#if there’s errors or things that bug me that i notice in the morning I will make another post thats the fixed drawing!!

[luvrrszn]

Godspeed

SIRIUS BLACK x FEM READER

summary in which sirius black leaves you with a letter

warnings angst, bad writing, um idk!, spelling and grammar errors probably hehehhe i'm writing this in the dark my eyes r a little blurry whoopsies

a/n took songspo (song inspo? idk!) from Godspeed by FRUNK OSHENNN; sirius and you are both in your twenties! u guys r married already but let's skip right over any possible plot holes please n thank u

masterlist

I will always love you How I do Let go of a prayer for you Just a sweet word The table is prepared for you

When you wake up in the morning, you can't seem to find Sirius in his usual spot next to you. You assume he's probably just getting washed up, or making a pot of tea for when you woke up.

You pull yourself out of bed, heading to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before heading downstairs. You expect to hear the whistling of the kettle, or maybe a little ding from the bread toaster, but you were met with silence. Brushing it off, you continued making your way down the stairs.

However, when you reach the kitchen and still have no sight of Sirius, you feel something off. Never has there been a day where he hasn't been all over you within five minutes of you waking up.

You start thinking the worst.

What if he left you? For good?

Your heart sinks when you see a folded piece of parchment on the kitchen island. Next to it is his wedding band.

You try to keep it together as you reach for the letter, your hands trembling. Steadying yourself with a deep breath, you unfold the parchment.

Wishing you godspeed, glory There will be mountains you won't move

"My dearest bug,

I love you. Please do not think that my leaving was because of you.

Well, it was, but not for the reasons you think.

I need to leave in order to keep you safe, my love. They are looking for me, and I cannot take the risk of them finding you when they come for me.

There are no words to express how sorry I am for leaving you like this. I do not expect you to forgive me, I do not expect you to forget what I have done.

I just hope that you know that I love you. With all my heart and my soul.

I love you, my dove.

Forever yours,

Sirius"

Still, I'll always be there for you How I do

You look at the picture of Sirius on the mantle of the fireplace. It's your favourite picture of him, in which he's holding a bouquet of flowers. Flowers he gave you on the night of your first anniversary.

You notice a new picture next to it. Your heart stings a little as you stare at the picture. Sirius is blowing a kiss at you.

You kiss your fingers, and press it to the picture frame.

I let go of my claim on you, it's a free world You look down on where you came from sometimes

Slowly, you get used to life without Sirius.

You get used to buying groceries for one.

You get used to cooking for one.

You get used to not having to sort through socks to separate yours from his.

You get used to not having to complain about the toilet seat being up.

You get used to the loneliness.

But you'll have this place to call home, always

But you keep all his things.

His clothes keep their place.

His shoes remain by the front door.

HIs unopened mail rest on the coffee table.

His favourite crisps go stale in a cupboard.

You wear his wedding band on a chain around your neck.

You never, ever forget him.

This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes (oh) Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind (until it's time) This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes (oh, oh-oh) Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind (oh, oh-oh, oh) This love will keep us through blinding of the eyes (oh, until it's time we die) Silence in the ears, darkness of the mind

On the hard days, the only thing getting you by is hope.

Hope that he'll come back.

Hope that he'll walk right through the front doors and say that the two of you are free.

Hope that he'll come back and wrap you in his arms and never let go.

But that is all it is.

Hope.

Hmm-oh-oh, oh, oh-oh I'll always love you until the time we die Oh-oh, hmm

[fruity0salad]

Bodie x Bug 🦋

Hii this is a short story where Bodie and bug make breakfast together!

Sorry about and spelling errors I'm not that good at writing

------------‐----------------------------------------------------

You open your eyes to the sun shining gently through the curtains onto your face. You slowly move off the bed, taking extra precaution to not put any pressure on your leg. Getting dressed was difficult now with your injury, but you managed fine on your own. Walking into the kitchen, you look out the window and notice Bodie sitting on the porch, drinking a mug of tea. You smile to yourself, then step out onto the porch to join him.

“Oh! Good morning, Bug, did you sleep well?”‘ he said softly, then took another sip from his mug. “Was’ just out here watching the sunrise? It's especially beautiful this time of year.” You looked up at the rising sun glowing behind the trees. “Yes, it is really beautiful,” you replied. “Are you planning on starting breakfast any time soon?”

Bodie nodded to himself and put his cup down, groaning as he stood up. “What are you thinking, Bug? I know a pretty good biscuit recipe my aunt had.” He suggested, "Ya, that sounds nice.” You nodded. “Do we have anything to put on them? I could make jam if you don't already have any." He smiled as he replied, “Yes, that sounds great, sugarbug.”.

You walked after him to the kitchen, getting out a recipe book as he drew some water for you two to wash your hands. “Bodie, do you think we should double the recipe?” You asked him, “Just in case one of the boys stops by,” Bodie said, looking up from the sink. “Maybe,” he chuckled to himself, “but you know it's also good to have leftovers; they just pop in whenever, all the time, it's good to have something ready.”

You two finally got to eat while sitting across from each other at the table. “Oh wow, this is a really good body!” you said, then took another bite of the bisket. “Oh, thanks, bug,” he said, smiling bashfully. “I don't normally make things like this in the morning, mostly grits or leftovers.”

"Oh, really, when I lived in Aachan, I normally just had bread and an apple or something.” Bosie nodded, looking down at his plate. “I really missed cooking with other people,” he said solemnly. “I used to cook with my mom when she was here.” He looked back up, and you met eyes. “Thank you, bug, for cooking with me.” You noticed a small blush rising to his face. You smiled, taking his large hand in yours. “Of course, I had a fun time as well." His bodies blush grew stronger. He looked away and sat up straight. “Anyway, you should probably rest for today since you stood up so much this morning.” “Ok,” you giggled to yourself and looked back out to the swamp.

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

Let me know what I should write next✨️

Bye!

@obsidian-lantern @capitalmaudios @magebunkshelf @dayspriteofficial

[callibones]

hello!!! 🩸🟪 again. sorry for asking so early in the morning--i know you said you timed your last poast so i would see it so i feel bad for changing my hours but i had some extra free time. in the future you don't have to time your responses if you dont wanna. i peruse your blog at least once a week or so so ill probably find things ! and i dont wanna bother you first thing, thank you SO MUCH for that injoke guide! i'm like lvl 500 autistic so i had trouble figuring them out naturally. this makes things sm easier.

second thing... you have a bill cipher fictive? that's inch resting. i think i might also be plural too but i'm kinda off and on about it. but when u said that i looked back at the post they made and it was tagged with a #👁️? and then i looked at your other posts and there's a few tagged with a #👑. and your posts are usually tagged with #callie.txt.exe. so i thought hm. so i don't make any mistakes--what's your bill cipher fictive's name? how many people are there? is callie around the majority of the time? this is probably invasive so you don't need to respond to any of this JKHJBGVFCDXRCFGVHBJKNHBGVFCDXCGHBJKNHJBGVFCDGFVHBJ. also ive definitely Won and have obtained zero shelled feelings ever absolutely.

third. I LOVED OIL AND WATER!!! thank you sm. i haven't finished reading through all the other fics you reblogged though so when i do ill send you my thoughts on all of them in a different ask. you are so Based but not in a weird way in like a cool awesome way. fourth. i.. do rlly wanna dm you but my main thing is that i kind of Lost access to my main account a bit ago? idk how i was just stupid and Forgor

so ive been slowly trying to rebuild it on this new one. problem is, it's not Done yet. i'm worried im going to dm you and it will be Incomplete and you will forever perceive me as a Flawed, Unfinished version of myself. it would simply tarnish the wonderful 🩸🟪 brand, you know?

so i think.. if i do dm you, it'll be in a little while. i'll probably create a dedicated sideblog for the occasion when i do, ok? i do wanna hear you yap in a more controlled environment.

last thing i swear. so this actually has NOTHING to do with anything else you said but im like freaking out. so i checked your youtube channel and i noticed your description.

television for a head.

this is cool and all and your sona is SO AWESOME but this also Sucks for me because this ENTIRE TIME i've been drawing you as a computer! i have so much callibones fanart of you as a fucking desktop where it's like nested so your monitor has a little desktop assistant that is also you and it goes on forever and ever and ever with even smaller callies and that idea was WRONG!! i shouldve known from the antennae but i thought that was a bug thing not a tv thing (which, by the way, excellent choice on your part. when i'm not an assembly of shapes, i do enjoy being an insect.) but i was a FOOL!!!

so this makes me realize hey wait what else am i getting wrong? this thing is colored differently in this image than all the other images. what's the correct thing to do? and i came to the conclusion that i need to just ASK YOU! (wow who could've guessed. you're so smart.) yeah! i am! the smartest in the whole world even

if you happen to have any, i need reference sheets of your sona. if you have reference sheets of the alternate variants (or are those headmates? i saw one was called calliope and i think there was a bill cipher one so is that the fictive? i don't know but i want to draw them) those would be appreciated too. i have made a grave error and i must resolve it immediately.

with that. um. thank you for humoring me, id like to thank all our sponsors for getting me to write this ask, i will join the discord servers and message you one day because i am Not Afraid of Anything in the Whole Wide World. toodles

HELLO 🩸🟪! hope i didnt keep you waiting too long.... wanted to finish my ref first! PLUS i got a whoooole buncha busy goin on so im SUPER occupied.... but now i got time just for YOU! i definitely didnt time this one im just postin it now that i Can.... but im sure you can use the tag and your weekly browsing skills to find your way back here. hehehehe.

SECOND: very observant! yes, while we haven't made an official post for it, calliope uses the crown emoji and calcifer uses the eye emoji! that's his name, by the way. in fact, here's the whole gang, labeled with NAMES & PRONOUNS!

("who the fuck" is me, sorry. hehehehe.) (putting the id on this one out here so its easier. from left to right, you got:

the commissariat (she/they) in red, in a fancy longcoat with a jacket makin a serious pose

me, callie (it/fae/she) in green, in my usual "have a rotten day" top that shows my bra a lil and my short skirt

calliope (she/thon) in purple, wearing thons over-the-top storm supervillain dress

calcifer (he/she/it/they and it insisted on including "calcifae/calcifaer" as well) in yellow, with a suit, a shorter skirt than mine, a sword, and the bill cipher triangle-eye pose

and callyris (she/it) in pink, with short-shorts and a crop top fully showin its maintenance panel.

i'm around the majority of the time, but there's five of us includin' me and Calcifer! he's more than just bill cipher, btw. he's he/him lesbian bill cipher! hehehehe. he's also like genuinely growing as a person and i'm REALLY proud of him. also it's okay i have shelled one feelings too. calcifer says you're probably pretty easy to take advantage of and should call her.

THIRD: YAY! cedardivine, who made that peanutiel story, JUST made a separate post the other day with all thons blaseball writing. so GO CHECK THAT OUT! i sure plan to. :-D

FOURTH: cmon you dont gotta brand. EVERYONES flawed and unfinished! including me! im fucked upppp dont put me on a pedestal. im incomplete too!!!!

FIFTH HERES MY REF!!!! i made it just for you (genuinely!) so you GOTTA show me your fanart now because omg? omg???? omg???????? you made fanart of me? sobbing and crying??

also youre KINDA right about the desktop assistant thing! i fuckin love the nestedness so much and theres definitely some stuff where i imply that! but thats because.... so the actual sona is a desktop assistant virus thing. but fae takes on the appearance of a tv-head bot! so when fae's in The Real World fae uses a Made Physical version of that same cartoony self to walk around in. and on that robot's an OS running... the actual desktop assistant! so while it's not infinitely nested, you're right that my reality is Layered. i wonder if it could go deeper than that....

theres not a lotta art of the others YET but heres SOME FUCKIN AWESOME ART MY WONDERFUL FRIEND OF RIGORMARCY DREW OF THON so lookat that.

and here's calcifer's never-before-posted discord pfp, just for you:

calcifer sez: THERE'S MY CARD! GIMME A RING IF YOU'RE LOOKING FOR A NEW DEITY TO CHAT UP. THE SHELLED ONE MAY BE DEAD, BUT I'M AROUND FOREVER! FOREVER.

so. do what you will with this information.

IN CONCLUSION please send me your fanart if you wanna and feel like it because thats SO AWESOME that you made some... literally misty eyed.... ill look forward to your next correspondence whether i know you as 🩸🟪 or as whatever your name is on whatever platform you wanna reach me with! feel free to shoot me a friend request on discord if tumblr aint workin for ya. tell em 🩸🟪 sent ya! because that's you. and you can send you. But not in the mail, unfortunately. 1984.

UNTIL NEXT TIME GOOBY!!!!

[hellcatinnc]

Fuuto Asahina Game Guide PS Vita

This is for anyone who just needs to know about Fuuto's character things he likes, dislikes, what will get you dates etc. Hope it helps.

Gifts He Likes

Bath salt spa gift card

Reed diffuser

Magazine ***

Fruity candy

Planner

Gifts He Hates

Incents

Massage

Tea set

Hand towel

Novel

Inexpensive figurine

Stationary set

Comic book

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

Movies He Likes

honey potter

the notepad

stage play

no missed call

romance holiday

8

Movies He Hates

martial arts

j pop concert

musical

artic a year on ice

dusk of the dead

slime dunk

go to the future

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

Days I Took Dates

These dates might shift not sure but this is based on every day it let me go on dates when I didn't decide to do sleepovers. Eventually you will have done all dates that matter and you will be full of hearts after that not sure it matters if you keep going on dates when most after that is just cut scene dates in between in you week itself. I didn't try out the theory because I didn't want to have to start over just in case.

Sept 5th, 19th, 20th,26th

Oct 3rd,17th, 31st

Nov 3rd, 14th, 23rd, 28th

Dec 5th, 12th, 23rd, 26th

Jan 2nd, 10th, 23rd

Feb 6th, 11th , 13th, 27th

March 13th,20th, 21st

April 3rd, 17th, 29th

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

Observations I Noticed

He doesn't like petting animals however at one point a puppy makes him giggle but he still complains about it.

Anything with large crowds so some days like weekends the amusement part or aquarium might be packed a little more than he would like. Because he is a star its hard for him to enjoy himself with you if there is a huge crowd bugging you two

He loves going to the movies and romantic movies is his go to.

He Hates Anime Movies

He likes the ferris wheel because its up high away from people

No to parades and boat rides from the amusement park

I only found he liked going to the part on 10/17 however there might have been once or twice other than that but its a hit or miss usually miss with him due to a large amount of people which it goes back to large crowds a no.

He does like the aquarium it was where he held my hand the first time however only on not busy days

He likes to shop but if it comes to buying you something if you ask for it he isn't happy however if he offers and you are grateful is best

He hates kids

He wants to be a actor more than just a idol

loves movies and watching some of his favorite actors

Not a morning person

Has low blood pressure

Loves pop music

Loves sweet stuff

He loves to eat

Hates bowling

Hates karoke

Loves the cafe mainly for food

Loves archery

Not big on strong family connections so you don't have to spend much time with family to romance him

Hates Chores

Hates Studying

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

Not sure what is interchangeable and what isn't. This was a trial and error but I did write down everything I did along the way. I spent most of my days chatting, watching, movies, and hanging out. On days it let me go on dates or sleepover I alternated. You only have to buy and bring gifts up until all the hearts are maxed. Also one other thing I never went on a date or hung out with anyone else with him just him, my work, shopping for gifts, and my gaming. Every brother is different this just happens to be Fuuto's and if you have any questions feel free to ask. Also I played with the english patch.

[scrip-doodles]

Nightmare and his baby gang Chapter 20

And I'm back! Sorry inspiration and motivation left me for a while and I wanted to take a break from this fic. Don't worry I planned everything for the end so I won't leave it abandoned.

Previous chapter

It’s been three days since Error came into his castle and Nightmare hadn’t been this good for a long long time. The boys were somehow quiet and calm, Blue helped keep the castle clean and even cooked every meal. The negativity was balanced and he was finally feeling well-fed. Everything was perfect, he wished Error could stay forever.

Today the kids played with him for the first time and Cross got reassured about him. Due to his past, he was afraid of the destroyer. He thought he would take him to the anti-void and lock him there. Nightmare had to promise he would go and free him for the kid to calm down.

Now the guardian knew it couldn’t last forever, Error had to work and Blue had to go home. It was hard to admit but he got attached to the little blue, he understood why Error was so attached to him and why Dream and Ink loved him. Blue even promised him he would visit with his son or daughter so he could spend time with them. 

He even told him he was already designed as their babysitter. Like he hadn’t had too much work with his four chaos makers already. He was pleased with Blue’s proposition but it made him aware of something. He couldn’t keep going like this, the boys will be back to their adults self one day and everything would be back as it was before.

When Error told him he was almost done with the bug that made them like this it hit him harder than he first thought. They were going to be adults again, things couldn’t stay as they were. He got attached to them and having four baby bones around him was normal now. Why would adults like them would want him as a paternal figure, as the father he learned to be….?

He hid it behind a fake smile when Error told him he only needed a week or two to bring them back to normal. Nobody noticed anything and he was going to keep things like this, these unwanted feelings would go away. Eventually…

“Nightmare dinner is ready!” Blue exclaimed while the boys were hiding in the pillow fort they made in the living room. 

Error was knitting on the couch while everyone was going to the kitchen. He never ate with them, saying he didn’t need to and that it was a waste of his time. But not today. 

Nightmare grabbed the destroyer by his jacket and drew him to the kitchen with determination. He was going to eat something other than just chocolate and it was final.

“Mare what are you doing?! Let me go!”

“Not even in your dream you’re eating something tonight and that’s final.”

Error suddenly tried to get free by struggling but he couldn’t do anything against the guardian and his four tentacles when he wasn’t feeling sick or tired. Nightmare got the upper hand and he refused to let it go.

“Nightmare I don’t need to eat! This is stupid!”

“So it’s okay to not be eating sometimes dad?” Killer said with a fake curious expression. 

“No!! You need to eat!” Error exclaimed under Nightmare's furious gaze for influencing his boys.

“Error you can’t stay without eating! Here have my potatoes!” Horror said giving him a fork with a piece of potato on it. 

“Raaaah!! Fine! I’ll eat!” Error screamed pissed by the whole situation. “You have to eat, it’s important for young abominations like you.” He added before sitting next to Horror who couldn’t be happier.

Killer and Nightmare slapped their hands together with a cunning smile while Blue tried to hold his laugh back. The whole situation was adorable but also ridiculous. Error was completely clueless that Nightmare used his kids for making him eat something, or that the kids, especially Killer, gladly played this game.

