#if I ever implied I'd stop thinking about him I lied

[kenobion]

Andrew Garfield with The Hollywood Reporter Q&A

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Nervous

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: eh none actually

Genre: fluff

Summary: You need a date to convince your mom to stop meddling in your love life; "You've got me nervous to speak // So I just won't say anything at all" - Nervous by The Neighbourhood

***

"Yes mom I'll be there, of course I will." You roll your eyes as your mother talks your ear off. You love her, obviously but man sometimes it's like she only talks to hear herself, and now she's insisting you come to some party she's having.

"Good! I have a gentleman I'd love you to meet. He's my friend Theresa's son. He's so sweet. You'll get along great I think-"

"Mom if you're trying to set me up with this guy you're wasting your time." You cut her off.

"Wasting my time? Come now y/n do you have any plans to settle down ever? It's almost like you want to be single for the rest of your life."

"That's not what it is momma." You sigh.

"Well if that's not it then why wouldn't you want to meet him? He's a wonderful man."

"I'm sure he is mom but I'm very content with the state of my dating life, I don't need your help." You say.

"The state of your dating life? You have a dating life? Wait wait do you have a boyfriend?! Y/n you have to bring him on Saturday! I have to meet the man who finally managed to get your attention!"

"Mom I didn't say-" you pause and sigh. "If I bring my boyfriend to your party will you stop trying to set me up with people?" You ask her.

"As long as he's up to par I see no reason to ruin a happy relationship." She says.

"Fine. I'll bring- him on Saturday. Be nice."

"Of course, of course. I'll see you then darling." Your mom hangs up then and you breathe out.

"What on earth am I gonna do now?" You run a hand down your face and dial your friend.

"Y/n!" Natasha says excitedly.

"Hey Nat!"

"You're still coming, right? Wanda is totally psyched about movie night."

"Of course! I'm actually calling to let you know I'm on my way now. I'd have been over sooner but my mom called me and you know she can talk for ages." You tell her.

"No worries, but hurry up! We're waiting for you." Natasha says.

"I'll be there in twenty." You say before hanging up. You grab your things and head out the door to meet Natasha and Wanda over at Avengers Towers. When you arrive, Wanda meets you before you even make it all the way through the door.

"You're here!" She squeals throwing her arms around you.

"Of course I am. I wouldn't miss movie night." You say with a laugh.

"Okay we've already got snacks and stuff set up so come on." Natasha pulls you towards the living room as soon as Wanda lets you go.

"Prepared as always Romanoff." You chuckle.

"Duh." She shrugs.

"You took a while to get here so we had time to kill." Wanda says.

"Sorry about that, my mother's just insane." You scoff.

"What?" She frowns.

"I told her to stop meddling in my dating life and now she thinks I have a boyfriend that she expects to meet at a party she's having this Saturday."

"Wait you lied to your mom about having a boyfriend?" Natasha laughs.

"I told her I was content with my dating life and she got it in her head that I was implying there was a man in my life so now she expects me to bring one to her party or else she'll never leave me alone about dating."

"But you don't have a boyfriend. Do you?" Wanda looks at you.

"No. I don't, but if I don't produce one by Saturday she'll be setting me up with strangers for the rest of eternity." You sigh.

"What are you going to do?" Natasha asks.

"No idea. So if either of you wants to offer some advice I'm all ears." You say.

"You could borrow Vision. I'm sure he wouldn't mind." Wanda suggests.

"I- really don't think a red synthezoid would convince my mom that my dating life is going great without her honestly." You grimace slightly.

"Yeah she might just lock you away for that one." Natasha chuckles.

"Well do you have a better idea Natasha?" Wanda asks.

"Me? It's not like I have a boyfriend in storage you can borrow."

"Oh come on when have you ever met a problem you didn't have a solution to?" You scoff.

"Evidently today, finding a way to legitimize the lie you told your mother by producing a fake boyfriend for you is a bit out of my wheelhouse."

"I disagree." Wanda says.

"Don't disagree." Natasha shakes her head.

"We all know you could totally make shit shake if you gave it a second thought." You say. Natasha blows out an annoyed breath as she considers. The elevator dings then and out of it comes Steve, Sam, and Bucky. You each shoot greetings at the trio as they walk through to the hall.

"Oh hey Wanda, hey Nat! Hey, y/n I didn't know you were coming over tonight." Steve greets you all first.

"Hey ladies." Sam follows his lead.

"Hey Natasha, hey Wanda." Bucky says to your friends first, then without even looking at you he nods and mumbles your name as the group disappears. You roll your eyes. You're pretty used to Bucky's dismissive behavior towards you. He hardly even tries to be cordial with you. A nod and a grunt of your name is the best you'll get in terms of acknowledgment. Most of the time he straight up ignores you- not that it matters you guess. It's not like you come here to visit Bucky or anything but you can't help but wonder what it is you did to make him so vexed around you.

"Alright! Someone in this building actually owes me a favor. I could maybe cash it in to get you a fake boyfriend for Saturday." Natasha says.

"Would you really?!" You blink at her.

"I mean I know your mom can be- overbearing. If you really need an out with her, I will call in that favor. I don't need it for anything else right now anyway." She shrugs. You throw your arms around her excitedly.

"Thank you Natasha! You have no idea what you're saving me from!" You tell her.

"I know you'd do the same if the shoe were on the other foot." She shrugs.

"Wait, who are you asking?" Wanda asks her.

"Well I've got a couple of options so I'm not gonna make any promises until I confirm." Natasha says. You give her a suspicious look at her response. She's probably up to something but it's not like the who matters so much, plus it's not like you don't already know everyone who could owe her a favor 'in this building'. You can make it work.

"That's so vague?" Wanda frowns.

"Shhh let's start the movie." Natasha says. You roll your eyes with a laugh as she presses play on your first watch of the night. You spend most of the night with them, laughing your way through movies until entirely too late.

It's not til Friday that Natasha calls you regarding your mom's party. It's not that you forgot she was going to take care of things, you just had other things to think about during the week.

"Hey Nat." 

"Hey! You still need a fake boyfriend for your mom's thing tomorrow, right?"

"Oh, well yeah. Don't tell me you couldn't call in that favor. I don't have time to put a backup plan in motion if you didn't- you waited til the day before to call-"

"Have I ever let you down?" She asks.

"Well-"

"Nevermind. I've sorted it out. He'll come pick you up at 1. You said the party's at 2 right? Should give you plenty of time to-"

"Oh no my mother's parties don't ever start on time, since it starts at 2 he should come get me by 3. Also who- is coming to get me?"

"3? Alright, I'll let him know, I have to go now though- I'm being summoned to defuse- something. I dunno."

"Natasha who is coming to get me?" You ask.

"Have fun tomorrow, bye babes!" Natasha hangs up before you can repeat your question and honestly, that alone should've told you what kind of stunt she would be pulling but you can't even describe the shock on your face when Bucky knocks on your door the following afternoon.

"James!?" You blink at him.

"Are you ready to go?" He sighs.

"Wait a second Natasha got you to take me this afternoon?"

"Well, it's not like I came here just because." 

"This is- okay sure, whatever. Let's go." You grab your purse and lock your apartment before following Bucky down to his car. The first half of your drive is pretty quiet, neither of you willing to break the silence.

"Do you have a story?" He asks eventually.

"What?"

"For your mom. I'm pretending to be your boyfriend so we need a story."

"Oh- well to be fair I didn't know Nat would be sending you until you showed up at my door. Since we do actually know each other it's not like we have to fake much. We met through Natasha, you were immediately obsessed with me and extremely determined to woo me, took you months to finally get my attention though and the rest is history." You shrug. You're joking of course.

"Obsessed with you?" He scoffs.

"It's a story James it doesn't have to be the truth."

"But it does have to be believable."

"I don't like what you're implying." You pinch him. "Wing it then. I don't care really just as long as it convinces my mom I don't need her matchmaking." You turn your attention to the passing scenery, effectively ending your conversation til you arrive at your mother's ten minutes later.

"You should know, nobody close to me calls me James. I might forget to respond if you use it." He tells you before getting out of the car. You roll your eyes and get out too, the two of you walking around the house to the backyard where the party is in full swing, although you're sure it's only just gotten to that point. Your mother spots you before you can even finish surveying the situation and makes a beeline towards you.

"Y/n!" She beams pulling you into a hug.

"Hi ma." You say, your reaction much more subdued than hers.

"And who might you be?" She turns her attention to the man beside you.

"Mom this is Bucky, Bucky meet my mother." You say.

"The boyfriend?" She asks you with wide eyes.

"Yeah." You nod.

"Bucky- that's a strange name."

"Don't start momma. It's a nickname, short for his middle name Buchanan. His first name is James but no one really uses it." You sigh.

"Hm." She hums. "Well, Bucky I have a lot of questions for you! Let's get you some food. Y/n go say hi to people!" She loops her arms through his and practically drags him off. You cringe and mouth an apology to him.

You only leave him alone for like 20 minutes, enough to make your rounds greeting other guests and to make your own plate. When you return your mother is laughing with him excitedly, even Bucky is smiling slightly and you almost can't believe it.

"Y/n! I can't believe you've never told me about him. James here is adorable!" Your mother gushes as you join the pair.

"Well it's- not that I was hiding him from you or anything." You mutter. Bucky puts an arm around your chair when you settle in beside him.

"You definitely didn't share. No worries, James has been answering all my questions quite well." She smiles.

"Has he now?" You give Bucky a sweet look but your eyebrow quirks up in a silent question.

"Your mother just wanted to know how we met so I told her about Nat bringing you around to the tower, that first time I saw you." Bucky tells you.

"Oh y/n he makes it sound so dreamy, you should hear what he said about you!" Your mom says.

"What did he say?" You ask skeptically.

"It's so much better coming from him, James tell her what you said to me." She demands. Bucky chuckles a bit, his cheeks turning the lightest shade of pink.

"Mrs. y/l/n I don't think she wants to hear-"

"Oh no, please share. I'd love to hear what you're feeding my mom to have her so animated baby." You throw in the pet name at the end and place a hand on Bucky's knee, the combination making him shift under your gaze.

"I just- said that I knew from the moment I saw you that my life would never be the same. That the first time Nat introduced you to us, it felt like taking a breath for the first time, like my life was incomprehensible and I didn't know it until your eyes met mine and suddenly the world made sense in ways I didn't even know possible. That you brought me to my knees in awe of you, rendered me- useless." Bucky's voice is gentle, too gentle, too raw, his eyes are intense and you have to find a way to break the tension. Now. You blow out a breath and tap the back of your hand against his chest lightly in a playful smack.

"You spend too much time reading poetry. You sound like a Shakespeare sonnet darling. No wonder my mom's all starstruck." You laugh and Bucky blinks at you in shock, as if you're reaction caught him off guard. He recovers quickly though and laughs a little.

"What can I say? You bring out the Parnassian in me." Bucky says with an easy smile. Situation diffused. You need to be careful. He's maybe a little too good at this. You almost believed him.

"Oh you two are so cute!" Your mom gushes.

"Mom." You groan and Bucky chuckles. Someone calls your mom away then and she leaves you with Bucky as she tends to the rest of her party.

"Who knew you could be such a sap. I'm impressed, you really sold the story there." You nudge him lightly with your elbow. You only just catch the incredulous look he shoots your way in reply. "Why are you looking at me like that? It's a compliment, Barnes." You frown at him. In that moment you wish you understood him enough to read his face but in the stretch of silence before he answers you, no amount of searching gives you an explanation to the way he's staring at you.

"Nothing." He shakes his head. You squint at him for a moment longer as if you expect the truth to pop up over his head before you decide not to press the issue.

"If you say so." You hum. The party goes on for a few hours longer and while you try not to leave Bucky alone too many times, several guests haven't seen you in years and insist on catching up. Bucky seems content to sit and watch most of the action anyway, assuring you he's fine every time you check on him. Somehow you end up staying long enough to help your mom with some of the cleaning up before you finally begin the drive home. Neither of you speaks on the drive back to your place. You need the time to decompress from all the socializing anyway. It isn't until Bucky's walking you up to your apartment that either of you says anything.

"Thank you for today. I know you did it as a favor to Nat and all but it really helps with getting my mom off my back so, thanks." You say.

"Like you said, just doing a favor." He shrugs.

"I know. Still you- did well. All that stuff about breathing for the first time and being brought to your knees when we met, it was- very romcom. I almost believed you." You chuckle.

"Almost?"

"Well yeah- unlike my mother, I have the context of the rest of our interactions so- although the words were very sweet I know they were just for the story." You shrug.

"Is that what you think?" He looks at you with a frown.

"Oh come on we don't have to do this. You and I both know you can barely be in the same room with me, you practically shut down whenever I'm over. You are by no means subtle about your dislike and that's fine, you don't have to like me but we don't have to pretend this was anything more than a favor to your coworker." You say.

"A favor to my coworker? You think I did this just because Natasha asked me?!" Bucky scoffs.

"Yeah that's usually how favors work." You shrug.

"Have you ever stopped to think about it for more than a minute?"

"Think about what?" You ask, grabbing your keys from your bag to unlock your apartment door.

"Why I don't say much when you're around. Have ever given it more than a moment's thought?" Bucky asks and you turn to look at him with your brows furrowed. His voice is getting a bit louder and you're taken aback. He's not quite yelling but you can tell he's impassioned and you're very unsure as to why.

"Are you angry with me because I can't read your mind? How is that my fault? You don't talk I assume it's because you don't want to that's usually why people don't talk." You frown.

"I'm not angry with you." He says.

"Well you sound angry, you look it a bit too, your face is getting kinda red." You mutter.

"Yeah that happens!"

"When you're angry?"

"When I'm around you!"

"What?" You blink at him and he sighs.

"I don't talk because I'm afraid I'll say something stupid, I don't stick around because you make me so nervous I'm sure I'll do something stupid and even if I don't the moment you speak to me I'm worried my face will give me away. I wasn't selling a story to your mom- meeting you really did feel like breathing for the first time I am completely and utterly hopeless when it comes to you I- I care for you, a lot, and knowing you don't feel the same-"

"You're an idiot." You cut him off.

