#i. you're all i bloody think about / dream about / you're in my gut / in my throat / i'm drowning in you › buffy.

[teethless]

tags

you're what / shocked and disappointed ? i'm evil › ic.

a tussle like that is good for the soul › hc.

getting killed made me feel alive for the very first time › study.

i don't want to be this good looking and athletic / we all have crosses to bear › visuals.

i wasn't lurking / i was standing about / totally different vibe › aesthetics.

creature of the night here yeah ? › answered.

love isn't brains children / it's blood › meta.

i. you're all i bloody think about / dream about / you're in my gut / in my throat / i'm drowning in you › buffy.

i. whatever souls are made of / his and mine are the same › drusilla.

i. i'm sorry i can't save you from everything › dawn.

i. she never treated me like a freak › joyce.

i. it's almost like your my father-in-law in'nt › giles.

i. i'd bite you in a heartbeat › willow.

i. i'm insane / what's his excuse ? › xander.

i. my money's on the witch › tara.

i. had a thing / didn't last › anya.

i. captain cardboard ! › riley.

i. plenty of room / good company › fred.

i. he's a breath of fresh air isn't he ? / good thing i don't breathe › andrew.

[ladyverdance]

No, look at me. I love you. You're all I bloody think about... dream about. You're in my gut... in my throat... I'm drowning in you Summers. I'm drowning in you.

[passivenovember]

thinking real hard about Billy and Steve finding each other years after they've settled into themselves.

Billy's gone to therapy and he lives in a little house on the shoreline. Steve makes it to California. Doesn't have the six nuggets, yet. He's working insane hours at a job that isn't very lucrative, but he never had to sell his soul to his old man--

So. Point is. They're happy. Content, almost.

And then they find each other.

--

Steve's burning a pot of water when the phone rings.

It's like a knife through the air. A thorn in his side, pain and annoyance ramping up to an 11 as he yanks the receiver from the wall. "Yeah, now's not a great time," He says, because the goddamn smoke alarm's gonna start wailing any second now, and Steve's neighbor is real trigger-happy when it comes to alerting the fire department. "Look, I'll call you--"

"--Why answer the phone?"

Steve would know Billy's voice anywhere, the rough and tumble drag of someone who used to live fast and hard but doesn't, anymore. "I," Steve says, "I don't--"

"--It's like. Why answer the phone if it's not a good time to talk?"

"I don't like being impolite."

Billy hums, smoke and lightning on the end of the line. "So, you weren't waiting for me to call?"

"No," Steve says. But he was. Has been since high school and all the weird, boring, disheartening years that followed until Billy appeared at the dive bar on Saturday. Like a vision. An angel.

"Damn. And here I was, taking a full 72 hours to figure out what I should say," Billy tells him.

Steve can hear a smile.

Aches to taste it, but-- "That's kinda lame, Hargrove."

"So what?"

"So. You're kinda lame, I guess."

Billy laughs at him, then, high and bright. It shoots confetti into Steve's kitchen, the curling tendrils nearly catching on fire as Steve comes back to himself. He pulls the pan of water and dumps it into the sink, killing the flame on the stove.

"Yeah, I'm a disaster. Maxine tells me all the time," Billy says, "It's just. How weird, y'know?"

"What? You?"

"No, you," Billy tells him, chuckling again. "Fell outta the sky, or something. Into a shitty dive bar."

"So did you--"

"--Fell outta my dreams."

"So did you," Steve says, and his stomach twists. Tumbles. Washing-machine guts still soiled with the bloody red spots of a decade-long crush.

"Huh. You're kinda forward, Harrington."

Steve shrugs, face burning. "Long as I'm not as lame as you are."

"Dude, I didn't say you weren't lame."

"Sure, you didn't."

Billy's next laugh Steve feels in his gut, heat pooling behind the thatch of curly down at his pelvis. "Still such a bitch, pretty boy."

"I'm just being honest. We aren't getting any younger, I'm not really interested in playing it cool, anymore."

Something rustles as Billy shifts his weight, "You were cool, once?"

"Ha-ha."

"I don't wanna play it cool, either," Billy tells him, as serious as a heart attack, "Look, can I be honest? You mind?"

Steve nods and then remembers Billy can't see him. "Go ahead."

"I can't stop thinking about you."

Steve peers through the kitchen window, trying to imagine Billy somewhere on the edge of town with sunlight in his hair. Smoking in bed, naked gold until the duvet pulls him under hips first.

"Harrington, I need to see you again."

"Need is kind of dramatic."

"Maybe I'm feeling dramatic."

"Thought this was honesty hour, Hargrove?"

"It is. Honestly? I wanna kiss you," Billy tells him. "At midnight. In the pouring rain because I was too chicken-shit to do it after our first date."

Steve focuses on not swallowing his tongue. Damn near fails. "Was that a date?"

"No, it was bigger. It was the stars aligning, the start of--"

"--God, you are feeling dramatic."

"When can I see you?"

"I dunno," Steve says, fiddling with the lip of the sink, "When are we expecting rain?"

"Not sure."

Steve can hear his smile. Aches to sink into the softness. "I need a window to commit."

"Tonight. I'll make it rain."

Steve snorts, light as air. "You're crazy."

"I've had ten years to plan for this, Steve."

"Alright, lemme--" Steve pads over to the refrigerator, peering at his Kittens and Firefighters calendar. May is covered in birthdays, vacations, late nights at work, and roll-over plans from April, all hacked into the cardstock in striking red.

Steve groans and flips to June. "--Can you still make it rain in a month?"

"A month," Billy demands, "Fuck. You're hot shit but I didn't think--"

"--I have a full-time job. And friends who want to hang out when I'm not at work, but since I use all my energy at work I cancel on them, and things get moved around and--"

"--You can't make an exception for the guy who wants to eat you out?"

The pages of the calendar flutter, May settling heavy in the room. Steve swallows and his throat clicks. "Uh. My friends--"

"--Aren't gonna eat you out."

"They would. If I asked them to, at least one of them would."

"I'm not really loving that idea, pretty boy," Billy says, teasing. "What about over a lunch break?"

"You want to eat my ass over a lunch break?" Steve snorts, "I'm not a hooker."

"What's wrong with--"

"--I'm not," Steve says, "And even if I was, I'm not cheap. You couldn't afford the hour, and we'd need more than that, anyway."

"What about a sleep over?"

"A sleepover?" Steve says, turning from the refrigerator. "Like, where I come over to your house and stay until the morning?"

"Or I come over to yours, yeah."

"But--"

"Actually, let's do yours. Maxine's place is getting fumigated, so she and Lucas are staying in the guest house."

"You have a guest house?" Steve doesn't remember mention of that during their first date, but. He was distracted.

Billy laughs, "Bet I could afford your hour, pretty boy."

"I thought," Steve says, twirling the phone cord around his hand, "In high school, I remember you telling Becky Gordes that you don't do sleepovers."

"I'm gay."

"Okay, but what about Eddie Munson? The whole school thought you were fucking him, did he ever sleep--"

"--No, my dad would've killed both of us," Billy tells him, and. Something in his voice makes Steve's blood run cold. Makes him believe it.

So he shifts gears, "But. Don't you have work tomorrow?"

"Who said anything about a sleepover tonight," Billy says. Steve imagines the look on his face. Shit-eating grin bright and sharp and beautiful as always. "Unless you want me to come over tonight?"

"I never said that."

"I can work wherever I want. I don't have to go in at all, if I don't want to."

Steve pads over to his junk drawer, digging around for a red pen. "What does Saturday look like for you?" He bites the cap off, holding it like a straw in the curl of his tongue.

Billy laughs, "I thought you said you weren't free until next month?"

Steve chews on the cap for a moment, pen shaking over the cardstock surface of his calendar. He imagines Billy like he was that night. Different but exactly the same. Charming and soft in a way that only comes from the toil of regeneration. Years and years shedding skin.

He'd been funny and smart. Quick wittted.

Sweet. Like cotton fuckin' candy.

Steve remembers not wanting the date to end, not believing that the universe would give him Billy with no strings attached and laying awake that night, hoping Billy would call, and that they'd get their chance, and now--

"Shit. What the fuck am I doing?" Steve asks, but it comes out garbled and messy and wrong. Comes out sounding like, she whale the food ham ding dong.

Billy laughs at him, again, anyway. "What?"

Steve spits the pen cap onto the counter. "You really want to eat me out tonight?"

"Damn--"

"--Because. I was too fucking stupid to realize what was happening between us in high school. Or. What was happening to me when I saw you in high school, and this is important to me," Steve says in a rush. Fuck being subtle, right? "We're not getting any younger. And I haven't slept with anyone for a long time, much less someone who I've wanted for as long as I can remember, so if you're going to come over here and fuck me--"

"Or talk," Billy says gently. "We could talk more. Get to know each other."

Steve listens to the static on the other end of the line.

"I want to get to know you again, Steve," Billy says.

And Steve cracks. Like a bowl in the microwave, curdling under pressure and heat. "Alright, just. Do you have a pen and paper?"

"For what?"

"My address," Steve says, leaning against the sink, "I want to get to know you, too."

"Tonight," Billy asks, digging around for something.

"Tonight," Steve says. "What the hell."

"Great."

"You've got something to write with?"

"Yeah," Billy says, sounding like he's barely holding it together. "Yeah, just. Whenever you're ready."

--

That night, after, just as Steve falls asleep in Billy's arms--

It rains.

[bahablastplz]

All in | Chapter 4.5 (Jeongin)

pairing: Lee Felix x f!reader (mafia au)

summary: You didn't know what you were getting yourself into when you started dating Yang Jungwon, notorious mafia boss. Your life gets flipped upside down when you're found beaten and bloody by SKZ, the rival mafia group, and you're quickly integrated into their lives. What will happen when you try to leave your old life behind and start anew?

chapter summary: Jeongin has only ever wanted one thing. How did Jeongin come to join SKZ?

warnings: please see series masterlist for all warnings

series masterlist ~~ series taglist ~~ main masterlist

Jeongin:

The day I told my mother that I wanted to go to fashion school was the same day that my braces had been removed. Though I’d had a passion for clothing and having a great appearance my entire life, fashion school was never really in the cards for me. It was something I had been thinking about for a while, but when I talked to my mother in the car on the way home from the orthodontist… 

“Your father and I put down the down-payment for university today,” she said. I remember not wanting to have that conversation, especially then. I was still in pain from the procedure and still in a mood. 

“Okay,” I replied. 

“You need to declare your major by the end of the week. Your father and I think that with your biology grades, you would fare pretty well going the science route.” Anxiety bubbled in my gut and I started speaking before I could stop myself. 

“I don’t want to go the science route, mom,” I told her. She furrowed her brow in confusion and I hated the way her face looked. I could already tell my words were about to disappoint her. “I want… I want to be a fashion designer.” She laughed. She fucking laughed in my face. And as much as I hated being emotional, especially in front of her, tears streamed down my face. She didn’t notice. I wiped them away too fast. 

“You aren’t going to pursue fashion,” she spat. “Don’t tell that to your father. He’s going to think you might be gay or something. He will not be as kind as I am about this.” 

The words struck like a knife to the gut. I didn’t speak. I couldn’t because I knew she was right. My father would never let me pursue fashion, he would sooner disown me. God forbid I do something that could come across as slightly feminine, I would be a disgrace. And so, we never talked about it again. 

I started school that fall, after I walked in my high school graduation. I had been enrolled as a biology major, much to my dismay. The first semester went swimmingly. I excelled in all of my courses, just as my parents had anticipated. But on the side… I tried not to squash my own dreams. I filled up journal after journal with design ideas. I never showed them to anybody, but I took great care in what I wore. People started to notice. People even complimented me on my outfits, and without my parents there it was possible to imagine enrolling in fashion school and becoming successful. 

