#im just laying here collecting dust and feeling empty

[htylmg]

god i rlly did give up on my tma relisten like 1/3 through huh. guess im gonna have to resume that tmrw

[tatsumi-harem-chronicles]

the aira superfan the world collection

mod toku here. so while mod pensive was making an “aira has hanahaki because of his love of idols as a whole” au (read here: https://archiveofourown.org/series/3047022) i was also pitching in with some…suggestions… so without any further ado enjoy my efforts to contribute to the aira angst extended lore (with the added bonus of asta torture) (note that the formatting is a bit chunky cus these are all discord messages ✌️) 1/10

toku | pensive | asta

(context: there’s a point in the au where aira, trying his best during his early days at yumenosaki, gets invited to join/form several units with various classmates, all of which later disbanding due to a lack of audience; this is my proposed result to that) concept: he's spent so long working so incredibly hard to get his career, his dream, somewhere to the point where's he's practically living in his idol uniform/practice outfit and he's losing sleep over it, he can't find the time to eat when he might miss a job opening, a free gig, some kind of opportunity to make the time really count and it culminates when he like passes out in class and doesn't wake up until long past the end of the day to which point the staff send him home for the rest of the week to rest up because "it would reflect badly on the academy if this were to have happened anywhere public. your choices are your own but we cannot allow the impression that we as an institution actively overwork our idols" and so then he's back in his room for the first time in... a while, actually, and he doesn't know what to do with himself so he lays down and tries to sleep but the need to work, that need that's been settled into his bones over the past weeks comes bounding towards him like an overactive puppy and god even if he can't do idol work he has to do something so he organizes. he looks at all his hard-collected merchandise, his most precious treasures, and cleans off the thing dust settled over them (...when did that get there?) and repositions them on his desk so they better reflect the seniors he's seen around campus (because sakuma rei and tenshouin eichi would never be within that distance of each other) and he's thinking about school and how yumenosaki has produced so many wonderful, loveable, spectacular idols and he just can't make the cut and feels a tickle in his throat when he almost forgets to add a "yet" to the end of that sentence and suddenly the clothes he's wearing chafe against him and his head is too hot, his hands are too sweaty and fuck he has to take a shower and when he gets out he finds that he, somehow, can't even look at the majority of his wardrobe filled to the brim with more and more idol merch so he digs for something that won't remind him of the grand stage he'd finally reached, even if it was empty when he stood on it, and of the crowds he never saw and the small boxes of pins and stickers bulk-ordered in an hope-filled meeting that they never actually sold and he finds a worn shirt from an old anime, something about magic-wielding detectives?, that he used to like watching and he puts it on and when his throat and those traitorous lungs feel the ever slightest bit of reprieve for the first time in so, so long because he's staring resolutely at that one patch of wall he never quite found a poster the right size for, finally wearing something that's not his uniform, or training gear, or any kind of merch and he's not thinking of idols but he's never not thinking of idols so, of course, he thinks of idols and then it comes back with that same insufferable tickle and his mouth is dry and he wants to cry and can't pinpoint just one "why"

pensive ur right aira suffering is so fun :D join me IM PUNCHING YOU BOTH IM SHAKING AND SOBBING GET AWAY FROM HIM /joke

[sleeping-on-cracking-ice]

Hello! Im glad i made it on time for request! T^TI would like to request a chishiya x female reader. Where the female reader is strong and intelligent and chishiya just basically falls in love with her. He tries to get close with but apparently reader doesn't live in beach she lives in her own homemade house. So chishiya tries really hard to find her.

Of course, here you go! 🥰

Search | Shuntaro Chishiya

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Chishiya

Summary: Chishiya searches all through Tokyo to find you, who he met at a game and fell for instantly.

Warnings: swearing, somewhat creepy behaviour from Chishiya, violence

Word Count: 2.2k

*reader is female

Author’s Note: sorry I closed requests for so long! They’re open again now for a few days so please send in anything you want me to write! ❤

The dark streets of Tokyo echoed the sounds of the wind travelling through the trees. The silence that filled the atmosphere was deafening, leaving Chishiya to nothing but his wandering thoughts that pottered so carelessly through his head. The occasional cry of a crow kept him grounded, always bringing him back to the reality that was in front of him.

The young man was taking yet another attempt of finding the peculiar and alluring figure that he had encountered at many games. No one had ever taken his interest as much as this, and even if they had, he would’ve given up at finding them for the fact that they live in the huge empty wasteland that is Tokyo. Any nook and cranny could have the chance of being your home, but Chishiya was determined to find you. He didn’t have anything else to do anyway. But now that he’s taken interest in you, he finally has something to work towards rather than just waiting around to die at The Beach.

He strolled effortlessly through the Shibuya crossing, recognizing the place from when he was first thrown into the game, always returning to the large open area to use as a safe space. Even after being in the game for as long as he had, it still felt foreign to see not a single soul crossing the road, very unlike usual Tokyo.

The only source of light he had to assist him was a small torch he took from The Beach and the occasional game sign pointing to some late running games. He felt unsettled every time he entered an area where no light was available, and the silence didn’t help.

“Tch,” he scoffed to himself, rubbing his sleeves over his eyes to keep them from dropping from how tired he was. He had been at it for weeks, not even getting the slightest clue where you stayed in the huge city.

“This is ridiculous, as if I haven’t found her yet.” He was becoming more and more frustrated as each night dragged on. All he wanted was to meet you in person that wasn’t in the registration section of a game, where he wasn’t even sure either of you would leave alive.

After being saved by you during a hearts game, Chishiya developed an irrational attraction to your selfless and strong demeanour. He admired the fact that you managed to look after yourself and others at the same time, always thinking of an intelligent way to make sure that everyone survived. He was impressed and taken back, for he had never met or encountered anyone like you.

Chishiya strutted over to a large building near the Shibuya crossing that displayed a screen pointing towards a game. He had to sit down for a while, he had been walking for hours and his legs were beginning to hurt. He shivered and pulled his hoodie tighter around him as he walked through the entrance of the building to find that place nearly trashed all through. Obviously some people had attempted to search the building for resources to assist in their survival.

He slowly made his way further into the building, being mindful of the shards of glass and other debris that scattered the floor. The last thing he wanted was the trip of something and ended up with sharp glass shards in his back.

Chishiya entered a large room that almost seemed untouched. Much unlike the other rooms, this room was clean and no furniture was turned over. He frowned, wondering why no one had bothered to search this room.

“Huh, must have missed it,” he answered his own question. He walked to the centre of the room and sat on a small brown couch that was placed there, rather inconveniently. The layout of the room was very scattered and random resources such as water bottles and empty cans of beans and tuna were laying around on every surface.

The cans of food looked awfully too clean to have been left there for long. The leftover specs of food remaining appeared fresh, and the smell of tuna was far from smelling off. Chishiya moved his tired eyes around the room, trying to find any more evidence of someone being there recently. His eyes locked on a small pile of blankets and pillows in the corner of the room, all bunched up together to create a comfy nest almost.

The pile seemed a bit too lumpy to be holding only blankets, so Chishiya’s curiosity got the better of him and he stood slowly to make his way over to the makeshift bed. He thought maybe someone was hiding some more food underneath it, probably planning to return some other time to collect them.

He kneeled down next to the pile, scanning the small space. His eyes widened as he saw the blanket move, slowly lifting up and down incredibly slightly. He almost stepped back in shock, but decided against it and lifted his hand slowly to lift the duvet.

He grasped the soft material and carefully pulled it back towards himself. His breath became caught in his throat when he locked eyes with what was underneath it.

There you laid, peacefully sleeping and tucked into yourself. Your legs were folded and against your torso with your arms lying lazily next to your head. You looked so vulnerable and small, especially since Chishiya just found you hiding from the world underneath a blanket. He assumed that you covered yourself so if someone was to find your hiding space, they wouldn’t see you and potentially hurt you.

Chishiya couldn’t help himself. After seeing you become so aggressive and resilient in games, seeing you so calm and at peace pulled at his heart strings. He knew it was wrong, intruding on you while you weren’t aware he was even there, but he knew that he wouldn’t ever hurt you.

His heart hurt from the sight of you holding yourself in a tight ball, obviously being anxious that something would happen while you were asleep. He pouted and tilted his head, examining you closely.

“So pretty,” he whispered. But just as the words left his mouth, his stomach dropped when he saw your eyes snap open and lock directly onto him.

Before he could even think, you had swung a fist at his face, punching him square in the jaw, making him yell in pain as he backed away while squatting on his legs so he could get up and run if he had to. He held his face in his hands, trying to reduce the pain throbbing in his jaw.

“What the fuck?!” you exclaimed, standing up out of your bundle of blankets. “Fucking creep! Piss off!”

