#i’m actually going to hell for this one

[kinardsevan]

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐢'𝐦 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮

i don't know that i'm satisfied with how this ends, but the stills got me thinking more about the idea of Maddie being the one who tells Buck that he needs to call Tommy, and then I was already working on a coffee date recreation, so have this:

-

Maddie looks at the loaves of bread spread out on the counter and then back up at her brother, tilting her head to the side. 

“Evan. I thought you said you were doing okay,” she states, leaning up at against the counter next to her husband. 

“I am,” he insists. 

“So why are there four loaves of bread on the counter,” Chimney asks, confused. “That seems like you’re overloading your schedule to occupy your time.” 

“I’m not,” Evan counters, looking back and forth between them. They both stare back at him skeptically. 

“Dude, come on,” Chimney insists. “I know that sweater you had on the other night was one of Tommy’s. Between that, the lack of shaving, and now the abundance of food-..”

“I’m dealing,” Evan insists. Maddie sighs, looking over at her husband. He raises his hands and picks up his wine glass before glancing between them. 

“I’m gonna go see what’s on the sports channel,” he states before walking out of the room and into the living room. Maddie moves closer to Evan, rounding the counter. 

“I’m fine,” he repeats, but when Maddie looks up at him with that face—the one that tells him she isn’t buying the shit he’s selling—he sighs and shakes is head. “I mean I should be, shouldn’t I? It’s not like we were together that long.” 

“Six months,” Maddie states. 

Evan nods. “Yeah, and? I mean I was with Taylor for longer. She actually moved in here.” 

Maddie stares at him for a moment and then furrows her brow at him. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing,” Evan insists. “It doesn’t mean anything when Tommy doesn’t think I’d stay with him anyway.” 

“No, no, it clearly means something,” Maddie counters. “I’m not letting you drop it that easily. Talk to me. Tell me what actually happened.” 

Evan huffs, leaning against the counter. 

“We were talking about Abby, and I was telling him how that relationship had been transformative for me, at least until I met him, a-and then I told him that I wanted him to move in with me.” 

“Okay,” Maddie replies, processing his words. “And you told him you love him, right?” 

Evan stares at her as though she’s gone Blue Screen on him and she bobs her head forward, gaping at him slightly. 

“Evan.” She comments. “You told him how you feel, right?” 

“I- I thought- I mean we-..” 

“Okay, I’m sorry, I can’t fake that I’m not paying attention this long,” Chimney states as he crosses back into the kitchen. “You asked Tommy to move in with you without telling him how you feel about him?” 

“I told him I admire him,” Evan argues. 

Maddie inhales a deep breath and shakes her head, trying to remain composed as she returns to Chimney’s side. “What exactly did you say to him?” 

Evan gulps, but then proceeds to explain to both Maddie and Chimney was he said, trying his best not to paraphrase. By the time he’s finished, Maddie and Chimney are looking at each other, both of their jaws slack. 

After a moment, Chimney turns back toward his glass of wine and picks it up and takes a long sip from it. 

“Yeah, I think I might’ve broken up with you too,” Chimney states when he sets the glass back down. 

“What the hell,” Evan counters, waving a hand out at him. 

“Look, Buck, you ran over him like the proverbial steam roller. And I’m sorry, but from the way it sounds, it comes across as being told that you want to live with him because he’s great at being gay and that makes you feel good,” Maddie explains. 

“Not to mention the Brandon of it all,” Chimney mutters, lifting his drink to take another sip. He raises an eyebrow when both Buckley siblings turn toward him. 

“The who?” “Huh?” 

Chimney takes a deep breath, mouthing an ‘oh’ before setting his glass back down. “This is why I’m not allowed to know things,” he mutters. He shakes his head. “Brandon was this kid Tommy dated around the time he was leaving the 118.” 

“I thought he wasn’t out yet,” Evan interjects. 

“He wasn’t,” Chimney answers with a nod. “But Brandon was this kid out of another house, one of the ones Tommy had looked at transferring to, I think. Anyway, you could tell after Gerrard and Sal were gone that he was loosening up and becoming more comfortable with himself, and even though he wasn’t quite there yet, he was getting there.” 

“So?” Evan asks. 

“So, three months into it, he tells me over beers that the guy wants to move in together, make all these plans for the future, is talking about buying a house. The whole nine yards. But Brandon was just coming out of a divorce, with a woman. Sold Tommy the moon, and T went for it. Gave up the place he was in, moved in with this guy into his apartment that he also was sharing with his two kids part-time.” 

Evan gulps, because he can see the writing on the wall. 

“See, Brandon hadn’t been with other men before. And they lasted about three months longer before Tommy found out that he was seeing other people. He alternated between mine and Sal’s couch for a month after that until he got the place he’s in now.” 

“He was in love with him,” Evan surmises in a rasp. 

“He thought he’d found the person he was supposed to be with,” Chimney says with a nod. “And when I tell you it took him years to get over that-..” 

“Fuck,” Evan mutters under his breath, leaning more against the island. 

Maddie waits a moment, glancing back and forth between her brother and her husband before she finally speaks up again. 

“So to be clear, I understand why Tommy panicked and took off, but why would you skip over actually telling him how you feel,” she asks. “I mean you have to get that that’s important. It probably would’ve made a massive difference in the conversation.” 

Evan inhales a deep breath and shakes his head, looking down at the counter. 

“Oh,” Maddie states. “You’re scared too.” 

He looks back up at her, his expression somber. “I mean people leave me. A-and that’s exactly what he did.” 

“Buck,” she coaxes, rounding the counter again. She runs her hand up his back as her other hand curls around the inside of his bicep. “You can’t be mad at him for being scared if you can’t also be honest about how you’re feeling.” 

He glances up at her, and his eyes are so sad that it makes her want to go into her mothering role and order him to call Tommy. 

“What if he won’t listen to me,” he rasps. She leans against his shoulder and gives him a sympathetic look. 

“I mean, I’ve never heard you even mention wanting to marry someone else,” she replies softly. “That’s gotta be worth something, right?” 

Evan stares down at the counter again. 

“You should call him,” Chimney interjects, when they look back up at him, he’s taking another sip of his wine. Maddie just chuckles at him before squeezing Evan’s arm and nodding. She leans up and kisses his cheek. 

“Call him.” 

. . . 

Evan pulls his jacket tighter around his body as he settles into the cafe chair. He’s not entirely sure Tommy will show, even though the other man had texted he would. He can’t help but feel the weight that’s been making it’s home in his chest just a little heavier right now. A week ago, they were celebrating six months from that first kiss, and somehow he’s finding himself sitting at a different café, but still, six months from the day that he’d asked Tommy to be his date to his sister’s wedding. 

So much is different now, though. He didn’t have to guess Tommy’s coffee order because he knows it by heart. There’s a box in his car filled with belongings that he really doesn’t want to give back, but if this discussion doesn’t go in the right direction, that’s exactly what’s going to happen. 

Still, he can’t stop thinking about the guy on the crane from the day before, and how after they’d gotten him off to the hospital, all Evan could think about was how his people had banded around him in the aftermath. His team had kept him alive, and then they’d remained vigilant at his side while he healed. He’d had people show up in his corner every step of the way. It’s not lost on him now that Tommy has faced a life primarily without that same feeling, and that unlike him, Tommy didn’t find a forged family at work. Plus, then there’s the information he learned about the ex-boyfriend, and all of it has him seeing Tommy in an entirely different lens. 

“Hey.” Tommy’s voice is raspier, sadder than the last time he heard it as he comes around the corner of the building. Evan still perks up at the sight of him, although he’s more subdued than the last time they met up like this. 

“Hey,” he replies softly, gesturing toward the chair across from him. “Thanks for agreeing to meet me.” 

Tommy nods, and there’s a rush of pain in Evan’s chest at the lack of of course. 

“I got you a coffee,” he adds, gesturing towards it on the table. Tommy pulls his chair out and sits down. 

“Thanks,” he says, though there’s no mirth in his tone like there was that first time.

“I’ve had a lot of time to think,” Evan states nervously as Tommy takes a sip of the drink. There’s the slightest twitch around his mouth—one the younger man has come to recognize as Tommy thinking that it tastes right. He’s very particular on his flavor and cream-to-sugar ratio, so knowing he’s still getting right gives Evan a flush of pride. “The last time we met like this, I said there was a lot of that we didn’t know about each other.” 

“Practically everything,” Tommy parrots so softly, it barely has any vocal tone in it. Evan nods. 

“Except, I do know things about you now,” Evan counters. “I know- I know that you don’t like to be awake before seven AM if you’re not on shift. I know that you think the perfect setting for the thermostat is always sixty-six, no matter what time of year it is. I know that you take three creamers and the tiniest dash of cinnamon in your coffee.” 

“Buck-..” 

“Let me finish,” Evan counters, cringing at the way that name sounds coming out of Tommy’s mouth. He takes a deep breath and looks around them before continuing. “I know your mom died when you were six, and your dad blamed you for it. I know you spent the next eleven years trying to do anything you could to keep him appeased and a target off your back, including stuffing down who you are so far down that it took you over a decade to crawl back out of that toxic mindset. And I know that all of that left you with scars, even though you don’t talk about them. I know-…I know that you would rather run because it’s easier to protect yourself than sign up for the possibility of getting hurt again.” Evan pauses and gulps as Tommy stares at him, looking very uncomfortable. 

“So I need to apologize,” he says with a breath. 

Tommy furrows his brow at him, baffled by the statement. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“Yes, Tommy, I do,” Evan counters, this time more insistent than he had been on that first coffee date.“I  threw a lot at you that night. I- I know that I told you I wanted to move in together, and that I was talking about a future without any practicality behind it because I just lept with both feet like I always do.” 

“I didn’t call things off because of your impulsivity,” Tommy counters. “I did it because-..” 

“Because you’ve been down that road before,” Evan finishes for him. “And it ended badly. I know that about you, too. And, the way I sounded that night…it wasn’t what I should’ve said.” 

“Okay?” Tommy acquiesces. 

Evan takes another breath and leans forward in his seat, gesturing at the space between them. “You said that when I asked you to move in with me, that I was still figuring myself out, and that everything was still new and exciting for me. And the thing is, you’re right, and you’re wrong. You’re right that things are new and exciting, but not because they’re with a man; it’s because they’re with you. And six months ago when I told you that I didn’t know what I was ready for, that was true, but now I do. It’s not about being ready for something different, Tommy, it’s about being ready for something different with you. S-so when I say I lept with both feet the other night without thinking, I missed a step in there.” 

Tommy stares at him apprehensively, giving him the space to continue. Evan sits up a little straighter. 

“I got so caught up in the process of commenting on the ways things have changed and all that you’ve done to get yourself to where you are now that I never stopped to consider how it would sound coming out of my mouth. A-and part of that was because I thought if I just convinced you to stay with me, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as bad if you decided that I was too much.” 

Tommy leans back in his seat, eyes widening slightly at Evan’s words. 

“I um, I know about Brandon,” he states. “And on the subject of exes, I never told you about Taylor, or how Lucy played into of how things ended with her.” He inhales a breath and then proceeds to explain Lucy’s time at the 118, their shared kiss, and how he’d been living with Taylor at the time. “And the thing is, when I moved in with her and told her I loved her, it was from a selfish place, o-of wanting to keep her around because people just kept leaving, and I couldn’t stand to lose anyone else.” 

Tommy lets out a soft sigh and leans forward. “Evan.” 

Evan shakes his head. “No. Don’t- it’s not- I’m not saying all of that because I’m chasing after you to keep you from leaving. I- I mean I am, but not like that. I mean to say that, I trapped Taylor, however unintentionally, with the idea that if she was with me, that I could make it work. Eventually, it got to the point where I couldn’t keep trying to make the pieces fit, and we split up.” 

Tommy nods. 

“But this isn’t that,” Evan continues. “This has never been that. I asked you to move in with me because I want to be with you day and night. B-because I see a future with you, and because nothing has ever felt as right as this has felt. And I understand that maybe- no, it was moving too fast. And that I skipped right over the part where I should’ve told you that I want to be with you not because it feels good or because I think you being gay makes me better at being bisexual, or anything like that. I want to be with you because I’m in love with you.” 

Tommy takes a deep breath at his statement. 

“I don’t expect you to say it back if you’re not there, a-and I don’t expect you to move in with me. That was an impulsive decision. But I’m not in a place where I’m ready to give up on this,” he states. “I love you enough that I’m willing to go at your pace this time.” 

Tommy stares at him for a beat, quiet and contemplative. “Are you sure about this?” 

“Am I sure that I love you?” Evan counters. “That I’m pretty positive on.” 

The response forces a small smile onto Tommy’s face. After a breath, he gives a small nod. 

“Okay.” 

“Yeah?” Evan asks him. 

Tommy gulps and nods. “Yeah,” he rasps. “Because I love you, too.” 

Evan grins at him, at this time, it’s Tommy who reaches across the table and grabs his hand, squeezing it. 