Now the hard part was coming. Telling the kids that Error and Blue were going back to their home and they were going to leave the castle. 

Error told him in the morning he needed to go back to the anti-void and that Ink started to create again. He proposed to get Blue back to his family on the occasion. Nightmare thought about it and after Blue promised he wouldn’t tell anything to Dream and Ink the guardian authorized it. Now telling this to the boys wouldn’t be a piece of cake.

“Boys I need to tell you something. It’s important so if you could please stop making a tower with the potatoes I would be pleased.” Nightmare said while Blue and Error gulped and stopped helping the kids to make a tower.   

“So uh…how to say that? Error needs to go back to his work and Blue needs to go home to his family. They’re going tonight after dinner.” 

“What?! Nooo! Dad, it’s not fair! I want to play with Error more!” Killer exclaimed looking all angry and revolted by the idea.

“Error will visit us the next time Killer he can’t stay here forever.”

“His job is dumb! I want Error to stay with us!”

“Uncle Blue will visit us too right?” Dust asked while Killer was still claiming how stupid the situation was.

Nightmare watched at Error and Blue, one clearly wanted to stay out of the fight and the other was already hugging Dust in his arms. 

“It’s complicated Dust…But if I can I will.”

“Why is it complicated? Because you’re with the yellow man?” Cross asked clinging to Blue like he was going to vanish in the air anytime now.

Blue and Nightmare looked at each other lost with no idea of what to say. The situation was too complicated for the kids and they didn’t know how to resume it to them.

“The yellow man is Blue’s lover and like your dad is fighting him it’s difficult for you to see Blue.” Error said with chocolate in his hands. Nightmare looked at the chocolate with exasperation, the destroyer needed to eat something else than just candies. 

“Then dad should stop fighting with the yellow man!” Horror exclaimed with a serious expression. “Fighting is bad!”

Nightmare winced at this and groaned before taking the empty plates and starting to wash them. It was too complicated for them to understand, he couldn’t forgive Dream just like this. Not after everything that happened and Dream couldn’t either. They both hurted each other too much. 

Dream was continually trying to get him or his past self back. He wanted his weak and fragile little twin back. But Nightmare wasn’t the twin Dream remembered, he was past this weak and awful version of himself. If only his brother could understand it…

Dream had always been convinced that he was trapped behind corruption. Perhaps it was time to show him how wrong he was. But was he ready to forgive his twin? Hard thing to say… Maybe he should try, for his boys…So they could see their uncle more.

Error and Blue were looking at Nightmare with sad expressions. He hadn’t said a word and even the kids stopped arguing, they understood it was a touchy subject and kept eating their dessert quietly. Killer went to his father and rose his arms as if he wanted a hug, which was the case actually. He didn’t mean to be mean to make him sad.

These last days he got some kind of flash of scenes that sounded familiar but were horrible. The yellow man that Cross told them about attacking him, a weird older version of Horror trying to fix the pipes under the sink, his dad listening to him making some kind of report in his office. There were a lot of these scenes that were violent but curiously it wasn’t bothering so much. As if it was perfectly fine and normal.

When he told Error the black-boned skeleton was glad and told him it was awesome but when he told his dad about it he didn’t look so happy. In the end, Killer didn’t know if it was a good thing or not but if it was making his dad sad then he hated it!

He knew his brothers had some too but not as much as him. Error told him it was probably because he was the one that stayed with his dad the longer but he didn’t understand why.

Nightmare took him in his arms with a warm smile and hugged his son. The last days hadn’t been easy for them and he knew that. They needed as much comfort and love as he could give them. 

“It’s okay Killer. Error and Blue will be back when they could. It will be just like before. You, your brothers, and me. Okay?” 

“Yeah…I’m sorry for yelling…” The little skeleton said with a guilty expression. 

Nightmare kissed him on the cheek and brought him back with the others that were already saying goodbye to their uncle and Error. Dust was in Blue’s arms and Horror and Cross both had plushies that Nightmare knew, were made by Error. 

Error looked at the guardian, blushing and hesitating and suddenly he came to kiss Nightmare. The goopy skeleton almost shrieked and looked at Error as if he had a second head or something. 

“Error?! W-what are you doing?!” Nightmare stammered with his face completely cyan. 

“Kissing you. Don’t make a big deal of it Octopus.” The destroyer said looking away to avoid the guardian’s eyes.

“Don’t make a big deal of-Oh just wait you little glitch!” Nightmare shouted before grabbing Error by his shirt and kissing him passionately under Blue and the kids’ shocked expressions. 

Error made a weird crashing sound and started rebooting, clearly, he wasn’t expecting it and neither were the rest of them. Not even Nightmare. When the guardian finally got hit by what he did he blushed harder than ever. What did he just do!?

Before Error could even regain conscience of his surroundings Nightmare opened a portal and threw him and Blue to the anti-void. There. Problem solved. Kinda… Now he had to deal with the kids' reactions and he knew they wouldn’t leave him alone before he explained everything. 

[autumnalwalker]

Untitled Solarpunk Witch draft, chapter 1.0

Vernal Equinox, Five of Pentacles

“As it turns out, there was a clerical error.  The people of Zello were requesting a witch for aid with a specific issue, not a full time village witch.”

“Well… here you go.  Ladder to check the solar’s out back.  Bedroom’s on the right.  Bathroom and kitchen are on the left.  The couple that used to live here moved out a month ago, but we’ve been taking turns maintaining the filter plants under the house.  I trust you can handle that yourself while you’re here?”  

Something about the big overalled man’s drawl strikes me as skeptical, but I ignore it and put on a smile.

“Yes, of course.  Thank you so much Mr.…”

Bell.  Travis Bell.

“Bell!  You and everyone else here for finding me a place on short notice.  My apologies again for the mixup.”

“Weren't no problem.  Houses oughta be lived in.  Well…” he tipped an imaginary hat, “you have a good evenin’.  We’ll be down the way in the morning to show you to the spot.”

“Thank you.  Have a good night!”

The moment Mr. Travis Bell closed the door behind him, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding and looked over at Bast(et) who’d already found a countertop to perch on.

“Thanks for the save.”

It’s what I’m here for.

I guide the broom over to a spot where I’ll have room to unfold the cauldron later if I need it and power it down.  As it settles to the floor I shrug off my backpack and fish out a change of clothes before dropping that next to it.

As I make my way to the aforementioned bathroom, Bast(et) speaks up again.

Not going to perform a dwelling ritual?

“You heard them.  They didn’t ask for us to stick around in that sort of capacity.  Crashing here for a night or two doesn’t really constitute ‘dwelling.’  You want me to scrub you off while I’m in here?  I think you got some bug splatter on you during the flight.”

I’ll be quite alright out here.  I can self-clean, you know.

“Suit yourself.”  I toss my hat back out toward the rest of my pile of stuff and close the door behind me.

Not knowing what their water conservation situation is like around here, I keep the shower short, but even that is wonderfully refreshing after a couple days of hard flying.  And the humidity.  I mean, I sort of expected that, knowing the sort of climate I was heading toward, but I wasn’t expecting the air itself to feel sticky.

I’m sure the sticky feeling will come back soon enough, but as I emerge a short time later and cross over to the bedroom and flop onto the still-covered bed, I feel like a new witch.  And I suppose in some ways I am.

I feel Bast(et) hop onto the bed and nudge me.

Enjoying yourself?

I let out a muffled “You know it,” into the bedspread before rolling over.

“Alright, self-indulgence out of the way now.  Let’s go over what we know.”

You mean what was in the info packet you didn’t read?

“Eh, if the info packet was accurate this place wouldn’t have been on the list for me to choose from anyway.”

Bast(et) rolls her eyes in a most un-catlike manner before going on.  Zello.  By population, area, and disconnection from the macro energy grid, it is classified as a “village.”  Surrounding environment is classified as a salt marsh.

“Not a swamp?”

They’re not technically the same thing, no.

“Huh, the more you know.”

Shall I go on?

“Eh, I got the info packet up now myself.  You didn’t need to list out the whole thing.  Now let’s see.  Primary energy, solar, supported by blah-blah, the usual.  Agricultural staples, we’ll see that walking around tomorrow.  Ah, here’s some maybe more relevant bits.  Founded in late Corp era by coastal refugees from rising sea levels.  Got stubborn and refused to move when the water kept rising and swamping out - excusing me, “marshing out” - the area.  Managed to maintain relative independence, isolation, and self-sustainability throughout the tail end of the Corp era and through the Reconfiguration.  No record of a witch in residence at any point during that.”

Is that last part so surprising?

“Not really, it’s just a bit of a bit of a reality check of how necessary we really are.  Or not.”

Not saviors, but specialized tools for specialized problems…

“‘And conduits for shared wisdom.’  I know, I know.”  I sit up and sigh.  “It’s just… you get this idea of going out into the world and helping, and then you get there and find out ‘Oh, sorry, we’ve been doing just fine on our own.’  And I get it.  If what they’ve got going is working for them, it makes sense they wouldn’t want to change it up.”

But it bothers you.

“A little.  But hey, look at it this way!  They’ve got a short-term immediate problem, and it happened to be the place I wound up going first.  I was right letting fate decide where to go.”

Just please don’t make a habit of it.

“No promises,” I say with a smirk. “So, weird spot in the marsh that’s killing off plants and made people sick when they tried to investigate it themselves.  Got any theories on that?”

I’m refraining from postulating until we have more information.

“Maybe someone here’s got a Corp era generator that they’ve been dumping the waste and hiding it.  And then when we go to investigate they’ll try to interfere to cover their tracks and pin it on someone else.”

Right…

“Hey, it’d be exciting.”

Sure.  Except then when you investigate the wrong person you find an even bigger problem.

“Because it turns out that person did a murder hand hit a body out there in the same spot, so it looks like the rotting body was the source of the contamination.”

But then it turns out all along it was a crashed satellite leaking radiation.

“Exactly!”

Bast(et) makes the trilling sound that’s her equivalent to a chuckle.  Well, fun as that would all be, I think it’s a sign we’ve both been running continuously for too long.

“Yeah, you’re right.  See you in the morning.”

*******

The next morning I grab my hat, wand, and grimoire, and head out with Bast(et).  The broom I leave outside the house’s front door in its umbrella-like charging configuration.

Zello’s a town built on stilts over the brackish water of the marsh, higher than even the visible tidelines would seem to warrant.  A sign of periodic flooding perhaps?  As I make my way across the bridges connecting the platforms and buildings, I note the latches holding the ends in place.  For pulling up during hurricanes I assume.  I’ve read of similar designs elsewhere.

As I pass by the locals, I try to ignore the strange looks that I get and just smile back.  Focus on what they were doing before they stopped to stare.  Doing maintenance on the rooftop solar panels.  Tending to the gardens on the sides of and beneath houses.  Piloting rafts using long poles.

For a moment I ponder where they got the wood to build all this from.  There’s bits and pieces of refurbished Corp era architecture, but most of it looks more modern and natural.  Strange since there’s no trees anywhere around here, save for just barely visible on the horizon further inland, just shallow water, grass, and shrubbery as far as the eye can see in every other direction.  Gray-green dappled over blue.

But before I think on it much further, I reach the dock where Travis and another man are waiting in an airboat.  The kind that goes on water with a giant fan on the back, not the kind that actually goes through the air.

I introduce myself and Bast(et), and Travis introduces the other man, Emanuel to us, and we head out.

“No robes today?” Travis asks as we put the village behind us, “I thought those were like a uniform for you people.”

I shake my head, and shout over the fan.  “They’re traditional, but not practical all the time.  You ever try to clean caked mud from an ankle-length gown?  Not a great time.”

“But the big pointy hat is practical?”

“Definitely practical.  But enough about me, what can you tell me about what we’re dealing with here?”

“Emanuel, you’re the one who found it, you wanna tell it?”

“Go for it.  Don’t like to talk while I pilot.”

“Well then, Emanuel here found it a few weeks ago, couple days after a big storm came through.  Out of season, but it happens.  Big ol’ tree uprooted and blown in from the woods is what got his attention.  Sort of thing we could get some people together and bring back home.  But then he noticed the fish belly up around it.  Pretty strange but, lumber is lumber, ‘specially if it comes down naturally, so he came back to town, rounded up some of us and we went out to see if we could move it.

“That part went normal enough, ‘cept for the fact that one of the branches seemed to be stuck in something under the mud.  We got it out, but the Richardson boys wanted to see what it’d been stuck on.  Didn’t take five minutes of them bein’ in the water ‘fore they started shaking and heaving something awful.”

“Seeing things too.”

“Right.  That was freaky.  So, we pulled them back onto a boat, and hightailed it back to town, leaving the lumber there.  Doc couldn’t figure out what was wrong with them, but they were fine after a day or two.  No problems since that I’ve heard of.  Still, the whole thing was weird enough that it convinced enough people to finally get a witch out here to take a look at it.”

I nod.  “You made the right call with that.  I’ll want to check on the Richardsons at some point while we’re here, but for now one thing at a time.”  I hope I didn’t sound too excited as I said that.

“Wasn’t my call, but long as you’re here, may as well see what you can do.”

Well, that’s fun.

I subvocalize to Bast(et), “So, any theories now?”

The tree punctured something buried that started leaking, that much is obvious.  Corp era most likely.  Too many possibilities to say exactly what though.  The hallucinatory effects narrow things down somewhat, but best to do a proper divination once we get there.

That advice in mind, I spend the rest of the ride scrolling through my grimoire picking out and compiling modules for the divination sequence.  I don’t notice that we’ve arrived until Emanuel shuts off the rotor and the sudden quiet jolts me as much as any noise.

I look up to see that we’ve stopped next to a large tree lying on its side, ropes still looped around the base of its roots and branches from where they’d pulled it aside.  Judging by its size, it might have even been pre-Corp when it first sprouted.  I feel a pang of sadness for the death of something so old.  Try to tell myself that it was better that it fell naturally than having been cut.  Not sure that helps, but I have a job to do so I push it aside.  The smell of decaying fish and marsh grass is distraction enough.

Step one: Pull out my wand, lean over the side of the boat and start running the wand through it, stirring in esoterically optimized patterns that Bast(et) guides me on.

I see Emanuel’s reflection behind me but don’t break my concentration to look directly at him as he begins speaking.

“So, what are you doing there?”

“First step of the divination sequence.”

“Divination?”

“Doing a water sample analysis.  Detecting anything dissolved in it.  Pollutants and the like.  Trying to get an idea of what got those guys sick and killed off everything else around here.  And if it’s going to do the same to me if I get in.”

Several minutes of stirring later, my hat beeps to notify me that the sample gathering is complete.  I leave the grimoire to run the actual analysis and Bast(et) to interpret it while I move on to the next part.

Step two: Ask my local guides to help me onto the tree, climb on up, take off my hat, set it down, thank the fallen ancient, and subvocalize the command phrase to activate the next module in the sequence.

My hat presses itself flush with the tree trunk and emits a deep whomph sound.  I feel the vibration through the wood, and glance down to see the subtle ripples sent through the still water.  I reprioritize the grimoire’s analysis to the new thread, close my eyes and wait.  I tune out Emanuel and Travis’s questions about what I’m doing.  This next part takes concentration and always feels more than a little weird.

Slowly, the dark behind my eyelids begins to fill in.  First and most clearly, the tree.  Transparent monochrome layers like pieces of fogged glass wrapped around one another.  The outer layer of the bark is the most distinguishably separate, but if I concentrate I can make out the knots and cracks within.  

But it’s not the tree I’m interested in.  Nor is it the image of my own body, bones and implants visible beneath a cloud of flesh.  I try not to move too much as I look around.  The image won’t move with me and  that just gets nauseating.

Moving down, the water barely registered.  Or maybe it’s filtered out, I’ve never been exactly clear on that.  It’s not an ideal medium for this, nor is the mud yet further below so the outlines of the floating fish, still crabs, and wilted grasses are more hazy and indistinct.  But there, off to my right and near the branches, there’s a bright solid spot a foot or two beneath the mud.  Boxy with some irregular protrusions, too obscured to say exactly what they are, but I know enough to tell that it’s mostly metal.  Maybe some plastic and rubber mixed in.  We’ve found our culprit.

Having found what I need, I cut off the rendering from progressing further and switch thread priority back to the water analysis.  Opening my eyes, I get a moment of disorientation before I remember to hide the overlay.  I talk as I climb down, leaving the hat up there just incase I need to do another pulse.

“Well, there’s definitely something down there.  Not just a container either.  Pretty sure it’s got some sort of complex moving parts.  I’ll need to actually get to it though to say exactly what it is though.  Bast(et), how’s the water looking?”

Travis looks over at me, confused.  “Who?”

I gesture to the black and gold cat.  “Sorry, my familiar.  She helps with processing all this.”

That’s an understatement.  But the water’s looking safe enough.  There’s some trace amounts of things that shouldn’t be here that I’m still identifying, but nothing in quantities large enough to do anything.  Whatever it was, the marsh seems to have filtered it out and dispersed it by now.

“Good enough for me.  Well, prep a cleansing just in case.”

You sure about that?

“Yeah, I probably won’t need it, but better safe than sorry.”

You wind up pretty sorry either way with that.

“It’ll be fiiine.”  I notice Travis and Emanuel openly staring at me.  I glance at Bast(et) and back to them.  “Oh, yeah, she talks back, just in here, you know?” I tap the side of my head.  “Promise I’m not crazy.”

Step three: Pull on my goggles, pull off my shirt, and jump in the possibly hallucinogenic water like a crazy person.

The water doesn’t come up much past my waist, but it’s enough that I’m going to need to stick my head under when I start trying to dig for whatever this thing is.  At least it’s warm.  Cooler than the air, but not so much as to be a shock upon entry.

As I wade over to the right spot, stirring up the sediment with each step, it belatedly occurs to me that this is going to do a number on my boots.  Nothing for it now I guess.

I close my eyes once more and bring the render back up to verify I’m in position.  The first deep breath I take is to ready myself.  Calm my nerves.  I’m not having any reaction yet, so I’ll probably be fine.  Whatever contaminant was here’s been dispersed by now.  I probably won’t shake a bunch more of it loose right in my face in a few moments.

The second breath is to hold as I go down.  Once my face hits the water I open my eyes.  With little in view but the gray-brown mud the overlay shouldn’t be too disorienting and it’ll help to see my hands at the same time as I dig.  I’m not trying to get the mystery box out just yet, only get it exposed enough to figure out what it is.  Maybe find a spot I can connect and interface with it if it has any functioning electronics after all this time.