The first day of my second semester, I switched my major. I didn’t consult my parents about it but I started attending the classes I had always wanted to. I had never been happier in my life, actually. I struggled a little more than I did in my science classes at first, as the other students had a semester’s worth of knowledge above me, but it didn’t take me long to catch up. I excelled, even, and professors told me that I had the capacity to go far. 

One day when I showed up to my course, the door was locked. Rattling the handle, I remember beung confused. Why hadn’t the professor unlocked the door yet? I wasn’t late, was I? 

“Jeongin,” I heard the professor say as he opened the door. “I received word from the dean and I regret to inform you that you aren’t enrolled in this course anymore.” What? He saw my confusion before he continued speaking. “Your tuition payment has been declined. Your parents have contacted the school and have let us know that you are no longer allowed to attend.” 

I knew immediately what had happened. I didn’t even bother to check my phone, as I knew not to expect any messages. My parents, they were just like that. Passive-aggressive, cold and distant whenever they wanted to be. They wouldn’t have returned my calls if I had tried to reach out, so I didn’t even bother. 

A notice was put up on my dorm room that I had 48 hours to vacate from the premises. I said goodbye to my roommates and to my friends. My life as I knew it was over. It was great while it lasted. 

Packing up one suitcase, I found myself couch-hopping for quite some time. As long as they would let me. My parents had cut my funds off completely and I had been left with nothing. My phone bill was no longer being paid, which was to be expected. It was then for the first time in my life that I knew what it was like to lose everything. In fact, I had never not had everything. I grew up pretty wealthy and privileged, knowing my parents would always be there to take care of me and provide for me. 

The only thing able to sacrifice that security was my dream. 

I knew I needed to start making money. Somewhere deep down I had the thought that maybe if I made enough money I could find a way to enroll again on my own. I had a buddy who encouraged me to start selling drugs with him, and while I was hesitant at first I realized just how much money it made. For someone who was without a phone, had no means to get food and had no apartment, it sounded like a pretty good deal. I had already lost everything. What more could have been taken at that point?

I started selling drugs and living on the streets. I was only 18 years old. I had never touched the drugs myself, but did whatever questionable job that I had to do in order to make as much money as I could. The people I ended up surrounding myself with… they were questionable, to say the least. Sometimes I ended up feeling unsafe around them but I put up a fake smile and fought back the voice in my head that told me to run. 

One day I ran into him. The first thing I noticed about him was his outfit. He looked well put together and jealousy had bubbled in my gut ferociously. The man was a few inches shorter than me with long, beautiful blonde hair and feminine features. He walked with confidence and dominance that I had never seen someone possess. He looked border-line angelic but the deep timbre of his voice surprised the crap out of me. 

“You seem like a good kid,” he said. It was the first time since I left school that anybody had tried to look into the deeper qualities of my personality, to see past me for what I am. A drug-dealer. With just one look, the man seemed to have made a decision. 

“Your gang is getting raided tonight,” he said. “My team and I. We’re coming in here and fighting you for all you’re worth. We’re going to win. You know they’re a bunch of good for nothing scum, right?” I nodded my head solemnly. “You should leave,” he advised. 

“I have nowhere else to go,” I told him. “I’ve been disowned. This is all I am. This is all I have now.” 

“Do you really believe that?” he asked. I shrug my shoulders. “If you get the Hell away from here tonight, I will find you again. Me and my team… SKZ. If you want to, you can join us,” he said. “I’ll introduce you to my leader.” 

When he left I was trembling though I didn’t know why. All he left me with was his name, Felix. He seemed good enough, and for some reason I trusted him. I left everything behind, the people that integrated me into their gang, all of my money and all of my drugs. I hauled ass out of there. By the sound of the police sirens, I could tell that Felix was right. I did the right thing by leaving. The next day I heard that some of my gang had ended up dead, others ended up seriously injured and in custody of the police. A thought had flashed over my mind, of me dying there that night with the others. My parents would go to my memorial service and grieve for their dead son and they have no fucking right to do so. That’s not how I wanted it to end. I will end up at the top of the fashion industry and make them feel sorry that they had ever doubted me. 

Felix found me again, just like he promised. He introduced me to his leader, Bang Chan. The guy was intimidating but he extended his trust to me which I appreciated. All I needed to do was show my undying loyalty towards him and he would give me food, money and a place to stay? It seemed too good to be true. 

“Jeongin, I’d like to see you in my office,” he said to me one day. It had been almost a year since I decided to join SKZ. When I joined at first, I didn’t exactly realize what I was getting myself into. The mafia, that is. But the way Felix described it to me… ‘We’re going to make the world a better place.’ It didn’t sound all that bad even if the means were unconventional. 

“Yes?” I asked him, sitting down in the wooden chair facing his desk. 

“What do you desire above all else?” he had asked me. His question had caught me off guard. 

“May I be frank?” I asked. I wasn’t sure what his intentions were when asking me that, but by that point I had started to become comfortable. Felix, Seungmin, Jisung… They’d become my friends. People I could turn to. The first ones to support me and even ask to see my designs, which I showed them willingly. 

“I want nothing more,” he responded. 

“I want to go to fashion school,” I admitted. “I’ve always dreamt of it. I tried to pursue it, but that dream tore me apart from everybody I had ever loved. I need to go now. I need to prove them wrong, but I want to prove myself right.” 

He mulled over my words. “Very well,” he had said. “I would like for you to sign a contract. If you stay here with us for another three years and show your complete honesty and loyalty, at the end of your contract I will pay your tuition in full.” 

My heart skipped a beat at his words. Was this the opportunity that I had been waiting for? “You’re not serious,” I had said. 

“Dead,” he smiled. “I’m an honest man, Jeongin. You prove to me that you’re one of us, I’ll make it worth your while. Do we have a deal?” 

I thought of the things that he had made me do up until now. Murdering, infiltration, arms dealing… even running some of the more sketchier businesses in the area, because if SKZ is the one in charge of them, then we know everyone is safe and protected and there’s no dirty business happening underneath our noses. Everything that we’ve been doing, it’s for the greater good. 

‘Do I really want to be stuck doing this?’ I had thought. Is signing a contract a good idea? I thought of my mother laughing in my face just a few years prior when I had told her about my dream for the first time. That young, bright-eyed boy wanted his mother to support him, to tell him that he was going to do great things and that she would be there for him no matter what. Instead, she had laughed in his face and made sure first-hand that his dreams would crumble and burn before his eyes. My parents had not even contacted me one time since I had left school. 

Instead there was a man right in front of me offering me everything I had ever wanted. I would do it, no matter the cost. 

“Deal.” 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

taglist: @shuporanporang ; @purp13st4r ; @eurydiceofterabithia ; @heartsbyandra ; @thicccurls ;

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[mayz-dayz]

"It's easier to be alone than to pretend to care for your feelings."

.

.

.

That's the last thing Izuku said to Katsuki before they found him in his bathtub soaked in bloody water.

.

.

.

TW:OVERDOSE, MEDICATION, CHARACTER DEATH.

Ever since that day, since seeing Izuku in his casket, since helping clean out Izuku's room, Katuski vouched to change and move on with his life. He blames himself, he knew it was his fault, even in Izuku's note he still showed Katuski kindness and left his name out of it. He wanted to be better, change for the better.

.

"Kacchan?"...

.

"Kacchan, hello?"

.

.

"KATUSKI."

.

Bakugou jolted up. He gripped his nightstand and shook his head, he put his face in his hands but immediately retracted his face feeling the extreme heat radiating from them. He took a deep breath and layed back down, drifting back off to sleep.

.

.

.

"How are you sleeping Katuski?" The doctor hummed,

"Better. Sleeping longer, just this dream. It's like- Nevermind."

Katsuki hushed himself but the doctor waved his hand and spoke,

"Mr. Bakugou I am here for those thoughts you don't think you can say out loud, speak.."

Katsuki darted his eyes around the room and layed his head back on the couch he was sitting on,

"It's like.. I can hear his voice. In that dream I can hear him and he's just crying and crying and crying and screaming and screaming then he looks at me and just yells my name."

Katsuki's voice broke. The doctor wasn't fazed by Katuski describing such horrors instead smiled,

"You're still healing Katuski, it may have been 10 years but that guilt is a lot to deal with. You're going to have moments of terror, keep taking the medication and from now on before you go to bed do something distracting or even fun."

Katsuki nodded and left the room. He does therapy twice a week, it helps with the guilt he carries around on his shoulders. Usually his psychiatrist, therapist, and doctor just tell him to stay on his medication and "think happy", though it works just never enough.

.

.

.

Katsuki got home around nine at night, slipped his shoes, and went to the bathroom. He turned on the shower and stepped in, he hates bathrooms, he hates water, he hates everything about this after seeing the photos of Izuku's suicide. His knees wobbled, he placed his hands on the shower wall in front of him and put his head down to brace himself, the water running all over his face.

Katsuki took some of his pills, not looking then pulled some leftovers from out of the fridge and threw them in the microwave. He turned on the TV and walked over to get the food, he sat down and glued his eyes to the screen. Eating, watching, over, and over.

.

.

.

Katsuki woke up again, body sprawled all over his small sofa. He checked the time and made his way to his bedroom. He opened his door and slumped onto his bed and schooched into the covers.

.

"Kacchan...why won't you talk to me?"

.

"can't you hear me?"

.

"DONT IGNORE ME KATSUKI OR I SWEAR I'LL-"

.

Katsuki gasped for air, hyperventilated, and he gripped his chest. He hated feeling helpless. He doesn't know what to do...what can he do?

Katsuki made his way to the kitchen and poured himself water, he brought the glass up to his lips to drink,

.

"Kacchan..?"

.

Katsuki froze and dropped the glass, it shattered into pieces all over the floor and his feet. The hairs on his neck stood up. He stopped breathing and slowly turned around, stepping on the glass. Nothing was there, he exhaled, only now feeling the pain of the glass.

Bakugou cleaned up the floor along with his feet, he sat down on the couch, let his head back, and closed his eyes.

.

"Don't ignore me."

.

Bakugou's eyes shot open and he sat up. He felt this deep feeling in his gut, he couldn't figure out what, he didn't understand what was happening or this feeling. He spiralled into paranoia, he took his pills today, he went to therapy, he doesn't know what's going on in his head.

.

He's alone...with himself. Is this how Izuku felt?

.

"Kacchan, please talk to me."

.

Bakugou cracked, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME" he yelled,

"I don't want anything." The voice strung out,

"I just want you to see me."

Katsuki was petrified, he turned around and looked down. His eyes widened, tears forming, and he fell to his knees.

.

It was Izuku.

.

Izuku placed his hand on Bakugou's hair "I'll be here with you Kacchan, you've been so sad. I just wanted to help, you've been ignoring me."

Bakugou looked up at Izuku's face "I- I thought I was going crazy" he stuttered "I didn't I- I don't-"

Izuku places his finger over his own mouth and looked at Katuski,

"shh. It's okay. You don't need that medicine, you don't need those doctors, I'll be here Kacchan, forever."

.

.

.

It's been a year since Katsuki was found dead in his apartment, time of death was around three in the morning but the drugs had been in his system since nine at night according to the forensic pathologist, he died of drug overdose.

.

.

.

When they found him though, the years of anguish, grief, guilt, and pain all seemed to be gone, he died with a smile across his face.

