two people these footsteps belong to enter with no issue. The human is back, and behind him another creature, an elytrian, clicking worriedly at him. Ranboo wants to greet them, but he cant do anything but stare blankly.

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

[sallyf4ce]

wolves

chapter II

-> sally face x f!reader

-> enemies? to lovers

-> previous | next

cw: drugs, cigarettes, abuse, panic attack

*does not follow original plot of sally face*

summary: larry knocks (y/n) off her feet, literally. later, him and sal come to apologize, bearing a gift of homemade lasagna. sal and (y/n) bond over their similar bodies. his eyes look familiar.

The sound of your skateboard and the wind brushing past your ears practically deafened you, which allowed you to think in peace. Maybe you’d survive in Nockfell.

Maybe it wasnt as bad as you made it. You’d grow close to the old apartment, push through school, leave your mother as quickly as possible, and start fresh somewhere across the world. The only thing that you wouldn’t get close to is the forest surrounding Addison. It loomed over you, day and night, dewy pines poking out at you like a warning sign. Maybe mom moved here just so she could torture you with the forest. Remind you of what happened.

Loud footsteps joined the wheels of your skateboard. You looked back, and on your trail were those two kids from the apartment. The tall one’s face was almost right in yours. You let out a small yelp as your skateboard hit a rock and sent you tumbling to the ground, completely destroying your knees in the process.

“Shit!” larry yelled out in surprise as he dodged the skateboard that went right between his legs.

You quickly reached out to your head, trying to calm the searing pain pulsing through it. What the fuck just happened?

“What the fuck?” you groan. The blue haired boy, sal, grabbed your skateboard and came up close to you. pulling down his sleeves, he quickly grabbed your knees and covered them, soaking up the gushing blood.

“Larry!” sal turned around to face him. You winced as the fabric of his sweater clung to your knees. Your hands grabbed his to pull them off but you froze. They were soft and cold, almost like snow. How would it feel to hold them longer? Would you warm them up? or would they freeze you?

What the fuck?

You snapped out of your trance and moved them off your knees. You scowl at larry and pick your skateboard back up.

“Nice job, asshat.”

His face flushes at the insult and he moves back. Sally stands up and offers you his hand, but you dont need his help (obviously a lie, your entire body was aching like a scale 8 earthquake). You shove yourself up and wipe your burning palms on your jeans. With your feet back on the skateboard (it took a few tries to get up because your knees kept buckling), you flip them off and begin skating back to addison. You just wanted a nice fucking stroll alone, why were these fucks literally everywhere you went?

It’s around 12:45 now. You came home, took a bath, bandaged up your knees and took some tylenol. Mom was already in her bedroom and there were some leftover beer bottles on the coffee table, so she probably wouldnt wake up anytime soon. you quickly trashed the bottles and decided for a quick nap on the couch, since your room was… occupied. your pyjamas, for now anyway, consisted of an oversized grey ac/dc shirt and some soft-ass spandex shorts.

“finally, a fucking break from this shit.” a content sigh escaped your lips as you threw yourself onto the cold couch.

a few knocks sounded at your door.

“(y/n)? it’s uh, it’s sal. and larry.”

“fuck.”

THEY’RE LITERALLY EVERYWHERE WHAT THE FUCKKKK AGGHHH WHY CANT THEY LEAVE YOU ALONE THEY ALREADY BUSTED YOUR KNEES LIKE WHAT

“coming.” you mumbled angrily even though they couldn’t hear you.

the blinding fluorescent lights of the hallway hit you as you opened the door. along with them came the smell of freshly baked lasagna. your eyes widened for a second, before looking up at sal. he stared at you, taking in your appearance. your hair was ruffled, eyes blinking sleepily as they adjusted to the light. your shirt had ridden up and showed a bit of your stomach. he blushed as you pulled it down and glared at him, a slight tinge of red on your own cheeks.

“larry.” he nudged his friend. the brunette walked up in front of sal, holding a pan of lasagna.

“listen man, i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to fuck up your knees n shit. jus’ got excited cause of your sanity falls shirt. can we, uh, can we come in?”

Slam.

larry quickly jumped back in surprise.

“i guess that means no.”

you yelled out a quick ‘wait!’ as you cleaned up your apartment and hid your mom’s weed and other things. god, for a grown woman, she didn’t know how to clean for shit.

opening the door back up, you waved them inside.

“god, you smoke a lot.” larry coughed a bit at the smell of your apartment, which earned him a shove.

“sorry! god, sal, so mean.” he mumbled.

“s’ my mom. i only smoke outside. uh, take a seat on the couch, i’ll warm up the lasagna.” you pulled it out of larry’s hands as they both took a seat on your makeshift bed.

sal shifted. “you sleep here?” he asked, confused. maybe your room was being used as storage.

“for now. there’s some weird ghost shit going on in my room. some fucking preppy ghost woman keeps squealing when i come in.”

ghosts? you believed in ghosts? maybe they’d be able to take you on their expeditions! sal perked up at the thought of you becoming friends.

“you believe in ghosts?”

“well, i saw one, so what else could it fucking be?” you chuckled as you shoveled the now warmed up lasagna onto three plates. sal noticed and his eyes widened.

“oh, no, i- i don’t want any-” he waves his hands.

“you’re having it, i don’t care.”

larry laughs as you shove it into their hands.

“feisty, aren’t ya?” he stabs some and shoves it into his mouth. you sigh and lean back into the couch.

“you guys go to the school here, right?”

larry nods. “yeah, there’s only one school in nockfell.”

“eww, larry face, don’t chew with food in your mouth.” sally laughs. in the corner of his eyes, he thinks he can see you smile.

“yeah, we go to nockfell high. i’m assuming you’re going there too.”

“mhm. starting monday. hurry up and eat, i’m not warming it up again.” you grumble. sal doesn’t move. “god, okay, i’ll look away. i have to go clean this thing anyway.” you wave your prosthetic’s fingers.

“oh, yeah, you also have a prosthetic!” his face shifts into a child-like curiosity. it’s a face that you’ve seen before, and it makes you giggle a bit every time. you place your hand on his lap. sal does a double take and his mask raises a bit.

“you wanna touch it, don’t you. go ahead.”

“damn, sal, you get all the ladies. leave some for me.” larry chimes in, hand on his forehead in mock sadness. he chuckles.

“you gonna touch it or what?”

“uh, yeah.” sal slowly lowers his hands onto it. he traces your fingers, flexing them every once in a while. he flips your palm and looks at the graffiti ‘s’ you drew on it.

“when was this?” he looks back up at you.

“grade 10, two years ago. got bored in class and accidentally took out my sharpie instead of a dry-erase marker. god, my mom was mad.” you chuckle at the memory. she didnt let you back in the house for two days. you had to camp out in the shed, where you stored your extra food so she wouldn’t steal it.

sal hummed. “what about this one?” it was a big ‘SF’. was it for his name? of course not, she didn’t know you back then, moron. still, it warmed him up a bit.

“not for you, that’s for sure.”

“damnnn, savage!” larry put his plate down. “mind if i get more?”

“larry, we brought it for (y/n).” sal scolded.

“nah, i don’t mind. knock yourself out.” you nodded, continuing your conversation with sal.

larry trotted towards the kitchen.

larry’s point of view:

sal and (y/n) seemed to be getting along quite well. good for him, really. we might be able to coax (y/n) into our friend group. i didn’t like her at first, but i think she’s just a little stand-offish. anyway, back to the lasagna. man, i wish mom would make it more often. she only makes it for guests. where is it? oh, there. (y/n)’s going to nockfell high, right? probably should tell her about travis.

your point of view:

sal was still tracing your arm, running his pale fingers over where the prosthetic connected to your skin. the doctors could have chopped your arm off completely, up to your elbow, but you wanted to salvage as much as you could, so it stops mid-forearm.

“do you take it off often?” sal hummed. it felt a little intimate, tracing your prosthetic. it was like soothing a part of your body that was already gone. what? what was he thinking?

“mmm, i take it off every night. if i leave it on, i could get rashes ‘n shit. rashes aren’t fun. ‘m assuming you take yours off every night too.” he nods.

“i don’t like taking it off during the day. phantom limb shit, you know? it hurts a lot.” you grumble.

“got the lasagna. since you’re going to nockfell, ‘should probably tell you about travis.” larry sits down. “he’s your typical stick-up-the-ass bully. doesn’t really like sally face ‘n our crew.”

“yeah. just ignore him and you should be fine.”

“we‘ll protect you.” larry swings an arm over your shoulder.

huh? you can protect yourself. does he think you can’t? is it because of your prosthetic?

“i can do it myself, you dimwit.” you push his arm off your shoulder.

“time for you to leave.”

“woah, dude, calm down-” larry’s eyes widen in panic. he didn’t mean to offend you.

“i’m sorry!”

“i’m not hurt, just need my sleep. it’s 1:30. go on now.”

sal sets down his cold, uneaten lasagna and larry takes a quick bite out of his.

“see ya!” he mumbled, words muffled by food. you click your teeth as he walks out of your apartment and towards the elevator.

“(y/n).”

you spin around to face sal. his hand lingers on your counter.

“your knees. how are they?”

you look at his eyes through his mask. they’re light blue. like the lake that you so dreaded. like the sky that morning. like your dad’s shirt. he blinks.

“uh, f-fine. they’re fine. they should heal in a few days. time for you to go.” you grab his shoulders and shove him through the door.