Chishiya groaned and glanced up towards you, noticing that you were now standing over his meek body on the ground. You held a small knife in your hands, pointing the sharp object towards him in case he made any sudden movements.

Chishiya’s usual smug smirk crawled onto his face, making your frown more as he stood up slowly, hands held up in surrender. “Wow, feisty,” he chuckled.

Your angry expression softened and you lowered your weapon slightly as the bright moonlight shined through the window and painted across Chishiya’s face. You immediately recognized him as the young, white-haired man that always assisted you at games. But what was he doing here?

“What do you want?” you glowered, taking a few threatening steps towards him. Chishiya raised his eyebrows, but kept his composed behaviour as your weapon pressed lightly on his chest, making him wince slightly as the sharp point pierced his skin through his white shirt.

“Rude. I don’t even get a hello? A how are you? All I get is a knife in my face,” he smugly responded. “You did that to yourself by watching me sleep like a fucking stalker,” you hissed, leaning your face closer to his.

“I guess so,” he sneered. “By the way, I wouldn’t kill me if you were considering it. Trust me, I’m not on my own.”

You felt ridiculed by his calm behaviour, hating how he didn’t seem threatened by you at all. Out of all the people you’ve scared off, why did this skinny, short man have more nerve than anyone else?

“I wasn’t counting on it,” you reassured. You pulled back your knife slightly, but still kept it drawn in your hand in case he tried anything. You may have met him a few times in games, but trust was very hard to earn from anyone in the Borderlands.

“So, Y/N,” he started. “I’ve been searching for you for a while now. I’m glad I’ve finally found you.”

You scowled at his words. “Me? What could someone like you possibly want from me?” You watched as his pink lips curled up into a smirk, making you cringe slightly.

Chishiya turned away from you and strolled back over to the brown lounge in the middle of the room. He leaned comfortably on the back of it, facing you again. You had lowered your knife, feeling reassured now that he was further away.

“I’ve noticed you,” he started, staring holes into your eyes. You raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to continue. “You know how to handle yourself in games, and I can’t help but become a little immersed in your methods.”

The way he spoke gave you a headache. He sounded too smart for his own good, making you question if he was bluffing just to trick you into believing that you were needed, when he would just use you then leave you in the dust.

“Yeah? And what about it?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest.

Chishiya looked down to the ground and tucked his hands into his pockets. “I would very much appreciate it if you joined me,” he suggested. “I am staying at a hotel called ‘The Beach’, but everyone there is an idiot. If you are willing to put your trust into me, I promise that I will help you collect all the cards and escape this place.”

You kept your gaze on him, trying to see any sign that he may be lying. If he was lying, he was incredibly good at it.

“What’s the catch?” you asked, fiddling with your knife.

“There is none. Only the fact that I’m asking you to join forces with hundreds of idiotic, drunks that act like children.”

There was a moment of silence before Chishiya continued.

“But I can reassure you, if you stick by me, I will be sure to keep you safe and alive.”

You rolled your eyes at his promise. “I don’t need your protection. Look at you, you’re skin and bones. I can take care of myself.” You turned back to your pile of blankets, lifting them to search for your radio that had become lost in the sheets during the night.

Chishiya thought to himself, trying to think of something to say that would convince you to come back with him to The Beach. He couldn’t downright say that he was in love with you, because it would probably scare you off. If he wanted to have a chance with you, he first had to gain your trust. But that was deemed difficult when he was the shady character that he is.

“There’s food and water at The Beach,” he spoke up, making you freeze in your movements and turn back towards him. “There’s comfy beds and personal rooms, as well as allies and guaranteed protection from militants. If you really want to survive, you’d be best there more than out here by yourself.”

You stared at him before glancing around the room, eyes landing on the scattered cans of food and random dirty clothes everywhere. You would admit, you were lonely, and hungry, and cold.

“What makes me sure I can trust you, Chishiya?” you challenged.

Chishiya stepped away from the sofa and walked over to you, making you stand up from your position on the ground so you were at eye level.

“Because you have no other choice,” he smugly stated, “You’re lucky enough for it to only be me to walk in here and find you. Just think about it, if I can find you, so can a group of murderous people, or starving people, or people desperate for cards.”

He had a good point. You hated that you were falling prey to his manipulation, but if The Beach was even slightly better than the dirt hole you were inhabiting, you were interested enough to at least take a look.

“Okay,” you mumbled, turning away from him and leaning down to pick up the small backpack that laid next to your bed. “I’ll come, but if I find out you’re lying or trying to have me killed, it’ll be your head hanging from a lamppost in Shibuya.”

Chishiya smiled at your threat, not being affected by your violent words. “That’s the kind of talk that will get you killed Y/N,” he warned, turning around and making his way towards the entrance of the building. “Keep that up, you might be the one losing a head.”

You groaned and rolled your eyes at his warning.

Chishiya smiled to himself as he stepped out into the cold night air. He could finally relax, knowing he found you and would now be able to keep you in his sight at all times. Even if he had to tell a few fibs to make you come with him, he believes it was worth it, as now he could stay by your side.

He knew it would be a work in progress to earn your trust eventually, but he would make sure that you always trusted him over anyone else.

[mybillyhardgrove]

He loves you, he loves you lots b.h.

A/n: if you haven’t read Mango Kisses, check it out :) this piece may be my favorite thing ive written so far and im excited for you to read it!

Disclaimer: i don’t own any Stranger Things material

Word count: 2467

Warnings: some cheeky remarks from billy and a couple curses

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Reader (female)

Summary: after being with Billy for a few months, it has become clear how he shows his love for you

Physical Touch

The touches had been deliberate at the start, meant to convey the interest you two had in each other. Flirty touches of his shoulder or arm as he talked to you in the school hallways or at random parties on the weekends. Gentle touches of your lower back as he walked past you, his chest rubbing a bit on your shoulder blades, though there was room enough for him not to need to be so close.

As your relationship developed, the touches became more frequent and less subtle. His arm draped around your shoulder or his hand in your back pocket, your legs crossed on his lap or your fingers intertwined with his. No matter what, it seemed that you were connected in some way almost all the time.

Finally, when you accepted Billy’s invitation to a date and you were officially his girl, the touching didn’t stop. Not that you minded. You found it so endearing that Billy seemed to reach for you, sitting with his knee touching yours, his hand on your back, his shoulder rubbing against yours, his hand on your thigh while he drove. It also seemed he didn’t realize he was doing it most of the time. It was an unconscious pull he had to you whenever you were near. One of your favorites was when you and Billy laid together and he played with the ends of your hair, rubbing his fingers together and smoothing the bumps away. It tended to relax you so much that you had to fight to keep your eyes open, lulled by his steady heartbeat and the warmth of his body wrapped up in yours. “That feels nice, Billy.” You felt his chest vibrate as he laughed, pulling you closer and lightly scratching your scalp as you let sleep fall over you.

It meant even more to you that Billy was so comfortable being physically affectionate with you after you learned about his childhood and the physical and verbal abuse of his father. This point was driven home when you were sitting at a diner one evening, Billy’s sneakered feet rubbing yours as you sipped your milkshake. You grabbed his hand resting on the table, softly rubbing your thumb over his knuckles and giving him a soft smile. He squeezed your hand in response, wiping his mouth and making sure he had your attention.

“I’m glad you’re my girl.” Your smile immediately widened, teeth popping out.

“I am, too, Billy.” After a beat, “What made you say that?” He grabbed your other hand across the table.

“I’m just happy to have you. It feels nice that I can reach out and I know you’ll be there. Your hugs, the way you touch me, I’ve never felt that before. Usually it’s rough and my dad or a girl wants something from me. I like that you touch me and let me touch you so much because you’re happy.” You could see he was losing his nerve, pulling his hands away and preparing to put on the devil-may-care attitude that was common when with friends.

“I love you, Billy. And I love that you feel comfortable enough to share that with me. I hope I can always make you feel that way.” He looked up, smiling a little, the tension leaving his shoulders. You didn’t want to make him feel awkward by focusing on the confession too long, so you continued. “Now eat those fries before I steal some.” He chuckled and grabbed your hand again, reaching across with a fry for you.

Once he had dropped it in your mouth, he cleared his throat. “I love you, too.” You smiled widely again, squeezing his hand a little tighter.

Words of Affirmation

You were rushing to get ready, imagining the look on Billy’s face as he sat on the couch all ready to head to the party. Your hands were shaking a bit as you dusted the rose blush on your cheekbones and nose. As Billy’s girl, you could expect as always to be the center of attention for most of the night as girls looked at you in jealousy and boys looked at you while they talked with Billy. It wasn’t that you wished you weren’t with Billy, it just got tiring to have all eyes on you both.

