#i would starve to death i'm useless without seeing

[larluce]

Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 (You're here) , PART 8

A little more of past trauma

Merlin, Arthur, Lancelot (who isn't a Knight yet) and some knights camping in the woods.

Knight 1: (hesitantly) Sire...

Knight 2: (careful) We need wood... for the fire, sire.

Arthur: (a little confused by their behavior) Pick some fallen branches then.

Knight 1: Ahm... (sweats)

Lancelot: (realising why they're so scared. Sighs) There's no fallen branches, isn’t there?

Knight 2: ... No.

Merlin: (thinking and looking at Arthur carefully) Oh, no...

Arthur: (hardens his features) search harder.

Knight 1: We searched the whole perimeter three times, sire. There are no branches, no even leafs.

Knight 2: These trees are practically naked. We need... We need to cut one down.

Arthur: No.

Merlin: Arthur...

Arthur: No. We don't need fire anyway.

Lancelot: (the only brave enough to contradict him apart from Merlin) Sire, we need to cook the meat and if we don't make fire we'll freeze to death.

Arthur looks conflicted. Merlin sighs. He appreciates what his prince is doing. He went as far to almost forbid all his knights to hunt and cut any plant, especially trees, ever again and he knows Arthur would have ban any of this practices all together in the entire kingdom if he weren't still a prince. Fortunatly, he talked him out of it, so now Arthur allows hunting only when strictly necessary. Cutting trees, however, was always out of the question. They managed to avoid it... until now.

Arthur: (pointing to a knight) Hey, you. Take off your shirt. We can use that.

Knight 1: What?! Sire, but-

Arthur: (very serious) Are you questioning me?

Merlin: Arthur (holds his hand and pulls him gently til they are apart from the rest). Arthur, it's okay.

Arthur: (almost shouting, firmly) No, Merlin! Not with this. No!

Merlin: (reassuring) It just hurts badly when they do it for fun or there's no need. Now we need it. It's fine.

Arthur: (shakes his head, anguish in his eyes) I can't make them hurt you.

Merlin: They wouldn't be really hurting me. Besides, would you rather let me die of hunger and freeze to death? (Puts a hand on his face and smiles) I'll be fine, I promise.

Arthur: (sighs) alright. (Goes to his Knights)

Lancelot: (aproaches Merlin, whispering) Can't you make some branches fall?

Merlin: (shakes his head) these branches aren't thick enough for a fireplace, and I need to get use to this. Arthur too.

Lancelot: (nods in understanding) He must love you a lot.

Merlin: (nervous) Wha-?! What do you mean?

Lancelot: Don't tell me you didn't notice. He was willing let us starve and freeze so you wouldn't feel any pain just a minute ago.

Merlin: He cares for me. I'm his friend.

Lancelot: I'm his friend too and he never looked at me the way he does to you, like you are the sun. Or use any excuse to touch me, like he might die if he doesn't have you close for more than 5 minutes.(pause) And I don't believe you're not aware of this either.

Merlin: (sighs) I don't want to get my hopes up. I'm happy with how things are. I don't want to ruin things between us. (Thinking) Not again.

Lancelot: (smiles encouringly) You don't have to confess your feelings or anything. Just try to make a move to taste the waters and you can decide what to do from there.

Arthur orders his knights to cut down the farrest tree they could find. It's useless though. No matter how far, Merlin still can feel it. Merlin doesn't scream in pain this time, but he still trembles and flinches. Arthur hugs him close through all this and somehow he ends up sitting on Arthur's lap, and hiding his face in the crook of Arthur's neck. He whimpers and whimpers in pain until he falls asleep in Arthur's arms.

Lancelot: (aproaching them) You should wake him before they come back.

Arthur: (shakes his head) He needs this.

Lancelot: If they see you like this they'll think-

Arthur: (sharply) They can think what they want.

Lancelot: (smiles softly) You don't really believe this is some medical disease, do you?

Arthur: ...

Lancelot: You know about Merlin.

Arthur: (sighs) And he told you. (thinking, a mix of angry, hurt and jealous) He told you before telling me.

Lancelot: No, but I catched him. He echanted the weapon I used to kill the griffin.

Arthur: (snorts) This idiot.

Lancelot: He was careful I'm just observant. Why haven't you told him that you know?

Arthur: I want him to tell me himself.

Lancelot: Why?

Arthur: He deserves that much. And I want to prove that he can trust me.

Lancelot: I don't think it's a matter of trust. He trusts you a lot, Arthur. I know he really wants to tell you but he just doesn't know how to. I mean, can you blame him? He's been told all his life he should hide who he is. I don't think he ever willingly told anyone. (sighs) Even outside Camelot, there's hardly a place where magic users are safe.

Arthur: (with conviction) When I'm king there will be. Camelot will welcome magic again and he won't have to hide anymore. (looking at Merlin sleeping peacefully in his arms, thinking) And this time he will be able to live it and enjoy it.

Lancelot: (to himself) I knew it was a sign.

Arthur: (confused) What?

Lancelot: I never told you why I came to the citadel.

Arthur: You wanted to become a Knight. (thinking) Though you arrived earlier than I expected.

Lancelot: That too, but I also had a dream.

Arthur: A dream?

Lancelot: I saw myself in a knight armor. There was some sort of hole or crack in the air, I don't know, everything's kind of blurry. But I do remmember clearly two faces. Faces I never saw before in my life, but in my dream they were familiar. It wasn't until I came here that I recognised them. They were yours and Merlin's. You were in my dream.

Arthur: (in shock, but composes himself quickly)... I see. And you believe that's a sign. A sign of what exactly?

Lancelot: That one day you will be the king I'll serve with honor.

Arthur: Right... Did you have another memo-I mean dream about us?

Lancelot: (shakes his head) That's all. (looks at the sky) It's getting late. I'll go look for the knights, they may need help. (thinking) And you can have some time alone.

Arthur: (stops Lancelot before he leaves) Lancelot. You said me appearing in your dream mean I'll be the king you'll serve one day. What about Merlin? What does he appearing in your dream means to you?

Lancelot: I thought it was obvious.

Arthur: What?

Lancelot: Well, every king needs a queen sire. (laughs a little and leaves before Arthur can process his words)

...

Tagging @everything-is-applepie , @iwillalwaysbearealfan , @merlinsbeard2 , @procrastinating-angels , @thecornerofbelu , @an-entity-i-think , @smileytrinity , @the-night-viewer , @tansyuduri , @fuckyeahsnackables , @stalesaltinecracker , @lucifertookmyshoe , @aceauthorcatqueen and @virgil-wannabe since you all left beautiful comments in the other parts. Thank you so much! 🤧. Please if you have any idea for this AU or want to see a moment in particular between these two or other characters, just ask. I'm just writing random moments that come to my mind 😅

[teaableu]

WHAT IS YOUR EXILE AU LIKE....

I HAVE BEEN WAITING AGES FOR SOMEONE TO ASK ME THIS

Okay SO a LOT is up in the air right now because I'm doing Research as best I can between classes BUT here's what i got so far:

Lord Kogane is from a very powerful family that wants to take full control over Neo Edo. They think he's doing a poor job because the yokai are running free again and he's overall a pretty useless ruler. They step in and force him to enforce some pretty Messed Up Stuff that put all the people in danger (something to do with the Makkine tech probably). Usagi and his friends have a front row seat as to what he's up to and Usagi decides he won't let them get away with it. I haven't worked out the details but the Koganes' plans threaten the people and the yokai. BUT Usagi's not strong enough to take out the Koganes on his own.

My Usagi has a mystic power of sorts, which makes him very sensitive to spirits. All of the visions he gets through the Ki stone in the show, plus his ability to speak with Miyamoto stem from this ability. A simple way of seeing it would be like, he can see the threads of their lives. So he can read souls and connect with them, and sees ghosts when others cannot. I think the Ki stone sort of unlocked and amplified it when he connected with her. I'm still working on the details of his power but basically he can see and talk to ghosts with a little extra stuff sprinkled in

So the Ki stone encourages Usagi to seek help. Turns out the Koganes have a rich history of killing entire villages and armies that oppose them, dating (maybe) all the way back to Miyamoto's time. So he finds a couple of restless ghosts that are still waiting for vengeance and asks for their help. He strikes a deal that was supposed to help him fight Kogane while allowing the ghosts to avenge themselves their loved ones and their clans. I think he would amplify their power while they help him fight. But he doesn't realize who exactly he's making this deal with and ends up tethering his soul to very powerful VERY ANGRY ghosts that are WAY stronger than he is (I've been researching onryo and yurei for reference). They can take possession of his body, amplify his emotions to be in tune with their own, manipulate his power, and generally cause a lot of destruction. Basically, he becomes their puppet. I'm thinking it's a Venom or Little Shop of Horrors type dynamic between them. Also think of any poltergeist type film

He makes the deal and the ghosts possess him. When Usagi wakes up, he's killed Kogane (who really wasn't even the Big Bad behind the whole thing) and has to flee the city before he's caught and put to death for treason and murder. His friends are all imprisoned but he can't risk returning because he has lost control of his power and is unable to control the ghosts that are bound to his soul. The ghosts are starving for power and burning with hundreds of years of fury and anguish, and feed off of destruction (maybe the living?) It's sort of a pandora's box situation. The ghosts are just a whirlwind of chaos and use Usagi as a means to exact their wrath

I called it exile because Usagi can't return to the city without being arrested and killed for his crimes. The gang was the only one standing up to Kogane, and with his friends in prison, he's sort of stuck. He blames himself for everything that went wrong because he ran off without his friends and jumped headfirst into a situation he did not understand. He was reckless and cocky and now everyone is paying for it.

That's where EMD comes in, but the story continues after EMD season 2 as well.

Some extra notes:

- The timeline for srtuc would probably be a bit different so I can have more flexibility with the season one and season two events, since I wasn't sure when it would take place and I want there to be a pretty big time gap between Usagi leaving and returning. I also might use the Makkine invasion in the story

- I’m still working out Usagi’s backstory/past, but have pretty much decided that he has some history with the Kogane family

- I'm planning for Miyamoto to have a pretty big part in the story as well, acting as a guide for Usagi when he goes into hiding. I'm really interested in their relationship so I really want to take the chance to explore it.

- I'm thinking of adding someone as a nod to Tomoe Ame as well (descendant of her apprentice perhaps), since we got a representation of Chizu, Kitsune, and Gen in the tv show but not Tomoe (sad)

I wrote out the sparksnotes version of this here

In addition to the artwork there I have some other concept art

Blood warning under the cut

[toiletwipes]

PIECES | vampire! wilbur

Part 1 — I'm here again

Summary: There's a vampire, wandering and mourning for a love that died by his hands. He wanders and drifts along the universe until the love has found him.

In this part, we meet Wilbur, a man turned into a vampire and the love he has for someone.

THIS FIC IS PART OF THIS EVENT! [The Common Fanfiction Trope Writing Event] Mainly mainly for oblivious pining! i bet i could squeeze friends to lovers in this though.

[Warnings: blood, mention of death and killing, the usual vampire stuff]

~2.6k words.

title and chapter title from the song pieces by red

———

He walks. For a long time in his life, it was all he ever did. He would walk and walk, never really needing to stop. Walked until there were no sidewalks, until there was only dirt. Till he tilted his head up and was unable to recognize the stars above him. And then he’d continue. One foot after the other.

There was never a reason to stop walking, other than to stop and feed but that was getting rarer and rarer. Starving himself wasn’t ideal but with how often he walked and how often he would walk miles without noticing it, his head somewhere else. In a different time and under a different set of stars. But starving himself was the only right thing to do, nowadays. Sure, the hunger was unbearable… if he was focused on the present.

And then… one day while he was walking, it's late at night and he entered a new town, one he hadn’t been in before. He doesn’t know why, why he stops walking for the first time in a week, why he stops and turns his head but when he does, the wind is knocked out of him, his chest tightening in knots when he sees your face.

His first victim, the first drop of blood came from you. Your death solely defined his role as a monster. It was his one regret out of all of this- becoming an eternal nightmare, cursed forever to starve and ache and burn under the heavens while everyone else lived and breathed and loved and died. Becoming this only happened because he was too weak to stay away from you, starved himself of his nature, starved himself of you.

Your death had been the nail in the coffin.

And yet.

There you stood, in an old diner, taking orders and serving drinks and meals. A smile on your face while you did it. Talking and walking and breathing and… alive.

And he hasn’t fed in a while. Couldn’t bring himself to, stuck in the useless cycle of why bother? And he could feel it in his throat, the unbearable itching, the burning. The empty pit in his stomach. It almost was too much, all of these feelings and seeing your face. Seeing you and hearing you and only able to feel the hunger consuming him. He fled the scene, hiding behind a building, and sucking down on the rats that didn’t scurry away fast enough.

An older woman had opened the door next to where he had slid down. “Oh, there you are, Wilbur, I told you not to come through the back again, there’s rats out here darling.” He ends up realizing she’d mistaken him for her grandson or someone else, but she drags him in anyways. The rats had been enough to curb the hunger, and he let her take him inside of her home. She gives him free reign of the bathroom, handing him clothes that weren’t torn to shreds by the course of time and the elements.

When he looks in the mirror, he finds a creature of extreme camouflage. A monster that blends in so well, you’d almost be entranced by the sight of him alone. The clothes are loose, they hang off him like he has no meat, and to be fair, he doesn’t have a healthy diet, but they fit well enough. And when he helps her into bed, tucks her in and closes the door behind him, he thanks her quietly and hopes her grandson makes it home safe so she won’t be alone in the morning.

Standing outside, freshly scrubbed and in a set of clothes that don’t belong or smell like him, he feels like an imposter, a wolf in sheep’s clothing if you will. He looked closer to normal and human, to something less dangerous than before. He doesn’t know how to feel about it.

He finds himself heading to the diner again, unable to help himself. Were you a hallucination? Were you a dream, a mirage in the distance with his hunger caving his mind in on itself? A horrible trick to get him to slip up and fall at the hands of a well-sharpened stick?

Didn’t matter because before he could begin to think of an escape route, a bell slams against the door-frame as he steps through, the lights sting his eyes and he barely manages to seat himself in the corner with the light bulb out. It’s just a shade darker but that’s all he needs. And before he could register it happening, he sees your face, the light framing your face as if an angel to take him away. He can hear your voice clearly, asking him about his night and such as you pour him a glass of coffee. The steam rises as you nudge it closer to him. “Need anything just call for me,” you wink, tapping at the name tag pinned to your shirt. You are the one and the same in every possible way, and it's haunting.

He leaves after a few minutes, sure that had he been alive, the only thing he would hear is his heart pounding in his chest and the blood rushing to his ears but the worst part, is that he could only hear yours. Everyone else has been drowned out by how loud you are, how noisy your life is. It’s as if you’ve built a neon sign pointing at yourself, calling out for every bloodthirsty being to come and claim your soul. Maybe that’s just him. Maybe this is his personal hell. Maybe he was supposed to live through this and find it painful.

He knows he’s a sick bastard, but he didn’t know how sick he was until he returned the next night.

×

He returns for a week straight until another vampire catches him before going in, taking him to their place and telling him he needs to go eat, to change clothes, and to do something because he’s attracting a lot of attention for someone laying low.

So he shackles up with him, gets clothes with him less he wants to get caught wearing something from thirty years ago. Time is fast, these days, you can’t blame him for not paying attention to the fashion.

The eating part is hard. Because every bone in his body, every inch of his skin wants to see you. Wants to taste your blood, the sick part of him wants to know if you’d taste just as good as you did the first time. He wants to know what’s changed and what hasn’t but so far the only thing that’s changed is that you’re alive and you don’t know him at all.

He could survive it, he survived your death, he could survive your rebirth.

That is, until you caught him behind the diner, blood smeared over his clothes and six feet from the back door. He insisted on no doctors which frustrated you, he could tell, but despite the freezing temperature his body is always set at, you drag him inside. Unaware of the dead body tossed carelessly in the dumpster behind the two of you.

You sit him in the bathroom, wiping the blood from his face and demanding that he take his shirt off of his body. You even turned around, a dangerous endeavor with a creature like him. Alas, he just fed so he… felt normal. Enough. Normal to pretend that he’s a human for a brief moment and normal enough to pretend that he doesn’t want to tilt your body into his, to nudge your head to the side and kiss it like he used to. To smear praise and worship over your skin, to taste the salt off your skin and hear you call his name.

It’s times like these that he reminds himself, he’s not alive, you’re not you, the one he knew, the one he killed, and that you’re waiting on him.

You take great care of looking him over, checking for any open wounds and despite not finding any, you bravely asked if taking his pants off would be too much. He almost felt dizzy.

He puts his shirt back on and lets you tug him back to his corner, pouring him a coffee and letting him be with a soft touch to his shoulder, throwing a stern look over your shoulder as you tended to your other regulars.

He tries drinking the coffee, just to try, just to feed into his delusion if not a little bit.