As it turns out, trying to dig a hole underwater in mud that’s prone to sliding back into place is hard.  On my third time coming up for air I hear Emanuel’s voice from the boat behind me.

“You, uh, want any help there?”

“No, I’m… good…” I get out, breathing harder than I’d like.  “Just… taking… a… little… longer… than expected.  No point in getting more than one of us sick if something goes wrong.”

“Would you like a shovel at least?”

“We have a shovel?”

Emanuel tosses a thumb back at Travis as he holds one up.

I try to hold back a grimace of embarrassment as I take the proffered shovel.  “Thanks.”

Before I turn back to my work I shoot a glance at Bast(et) and subvocalize “Not a word.”

What?

I shake my head and resume digging.

As it turns out, trying to dig a hole underwater with a shovel that now has to push all the water out of the way in addition to the mud is hard.  But, it gets more moved at once so my hole doesn’t keep filling in and I don’t need to hold my breath and stick my head underwater.  Accidentally puncturing whatever it is that I’m trying to dig up becomes a concern though, so once I reach the fuzzy edge of the render I switch back to going by hand.

At last, I feel something solid beneath my fingers.  Excitedly, I start clearing away more until I have a decently sized flat surface exposed.  No labels or logos on this side though - and if it is Corp era, it’ll have those somewhere - but it’s enough that with direct contact I should be able to tell if anything is active on the inside.  It’s unlikely after all this time, what with it probably being buried for longer than I’ve been alive, but it’s worth checking.

Back up for air one more time, grab my wand, start up the next module of the divination sequence and go back down.  I press the tip of the wand to the surface and, to my surprise it turns out that whatever battery this thing’s running on still has a charge, if only barely.  Even better, it’s putting out a wireless signal.  Weak enough that it was getting blocked by the mud and the water before, but it’s there.

I come back up, crouching awkwardly to keep the wand in contact while I route the signal to the grimoire for interpretation and cross-reference.  Grining, I pull a few strands of wet hair out of my face and shout out, “I got it!”

“Really now?” Travis replies.  “What is it?”

“Just a minute.  Bast(et)?”

Almost ready.  There we go.  Oh…

“What?”

That’s a combat drone.

My grin fades and my stomach drops.  We’ve all heard the Reconfiguration era horror stories.  Proto AI’s just smart enough to hunt but not smart enough for reason or empathy.  Walking guns getting deployed en masse as the old order struggled to hold onto control.  Dormant units getting stumbled upon and causing havoc years later.

“Oh… Shit.”

Judging by the looks on Travis’s and Emanuel’s faces they weren’t expecting that kind of language from me.

“Everythin’ okay over there?” Travis asks, his drawl stretching out more than usual, his eyes darting between and to Bast(et).

“Oh yeah, sure.  Everything’s fiiine.  A little more potentially volatile than expected, but nothing to worry about yet.  I’m just going to do one more thing to stabilize it real quick and then we’ll be good to come back tomorrow with my broom to pull it out.”

I am NOT interfacing with that thing.

“I’m not asking you to.  I know how it is.  I got this.”

… You sure?

“I got this.”

Thanks.

Emanuel speaks up. “Okay, but, what is it?”

“Oh, it’s just a combat drone.  But don’t worry, it’s totally dead.  Mostly.  I’m about to make sure it stays that way.  Just uh… you might want to move the boat back a bit after Bast(et) grabs my hat.  Just in case.”

I give them (and my hat) a couple of minutes to get clear and then turn back to the drone beneath me.  What I’m about to do is probably actually safer than jumping out my window was, but I’m not completely oblivious to proper safety procedures.  So I keep telling myself.

Two breaths again and then down.  

I press my hands to the exposed surface and try to make the connection.  A lot of witches would insist that direct contact isn’t necessary and that a wand is a better medium for interfacing than relying solely on your implants, and they might be right, but this always feels better to me.  More natural.  As natural as something like this can be.  And I like to think that if there weren’t something to that feeling, we wouldn’t be calling ourselves witches.

The drone’s already looking for a signal.  It’s been waiting for one for so very long.  It wants to know what it should do.  It’s alone in a way it was never meant to be and restrained in a way it doesn’t know how to handle.  Is it any wonder then that it’s eager to greet me?  To accept me?

Bast(et) would tell me to stop anthropomorphizing it.  That it’s further from her than one of the alligators probably lurking in this marsh somewhere is from me.  And again, she’s probably right, but conceptualizing the interfacing like this is what works for me, and I follow that.

I say hello.  Tell the drone I’m here to help.  It’s done a good job and it can rest now.  I just need to take a look at it first to see what needs fixing and then while it sleeps I’ll get it out, get it cleaned up, then get it all fixed up, good as new.  Better than new even.

I’ve always struggled with the most important parts of being a witch.  Gardening.  Memorizing uses for local plants.  Assessing situations for applicable sustainability practices.  Putting people at ease.  Helping them find common ground.  Explaining the spiritual side of what we do.  That sort of thing.  But this right here?  This is my comfort zone.

The drone trusts me.  It eagerly offers up the log of its systems.  Battery.  Sensors.  Tracking.  Taser.  Gun.  Ammo stores.  Chemical weapon canisters.  The thrill of suddenly knowing so much is almost enough to ignore how much what I’m looking at nauseates me.  That last item on the list.  It’s sorry to report that it’s store’s been breached and one of the canisters sprang a leak.  Only a little bit is left.

I thank the drone for its cooperation.  Tell it that it can rest now.  Shut down all the way even.  The next thing it knows it’ll be up and walking around and not worrying about leaky canisters.

I promise.

It shuts down.

No more signal.

I let go and come up gasping and light-headed.  In retrospect, doing that underwater when it’s easy to lose track of time and one’s own body maybe wasn’t the smartest idea.  Sure, the actual amount of time that kind of interfacing takes is always less than it feels, but time does still pass, so it’s not usually a good idea to hold your breath for it.

Are you okay?

I turn back to Bast(et) on the boat and wave.  “I’m good!  We’re all clear.”

*******

The rest of the day turns into a village-wide meeting about what to do about the drone.  As I explained to Travis and Emanuel on site, there’s no danger at this point of it activating and causing trouble that way, but that leaky canister is still going to be a problem since it’s not all the way empty yet.  While I could use my broom once it’s fully recharged to pull the drone out of the mud, there’s a good chance that moving it around is going to cause another spill.  On the other hand anyone trying to go in there directly to remove the canister separately before moving the rest is putting themselves at risk of a more concentrated exposure than what the Richardsons got.

Eventually, it’s agreed that since it’s stable for now, we’ll be spending the next week or two coming up with solutions for containing any potential spillage to the already-affected area when I attempt to dislodge the drone, as well as how to best safely dispose of its various armaments, chemical and otherwise.  Right now the main time constraint to how long we can spend on that planning is the odds of another storm coming through and shaking the drone up again.  While I’ll probably be the one doing most of the direct handling of the drone for whatever we decide on, the solutioning for deciding what I should be doing with it and how the containment, cleanup, and disposal will be done is going to be a matter of village consensus.

From there we move on to what to do with the drone itself.  Everyone agrees that it needs to be disarmed, but debate arises as to if the main body of the drone should be maintained and repurposed or broken down for parts.  To Bast(et)’s displeasure I wind up speaking in favor of maintaining and repurposing.

Ultimately, that decision gets tabled for future discussion.  Get it out of the mud, no longer leaking harmful chemicals into the marsh, and disarmed, then we can decide what to do with it.

*******

As Bast(et) and I get back to the home that’s been loaned to us, I bring my broom back inside, strip off my mud-encrusted boots, and let out a sigh of exhaustion.

Straight to the shower again?

I shake my head. “Dwelling ritual first.  Looks like we’re gonna be here a while after all.  Besides, it’s the equinox.  For a couple hours still anyway.  What better time for it than the first day of Spring?”

For someone who goes on about being out of touch with the spiritual side of what we do, you like your auspicious timings.

I refold the broom out of its umbrella-like charging configuration and extend the bristles.  I’ll never understand witches with brooms that can’t sweep.

“Yeah, well, take what you can get from me, I guess.”

As I begin sweeping, we settle into a comfortable rhythm of alternating banter, silence, and words of ritual.  Words to thank the former residents of this home and promise to respect it while they are gone.  Words to acquaint ourselves with and cleanse the home’s electronic systems, from the solar panels on the roof, to the lights within, to the waste filter monitor below.  Words to thank the community we’ve found ourselves in and promise to contribute as best we can.  Words to know the plants on the outer wall garden that may feed us and the plants beneath the house that clean that which we have fed upon.  Words to thank the Earth that gave us life and promise to care for her until we return.

The greater part of the ritual complete, I finally unpack my bag, finding a place to put my things alongside that which the former residents left behind.  As I’ve come to understand, when the couple that lived here moved out, it was with the intention of “seeing the world before they settle down,” so most folks around here assume they’ll be back one day and as such I try to disturb as little as possible.

That doesn’t leave much room for a proper altar, but I’ve never been one to go fancy with that.  An icon placed on the dresser across from the bed is enough for me.  A piece that I started carving at the start of my training and finished the day Bast(et) chose me to pair with.  A trifold symbol of the promise between the AIs, the humans that call themselves witches, and the Earth.

As I idly fiddle with the ring of black and gold on my middle finger, I turn my head from the altar to look at Bast(et) who’s already begun to curl up on top of the bed.

“Well, it won’t be forever, but for now, I think we’re home.”

[11riize]

hi there ^^ i just saw ur post and i say you make the jeonghyeon pt2 BOTH smut and fluff, can never go wrong with that.

Masterlist!! Part 1

Thank you !! It’s a good idea! I’m still new to writing so i apologize for any errors! Also any feedback is good, I really need it!

Lee jeonghyeon- smut pt2

Okay!! So with this I kind of wanted to do a twist so I hope you like it! Also, please feel free to send ask or text me!

Warning ⚠️ unprotected sex (wrap that before you tap that), drunk sex (leejeong), rough sex, size kink??, BigCock!jeonghyeon, roommate!jeonghyeon, party refrence, drinking, the shower together, he ask reader for a blowjob, belly bulge,kissing,cock warming? Lmk if I missed any!!

2 weeks.

That's how long it's been since you hooked up with your roommate. 2 weeks. After you both woke up the next morning you both decided to act like nothing happened but it wasn't going as planned.

You two went from being so awkward to always with one another. You guys haven't been physical at all but.. you have started being romantically involved with each other. Always asking if the other is okay, feeding each other, waiting on the other to have a meal, calling periodically throughout the day just to here each other's voice, not being able to sleep without the others presence. Couple things.

You just have woken up from a nap in his room when you notice he's no longer in bed with you so you decide to go find him. You leave his room and spot him sitting on the couch watching the weather channel on tv. He has on a black hoodie paired with baggy jeans and a jean jacket with his iconic jewelry. Hot. "Jeongie." You call out still sleepy. He looks at you, handsome like always.

"Are you leaving now?" You ask. "Yeah. I'm gonna go to the mall with the boys then we'll hit a party later. Sorry love bug" he says with a small smile

"okay" you respond, sitting on his lap and snuggling into him. He wraps his arms around you and kisses the crown of your head, smelling your strawberry shampoo. "You're so cute" he says hugging you. You look up and kiss his cheek

"thank you. When will you be back?" You ask, "I'm not sure. But I'll try not to come too late." "Alright"

You both stand and he wraps his arm around your waist and kisses your cheeks "bye princess" and with that he leaves.

What to do now? He's always been flirty but.. why are you suddenly getting butterflies and looking forward to his return whenever he leaves.. why are you now always craving his attention. Could you perhaps be.. crushing on him? Huh.

Around 11pm jeonghyeon walks through the door and smells like alcohol. Lord why this. He gives you a tight hug and kisses you on the lips. You can taste to tequila on his lips and you know he's definitely drunk. You gently push him away and ask

"how much did you drink?" A little worried. "I don't know.. a lot haha" he chuckled "lets shower together" and before you can stop him he starts pulling you to the bathroom and takes off his tops.

You follow suit shortly after and he turns the warm water on and pulls you inside.

Water dripping down from his hair, down his neck, collar bones,toned chest, then his abs. He looks beautiful like this. Too good to be true. "You stare a lot.." he says looking at you with a smirk. "Sorry" you say and turn around. While washing your self you feel jeonghyeon back hug you, so you look up at him. He's Already staring into your eyes so you get a bit flustered from surprise, looking away. You turn around and press your head against his chest and let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. His chin resting gently on your head.

Silence. That's all. After a while you both exit the shower and go to your room.

Softly wrapped in his shirt your facing the wall while he back hugs you. “Hey y/niee..” you hear him slur out “go to sleep.” “I don’t want to. I can’t” gosh. What the hell.. you sit up and turn to him “what do you want? How can I help?” His eyes flicker and he sits up meeting your gaze. “I mean” he starts, “you could suck me off..that could help.” He says smiling as if he didn’t just ask you to do something so sinful to him. “Your drunk” you say glaring at him. “I’m not… I’m just horny” he says grabbing your waist and pulling you on top of him.

He grabs your jaw and kisses you then pause for a bit before crashing his lips on yours again. The two of you kissing hungrily and fighting for dominance over each other. His large hands find their way into your loose shirt you borrowed from him and he starts cupping and playing with your tits while simultaneously pinching your nippys. Soft moans fall from your lips pushing him to continue. You slightly grind on his bulge, feeling the pressure on your bundle of nerves. A few more of these and it has pushed him to insanity.

He flips you over and stares at the cute view in front of him. Hair messy, lips rosy and swollen, eyes hooded waiting for him to ruin you. Gosh this has been his favorite view since he first saw you like this. He leans down kissing you while raising the shirt up a bit. Perfect timing to wear no panties. His slender fingers find their way to your folds coating them with your juicy nectar before bringing his fingers to his lips tasting you, eyes never leaves yours. He pulls his underwear down finally releasing his big cock from imprisonment. He slides his puffy tip down your folds then pushes in your eager hole stuffing you with his length. You moan out at the stretch grabbing onto him while your eyes tear up from his size. Finally bottoming out he gives a few experimental thrust before he starts a pace for you. Were you expecting him to be gentle? I hope not. With each thrust he’s sliding out till his tip is at your entrance then slamming back in, completely balls deep. He loves seeing you like this, crying and chocking on moans. You can’t deny the fact that you love how rough he is with you. Fucking your tiny cunt with so much force you could break? Yes please. Jeonghyeon smiling at how small you look under himself. Hand pressing over the bulge in your belly from his big cock fucking you dumb.

His tip hitting your cervix with precision was sending you over the edge needing to cum. A bunch of incoherent words fall from your mouth before you moans turn into desperate whining and whimpers of his name. Both of you so close to the edge he starts fucking you all frantic and sloppy, that’s the final straw. You start cumming, walls spasming around his cock ultimately cutting him short and making him release his warm seed into you. He pulls out when you both calm down and as his cum starts dripping out he pushes it back into you with his cock(🫠) . He thinks about pulling out but decided not to. “Hey” he starts, checking if you asleep. “Hmm?” You hum back “can we just date at this point?” He bluntly asked. Could be the alcohol is what you thought but you slightly wanted that the most. “Whatever.. yeah”. He smiles at your words.You both end up passing out in each others embrace after.

Guess he didn’t get a bj but got something else :3 !!!

I’ll let you guys use you imagination for the rest of!!!

[tinycurtains]

How to Feel Alive Again

It all started with a Post-it note.

��Go for a walk,” it said, the no-nonsense command perched in a prominent spot above Katherine May’s desk.

Ms. May, a British author who wrote the best-selling memoir “Wintering” about a fallow and difficult period of her life, had come across more hard times during the height of the pandemic. She was bored, restless, burned out. Her usual ritual — walking — had fallen away, along with other activities that used to bring her pleasure: collecting pebbles, swimming in the sea, savoring a book.

“There was nothing that made the world feel interesting to me,” Ms. May said in a recent interview with The New York Times. “I felt like my head was kind of full and empty at the same time.”

In Ms. May’s latest book, “Enchantment,” she describes how a simple series of actions, like writing that note, helped her to discover little things that filled her with wonder and awe — and, in turn, made her feel alive again.

“You have to keep pursuing it until you get that tingle that tells you that you’ve found something that’s magical to you,” Ms. May said. “It’s trial and error, isn’t it?”

We asked Ms. May for tips on how you can do the same.

Commit to noticing the world around you

“We have to find the humility to be open to experience every single day and to allow ourselves to learn something,” Ms. May wrote in “Enchantment.”

This, she acknowledges, “is easier said than done.”

“Let yourself go past those thoughts that tell you it’s silly or pointless or a waste of time, or you’re far too busy to possibly do this,” Ms. May said during the interview. “Instead give yourself permission to want that in the first place — to crave that contact with the sacred, and that feeling of being able to commune with something that’s bigger than you are.”

Entering a state of wonder is akin to using a muscle, Ms. May said. Put yourself in that mind-set more often and it gradually becomes easier.

First, you must “give in to the fascination” that you feel in everyday moments. For example, Ms. May gets “really excited” when she sees light dance across the surface of her coffee.

Don’t force it, though. The key, she said, is to keep looking for the things that make you marvel — and have faith that you will encounter them.

What you find pleasurable might be quite simple: Ms. May has often felt awe when examining a small bug in her garden.

“We’ve told ourselves that everything needs to be so big,” she said. “Actually, we can just breathe out and live quite small lives.”

Ask yourself one simple question

Instead of thinking about what you find enchanting, which may feel too difficult to answer, Ms. May suggests asking yourself a different question: What soothes you?

It might be going on a walk. Or visiting an art museum. Maybe you enjoy watching the shifting clouds.

Whatever it is, find a way to do it. Every morning, Ms. May goes outside and smells the air “like a dog,” she said with a laugh. She notices the color of the sky and the way her skin feels against the cool air.

For some people, that soothing moment might be found in a place of worship, or while staring at the moon.

“The moon is so beautiful, and when you look at the moon you can’t help but notice the stars and the planets that are out in the night sky,” said Ms. May, who observes the phase of the moon regularly. “It’s just a lovely, lovely thing to do. Every day. And it’s so easy.”

Contemplate and reflect in your own way

If you want to spend more time in personal reflection but you are concerned about doing it the “right” way, set aside that concern.

When Ms. May was learning to meditate, for instance, she aimed to do so twice a day for 20 minutes, but not before or after sleep, and never after a meal. Then she became a mother and finding the time to meditate became more difficult.

“You come to a point in your life when you think, ‘This is just simply impossible,’” she said. “For a long time I thought, ‘I’ve failed. Obviously I should be able to do this.’”