"I know." He frowns, eyes dropping to his shoes. You lift his face gently with your hands on his cheeks.

"I meant for assuming I don't feel the same without even asking me." You say softly. "I can't say for sure how much I care about you since- you've basically avoided me since we've met but I do think you're attractive. So if you decide to ask me on a date, we can take it from there. Okay?" You tell him, hoping the sincerity is clear in your eyes as you look at him.

"Will you go on a date with me?" He asks so quietly his voice is a whisper.

"I would love to." You say with a smile.

"Is it too soon to kiss you?" He asks and while under normal circumstances you would absolutely say yes, you simply giggle and press your lips to his. You keep the kiss short but the look in Bucky's eyes when you pull away is one you'll never forget. Bliss and adoration shine brightly as he gives you a dopey smile.

"That's all you get until our date. So make it good." You tell him.

"It'll be the best date you've ever been on."

"That's a big promise."

"And one I intend to keep."

"I'll believe it when I see it. Goodnight Bucky."

"Goodnight y/n. I'll call you about our date soon."

"You'd better." You smile one last time before shutting your apartment door although you really don't want to. You're practically floating through your apartment as you get ready for bed completely content with the way things unfolded. You'd have to give Nat a call and thank her probably- turns out it wasn't Bucky doing her a favor but her doing one for both of you.

***

[shadeysprings]

OxyTOXIN - Epilogue

—Lloyd Hansen x F!Reader

Summary — The truth about Lloyd's change breaks you in more ways than one.

Warnings — implied n0nc0n, violence, Lloyd being very mean, and some other dark themes.

A/N — Still on my break from this site but I thought I'd give you guys this one tonight. Unbeta so may be sloppy.

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

It’s been days since Lloyd came home, days since he almost killed you.

Since returning from his work trip, your relationship with Lloyd has changed drastically. No longer does he look at you with love in his eyes, instead, his stares are intimidating, and menacing, making you walk on eggshells around him for fear that if you make a wrong move he would once again try to attack you. 

And his touches, gone are times he would hold you as if you were a delicate flower. Now, he paws at you greedily and when you would object, he would get rough, leaving bruises on your skin with the harsh way he would grab you.  

You don’t understand why he’s acting this way, why he’s treating you as nothing more but a toy to play with. At nights, after he’s finished taking you, you’d rack your brain trying to think of reasons he would suddenly make you feel as if you meant nothing to him. 

You’ve never cheated on him, never lied to him, he knew all your secrets despite you knowing so little about him. You trusted him with your life and most of all, loved him with all your heart. You thought he felt the same, he showed you he did—made you feel like he did, but now, you don’t know. 

So you made your decision and packed your bags, a letter left on the side of his bed. He’s not the Lloyd you fell in love with, you’re not even sure if he would ever come back but one thing you’re certain of is that this is not the life you envision yourself having, not the life you wish to die in. 

It’s already midnight and he still hasn’t come back from when he left that morning, a sign you take as a relief but also one that breaks your heart. Grabbing your bag, you tiptoe down the hall, still cautious not to make a sound; the living room is still dark after you’ve cleaned up the house. 

You double-check your phone, rereading Riley’s last message. She’s still at your old apartment and your old bedroom still vacant. She’s more than happy to have you back and without you even realizing it, you missed her terribly. Maybe she could help you understand why Lloyd has been acting in such a way, maybe she can help you move on. 

Slowly, you make your way to the front door, ready to say goodbye to the life you’ve learned to love but before you could even take hold of the knob, a lamp flickers on and you stand in shock to see Lloyd sitting on the armchair, a bloody gash decorating his cheek and his hair disheveled. 

Your first instinct is to go to him, to ask what happened but you stop when he asks, “Just where do you think you’re going?” There’s ice in his voice, anger boiling deep within, and immediately, the concern you felt earlier recoils and is now replaced with fear.

You take a step back when he stands from his seat, your hand slackening and dropping your bag with a thud on the marble floor. You try to speak, to tell him that you’re done enduring the pain he continues to bring you but you don’t get the chance when he lunges at you, his hand grabbing your arms and pinning you against the door, the back of your head hitting the wooden surface. 

“You think you can leave me?” He snarls, eyes dark and unloving. “As soon as you step out that door, you have nothing. Nothing but me.” 

“I’d rather have nothing than be with you!” You shout, eyes brimming with tears as you struggle against his hold.

But his reaction takes you off guard, the rage in his eyes dwindling down and his lips twitching to a frown. His hold on you softens, completely releasing you but keeping his hands pressed against the door. 

“What?” He asks, voice soft and uncertain. “You’d rather not have me?”

“I’m just confused, Lloyd!” You cry, covering your face with your hands as you do. “Since you came back, it feels like you changed. You keep hurting me and you always look at me like I’ve done something wrong.” You sniff, unable to compose yourself any longer with how your emotions continue spilling out of you. “As much as it hurts me to leave you, I cannot take this anymore! You’re not the man I fell in love with.” 

You did it. You let your heart out and you only pray that Lloyd would truly release you from your misery. But his hands move and press gently against your face, thumbs wiping away the tears that spill non-stop. He frowns and breathes out heavily before wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight against him. 

The confusion takes you back but it dies out almost instantly. You clutch him tight and sob against his shirt, keeping him close as your heart blooms upon feeling that gentle touch once more. 

“Little Doll—I’m so sorry.” He mutters against your hair, his hand caressing your back and then cradling the back of your head. 

“I thought you didn’t love me anymore.” You mumble against his shoulder, breathing in his scent. 

But the peace that cocoons you is disrupted by a laugh, sickening and taunting, and you pull away only to look up at Lloyd who gives you a playful smirk, wincing when the hand around the back of your neck tightens. 

“What made you think I did?”

“Wha—” You’re once again pushed against the door, harder this time and the fear only floods back tenfold when you see the devilish smile on his face. “Lloyd—I don’t understand.”

“Oh come on.” He groans. “Did you really think someone would fall in love with you?” He looks you up and down, disgust etched on his face. “You’re holes are the only thing good about you—maybe your cooking too but that's it. I never loved you. I was bored so I played the role of the perfect boyfriend to see if I can fool some floozy and it worked.” He laughs once more but you can’t hear it against the deafening shatter of your heart. 

He fooled you. He used you. And you were stupid enough to fall for it. 

“But I got bored of that too and now, I’m back to doing things how it should be.” He snickers and gives your head a pet, moving your face away when he tries to place a kiss on your forehead. 

You feel nothing but anger and pain, your vein seering in rage as you stare up at the man who you once thought was the love you’ve been searching for. You try to pull away from him, intent on pushing on with your plan of leaving. Yet such an attempt is fruitless when he slaps you across the face, shocking you once more and you gasp and claw at his arm when he grabs you by the neck, your head getting heavy when he squeezes. 

“But I’m not done with you yet—in fact, I might keep you for a while. Play with you a little longer.” He then gropes your tit through your shirt, giving it a hard squeeze before his hand trails down your stomach and to your dress, lifting the skirt up your waist.

“And guess what time it is little doll.” Another gasp is pulled from your throat when he rips the fabric of your skirt, the sound of his zipper filling your ears. “It’s time to play.”

[lefaystrent]

As The Prophecy Foretold

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing: Prinxiety

Summary: Climbing towers was easy in comparison to shattering prophetic expectations.

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

There once was a tower in the middle of an enchanted forest. It stood several stories high and had several stories more to tell. This story, however, was the story of how Prince Roman ventured into the thick of it on a journey of true love.

Astride a snow-white horse, he road gallantly into the courtyard. No door marred the stonework. The only entry point sat high up on the top floor of the tower, an arched window. Roman came to a halt below it.

This would not bar him from his destiny.

Roman cleared his throat and belted his voice out from the diaphragm. "Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your golden hair!"

"Who the fuck is Rapunzel?" someone asked from above. A dark-headed figure peered out the window, annoyed. "And why are you yelling?"

Taken aback and nearly falling off his horse, Roman fired back, "Rapunzel! The princess who lives in this tower! Surely you must know her."

"Uh, no, this is my tower. No Rapunzels here."

"Surely you jest!"

"I've never jested in my life, and would you stop yelling! I can hear you just fine."

Puzzled, Roman slid off his horse. Like a good boy, Maximillian lingered by his side. Roman called beseechingly. "I don't know who you are sir, or how you've come to be here, but this is most certainly Rapunzel's tower."

"Like I already said, no golden girls here. This is my tower, so I would know. Someone gave you some shitty directions."

"I- no, that cannot be," Roman stammered. "The prophecy was very specific."

"Prophecies are overrated," the man grunted. He leaned over the edge, one hand under his chin and the other dangling off the side. Even from here, Roman could see prominent bags under his eyes. "Have you tried checking other towers? Or did you just harass the first one you came across?"

"This is the only tower in these woods!" Roman stamped his foot. "It was foretold that I would find Rapunzel's tower here, rescue her from her evil hag of a mother, and then ride away into the sunset together where we would live happily ever after and continue the royal line."

"Do you do everything you're told to? You're just a cog in the system for The Man, aren't you? I hate The Man."

"I am the man!"

"I hate you."

Roman ran his hands through his perfect hair and perfectly messed up his winsome swoop trying to rattle his brain to make sense of it all. "You just met me! You don't even know me!"

"So how would it make it any better for you to decide to marry some chick you haven't even met yet? And decide that you'll be her knight in shining armor without asking? That's very presumptuous of you."

"But the prophecy!"

The stranger groaned and threw up his hands. "Look, if a prophecy told you to jump off a bridge, would you?"

Roman paused. "Is everyone else jumping?"

Deadpanned, the other responded, "No, you're alone. Forever alone."

"Aha! Lies, for I will always have my dear companion, Maximillion."

Maximillion neighed.

"You've got a horse, look at you. Not that I'm not loving this conversation, but are we done yet? I'd like to get back to my peace and quiet."

"But-"

"If you say 'prophecy' one more time, I will come down there, so help me. Just think outside the box for once in your life, yeah? Did anyone even bother to ask before pushing what you're 'supposed' to do on you? Do you want to become involved with some stranger's implied family drama? Do you even want to get married? Do you want to marry a woman, for that matter?"

"Wait, that part's optional?" Roman asked, astounded.

The guy was also astounded, but for other reasons. "This should not be some profound revelation for you. You can love and marry who you want, dude, regardless of gender. Now I just feel sorry for you."

"Like... I could marry a man instead?"

"Of everything that I've said, I think it says something about you that the new potential reality for gayness is what strikes a chord in you."

"I've never thought about it. I thought... Well, I'm the prince! I'm supposed to carry on the family line!"

"You could adopt. Just throwing that out there. Or just don't have kids. That's my solution to everything."

"What's wrong with kids?"

"They grow up and become adults, and adults are the worst thing you could be."

Roman waved his hand up at him. "You are an adult, are you not?"

"Yeah, it's the worst."

Roman harrumphed. He placed his hands on his hips and surveyed the courtyard. "Well, this was an eye-opening experience. What are you doing anyway, living in a doorless tower in the middle of the woods, Not-Rapunzel?"

"My name's Virgil," the man pointed out. Then he caught himself, "Uh, not that it matters. What my name is. You don't need to know that. Or why I live where I do."

"Why do you live in a tower in the woods, Virgil?"

"Because I want to be left alone!" Virgil hissed back. "Obviously, it's not working out as picture-perfect as you'd think."

"I um, like your rose bushes," Roman complimented. "So I think it's still a fairly picturesque locale."

"Those are gardenias, but thanks."

"Gardenias," Roman nodded and rubbed his foot in the dirt. "You have very nice taste in gardenias..."

"...thanks."

Roman coughed into his fist, awkward as a prince ever could be. "So uh, Virgil. In your opinionated wisdom, what should I do now? How do I go back home to my family without a betrothed?"

Virgil sighed and took pity. "If you're that afraid of what they'll think, you don't have to go back."

"I have a duty to uphold. I have sworn it to kin and country."

"Did you swear to be miserable too?"

The prince faltered.

In that sunlit afternoon, standing surrounded by flowers at the foot of an aging tower, he felt small.

Did anyone ever ask him what he wanted? Truly?

What did he want?

"I... I don't want to be miserable."

Virgil nodded, patient as he had been through this whole encounter. "That's a start."

Bolstered, Roman continued, "And I don't want to marry a woman."

"I had a sneaking suspicion on that one."

"I would very much like to marry a man!"

"Ah, we're back to the yelling, okay."

"And I don't want to lead a country! I want to go on adventures with Maximillion and save dames and damsels in distress! I want to fight villains and see magic! I want to swim in the ocean and fly on a dragon!"

"Let it out, just let it all out."

"And- and-" Roman wavered. He slowed and he stared up at Virgil uncertainly. The shadowed eyes, the small indulging smirk, the fire in his soul. "And I would very much like to join you for tea in your tower."

Virgil startled. He reared back, eyes wide, and he was too far to confirm, but Roman would like to think his cheeks pinkened.

"And why the hell would I want to invite you in?" Virgil shot back.

Roman gave a dazzling smile that he felt from his heart. "You don't have to. I know you don't know me and I know I showed up here uninvited. It's just what I would want to happen."

Prophecy or not, he felt like he was exactly where he was meant to be. Golden girls wouldn't have compared anyway, to the sight above him.

Virgil disappeared from the window. Roman's heart sank in disappointment.

He would cherish the memory, at least.

Moments later, a very flustered Virgil returned to the window. "Okay, I'll allow it. With the condition that you have to find your own way in here. I'm not helping you!"

Overcome with delight, Roman jumped and whooped for joy.

Climbing towers was easy in comparison to shattering prophetic expectations.