He found himself back in the bathroom ten minutes later, gagging as the coffee forcefully left through his throat. It burned his mouth and throat as he sat back on his heels, trying to steady himself. You come in seconds later, brushing his hair back and feeling his forehead. The sensations are nauseating and making him lean into your touch, into your body. His nose is pressed against your apron waist as you try to talk to him.

After unsuccessfully trying to get him to call someone he knew, which, wasn’t that a funny new thing, calling and phones? He tried to laugh, though he could only let out a pathetic sigh, feeling weak.( And he fed on some poor stranger. He’s a monster, and not even a good one, at that.) But when you finally realized he wasn’t going to be any help, you heaved him out of the bathroom and took him to the back, sat him against the wall. You crouched in front of him, pushing his hair out of his forehead and looking him over, “I have one more hour and then- then I’ll. I’ll- fuck, I’ll figure something out but you’re sick and you should get checked out by a doctor or something.” And when he could only respond with a noncommittal hum, you sighed, your head dipping down.

Picking yourself back up, he can barely watch through the slits of his eyes your disappearing figure. He tried to call your name, in the language he once knew, but his mouth barely opened. And when he blinked his eyes open again, there stood the other vampire in the area. He pulls on the collar of his shirt, tugging him forward and onto his knees. “You trying to get us killed, there are hunters-” he cuts himself off, looking around, before he stares him in the eyes. “Listen to me. We’re getting you to my place, fixing you up, and you’re gonna get out of here, no more lolly-gagging and no more dilly-dallying, do not pass go and do not collect 200-” he speaks while he’s slinging him over his back. Assuming he checked for nobody watching the two of them, the vampires make an escape.

He wants to know what you think when you go back there to get him, already to go home and relax or whatever humans do nowadays, and you find him gone. He wants to know what you’d think, what you’d say. He knows it’s bad. Bad to be this obsessed already but you haunt him, every night he could dream, those he just recently found out he could have, you’d be in there. Sleeping until you’re not, smiling at him with this emotion in your eyes, fingers stroking his cheek and jaw and running your hands through his hair.

When the other vampire drops him onto the couch, he throws something squishy at him. He smells it before he even opens his eyes. It’s blood.

He just had some.

“You’re malnourished, unsocialized. You need to talk to people, yes, but they need to be like us.” The very helpful vampire grounds out. Like us, dead, crystallized in a beautiful tomb of eternal suffering. Monsters till the end of time. While he tears the corner of the blood bag open, he tries not to think about how refreshed he feels. He tries to not think too hard about how he would never enjoy blood like he enjoyed yours. It’s the only semi-clear memory he has of drinking blood from people. They’re few and far in between instances, and he doesn't like it. But it happens. And the only time he ever enjoyed it, had been— horribly— yours. The sweet and nectarine taste, soothing his throat, the high he’d been on, how full he felt- of course, that all attributed to the fact he practically mauled your throat and drained you till you died in his arms.

This is his defining moment as a monster.

×

Of course— he would’ve left immediately, he had some blood, felt normal enough, changed clothes and when he looked in the mirror, he looked more human than he had the last time he checked.

And when he was asked what his name was by the vampire, he didn’t think about it for long, choosing to stick with what he knew. “Wilbur,” he said, turning to the window. They’d gone so high up, he wondered when did the humans ever begin to fly, how did they get here? He was curious but as he pulled away from the window and dragged to a shop, for the purpose of an ID- he doesn’t know why, he’s left to fend for himself.

He begins walking again, and against the wishes of the very same vampire who’s clothed, fed and identifies him, he knows where he starts to walk.

“Your name is Wilbur Soot,” he recalls the vampire telling him, “you’re just passing through, making his way home. And if someone knows about, you know- your condition, show them this.” He looks down to the business card the vampire had given him. “They’ll help you. This is all I can do for you.” He walks and keeps putting one foot in front of the other until it takes him to a diner. Your diner.

×

“You scared me last night,” you murmur to him, reaching over to give him a one-arm hug with a tray stabilized on your other hand. “How did you even leave?” He knows, he just doesn’t know what to tell you. After following you to an empty table, you make your rounds to the other customers before you return to him. “Did you at least see a doctor?”

He licks his mouth before looking up to you, finding it easy to lose himself in your eyes, your expression. Eyebrows pinched together from concern and a frown as you continued to wait for an answer.

“I… I didn’t eat enough and the coffee just didn’t sit right, I suppose.” He wonders if you believed him.

“You supposed? There was literal blood when you were puking.” Your name is called and you call back over your shoulder. You press your lips into a firm line, staring him down. He wonders, if it helps that after aching for you for so long, he would be satiated for the rest of his life, enough to leave you behind and truly keep you safe this time. “You’re fine now?” He nods, he’d never be fine. He’ll be a monster longer than you’d ever be alive, but for your sake, he nods. You tap your fingers on the tray as you quickly think, “we’re not done talking about this,” you warn him, pointing a finger at him in warning as you walk away from him.

And well, his heart almost leapt out of his chest, bloody tendons connecting it to him, but safely tucked away in your hands, he could see the metaphorical lines thin themselves out as you disappeared behind a door.

He comes to grips with himself and realizes he doesn’t think he’ll ever be satiated. Not when you care so freely, not when you are breathing and living and existing again. Not when you pass him by and squeeze his shoulders as you go.

He knows for a certainty he’ll be alive for many more centuries, he’ll stay this way, needing the living’s blood to make sure he doesn’t wither away. He knows that for an absolute certainty… but he doesn’t know if he could survive the separation from you again.

He knows he wouldn’t want to.

[shoko-komi]

The Komi Report - Communication 450

Komi is a day early!? This week in Komi Can't Communicate:

Broth is sampled...

...and dreams are dashed upon the stones.

Read It: Mangareader Mangakakalot Viz Media (North America Exclusive) Mangadex (English updates are dead, but there’s the backlog; and Spanish + Portuguese language updates)

I was caught completely by surprise this morning when I woke up and had a notification from the r/komi_san discord server (I exclusively use it for the new chapter notifications. All other notifications are muted and I never go in there because I value my sanity aklsdnlkasndlaksnd).

Now that tensions within the broth crew have been loosened they can get into the favourite pastime of friends everywhere - good-natured bickering.

Nanoda was so timid when she first appeared, so it's really nice to see her coming out of her shell.

I've only eaten good restaurant ramen once - other than that it's been 2 minute stuff - so I don't know what to make of this smelly-ramen vs unsmelly-ramen conflict. Where do you stand?

My girl is flopping so hard at this aksdlkansd.

I might have a hard time explaining this one, but; I love seeing Komi fail. She tried her best to settle the ramen dispute but doesn't know what to do and is sort of useless.

Part of it is I want her to learn that she doesn't need to be problem solver girl all the time, and her friends will like her and want her around even if she isn't "usefull". She's a leader among her peers but it's ridiculous to put everything on her own shoulders, and her peers can solve their own problems such as in the case of the broth. All Komi needs to do to be valuable is be there.

The other part of it is my sadism flaring up.

Really funny that she blames him here. A girl needs her tantrums

Only a brief glimpse of them..... Oda you tease me.....

Also add an entry to the list of left-handed Sukida appearances

My complements to tumblr user fareasterncurlew for this infographic which I think about every day

Classic Najimi gag

Miwa Omojiri my beloved, hello again. Also Tsubo is so me... I would be laughing so hard....

Such heart-breaking news after all their hard work. I love how the camaraderie of the class keeps them in good spirits!!! So many times I've been in a bad situation but I've felt alright because I could laugh about it with good company.

It brings a tear to my eye....

This is really funny but also!! Ogiya comforting Kori is super nice after them being recently at odds. Kori blended into the group so quickly after they figured him out.

The culture festival!!!! AAAAAA I'm excited

We've been shown this beautiful glimpse of what Hiki and the girls are up to. Aaaahh, maid cafes. Literally what would we do without them?

Oda I'm still waiting for a follow up to the Susumi/Hiki yuri...... and I want Yamai/Nakanaka band yuri.... and I want SukiYama yuri.... Oda give me yuri please I'm starved Oda I'm starved to death and dying fatally.......

I hope the culture festival is 50 chapters long and every character is featured and has a super funny joke and there's lots of yuri and wakai dies mysteriously between chapters and is never mentioned again and we find out the details of the Ase/Naruse kiss and Benujit Spopo appears and Tadano is force-femmed permanently and there's happiness, free, for everyone!!!!! And no one is left behind!!!!

Stay safe! I'll see you next week!

[everyone-needs-a-hoopoe]

i am begging you to listen to palestinians. look at [el-shab-hussein's resources]. look at [fairuzfan's resources]. follow [90-ghost] and see what he reblogs. look at this [this guy] who gave enough of a shit to check if the fundraiser my best friend is helping with was real by asking for pictures rather than just making assumptions.

yes, gazans copy-paste asks and sometimes even photos from each other. i've seen actual scammers use images traceable back to google, i'm sure a palestinian who had faith that people would trust them might make the mistake of doing the same. yes, they use emojis weird. would you write a personal heartfelt note to hundreds of strangers in a language you don't speak if you were starving to death? would you know the posting etiquette of a foreign app instantly upon joining it? they talk to each other and give each other advice because they're all desperate. often they give each other prewritten messages to copy, or just copy from each other without asking, because it's easier. if the xfam blogs are a new scam ring i don't know about (i haven't been on much lately) one of the blogs i linked will have been talking about it, otherwise they're just people with similar URLs because they couldn't think of anything better.

yes, they use sites that don't operate in gaza, because there ARE no sites that operate in gaza. it's put their trust in the hands of foreigners or, if they're lucky, family members living overseas who volunteer to host their fundraisers or die. and often it works! it worked for ahmed 90-ghost! people find ways around it because that's how the internet works! gofundme funds are usually sent by international bank transfer, my best friend couldn't get the bank to cooperate due to our government being useless and paypal's fees were astronomical so he's using ko-fi for emergency funds.

yes, sending asks to people looks bad, but they literally have no other choice. they are dying. they won't get responses just posting on their blogs. do you think they have the money to blaze their fundraisers? it's one of the only ways they can get reblogs.

none of this is me theorising, i know this because i've been following these palestinians since october 2023 and they've been talking about it because of people like you who constantly sabotage fundraising efforts. i don't trust blindly! i've been doing my research all this time! i've been on the internet and on this website for just as much of my life as you! you CAN tell a legitimate fundraiser from a scam but not without adapting your methods to the situation at hand!

i compared you to a nazi not because of your ideology but because of your position and your actions. we ARE comparable to the citizens of nazi germany. you and i get to sit in safety outside the concentration camp and enjoy the spoils of the destruction. we can either block our ears to the screams or do something. and that means actually investigating fundraisers we see, assuming innocence until guilt is proven, rather than assuming they're fake because they talk funny.

you ARE callous to the suffering of real people because you assume they're fake and then sabotage them by reporting them. that's what MY response is about! you are accusing real people of being scams because you haven't been paying attention! you would rather take the risk that you're leaving a real human being to die than do your research and trust people. you won't even just ignore them if you're unsure.

if you seriously want to stick your head in the sand you could at least donate to organisations that actually operate in gaza. none of the ones you suggested do, by the way. there's the [PCRF], [UNRWA] and the [palestinian red crescent] for instance. the blogs i linked will have more links to similar things such as mutual aid kitchens in gaza, though you might have to look a bit because they focus significantly on individual fundraisers - because actual palestinians consider those largely trustworthy. and no, none of the ones i linked are scammers either, they're real users who have been happily blogging for years until october 7th forced them to become full time vetters.

I'm starting to feel callous for saying this:

Please, Please, Please, if you are in a situation where you need money or have a go-fund-me started, DO NOT send people asks about it.

Make a post with places to donate instead, spread awareness through reblogs, but don't go into strangers DMs or Ask Boxes soliciting donations. It makes you look like a bot, not a real person needing help.

The big scam one I'm seeing right now is individuals "in Gaza" asking for donations. Before Gaza they said the donations were because of an illness. Bots/scammers are using Gaza to pull at your heartstrings and scam you.

Donate to places you can trust. Like Amnesty International, Free The Children/WE Charities, UN Crisis Relief, Red Cross, etc. Places you know are credible.

I feel callous for deleting/blocking/reporting asks like that but just know it is a scam. It's using your empathy against you. Do not fall for those asks. Donate to causes, raise awareness, but delete and block those asks/dms because they are not real people. it's the same copy/pasted story on each one. Do your research before donating and be safe online.

[vampkillr]

Midnight — Bruce Wayne

m! reader — 3.2k words — slight angst — mention of suicide — reader is based off of v (for vendetta) — written with bale's batman in mind — reupload of a longer version. the new section is under the spacer. treat it as a timeskip

There wasn't pride amongst my many sins. I was never proud of the things I did, not even while I was doing them— but Gotham was a sick city. Infected by the cancer of the rich, who not only ate everything in their path, but consumed the poor's future. The sick were left to wither and wilt, the homeless were left to freeze, and those who were lucky enough to still have a home were forced to decide between going to bed full or going to work clean. I was among the lucky. The ones who got out. The ones who managed to crawl and break through the dirt the rich buried us under. Yet my freedom was handed to me, I didn't have to fight for it.

Seeing how people like this live, seeing their comfort, their carelessness— it drove me mad. Which is why I couldn't bring myself to regret the decision to cleanse Gotham. Cure it. I tried to do things legally. I tried to do it without leaving a trail of death in this change's wake, but every time I used my privilege for good there was a new issue curated just to prevent the poor from thriving. Shelters put in place, and in return new heath inspection rules to have a reason to shut them down. Homes built and destroyed, funding schools and drugs being set loose close to the gates. Gotham's officials did whatever they could to keep the dying parts of the city on it's deathbed.

He had a menacing aura. Standing across from me in the rain and saying nothing, almost as if he was expecting me to run or try to kill him, too. He was waiting for something it seemed. Waiting for me to get scared. The light from the moon reflected his suit in a pale, almost sickly blue hue. I wasn't afraid, though. I didn't have it in me to be scared anymore. Not after the things I've done. "Are you here to turn me in?" My pace towards him was slow, cautious.

"You don't regret what you've done?" His voice was rocky, dark.

"If I stopped to think about something as human as my guilt when trying to fix a system designed to fail its people, nothing will get done." I said plainly. "These men and women, they force people onto streets and are the reason they starve and die. Just like you I am a symbol. A sign to Gotham that someone truly does care."

"You're nothing like me." He sounded almost angry.

"Of course," I took my hat off, my thumb slipping under my mask, but before I could lift it he grabbed my wrist. The grip wasn't angry or harsh, but it was firm with worry. I slipped my hand out of his grasp and took the mask off. "We as people, individuals. We may be nothing like each other." I handed him my mask. "But this mask, just like yours, is useless without the hope it provides. We are not people when we put them on. We're ideas. Dreams of a better tomorrow. We do what we do in hopes that we won't have to do it anymore." He stared at my mask, staying silent. He wasn't much for words. "There isn't rebirth without death. You cannot stop corruption without severing the section that's infected. You're free to turn me over to the police, but you have the option to pretend we never crossed paths. The fate of Gotham rests in your hands with your decision. But I think you know just how badly I'm needed."

We stood there at a stalemate for a while,he seemed to be deep in thought until he handed my mask back to me. "I don't agree with the way you go about things." I wished for a more fruitful conversation from him, but I would have to settle.

"We'll meet again, Batman. Another time, or perhaps you'll approach me without the mask." I mused.

I woke up to a strange feeling. The guttural sense of a presence. A primal instinct unleashed just from the feeling of being watched. I was on guard from the moment my body jolted itself upward, but the sight of his figure in front of my now-opened window was just enough to ease the fight in me. I laid back down, not having a care in the world who was in my home. "You truly are a nocturnal animal." I sighed, tiredness slowly seeping itself back into my veins like a toxin. "This couldn't have waited until morning?"

"I won't be Batman in the morning." Ah, of course. How silly of me. "I just need to know why you showed me your face." It must have been on his mind for days if that's all he broke in to ask. I stood up and walked towards him, not caring about my lack of clothes. It was his fault for breaking in, he would have to deal with the consequence of seeing me in just my briefs.

"You chase after sinners and beat them down. The idea of you strikes fear in the hearts of the wicked— but also the desperate. The people who are left with no choice but to do unspeakable things just to survive." His frown as he looked at me showed me guilt. "You have a vendetta. One against criminals, not crime. I have one against the world that creates those criminals. I am V, exactly for that word. That is the idea that I am. You can't kill an idea as vehement and virtuous as a vendetta. With that mask, I am Vengeance. As are you. But without it I am but a face. As meaningless and missable as the muscle below it, and the bone below that." My hand rested against his chest, the touch was gentle— a small push in the right direction. The fact he was even letting me touch him was proof enough that I was getting to him. "I've showed you my flesh. I've given you my armor of an idea, and revealed to you just a man. A man you can turn in or kill, or a man you can relate to. My question is, will you do the same?"

His stance changed. Almost as if his muscles breathed their own sigh of relief, but it was only for a second. "What if I'm the type of person you go after?" The deep voice he wore earlier was completely gone, and all that remained was a melodic and smooth tone. It rang of confidence despite the nature of the question.