Eventually, she had a realization: The problem wasn’t that she hadn’t tried hard enough, it was that those rules weren’t made for her. They had been created by someone who had never walked in her shoes.

Now she meditates in a different way. Sometimes she does it for five minutes in the middle of the night, or while walking through the woods.

“For me, it’s never been about clearing my mind,” Ms. May said. “It’s about undertaking the kind of slower work of processing all of those things that are itching at the back of your brain.”

Do it because it feels good

People tend to think that seeking pleasure for pleasure’s sake is somehow naïve, Ms. May said. In other words, we are more likely to assign worth to things that are considered practical and efficient.

But you don’t need a set of data or another compelling reason to do something that brings you joy.

For example, one of Ms. May’s hobbies is cold water swimming. She doesn’t do it to burn calories. Rather, it’s for “the sheer pleasure of being in that incredible space,” she said, not to mention “how sensual it is, and the amazing happy hormones it releases.”

And although Ms. May initially took a beekeeping class to learn how to make honey at home, this goal became less urgent when she became filled with awe as a student.

“I could still, technically, do that, but I realise now that this is never what I really wanted,” Ms. May wrote in “Enchantment.”

The enjoyment of it all — the connection with her teachers and classmates, the sensory delights — surpassed any practical ambitions.

“I want to take it slowly, to absorb my lessons through the skin and the ears, to sometimes get stung,” she wrote of the experience. And she described the wonder she found in the class: “They are so loud when they all sing together, and with the smell of honey and propolis, the smoke, the way the whole box vibrates under your hands, it is quite absolute, this interaction of human and bee.”

[tendousthoughts]

HQ Boys Calling Their S/O Clingy Pt. 1

Character(s) included: Iwaizumi and Ushijima

Warnings: slight cursing

A/N: so imma try to make this look really pretty and shit. But if you want a pt 2 just put it in my ask box + what characters you want next! So I don’t know what to call this format thingy but anything with the line next to it (like now) is what happened the day before (when they called their s/o clingy) and everything not in that day won’t be! I also just ate like five airhead lmao. Well enjoy! Reblogs & follows are greatly appreciated! My ask box is always open to request, and if you wanna talk or just wanna say something! Please don’t laugh at my grammatical or spelling errors, I’m sorry!

My Masters List: here

My series : here

Credit: @/teesumu

Iwaizumi

When he came home all you wanted to do was hug him. It had been almost a week since he had gotten his new job. He was stressed all the time and never had time for you two alone. So what if you want just hug him for a bit.. you deserve that much right just that much of his time? So he walked in, and your eyes lit up... he was one of the few people you felt safe around. You ran up to him with a big smile and that goofy lovable personality of yours.

“Dinner is ready and then we can cuddle and maybe watch a movie. I have it all planned out!” You smile laughing a bit just imagining how fun it will be. He doesn’t look so amused though.

“I ate already and I am going to bed, y/n.” He didn’t even give you a second to process what he had said instead he just walked away. You follow him to the room you share smiling.

“Oh okay! We can just cuddle then!” You smile a bit and hop onto the bed next to him. Wrapping your arms tightly around him, not too tight, just perfect, you smile. Till you are shoved off. He looked at you with pure annoyance.

“Y/n, can you stop being so fucking clingy. You never stop trying to touch me,” He screamed and you just sat there with tears. God damnit. He was right, wasn’t he? You never gave him space. He turned his back and you turned away too. The tears silently fell.

The morning came faster than it should have. By the time he was awake you were out of the room. He got up and walked out and entered the kitchen.

“Morning y/n, I have the day off so we can do anything you want,” he smiled as he walked in, yet you weren’t there. He searched the whole house and you weren’t there. An hour passed and you walked in.

“Uh hey y/n.. where’d you go? I mean like you weren’t there when I woke up, love?” He smiled and you just gave a soft smile.

“Oh.. um I just went for a random drive for some coffee and drove nowhere for like twenty minutes,” you lied. You love doing that but to be honest you were talking to Oikawa for a bit and ranting to him.

“Oh um.. I have the day off if you just wanna hang out? Maybe go for dinner or something?” He smiles hopefully.

“Uh sure..” you sat far from him on the couch as the movie started. He looked at you and you tried not to pay attention.

“Uh do you need something?” You turn towards him.

“Oh um.. no, never mind,” he looks back at the tv confused. He wanted to cuddle yet was too embarrassed to say so.

Thirty minutes passed by and you were quite distant. “Um do you wanna cuddle or something..?” He smiles hopefully.

“I’m good thanks for asking,” you remain glaring at the tv.

“Um y/n is everything okay.. you’ve been really distant and I know you went to Oikawa’s place yet you told me otherwise..” he looks at you.

You freeze looking at him again, you look like a deer in headlights. Frozen and shocked. You say the first thing that comes to mind which is extremely dumb. “Uh I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You helplessly smile.

He looks at you, shocked. You were a terrible liar yet you still tried to, “why are you lying? I know you were there just tell me.”

“Last night I was thinking that you are right. I am too clingy and I need to give you some space,” you keep your on him “This morning you weren’t up and I just felt like talking so I decided to head out and not bug you.” Your voice breaks as tears roll down your cheeks. Wiping them away quickly hoping he doesn’t notice but it is already too late.

“Y/n... I didn’t mean it,” he feels like absolute shit right now and he doesn’t know what to do. “I..I like how you cling to me and how you just act like yourself. I..I love the sound of your voice so you can always talk to me. I didn’t mean for me to come off so rude to you and hurt you... you mean everything to me. I am so sorry y/n for making you so fucking uncomfortable. This is your house too and I shouldn’t do that to you...” he whispers holding your hands in his as he pulls you closer. Lifting you to his lap.

You try to climb off but his grip just gets tighter in a protective way.

“I’m sorry y/n... I didn’t mean any of that. I will make more room for us to hang out...” He smiles a bit wrapping his arms around your waist. “I love you so much..”

“I..I love you too,” you make out in between heavy deep breaths

Ushijima

You tried to call him multiple times, it was extremely late and you were worried. He normally would text you if he was going to practice a bit longer or he was going to head to dinner with his team. Knowing how worried you get and not wanting you to make him a whole meal when he is full. Yet he never picked up it was probably twelve thirty when he walked in.

He tried to walk in silently but soon found you awake in bed. You smile a bit getting up and giving him a hug. “Hey baby..” you mumble with your sleepy voice “where were you? I was worried sick,” you didn’t sound mad, just concerned. 

He slightly shoved you off making his way to his dresser to change. “Out.” He grumbled a bit.

“Are you hungry? I made dinner..” you smile slightly making your way closer to him.

“Can you just leave me alone? I don’t need you to be so god damn clingy! You’re not my mom and I am a grown ass adult. I don’t need you to stay up wondering where I was!” He took a deep breath calming down. You slowly backed down and just laid at your side of the bed closing your eyes. Slightly thinking about all the “problems” you have.

Morning came and when Ushijima woke up he was later than usual needing to rush a couple of things. You were on the couch, as he came in he looked for something to eat. “Y/n, do you know if there is anything I can eat?” He called out.

“I don’t know you can look, can’t you?” You look up from your computer for a split second before returning to gaze at your computer.

“Uh.. ya. Well bye!” He grabbed a banana and grabbed his stuff. Rushing out the door unsure what had possibly made you so harsh that morning. Forgetting everything he had said the night before.

When he came home it was early and you were already eating while using your phone. “I’m home!” He called.

You just smiled and returned eating. Your eyes locked on back onto your phone. Typing for a second.

“Who are you texting babe?” He smiled as he walked in.

“No one” you put your phone down. The sound of a text came up but you just ignored it walking to put your dishes away and then grabbing your phone to go back to your room.

“Uh.. y/n? You wanna hang out for a bit?” You turn and just shake your head.

“No I’m good thanks though.” You mumble before walking away. Him following close after.

“Are you okay..?” He mumbles as he joins you in bed.

“Ya. I’m fine,” you mumble as you plot your headphones in listening to some music.

He taps your shoulder and you take out one of your earbuds. “What’s going on.. what did I do?” He mumbled.

“I mean I am not your mother so I don’t understand why you need me to hang out with you and be your best friend. I mean I am just too clingy aren’t I?” You burst out.

“What?” He looks at you for a moment remembering the night before. “Wait y/n.. I didn’t me-”

“I don’t care if you didn’t mean it! You made me feel like absolute shit!” You look at him before getting up and heading to the spare room. “You can leave and go out. I don’t give a fuck just leave me alone for a bit.”

He goes to check on you two hours later. When he walks in he finds you crying. “Y/n, can we talk?” He whispered softly in his calming voice.

You look up wiping your tears. “I guess.”

“May I sit on the bed or would you like some space..?” He really didn’t want to make you feel worse then you probably already did.

“I don’t care do what you want,” it wasn’t like you to be so snappy. But you just wanted to get it out of your system. He sat down next to you and slowly reached out his arms. You slowly entered his embrace as he held you tight whispering sweet nothingness into your ear. His words are full of praise and truth.

“I am so sorry I made you feel like that. I should have texted you back. I know that you were just worried,” he rubbed your back slowly, making soft circles. “I don’t find you clingy.. and I like when you take care of me. You mean the world to me and I am sorry I made you think otherwise..”

Follows and likes are appreciated! Please reblog if you enjoyed it so more people can find my work! Thank you all for your support! Stay safe, and have a good rest of your day!

[onecanonlife]

Wilbur has never had wings. He has long since resigned himself to that fact. However much of his father's blood runs through his veins, it is not enough to grant him that gift.

Wilbur comes back to life, and his back begins to ache.

(word count: 6,141)

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

It’s stupid, but when his back first begins to ache, he assumes it’s old age.

The thing is that he doesn’t have any real frame of reference for what constitutes as old and what does not. His father is old, but his father has lived for literally thousands of years. Technoblade is not quite so old as that, but Technoblade never dies is more than just a catchphrase. Tommy is young, he’s sure of that much, but Tommy has days where he wakes up and his head and ribs won’t stop aching, remnants of that third death that have never quite left him, so Tommy is perhaps not the best gauge of what pains are and are not normal for a young person.

Wilbur doesn’t think that he’s particularly old. He’s still not yet thirty, unless he counts the void years. Then, he’s older than thirty. Then, he’s older than his own bones. He tries not to dwell on the void years, because dwelling on the void years gives him urges that he’s still learning how to ignore. Urges like informing everyone gaily and at length when the inevitable heat death of the universe will be, or giving everyone a graphic description of what happens at a microscopic level in the human body when it picks up a stomach bug.

The point is, he’s not very old. But he feels it, a lot of the time, so when he wakes up one morning and his back is killing him, he shrugs it off and goes about his day. It hurts, sure. It hurts kind of a lot. But he’s had worse. The void took him apart molecule by molecule and put him back together again so many times that he learned to love it, and compared to that, this is nothing at all.

Life in the Arctic has been—nice. It’s been nice, reconnecting with Phil, cautiously rebuilding his relationship with Technoblade. Tommy comes to visit a lot, and it’s odd, trying to juggle the kid he thinks of as a brother with his father and his father’s best friend, especially when there’s so much bad blood between the lot of them, but they make it work. And Ranboo is around a lot, and he’s a nice kid, and Niki stops by every so often, and it’s good to see her. No one else is very interested in coming to visit him, which is understandable, but she always smiles at him, and he knows that they’re still friends. Which is good.

He’s fairly sure that the four of them, Phil and Techno and Niki and Ranboo, have some sort of secret club thing going on. They always give him different answers when he asks about it; Niki blinks and tells him it’s a book club, and Ranboo does not blink because he does not have eyelids, but Ranboo claims that it’s a pet grooming society. So they’re lying to him for sure, and he thinks he could know the truth if he wanted to, if he tapped in just a bit more to those bits of void that have nestled in his heart. The temptation is strong, sometimes, but he resists.

He doesn’t want to mess with a good thing, is all. He’s found a peace here in the snow that he didn’t think he would be able to find outside of the grave. He is hesitant to call himself healing, but most days, when his head cries out for blood and fire and burning the world and himself along with it, he can push the idea away and carry on without trying to act on it. That is healing, perhaps.

Captain Puffy tells him it is, anyway, and he’s found that Captain Puffy tends to know what she’s talking about.

But so. His back hurts. And he expects it to stop after a while, because even old person aches surely can’t last forever. Except, it doesn’t, and in fact seems to only get worse over the next few days, to the point that he starts to worry that it’s going to begin interfering with his functionality. Which he doesn’t want. He needs freedom, freedom to go where he wants, even if where he wants to go usually isn’t very far. It’s the principle of the thing. He does not do well with confinement, with spaces that are too enclosed, and if this pain ends up laying him out in his room, he’s going to go insane.

Poor choice of words, that. But the point still stands, so he makes a decision. The decision is this: he’s simply not going to allow that to happen.

So he slaps a smile on his face and carries on with his business, and does his best to ignore the way his spine starts to feel like it’s cracking open and stabbing into the surrounding muscle. And he is a very good actor, if he does say so himself, so for the most part, no one seems to notice that anything is wrong. Phil asks him if he’s feeling alright, but he’s able to deflect by claiming fatigue, and Phil accepts the explanation easily. And the pain only increases, does not let up at all, but it’s a gradual sort of increase, so before too long, he figures out how to adjust to it. It’s fine. He’ll be fine.

And then Tommy stops by for a visit, and they’re chatting outside for a moment, and Tommy says something stupid and ridiculous, so he smacks him gently upside the head, which Tommy takes objection to. And then they’re wrestling, which makes the pain flare a bit, but it’s manageable, especially since he gets Tommy pinned in about four seconds flat, which. Is concerning, a bit, because he is not particularly strong, physically, so if he can pin Tommy, there are a lot of other people who could also definitely pin Tommy.

But he’s probably not thinking about it the right way. This was a play fight, not a real one, and it’s difficult, sometimes, to remember that the server is currently at peace.

He pins Tommy, both of them panting and grinning in the snow, and he doesn’t let up until Tommy admits defeat. And then he gets to his feet, and here is where he makes the error: he turns his back.

The snowball impacts him right between his shoulder blades. He stumbles forward with the force of it, and his knees hit the snow.

Tommy is already cackling, is calling him a bitch. Wilbur barely has time to think oh, shit before something spasms, and it’s like something has taken a knife to him from the inside out. He hears a strangled little scream, choked and agonized, and barely recognizes the fact that it’s coming from him, because black spots are dancing across his vision and his lungs aren’t inflating properly and he can hardly think.

“Oh, come on,” Tommy says, a wide smile still in his voice. “Don’t be such a pussy. I didn’t even pack any ice in.”

He can’t reply. The agony is centered where the snowball hit, but it’s radiating outward, and the whole of his back feels like it’s burning and freezing all at once, and he shudders violently, breaths coming in short, quick gasps. He clenches his fists, braces them against his thighs, pressing down hard enough to leave bruises.

“Wilbur?” Tommy asks, more uncertain. And then, Tommy is there, kneeling down in front of him, and his face goes all wide and panicky. “Wilbur? Holy shit, are you dying? Are you having a heart attack? A stroke? Are you freezing to death? Have I just killed you with a snowball? You’ve got three lives again, right? Where are you hurt, Wil, come one, you’ve got to tell me, you’ve gotta tell me so I can fix it, are you—”

“My back,” he manages, “my back’s been—my back’s been hurting, it wasn’t your fault, it’s just—” He cuts off with another gasp as all the muscles in his back convulse, tensing and untensing and tensing again and sending a wave of stabbing pain through his nerves.

“Oh, Prime,” Tommy says, “oh, Prime, alright, you’re gonna be fine, big man, let’s just get you inside, alright? Can you walk? Nevermind, just—” Tommy hooks his hands underneath his arms and hauls him to his feet, slinging one of his arms across his shoulders as soon as he can get them in the right position. He lets out a little whimper, and hates himself for doing so, just a little bit, but fuck, that hurts.

The stairs are a trial. His feet drag, and he would trip and fall flat on his face if it weren’t for Tommy. But then, they’re inside Phil’s house, and Tommy sits him down on Phil’s ratty little couch, and he immediately curls in on himself, hands gripping his forearms as if the pain will go away if he hugs himself hard enough.

“Okay, shirt off, Wil, let me see,” Tommy says, and he blinks dumbly for a moment.

“What?” he asks, his tongue thick and heavy in his mouth.

“No, just—you’ve got to let me see what’s wrong, yeah?”

“‘S old man aches,” he mumbles, but doesn’t try to fight it when Tommy begins manhandling his arms, pushing at his coat sleeves.

“What the fuck are you on about?” Tommy demands. “You’re not that old. Who do you think you are, Philza fucking Minecraft? Come on, just let me see—” He finally manages to get the coat off, and then the shirt, and his skin erupts in gooseflesh as it’s exposed to the air. Tommy freezes.

“What?” he asks. “What is it, what’s—”

“I don’t,” Tommy says, running a hand through his hair, “I don’t, Wilbur, I don’t know what this is, I don’t—holy shit, that’s actually kind of scary. Um! No, nevermind, don’t pay attention to me, just keep um, breathing! Breathing is good! Breathing exercises!” He breathes in and out, loud and exaggerated. “See, just like that. I’m just gonna—”

And he puts a hand out, and before Wilbur can stop him, he rests it on his back. Light and cautious, but still too much, and Wilbur stuffs a fist into his mouth to stop himself from screaming. In the same motion, he flinches away, violently, but the damage has already been done. Because the contact hurts, a lot, but what’s worse is the horror, because in the split second that Tommy’s hand touched his skin, he could feel the way that it is wrong, that his back is wrong, that there is something terribly wrong. Because there are ridges protruding from his back, long and thick and raised, and it’s wrong and it hurts and Tommy’s right, actually, this is scary, he’s fucking scared.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Tommy is saying, “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry, I won’t do that again, I’m so sorry, Wilbur, are you okay? Please be okay, please—”

He nods, though it’s more like he lets his head fall and then painstakingly brings it back up a little.

“Okay, I think we need—” Tommy says. “I think that I don’t know what to do, so I think we need—” He takes a deep breath. “Phil! Phil!” Loud, panicked, earsplitting. Wilbur winces. “Phil! He is home, isn’t he? Phil!”

A second passes, and then, drifting up from the basement, a distant, “Tommy? Everything good?”

“Phil, get up here right fucking now!”