[goingmerryfics]

Reader fails at flirting - Mihawk, & Crocodile

Content: SFW content, clumsiness, ranting, & bad pick up lines

Notes* Thank you for your patience while I struggled through my writer’s block! This was a request from a looong time ago but I no longer have that ask to reply to it seems. I believe Smoker was also supposed to be here, but I’m just going to upload this and take it easy while I get back into the writing spirit :) 

Mihawk

Not the type for talking, attempts at flirting with Mihawk usually end up with long, awkward silences that you feel the need to fill, which makes you sound even more awkward as you bounce from topic to topic

He was always the first to show up at the Warlord meetings, and since you worked in the building, it gave you an opportunity to chat him up as you pour the champagne for each guest

He only barely glances at you every now and then as you try to get his attention, ranting on about whatever comes to mind in the moment and asking him questions that he doesn’t respond to

You always end up feeling defeated at the end of the day. Always left with the heavy feeling that he just doesn’t like you, no matter what you say

Eventually you decide that you can’t keep pestering him. Next time there’s a meeting, you decide not to shoot into chatter with him when he arrives

You keep your head down, silence in the room. You can feel his eyes on your back as you walk around, watering the plants and doing whatever you can do to stay in his presence without having to talk to him

And then,

“Is something wrong?”

You’re embarrassed by how fast you look back at him. It’s the first time he’s addressed you. You, stuttering like mad, tell him that nothing is wrong

“You didn’t greet me today.”

He sounds… Disappointed. You ask him why he never responded, adding that you thought you had been annoying him, and that you weren’t even sure he knew who you were

Then he says your name- your full one. He starts to repeat information you’ve told him about yourself, a mix of information that you had thrown at him over all the different times you’ve met him. It touches your heart that he remembers it all

“I know who you are very well, actually. If you gave me a moment to think of my answers, I would have been able to share. You speak too quickly.”

He explains it so bluntly, but now that you think about it- you didn’t really give him much time to think before you moved on to the next subject. So the awkward silences were just Mihawk trying to put his words together

He urges you to take a seat beside him, that way he can finally give you the responses you were looking for

“You should try to let the other person respond if you’re going to flirt with them.” 

He says it almost scoldingly, but he’s smirking at you

Crocodile

As a citizen of Alabasta, Crocodile was someone that many people looked up to. But only you were in semi-regular contact with him

Every now and then, he would come dine at your workplace and every single time, you were his server. Your co-workers were always too intimidated to potentially get something wrong- the man was intimidating, after all -so that meant that anytime he was in, you were the one to face him

He always ordered the same thing when he came, which made it easier after a while. You’d already be walking up to his table with the wine he liked while his food was in the oven before he’d even made his order

The problem was that your ridiculous crush on him made you clumsy as hell

The first few times you were safe- the tripping over your feet and dropping plates had only happened out of his view, where it was your co-workers that would laugh or chastise you for not being careful enough

But then it had caught up to you in the worst way

You were taking the wine to his table and, as always, you engaged him in some casual conversation. Something about the weather or asking how his casino was doing

He would always answer shortly. Something of a grunt that either sounded positive or negative, or a short answer of ‘good’ or ‘eh’

You were too busy staring at him and waiting for an answer to notice that you were completely missing the glass as you poured his wine

And in turn, he was too surprised at your new, sudden carelessness to answer

Eventually you’d noticed as the wine started to spill onto the floor. Crocodile got up from his chair as you scrambled to get the spill contained to just the tablecloth, but also trying to be careful of all the glass on the table

The white tablecloth would be stained for sure

Crocodile just watched the whole time, holding his cigar between his fingers

The next few times went similarly. You’d bring the wine, serve his food, and give the bill- and every time, you would do something wrong. 

Forgetting his silverware, serving him the wrong plate, etc.

At least he always tipped you nicely. That never changed

You’d been so determined to make sure everything went right that the next time he walked in, you tried to be extra careful. You brought him his wine and paused, noticing his hand covering his glass.

“Just water today.”

Three simple words that threw you off. Why? What was wrong with the wine? Was it you?

Your on your way back from getting his ice water when a co-worker steps back, bumping into you from behind and sending you off balance, tipping the serving tray and sending Crocodile’s ice-cold water all over him

Your co-worker all but bails out of the dining hall, leaving you slack jawed, staring at Crocodile’s ruined suit. You can’t even muster up the bravery to apologize to the man as the ice cubes slip off of him and onto the floor

Then he laughs. It’s a loud, booming laugh that seems even louder while the room is dead silent. You’re sure you’re going to die there either from embarrassment or his wrath

“I’ve never seen someone trip over themselves so much just to get my attention. It’s flattering.” He says, smirking down at you while you’re still frozen in place. Then he asks you what time your shift is over, and you answer that you’re done in an hour

He tells you to make sure you’re here in 3 hours, that way he can dry off and have a proper conversation with you

You’re left there, confused, wondering if it’s going to be a date or a murder when he returns

[frudoo]

Husband Kyle has my heart

Warnings: Baby is sick (teething). Heavy topics: postpartum depression, allusions to self-harm/suicidal ideation (but none actually). Smut at the end—cunnilingus. Tagging as DDDNE although it’s not a dark!fic. Fem!Reader.

MDNI

Baby boy has not stopped screaming since he woke up at the crack of dawn this morning. The fever and runny nose are making him miserable, and you’re positive he’s trying to cut a tooth with how much he’s been gnawing on your fingers. Kyle, bless him, has been called away to the base since early yesterday, leaving you to care for the unwell infant in your arms all alone. It’s uncertain when he’ll return home. Usually, the work of being a stay-at-home-mom doesn’t bother you, but today just feels overwhelming.

Postpartum hasn’t been the best experience for you and without the usual support from your husband, it feels like your world is caving in and you and the baby you’re supposed to feel an abundance of empathy for are buried beneath the rubble. It makes you feel terrible, because you do love your baby, but every piercing little screech that leaves his tiny throat makes you want to rip your ears out. Setting him down only makes him fussier but your arms are exhausted and your head is pounding.

Defeatedly and with much guilt, you carefully set the fragile boy into his bassinet and shut the door to your bedroom. You turn on the baby monitor but lower the volume so you can make sure he’s alright without having to hear the shrieks. As you sit on the couch, the weight of your stress finally gets to you in the form of an ache in your chest and an abundance of tears bursting from your waterline. Burying your head in your hands, you can’t stop the sobs that escape you. In your grief you don’t hear the front door open or Kyle step inside.

“Fuck, dove, wha’ ‘appened?” Your husband is frantic, tossing aside his duffel bag and rushing to kneel where you sit on the couch.

The sound of his voice startles you, making you jump. Kyle steadies you with two strong hands on your waist, keeping you sat and encouraging you to explain the situation.

“I-I didn’t know what else to do,” you weep, and he cups your face with shaking palms.

“Baby, baby, talk t’me. Wha’s goin’ on?” You know your husband, and you know he’s thinking the absolute worst—it’s evident by the tremble in his voice and the way he yanks up your sleeves to check for injury.

“Did y’take summat? Dove, y’gotta tell me if y’did, now.”

You shake your head vigorously, trying to calm his nerves. It does little to help.

“N-no! The baby, Ky, he hates me!” You wail, grabbing the monitor and shoving it into Kyle’s hand. “I’ve tried- tried everything! Teething gel, Tylenol, d-decongestant salve… he just won’t calm down and I-I know it’s because I-I’m a- I’m a bad mom.”

Kyle’s heart aches at your words, and he makes sure to keep one of your hands in his as he looks down at the screen. The three-month-old is sleeping peacefully, sucking on his thumb without a care in the world. Your husband smiles a little, turning the monitor over to allow you to see the once screeching babe now at peace in his crib. Your eyebrows furrow and you take the device from his hand, raising the volume. Sure enough, tiny snores sound through the speaker and it makes you gasp slightly.

“H-he’s been…” you trail off, not wanting to seem crazy to the man you love. “I swear, he’s been inconsolable-”

“I believe ya, dove. Little guy was jus’ sleepy, yeah?” Kyle softly interrupts, stroking his thumb over the swell of your cheekbone. “He doesn’t hate ya, swee’heart, and you’re sure as hell no’ a bad mum.”

Your husband stands from the floor, carefully helping you off the couch so you stand as well. He nuzzles his nose against yours sweetly but lets you make the first move, chapped lips meeting full, pillowy ones. He allows you to take the lead, never going too far or holding back too much—just giving you the exact amount of comfort you need from him for as long as you desire. He massages your shoulders when you pull away from the kiss with a wet click, rich molasses eyes boring into yours.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, but Kyle shakes his head, swiping your bottom lip with his thumb.

“None o’tha’. Bein’ a mum is ‘ard work and you’re doin’ a bloody brilliant job. M’jus’ sorry I can’t be ‘ere with ya f’all of it.” Kyle whispers, wiping away the fresh tears that spill down your cheeks. “I love y’so much. I don’t tell ya tha’ enough.”

“You do,” you assure him, leaning in for another tender kiss. “I love you, too, Ky.”

“I’m so proud o’ya, dove.”

A kiss…

“My strong, beautiful wife.”

And another.

“Fuckin’ hell of a woman.”

Kyle’s fingertips dance along the sides of your neck, dimpling the flesh just enough to make you gasp.

“Gonna le’ me show ya ‘ow much I appreciate ya?”

Wandering hands move down to grope your full breasts over the milk-stained jumper you wear. You can feel their warmth even through the fabric layer separating skin from skin, and it makes you shudder. His eyes scan your face for any signs of discomfort and you realize you never answered him. Nodding, your fingers tangle into the hem of his shirt, still smelling like heavy machinery and day-old sweat—to you, it smells like heaven. Kyle chuckles, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles over your pebbled nipples.

“Back on the couch, dove,” he instructs with a grunt, walking you backwards until the insides of your knees hit the cushion.

Instantly he’s on his knees once more, taking his time to push up your sweatshirt and tug off your panties, biting his lip at the sight of your cunt already glistening. Your husband leans in to take a whiff before pressing a long kiss to your labia. His stubble is dewy with your arousal when he pulls back to look up at you.

“Poor thing, so stressed. M’gonna help y’relax, swee’heart.”

Dexterous thumbs spread you open for his enjoyment. At the first lick from your entrance to your throbbing clit the two of you moan in sync. Your fingernails scratch at his scalp as Kyle wraps his lips around your sensitive nub, suckling softly, but the feeling sends electric sparks shooting throughout your body. His hands travel to your thighs and hoist them over his shoulders so that he’s entirely surrounded by you.

“S’fuckin’ sweet,” his voice rumbles against your pussy, the vibrations damn near making you wail.

His hot tongue dips into your clenching hole, gathering your slick to swallow down like honey. You’re already right on the precipice, grinding your hips against his pretty face, and it only encourages him to quicken his ministrations. Kyle drags his slippery tongue back up to your clit, giving it tight circles as he sucks it into his mouth once again. Chocolate eyes stare up at you in a silent plea to give him his fill, let him take you over the edge.

Your thighs tremble uncontrollably, violently, when you cum, heady rasps of pleasure leaving you as you squeeze your eyes shut. He works you through your high, licking and humming and savoring every little tremor that rocks through you. He only stops once your body goes limp, pressing a plethora of kisses along your spent seam as he gently removes your thighs from his shoulders. Kyle stands and carefully guides you to lay on the couch, your head resting on a pillow as he covers you with the blanket that was draped along the back of the furniture.

As if right on cue, the colicky infant starts to cry as soon as you get comfortable. Your heart races as you move to stand, but your husband stops you with a palm on your chest.

“No, dove, y’need ta get some sleep. Stay righ’ ‘ere, and I’ll take care o’the little guy,” Kyle leaves no room for argument, leaning down to press a prolonged kiss to your forehead. “I love ya.”

“I love you, Kyle.”

Sleep comes easy.

[mysteriaqueen]

Good, right?

Sukuna x Reader Oneshot | Modern/College AU (i guess) | 777 words

Summary: You and Sukuna have been sent to gather the necessary ingredients for some cooking class. And now you're in an empty storage room. By yourselves.

He kissed me. He fucking kissed me.

You throw your arms up awkwardly and freeze. You can feel his lips against yours, warm and gentle. You don’t know how to react. No, you know how to react. You should push him off immediately. There is no universe in which you’d want Ryomen Sukuna kissing you. Except maybe this one.

He pulls back just barely with the most shit-eating grin on his face. So, naturally, you push him away. But what does that mean now?

“Oho, you’re only just now pushing me away. Why? Because now I know you like it?” he asks, smug as hell. “I absolutely did not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking away.

But taking your eyes off him was a mistake. Because now he’s kissing you again, catching you off guard a second time. But this time his hands are on your hips and he presses his chest against yours. He’s warm and that warmth spreads through your body causing your eyes to flutter shut. You barely realize it but he’s kissed you multiple times now. Your awkwardly placed arms have come to rest against his. But once you feel his skin you’ve got enough presence of mind to push him off. And he lets you, stumbling back slightly with a laugh.

Why did I like that????

“What the hell is wrong with you?! God, you’re so weird.” He just rolls his eyes. “I guess you are too.” “What are you talking about?” “You’re over here kissing one of the bullies you claim to despise so much.” “You’re kissing me, and I don’t even like it!” you say with a huff.

He deadpans. “You’re gonna tell me you didn’t like that? After how many times you let me kiss you? With my hands on your waist. I saw how your eyes flutter closed, you know.”

Damn it.

“I was in shock.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, maybe the first time. Just admit it,” he says, stepping closer with the same smirk. “It’s okay if you like it. I’d actually prefer it that way.”

You sigh, closing your eyes (a mistake you haven’t seemed to learn from) and crossing your arms.

“Of course you would, but I don’t mPH-”

Yeah, he’s kissing you. Again. You catch yourself melting the tiniest bit before you pull away. And of course, Sukuna noticed. Your clue for that is that his grin somehow got cockier. Bastard.

“Are you insane?” “Possibly. No more insane than you.” “I don’t go around kissing random people!” “I only do it if I’m gonna enjoy it. And I’m thoroughly enjoying this. As are you,” he says, leaning into you more.