“Are you almost ready to head ou-” as you turned towards the sound of Billy’s voice, you watched him lower the sunglasses from his eyes, dragging his baby blues down your body and back up. You could feel your cheeks get hot as he let out a low whistle. “God damn, baby, you look like that and we may never make it to that party.” He came closer and wrapped his arm around your side, his hand fanning across your lower back and with a small pull, your body was flush to his. He leaned down to press his lips to your jaw, murmuring compliments as he spread the kisses down your neck and behind your ear. “You’re so beautiful.” Kiss. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” Kiss. “So smart and kind.” Kiss. “I am the luckiest man in Hawkins.” Kiss. “I love you so much.” After this last profession, Billy pressed a soft and meaningful kiss to your lips, lingering there as his hands came to rest on your hips, giving them a squeeze.

You tilted your head to the side into the kiss, slipping your fingers in his hair and scratching a bit at his scalp before pulling away and grabbing your purse. “I’m ready to go. Let’s get this over with.” You grabbed his hand and led him out of your room.

He followed with a lovesick look on his face. “Yes, ma’am.”

Gifts

“Bill, shift your legs a little, mine are falling asleep.” You and your boyfriend were currently watching Red Dawn, your head resting on one side of the couch as Billy’s was resting on the other, legs intertwined and a thin blanket over the both of you. Sadly for you, it wasn’t quite enough to keep goosebumps from rising on your skin. Although the day had been fairly warm and you felt good in a sundress as Billy showered you in compliments all day, you were now verging on cold. Alone in the Hargrove’s house for the evening, the cool air coming in the open window was making you shiver.

Finally too distracted by the chill, you rose from the couch and shut the window, returning to curl up against Billy. You lifted the blanket, wiggled between his legs, and rested your back against his chest with the blanket up to your chin. He shifted a little and wrapped his arms around you, putting your hands in his. “Jeez, babe, your hands are freezing.” He pulled them up to his mouth, blowing warm air into your curled fingers, rubbing his palms together in an effort to bring them back to normal. You moved your feet a bit and accidentally pressed your cold toes to his bare leg. “Your feet are like ice cubes! Why didn’t you tell me you were so cold? Scoot forward, I’ll be right back.” You did as you were told and he swung his leg over your head, retreating to his room for a minute before coming back, a mess of fabric in his hands. “Here, put these on.”

You took the lump to the bathroom and laid it out, finally determining what he had given you. A cozy pair of his sweatpants, a long-sleeved henley shirt, and a pair of thick socks. Humming, you slipped your clothes off and changed into his, surrounded by the smell of cologne and a hint of smoke. You grabbed your things, dumped them next to your purse in the living room, and crawled back under the blanket with Billy.

“Feeling better?” He rubbed his hands down your arms.

“Much. Thank you.” You turned your head, pressing a kiss to his lips before settling to watch the rest of the movie.

A while later when the movie was finished and it was time for Billy to drive you home, you explained you would return his clothes the following day. “Keep them. They look better on you anyway. My gift to you, so you don’t freeze your ass off anymore.” You giggled and grabbed your things, admiring how loving Billy was to you.

Acts of Service

It was a bit of a tradition that had developed where Billy would climb up the trellis to the roof outside your bedroom window, tapping lightly so you would let him in. You loved when he did this and never asked why. He loved that about you - you didn’t need a reason or an explanation, you were there with a smile and a kiss, ready to snuggle and whisper until the morning.

This particular night was a bit different than usual. When he began the climb to your room, he could see the window was already open, likely because it was a cool night and the breeze felt nice on your skin. Smiling as he thought about seeing you, he peeked in the window and saw something that warmed his heart. The light next to your bed was on and illuminated the pile of books and clothes around your room as you slept in the middle of your bed, a notebook still open on your lap.

Billy let out a breathy chuckle as he quietly climbed in, careful not to wake you. He shrugged off his jacket and slipped off his shoes, placing them by the window. Who knew a girl who so lovingly helped Billy clean his room when Neil rode his ass about it would be able to make such a mess herself. He knew from your recent conversations that school was kicking your ass at the moment and it seemed cleaning was taking a backseat for the time being. He looked at the soft rise and fall of your chest, your tangled hair, and the pout of your mouth for a minute before getting to work. He gathered empty water bottles and crumpled up pieces of paper, throwing them in the small garbage can under your nightstand. He collected the school books that lay in a halo around you, gently lifting your hand to grab the notebook and pen you had been writing with before nodding off. Placing those on the top of your dresser in a neat pile, he went into the hall to grab a laundry basket.

After Billy had picked up the discarded clothes on your bed and floor, as well as those in your hamper, he tiptoed to the basement to throw the load in for you. Carefully avoiding the creaky spots on the staircase, he returned to your room, pleased with himself that it once again resembled the way you liked it. He pulled the socks from your feet, knowing you hated sleeping in them. As he did so, it dawned on him that they were his socks. In fact, you were also wearing the pair of sweatpants and the henley shirt he had given you the night you were cold while you watched a movie together. That memory brought a smile to his lips. Finally, he grabbed the rolled edges of your sheets and comforter from the foot of the bed, lifting them over your legs and up to your chest. This caused you to shift, taking a deep breath before rolling over, giving him enough room to slide in next to you. He did just that, humming a bit as he wrapped you in his arms, drifting quickly to sleep to the sound of your soft breaths and the warmth of your bed.

Quality Time

“Really, Billy, I don’t mind. I’ll just stay home and see you later.” You were currently on the phone with your boyfriend, trying to convince him to go to the party alone that you were going to go to together. It had been your plan all week to go to this party together and you even had an outfit laid out for the occasion. Unfortunately, you had woken up with a sore throat and a completely stuffed nose. After a few hours of blowing your nose, taking Vitamin C, and praying this would go away, you were resigned to call Billy and tell him he’d have to go without you.

“I am not going unless you’re there and I can tell from your voice that you’re really sick. Lay down and get cozy, I’ll be over in a little.” You sighed, disappointed that you were altering the plans for the evening.

“I’ll be fine. I feel bad that-” Before finishing that you felt bad for throwing a wrench in the evening, you were interrupted.

“I am not going to that stupid party, baby. I couldn’t care less. Trust me. Now get under the covers. I’m coming over. Is the door unlocked?” You answered in the affirmative and with one more order to get under covers, he hung up. You shuffled your feet across the carpet, burrowing under the large throw blanket, tissue box close by.

For a while, there was silence (apart from the sneezing and the pounding in your head from an annoying little headache that had formed since your call with Billy). You were somewhere between sleep and wakefulness, praying that this would end and missing the time you could breathe out of your nose. As you lay staring at the ceiling, you heard a familiar rumble in the distance get closer until it finally stopped in front of your house.

A few steps up to the front door and the creak as it opened and shut brought your boyfriend into view. “Shit, baby,” and with that, he kneeled next to the couch, running his fingers through your hair, wincing a bit as they ran over your forehead. He put his cheek there to confirm before saying, “I think you have a bit of a fever, too. You got it rough. But don’t worry, I brought all the things to make you feel better and I won’t leave your side until you’re good again.” He reached behind him, dragging a plastic bag full of medicine, chocolate, more tissues, and even a couple movies. You knew you were in for a troubling evening as you fought against the fever, headache, and sore throat. But with Billy by your side, it would all be okay.

By the next morning, after a night of movies, talking, snuggling, and even Billy spoon-feeding you soup, you felt almost your old self again. You were so grateful for your wonderful and caring boyfriend who showed his love all different ways. You made sure to tell him a million times, though he already knew.

masterlist

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

Saved

Summary- 2.6k Bucky x You. Based on a ASK from anon-Hella Bi Bitch. Hydra tramautized you and you go to Bucky for comfort. Angst/Fluff. Also written for @jtargaryen18​ 4k Challenge. 

“Sweetheart. They are not coming.” Brock leered over your face, his hot breath washing over you, and it was almost impossible to miss the leer in his brown eyes as he cupped your face. If you had the capabilities, you would jerk away, but you were strapped down. All over, even your head was strapped flush to the hard metal table. The only thing you would do that would be satisfactory was work your mouth, draw up that last bit of spittle you had left and spat at him, making him curse while jerking back. 

It would be worth the pain he would cause next, knowing that at least he couldn't break you, just tie you down. Captain would be here soon, Iron Man, Natasha, Bucky… someone, someone would come for you. 

Brock retaliated by slamming an open palm across your face, biting back a cry, a burst of blood interrupted from your nose, racing down your face. 

As parched as you were, you welcomed the hot iron taste swarming your mouth, even through the pain. 

“Rumlow! You will step away from the girl. We need her.” 

Dread filled you as his face went from rage, to a cold smirk, pulling away from you. “Don't worry sweetheart, once they are done breaking you, you and I are going to do great things.” 

Your eyes flickered to the Hydra Agent, laying out his supplies, tools of pain and vials of poison to flood your system. Nauseated, you looked back up to the ceiling, and squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your mouth shut. Tears welled up, you would probably be gone, dead before the team would find you. It was what you hoped for now. 