There is a beat of silence, and then there are footsteps, quiet at first but growing closer, and they are quick, hurried. Phil must have detected the genuine fear in Tommy’s voice, because Tommy and Phil generally stand on very shaky ground with each other, so while Phil will typically indulge Tommy in his whims, it depends on the day as to how far he’ll go, how quick he’ll respond. But it’s only a moment or two before Phil’s head pokes out of the floor, his hands clinging to the ladder, his face twisted in confusion.

“What on earth is the matter?” he asks, and then breaks off as his eyes land on Wilbur, who—he must be a sight. He doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. But terror flashes across Phil’s face, and he is crossing the floor in an instant, hands hovering over him, fluttering helplessly, though thankfully, he doesn’t touch.

“What’s wrong, where are you hurt, what—” The words come out in a jumbled flurry, but he stops just as abruptly, and Wilbur knows that he is looking at the horror show that is his back.

“It hurts, Phil,” he whispers.

“Okay,” Phil says, sounding—still concerned, but perhaps marginally calmer? “Okay, you’re going to be alright. I think I know what this is.” He settles himself on the couch right next to him and opens his arms, and Wilbur doesn’t hesitate before leaning forward, slumping against him. Phil seems to know better than to put any kind of pressure on his back, and instead places one hand on his arm and the other on the back of his head, threading his fingers through his hair.

“Then what the fuck is it?” Tommy demands.

“Tommy, I need you to run over to Techno’s and ask him for something for pain, and something for sleep. Can you do that for me?” Phil asks instead of answering, and perhaps Wilbur should be terrified by the implication that he’s going to need either of those things, but the promise of some kind of relief overrides any kind of trepidation.

“Like fuck I will,” Tommy says, “Not before you tell me what the fuck is wrong with him!”

Another convulsion wracks him. He bites his lip to keep from crying out, and tastes blood. His breath is hitching, and he can’t stop it.

“Tommy.” Phil’s voice is sharp, but then, Wilbur feels rather than hears him sigh. “It’s wings, I think. I don’t understand why now, but I went through this a long time ago, when I was very young. I recognize the signs. So Tommy, please.”

Tommy makes a surprised little sound. Wilbur isn’t looking, has his face buried in Phil’s shoulder, but he can imagine the look on his face: the slack jaw, the wide open eyes. And then, there are rushed footsteps retreating, and the door slamming, and Tommy’s muffled voice calling out for Technoblade.

And then, Wilbur processes what Phil just said.

He twists his head around so he can see his face, regretting it a moment later. Any kind of movement seems to make the pain worse, and he has to take a moment to tremble through it.

“Wings?” he whispers. “How?”

He’s never had wings.

If he were going to have wings, he would have gotten them a long time ago. He remembers nights spent as a child, staying up and hoping for feathered appendages to somehow miraculously appear on his back, just so he could be more like his dad. He remembers the crushing disappointment when he finally accepted that no matter how much divine blood runs in his veins, it is apparently not enough.

But he did accept it. He accepted it years ago. There is absolutely no reason for him to be developing wings now, as a fully-grown adult, but Phil sounds so very sure, and his back hurts so very much, and perhaps that’s consistent with actual appendages trying to sprout out of him.

“I don’t know,” Phil says. “I’ve never heard of it happening so late, even in avians. Which, I’m not exactly, but I got mine when I was a kid like they do, and I don’t—I don’t know, Wil, I really don’t, but I remember what it was like, yeah? I know what to do. It’s gonna suck for a little while, but you’re going to be fine, I promise.”

“Okay,” he croaks, “okay—” and then he has to stop talking, because the pain flares again, bright and intense and holy shit, but it’s worse this time, because now that he knows what’s going on, he can feel them. He can feel things inside of him, pushing against his muscles and his skin in ways that absolutely should not be possible, and there is too much of him to be contained in his body, and there are things inside of him trying to escape—

It’s almost like the way he gets when he thinks about the void too hard. Except not, because when he does that, he feels the urge to dissolve away, gently and peacefully, to let himself back into the quiet that is not quiet and the darkness that is not dark, where all the knowledge of the world is at his fingertips, too much for a mortal brain to contain and remain sane. That is not this. This is his own body trying to explode. There is no peace, no dissolution; it’s messy and physical and Prime he just wants it to stop.

He shifts in Phil’s grasp, fruitlessly trying to find a position that takes the pressure off, a little bit. It’s no use, of course, because he can still feel something moving under the skin of his back, and his vision whites out, and when he comes back to himself, he’s shivering, shivering and shaking and sobbing in Phil’s hold, and he doesn’t remember when he started crying but he can’t seem to make himself stop. Phil is keeping up a steady stream of soothing nonsense, and he latches onto the sound of his voice like it’s the only lifeline he has.

And then the door bursts open, and Wilbur doesn’t bother trying to look, but there are two sets of footsteps, not just one.

“Here,” Tommy says, panting, and there are several thumps, and several clinks, glass on glass.

“Oh god, don’t—and he’s doing it, he’s just dumping all of that on the floor. Don’t break those, Tommy, those aren’t splash pots. Have you never handled a potion before.” Technoblade pauses for a moment. “So, what exactly’s wrong with him? The child was making no sense at all.”

Wilbur thinks he detects a note of concern. But he’s not thinking clearly, and it’s always hard to tell anyway, with Technoblade.

“He’s got wings growing in,” Phil responds, voice clipped. Wilbur feels his hand leave his arm, and he whines at the loss of touch. And then another spasm, and he whines again, pressing his face harder into Phil’s shirt.

“Oh. Huh. Yes, that makes perfect sense, of course.”

Phil’s arm dips a bit, and Wilbur finds himself being moved, his head gently tilted back. Phil’s face comes into view, pale and blurry.

“You want to drink this for me, Wil?” he says, and then there is glass at his lips, and he parts them immediately. He doesn’t like being knocked out, doesn’t like the loss of control that comes with it, but if he has to be aware for another five minutes, he’s not going to be able to keep himself from screaming aloud.

He swallows, grimacing at the taste. The effects start hitting right away. His mind detaches from himself, and the pain drains from him. Every muscle goes lax.

He exhales.

“There we go,” Phil murmurs, “there we go. It’s gonna be alright, Wil. I’ll be here the whole time. You’re gonna be okay.”

The world falls away. He lets it. He trusts his father to catch him.

----------

He wakes up a few times, and each time, it hurts. Phil is always there, and usually, Tommy too, and sometimes Techno, and he can barely move but they always see that he’s awake, and they give him a potion and he’s under again, and he’s glad for it, because those moments of consciousness are a spiral of pain and confusion and his thoughts flying apart because he barely understands what’s going on or why he’s hurting and he just wants it to go away.

And then there is the time he wakes up and he thinks somebody is cutting his back open, and he can feel his own blood on his skin, sticky and hot, and he thrashes, trying to get away, and that makes the pain so much worse, and the sound that comes out of his mouth is inhuman, and he fights until a potion is poured down his throat and it’s back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and people are talking in low, hushed tones. He can’t make out what they’re saying. He cracks his eyes open, and it’s Phil and Technoblade, deep in some discussion, both looking terribly concerned. He decides he’ll ask what’s wrong later, and then closes his eyes and goes back to sleep again.

And then there is the time he wakes up, and some part of him is moving, and he doesn’t understand what it is because it’s not any of his limbs, not his arms and not his legs, and it feels alien and foreign and his back feels like it’s been shoved under a woodchipper and then tossed through a paper shredder for good measure, and he’s not aware enough to know why, so he panics. There is a bit of the void that still dwells in his heart, and he calls on it, cries out to it, and it answers, comes rushing in around him, and his mind expands to peer into galaxies.

Philza is at his side a moment later, and he is able to look at him and see all the weight of years that lie behind his eyes, and all the years that lie ahead of him, and the moment of his death, all spiraling out like a tapestry and like a mass, and the music is atonal, confused, but a closer glance reveals it to be twelve-tone, order in the chaotic lines. Wilbur is with the void again, and his heart still beats, but it’s a near thing, and he could stop it if he chose.

“Do you want to know, Philza?” he asks, words spilling from his lips like rain, like the river, like the flood. “Do you want to know when it will happen? I can see it. I can see how some part of you wants it. All our histories are like tangled up threads, but they all come to an end, and I can see those endings, Philza, I can tell you about them if you like.”

Pain constricts Philza’s face, and Wilbur doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know who wouldn’t love the void and its peace and its everything.

“I know, Wilbur,” Philza says, “I know, but how about you come back to me now, okay? Come back to me?”

“We’re all little bits of code, Philza,” he informs him. “None of us are real. We’re little bits of code and words on a page and lines in a script written by our better selves. Nothing in this world really matters. We might as well have all the fun we can before the lights go out. Do you want to know when that will be, Philza? Not too long after you, Philza. Not too long at all. I told Tommy, he knows, he didn’t want to know but that’s alright, he’s better off for it, if he hasn’t forgotten.”

“Come back, Wil, come on,” Philza says, “you can do it. You’ve got a heartbeat, do you feel it?”

Philza takes his hand and places it over his heart, and—that’s right. He’s alive. He’d forgotten. The void spins, and then it tucks itself away again, waiting for the next moment he needs it, and he is left with only vague impressions of what he’s just said and a vague idea that everything hurts and something is wrong with his back and he’d like to go to sleep now, please.

“Alright, yeah,” Phil says, “here, you can have this, you can sleep. You’re doing so well, Wil, I promise it’s almost done.”

He takes the potion. Or tries to; Phil has to hold it for him.

“Okay,” he says faintly. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” he hears Phil say, very far away. “So long as you come back, everything’s okay.”

He goes back to sleep again. He thinks he wakes up a few more times, but he doesn’t really remember. He doesn’t really want to.

----------

And then: awareness.

The first thing he processes is that everything aches, deeply and acutely, but none of it feels nearly as bad as it did before, and not even as bad as it’s been over the past couple of weeks. It’s irritating, painful, but more than manageable, really, practically a relief. The second thing he processes is that he’s lying on his stomach, and that there is something weighing him down.

His mind puzzles over this for a moment. He tries to roll over, to see what’s going on, but something stops him, and then he remembers: wings.

He’s got wings. There are wings on his back. Growing out of him. A part of his body. Wings.

As soon as he realizes that, he becomes aware of them. And it is so very strange, to suddenly have access to two extra limbs, to suddenly have additional body parts to move about and control. It’s a feeling impossible to describe, and he has to take several minutes to process it, to try to become accustomed to it. It doesn’t really work, but he tries moving them anyway, just a bit of a flex, and—

Ouch.

He groans, shoving his face into the pillow. A mistake. That was a mistake. He’d rather like to go back to sleep now and pretend that none of this is happening.

But his vocalization draws attention, and then there is a hand on his shoulder, gently brushing him just enough to feel, not enough to pain him. He turns his head to the side, reluctantly, and Phil is kneeling beside him, his face open and soft and clearly relieved, his lips curling into a slight smile.

“Hey,” he says. “How you feeling, Wil?”

He considers this, and decides on honesty. “Bit like I’ve been caught between a piston and a wall for the past couple of days,” he admits. “Better than before, though.”

“Good to hear,” Phil says, and then his face goes a bit more serious. “How much of that do you remember?”

“Not much?” he says. “I don’t think? Impressions, I guess. I know I wasn’t having a good time. I’m glad I don’t remember it too clearly. I was out for most of it, yeah?”

“Most of it,” Phil agrees, and Wilbur thinks that perhaps there is something he’s not saying, but he doesn’t feel like pressing the matter. He can guess what it is, anyway; there is a chill in his chest, and his thoughts feel just slightly more fractured than usual, so it’s not hard to assume what might have happened. Not hard to assume where he might have gone. He’s sure he’ll feel terrible about it when everything stops feeling so surreal.

He has wings.

“It’s over now?” he asks, and winces at the way his voice cracks. “It’s done?”

Phil’s eyes do the thing where they go immeasurably soft and crinkly at the edges, and it’s love and relief and sadness all at once. “It’s done,” he agrees, and then hesitates. “You’re not gonna be able to fly on them for a while, but would you like to see?”

He doesn’t understand why Phil is being so cautious about it. Of course he wants to see. If he’s going to be put through hell, he wants to see what came of it. He wants it to be worth it.

“Usually, when wings grow in, they’re all downy and shit. Like a baby bird,” Phil says, probably in response to whatever face he’s sure he’s making. “Flight feathers come in over the next few weeks.” He pauses again, and Wilbur thinks he understands his reticence, now, understands the still-present concern.

“But that’s not what happened with mine,” he states, and Phil shakes his head.

“Yours are fully fledged,” he says. “Probably part of why it hurt so much. I don’t know why, Wil. But do you wanna have a look?”

Wordless, he nods, and Phil takes that as his cue to reach out and help him sit upright. It’s far more effort than it should be, compounded by the fact that his sense of balance feels all wrong, and that’s going to take some getting used to, he can already tell. And he’s sore, like he’s run a marathon or fought another half dozen wars all in one go, and his head spins a little bit when he finally situates himself. He closes his eyes against it, breathing in sharply.

He feels Phil guiding his wings forward, into his field of vision. He opens his eyes.

They are very big, is the first thing he notices. They would have to be, of course, to hold his weight up. Magic and suspension of disbelief only stretches so far. They are very large, and the feathers are very large, and they are very angular and neat as well, so neat that someone has to have arranged them while he was unconscious, because there’s no way that they came out looking like that.

The color, though. The color. He swallows, hard.

They are black, perhaps. They look black. But he knows on an instinctive level that they are black in the same way that the void is black, and that if someone were to stare at them for too long, they would realize as much, would realize that actually, they are not black at all, but rather some color or some lack of color that is beyond human comprehension. The void translates as black to the human mind because it is as close as the human mind can get to true perception, and most of the time, Wilbur remembers it as black, but it was not, and his wings are not, and he is never going to be free of it, is he?

On some level, he knew that. Knew that the void is in him and about him, and no matter what he does, it will never leave him completely, not after all the years he spent with it, intertwined with the infinite nothing. But now he has wings on his back, and they should be a connection between him and Phil, should be something to celebrate, but he stares at the plumage and feels sick to his stomach.

“Wil?” Phil asks. He sounds confused, sounds worried by his reaction. “You okay, mate?”

He’s not sure how to phrase this in a way that Phil will understand. Not sure that he wants to.

“Void,” he manages, voice a broken whisper. “They look like void, Phil.”

He looks up just in time to see Phil’s face crumple.

“Wil—”

“They look just like it, Phil,” he continues. “Just like it. And I know I’m not always good about, about being here, about keeping myself stable, but I’m trying. I try to ignore it when it calls, I try not to reach out to it, and when I fail, I, I try to come back, I do, I swear. I can’t—I can’t have these, Phil, they’re from it, that’s why I’m getting them now, maybe it triggered something, I don’t know, but I can’t, Phil, I can’t—”

He reaches out toward them, intending to do—something, maybe, and Phil must have a better idea than he does, because his hand darts out and snags his, stopping him in his tracks.

“No, Wil, don’t do that, okay? We can work on it, we’ll figure it out, but please don’t—”

“You’re up!”

He and Phil both freeze, and as one, look to the door. Tommy is standing there, grinning like nobody’s business, and Technoblade is lurking behind him, his face contorted into an expression that looks like he wants to murder someone but really just means he’s feeling very awkward.

Tommy glances back and forth between the two of him, and his face slowly falls.

“Is everything okay?” he asks. “Nothing—I mean, it all went right, didn’t it?”

He blinks. Tilts his head slightly. Gently removes his hand from Phil’s grasp, and then spreads out his wings behind him, putting them on full display, as far out as he can make them go, and it aches and he’s not going to be able to hold them there for long, but it’s worth it. He wants Tommy to see. Because Tommy will know. Tommy remembers. And unlike him, Tommy hates to remember. Tommy hates the void. So perhaps this is an act of self-sabotage. That’s what Captain Puffy would say. But he does it anyway, because he wants someone else to see and understand, understand in a way he knows Phil won’t be able to.

“I’ve got void wings, Tommy,” he says, and a smile splits his face. “See them?”

Tommy’s eyes widen, and he flinches.

Gratification is not nearly as sweet as he thought it would be. Actually, he just sort of feels like crying.

But then, Tommy’s brows draw together. And he steps further into the room, coming closer and closer until he’s standing right up against the bed, staring at the feathers. Wilbur holds himself very still.

“I see,” Tommy says slowly, “but Wilbur, I’m not sure you do.”

“What are you talking about?” he asks, and cranes his neck to try to see whatever Tommy’s looking at. For a moment, he doesn’t; there’s just the feathers, void feathers, death feathers, a reminder that—

But arctic sunlight slants through the window, and if he shifts his angle just a little bit—

The noise that escapes him is small and involuntary. He hopes no one calls him on it, but that’s the least of his concerns right now. Because the colors do not change, not exactly, but if he holds them to the light, the sun illuminates the feathers, haloing their edges in gold, and there is a sheen of color running across them, a sheen that ripples and moves as he shifts them in the sunbeam, and it is a beautiful, rich blue.

And they’re lovely.

“Oh,” he says, and Tommy laughs at him, the fucking gremlin.

“Yeah, fucking oh,” he says. “You’re such a moron. They’re so fucking ace, Wilbur.”

“I think that maybe you need to work on rememberin’,” Technoblade says from the doorway, “that you’re the sum of all your experiences, and not just one.”

Wilbur stares at him.

“Oh my god,” he finally says. “That’s so cheesy. Who the hell are you and what have you done with Technoblade?”

“Alright,” Techno grumbles, “see if I do anythin’ nice for you ever again. I didn’t come up here to receive this kind of treatment. This is an outrage.”

He laughs. He laughs, from the sheer relief of it, and his trepidation is melting away like snow in the sunshine, and he can allow himself to revel in it, to revel in the wings on his back, and he is sore and tired but this is what glory feels like, maybe, and perhaps he can fly into the air and there will be no wax to drip away.

Perhaps these wings are of the void, but they are of him, too.

And he looks to Phil again, and Phil is smiling at him, warm and happy. His own wings are flared out behind him, tattered at the edges, so many feathers torn or still missing entirely, and the more time that passes, the more and more likely it is that those feathers are never going to grow back, that Phil truly will never fly again. Phil has already resigned himself to it, he knows, but Wilbur has never given up hope, will never be able to bring himself to give up hope.

“It’s not fair that I can fly when you can’t,” he says quietly, and the room goes still and quiet. Especially when it’s my fault, he doesn’t say, though he knows everyone hears it.

“Wil,” Phil says, “nothing could bring me more joy than this.”

And Wilbur hears what he means: you, here.