You panic on the inside about how good feels pressing you against the shelves and-

“Back up!”

He obliges. With a smirk, of course.

“You know, repressing your emotions isn’t a good habit to get into.”

You just roll your eyes. You aren’t even trying to, you just want a moment to accept them for yourself. Or reason them away so you can pretend this never happened at all. Is that so wrong?

You sigh, turning towards the exit.

“Listen, I want nothing to do with you. You and your group just get off on terrifying people who are already a little scared of you. Ew.”

You couldn’t hear the quiet footsteps he was taking over your rant. So when his warm body is suddenly right up against your back you gasp. And when he snakes his arm around your waist you stop breathing. And when his chin ends up on your shoulder it takes everything in you not to make an embarrassing noise.

“Wh-” 

You have to cut yourself off because you can barely trust your voice. You can feel his smirk on your neck. You swallow.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. “What does it feel like? Good, right?”

You just about short-circuited after hearing that. Some noise of shock and disapproval came out of your mouth but Sukuna just laughed. After some sort of button-mashing quick-time event in your brain you finally get the presence of mind to try and take control of the situation.

“We’re taking too long. We still have to grab some flour and get back to the demonstration.”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re praying Sukuna will show some mercy. And he does. He actually backs up. Well, of course, he’s laughing the entire time, But a win is a win.

“Fine. I let you off for now. But you know I’m not forgetting about this. It’s only a matter of time until you have to face this again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Masterlist

reblogs and comments appreciated

[hiiikiko]

𝖈𝖆𝖚𝖌𝖍𝖙 𝖎𝖓 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗 𝖜𝖊𝖇

[4: guess i have a type]

tlou m.list | series m.list

spiderman!ellie x reader

synopsis: you begin to recognize some similarities between ellie and good ol’ spidey… guess you have a type, huh?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Beep, beep, beep!!

You wake up with a grumble, last nights— er, this morning’s activities had done a number on you.. you weren’t used to so much excitement.

“What time is it?” you mumble against your pillow as you fumble for your phone, the bright light guiding your hand under the sheets, “Gotta call Gwen later.. let’s see.. FUCK!”

You scramble outta bed, tossing the blankets off you and your cat as well, who hissed at you very angrily for disturbing his fourth nap of the morning.

“S-Sorry,” you say to your cat as you scramble to the restroom, quickly brushing your teeth and rushing through your skincare routine. You decided to forgo the makeup today and instead just apply some light mascara and fix your brows up, maybe add some concealer.. and blush.. and maybe just a litt—, “No time!” you scold yourself.

You set your makeup bag down and run for the closet, rummaging around for .. “Ah, there it is!”

You snap the cheap metal buttons of your uniform together, the yellow polo with a red collar and pocket hugging your torso quite nicely, well, as nicely as a 30 year old uniform could, then you slid on the matching red skirt, your tights for extra warmth, shoes, and you can’t forget your name tag that read ‘Mary Jane.’

You quickly feed your cat some snacks, apologizing over and over as he ate and then made your way out. As you ran down the stairs, you pulled your trench coat on tight around you, hiding any part of your uniform.. you weren’t embarrassed about working at a diner but you knew your so-called friends, coworkers, and classmates wouldn’t be so understanding.. after all, you are from a well off family, so it would look funny.. besides, you don’t need anymore rumours going around about you.

As you’re about to round a corner, you bump into an all too familiar someone.

“Woah, slow down,” Ellie chuckled, her hands on your waist to stop you from toppling over.

“O-Oh, morning, Ellie..” you blushed, the memories of last night still fresh, you pulled the coat even tighter, you sure as hell did not want her to see you in this dorky uniform.

“Where you off to? You seem to be in a rush,” she commented, her eyes lingering on your form but before you could answer, your bus was pulling up.

“Sorry, Ellie, uh, chat later? I really gotta go!”

Ellie knew exactly where you were off to, she had stopped by that diner the other day to check out the schedule.. they should really get a better security system, she thought.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

“I know, I know! I’m sorry Darlene, I had a late nig—.”

“I don’t wanna hear it, Missy! Just get out there and start taking orders, okay?”

You nod, thankful she didn’t give you another lecture. You liked Darlene, she was like a really cool mom.. who smoked a lot.. and drank a lot.. but she let you keep all your tips so she wasn’t so bad, you gave her a kiss on the cheek, “Thanks, Ma.”

Darlene was like a mom to everyone in the diner, she treated everyone like they were one of her own, it was nice being apart of a ‘family.’

Your morning was full of truckers asking for refills on coffee, business men asking for the paper, ladies of the night coming in after a wild night, and.. Ellie?

“Morning” she smiled at your coworker as she seated her, that goofy lopsided smile made your heart flutter a bit.. actually, you couldn’t tell if it was her smile that was making your heart flutter or if it was the idea of being found out.

You had to hold back a gasp as you dove behind the counter, praying she didn’t see you and as you crawled your way into the kitchen, so close to freedom.. Darlene rounded the corner..

“The hell..? What are you doing down there?” she prodded you with her foot.

You put a finger to your lips and gestured for her to come lean down, she reluctantly did so, grumbling about her knees, “Darlene, can I please, please, please go on my 15 minute break? A girl I lik— uh, know is here..”

“Your break now? You can’t take that until.. another hour!” She pulled you up by your collar, like a mama cat carrying it’s kitten by the scruff.

“Please!”

“No, no way.”

“What if I said I’ve taken up smoking, huh? Then you LEGALLY have to let me take a break.”

“You? You take up smoking?” she scoffed, “Nice try princess, get out there, now.”

You whimpered and straightened your apron as she shoved you out of the kitchen, when Darlene said now, she meant yesterday.

Before the door could swing shut, Darlene poked her head out, “Oh, and we’re changing your section.. you’re now serving tables 11-17.” you could feel the shit eating grin’s aura as she laughed her way back into the kitchen.

God fucking damn it.

“Morning..” you mumbled as you pulled out your notepad, “What can I get you.. Ellie?”

Ellie’s eyes lit up as she laid them on you, “Hey, uh, Mary Jane?”

You rolled your eyes, “What do you want?”

“Hey, hey, slow down! Hm.. what can you recommend MJ?”

“The waffles here are pretty good.”

“I’ll have that then, oh, and coffee, too. Five cream and five sugar.”

You laugh, “Are you serious?”

She stared at you with a deadpan look, “Yeah?”

“Oh my god.. you are.. Ellie, that’s, like, a lot of sugar.. literally diabetes in a cup.”

“I don’t like the taste of coffee.. tastes like burnt shit.”

You scoff, “Then why do you drink it?”

“Keeps me up.”

“You don’t need the caffeine, just take the five sugar packets and you’ll probably still run the same since you’re already drinking sugar with a side of coffee.”

“Shut up, just get me my coffee,” she mumbled.

When you had served Ellie her food and coffee, you expected her to leave right after like every other customer ever but no.. like always, Ellie had to differentiate herself from the crowd. She did leave the diner but she waited in her truck outside. So, when Darlene said you could leave and head to school, Ellie was outside waiting for you.

“Don’t wanna keep lover girl waiting, do ya?” Darlene had said when you clocked out.

The blush from her comment still on your face as you walked to Ellie’s truck and knocked on the window, “Hey, what’re you still doing here?”

Ellie straightened up, “Uh, thought you might like a ride..?”

“You didn’t have to, Ellie.”

“Wanted to do something nice for you,” how could she be so effortlessly sweet.

You nodded and hopped in, her truck was an older model, a chevy. It was nice, inside smelled like pine and cologne..

Do her and spidey share the same cologne?

Now that you think about it, they have a lot of similarities… they’re both nerds, smell like pine, tobacco, and that cologne, same height, and the same music taste.. weird.

Could Ellie be.. Spidey?

You almost let out a laugh at the thought. There’s no universe in which Ellie is Spider-Man. For one, she’s too shy compared to the flirty masked man, two, she’s never been able to hold a conversation with you without turning it back to tutoring.. and three, she’s a girl.. not a man.

Guess I have a type.

“To school or..?”

“Uh, school.. can you drop me off at the cafe across the street? I wanna change before class..” you say, a little embarrassed.

Ellie doesn’t say anything, she just nods as she pulls into the cafe parking lot.

You huff, “Hey, Ellie? Um.. can.. can you not tell anyone? It’s not that I’m embarrassed but y’know.. kids at our school can be mean when it comes to class and..”

Ellie nods, “Don’t I know it?”

You feel a pang of guilt as she says that, you knew Ellie wasn’t as well off as your family was.. in the first two years of college, she was belittled because of it. You didn’t participate in it, of course, but you wish you hadn’t just stood by and turned the other way, “Sorry..”

“I-It’s fine, fuck, sorry I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.. but.. can I ask you a question?”

You nod, “Sure.”

“Why are you working there? You also model.. it can’t be to make extra cash, right? I mean your family is rich and—.”

You interrupt her, “I.. I know. My family’s rich and whatever but come on, there’s no way that my family, a family of politicians would ever want me to be a doctor. To them, being a doctor isn’t anywhere as good as being senator.. or governor..” you scoff.

“Fuck, sorrry..”

“Mhm.. so when I told my father that I wanted to be a doctor, he told me that I’d have to do it on my own since he didn’t see it as an ‘investment,” you fiddled with the hem of your skirt, “So that’s why I work two jobs and apply for all those scholarships..”

“I had no idea, Y/n.. that’s really something.”

You smile at her.

“Can I ask you one more thing?”

“Of course.”

“Why the fuck does your name tag say ‘Mary Jan’,” she pointed at your name tag, the perplexed expression on her face eliciting a laugh out of you.

“Oh, that.. well, Darlene, er, my shift manager gave it to me like that. I guess Mary Jane was a waitress who worked there before me, she was a aspiring actor, apparently, she’s on broadway now.. so, I decided to keep it, hoping that her luck might rub off on me,” you giggled, “That and when I first started modelling, I had this creep stalker so I took on the name Mary Jane in hopes that it’d shake him off.”

Ellie laughs, “Makes sense.”

You nod and grab your duffel to head inside, “I’ll be right back.”

Inside the cafe’s restroom, you bury your face into your palms.

Fuck, fuck, fuck! I can’t believe she saw me in this dorky uniform! I must look like a hotdog!

After putting on your normal clothes, you touched up your makeup and hair and made your way back out.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

You ended up studying in the library late into the night. You had to pass this test coming up and you didn’t feel like seeing Ellie again. As much as you liked her, you couldn’t help but feel a little frustrated that she wasn’t affected by that night’s events… had she felt nothing?

You were too entranced in your thinking to realize that someone had sat right next to you at the bus stop.

“Hey, got a light?”

You rolled your eyes, prepared to fight off another disgusting man, “I don’t so why don’t you just—!” Your breath hitched in your throat as your eyes laid on the red and blue figure in front of you, “Fuck, sorry.. didn’t know it was you..”

Spidey laughed into his fist as he nudged you with his shoulder, “Why are you out here so late?”

“Ugh, I have this test in chem coming up so I had to study.”

“Really? Why didn’t you tell—.”

“What was that?”

“Uh.. why.. why didn’t you tell your teacher?”

You cocked your head to the side, “What?”

“Nothing!”

You chuckled, “Y’know, you remind me a lot of this girl I know. “

“R-Really?”

“Yeah, haha, you two are way too similar, so similar that I found myself wondering if you were the same person, “you giggled.

Ellie’s should left her body.

“Whaaaatttt, that’s crazyyyyy.”

You giggle, “I know, there’s no way you two are the same person.. I mean she’s way too awkward,” ouch, “she doesn’t look all that athletic,” damage: -20, “she also can’t really flirt,” i totally can.. just not without the mask, “Also, you’re a man and she’s a girl..” damn.

Spidey’ sighed, “Yeah.. I don’t know.. she sounds cool!”

You nod, a soft smile gracing your lips, “Yeah.. she’s ‘cool.’”

“Do you.. do you like her?”

You blush, “I don’t know.. maybe? Like, I like her, hell, we even made out but.. turns out that I was the only one affected by it.. she doesn’t even seem all that bothered or anything.. I don’t know, maybe I just played myself? I’m pretty sure that if I were the last girl on earth, she would still never go out with me..” you rub your eyes, “Argh, I don’t know.. she’s hot and cold, too hard to read.”

“Sorry..,” you hear Spidey mumble.

“At least I have you, hm? Good ol spidey, here to save the day.”

He looks at you, you wish you could peel his mask back to see what kind of face he was making, without thinking, your fingers lift up to his face. He notices and within the blink of an eye, he’s gone..

ELLIE’S POV:

“F-Fuck,” Ellie whispered, her hand on her chest to steady her breathing as she peaked around the ledge of a rooftop at you, still sitting and waiting for the buss, “That was too damn close, Ellie, what the fuck were you thinking? Shouldn’t be letting her get that close..”

Ellie felt guilty as she watched you all alone, you must be feeling pretty shitty right now, huh? I mean, not only has Ellie left you high and dry… but now, so has spidey..

Ellie lowered herself onto the ground, even though she left you down there all by yourself, she wasn’t gonna leave you vulnerable in New York City at night.. so might as well get comfy while we wait for your bus, right?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

taglist: @elliecoochieeater @wavesgocrash @g3latin @elliesflowersblog @usuck @elliessweetheart @miss-chananandler-bong @lvlymicha @prettywhnyoucry @g0d-wont-let-me-die @errorlovernotfound99 @thatgiraffefromtlou

[azsazz]

Dead by Dawn (Part 18)

Azriel x Cassian x Reader

Summary: Zombie!AU: It’s been a while since the end of the world.