You would rather die then let them turn you evil. Wasn't there a saying? You either die a hero or turn into a villian. You prayed, prayed for death instead. 

A year you were tested on, preyed on until you became a shell. Moved from base to base, handled by various people. None had a shred of kindness, and Brock especially took joy in your torture. 

He was able to use the various instruments, had access to your cell whenever he wanted. Your personal bodyguard, your personal hell. In these times you sink away from yourself, your body started to work on their command, your mind an empty shell of your former self. Intelligent? Yes, but yourself, no. 

It wasn't complete yet, there was still a shred of you left. Holding on, barely. 

Your rescue happened one sunny afternoon, but you weren't to ever know this. You were deep underground, away from air and light. They had just dumped you in your cell when there coms went off. To weak to pay attention to the Hydra agents fear as they hurriedly locked you in, you crawled to your cot and folded yourself onto it. Another day of survived hell. Squeezing your eyes shut, you really just wished for it to end. At this point in any manner. So much pain. To much.

Alone for a while, you start to drift off into nothingness when metal on metal jolted you awake with a terrified whimper. You heard the clang on your bars and lifted your head up to see Bucky trying to see who was curled up on the cot. 

“B-b-bucky?” You eased up slowly to make sure you weren't seeing things, and then right next to him Steve stepped up, flipping his shield to hang on his back. 

“Doll, we finally found you.” Bucky exclaimed with relief, grasping the bars and wrenching them as hard as he could, the metal whining in protest, but it wasn't strong enough to hold him back from what he wanted. 

Steve kept a watch of Bucky's six, speaking into the com at his ear. “We got her, Bucky is collecting Y/N now, have the jet ready Clint. Nat, you just about done? Sam, cover us when we come up."

“Five more seconds and data is secure, Tony can blow this hell hole to dust.” 

Bucky's arm went around you for support as you went to stand, sore from earlier, he saw you hobble forward and he swept you up. 

“Just faster this way Doll, come on Steve. Before Stark gets trigger happy.” Bolting for the nearest set of stairs, everything became a blur as Bucky and Steve bolted from the building. Hiding your face in Buckys shoulder, you never did see that sunny afternoon. 

A shadow passed over Bucky and Steve bolting across the ground, and when you glanced up, lifting your head off Buckys shoulder, the flash of red and silver covered out the blue sky above, and you smiled to yourself, between Sam, Steve and Bucky, you were safe. Exhaustion dipped your head back to Buckys shoulder.

It wasn't long till you were back at Stark Towers, which hadn't been your home in a year. Bucky carried you down into the medic bay with Sam close by. The rest of the team went to debrief on the mission, knowing you were taken cared of. Bucky easily set you down on the table, hovering nearby, he seemed hesitant to leave you, you who were so quiet, so shut down. Sam hovered close by, his jaw clenched. Quiet at well. Not knowing what to say or do, You just stared at the floor till Bruce came in. 

“Give us some privacy Bucky? I need to give her a full examination.” Bruce said softly, and your eyes welled up with tears, hiding away from them both. Bucky shook his head in refusal. “I'm not leaving her alone.” 

“Okay, but on the other side of the curtain, if Y/N needs you, she will call you.” Bruce looked over at you to confirm that was okay, and you nodded, still unable to look at any of them. Your shame and fear pounding at you. Sam clasped Buckys forearm, nodding his head to the door. "We will just be on the other side." When Bucky stepped on the other side, you could see the worried look flashing across his face, somewhat in recgonition to your pain. Sam gave you a slight nod, and a smile of encouragement.

Why couldnt you be stronger? 

The start of your recovery was rough, locked in your room a lot. It took some time for you to open back up to the team. Bring a sense of normalcy to you again. Your normal for the past year has been to be tortured. Everyday life was a lot. Things so simple, like going to get a glass of water, took all your willpower to do. The team, they did everything they could to make it easier.  Natasha and Clint immediately made you a part of their movie nights. At first you would sit stiffly away from them, not wanting to be touched by anyone. But soon you loosened up. Curling up against Clint while his arm draped over you, your feet in Natasha’s lap while she painted your nails. “How are the nightmares Y/N?” Natasha would ask, and you could feel Clint tighten his arm around you slightly, listening. It was no secret, your nightmares were a nightly occurrence, often waking up screaming and trying to hide somewhere in the room. 

“They are fine, fewer and fewer every day.” You lied, covering your shame. 

Steve, you often went with Steve out for walks where he would find some subject to draw. You would lay in the sun, while your friend sketched away at some piece of nearby building, sometimes a landscape. Once he even did you while you were sitting a bit away, catching your profile watching the clouds above. Often you two would sit in easy silence, not needing to have long intense conversations, you were just happy to be with your friend. Once in a while you would ask him. “Steve, you think I can join the team soon?” 

The blonde man would hum, and his blue eyes would shift over towards you a moment before going back to his paper. “Y/N, don't rush it. You were there for a year. I'm not putting you in the field before you're ready. Here, what do you think?” He would flip his pad around and of course it was his way of saying, No. Not Now. Maybe not ever.

Sam often had you over to his apartment to help with meals. You figured it was to make sure you were eating properly. At least one square meal. When you asked him, he scoffed. "Actually taking these cooking classes, I make enough for two. Lets face it, your better company then I could ask for. Besides Steve and Bucky are not adventurous like you. They wanna boil everything." Sam snorted, stiring his jambalaya. "Chop this up." He said quickly, handing you a knife. You always felt safer with something, Sam noticed this the first time you joined him, and you flinched when he drew out a butchers blade. From then on, you were set on chopping duties. You began to really look forward to cooking nights with Sam.

"No girlfriends to have cooking dates with?" You would tease when you set to chopping and Sam would give you that grin of his.

"Sure, I just test them on you first Precious. Gotts make sure they are decent enough to feed to others."

"Yea, I'm real Precious if your using me as a gineau pig." You stick your tongue out st your friend, but secretly you don't mind.

Tony, he was more energetic. Often you would be sitting down in his workshop, laughing at his attempts to improve the Ironman suit. It became a habit to keep a fire extinguisher nearby. “Tony, I don't think you should try this.” You said warily as he put on his new thruster boots. “Aww come on, what's the worst that can happen?” He grinned, and winked. 

He ended up shooting around the room like a balloon just untied, crashing into walls and bouncing off the floor. When he finally came to a stop, his feet were on fire. 

Jumping down with the extinguisher, you yelled “Tony!” and covered him with the foam, once it ended and the billionaire blinked it away, swiping the foam off his face. 

“I had it under control Y/N.” 

“Sure you did.” You squirted him one last time to retaliate before putting it away, and holding your hand out to him, helping him up. 

“Payback Y/N, payback.” Tony glared before pulling you into a hug, getting you covered to. At first it was fine, until you didnt feel Tony anymore and you struggled. Tony immediately let go, and you covered your face in shame. “Im sorry, I'm so sorry Tony.” He shook his head and gently grasped your wrist just enough to uncover your face. “Y/N, it's okay to feel like that. I should have asked first.” You gave an apologetic smile and he winked. The good thing with Tony was that he moved on from your attacks like they never happened, and for that you were forever grateful to your friend.

Bucky, he was the only one that you would find wandering late at night, like you were. When everyone else was fast asleep, you would be pacing the tower, afraid of sleep. It would happen, eventually. Your body would give into its demands, and you would go under into your nightmares. But until that happened though, you found ways to distract yourself. Sometimes it was video games on mute, you would bake muffins for the teams breakfast, get lost in Tony's library he allowed you access to. It was in these wanderings you found Bucky, bumping into him in random places. 

Eventually you two started to really get to know each other. Your late nights would be spent together. You opened up more and more, talking about what Hydra and Brock did to you during that year, Bucky making similar confessions while you two sat outside, away from the confines of the building. Quite a few times you both watched the sun start to come up far off to the east, and Bucky's arm would settle over you while your head tipped onto his shoulder. 

“Buck, I don't know if I will ever just be okay. Steve doesn't seem to think so.” 

“Doll, I came back from it.” He simply said, and you looked up at him, giving a half smile. 

“Your stronger than me.” 

His brow arched as he looked down at you. “That's not true. I had help, Steve, Shuri. I could have never done it alone. Why I know you will come back from this. Your not alone.” 

It gave you something to think about the rest of that day. 

You were so tired after two days going, you couldn't help but pass out, exhausted. You fell into bed in your sleep shorts and a tank, curling up while the world faded away. 

The nightmares though, flashbacks of all those times you were helpless, unable to fight back and could do nothing more than hold back your screams. It never helped, they still fell from you till you were horse from it, rolling from your bed as visions of various doctors plagued you, Hydra Agents beating on you, and Brock he was always in the darkness, watching with anticipation. When he would finally step from the shadows, you knew it wasn't just a nightmare anymore. It was hell. It was what sent you hiding while you were still sleeping. 