“see you tomorrow?” he stumbles.

“yeah.” the door shuts with a slam and you’re filled with an overwhelming sense of dread.

oh god, not this again. your vision blurs as you try to grasp onto your breath. you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. your heart thuds like it’s going to break through your rib cage. it feels like someone is strangling you, coaxing the last breath of air from your lungs. your nails scratch at your throat desperately, your salty tears only making the marks burn more. at least the cold metal of your prosthetic cools you down a bit.

shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up. you can’t wake anyone. you bite down on your lip to suppress the strangled cries leaving your mouth. god, not the lake, please. not the forest. not the huge, dirty, rabid wolf-looking creature behind your father. not his cries. please, just make it shut up. SHUT UP.

you wake up the next morning to your alarm ringing.

taglist: @purelydarling @ghostfacefricker6969 @deadpoetsandhoney

[lostinyourdreams]

Heyy i really love your soul weaver fic, I was wondering if you could do an angst fic were edgar and his s/o get into an argument before his s/o match and before edgar can make up with them they end up dying during said match,,,

╔═══════════════･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.═══════════════╗

Thank you so much ^ ^ and of course, hope you'll enjoy it^ ^ Warning: angst, mention of death Characters: Painter (Edgar), Embalmer (Aesop)

Edgar couldnt believe it, you just couldnt be gone, not even when Aesop was embalming you and he stared at the deep wounds that had caused your life to slip away it just didnt feel real to Edgar and it all became worse when Aesop finished embalming you, you just looked too peaceful to be dead. Edgar got up from his chair and walked over to the table your now stiff body was laying on "Edgar I dont think..."the embalmer started but was cut off by Edgars scoff "dont tell me what to do" he snapped at Aesop who only took a step back, he knew how Edgar was and assumed this was his moarning progress so he decided to simply allow Edgar to stay here with you, without saying a word Aesop left the room, hearing the door close Edgar shoulders drop, were you really gone? He shook his head, no, you couldnt be you just look asleep. He gently cupped your cheek with his trembling hand, he excpected to feel the warmth that would feel his heart with joy but he only felt a strange coldness he had never experienced... No... a single tear ran down his cheek as he gently placed his head on his chest only to be met by silence "Y/n no...." he weakly whispered as he felt his knees getting weak, where was the sound of your beating heart, the sound that would lull him to sleep every night? Slowly lifting his head he stared at you, your eyes were closed as if you were asleep, your skin was still pale despite Aesop adding reds to make it seem more life like, your plush lips slightly curled upwards in a slight smile... He felt sick to his stomach, he would never wake up surrounded by your warmth, you gentle voice would never praise his paintings or himself, your warm touch would never caress his skin again and maybe worst of all he could never make you smile again, the same smile that would make his heart melt; It was all gone, cruely snatched away from him by this cursed game and manor. He clenched his first in anger, how could this manor dare to snatch you away from him?! All his emotions came crashing....He felt so many emotions at once it was dizzying, he felt anger, sadness, guilt and discussed, he was discussed by himself this very morning the two of you had fought, it wasnt unusal for the two of you to have an argument but it had never crossed his mind that you'd just be gone one day...  He collapsed onto his knees as tears were running wildly down his face and sobs echoed through the room as he helf your hand tightly in his pressing it against his forehead and just begging for this to be a nightmare, tho if it truly was a nightmare he yet had to wake up from it... You were now buried in red church cemetery, Edgar chose this location since he always fantasize about marrying you here as the others watch you entangle your future with his, he always thought this would be a place the two of you would remember for promising yourselves to one another never did he thought this would be a place of dread, a place that would bring Edgar a bitter taste in his mouth and make his eyes whell up in tears. He was the only person at your grave still, he was sitting down in front of it and staring at the engraved cross that spelled "y/n l/n" not "y/n Valden" questions arose in his mind, would you have even considered marrying him or would you have been turn away by his arogant personality? Was your death quick and painless? Were you thinking of him when you took your last breath? Or were you thinking about the fight that happened just a moment before your match started? Edgar has never apologized for any of the fights you had... well never apologized in the way of asking for forgiveness but after every fight Edgar would just be more affectionate and soft with you, he'd barely even complain about anything. Looking up at the sky he let out a shaky breath "I was such an asshole Y/n... Im sorry" not the most romantic apology but he meant it, he felt so angry at himself for not treating you better but he just didnt know how to treat you better. He truly hoped you could forgive him one day for the way his ego had blinded him into treating you like you were bellow him... He could never accept those day, his muse, his soulmate had been taken away from him so cruely... He knew you'd want him to move on and be happy but he would never be happy without you, tho he knew one thing, he'd need to ensure the world would never forget your beauty and kindness, even if he'd be forgotten he wouldnt care for as long as youd live on through his paintings. ╚═══════════════･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.═══════════════╝

[thoughts-of-the-unheard]

okay :) so i took an impromptu nap earlier bc yall saw my sleep saturday night and i woke up seconds before book boy called me because i never wake up when someone calls my name but most of the time ill wake up seconds before and have time to respond like i was up the whole time and i woke up seconds before he called and he was like im at the park i have food for you and i was like 🥺 you have food for me and im not a bottom but i have to use that emoji and he was like yea i was going to bring it to your house but something i didnt hear bc ptss (: and i said i appreciate that, him not just showing up, bc trauma and i dont even think he knows about that anyway i told him id be there in a few minutes i just had to tell my mom, if she wasnt asleep, which she was so i told my brother because he was home from school and shushed me when i came down the stairs practically hissing that mom was sleeping so i tip toed down the loudest stairs in existence and walked the block or so to the park and hes sitting on a bench with chick fil a and apparently it took me like an hour to eat a single thing of fries and i have no sense of time right so i had no idea it had taken me that long but thats not important at all but at some point i said isnt it supposed to rain and he was like yea tomorrow and i said i thought it was supposed to rain some time after school today there was a 30% chance and he was like i dunno and that was that but then it did rain and it was Fast like the second we realized it was drizzling, it decided to fully rain on us and we ran to the car because he drove because hes not a block away and we were chilling in there for a while waiting for the rain to stop or when i had to go home for the dreaded scout meeting and we were on my spotify where i went to like my hype playlist that isnt public bc its not long enough to be finished yet anyway misery business by paramore, one of my favorite songs, was at the top and i asked if he knew it and he said no and i told him he had to listen to it right now so he played it and im not sure how much yall know those lyrics but they hit a little too close to home in the worst way and i forgot about that until they started playing so i couldnt look at him but i was also trying not to lose myself bc that song is an absolute banger anyway when the song ended he leaned towards me and we just had our foreheads together sitting in silence as it kept raining and i dont know how long we sat like that and i never understood the phrase ‘didnt trust myself to speak’ thats so common in ya novels until then because sometimes im actually speechless around him and i wasnt positive that my voice would actually come out so i didnt say anything and then he kissed me and he kissed me again and at some point i opened my eyes and the sun was shining right on us, it had stopped raining and the thing is at some point earlier we were looking at our hands and mine looked a little dead next to his like mine had a lot of yellow and green tones with some blues and his was mostly reds with some purples and i was like i looked dead and my hands were apparently very cold but after, mine were warm and colored and alive he literally brings me to life thats so sappy anyway after that we kept chatting and stuff and i was looking for something on my phone but i couldnt find it and he was looking over my shoulder begging me to tell him what i wouldnt tell nick but he just kept saying please so i kissed him and went back to searching and eventually my alarm for impending scouts rang and he went to drive me home but needed his mask on so he leaned into the back to grab it and he was pulling his on and i was pulling mine out to put mine on when he pulled me in for another kiss and i didnt count them or how long or anything because theyrell be more and thats what matters

[chatnoirismycinnamonroll]

Do Faeries exist? Part 2

7:15 am

'I don't want to get up today.'

"Marinette! Wake up, you're going to be late for school!"

Marinette grumbled as she squinted at her alarm clock. What was the use of living across the school, where her parents could see her classmates walking by, if they still woke her up late because they forgot she also went to school?

She only had half an hour to get ready and reach her homeroom (Bustier, again), but knowing her parents, theyd want to give her a "pep talk" that only repeated the same words every year and wasnt the least bit encouraging. It would also make her about one or two minutes late, but that was actually a bit of a blessing.

Marinette chose the same style of outfit that was branded with her signature pink flowers. Pink, white, and black. Her favorite combination of colors. She wore a pair of pink capris pants with a white shirt that had a diagonal flower pattern across her chest covered by a black overshirt, sleeves rolled up to her elbows to draw attention to the pink and white polka-dotted inner lining that tied together well with her pink and white flats. Looking at the clock, she barely managed to get her hair into twin tails before rushing downstairs for a quick breakfast.

She followed the same script they spoke every year, and zoned her mother out as, yet again, her nerves kicked in to create a mess of her breakfast. Her parents called her clumsy, but Marinette knew she had anxiety and stress. And it always kicked in at the worst of times and made her nerves act up, causing her hands or knees to shake, her limbs to flail in panic at nothing, and her mind to struggle to make coherent sentences. Chloe wasnt the only direct reason Marinette arrived from school most days with fresh bruises. Her mind was just always busy, whether by coming up with exaggerated worst-case scenarios or trying to go over every little thing she had done that day or trying to remind her of every little thing she had yet to do. It was exhausting.