Warnings: Blood, gore, injury, graphic depictions of violence, poly!relationship, slow burn, undead, death

Word Count: 4328

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17)

_________________________________________

Day 195 Part 4

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

When you’ve successfully managed to empty the contents of your stomach, the first thing you notice is that your ears are ringing.

Everything slowly begins to creep back into focus. The warm hand on your back, running a soothing pattern up and down your spine. The soft voice murmuring at your side. The vomit pooling on the floor before you. And of course, the thing that’s causing your ears to ring in the first place: the screaming.

You don’t remember falling to your knees, but you’re here, and you sit back on your haunches slowly because your stomach is still roiling. You try to focus on the massacre happening around you.

Nesta’s screaming in the doorway. She looks like she’s actually going to kill you, which is probably why Eris is holding her back with an arm wrapped firmly around her waist. She has a crazed look on her face, silver eyes alight with a fear so deep that it reads like the rage of a thousand wars.

“She’s been bit!” Nesta screeches, clawing at Eris in a desperate attempt to reach for anyone she can get her hands on. His soft, consoling words in her ear are doing nothing to break past the white-hot rage burning across her features. “What did he do to her?”

“He didn’t do a damn thing but fall for your sister,” Cassian bites back, voice louder than necessary. You all know what happens when you love something in a world like this. It always gets ripped away, which is why you haven’t allowed yourself to think anything more about the two men you’ve been occupying your time with. “We don’t have time to waste, they need us out there searching for them.”

Azriel’s murmuring into the walkie-talkie, trying to discern where the hell Rhysand and Feyre might be, but after a few broken responses from your friends, they stop responding.

He turns to the rest of you with a solemn look. “Their walkie died.”

Fuck. This is worse than bad.

“We need to move,” Cassian says, tone pitched with a worry he’s failing to mask. He needs Rhysand alive like he needs Azriel alive, because without either of them, he wouldn’t want to be living in this godsforsaken planer either. “Where are our weapons? We’ll find them and bring them back.”

“That’s my sister. I’m going,” Nesta growls, and your heart pinches at the sight of the turmoil in Eris’ amber eyes because you feel the exact same as him.

“Then I’m going, too,” he murmurs, caressing Nesta’s cheek. She’s stopped fighting now, and you think you catch him brushing a tear from her face. You’re not sure how she hasn’t entirely broken down yet, knowing that both of her sisters have been bitten.

The pair share an embrace so tender you have to look away.

When they return their attention to your party, Nesta’s voice is firm, any traces of her anguish long forgotten, except in the way that her fingers are white knuckled around Eris’. “One of you stays here.”

“What? Why?” Cassian asks in disbelief.

“So we know this isn’t an ambush,” Eris provides, already double-checking the weapons attached to his hips. It’s a move so similar to Azriel that it stuns you until her words hit home.

“An ambush?” You blurt your confusion. Rage boils the blood in your veins. You refuse to lose another friend out there, not after how horrible the last time any of you split up is turning out to be. “This isn’t a fucking ambush, it’s your fucking sister!”

Your anger doesn’t land. Nesta’s glare punctures a hole in your chest and it’s suddenly difficult to breathe. “Exactly. It’s my sister. I will go and see to her. Your presence isn’t needed. You’ve already done enough.”

You want to crumple beneath the weight of her words. They hang thickly in the air, the only sound filling the suddenly eerie dining room is the soft crackling from the walkie-talkie. Rhysand and Feyre are waiting for reinforcements, there’s no time to wither into the ground and cry until the house is flooded.

“Every second we waste here is another second Feyre suffers,” Azriel spits, his hand clenching yours. Cassian’s body is warm at your front from where he’s stepped slightly in front of you at Nesta’s implied threat. “We need to go.”

But Nesta is even more hard-headed than her sister. “She stays.”

You don’t like the look on Azriel’s face when he turns to you. You’re already shaking your head when he tries to speak, but you’re quick to cut him off, your hysterics taking over your words.

“No,” your voice breaks, tears spilling down your cheeks. “No, Azriel. Please, I need to be there.” This might very well be the last time you see Feyre, and you need to be there for her.

“We need you to stay,” Azriel pleads. His hand is firm where your shoulder meets your neck and his hazel eyes are stern, but it isn’t difficult to read how terrified he is. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him so scared, not even when you’d first found each other and Cassian was on the brink of bleeding out. Maybe you hadn’t known him all that well at that point, but now, you know that his heart is much larger than you ever gave him credit for.

“No,” you protest, shaking your head, but you can tell that there’s no room for arguing this. He’s already running through ideas of how to save your friends in his head. “They’re my friends, too!”

“We need you safe.” We need you to survive.

You shake your head, fingers fisting into his shirt. Azriel ducks down and captures you in a kiss so desperate, filled with so much love and pleading and finality that you can’t raise your head when he pulls away from you and Cassian takes his place.

“Please…” It’s all you can do to beg, falling into Cassian’s strong arms, but at this point you know it’s futile. They’ll be going without you, and you’re to stay here so that Nesta and Eris know they won’t try anything. It’s smart, protecting themselves, but it doesn’t make you like them.

“I’m sorry,” Cassian whispers, cradling you in his arms and pressing light kisses to your hair while Eris doles out weapons to Azriel. Nesta watches with a menacing look on her face and arms crossed over her chest like she’d rather let the two men you’re falling for on a recon mission in the woods without any protection.

In this world, being bitten means you have hours. If Feyre isn’t already showing signs of the infection taking hold, she will be soon. Realization strikes you down like a fucking semi-truck, tightening your throat and prickling your eyes. Your best friend, the one that you’ve stuck with for the better part of the last year has been bitten, and you’re all arguing about playing savior.

Fuck. As much as you want to be out there finding your friend, one of you needs to stay. Because Azriel and Cassian want you safe, because Nesta and Eris are scared out of their minds, because if something goes wrong, there is nothing worth fighting for anymore, but if everything goes right, this place could be your haven.

You saw the way Cassian’s eyes lit at the mention of the underground bunkers, at the sight of the healthy greens on your plates. He’s been dreaming of a place like this, a place to take root and utilize the seeds he’d so carefully traveled with all this time. This place could be his playground, and you want nothing more than for him to have something positive to latch onto in a world of the undead.

And Azriel. Somewhere hiding behind the walls he’s so carefully constructed, he cares. He cares about finding someplace safe for everyone he loves to set up camp for a prolonged period. He’s tired of running, tired of searching for something that he’s given up hope on a long time ago. Everyone he cares about now is here, or almost here, and he doesn’t need the weight on his shoulders of searching for safety.

“Go,” you choke, clutching Cassian’s forearms so tightly your nails dig into his skin. His eyes flicker between yours, searching for any sliver of indignation. If you truly don’t want him to go, he won’t. There’s no predicting what will happen out there, and you’re just as important to him as the rest of his friends. “Go,” you urge again, softly. “Find them and bring them back.”

“Yes ma’am,” he agrees, before smashing his mouth against yours. It’s desperate, a promise of so much more, and then he’s pulling away and taking the knife Azriel’s handing him, and then they’re all out the door and you’re standing in the doorway of a silent home, with only the distant coughs coming from a bitten girl upstairs to keep you company while the men you’ve fallen completely in love with leave to save her bitten sister.

“We’re coming back to you,” he calls over his shoulder, determined.

It's all you can do to keep yourself together until they’re out of your line of sight.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Minutes pass. Then hours, and there’s no sign of your companions.

You try not to worry, but it’s inevitable. Cleaning up the abandoned dinner does nothing to ease your nerves. Snooping through cabinets and the pantry and the rest of the main floor does nothing to stop the haunting scenarios of everything that could go wrong from playing in your head. You eye the staircase leading upstairs, but knowing what’s up there, who’s up there, you refrain.

For now.

There is no peace in knowing that their group of four is searching for your lost friends. None of you hardly know Nesta and Eris, and as good as Azriel is at tracking, they have no clue where the hell Rhysand and Feyre are. They must be closer than you think, because they were in range of the walkie-talkies, but that could span for miles, and the sun is shining brightly through the large, front windows of the house. They have hours before night falls completely.

It's Lucien who finds you in the front room. You’ve barely moved from one of the large chairs you pulled in front of the window because you can’t find it in yourself to leave.

He takes the free one across the room, and it looks like he’s sat there many times, pondering Elain’s health.

He hasn’t been taking very good care of himself, either, from what you can tell. It looks like he hasn’t been far from her bedside in ages, his auburn hair is a tangled mess, and you know you’re no longer filling out your clothes the way you used to, but with the food you now know they have around here, you know he hasn’t been eating well.

“You’re the one that helped Cassian, right?” He asks, and your head snaps in his direction. How could he have known that? Cassian’s hardly limping these days at all, but it’s the desperation in Lucien’s eyes that keeps you from shifting further into your seat. He blushes at your surprise, a sheepish look overtaking his handsome features. “I noticed the wound on his leg. I was hoping that you would be the one to have fixed it.”

“Why would you hope that I was the one to fix it?” You all but whisper. Your heart is jackhammering in your chest, but Lucien doesn’t look like he’s going to attack. The only crazed thing about him is the circles under his eyes from lack of sleep, and the despair weighing his shoulders down.

“Because I want you to take a look at Elain.”

His words make the earth shift.

“She’s bitten,” you breathe. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”

“Please,” he begs, “I just—I can’t give up on her yet.”

The utter rawness in his tone, the way he’s looking at you like you’re the one who could save the woman he loves…it’s too much to say no. You know that if it were Azriel or Cassian, or when Feyre arrives, you’d be doing anything that you can to help.

You nod, and Lucien’s shoulders drop so hard that you think he might faint. You refrain from telling him that what you’d done to Cassian was done in haste, that you really don’t know all that much about treating wounds or diagnosing zombie bites, only things that you’d picked up from your mother after her long shifts at the hospital when she’d come home exhausted and grumbling about her work.

She had been one of the first to go, hoping to help people get through the infection.

It’s the least you can do.

You follow Lucien up the carpeted staircase. It has an intricate design, crimson leaves and brunt oranges tangled together. It matches the color of the walls, the creamy trim lining the top and bottom. This would have been a mighty fine house to grow up in, you think as you follow him across the hall, past photographs of several young boys, all with the same-colored hair. There are several frames missing from the sunspots on the wallpaper.

You hesitate at the door Lucien slowly opens, suddenly nervous. You hadn’t caught much of a glimpse of the middle Archeron sister, from what you had seen, she hadn’t looked good.

“Come, please,” Lucien says, opening the door wider and gestures you inside.

Azriel and Cassian would be furious with you if they knew you were about to put yourself within inches of someone who’s potentially infected, but they’re the ones who left you here, so you follow Lucien inside.

The room is warm and damp, dusty, like the curtains haven’t been pulled back in ages. It’s dark, but you can still make out the lump in the middle of the large bed, the indent on the sheets from where Lucien must lie beside her, holding her through this pain.

You move closer to the bed, blinking the light from your eyes when Lucien lights a battery-powered lamp on the table beside the bed.

Your breath catches in your throat.

She looks worse in the dark than she had in the dining room downstairs, but maybe it’s because you stand closer now. With the lamplight shadowing her face, her cheeks and eyes look even more sunken, what you imagine were once pink, plump lips are chapped and dry to the bone.

“Has she been eating? Drinking?” You blurt, already concerned for the girl. Normally, you’re weary of strangers, and you don’t know if it’s because she’s Feyre’s sister or she looks like she’s fighting through hell to stay alive from this bite, but the urge to help her in any way that you can is great.

“She eats bites, at most,” Lucien offers sadly. There’s a plate on the bedside table with a can you’re all too familiar eating from. “Soft things she’s able to get down. And I have to drip water in her mouth while she’s sleeping because that’s what she does most.” You can hear the sadness in his voice, the thickness of his throat when he speaks. He stares at Elain with so much devastation in his eyes that it’s difficult to look at.

You focus on the girl in the bed instead. Her breath is a brittle rattle in her chest, but Elain looks at peace. At least, while she’s sleeping.

“How long has she been like this?” You ask, silently asking if you can touch her. Lucien nods wearily, allowing you to get to work. You gently move the damp compress from her head to press the back of your hand to her forehead. She’s warm, cheeks a ruddy red that is the only sign of life against her pale skin.

Elain’s lashes flutter when you touch her, mumbling something uncoherent under her breath, but doesn’t wake.

“Weeks now,” Lucien admits, worried. “I’d say nearly four.”

Four weeks ago. Your stomach curdles, even though it’s empty. She’s been like this for four weeks.

“Where is the bite?”

Lucien doesn’t look like he wants to show it to you. Reluctantly, he carefully removes Elain’s arm from beneath the thick blankets and pulls up the sleeve to the loose-fitting shirt she’s resting in.

When he removes the wrap around the wound, you can’t help but gasp, stepping closer out of a horrific curiosity. Sure, you’ve seen zombie bites before, but you’ve never seen something quite like this.

 The bite is near her elbow. It’s red and raw, and the wounds haven’t seemed to heal all that much in four weeks, but it’s not…decaying either. Her veins are blackened where the infection has leeched into her blood. They crawl halfway up her arm, and almost to her fingertips, where they disappear.

“We tied a tourniquet around her arm when she was first bitten,” Lucien explains, swallowing thickly. His fingers caress her arm, careful to avoid the plague-looking bite. “They say that the infection takes hold within hours, and when the electricity was still running, it was said that the longest surviving bitten person lasted twelve…” He trails off, and you can’t help but notice the soft glint to his eyes, the upturned corners of his mouth as he stares down at the woman he loves. When his gaze finds yours again, there’s a strength to his tone. “Elain hasn’t showed any progressing signs, and it’s been weeks.”