[yanderesimp2000]

evil yandere Lucifer x exorcist reader (EVIL LUCIFER AU)

sorry for making this but I think Lucifer has a type for Adam women

TW Adam is an verbally abusive asshole,power inbalance Lucifer is much more powerful, aggressive fearful exorcist/reader, EVIL Lucifer,implied kidnapping,bruising, pinning, the devil acting like..... a devil,Lucifer Slowy becoming for evil

also lillth has been gone from Lucifer's life by now

SORRY THIS MIGHT BE SO OUT OF CHARCTER

START OF STORY

you are one of Adams exorcist soliders after the extermination Adam was again yelling at you for "killing like no one and being a useless whore" it ended in Adam yelling a few more degrading and sexist words at you before slamming the door on you. you went into your room and sat there feeling useless when suddenly the devil himself Lucifer appeared In front of you who has been watching the whole time "Hey... you alright?" he'd ask in a soothing voice you quickly notice its him and pull your spiked mace out on him "GET AWAY DEVIL" you yell at him "Hey whoa whoa calm down I'm not gonna hurt you" he said in a reassuring manner as he held his hands up in defense "Now how about you put that mace of your's down" He said gently, still in his reassuring demeanor "NO YOU FILTHY DEMON" you yell at him he had an eyebrow raised but was still keeping his calm demeanor "C'mon your gonna hurt yourself with that thing so just please put it down and relax, I swear I'm not here to hurt you" you chose to stop waiting and swing at him but he grabs the handle of the mace and makes it poof into the air and you fall on your face

he couldn't help but chuckle at you falling down onto your face, but still made sure to ask if you're alright "Hehe, you ok down there?" you get angry "WHAT DO YOU WANT" you scream at him he extended a hand to you to help you get up but didn't force it on you, wanting to make sure you're comfortable "I just wanted to see why you looked so sad and hurt back there and I just wanted to come check on you" you stay silent before saying "how were you watching your supposed to be in hell and why me there are hundreds of exoricist" Lucifer chuckles "Well yes I was in hell but I was bored out of my mind so I came up here to entertain myself a bit" he said and then chuckled at his next response "Also I picked you cause I think you're very cute~" you then ask in response "yeah but how did you get up here and don't call me cute you filthy beast your lucky im not calling in other exorcists to put you'd own" you said to that fucking smug handsome face he smirked at that statement, clearly being humored by how confident you are. he then began responding "Oh well I have my ways of getting up here, you don't even wanna know" he paused, still chuckling before saying "And I'll call you what ever I want ~" he then began to circle you like a predator slowly closing in on its prey "w-what do you want" you say starting to get scared he continued to circle you, a smile and a hint of lust on his face "Now I didn't exactly have a goal to begin with but I guess now I wanna play a little with you... I wonder how long you'll last eve and lillith didn't last a long time such a bore" he giggled as you looked up at him in fear he was finally in front of you, his body almost touching yours and he bent down to be at eye level with you and placed a clawed finger under your chin, making you look at him "But you... you look like you'll be so much more fun~" you get so scared and try to scream for help he chuckled and placed a hand over your mouth to keep you from screaming and pulled you closer "shhhh not so loud my dear~" you punch him but he does not even react much he pulled his hand away from your mouth to feel where you punched him and chuckled at how little it did. "Awe you really trying to fight back against me~ that's adorable~"

he then grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, his grip was tight and it bruised them "But I'd recommend not to fight back against the literal devil my dear~" you whimper in fear he chuckled as he heard you whimper, it was both humorous and cute in his eyes. he tightened his grip on your wrists, causing more bruising to your wrists and moved his head so that it was next to your ear "Awe~ that was a cute noise ~" suddnely he starts to change form to his much bigger and scarier pure demon form he chuckled as he transformed into his larger demonic form, now towering over you. his grip on your wrists got even tighter as he looked down at you with a sinister smile "You look so small and weak~" you start to lighty cry "d-dont hurt me" you say softly he loved the sight of you crying and whimpering and your desperate plea, it made him want to toy and play with you for even longer. he tilted your face so that you were looking directly at him and he brought his face close to yours "Awe~ begging me not to hurt you~" he gave a sinister chuckle that sent shivers down your spine “You look so cute when you’re begging~” he took his free hand and placed it on your bruised bruised wrist, his clawed fingers lightly rubbing the marks “Such a fragile little thing for an exorcist~”

his expression was almost cruel as he continued to watch you whimper helplessly in his grip, his claws occasionally digging into your skin “You can’t seriously be an exorcist~” Lucifer smirks “You’re so pathetic and weak ~” he chuckled and leaned down so that his face was right by your ear again and whispered “But I like that ~” you shake in fear and say "w-what are you gonna do with me" he let go of your wrists and grabbed you in and picked you up, holding you like a bride “I’m going to have SO much fun with you~”

the next morning when you didn't show up for training Adam went into your room to find you gone

you were never seen again

END OF CHAPTER

that was so bad lol

[bestworstcase]

Any thoughts on "The Sky is Falling"? I happened to be listening to it the other day and went "wow, this seems like something BestWorstCase would have Thoughts about", but searching your blog didn't turn anything up on it. If Tumblr search has failed me (probably not for the last time), I'd be interested to see what you've written before; otherwise, I'd be interested to hear now :)

ough i do have thoughts. many thoughts. idk if i’ve ever posted them, partly because i argue with myself a lot about whether it’s a hound song or an ozma song brfghks. much as i’d like it to be the hound for rotating him reasons, though, i do think ozma is a stronger textual reading.

unhinged about songs hours ->

the motif of the sky falling obviously calls to mind the chicken little folktale, of which there are numerous variations but in all of them the kerfuffle over the sky falling is hysterical: the danger is not real. in some versions of the tale, a sly fox incites the panic on purpose at the beginning and then eats the frightened birds who turn to him for help at the end.

the song’s narrative placement also connects it to atlas, and thence to atlas telamon, the titan who holds up the sky on his shoulders. (not the world—that’s a common misconception; classical images of atlas shouldering a globe depict the celestial sphere. it’s the sky.)

so we have on one hand the apocalyptic motif of the sky falling, and on the other the very real danger to atlas, conflated together: if atlas falls, so too must the sky… except that ‘the sky is falling’ is idiomatically an irrational fear. atlas may fall—that danger is real—but the world will not end if it does. the song’s central motif implies paranoid hysteria.

there is also the latin maxim fiat justitia ruat caelum, let justice be done though the skies fall. i go back and forth on whether i think the writers specifically have that in mind, in relation to this motif, but: “it’s important not to lose sight of what drives us—love, justice, reverence” and “in pursuit of a new world, no cost is too great.” fiat justitia, ruat caelum. that’s the salem perspective.

and i bring that up because of sacrifice:

Born an angel, heaven-sent Falls from grace are never elegant Stars will drop out of the sky, The moon will sadly watch the roses die In vain, Lost, no gain But you’re not taking me.

and

Show them gods and deities, Blind and keep the people on their knees. Pierce the sky, escape your fate, The more you try, the more you’ll just breed hate And lies. Truth will rise, Revealed by mirrored eyes.

with its similarly apocalyptic imagery (‘stars will drop out of the sky’/‘pierce the sky, escape your fate’) in relation to ozma and his task, and salem positioning herself in opposition (‘but you're not taking me’/‘truth will rise’)—fiat justitia, ruat caelum.

hence, ozma song.

‘the sky is falling’ is directly a dark mirror to ‘touch the sky’ but it’s also—i think more interestingly—a sardonic reflection on ‘until the end’ if one reads both songs as articulations of ozma’s perspective.

emotionally, ‘until the end’ leaves off here:

Love brings us dreams, But grief makes the heart burst at the seams. As light fills my eyes, I’ll picture me beside her, And pray that I’ll inspire, I promise I’ll be here until… …our story has been told. Til our bodies break down every door. Til we find what we’ve been looking for.

it’s a dream—a fantasy—ozma finding hope in this imagined scenario where he can be with salem again. i’ll picture me beside her.

and then she, uh. captures him:

Here comes another nightmare, Another fever dream. The horror just won’t stop, An endless scream, But this is not subconscious; We’re not imagining. We’re wide awake, This is reality.

lol.

‘until the end’ is very lovelorn and idealistic, and also fundamentally passive: though “desperate to make amends,” the promise ozma makes is to… wait. to do nothing. to hope for salem to make the first move.

and well. she does. this is what ‘the sky is falling’ is about, the collision of ozma’s romantic fantasies with the harsh reality of the situation.

Our world’s Lost without a soul. We’re losing all control, Not getting closer. Every day is just another dose of torture. Now we pay the cost. The race is lost, This nightmare’s Our real life.

points.

OSCAR: It should not be this hard getting people to just cooperate. OZ: And yet, it’s something I’m becoming increasingly concerned about.

this is what oz is worrying about all morning while the hound stalks oscar across mantle, how difficult it is to get anyone to “just cooperate.” because—contrary to the popular fanon—he is in fact still committed to his task and he does still, on some level, believe that remnant is damned and its people are missing something fundamental; his secrecy and manipulation, his guiding interest in silver-eyes and maidens and elevated ‘guardians’ and ‘symbols of hope,’ his all speak to his lack of true faith in humanity. and that traces back to what the god of light told him.

(since people love to cite ozpin’s commentary on ‘the story of the seasons’ as “evidence” that he’s abandoned his task by misinterpreting “I fear that if unrestricted magic use were possible, the results would be chaotic and catastrophic” to mean that ozpin thinks people are better off without magic rather than ozpin justifying his efforts to control the maidens; here’s part of his commentary on ‘the two brothers.’

Whether or not you believe in the Brothers, or in this story in particular, the underlying message still holds value: We are burdened with responsibility for our world, and we share a common destiny. Like the twin gods, we are intricately connected with one another, and if we can learn to work and live together, we can create things greater than the sum of their parts. Remnant survived the Great War, but while the four kingdoms now cooperate and coexist, our bond seems tenuous. We have a fragile peace, and in some ways, we are more divided than ever. Even if the gods aren’t real, even if they don’t return to judge us for our deeds, we should act each day as though they are arriving tomorrow. In the end, we will be the arbiters of our fates. We will either create a beautiful, peaceful world and live in harmony together or destroy ourselves and our planet, and the gods will judge what we have chosen.

in which he not only states his belief in his mandate and the inevitability of divine judgment outright, in plain terms, but also repeats the same fear he confided in salem thousands of years ago, that despite finding happiness or achieving peace, he worries that people are “more divided than ever.”)

thus: “our world’s/lost without a soul/we’re losing all control/not getting closer.” oz has become “increasingly concerned” about how hard it is to “get people to just cooperate.” and so “every day is just another dose of torture,” because, well…

To live free or die, it’s all the same. The enemy was right, there’s no reclaiming. In waves of shame, We’re desperate to make amends

…he knows salem is right. his task is impossible; things can never go back to the way they were. the old world, the world of the brothers, is gone and trying to reclaim it will achieve nothing but destroying remnant.

and yet he cannot bring himself to believe it, because to him this would amount to condemning the world, to admitting that remnant is broken and irredeemable and must be destroyed because it cannot be saved. to him, salem’s rejection of the mandate is horrifying—tantamount to a a declaration that nothing in the world is worth trying to save.

in her mind, rejecting the mandate is an act of defiance: remnant does not need to be saved because there is nothing wrong with it, and where he sees damnation, salem finds freedom. and that’s what ripped them apart.

‘sacrifice’ makes this point also:

Did the things you thought you should, All the things they said were good. All your faith in ancient ways Leaves you trapped inside a maze. […] Even with the lives you stole, Still no closer to your… goal.

that ozma’s faith in the god of light imprisons him in a futile, impossible quest because he can’t escape his belief that the world is broken, that salem’s freedom is really damnation. he achieves so much—he united the four human kingdoms after the great war and ushered in an era of unprecedented worldwide peace—and still, in ozpin’s own words, he sees only that people are “more divided than ever.”

the chorus of ‘the sky is falling’:

Better cover up your eyes, my friend, The sky is falling, Can’t outrun the ruin of our lives. Be prepared, we’re near the end, The final days are calling. Hold on now, The sky is falling down.

similarly echoes the motif of blindness that appears in ‘sacrifice’ (“close your eyes now, time for dreams/death is never what it seems” and “show them gods and deities/blind and keep the people on their knees”) and, more obliquely, in ‘until the end’ (“love brings us dreams/but grief makes the heart burst at the seams/as light fills my eyes/i’ll picture me beside her” -> the light is death, the light is love, love brings us dreams and death is never what it seems).

the first two lines of the chorus are also a direct inversion of ‘trust love’: “better cover up your eyes, my friend/the sky is falling” vs “trust love/and open up your eyes.” which is salient because ‘trust love’ is chiefly about ozlem; it’s in conversation with ‘sacrifice’ and ‘until the end’ and on top of the central motif of love restoring sight there is also, “if you could only open up a door/spread your wings and fly away from here/write yourself into a fairytale/all your problems would just disappear.” the you is ozma.

and that makes ‘trust love’ + ‘until the end’ + ‘the sky is falling’ really um, pointed foreshadowing:

All you have to be Is here in reality Leave your fantasy You’ll find the key  To victory I know the dark’s returning And the fires of hate are burning But the lies can’t hide what’s true When love’s alive

in one sense ‘until the end’ is the fantasy and reality ensues in ‘the sky is falling’, but in another—deeper, more important—‘until the end’ is also the truth which ozma keeps hidden from himself, and ‘the sky is falling’ is the act of self-deception; better cover up your eyes, my friend, the sky is falling.

so all of this—all of it—this is the false narrative oz has constructed about himself and salem, his blindness:

A curse that’s Never-ending This path with No escape No sudden death We’re trapped In slow decay These words are Not symbolic The torment’s All too real Eternal enemy Our fate is sealed We slide Further down the hole The damage takes its toll Helpless and broken Failed to stem the Tide of pain The floodgates open Now it’s one more sin As evil wins And misery steals Our lives

notice too how this section of the song reflects darkly on the hope and longing expressed in ‘until the end.’

ozma let himself imagine a reprieve (“time falls away/but pain always finds a way to stay/the tears that you’ve shed/will find a tree to water/but only when you’re stronger”), which he now scathingly reminds himself is impossible: his curse is never-ending, there is no escape even in death, he’s trapped in slow decay, his fate as her eternal enemy is sealed.