She snapped to attention as her mother took away the chocolate powder container from her hands, and sighed dejectedly as she grabbed an apple from the knocked-over bowl of fruit. With a simple "Goodbye" and "I love you", Marinette headed down into the bakery to greet her father. He almost bumped into her, but set her upright and gave her a box of macarons "for her friends in class" before giving her a kiss on the cheek and sending her on her way. He walked back into the depths of the bakery before she could say goodbye.

'I dont even have any friends to share this with. Plus, I doubt theyd survive with Chloe around. With my luck, theres no way Chloe isnt in my class.'

She walked out the door and stood at the corner light. Her eyes were focused on the school doors, where she could already see Chloe sauntering in with her lackey, Sabrina, scurrying behind her. The light was still red, but her eyes focused as she noticed movement on the road ahead of her. An old man was crossing the street while the light was red.

There was a red car speeding into the lane. Her eyes darted from the car, to the man, and back. Her mind was racing, obviously seeing what might happen if the old man didnt finish crossing in the next three...

Her feet moved....

Two...

Her hands grabbed the man....

One...

She launched herself backwards, pulling the old man with her. Her heart was racing in her chest, and her mind was just focused on the car speeding past where they had been less than a second ago. What the hell had she just done?

She looked around her, her mind in hyperfocus. The light turned green, and people walked across without a care. They didnt bother to help her or the old man up. It seemed they hadnt noticed what had happened, what she had done.

She turned to the old man, who was struggling to get up. Absentmindedly, she helped him up, gathering her macarons in the process. The box was crushed, and some had fallen out, but the old man was safe. He looked up to thank her, but her mind became distracted by another sound.

The school bell. She had to hurry. She turned to the old man and rushed to say, "I hope you're okay, I have to get going, I'm late. Watch out for cars next time!" Darting across the crosswalk, Marinette missed the look the old man gave her, her mind racing with thoughts.

'That man could have died.'

'I could have died.'

'Why did I do that?'

'I need to be more careful.'

'I'm late, what will Bustier say?'

'Chloe's probably going to make fun and see the crushed macarons.'

'Why didnt I throw them away? I know nobody is going to take them, especially not now!'

She raced up the stairs and into Bustier's classroom, her feet catching on the doorstep as she saw Chloe in what was, technically, her spot for the last three years, and making her faceplant onto the floor. She mentally groaned as that high pitched laugh rang out from her seat.

She looked over at Bustier, but she had turned around to write on the board, her tense shoulders being the only clue that she knew what Chloe was doing. 'Typical.'

She took a deep breath and pushed herself up. She gathered whatever courage she had and headed in Chloe's direction. She was going to end this today. This wasnt going to be like the other years-

"What do you want, Dupain-Cheng?"

-If only her anxiety could let her actually do something. Still, she tried to push past it.

"That's my seat, Chloe."

"Not anymore, it isnt. You see, my Adrikins is coming to school today for the first time ever and I NEED to sit close to him! And he is way more handsome and important than you will ever be!"

"That has been my seat for the past three years, Chloe!"

"So what? It's not my fault that after three years you still havent put your name on it. Because I certainly dont see it. Why dont you sit over there with the new loser and stop trying to raise yourself to my level because you're never going to get there."

Anger. Frustration. Embarrassment. She could feel everybody else looking away from her, while simultaneously looking at her. Why couldnt she saying anything? Why couldnt she react the way she knew she could? Why was she actually walking down those stairs to her, ugh, new seat? Why was it always the same thing every year?

"Hey, dont listen to her. Girls like her never get anywhere in life on their own. Sooner or later, someone good will defeat the evil within her."

Marinette stared into chocolate brown eyes. Who was this girl? "Evilness within her?"

"Yeah, like how a superhero always defeats the supervillain. Bullies like her always get brought down eventually." The girl smiled, hope shining in the darkness of her eyes.

Marinette, despite dreading the fact that this girl was up for a terrible year, couldnt help but smile. There was just something about this girl that gave a person confidence, but Marinette knew it wouldnt last. Soon, she, too, would falter to Chloe's ways and ignore Marinette to avoid being a target.

Bustier turned around and began the class, ignoring Chloe's protests because her "precious Adrikins" hadnt arrived yet. Of course, this only caused Chloe to huff and glower through the entire morning. Marinette was distracted by the girl beside her.

"Hey, are those macarons?"

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. They got a bit crushed this morning, tho, so they dont look like much."

"Are you kidding? I bet they taste fantastic! Can I have one?"

Marinette had her doubts. She didnt want to encourage this girl, especially since it only meant heartbreak for Marinette in the end, but she supposed it wouldnt hurt for today.

"Yeah, sure. I'm Marinette."

"Alya."

Yeah, it probably wouldnt hurt to enjoy this while it lasted.

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

So, part 2 is done! I am drawing this out as much as I can, but I think it's coming about nicely. If anybody wants to be tagged, just ask and I will tag you!

Here is the tag list so far:

@ozmav @ginamariepotterhead @maddrag

Hope you guys like it!

Edit, because I forgot to put the tags for this.

[kiruuuuu]

Doc/Lion oneshot in which Lion absolutely can’t get enough of Doc. (Rating E, pure filth + fluff, ~4k words) - written for the ever so wonderful 1ce_09 on twitter ♥♥ Everyone who hasn’t already, check them out for beautiful Siege art! Thank you so much for commissioning me, I enjoyed myself :)

.

If anyone had asked Lion a year – hell, months – ago which part of the day was his least favourite, he would’ve said waking up. Throughout his life, the only consistently good thing staying with him has been how easily he falls asleep and his ability to only wake up once fully rested; he sometimes thinks it’s a genuine blessing he received, a rare show of mercy of which he’s ultimately undeserving. Even when his mind worked overtime, even when there was an oppressive weight on his soul, even when there was no reason to get up in the morning, he drifted off like a lazy, oversized house cat napping in the sun. In rare moments, he idly wonders whether this ability hasn’t saved his life at some point, granted him this little bit of energy he needed to get through the day, gave him enough hope to trudge on and eventually sparked his endeavour to make it up to those he wronged.

And then there are his dreams. They’ve always been vivid, abstract, hard to grasp, but as a child he could always pinpoint at least a location or a person, something concrete which gave him an indication of what was on his mind at the time. After – after Claire, after colourful pills and pieces of paper with cartoon characters on them and a few other things, his nightly visions became even more obscure, swirls of colour, evoking emotions whose vibrancy stays with him in this twilight between waking and sleeping, a half-doze in which he’s disembodied yet conscious. He enjoys their embrace and despised nothing more than the afterimages being violently ripped away from him by a shrill alarm.

These days, he doesn’t mind it so much. The reason for his change of mind is as fortunate as it is unbelievable because of all its facets no one could’ve predicted, especially not him: It’s someone he loves (and he’d given up on this particular idea a while ago). It’s a man (and while he’s fooled around with some of his friends before, it was largely born from spite and the thrill of the forbidden). And of all people, it’s Doc.

It took him months to come to terms with the realisation that his infuriating colleague never really left his thoughts because of a fierce desire to impress him, not because of personal dislike. Doc is revered wherever he treads and when Lion earned his ire, it was much easier to pretend the negativity dictating Lion’s remorseless remarks and actions towards the other man stemmed from disdain and not disappointment in himself, not from a knee-jerk reaction to the realisation that Doc would never see him as an equal now.

It took him even longer to finally act on it too, reach out and attempt to rebuild the bridge Doc had destabilised and which Lion had spitefully burned in response; it required endless conversations with Bertrand as well as the rest of the GIGN, a worrisome amount of self-reflection, and uncomfortable, tough admissions.

But he managed. Looking back, it’s amazing how much he turned his life around, how much he achieved with the help of those around him and indubitably help from above, and he’s humble enough to try and let his gratitude shine through in everything he does these days.

He even learnt to enjoy waking up. Though admittedly it wasn’t difficult, no, not at all, not when he knows he’ll have company, be greeted with a smile and a kiss, a brief update on global events, a cup of coffee just how he likes it. And so instead of hitting the snooze button on his phone several times, tossing and turning, dreading the beginning of yet another day, he wakes with a serenity he never thought he could achieve.

This morning, his heart feels even lighter than normal and it doesn’t take long to figure out why: there’s a warm body next to his. Doc prefers getting up early, always prefers being prepared no matter what and possesses the inhuman ability to sleep without an alarm and be on time anyway – but rarely, on one of their days off, he allows himself to sleep in, much to Lion’s delight.

Smiling to himself, he rolls on his side to dazedly blink at the spectacular view in front of him and really, Doc has no business being this gorgeous this early in the day. He’s stretched out on his stomach – and he’s the only person Lion has met who sleeps this way –, head turned away from Lion, explaining his constant neck pains, and smooth skin illuminated by the rays falling in through the blinds, painting long stripes on his naked back.

Lion doesn’t want to disturb the image yet reaches out regardless, runs his fingertips over shoulder blades jutting out, the dip of his lower back, relaxed muscles, and reaches the blanket covering Doc from the hips downwards. He should let him sleep. Really, he should, but with every centimetre more that’s revealed, Lion’s interest rises. He takes his time, pauses when he hears his lover take a deep breath and proceeds when it evens out again. Slowly, surely, he reveals plump curves and more soft skin, and then his gaze falls on the discoloured spots on the back of Doc’s thighs and the almost languorous desire playfully swaying in the back of his mind suddenly gets shoved to the very forefront, makes his heart skip a beat and his crotch throb.