“Just because it’s been weeks doesn’t mean that it won’t happen,” you say, and you hate that you have to. Her case is convincing, but not all infections progress as rapidly or as violently within each person. It’s a case-by-case basis, though most tend not to last more than a few hours. You must admit, Elain is doing well.

Lucien doesn’t say anything in response, and you know he’s choosing not to believe it. You don’t want to believe it either, especially for Feyre’s sake, but you need to be realistic right now, things don’t last forever.

“We should clean the wound,” you continue. You want to help Lucien and Elain, you truly do, so you’ll do what you can. “It’s looking a little…”

“Festered?” Lucien offers with a soft smile.

You can hardly manage one back. “Yeah.”

“There’s a bag of supplies on the bathroom counter,” Lucien nods toward the ensuite. “There’s disinfectant, though I don’t know how well it will work because it’s been expired for months. You can look through the rest, see if there’s anything else that might be of help.”

You nod, removing yourself from their sight. You take another flashlight that Lucien hands you, and when the door closes behind you, you release a harsh breath that you didn’t know you were holding.

Elain doesn’t look like she’s in good shape, but the wound doesn’t seem to be spreading, and if she had a fever, it’s broken since then. You remind yourself to ask Lucien about it when you return to the bedside, but for now you take the time to scour the bag of medical supplies they’ve seemed to haphazardly throw together.

In it you find fresh bandages and the peroxide Lucien mentioned was in there. There’s about a half bottle left, and you don’t like the looks of that, but you can use it sparingly. You find painkillers, though you don’t expect Elain to wake for long enough to swallow them down.

“Has she been coughing a lot?” You ask when you return. Lucien sits on the bed beside Elain, gently stroking her hair. Her injured arm is propped in his lap, and he watches you carefully as you take the empty spot on the sheets, setting your supplies down.

“Not as much as when it began,” he answers.

“And has there been any mucus?”

“Yeah.”

“What color?”

He grimaces, and your muscles tense, awaiting his response. “Black, to begin. Now it’s cleared up. Almost clear.”

That’s a good sign, you think.

The peroxide bubbles softly, cleaning the wound. For the most part, it seems to be fine, and as much as you’d like to poke and prod at it, you don’t want to disturb what seems to be a peaceful sleep for Elain.

Which is perfect, because the door to the house crashes open downstairs and shouting ensues.

You and Lucien startle, both jumping from the bed. He’s already reaching for the knife at his hip, but when a shout drifts up the stairs, he relaxes slightly.

“Lucien?”

He looks at you. “I think they found your friend.”

Your heart rate skyrockets, and it’s all you can do to give him final instruction before you’re bolting from the room. “Dab this on the wound before you wrap it with fresh gauze.”

You’re not all that sure you want to see the condition Feyre is in, but your legs don’t stop moving. You skip the steps down the stairs and go crashing into the dining room where Rhys is gently laying your best friend down on the table.

Everything seems to come to a screeching halt.

Eris is by the front door, locking it shut. He’s looking in your direction frantically, probably wondering why his brother hasn’t called back to him. You barely notice him brushing past you as he makes his way upstairs.

Your eyes are locked on her.

Nesta and Cassian are shouting at one another while Azriel helps hold Feyre to the table. Rhys looks like a mess, tears streaming down his cheeks, and the sight breaks your heart. It gets your feet moving, and you almost slam into him as you make it to Feyre’s side.

The bite is deep and raw, new. You can’t help but compare it to Elain’s, and unfortunately, Feyre’s looks much worse. Elain’s was a clean bite, like as soon as the zombie broke flesh, its jaw had unhinged. Feyre’s looks like the undead bit into her and latched on like a feral beast, almost ripping an entire chunk out of the back of her forearm.

Rhys shouts your name and you jump, turning to him. His cheeks are stained with tears, his voice is a ragged mess from the crying a pleading. “Please, you have to help her,” he says frantically, “You have to save her.”

And fuck, if that isn’t a heavy weight to put on your shoulders.

You spring into action. As soon as Eris reenters the room, you’re screaming for him to get all the supplies that he can find that might help. He follows your direction, sprinting back up the stairs. Next, you shout the same thing to Cassian, telling him to fetch your bag from downstairs.

Feyre’s a moaning mess. She’s sweating profusely, hair matter to her head as she writhes on the table. Her fingers claw into the wood as she moans in pain and your heart breaks for her.

“It’s okay, Fey,” you say, brushing some of the sweat from her head. Fuck, her skin is on fire. Her frantic eyes meet yours and she’s groaning your name, pupils consuming the blue of her eyes. “I’m going to help you.”

Cassian makes it back first and you ask him to dig out the painkillers. “You have to swallow these,” you tell Feyre, who’s quickly fading into unconsciousness. You wonder how long she’s been awake.

Rhys takes over as Cassian pins her injured arm down, trying to coax her into swallowing the painkillers. From across the table, Azriel watches on, but his face shows nothing. He’s watching you, you realize, watching you do what he knows you do best. Nesta stands beside him, ready to assist in any way that she can now that she’s not bickering with Cassian.

“How long ago was she bitten?” You ask Rhys, who’s petting Feyre’s hair gently. He’s murmuring to her softly, something about keeping her eyes on him, but he lifts his gaze to meet yours when he answers.

“A few hours ago. Maybe three.”

How did you not realize how long it’s been since they’ve been gone? The sun has fully set and darkness pours in through the windows. You don’t have the time to wonder if any zombies have followed them back.

“Okay,” you breathe, taking in the state of the wound. It’s bleeding, oozing black blood that’s beginning to creep up her arm in the same way as her sisters. There’s a poorly made tourniquet fastened around her bicep, and that’s the first thing you fix.

Eris arrives with the bottle of peroxide you used upstairs and his arms chock full of supplies. This place is a haven, alright, and you’re more than thankful you might have the supplies you need to help your friend.

You uncap the bottle and douse it onto Feyre’s arm. She moans as the liquid works its magic, trying to clean the wound. You repeat this step until the bubbles that fizzle off the wound are no longer muddy with black.

There’s not much that you can do, you’re afraid. From what you’ve seen, the infection needs to run its course. She’ll be in pain for now, but there’s nothing you can truly do for your friend.

Which is probably why Rhysand begins freaking out when you pull out the gauze to wrap her wound in.

“That’s it?” He shouts, rounding the table. Fury is written on his face like a tattoo. Feyre’s slipped into a less than peaceful unconsciousness, whimpering and twitching. “That’s all you’re going to do for her?”

Cassian leaves his post at Feyre’s arm to stop his friend.

“There’s nothing I can do, Rhys,” you reply just as sadly. You hold your breath, unsure if you should speak what’s really on your mind, but with the way Rhysand is struggling against Cassian, you blurt, “I think the cure is in their blood,” and the room plunges into silence.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

DBD Taglist: @writingsbychlo @kemillyfreitas @5moremin @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @waggel36  @bionic-donut @queserasera @applepie02 @azrielsbabyg @arcadianmoonlight @pradaxstyles @illyrian-dreamerdreamer @reiincarnatiion @fuckthatfeeling @shadowsingersmate24 @poppyalice2001 @fallmyriad @sstrohma @tcris2020 @jeannineee @21stcenturytaegi @ochiolism @secretly-here @harrystylesfan2686 @i-am-infinite @lees-chaotic-brain @eternallyelvish @lilah-asteria @randombibitch @st4r-girl-official @nanisearchinginnerpeace @aemondsb1tch @chxosangxl @marigold-morelli

[satorushellokittypjs]

♥️Sukuna short stories♥️

✨8PM Edition✨

✨Boyfriend!Sukuna x Fem!reader✨

“Hey babe you hungry—“ you called out, suddenly realizing your boyfriend was no where in sight. “The hell?” You whisper as you began to go through the house. “Kuna! Helloo? BABE!”

“WHAT?!”

There he is. You opened your office/gameroom door and you see him in front of the tv, playing MarioKart. You blinked, quite appalled that your boyfriend even knew how to play video games since he’s the King of Curses and what not.

“Whatcha doin’?” You called out from the door way. Sukuna did look quite cute. Wrapped in a blanket, controller in hand, and his eyes glued to the screen.

“I’m trying out this car racing thing i see you play all the time. You play by yourself mainly though..so i thought i’d get good then play with you.”

Your eyes widened and you smiled so prettily he could see it from the corners of his eyes, so much so he smiled back. Yet he was still glued to the screen. “And since you’re so damn good, if i get good i’ll fuckin’ annihilate you in everything then~!”

You rolled your eyes at that one, laughing in a soft huff, “yes yes, sounds just like you. Now anyways, are you hungry, i was gonna buy Mcdonalds.”

“Mc-what now?” He just got 5th place and he groaned as he turned to look at you. “What does this Macdons have?”

“Oh it has Hamburgers, chicken sandwiches, the best fries to save your live and chicken nuggets.” You nodded your head, “also, if your gonna annihilate me you might wanna do better then 5th~” you winked.

Sukuna’s eyes went dark, you knew your boyfriend was a serious man that could actually kill thousands if he wanted to. And yet, he chose to live a happy life with you out of love. Funny how that happens. but his eyes, when they’re that dark, you know he means business.

“Yeah yeah, well..i want one of everything. And a large drink will do.” He hummed and turned back to the tv.

Damn, then what the hell was that look for? To scare you? Hah! You’re scared of Sukuna but his stares normally just turn you on now~

“Alright, i’ll be back! And please, don’t do anything out of mischief..”

“Ya ya i’m listenin’” like hell he was, he’s such a mischief breed of man.

So for the rest of the evening, you had sat down with Sukuna in the floor, showing him pointers of how to drive faster on MarioKart. All the while he scoffed down Fries and Nuggets and literally died when he drunk the sprite drink, saying you were trying to kill him with battery juice.

[hypnoneghoul]

'Tis time...my 'tism decided to challenge me and stand me up against the ultimate musical 'tism. Tobias Forge's

Influences in the music of the band Ghost (tributes, nods & inspirations)

Some of them are a very straightforward copy-paste action, some of them are smaller nods towards other artists and some of them are only influences, or even something I personally hear, but not everybody might. They are in order from most obvious to might-be-my-delusion. I didn't include covers because. Kinda obvious.

It is possible that some of these are simply samples, I didn’t look into that, but if I’m being completely honest, I don't think Tobias is a sample guy. Also, there’s couple examples from Impera alone, mostly because he spoke about his inspirations for it a fair amount, which makes it easier to trace, so to say.

This one goes first, because it's literally the same thing! Just reversed. I feel like that's common knowledge in the fandom, but I couldn't skip it. If you didn't know and Deus Culpa always hurts your ears (same), this is why!

(These two are in one file because Tumblr has an audio limit and I had to merge something) Tobias frequently speaks of his love for Metallica's music, as well as its members, so it's honestly no surprise hfhfh. He fangirls hard, and it even got him to open for them as we all know, so that's super cool!

I haven't seen/heard him talking about Opeth that much, but he is and/or used to be close with multiple members so again--no surprise at all.

This one is super interesting, because it's not only similar soud wise.

“[...] we recorded this album [IMPERA] in Atlantis Studio in Stockholm, [...] where ABBA recorded most of their hits. [...] it’s the exact same outboard gear, mixing console, microphones, marimba and piano we had around us. You’d play the piano and it would sound exactly the same as it did on Money, Money, Money.” --Tobias Forge for Guitar World

Not much to say about this one other than hell yeah, Michael Jackson.

This one also has a play on Europe's, which I find super cool! Swedish rock unites. From what I remember Tobias has also mentioned something about Whitesnake being an important influence.

(This one is empty for the first 10 seconds to go around the copyright scan) This is a cute little nod towards Pink Floyd that has Tobias put into live shows, and it's been a thing since 2015.

Another one that Tobias has spoken about for Guitar World.

“The double bass allowed for that Vinnie Paul [of Pantera] thing where there are triplet-feel things on the kick drum. Nothing against Pantera, but what influenced me there was actually a track called Blood Ritual by Samael, which had that feel I wanted to tap into.”

It was said about Watcher In The Sky, but I think same idea guided Twenties as well.

Griftwood was also talked about for Guitar World

“What made the song for me was the fact that there’s this crazy breakdown in what’s otherwise a Sunset Strip kind of thing, which I see as more Van Halen than Ratt.”

No song was mentioned by Tobias, but I had Talkin' 'Bout Love in mind even before I read this article, so I'd say it fits!

Pretty self explanatory, I think.

(This one is empty for the first 10 seconds to go around the copyright scan) Kansas is an absolute gem and to me it does sound like it was the inspiration here. Knowing how much respect Tobias has for rock classics, I'd say it's very possible he had Carry On Wayward Son in mind.