This night the jarring motion falling from your bed woke you, before Brock could get to you. Covering your head, you sobbed into your knees, so completely at a loss of how to fix yourself. Your shoulders shook, and you huddled there on the floor for a moment till your legs and back started to ache from being hunched over. Sniffling, you grasp the side of your bed and pull yourself to sit on the edge, wiping the tears from your face. The room felt cold. Reminiscent of your time with Hydra. No warmth, dark shadows stretching like they were reaching to claim you, in which you withdraw your feet off the floor, trying to talk yourself through what you felt was another oncoming panic attack. You had to get out of there, there was no way you could sleep in here tonight. 

Grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around your shoulders, you edge around your bed, trying not to let yourself get psyched out that Brock might be hiding in your room, he wasn't. He couldn't. It was impossible to break into Stark Towers, right? Into the living room you went, looking over your shoulder at what was your bedroom. Even your couch felt too close to the memories. 

It wasn't even a thought, you eased into the hallway and started down familiar doors. Steve, Natasha, Wanda… when you paused in front of one. It had no special markings, nothing to signify to any other that it was a special door, but for you it was. Hesitating for a second, you reached out and gave a quick rap of the knuckles, waiting. 

Bucky heard it, that quick knock knock. He never slept deeply, always aware of his surroundings, years of training and his own deep rooted fears that something was going to happen. When he opened his door to you, the blanket you had on you just about swallowed you, and your face peeked out, red rimmed eyes and ruddy cheeks. He knew you had been crying, were about to start crying as you were standing there. Bucky stepped back to let you in. 

“Sorry Bucky, I just… don't want to be in my apartment tonight.” Your head dropped as you stepped in, and he softly shut the door behind you. 

Standing there for a moment, you didn't know where to go from there, and he stepped in closer, encircling his arms around your cocooned blanket and you could feel the rush of a sob squeaking from you, pressing in against his t shirt. Bucky tucked you in close, feeling his own eyes prick with tears feeling you break in his arms, your shoulders shaking and even the blanket couldn't seem to keep you feeling safe now. But his arms did. They were strong and hard, encircling you. “Come on Doll, your exhausted I can feel it.” 

You didn't struggle as he led you down the small hallway to the back bedrooms, and  expected him to put you in a guest room that you knew all these apartments had. But he didn't. 

He brought you right into his room, and sat you on the edge of his bed. 

“Are you okay unwrapping from this?” He questioned, his hands resting on the blanket where you clutched it around you like a protective shield. You sniffled and dried your face on it momentarily before nodding, letting your grip go. He eased it off, and folded it. Resting at the end should you want it back. 

“Give me two seconds Doll.” He disappeared into his closet and with the door half shut, pulled on a pair of sweats over his boxers, and switched out his tear wet shirt for a dry one. When he came back out, you were right where he left you, feet dangling over the edge of the bed, and your fingers clasped in your lap. When he came around and stretched out, half propped up on pillows, you looked over your shoulder at him. “Can you leave the light on Buck? Just a little bit?” 

“Of course Y/N. '' Reaching to the lamp, he turned it on a softer setting and saw you visibly relax your shoulders as you looked around, and could still see all the corners of the room. Pushing back to get in the bed, you tucked yourself in against your friend's side, letting your head fall to his shoulder. 

“They must have been pretty bad this time.” Bucky said as he lifted a blanket over the two of you, and you nodded. “I kept seeing Him in the dark, coming for me.” Bucky was well aware who you were talking about, having shared with him before some that had happened to you. You lifted Bucky's arm and placed it around your shoulder, his palm pressing against your arm and tucking you in closer, dropping the softest of kisses on top of your head. “Even when I was awake, it was like he was just out of sight, waiting for me to drop my guard.” 

“We won't let him get to you Doll, not again.” 

There was a soft shuffle of blankets as you got comfier against him, and your arm locked around his middle, your voice muffled against his shirt. 

“I know Buck, that's why I came to you.” 

[highstwildflower]

Highly

A/n: this is really long I’m sorry!😂

Words: 2000 ca.

The cloud that erupted from your lips vanished into thin air, reminding you of the man who used to fan the smoke away from his reach. Now the spot next to you was empty, no one was complaining and no one was bugging you about being unhealthy. The thick joint was pressed between your lips once again, sucking the poison into your lungs. The relaxing plant infected your system and everything slowed down. The stars swimming above you dripped into the moon that was filled to the brim. You finished the joint, leaning back with a heart that was aching. Moving around you found the position that allowed your heavy heart some rest, your phone was out of reach and you were too lazy to retrieve it. You wanted to shoot him a text tho, telling him all the words he never got to hear.

Instead you lay there, images burning behind closed eyes. Images of his green forrest eyes that disappeared when his laughter erupted, how you would kill to hear that laugh again. The feeling of  the vibration through his chest as he sung you a new tune. How he used to look at you, eyes searching for inspiration and the look in them the second he found it. Being his muse had been the greatest achievement of your life. Your favorite memory was from the frosty night in December only five moths prior, ditching a party the two of you had ventured off into the night. He had held you close when you arrived at your shared home, bodies moving in sync, the rhythm you fell into in the bed had been steady and slow. Intimate love making till dawn. Your bodies not craving sleep, instead you had moved to the patio. His large body had been pressed firmly against the lounge couch and he had pulled you against him. Limbs draped over each other's and low voices filling the air with words of adoration. The conversation following the flow of the wind, the chilly morning offering you an excuse to snuggle closer to your love. He had happily accepted the closeness, and soon series of laughter had erupted into the slow morning. Just the two of you, bodies pressed together and love flowing freely.

You mind had turned off to the memory of him, and next thing you knew you woke up in your lonely bed. It had never felt so big when Michael had been taking up half of it. The empty room taunting you and the long halls hunting the memories that was made here away. As days fell into night and night turned into days your speckle off hope had vanished. The hope of feeling his body once more, his lips on yours and his voice rumbling against your skins. Instead you tugged away your emotions everyday walking through life as someone else, and only allowing the emotions to take over at night. Most nights your mind raced to the loving memories, but some nights it was the burning memories of pain the pressed into your head.

Dating Michael had been fun and easy, when he asked you to build a home with him you had been ecstatic. Slowly reality dawned on you, the rockstar lifestyle being far away from the life you wished to led. His drinking turned into situations that was hurtful, a large number of girls pressing on. Wishing to enter your relationship, you begging him to change every night when he would stumble through the door.

The last time you saw him stung in the back of your mind. Just mere hours after you had told him that he had to stop with the excessive amount of alcohol and he has kissed you with a promise of doing better. You were fuming when you heard him fumbling with the front door, the creaking of the door setting you completely off. With steam clouding your mind you had entered the entrance and he had shot you a short smile. As he came close the words that left his mouth dragged your breath away, leaving your body defenseless "I though you were out with us? Who was the girl I kissed than?" He carelessly moved through your house towards the bedroom. Tears drawing pathways down your cheeks and hiccups threatening to spill passed your lips. You stayed up all night, waiting for him to sober up. Every minute of the night was spent considering the conversation of tomorrow. When he was clear in his head, he yelled out for you, his words bouncing of the walls. Your fragile body towering over him, and your voice anything but fragile. He was shunned from the house, leaving in a hurry as you yelled out your pain. Months passed where you awaited his next move, silently hoping that he would beg for you to forgive him. Instead you got nothing.  His stuff was still where he left them except from his guitars. And you knew everything but his guitars was replaceable. When Calum had turned up at your door with a sorrowful painted across his face you knew he was there to pick them up. It hurt every time you glanced at the empty room having yet to entered it, dust was covering the corners and slowly tugging the room into a dull forgotten memory.

Your high ponytail was swinging from side to side as you strutted down the sidewalk. The pep in your steps were just a reminded to yourself that you had the power to move on. When you spotted him at your favorite coffee shop, your steps came to a halt. His eyes meet yours long before yours meet his. He saw you and froze. Your smile telling him that you were doing good but your eyes spilling your secret. Awkwardly you walked over to him "hi stranger" your voice was a pitch higher than usual and you mentally scolded yourself for the preppy outburst. His voice was darker than you remembered but the impact of his words stronger than you expected "Hi. How are you?" The concentration on your face told him that you were trying your best to stay cool "I'm good , yeah very good. What about you?" The forced smile made his heart ache and his guards grow weaker. "Im glad you are doing good y/n. Im getting through day by day. 4 months sober yesterday" His voice grew with pride as he told you about his sobriety, and his smile grew even larger as he saw the proud look on your face. Without thinking twice you leaped into his arms, hugging him tightly against yourself "Im so proud of you Micky." Your cheeks grew red as you realized that this wasn't what was normal for you to do anymore. The break up meant that you had to sacrifice being close to him and just watch his life from afar. You knew he was sober, his instagram had told you so. But to hear the words leave his mouth made you ache with pride. When he felt you draw back he pulled you into himself again, not ready to let you slide through his fingers once more. Your smell was filling his nostrils and he wanted to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. When he let go of your body, you stumbled back and took him in. He looked better than ever, more fit and more alive. The silence laid as a blanket making the air hot and thick and just as you were about to say your byes he spoke up "Do you wanna catch up some day? maybe drink a cup of coffee?" you smiled shyly at him, and the fact that he had cheated on you was forgotten, "Yeah I would like that." Just like that you had a date with him, your body felt like yours for the first time in months and the pep in your step were no longer forced.