"Would you like to see my list?" I turned to walk to my drawer, not waiting for a response and pulling a notebook out. It's pages were filled top to bottom with the names of people and their hand in keeping the poor disadvantaged. There were so many I had yet to get to— so many people who needed to die before I could fix the issue. He read the pages intently, searching like a madman for his own name. As he thumbed through the pages I leaned back on my bed. "You know," He stopped to look at me, the eyes trailing along my body not going unnoticed. "as long as your money isn't being used to harm people, your name's not on there."

Sitting down was starting to have it's consequences. I was so incredibly tired. It burned to just keep my eyes open, my muscles ached just from being used. I needed to rest. I had been awake for days and just when I finally passed out he woke me up again. "You seem exhausted." He stated simply and I didn't have it in me to lie to him.

"I'm sorry." I didn't know why I was apologizing. I had no fucking idea, and it seemed to confuse Batman as well. Saying sorry for being tired seemed like such a ridiculous thing.

"Please don't apologize," It seemed like he had more to say. As if he wanted to just walk up to me, but he made no move to reach for me. I could see the way his stance was forward, the way his hand itched to touch me. He cleared his throat, forcing himself backwards. The cold facade was draped over him once more— the change in his aura was almost visible. "I'll be back at another time." His voice was back to the deep tone.

It was like I was watching him detach himself from me, and it was hard to describe how oddly painful that was. Some part of my heart knew who he was. I yearned for him, and I knew that, I just didn't know why. He was gone the next moment I looked at the window. All that was left of his presence was the open window and the cold breeze that pushed my curtains to flow and bleed further into my room. I didn't bother getting up to close it. My body would have collapsed on my way to lay back down, so I just fell asleep.

Morning came sooner than I would have wanted it to, and Ivan wouldn't take 'five more minutes' for an answer. The gravity against my body felt so horrendously heavy that even sitting up from my bed was a difficult task. "Sir, are you alright?" He asked, handing me a cup of coffee. I took a moment to hold back the sigh my body was begging to release before I dared to respond.

"Do you think what I'm doing...." I had no idea how to word my question. I didn't even know what answer I wanted from him— I just needed some type of reassurance. Some type of ease from the toll it was taking on me. "Is any of it worth it?" My gaze was locked onto the liquid in the mug. Moving in ripples, my reflection just barely visible.

"Killing people, no matter who it is or for what— taking human life can scar a sane man." My eyes shot up to him.

"You find me sane?" There was a timidness in my voice that I couldn't shake. Ivan walked around the breakfast cart and sat himself down next to me, a hand on my back. Warm compared to the cold of my skin he touched.

"Do you remember the first time you did it?" I nodded softly. There's still nothing that can wash the god-awful stain of that night from my eyes. It followed me. They all did. "You slammed that door shut and started to cry. Blood all over you— ruined the carpet." I didn't remember the getting home part, and I think he knew that. "You wouldn't get up off of the floor. I had to carry you and give you a shower. You wouldn't talk. Wouldn't move on your own." I looked at my coffee in a blank stare. Parts of what he was describing we're coming back to me. The memory so faint it was as if it was a scene I was only able to visualize. Sitting on the floor of the shower and Ivan kneeling down to wash the blood off of me. His suit jacket was discarded along with the pile of my own clothes, red staining his white undershirt from where I had been holding onto him and sobbing. "The next morning you tried to kill yourself with a piece of the glass I dropped." He didn't need to remind me of that part.

"You didn't have to... Mention that." I regretted doing that to him. Making him see me like that. I hated thinking about it.

"I did. Because if you were crazy you wouldn't have tried to do that." He stood up and started to unload the breakfast cart, probably because he wanted me to eat before the food got cold. "As far as I'm concerned, you're my boy, you understand? I raised you and I took care of you from the moment Mr. and Mrs. Crowne took you away." He continued his business with the food while I thoughtlessly nursed the coffee that had finally cooled enough for me to drink. "I was the one that got you up for school, I was the one who helped you with your homework, I was the one who taught you how to shower, I was the one you came to for advice—" I cut him off.

"I'm your son." His lip quivered at my reassurance. It was the first time either of us actually acknowledged the bond we clung to.

"My boy."

"Your boy." I knew all too well this was brought on by the conversation of my attempt just moments ago, and I would never be able to verbalize to Ivan how sorry I'll be for the rest of my life that he had to witness it.

"I don't want you to call me dad. I just want you to know that you're never not going to be my son to me." He pushed the cart and set the tray of food on my side table. "I know you want to die. I know you want to get away from the things you've done— things you're going to do. And I know that you wonder if someone would do those things for you if you really did give up. But they won't. Gotham is scared, and you and that Batman are the first of hope it's seen in a while." He kissed my forehead. "And if you ever try some bullshit like that again I'll kick your sorry ass, you hear me?" I couldn't help but laugh at his threat as he left me to eat my breakfast. Today, there was nothing I had to do. It was rare for these days to pop up anymore and I worshipped them when they came to me. I wouldn't be holed up in an office running my company, I wouldn't be stuck in meetings or phone calls, I just got to relax and I savored it. I laid back in bed after I ate, needing to catch up on much-needed rest.

That feeling again. The sense that someone was there. It stirred me awake and I was shocked to be met with the moonlight through my window. "Hello," I greeted Batman softly, sitting up from the bed and trying to massage the headache from my temples because of how long I had slept. "I'm sorry for things getting cut short last night." There was no response from him as he walked towards me. I swung my legs off the side of the bed and waited for him.

"If I take this mask off, If I show you who I am then that's it. I'll be in your life forever. But if you don't want that, then I can keep this mask on and you never have to hear from me again." My brows furrowed as he kneeled down in between my legs, looking up at me. There was a gloss of hope in his eyes, one that was so familiar to me.

"That sounds like a big commitment just to see your face, don't you think?" My words made his demeanor change into a cold one once again, but as his body moved away from mine I grabbed his face and pulled it back. "Don't do that," I whispered. "don't go looking for a reason to push me away." He seemed to think about it for a few seconds before soothing himself back into me, one hand resting on my thigh and another hand snaking its way around my calf. The touch was intimate, and yet he wasn't thinking twice about it. "If I do this," My fingers played with the edges of his mask. "will you really stick by me?" No one's ever done that for me in my life besides Ivan, and although I wanted it desperately— the idea of it scared me a little.

"I won't have the strength to let you go again." Again.... So we did know each other already. I thought about it for a moment, but the longer I took the more desperate the look on his face became. "Please..." He started to plead. The once strong and terrifying batman was now just that. A man. Tearing up in front of me and begging for me to let him into my life. And a small part of me wanted him. I wanted the touch of his hands grasping for me. I wanted the feeling of his face against my fingers. I wanted to stare into his eyes. So I slipped the mask off.

My breath caught in my throat. "Bruce?" He reached for me, standing up and pushing me back gently with my face in his hands. "Y-you.... You were dead I—" Happiness, rage, grief. They all swirled inside of my chest at a pace my body couldn't physically handle. None of my confusion, none of my words would slip from my tongue. All that I could think about was the guilt that ate me alive. I couldn't believe that I forgot his eyes. The eyes that I adored so much.

"I'm here now," He shushed me and kissed the tears that fell from my eyes. "I'm so sorry..." We both held onto each other for dear life. I gripped onto his cape, my face buried in the crook of his neck as I breathed in his scent. It was so foreign to me and yet nostalgic at the same time. I wanted more of it. I wanted to stay there with him just to make up for the lost time. He flipped us over so that I was laying on top of him, but his suit was uncomfortable against my skin.

“Bruce...” I got off of him. “Your suit.” Without another thought he took everything off, discarding it on my floor and pulling me back onto him in my bed. I missed this closeness, this comfort. “Why did you disappear?” I asked, tears pricking my eyes and threatening to fall once again. “Why'd you leave me?” My voice shook. I could feel the way he hugged me tighter to him.

“I wanted to understand criminals more, it wasn't my intention to just leave you the way I did,” He sighed, fingers tracing along my spine. “I started being afraid that you'd hate me for the things I was doing, so I didn't try to contact you. I went 7 years without talking to anyone including Alfred, and when I came back....” I could feel the way his heart was racing. Feel how nervous he was to finally be holding me.

“You became batman.” I finished his sentence for him and he nodded. There was silence between us for a while. I didn't know what I wanted to say and I didn't know how I wanted to say it. Sure, I was upset at him. Livid that he could just leave so easily— but I knew better than anyone that somewhere in that brain of his, he genuinely thought he would have been sparing me. Bruce was terrified of himself. Of the possibilities. He knew very well what he was capable of, and there was a fear within him that somehow, for some reason, he would hurt me.

We would have to figure things out again. We'd have to learn the trust we lost. We'd have to work through those fears. But what mattered was that we would be able to. What mattered was that he was with me.

likes and reblogs are appreciated and very much desired please lord my engagement has been total ass recently help a brother out — ALSO please check the post under my pinned request are open until monday

[softie-rain]

Meet me at the Hanging Tree

previous chapter: chapter eight

Pairings: Peter Maximoff x fem!reader

Series Warnings: Murdering, described death and violence, suicide, death for natural causes such as starving, hypotermia, dehydratation and wounding infection.

Series Summary: Panem, governed by President Magnus, is getting ready for the 75th Hunger Games. It's in this Memory Edition that the reader will learn how far one can go for the loved one, even if that could bring her to certain death.

Chapter nine: I can't do this anymore

pt.1

Summary: Y/n and Peter's reunion seems to bring a small spark of hope in their hearts. But nothing lasts forever right?

a/n: I apologise for how bad written this is. You all deserved a better reunion, I know, I'm sorry, but it's honestly already much that I wrote this. But in part two I will try and do a flashback so you guys can enjoy it more I promise!

I also apologise fore the final scene. Don't hate me I love you all

also i don't wanna brag or anything but I took this photo down here 😌

Y/n's tears were consuming her. She wasn't even feeling fear, just sadness. Darwin- she needed Darwin.

But he couldn't come to her right? How could he?

And Peter, God Peter. He was supposed to meet her at that stupid tree, why wasn't he there yet?? She wanted to yell. She was so mad. She wanted to yell. To kill. To die.

No.

She had promised Darwin that she would have won, she had to maintain that promise.