he admitted to himself that he wished to make amends and for just a moment he let himself believe that he could (“and stare with pride into the face of fear/in our finest hour, i’ll be standing here/and should we fall to darkness/this power i will harness/i promise i’ll be here until the end”), and now he mocks himself for it: he has done nothing but decay, corrupted more and more with every lifetime as he becomes unrecognizable to himself; the damage takes its toll. helpless. broken. he can’t make the pain stop, he can’t fix anything, he can’t save either of them.

oz found enough courage and hope to crawl back out of his darkness and try, once more, to do the right thing—to make amends—and what happened when he tried? “i’m not upset that you left. i’m upset you came back.”

that conversation, oz trying to apologize and being told that he’d done wrong again, made a mistake again, happened at most an hour or two before the hound caught them. one more sin as evil wins, cue the chorus.

and then the song turns inside out. (pour one out for the terrible rap 😔)

Lost all my hopes And dreams Watch my life flash By in scenes And it seems there’s No soul on the  Video screen But I’m green tryin’ To figure out what All of it means Staring at the casket Hoping to move past it Knowing things will Never be the same And that’s it Cold soaked as I stand in the rain Feeling nothing but pain Until I see you again

clears throat. not a metaphor. this is about the lost fable—ozma very literally watched his life flash by in scenes, narrated by jinn in ozpin’s own words, and then he retreated into isolation to think about it. not to brood or sulk but to reflect; he comes back with a very clear idea of what he did wrong and how he wants to change because he used that time to, well, try to figure out what all of it meant, knowing things will never be the same.

and that’s it?

this part of the song is an emotional echo of the regret and longing expressed in ‘until the end’; “love brings us dreams/but grief makes the heart burst at the seams/as light fills my eyes/i’ll picture me beside her/and pray that i’ll inspire” -> “cold soaked as/i stand in the rain/feeling nothing but pain/until i see you again” it’s the same idea.

that salem is his hope, his comfort. deep down in his heart of hearts ozma… wants to see her again. ‘until the end’ hints that it isn’t a coincidence that oz makes his hopeful return in the same hour that salem reaches atlas. here, too, “nothing but pain/until i see you again.” a flicker of hope. because the hound is taking them to her.

and then:

Feel the waves crash Loud and hard Oh God Lost control I think I’m gonna lose it All my sanity’s slipping away Oh Lord Press record I’d die without the music Each breath is closer To my death Except that which is, This life There’s none left Let my demons live on Through my legacy Study my pedigree I need therapy

he catches himself feeling that small glimmer of hope and freaks out. lost control, sanity’s slipping away. every breath is bringing him closer to death, oscar will die, his demons will live on in his next host, he needs therapy. why did he even think that?

where you seek comfort, you will only find pain. his heart knows that isn’t true, but ozma is still fighting tooth and nail to force himself to believe it; cue the chorus. better cover up your eyes, my friend, the sky is falling.

[dabblingreturns]

So reading the excellent tags in @liesmyth 's excellent post has taken me down a few excellent rabbit holes in my own brain

And here is the first thing that came of it

I would enjoy being around coronabeth more than ianthe.....but I, as a reader, feel more confident in my understanding of ianthe than than I do of coronabeth.

I know what makes ianthe tick...first priority is always her sisters safety...next is for her own personal ambition....lastly is a fascinating need to match peoples expectationsof her. Ianthe lies for her sister.....she kills for power, and if those two dont matter she hams up her "loathsome depraved villian" act

And that third thing is what makes her the iconic creature that we know and love....most of the time we spend with ianthe is in Harrow the ninth....in that book, and for the first time in her life, ianthe's ambitions have been fulfilled and her actions can't effect coronabeth's safety. Those two core motives really only come up as her buying protection for coronabeth from Harrow via "the work" and stopping augustine from killing jod....and more importantly the nine houses at the end (and not getting killed by her teacher through the judicial employment of kinky arm surgery)

In between these events, and we get to see ianthe come into her own as the largest ham in the entire series and the best frenimes* ever......and it's great...she is loathsome.....she is the worst.....she is evoking absolutely the perfect reactions from everyone around her.

And I get that urge to be the simple problem inside the complex trap.....she is playing the class clown on her own terms.....ianthe is even worse than gideon when it comes to taking any attention as positive. Gideon only takes negative attention from Harrow....but ianthe is addicted to attention....

And I get her....don't always like her...but I get her....she's smart ambition drama queen who loves her sister..... I feel confident I know how she would jump.....

Coronabeth through....she's an enigma....she's smart....and charming and obsessive... but mostly she's a liar......

she has been betrayed, been captured, then changed sides and gained new rank and name...but she's still a habitual liar...nona notices the weirdness between Crown and pyrrha were Crown tries to give pyrrha the reaction Pyrrha expects but it's an act.

I still have no clear understanding about why Corona pretended to be a necro....was it for power? Or freedom? Or a need to be by her sister? Idk I have no idea why she joined blood of eden...was it for freedom...or revenge?....or to protect her fellow captives? Was it for her own ideals....or some long term power play that was sort of implied....

I know she has threatened to kill herself multiple times in fights with her ianthe....I know that tern was terrified that her secret would get out...I know that Crown care about judith to some extent and that her sister had some influence over her....

In short....I'd trust Ianthe to sware on corona's life....but I'm don't think I could identify anything I'd make Crown Him with Many Crowns sware an oath on.

She's a wild card. And a powerful one at that...

*I actually think Ianthe is a pretty good friend to harrow....but since neither of them no how to have a friend, frenime is the best they ate capable of.

[majeoeje]

Only your love redeems me

Chlorinde x reader

In my last words. I love you

"It was foretold. It was my destiny" you say in a sing song voice as you drew your blade in a sickeningly calm matter, it made her tremble in anguish.

Clorinde bit the inside of her cheek as she felt her anger bubbling from the pit of her stomach

"To massacre countless of people were your destiny!!?!" never ever had Chlorinde raised her voice at you but she screamed as she was filled with rage

Seeing this moment happen before her very eyes made yesterday felt nothing but a distant dream..

..

.

"What about this one?" You pointed to a scar on Clorinde's upper arm, it seems to resemble a star in the way it's shaped, small lines of skin reacing outward at 5 almost even in different direction

"You were there remember? When we met that drunk man who stabbed me with a unique screw

"Oh yeah! He was kinda cuckoo, i can't believe he left you injured like that" you reminiced.

"Such coincidence he had to challenge me in a duel in order to proof his honor" you traced the scar once again with a blank expression on your face "he should've faced trial instead." You laughed halfheartedly "because there was no way i'd let him live after that"

The expression on your face leaves a sour taste in Clorinde's tounge

"My love, i don't think i need to remind you. We are duelist. Not murderers" the air shifted from lighthearted moment to a serious one, she loved you but sometimes she was concerned about how this occupation had twisted your morale

"I know dearest, forgive me. I was just joking"

You placed kisses on Clorinde's hand, kissing her unpleasant feelings away. it was rough with scars that had adorned it. Though every scar in your occupation are a badge of victory when it comes to fighting people for a living

That's right. You were a duelist. Not a murderer. But sometimes an uncomfortable feeling would surge in Clorinde's chest seeing the satisfaction in your face in each and every one of your victory.

She wonders if truly, you had crossed that thin line between duty and truly psychotic.

But she is no saint nonetheless. More lives had died in the palm of hers hands than yours. No matter how much she hates every second of it. No matter how much she washes all the blood that stained her fingertips, it would never be fade away

It stripped her of her humanity and made her feel like nothing but a killing machine.

Though in this dimlited room you admired her like noneother, her cold and muddied hands caressed by yours as you uttered sweet words in her ear as if she didn't just killed another man just this afternoon. Trutfully you were two sides of the same coin

"I love you" you'd whispered in her ear, it left her shivered down her spine. Those words never fail to make her cold existance came to be human once more

"do you love me?" You'd asked. And it would make the woman think of thousands of ways to woo you with her answer, but she always settled with the same answer everytime

"I do love you" she'd breathed out embracing you "more than i could ever comprehend"

That's right. She couldn't ever figure out how you exactly work, with rage and hunger for revenge that so clearly lies in your heart, festering your whole soul. All these worry that lays heavy in her heart would cloud her mind day to day, but she couldn't help but brush it off. Because slightest touch of your skin would set her soul aflame. She can't help but ignore all the overloading signs

"When i have to prove my honor, i'd only want to duel you my dear"

You said it like it was just another sweet nothings that you'd whisper in her ears, as if you weren't just implying that you would commit a chrime

"Please stop saying ridiculous things" she says, worried once again capturing your face in the palm of your hands " i won't let such outcomes to happen"

"Oh my lady..." you stared in awe, almost entranced with her will, you always do

You found peace in her touch, you always had.

She was the champion duelist. She could execute you if she has to. She's stronger and much agile. It is her duty.

"You're kinder than you give yourself credit you know?" you sighed, twirling with her purple hair with your fingers

But she won't. You make her weak without even trying

Her limbs were made to embrace you, not tear you apart.

"You can't defeat me like this now can't you" she'll ignore these words like she always does choosing to close her eyes

But of course she couldn't close his eyes forever now could she

...

..

.

"Wake up chlorinde." Your voice echoes inside the arena, knocking chlorinde off her dream. Your voice sounded more strained and tired than in her memory.

You looked very different than how you used to. Dark circles that formed under your eyes, unrefined posture in your stance, and messed up hair and bloodshot eyes

Your eyes had change drastically. Something different that haunts it made it make her feel uneasy

"It's okay chlorinde"

No it's not. How could she possibly kill the love of her life? Just...how are you so calm after what you had done. Was this your plan all along? To weaken her with pretending to be in love with her?

"It was foretold. It was my destiny" you say in a sing song voice as you drew your blade in a sickeningly calm matter, it made her tremble in anguish. "Draw your blade”

Chlorinde bit the inside of her cheek as she felt her anger bubbling from the pit of her stomach

"To massacre countless of people were your destiny!!?!" never ever had Chlorinde raised her voice at you but she screamed as she was filled with rage

"It was. And i want you to stop ignoring it"

No. No no no no no no no no no NO..

Why. Just...why. she'd ask to the sky. But when she finally looks down to your eyes she'd see it drained of the rage that once drowned you. A face of someone who had lost their purpose in life.....or perhaps achived them

"Open your eyes chlorinde" you said once again.

She did. Finally acknowledging your true colors, drawing her blade

"Do you have any last words?" She asked. To you, it was her last resort to convince herself that you truly were not that bad and that you had your reasonings. Anything. To redeem yourself. So that she have a reason to hesitate

But you knew she was just looking for excuses not to kill you, it made you want to throw up at the thought of begging for your life. You knew your words could alter her mind, she would've stopped in her tracks at the mere mention of something..... anything. And surrender.

Well that's not really an exciting ending now is that? So you chose for her as you stared dead into her eyes

"I have never loved you"

To die with a lie on your lips has always been your fate

(A/N:i made this half asleep so bear with me)

[serendertothesquad]

Seren's Studies: Odd Squad UK -- "Planes, Trains, and Oddmobiles" Episode Followup, Part 2

We continue on with the second half of our transportation journey. One down, two to go.

Below the break!

"OddRail" is just as silly of a name as "OddAir"! And the name "Ocomotive" is funny too.

Oh man, they aren't even trying, huh?

Awwwww Onom...keep strokin' that ego. You might get the fur off of it eventually.

AHAHAHA THIS GUY'S KNOWN FOR HIS WEIGHTLESS SUITCASES THAT AREN'T TOTALLY WEIGHTLESS????

Look, I don't like eggs either, but these are in what look to be pretty sturdy suitcases. I think you're safe, Conductor.

All right, I'm starting to see what this is now.

It's "Worst First Day Ever" but far more contrived and with a lot more worldbuilding.

No guesses for which episode I prefer more.

I'm also starting to see that this is where Orli and Ozzie play the violins.

And to be honest, I can already see where this is going and I will reiterate that they need to take a tip or two from Or- ohhhhh wait no she played the harp.

...Well, never mind then.

"Stop! What are you doing?"

"You made it look so easy."

OZZIE YOU SCHMUCK. W H Y . MAN GET YOUR ASS BEHIND THE ROCK AND LET ORLI PLAY DAMN IT.

But of course. You can't eat 'em if they're not down on the ground and convulsing in pain a little.

Or dead. That too.

The sheer idiocy of this man to go from "IT'S GONNA EAT YOU?!?!?!" to "oh that's pretty cool actually"...God, I love him.

Had to do a quick Google to find out if conductors were called something else in the UK. Turns out, they're known as "train managers".

So close, but no cigar.

I honestly love how this is the Odd Squad equivalent of when a character talks to their TV and it talks back to them.

...Okay, the name kinda sorta fits. BUT STILL.

THIS IS AGENT OPSTAIRS??????

Behold: the names get even stupider with "Odd Buses".

Because it's bad enough the kid has to be stuck in a little cube all day.

*long deep sigh*

I didn't think I'd have to make up some kind of a "Stupidest Math Lesson" award, but this is cutting it close.

...No. I lied. This is taking the top fucking spot. If you had kept it at 3 pounds it would have been so much better.

"Everyone makes mistakes."

"Thank you."

"Too bad we won't be making any more because we'll be eaten."

"...Oh."

"Yeah, didn't think about that, did you?"

"It doesn't matter that it's not full," he says, as I shake my head because we're nearly at the end of the episode and we don't have time for another contrived shit conflict.

The existence of a second book that should be read when you've been eaten by a Huggle Monster implies that an agent is eaten whole and then sits in the stomach as they are taken through a long and painful digestive process.

And frankly, that would make for a much more interesting episode than what we got. I mean if Catch Teenieping had an episode where most of it took place in the stomach of an animal...

I...WHOT. HEHH???????

I'M SORRY THEY HAVE NEW SHIELDS NOW????? NEW S H I E L D S ?!?!?!?!

AND THEY LOOK LIKE THEY ARE MADE OUT OF THE WORST FUCKING PLASTIC WHAT THE F U C K GO BACK TO THE METAL ONES.

...WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT??????????