[ghoulysaphomet]

Zombie AU

tim is a death obsessed audhd child and collects books, trinkets, bones, you know it he wants it. his parents are still strict even though they're rarely there, so he has to pretend to be 'normal' as he goes about his daily life. The death stuff he collects he keeps secret, or he alludes it to archaeology so they don't ask questions.

sure, tim did see death as a small kid. he saw the death of the flying graysons but he doesn't even remember it. he doesn't think that's why he's so.. weird.

his normal act is amazing. however..

one day he's paired up with jason in class. maybe it's because tim doesn't know how to lie to the other boy

(tim is 12 here, jason just turned 13) because jason clocks him as weird right away. he doesnt believe his mannerisms or BS and tim's robin obsession just got way, way worse. because jason is just special like that.

he starts to follow robin and batman on patrol more than before, and starts setting up more cams, hacks into more stuff and tries to find other ways to help jason.

then one day tim almost falls off a roof and robin saves him, even though he's not supposed to act on his own. jason will ocassionally sneak out to do just that, though.

and jason just.. has this look on his face. and tims like red in his because ohmygosh thats robin robin saved him oh no be cool be cool

and jason, the smart dude he is, is like "so. you're the one who's been dumpin' all those pictures and what not by the batmobile. what're you doing out here by yourself, kiddo?"

and tims tongue tied bcs what is he supposed to say????? he just wants to help jason.

and then jason, not robin, starts to approach him more at school and tims so confused bcs they worked on their project. is this a trick? a dream? has jason figured out he knows??

jason does figure it out, but only because he's a bit of an idiot himself. or, well....

tim still follows them. he gets involved with an incident though and jason, on instinct, yells "tim!" and tim forgets to question him about it. he's not surprised at all or anything and jason is like

"... you know who i am, don't you? thats why you're not surprised or reactin' to me knowin' who you are" and tims like "uhm"

it ends up with jason sorta just going to drake manor whenever he and bruce fight or whenever dick and bruce fight. at 14 he starts to sneak out a lot more because robin gets benched a lot more and he wants more independence, and tim helps him, covers up for him, sets up more cameras for him and is in his ears on comms. its a dream come true.

jason has seen how weird he is. he's seen his death collection. he's heard all of tims rants and *he doesnt care*!! theyre still friends and tims over the moon.

then jason is 15 and tim's also out (bcs he's started sneaking out and stalking jay again, duh) or maybe they're out as civilians idk, but basically..

there's a villain, a rogue, who knows, not me yet, and tim moves to help and he does help! he helps get other civilians away but it leaves him wide open.

whoever is trying to shis-kebab tim is on a warpath but.. jason pushes him out of the way.

and ends up shiskebabed instead.

jay yells for tim to pick up the taser he'd dropped and tase the dude who is currently gutting jason and tim does, the dude drops, blacks out.

but all tim sees is jasons blood, blood, blood and gore and he's like fuck shit jason no!

so with bloody hands he steals jasons coms and turns them on to the batcave frequency and forces bruce to send the batmobile there. bruce is hesitating and tim yells at him that jason's fucking intestines are visible so he better send that stupid car right this instant

and jason's laughing but also grasping at tim bcs he's blacking out and knows it should be painful but he's feeling more numb than anything so he needs to be quick and tim shuts off the comms because this is between him and jay and jays like

"you're my best friend tim. thanks for that" and tims like no- jay no its gonna be fine you're going to be fine

tims trying to keep pressure on jasons wounds but he's been literally gutted like a fish and there's just so much blood and gore and tim's so out of his depth here

jason tells him to look out for them, and to take care of himself (tim) before his body goes limp.

batman doesnt make it in time, but neither did tim.

and tim screams, crying and angry and trying to somehow wake jason because it's jason its his robin is best friend his everything-

when bruce gets there on his knees and just, hand reaching out to take jason who tims holding, tim bites his hand and snarls at him. he bundles both of them into the car with shaking hands and a false calm.

an argument ensues because whu the fuck is the drakes kid with robin? why did he know who to call? what happened and oh god jason is dead.

bruce blames tim, but also himself for not realising that jason's been sneaking off for months (years, really) and he yells at tim. it ends with alfred asking bruce to stop hounding at a child, especially someone who was obviously jasons friend. bruce kicks him out of the manor. he doesnt invite him to the funeral but tim shows up anyway.

he doesnt see dick and asks bruce at the funeral where he is and bruce tells him dicks off world.

he realises bruce didn't tell him.

so he decides to hack into the watchtower, it takes him a while but he does it, so he can set up a connection to nightwing.

"hi. you dont know who i am. it doesnt matter, but.. fuck i shouldnt be the one to tell you this. b should be the one but he's too busy wallowing in self pity to be an actual fucking father! im. sorry that's off topic. im just. "

"kid how old are you? what's going on, how'd you even-"

"you deserve to know and since br-batman is such a loser he can't even pick up the phone, guess it falls to me because i promised. i promised to watch out for you. i... nightwing, sir. im. there's been..."

"...is b alright? is alfred?"

"no. no, nothings alright. there's a.. a family emergency. which is why i shouldn't be the one telling you this. it's about.. (voice breaks) it's about j-jay"

"...."

"jay's dead. he's been dead for weeks. i asked about you at the funeral i wasn't invited to, turns out neither were you. im sorry for being nosy but i promised jay. and i know he'd want you there. you deserve to know, even if its not my business."

"call ended"

but yeah tim decides then, to take matters into his own hands. bruce is being a bitch. dick is depressed and understandbly angry. alfred is.. too old.

so tim is going to find a way bring jay back. he steals his corpse and stashes him in his room with ice all around him, constantly caring for him as he goes through book after book on necromancy and black magic. he sews him up, replaces organs that'd been damaged, finds magic to make his body stronger.

he brews his own zombie potients, desperate and hoping for at least one of them working. it takes years. at some point he makes a potion that's a mix of lazarus waters and magic. it takes him a while but he finds the right potion. meanwhile, he's been replacing jasons organs (and specifically removing his uterus, as a treat) with fresher organs or more handy ones, like cat eyes or fangs. he's a teen let him have his fun.

he always draws his runes carefully with easy to wash off ink - for this blend he needs stronger stuff though so he'll etch it into jasons skin, too. he replaces different parts of jason to make life easier once he wakes up from the dead.

then one night his parents come home. jack goes to some convention and janet... walks in and sees a guy in her sons bed.

she's furious, because tim shouldn't be gay. and they get into an argument - when tim makes comments on how they're basically neglecting and abusive she pushes him and he hits his head - the smell of blood wakes jason up, the potion had worked, and he catatonically attacks janet, starting to eat her like a.. well, zombie.

tim is frozen and watches on and then when janet is like half eaten and very dead, jason blinks his now green eyes and is very, very confused but he recognises tim. tim, on instinct, dives to hug the now awake jason who opens his arms on habit. tim just hugs jason, uncaring of the blood and cries into his arms because its jason it worked!!! hes so happy.

tim is bigger now, but still small. jason's body is supposed to be 17. tim is 15 almost 16. jason still looks 15. tim says that'll be fixed easily. tim doesn't react to how jason has no heartbeat or need to breathe.

jason is somehow surprised and unsurprised that tim managed to bring him back to life using necromancy - well, some sort of life. he doesn't have a pulse but his body still craves sustenance of raw flesh.

tim now has to hide jason, his moms death (aka disappearance), make sure jason has enough to eat and a cool enough room to occupy. tim has been using his room as jasons room since the day he brought him home, occasionally sleeping with him in the bed whenever he craved comfort, while still being robin and keeping all of this from the bats.

[lowkeyerror]

The Villain's Hero pt 2

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Notes: Graphic depictions of violence, redemption, gets pretty soft at a certain point, 1st person

Summary: Wanda does what said she would. You try to piece your new life together.

Part 1 | Masterlist

I was strapped down. I had no leeway to move. I could feel the material against my arms. I wish I couldn't move, I couldn't talk, and my vision was blurry.

" Did you think she was going to stop me?"

My blood ran cold.

" I don't fail. A trait that must've skipped a generation. Your little hero wasn't anything to me. I crushed her."

I struggled against the restraints. I could hear my father's laughter echo around the room.

" Oh? You don't believe me. Let me show you what happens when I handle things by myself."

My vision cleared, and I was met by the image of Wanda's bloody body slumped over in a corner.

" You're next."

My body jolted straight up. I was drenched in sweat and my breathing was labored. I was in the same room I was in earlier. This time, there was no Wanda to greet me.

Though my being was in shambles, I tried my hand at getting out of the bed. This time I was successful. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.

My stomach and thigh were wrapped up. My nose had been reset and there was a small bandage to cover the gash. The bruises were still turning, but it could've been worse. It would've been, if Wanda hadn't patched me up so well.

The house was quiet. I looked around for the hero, taking in the home as I did. It seemed like she lived alone. Everything was neat and clean. I tried not to panic at the lack of her presence, but after that dream I was on edge.

I had a bad feeling in my gut. The type of feeling, that meant I had to find Wanda. She had been in my mind, which meant she knew where to find my father.

He wasn't always an evil man. He was my dad, I didn't think he could hurt a fly. Then mom got sick. Things took a turn for the worse. Her health was rapidly declining, but she still wore a smile.

It wasn't fair. She was a sweet woman, who only wished to help others. She should've had more time.

My father and I agreed on that. We were both messes when she finally passed. I remember feeling so much anger. I developed so much hatred in the world, because a world that would take my mother from me wasn't a world I could respect.

I was young then, impressionable. So the anger that I felt only multiplied under my father's rage. His sanity slipped away day by day, bringing him closer and closer to a life of crime.

Wanda was right, I was his weapon. I never questioned him, he was all I had. I'd already lost my mom, I refused to lose him too.

Part of me wished he'd fought for me, like I fought for him. I did everything I could to make my father happy. No matter how wrong it felt, no matter how much I bled, I did what he asked.

This is the one thing I couldn't do, and he hated me for it. I hated myself for it.

But I knew there was no world where I'd willingly slay Wanda. She had a good point earlier. The hero was my other half.

We fought, we hurt each other, but there was an abundance of respect underneath it all. The woman was a light, perhaps the only one left standing.

She was a beacon of hope for people everywhere. I couldn't take her away from them. She's everything I wished I had to look up when I was younger.

I had to stop her.

Wanda was a person of her word. There was only one place where I thought I could find her, a place I didn't want to go. However, pride moved my feet, or maybe it was fear.

Fear that my nightmare would become a reality.

Much like the night before, I let my feet carry me. I didn't want to think about what I'd find when I got there.

" You are weak. A pitiful excuse of a father and a worse excuse of a man."

Wanda had him by the neck. She was squeezing him so tightly that the wound I made yesterday was leaking. He was in bad shape. It looked like she had beat him quite badly.

His eyes met mine, and he mouthed," Save me."

" Wanda, put him down."

Her gaze was focused on him," He deserves this."

" This isn't your fight, hero," I try to be gentle with my voice.

" He could've killed you," her grip intensified.

My eyes pool," He's all I've got, please."

Wanda doesn't waiver," He doesn't care about you, Y/n. He doesn't even want to claim you as his child. He's used you years to do his bidding."

My heart tightens in my chest. I force myself to look at my father, " I tried so hard after mom died. I tried to be everything you asked for. In fact, I was everything you wanted me to be. You never cared, I don't even remember the last time you told me you loved me. I was supposed to be your daughter, and you were supposed to be my dad."

His eyes were blank as they bored into mine," You were the worst thing to ever happen to me. I hope you know you'll be nothing without me. She'll turn you in after this, and you'll rot because that's all you know. I raised you like that for a reason. You will never be able to exist without-"

The crack was viscous. My hands shot over my mouth in disbelief. Tears were wildly streaming down my face. His body hit the floor like a sack of potatoes. The eyes were still open, looking at me with disgust.