The knock at your door alerted you that he had arrived. You opened the door and smiled at him a laugh followed shortly behind "Quite weird having you knocking on your own door" he smiled back at you before he spoke "Thats ok, you look absolutely beautiful love" he handed you the flowers in his hand and you felt oddly embarrassed, such gestures never fell naturally to Michael. More a man of words he would praise you, shower you in physical affection but stray away from gifts. The ride in his car was longer than you remembered it, the small drops of sweat that was collecting at Michaels hairline let you know that you weren't alone with the crippling feeling of anxiety that started to form the second you woke up. His hands were both clutched to the steering wheel and as he turned into the coffee shop your stomach turned with anticipation. "I was thinking we could do to go? And then go to our spot?" You smiled at his idea, that he remembered how much you enjoined your spot.

The car came to a halt at the empty parking spot. Michael was quick to climb out of the car and open your door for you. Slowly you made your way towards the spot. Surrounded by nature you felt your breath become easier. The large stones that leaned against each other offered a place to take a seat. He came prepared with a blanket and a packed picking. Like so many times before you took place next to each other, the still warm air clinging to both your bodies as the sun continued it's decent. The ocean reached the stones and splashes were sent into the sky. His legs rested and made contact with the firmness of your other thigh. Slow conversation filled the space between you and drew you closer. Coffee was sipped and sandwiches shared. The sun came into contact with the ocean and Michael dived into the cruel conversation that was awaiting you. His body turned to yours "I'm sorry" his words were low but you heard him, your eyes meet and you signaled for him to go on. He took deep breaths of fresh air, worried that his fragile words wouldn't be enough "I'm sorry for everything I put you through. I've realized that I was so far out of line. All my decisions fell back onto you. And I'm awfully sorry about kissing another woman. You are truly the only one for me. I understand if you aren't interested in being with me ever again, but I've changed y/n. I'm still working on myself, but you are my motivation every single day and I want to make it up to you." You mind was clouded by his words, the mentioning of his infidelity was like salt in wounds but you wanted to give him a chance. "Yeah you sucked" you tried to lighten the mood but you both knew that, that was a light way to put it. You continued while gripping his hand " I want to be with you Mickey. But it is definitely going to be difficult for me to trust you" you smiled a careful smile at him and he moved even closer, desperate to feel you. His hand moved to your face as he silently asked for your permission to press his lips against yours. You nodded your head, eager to feel the movement. The world stood still, birds chirping became louder and the intensity of the small gesture made you dizzy. Michael was right there with you, you soft lips sending him into a feeling of ecstasy.

Silent promise between lovers who had been torn apart filled the now colder air. Sun kissing the ocean and dancing in warm colors. Pulling one another closer, and thinking of each other highly.

[soulwillower]

mustang • richie tozier

( richie tozier x reader smut)

requested: road head with richie?? his car in it chapter 2 is ... so hot    +   can we get an aged up richie tozier smut pleaseee???   +    Hii, could you do one about Richie and the reader seeing each other at the restaurant in chapter 2, both single ;), and just like old emotions coming back and the other losers banter.

warnings: swearing, smut, oral (male receiving), ROAD HEAD!!!!, teensy bit of praise, some dirty talk, flirting, i think thats rly it, i had NO IDEA what to title this lol, this progresses kinda quickly once it gets goin lol also unedited

im not too sure about how this turned out :// i may go back and edit some things

[takes place during it chapter 2]

2k words

♡

this is fucking insane.

that's all that's screaming in your mind and most of what you can say as you talk to mike, eddie, and bill in the back room of the jade orient, catching up with awkward small talk as faded childhood memories bubble painfully to the surface.

a gong crash makes you jump- and even before you turn around, you hear a voice. "y/n fucking y/l/n? no way." the voice says, and you can't help the grin as you whirl around to greet the man you just remembered ten minutes ago.

richie tozier, in all his glory - now, in your defense, you did kinda remember him from his special on netflix. he’d been crass and rude and funny in a way that had made you roll your eyes and at the time, you’d felt a strangely familiar sensation when he’d mentioned his nickname, “trashmouth.” 

now it made much more sense to you. 

he’s old now, of course, but he still seems basically the same - the hair, the broad shoulders and long legs, the disheveled yet-somehow-still-sexy style, and his smirk that makes your legs weak. 

"you miss me or what, asshole?" you say, a smile splitting your face as you opened your arms. he laughs, walking over to hug you tightly. hugging him gives you instant flashbacks, memories of childhood dares, blowing smoke out window screens, laughter in the middle of the derry grocery store where stan and ben worked, and shitty jokes. 

"you could say that." richie mutters.

as the others arrive and you order food and get to catching up, you take in richie's appearance even more. you can’t fucking help it - he’s somehow grown even more into his looks, and he's got the most insane charisma. he's wearing the same glasses as he used to, and when he laughs really hard he pushes them up with his middle finger. he's got a five o'clock shadow dusting his jaw and he's still as tall as ever, his voice loud as he cracks jokes that have you laughing into your vodka tonic.

after richie pulling a full mile, round-about way of joking that he married eddie's nightmare of a mom, you're all laughing as he imitates jabba the hut. you roll your eyes, hating how badly you want him after all this time. at least hes not married.

"so you single too, y/l/n?" richie asks you then, calling your attention as he grins at you. you rake your eyes over his form quickly, hoping he doesn't notice.

yes, the answer was unequivocally yes.

you hum instead. "for now." you say, lifting a flirty brow at him before sipping on your drink. he smirks into his own glass and it makes your stomach burn halfway between anticipation and desire as the others share glances. 

"almost forgot about that." ben says quietly with a smile to bev, and you shoot them a questioning look.

bev sends you a knowing smirk as she nods to richie, who's teasing eddie again and you roll your eyes. you feel like a kid again, being back with all of your friends from when you were young and getting teased every living moment for your pining after richie. 

as you all get ready to go back to the townhouse after the shocking final events at the jade, you pull your phone out to call a cab. "you didn't get a rental?" bill asks, lifting a brow. you shake your head, "no. didn't really think of it, i just kind of..." you trail off, memories flashing around your mind of late nights in high school, screaming as you lean out richie's car window with stan laughing and eddie gripping your legs.

you shake your head. everybody looks as if they're remembering the same things you are, staring at the horizon with blank, furrowed faces. richie's the first to snap out of it, "i can give you a lift, y/n." he mutters, fishing a pair of keys out of his pocket then twirling them around his finger.

eyeing richie's profile, you smirk lightly, thinking about how immediate your attraction to him has returned in just the last few hours. as you walk away from the others, you lay your gaze on a red car and you whistle. "sweet ride, is this yours?" you ask, biting your lip as you eye the mustang richie's just unlocked.

"depends on who's asking, sugar." he says with a smirk, snorting when you narrow your eyes at him. you don't think what he just said even makes sense. 

"what, so richie tozier gets all famous and can't tell me anything anymore?" you ask as you slide into the passenger seat.

"we're strangers, are we not?" he's got that fucking smirk still. the same one from childhood, except this one is much more... provocative. 

you shake your head, "i don't think strangers give each other rides home in their mustangs just out of the goodness of their heart, do they?" you say as he pulls out of the parking lot, and he grins. you clench your legs together as the streetlights light up his profile, his hair perfectly messy and his jaw line sculpted.

"depends, sugar, what're you gonna give me in return?" he asks, a glint in his eye as he glances at you. his words send shivers through your body and you stare at him with a smirk, "i'm sure i can think of something."

he hums, looking back to the road with a grin. as you watch scenery pass by you of the town you'd forgotten for twenty years, you realize he's going all the way around town towards the inn. "you going the long way for a reason?" you ask, watching as he clenches his jaw as if he's been caught.