Memories from the previous evening come flooding back, the end of a tedious work day necessitating some kind of release – they’d started as soon as they set foot into their apartment, Lion crowding his lover against the door and licking every bit of composure off his tongue, then wandering deeper with his hungry mouth and swallowing him whole, something he’s come to love, provided he can watch Doc’s features dissolve into helpless want while sucking on him, hard. He took his time, did so for the rest too, left Doc aching and fingered him open over the couch until he was flushed and flustered and even more beautiful, took him standing up until his legs gave in, relocated to the kitchen table, eventually landed in bed where he finished them both off with merciless snaps of his hips, listening to Doc’s desperate whines and floating on pure ecstasy.

The bruises are remnants, and now he also feels the scratches on his back again which he didn’t let the other man see, angled his body so he wouldn’t notice the damage he’s done – he usually feels bad about leaving marks though Lion can never get enough. It’s one of the many small disagreements about which they half-heartedly argue and neither of them is ready to budge, but more often than not they end with a hand in someone’s hair or quick kisses. There’s more, now that he knows where to look, Doc’s ass cheeks themselves are still tinted red and the lovebites Lion sucked onto his ribs remain perfectly visible as well.

Maybe he should add a few.

Moving carefully, he removes the blanket entirely, admires Doc’s shapely legs for a moment and then kneels between them, intending no more than to touch the sleeping beauty a little, but as soon as his palms come to rest on firm flesh, a different thought makes his cock twitch in anticipation. Doc is perfectly on display like this, the hills and valleys of his body enticing in a way that Lion wants nothing more than mould himself around them, and he decides to appreciate it all by waking Doc with something more… personal than simply covering him in hickeys.

Thumbs pull the cheeks apart a little, exposing a pink hole which looks overwhelmingly inviting to Lion, a hole he abused to his heart’s content the previous evening and so it’s only appropriate for him to make up for the rough treatment, isn’t it? He leans forward and gingerly circles the rim with the tip of his tongue, starting feather-light and increasing the intensity slowly, intersperses it with broad laps and has to suppress a moan when he feels the ring of muscle pulsing in response. He’s felt similar contractions around his shaft so many times before and the association is all he needed for a full, heavy erection – especially when he remembers Doc’s usual, elated expression whenever he climaxes.

The hips beneath his hands shift a little, and a foot lifts, powerless, and when he pushes the tip of his tongue inside, Doc lets out a sleepy groan. “Really?”, he mumbles into the sheets but makes no move to stop Lion. “Didn’t we do enough yesterday?”

He grins and forces himself a little deeper, eliciting a weak moan, before withdrawing for a reply: “Gustave, I can never have enough of you.” And to cut off any smart remark, he wiggles his tongue back inside and turns all of Doc’s protests into small, appreciative noises. Though his lover appears to be the voice of reason more often than not, he allows himself to get swept up by Lion’s passion all the time, mentioning work but riding him with abandon ten minutes later, scolding him for only thinking about one thing but asking him to come on his face the same day. Lion never minds initiating, not when this is the result: an increasingly aroused Doc meeting his mouth with subtle grinding, fisting the sheets and not even fully awake yet.

A curious finger proves Doc to be more than loose enough a few minutes later, and by this point they’re both panting and dizzy – and besides, Lion has always been more of a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ type, so he wastes no time in grabbing the lube strategically placed on the bedside table to pour a generous amount on his stiff cock, wincing a little at the cool, viscous liquid. A few strokes for good measure coat it sufficiently and the next moment he’s rubbing his tip over the very hole he licked open just now, felt it quiver around his tongue. The touch is electrifying and the fierce need pulsing through him urges him to give in, take what’s his, ensure his own pleasure.

But he waits. Bites his lip in impatience, pushes slightly against the entrance and shivers when he feels it give way a little, squeezes one of the buttcheeks he maltreated in the sweetest way possible last night – but he waits.

And then Doc meets him, lifts his hips to allow the head to slip inside and both of them gasp at the sudden surge of pleasure. Lion accepts this signal for what it is and begins the slow slide, pushes deeper and deeper into deliciously tight heat, feels Doc’s walls contract around his dick and only stops once he’s bottoms out. Since his lover usually requires a moment to adjust, Lion uses this time to not only focus on how fucking good he feels, but also to straddle the other man properly and lean down, cover him with his own body and place a few loving kisses on the top of his head.

“Other people wake their boyfriends with breakfast in bed”, Doc grumbles under him, now less bleary than before, but the hand he places next to Lion’s contradicts his words. He spreads his fingers and Lion interlaces them with his own, holds on tight and makes no move to suppress the smile stretching his lips at the gesture.

“Their boyfriends are definitely not as erotic as mine then”, he purrs into Doc’s hair. His limbs are possessively caging the other man in and even then, it hardly suffices to sate his need to be as close to Doc as possible, feel all of him.

“What you mean to say is they have more than just a shred of self-control.” And oh, he’s going to make Doc eat those words.

Slowly, he begins grinding down, impatient erection twitching eagerly inside and rubbing against all the right places if Doc’s startled gasp is anything to go by. He loves it deep and Lion knows it, rolls his hips against his lover’s perfect ass and makes him feel every centimetre keenly. For good measure, he bows his head to latch onto that spot right below Doc’s ear which he knows drives him wild, tongues at it wetly before sucking and relishes the unrestrained moan he earns for his trouble. Over time, he’s memorised all of Doc’s weakspots and exploits this knowledge now shamelessly, bites at his earlobe and trails his lips over soft skin to the back of Doc’s neck where he nibbles, his lazy motions emphasising his ministrations.

By now, Doc is trembling against him, the deep grind stealing his breath and causing him to jerk his hips up in search of more thorough stimulation than this merciless teasing, trying to fuck himself on Lion’s cock but failing. Frustrated huffs join the quiet panting, his grip involuntarily tightening parallel to him clenching desperately around Lion’s hard shaft and it’s mesmerising to behold how his mock crossness melts away into pure lust.

Doc’s other hand reaches back and digs into Lion’s ass, tries to get him to move more, faster, anything, but when that fails as well, he pleads: “Come on, just fuck me, Olivier.”

He knows how this goes. Grinning to himself, Lion tenses his muscles to make his dick throb inside additionally to the tantalising motions and decides to have even more fun. “You look so pretty, impaled on my cock”, he whispers and throws Doc a bone, withdraws all the way and slowly slides back in, keeps this torturous pace and sighs contentedly every time Doc’s hole allows him back in, stretches around him. He meant his words – he really can never get enough of this.

Uneven breaths have turned into whines now. “Olivier, please -”

“I could fuck you, pump you full of come and then leave you, dripping and begging for it”, he continues and concentrates on the steady build of pleasure – a slow climb but oh so satisfying. Doc feels wonderful around him. “Could do that the entire day. Every time you suck me until I’m hard again, I shoot inside but you’re not allowed to come. You can ride my cock all day, Gustave.” The thought is dazzling and he probably never fantasised about someone while being balls deep inside that very person, yet he can’t help but picture Doc all powerless, frenzied, obeying him fully. He knows Doc is too proud to actually agree to anything like it, though the throaty moan Doc lets out in response tells Lion unambiguously that he’s imagining it – and actually enjoys the thought. Still, Lion’s thumb strokes reassuringly over the hand he’s still holding.

“Please, I want you, go faster -” Doc’s impatience has reached its peak now, he shoves himself onto Lion’s member in one go and pushes against him, whimpers when Lion gnaws at his neck in retaliation and rises nonetheless, lifting his lover’s body with him. The teasing has left him frantic and exactly how Lion likes it, cheeks red and gaze almost defiant when he glares at the larger man over his shoulder. Lion could spend all day marvelling at the state of him.

Instead, he relents, guides Doc onto his hands and knees and grabs his hips to steady him, fingers brushing over the bruises on Doc’s thigh, the faint purplish tinge an expression of his devotion. “You want it hard?”, he asks and is almost surprised at how breathy his own voice is. Unbridled want is pulsing through him, vicious and blinding, making his digits itch and cock ache.

Doc nods wordlessly and it’s probably good he can’t see the pure joy on Lion’s face over the admission. Even now, even with how familiar they are with each other, every confirmation of the passion, respect and love they share sparks delight.

A sharp snap of Lion’s hips later and his focus is elsewhere again. Now he’s getting serious, drives into Doc at a fast tempo, watches as his entire erection disappears inside him and tries his best not to come on the spot. The abrupt stimulation is almost too much but he keeps going through the discomfort paired with blunt need until he hears himself moan loudly in pleasure, dig his fingertips into Doc’s flesh. He’s not going to last long, that much is clear, but he’s going to make it good regardless.

A few pointed thrusts elicit more dazed whimpering from his lover, a picturesque arch of his back to allow Lion to penetrate him all the way and even another, decidedly more heated glance back at him. They’re both equally into it, tensing and moving against each other amid the sound of skin slapping against skin, the rustling of sheets as Doc desperately seeks support, leverage, anything to hold on to – and Lion shares the sentiment of feeling wholly lost yet not wanting to be found. Ruthlessly, he slams into his lover, chasing his pleasure, helping Doc pursue his own, and makes no effort to hide his enjoyment.

A sudden spike almost pushes him over the edge when Doc’s arms give in, accompanied by something that sounds suspiciously like a keen, and now he’s really pounding him into the mattress, showing him just how deep his desire runs, how comprehensive his attraction is. He can’t even pinpoint which part it is exactly about Doc that drives him this wild, fills him with the urge to claim, mark, embrace and never let go; and he revels in the knowledge of being able to make this otherwise so poised, dignified and professional man fall apart, provoke emotions from him he displays for no one else.