BRO HOLD UP. OMAR WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU D O I N G MAN. STOP WITH THE DRUGS. STOP IT. STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHP-

NNNNNNNGH HNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGH OH FINE FUCK YOU. ONE POINT. THESE ARE COOL HOW CAN I NOT.

I mean...at the very least, Orli and Ozzie can ride back with Onom...but they all have to pay because he used up the free tickets.

My God, we went from cool shields to more contrived shit in less than a few minutes and I hate it.

Ahhhh bless him.

On a side note, how many agents do you guys think try to bypass the weight limit rules by storing suitcases in their hammerspace spines? Betcha it happens more often than you'd think.

Well look, on the plus side, I don't know why he's complaini- ohhhh because he has to take the suitcases back doesn't he.

And your credits for this episode. Nothing really of note, but I did think Ockpit's name was spelled with two T's at first.

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

Overall, despite being an Onom-focused episode, this was a swing and a miss, which is pretty standard for Omar at this point. The weight limits were a solid way to introduce the math lesson, now that I think about it, but the final one with a two-pound weight limit outright killed it for me just for the sheer contrivance. Had some funny moments, and the shield upgrade was a nice touch, but those were not enough to save it, unfortunately. I'm better off watching an episode like "Worst First Day Ever", which handles the lesson well with a callback and some neat backstories, plus focus on a side character.

Anyway, next up will be "Part of the Furniture", where Orli struggles to fit in at her new precinct when we're nearly at the end of the season. I dunno, can we blame PBS for this one? Out-of-order airing or something?

Seren out!

[spaceprinceencie]

Born to Die, Lived to Know

I wrote a story about Karkat dealing with the trauma of being a mutant because I don't think it's nearly addressed enough in the comic. I've actually had this idea floating around in my head for a while now. It was inspired originally by his route in pesterquest (highly recommend btw). I posted this to my ao3 a while ago but I thought I'd throw it on here now too, because I finally have some time and mental space to start posting things again!

Read it here on my ao3 or below the cut!

CW/TW: Angst, Trauma, Loneliness, Anxiety, implied PTSD, brief mentions of not eating, brief mention of vomiting, mild injury, some blood (b/c that is the source of his trauma)

It’s one of those nights on the meteor. Karkat’s commands that no one fall asleep have long been forgotten. At first, some of them believed him. At first, some of them were scared enough to listen to him. But like always, they adapted to that fear, because that’s how trolls were meant to be. You couldn’t run a productive society based on terror if no one could adapt to at least some level of fear. Really, Karkat thinks, the humans aren’t much different in that respect, even though their world seems so cushy compared to Alternia. But he’s seen that humans have the ability to adapt to some level of fear as well.

It all boils down to normalizing it, he guesses. The more normalized the terror, the less it feels like something to be afraid of.

It didn’t help that sleep was a pretty crucial part to living. Not many trolls can really handle going more than two days without sleep. Karkat knows that there are some trolls trained for it, to stay awake for days on end so they can meet their Empire-appointed quota for whatever shitty lowblood job they get stuck with.

He pauses in his thoughts for a moment, his finger stilling in the air where he had been lightly tapping it on the desk in front of his keyboard. He knows that there were some trolls trained for it, he corrects himself. Who knows if any of his species is alive outside the twelve of them on this meteor. Karkat drags his claws roughly through his hair.

The glare of his computer screen is harsh and bright, especially with all the other lights in the room off. He had actually settled down in a room alone to try to sleep himself. The others had stopped listening to his warnings, unsurprisingly. Really Gamzee was the first to break. Well, Karkat isn’t entirely sure break is the right word for him. He isn’t sure if Gamzee ever really understood the warnings or took them seriously.

Gamzee has always had a preponderance for staying up for days at a time, mostly zoning out or doing stupid shit like that fucking horn dance he’s been doing for literal hours a day recently. Karkat guesses that he just accidentally stayed up, and then eventually passed out. When he didn’t wake up screaming like Karkat had, it was like the unspoken fear was immediately neutralized. Some people were still wary, smart enough to know that even horrorterrors might not phase the clown, but eventually, one by one, they gave in to the exhaustion. Karkat isn’t sure what changed, but no one seemed to encounter whatever visions he had.

Karkat, on the other hand, was different from most of the other trolls he had met. Certainly different from everyone else he knew here on the meteor. Karkat had terror imprinted on his every action from the moment he was grown enough to understand what his blood color meant. There was nothing to normalize his terror. Adapting to it would mean death. He didn’t have that luxury.

That’s why, an entire day and a half after the last of his friends finally gave in and got some sleep, he was staring at an illuminated desk with exhaustion tearing at his mind. He had tried to sleep, really he did. But laying in the dark, the terror crept back up, just as cold and vicious as it had always been. Terror of what lies in wait in his dreams, terror of what the future might hold, terror of being with himself too long without a shred of distraction. It had always been something of a challenge to stay angry when he was alone. But losing that anger was more terrifying than anything else, really. Anger was easier, easier than anything else brewing in the depths of his mind. It certainly hurt less on the backswing.

He thought about trolling some of the humans for a little while, just to take his mind off things, but then thought better of it. He felt the exhaustion rattling his thinkpan so hard that he wasn’t sure what he’d say at this point. He wasn’t even sure if it would be coherent.

He thought very briefly about asking Kanaya to just… sit in the room with him, while he slept. But he dismissed the thought. She would agree, he knows. But he wasn’t sure he could live with himself, with that embarrassment. He wasn’t sure if her presence would even help him sleep, or if it would just drive his nerves up even higher. He really wished they had some sopor, it would at least have made the process a bit easier.

Karkat gets up from his desk, turning the computer off. The room is plunged into darkness, and he navigates to the human bed they had alchemized when they realized sopor-less cocoons weren’t all that comfortable. It was better than the cold metal floor of this weird fucking complex, he guessed. He lies down, not even bothering to get under the covers. He expects he’ll be up again in about fifteen minutes, like he’s been doing for the last few hours.

He sighs heavily, staring hatefully up at the dark ceiling. He closes his eyes, trying once again to regulate his breathing, control the flow of his thoughts.

But it isn’t long before he’s thinking about Alternia. He had managed to finally drift a bit, and then a stray thought caught onto the edge of his consciousness like a vicious fishhook. It pulled him slightly back into the waking world, but not enough that the images stopped flashing in front of his eyes - vivid and intense.

Alternia, where he had been marked for death the moment he was born. His home planet which would have seen him culled seconds after taking his first breaths. Something curls in his stomach, and images of the brooding caverns flash through his mind’s eye. His body as a grub would’ve been a blindingly bright image of exactly why he should have been killed. Some jade blood should’ve ended him then and there. And yet somehow he managed to get through all the trials and get picked by a lusus who decided not to kill him either. He’ll never understand why.

Not why they didn’t kill him. Why no one thought that letting him live might be the cruelest option.

And that’s the thought that takes hold of his mind when he finally slips under just enough that he can’t bring himself back out. Like drowning, he knows he has to escape before it gets ugly, but the more he thrashes, the deeper he goes. Down, down, down into the depths of a nightmare, inescapable. He knows it's a dream, usually does, but he never has much control over it. It’s more like reliving the worst memories of his life while locked in his own body - sick with the knowledge of what comes next.

The nightmares are never slow, either. They’re a rapidly shifting collage of all the worst points in his life. As if his mind has a hurricane of every horrible panic-riddled moment, ready for him to be thrown into and tossed around like debris.

It starts with one of the first days he learned of all the ins and outs of the hemospectrum. More than just the castes, but the outcastes too. He learned he’s one of them, and to expose that would be to die. He was barely a sweep old, and terror had been forced upon him like a hot branding iron. He wore his symbol in a shade of gray that felt more incriminating and more burning than the actual color of his blood. He learned early how to talk his way around the questions, if shouting philosophy and expletives counted as talking. He learned even earlier how to hide when he knew talking wouldn’t save him.

Then there was the day he had gone downstairs at the wrong time, and his lusus had accidentally slashed his arm open. There was terror choking him as the incriminating candy apple red splattered across the floor and stained his clothes. What he was most scared of though, was whether that color would finally remind his lusus that he shouldn’t be alive. He fled the room faster than he’d ever fled before, and he locked himself in his room for over a week. When he finally came back out, the wound barely a line and hidden by his sweater, he had lost a few pounds. His lusus brought home a fresh kill that night, but Karkat still couldn’t stand in the same room without that fear creeping up into his gut. He ate stale grubcakes in his room alone instead.

And of course there was a montage of every experience he turned down in order to hide his blood color from the few people in the world he hazarded to call friends. Every FLARP session he refused, every coffee date missed, every event ticket passed by. Some vicious pang of loneliness ripped through him.

Finally, it comes to the training sessions he had sweated through for hours a day everyday. He was never a fighter, he knows. He was always some pathetic weakling, clearly not made for fighting like every other troll was. The guardian of his planet in sgrub was the final nail in the coffin on that minor source of self-confidence. He can’t believe how fucking dumb he was. How blind his optimism was back then - expecting he could just prove his skill enough that they would have no choice but to let him be a threshecutioner? That they would just overlook his blaring mutation? It was so sad, he sometimes can’t believe he actually thought those things.

But then again, some horrible voice in his brain says, then again… what was the alternative? To believe that if you got to your Ordeals by some miracle, you would still just be killed on the spot anyway? What would the point of living even have been then? No, he had to believe he had some level of power, of agency, in that outcome. He had to believe in something.

If there was nothing he could do, why was he even kept alive in the first place? Just to suffer for sweeps in terror, hiding from everyone, shying away from living his life, and finally surviving to see his Ordeals just… to die?

Was that all he was good for? Just a mutant marked for death by his very genetic code. Karkat Vantas - born to die, having lived long enough to find out. How fucking pathetic.

He wasn’t even any good at leading, really. No one listened to him, especially not now, after they lost the chance to actually win their sgrub session. No, he lost the respect of everyone around him little by little, every day, every hour he tried to convince them he was good for something. It’s always been like that, that horrible voice in his head tells him, you’ve always been able to talk big but you’ve always ruined it once you tried to make good on all that lip service.

Karkat wakes up in a cold sweat, blood pusher thumping wildly in his chest, so hard it almost hurts. He tastes blood in his mouth, and turns to the side of the bed to vomit onto the floor. He curses, squeezing his eyes closed at the sight of the color he can’t seem to escape. The sentence he can’t seem to serve. His ball and chain, his fate and destiny. The cruelest joke ever played on him by the unforgiving, vicious Paradox Space.

He turns back over, burying himself into the blankets and pillows.

It's a small, hollow victory when he cries so hard he finally fatigues himself into a deep, dreamless sleep. But he supposes a small, hollow victory is the trend in his life. He might have escaped whatever fucked up cosmic joke he had been served on Alternia, but he only ever ended up in some other fucked up cosmic joke. The butt is always his death, it seems. Frankly, that punchline is getting old. Maybe Paradox Space needs to get new material.

[creativebrainrot]

open journal entry

just writing about Brain Garbage i had to deal with today.

descriptions of abuse at the hands of my dickhead father. (not to be confused with My Dad who is a sweetheart that I would fight god for.)

TLDR: I am incapable of assuming that anyone who acts like they care about me or enjoys my company Actually Means It because I had Basic Human Social Ques weaponized against me for my first 16 years alive. I am currently incapable of believing that anyone genuinely cares when they're nice to me: They're ACTUALLY doing it out of pity/civility/jsut because they're a nice person/etc and Not because I am a friend that they care about. I am also incapable of assuming that anyone that enjoys my company considers me special in any regard.

like I still have to fight off dumb ass thoughts that if I disappeared tomorrow, no one would care. There's also the stupid little loopholes my brain will find like "even if they DID care, its because youre their friend and they "Should Care" and not because they, on their own, considered you, individually, special." because minds are, infact, Stupid, and Overrated. :)

im working on it.

i have literally no self perception what so ever. that's only slightly hyperbolic. If someone doesn't tell me what they think of me, my default is to assume that they like me in that moment. The second anyone stops talking to me for awhile, I assume it's because they're bored of me. That it's because they no longer like me. They'll be back in a week or two, or they'll be gone forever.

I know why this is my default of course. i've been isolated, for 21 years, in the middle of no where, with no friends- let alone real friends who care, until last December. my abuser. who would, when I was 13 and younger- actually he never stopped being like this. I stopped playing the game instead. He'd act "normal" (loving, listening to me, joking with me, caring about me, being a father,) for a week. then he'd reset. he'd be right back to acting cold, distant, like I was an annoyance, a nuisance. Unwanted. I would have no indication of this beforehand (thats how this bullshit worked, if id known, it wouldnt have been abuse.) He ambushed me with being fed up of me, wanting to play and talk with my father, like a child WOULD want, all the time. it was always either very insidious words he could pass off as an "accident" or him "misspeaking" or legitimately, straight up, brushing me off. his autistic, loving child, who took that shit VERY personally, every time. I wanted, and i needed, routine. I still need routine to be happy. I know for a fact he used that against me when he lived with us. There was another thing he'd do to me. I'd read all the social ques he set up, and understand all the things he said, but when I later assumed I'd known right, he would flip around and say he never said that. he never meant that. and always imply that I was stupid for thinking I'd understood his Exact Words correctly. obviously, this was more abuse, and he was just lying. because he could. to trip me up. to make me doubt myself. it resulted in me never listening to a fucking word he said. Aswell as the lingering issues of me, still assuming, that I cannot read people. That people who act like they enjoy my company are simply being civil. Or that they do enjoy my company, but it wont last. They'll get bored of me eventually and then I'll never hear from them again. Or i'll hear from them again a week or two later. I know it's all nonsense- That it's all just, residual effects from my abusive childhood. That I'll unlearn it eventually.

But I cannot put into words how frustrating it is to be having an okay or fine time and then be blindsided by how desperate and lonely I was trained to be by a manipulative piece of shit who never loved me. Lied to my fucking face- his goddamn child, every day of my life while he was in it.