And that's it! Sorry if y'all hoped for more jfgjdfg but anyways, hope you enjoyed my yapping and, as always, any questions are very welcome :3

Taglist: @delusionalbitchinthehouse @0-miles-away @callmeghoulshit @skele-bunny @ratsummer @kentuckyfriedsatan @everybodyshusband @lilhoechlinsbae @jimothybarnes @starling-ghoul @rain-ghoul-appreciator @devilsandstarlight @karmicbias @jazz-bazz @arkeusruin

[shecriestotheclickingoftime]

patrick def the type of bf to annoy the fuck out of you all the time (bonus points if you’re the sweet shy introvert type) but if anyone says something even slightly mean towards you he’s making their life hell (not physically just being bitchy) he won’t hesitate to set boundaries when it comes to you, making it clear no one can talk to you like that and then go straight back to pinching your cheeks and teasing you

ugh this is so real. patrick would be severely unafraid of PDA, and he would not be afraid to embarrass you- but if anyone else even tried to make you feel bad, he would flip... i really hope i did this prompt justice!!

request <3333

patrick zweig x reader, 1.1k words

possible tw for drinking, since they go to a bar

(and yet again, art donaldson will be third wheeling)

Patrick loved to be all over you in public. He was not at all afraid of PDA- he had always been loud and cocky, and now that he had you, he wanted to show off even more. 

He loved to bother and annoy you whenever he could, his teasing breaking through your usually reserved nature, as you rolled your eyes at him while holding back a smile, or hurled a benign insult back at him as he grinned straight back at you. Patrick always took advantage of how he could tower over you, always getting too close and pinching your cheeks and whispering how cute you were, completely unembarrassed about showing everyone his love for you, and he loved to see how your face flushed at his words. He knew that you were sensitive and loved the banter and the affection, even though you wouldn’t outwardly admit it the way that he would. There was nothing better to him than to watch your quiet, stoic demeanor break at his words.

You and Patrick balanced each other out perfectly. He was always there for you at social events, his hand around your waist, and always knowing when to take over conversations to give you a break. He wasn’t afraid to speak his mind, and he wasn’t afraid to speak yours either, never hesitating to defend you or speak up for you, especially when you were too anxious to do it yourself. And you were so perfectly the opposite- you were always there for him with a gentle, quiet kind of love that he never felt before, and he could let himself be soft and vulnerable around you. 

So, when you, Patrick, and Art had ended up at a bar on a random Saturday night, Patrick couldn’t help but be all over you. And you clung onto him a little extra tonight, holding Patrick’s hand so tightly it was like you were scared that he’d leave. Your grip didn’t falter at all as the three of you hung around the bar area, ordering drinks and sipping at them as Art and Patrick discussed some tennis news, making sure to describe each player to you and fill you in on whatever gossip was going on around each of them, knowing those stories might entertain you more than just the numbers and scores from whatever tournaments were going on. (While you didn’t ever mind hearing Art and Patrick talking about tennis, the only games that you actually cared about were the ones that they actually played in- you weren’t so invested in the tennis world outside of watching them.)

As the conversation went on, you had mindlessly shifted from holding Patrick’s hand, now clutching onto his arm, your hand on his bicep as you held onto him tightly. Patrick looks down at your face, a smug grin spreading across his face.

“Hey, I’m not going anywhere” Patrick teased, amused by how touchy you were being. Putting his drink down on a table, he used his now-free hand to pinch your cheek, trying to annoy you like always. He obviously didn’t mind you holding him like that- he honestly loved it- but that doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t tease you about it. “First my hand, and now my arm… you’re clingy tonight,” Patrick said, loving how your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. 

“Shut up,” you snapped back at him, but there was no anger behind your words. And you also made no move to let go of Patrick at all, still staying as close to him as possible. 

Art laughed in amusement at the display, enjoying the sight of his best friend clearly so down bad for you. “I think I’m gonna go say hi to the tennis guys,” Art said, flashing a grin as he walked across the bar. 

Patrick looked back down on you, a mischievous grin on his face as he wrapped his strong arms around you, holding you against him in a tight hug. Right there, in the plain sight of everyone at the bar, he pulled away slightly, holding your face gently, showing off as much affection as possible. He always knew how to push your buttons just enough without going too far, or making you actually feel bad. But, he couldn’t help but love the slightly pissed off look you gave him when he embarrassed you like that, pinching your waist as he let you go, a huge smile plastered on his face as he slipped his hand back into yours.

He got you another drink as the two of you joined Art’s conversation with his college tennis friends, Patrick seamlessly joining the conversation as you comfortably listened, sipping your new drink. You saw Patrick gaze down at you fondly, noticing your silence and checking in, when one of the guys in the circle interrupted the conversation, turning to you.

“Does she even talk?” you heard a drunken voice yell, turning your head to the short, muscular boy drunkenly laughing at own his comment as he turned all of the focus onto you. You looked started, and then quickly embarrassed as the guy continued to laugh at your timidness. Before anyone else could react, Patrick stepped forward towards him,easily towering over the guy, glaring straight down at him. It may have been just a small, stupid, drunken comment, but Patrick was not having it. There was no way that Patrick would ever let this fucking douchebag embarrass you, and there was especially no way that Patrick would sit there and watch you feel bad at all. 

“Who the fuck even are you?” Patrick asked sharply, watching as the other guy’s former confidence quickly drained out of his face. Patrick stared down at him, and with a venomous glare, and he strangely calmly said, “get the fuck out of here”. 

And just like that, he backed away and left, knowing it would be a mistake to even try to defend himself here. And after the guy was far enough away, Patrick stepped back to where he was next to you, quickly intertwining his hand with yours, as you and Art looked at each other in surprise, Art stifling laughter after watching just how easily Patrick had intimidated that guy. Patrick had always been loud and not afraid to fight, but something about the way he defended you was different. 

The conversation continued on after that, no one seemed to think twice about their friend’s absence. As their discussion droned on, you saw Patrick’s demeanor slowly soften again as he squeezed your hand and motioned at Art to leave. 

The three of you quickly excused yourselves as you headed out of the crowded bar and into the cool night air, and Patrick playfully draping his arm around your waist, then turning pinching your face and pressing a kiss on the top of your head, a satisfied grin appearing on his face as you roll your eyes at him, but not being able to hide a shy smile as you let him pull you into his side, letting him guide you back home. 

[stbot]

PLEASE ELABORATE ON THE BISHOVA MEET CUTE FROM YOUR TAGS (if you want to, no pressure)

(Prompt: do you think vampires get run over because people can’t see them in their rear view mirrors?)

The first time Kate’s official S.H.I.E.L.D. communicator goes off, she’s in the middle of a terrible recurring stress dream where she’s made it to the finals of Hell’s Kitchen, but all the ingredients keep coming alive like they escaped from the set of a new Muppets movie and Gordon Ramsey won’t stop yelling that “the carrots are so raw even Bugs Bunny won’t eat them!”

Which is to say, that in all the dream-chaos, she doesn’t actually hear it at all. (And also that she should probably stop watching cartoons before bed, but that’s a problem for Future Kate.)

So when she jerks awake in a cold sweat, begging the vegetables to “stop singing so i can murder you for Gordon,” it takes a minute for her to recover enough to notice that the insistant beeping isn’t actually the kitchen timer letting her know that’s she’s about to burn some boiling water, but rather that she’s being summoned.

By S.H.I.E.L.D.

For her first real assignment as a S.H.I.E.L.D. operative.

And she’s still wearing her yummy sushi pajamas.

“Oh, shit!”

Kate flings herself out of bed with such force that Pizza Dog startles awake, immediately on alert for intruders. But he quickly realizes it’s just his human doing what she does, and he settles back down at the foot of the bed. His eye tracks Kate, frantically yanking clothes out of her dresser while said pajamas get flung in the general vicinity of the hamper. He gives an eager whine when she pulls her socks on, but she just grimaces in reply.

“Sorry, buddy,” she apologizes, “but this is a work call. We’ll take a nice long walk when I’m back, promise.” She gives his head a quick pat, “go back to sleep,” and then rattles down the stairs, her pants still unbuttoned and her flaccid belt dangling useless from the loops.

—

Kate stumbles out of the elevator, hopping on one foot as she tries to tie the shoelaces on the other. The squeaking rubber of her sole ricochets off the concrete walls of the parking garage, the soft thump of her hops beating out the unsteady rhythm of a toddler who just discovered the joy of smacking things. But eventually the knot is knotted and Kate gets both feet back on the ground. She removes her bow from her mouth and bolts through the garage.

Soon enough, she’s running up on her super cool, super sweet, super not at all intimidating to drive official S.H.I.E.L.D. Suburban. (Apparently ride shares are, in Director Fury’s words, “unprofessional” and “a security risk”, so Kate is now officially liscensed to drive in the State of New York.)

(God help anyone she shares the road with.)

A quick press of the key fob and the alarm chirps, the driver’s door easily popping open when Kate pulls the handle. She clambers inside, tucking her bow on the passenger seat, and then awkwardly wiggles the strap of her quiver over her head. (And only accidentally hits the horn twice, much improved from the last time where there was so much thrashing she worried she might set off the airbag.)

Once the bow and her arrows are secured, Kate starts the car, buckles up, and checks all her mirrors. It’s the middle of the night, so there’s not much risk, but she’s still pretty new to this whole driving thing, and better safe than sorry.

It looks all clear, so Kate slips the SUV into reverse and backs out of the parking spot, with maybe a little more lead in her foot than she should. But it’s late, and the garage is empty, so she’s sure it’ll be just —

THUNK.

“Oh my God,” Kate says.

“Oh my God!” Someone behind the car shouts.

“Oh my God!” Kate screams, frantically clawing at the handle to escape this death trap monstrosity before it murders her, too. The door pops open and as soon as she moves to flee, the car begins rolling backward.

“Stop!” The person shouts again. “You’ve already hit me once!”

Kate slams her foot back on the brake, puts the SUV in park, and then gets out.

Only for the seatbelt to yank her back in when she tries.

(That’s it. Unprofessional or not, she’s sticking with the subway from now on. The only real danger there is being forced to listen to buskers or get bit by a rat.)

Freed from the car’s attempt to strangle her, Kate rushes around the back just in time to see a woman standing up. Which is great! Dead people don’t walk around on two feet so Kate hasn’t committed vehicular manslaughter! What a great night!

It’s hard to tell, with her back turned to Kate, but it seems like the woman is just a little disheveled. Some dust on her leather coat. Short blonde hair in slight disarray. And a backpack’s been flung several feet away from the almost-murder scene. But other than that… no blood, no bones protruding from any skin, no damage at all really.

“I am,” Kate moves for the bag, “just so so sorry. I swear I checked my mirrors and didn’t see you.”

“Yes, well how could you?” The woman brushes dust off her pants, not even bothering to glance Kate’s way. “That boat you’re driving could block the Suez Canal it’s so big.”

Weird reference, but, “Yeah, it’s - it’s for work. I hate it.” She holds the bag out. “Are you okay?”

“I am in one piece,” the stranger states, and then rolls out a shoulder. It cracks. “You did not think to look before backing up?”

“Well, I checked my mirrors,” Kate says again. She did. She definitely did. “I swear I didn’t see you.”

“That is why you look,” she insists. “You have never heard of a blind spot? Or are all spots blind to you?”

“Okay that’s a little rude.”

“You just ran me over!” She aggressively brushes off her jacket, dust motes swirling through the shafts of light. “I could have been child! I could have been cute little puppy dog!”

Which is just outrageous. It’s the middle of the night! It’s not like a kid would be skulking around a parking garage in the middle of the night! And what kind of puppy… no, okay, that one’s fair. A stray dog might’ve run out and Kate would’ve been devastated.

But one didn’t! The only person who got hit was this woman who is, honestly, being a little bit dramatic about the whole thing.

Kate huffs. “Look, the blame isn’t like totally on me here. I mean, what were you doing lurking around right behind my car like that? You didn’t see the brake lights?”

“Me?” The woman whips around, and as soon as she does, Kate regrets saying the words. “You hit me, but this is my fault?”

“No,” Kate rushes to say, “no, of course not. It’s totally on me. I’m so sorry.”

She offers the backpack, and the woman takes it, a bit of the fury snuffing out as her eyes take Kate in, head to toe.

“I’m really sorry,” Kate says again. “Are you - do you need a ride to the hospital? I’m in kind of a rush for work, but there’s one on the way.”

The woman snorts. “You think I would voluntarily get into that car with you? After you literally just ran me over with it?”

Kate shrugs, offering the smoothest smile she’s got. “Hard for me to hit you with the car if you’re inside it?”

The woman just stares at her, gaze taking in every inch of Kate’s face. Then she barks out a laugh. “I must be concussed because I actually found that charming.”

Kate’s gotten worse compliments. “Are you okay though?”

“I will live.” The woman sniffs, pulls her backpack on. “Mostly.”

Kate inches back towards the car door. S.H.I.E.L.D. is waiting, after all. “Do you - I mean, can I maybe make it up to you? Dry clean your coat? Polish your shoes? Buy you a drink?”

The woman tilts her head. She regards Kate with a heavy gaze, some calculation taking place behind her eyes. And it’s a little scary, being on the receiving end of such intense scrutiny. Scary and, if Kate’s being honest, a little thrilling. (Her would-be victim is rather easy on the eyes. Kate’s not mad about looking.)

Finally, the woman smiles. And when she does, it’s wide enough to flash the long fangs of her teeth.

“Yes,” she says, “a drink does sound nice.”

And, “oh,” Kate realizes, “oh, no.”

[cosmicalily]

"written by the aces" - a mini series by @cosmicalily. view series masterlist, and outline here

6. "stay" | lee felix x gn!reader

Don’t be lonely ‘cause you’re not alone, gotta send me pictures, save em to my room, if I fly to see you would it feel like home? If I change my number, you’re the first to know

author's note: literally minimal side notes from me, i just rly love this angel boy.

warnings: ji gets drunk, ji gets kicked (with much love)

“No, dipshit, I said orange soda, not lemon,” Jisung rolled his eyes dramatically as you showed him what was in your shopping basket. 

“Shut up, they’re literally the same,” you fought back, not wanting to walk the full length of the grocery store again. “You’re lucky I’m helping you at all.”