“Come for me”, Lion gasps in between the creaking of the bed, “do it. Come on, amour, Gustave, I want to feel it.” And the sounds he wrenches from Doc’s throat with every thrust get impossibly louder when his lover reaches for his dick, probably not able to keep up with the merciless rhythm with which Lion is driving into him but still good enough. He gets tighter, even more so when Lion’s breath hitches, followed by a growl. He’s getting closer by the second, Doc’s noises and velvety heat making up the perfect catalyst -

And then Doc orgasms, surprisingly quickly for how little he stroked himself, he must’ve been primed, possibly dreamt of Lion and this thought is a whole other turn-on he shelves away for later. Right now, he watches, utterly transfixed, as Doc spasms under him, hips rolling futilely to either increase the intensity or shy away from it as he shoots his sperm in short bursts in between the hard thrusts. Lion fucks him through it, runs one of his palms over the dancing muscles of Doc’s back and shudders at the violent contractions around his throbbing cock; fucks him through the aftershocks, too, tiny jolts which speak of a very satisfying climax. Lion isn’t there yet, however, not fully, teetering on the edge, carefully controlling himself so he can take all of Doc in and -

“Finish inside, Olivier”, Doc demands, voice shaky, and he’s gone.

His abs tense with a delicious kind of pain at the first wave of blissful release washing through him. He buries himself deep inside his lover and moans in disbelief over how abruptly pleasure explodes behind his eyelids and nearly folds in half at the intensity, gasping for air as his cock twitches and probably adding a few bruises to the existing ones. Momentary blindness allows him to be wholly aware of Doc moving against him to milk him for every drop, of overwhelming relief encompassing his entire being as he orgasms, surrounded by scorching heat and momentarily losing all sense of reality.

Coming down is a slow, gradual affair, both of them slumping a little and Lion bending so he can rest his forehead on Doc’s shoulder blade as they both catch their breath, bask in the afterglow and enjoy the feel of shared body heat, companionship and sweet exhaustion. Lion peppers his boyfriend’s shoulder with kisses once he can see straight again, withdraws tentatively and sits up to examine the masterpiece he just fucked into existence in all its glory: shiny skin, reddened cheeks, a gaping hole, dark marks and lovebites, and, after a few seconds, a thin stream of white leaking out.

Lion is definitely unable to get hard immediately after a climax this exquisite but his dick gives a feeble jump at the sight nonetheless. He reaches out and catches the droplets with a fingertip, pushes them back to where they came from, pushes them back inside and earns a quiet moan. Adding another digit, he tries to finger the semen as deep as he can and only pauses when Doc kicks him lightly.

“I’m sore enough as it is”, he complains and rolls to the side when Lion withdraws mournfully, yet there’s a bright smile adorning his face when their eyes meet.

With weak knees, Lion stalks back and forth to get them cleaned up (and is actually amazed Doc doesn’t mention the scratches he himself inflicted) but insists on doing one thing by himself: once he’s taken his rightful place by Doc’s side, entangled their legs and exchanged a few loving kisses, he catches Doc’s wrist to lift it to his face and starts to lick his palm clean.

“You’re like a dog”, his lover murmurs fondly and readily spreads his fingers to allow for better access. “They should’ve called you Husky, not Lion – they’re just as noisy and stubborn.”

Lion shoots him a good-natured grin. “Then you should be called Bunny. What was that about self-control?”

“Oh please, you’re the eternally horny one, mon amour.”

“And yet you never say no.” Their lips meet once more in a long, thorough kiss, with Doc climbing on top of Lion halfway through, ending up straddling him and stroking his face affectionately until Lion mouths at his palm while keeping eye contact.

“You really love my hands”, Doc points out quietly.

It’s true, he does – he loves how steady they are on the job, never making a mistake, never causing harm; loves how they’re calloused and scarred, lots of specks and lines lighter in colour telling tales of hard work; loves how they worship him, how gently they treat him, how warm they are when they touch him.

“I also really love you”, Lion says instead of the million other things he could say instead which would amount to the same thing. He’s learnt his lesson about being honest with himself and others and can’t find it in himself to be embarrassed when his admissions make Doc’s face light up like a Christmas tree. “And your hands do good. They’re your most important tools and I’m thankful every time I feel them.” There’s so much more for which he’s grateful that making a list would take him several days, so he tries to convey all which he’s not divulging explicitly with a heartfelt: “Thank you, Gustave.”

Doc’s features soften and he accepts the notion with one last kiss before getting up. “I’m going to brew us some coffee”, he announces, yet pauses by the bedroom door to catch Lion’s gaze and add, softly: “I love you too, Olivier.”

And while Lion remains in bed for a minute longer, stretched out and encased in soothing warmth coming from within, a distracted smile pulling at the corners of his mouth and most of his body tingling pleasantly, he thinks back to his life no more than a year ago. How unthinkable it was that waking up would become his favourite part of the day. But sometimes, the unthinkable happens all the same.

[fullsunhyuckie]

in dreams we meet.

*here’s a low quality picture of a high quality person. i’m sorry i love this picture so much so i picked this :))))

dream coordinator!mark

in which mark coordinates people’s dream and yours is by far the hardest for him. 

disclaimer: this story is only fictional and purely made up,,,by me :) 

okay so letsgetit

after death, there are 3 stages. basically theres heaven, hell and the in between. 

we all know how heaven and hell works. the more good you do, you’ll go to heaven and the more bad you do, you’ll go to hell. as for the in between, its for those have a balance of both good and bad. 

in between requires all its inhabitants to,, work? people in here are made to do these jobs so that they can redeem themselves and eventually end up in heaven. 

the jobs in there are things such as grim reapers, guardian angels, fairies like tooth fairies etc. 

mark was 19 when he died. the cause of death on his death cert,,, unknown. its probably a dumb way to die, thats why. 

you could consider mark a saint, always saying his prayers before a meal or a test. but he died a teenager so obviously there were as many bad things he did. he probably killed a bug,,,,but dont worry he prayed after that because he was scared but i mean its still a sin. so here’s mark in the in between.

mark was assigned to be a dream coordinator. he was tasked to coordinate dreams for each human he was assigned to. 

there are 5 stages in each sleep cycle the first being the non-REM sleep which basically means light sleeping and the fifth stage the state of a dream in a dream or lucid dreaming

it has been 2 years ever since he started his job. well if you count it in earth years its probably about 70 years. 

so now, mark is a senior coordinator, which means he will overlook his team and also settle for the tougher cases. 

so thats how he got to know you, a university undergraduate majoring in neurology. you were bound to have trouble sleeping with all the stress. the nightmares you had weren’t helping you either but blame donghyuck for that he doesnt know how to handle people like you. 

mark was recruited and the first time he saw you, your textbooks were sprawled on the floor and you had your head on the study table with at least 50 pages on the nerve system scattered on it. you were drooling a little but mark found this all in all just,,, pure. 

he felt bad for you so he vowed to stick with you till he is able to fully heal your sleeping habits. 

truthfully speaking, it was tough to be your sleep coordinator. some nights you wouldnt sleep or you wouldnt get pass your non-REM sleep so he would be jobless. 

times like these made him wish he was instead a guardian angel so he could tell you to sleep right tf now. 

thankfully, there were some nights when you were able to fall asleep, in the REM stage, which is the stage where most people have dreams. he would coordinate dreams to make sure you would stay deep in sleep for at least 6-7 hours. 

he would access your memories that are good and bad, interests, hobbies, fears and all. so to be honest he knows a lot about you. he also knows that he might have a tiny crush on you but whatever :/ 

after coordinating your dreams he would sit by the corner of your bed and watch you, not in a creepy way, no. 

he’s merely doing his job to ensure nothing terrible happens in your dreams

he would look at you smile in your sleep when a good part comes up which made his heart flutter a little. here and there he would add bits and pieces of information about him in your dreams so that you could have an idea of him.

sometimes he has to fight his strong urge to properly meet you and he wishes he was still alive so he could talk to you :(

some nights he had to coordinate nightmares because the equilibrium between dreams and nightmare had to exist. this is so that your brain can register the fact that reality still do exist.

it breaks his heart when he has to do this. nights like these, he will make sure he will not leave your side so that he can ensure that the nightmares weren’t that bad. 

when you wake up crying he feels the urge to reach out to you and pull you into his warm embrace and whisper into your ears that you’ll be fine. so he does just that. but you wont realise. all you feel is the cold winter air from outside even though in reality, mark is right there beside you. and this is all because he’s just a dream coordinator. he will beat himself up because of this so whipped for you omg

it’s the worst when finals came, because that means you wont be able to get enough sleep and no matter what dream he coordinates, it will be to no avail. 

so he had to result to the last stage, the state of a dream in a dream. this way you would be sure not to wake up. better still, you would be able to control your dreams which means that it would be to your advantage because in dreams, anything is possible which also means that you can have a dream that is to your favour

stage 5, no matter how great it is, is very dangerous. because if it occurs too often the brain would be functioned to think that waking up does not necessarily mean that you are in reality. this is caused by all the false awakening during your dream in a dream. basically your brain is fked. and because finals dread on for at least a month and a half he becomes worried for you.

but because of his love for you he is willing to drain out his good points (basically a point system for people like mark to help mortals like you) in exchange for appearing in your lucid dreams to guide you into having the perfect one (which means not a nightmare :) ) to ensure that such side effects wont happen to you. 