And she was going to.

~~~

Two days before

Darwin and Peter were staring at each other so hard that Lorna and y/n were scared they were going to kill each other.

"How lucky of us to run into each other, uh?" Darwin said, his voice low and somehow dark. "How lucky." Lorna raised an eyebrow, shocked by the scene that was playing in front of her.

Even if she wasn't showing it, y/n's feelings were pretty much the same. "Guys come on! Really? We need to move. Now." She walked past the two very mature boys and started picking up the bag Darwin had previously left falling in shock.

Peter rushed to get next to her while Darwin scoffed and walked next to Lorna, who was definitely tired of that useless- whatever the two had going on.

"So, uhm, are you ok?" The girl suppressed a chuckle at Peter's effort of starting the conversation. "As ok as I can be here." He nodded, an obvious answer to an obvious question. "It's great to see you again too, by the way. I'm sorry I didn't follow you after the bloodbath I, I don't know what I was thinking."

"It's fine, really. I'm not blaming you." Which wasn't totally a lie. "You know Bobby?" Y/n kept walking without meeting his eyes, but nodded. The boy who died the- second? third day?

"He died because of me. Kind of. He was going to kill me but Lorna got him first." She turned to him and gave him a sympathetic look. It was… weird. Weird, to have him standing right there in front of her. When she and Darwin were running away from the almost encounter with the Careers the last thing she expected was to run- literally- into Lorna and Peter.

And yet there he was. She missed him, there was no point in denying it, but how was she going to act now? For three days her plan was to survive and find Peter. Now it was just to survive, probably.

"How was it?" She asked. "Letting him die. Was it hard?" He shook his head. "I'm not sure. I mean, better them than you. That's what keeps me going. But no, watching someone dying isn't easy at all."

She bit her bottom lip, unsure on how to continue the conversation. She didn't have to though, as Lorna interrupted them. "Hey lovebirds, if you two are done with the heartbreaking reunion, it's about to get dark so we better start looking for a shelter of some kind." Y/n stared at Lorna. Really stared at her.

All she could see was a strong independent woman, but also very alone, and probably sad. She was still scared of her, even more now that she knew she didn't have any problem in killing, but some part of her was pitying the dark-haired girl.

No one at the reaping had apparently stood up for her, seemingly she didn't seem to have a family. Or maybe they didn't care about her enough to cry for her clear death sentence?

Darwin agreed with her. "She's right, let's go."

After spending the night under a tree, y/n woke up unsurprisingly exhausted. After the first night, her sleep kept being disturbed by nightmare after nightmare, and not even having Peter by her side helped in stopping them.

As she observed the others getting ready to leave again, her mind wandered back to the breakfast in the Capitol. She refused to allow herself to miss the city but, the food? She definitely missed that.

And, honestly, Charles and Emma too. Her last words with him weren't on the best terms, and she wondered if she was ever going to take a chance to apologise to him.

She was about to follow Darwin to talk to him, when Lorna's scream pierced the air. "Lorna?!" Peter yelled immediately, his neck turning so fast y/n was scared he was going to break it.

Her hand was pierced by an arrow, which left the whole group stunned, and Lorna terrified. Wait, terrified?

"Well would you look at that. Lorna Dane is terrified!" Everyone looked up from where the voice came and of course there they were, in all their awful glory. The Careers.

Scott was the one holding the bow so they assumed also the one to shoot the arrow. Y/n seriously doubted that he had missed her heart because she saw him at training. He had an impeccable aim. Why not kill her on the spot then?

Behind Scott Ororo and Rogue were standing proud, the first one's smirk almost as if to make fun of the group standing down. Kurt and Warren were with them, but looking less proud of themselves than the others.

"Run!" Darwin yelled, carrying Lorna with him. Immediately Peter took y/n's arm and led her away from the enemies, running without a specific destination. As they did, she looked behind them. Darwin and Lorna were escaping too, but they were slower than them.

She could literally feel the panic rising in her chest as she spotted Scott and Ororo right behind the two. There's no way they're gonna make it. She thought. But she pushed it away as soon as it came.

She couldn't let herself think Darwin was going to die. She couldn't- "This way!" Peter took a turn on the left, guiding her like he knew where they were going.

To her surprise he didn't stop running when they arrived at a cliff, ending in a river. "Peter?" She asked worriedly, as he still kept running. "Peter!" She repeated. "Do you trust me?" He asked her. Yes with all my life, she was about to answer, but thought better of doing that and went instead with: "Certainly not right now- PETER!" Not even able to finish the sentence that he was throwing her off the cliff, him following right after.

That's it, that's how I'm dying.

She could bet her life that the fall lasted hours- when it was actually barely a minute- when her body finally collided with the water. She swimmed on the surface of the water and noticed Peter a few feet away from her. He swimmed towards her, held her in his arms and covered her mouth as they swimmed towards the wall of the cliff, that thank god gave them a repair from the Careers eyes.

"You see them?" She heard Rogue ask. "No." Scott answered, clearly annoyed. "Let them go. Whether they're dead or not, they won't last long without their bag and weapons.

She mentally cursed. The bag. The knife. All of that was left at the spot, probably still marked in Lorna's blood.

Lorna.

Lorna and Darwin.

Darwin.

Where the hell was Darwin?

Unfortunately for her, the answer would fall from the sky. Literally.

Darwin fell pretty much like she and Peter did, except he wasn't coming back to the surface. Scott's laugh was barely audible now, so Peter was quick to look for Darwin.

Y/n instead went swimming back to the land, trying to steady her breathing. After the third time of the silver haired boy going underwater, he finally came back with Darwin- clear unconscious.

She helped him by bringing him back next to where she was previously laying, and opened up his jacket. She started performing CPR to him the best she could remember from training, but it didn't seem to work.

Peter was standing next to her, too shocked to say or do anything, as he watched his crush- there was really no point in denying it now, Peter definitely had a crush for y/n- desperately tried to save her friend, screaming and crying.

As she was about to lose her hope, Darwin coughed once. Then twice, then thrice, and he was awake again. "Oh my God Darwin." She cried and hugged him, but as she did that he immediately pushed her away, wincing.

"Y/n stop- please." She looked at him, confused, but then noticed the wound caused by Warren's sword.

"They got my leg with an arrow. Lorna managed to run away, I didn't. Warren attacked me, and they threw me in the river."

Because they knew he wouldn't be able to survive. No. He would.

"Hey it's ok. I wasn't pointing at winning anyway."

She shook her head, trying to stop the tears. She only met him one week ago and she was that desperate for his death- or maybe more than one week?

"Just promise me two things. Win for me. Murder all those bastards and win. Bring glory to the districts. And- he coughed and some blood came out of his mouth- hug my mom for me. Will 'ya? Tell her I love her."

She didn't want to let him go. But he was right. She silently nodded, hugged him one last time and turned to Peter. If this wasn't the one moment to show her weakness to the whole state, she didn't know which was.

Might as well give them a show right? Of course she cared about Darwin. Of course her tears were real. But she would lie if she said that she wasn't hoping for the Citizens to feel pity for her.

Peter was just holding her, all of his pain clearly staged. As harsh as it sounded, he didn't care for Darwin, not a bit. His only concern was for the girl crying in his arms at that moment. Lorna was right. He was crazy for her.

As they moved to the entrance of the forest and stared at Darwin's body being carried away from the flying vehicle, her mind was finally clear.

She was going to win, and not even the Careers were going to stop her. Next to her, even if she didn't speak a word, Peter knew what she was thinking.

And, too bad for him, he agreed with her.

tags: @raincoffeeandfandoms

[many-gay-magpies]

@loabivey @honeyseungz @angelhee @ofaffectionate @yixiangs @cherry-riki

so uh. heyyy <3

pt 2 (technically pt 1 because it happens before) of blood bonds is here!! tagging everyone that i tagged for blood bonds (except for kyu </3) bcs why not

i'm not 100% on this, but that's mostly because i've been staring at it for a week, and y'all haven't, so i hope that you'll enjoy it thoroughly more than i do

wc: 1.7k, tw for blood, blood-sucking, death and mentions of death, and vague descriptions of a car crash. same as the last one pretty much, let me know if there's anything i missed!

that being said, have some bloodlust.

It's a scent that stops him in the middle of the street, blaring alarms through every inch of his body—thick and sweet, intoxicating, like the richest chocolates and tenderest meats. For a second, it brings him back to his days in the castle; feasts coating tables upon tables in every decadence he could imagine. He hasn't felt that kind of indulgence in a long time.

Jungwon is immediately aware of his instincts overcoming him; he knows what the smell is, he's smelled it coming off the other boys enough times to be familiar with it. But not this strong. Never this strong.

His head swims. Stars cloud his vision, and yet everything is ten times brighter, more crisp; his senses sharpened, sensitivity heightened. Jungwon battles with himself for a moment, there, on the side of the road, watching the car with the contents of it's driver's seat smelling so delectably like food as it drives by; no, no, don't give in, don't succumb, you've made it so far already, just hold on a little bit longer—but the gut-wrenching hunger inside him is like none he's ever faced before.

It tears at him, the unbearable hunger, the emptiness; twists his insides into knots and makes him double over against the brick wall beside him. He doesn't want to give in, doesn't want to take, doesn't want to hurt—but he's so, so hungry, and it smells so, so good and he just can't take it anymore. It's a kind of longing that burns him from the inside out, and maybe... maybe it wouldn't hurt, to... to give in, just this once.

He's hungry. He needs food. Really, when he thinks about it for long enough, rationalizes it in his mind, that's all there is to it. Lions don't feel bad when they hunt gazelle, do they?

(Something is different here, though. Lions, unlike vampires, will stop. Lack of food will make their body grow cold, their energy sapped until there is nothing left; they grow tired, bodies moving slower and slower, until they breath their last breath. Vampires do not. Vampires will not stop. The hunger depletes them, eats at them, and then when it can eat no more it consumes them completely—writhing black hole taken ghastly, human shape. Death evades them, and so they become death in it's place—emptiness so great it would eat the whole world if it could.)

So, with his resolve melting as his hunger rages, Jungwon presses onward—taking advantage of the scenery's sudden clarity to slink towards the moving car at a truly frightening pace. Plus, it could be... fun, he finds himself thinking; fun, to play around a bit, see how much fear he can truly instill. In the past, Jay and Sunghoon's jokes to Sunoo to "not play with his food" when me mentioned spooking his victims the tiniest bit before feeding had left Jungwon feeling sick to his stomach—but now, the idea doesn't seem so bad.

A voice in Jungwon's head (the more logical Jungwon; the one that isn't starving, the one that's still on the edge of rational) tells him, you're being stupid, as he throws caution to the wind and teleports directly in front of the car. Someone could see you, do you even have any idea what you're doing? But the voice of hunger rises above all others, and Jungwon, smirking at the screech of tires on asphalt as the car skids to a stop in front of him, tells the voice, it's dark out, and we're in an abandoned part of the city; who, really, do you think could see us?

The voice protests, but the drone of Jungwon's hunger drowns it out. He feels cool metal on the palms of his hands, hears the metallic clang of his boots against the car's hood. The trembling of the man inside tinges his nerves with delight.

He raises his finger to his lips in a single gesture, shhh, and wonders if his eyes gleam red.

Thoughts run one by one through his mind, though they are fleeting, like mice; skittering into the darkness as soon as he catches sight of them. He should have listened to the hyungs, he should have been more careful, he shouldn't have waited this long—he knows the consequences of vampires going too long without blood from Sunghoon's stories, how could he have been so stupid?

But it all fades, irrelevant, in face of what sits before him now—food. A meal. Satiation, finally, an end to his hunger. He can feel his conscience slipping away more and more as the moments pass, the little Jungwon in his head letting go of it's logic.

It is with this quieting of the rational voice and sudden booming of the instinctual one that Jungwon teleports himself to the back seat of the man's car. It doesn't take long for him to be noticed—even the lack of his reflection in the rear view mirror cannot disguise the creak of expensive leather and the sigh he lets out.

"Jesus Christ--" the man nearly shouts, car jolting forward as he slams on the breaks. Jungwon doesn't flinch. He turns to look over his shoulder and meets an unblinking vermillion stare. "W-what the hell are you, kid?"

"Go on, guess," he says, brow raised. "I have all night."

Though even as he speaks, Jungwon knows the statement is a lie—he's the closest to the man, the closest to a human he's ever been since turning, no plexiglass or metal barrier between them—the smell of the man's racing heart and pumping blood chokes his senses like smoke, so thick he can barely breath. Jungwon doesn't know how long he'll be able to hold out—but he can feel how the seconds tick by, as if there's a pocket watch embedded in his skull. Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Agonizing. Even so, Jungwon delights in the fear, the rabbit-quick pace of the man's heart. Equally as amused as he is overwhelmed, he decides that quickening it a little more won't hurt, and smirks, doing well to lick over his fangs in perfect line with the man's eyesight.

"Shit--" Eyes widen comically, and breath grows shaky with the reckless fumbling at car door handles in an effort to escape, pure, cold fear jolting through bones and bringing goosebumps to unsettled skin. It's useless, though; because all the doors lock, jammed shut, and the most he can do is huddle as close to the door as he can, as far away as possible from the boy with glowing eyes suddenly perched in his passenger seat.

"Surprised?" Jungwon asks with a grin.

The man gulps. "Th-this isn't happening," he mumbles, eyes focussed somewhere off in space, past Jungwon. "This can't be happening to me. This... this is impossible."

"Oh, it's very possible," hums Jungwon. "You'd be surprised to find out how much is." And he smirks wide again. He probably looks like a madman, but he doesn't care. He can taste the man's blood on the air.

"Please, don't kill me," he whispers. "W-whatever it is you want, I'll do it, just-- I don't wanna die. Please."

Any other day, the pleading would have gotten to him—any other day, Jungwon would have cried and screamed and torn at his own skin at the prospect of ever killing anyone, let alone drinking from them. But now, the logical him (the human him, he thinks for a moment) has been tucked into the deepest recesses of his mind, and the sound is like music to his ears.

"H-have mercy," the man stutters quietly.

Jungwon tilts his head. Mercy? a voice in his head whispers. It is a voice he hardly sees himself in, and yet it consumes him completely. There is no mercy. You are only prey.

It's funny how suddenly it hits him—how long he's waited for this, and how he can't stand to wait a second more. Faster than lightning Jungwon blinks on top of the man, pinning him down; the protests (physical as well as verbal) make no difference to him. He searches for a carotid artery with shaking fingers and, once he finds it, sinks his teeth in with a groan.

The car swerves in a panic, and the sound of it crashing into a streetlight is a distant ringing in Jungwon's mind. Everything is muffled, as if he's been thrust underwater, and he might as well have, with the way the smell and taste of blood blooms around him, inside him. He feels himself wanting more, needing more, craving more, the hunger never-ending as he sinks his teeth even further into his victim's neck.

Nothing else matters in that moment, and he knows, now, he knows what the others were talking about—how good it feels to feed when you've starved for so long.

His victim loses consciousness soon after that, but still Jungwon drinks. He can't find it in him to stop—it tastes so, so good and he's still so, so hungry, and it seems his hunger only grows the more he feeds; every bit of blood he drains, the sickness and lethargy drains away with it, leaving a hunger larger than he had known behind. Eyes closed, the world spins around him, and Jungwon can feel himself slowly revitalizing as he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, and drinks.

Jungwon loses track of time the longer he sits there.

The hunger is less ravaging, now, only a low growl in the back of his throat; and soon it peters out entirely. The body under him has grown cold—it's warmth taking new ownership. He feels the stolen blood and pulse humming under his skin.

There is plenty to worry about, he knows—plenty things he should, realistically, care more about than he does. But for the life of him he can't pick out what they are, buried beneath layers of cotton he doesn't care to reach through.

His mind is heavy with fullness, and heavy with sleep, and for the second time that day a little voice in the corner of it urges him to just give in—so he does.

[mtab2260]

Okay, I desperately need to rant about Apocalyptic Natasha Romanoff in this episode of What-If and I've decided to do it here over Reddit. Screw me.

First off...

Holy Fucking Shit! That was bloody AMAZING!

Second, I'm basically going to be explaining my excitement and jumping on the ceiling about each scene she was in, but also pointing out a few things as well.

(This feels like a Guardians of the Galaxy reference. No?)

I absolutely love this line because it says so much. In the main timeline, Steve had no clue about her Russian Vodka Family (as I've seen someone call it). In that timeline, I don't think she told anyone, not even Clint. But in Peggy's timeline, that Natasha clearly had to have opened up to Peggy which just shows how close those two had become during the year following the Battle of New York. Natasha Romanoff isn't an open person with anyone, in any timeline— even with Clint, the person she literally sacrificed herself for so he could live.

That says a million words I can't explain.

I also love the fact that the filter on Apocolypse Ultron World is dreary and it dulled out all the colour, and the sun's missing too. But in this shot, you can see hints of the sun shining through. It represents the hope Natasha saw when she saw them. The colour on Peggy's face and hair pop out. It automatically feels less dark and hopeless.

Also, I don't care what anyone might say this line is what sold Natasha that Peggy was an ally and that something was going on that she didn't yet understand. At the mention of Alexei, she just knew.

However... I must point out there are a few inaccuracies with this line. Actually, this entire line doesn't work.

Not really.

As because, up until ghosty Red-Skull said it on Vormir, Natasha had no clue what her birth father's name was and Peggy getting the serum instead of Steve wouldn't change that. So if she didn't know, there's no way she could tell Peggy.

And for the second part of that line... up until the events of Black Widow (the movie), Natasha was still lying to herself that their family in Ohio wasn't real— that it was just a mission and they were all just roles, nothing more.

But, I will say, maybe in that universe she and Peggy had a talk about it and Peggy make it clear she was a bloody numpty for thinking that and it was real regardless of the reason they were brought together. That could've happened in that universe. It's been made clear that those two traded stories with each other as her Nat knew about Steve, yet, main-timeline Nat didn't know about Peggy until she saw him staring at her photo. So who really knows.

But regardless, I still let out a jump of joy at this line because the What If series is letting the Russian Vodka Family be real!

Not that it wasn't real, but you get what I mean— anyways, onward!

This scene... oh my gawd... bloody-hell it's fucking terrific!

I cannot say how fucking overjoyed I am that when it came down to it, fucking Natasha Romanoff and bloody Clint Barton saved the entire bloody-fucking multiverse!

The (and I quote some random asshole) "Useless Avengers", saved everything ever known while also being the only survivors in an entire universe.

Let that sink in.

IT'S FUCKING AWESOME!

Like...

Holy Shit That's Awesome!

(I need more adjectives)

That's Bloody Insane.

I don't care how tacky they may be, I fricken loved these slow-mo arrow shots. And with the mirroring of Clint's (albeit fucking stupid) sacrifice coming full circle and to a close is outstanding.

Which brings me to my next point, that's kinda also this point too.

This point is part II we'll call it.

I

Am

So

Fucking

Happy

They

Didn't

Forget

About

What

Clint