Jisung smiled sweetly. “I am! What a bundle of joy you are, Y/N!” 

You reached forward to smack him with the bottle, then, thinking better of the carbonated consequences, kicked his shins instead. “Fucking hell, Y/N,” Jisung whimpered, rubbing his leg. “Do you have to wear those platformed boots everywhere?”

You giggled and flicked a braid over your shoulder. “It’s part of my charm. And actually, they’re called stompers. My friend named them when I got my first pair of Docs as a kid.”

“The Monster Stomper 3000s,” a voice added from behind you. You squeaked in surprise and turned around, coming face-to-face with a boy with freckled cheeks, feline-like features and big brown eyes. A boy whose face you most definitely recognised, although his features had matured. Cheeks a little less chubby, making his cheekbones more prominent. Lips a little fuller, and his hair was now dyed a sandy blonde, the roots darkening. 

“That’s actually the most appropriate name I’ve heard. Especially for a pair of footwear that seem to have caused me more bruises than a weapon of war,” Jisung nodded in agreement, then wandered off to the chip aisle.

The blonde boy was still staring at you, plush lips settling into a sweet smile. “I thought it was you, Y/N, then I knew it was you when you started talking about your stompers. I’m glad you didn’t forget.”

“It was pretty iconic of young Felix, to be honest,” you replied, smiling back. “Why are you back?”

Felix shrugged in Ji’s direction. “His birthday party. Didn’t he tell you? And also, I just missed it here. You never moved out?”

“The little fucker didn’t tell me. And nah, I didn’t want to,” you glanced at a now rather distant Jisung. “Close friends and stuff. I didn’t want to start over. How’s it in Australia?”

“It’s good to be back,” Felix said thoughtfully. “Nobody knows what stompers are, though.”

“Nobody here knows what stompers are either,” you giggled. Jisung started shouting something from across the store, and you rolled your eyes. “Birthday boy assistant’s duty calls. Sorry, Lix, I’ll see you at the party, yeah?”

Felix nodded and leaned in to hug you before you walked off. It caught you off guard, but you soon melted into his embrace; soft and warm and welcoming, just like he always had been. Your heart thumped a little louder and you swallowed before stepping away. “See you!” he smiled, not missing the pink flush that tinged your cheeks.

Lying face-down in your empty bathtub, Han Jisung was drunker than you’d ever seen.

It was now 5am, and everyone had, naturally, gone home. Although the party had been hosted at Jisung’s, you knew better than to leave him in his current state. He’d probably have found his way to yours regardless, and you didn’t need him wandering the streets. But as you glanced down, taking in his pink cheeks and soft snores, you wondered if you could’ve just left him to sleep in his own bed.

“I told him not to open that second bottle of soju,” Felix sighed, scratching his neck. “He’s really going to regret it when he wakes up.”

“It’s not really in Ji’s nature to listen, Lix,” you replied, resting your head on the blonde’s shoulder. “That’s one habit he definitely hasn’t outgrown since you left, and probably never will. It’s not your fault.”

Felix nodded, slumping a little further onto the cold tiles of your bathroom wall. You two had been sitting there like exhausted parents of a newborn, checking to see if Jisung woke up and cried, needed a drink of water or just wanted to be petted until he fell back asleep. But it had been almost an hour, and despite the occasional snuffle, he seemed out cold.

“I think he’s dead,” Felix remarked, prodding Jisung’s warm cheek.

“Don’t!” you half squealed, half hissed. “He might wake up!”

“What’s the problem with that?”

“Well, he’ll probably start complaining and need me to give him medicine and water and then he’ll start talking and you know he won’t stop,” you replied, sighing.

Felix smiled. “Isn’t he like that regardless of whether he’s drunk or not?”

“Pretty much. But I need a break sometimes, you know?”

“You sound like an overtired mum,” Felix chuckled. “We’ll leave him be.” He grabbed your hand and stood up, leading you towards the bathroom door.

You bumped against Felix’s chest awkwardly, your legs asleep from being on the floor a little too long. He caught you, slipping an arm around your waist. You paused, startled by the sensation, then glanced up at him. His eyes were sparkling, the way they always did, but there was some kind of an extra shine to them. You weren’t sure what it was, but you leaned in and kissed him softly on the lips, the way you’d been longing to do for so long. Since before he’d left. Since before you’d realised the intensity of your feelings for him. His lips moved against yours, softly, and when you pulled apart, you weren’t sure it had even happened at all.

You felt a dampness on your face, and saw a single tear roll down his freckled cheek. He was still smiling, his eyes shining.

“I really missed you,” Felix whispered. “A lot. I regretted going home a lot of the time.”

“I know,” you replied. “So stay this time. Even just for a bit. Please.”

Felix’s smile faltered a little. “I can’t, as much as I want to. Where would I live? What would I do?”

“You could stay with me, you know you could. Please, Felix. Everyone here loves and misses you. It’s your decision, but just think about it, yeah? Stay the night at least; you can decide in the morning.”

“Alright.”

The sun beamed through the kitchen window, and the soft, sweet scent of pancakes filled the air. Felix was standing by the stove, an arm slung lazily around your waist as you stood beside him, cutting strawberries. You popped one into his mouth, and before you could grab one for yourself, found his lips pressed against yours, the same way he’d kissed you countless times this morning.

There was a sudden thump and a whine, and the both of you sprung apart and turned around. Jisung, hood skimming his squinted eyes, cheeks still flushed and body slouched, was sitting at the bottom of the staircase.

“Where the fuck did you two go? And what’s Felix doing here? I thought your flight was this morning.”

“It’s just now, actually,” Felix said with a smile on his face.

Lee Felix was staying. You weren’t sure for how long, but he was here.

He’d told you he’d be here for as long as you’d have him, and you were pretty darn sure that would be forever.

“You missed your flight?!”

[eddiegettingshot]

why not team buck? :(

like eddie deserves to go through his sad girl era after being so joyous but buck revels in almost dying

becauseeeee in daily life when the world is pressing in on him from all sides eddie, like bobby, truly believes that living is a curse. but when he’s dying all the noise cuts out. he is forced to stare down all the things he stands to lose and is left with his base-level instincts which tell him he needs to fight and that he was built to survive the anguish. as much as he is making small joyful choices he also needs to “choose” to stick around because he is not something his loved ones need to be protected from. and also i haven’t watched him struggle since season 4, plus we only got a whisper of what happens to buck when he thinks something is mortally wrong with eddie in 7x06 when he thought eddie was dead in the bathtub. if buck has the nde i am deprived of the opportunity to see buck do what he does best: scream and flail around in a way that is reserved exclusively for when eddie gets fucked up.

also buck almost dying pretty much never leads him to introspect but only inspires him to become a new version of himself defined by whatever it was that happened to him. you’re right he likes dying too much. they literally have done nothing with the time he already did die for whatever reason so i’m bored already. however the conditions now (he is bisexual, already sad/lonely/questioning what the hell he’s doing, eddie is unrepressing and probably not as inclined to hide behind chris) are such that having to deal with eddie almost dying again could throw some things into sharp clarity.

the reason i am very amenable to having it be both of them is that, even though everyone is always talking about how eddie never got to see buck’s reaction to the well or the shooting or whatever, i don’t think that is actually very important. what would be great is buck should see how his living/dying impacts EDDIE while simultaneously being forced to confront the possibility that he doesn’t have time to be stupid anymore because eddie is about to be gone and he needs to embrace reality, and fast, before he loses the chance to have what he actually wants for even just a minute <3

[sufferu]

I think Subaru just feels that if he was born a girl life would have been easier since he wouldn't have to deal with the expectations as the first son

The thing is: Subaru gets a genuine sense of joy out of dressing as a woman. His entire presentation undergoes this massive shift. He becomes more confident, he thinks he’s prettier, he’s outwardly flirtatious — and even when he’s not, uh, “in uniform,” he genuinely loves making dresses, and styling hair, and playing with makeup. It gets to the point where, before he learns ANYTHING else, Rem remarks that his sewing skills are “top notch” — simply because he enjoys it so much that it’s where he dedicated all his time. Plus, there are all these little hints in the LN about how he misses being a cute, androgynous child who could be easily mistaken for a girl (even saying that the years have not been kind to him, which is a very strange way for a totally cis guy to reference puberty), and how he cried when his hair was shaved off, and how he prides himself on the old nickname “Princess of the Ice.” And even when basically nobody wants him dressed as a woman in Arc 7, he keeps making excuses to not change clothes, and EVERYONE takes it that way. And also he refers to Natsumi as his ideal self. This isn’t just him doing what’s easiest: he LIKES this.

Plus like — if you want to talk about characters leaning into an opposite gendered persona due to feeling that they can’t live up to their gender’s expectations…Ferris is right there. And Ferris very specifically foils Subaru in ways that are incredibly pointed. Ferris presents as a girl specifically for Crusch’s sake, while every time Subaru dresses as Natsumi he’s like the only one who actually enjoys it (sans Emilia, who has been very pointedly left out of the reveal that Natsumi == Subaru, and who uniquely shows pretty much zero contempt for his crossdressing habit in the one failed loop side story where she does find out about it). Ferris has to go through this entire morning routine of “getting into character” every day in order to be Crusch’s Cute Little Ferri-chan, Subaru slips into Natsumi’s persona so easily that he has to actively fight AGAINST it. Ferris dresses almost solely in a singular outfit that’s basically his Ferri-chan uniform (complete with a collar and a bell), Subaru has this whole love for styling different outfits practically every time he dresses as Natsumi. Hell — symbolically, Ferris is a nickname for a very traditionally masculine given name (Felix) while Subaru has been referenced many times as having a name that is explicitly androgynous (the implications of this can be debated but as it is I’m pretty certain it was intentional on Tappei’s part). It’s like a Whole Thing.

(And also — we already Had the whole “Subaru struggling with the pressures of being Kenichi’s son” thing. It’s what the whole First Trial was about him overcoming. So why is Natsumi becoming More prevalent as the story goes on, if it’s just an extension of that?)

(And if it really IS an extension of that prior problem, why do we STILL very pointedly not know what happened that day when he got found out? With Subaru going out of his way to shadow it as “a very traumatic event for me that I have spent a significant amount of time processing and struggling to overcome” while never revealing what actually went down — it’s be kind of anticlimactic for something like that to be revealed as just — an extension of a conflict that already got revealed and resolved ages ago.)

[mint-and-authoress]

Slime HRT - Progress Report II

<<| ⏯️ |>>

[The video opens with a familiar bedroom setup from previous recordings. In the top right corner a timestamp of ‘10 Weeks’ is shown.]

“Okay, ten weeks. We’re ten freaking weeks into this. I’m honestly really excited for this update actually because…”

[Elise stands back a few feet and rolls up her sleeves to reveal her arms. The skin has shifted from translucent to transparent, and the musculature is present underneath, a mix of bluish-gray and red.]

“Skin’s gone! …Well, not gone gone, but it’s totally cleared up! It’s all see-through now, and that means the muscle’s gonna go next. Which I’m a little nervous about.

“Yeah… that last bit at the end of the first video was my dad kinda outing me on his own because I didn’t have a chance to cover up. And that’s kinda led to this Transspecies Cold War that I’ve been forced to take part in for like… 3 weeks now? Luckily my mother is oblivious to all this so I’ve managed to skirt around that volcanic eruption. Dad hasn’t said a word to me, though, which is a bit weird, but I’m honestly fine with not talking to him. Freeing, in a sense.

“Anyway, important things first! In terms of my transition timeline, I’m actually a little ahead of schedule! Which, don’t get me wrong, it’s really exciting to experience this stuff and confirm it’s all really happening, but also kinda puts a bit of a wrench into my plans. Some gunk in the cogs, I don’t know. I’ve been trying to use more slime puns, but I’m not sure if it’s for me.”

[Elise stares off for a second before snapping back to reality.]

“...Right, the wrench. Problem. Whatever it was. Right, my job! I’m a bit worried about how long I’ll be able to keep working, seeing as though I’m gonna basically have muscular dystrophy advancing throughout my body at a rapid rate. I don’t do a ton of heavy lifting, at most I’d struggle with lifting mannequins but we barely do that. Mostly just hanging clothes and gettin stuff hung up.

“My skin, or my surface now, I guess, is a bit stickier now? From what I can tell, the surface is just a slime’s version of skin; all the goop you’d imagine just comes from underneath to gather sensory input. I guess that hasn’t happened yet because 1) I don’t have that goop yet–the goop that’ll come from all my muscles, I mean–and 2) I still have a human’s nervous system so I can still touch and understand that feeling.

“So far so good, though. No more skin, no more breakouts. Hopefully the muscles are just as cooperative.”

[The segment ends. The next segment fades in and Elise looks notably different. Her hair is gone and has been replaced with a shorter ‘haircut’ made entirely from slime. She wears a t-shirt and long pants. Elise’s surface is still clear but most of the muscle underneath is also gone, the little remaining still in small patches dotted across her body. Her face is also completely eroded away, all that remains is the skull, eyes, and the inner workings of her ears. The slime that makes up Elise’s body is now tinted green. The timestamp reads ‘5 Months.’]

“This is my entry at 5 months during transition. Holy Hell it has been a rough one. As you can see…”

[Elise slowly stands and orients the camera to face multiple parts of the bedroom, most of which has been compartmentalised and/or boxed up. She finally turns the camera to face her once more in the usual shot.]

“I am ready to get out. In fact, I’m actually headed out tomorrow morning to go live with my partner out west. Out in the wilderness, surrounded by nature. First things first, though. I gotta unpack these last months for y’all.”