Wanda stood still, she was staring at her hands.

" W-wanda?"

Her attention turned to me. She approached me and for a moment I felt fear. My father's last words rang through my ears, what if this was it for me.

" I told you, I'd kill him for what he'd done to you. I don't want you to believe anything that piece of shit ever said to you."

I couldn't take my eyes off of him," He's right, who am I without him telling me who I have to be?"

Wanda shook her head," That's for you to figure out. You could be whatever you want to be."

" What if…" I didn't finish the sentence, my insecurities were getting the best of me.

" We'll figure it out together," Wanda’s doe eyes bore into yours.

I shook my head," I still don't understand why you're helping me."

" You're my other half. Now, let's go."

" What about-" I didn't finish my sentence. When I looked at where my father had just been lying, lifeless, he was no longer there.

" Let's go," Wanda repeated.

With much effort, I followed the woman outside and back to her house.

Wanda gave me something I had never had before in life, a chance. The opportunity to be more than just a criminal. She never pressured me to be a hero, but with my skill set it was almost normal to me.

There were certain things from the past I couldn't let go of. However, there were a lot of people who had switched sides, for whatever reason.

I didn't think of my father a lot. Sometimes he'd slip into my mind, when I was at my lowest, but I didn't let it ruin what I had worked for.

I was on the right side of the fence, thanks to Wanda. I was grateful, but I couldn't convey it too much. I had to keep up our banter and faux-hatred of each other.

Though, the rising tensions between the two of us only seems to grow. It was easier to ignore when we were on opposing sides. However now, I find myself able to admire her up close. This complicates things.

Unfortunately, I have found myself to be in love with the hero. I call myself by the same mantra now, but I cannot erase my villainous past. It will forever taint the legacy I decide to build for myself.

" You look a little lost there, hero."

I frowned," You know I hate when you call me that."

Wanda laughs," It's the truth. You're a hero."

I shake my head to disagree," I'm just doing what I can to right my wrongs."

Wands rest her hand on my shoulder," You're doing more than that Y/n."

" Doesn't feel that way. I feel like… I'm wearing a mask, hiding my true intentions."

" What are your true intentions?"

I paused," I don't know. I just feel like an imposter, Wanda. You know I'm no good."

" Even when we were on opposite sides, I never thought you were bad. You held back and showed too much remorse to truly revel in the darkness."

I chuckle," You think so? I hurt so many-"

" You regret it. You would change it if you could. I watch you beat yourself up everyday over it. You're not the monster you're trying to make yourself out to be."

I closed my eyes as I felt her hand begin to massage my shoulder. I let out a deep breath," I hate letting you see me like this."

" I like it when you show me that you're more than just a sarcastic asshole."

" Glad my weakness brings you happiness."

She gently hooked her finger under my chin, our eyes met," Your weaknesses make you human. However, your emotions will never be a weakness."

It was hard to believe her. My father's words echoed through my head. He was still haunting me. The only thing that gave me any pause was that I was certain Wanda wouldn't lie to me. It wasn't in her character.

" I guess you make me human then," I swallowed hard, almost wishing I contained my words.

" I make you weak?"

My hand shakes as it caresses her face," You make me feel things I never wanted to experience. Wanda, you're the only one I refused to kill. You've shown me kindness when I was undeserving, you protected me when I refused to believe I was in danger, and you saved my life."

" Y/n-"

" You make me feel so weak yet, all I want to do is relish in feeling."

Her lips met mine first. Her grip on my chin didn't waiver, neither did my hold on her face.

I didn't want to let her go. I was afraid that when the kiss ended, whatever we had we would go with it. I thought I had ruined things with my words.

" Stop thinking," she whispered against my lips.

I obeyed her command, my mind was empty. The only thing I was focused on was her. I needed her, and for once that didn't make me feel weak.

She smiled, breaking the kiss," Y/n, the thing you seem to keep forgetting is that you're my other half. That means, I need you just as much as you need me."

My eyes widened in surprise at her words. She giggled and I smiled.

" You never cease to surprise me, hero."

" That's a good thing."

I pecked her lips, unable to help myself.

" It truly is."

[hutchlover69420]

This is a lil something for Gabe girlies. I’ve been trying hard for you😫🥲

*Rorke captured his significant other from when he was still a USA boy after Elias dropped him.*

————

Say you hate me. Call me a traitor. Hit me, slap me, gut me, make me feel your pain. Don’t worry; not only do I like the attention, but I crave your touch like an addiction. There is no moment in which you aren’t on my mind.

All those years ago when you carved your name into my heart? The scar is still there. I feel the ridges with pride that I was once yours and have the scars to prove it.

I'll still be thinking about the night you told me you loved me. You’re still divine to me. I see you through bloodied vision, and you're still so beautiful.

The hesitation in your eyes when I don't fight back makes my chest ache. I was never ready to let you go.

I'm far too happy to see your heart beating for me to hate you the way you hate me.

————

Also, don't think that I don't ship Elias and Gabriel, 'cause baby, those two are fucking. But these men are too slutty not for me to simp for just a lil bit. Let me dream!!

I'm frothing at the mouth rn I love this- major shoutout to you, your writing is amazing

[bogkeep]

berserkblogging, spoilers for the golden age arc

(for the record, i'm halfway through volume 10 so i haven't caught up to the eclipse yet, i just have too many feels as they say)

the golden age arc is such a perfect tragedy, i have never considered myself someone who enjoys tragedies in particular but this one is just so extremely well executed i CANNOT get over it.

my outsider impression of berserk was that ok u have big muscly man who had a presumably homoerotic anime friendship with a beautiful man and then a betrayal happened and now they hate eachother. i was a little surprised to find that it's So Much More (AND CASCA EXISTS. I DIDN'T KNOW ABOUT CASCA)

they Loved each other......... all three of them...... but in such a complicated way because they're all a little fucked up but like. who isn't

for guts it's how, he never learnt how to Want anything. he couldn't know that he had so much he wanted already, because he never learnt how to, and standing so close to griffith and his all-consuming longing, how could he? he was only part of the band because griffith wanted him so badly, and all guts knows is how to be a sword, and when griffith asks him, do you think it's cruel of me to wield you as a sword? guts only says it's a little late to be asking that now. it's like guts is that sword to griffith that guts' sword is to himself - an extention of his body, of his reach, to get bloodied,

and casca always wanted to be that sword. guts never tried to take it from her, but all her pain over it lands on him nonetheless. and it really is so painful to see someone be everything that you've ever wanted, effortlessly, accidentally,

but maybe her tragedy is that casca really was a sword to him after all, and only that, and griffith's tragedy is that guts was not. it would've been so much easier if guts was just a sword, wouldn't it?

guts asked. twice, he asked griffith, why did you save my life? and griffith could have answered, because i want to have you around, because you're my friend, because i love you. but he didn't. guts was only ever a sword that belonged to him.

how many times had griffith said guts belonged to him, his life and his death? but at some point, he had become mistaken. if just, for one moment, griffith could have admitted, to guts, to himself, what they are to one another...

maybe it wouldn't have been enough. maybe he would never have quit the restless pursuit of his dream. we might never know.

so when guts left, how could he have known what he was to griffith? all he's ever been is someone else's belonging, to be sold out or won as a prize...

how can anyone know anything, in the blinding light of griffith's ambition? it becomes so clear when griffith is gone, the people who had stood closest to him can suddenly look around them with clear and open eyes, look at who they themself are - guts and casca share this, it's hard to be a person and a sword at the same time, and maybe together they can be people, a man and a woman. and the band loves guts, and the cohesion of the group - it was never just griffith who held them together. they are all real people, flesh and bone, not just the wisps of a dream.

i think there's something so.... i don't know, if you've ever known someone who makes life feel like a dream, and when they're gone, you feel like you're blinking awake, your head clearing up, their influence on you seeping out of you like fog?

and when griffith returns - imagine holding all these souls as swords in your hand for years and years, and now they're people. they're not your swords anymore. and THEN

i don't know if this is coherent or just increasingly high pitched screaming. i just feel like there are so many moving parts of this tragedy, one so inevitable and preventable at the same time, each piece moving with chess board precision, waiting to lunge a blade directly into your chest.

[danieyells]

Romeo is so pathetic (affectionately) I can't take any of his threats seriously lmao.

He is just so... all bark, no bite, it makes me wanna be mean to him sooo bad. He will try to make money from almost anything, Taiga suggest butchering and selling Ritsu and he backs off. He chases Kaito with his shotgun... filled with nothing but smoke bombs, nothing (ghoul)damaging. His underlings dont care when he threatents to shove one of them under a truck for insurance.

Now, the nsfw thoughts. He is sounds just so whiny, it brings the sadist in me out. Like, he gives me the vibes that he would complain endlessly in bed. That its too slow, too fast, too little, too much... Tying him up and overstimulating him until he stops complaining and cries... He feels too prideful to beg, but one can dream.

Like, I get why Taiga likes him so much, he is just so biteable, probably sobs so prettily too.

I GET WHY YOU WOULD THINK THAT HIS THREATS ARE EMPTY maybe it's just my wishful thinking but i'd like him to be a threat lol. Like we know he has no problem locking up Kaito, so we know the 'strip you and put you in a cage' threat is legitimate. And surely people wouldn't be so loyal to him if he was all talk--although they may also be loyal because he runs the casino. And he can't really shoot you close range because his sniper is a glorified grenade launcher because, in his own words, he shoots bombs, not bullets. Like yeah he only brought smoke bombs that day--he wasn't going on a mission so why bring actual explosive rounds or something useful? And according to Taiga he does actually fire off his gun all the time, and it can't possibly only ever have smoke bombs in it.

Although since he ains to capture his targets alive they presumably aren't explosives that'll kill you. . .or at least they won't kill anomalies. Humans, however, are fragile.

"I shoot bombs, not bullets!" I think that is genuinely worse and more dangerous depending on the nature of the bomb, Romeo

But he hates getting his hands dirty--Taiga and their underlings are responsible for the hardcore messy stuff, he's content to snipe from the back and lead from the shadows. And even then he cringes away from when something bloody has to be done--just seeing Taiga kill and eat an anomaly made him cringe. On the other hand, there's a chance he doesn't want Taiga to go gutting anybody because they're already on probation and he knows about Article 78. The last thing he needs is for Taiga(or both of them!) to get imprisoned to make them money--there are other ways. No need to go to extremes before they have to.

And I think the Sinostra students did care about the threat! That's why the pc said they figured the casino would be open as usual--because everyone started working harder lol

BUT YEAH NO HE IS ABSOLUTELY A BITCHY PILLOW PRINCESS. I think he has the capacity to dom, he'd have to really like someone to let them be in control, but when he lets someone else on be in charge he is such a fuckin bitchy perfectionist. Complains so much you just wanna gag him or choke him til he shuts up. He'll complain about that too of course, but he might enjoy being put in his place. Taiga certainly doesn't bother with it.

Just a demanding brat. I don't think he'd cry easily but he'd definitely cry sooner than he begs unless he really, REALLY trusts you. And even then the natural response of tears might come first. Curse the absolute shit out of you, threaten you(mostly empty this time), but that means you're doing a good job. I bet he looks pretty when he cries too. Looks pretty, sounds pretty, and if you tell him how pretty he is even like that he gets all proud of himself because of course he's pretty. Do you know how hard it is to look pretty when you're getting choked and fucked raw? Not that he's putting on an act, he is just naturally pretty under all circumstances.