3 years later and you’re graduating with a degree and 10 pounds of eyebags!! and mark  is so proud of you. he’s so happy for you he made you dream of having your first job and your first paycheck to encourage you. 

but as time goes by you got better in terms of your sleeping schedule. noooo for him but yay for you. this means that mark is no longer needed and donghyuck can take over. the hq back in the in between needs him especially after having donghyuck in charge. 

the last day he was assigned to you he made you dream about being loved. he wants you to know that there are people out there who cares about you, both living and dead. aka him because technically he’s dead 

you woke up crying not because you were afraid but because it felt so real and it truly was. mark gave you a kiss on your forehead and whispered ‘i’ll miss you’ in your ear. but once again you couldnt feel anything and kept on crying. mark could not bear to stay any longer so he left you there, a crying mess. he hates himself because of that.

mark had to work extra hours for using up his good points on you but he knows it was worth it so he didnt mind. 

the nights when he had to monitor donghyuck’s coordination of dreams were his favourite because he was able to see you. and thats all that matters to him 

every now and then he would appear in your dreams playing a minor or major role depending on his mood. by now, you somehow had a gist of how he looked like because of his recurring role in your dreams and you would gush about it to your friends. 

for now, mark thinks what you and him have is enough. because he knows that the only way you guys can encounter each other is through dreams. :))

-Z

[dragonwitch77]

Shadow Girl (Prologue)

Once upon a time in a distant land far away, there was once a small kingdom. It was ruled by a benevolent king and his kindhearted queen. Under their rule and guidance, the kingdom prospered—

That means that the kingdom was doing well. And benevolent means well-meaning and kind.

The kingdom prospered under the king and queen. The years would go by and the small kingdom thrived. Everything seemed to be at peace in the small kingdom. But all was not well as everyone had hoped.

Outside of the kingdom, war raged as different nations—

Well they’re kinda like a kingdom but bigger and have a united history or common ground. Now as I was saying.

War raged between the different nations, fighting with each other with—

I don’t know what they were fighting about back then kiddo. People will fight with anyone if they feel like it. Now are you going to listen to my story or not?

The nations fought with each other, each side coating the ground with blood of their enemies and many innocents that were caught in the crossfires. With so many losses on all sides, the nations so realized that if one of them didn’t get any backup soon, then all would be lost. But no one wanted to side with anyone. They were all enemies! All except for one small kingdom.

The nations pleaded with the king and queen, offering gold, food, trade, knowledge from the furthest corners of the planet just so the small kingdom would side with one of them and turn the tide against the war. But, they would not budge. While they wanted to help, their people came first. War would not help the small kingdom. It would only bring destruction and death in its wake.

Not wanting to risk spreading the war to their kingdom, the king and queen rejected all offers and turned down all the requests to join the war. But this turned out to be a bad mistake. A terrible one.

The nations, angered by the king and queen’s refusal to fight, turned on the small kingdom.

They figured that since they refused to fight with them, they didn’t deserve to live in peace.

Lives were lost, villages were destroyed, and it continued to get worse as time went on.

The king, filled with grief on the turn of events on his once peaceful kingdom, begged for mercy from the nations. All his pleads fell on deaf ears and—

No I didn’t mean they couldn’t hear him kid. They just ignored him and didn’t care about how he felt. Yes they were big meanies and poopyheads, but war will do that to you sometimes.

His pleads fell on deaf ears and the nations continued to attack his kingdom. All hope seemed lost as the war went on, until one night the king received a visitor. The visitor was a curiously strange fellow to the king and spoke in a tongue that both seemed foreign and familiar to him. The visitor greeted the king like an old friend, showing compassion and condolence for the king in his current predicament he and his kingdom where in.

The visitor told the king that they were but a kind traveler who had wandered for many years and know of many things many did not. They told the king of stones that reached the stars, a sea made of sand, and a place where snow never ceased falling from the sky where the lights danced with colors. Fascinated by the visitor’s stories, the king asked if they could possibly know how to stop the nations from attacking his people.

To his delight, the visitor did. But not only did he know how to stop the war on his kingdom, they knew how to stop the war altogether! The king only needed to do four important tasks to end the war. The first was to find the strongest tree found in the sea of sand. The second was a gem found in the deepest caves of the rocks that touched the stars high above. The third was a carving knife that could cut and shape anything the wielder wanted. And the final was light of a full blue moon.

At once the king sent out his best men to track down the items required to stop the war, and in two months his men returned with the three items. Handing them to the visitor, the king and him men watched in awe and wonder as the visitor started to cut the strongest tree with the knife, cutting into it like in was nothing more than air. The visitor carved and shaped the wood down till it was a small wooden block the size of a humans head. He then asked the king to step forward, and with the knife carved the block, shaping it smaller and smaller till it was only a small piece of its old form.

Taking the wood and placing it near the king’s face, the visitor once again started carving with careful steady hands, stopping multiple times to place the block of wood against his face for making it into a perfect fit. Finally, the visitor finished his work.

The wood that was used from the strongest tree had been made into a mask! Made to fit the king’s face and his alone.

With the carving done, the visitor took the gem and gave the king very strict instructions.

“My king. With this mask it will grant your deepest wish and stop this war. But I must warn you. Only the light of the blue moon must this mask be bathed in and not by any other light of the moon. For if that were to happen, a dark force will be upon your kingdom far darker than what this war has caused.”

With his final words of wisdom, the visitor placed the gem on the mask, and right before everyone’s eyes the mask transformed into the most elegant mask anyone had laid eyes on. Handing the mask over, the visitor left without saying goodbye and vanished.

The king, mindful to what the visitor had told him, kept the mask hidden, waiting for the night of the blue moon to come. During his waiting the queen gave birth to their son—

Oh! Um! It’s uh-how to explain this to a two year old, uh, it’s-it’s-i-i-it’s when you come into existence and uh there’s the birds and the bees and-I-I’lllll tell you when you’re older alright? Can we just get back to the story? Please?

During his waiting, his son was born, and for the first time since the nations attacked, the king was overwhelmed with great joy. So much that he spent every moment with his new son.

Too much.

The king spent so much time with the boy, he completely forgot about the mask and the moon.

Once he realized this, it was too late. The blue moon had passed and the mask had not gotten even a single ray of its light. To make it even worse, the king’s spy told him of an upcoming attack that would surely kill them all.

The king fell into despair but suddenly remembered of the soon coming blood moon. The queen and his men begged him not to go through with the plan, fearing the warning the visitor gave and dreaded to even think what would fall upon them if the king went through with it. The queen even went far to hide the mask, but king found it and promised his dear wife that he would fix everything.

On the night of the blood moon, the nations were marching in for the final attack, ready to kill off what was left of the kingdom and its people. But before anyone could attack, the king came out on his best horse in his best regal clothes and the mask adorned on his face. He rode out to the edge of the kingdom, riding tall and proud.

The nations thought the king was surrendering, and laughed thinking how foolish it would be to stop them now. But they wouldn’t be laughing soon.

In the light of the blood moon, the mask started radiating with dark power that grew under the moon. The more the moon’s light shone down on it, the more the darkness grew until the kingdom and the nations could feel its power radiating. With a raised fist and an angry yell, the earth shook, startling everyone and terrifying many to flee for their lives. The ground cracked, splitting open and spreading apart like never before seen by the eyes of many.

Farther and farther apart the ground went away, shoving land away from itself to far corners of the world. But even when the last of the nations lands were gone, the ground still shook and the king was still yelling.

Fearing for her subjects lives, the queen ran out to him with the craving knife in hand. Her quickly formed plan was to break the mask, fearing what evil that now lurked there had taken control of her king. But to her despair, she could not reach her king on tumbling ground.

With a heavy heart, she called out to him and threw the knife at his face.

To her dread, the knife hit the mask. And her king.

With the mask now split, its evil was stopped, and the king was dead.

Heart broken, the queen ordered two of her men to take the two halves and hide them away so no one would find them. She never wanted the mask to fall into the wrong hands or see the grim reminder of what she had done.

Over the years everyone soon forgot about the mask and lived peacefully in their new kingdom that grew inside of a forest. The end.

“Wad bout the qween?”

He blinked, peering down at the two eyes staring back at him. “What?”

“The qween? Wad happened to hew?” The child asked again, sucking on her thumb.

“Hey, hey! What did I tell you about sucking your thumb kid?” He growled, pulling her thumb out of her mouth. “And well, not much to tell you about the queen kiddo. No one really paid her too much mind after what happened. I guess they wanted to give her some space to… help with what happened with the king.” Help in the form of grieving and dying of that grief years later, but he wasn’t going to let her know that. “Anyway, it’s bedtime kiddo! Off to bed with you!”

“Nooooo! No Bed Snawer!” She whined as she was scooped up and carried over to her plush bed.

“Snatcher kid. You’re getting close, but not quite there.” Snatcher ruffled her hair, taking pleasure in her whining as he tucked her in.

“But I’m not sweepy!” The child whined, though her argument was very weak as she let out a loud yawn.

“Oh yeah. VERY convincing kiddo.” Snatcher rolled his eyes, tucking the blanket around her carefully. “Come on. We agreed that we would have one more story then you’d go to bed.”