Meant

To

Nat

And

Also

Just

Plainly

Forget

About

Clint

'Cause that would've sucked. I would've sued Marvel if that happened.

This scene. These two shots.

For someone who hides behind fake smiles and witty remarks, these shots show exactly what she's thinking at that moment and it's amazing. You can literally see the absolute peace on Nat's face that they did it, they ended Ultron, she avenged Clint's death, she avenged everyone's death, it was over. And hey look, Yelena, they didn't even need one of the big ones to do it!

But also look, see what I said about the filter— Natasha's hair actually looks fiery red instead of vibrant brown. Also, SUN!

Moving on...

I don't really have much to say about this line, but I fucking loved it, and serves the dude right.

She Has A Very Valid Point.

The pure amazement and life in Natasha's eyes and face is everything.

She saw everything she ever knew nuked and murdered because a robot spent five seconds on the internet and yet here she was now in a clusterfuck war full of life. Life that was at war with each other. But an alive war nonetheless and that's all she cares about at that moment.

Natasha and Clint being best buds part threeeeeeee........

On come on we all know what was going through Natasha's mind at this moment.

PAYBACK BIATCH!

Seriously I just love this short little bit. And the fact that Loki took over the world in a week, yet, this Natasha took him out with a kick and a small poke says things.

It's awesome.

As heartwarming as this scene was, I was hoping for more and truthfully it's a load of bullshit.

I don't care whatever the fuck Nick Fury has seen in his days, he did not know about the multiverse and if he wasn't happy as hell to see her on that Helicarrier then he was suspicious as hell as to who was this Natasha Romanoff imposter was. I'm sorry, I refuse to believe otherwise. No one's first thought after they've seen an alive version of someone they buried in the ground is—

"Oh, you must be Natasha just not my Natasha. Yeah, that makes sense."

Yeah, no.

Also... might I again remind you EVERYONE ON HER PLANET WAS FUCKING NUKED TO DEATH?! Did everyone seem to forget about this?

The first time we've seen Natasha Romanoff cry (almost cry) was Fury's death in The Winter Soldier. That's proof enough for how much Fury meant to her.

So the first person in like over a year (probably) she sees that she recognizes (besides Thor) who she also knew for a fact was dead— her reaction should've been more than a smirk. Especially if it was someone she cried over when they died. The line the two Natasha's share after Peggy's "I've got the shield. You've got the sword." line proves that different universes don't change a person's personality. So her seeing Fury again should've been a helluva lot more emotional for her, hell, for the both of them.

It probably should've gone something more like...

"Natasha...?" A very familiar voice behind her breathed. It wasn't one she's heard for over a year but she recognized it immediately. She froze— which was not a thing she did, ever, but it was only truly hitting her now that not everyone she knew was dead anymore. That the Steve Rogers over there was, in fact, alive. That the Nick Fury behind her was alive. That hundreds, millions, billions of other people were alive.

Natasha turned around slowly like her limbs were stuck in the gallons of maple syrup Cooper put on his pancakes.

"Fury—" She choked, honestly too overwhelmed to say anything else coherent. The tears in her eyes stung as she didn't let them fall.

Nick's one eye narrowed, he was pissed. "Who the hell are you?" He questioned, voice threatening. "I know you ain't Natasha Romanoff 'cause she's dead. So who are you?"

She was sure she just stared at his face probably for a full minute but she didn't really care. It was really nice to see and hear another face and voice.

Nat took a much-needed breath. "I know your Natasha is gone, the giant baby-man cape dude said so. I'm not her. I'm from somewhere else. But I am Natasha Romanoff... and it is really good to see you, Nick..."

Ah, shit the tears fell.

But maybe it was worth it as his eye widened and some form of recognition or some sliver of understanding set in. It was honestly hard to tell through her blurry eyes.

"You're aware none of that makes any sense, right?" He asked, voice much gentler now. Fury looked over her outfit and very dirty/beat-up appearance. "And I take it wherever you're from didn't have showers either? Because I can smell you from here." His nose wrinkled as he smirked.

She knew he was trying not to gag.

Natasha choked out a wet laugh. "Not for like a year, they kinda got all nuked from a psychopathic robot."

She was pretty sure that was the first time she'd ever seen Nick Fury actually shocked.

Okay, yeah so basically something like that.

And the reason I kept saying over a year is because Clint lost an arm and was honestly ready to die. He did die. After a year of being almost the only person on an entire planet and losing Laura and the kids, he hit his breaking point. In the five years of the blip he definitely became close to his breaking point, probably was about to hit it before Nat showed up, and that was with half the universe gone and he was alone without Nat. It could honestly be longer than a year, it probably was much longer, but then I started thinking about food and how much food would actually be safe to eat— or actually there. It was a matter of time really until both starved to death honestly.

And the shower thing, it's honestly impressive anyone could stand near here and not pass out. Like seriously if everyone is dead, I doubt any showers still worked— let alone be standing.

Anyways, I do have a couple problems with this episode despite how much I loved it.

Going back to the "EVERYONE ON HER PLANET WAS FUCKING NUKED TO DEATH?! Did everyone seem to forget about this?" part I mentioned earlier.

It seems no one outside of Nat actually seemed to acknowledge that everyone was dead. That Natasha, previous to their arrival, was the only living thing in that universe and that was it. You would think even Peggy would show some care or sympathy or some consoling words to her so-called BFF. If not that at least recognize the truly apocalyptic scene around her and look at it with disbelieving eyes. For someone who has so much compassion, she seems to have none in this case. Or at least she didn't outwardly show it. Which is completely fine. But it just bothered me no one seemed to really think about it all.

Another thing:

This isn't really towards the episode per-say but I'm just really fucking pissed about it.

It's great— no sorry— it's absolutely amazing that Apocalyptic Natasha is now in a universe that was thriving with life. It's awesome and she deserves it.

HOWEVER....

Are you fucking serious that out of all the universes that Natasha died in, you put her in a one that ALSO has a STILL DEAD Clint Barton???

SERIOUSLY?!??!?

I've said this what, three, four times now— Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton are more cursed than FitzSimmons. Because at least FitzSimmons always find their way back to each other in the end, Nat and Clint always just find the other fucking dead.

I swear, how the other doesn't have PTSD from heights now is a bloody miracle.

Anywho:

That's my entire rant on this week's episode. If you actually read this all, one, I'm so sorry for wasting your time, two, wow— congrats.

Also, I really need to see someone make a fic about Apocalyptic Nat seeing Laura and the kids for the first time again, and also for Coulson too.

[sparklingdust4612]

Reviewing "The lottery" by @isarnicole

An amazing everlark fanfic with just the perfect tinge of AU, wrapped in a ribbon of smut. The developing relationship between Katniss and Peeta was so heart-warming and Prim, amazing as always! Sad to hear of Mrs Everdeen but at least she died in a better way then by being depressed and useless.

Loved Haymitch and Cinna in this and lets not forget Finnick!! Such supportive and understanding characters.

I loved everyone's close bonds and bantering and definitely loved the 'lottery' aspect of the story.

Favourite quotes/parts from the story:

1- "Speaking of, should you be out in the woods killing cute, little furry things?"

2- "So, are you pregnant yet?" Rory asks. Prim gapes at him, backhanding his arm.

"I just signed the paperwork yesterday. I'm pretty sure it doesn't happen that quick," I say with a laugh. "If you think it does, then your mama needs to have a talk with you."

3- I have to repress a moan on the first bite. Prim has no problem letting her pleasure be known. She's making so much noise that Peeta and I share a laugh, and her face turns red.

4- "They may have good intentions now, but the road to hell is paved with those…or at least that’s what people say.”

5- "If you go, there's no life at all for me here. You're my whole life. You always have been. I would never be happy again."

6- "Everything alright, Sweetheart? You've been looking at that boy like you're dying of thirst, and he is the only drink of water for miles."

I scowl at him, which only makes me laugh harder.

“Come to think of it, the boy looked like he was starving. I wonder how he worked up such an appetite?”

7- "To me, you have the comfort of the night as it blankets the world inside you.” He points to the dark blue bodice. “But, there’s a fire there too, scorching just below the surface. Bright and brilliant and burning, but beautiful all the same.”

8- “Haymitch! I hardly recognized you without your piss-stained clothes and a bottle in your hand.”

9- "That shit stain that calls herself his mother...”

10- “I was worried you were going to walk out of that bathroom naked and scare me to death. I’ve already been through accidentally seeing you naked once. Don’t know if I’ll make it through that again."

11- "I'm telling you this because even knowing what I know now, knowing that she would be taken from me, I wouldn't trade a day I spent with her. Losing is hard. I'm not telling you anything you don't already know. But loving and being loved, there's nothing better than that. It's worth all the pain."

“It’s not fair what his mother said about you or what anyone who doesn’t really know you says about you. But if you love him, then let yourself love him. Life is far too short. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. Don’t allow doubt about what could happen shadow what you can experience with him if you allow it.”

12- “Well, look who finally decided to grace us with her presence,” he drawls.

“I see someone’s finally conscious enough to actually join us on one of these tours,” I retort.

“What can I say?” he smirks. “I’ve got a thing for cows.”

13- "It said that love isn't always about the things that make a day or a life perfect. You'll have those things, but real love, lasting love, is about finding someone whose broken pieces fit with yours.

14- "The trees have missed you, my love," he continues. "Though I doubt the animals have."

15- "When I first saw you as a child, I thought I knew what love was. I was sure I loved you then," he whispers. I gasp and smile against his cheek as he recites the vows we spoke to each other when we toasted our bread. "As we grew older, my love for you changed from a childhood crush to something more. I was sure I loved you then. But I was a fool. I had no idea what love was until you walked through the Justice Building door and into my life. My love for you continues to grow and change. You challenge me and make me laugh. You love with your whole heart. You're selfless without knowing it. You've never looked at me with pity. You've changed my life. I'm so in love with you. I can't imagine loving you anymore than I do. But I know I'll wake up in the morning and love you just a little bit more than I do today. And I'll continue to wake up loving you. Always."

16- "You are everything I never knew I wanted. You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces. You gave me life, and you continue to show me what it means to live. I want to spend the rest of my days with you. I want to go to sleep and wake up in your arms. I want to fill your life with joy and watch you smile. I want to sit with you and watch the sunset. I want to wake up early and watch the sunrise. I can't promise that things will be easy, but I promise that we'll get through all the hard times together. I love you, Peeta. Always."

Really looking forward to reading more from you :D

[ahsxual]

My Personal Teddy Bear

Pairing: Phoenix!Joker x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Request: "Heyyy !! Love your writing ! :D If it's okay for you, can you please write a headcanon with Joker 2019 and a very romantic reader who loves fluffy things ? Thank you !! <3"

Word Count: 1,9k

A/N: Thank you so much for requesting this my dear @arthurjokersgirl!! I'm really happy to know that you like my writing 🥺🥺 It means so much to me!! And I'm so sorry for taking so long, but I had a few problems in writing this fic (tumblr didn't save it, so I had to write it all over again). Anyway, I hope you enjoy this fic I made for you <33

(I don't own this image!!! If you own it, please message me and I'll give you the deserved credits)

When you and Arthur met, both of you were surprised by the amount of things that you had in common.

You two are so kind, so good-hearted, so romantic and dedicated to your partner and everything you do... and if there's something that manages to put a cute and melting smile on your faces, is when you receive, especially when it’s from one another, fluffy objects, such as teddy bears, flowers, romantic CD's, love letters... anything that involves and expresses the love you have for each other.

Whenever you idealized a relationship or whenever someone asked you to describe the "perfect man", the answer was always the same: a romantic, caring, generous and cute guy who would do anything for his girlfriend, promising to love her for all eternity.

Once other people heard your answer, they would say you were just being childish, that those types of guys weren't real and that you had to live in the real world, not some kind of princess movie, waiting for your prince to rescue and fulfill your heart with all the love he could muster... what they didn't know, was that your prince was destined to meet you the moment you were welcomed into this world.

You couldn't imagine being with anybody else: ever since you shared your first words with Arthur, you knew deep inside that he was the one for you, the love of your life, your charming prince... and as if he hasn’t told you yet, he felt exactly the same, you were his one and only that he had been waiting for so long all his lonely life.

Your chemistry was unique: you were so in love, so committed to your relationship, that you were sure that you would spend the rest of your lifes with each other. Death wasn’t able to break your chain, it was stronger that anything else in the universe. Once you had finally perished, you would marry each other as many times as you needed, twice, thrice, billions of times if it were needed. 

Arthur sees you as a sweet, gorgeous flower, being utterly different from the others by its unique beauty. He doesn’t have eyes for any other flower: you're the only one he has eyes for and feels pure love for: he even compared himself to the Little Prince, and you were the only flower in his world, yet perfect and outstanding.

He loved the fact that you were as romantic as him, because that made him feel more secure and sure of yourself. Even the little things would put your eyes in tears and make your smile grow until your red cheeks started to hurt because of his sweet gestures.

Your favorite hobbie is, after getting from a tired and exhausted day of work, laying in each other's arms on the spacious sofa while watching romantic movies or comedies to brighten your mood, covered in blankets while sharing a cup of hot tea because of the frosty cold winter.

You loved everything about Arthur and your relationship with him: it was all about trust, support, love, dedication, comprehension and understanding. He was your best friend, and you were his.

Every month he would save some extra money to buy you a present, sometimes even starving himself for days just to have enough money to buy you the most expensive gift he could afford. But of course that once you knew about this you immediately stopped him, not admitting him to do such silliness no matter how good his intentions were.

But what he didn't know, was that you were willing to play the same game: without him realizing it, you saved some cash every month as well (without starving yourself, of course), to buy tickets for a romantic movie that would debut in the cinemas.

You were so happy about it, to finally give Arthur what he deserves and to take him where he has always wanted to go since he was a little kid. But this time, he would see a romantic movie with you, giving you both an opportunity to have a decent date for you to enjoy.

You couldn't wait to see your lover's face once he knows he'd go to cinema for the very first time with the love of his life, with his one and only... with you.

On the other hand, Arthur was thinking exactly the same thing, since he had been saving some cash to give you a surprise, imagining your reaction after he had offered his gift that would mark and change your lives forever, while increasing your pure love even more, if that was even possible.

One day you went to grab your hidden piggy bank with more money to save, only to count it right after. Once you had counted it and saw that you had enough, you instantly jumped and giggled from the sheer happiness around your shared room. You made so much noise, that even Arthur who was in the living room, knocked gently on the door to make sure you were fine.

Today was the day where you finally could show your gift to him: you told him that he needed to hurry up and dress something nice, because you were going to an amazing place. He wanted to know what your plans were so bad, but he knew it was useless since you wouldn't tell him until you had arrived to the "misterious place".

Once you had arrived and had gotten out safely from the bus, you told your boyfriend to close his gorgeous ocean eyes.

"You can open them now, love." you gently said with the two tickets held in your hand, while being right in front of the cinema so he could understand your intentions.

He was immediatly dumb-founded as soon as he understood what you meant. "Y-you... you want me to go to the cinema with... with you?" his eyes started to become moist with each second that passed, and you only had time to embrace him in your eyes while assuring him that this was real, that this was really happening.

"It's ok love, it's good to let our emotions out when we need to. I'm right here if you need anything. We will have so much fun! And you know that we deserve this, it will be good for us and our relationship, right?" you look into his eyes and could see that a few tears managed to slide down from his red and cold cheeks. He was definitely crying, but from happiness, something that he never thought was possible: he could only relate tears to sadness, however you managed to prove him that the opposite was possible as well. That's what he loved about you: even having been through a lot and felt so many things from his entire life, he would always learn something new about you, him and others from you.

"I can't even thank you enough for all you have done for me, honey... If I could only retribute half that you have done for me... I would be the happiest man for seeing his future wife happy as well." you were smiling from ear to ear, but once he said the words that you always dreamed to hear from him, "future wife", you had to hold your tears back from falling down your now stunned face.

You were too distracted, or should I say too concentrated on your lover, that you didn't realize that the movie was about to start.

Once you entered the cinema room, both of you were amazed by the view: the red seats were all over the place and were very organized; the movie screen was giant, the perfect size to enjoy your movie; the background was simple, yet exquisite, giving you a sudden feeling of luxury, however you didn't care that much if you were honest. As long as you were by Arthur's side, that's all that matters, because your love is the most luxurious thing in this world.

That night was the one you've always dreamed of: you stayed close to each other while grabbing your hands firmly, yet gently, like you were terrified of someone taking the other away from yourselves; the movie contained a lot of romance, which illuminated your hearts more than the brightest stars. You could even relate yourselves to the lovely couple on the screen, which made you both smile the entire time, changing glances with each other with the most passionate stare. This made Arthur think about what he had planned for you for a long time, more specifically from the moment you shared your first kiss, because since then, he instantly knew you were the one.

It made him feel a little bit, not to say extremely, nervous as well, and when the movie ended, you thought it was necessary to ask if he was ok or if he just didn't like the movie.

"N-no! Of course I liked the movie, I actually loved it. I couldn't imagine any other date more perfect than the one you planned for us... thank you once again, it means so, so much to me, sweetheart..." he admitted, making you feel more relaxed. However, he seemed like he was hiding something else, like he had something on his mind that he couldn't let out. But then he smiled at you while grabbing your hand softly, and from that moment you knew that he was about to tell you what was stuck on his mind since he left home.

You walked out of the cinema and went outside, where you instantly felt your body shivering from the cold of the late night of Gotham... but your boyfriend made sure to warm and melt your heart in an instant.

You saw Arthur overthinking and trembling a little, and when you were about to ask him if he was cold too and wanted you to warm him up, he kneeled on the rigid ground and took a small box of your favorite color from his back pocket.

You had an idea of what was coming, yet you couldn't believe that that was what was really going to happen.

"My sweet precious, kind, and beautiful love, would you... would you l-like to ah.. m-marry me...?" his eyes seemed like they belonged to a baby puppy that was asking for affection or his favorite treat, but in this case he was asking you for being his wife... Is this a dream??