To be blindsided by how insecure I was made to be. The self-hatred I feel for things that are not my fault is so goddamn, suffocating. It's not my fault I'm desperate for attention; I was deprived of genuine love and attention for 20 fucking years. Sure I had my dad that whole time but one parent cant, and shouldnt be expected, to make up for an abusive parent. My dad is the reason I'm even alive right now. He's the only reason I never acted on any of my suicidal thoughts. But he couldn't fix the abuse that piece of shit inflicted on us both. It's not my fault I feel worthless and unwanted; I spent the first two decade of my life being told through implications that I WAS a nuisance and unwanted and worthless. It's not my fault I'm so fucking lonely when he chose somewhere in the middle of nowhere with no my age around, with no school nearby I could walk to- somewhere with only military families that would leave in a few months or retired people who dont fucking want to talk to anyone else and sure as hell dont make for good friends for my queer gen z ass. Let alone that we're in the south, and I am nonbinary.

None of it is my fault. I want to unlearn it.

I just want to believe that i am special to someone. You don't know how tired I am of the voices in my mind telling me that I will never be wanted, or loved, or needed, or missed when I'm not around.

How tired I am of being genuinely incapable of believing that I have any value to anyone alive, unable to believe that anyone would care if I was gone tomorrow.

I am exhausted. I am so tired, of believing that I am unwanted, that I am pathetic, that I am worthless, that I will never be remembered when I'm not in the room or around.

I just want to unlearn it all and move on with my life.

Very slowly, I am.

There's brighter days ahead. I've held onto hope for so long it's starting to hurt. I want it to be over and done with already- all of it. The move out of this wretched house that always felt like a prison, unlearning these nasty lies that were implanted in my mind to make me vulnerable to more abuse, the poverty, which is also the result of residual abusive actions. I can't tell you how many times my dad saved that idiot from making us homeless.

I know that these nasty lies are just that; lies. I know that I'll get a chance to truly feel like my friends and loved ones care. I know that I'll be able to put all this behind me someday soon and never look back.

in the meantime I am so sick of the thoughts in my mind rendering me incapable of believing that my friends genuinely like me. So tired of it actually hurting, to even think of letting myself believe that they care. Every single last time I let myself believe that someone cared, I got hurt. But that "someone" was the same person, every time. The people in my life now, are not that man. Infact they've been kinder to me and shown more care for me than he ever genuinely did in the 21 years I had with him in my life. That's not even remotely hyperbolic.

idk man, brain shit is annoying and bullshit and BOY do I want my mind to shut the fuck up again and let me live.

[moriartyluver]

🦢 anon is back with the song analysis again

ok but teen fl + teen idle by marina is soo real

“I wanna be a bottle blonde I don't know why but I feel conned”- her feeling like liam is more privileged than her and feeling slightly jealous of him because she saw him as a white b who got everything handed to him

“I wanna be an idle teen I wish I hadn't been so clean”- revenge revenge revenge

“I wanna stay inside all day I want the world to go away”- her being an introvert as a teen and only ever studying and maybe occasionally socialising

“I want blood, guts, and chocolate cake I wanna be a real fake”- her putting on a facade

“Yeah, I wish I'd been, I wish I'd been, a teen, teen idle Wish I'd been a prom queen, fighting for the title Instead of being sixteen and burning up a bible Feeling super, super, super suicidal”- the third line here is kinda like her being 16 and committing crimes ig?? Also fl low-key wants to unalive herself but knowing her she probably won’t try because of all her responsibilities

“The wasted years, the wasted youth The pretty lies, the ugly truth”- I know we didn’t get an exact thing abt fls relationship with Theo the pedo but I’d say it’s implied they probably did the deed. Like how when they were dancing in the Ashfordshire arc, liam said something abt fl having multiple partners in other aspects, also in the past chapter u mentioned that fl would visit Theo at night. I think she’d lie to herself and act as if she was just seducing him but really she was probably getting abused by him

“And the day has come where I have died Only to find, I've come alive”- fl having her grand duchess glow up post timeskip 👏 👏

“I wanna be a virgin pure A twenty-first century whore I want back my virginity So I can feel infinity”- fls issues with intimacy with Liam because of Theo. She probably never enjoyed the devils tango until liam came around because she was so used to using it for her ulterior motives 😕😕 also she always is getting fetishised and flirted with by the other noblemen to the point she felt she had to marry a guy she considered her biggest rival just to shake them off only for them to keep going and not understand how uncomfy she was

“I wanna drink until I ache I wanna make a big mistake I want blood, guts, and angel cake I'm gonna puke it anyway”- in the Noahtic arc, fl got drunk a bit and was probably using it as escapism for her issue of an heir. Also fls implied Ed ^^

“I wish I wasn't such a narcissist I wish I didn't really kiss The mirror when I'm on my own Oh God, I'm gonna die alone” - fl has slight self esteem issues imo so this lyric makes sense especially because she seemed to be a little meaner as a teen and rightfully so bc her brother literally died because of the British ofc she won’t like any of them. In like the second chapter fl made a comment abt dying alone and I thought that fits

“Adolescence didn't make sense A little loss of innocence The ugliness of being a fool Ain't youth meant to be beautiful?”- fl was suffering since she was like 9 and I don’t think anyone reached out to her tbh if she was really killing whole families at 16. She was probably hella merciless and numb poor girl. She also probably lost her innocence because of Theo and other weird noble guys

also she fits seventeen by marina too. If she was an mtp character she’d probably get angst edits to that one bit “I was brought up as a baby well you don’t know fuck about my family could never tell you what happened the day I turned seventeen the rise of the king and the fall of a queen”

fl is just sooo Marina coded idc

ALSO I AM BEGGING YOU TO GET SOME REST GIRLIE. u usually update like every day. We don’t need u losing sleep over false lovers I promise. Get ur beauty sleep 🙏

Stop this is literally a whole essay 😭 u are right abt most of it tho

Theo is literally such an asshole I’m glad fl killed him and tortured him

Bro was 20 and courting a 16 year old but wasn’t even following proper etiquette rules

Fl finds it so difficult to be affectionate with Liam all because of that stupid mf.

Grand duchess fl 🛐

Fls parents tried to reach out to help her with her grief when she was a kid but they were both suffering themselves and they were trying to find out who was responsible for fls brothers death while also suffering responsibilities as the grand duke and duchess. They tried but fl shut everyone out because she only wanted revenge

Fl also has really terrible self esteem issues but she doesn’t let it show at all. From her perspective William was just an asshole and she felt like it was unfair everyone treated him better than her. Paris and rory esque relationship tbh

Tbh fl would get edited with like every Marina song she’s just that Marina coded

Also I’m currently on holiday so I’m trying my best to get some rest after my exams. I’ll try to be constant with updates but tbh I don’t think I’ll update until I’m back home because my internet keeps getting fucked up lol

[ticiie]

week 28: "I heard what you said in that interview"

prompt from the off-season winter sport challenge

pairing: (implied) Nico Hischier/Jonas Siegenthaler

length: 812 words

The storm was still raging outside of Nico’s window, with rain slamming against the blinds the wind rustling underneath the roof. He hadn’t fully woken up yet and at first, he believed to have imagined his phone ringing. But when the noise didn’t stop and his thoughts cleared a little, he grabbed a hold on it and answered it without checking the caller-ID. 

“Hello?”, he rasped into the speaker, voice still heavy with sleep. 

“Dammit, I woke you up, didn’t I?” Jonas. Of all people on this planet with the possibility to reach Nico on his phone, it was Jonas who had decided to call him in the middle of the night. 

“No, I’ve been up for hours”, Nico lied, with a yawn giving him away immediately. 

“Forget that I called. Go back to sleep, this can wait.” 

Before Jonas even got the chance to hang up, Nico stopped him. “No, I’m awake, you better tell me what’s up now, otherwise this was totally unnecessary and I'd have to blame you for me not being focused enough in training later.” 

If Jonas forgot about the time difference between New Jersey and Switzerland, his reason to call must be pretty important. 

“It’s just that...”, Jonas started but then broke off. Nico imagined him sitting on the bench in the changing room, already wearing the training gear while the rest of his temporary team probably wasn’t even up yet. It was the small things that made people stick to the thought that opposites attract and while Nico hardly ever got up before 9am, Jonas was a morning person. Nico sat up straight in his bed and turned on the lamp on his bedside table. The room was illuminated by warm light yet it still somehow felt cold. Empty. 

“I heard what you said in that interview.”, Jonas eventually said. “And I just wanted to let you know that...I miss you.” His voice was barely comprehensible, not much more than a whisper. The excitement that welled up in Nico hearing those words from Jonas made him bite his tongue. 

“You do?” 

“Yeah.” 

The line fell silent and although a good 6’000 kilometres were keeping them apart from each other, it appeared as if Jonas and Nico had been transported into a third space, one that was only reachable through their phones, it wasn’t graspable yet it still felt more real than a lot of things did these days. An ache tore through Nicos heart by the fact that reaching across the mattress ended in empty space and not in finding Jonas’ hand there like he wished to do. Time had been ticking by painfully slow ever since Nico had boarded the plane back to the states a few weeks ago, with Jonas staying behind to spend more time with his family. The apartment they still shared had turned into a prison to Nico and he had fled it whenever possible. Right now, though, things started to makes sense again all of a sudden. As if something had clicked. 

“I miss you too”, Nico whispered. He didn’t have to see Jonas to know that the older one was grinning from ear to ear. There was something causing noise in the background on Jonas’ side of the line so they decided to leave it for now. 

“You better go. Have fun training and don’t hurt yourself.” 

“Same to you. And sorry again for waking you up.” 

“Totally worth it”, Nico replied before ending the call for good. 

The storm had not yet eased down, sending strange sounds through the walls and into the bedroom. Nico sat in the dim light a little longer, recalling the interview he had given to an online sports magazine a few days ago. They had asked him if he would be making any changes on the team for the upcoming season, his position as captain allowed it after all to have a say in who would be holding which position. His answer had come without the slightest hesitation. No, he wasn’t even thinking about changing anything other than what their head coaches had decided. Things had worked out very well last year, so why should he force any changes? “I want things to stay the way they are”, he had said. 

It hadn’t been his urgent intention to sound ambiguous or to give his words more meaning than the literal, but of course Jonas’ had read between the lines. It was easy to refer Nicos statement to the argument they had shared after the end of the regular season months ago, shredding it to pieces with just that one sentence. Nico wanting things to stay the way they were also meant he really really really didn’t want Jonas to move out. Them living together had worked out perfectly fine, why force change on something that was obviously the best it could be? 

[plush-rabbit]

Thorn In Your Mouth

Request: I'm not quite sure if requests are open, but if they are, may I please request some nsfw noncon with Lucifer or Satan from obey me with a fem! MC?

They're demons, and they love quite differently from humans. One could say their love is overly suffocating and affectionate…

Warning: Noncon

Word Count: 2.4K

A/N: i think i made him more jealous in this so,,, hope you like it??

-

It was sweet at first to have Satan fret over you, to care for you in such a way that made you feel safe, but you soon learned that you craved your space, that you missed whenever you could just go out without having to worry about him getting angry at you. He might have directed his wrath towards you at first, but it was never in this way, never in such a jealousy, overwhelming way that you made you grit your teeth and glare at his back. A part of you knows that this is what you signed up for- he’s a demon, one born out of wrath no less, but you didn’t want that to cloud you. You wanted to see the good in him. But even so, he’s still a demon- a possessive one that fears losing you more than anything.

“Where were you?” He asks, his voice steady and eyes piercing into yours. “I tried calling you but-” he tilts his head and an uncomfortable grin pulls at his lips- “you didn’t answer.”

You’re tired of it all. You’re exhausted and just want to borrow a book that could help you sleep. You’re the one to break eye contact with him fist, turning around and rubbing your hand over your neck. “I don’t know Satan, I was just out with friends.” You grab at a book, the title written in thin letters and eager to be done with the conversation, you accept it. “It’s no biggie.” It shouldn’t be and it isn’t. And yet, anxiety still plagues your body.

The exit is near, the doors closed and the light in the hallway, a dim glow signaling that it is indeed time for bed. You make your way, only to be halted by Satan’s hand wrapping around your wrist. “It is a ‘biggie’-” he quotes, annoyance a sliver on his tongue- “when you don’t tell me where or who you’re going out with.” His grip tightens on you and your hand grows stiff, a twinge of fear pooling against your stomach. “What if you were hurt? What then?” You narrow your eyes at him and feebly try to pull away your arm from him. He doesn’t relent. “Where were you?”

Finding it much easier to just tell the truth and get it over with, you sigh. “I was out with friends, Satan. Some imps and incubi from the seventh period. You know them,” you add, hoping that it’ll jog his memory and remind him that it’s mutual friends that he’s so worried about. “We went to the mall and got some ice cream there.”

“Multiple people you went out with then, huh.” You raise your brows, your eyes glancing back to where your wrist is held in his hand. “And if I am their friend- as you say- then why wasn’t I invited?”

You shrug, giving him a puzzled stare. “I don’t know. You weren’t in class. You had some lunch to go to with those friends of yours. We’ll invite you next time.” You yank at your wrist, only to be met with a tighter hold. “Satan. Let go.”

“Do you love me?” He asks, the tension in the room is lost on him and you look at him with an incredulous look, surprised that he would even ask you that at a time like this. “Because I love you. I’m a good partner. I listen and I kiss you and yet, you go around with a group of demons and do who-knows-what while I sit at home waiting for you to come back.”

The meaning of his words aren’t lost on you. Your arm is stretched, extended out as he still holds a grip on you but you need the distance as slight as it may be. “Are you implying that I cheated on you?” He doesn’t respond and stays with his eyes locked on yours. “Satan, I went out with friends. That’s it! Nothing more and nothing less. What the actual fuck.” You take a deep breath and shake your head, the book now discarded on the table beside you. “You know what? Just let go. We can talk about this tomorrow. I’m not in the mood right now.” Your eyes catch at the underside of the door where the light remains steady, the yellow glow teasing at you where freedom lies. “Satan, you’re hurting me.” You hope that that is enough to make him realize what he’s doing.