“But.” The girl tried to struggle to stay awake, but the comfy bed and Snatcher placing her Mr. Floppy Ears in her arms was making her tired. She snuggled her toy, looking at Snatcher with a pleading drowsy look. “One mowe? Pwease?”

Snatcher hummed, rubbing his head before sighing. “Alright alright. ONE more story. But you go right to sleep when it’s over kid!”

She nodded, snuggling deeper into her covers.

“Ahem. Once, long ago, there was a man and a woman. They were deeply in love with one another.” Snatcher gazed at the young girl, seeing her eyes drooping. She was already falling asleep, but he didn’t mind. He never finished this story with her. “Every day they spent their time together, loving and cuddling, talking about their dreams for the future.” Her breathing evened out as he went on, talking more to himself then to his sleeping audience. “But one day a fight broke out between them, and the man and woman changed. Forever.”

[avani008]

For 5 headcanons, could you please write more about Kanta, Durdhara, or Bala with her husband Kumar Verma?

Kanta (previous here)

1. When Kanta returns from the mountains at last, it is her sister-in-law who she goes to see first. “Tread carefully,” the steward who guides her warns; “the Empress...the Empress-that-was is of course displeased. She’s thrown others from her chambers on the flimsiest pretext.”

Kanta frowns. “She’ll see me,” she says with quiet conviction, and the steward, ashamed, falls silent. 

Far from throwing her out, Draupadi throws her arms about Kanta’s neck. “It’s all right,’ Kanta soothes, even though Draupadi does not so much as sniffle into her shoulder. “I’m here.”

2. She visits her brothers next, their faces still so familiar. 

“It is good you came now,” Bhima says with terrible sarcasm. “In a day’s time, you might have missed us together; we are to return to the wood at the King’s command.”

Yudhisthira flinches, but Kanta doesn’t comfort him. 

“Tell me,” she says, “what must be done next.”

3. Mother Kunti blames herself.

“I promised the Princess of Panchal an empire when she wed my sons,” she mourns, “and look what she has now instead: a throne of twigs!”

“I promised myself to protect her as I would you or my brothers,” Kanta replies quietly. Her face betrays nothing, and yet Kunti’s gaze flickers anxiously in her direction.

“If I had been with her, Dushasana would not live to the results of his actions today,” Kanta whispers, guilt lending venom to her voice, and Kunti strokes her hair gently. 

4. “Will you go with them?” Mother--Radha, the first and best mother Kanta has ever known--asks, and Kanta shakes her head. 

“I have shared one exile with my brothers,” she replies. “I do not care to share another.”

“Then--” Mother hesitates “--you will wish to reside your royal mother?”

Kanta looks at her to laugh for what seems like the first time in entirely too long. “Dear one,” she says with real affection, “if I must wait fourteen years for the war that will be my revenge, who else might I do so than with you?”

5. Radha’s house does not put her in contact with the princes of Hastinapur very often, but neither does it protect her from them. At last the encounter Kanta has dreaded for decades is here; Prince Duryodhana stands before her.

“Come back,” he begs, in the same tone he once used to beg, Marry me. “Who are they to you, when we have meant so much to each other? Not enough that you didn’t run from them not a month after they wed, and stay away for fifteen years since.”

(He has not married, after all these years. She wishes she was not so aware of this fact, or that that familiar ache start anew in her chest.)

“And how long has it been since I ran from you?” she retorts, because it is always easier to be cruel. They will meet, sooner or later, or enemies on the battlefield; better that Duryodhana accustom himself to it now.

But he offers none of the sharp counters she remembers so well, and his eyes still follow her as she turns away.

Kanta despairs. 

Durdhara (previous here)

1. At last, Durdhara decides, Bhima is ready. He might never be the sort to pay polished comments or hold his tongue, but Durdhara calculates he might, after all, pass for a prince if one doesn’t look too carefully. 

“Very kind of you,” Bhima drawls when she tells him this, and Durdhara frowns. Sarcasm she hadn’t bothered to instruct him in, but naturally in this he would be a prodigy. With time, she might grow accustomed to it.

2. ...She does not.

But eventually the urge to strangle him for his stupidity ebbs, and Durdhara accepts this as the best she might expect. 

3. “I’ve helped you,” she pronounces, “now you must help me.”

Bhima, to give him his due, doesn’t pretend ignorance. But he does look quite alarmed and announce hurriedly: “I won’t kill anyone for you!”

Durdhara huffs with exasperation. “As though I would ask such a thing!”

(And she wouldn’t. Not really.)

Bhima’s face relaxes and brightens with curiosity. “What, then, did you have in mind?”

4. When Bhima sends her brothers tumbling from the trees, Durdhara hoots with laughter. 

“Serves them right,” Bhima tells her later, “for being so unkind to you--”

His eyes are dark with indignation; poor Bhima, beloved by his own brothers, has never known the cruelty that being her father’s disregarded daughter brings Durdhara daily. 

“So it does,” Durdhara sniffs, and pats his arm in thanks. 

“It doesn’t matter,” he replies gruffly. “You’re not alone now. You’ve me and my brothers instead.”

So she does. Durdhara tries--and fails--not to smile.

5. When she is twelve, her Uncle Shakuni comes to visit them. 

The rest of her siblings don’t know how happy Mother is to see him, come all the way from Gandhara, but Durdhara does; and while all her brothers and Dushala scatter to follow Yuyutsu on his latest escapade, Durdhara stays behind to sit by Mother’s side and listen to his stories. 

She likes Uncle Shakuni, who pays more attention to her than that maid’s son, unlike everyone else. She likes Uncle Shakuni who tells her she is worth a thousand of any other and looks at her with pride glinting in his steely eyes, unlike everyone else. 

He is the one who takes her aside and teaches her the foods most conducive to concealing poison: venison, wine, and sweet kheer. 

“Do you know how to make kheer, my child?” Uncle Shakuni asks, apropros of nothing. “No finer present you might make your father’s bastard to show him your love--with this spice, too, brought directly from Gandhara.”

Durdhara reaches for the vial, knowing exactly what her uncle intends. But it is true, too, that she wonders suddenly what Bhima might think, and what he would say, and how he would never understand after all. 

No harm in only keeping the poison safe for now, she tells herself fiercely; and who knows what tomorrow might bring?

Bala & Kumar Varma (previous here)

1. And then comes the day that the ministers begin to buzz with questions about an heir. 

Mother might wax lyrical about the joys of motherhood, the myriad wonders of pregnancy, but Bala takes no more than an instant to consider swollen ankles and an eternally upset stomach before she knows what her answer will be.

“The Prince Consort and I,” she says sweetly, “will choose an heir worthy of the throne ourselves.”

2. “A pity,” the Chief Minister says, shaking his head, “that the Princess Ambika will likely never bear a child. He should, of course, be the obvious first choice to consider.”

An image swims before Bala’s eyes, of a child cursed with Ambika’s unflagging enthusiasm and energy and Devasena’s reckless stupidity. 

Her heart stops at the very thought; “Yes,” she murmurs when at last she can speak without shuddering, “a pity indeed.” 

3. Every noble family in Mahishmati parades their children before Bala, and none of them meet with her approval. 

One is squint-eyed, the other too prone to swoon at the slightest sight of blood, and the last has a sense of fashion that even Ambika would scorn--she can hardly believe where they all come from. 

“You must choose eventually,” Mother says, and Bala tries her best not to make a face in her direction.

4. The queue of candidates becomes ever longer, but, sadly no more promising. 

Bala decides she’s had enough when she looks up to find: “Sethupathy?”

“I assure you,” he bows low, “that my heart is devoted only to the service of our noble country, and that I should be honored to call you ‘Mother.’” He bows again, and looks up at her with what he must suppose an expression of filial piety.

“Sethupathy,” Bala says, as gently as she can manage, “Sethupathy, you are older than I am.”

“So?”

5. When she comes across her husband in the gardens, Bala’s temper is understandably short. When he begins, “I have been putting great thought towards the problem before us--” her hopes sink.

“Surely, my dear,” she hastens, “there’s no need--”

“No, no, no!” He waves his hands in the air. “I have thought about it all. This is Vaishali,” he indicates the child who toddles in his wake. “She’s the daughter of one of Devasena’s old friends, while she and her husband lived, and has nowhere else to go.”

Bala sniffs. “There is no end of orphanages in the city,” she points out.

Kumar Varma ignores this in his enthusiasm. “But only think! If she is from Kuntala, none of your nobles could object, could they?’

True, Bala thinks, and studies the brat quickly. She’s quiet, which speaks in her favor, and well-dressed, which does just as well, and--

“What,” she asks, very seriously, “are your thoughts about learning to become a warrior worthy of the throne?”

The girl’s face brightens suddenly; she waves her arms about, not unlike Kumar Varma a few moments earlier. 

“SMASH!” she says, and Bala’s heart is full. 

[humbletello-blog]

The relationship with me:|:

I prayed for so long for a change in my life, for something diffrent something that I felt I was missing. Id wake up and feel this weird emptyness, but how could I, I recently had Just gotten married to my best friend and we recently moved in to our new apartment in the area we had been wanting, I Had a Job I loved but tolerated, I had about a handfull of friends who I saw as family, So why this emptiness. Id wake up and couldnt and wouldnt look my self in the mirror, I stopped doing my make up, I stopped doing my hair, I stopped Combing my hair, I stopped aknowledging my existence, In My head I didnt matter...