You immediately felt your eyes burning and becoming wet by the few rebellious tears that managed to escape from your lovely stare. Your hands were now in front of your gaping mouth, and you couldn't feel cold anymore. The only thing you felt in that moment, was an enormous wave of warm love that you couldn't help, but you let yourself drown.

It was at this moment that all your insecurities and fears that were related to your mutual love, were permanently defeated. Now you knew there was nothing nor anyone that would tear you apart... and you had so many goals yet to achieve as a couple.

[marmar-97]

First I want to say thank you @uglynicc-kitchensink for giving me permission to use this pic of your demon Troy drawing, love how you draw him, also got this idea of a fanfic after watching demon slayer and decided on a cross over. HONESTLY THE ANIME IS LITERALLY AMAZING, I HIGHLY RECOMMEND YOU WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN'T!Sorry this took long Tumblr kept being ass and not letting me upload it. Sorry if it's too long for y'all to read I might have gotten a bit carried away hehe. 😅 but I have a Troy and Tyreen head canon coming sometime this week of their childhood.

To befriend a demon|Demon Troy x fem! Demon slayer

Warnings: blood, biting, smut maybe?

A/N: if you're sensitive to this type of stuff then you probably shouldn't read this 😅

"This is it, final selection. Today I'll become a true demon slayer." You thought to yourself as the ceremony began, although you were a bit nervous thinking you won't make it out alive. You enter and once you're a bit far into the mountains you pick up the scent of two demons as they charge towards you quick. "Pft this'll be easy." You draw your sword out using your technique instantly killing them. "Huh, that was way too easy, they weren't even thinking straight." You walk away putting your sword back and noticed some kid running for his life you saw what he was running from, a demon. He had bat like wings dripping with blood, jet black hair, tall figure, red tattoos in some pattern on his left arm and near his left eye and his jaw was split with blood dripping from it and a long tongue along with razor sharp teeth and he starts speaking. "Every year some dumb child sacrifices their life just to try and kill me? HA! I'm the damn king of this mountain and I'm not going anywhere." The boy falls and the demon grabs his leg with his right arm. "Guess it's snack time!" He says while dragging the poor boy towards him cackling laughter coming from him, screams of terror erupting from the boy's throat as he claws at the ground. "Save him...save him...SAVE HIM NOW!" The little voice in your head said as you jumped out from behind a tree trying to strike the demon but ended up missing as he moves out of the way. He let's go of the person he was about to devour putting his focus on you now. The boy ends up running off on his own now, probably gonna end up getting killed by other demons. "H-hey, don't go off on your own!" You tried calling out to him but he was far gone. "Dammit he got away thanks to you, no matter, I've got new prey now. Heh, more prey asking for a death wish huh? Well then, let's dance shall we? I'll give you a 10 second head start, after that, hide and seek is over, and I'm going to feast on you. Countdown starts... now." You got up and started running as fast as you could away from him. Seconds have passed by already. He was ready for his next treat. "Annnnnd... 1... TIMES UP!" You hear him shout as he extends his wings again and splits his jaw doing the same cackling laugh as before. You managed to jump and dodge tree roots and branches. Taking a glance behind you, you didn't see him in sight making your heart rave a bit. But that's when you knew you messed up as you tripped over a tree root tumbling onto your back hitting your head on a tree very hard. Your vision kept fading in and out as a pair of feet were approaching you. His feet. He had found you. He kneels down next to you. "Well so much for a demon slayer like yourself, heh I could devour you right now but that would be no fun now would it? I like taking my time sometimes when I'm not starving like these other demons out here." You tried moving but he pinned both your wrist to the ground. You tried breaking free from him but he was incredibly strong. You wanted to black out right there but knew you couldn't with a demon around, showing surrender. He saw the blood on your head and licks it. "Ohhh yeahhh that's the stuff, your blood tastes really good, my type of treat." Your body shiver from the feeling of his tongue licking your wound. "Let...me...go!" You knew struggling to break free was useless at the moment since he had a stronghold on you. "Mmm my blood is pumping from the adrenaline, this year's final selection is sure bigger than last year. More blood for me. You demon slayers sure love to come out here thinking you're the shit and could easily kill us demons. Just know that I've survived for so long and became the king. And also..." He shows you his left eye. You couldn't even do anything at the moment but stare at him in shock. He was one of the twelve Kizuki demons, a high ranked one at that. "R-rank 2? S-so who's rank 1?" He must be one of Muzan Kibutsuji's demons." You had a good look of his features up close and noticed how attractive he was, but he was still a demon who devours humans thirsty for blood.

He softly caressed your cheek with one of his sharp nails as his face was inches from yours now as he hovers over you. You closed your eyes thinking he was about to devour you. He still had blood on his face, torso and hands from someone he's devoured before the boy you had seen earlier. "It would really be a shame to actually kill you right here and now, even though I'm supposed to but I think I'm going to have more fun with you. Oh, heh how rude of me not introducing myself, name's Troy Calypso, or demon king, which I go by around here, and what may yours be sweetheart?" He uses his long tongue to clean his face of human blood now. "Ugh, their blood wasn't even good like yours to satisfy my taste." He licks his fingers and hands clean soon after leaving the blood alone on his torso. "Y/N, m-my name's Y/N." His grip on your wrist got a bit tight holding you down still. His lips brushed against yours as he breathed in your scent making you shudder. "Heh, nice name. You smell of, kindness, what a sweet smell." His voice was low and husky. You held your breath as he stared at you with those fiery eyes of his. He held your chin with an index finger and thumb making you look up at him dead in the eye as his lips pressed against yours. Your mind went blank from the move he just pulled. He was kissing you instead of devouring you? You suddenly snapped out of your thoughts and noticed you were kissing him back. Why were you, you weren't really sure yourself. You also weren't sure why he was even kissing you to begin with but you had no other choice. You instead close your eyes as he gets more into it forcing his tongue into your mouth while pushing your legs apart as he moves one of his legs between yours kissing you still. You suddenly let out a low moan from the feeling of his tongue exploring your mouth. He pulls back then sits you on his lap straddling him going for your mouth once more. This time you were whimpering while moaning. You wish you could scream for help but he was preventing you from doing so. After a short while you both pull back to catch your breath. "Guess you humans are worth living sometimes, if only humans and demons could get along somehow."

He goes to kiss your neck or maybe bite it even but gets interrupted when you both hear people shouting for more demons in the distance. You get off his lap as he stands up with his back against you. "How rude of them to interrupt me, well I've got more work to do, maybe when I'm done you and me can continue before you leave this place. Now I must hunt." You see him make multiple copies of himself. "Find them, and bring me their body and soul." They Kneeled in front of him. "As you wish master." And off they went in a flash. He opens up his jaw once more and his teeth get sharp again, along with extending his wings. "W-wait, I can't leave without bringing something back, I-I'll need a head or something to prove I killed a demon." He stops and turns around to look at you. "Fine, here you go." He pops his head off and regenerates a new one shortly after. "You're welcome, now you better go. Don't forget we have some unfinished business before you leave here." And off he flew. You kept the head in a basket as you continued on with your hunt for more demons finally reaching the end. Seems like you've made friends with a demon, or maybe more? You held a hand over your mouth remembering the way he had kissed you. This is a demon you won't forget. You then checked your watch noticing that final selection was over within 2 hours, that also meant the sun will rise up. You've had enough time to wait for other demon slayers to show up. You then saw him him standing there cleaning himself off from the blood that was on him, turning to look at you. "Well I'm full now. Thought you were gonna leave without finishing what we started? You didn't forget our deal now did ya?" You furrowed your eyebrows looking at him now. "I've never made a deal with you." He chuckles low as he walks close to you now. "Oh really? You were enjoying my tongue inside your mouth and didn't fight back so that means you want to continue. You were… aroused. Now, to have some fun, don't worry I don't bite unless you tell me to." You wanted to say something but in one swift move he had you over his shoulder flying off with you now. "What the- HEY WHERE ARE YOU TAKING ME?! I-I GOTTA GET BACK BEFORE SUNRISE! HEY ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME?! I'M NOT VERY FOND OF HEIGHTS EITHER!" He chuckles while having a smug look on his face that you couldn't see. "You'll see soon enough princess, I'm not gonna kill you if that's what you're thinking, like I said, I'm gonna have fun with you, just be patient." You huffed out in frustration as he finally landed near some cave walking in finally letting you down. You looked past him seeing an exit thinking of escaping but quickly knew it would backfire on since he would actually catch you very easily. "Thinking of escaping? Not possible." He picked up on you looking past him making you tense up. "U-uh n-no I'm just, trying to figure out where I am." You watched as he made his way towards you. "You're not lying to me are you?" He didn't seem a bit angry, in fact he had a neutral look on his face. "N-no of course not, but wh-what do you mean by fun?" You asked just to change the subject, playing his little game now. "Hmmm lemme show you." He picks you up wrapping your legs around his waist pressing his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. You could tell he was waiting to feel your lips on his again. This time you went along with it, not because you liked it, but because you knew you wouldn't be able to beat him in your current rank. Plus you wouldn't even be able to escape. You held onto his shoulders for support so you won't fall.

Suddenly he stops kissing you and changes the inside of the cave into a room. It seemed like it was fit for a king. You look around in amazement at how nice it looked and also from what he just did. "Like it huh? Fit for a king like me. Now to enjoy my time with you." He throws you on his bed not too hard making you bounce a little. It was very soft and comfortable. You watched him as he poked his index finger with his sharp nail on his thumb drawing blood from his finger. He then pressed it against your forehead. Suddenly you felt light headed and numb. "H-huh, what just happened?" You felt like sleeping from the feeling of being on his bed and from being numb. "I don't want you feeling pain from what I'm about to do, plus I want a taste of your blood once more. It's been on my mind ever since and I just needed more. Plus just the thought of tasting your blood while getting intimate with you is getting me all riled up." You didn't say anything as he ripped your dress with his sharp nails. His gaze was hungry when he saw your breasts and he immediately sucked and licked them. You would be lying to yourself saying you didn't like the feeling of his tongue on you. You were getting riled up yourself a bit. He then ripped your bra with his nails putting one of your nipples in his mouth sucking and licking it. You arched your back from the sensation letting out a low soft breath. He then did the same to the other one earning a low moan from you. "P-please, s-stop..." He was enjoying this moment. He bit down on one of your breasts hard drawing blood and drinking it. He hummed in approval sinking his teeth in deeper. He was breathing through his nose as he kept drinking your blood then finally pulling back licking the wound. "Fuck I needed that, but I want more." He goes to your other breasts doing the same thing. You felt his length pressed against your hip while he was enjoying his drink. He pulled back once more ripping your panties then going for your thighs now. He licked one of your inner thighs near your entrance making you squirm a bit. A low chuckle was heard from him as he did it again. And then he bit down on it drinking more of your blood, doing the same to your other thigh. "Mm looking good so far, but you could look better." He pulled you into his lap as his length was pressed against your entrance. He bites your upper arm getting another taste of your blood as you held onto his shoulders for support. You started to grind against him as the pleasure was building up inside you more. And without warning he entered inside of your wet folds. He leaned back propping himself up on his elbows watching you with half lidded eyes as you started to move slow, your blood on him getting him more excited. "yes this is just how I imagined it, you feel amazing." You picked up your pace while having your hands on his chest with your head thrown back as low soft moans escaped from your throat. He helped you by gripping your hip with his left hand pushing you down on his full length. Once you were you leaned in kissing him on the lips as he had a grip on your ass moving you back and forth on him. You moaned into the kiss as his tongue dominated your mouth once more. "Why am I even letting this happen? A-a demon? I should know better than that, but he's just so-" You were cut off when he bit into your upper arm. You hear him groan from both the pleasure and taste of your blood. He sinks his teeth deeper reaching bone and breaks them with one chomp. You didn't feel the pain but knew it would hurt so much if you did from the way your bones just cracked. He bends you over positioning himself behind you as blood dripped from his mouth and jaw. "Don't worry, once I'm done these wounds will be healed right up."

He lightly scratched the back of your neck with a nail drawing out some blood. He leans over you licking your upper back working his way to your neck. You felt him push himself back into you thrusting harshly but slow. You bit your lip trying to hold back your moans but failed when he hit that one spot. You weren't sure how you didn't even pass out yet from all the blood you've lost so far. His pace started getting fast and more harsh. He bit down on one of your shoulders while thrusting inside you still. You couldn't help but moan more getting close to the edge, a knot forming in your stomach. He bit down on your shoulder more breaking your shoulder blade. He finally pulls back from your shoulder admiring his work. He was panting slowing down his pace but his thrusts was still harsh. He kept it up until you finally spilled all over him, your orgasm finally hitting you. He chuckled as he pulled out of you releasing himself onto your back. "Heh you were such a good girl for participating in this sacrifice." You felt more numb than before from all the blood you've lost but managed to speak. "S-sacrafice? Wh-what do you mean?" And that's when you saw him, Muzan Kibutsuji appearing right before you. "Well done Troy, another successful sacrifice, you're close to being rank 1, do your master proud and kill the next victim you bring. This one lives another day." And he's gone in an instant. That's when another demon enters the room, and this one was female with a similar appearance to him but much shorter than him and had white hair to the side covering her right eye? "Were you holding back on this one Troy? What did master think?" She saw that you were still alive and sounded disappointed. "He said the sacrifice was successful but to kill my next victim." She goes over to you now hovering a hand inches from your body and heals your wounds and the same clothing you've had on before. "Well that's good I suppose Troy, alright my work here is-" She gets cut off as you start speaking to her now. "H-how do you know Muzan Kibutsuji?" They looked at both each other giving it the okay to tell you. "We both work for him, and I'm rank number 1." She moves her hair out of the way showing you her right eye with the mark, opposite from her brother's. "So are you two related? But how? I-I thought demons weren't supposed to be in a family." She turned on her heels facing the door now. "Let's just say, we stuck together before becoming demons and our bond never gets broken. Plus we're twins." And she started leaving. You looked at your watch seeing that you've had five minutes left before final selection was over. "Shit I've got five minutes left, I have to get back or they'll think I'm dead." He holds you against him flying with you to the bottom of the mountain where no one could see you both. He landed near a tree placing you on the ground. Before you ran off you felt him grab your arm. "So when will I get to see you again?" Seems like he took interest in you. "I'm not coming back, you know that right?" You actually didn't want to leave him but you had no choice. Seems like you became friends with a demon, though it was against demon corps. rules but you didn't know that yet. "I know but, maybe I could try to see you other than the mountain?" You looked at the entrance seeing everyone starting to leave now. "Sure, now I have to go. Also, I did have fun with you." You smiled at him and he smiled back as you ran to join the other demon slayers who made it out alive. "Guess demons and humans can get along in a way." He says to himself leaving before daybreak.

[moistmailman]

Jaune Orc AU: Prequel

*After a battle*

Pyrrha: *Twiddling with a necklace wrapped around her neck*

Yang: Yo captain. What's with the necklace?

Pyrrha: Huh? What do you mean?

Yang: Your necklace. You always twiddle with it whenever you're bored or nervous. How come you do that?

Ruby: And why do you always wear it everywhere too? Even in the showers? What's the deal with the necklace?

Pyrrha: Oh, well it's actually an interesting story. You see.....

*2 years ago*

Pyrrha, bruised up: You worry too much, honey.

Jaune, treating Pyrrha's wounds: Well it's hard not to whenever you come home injured. It makes me worried sick to see you come home like this.

Pyrrha: Yeah, but I still do come home everyday though, that's all what matters at the end, right?

Jaune: Yeah, that's true. But everytime there's an attack, or you guys go somewhere to clear out a bandit camp or something, a small part of me gets worried that what if you are-.......what if you don't come home this time.

Pyrrha: Honey, what did I tell you about thinking like that? It's not healthy to have that on your mind.

Jaune: I know that but still, it's hard not to when you're gone for a week straight. It makes me feel weak. There you are going out there and risking your life, and here I am, standing in the house, being more stressed out than you probably. It makes me feel useless.

Pyrrha, sternly: Hey now. You aren't useless. Don't say that about yourself. Do you really think I could manage this house by myself? I would probably burn the kitchen down at the first night. *Chuckles* Believe it or not, but I need you here. I'd starve to death without your cooking, or accidentally poison myself.

Jaune: *Sadly grumbles*

Pyrrha, sighing: Honey, what's bothering you?

Jaune: What do you mean?

Pyrrha: I know something else is bothering you. You know that I can take care of myself in the battlefield. Now what's really the matter?

Jaune, blushing: N-nothing is wrong. I-I'm just worried for you, that's it.

Pyrrha: We both know that's a lie, sweetheart. Now tell me what's the matter, otherwise we aren't cuddling tonight.

Jaune: What? No cuddling?! That's not fair.

Pyrrha, smirking: I know. Now spill it.

Jaune, awkwardly swallowing:.........okay, fine. W-when we hit our one year anniversary of dating 3 months ago, my mother gave me something to give you for whenever I believe I'm ready for it.

Pyrrha: Okay. And?

Jaune, blushing: W-well, l-lately I've b-been thinking that- wait no, I know that I'm ready to give it to you. B-but I-I'm t-too afraid to do it.

Pyrrha: Really? How long have you been thinking about this?

Jaune:........ever since she gave it to me.

Pyrrha, chuckling: That long? Honey, what in the gods could your mother have gave you that would make you this nervous to give to me?

Jaune, face on fire:.........my grandmother's wedding ring.

Pyrrha, raising an eyebrow: Your grandmother's wedding ring? Why would you gave me your grand........wait.

Jaune, sweating bullets:

Pyrrha, slightly blushing: A-are y-you asking me what I think you're asking me?

Jaune, pulling out a miniature box: P-pyrrha. W-will you m-marry me?

Pyrrha, wide eyed:......

Jaune, panicking: Oh gods! This is why I was terrified to ask you! I should'v-

Pyrrha: Oh my gods, yes! Yes I will marry you!

Jaune, tearing up: R-really?

Pyrrha, hugging Jaune: Yes! Absolutely yes! No questions asked.

Jaune: Oh my gods! That makes me so happy! I love you so much.

Pyrrha: I love you too, honey.

*Jaune takes the ring out if the box before trying to put it on Pyrrha's finger*

Pyrrha: Huh? Uh.....Jaune? Sweetie? This ring is too large for my finger.

Jaune, worried: What?

*Jaune looks down to see that his grandmother's ring was 3 times larger than Pyrrha's finger*

Jaune, groaning: Oh Gods, no! I screwed this up! This is an orc ring! I didn't think this through! I-I need to get you a knew one quick!

Pyrrha: *giggles*