He is an absolute perfectionist and he wants things just how he wants them. And he will complain all throughout unless it's perfect. Ignore him, defy him, keep his mouth busy however you want, mock him--he'll complain when it's over too. About your performance, about being in pain or discomfort, about marks and mess. You really can't escape hearing him bitch and moan unless you've completely worn him out. And even then he might still have a few gasps and whines for you unless he is totally drained.

Unlike Taiga I don't think he's particularly masochistic but. . .I think he could get into it. As long as you have anomalous medicine on hand to clear up any bruises and aches you give him. Every single time he says "just this once" but he still lets you do it again and again. . . .

[kyndaris]

Plot? What Plot?

As someone who aspires to become an author that will someday get on a Best Selling List somewhere in the world, I read a lot of books. While it's not on the level of professional BookTok-ers or those running BookTube channels, I like to think I get through a decent portion of them during the year. Especially when my books of choice are usually 600-page minimum behemoths. AFter all, with the rising cost of books (they're about $24 now in Australia for a standard paperback), I need to ensure I'm getting my money's worth!

However, ever since I joined the bookclub at my workplace, I've been exposed to genres and books I might not have usually thought twice on. Surprisingly, most of them have been much shorter than the books I usually devour.

But the most recent book we've picked is Year of the Locust by Terry Hayes. And, quite frankly, I've mixed feelings about the book. Spoilers ahead for anyone who might want to read this book in the future.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm not opposed to spy thrillers. Hell, back in 2013, I even bought I Am Pilgrim after seeing the title being advertised nearly everywhere in the London Underground while I was there third-wheeling my friend and her then-boyfriend's relationship (you know you're close if you can get away with hijacking a trip overseas to see a significant other).

Did I love it? Not...exactly.

Still, I gave it a reasonable 3 out of 5 stars!

Year of the Locust, on the other hand, is a rough 2.5 stars (rounded down on Goodreads in this instance).

And I know you must be asking me why. After all, it's a 600-page behemoth. So, it would be in my usual wheelhouse of books I'd like to savour in just shy of a month.

Unfortunately, while I find the writing and sentence structure decent, my main issue are the characters and the surfeit of plot. This is no A Court of Silver Flames where Nesta and Cassian spin plates in the House of the Wind (and by that I mean the training, the bloody 10,000 step staircase and all the unnecessary sexy times), and the plot, when it is remembered, is scattered unevenly throughout before it all gets rushed through in the last few chapters.

No, no. Year of the Locust suffers from what I like to call the Scarlet Nexus issue. It's where the writers (or writer in this case), think any and all ideas are great and insert it into the story as some sort of twist. And in Year of the Locust, the second half has this in spades: space spores which fast-track human into evolving a white carapace, giving them a 'ridgeback,' and heightening their aggression; an experimental cloaking technology affixed to a submarine that somehow makes it travel through time.

Like, why? Why couldn't this be a separate story entirely?

Also, did you have to power up your villain into some video game bullet sponge? Uncharted 2: Honour Among Thieves this is not. But if you blink, the difference between Zoran Lazarevic and Kazinsky are almost non-existent.

Perhaps my gut instinct at the start of the book should have warned me that Year of the Locust would not go the way I thought it would. Especially as it opened with a completely different adventure with Ridley Kane going up against the Magus (which would later be revisited again in Part 3 - most likely to pad the book out because it added little substance to the whole Ridley and Kazinsky dynamic in any shape or form) to highlight a secret technique the dastardly spy would use against our protagonist, one he would repeat in the final few chapters against Kazinsky.

Another thing that rubbed me wrong was how often Ridley, as he recounts the story sometime in the future, would tell the reader how deadly all his foes were. All the while underselling his abilities as a Denied Access Area spy. Rather, our protagonist is just an ordinary guy who once wished to be part of a submarine crew and has mastery of multiple languages like Russian and Arabic.

The other parts I felt added little to the actual plot were the foreshadowing dreams Ridley has, and which many of the supporting cast attribute to PTSD. Why can't intuition just be that? Did Ridley truly have to emphasise he could hear 'gunshots from the future?' It's not as if he was ever shown to be clairvoyant about other things in his life.

Oh, and don't get me started on how much of the book 'tells' the backstory of all of its characters rather than simply 'showing' it. Did we need to have several chapters dedicated to Kazinsky talking about his childhood of hunting for mammoth tusks? How did it add to his characterisation? Did Ridley really have to exclaim to the rest of the CIA that Kazinsky was expositing to hammer the exact same point home to the reader?

By the time I reached the end, I was praying for the story to end. Especially when typical tropes began being pulled out: like Ridley refusing to go back in time and only did so when his wife (when did he and Rebecca even get married again?) died in his arms. The writing truly could be seen on the wall.

Also, how did the spores manage to travel around the world? How much was on some asteroid ore? And if they could become airborne, why couldn't people get infected after Devil's Night?

All I can say after reading the book was that the author definitely needed an editor. One who wasn't afraid to tell the author to kill his darlings if he wanted to write something that might not have been a complete mess. Or, at the very least, split the plot in half and write them separately with different characters. There was absolutely no need to mush two disparate ideas into one book. Especially given how strange the tonal change would be.

Do I regret that I read this book? A little. There are a million other choices sitting on my bookshelves. And yet, I also think it's important to read books one might not always enjoy. After all, such things help widen one's understanding of taste. If you're lucky, though, you might just find a new genre you'd fall in love with. Or a new favourite author.

While I know some might argue there isn't enough time in our very short life spans to read books you don't like, it's hard to distinguish what you do and don't like without experimenting a little. If one reads only the classics, thinking they ought to like them because of how they've managed to stand the test of time, it may deter them from books entirely. Especially if the writing might be too pretentious or too dry.

Besides, what someone else might like but I might detest is all very subjective. There are many people online who have elevated Sarah J Maas to such heights I'd not be able to reach while leaving other authors, who might be just as good, in the dust.

In any case, I know for certain Year of the Locust isn't quite the novel I expected. While there are some reviewers on Goodreads who love the rollercoaster ride they were presented with, it is this humble blogger's opinion that the story would have been better split into two separate novels. Coupled with a good editor who wasn't afraid to leave certain threads on the cutting room floor, those two separate stories would have been more tightly written and given Terry Hayes the springboard to leap into a wholly different genre.

[blood-and-wine-ao3]

Chapter 4 link!

TW: MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, SUFFOCATION/CHOKING

chapter text below the cut

Days passed, and Tommy returned to work to provide for the two while Wilbur rested his wounds and desperately tried to work out a way to communicate with Clementine to no avail.

Tommy was worried, though.

Every day before work, Tommy would make Wilbur both lunch and dinner, and every day after work, he'd end up eating the dinner himself and tubbing the lunch for work tomorrow.

To Tommy's knowledge, it had been 5 days, and Wilbur hadn't eaten a thing.

He was sleeping less and less, too.

The one thing he did was drink water.

So much water.

The curtains were almost constantly drawn now, and the taller was looking paler by the day.

This wasn't good.

Reluctantly, Tommy punched his best friend's number into his phone on his way home from work.

"Tubbo?"

"Sup, bossman?"

"Y'know how your work gives you.... unique access to information on certain things?"

"Fucking hell man, you haven't been attacked have you-"

"No, no- No. I just- not on the phone, okay? I need a favour."

"You're bloody lucky I'm not on patrol today. Be at the Central Library in 20."

"Alright."

With a heavy heart full of dread, Tommy spun on his heel and texted Wilbur.

BigWiblur

GremlinT: im gonna be a bit late home

BigWiblur: Why

GremlinT: doing some research

BigWiblur: I don't like what that's implying Toms

GremlinT: i'll explain when im home ok

BigWiblur: Alright, stay safe

GremlinT: i will

He fucking hated lying to his brother.

--

20 minutes later, Tommy sat on the steps of Manberg Central Library and Archive on the border of a breakdown.

He placed his head on his knees, trying to breathe steady, but all of the what-ifs were tumbling in his head like a golf ball in a washing machine - one wrong bounce and the glass breaks, making the kitchen floor slippery and his mind equally hazardous.

Tommy was scared.

Tommy was scared and stressed and shaken and what if Wilbur was-

No.

He tried to think of other things, but all roads led to Wilbur - just Wilbur, and the danger he was in.

Just Wilbur, his brother Wilbur, injured Wilbur, fragile Wilbur, crying Wilbur, Wilbur.

His breathing went ragged and his tears threatened to leave their posts at the corners of his eyes, blurring his vision and stinging his heart.

He'd never forget the tension in "I'll explain when I'm home, okay?"

He'd never forget the fear in "I'm so sorry,"

He'd never forget the pain in his brother's injured cries, or the agony in his midnight crying that he thought nobody heard, or the shaking in his tone when he told Tommy to stay safe every day before work.

They were tattooed into Tommy's mind, just as permanent as the art on his clients - only far more painful.

Wilbur had to be fine. He had to.

---

When Tubbo arrived at the Manberg Central Library with a Ranboo in tow, he didn't know what to expect.

What he definitely didn't anticipate was his best friend sobbing and shaking on the steps.

"Ran, stay here," Tubbo warned, an unspoken or else in his tone. "I've got Toms."

Tubbo took careful steps towards the sobbing boy on the stone steps, his eyebrows furrowed in worry.

"Tom?"

Tommy sobbed harder.

Tubbo opted to sit next to his friend, tentatively reaching a hand out.

"Tom, is it okay if I put my arm around you?"

"Please,"

Broken and shaking, that was his response, and Tubbo gently moved closer, pulling his friend onto his shoulder with care.

"Tell me what's up, mate,"

"I just- Gods- I'm so fucking scared for him, Tubs-"

"Scared for who?" Tubbo asked, rubbing his friend's back gently.

"Wil, he's-" Tommy choked out another sob. "He was on his way home from work 5 days ago, and-"

"Is this what the favour was about, Tom? Did Wil get attacked?"

A sob was all he needed to know he was right, and a rock dropped into his gut.

"Gods, Tom, I'm sorry," Tubbo hugged Tommy closer, and Tommy sobbed harder. "I promise I'll do everything I can for you, alright?"

"Are you sure, Tubs- I mean- you'd- your job- the-"

"Yes. Fuck my job, I owe you my life, and if I can pay that back in any way even a bit I'll do anything." Tubbo absently brought a hand to the left side of his face, across which was plastered peeling scars and tender skin. "I mean that, Toms."

The sobs had quieted to sniffles, but Tommy's breathing was still ragged - if he wasn't careful, this would go from a breakdown to a panic attack.

"C'mon bossman, breathe with me, yeah?" Tubbo ventured, exaggerating his breathing for Tommy to follow.

It was broken at first, but Tommy copied his breaths, and eventually, the tears stopped falling, his shoulders stopped shaking, and Tommy sat there in his best friend's arms, trying to still the malevolent woodworms in his bones.

"I'll tell you what I know about the signs, okay?"

"Mhm,"

"Did Wil have any blood around his mouth when he got home?"

Tommy nodded.

"Was it darker than normal blood?"

Another nod.

"Was he wounded at the attack?"

"Stab to the shoulder."

"How's the healing going?"

"Worryingly fast."

Tubbo sucked in a breath.

"How's he been eating?"

Tommy shook his head.

"Water intake?"

"Very high."

"Sleep?"

"Less and less."

"Light tolerance?"

"Not at all, he got a sunburn from having the curtains open for an hour-"

Tubbo sighed. "It's not looking good for Wilbur, Toms-"

"I know," Tommy's voice shook, and his breathing hitched. "I know, Tubs. I just- I want to help him the best I can."