[Elise starts to roll up her sleeves before seemingly forgetting that she is wearing a t-shirt, which she begins to fidget with.]

“Transition stuff first. Also sorry if I’m a bit spaced out, I’ve been a bit…well I guess I’ll just call myself out on it, I’ve been a bit airheaded recently. Doctors say it’s a side effect of the drugs, which of course it is. All in the name of science or something.

“I don’t want it to come across like I’m not happy; I’m fucking ecstatic and euphoric all the time. Life’s just been a lot lately.

“In terms of the muscular decomposition it actually kinda freaking hurts. Like when it started I just felt sore but over the course of a week somewhere around 14 weeks in I got barely any sleep. Turns out, acid dissolving you hurts pretty bad, actually. It got better when a majority of the muscle was gone but every now and again the body decides to get rid of more and unfortunately I can’t use any ibuprofen or painkillers because they inhibit some yeast growth and I just so happen to be made of the stuff nowadays.

“Also, on that note, no more caffeine, ever, apparently. Yeasts actually really don’t react well to caffeine so I’m really really glad I don’t drink coffee. No more Dr. Pepper hurts the soul, though. F in the chat for no more dr pepper.

“Also, hair. As in, no more hair, anywhere. I think they try to skirt around the fact that you will drop your hair as soon as the scalp becomes goop when they tell the trans girls about their transition. I think I would have screamed if I had the house to myself when I took that shower and my whole head felt very light. Luckily your body becomes very malleable when you take these drugs and after like four days of trying I figured out how to style my goop-hair. I’m usually covered from top to bottom in clothes to stay hidden, though, so I barely ever get the chance. And of course, since the hair is gone, my nails went around the same time. Been having to wear touchscreen gloves just to use my phone, and rubber gloves under those so I don’t seep through.

“Other changes… well, showering is pretty euphoric, honestly. Putting more water in the body kinda expands it in a way. Makes all the mass a bit sloshy but still workable if I don’t overdo it. Makes me all euphoric to have big ol tiddies whenever I want.

“I’m still able to eat normally, but I’ve started to actually digest with my slime. Lately my goal has been to taste without my tongue – which is also gone, mind you, just got lucky that I kept my tastebuds at least a little bit.”

[Elise stares off into the distance once again, seemingly lost in thought. After a moment she recollects herself and sits a bit taller.]

“Most of you have guessed by now that I’d get fired because of my transition, and yeah, that was last week. I warned my boss way in advance that I may slowly lose some physical function during transition but either she didn’t care to research my procedures or hated my guts anyway, either way I got canned for being unable to lift and perform my duties. It’s not so bad, lets me decompress and get ready to move.

“Yeah, I know, the move. Funny, you think I should have mentioned that first, or maybe a few months ago. Thing is, I had no idea I’d be moving out this early either. My transition is happening at an advanced rate for some reason and the doctors won’t be able to say before 6 months anyway so we’re all a bit in the dark about it.

“So last night I was invited to dinner with my parents. Not like an actual ‘going out to a restaurant’ dinner, no this was more like ‘Elise gets to cook and make her parents a nice meal and be forced to sit and talk about uncomfortable shit with them for at least an hour’ dinner. Lucky for them, I’m a bit of a pushover and I actually do like to cook so I made something nice.

“So, an hour and one stir fried chicken dish later, I’m sitting in the living room with my parents watching TV and absolutely trying to not shrink in on myself. That’s been an experience, let me tell you. I can just kinda ball up now if I want. Which I did not want to do considering I was still stealth from my mom.

“Of course, she has to ask how work is going and of course I had to unmask for just one insignificant second and reply that I was let go. There was a bit of a screaming match, and a ride to the hospital for my mother who legitimately had a heart attack from seeing her daughter’s skull and eyes suspended in a slightly green goop. Food colouring, by the way. Way cheaper than hair dye.

“Mom’s alright, she’s an addict so that’s what the doctors are focussed on now. Which unfortunately means that they have to deal with a whole bunch of bills and other lovely little things. Dad took me aside and made it abundantly clear that I was no longer welcome in their home. Hence, the boxes and suitcase that all hold the entirety of what I own.

“In better news, I’m gonna get an apartment with my love and we’ll be all okay by the end of the week. At some point I’m gonna also have to head into Hyper City again, check in with my doctors who all seem to have no idea why my transition is going so fucking fast all of a sudden. I mean, I was on schedule up until like that 7 weeks update and then everything went into like, I dunno, super puberty, and just shot way ahead.

“So, yeah…transition’s going great, just have to bear with all the other stuff that comes with it. I transitioned once, I can do it again. Stay strong, we’ll make it through together.”

[The scene fades to black as Elise reaches for the camera.]

}~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~{

We are so back. With the Biggest. Update. Ever.

Well, not Elise. She's actually going through it af

More slime time! This post's inspiration (imma keep doing this btw, I like giving shout outs to my humble base of 40 followers) comes from both @draconic-lesbian for constant and continuous love and species affirmation, and @reliablegal who somehow derived her own slime biology and affirmed most of what I found to be true :D

catch y'all later when Elise moves into a new place and totally nothing crazy happens~

[apostaterevolutionary]

So. Veilguard impressions so far (I’m about 13.5 hours in). Most of these are mechanical as I don’t feel like I’ve gotten enough time with the companions/story to have many opinions on it, but I feel like I at least have some opinions worth noting lmao (mostly no spoilers but like. Maybe a little so read at your own discretion)

Things I like:

I’m honestly still shocked my computer can actually run it and overall very well too

Character creator is super detailed, I love that

I keep falling off of ledges lmfao so I’m glad there’s no penalty for that

You can pet all the cats and dogs!!!!!

Also love that there’s no carry weight to contend with but I still get to pick up a ton of random items. It satisfies by urge to pick up anything that isn’t nailed down. This is great, especially after bg3 sksks (which I also enjoy as a game but pls why does gold have weight 😭)

So far I like the new companions a lot and I do enjoy these early game little almost… domestic? Or just small scale? Quests you have with them? Idk I dig it. I wasn’t sure about the ‘bond’ thing at first but on further reflection I like that you can gain approval-equivalent just by bringing them along. Makes things easier

I don’t dislike the vibes tbh like I’ve seen people say ‘oh it’s too happy and positive’ and like. Okay yeah 2 of the 3 companions you recruit early on are very bubbly but we also got blight horror all over the place so idk, maybe this is a complaint I’ll understand later but right now I don’t agree with it

Oh and I love the lantern system for when companions have dialogue - it’s a clever way of signifying when they’re all in different buildings

Things I don’t like:

I kinda get what people are saying about the handholding. Why do I need a little tip to tell me ‘[companion] has noted that you told them [thing you just said]’ 😭

Also while the new companions are fun, I do think Harding got hit pretty hard with ‘previous game lore dump’ duty cause damn. Admittedly I don’t remember her personality in inquisition super well but a lot of her dialogue just feels. Off in that way. I get it was necessary to do it somehow but. Oof. I feel bad for her cause it makes me less interested in her 😔

This is minor but I don’t like how when you load a save, it’s not actually where you saved. It’s at the last fast travel point. So it’s like. I found this hard-to-find spot last night. Saved. Planned to continue the quest the next day. Except! I have to find the spot again! And I forgot where it was! Why!!! This is absolutely a remnant of when it was a live service game but woof, why keep that in

Also bringing back the 100 save limit - actual worst feature of inquisition, why the hell would they keep it 💀 if anyone knows a mod to fix this, pls let me know, I need to have like 800 saves per run or I’ll die okay

And this is the big one tbh. I’m sorry but I really don’t like the combat 😶 like. Every boss fight is just the arishok fight except with help. Getting Lucanis has given some improvement cause now there’s at least another melee target on the field but at this point, I’m looking for a stealth option on that giant skill tree (why is it so big! I have no idea what I’m doing with it!!!) so I can go full skyrim (stealth archer) lmao. I’m hoping when I actually get to recruit a warrior (why is this the last class you get, that feels backwards), it’ll get more playable cause I’ll actually have a tank. Right now I just cannot understand why everyone says this is fun, I have had pretty much no fun in any of the fights (I’m becoming the person I was poking fun at before when I said it’s weird to play games if you don’t like half of it skskdk. Also ngl I would not be powering through if this were not a game I already had a vested interest in). Also how did anyone play a mage and make it through the first 10 hours, like I have NO idea. I’m very glad I didn’t, it’s hard enough with a rogue

Neutral observations/thoughts:

I’ve decided to play rook as like. A discount version of hawke? Cause I feel like that’s the kind of person varric would seek out, like a spark of the familiar is what drew Varric to them. And that’s adding a bit of fun headcanon flavour

(Also I have some suspicions that things are not as they seem with Varric but. We’ll see on that I suppose)

Also it’s funny cause I’ve always been a Solas neutral person (like him well enough but never understood why he was such a big deal to either the lovers or the haters). But I do find him more annoying here lmao. Maybe cause I’m rping too hard and Rook finds him annoying but I just think it’s funny

Also genuinely could not imagine this being someone’s first DA game sksks they are going to have no idea what’s going on lore-wise

[coffeegnomee]

ugh sometimes watching Kab pov I get real sympathetic for how difficult it must be to be in her brain and just be so confused all the time and exhausted about masking her feelings to make other people trust her and her pain in wanting to be vulnerable and receive vulnerability and feel deep reciprocal love.

But then she says shit, really fucking mean and toxic shit towards mental health and healing and it triggers my own fight or flight and i become a ball of rage.

And like, I do get it. When you start your journey of mental health healing you often become the toxic one as you throw the shit people have said to you at everyone who also has similar mental health issues as you. (been there done that) Doing it to process your own rage at being told these things, or thinking, out of desperation, that if you can just get them to fix themselves quickly, you can fix yourself quickly. The bullied becomes the bully.

But then time passes and you realize this shit is hard to overcome. (or maybe it won't ever be overcome! and that's okay!) And you stop being toxic and you start being compassionate, to yourself and others. And eventually you start to heal and become confident in your own self worth and the validity of your emotions.

But before then it's the fucking worst place to watch someone be in. And that place is unfortunately where we are right now.

below is a short transcript of the convo this reflection is based off of. it can be triggering so like, don't feel obliged to read it.

11/10/24 kab vod: "I have no idea what's happening"

1:42:00 KAB: “what about how he makes me feel? Why is it so important what he feels and to accommodate everything he’s feeling? Why do i have to conceded to that???”

1:44:00 “I’m sick of having to accommodate to everyone else’s actions” 

realizing your masking is hurting you is one of the worst realizations (imo). bc the mask keeps you safe, but if you can't process or give worth to your real emotions, it's not serving you.

so she swaps from processing her own feeling to being angry at zam.

1:47:00 She gets he needs time and space, but “We don't have time for to try and sit and process your emotions properly. Do it after we deal with this fucking issue [...] sometimes you just need to toughen up” 

Fucking hell the trigger i just felt for just toughen up. 

1:48:00 “i need to know what he’s thinking so that we can work together. In a team!” 

what team!?!

“‘Does zam really hate communication more than he likes spawn and the server’ literally. Like pick your priorities dude.”

I’m going to fucking throw up. Because yes. Actually yes. Unfortunately and actually yes. He's gotten a lot better but like.

1:53:00 “I dunno. I wish he would care about himself as much as i care about him. Hard to see him like this [pause] maybe he does need more nurturing than i can give him bro ugh. I am just not- i am not good at that shit. I think it’s stupid [..] when you have a job to do [..] just shove your emotions away for a bit. And then you can process them later” 

I was going to say this is just eclipse, but I just realized that maybe it's just this is exactly the perception Zam had of Vi: that Vi just wanted him to move on when he couldn't. All his deepest fears of what Vi wanted from him are being personified into a new person. 

(also he is shoving his emotions away and that's why he's not processing it and giving you an answer for why he "doesn't know"????? but since he's not a perfect ball of joy and masking to you and because he is doing what you can't (shove emotions away) you are in rage)

1:54:00  “But it’s like, while there’s a life or death situation that literally determines the entire server we don't have time to be like, holding your hand, you know? Like, you're an adult” ughh fuck. being broken is inconvenient for others and age is seen as an invalidation to any of your real brokenness. If you're old you no longer have the right to be broken. Can we please change this narrative? thx

“If he cared enough he would actively try and do something to help himself in this situation” 

Interesting choice of words to say "he would try to help himself if he cared" complaining about others not "working" on themselves (and you can never know if someone is working on themselves bc you're not in their brain) helps nobody bc you can only control yourself.

“You just want to sit and feel bad about yourself” no that's what you're doing kab

“He got me to fucking open up to him and pour my heart out and is now turning his back on that entirely. That’s what i’m actually more upset about” 

oh the naive belief that because you pour your heart out to someone they must reciprocate. That is the risk you take when you are honest with someone about your feelings. They are at no obligation to reciprocate ever. Never ever. But that doesn't mean your feelings aren't true and it doesn't mean you shouldn't have done it. Love is a risk.

But also she feels she was forced into it. Forced to be vulnerable and she hates the vulnerability. She doesn't remember (or believe) that Zam promised to not use it against her. She isn't willing to give him the chance to not use it against her. He simply knows and that is a threat.

So love turns into spite. Instantly. And she doesn't want to talk to him anymore. And decides that she will just be fake to him.

oh girl. keeping the mask on doesn't help anything. 

“I’ve lost a lot of respect for him today. I’m done trying to impress him”

and so the mask returns. and healing stops.