One Morning I woke up and Just didnt see the reason to do the same thing over again , I felt that emptiness again, and with that emptiness came self hate, self sabotage, self Alienation. I Got up washed my face but again not once did I look at my self in the mirror, because in my head It didnt matter what I saw...

That Night I prayed, Listen Im not the one to claim any religion but I do have faith thats another story but My faith was something I was afraid Id be losing next, But that night I prayed, I pored my whole heart into that prayer that it turned into a conversation, and it was one I think I needed. I asked for guidance, I asked for self strength to fight this whatever it was, I asked for positive change and rederection because so many times in my head this same self hate was turning into something more.. Couple of days after that I could not fight this anymore, I was at my lowest I tell you, When You stop carying for yourself then what else is left?, I had this feeling of shame, My wife asked me what was going on she noticed so much change and she could see that The glow that I once had was not there, Here I was dreading this talk because for the longest “ Im fine” , “ Im okay” “ I’m great” is what I had been training myself to do for so long. In the back of my head I could hear That wise voice telling me to tell her, that it was ok, My wife definetly broke me from that spell, she pushed me and she also made changes that would help me get out of My depression, I had been feeling shame, sadness, emptyness, self hate and I kept feeling so alone, When You are dealing with it, You are blinded by the beautiful colors of the world around you, because in your wourld there are No colors.

I guess my prayers worked because after that it was like a domino effect, Depression will always be with me, so will anxiety, But that emptyness is gone, because I had found what I was missing.....

Myself 🌻

[that-one-violist]

The health care system has failed my mother for the past 18 years.

fair warning- this is a lot. i basically unloaded 20 minutes of pain and emotions into this. i dont recommend reading this if you are recently dealing with ill family or grief. i am just. so angry and lost and i needed to get it out.

She fell and tore her ACL. She was told it was because of her weight and not because of the moldy old stairs at her workplace.

She got a goiter in her throat. She was told it was because of her weight.

The goiter turned out to be cancerous. She was told it was inevitable because of her weight.

She had thyroid cancer. She was treated with at best 3-6x the recommended limit of radioactive iodine for a person's entire life span in 2 years time.

When her teeth rotted and her organs failed because of the radioactive iodine she was told to eat more salad, and excersize more because her weight would only make her pain worse, qnd that any pain unrelated to her weight was in her head.

When she cried she was in so much pain between the fibromyalgia the stress and the illnesses she was told she deserved it for her weight and that she should start smoking since her life was meaningless anyways.

When she changed doctors she was given moderately better less emotional and dehumanizing remarks by the one person she was told to trust with her life things were supposed to get better.

She started falling. She started to not be able to go down the stairs. She started to be unable to walk outside on the porch. She started to only make it to 3 rooms in the house. She started to live her entire life for 2 years in her bed and walking to the bathroom.

She grew to be so alienated and so sick of tired of being poked proded and dehumanized for a weight problem she genuinely couldnt fix that she created this whole story to my father and I that she was getting home health treatment and was talking to a doctor that had a surgery planned for her that would let her be able to live her fucking life again.

She passed away and we only now fully realized how much wasnt true. She wasnt seeing a doctor. She hasnt for 3 fucking years. The medication she was being prescribed was by her doctor who decided it was fine to prescribe medication without doing any health evaluations or blood work. This entire time this doctor encouraged my mother to stop getting treatment.

we thought there was hope. She told herself and us there was hope. there never was. she was in pain. she was always going to be in pain. she didnt want to be alive. she only stayed alive in this pain because of my dad my brother and I. she only suffered for us. she gave up her medical operations so i could go to college and pursue my dream without my knowing. she gave up her medical operations so my dad could get his eyes fixed.

she gave up her life for us. she suffered for us. none of this ever would have happened if the fucking doctors treated her like a fucking person with a 3 year old little girl and a son in highschool and a husband. they only saw her as a morbidly obese failure. between the cushings, eating disorders, fibromyalgia, cancer, no thyroid, severe depression, OCD, ptsd from a series of traumatic events, torn ACL and out of place knees, a mass on her stomach that she couldnt bend her knees because of, lymphadema in her bad leg, ovarian cysts, 2 hernias, anemia, the mass in her stomach, and countless other problems we never knew or understood, she couldnt. she couldnt fucking do it.

i only can pray she died painlessly in her sleep. i am so lost and confused and angry and i dont think i ever will be able to trust a doctor in my life. this was always my reality. doctors were mean. doctors hurt mom. doctors ruined my moms life. is some of it her fault? yes, but what would you do if you were trapped in a 1 bedroom area for the last 2 years of your life. what would you do if you havent been able to see your daughter perform since freshman year of highschool 4 years ago or see her conduct for the first time or hug her at graduation or highfive her at the orchestra banquet or help her set up her dorm or see her first college performance on anything other than a small phone screen. what would you do if you havent touched grass on the ground for 2 years. what would you do if you could barely make it to be there for your grandaughters birth and when you got back you fell on the stairs and needed to call 911. she couldnt do it anymore.

she gave up. because the people that were supposed to help her move past her health issues and treat her gave up on her too.

i wont lie. im fucking destroyed. i thought i was ready. the threat of her death loomed over since i was 5 and understood for the first time that "mommy might never wake up again and that is something you need to be ready for." but to watch her deteriorate over my entire life. to realize she wouldnt make it to my college graduation. to always wonder if that phone call was the call. i remember how much she said she wanted to see all the new buildings that were built in the last 3 years in our neighborhood. i remember she wanted to replant that absolutely gorgeous flower that died one bad winter. i remember she was so excited to clothes shopping with me for the first time since 7th grade. i remember she wanted her first outing to be getting frozen yogurt with me.

its all gone

i am absolutely destroyed.

ill be okay but

i didnt want her last days to be in that room. i didnt want her to pass away with a c-pap she dreaded on.

but what can we do now.

shes in a better place, shes in no more pain, and i can only pray there is an afterlife so she can see her grandaughter grow up and her son become a store director and her daughter become an orchestra director and her husband retire happily.

[purrxtina43]

I have no idea how to use this site anymore. It’s been a really long time since I’ve written and I feel like it will be so therapeutic to write and the fact that I know no one reads my blog makes me feel even better haha I can write more freely and just write about whatever goes on in this strange brain of mine.

So whats on my mind tonight that is keeping me up...I have been triggered lately by a few things that have to do with trauma I’ve experienced but literally have never done the work to heal it. Not because I wouldnt do it but because I didnt know how to heal from it. I thought I was healing from it by burying it down and moving forward. My first relationship really fucked me up and apparently it’s time to talk about it. We loved each other very much. He was my first love and I thought he was the coolest guy ever and I loved that he didnt care what other people thought of him because I always cared about what everyone thought of me...all the time. That relationship was one of the worst things I’ve ever experienced. Years of being verbally abused when he would go back to doing drugs secretly. Years of him harassing me saying i threatened his daughter when I did no such thing. years of being told he could find you at any time. No support from my family. no surprise there. Honestly I kind of get it..my grandfather was dying a slow terrible death in the Dominican Republic. The way this guy,,,affected my self esteem is just...mind blowing. I think he wanted me to believe that we were on the same level but we weren’t. I’m not going to sit here and pretend that I was completely innocent in that relationship. I was really messed up back then too. My mental illness was running rampant and I had no idea..but does making mistakes in relationship and in life excuse verbal abuse? His words have stayed with me throughout the years. It’s very easy to remember the horrible things he said. It’s taken me a really long time to not feel bad for him as strange as it sounds. He knew me so well like the darkest things and the best things. So for him to tell me what a piece of shit hoe I am...really has been hard to get out of my head. This year I let him go. The trauma work still needs to be done but I ended contact a while ago and I’m praying that its the last time. I feel like it is but I hate how with him..it’s just unpredictable but I hear he has a girlfriend so maybe he really has moved on and will leave me alone. I personally am fine if we never speak again. I dont want to wish him anything bad. I just personally would like to never hear from him again. There were times during the pandemic where..my anxiety started getting paralyzing again. It’s still quite hard for me to leave the house. I feel like im being judged from the moment I step out the door. For a while I was having trouble feeling safe outside of my house and I feel like it’s happening again but this time it’s not because I’m afraid of him. I used to get scared going to empty the garbage or taking my daughter to the park by myself. Now..I dont feel the fear of him every day showing up. Although I realize anything is possible especially based on recent events that have been triggering. I think the pain surrounding this past relationship...is probably deep and the wound is still open and buried behind the surface but this time I’m finally ready to face the pain and start working on healing. I wish i had known that I could have started to work on this a long time ago but everything also happens when it’s supposed to. 

I’ve always known that I wasn’t “normal”. As a kid I would stress and get anxiety about taking the bus everyday to school and finding the bus at the end of the day. That anxiety is still around to this day. I struggle with public transportation, driving, daily life. Breathing lol It’s an everyday struggle that some people close to me wont be able to understand. I try really hard to push through it but it’s become paralyzing. my world is very small. I can drive to work, to my daughters school and back home. Mind you thats all incredibly close driving wise but even so i still wake up with the dread/anxiety of having to drive in the morning and having to pick up my daughter either after work or go home first but when i go home first, I usually dont want to leave the house again or if i go pick her up ill take a walk to do it. partially to escape and partially cause I sit at a desk all day so my body is just tired and I want to be more active still. Just lately Ive been feeling a bit depressed again and I’m always exhausted...I think thats all I have to share for now. I’ll do a bit of writing probably later or tomorrow. xo