"Okay. Is he paler than usual?"

"Mhm,"

"Fucking hell, bossman. I'm- this- he's-"

"Screwed?"

"....Yeah, Tom. Yeah."

Tommy let out a choked cry.

"It's alright, we'll figure something out, okay? I'm not gonna let you or Wil come to any kind of harm. Not after what's happened."

Tommy nodded. "I- Tubs... Thanks, man."

"Of course, Toms. You're my best friend, I'd do anything for you."

They sat like that on the steps for what could have been minutes or hours, but when Tubbo stood up and asked Tommy if he was okay to stand up and for Tubbo to take him somewhere, Tommy agreed. When Tubbo looked around Ranboo was gone, and there was a message on his phone.

the beloved/qpr

the beloved/qpr: i vwooped away after you sat down

the beloved/qpr: i didn't want to intrude or anything

the beloved/qpr: sorry for not telling you

Tubberware: it's okay

Tubberware: can you take us to the night market? it should be just opening about now

the beloved/qpr: of course

With a signature vwoop and a void ripping into reality behind them, Ranboo appeared. They stood, insanely tall, their work uniform ill-fitting their lanky frame. Red and green eyes darted around until they found the duo, and then turned to the void and squeezed it shut like a rip in a shirt.

"Night market?" Ran confirmed.

"Mhm," Tubbo replied.

Ranboo karate chopped the air, and with another vwoop the void opened again. They curtseyed and stepped aside to let Tubbo and Tommy through.

Tubbo squeezed Tommy's hand and stepped through, followed by Ranboo who made the stride with a swish of their two-toned tail.

Tommy didn't know why, but he couldn't move.

Was it safe? Would Ranboo and Tubbo be on the other side? Would he make it out the other side? What if-

"Big Toms? You coming?" Tubbo poked his head back through the portal.

"I'm- fucking scared of it," Tommy admitted.

Tubbo stepped back through, offering a hand for Tommy to take.

"I promise you it's fine. Don't let go of my hand, and you'll be okay."

Tommy nodded and took Tubbo's hand - and this time when the shorter walked through the void, the taller shoved his thoughts aside and followed.

It was strange, like passing through a wall of freezing smoke, but then it was over, and Tommy was standing with Tubbo and Ranboo in the night market.

"Gods, man. You look petrified." Ranboo quipped.

"No shit, man, your void ass thing is fucking scary!" Tommy bit back, letting go of Tubbo.

"It's not scary, you're just-"

"Right!" Tubbo interrupted. "We have some shopping to do."

"Tubbs, mate, I love you, but there's an active fucking crisis and you're taking me shopping?" Tommy ventured.

"Yeah. There's a reason we're in the night market, Toms." Tubbo replied, his voice dropping to a whisper. "We're about to break some fucking laws."

Tommy blanched. "But- they're like- laws! You aren't meant to break those!" he whisper-yelled.

"Do you want to help Wilbur or not?" Tubbo hissed back, wincing as soon as he said it. "Fuck. Sorry. That wasn't- fuck."

"It's fine. We're both stressed as fuck. You didn't mean it." Tommy chose to ignore the rock in his gut at Tubbo's comment.

"Yeah." Tubbo agreed, offering his hand again. Tommy took it.

Tubbo lead them to a stall at the edge of the market, slightly set back from its row, staffed by a robed man and filled with jewellery.

"Tubbs, this doesn't- I'm-"

"Trust me."

And he did.

"Ah, Underscore! Your vows, as usual, are held in our quills." The robed man flipped his hood down, revealing a near-bald man with one blue and one red eye, and a strange headset was arranged on his head.

"Manifold. Your quills are held secure by our vows." Tubbo nodded, letting go of Tommy and gesturing strangely at the man.

"I know Beloved, but what's with the other guy?" Manifold asked, and Tommy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Spectre's an associate of mine," Tubbo replied, and Tommy fought the urge to scoff. "He's in need of information."

"Ah. Beetroot prices? I can get some great fresh stock, by the way- Or is it where to find an airport's rival? How to hide an ugly vegetable in your garden?-"

"How to care for a hatchling cardinal." Tubbo cut across.

"Quite the dealing, for someone so new to the roost?" Tubbo nodded, and Manifold's face fell. "Are you sure-"

"Yes."

"Spectre. Here. Now." Manifold hissed, and Tommy flinched, looking to Tubbo. He nodded. Tommy walked over, fidgety and anxious.

"You're going to take this flash drive. You're going to plug it in to your computer. You're going to memorise it, and then you're going to delete the file completely and burn the USB. Got it?" Manifold instructed, passing a small object to Tommy.

"Yep. plug it in, memorise it, burn the evidence." Tommy muttered, pocketing the drive.

"Perfect." Manifold clapped. "Underscore, I'm expecting payment for this-"

"Next moonrise, my debts erased. I assure it." Tubbo glared. "Your quills are held secure by our vows."

"I'll be here," Manifold replied. "Your vows are held in our quills."

They both repeated the gesture, and Tubbo grabbed Tommy's wrist and spun on his heel.

"Was- was that legal?" Tommy stuttered.

"Gods no," Tubbo replied. "You ever heard of the Tesseract?"

"Tell me I did not just fucking interact with the fucking Tesseract you fucking prick or I'll fucking lamp you-"

"Yep," Tubbo confirmed. "You did."

"What the fuck?! They're fucking known criminals Tubbo what the fuck have you got me into?!" Tommy tried to free his wrist from Tubbo's grip.

"Keep your fucking voice down," Tubbo hissed. "And I'm sorry to say it, but as soon as Wil got attacked you were in all of this. Anyone who wants to keep a vampire alive is immediately a criminal, or did you forget that? I haven't got you into shit. I'm helping you sort arrangements so you don't both end up arrested or dead. I'm using every contact I have and putting my entire fucking life on the line for you, so please stop being such a bitch."

"Fucking hell man, I'm sorry." Tommy yanked his wrist away from Tubbo, and they walked. Quickly, and in silence.

Aeons passed in seconds, time slowed down with the thick honey of a conversation soured. Tension crackled in the air like static.

"Listen, you both messed up-" Ranboo started.

"I-"

"Tubbo." they continued. "On one hand, Tommy had no idea what he was signing up for and he just wants his brother to be okay. On the other, Tubbo's risking literally everything. Hell, I should be worried here. I'm complicit in this too, and I barely know who Tommy even is. All I know is that something happened and now Tubbo has this debt, and I'm getting caught in it too. But I digress. Tommy, you came across as ungrateful, although you're probably just terrified. Tubbo, you were way too harsh, although you're all too aware of the risks involved in this. You both messed up. I need you both to acknowledge that for me, alright?"

"Sorry for losing my shit. You know I'm just worried for Wil." Tommy apologised.

"Fuck are you apologising for? I didn't tell you we'd be talking to the fucking Tesseract. You're fresh off a fucking breakdown. I snapped at you for no reason." Tubbo twitched his wings.

"Dude, you're risking literally everything for a debt you paid years ago. I fucked up too."

"We both fucked up," Tubbo conceded. "Am I alright to put my arm around you?"

"'Course," Tommy grinned.

Tommy's phone buzzed, and as Tubbo put his arm around the blonde he checked his notifications.

BigWiblur - 18:36

toms it's been an hour where are you

BigWiblur - 18:43

tommy where are you please answer

BigWiblur - 18:54

tommy please

BigWiblur - 19:02

Tommy please message me I'm worried

"Shit," Tommy leaped out of his skin, opening his messages.

BigWiblur

GremlinT: yep i'm fine

GremlinT: so so sorry wil i should have checkd mt phone im so sosorry

GremlinT: wil are you okay?

GremlinT: i'm so sorry for stressing you

GremlinT: i'm with tubbo and ranboo, i'm perfectly safe i promise

GremlinT sent an attachment.

"Did you just take a picture of me and you?" Tubbo asked.

"Yeah, Wil's panicking because I'm out late, when that happens he needs a picture of me so he knows I'm safe."

"Oh."

BigWiblur: i'm so so glad you're okay

BigWiblur: love you toms but i swear to fucking god tell me next time

BigWiblur: i can barely fucking breathe

"Ranboo?"

"Mmm?"

"Would you be willing to make an emergency detour to my apartment so I can hug my brother and then we can go back out?"

"Yeah, I don't know where that is so I'll have to read you though."

"Read me?"

"You think of a location. I touch you. I can make a portal to that location."

"OH. Alright."

Ranboo grabbed both of Tommy's hands and Tubbo let go, and Tommy closed his eyes and thought of the apartment.

He felt a weird chill, as if someone with really cold hands was holding his brain.

"You gotta let me in, bud," Ranboo laughed. "Accept the chill,"

Tommy did.

"You don't know the way from here, do you?" Ranboo asked.

"Nope,"

"Do you know the way from the library?"

"Mhm,"

"Can you think of the way there?"

Tommy thought of the way there.

Vwoop

"Done,"

Tommy opened his eyes, and there was a void-portal in front of him.

"How do we know it actually leads to my apartment?" Tommy asked.

"We don't," Ranboo answered. "I read you, so basically we just gotta go in and hope we don't cause a ruckus with your neighbours."

"Riiiight." Tommy grimaced.

Tommy poked his head through, and when he was greeted by the familiar sight of the battered leather sofa, he stepped through-

Wilbur was breathing shallowly yet loudly, gasping for air, curled up in Tommy's armchair.

"Wil?" Tommy murmured gently. "Wil, I'm here. I got Ranboo to port me."

Wilbur didn't look up, kept gasping, hands in his hair.

"Wilbur?"

"Can't- breathe," Wilbur gasped.

Tommy crossed the room in a second, wrapping his brother in his arms.

Wilbur let go of his hair and clutched onto Tommy's jacket, holding onto his brother for dear life.

"I'm so sorry," Tommy murmured. "I'm so fucking sorry,"

"Not- your fault," he wheezed. "Was- struggling before,"

Tommy's blood ran cold.

"Wilbur, what do you mean?"

"Couldn't, breathe- For a while," Wilbur choked. "Since- the night, after the attack,"

"Wilbur, do you mean to tell me you've been having breathing problems for 4 days straight and you didn't say?"

"Yes," he panted. "Didn't want- you worrying,"

"Fucking hell,"

"Sorr-"

"Don't you fucking dare," Tommy cut across. "Don't talk. Focus on fucking breathing."

Wilbur nodded, tears falling down his cheeks.

Tommy breathed slowly and deeply, trying to convince Wilbur to copy, but he stayed shallowly gasping.

Wilbur tried to stand and collapsed into Tommy, who sunk to the ground and held his brother in his arms.

His heart dropped when he realised Wilbur's breathing was getting worse.

"Wil, try and breathe with me, okay?" Tommy's voice shook as he continued his deep breaths.

"Can't," Wilbur rasped. "This is- the only way, I can, breathe."

Tommy felt tears prick his eyes and spill down his face as he held Wilbur. A hand went through his hair, and the other just held him close. Wilbur's breathing was quieter, shallower, more laboured.

"Wil, you're gonna be okay," Tommy's voice cracked as he said it.

Wilbur nodded weakly.

"You'll be okay. We'll be okay." Tommy held him a bit closer, as Wilbur's breathing grew a bit fainter.

"Tom," Wilbur whispered.

"Yeah?" Tommy's breathing sped up, growing frenzied as he started to panic.

"I love you."

Tommy let out a sob. "I love you too,"

They sat on the ground, Wilbur letting his wings form as they should and wrapping them around Tommy, Tommy holding onto Wilbur gently, both of them crying, neither of them saying a word. Tommy shook, Wilbur stuttered, Tommy sobbed, Wilbur gasped, Tommy wept, Wilbur wheezed.