"don't know what you're talkin' about, y/l/n." he mumbles, but there's that damn glint in his eye again as he smirks. you grin, looking out the window at the passing trees on the path into derry. "yeah, yeah. i just think you wanted to spend more time with me." you say as you look over at him. he's smirking lazily as he watches the road, one arm on the steering wheel. "maybe." he responds.

richie pulls up to a stop light and for a second, the two of you sit and stare at each other, so many unspoken words hovering in the air. 

and then, without another thought, richie's lips are hard against yours, pressing heatedly against yours and moving quickly. his hand is on your thigh, squeezing as you kiss back and making you moan into his mouth.

your hand falls onto his neck, tugging lightly on his curly strands as you kiss him, tasting scotch and cigarettes and freedom. you've waited too long, you realize - you spent your entire childhood staring after the boy with the tropical shirts and the big glasses, and now you're here with him, grown up and free to do what you want.

and he's kissing you.

just as his tongue wins dominance over yours, a loud honk makes you jump apart and you realize the light's turned green. "fuck." he says quietly, stepping on the gas pedal and racing off down the otherwise empty road. you look at each other and he smiles sheepishly, "fuck, y/n, you're so hot." he says quickly, and you laugh lightly, feeling flattered.

you lean back over the console as he drives so you're next to his ear, hand sliding down his chest slowly. "you're not too bad yourself, tozier." you say lowly, kissing his jaw. he turns and kisses you heatedly, taking your breath away quickly as he turns back to the road with a smirk.

unable to bear the tension, and feeling really desperate, you start to kiss his neck. "richie, i need you." you whine quietly and you feel him swallow harshly. "shit, doll." is all he says, his hand falling to grip your thigh possessively. 

you keep going, your hand sliding down until you’re gripping his hard cock through his jeans and teasing your palm over it, sucking a mark into his neck which makes him groan. 

"you got a deathwish, babe?" he says lowly as you nip at the skin under his jaw, your hand palming him teasingly. he's already hard and you smirk against his skin. "relax, all you have to do is drive." you say as you undo your seatbelt, twisting so you can palm him better. he spreads his legs slightly as he readjusts, letting out a quiet "fuck, yeah." as you undo his jeans. 

"you're a dream, y/n." he says tightly, like he's clenching his jaw.

his knuckles are white as he clutches the wheel, eyes darting between the road and you as you slowly pull his hard cock out of his underwear and pump him slowly. your eyes widen as you take in his size, not expecting him to be as big as he is. 

you slowly dart your tongue out, swiping along the tip and collecting the precum as it beads over. "shit." richie hisses as you flatten your tongue along the bottom of his cock, teasing him a bit before slowly taking him into your mouth.

the groan he lets out as you take him as far as you can is sinful, his head hitting back against the headrest as he struggles to keep his eyes on the road. bobbing your head, you hollow your cheeks and relish in the feeling of richie's cock in your throat, stretching you out and making you moan around him. 

"you feel so good baby." he hisses, his hand moving from your thigh up to grip the wheel while he lays on the gas before falling to the back of your head, carding through your hair. you want to roll your eyes at how much he's talking, but you expected just about that from the trashmouth. "fuck."

you can't believe you're here, in derry again, sucking off famous comedian and - as you remembered a few hours ago -  your former childhood crush, richie tozier, in his car.

you see lights out of the corner of your eye and you feel the car come to a stop, and you realize you’re stopped at a light. you can hear another car engine either next to yours or behind yours and you clench your thighs at the thought of someone seeing. “fuck, y/n. god, takin’ my cock perfectly.” he mutters, watching you bob your head, and despite the lewd act you’re doing, you turn bright red at the praise. 

as the light turns green he’s stepping on the gas again and you pull off of him to take a few breaths, pumping as much as you can with your hand as he moans lightly. you see you're nearing the town house, so you take him back into your mouth and try to relax, breathing through your nose as his cock twitches in the back of your throat and you gag.

you bob your head after that, your tongue flat against his cock as he pulls into the parking lot.

you feel him put the car into park and then he moans lowly, bucking his hips up and you choke a bit as he slides further in your mouth and stretches your throat. "fuckin' hell, toots." he mutters, hands falling to your hair as he guides your mouth up and down on his cock. your mind reels back slightly at richie's words and you remember all the times you watched him show up to school with hickies littering his neck, all the hours you spent pining after this gangly asshole, and you hollow your mouth.

"god, i'm gonna cum. y/n. fuck," richie mutters and you eagerly swallow around him, moving slightly so you're on your knees on your seat, the new angle making him toss his head back against the headrest. one of his hands travels the expanse of your back, tracing down your spine as you move harder, helping him chase his high. he kneads your ass lightly, which makes you keen forward and take him deep, gagging as you force your throat to relax.

 "good, just like that." he says quietly, breathy moans escaping his throat as he bucks his hips and you gag, eyes tearing up.

and then he's hitting his high, cumming in your mouth with a groan of your name, his hand squeezing your ass as the other holds your head down on his cock. you moan a bit as you swallow, pulling off him slowly as he pants, smirking down at you. 

"well shit, if i'm getting that for driving you home, i'll be your personal chauffeur." he insists. you smack him lightly on the arm as you wipe your mouth, catching your breath.

it gets silent then, as if you're both realizing what just happened and how quickly it escalated.

he lets out a breath as he stares at you, eyes hooded. you bite your swollen lip as you watch him, gauging his reaction. "do you want to... come up to my room?" he says breathlessly, looking blissed out. 

you bite your lip as he lifts a brow and you nod. "yes, i really do." you say as the two of you scramble out of his car, minds distracted from the danger ahead and only thinking about making it up to his room.

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx @dickology64 @clownsloveyou @baby-yoda-a @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @lets-vibe-bro @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman  @kait-tozier @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs

[jubilantwriter]

Heart Shaped like Sea Glass

(First)  (Previous)  (Next)

Part 5:  Slow Sort of Burn

Summary:  Quiet moments never sat too well with Jasper.  Perhaps that’s why he finds himself discussing the art of cooking with the siren.

im gonna be spacing these out so that i don’t spam the tags lmao sorry about that last week. there should be a new one every friday or so!  it’ll be incredible to see how long i can keep this up

// // // // //

The shack is quiet.  It's been quiet since that day on the beach.  The siren barely makes a sound as he shuffles about the shack, slowly gutting a fish with his talons.

Jasper remains where he's curled up on the bed.  It's... odd.  Normally the blonde is huffing and grousing about Jasper's refusal to get up.  On better days, they even have a semblance of conversation.

But...

The siren stabs a stick through the fish and lays it to roast by the fire.  He grabs another and starts his work on the second fish.  And all the while, he remains silent.  

He's been like this since the last time he's sung.  Jasper remembers the vision clearly - David, smiling with arms held open for a hug, only to have the forest framing him from behind.

The same forest that killed and took David away from him.

It's strange, how comforting a siren's song can be.  Jasper could reach out and grab David, save him from the forest and hold him close until the delusion ends.  A dreamlike delusion that he wishes would never end.  That's why he hopes the siren will sing again, just so he can hold David in his arms and pretend that everything is okay.  That's why he hopes the siren will kill him before the delusion ends, before he's forced back into the reality where he failed his David.  

A reality in which the siren that's supposed to be preparing him to be a meal is... preparing him a meal.  

The warm breath against his neck that day was just a reminder of what could have been.  He was more than ready for the siren to bite in and bring his miserable existence to an end.

But.

He didn't.

Instead, he pulled back and borrowed David's voice to suggest that they go inside.  

Since then, the siren hasn't spoken much but a few words a day.  And now, they remain in silence as the fire's crackles fill the air.  

The silence is haunting.  It reminds Jasper too much of empty cottages and pitying glances.  He thought that maybe running to the ocean would fill his empty life up with constant noise.  But no.

Here he is again.

The fire crackles, and Jasper's joints creak as he pushes himself up.  The siren's wings shift a bit at the bed's creaks, but he doesn't turn to look at Jasper.  Instead, he wraps his arms tight around his legs and stares deeply into the fire.  Jasper settles down next to him and watches the fish roast.

The skin of the fish looks crispy as the siren reaches forward to pull it from the fire.  He offers it wordlessly to Jasper as the other one cooks.  Jasper takes the fish, his appetite nonexistent as he turns the stick between his fingers.  Even without the feeling of eyes on him, he knows that the siren is waiting for him to take his first bite.  Sort of like a reassurance, maybe, that Jasper is willing to ingest some food for the day.  There are days when he can't bring himself to eat a sliver of food, and the siren doesn't leave until the next afternoon, only to return at night with some other creature he believes is edible.  The blonde thought maybe roasted worms would do the trick, but all he did was burn the poor creatures.  The smell of roasting worms however convinced Jasper to at least take a small bite of his food to calm the siren.

It's what he does now, taking a nibble of the roasted fish and wondering what kind it is.  The siren used to tell him all sorts of names for the fish he takes back to Jasper.  Now, he sits in silence and stares into the flames.  Jasper sighs as he spins the fish between his fingers.  He thinks he knows why the siren won't speak to him.  It's how he refuses to look at Jasper, how his fingers twitch against his arms, how careful he is with his voice.