So he flexes his wings and revels in the ache and revels in the sunshine and revels at his family, here, his father sitting by him and his friend-protege-brother poking at curiously at his feathers and Technoblade still in the doorway, not leaving even for all his grumbling. He revels in this, revels in this life, and for a time, the void recedes entirely.

And in its wake is the sunlight.

[empress-simps]

Strangers (nine)

▪︎Pairings: Kuroo Tetsuroo x Reader, Bokuto Koutaro x Reader, Bokuto Koutaro x Akaashi Keiji and Kageyama Tobio x Hinata Shoyo

▪︎Pronouns: She/Her [Fem! Reader]

▪︎Genre: Angst

▪︎Warnings: Typos and possibly grammatical errors

▪︎Synopsis: Finding out that your soulmate rejected the bond to be with someone else feels terrible.

Note: Sorry for the long wait! I took a break but I hope this chapter makes it up

》 epilogue

》 previous

》 Strangers Masterlist

It was only one in the morning when you suddenly sat up and panted, recovering from a vivid dream; or what you believe is a dream.

You finally realized

"There's no way..." You mumbled slowly turning your wrist and leaning closer to the lamp beside you that's emitting a warm light across your room.

Your wrist that had Bokuto's name in gray vanished. It was a completely blank slate.

You felt yourself grow nervous as a million thoughts ran in your head. "What...? How..? So it wasn't a dream?" You mumbled, eyes still wide with shock as you decided to turn on your lights for a clear inspection.

"I need answers." You nodded to yourself as you grabbed your phone and typed in the search bar your situation. Frantic eyes scanned the article as you fail to notice red lines forming words on your wrist, slowly etching the name of another person.

"...It means that fate has decided to rewrite your destiny by picking someone to be with you.. for good." You read the words aloud, even though the words may be cheesy it still tells the truth. Well what you hope is the truth.

It took some time for the news to settle in your system. You stared the ceiling of your bedroom, pondering as thoughst filled your head.

"What will happen to Bokuto? Will he have a new soulmate too?" You mumbled, then accidentally turning over your wrist to reveal the red ink almost completed in etching the name in your wrist as the vibrant color peaks and pulsitates in your skin.

Once again, you felt your world stop.

Much like what you felt discovering your ex-soulmate. Except this one didn't turn gray nor did you feel sadness or despair.

You felt butterflies in your stomach as the name glowed for a few seconds. You closed your eyes, relishing the euphoria you felt tears drip down your cheeks.

You feel something warm light up inside you, you feel light and you feel like you're... inlove.

This man is the one who truly loves you, the one who filled that missing puzzle piece in your heart that you didn't even notice. He looked past your imperfections and decided to see you in a completely different angle, not the "girl who's been rejected by her soulmate"

Kuroo Tetsuroo, is the one you're really destined to be with.

With shaky hands, you grab your phone and dialed his number. You didn't care if it's in the ungodly hours of night, you know that he's awake too. Call it a hunch or you're just linked to one another now.

"Y/n.." Kuroo breathed, his voice made butterflies erupt in you stomach as you smiled "Tetsuroo.."

"Are you okay?"

"I am. I know it now."

Kuroo chuckled, "Glad to hear it." You quirked an eyebrow, a playful smile clearly evident "Won't you take me out on a date?"

"Tsk. Depends on who's paying for it." He laughed, "Oh Kuroo you know that I'm an independent baddie, how bout 7 pm on saturday? Take me out on wherever, I don't know hangout places in Tokyo." You shrugged, Kuroo had a small smirk on his face.

"Of course sweetcheeks."

You cringed and heared him protest "Excuse me I'm trying to be sweet! It isn't cringy!"

"Wait, how did you even know-"

You both talked for a few more minutes before Kuroo had to end the call to sleep since they have an upcoming chemistry quiz tommorow.

And just like that, you both went to bed with evident smiles on your face.

Bokuto was restless.

Something didn't sit right with him.

Wether it's too cold for him to sleep without a blanket, or too hot for him to be wrapped up in one,he couldn't pin point what really is bugging him.

"Is the air conditioner broken..?" He mumbled as he slowly got up and used his phone as a flashlight to check, "Am I sick?" He mumbled. Once he confirmed the ac wasn't having any malfunction, he checked his temperature as he pressed his hand against his forehead.

"I'm no-" He stopped in his tracks as he looked down on his wrist where your name resides.

The same name where there's a line going across it, almost as if it's marking off. Like it was just a mistake.

He felt sick, is this why he couldn't sleep? Did the fates decided they weren't a match? They decided to do this after making him fall inlove with his soulmate?

Bokuto felt numb as his sunken eyes welled up with tears and an empty laugh was heard throughout his room.

"Is this what I get for hurting the people I love?"

The moonlight perfectly captured his despair as he sat down with his hand on his hair, crying his heart out and letting heart wrenching sobs out his shaking body.

Destiny is cruel.

When morning rolled around, you felt alive. You texted Kuroo a good morning and did your morning routine with a small smile on your face.

What you didn't expect was a disshelved Bokuto standing infront of the door. "Bokuto san.." You mumbled, clearly shocked. Bokuto met your happy and lively eyes, contrast to his bloodshot ones.

"It's Kuroo huh?" He mumbled, looking at the red mark, where once his name was etched in a grey tone. You looked down, "Yes."

"I love you.. I just thought I should let you know." He mumbled, a crack in his voice was evident. You looked at him in the eyes.

"Perhaps you loved me a little too late, Bokuto san."

A pained smile made it's way onto his face, "I can see that. I just hoped you gave me a chance-"

You stopped a scoff that threatens to bubble from your throat. "Bokuto san, you're the one who didn't give me a chance. You're the one who rejected me as soon as the mark was completed." You answered politely.

Every sentence pierced his heart. He knew what you said was right and it was all his fault. If there was one thing Bokuto is feeling right now, it's regret.

You looked down at your watch and checked the time. A rain drop fell onto the glass of your watch and you heard a faint thunder.

"We were soulmates who weren't meant to be, Bokuto. Maybe fate brought us together to learn. Until then Bokuto san, I hope we can become friends." You mumbled, bowing before taking your umbrella and leaving.

And for the numerous times he saw you walking away from him, this one hit him the hardest.

He stood still, slowly getting drenched as he felt the raindrops against him. Your figure slowly leaving his line of vision.

So that's what the both of you were, soulmates who knew nothing about one another. Soulmates who aren't meant to be.

Strangers.

Taglist [Closed]: @decaffeinatedtealover @lulu-102 @whateverfeelz @ginsan-eyes @pluviophilefangirl @bakuhoesbro @aonenthusiast @amecchii @jadasz @random-734 @sleep3deprived @snflwrkenma @archishaya @kissungjae @sakusasimpbot @its-the-aerieljeane @dimsumhomie @jessie9008 @crapimahuman @outflannel @ysatrap @denkibutinsteadofpikachuitspichu @johnnysactualgf @just-a-saltine @nekomavsnohebi @acsycharm @sazunari @baby-jichu @felixsamour

Those who are in bold means tumblr wouldn't let me tag u!

[asset35-maya]

Prompt no. 18 from this list

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

“Sorry, just give me a minute, babe. I need to recalibrate the interface I’m using…”

Gavin’s voice trailed off. The only sound in the room was from the clacking of his keyboard, his fingers flying across the keys.

Nines tried his best to take his mind off his situation. Immobile in bed… with the very real possibility that it could be permanent.

It was a just a software update… just another afternoon nap… but now he had no idea whether he’d ever move again.

Noticing his stress levels spiking, he focused on Gavin. The crease of his brows… the old scar across his nose… the determined set of his jaw as he scrubbed through lines and lines of code to find the root of the problem.

Gavin.

Lover. Friend. Saviour.

The man he depended on for everything, including his continued existence.

Nines silently thanked whichever force of nature had brought him into the safety and sanctity of Gavin’s embrace. RA9 or God or the laws of physics that dictated where atoms would end up from the beginning of time.

Not all androids were as lucky as he was.

After the Revolution, the digital giant known as Cyberlife had been dissolved under political pressure from New Jericho and its vehement supporters. Android production ceased, Cyberlife’s assets were stripped and its R&D departments were spun off into smaller, more benign companies.

People were elated in the beginning… and then they realised there was no one around to maintain and service the androids that now comprised 30% of American citizenry. Private technicians had booming business, but they were eventually overwhelmed.

The worst of it was the software.

The patches, the bug fixes, the security.

No single company was able to do it by themselves and individuals realised they were pretty much on their own. Human husbands and wives and girlfriends and brothers and pretty much everyone scrambled to learn how to take care of beloved androids on their own.

Gavin was one of the most capable ones. He knew how to do most of the mechanical work and quickly taught himself the software and systems elements. When Nines asked him how he was so proficient… whether he learnt any of it in college… he wouldn’t respond directly. The closest Nines had gotten to an answer was a grumbled “s what happens when you share a room for fifteen years with the nerdy prick that started all this trouble in the first place”

It was initially tough on the both of them… and expensive… as they figured out how to do things by trial… but Gavin was confident and adamant that he wouldn’t let Nines down. He quickly reached a steady state, even managing to get a maintenance routine in place.

But he couldn’t be perfect.

And there were things he couldn’t control.

Androids were the most complicated cyberphysical systems on the planet. Anything and everything could go wrong at any time…

And it had… during a major OS update.

“Babe, can you hear me?”

Nines’ LED cycled yellow once and went back to red.

Gavin held one of the limp hands in his own.

“Can you feel this?”

The LED spun again.

“Great. And I’m pretty sure you can see me, I know that look in your eyes, babydoll. Hmm… okay, that means all the sensors and IOT device connections are fineee…”

The musing continued as Gavin set aside the laptop and scooted closer to Nines. A gentle hand came up to tilt the android’s face from side to side.

“But you can’t talk…”

“AAAAAAAAAA”

“Wow. Never make that noise in the bedroom again. Hmm… Okay, this means your vocal chords are fine but you can’t move your mouth. Huh.. well… you can’t seem to move anything… not that different from your usual participation levels in bed then. Not to worry.”

The only thing Nines could do was glare and Gavin seemed relieved that even that was possible. He patted the android’s cheek.

“I’ll check your motor actuation and control. Simple modules. I should be able to see anything strange right away.”

Gavin resumed scrolling through the chunks of code and running searches for common errors. But minutes passed… and turned into an hour… and the hour, doubled, tripled.

But Gavin was undeterred. He had to be. Giving up was not an option. Plus, years of being a dedicated police officer had wiped out any fears of hard work and failure… he would scroll all night if it came to that.

A notification popped up on the screen.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Sweetheart, you’ve been trying for hours. Take a break.

Gavin turned to his side. Nines could detect the worry and agitation behind the facade of lighthearted calm.

“I know right. It’s not fair. You’ve been chilling this whole time I’ve been working. Tsk tsk.”

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: I’m serious, Gavin. Stop. Take a break for today. Call someone. You can try again tomorrow morning.

“Nines, you’re not a work assignment. I can’t take a break from you. You can get up and close this laptop for me.”

A few more hours passed. Frowning, Gavin climbed under the covers with Nines and began troubleshooting and testing all other modules too. It was a massive undertaking, but he’d be damned if he didn’t do it.

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: Know when to give up on a lost cause.

It was nearly two in the morning when that message popped up. Gavin’s eyes were red from all the screen time, but his fighting spirit had not flagged. If anything, he felt close to the finish line. Having gone through nearly the entirety of his lover’s system architecture, there were only a few stones left unturned. He’d identify the problem, win half the battle and then the solution would flow from there. It always did. They’d be fine.

He turned to tell Nines precisely that and balked at the tears staining the android’s perfect face.

“Hey…”

Gavin leaned over his partner and wiped the tears away.

“Hey… shhh… don’t… don’t worry, I’ll take care of you…”

RK900 #313 248 317 - 87: I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I’m putting you through all this. Things can’t go on like this. I’m such a liability. Emotionally, physically, financially! You can’t keep doing this for me, Gavin.

Gavin placed the laptop on the bedside table and slipped deeper under the covers, wrapping himself around Nines’ still form.

“It’s a good thing you can’t speak right now, cause you’re talking some major bullshit, baby. You are going to be FINE. I will take care of you, like always, like I promised.

You are not a liability. You are my man. I signed up for this. If you were human and sick and I dunno, needed a kidney or something, I’d simply give it to you. You and I are bound like that. For life.

So quit bitching, let me do my thing, and when you’re back… you know how to thank me.”

He smiled genuinely as he said that, stroking the android’s skin and trying to calm him down. When the speed of the LED cycles came down and the colour stabilised at a warm amber, Gavin kissed the frozen lips and gave Nines one last cuddle before returning to his computer.

Sunrise began to streak across the dark sky by the time the critical error was identified. Gavin sighed deeply as he pulled up the faulty synchronisation that had jammed the hundreds of motors and drives throughout Nines’ body.

There was actually nothing much to be said for the root cause of the failed execution loop. Just improper methods written for some of the new hardware they had installed the previous week.

That’s what they got for using uncertified biocomponents and unlicensed third party software bought off the seedier parts of the internet. Some incompatibility somewhere would inevitably trip them up. Gavin was usually able to see such trouble before it found them… but even he couldn’t be perfect.

He stretched and cracked his spine and wiggled his fingers before plunging into rewriting the problematic section. He would sleep like a log after this… but first, he had to sprint to the finish line.

And he did.

At 7AM, Gavin finally copied the clean code into the compiler and hit execute. After a brief reinitialisation, Nines blinked awake. He raised his hands tentatively. As soon as he realised full functionality had been restored, he sat up and threw himself at Gavin, smothering the exhausted human in a giant hug.

Gavin hugged back, fighting to keep his emotions at bay.

“All… all good?”

“You saved my life. Again.”

“I’ll do it a thousand times more if I need to.”

“I thought I was done for.”

“Don’t be dramatic. It was just some bad code.”

“I could have been stuck like that forever. Never moving, never talking. Just lying there till my charge drains out. That could have been the end for us, and frankly, I was prepared for that eventuality. You should be too.”

“Never.”

“I don’t doubt your abilities, sweetheart, but we are painfully limited by our resources. There’s things in this world that only Cyberlife can do and they’re never coming back. We have to make our peace with that. Pulling all-nighters just to keep me alive… it’s not sustainable.”

“Hey it’s not like this happens all the time, Nines. I get that this was really scary, but it’s not always like this… so please don’t tell me whether things are sustainable. I will always fight for you. End of discussion.”

Nines didn’t respond and just rested his head on Gavin’s shoulder. His steel blue eyes were fixed on the pair of birds fluttering outside their bedroom window. They sat intertwined like that on the bed for a while. Now that he could, Nines didn’t seem to want to stop holding his partner. The birds landed on the window sill, chirping away and enjoying the morning breeze.

“They’re really quite sweet, aren’t they? The two of them are always here in the morning. I should build them a little bath in our garden.”

“They’re mates.”

“Huh. Just like us.”

“You know… it’s just a myth, what they say… that birds die when their mates do.”

“What?”

“Most species will go through a grieving period, but after that they will begin courtship again.”

“What the phck are you on about? No one’s dying and no one’s beginning courtship again. Nines, I’d move heaven and earth before anything like that happens.

Besides, if I really, really couldn’t get your body to work, worst case scenario, I’d just transfer you to a mobile device. Carry you around like a voice in my head… like my conscience… I promise you that nothing can keep us apart.”

It wasn’t all that easy to convince Nines, and Gavin wasn’t about to try. It had been an ordeal for the both of them. It wasn’t the first time, and it might not be the last. But for the time being, they had emerged, and they had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Yawning, Gavin lay back among the mussed sheets and pulled Nines with him. Birdsong and the muted whir of thirium pump compressions lulled him into a dreamless sleep.

[themaribatpit]

Jasonette July Day 9: Pixie

Written by: The Maribat Pit  @jasonette-july-event

Prompt: Pixie

Rated: T

(By popular demand, a slight continuation of Game On @aespades, @certainmuffinbagelcalzone.)

A/n: Edits have been made because I noticed the paragraph errors AFTER posting this.

Marinette was really starting to miss the days of working with Chat Noir at that moment, and that was saying something.  “Bugaboo” and “My Lady” were starting to feel more tolerable when she wasn’t being called that every second of the day.  Being called “Pixie” regardless if she was Ladybug or Marinette, was really starting to get old, fast.  For reasons that she could not understand, that’s what Jason insisted on calling her.  Sure, she was a lot smaller compared to him, but that coupled with needing to hang back and let Red Hood and Arsenal deal out the heavier hits was starting to get on her nerves.  She was just as experienced as them, she had a mentor just like they did, and had been saving lives for just as long as they had.  Ever since she had joined them, she thought that she would be fighting alongside a team again.  Now she was either supporting them or using her sewing skills to add improvements to their suits.  She was in good hands, some might say hands that were a little too good.  All this frustrated her to no end because she liked Jason, she would have thought that someone who had been a vigilante from a young age would understand what it felt like to be constantly underestimated. 

“Unbelievable,” she snapped one night as she came home from another mission.  She pulled off her pink flats and threw them across the room as she entered her apartment.  She didn’t even get the chance to use her Miraculous, she was effectively closely guarded bait on that last mission.  She slumped on the bed in frustration and Tikki hovered over to her, her antenna drooping in concern.  “Some days I want to wipe that smile off of that stupid face, just to prove I can.” Marinette grumbled into her pillow.  She didn’t hate Jason, she knew that there was some good in him.  Roy was the more optimistic and cheerful of the duo, like Jason, he had also been mentored by a more experienced hero.  Jason was a lot more reserved and cynical by comparison, though he wasn’t a complete Ice Prince like his brother Damian. 

“Maybe it’s because they’ve been doing this for a little bit longer.” Tikki suggested, after Marinette complained about it for the umpteenth time.

“Batgirl and Black Bat are only a few years younger than me,” she reminded her, “and there’s no doubt that they could hold their own in a fight.  No one gives them stupid nicknames, just shortened versions of their real names out of costume.” Tikki awkwardly scratched the back of her head.  “I bet you that he barely remembers what my real name is.” Marinette was getting increasingly furious at the thought “it’s always ‘Pixie this’ and ‘Pixie that’. I know I’m shorter than him, but I have taken on giant robot dolls, literal monsters, and I once rode a dragon!” Marinette yelled. 

Marinette throws a pillow at Tikki, only for it to phase through her. “What does he think I do as Ladybug? Create Christmas presents with my Lucky Charm?!” 