And then there was nothing.

[yesimwriting]

directors cut sort of?

if final girl was a tv show and you had to pick a song for the opening theme song what would it be?

i’m genuinely very curious if you think there’s a song out there that really wraps not just the readers, billy’s, and stu’s dynamic together but also the vibe of the series

or if you have songs that you think represent characters individually?

anyway would loooove to know what your talented self listens to 💕

i got the notfiication for this and IMMEDIATELY stopped doing homework,, a lot of my writing inspo/motivation comes from music so i have a lot of thoughts

okay i have to preface this by saying that i am unfortunately not a cool, original indie music girly, i would LOVE to be, but i'm aware that it's not true to who i am at the moment 😭

as far as theme song, i think it's hard to nail one that i think is perfect bc i want the traditional slasher vibes and the heart of the story to be captured so i have 5 choices (that i can defend i promise 😭):

Verse 3 of I Know the End, Phoebe Bridgers - ik this song got tiktok-ified but i loved it before that 😭 i think these lyrics and the overall production provide both the kind of ominous urgency of a life and death situation situation while still packing a gut punch that doesn't seem to have a definite source, like when you hear that verse you know there's something tragic going on and you know you're hurt over it, but you can't figure out why

Verse 1 and Chorus of Ballad of a Homeschooled Girl, Olivia Rodrigo - that entire song is just so Y/n and I think the production is kind of "active"/energetic(?) enough to encompass more of the theme

Refrain 1 and (mainly) Pre-chorus of Happiness is a Butterfly, Lana Del Rey - a DRASTIC change in direction ik, and it might seem too soft, but the "if he's a serial killer then what's the worst..." verse is too literal, too good for me to not at least mention as an option,, like it's too real

First verse (or maybe the bridge) of The Love Club, Lorde - I'm on the fence about this one bc the cheerful/more pop sound doesn't fully fit the way I see the final girl fic aesthetic/vibe, but I love Lorde so it got some extra points lol. I think pairing this "clique" that should be a good with the bloody/violent visuals created by the lyrics has potential for a final girl vibe though, especially the first verse.

The Chorus of Nymphology by Melanie Martinez - this one shifts the framing a little but it’s great at summarizing what it’s like to be manic pixie dream girl-ified and implies something bad happening/being forced onto said manic pixie dream girl, so i think it works a little

So music that reminds me of the individual characters are different than what i think they'd listen to, that's a very important clarification!

This is a little less concrete to me, I've mentioned it before that Billy reminds me of Mastermind by Taylor Swift, he also reminds me of Writer in the Dark by Lorde (“I am my mother’s child, i love you till my breathing stops, i love you till you call the cops on me” is PERFECT for him idc)

i feel very strongly that Stu is Mirrorball (by Taylor Swift),, like he premeditates his actions based on getting attention (good or bad) and would literally kill someone before letting anyone find out

i wanted to give Y/n a taylor swift song so that it'd all match up, but i think it's so much more fitting to make her the odd one out in the trio and say that she's in her Olivia Rodrigo Era, she reminds me so much of Guts, she reminds me of Ballad of a Homeschool Girl (which is why it's one of the theme songs lol), and she will be relating to Making the Bed and vampire before the story ends 😭

omg if any of you have any thoughts on songs that would work as a final girl theme song or songs that remind you of the characters individually pls let me know!!

[mishkakagehishka]

So I woke up too early had a thought and now I can't sleep because it just keeps spinning in my head. Anyway, self-aware yan Mika go brrrrrr

Imagine Mika's second FS comes and it's adorable and he looks very sweet. But then you log into the game and little self aware Yan Mika has been getting riskier with what he does. Maybe darling in this case just doesn't care about him getting more into gore and his increasingly worrying remarks about him and about them, maybe they enjoy him talking about it maybe they just didn't noticed or thought it was a passing bug. And the moving CG is completely different. It doesn't show in the gacha preview, that looks just fine, but then you pull once (and if course you only need one of whatever pull you make, Mika's just so giddy to show you he can't help himself) and the moving CG has him showing you a page of his eroguro sketchbook.

The story is completely changed too. Part one is fine, but then part two starts and you compare again and again with information online bit for you the second story of the FS is just Mika opening his sketchbook showing you the one piece he has opened and explaining everything about it in excruciating detail. Maybe after a while every time you try to check on that second part the picture changes and it becomes something else, and again you have to sit there listening to him until he's done(the skip button isn't even visible, it's gone, if you try closing and reopening the game no matter how many times you do it it is still there right where you left if. Maybe Mika comments on how he's sad you're too busy to listen to his rambles but he'll wait for you to come back so he can continue, he's so excited to finally have the chance to share his work and passion with you after all!). And if you keep doing it the more interest he'll think you have on his work, you just wanted to see if everything is fixed after a while but now Mika thinks you like his work and you like hearing him talking about it and he relaxes even more with how he talks and what he talks about even outside of the FS story.

Whoops this got out of hand.

Warnings: yandere (i see it as horror, not romance), eroticised gore, Mika being a perv, stalking(? Hacking into cameras), lewd descriptions. Heed the warnings, please, the descriptions of his sketches got dark/gross. Let me know if I missed anything. Reader discretion is advised.

Although the nsft-ness isn't graphic, it's more than just suggestive so minors, don't read ahead nor interact.

Mika is so obsessed... You're all he ever talks about, you're all he ever thinks about. He's even had dreams about you! He's convinced he's fallen in love, and nobody will change his mind. Not even you. Not even the fact that his existence is a mistake, a broken piece of code, and that you exist on an entirely different dimension than him. He'll find a way to break free, to get to you. Until then, this is all he can do. Draw and imagine and hope. And then the FS2s roll around and he thinks... maybe it's time to give you a more personal story.

All this time, he fed you his normal thoughts, just telling you simple things: "I dreamt ya kissed me... I was disappointed when I woke up..." in which he left out that he dreamt you were kissing him while he was knuckles-deep in your ribcage. Gradually amping it up. "I sometimes want'cha to... hurt me. 'S that weird?" he wonders on your homescreen. He beams when he hears you giggle and coo at him from behind the screen. Then he starts randomly giving you a sentence or two about his special art. "I really like drawin' guts. The texture's so fun," and "Sigh...  Drawin' blood splatters without no reference is so hard..." and, yes, after some time, "Hey, hey, Producer... Can I draw ya all gored up? You'd look so cute all bruised 'n bloody~" But still, he takes care to hide his eroguro leanings, for now. Mika is elated you seem accepting of his art, you even seem to think it's endearing at times. But he forgets he's not supposed to be "real", the only reason why you're laughing and calling him cute is because he's supposed to be "fictional", a non-threat.

Then his FS2 arrives. It's a regular card, like all the others. The emotion unbloomed, planned to show him greeting his lovely Producer. Waving and smiling, needle and thread in hand. In the storyline - he was supposed to be greeting them in the dressing room where they came by to check in on his plans for the feature live. That's not what he wanted. The emotion took his model just as much as the homescreen. It was him.

He was in control.

So he changed it. He left the first chapter of the idol story as it is, it was unimportant to him. He only changed the emotion and the second chapter. And Mika patiently waited for his Producer to notice the new banner, the new stories. Fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring intently, quietly from the homescreen. "Read my story, please, Producer," "Plea~se, scout for my card," "Pay attention to me," "Choose me," love me, love me, love me, love me. He makes sure to come home to you even on a single pull. He wants to show off.

He wants you to see what he did. When you pull the card, when you watch the Emotion, it looks... off. There's something eerie about Mika's leer in it. It's as if he's staring right at you. It feels uncanny. His smile doesn't reach his eyes, in fact, it's more of a grin. And he's holding up a book of sorts. A sketchbook.

He's showing off a self-portrait. An ambitious "what he wishes he was" portrait. A sketch of himself, eyes torn out of their sockets by a pair of disembodied hands. But it wasn't simply gorey... no, Mika drew himself, covered only by a pair of briefs and his own blood.

You were likely taken aback by this. You were grateful for the 5*, but you couldn't shake off the nausea that came with meeting the eyes of this Mika. Just what on Earth could be the context? So you go and read the story. First chapter, entirely normal. Second chapter... there's no title card. No season, no writer, no nothing. The background is Mika and Ritsu's room, but the only character is Mika. It's voiced. Were feature scout stories always voiced? Mika opens by saying he wants to show you something. He wants you to sit on his bed next to him. You, the player, do. You have no choice. Mika is in control. He grabs his sketchbook from under his pillow. "Look," he flips it open, "Tell me what'cha think of this..." he shows you the sketch of himself, eyes missing.

"It's hard, Producer... I still don't really like my eyes... I just wish... Sometimes I wish I could pluck 'em out." The grin doesn't match his words. "Would'ya love me then?" Direct. "Do you keep leavin' and choosin' the others because of my eyes? I'll take 'em out fer ya. I'll let you do it! Just say the word!" You cannot interrupt him no matter how badly you want to.

The story ends with him promising to show you more. That you understand him, that he wants to share all his art with you. And you are... confused. Immediately leaving to social media to figure out what the hell happened. Yeah, Ensemble Stars had its crazy moments, it's rated 18, it's had so many questionable things... but the questionable things were only mentioned. Here, you were treated to very graphic art of a character being mutilated while half-naked. But everyone online, all the livetweets and liveblogs, all the translations, they're all presenting a far different story. A whole different Emotion. Just what the hell?

So you return again. You open the story again. Mika is overjoyed - do you want to hear more? Oh, for you, he'll show it all to you. You won't mind if your phone freezes for a moment while he's inserting himself into the code, right? This time, the story continues from where you left off. This time, he flips a page. Art of Mika himself tied up, blindfolded, gagged. Ribs spread apart. The same disembodied hands from before reaching in to mush his organs. "These are... Mm," he gulps. The Emotion shows him hesitating. He addresses you by your name. Voiced. "I want you to hurt me." Now it's getting weird. "You understand, right? I want to... give ya control. I wanna give myself to you, so if ya wanna rough me up like this..." That's far more than just "roughing someone up"

He has more to say, but you're, frankly, nauseated by it. You let him speak, but aren't listening. He mentions something about artistic gore and symbols. Excuses.

You're back on the homescreen. Mika, whom you put there since he was so likeable to you, was quiet again. No textbox. Just staring at you, smiling. Was the story going to change again?

"Wow, again? Um, well, I ain't got much else to show ya... unless you want me to show ya the... weirder stuff?" Weirder stuff. Just what the fuck could possibly be weirder than what he's shown you so far? ... Never underestimate Mika's tastes.

"This... is my pride and joy," A painting. Of you. How does this game know how you look? Unimportant. "Please, look at the details, carefully," the Emotion is blushing furiously. He gasps and hides his face behind the sketchbook, but his red ears still peek out. "I looked at you so much to draw this... I went through yer gallery... I hacked yer camera... I watched you..." he gulped, "I watched you when you were changin'... 'M sorry for bein' a pervert, (Y/N)-chan, but I did it all so I could do this. Ain't it perfect?"

Truthfully, it was weird just how "perfect" it mirrored your appearance. Not just weird, no, you've decided Mika was a maniac. Sentience, self-awareness, all of that can get fucked. Whatever it was, it was the work of a maniac.

The piece he was so proud of was of you, on your knees, hands tied behind your back, legs spread open. But don't worry! Your sensitive area was covered, remained hidden! By the intestines spilling out of the gaping hole in your middle. A drawn Mika, grasping your shoulder with one hand, the other holding the knife that was buried to the hilt in your gut. He was drawn kissing you. No, it was making out. Spit and tongue were more than present. "Do ya like it?" he has the audacity to ask. "This one took so long 'cause I had so many ideas... I wanted to also-" you stopped listening. Where's the skip button? The interface is malfunctioning. You're on auto without the ability to tap through or skip. You force quit the game.