Jaune, blushing: W-what's so funny.

Pyrrha, giggling: Nothing Jaune it's......you're adorable, I swear. You didn't mess this up, I promise.

Jaune: I didn't?

Pyrrha: No, you didn't. And you don't need to buy me a new ring either. We can figure something out, I promise.

*end of flashback*

Pyrrha, twiddling with her necklace: So later that day I bought a chain necklace and attached the ring to it. That's why I wear this everywhere. It's my wedding ring.

Yang: Wow. That's actually adorable. Isn't that right, Ruby?.....Ruby?

Ruby, tearfully: Oh my god! That's so beautiful!

[thimbleswrites]

with the lights out, it’s less dangerous | the last time

Pairing: Frankie Dalton x Original Female Character

Genre: Angst / Drama

Word count: 4k

Warnings: love/hate relationship, implied smut, suicidal thoughts

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3884773/chapters/8685547

Author’s note: I wrote this a long time ago but I’m posting all my fics on my writing blog. I explain more about the Blood Donors concept in the a/n on A03 if anyone’s interested, click the link above.

Summary:

Anita, a human that Edward has been harboring in his house for years, struggles with the isolation of living as a fugitive in a world full of vampires. With the threat of being reduced to nothing but a Blood Donor looming just outside the walls of Edward's house, she must decide whether it is time to end it all or find a way to deal with the desolation.

But is the dangerous game she finds herself playing with Frankie Dalton, Edward's human-hunting brother, the best solution to her loneliness?

Set pre-Daybreakers.

Next: honesty hour

"Goddamn it, Frankie, I have until sundown to get some sleep before a shit load of work tomorrow – I'm not having this conversation again; it's done!"

A beat of silence follows the words as the dismissal rings heavy in the air and a resounding snarl tears through the tension. Anita grimaces at the sound of footsteps up the stairs and tries to press herself back against the hinged door, into nonexistence – a thin hand clawing at the threshold as she waits with bated breath.

No matter how many arguments she heedfully witnesses, how many times Edward tells her that she is safe after Frankie blows in and out of their lives over and over again, how many times she manages to make it just one more day without being caught and forced as a Blood Donor: the dread that makes her stomach clench in an almost paralyzing sort of fear is a constant reminder that she is never safe.

The comfort of safety is not a luxury she can afford – not anymore.

The years spent hiding with a decreasing amount of fellow human who had refused vampirism had not been wasted with pointless dreams of a secure future. Those days were harsh, dirty, and cruel – but in each other there was at least a small repose of normalcy. Humans living (well surviving, because what they had been doing was not actually living) with other humans.

A human living with one (sometimes two, she remembers with a tingle up her spine) vampires, though.

She wants to laugh at the thought of such an illusion as safety for someone in her position, but seeing as it's the one thing standing between her and becoming a daily juice box, she refrains. That is if she could remember how to laugh; the muscles surrounding her mouth are usually only ever exercised into a frown and she imagines that the act of straining them upwards might be foreign and difficult.

Her attempt at becoming a chameleon is at once deemed futile under the fierce gaze of Frankie Dalton as he passes in the hall. He's only just gotten back from his most recent tour of duty and as per usual he is staying at Edward's during his break, unable to afford an apartment he would scarcely ever use.

The first few days of his return are always the worst; Edward almost never remembers the day of Frankie's arrival and the latter's mood turns sour the moment he comes home to see his welcome party consists of one: a somewhat interested (and punctual; she doesn't have much to look forward to these days and even his return on the calendar is something) Anita holding a propped open book in one hand and the world's tiniest banner reading Welcome home, asshole! in her other as she lounges comfortably on a sofa in the office room, ready to leap to her crawl space at a moment's notice.

Just as she thinks that maybe, just maybe this time he will continue to his seldom-occupied bedroom and ignore her, he stops walking and looks her down as if she is a lower species; a turkey attending the Thanksgiving dinner. There is distaste clear in his eyes, rage too, and something even darker that she recognizes somewhere in the back of her mind but does not want to dwell upon.

Anita glowers bitterly up at him, willing him to feel her disgust at him, too, for him to know that this isn't exactly the ideal living situation for her either. A small part of her feels ashamed for those sort of thoughts – the last thing she wants Edward to think she is is ungrateful. She owes him her life, however useless it may be now.

Once, a couple years back, when on a supply raid with her group she had been wounded by a lone poor, starving vampire who had found them and attacked. Her party had left her there, assuming her to be dead, so it was not abandonment – not really, she would have done the same.

Self-hatred burns her insides with the knowledge that this new world – one with the rule of vampires and the hunt of humans like livestock – has charred her soul black to the core, a sense of meaningless survival (what is the point to her life?) taking control on instinct so that she has to fight every day to remember what humanity truly means.

But with an abundance of luck and patience on Edward's part, he had found her bleeding out (thankfully not infected; she'd rather die) and managed to get them both back to his place to nurse her back to health. Her constant attempts at his life or escaping had slowed things down considerably, but she eventually healed and came to the hard realization that her pack was gone. She knew by then they would be cities away and that she was alone. It was with little hesitance that Anita had accepted Edward's offer of shelter and food. Protection, too, but that was taken lightly.

She's never been one to depend on others; she likes to pull her own weight, and her current title of hidden house guest makes her restless. When she had first began living with Edward, she had offered him her blood – not straight from her veins, obviously, but with the proper equipment she would have given him enough, regularly but not nearly as much as she'd have to if she became a Blood Donor, to cushion the blow of his blood-bill. But he had refused; said he didn't drink human, and it would have been a lie to say she was too disappointed. The same offer was never given to Frankie – probably because she knows now, and knew then, that he would not have refused.

"Well, if it isn't the root of the problem." Frankie grinds out, his jaw clenched as he takes a step towards her. "Tell me – do you think Ed sees your face on the humans at his company or just dollar signs?"

She blinks indifferently, keeping her silence. They've danced to this song before, and honestly, she's grown too phlegmatic to be baited so easily.

"Probably not the money." He adds, his voice hard. "He pities you humans too much for his own good. And you in particular, doesn't he?" He chuckles darkly and points at her with his index finger. "No, you're his favorite little stray kitten – here to stay."

At his sneering words she looks back at the small opening across the small office that leads to the crawl space she spends her time in when the sun falls and darkness resumes – a pathetic excuse for living quarters but she is none the wiser, having been in worse conditions while on the streets. At least she has the sleeping bag to herself now.

She is allowed out during the day or when Edward is home and does not have company, but rarely downstairs and always, always she must be quiet (so quiet it is like she is not even there) in case the neighbors can hear. He cooks her food mostly (something she wishes she could do for herself; Edward is an appallingly bad chef) and she is permitted to have a shower every few days even though she has to use his toiletries. She does not mind much, though – things like that have not been a problem for her in a good long while.

It is not that Edward wants to keep her on a short leash so much as he is very meticulous in ensuring that she remains hidden, for his sake and hers. Every single thing is planned and routine; if he is to buy too much extra food or household necessities or if his guest notice that he seems to be housing three occupants, it might raise unwanted suspicion that would be better to avoid entirely. Paranoid, maybe, but it works. And although she will never dare to complain, living in such circumstances is taking the wear and tear out of her.

While food comes easier now than what she has been used to (having been malnourished since she was barely a teen) she is still unhealthy; her skin too pale from the lack of sunlight and the natural growth of her body stinted by the crawl space, making her appear pinched, and so much smaller than she should, too emaciated and frail to the point where she wants to avoid mirrors at all cost on some days. The perpetual dark rims under her grey eyes from many sleepless nights give her the appearance of a ghost, and her hair is almost always in a wild tangle of mousy blonde strands, but sometimes on her more vain days, she manages to run her fingers through it enough to tame the mess. Throughout every thing that has been lost to the war of vampires against humans, vanity seems to trail behind her in a race to catch up; not quite there but never too far behind either.

She looks hollow, dead in the eyes, and it's only fitting, really – she feels the same way.

Anita wishes that she could take pride in her quiet strength – she yearns to think of herself as one of the heroines from the books she reads to assuage her boredom (Edward has books everywhere, scattered in piles in all the nooks and crannies of the house and then some), biding her time before she can join the Revolution with her fellow humans, but honestly, the fear and cowardice that is still present, hidden beneath the bitter sorrow and ferocious contempt, only makes her feel weak. Weak from the tears that wet her pillow at night when she is by herself in the crawl space, holding her arms around her middle as if it will help the sickness, left with nothing but thoughts of death and blood and the unfairness of life.

She misses her family more than she ever thought she would, and it's unbearable because it leaves a gaping, festering hole in her chest that makes her want to lie still until she just stops breathing. At those times, more than usual, it stumps her how anybody could want to live forever. It's a consuming, mindless sort of grief that leaves her breathless and exhausted, hating herself for dwelling on the past when her current standing in the food chain demands all the focus she has.

Anita hates weakness.

And Frankie makes her feel weak.

Especially when he is this close to her, his head tilted down so he can meet her wide eyes, and his body so near her that she can feel the coolness of him. She hates the terror it instills in her at the thought that he can infect her with a smile on his face and her flesh in his teeth if he so desires. And he does desire it – he's told her so, after the two brother's verbal throw down matches over Edward's aiding and abetting a human criminal in his own house, a house that Frankie inhabits ("By knowing and not saying anything it makes me an accomplice, Ed!"). Edward thinks his threats of turning them in are empty ("He won't say anything . . . he owes me." Ed told her once when she had voiced her concerns) and he hasn't yet, however, Anita wouldn't put it past him. She can't turn a corner in a house that Frankie's in without having a threat to turn her thrown in her face.

Even more than that, though, she absolutely despises the other feelings he sparks in her too. The ones that make her flush with heat in her veins and an ache between her thighs from the longing to be close to someone again. Anita despises him for being a selfish monster and she despises him even more when he's not. She despises the salacious want he infixes in her when he glances up with sharp, trained eyes from whatever he is doing to watch her walk back to the office after a shower when she is in only a towel. But more than anything, anything else she despises herself for having allowed him to toy with those feelings periodically over the last four months.

As Frankie stares at her, something akin to understanding glints in his eyes and he takes a quick step in her direction, making her fall back two. After a moment she has enough sense to worry he might have recognized the look in her eyes as more than offense at his words. There is a familiar sort of triumph in his voice as he sneers, "Something bothering you, pet?"

The sound of the taunting sobriquet he had long ago christened her coming from his lips is far too palatable for her to handle so she imagines what the screams of the humans he has hunted and forced into the Blood Revenue Agents hands would sound like instead, so loud and terrible that it can banish those bad, bad feelings that surround her off to another place where things that are wrong go to.

For the moment, it works.

"Yes – you are standing too close," Anita finally murmurs, and something frightening in her roars at the covetous flash in his eyes as they narrow at her, but she silences it by biting her tongue, unable to resist the opportunity to wipe the smirk off of his face. "And I can still smell the blood of my people marring your precious honor, sir."

The corners of his mouth twist down at her mockery and he raises his chin, trying to intimidate her with his authority, but the vampire soldier card no longer makes her shrink in fear as it once did. She has had quite a bit of time in the weeks of Frankie's absence to prepare herself for his overwhelming presence that has always had a different effect on her than Edward's. She will no longer permit herself to be a distraction for him to amuse himself with whenever he likes purely because he can. She is more than his filthy little secret, and certainly better than him.

Her lips thin and she brings herself to full height, which is only a wee few inches shorter than him, but still her neck cranes up slightly to meet his gaze. She has pushed off from the door and he moves backwards to avoid physical contact. The fact that he is the one who falls back weighs heavy on him and his frown deepens in anger.

His relentless harassment over the years has been all too entertaining for him because of the easy prey she has always presented him with. His ability to read her like an open book is almost congenital – Frankie knows Anita to her very core; her thoughts, her fears, her dreams, he knows exactly what to do to provoke her. He can send her into a furious rage with a few casual words or tear her apart by a single deliberate look. But now the game has changed. She has surprised him with this sign of defiance; this charge of offensive play, and he does not know how to react to it.

A small thrill shoots through her from his falter, and the courage it gives her comes out in the smooth words she spits into his face, "Something bothering you, Frankie?"

She can almost taste victory in her mouth when his ochroid eyes flash and he quickly leans into her, a smirk curling onto his face, making her stumble back away from him and warily glance at the protruding fangs that press into his pale lower lip. He smiles widely to show her his teeth more clearly; a wolf's grin, and watches her clenched jaw tremble beneath the unspoken threat, eyes dancing and alight with the prospect of a challenge.

"Careful now, pet, wouldn't want to cross lines you can't come back from, would you?" He cautions.

The air feels weighted with the tension, as if electricity is crackling against her skin, sending sparks through her nervous system but she holds her ground and straightens. The warning is obvious in his voice; he wants her to know that he is in control. She hates that.

He is so close she can feel his breath fanning her face, and although it makes hers come in faster than she would care to admit, Anita resists the urge to swivel her head to the side. "Fuck your lines."

The curse word feels strange on her tongue, although she is pleasantly surprised at the evenness of her tone, and she enjoys his confounded look at her having taken a page from his book – he frequently uses the crude terms, and at least one adolescent innocent tendency has always made her wince when he casually refers to them – but it had sounded sharp and primitive and she is impressed by herself. She instantly realizes that she likes how fierce it makes her feel.

"Ooh, such language, Nita. Wouldn't expect it from you." He grins at her, his tongue grazing briefly over one fang, so quickly that she barely notices it with a sweeping sensation sent straight to her toes, and continues, "And while I appreciate that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, maybe you should mind your manners for now. After all, pets who misbehave must be . . . castigated."

Her knees quake, nearly giving out at his tone: almost a teasing threat, and that realization makes her stomach flutter in equal parts fright and excitement. She inhales deeply, pulling down the frayed sleeves of her sweater past her fingers.

Frankie's smile fades as his mouth contorts into a thoughtful expression and his eyes size her up. The hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she is not sure if it is because of the dread in her stomach or the heat that flames in her cheeks and along her ears when he steps forward with his arms extended out on either side of her head, efficiently trapping her between the door and his body. He pushes a strand of hair from her darting eyes with a gentle motion; a mocked sign of affection, and lets the tip of his finger rest on her temple.

He is pushing her, stretching their interaction like a rubber band, testing to see how far he can go before she breaks. He doesn't have to push far this time – a simple movement; he bites gently and deliberately into his lower lip and his eyes drop to her mouth – and then she is shoving his arms away scathingly, hitting him with her fist as she turns to her crawl space.

Frankie catches her readily around her waist and flings her back against a wall, grabbing her wrists in his hands when she tries to struggle and pinning them above her head. His face is close enough to hers that she can clearly see the smile lines in his right cheek when the corner of his lip quirks up in that crooked grin that makes her loathe these moments with him as much as she secretly looks forward to them, although, she will never admit the hold he has on her; a strong fist around her rotting heart, forcing it to pulsate when the beats begin to degenerate.

Sometimes she wishes he would just let her die.

He thrusts a knee between her legs, pressing his body onto hers, and she can't breathe – she can't even muster the energy to ignore the way her body responds to the familiar feeling of him against her; the way her hips cant upwards into him, all but unwillingly.

And sometimes she wants nothing more than this.

"Fuck you." Anita seethes, because he looks so smug, like such a smug bastard that her blood practically boils and she feels alive.

"Hm, fuck me?" Frankie muses. "You're being rather straightforward today."

"Well, you know what they say." She returns with a sharp grin on her face that she saves just for him. "Bold is beautif – oh!"

He had ducked down into her neck, his mouth opened wide, and for only a moment she considers that he is finally making good on his threat to tear into her jugular vein, but it's not his teeth. It's his tongue, and she thinks that might be worse. He's kissing the base of her throat, ravaging the skin there (because Anita will shit a brick if she ever sees Frankie being tentative in his actions), and it almost hurts; she knows there will be a bruise there in a few hours.

There always is.

"Wait." She protests wearily, her heart beating a tattoo of his name onto her rib cage. "You said it was the last time. We agreed – we agreed the last time was it."

"I changed my mind." He says easily, his mouth trailing up to her jaw. "God, you're so fucking warm."

And the low, guttural sound of his voice makes her knees actually give out this time. He only tightens his fingers around her wrists, though, and his thigh between her legs keeps her upright, but oh – his thigh between her legs. She trembles.

Her eyes fall closed with a pleased, drawn out sigh and he lets out a breathy laugh.

"You want this just as much as I do, don't you, pet?" He taunts, scraping his fangs lightly over her skin.

Anita growls but before she can retort he presses his lips to hers and kisses her in a way that only he's ever done; hard, deep, angry. He releases her right hand and she presses her palm to the nape of his neck, holding him in place as she responds to his jabbing remark by nipping at his bottom lip. She makes a noise at the back of her throat when his tongue invades her mouth.

He's cold – all vampires are. But Anita doesn't see it like they do in the old YA novels about the then-mythical vampire, it is not just some side effect of being a dashing creature of the night like the young heroines think it is; it's one of the things she hates the most when she's with Frankie like this, because it reminds her that he is dead. He has no pulse, no heartbeat. Frankie is cold like a corpse, a walking disease.

This thought gives her resolve a burst of renewed strength and she tugs her other hand free from his grasp, holding tightly to his shirt as she pants, "We can't keep doing this." But even as the words leave her, she allows her hand to drift down towards his stomach, feeling the taut muscles of his abdomen beneath her exploring fingers.

Jesus, help me, Anita thinks desperately, he's my Kryptonite.

He's undeterred – his mouth hovering over hers, golden eyes watching her intently as his hands go to her hips and he hooks his thumbs into the waistband of her pants. "Why not?" He asks, softly, the words drifting over her lips.

She pauses, distracted by the way his fingers stroke circles onto her skin.

He smiles at her hesitancy, touching his lips lightly to hers.