You’re pushed over the edge of the table, your stomach painfully pressing against the edge of the wood. Your hands flail for a moment, patting and scratching against the table, your legs tense as you call his name, anger evident in your voice. “What the fuck is your problem?” You hiss out, your palms against the table only to be pulled away and grabbed in his hands. “Satan,” you call his name, worry and fear intertwining together. He remains silent, the heel of his shoe clicking against the floor as he presses himself close to you, his groin pressed against your rear. “Satan, what the fuck are you doing?”

There's a crackle of energy that fills your ear, a popping sound akin to Black Cats, the smell of mahogany and citrus in the air as his hands tighten around you. Skin slips away, a harsh press against the back of your head as you’re pushed into the warming wood, and you’re frozen in fead. The room, while devoid of talk, is filled with noise- the buzzing of the electricity, the cracking of his tail and the deep breaths that he takes, the high sound of his zipper becoming undone and the clicking of his shoes. The noise is driving you insane, blood in your ears as you gasp out his name, trying to turn your head, but only being able to face the wall, and you catch a g,impe of yourself in a mirror, faced down with a demon towering behind you.

“You know that I love you, right?” Something sharp replaces where his hands used to be, thorns piercing into your tender skin as you feel his hands hook on the waistband of your jeans. Your breath stops, and something heavy pools on your tongue. “I do everything right by you and yet-” his nails scratch against your skin- “you treat me like trash. You treat me as if I don’t matter.” Cold air meets your warm skin and you’re left in your underwear and shirt, your sex covered by thin fabric. “Do I not matter to you?” He says your name and it isn’t something sweet, it isn’t something that makes you feel warm. It’s something that sounds too foul to be said out loud. He’s ruined your name in just one simple sentence.

“You matter Satan,” you whisper, clenching your sex. Your eyes are unmoving, watching your distant reflection that has a monster behind you, their hands on your underwear and tearing it from your body. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard to your ears. “Satan, sweetheart, please. Let’s talk, okay? Please.”

“Then why didn’t you pick up my calls?” The tip of his cock is pressed against your thigh, something cool leaking down your leg in a slimy trail. “Why didn’t you tell me you were going out? Were you keeping it a secret from me?” You shake your head, rubbing along the wood and his hand returns to your head, yanking at your hair and pulling on the strands until you rise and are brought on your knees before him. “No? Really? You’re going to lie to me?”

His erection is close to you, close enough to feel the heat, to see how the tip leaks with his pearling semen. “I’m not-”

“If you’re going to lie, then I'd rather just put your mouth to better use.” He grabs your face, dark green scales that run along his body and trail at his thighs. Your nose is pushed against the underside of his cock, his ridges pressing into you and semen already leaking onto your hairline. His scent is strong, suffocating as he pulls you back, your mouth opening when he twists at your hair, a sharp scream that is soon muffled by his cock entering your mouth. “Make sure you get it wet enough. It’s my cock that I’m going to stick in your little holes.”

Wasting no time, you’re pushed to the base of his cock, your nose buried in his pubic hair. He holds you there, letting his cockhead drip down your throat with his heavy semen. Your tongue is pressed flat against the underside of his ridges, the pointed end of his cock ticking at the back of your throat as he starts to move.

It’s a slow choking motion, his cock filling your mouth only to empty it in a way that makes you feel dumb enough to breathe. Every breath is stuck, lodged in the back of your throat and leaving you a choking mess against his cock. He wastes no time, holding the sides of your head and pushing himself inside of you, using your mouth as his own toy.

Each thrust of his cock has your stomach rising, acid billowing in the base of your throat, his scent and cologne mixing together to overstimulate yourself. Your name is whispered, a soft prayer under his tongue as he deflies your mouth, semen spilling and filling your mouth, tears that sting against your eyes and drip past your chin. It’s harsh, and unforgiving and in your head you curse him and plead to whatever God there is, that he’ll let you live and walk away, that this is some horrific nightmare to make you into a follower. You choke and cy, your throat constricting and face becoming hot, shame and horror flooding throughout your body and you’re left sobbing against his cock.

His hands are rough, nothing like you know them to be, his words soft as ever and yet, you’re still pushed down to the table with your jaw slack and drool dripping down your chin and tears mixing with the heavy liquid. Your mouth is stained with his semen, white bubbling out past your lips as you meet your reflection once more. Your legs are spread and you can only think of saying his name, to have your hands paw pitifully at the table as you call him through a broken mantra.

You’re glad that you listened to him, that you did get his cock wet enough to slip in you without fuss. It’s a slight pinch, sharp and twisting inside of you as your thrusted into, your chest pressed against the wooden table. Everything is on high alert, all your senses overloaded as your sex is filled, ridges tickling inside your walls. Each thrust clicks, a wet snap as he pushes himself inside of you, his tail wrapping around your throat and yanking you upwards, a string of drool snaps against your chin as it’s ripped from the desk. The tip of his tail is thick, filling your mouth as it rests on your tongue, the edges poking against the inside of your cheeks. You’re lifted, your legs bent and resting on the table as he pushes inside of you, your cunt fluttering against him as his base thickens, warm seed coating your walls.

He pulls out of you, and you whisper a soft thank you, your head turning, the red wood clouding your vision. You ignore the feeling of his hand that crawls over your rear, that tickles against your curve and pushes against your taint.

“No, no,” you moan, your body weak and in pain to stop him from continuing. Not like this Satan, please.” But he’s too overwhelmed to listen to you, pressing the slender tip of his cock against the rim of your hole and pushing inside of you.

You squeal and it’s enough for him to push himself inside of you, each curve and ridge filling and marking the inside of you. Your body spasms, your cunt warm and dripping with his semen. His tail pushes deeper inside of you, choking you and letting you taste your spit and his seed that still lingers.

“Don’t ever leave me,” he whispers hotly against the shell of your ear. “Please,” he begs, holding your body as he enters you. His teeth sink into your shoulder, the pain twisting together leaving you tense and biting on his tail, your tongue pressed firmly against a ridge.

“It hurts,” you mewl, your hands cupping over your breasts to stop the shameful movement. “‘M sorry,” you mumble, your tongue swishing over his tail. With you being stretched, you can feel him in certain areas that makes your body tense and flex. Despite the uncaring nature, you still react to him, shaking and tightening yourself around him, calling his name as you drool over his tail and onto your shirt.

“I love you,” Satan mutters, “I love you,” he repeats, holding you close to him, feeling his heart pump against your back, feeling it rattle against you. “I love you,” he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and words sweet enough to make tears spring to your eyes. He thrusts inside of you, his arms hooking under your knees and horns grazing and picking up strands of your hair as he presses harsh kisses against his bite mark.

You can feel his seed, hot and heavy, flooding inside of your walls and drenching past your heated core, staining the floor beneath you and splattering onto the table legs. With a quick glance, your eyes are strained and your thin arousal mixes in with his semen, coating at his cock and leaving your cunt in syrupy strands. Your legs are lowered, too strained and weak, your latch onto the desk, your bottom lip trembling as you try to remain steady.

Cotton fills your mind, a drug that is welcomed as the ache in your lower regions start to sharpen and dull. Colors mix and the slightest movement has you closing your mouth tightly, your hands already grasping around his neck and clinging to him for dear life. “Don’t drop me,” you plead in a delicate voice, turning to press your nose against his chest.

His hum is deep in his chest, rumbling softly like a distant storm that lulls you to sleep. His hands are soft, rubbing over the parts where he hits, and shushing you when you let out a high-pitched whine. His lips press against your forehead and his hands are soft. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers, humming as he nuzzles his face close to yours. “Are you tired?” You nod. “Then let’s go to sleep, okay?”

[johnsamericano]

『 ‎ ‎لąҽհվմղ / ᎠҽӀմʂìօղ 』

warnings: mental illness implied, hallucinations, meds, aggressive jaehyun, implied sexual relations.

taglist: @nakamotocore @jisooapproved @la-ra-rumi @winwiniee @yijiujiujiu @nctlovesme

loveholic masterlist.

Lies.

That's what Jaehyun hated the most in the world, lies.

He hated the way you'd smile at him during class, only to pretend he wasn't even there as soon as you exited the room. It wasn't fair. He wanted to confront you, wanted to ask for an explanation for your uninterested attitude, but anytime he'd try, words got stuck in his throat, choking him uncomfortably.

Jaehyun wasn't sure when his interest in you began growing. He was never one to have secret crushes, so then, why you? What made you special enough for him to like you?

The answer came one lucky day when the professor paired you up together for a project. While people usually whined when being put in the same team with someone other than their friends, you seemed all but annoyed, smiling with your white, pearly teeth and waving at him as if he were your very best friend.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.” It was his first time speaking to you, beads of sweat collecting on his upper lip. “Jaehyun, right?”

He hated small talk almost as much as lies. Almost. But when it came to you, he could do it all day long if it meant listening to your delightful voice. All of his pent-up frustrations scattered as you started planning your schedule to work on the project. He’d only hum in approval, still too shy to speak to you.

“So tomorrow's okay with you?” Your head was tilted to the side, the tender skin of your neck looking awfully tempting. He pictured himself kissing it, having you struggle under his weight while he kissed it for hours on end. “Jae?” He was pulled out of the scenario his mind was working through by a gentle hand on his wrist.

There were no mirrors nearby, but the tips of his ears were surely tinted red by now. But most importantly, his pants were becoming uncomfortably tight in his crotch area. A touch from you was all his body needed to go insane.

“Sure.” You smiled, removing your hand from its previous spot. His skin itched for more contact, but he was too shy to initiate anything. “I need to go to the restroom.”

He rushed out of the classroom with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, pushing the fabric forward to conceal his growing boner. He relieved himself inside the small cubicle, his own heavy breathing muffled under the sound of a couple doing less than appropriate things inside the following stall. Would that be you and him one day? Probably, but not quite yet.

Your kindness had no limits. That's what Jaehyun thought when you sat down to have lunch with him, the guy who no one ever liked enough to hang out with.

“Why?” He asked on the second occasion you sit with him.

“Because I like you.”

You started hanging out more often not long after that. Even after you handed in your work, you were keen on staying by his side, and he had nothing to complain about. It was as if the universe was finally smiling at him, all the times you'd ignored him after class now long forgotten. He was happier, brighter than usual. He told his roommate, the closest friend he had, about you. He was happy for Jaehyun, of course, but a feeling in his gut told him something was off.

The night before your spring break started, you invited him to a frat party. He’d never been to one, he didn't like them. But you were so insisting that he had no other choice but to oblige. The entire house smelled like sweat, alcohol, and drugs, disgusting, he thought. However, it was all worth it when he finally got to see you, tucked inside a tight dress that showed the figure you'd so thoroughly hide in baggy shirts. He approached you, wanting to greet you, but one of your friends dragged you away. He didn't mind it, the night was still young and he'd have plenty of time to be with you.

Not even five minutes later, you reappeared by his side, giving him one of your signature eye smiles.

“Having fun, pretty boy?” A light blush crept up his face, settling at the tip of his ears. “Let’s dance.”

His hands were firmly gripping your hips as you rubbed your body on his, causing a more than an obvious problem in his pants. Before his brain could register the current events happening, your lips were on his. It all felt too sudden, yet, he enjoyed the way you'd nip at his lower lip. It sent him to frenzy.

“I’m so wet, Jae.” You mumbled seductively against his fleshy pillows. “Want you to make me feel good.”

You dragged him to the closest room, increasing under his adoring gaze. You were so beautiful, and all his. The promise of your union was sealed that night, as you fell asleep between his arms after three intense rounds of pure bliss.

“Jaehyun?” He felt someone shaking his shoulder, it was a male voice. His arms instinctively closed tighter around your naked body to hide it from whoever was calling him, only to realize it wasn't you who was between them, but a mere pillow. “Dude, get up.” It was his roommate Johnny, picking him up after he got a call from one of the frat members. “You got so wasted yesterday, let's go, I'll take you for food.”

Wasted? He hadn't drunk anything the previous night. Nonetheless, he left the house after dressing up. He tried calling you as they waited for their waffles to no avail.

“Jaehyun, I saw your pills today in the trash bin. Have you stopped taking them?” Johnny seemed truly concerned.

“I’m better now, John. For real.” The sincerity in his words put his roommate’s heart at ease. “I found someone, I like her a lot and it seems like she does as well.”

“Dude, that's awesome. We should hang out soon, I'll invite my girlfriend.” A double date, it felt like you and Jaehyun were finally official. But the question remained, why had you left the house early in the morning?

“Sure.”

Because you wouldn't pick up any of his calls, he had to wait until Monday to confront you. During breakfast, Johnny had crushed some of his pills and sneaked them into his eggs, you can never be too safe, he thought. And, oh boy was he right.

You were picking up your belongings from your locker, getting ready to go back home during the break.

“Hey.” He leaned against the closest wall, flashing you a dimpled smile.

“Oh, hey...Jay, right?” Was that a joke?

“Sure, whatever you want. So, my roommate wants to meet you, just let me know whenever you have time and I'll tell him. By the way...” He leaned in, lips brushing against the shell of your ears. Some curious eyes were looking at you, eager to know what was happening. “I really enjoyed that night, but it would've been better if I'd woken up with you between my arms.”

“Excuse me?” You backed away abruptly, escaping his proximity. “I think you're taking me for someone else.”

“What do you mean?”

Realization hit him like a truck. You were ignoring him yet again, but he wasn't gonna take it this time. He hated lies.

“Come with me.” He gripped your forearm, easily dragging you all the way to the janitor's closet. “You don't get to play dumb with me anymore. Stop fucking lying.” You looked like a scared little mouse about to be eaten by a cat.

“I-I’m sorry, but I'm not lying, the only time I've spoken to you was when we worked together. We haven't been in touch ever since.” Even in a situation like this, you still pretended to be kind.

“Lies.” His hands closed against your neck, slightly choking you. “I don't like them, so you better be good and tell me the truth before I do something we'll both regret.” Your eyes welled with tears as you begged for your life, his grip getting tighter with every second. “Come on, angel.”

“I’m sorry, I'm a liar!” Your air supply was running short and your only option was to say what he wanted to hear, even if it was just a lie. “Please!”