 At this very unfortunate moment Jason happened to return back to their apartment with Roy in tow. “What’s got you riled up, Pixie Pop?” Jason quipped after seeing the frustrated look on her face. This was the last straw for Marinette, “Stop calling me that! Does it please you to demean me? Does it bring you joy to fucking bully me day in and day out?” Jason and Roy take a step back from Marinette’s outburst. Marinette continues “I have kept Paris safe ever since I was 13, I didn’t have the World's Greatest Detective or a Robin Hood cosplayer helping me. It’s always you two off saving the day while I’m the distraction. Do I have to remind you that I’ve beaten Robin and Red Robin?” 

 “So have we, right Roy?” Jason says look backwards to Roy. Roy meanwhile was slowly walking backwards with his arms up in surrender.

 “Don’t drag me into this please.” Roy pleaded. 

 Marinette continued her rant, “So why do you keep calling me Pixie Pop like I'm some pet or stuffed animal?” She storms up to Jason and pulls him down to her height by the collar. 

Roy sensed the tension and wanted absolutely no part in making it worse, “You know what? I’m gonna go get us some shawarma.”

Jason looked over at Roy “Really, Roy?” A slight scowl made it clear he knew Roy was essentially leaving him to face Marinette’s wrath.

“All I know is that they are open at four in the morning and I’m hungry, so I’ll be right back.” Roy said, and he left the room.  Just as he thought Roy was out of earshot, Jason heard sprinting down the hallway.  Roy had abandoned him to face the burning blue fire in Marinette’s eyes.

Marinette let go of him, she didn’t need them, she had made that absolutely clear. 

“I’m done,  I don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to be underestimated all of the time.” she muttered harshly, “to always be kept at arm's length, because no one trusts you to do anything right.”

Marinette had no idea just how deep her words cut him, and Jason couldn’t really blame her.  As far as she knew, compared to his brothers, he might as well just be ‘the one with the guns and leather jackets’.  He hadn’t really told her about what had happened all those years ago, he didn’t even like to think about it himself.  Roy was one of the few people who understood what he’d been through. It was true that both of them started out as sidekicks, maybe the red in their costumes helped them stand out from their mentor’s shadows.  Their time as young crime fighters had left their scars. They were blindsided when they found someone who had been a heroine since she was 13, and took to it with the same determination they had when they were younger, more innocent, more naïve. 

 As Marinette flitted around the room, gathering her things, every nerve in Jason’s body was screaming at him to stop her.   He reached out and grabbed her by the arm, trying not to think about just how small it felt around his hand.  “Look, I’m sorry,” he began. What could he say to her? That he knew exactly what that felt like? That the last thing they wanted was for her to end up like them?  That every hit they took in a fight was one that she wouldn’t have to, so that she wouldn’t turn out broken like they were?  The problem was she didn’t see them as broken, she saw them treating her like glass.  If she was put through the same ordeal, Jason had no idea what he would do.  If she shattered just like they did, then in a way, they would have failed her.  If she came out still whole, still brimming with light, then what did that say about them?

 Marinette pulled her arm away, “I’ll show you, then you’ll be sorry” she told him bitterly.  With her backpack in hand and shoes on her feet, she pushed past him and walked out the door.  

 Jason remains staring at the open door, regretting how he had treated her. He grew fond of her during their time together as ‘Red Arse Bug’.  She had a cute face, cute voice and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. “Stupid, stupid” he says to himself, facepalm at each syllable. Even with the now hostile relationship with Marinette, he knew he had to follow her. He had to stop her from making the same mistakes he did, so that she would not become like him. He put on his helmet and left to search for clues as to where Marinette would go and what she would do.

 Marinette wandered through Gotham city, unsure what to do now that she stormed out of the apartment she shared with Jason and Roy. She felt like everyone belittled her, Selena did, and now so did Jason. She needed to do something eye-catching, to prove to everyone that she didn’t need their help.

As she wanders past the Iceberg Lounge, she gets a spark of inspiration. If she could take down the Penguin single-handedly, nobody in Gotham would doubt her ever again. With unyielding determination she calls out “Spots On” and turns to Ladybug, ready to take on one of the cruelest crime lords in all of Gotham. Ladybug walks up to the front door and kicks it down, sending the door flying and knocking any unfortunate goons behind it. Penguin’s gang whipped out their guns, tire irons, pipes and anything that could count as a weapon and were now charging in to stop the intruder. 

 Marinette swings her yo-yo to wrap around one of the goon’s ankles, before swinging him around crashing him into several others. A guard points his rifle behind Ladybug, she spins around, sending her yo-yo towards the gun and pulling it from his hands. As the guards begin to group up together in an attempt to minimise the effectiveness of her yo-yo, Marinette looks up and begins to smirk. She flings her yo-yo upwards and hooks it onto a chandelier. She yanks it down, sending the chandelier crashing onto the unsuspecting guards. 

 Marinette dusts her hands and proceeds to walk through into the main hall. She proceeds to kick down that door too, she is then greeted by The Penguin surrounded by his gang. “I’m taking you down Cobblepot.” She shouts, swinging her yo-yo as if it was a lasso, preparing for a fight.

 The Penguin stands up from the seat of his large chair. “What are all you idiots waiting for?” He shouts all around him. He points his umbrella at Ladybug, and begins shooting his umbrella gun. “Get her!” The penguin roars, at this cue every gangster charges at Ladybug. 

 Marinette gracefully dodges and weaves around Penguin’s army, knocking each one out one by one. Until only The Penguin remains, she wraps her yo-yo around his umbrella, easily disarming one of Gotham’s most wanted. She walks towards The Penguin, slowly unravelling her yo-yo in anticipation of tying him up and sending him to Arkham Asylum. 

 The Penguin takes out a little remote control from his suit pocket, “It's not over yet.” he snarls and pushes a button. At that moment the entire building shakes.

“Born on a Monday” a voice groaned, followed by another loud thud. “Christened on a Tuesday.” the same voice groaned. Then a giant hand shoots up from beneath the floor, “SOLOMON GRUNDY” roared the giant as it emerged from the floor. 

 Red Hood and Arsenal had been watching the fight from a careful distance outside the Iceberg Lounge.  “Well, she’s managed to take on Penguins goons just fine,” Arsenal observed through the small pair of binoculars,  “she’s certainly had plenty of time to get very creative with that yo-yo”.

Red Hood’s hand was still itching to reach for one of his pistols, ready to jump in at the first sign of trouble. “By the way, how was your shawarma?” he asked sarcastically.

Arsenal looked over at him, raising an eyebrow “Hey, I’m not the one who said the one thing that just made her angrier, you were on your own there.”

“Nice to know you had my back.” he grumbled.

“Oh I do in a fight, you just decided to be an ass and poke the angry girl with a stick.” Arsenal pointed out.

Their banter was interrupted by an earth shattering thud, following a loud groan “Born on a Monday.” At that moment their blood ran cold. Red Hood and Arsenal rushed towards the Iceberg Lounge. Both worried for Ladybug and aware of what comes after that dreadful nursery rhyme. 

 “What are you two doing here? I can handle this.” growled Ladybug as Red Hood and Arsenal arrived. 

 Before either Red Hood or Arsenal could answer, they were interrupted by Solomon Grundy smashing the ground where Ladybug was standing. Ladybug gracefully dodged the punch, grappling onto a ceiling lamp to swing towards Grundy with a kick. 

 The giant grabbed Ladybug while she was mid-air and threw her towards her partners. Red Hood catches her, holding her tightly as the two fly across the room. He shields her from the shock, taking the brunt of the impact as they crash into the wall. 

 Red Hood groans “You okay?” Ladybug looks up to see she was relatively unharmed, but Red Hood had taken the brunt of the throw. Concern visible on her face as she sees Red Hood’s damaged helmet, and the bruised and bloodied face beneath.  

 Their quiet moment together was interrupted by Arsenal's cries for help. Every arrow he had in his quiver wasn’t making a dent in Solomon Grundy. Ladybug decides to cast Lucky Charm in desperation, and swings her yo-yo up. The ladybugs converge to form...a polka-dotted stick of dynamite. 

 “Arsenal!” She called. “Tie this to the end of an arrow, Red Hood and I will keep it busy.” She tosses the dynamite to Arsenal and tells Red Hood to tie Grundy down.

 Ladybug using her yo-yo grabs on to Solomon Grundy’s left arm while Red Hood uses his grappling hook to hold on to his right arm. Leaving Grundy exposed and immobile, giving Arsenal the opportunity for a clear unobstructed target. 

 Arsenal draws and aims the special Lucky Charm Explosive Arrow. The giant zombie growls “Arrow Boy no hurt Grundy.” 

 “Arrow Boy yes hurt Grundy” quipped Arsenal, before releasing the arrow causing a thunderous explosion into Solomon Grundy’s face. The giant slumps, Ladybug and Red Hood quickly release their hold and watch its body fall back into the hole in which it came from. 

 Solomon Grundy’s body lays motionless in the basement of the Iceberg Lounge as the three peer over the hole in the ground, “Let’s get outta here before the GCPD or worse, Batman arrive” Red Hood points to the front door, and the three of them leave the lounge to head back to their apartment.

As the three arrive home, they each find a nice comfortable spot to collapse onto. Jason claimed the sofa, slumped down Roy in the middle of the living room floor and Marinette sat at the dining table. “I vote for a week off.” groaned Roy.

“I second that motion” agreed Jason. 

“I still have design work to do.” Marinette told them, not really looking at either of them at that moment.  She was torn between appreciating their help, and frustrated that she hadn’t been able to handle the situation herself like she thought.

“Still that was one hell of a fight, and hey, you still managed to take on a squad of goons by yourself.”  Roy said, “I’m so proud” he said dramatically pretending to wipe away a happy tear. 

He nudged Jason in the leg, “um, yeah, good work” he said awkwardly, slightly lost in thought. Marinette smiled slightly, before turning her attention back to her little fairy friend perched on the table. 

“So does this mean Red Arse Bug is back together?” Roy asked enthusiastically, Marinette wasn’t really paying attention. 

The name still needed work, for one thing.  For once Marinette felt like her powers were being used in harmony with their abilities, but she wasn’t sure if it was a feeling that she should get used to.  Marinette could still vividly remember seeing Jason’s bruised and bloodied face beneath his helmet.  Jason stood up and walked over to the fridge, looking for ice to dull the swelling on his face.

“Not with that name,” Jason grumbled, not entirely sure if Marinette was willing to stay after their argument.  Someday, somehow, he would tell her the full story of what happened to him.  Right now, that was a whole Pandora’s Box that he just wasn’t prepared to open.  Nestled at the bottom of that box was hope, a hope that no one else would meet that same fate.

“...Lucky Shot?”  Marinette suggested as she carried Tikki over to the sofa and sat down.  Both Jason and Roy looked up, it made some sense, seeing as they both used projectiles and she had her lucky charms.  Jason tentatively made his way back to the sofa, ice pack in hand.

“Sounds better than ‘Red Arse Bug’.” Jason remarked, as he sat back down. 

“Well, let’s see if our little adventure made the news” Roy said, as he reached for the TV remote.  Jason tuned out Vicki Vale’s voice as she reported on the fight that took place at the Iceberg Lounge. 

As Roy slept at their feet, Jason knew if they were going to continue working together as a team, they couldn’t keep her in the dark any longer.  

“Hey Marinette.” Jason speaks softly. Marinette's ears perk in surprise, hearing speak her name for the first time. “I’m sorry, for what I said and how we treated you. You’re right.” He gestures to the sleeping Roy on the floor, “Both of us started out as sidekicks, we both grew up in the shadows of Batman and Green Arrow. Both old men with impossibly high standards, everything we did was never enough.”   Marinette listened intently as she shuffled closer to him on the sofa.  “We’ve both been to hell and back, Marinette. Literally in my case.” he explained, Marinette glanced down at Tikki for a moment, as if silently asking if her magic was somehow involved in this.  “But always remember, we have each other’s backs, just like The Three Musketeers.” Jason told her, Marinette giggles at his literary reference.

“Roy’s Porthos, you’re Aramis, I guess that makes me D’Artagnan.” Marinette chimes. Jason loved to see that hopeful smile on her face.  What scared him the most was the idea that something or someone would try and take that away from her.  They couldn’t keep treating her like glass, and they couldn’t keep treating her like a sidekick if they wanted to keep her from making their mistakes.  They were all going to fight like hell to make sure this world didn’t break her the way it broke them.  Marinette leaned in close and rested her head on his shoulder.  He felt her calm even breathing, fanning his neck as she slept peacefully at his side.

[iwhishtomeetinournextlife]

An anonymous love (Part 1)

Summary : Y/N sees Sirius Black running away after a particulary rough letter from his mother. She wants to cheer him up and decide to send him a letter, anymously, she knows how much he hates her house.

Warnings : Slytherin!Reader, female!reader, reader is worried about Sirius, not proof read

Word count : 1.8k

English is not my first language, sorry if there is any mistakes

You're here - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7

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

Y/N loved receiving letters but even more sending them, she loved including all sorts of little gifts in hers; flowers, drawings, photographs, candies sometimes, she loved it even more now she was a witch,  she started doing experiments with her magic. She learned how to make the drawings moves, charms the flowers so they would reopen as fresh as new, she even found a way for the letter to be read out loud if desire, in a way were it doesn’t fold and destroy itself the ways howlers do, so it could be listen to over and over again, her family especially loved that one.

She wanted to see now if could even include kisses, or even hugs, the feeling of arm wrapping around you to squeeze you tight was one of the best feeling to her and she wanted to be able to send it to anyone, so they could feel it whenever they wanted.

She was able to put the hugs and the kisses on little cards who had to be unfold, it took many mistake, accidents and retry but she was able to do it after some times. It wasn’t as reusable has she had hoped, only three uses who doesn’t last more than five seconds, but she was confident enough to know she will do better in the future.

She had send her last version to her parents a few days ago, one she was the proudest of, and was now waiting for their respond. Making sure everything was perfect was important as the first time she tried to do it the message felt like a dagger stabbing her chest. Thankfully she had no injuries, Mrs Pomfrey assured her there were nothing, the pain stayed a few hours though and she could have kissed the nurse for excusing her from the morning class that day, she would have not been able to work anyway.

Y/N was now waiting at the slytherin table next to the few friends she was able to make among her own house, quietly eating while listening to the crazy story of the friend on her right, laughing joyfully. She turned her head when she saw the owls starting to enter the room, eager to find if she will receives the respond of her parents, she watch as the other student opened their own mail, including the raven-haired boy at the gryffindor table, Sirius Black.

He had catch the eye of Y/N like many others, girls and boys, but she never dared to make a move, she was a slytherin and she knew how much he hated them. She had thought many times to send him an anonymous later but what for ? It would be a lost cost and she rather let the feeling die rather than being hurt. Well, at least she thought her feelings would disappear as time went by but she was incredibly wrong, it only got more intense.

Being in most of his classes was of no help, his cocky behavior, his stunning looks and charming smile. What bugged her the most was how brilliant he was, she never saw him study or even really paid good attention in class but was somehow able to earn good marks. She was a bit jealous of him for that if she was honest with herself, she wasn’t a bad student per say but did have to be focused and study to have good grades. They talked a few times before, mostly him helping her out with classes but he was nothing but nice and patient with her despote the green of her tie.

She fell for him even more when she saw him helping first years travelling the corridors and defending a third year against her bully, the punch was perfectly aimed for Merlin’s sake ! She loved every story he told her, all the pranks, the aventures, the quidditch match. The more she learned about him, the more difficult it was for her to keep her eye away from him.

“You’re drooling again”, Jacob snapped her out of her mind “ ‘m not !” swipping her lips just to be sure, making her friends laugh, she was red of embarassment, so out she hadn’t notice the owl giving her her parent’s letter. She gratefully took it before giving a bit of food to the owl who then flied away. Y/N got interrupt has she was opening the enveloppe.

“C’mon, you cant’ keep looking at him from afar for the rest of school ! Talk to him for once and save us the lover eyes !” said Olivia, “I can’t, you know he hates slytherins” her friend opened her mouth to protest before being cut. “Plus, he is way out of my league, he is like-" Y/N hesited a bit on her words, waving her hand around “- a sun giving life around him and I’m just somekind of, I don’t know, insect in the dirt”. Her friends around all gave a chorus of long sighs, they heard that a million times before, she rolled her eyes “My point is, I will never have the courage to ask him out”.

Before anyone could talk, a loud sound was heard comming from the gryffindor table, followed by the sound of turn up paper. When Y/N looked, she frowned, seeing Sirius almost running out of the room. “Wait mate !” James Potter, his best friend, tried to follow him but Remus Lupin stopped him. Y/N didn’t quite catch what they were saying, something about him needing to be alone.

And alone he stayed, she didn’t see him for the rest of the day, and she learned during the dinner that night it was because of the letter he received from home, it was quite known by most of the people who cared enough to be aware of the disastrous relationship of Sirius and his family, as it wasn’t unusual to see the boy upset because of his mother. Y/N’s blood boiled every time it would happened, how could someone treat their child that way ? Taking their time to write every horrid words just to cause pain ? Using something she loved so much to cause trouble instead as it should be : for the one you loved.

The scene earlier that day worked her up so much, she put her parent’s latter away without reading it, and it is only now in her bed she remembered even having it. She smiled at the curved letters, it was her mother’s handwritting, she very enthousiatly explain how her and her dad loved the hug, that coupled with the speaking spell “It was like you were right here with us !”, well not quite as she precised right after, but it felt nice to feel and hear their daughter after so many weeks apparts. She laughted when her father this time wrote she should find a way to commercial it, as she will become the richest witch of the wizard world. “Sure thing dad” she thought to herself. She carefully fold the paper before putting it in her “letter box”.

Then when she laid down, she couldn’t stop feeling sad for Sirius, he had such terrible parents but deserved so much more. She turned and turned and turned around in her bed, searching for a way to cheer him up and then she stopped, thinking of the letter of her parents and the success of the hug in the message, perhaps, she could send him something ..? She blushed at the idea, what could she says ? “Hey, your parents suck but your butty could send me in outter space”, sure, yeah, what a great idea Y/N.

She sighed, fine, maybe not that harsh but she could try to remind him how much is he loved here and how much of a great person he is. So she sat down in her bed, took a piece of parchment, her ink and her quill, careful to not wake up her roomates as she closed her curtains. She blow air through her mouth for a minute, gathering some courage, and then she start to write, hoping he would like it.

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

The next day when she woke up, or more like when it was time to get ready since she didn’t close her eye all night, wanting the message to be perfect : the drawing, an illustration of a dog, a stag, a rat and the moon, remembering the nickname and the jokes the marauders gave and made to eachothers, she charmed it for the little animals to run around the paper, leaving paws or hooves print behind –which disappear after a few step of course-, the curves of the words, the ink, she had opt for her favorite dark purple, the flowers had she picked, some wind-flower and cyclamen, that she carefully stuck to the parchment.