The tenderness throws her into momentary surprise, but he suddenly grips the back of her thighs and lifts her up, propping her against the wall as her legs lock instinctively around his waist, and there's nothing tender about what's digging into the inside of her thigh. She gasps when his hands slide up her sweater, one at the small of her back and the other on her breast.

She kisses him fervidly, nearly slicing open her tongue on his fang, and cradles his jaw in her hands – he grins into her mouth, apparently satisfied by her response, and her body screams this is the last time, just once more.

"I'm not into necrophilia – you son of a bitch," Anita murmurs, short of breath, but even she hears the fond way the words are spoken.

"Shut up," Frankie groans as his mouth goes to her collarbone, his hand tugging one of her legs higher over his hip while his groin steadily rocks into the apex of her thighs as if to prove his next words, "D'you think I want to want this? I've taken playing with my food to an all new level."

And she doesn't even try to stop the morbid laugh that leaves her as he carries her to his bedroom.

It's the last time, after all.

-

[aliceslantern]

Nocturnal Memory, a Kingdom Hearts fanfic, chapter 17

[Summary:  Dying takes a lot out of you, it's true, but when Demyx wakes up for the first time since his fight with Sora nothing's right. His memories are fragmented and he's missing his true name. And he's not the only one. An incomprehensible mystery and an inevitable war make him question what, exactly, he would do to become whole, and reclaim the music lost to him.

on FF.net/on AO3]

The next few weeks became a bleary slog between work and training. He didn't even have time to try and fix the guitar, but even if he did, he doubted he could. The weather got hotter and drier. He got sorer and sorer, but found that, after a while, those mortar bags weren't so heavy, and he could get through a day without feeling like death.

And he wasn't great with the knife, maybe, but he could at least block things now. The first time he disarmed Lea came as a surprise to both of them. He was finally starting to pick up on the whole "holes in the guard" thing. It was in the timing. There was always a brief break in defense after Lea attacked, of course, when he normally sprang back. Only this time, Demyx was actually able to slip in a solid kick to the stomach and knock Lea off balance. After so many weeks of getting beat up, it was satisfying.

"Well," Lea said, coughing, "It's about fucking time."

"…You don't remember your parents, do you?"

Talking to Yuffie was still like treading a minefield. However tentative their interactions were—even friendly at times—the wrong thing could make her mad. "Only my mom a little," he admitted. They'd built quite a bit of the aqueduct at that point. The goal was to finish it by summer, so the dry season wouldn't be so straining. "I don't think I ever had a dad."

"My mom died when she gave birth to me." There was pink sunburn across her nose and she scratched at it, getting gray mortar onto her face. "We didn't exactly have an Aerith at that point."

"I'm sorry."

She shrugged. "I never really knew her to miss her."

"Sometimes it feels like I came out of thin air. Or an act of will."

She laughed. "I know how that is. Even my dad, when faced with a kid, was like, what the hell is this? I think that looks pretty good."

The compliment took him off guard. "Uh, thanks. Once I had to watch these guys build a stone wall for days. I had to get into this noble's palace to steal a scroll. Those dark corridors work, but they're pretty conspicuous, so I couldn't just teleport my way in. I guess I picked something up then. I picked up a lot of skills that way. I'm not a half bad potter. I can weave pretty well."

"A lot of marketable skills."

He snorted. "Yeah, right. "Hello mister job man? Here's my résumé. I know it says I was part of an evil organization, but I'm experienced, I promise." Shit. How am I supposed to get a job if we get through all this?"

She sighed. "Hell if I know. They always make it sound like we're fucked."

"We kind of are."

"I don't want to believe that." She heaved down a stone. "We've always fought. We probably always will fight. We'll pull through."

"What if we don't?" Demyx put down his trowel.

She turned. "What do you mean, if we don't?"

"If we lose."

"Weren't you all just "hey I want to fight with you guys!" a few days ago? You can't think like that." Her cheeks were turning red. "You're not allowed."

Here we go. "I'm allowed to feel however I want."

"Fuck that." She brushed the dust off of her legs. "Let's go eat. I'm starving."

Sometimes Demyx would wonder if following through with his drunken epiphany was a good idea. All the evidence pointed to the fact that they would absolutely get crushed. Sora's uncertainty, mounting reports that worlds were flooding with Xehanort's darkness… It didn't look good. And every time he even allowed himself to consider what being a double agent might mean, his heart started to race and he couldn't breathe and the room around him seemed dizzy.

Yuffie was right about some things, though. There wasn't really any way to sit idly by, as tempting as it was. If he bailed now, he'd still be surrounded by the plan making and the statistics and the-this and the-that. There was no escape, literally or figuratively; he didn't have any control over the dark corridors anymore. And where would he go?

Besides… he very nearly had friends. At the end of the day the committee would ask him along to dinner, and they would just… hang out. No talking about the war, or Xehanort… they talked about normal people things. It was a bizarre sensation.

Cid liked to play cards. He had a battered old deck that Demyx was positive he'd marked. Mostly they played—funnily enough—Hearts. It was the only card game that Demyx was competent at.

"You know you're the only one to beat me," Cid said. He tapped out a cigarette and lit another. Cid's smoking was getting heavier and heavier. Demyx didn't know how he afforded it.

"I don't believe that."

"Leon's sick of it and Yuffie's terrible."

He shuffled the deck again. "21?"

"…I guess."

"Where'd you learn all this stuff, kid?"

He shrugged. "Ten. Mostly." Luxord hadn't frequently invited him along to the card parties, but any time he had had certainly been an experience.

Cid dealt them each a few cards. "Say we make this more interesting."

"Good luck with that. I'm broke."

"Say if I win… you buy me a cigarette."

He laughed. "Alright, fine. And if I win… you give me yours."

Cid smirked. "Hit or sit?"

He looked at the two cards on the table in front of him—ace and eight. It was a shame he was never this lucky in real life. "…Sit."

Cid turned over his other card; cool sixteen. With an expression Demyx guessed was supposed to be calm and confident, he pulled another card. A six. "…Motherfucker. All right. A deal's a deal. Though joke's on you, I only have three left." He handed over the pack. "Remind me to never play with you again."

He lit up one of his prizes. "Oh, don't be a sore loser."

Cid grimaced when the smoke hit his face.

June ended without much comment. Three days of rain trapped them all within their respective houses. This was apparently a sign of the dry season coming. Demyx helped Dilan set up a rain collection tank on the roof.

"Haven't seen hide or hair of you in days," Dilan said gruffly. They both hefted the tank into place on one of the drains.

"Well. We wanted to get most of the aqueduct done to get this rain."

""We."" He gave the tank a solid kick. "Is that connected?"

"Feels like it."

"I'm glad you're at least following your convictions." His tone was bitter.

"What does that mean?"

"I'm merely surprised."

For a moment he could only stand there, speechless, as rain pattered off of their jackets.

"The situation gets grimmer by the day," Dilan continued. "I figured you, of all people, would be long gone. I admit it gets tempting."

"I can't leave," he said.

"What on earth is holding you here?"

"I can't use the corridors. I don't want to. Isn't this your home? Don't you care about it?"

Dilan shook his head. "I'm afraid I have nothing left from what made this place home."

In the distance, thunder boomed.

"I don't want you to make any mistakes," Dilan said. "You'll as good as get yourself killed."

Demyx's hands shook.

"Goodness, you needn't listen to me. If this is how you want to waste your life, go ahead." He shook his head and started towards the door.

"I am so sick of people telling me how I should feel or what I should do." His voice was barely audible. "This… sage advice…"

Dilan didn't look impressed.

"I don't want to hear it anymore. From anyone. I'm… I'm going for a walk."

Dilan shook his head and started towards the door. "Very well."

His clothes were nearly soaking by the time he was down by the ground. He crammed his hands deeper into his pockets. It was raining so hard he could barely see. Cold drops snaked down his neck. His eyes were hot.

He wasn't sure this was the right choice. Not really. But he was doing something good, he was being almost normal. Better than sitting holed up in that castle, bored and alone and stewing in his own memories, conscious of the pressing quiet around him…

The sound of the rain sharpened. The air was humid and hard to breathe.

Ahead he saw a shadow, blobby and black, below the archway leading towards the marketplace. He figured it was some sort of Heartless and drew the knife, but it disappeared.

A human arm tightened around his neck. He floundered and tried to remember what Lea had taught him, but sharp panic clouded his head. Demyx flailed and tried to yell, but a bony hand in a leather glove covered his mouth. He bit one of the fingers hard, but the figure didn't relent. He dropped like a rock, figuring that maybe his weight would take them off guard, but they countered with a sharp kick to his groin. He crumpled and saw stars. He heard them pick up his useless knife and struggled to move, but he hadn't yet caught his breath.

He heard the cut more than he felt it, right into his belly. The figure twisted the handle. Demyx tried to scream but the shock had paralyzed him; he could only exhale sharply.

He was forced onto his back. The figure grabbed at his face. Demyx could only see the maw of the black hood. The figure pulled back his eyelids, took a good look, yanked out the knife, and was gone.

For a moment he lay on his side. Blood spooled out of him, quickly diluted by the rain. He struggled to sit up. He had to yell, to make some sort of noise; he couldn't breathe. The rain seemed squiggly and the wound inside him burned. He sat up and immediately fell as pain crashed through him.

He wasn't going to die like this. He refused.

Darkness encroached his vision and he saw another blur, in violet, coming towards him. He started shivering. He tried to call for help but was too busy passing out.

Trembling and feverishness all over. The room was blurry and dim. Something sticky and cool clung to his chest and side. His head pounded.

He must have slipped in and out of consciousness. Shadows came into the room and left. He couldn't see well.

A memory smoothly unfurled. "Don't go." His own voice, to his mother, her lying there still in the bed. The air was freezing; a storm was coming. The water looked green. He was on some sort of boat, up high, looking down when the first shadow climbed across the horizon—

The stickiness on his body smelled like menthol. He couldn't focus his eyes but he could see now at least a little. The room was warm in color, dim, and a fire burned in a fireplace at the corner. A brown-haired figure hummed a little tune as she did something at a cabinet against the wall.

He tried to speak. His mouth was so dry. "…Aerith?"

Her head snapped up and she rushed over. "You're awake," she said. She checked his pulse.

"What… what…"

"Don't speak. I'm so glad Yuffie found you when she did…"

He felt like he'd been hit by a freight train. A gummy cloth clung to practically his whole torso. Rain still pattered against the roof. "What day is it?"

"It's only been about twenty-four hours."

"…Really?" He lay still. She poked at the gummy cloth. "What happened?" He vaguely remembered—the shadow, his own knife.

"A Heartless hurt you pretty badly. There's a new pureblood that's very stealthy. It poisoned you."

"…Heartless?"

"It punctured your side." He tried to sit up; she pushed him back down. "I only just was able to remove the poison."

"No, it wasn't a Heartless, it was… something else… A person. I saw them." He clutched at her sleeve.

"One of the symptoms of the poison is hallucinations. You more than likely made that up." She smiled.

"No." That couldn't be true. "No, I didn't. I swear. They—they stabbed me with my own knife—" So much for not being able to be poisoned. No wonder he'd been able to get drunk so easily.

"Your weapon was in its holster when Yuffie found you." She pointed to a small night table, where the holster lay on top of his shirt and jacket. "It happens. You're not the first person that thing attacked. How do you feel?"

Demyx half believed her. The fight already was distant and faded. He'd only seen the shadow… the maw of the head… how could he be sure…

He knew that beading and those zippers anywhere.

"My head is killing me."

"I'd be surprised if it didn't. Like a bad hangover, right?"

He shook his head dismissively. "What's this green stuff?"

"It's a healing tissue. I couldn't help but take a crack at those scars. I hope you don't mind. It seemed to help at least a little."

He wasn't sure how he felt about it.

"I can probably take it off, actually. I know it's not that pleasant." She pulled at an end of the cloth and helped him sit up. It sounded sticky and wet when it came off his skin and made him shudder. "I know you must feel sick, but you healed well." Most of the stuff was off of him, other than a patch stuck to his side. "Not all patients are so good."

"Or so unconscious."

She shrugged. "How has this rain been treating you?"

"Well, other than getting stabbed—" She yanked at the patch and it came off painfully, causing him to swear.

"The medicine in this tends to fuse with the skin. Nobody likes it," she explained.

He looked at his side, amazed to find no wound, only a red patch. "This healing stuff sure is complicated. Aren't you supposed to just cast Cure and be done?" He remembered his weeks and weeks of recovery, and how he'd always felt like they were dragging it out.

"Cure is nothing but a temporary metabolic boost that'll make the tissue grow back without treating anything. You can get into real trouble that way. Not to mention, get into a serious caloric deficit." She handed him a glass of water. She'd put the green stuff back into a glass jar full of iridescent liquid. "I'm afraid I couldn't do much for these after all." She poked gently at some of the scars.

"It's… all right." He wished he had something to put on to cover himself up. At least she'd left on his underwear.

"You really have been through a lot," she said lightly.

"I guess so." He looked into the glass of water, which shimmered slightly in the poor lighting. "Aerith, how did you know you wanted to fight back?"

She thought about this, twisting the end of her braid. "I never really had any other option. I was… very young when this world fell. It impacted every part of me. I want to make sure that doesn't happen again."

"Is that why you took up healing?"

"Maybe." She drifted in thought for a moment. "I know it must feel different for you and the others."

He laughed awkwardly, sending a spasm of pain through his side. "Well. Some of this mess is our fault. How can we not clean it up?"

""We"? Or "I"?"

Demyx shrugged.

She stood. "Why don't you get some rest? I'll tell everyone that you're okay."

[linkspooky]

I agree with your post on Akira, but since tumblr won't let me quote entire paragraphs for an ask, I'll just say, "Akira isn’t somehow immune to the world bearing down on the rest of her, she can’t abstain from the conflict to take a personal self help journey." <--- THIS. I'm hoping that Ishida knows this and, when she next appears on screen, will address it. 'Not taking a side' just isn't going to be an option for long. I love Akira's character, but she and Amon need to stop living in denial.

That’s my same stance too. I don’t really have a good word for this so I’m going to make one up, there’s this kind of assumed “human privilege” that some humans are innocent and get to choose whether to abstain from the fight or not.

It’s something we see Touka halfway acknowledge, but then not make the full connection when speaking of her and Akira’s fathers. That Mado had a choice, he could have simply chose not to fight against ghouls. She compares this to her own father, but that’s always struck me as off. Arata perhaps could have chosen not to work so hard to grow a kakuja, to defend himself so viciously against CCG officers, but even if he had chosen that he and his children still would have been hunted by the CCG and lived under that pressure their entire lives. 

That option to live in peace is simply not available for ghouls. What the manga presents us with are several half measures that all become flawed in the end. Anteiku which is an organization that pacified most of the twentieth ward, is brought down by the CCG in the name of “peace” and their practice of trying to feed ghouls using only suicide victims is replaced with rumors that ghouls would eat and prey on the human customers that came inside. Torso who lived entirely outside society in a tent grows up without empathy or understanding that other people exist and feel as people. Miza and her crew tunneled underneath the earth to try to avoid humans, and it left them weak, inbred and mutated. Goat’s forces while pacifistic in their attempts to fight the CCG and literally escaping underground to hide from Furuta’s oppression find themselves slowly starving out. 

There is no option for ghouls to to pull themselves out of this conflict, and partially it is because yes, no matter how sympathetic and how nice a ghoul may seem, no mater how psychologically similiar they are to a human they are still going to need to eat human flesh at some point in order to continue living. 

However, this manga is going to great lengths to show us that this isn’t as simple a relationship as predator and prey, just as it’s not as simple as oppressor and oppressed. Even if humans aren’t bid to become obligate people eaters like ghouls are, they are the ones benefiting from this conflict and oppression of ghouls. 

Which I think in part is starting to be acknowledged. by the narrative as well. Look at what Juuzou says, at the end of what is an existential worry about what his place would be in a world where the CCG is no longer required to exterminate ghouls. Where therefore, he as somebody whose only real skills are being really good at murder, is no longer given an outlet where the state allow and encourages this side of him. If the system is no longer telling him it’s okay for him to be a killer, and that’s all Juuzou believes he’s capable of, he’ll just become a killer that the system doesn’t approve of. Ie: A ghoul. 

Juuzou says something interesting, that Shinohara was never really fighting with the expectation of killing all ghouls. Something which Furuta claims later in the chapter. That’s because to them, to the old boy’s club of the CCG, and then to a much larger extent to the Washuu it was a livelihood. They needed ghouls around. They benefited from this arrangement of only being able to pick off a few key targets and letting the rest of the ghouls live in squalor and fear of hunting, because as long as there were still ghouls around their livelihood would remain. It’s exactly what Juuzou worries about, what would he somebody who has been raised for most of his rehabilitation to only be a ghoul investigator, whose power and place in the world comes from that, be if there were no ghouls?

It’s also why he says that he’d be fine with things staying the way they were before Furuta came, with the uneasy stalemate between humans and ghouls because in that case, in a world where he continually fights ghouls but never defeats all of them he’d have a place to belong until he died. 

The oggai is, two deaths. That is death to humans and death to ghouls as well. When all the ghouls are gone, humans will no longer be able to enjoy the peace and privilege they had by uniting together to focus on ghouls as the same enemy. As Hakatori pointed out in the same chapter, people are perfectly capable of fighting amongst themselves. 

Furuta when talking about bringing an end to the useless pointless squabbles, his talks of peace sound more and more like a double suicide. He’s seeking instead of coexistence, a simple end to all conflict. His coming peace is always juxtaposed to corpses. 

While claiming to fight for the benefit of humans and the extermination of ghouls, his modus operandi relies entirely on revealing to other humans that they are not immune from this conflict as they think they are. By dragging the conflicts even to the streets, right in front of their daily lives, and making the entirety of Tokyo Ghoul the equivalent of a war zone all the while claiming this is in the name of peace. 

Think of Furuta’s plan to mix humans amongst the clowns forces. He proves exactly what happens when you fight indiscrimminately, when you see ghouls only as targets for elimination. That in that kind of fighting, innocents get swept up in them easily However, the ghoul investigators do not blame their own style of fighting, but Furuta himself for having placed them there. While this is true, perhaps if the ghoul investigators looked upon their enemies as more than just monsters to be slain they might have noticed earlier the erratic behavior of a few were not acting like enemy ghouls but rather scared humans. 

It’s the same kind of situation that unfolds in the dark knight. Batman is able to save the regular people that are dressed up as clowns, because from the start he was never going to kill the enemies. His morality and code when it came to fighting is able to surpass the villain’s plan, and he’s not dragged down to their level. 

The point being that I think the manga is trying to nudge us in this direction, to show us this nuance that humans aren’t as guilt free and innocent in this conflict as they appear to be, even if they have a valid reason to fear ghouls.