“That’s a good doll.” He let go of your bruised neck, letting you fall on your knees as you coughed. “Now, you better stop lying for your own good, are we clear?”

“Yes!” You choked out, unsure of what was happening at the moment.

“I’ll call you later, have your phone by your side.”

You had walked into a trap without even knowing it.

[chaotic-noceur]

malaysia truly asia

paring: Nanami Kento x Malaysian!Reader

summary: the story of how Nanami had come to know about Malaysia and his first trip to the country he had longed to visit

warnings + contents: food/eating, beach, multilingual reader (malay is mentioned, the rest is implied), malaysia references (contextual notes are provided!)

a/n: I never thought knowing the Malaysian slogan would come in handy but here I am. Words cannot express how excited my Malaysian heart got when Nanami mentioned Malaysia so I'm hurling this into the tumblr void for anyone interested :)

contextual notes + malay transalation

terima kasih = thank you

ringgit = Malaysian currency

tokyo is an hour ahead of kuantan

sunrise is around 7am in Malaysia, anytime from 4-6am in Tokyo (according to google)

roti canai = 'Indian-influenced flatbread dish' (wikipedia)

roti tisu = similar to roti canai, except thinner and shaped like a cone

pasar malam = night market, usually on closed off sections of road

flag erasers are often collected by school kids who purchase them from the on campus bookshop

"You're not from here." He says it with such assertion that there was no room to deny it, not that you were going to. You quirk an eyebrow up at him instead from your place on your bed. He nods to the english book currently in your hands as if it's a way of answer. Your head tilts to one side and he sighs before continuing. "Your Japanese is good, but you speak it with hints of... uncertainty, like it's not your mother tongue." I would know, he doesn't say. Your gaze falls from his bashfully and he seems to realise the implication of his words. "I apologise, I hadn't meant it as an insult. I was merely hoping to ask about your childhood."

Your mouth forms an o before you reply with a curt "I grew up in Malaysia and then my family moved here." He seems to consider your answer for a moment before nodding and returning his attention to his book. The pair of you fall silent, residual noise from Gojo's graduation party filters in to fill the gap. Before long, you notice his gaze flitting around the room as he shifts in his seat, a sure sign that he was looking for an opportunity to speak more. You chuckling lightly before putting your book away. "What do you want to know?"

"Everything." Your eyes narrow slightly to deduce if he's teasing. But his eyes hold nothing but genuine curiosity. It was rare for Nanami to ever display his true emotions but there was something about his eyes that was always readable to you. So you talk. You tell him about the road trips you used to take up the peninsula, showed him photos of your childhood, pointed out the few bits of home that were scattered around your room. He clings on to every word as you tell him about the near-constant summer, complained about the humidity, and reminisced about the food that you dearly missed.

Truthfully, you are surprised by his interest. Few people had even heard of the small, dual-part country, even fewer have shown any interest in learning more. Maybe this is the moment you fell in love with him. Or at least, it's the moment you accept your feelings for him as something beyond an passing crush but as something worth fighting for.

“I hope we can visit it some day,” he says when you finish.

We, not I, you think. Your heart flutters in your chest at the realisation. He is seemingly unaware at the implication. You reply with a simple “maybe”, refusing to give in to the false hope that he returns your feelings.

Some months later, you find him huddled in a quiet corner of the Jujustu High library engrossed in a book of Malaysian history, a small notepad open beside him. Where he acquired the book was beyond you. With nothing better to do with your rare moment of free time, you shrug your shoulders before heading towards him, making noises as you move so as to not startle him when you settle beside him.

You're flipping through your book in search of the bookmark when he speaks, "would you like me to read to you?" You turn to look at him so fast he's concerned you might have gotten whiplash. His cheeks are flushed slightly and he refuses to meet your eye. You blink at him for several moments and he clears his throat awkwardly. "I just - well, I was hoping to practice my English with you. It's um.." he rubs at the base of his neck, "it's been a while since I've spoken it."

"Oh," you begin for lack of words. For as long as you've known him, he has never once mentioned being multilingual. Then again, he rarely ever talked about himself. Preferring to let Yuu take the lead in conversations or to direct questions away from himself. "Sure, I'd love to help!"

"Te-li-ma kah-sir?"

"Te-ri-ma ka-sih," you correct as you swipe through the selection of in-flight movies. Nanami repeats after you and you nod before smiling at him.

"And what about 'where is the toilet?'"

Your tapping stops momentarily. "Formally, or informally?" He deadpans at you and you chuckle in response. "Di manakah tandas?" His pen glides along his pocket notebook before he repeats after you once more. "Love, you know you'll be fine with just English right?"

He drops his pen and takes a sip of beer from the clear plastic cup before responding. "I know, but it's a sign of respect to make an attempt to learn the official language." A soft smile graces your face before you resume your scrolling. You really are the luckiest human on the planet to be able to call him yours.

It's mid-afternoon when you finally leave Kuatan Airport. Travel fatigue begins to set in on the taxi ride to the beach resort Nanami had booked. You loop your arm with his before settling you head on his shoulder. Instead of telling you that you should've slept on the plane like he would've done if it was anyone else, he simply graces your forehead with a kiss before returning his gaze to the map on his phone.

Checking into the resort is a smooth process. Nanami makes quick work of talking to the receptionist before the pair of you make your way to your room, the resort porter guiding you. Nanami had been inclined to refuse but the porter rejected his offer. The pair of you make light conversation with the resort porter as you walk, Nanami using his arsenal of Malay when he can.

When you arrive at your room, Nanami takes your bags from the porter as you unlock the door. He settles the bags inside as you shake the porter's hand in thanks, passing along a 5 ringgit bill. They thank you with a bow before taking their leave. Nanami shoots you a look of surprise when he notices the action. "I wasn't aware that there was a tipping culture in Malaysia."

"There isn't, not to the extent that westerner do anyway. It's really just porters and housekeeping." You shrug.

He scowls at your slightly. "Regardless, you should have informed me," he grumbles. You chuckle at him before patting his chest lightly, avoiding his sunglasses that hang from the v of his button up.

"Well, you'll have plenty of opportunities to leave a tip for housekeeping." You're staying here for two week after all.

As Nanami does a quick sweep of the room, you set up the wifi for your respective devices before making your way to the snack cabinet. You whoop when you find a packet of your favourite childhood snack. Nanami pokes his head out from the bathroom at the sound, only to raise a curious eyebrow when he finds you crouch on the floor, holding the packet as if it was your child. "What?" you exclaim, "I haven't seen these in years!" His arms shoot up in surrender before he returns to his checks, his lips curling into a smile at your antics.

When Nanami returns to the bedroom, he finds you asleep on the sofa, phone slipping from your grip. He removes it before it falls as he rubs at his eyes as the travel fatigue begins to hit him too. The long flight and layover hadn't done either of you any favours but he supposes that what he gets for choosing a city with a small airport.

He changes you out of your travel clothes before moving you to the bed. Once he stashes your valuables into the safe, he freshens himself up before crawling in beside you. You smell of an airport and the mist the flight attendants had sprayed in the cabin but he doesn't care as he nuzzles his nose into your neck.

This is peace, he thinks. No missions, no curses and no Gojou Satoru. Just the two of you and a (mostly) endless supply of sunshine. He likes the thought of that.

When he wakes from his nap, you’re no longer by his side. He panics for a moment before he turns and finds you sitting out on the wooden deck, admiring the ocean view as the sun begins to set. Raking a hand through his hair, he climbs out of bed and makes his way to you. You smile at him as he sits down before laying your head against his shoulder, his arm looping around your waist.

“Sorry I threw us off schedule,” you say after a while.

You feel his head shake against yours before he says, “as long as you're by my side, there's nothing to apologise for. We’re on holiday. Let’s enjoy the peace while it lasts.”

“Afraid Gojou’s going to appear out of thin air?” you tease. He groans at the mention of his senior's name.

"Don't mention that name again. You'll jinx us." This time, you can't help laugh against him. You peck his cheek in consolidation and he think maybe, just maybe, for once in his life, Gojou will keep his meddling fingers out of things that are none of his concern.

The next two weeks go by in a blur of delicious food, sandy toes and a ridiculous amount of sweat. If there was one thing you didn't miss about Malaysia, it was the humidity. But it never stopped Nanami from intertwining his fingers with yours or ghosting a kiss onto your temple. The pair of you had quickly settled into fragments of a routine since you had first arrived.

Every morning, Kento watches the sunrise from the cushioned seat on the wooden deck. The first time it happened was unintentional. His body had become habituated to waking up early for work. That, combined with the 1 hour time difference and the fact that the sun rose significantly later in Malaysia, meant that he had woken up well before the sky had shown any indication of light. You were still fast asleep, unmoving even as he slowly untangled himself from you. So as to not disturb you, he made himself a cup of tea and read from his Kindle on the wooden deck until the sun had began poking out of the horizon.

Then it just became his own little ritual. On occasions where you wake with him, the pair of you take a walk along the beach. The ocean waves kiss your bare feet to the beat of a song you do not know as you talk about your plans for the day. You stumble across a sea turtle laying her eggs one morning and the pair of you settle onto the sand, far enough away as to not spook her, but close enough to marvel at the rare sight.

Nanami pulls out his phone after a while to record a quick video and sends it to Yuuji. Not long after, Gojou attempts to facetime him and Nanami turns off his phone without hesitation. You chuckle at their antics before you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Nanami declines all of Gojou calls for you and he gives up after 7 rejections. In hindsight, Nanami really should have seen that coming but he blames the cloud of holiday bliss that fogs his mind.

The rest of your days are spent enjoying the ocean breeze (or more often, the ocean heat), exploring the local attractions, immersing yourselves in the culture and best of all, devouring authentic Malaysian food. Nanami had made a list of the most recommended dining locations ranging from high end restaurants to road side food stalls and you make it your shared mission to visit every single one before you leave.

At each shop, he informs you of the best rated dishes but trusts your instincts/cravings for the most part. You point out any items that he 'has to try, at least once' and he asks questions about the items that pique his interest. More often than not, the pair of you will order a variety of dishes and share them, not able to settle on just one. Being the bread lover that he is, he takes a liking to roti canai. Although he isn't particularly unadventurous with his choices, always settling for a plain roti canai and opting for experimenting with curries instead. So, you take the plunge for him, knowing he'll likely be intrigued by the pointy hat shaped crepe that sits before you — he later learns that it's a roti tisu, or the stuffed roti that arrives. (He thanks you later.)

On your last night there, the pair of you make your way to the biggest pasar malam in the city. Nanami had a list of local fruits that he was hoping to buy while you had a list of souvenir ideas for the kids and your coworkers. You walk hand in hand, following the flow of footfall as your eyes scan the stalls. Nanami doesn't particularly know what he's looking for as he passes the snack stalls but he's enjoying himself all the same as he watches you converse with the stall keepers in a foreign tongue. He slips out of his daze when he feels a cold packet being pressed against his hand. "What's this?" He slips his wrist through the plastic loop and grips the tied-off section of the bag.

"Sugar cane!" you chirp, radiating an excited aura that rivalled Yuuji. Must be the atmosphere, he thinks. He takes a sip through the straw as you receive your change. Sweetness floods his taste buds but don’t overwhelm them. He savours the refreshing coolness it brings, contrasting the humidity. You look to him expectedly as you tug him further down the street. “Good?” you ask over the noise from the crowd.

“Acceptable.” There's a look of content tugging on his features that contradicts his tone and a soft smile tugs at your lips before you're promptly distracted by another stall.

When you finally arrive at the fruit stalls, you’re armed with a packet of cheap flag erasers for the students and an assortment of sugary snacks for the school staff room. The crowd had dwindled as you moved further towards the back of the market, allowing you a clear view of most of the stalls before you.

Nanami tugs on your intertwined hands before leading you towards a stall with mountains of rambutans and mangosteens. He nods politely at the elderly couple manning the store and accepts the plastic basket they hand him. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice the smile that tugs at his lips when they greet him in English. Undoubted pleased to be able to use his skills.

“I assume I should pick the ones that are not blackened and soft?” he says to you when the couple finish explaining the pricing. You nod in response as you begin carefully placing fruits into the basket. Nanami mimics your actions beside you before his attention is grabbed by the fruits to your right. “Is that what I believe it to be?”

You follow his gaze as he speaks. When they fall on spiky green fruits and packets of yellow, your eyes light up in delight. “Mhmm,” you hum before turning back to face him. There’s a sparkle of wonder in his eyes that makes you laugh before you turn to speak to the woman, “how much for a packet of durian?”

You look wistfully at the whole durians as the lady bags your items. As much as you would love to see Nanami use his 7:3 technique on the fruit (you can almost sense your ancestors rolling over in their graves at the thought), you know you won't be able to finish it off by yourselves. Besides, there is no guarantee that Nanami wouldn't hate it.

Rather uneventfully, Nanami does not hate durian on instinct — "the smell is uninviting, but the fruit itself is decent," he says as he helps himself to another. So, with the remnants of fruit juice clinging to your lips and the lingering smell of durian on your breath (despite your best efforts to get rid of both), the pair of you now walk along the beach's shoreline. Your pinkies are looped as you rejoice in the complete and utter sense of peace. There are no curses to be worrying about, no impromptu visit from a certain colleague. And for the first time in a long long time, Nanami feels like he can let his guard down. He feels like he doesn’t need to keep looking over his shoulder all the time. He doesn't feel the weight of the country's safety settling in his chest.

“We should come back some time,” he says as the waves lap at your feet gently.

You raise an eyebrow at him, “not sick of fending off mosquitoes and melting in the heat yet?” There’s a teasing glint in your eyes and he chuckles along with you.

He smiles at you then — genuinely, without fear of showing his emotions, shakes his head and kisses your temple gently. “Maybe we can visit your family next time. You can show me where you grew up, your favourite places, where you had your first date...” You smack him across his chest for his teasing while he chuckles at the action.

“Maybe one day.” He interlocks your hands then and ghosts a kiss over your knuckles before looping it over your shoulder to pull you into his chest. One day... when you’re both rid of this curse-riddled life.