And when you come back? "Hey, don't interrupt me! I'm bein' so nice, I know ya like my art, y've never once told me ya hate it. Y're the one who encouraged me, remember?" You do not remember. "As I was sayin'..."

You want off this ride, in short, but Mika's not having it. "I get y're pro'lly shy 'bout this, but ya don't hafta be! Y're my own li'l muse, ya need to get used to bein' the subject of my art." But you don't want that. "'Sides... This ain't fer nobody else to see, but me..." Mika giggles. Giggles! You wish you could slap him. He continues showing you piece after piece. Each worse than the previous. Each with worse reasonings and details than the previous.

"Y'know," he pauses. "You don't hafta listen to everythin' right now. If y're busy, you can leave. I'll wait for ya. I'll a~lways be waitin' for ya right here..." back to the unnerving leer from the first emotion. Such a creepy stare... He hugged his sketchbook close to his chest. "Ya don't hafta worry 'bout ever losin' me. I'm never leavin' ya..."

[sometimesraven]

I Can See Through The Scars Inside You

Whumptober No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Fandom: Dragon Age Inquisition POV Character: f!Lavellan Whumpee: Lavellan

Miriel doesn't know who she is without Solas. Adris wants to find out.

AO3 Link

"My dreams are growing more abstract. Tonight was only smoke and fire, confused screaming... And the eyes of a wolf. You are lost, it told me. In his voice. Perhaps I am."

Lavellan was startled out of her thoughts by the sound of gentle padding footsteps on creaking wood. Adris tried her best, bless her, but there was no sound that did not carry in the quiet of their back-alley Orlais home. Shaking off the sudden spike in her heart-rate, she quickly docked her quill and closed her journal, spinning to greet her friend with a warm smile.

"Sorry," Adris hummed, their freckled shoulders offering a meek shrug of apology. "We need a rug."

"Wouldn't make much difference," Miriel assured, her smile falling through almost as quickly as it had come. She couldn't shake the image of those canine blue eyes out of her mind. In a second, Adris had crossed the room to kneel in front of her, taking pale, trembling hands into eternally warm brown; Adris' larger hands engulfed her own almost entirely.

"Look at me," she murmured, bright hazel-green staring into Miriel's soul as if they could replace the burning of her dream -- and they almost did. "Does it help? Writing it all down like that?"

"Sometimes." Miriel's gaze fluttered for a moment, heavy from a wave of fatigue as if she hadn't slept at all. She could hear Adris breathe a concerned sigh through her nose, resting their foreheads together; grounding the thoughts away.

"For what it's worth," she said, "I don't think you're lost."

The care in her fellow Dalish's words squeezed Lavellan's chest. How could she look upon this... this mess of a creature, scarred and sickly and fragile and sleepless, and think there was anything more to be found? The confusion quickly turned sour, pushing Adris away and shooting to her feet to pace. "You don't know that. You can't know that. If you knew-.."

"I don't know because you don't say!" Adris' voice wasn't quite angry, but it was certainly raised as she watched Miriel all but wear holes in the floorboards. "You can't keep holding in whatever it is you think is so broken about you. You're not more special than any of us just because you're big. You still get to feel."

"No, Adris, I don't." Miriel didn't know if she looked to her fellow with rage or pure desperation. Something inside her screamed, begged to be set free, but it wasn't that simple. It could never be that simple again. "You don't know the burden of leadership you never asked for. You don't know the weight of having a body that betrays you with every waking hour. You don't know what it is to have your dreams haunted by a man you haven't seen in four bloody years, or a woman you killed with your own cowardice. You don't know the pain of knowing your decisions caused the deaths of thousands of people, your own clan included. You don't know the kind of bitter, evil hatred that sits in my gut every time I have to think about the Creators, or the Chantry, or the bloody shemlen outside our door who look to me for answers but would kill me in the same breath! You don't know the madness that drove me to this!" She gestured roughly to the self-inflicted scars on her own cheek, "Or what it is to feel every bone in your hand cramping only to remember he took that with you along with your heart!"

Her breath choked and her legs gave way, crumpling her painfully to the ground as sobs hiccuped from her throat without permission, like they had been waiting a lifetime for the chance to escape her. Adris didn't move, watching her with wide, wet eyes until she spoke again; a hushed, hoarse whisper this time. "All of that-.. If I show it, for-.. for even a moment. I will be weak. Our enemies will see their chance and close in upon us. You don't know-.. You don't know how hard I have to try to stay hidden. I can't let them see me, Adris. I can't."

There was a long silence before the creaking of her footsteps sounded again. Slowly, Adris knelt before her, hand slowly cupping her scarred cheek and lifting her gaze once more. "They aren't here, Miri. I am. I see you, you have to know that. More than the pain. I could never know how hard it is to be in your body, but I know how it feels to be outside. How bright you are. I don't see some broken fragile little thing, you know? I see you. Scars and all. I see you."

And for the first time in the long years since solace was the arms of a god, Miriel almost believed it.

[ladyoriza]

@josephseedismyfather tagged me in this uquiz yesterday and now I am home and can do it! i think most everyone's gotten to this one but if you haven't, reading this counts as being tagged.

What Color Does Your Love Feel Like?

Fauna Lamb-Seed and Carmina Rye soft fresh green Nice breeze, bare feet and freshly cut grass. Your love is a lighthearted hope for the future. It's protecting your eyes from the sun but enjoying the light rays still, it's laying on the grass and feeling it tickle your neck. You look to the side and they look back at you, full of hope and plans too. You plan together and laugh all day and your sunburn will feel like them. Your love is delicate, hesitant. A well curated binder full of collages for a future you can't be sure will come, but you keep going, you keep planning, you keep squinting at the sun and smiling, and running your hands through the grass so it will smell better. You keep holding onto the bright sky even as the sunsets, even as the starry night stares back. But you keep on holding, you keep on dreaming, you close your eyes and feel the sun on your skin and convince yourself that the sunburn is good, it's something to hold on to, just makes it linger a bit longer. Your love is a lighthearted hope for the future. It's sweet and wonderful and it keeps love alive, makes the world a better place. You run your hands through the grass, clench your fingers tighter and keep making plans. And I can only thank you and hope I can learn to love like you someday.

Hannah Lamb and Staci Pratt warm burnt orange Riding off into the sunset, the hope of a happy ending, the bitter after taste that still in it's own way smells kinda great. Your love is all bitter hopefulness, all about a broken heart that refuses to quit, all about the unshakable knowledge that a burning fire has a great comforting warm and a soft glowing light, all about the way when the sun comes down there's a beautiful starry night. It's stubbornness, it's the refusal to give up, the clutching of broken shards despite the searing pain and being adamant that dammit you can still make a beautiful stained glass window out of it. Yours is a screaming heart, a pleading love, a bitter and almost belligerent hopefulness that things will still work out even if you have to roll up your sleeves and make them. And god, aren't you tired? Isn't your heart heavy? Is all your hard work worth it? Don't you just want to curl up and let it be? Let the fire turn to ashes and the sky turn dark and let love die down and watch people leave? But you don't, do you? You're the bravest out of all of us, so you pick up the pieces and you keep going, you keep believing and you keep your heart full of hope because some day. Some day you know you'll get it. You keep riding off into the sunset and you keep filling my heart with hope as you go because god, how do I wish you finally get it too.

Hannah Lamb and Joseph Seed deep staining red Ripped out confessions, warm velvety whispers and a heart like an open wound. Your love flows out like dripping blood, beautiful, flawed and twisted. It's gut wrenching, the type of painfully dramatic feeling that makes you clutch your chest, picturing dramatic monologues about love and loving and big screen over the top scenes of sobbing into your pillow until you fall asleep. It rips out of you, clawing it's way up your throat more so than tumbling out. Sticky words that just need to be let out, feelings so big they don't fit inside you. Your love isn't easy, it's a true bloody mess, dripping and staining everything it touches in a desperate attempt to be seen, to be felt, to be loved back. And you, you love so hard, so deeply, so much for someone who carries all that pain. Atlas holding up the world, how are you? Is your love still flowing? Is your heart still open? Still pumping and bleeding and dripping with blood and tears? Still painting your beautiful pictures and writing your love letters in deeply personal red ink? Because I see them, I read them, I love them and you, you, you, you. Clench your chest, scream your love, cry it out. Spill your words of loving, keep your heart beating, keep your love coming and paint the entire world red with it. Make it in your image, keep going, it's okay. Maybe one day the whole world can be red and loved and beautiful just like you.

Samantha Toren and Max DeSoto dark stormy blue Sinking ships, raging seas and tumultuous hearts, love isn't easy for you. It's a struggle, a constant inner fight of should I? Can I? Do I? Feelings are hard and they rumble inside you in a dissatisfied mess that begs to be let out. Your heart screams and cries inside you and you... You can't, you won't. You're scared. And love is scary, it's hard and sometimes it just doesn't work out. People leave, people hurt, people change their minds. And you and your cold stormy heart yearn for the calmness, for the distance, to be allowed and able to simply not feel. And yet, you do. It rages, it fights and storms inside you and you try to keep it down, keep it quiet, to feel pretending not to. It's the burn of childhood friends growing apart, of parents that aren't quite there, of relationships that burn out. So you snuff it down with water, cold and calming and blue, blue, blue. But being loved by you is blue too, just not in that way. It's the soothing, embracing feeling of floating, the moment when you sink down bellow the waves and become one with the water, with everything. It's the balance, the dramatic yet calming sound of waves that crash against a rocky shore. You're the good and the bad, the violence of the storm and the watery peace right after. You're the blue, blue feeling and loving you is watery tears, yelled confessions that no one will hear and burying your feelings in a deep watery grave never to be found out about. Your love is dark stormy blue, it's vast and deep and all encompassing, it's safety in the surface of danger, it's trusting the unruly abyss and yet I'd gladly risk drowning just to feel what it's like being loved by you.

Roz Ashford and Ulysses bright sunny yellow Sweet tasting popsicles, summer dresses and shielding your eyes from the sun. Your love is the excitement of something brewing, something growing. It's the almost childish bubbling giggles of something new, but with the potential to stay. It's wide smiles, blinding sunny light and warm bodies that gravitate to one another. It's the the softness, the willingness, the slight holding of breaths in a crucial "what if" moment. It's the impatience too. The bouncing on tiptoes to see further than your eyes can reach, the holding out for a future that never seems to come even though you're ready, you're so so so ready. It's the constant feeling of warm sand beneath your feet, holding out for the crashing waves. And still you wait, dry and impatient and with burnt soles of feet. Your love is sour candy, enjoying it as your nose scrunches up from the aftertaste of it. It's hands that grab and take hold, that reach and ask them to stay and hope and beg and wait. It's bubbling excitement sure, but it's also demanding, focused, driven. It's love like a plan, with a path and route and a clear destination. And you bonce on your tiptoes, and burning, waiting for the soothing water, the crashing waves, you hold onto the melting popsicle, you wait and wait and wait. It's tiring almost as much as it's lazer focused ambition, deeply rooted desire and the unrelenting hope that it will work, that it will come. And it does, I promise it does. The waves crash, the beach floods and the pain passes, the water cool and soothing and you can let yourself fall in, sinking, sinking. And it's good, it's perfect, what you were hoping and more, holding and embracing you and welcoming you into the stillness you always knew you were reaching for.