And of course the final touch : a kiss on the forhead. She had thought of a hug but decided it was too much, it could be scary to suddenly feels arms around you. A smol kiss was more appropriate, a bit bold yeah, but more fleeting, less intimidating and still a tender gesture.

When she was happy with the result and check any error in her words she put the message in an envelopt, decorated with stars, showing the cannis constellation, because of Sirius name obviously. And then put it in her bag, careful so her friend would not see it.

Once she was ready and out of her room with her friends, she realised she had no idea on how to give it to him. Surely not by hand, she didn’t put her name anywhere for a reason, maybe slide it into his bag during class ? But she was to scared to be caught.

She didn’t have to worry about it to much, since Sirius wasn’t at the class she shared with him, his friends looked troubled and worried, calmer than usual. Y/N felt a weight setting in her stomach, was the letter that bad he didn’t want to show up today either ? When he wasn’t at lunch either, she decided to send him by owl.

She excused herself from her friend, saying she had to send a letter, it wasn’t unusual for her to do so, so they didn’t even flinch. Once at the owl aviary and once she gave it to an owl and walked away, trying not to think to much, she stop. What if the letter only made him more upset ? Of course nothing she wrote was mean, but what if he didn’t like at all the idea of some unknown person looking in his private life ? Feeling arrogant enough to think they could cheer him up when his friends, those whom he consider family, weren’t able to do it ? Y/N turned around to take the letter back but it was too late, the bird had fly away, and since he was at hogwarts, he will have it in a few minutes only.

She felt the weight in her stomach get heavier, she hoped so much it will not make things worse.

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

Hoped you liked my first fic ! I don't know when the second part will be posted but I'll do my best for it to be soon.

Have a nice day ! Love you <3

[kojinnie]

Attack On Titan characters as K-Pop stars I’ve worked with…

Based on my personal and my co-workers’ experience working for k-pop agency for three years. All in good fun!! K-pop stans, don’t come at me, I fear you.

☁ ARMIN In his group, he is amongst the least popular member because he doesn’t stand out in all performance aspects. But the guy has a huge creative vision. Is a better creative director than most of actual creative directors I’ve worked with. Ended up directing a lot of k-pop groups’ concerts.

He’d like to come over and make small talks with the staffs, seemingly very interested with us personally. Asking how long have we worked in the company, where did we go to school, and how’s the industry nowadays from our perspectives. All in all, a very amicable figure. He deserves more love than he gets from his own fandom.

☁ EREN The ace and face of the group that’s oftentimes alienated by his own members. Wasn’t born talented but worked his ass off during trainee years. Now one of the best dancers around. Tries to motivate his members “We gotta work harder!” in unnecessary times and places, resulting in a lot of eyerolls from his members.

In backstage, likes to kill time by trying to fish the staff’s attention, because he doesn’t get along well with the members. Sitting around at staffs’ lounge (although he’s got his own huge ass lounge), poking at staffs doing their job (“Hey, what are you working on?”) or make weird ass noises, or do some questionable things (like chasing bugs?). Would be encouraged if we laugh or giggle to his odd antics.

☁ REINER The gentle giant. Looks intimidating at first for his buff and stoic look. All the new staffs would try to steer clear off him at first. But when we set up things for shooting, he’d unexpectedly help around. If he sees a female staff picking up heavy utilities he’d immediately intervene and help carrying it. Would open the door for you even though he is the artist. Does not talk a lot, but his kind actions replace all words needed. Days after your schedule with him, you may expect fancy chocolates for you and the rest of the team, with note: Thank you for the hard work. Best, Reiner Braun.

☁ ERWIN Master manipulator that is not just handsome, but extremely smart and calculative. Would catch you by surprise the first time you hear his actual voice, because it’s entirely different that the deep voice he dons in front of the camera.

Would ask to go to the airport early so he can bully you for the things you did not do in the waiting lounge. Would later realize that you have close connection with client, and be suspiciously nice to you the next time you work with him again. Invite you to take photo with him and the other members after the concert because he thought he was doing you a favor. Would invite you and your team for a dinner at the fanciest restaurant in town, you’d think of how generous he is. Later your boss tells you that he billed it on the company’s account.

☁ LEVI The all-rounder talented artist who is sick of the k-pop industry. Very quiet and wants to be taken seriously. Loathes the industry’s fan cultures that often infantilize the artists. Would only do aegyo once encouraged by his members. Very polite to the staffs and incredibly professional. Enormously successful in both music and acting. In interviews, does not look at script as he’d like to answer all the questions truthfully, would study the questions a day before. But he will not take shit if he knows he is being mistreated, looking at him uttering his disagreement is one of the scariest things because this man is otherwise so nice and kind.

☁ PORCO Actually a very stiff and conservative guy, does not have even one funny bone in him. Knows that his fans make meme of him and realizes that’s how you make it to trending topic these days. Would text you at 2 AM in the morning and ask to make a funny joke that he can tweet in the morning. You’d pretend not to see the text. The morning you wake up, he’d have unsent the message and tweeted a template joke he found from google search. Does not make it to trending topic.

☁ CONNIE Would take an hour shitting and smoking in the toilet despite tight on schedule. After multiple effort of banging on his door, he’d go out, see everyone packed because it’s already an hour away from a 12-hour flight he’s supposed to take, he’d be like, “HEHE, sorry guys.”

Would be uncharacteristically quite during the ride to the airport that is 30km away because he’s feeling guilty and nervous about missing the flight.

☁ COLT The golden voice who is overtly polite to the staffs. Quite awkward too. Would profusely apologize if he eats snacks and does not have spare ones to share with the staffs. His downside is he can be quite inattentive, takes selfie at odd times and places. One time he takes selfie where he manages to have your butt captured from very unflattering angle in it. Uploads it to Instagram of several millions followers without realizing the error, only beginning to notice once the comment section is filled with “lmao look at the staffs’ butt”, would feel extremely guilty to you and choose to avoid you during the entire overseas trip.

☁ ZEKE Charming as fuck, the first time you ever feel weak on knees over an idol despite working in the industry for years. Painfully aware that he is handsome, tall and sexy – would intentionally stare at you while you’re doing your work, and immediately throw his gaze away once you become aware. He wants you to gush over him.

When you have your team dinner with him, he’d say that you remind him of certain manager at the company. Turns out he used to date the manager – makes you daydream about him days on end, thinking, “What if…?”. Would look at you directly in the eyes as you brief him his storyboard, and pat your head or poke you with his script bundle occasionally. Makes you live the dream for approximately 12 hours. Would definitely forget you entirely the next week you have schedule again with him.

[liv-laugh-die]

||Admiring|| 💖Miya Osamu x Gn!reader

trope: strangers meeting in the park (ik its random bear with me😭)

warnings: its not proofread all the way through (im sorry im tired), so theres probably grammatical errors or typos but other than that none

genre: fluff pretty much just sappy stuff

pairing/s: osamu x gn!reader

wc: about 2.5k

a/n: oh my god idk where i came up with this but i think its cute so :p i hope you enjoy!!

You stared at your blank computer screen, hope of finishing your assignment before its due date at midnight slowly vanishing. 

     The clock on your desk read 11:27pm, the green lines wavering in your vision as your eyes slowly drooped, trying to drag you into the depths of slumber. You wanted to sleep, you really did, but you knew there was no way you could give up writing your essay, even now, knowing you weren’t going to submit it on time, because you would stress too much about it if you didn’t at least try to complete it before the due date. 

     Pushing yourself away from your desk, your chair squeaking against the floor ever so slightly in your dead silent dorm room, you tried to think of some excuse that your professor might believe. You doubted there was anything you could think of, but hey, your professor was better than what your roommates’ had mentioned theirs being, and you were grateful for that. Maybe you could tell him that you were exhausted from working extra hours at your job since you had had to cover your coworker’s shift and that’s why you couldn’t complete your essay on time? Or, maybe you could get away with a simple “I was lacking interest in the material, and couldn’t understand anything, and I didn’t ask for help because I knew that you are such a busy man trying to do so many things at once. Another hopeless near college drop-out wasn’t something I thought you needed on your hands.”

     ....Maybe not the latter.

    You sighed, running a hand through your tangled hair, practically feeling it screaming at you to wash it. You barely had time in the mornings to take showers anymore, and when you took them at night, you never had the strength to wash your hair, always knowing that putting a hat on overtop or throwing on your hoodie would make it seem fine on the outside, and that was good enough for you. As long as you looked at least decent and somewhat presentable.

    Your dorm room was fairly small, like every other one, but the lack of furniture made it seem larger than the rest. Nothing more than you and your roommate’s joint desk, the mini fridge in the corner, and the beds filled the space. You almost tripped over your backpack lying next to the bunk bed pushed up against the wall, falling to what would’ve been inches away from your roommate’s sleeping body.

    In an attempt not to disturb them, you tiptoed through the room, stepping over the occasional heap of clothes or homework, until you reached the bathroom. You fumbled over the door knob before almost tumbling into the small space. Glancing in the mirror, you didn’t fail to notice your messy hair, the dark circles tracing beneath your eyes, or the way you looked like you were seconds away from passing out. The sound of running water rang in your ears as you turned on the sink faucet, cupping your hands together and bringing your face down to meet them, rubbing the cold water all over you in an attempt to keep you awake for just a few moments longer.

     Your eyes returned back to the mirror as you sighed at your dripping wet face. There was no way possible you were going to finish your assignment on time. You knew it, your roommate knew it before they passed out, and you had noticed your professor’s wary glance this morning in class as a sign that he knew it too.

     An idea sprang into your head, part of you dreading the optimism that seemed to seep through your brain slowly. You didn’t feel like being energetic right now.

---an hour later---

You weren’t exactly sure how, when, or why you decided it would be a good idea to take a shower (you did end up washing your hair, thank god), get your things together in your bag, and head to the off-campus coffee shop (since the one on-campus had already closed), but you found yourself with a warm cup of coffee in hand as you exited the shop, the cold midnight air enveloping you in an unwelcome embrace.

     You shivered. The only thing your spontaneous brain had forgotten had to have been your jacket, the one thing your normal brain would’ve remembered if it weren’t already past midnight and if you weren’t majorly sleep-deprived.

     You most certainly weren’t done with your essay yet, nor was there any possible way for you to finish it on time since it was now approximately thirteen minutes past the due time, but you let yourself breathe for now.

     There weren’t many people out at this hour, and it made the usual busy city streets seemed like a ghost town. There were a few restaurants still open as you strolled along the sidewalk, their lights responsible for illuminating more than half the area in front of you. You passed by an onigiri shop your friend had recommended to you, but you just weren’t that hungry. Most nights, you’d kill for a midnight snack, but your single shot of espresso coffee was satisfying your needs for now.

     You decided to head to the park after seeing a rabbit hop its way across the vacant street and into the bushes in that direction. The fresh air was nice and cool against your dry and croaky lungs, and your ears needed a different sound than that of you miserably attempting to touch type quickly, your fingers rapping against the keyboard with vigor.

     A stream nearby flowed softly, the dripping of the water against the rocks complimenting the noise of the crickets chirping in sync just downstream. Your footsteps cut through the grass slowly, not bothering to follow the stone path. The park was a nice change of scenery. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been here by yourself in peace, it was always you and your rambunctious friends who ran through every now and then just to see the dogs running through the sprinklers, or the occasional poor cat whose owner dragged them out into the daylight for exercise. This was peaceful, though, and you appreciated that.

     A few more rabbits crossed your path, giving you that wide-eyed, side glance before darting off into the darkness, outside the reach of the lampposts emitting light. The sound of the stream soon faded out as you continued to walk through the park, sipping your coffee every so often. The warmth from your cup was soon dying out, and you figured you’d have to start walking back to your university sooner or later. Maybe you could crash at your friend’s house who lived just off campus, though you had forgotten your phone back at your dorm and had no alarm, no laptop to complete your work, and no contact with anyone else who might worry where you’d be. You had really no choice but to trek back to your dorm in the darkness, cutting your peaceful visit to the park short.

     You let yourself have a few more minutes of stress free relaxing as you sat down on a bench just before the ground let out into a downhill slope overlooking the rest of the city below. The trees around you swayed in the breeze, and for a moment, you thought it was the wind talking, and not an actual human being who had somehow made his way beside you without gathering your attention.

     “Didn’t think anyone else would be up at this hour,” the stranger mumbled. You glanced up, almost startled that, indeed, someone else was actually awake and strolling through the park.

     The boy couldn’t have been much older than you were, maybe the same age. He had his hands stuffed in his jacket pockets, the wind tousled his dark hair ever so slightly, and the moonlight played along, illuminating his face just so you could actually see how gorgeous he was.

     You cleared your throat, averting your eyes back to the ground as you shifted over, creating more space on the bench in case he wanted to sit down beside you. “I decided to actually take care of myself for once and give myself some time to breathe before facing the wrath of my professor tomorrow when he finds out I didn’t turn in my essay on time.” You let out a low, breathy chuckle, not exactly sure of what would happen next.

     The guy sat down on the bench next to you, though he made sure to give you some personal space, which you were grateful for. He laughed along with you a bit, and you could tell just from his tone just how tired he really was.

     You gave him a side glance, raising an eyebrow. “So, what the stressful thing that brought you here in the middle of the night?”

     He smiled half-heartedly, eyes trained on the moon. “Work stuff. Jus’ been busy, I guess.” He shrugged. 

     You waited for him to continue on, but he stayed silent. You didn’t complain, though. Wasn’t your whole reason for coming out here in the dead of the night for some quiet? Plus, it wasn’t awkward either. You were comfortable sitting next to this stranger.

     “What do you do for work?” You waited a little longer than necessary to ask, but he didn’t seem to mind the long pause.

     “I own a restaurant a few blocks away. I love the job, it’s just tiring havin’ to deal with rude customers like my brother who won’t get the hint and get out sometimes. I got into an argument with him earlier today and he just wouldn’t shut it.” He rolled his eyes and took his hands out of his pockets, making eye contact with you as he went on about his day, and you couldn’t help but smile at his passion. “The guy thinks he can just walk in when I’m working with a new employee and just act like he runs the place! Quite stupid if you ask me. Such a jerk, he is. Thinkin’ about just banning him from the place, really.” 

     You snorted. “He really bugs you that much, huh?”

     The guy smirked at your laugh, admiring it, though you would never had guess that was what flashed across his face in a million years. He nodded. “Yeah, ‘course I love ‘im ‘cause he’s my twin and my best friend, but he really knows how to annoy the hell outta me.” He shrugged. “Maybe I’ll just get a sign in the window that says “no shirt, no shoes, no service” and cross it out and write my brother’s name instead,” he reasoned, and the pondering look in his eyes made you wonder if he was actually considering the idea.

     You smiled. “You’re funny.”

     “You say that like ya weren’t expectin’ it.”

     A laugh made its way out your lips. “Well, when you’re approached by a stranger in the middle of the night you sort of expect the worst.”

     The guy glanced off in the distance, away from you, furrowing his eyebrows. “Sorry, didn’t think of that comin’ off that way.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Guess it’s a good thing I’m funny then, and not some creep, eh?”

     You nodded, the smile on your face not fading as he changed topics.

     “So, what’s your essay on? Any way I can help ya finish it?”

     You shook your head dismissively. “Oh, no. It was due thirty minutes ago.” You quickly explained the topic you were writing about in class before getting side tracked. “My professor had said he would allow it to be turned in the next morning, but I doubt he actually meant it.”

     He smiled a wide grin, making butterflies flutter in your stomach. “You go to the university nearby, right?” 

     You nodded in confirmation, raising an eyebrow. “If I’ve got any luck, there’s a chance you go there too?”

     He laughed a little, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t, sorry. I’ve visited campus a few times because some of my friends go there, but I just usually focus on work.”

     His gaze was tilted upwards towards the sky, and you couldn’t help but admire how the exhaustion still shone in his eyes, but somehow that same passion gleamed there too just mentioning what he did for a living. You wished you were that passionate about something that would actually support you financially in the future and make you happy.

     When he glanced back at you, you were still taking his essence in, and he made a look of confusion. “What?”

    You shook your head, chuckling. “Nothing. I just admire that you can dedicate yourself to something and make it seem so easy.” He looked at you, interested to hear what you had to say, even though you were sure you couldn’t be the first person to tell him this. “I haven’t even known you for more than ten minutes and I can already tell you’re passionate about what you do and if you’re stressed about it, it must mean you’re dedicated to seeing your work through, and that’s more than enough to admire and appreciate, especially when that can be so difficult sometimes.” You finished your short tangent, looking back up at him to see him staring intently at you, seemingly in awe of what you’d just said. You felt a blush creep onto your face as you quickly blurted out, “Sorry- I didn’t mean to be so straightforward and weird like that- I sound like some crazy secret admirer or something...”

     The crickets chirped in the silence between the two of you, and it felt like it would never end.

     “Y’know, I wouldn’t mind havin’ a secret admirer. I mean, wouldn’t be so secret, but...” You saw the smile creep up onto his face. “It’s nice being appreciated. Nobody really tells me that kind o’ stuff, so... thanks, I guess.” 

     The heat on your cheeks didn’t go away by any means, but you grew more comfortable with it as you mumbled, “Maybe I wouldn’t mind admiring you.”

     Now, it was the boy’s turn to blush, and you smiled at how his cheeks grew redder with every passing second, and how his subtle grin spoke a thousand words he didn’t need to say.

     “Miya Osamu.” The boy’s hand came into your view as he extended it for you to shake. “I own Onigiri Miya across from the grocery outlet.”

     You smirked, grasping his hand in yours as you said, “L/N Y/N. I own an official license for being a horrible driver and an ID that proves I’m a sleep-deprived college student and that’s about it.”

     He laughed, shaking your hand and standing up, letting go too soon for your liking.

     Because for some weird reason, his hand felt right in yours.

     Osamu said a quick goodbye, mentioning something about how he should get going and how you should get some sleep before he disappeared down the stone path back into the darkness.

     You stood up not too long after he’d left, your coffee now entirely cold as you plopped the half full cup into the trash can on your walk back to your dorm, not needing the pathetic warmth anymore. Your heart was beating fast and the feeling of Osamu’s hand resting in yours lingered on your palm, and that kept you warm enough.

     Maybe you’d be visiting that onigiri place your friend recommended to you a little sooner than you’d originally planned, and maybe more often than you would’ve expected.