The quiet guilt reminds him of David, how the ginger would stare at his feet, shuffling nervously as he wrung his hands and bit his lip as he tried to find the right moment to say, "I'm sorry".  Jasper takes a steadying breath.

The siren isn't David.  No matter how much he resembles or reminds him of David.

And it's almost like instinct that Jasper knows what to say to get striking blue eyes to look at him.

"I'm not mad."  Shock colors the siren's face as he looks to Jasper.  "I'm really... not."  And he's telling the truth.  Because every time the siren sings, he gets one more moment with David.

One more chance to tell him sorry, to save him, to hold him in his arms.

For a handful of minutes, the siren lets Jasper live in a fantasy world where David is still here, still alive, and still so very vibrant.  Like the trees he loved to dance under in the spring, or the grass they used to tumble over as children.  Vibrant like the blooming flowers in the summer.  Vibrant like the singing songbirds that lived in the forest.

Vibrant.  Like red, silky hair and a smiling face dusted with freckles.  Vibrant.  Like the love they shared, turning every day into an endless summer of warmth and affection.

He takes a bite from his fish and notes the salty, wet taste.  And he smiles.

"I'm not mad."

The siren studies him, a mix of emotions swirling in eyes not green, before uncertainty settles on his face.

"You... are a strange human."

"Yeah."  Another bite.  "I guess so."

"...You should be mad."

"I can't be."  Jasper shakes his head, laughing hopelessly.  "Your songs are the only way I can see Davey again and I- I guess I just have to take my chances."

The siren's eyes narrow.  "Are you using me?"

"And aren't you?"  Jasper gestures at his fish.  "You're pretty much fattening me up.  One of these days, you're gonna kill me for food.  It's only fair that I take what I get."

"Which are my songs."

"Righto."  It's only fair.  If he has to die, he wants to do it in a fantasy where David holds him one last time.  It doesn't matter anymore.

Nothing matters anymore.

"So what, this is... permission?  To lure you out with my songs so that you can have your depraved little fantasy?"

"We already have a fucked situation, birdy."  He gestures between them.  "I'm your food.  You help me see Davey.  In the grand scheme of things, I think you still get to come out on top."

"Hmph."  Despite his words, the siren looks oddly... irked.  "That kind of talk will make you taste disgusting."

"...Excuse me?"

"What, you think feeding you fish is how I make your flesh taste better?  Please."  The siren rolls his eyes as he tugs a wing around him, talons running through his feathers carefully as he gets comfortable.  "There's more reason to luring humans with temptatious bait than just easily catching humans.  It's the emotions, the feelings that surge through you.  The way that you are right now, you'd taste no better than the sand collected in clams."

"Wow."  Jasper scoffs and tosses his fish at the blonde.  The blonde snaps it out of the air and growls at Jasper, no doubt annoyed that Jasper would try and waste the food.  "Tell me more about how nasty I'd taste, please.  It really does wonders for my sense of self."

"Think of it like this-"

"I didn't actually mean it-"

"-take, for instance, this fish."  He holds it up for Jasper to see.  "It's fine by itself, but the black nasty bits here," he points to the burnt skin, "are awful to taste.  Siren songs are like that fire," he points once more to the flames, "meant to add a little something more to the fish.  But all it's doing to you now is turning bits of you black and distasteful."  Nevertheless, the siren pulls the fish off and drops the entire thing into his maw, chomping down noisily before swallowing it quickly.  

"Can't you just, remove the burnt bits?"  Jasper watches as the siren takes out the remaining fish and shoves it into Jasper's hand.  He holds it, but doesn't eat.  "Then you wouldn't taste the bad parts."

"That's wasting food, and you know how I feel about that."  The siren looks at the food and to Jasper, huffing when he doesn't take a bite.  "And seeing how my songs are... turning you bad, I'd rather not sing anymore."

"Okay but, consider this."  He takes a bite to appease the siren and keep his attention.  "The fire also makes food good... if you're careful with it.  Maybe, if you're more careful with your songs, it could help me rather than hurt me."

The siren blinks.  Considers.  And frowns.

"And how would that work?"

"...What if I asked?"

"...Asked?"

"Yeah."  It's a long shot in the dark.  But, but.  He closes his eyes shut, and he can see David's face so, so clearly.  "It wouldn't be sudden, or surprising.  I'd expect it.  It wouldn't be as bad."  He opens his eyes and stares at the fire in front of them.  "The flames won't be so bad if we both watch them."

"I..."  The siren pauses, looking everywhere but at Jasper.  "I'll.. think about it."

"Alright."  It's not like he can force the siren.  It wouldn't sit right with Jasper.  But at least he gave it a shot.  "Just... it's fine.  To sing around me.  Like that.  If you want."

The fire crackles as they sit in silence.  Jasper manages two more bites before giving up.  The siren takes the fish and eats it slowly.  Finally, with the stick clean, he gets up, wings slowly curling around him.

"Get some rest."  The siren avoids looking at Jasper as he walks towards the door.  "I'll be back in the morning."

"...Okay."  The door closes with a bang, and Jasper is left alone in the shack.

The fire crackles as he sits in silence, and he hugs his knees to his chest.

Alone.

Again.

[justallamaimaginingthings]

Jaime Lannister x Reader [I won’t lose you too]

Requests: “ Helloo have you watched the latest episode of got yet? If so could you please write something for jaime x starkreader along the lines of the episode, I mean like the stuff that happens to brienne and jaime but just with the reader and jaime?? I'm so emotional rn thanks hun” by Anonymous

“ Legit still reeling from last nights episode... But more importantly Im a hoe to Jaime Lannister (lol) and was wondering if you could write an imagine based off of #94 from the prompt list ???” by Anonymous

Prompt: 94: "I won’tlose you too"

Words: 1500

A/n: Honestly the only thing I have to say about GoT right now is what the fuck? I can’t believe they messed up almost every character like this. G R R Martin once said GoT was about redemption among other things. WHERE”S THE BLOODY REDEMPTION D&D????

Before the battle of Winterfell you had been almost certain you wouldn't make it out of this mess alive and upon actually seeing the army of the dead for the first time no doubts had been left. And yet, as if by some miracle you survived alongside Jaime. The moment the dead disintegrated into dust the only thing you had strength to do was run to the Lannister and pull him in a bone crushing hug.

Jaime swore that never in his life had he felt happier than the moment when he realized you were alive. If he wanted to be honest, he'd admit that he didn't think he would survive Winterfell nor did he think he deserved to. However, when he felt tears of relief run down your cheeks as you sobbed in his arms, he couldn't help but be thankful he made it.

"It's over. You're okay, we're okay" he reassured you while gently removing the tears from your cheeks, turning your head up to meet your eyes "Hey, look at me. We made it" he repeated and it took all the man in him not to let his own tears fall.

"We did" you agreed finally allowing yourself to feel safe, closing your eyes and leaning back into his arms while his grip on your waist tightened in a protective manner. The war was over and Jaime was alive and for now that was all you needed.

The following days were more than hectic. Everyone was just happy to be alive and many celebrations took place, but still you knew the actual war hadn't even begun yet. Things between you and Jaime were almost like they always had. That almost including long pauses during your talks where you'd just stare at each other. The emotional tension of those moments could be cut with a knife but neither of you were ready to admit it, and things got even more intense at night. You hadn't realized the trauma the War of the Dead had left on you until you were woken up by Jaime in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat.

"Jaime?" you asked hesitantly wincing at how hoarse your voice sounded

"I could hear you screaming from my room" he replied simply making a wave of realization wash over you "I thought it'd be best to wake you up" he added slowly getting up from the bed when your hand wrapped around his wrist while your eyes locked into his in a silent plea. Not needing words, Jaime lied down next to you on the bed. The both of you were too tired to say anything else. Instead, you snuggled closer to him and the both of you fell asleep like this. As days went by, the same thing happened every night. You'd wake up screaming and always Jaime would be there to make everything go away with his loving touch and reassuring presence. Mornings became the best part of your day, as you'd find yourself nestled up in his arms, Jaime's sleeping face being the first thing you'd see waking up.

That night was no different. However, instead of waking up by the northern sun hitting your face, you woke up to the sound of the door closing. Snapping your eyes open you managed to get a glimpse of Jaime leaving your room. Instantly, you jumped out of bed and followed him.

A few minutes later, Jaime had found himself staring at your sleeping form as he tried to put his thoughts into order. If there was one thing he was sure of was the fact that he loved you. He had for a long time, he realized, but never actually found the guts to admit it. However, even if you did love him back, he knew he was not worth of your love. Since the moment he met you, you had been kind and caring towards everyone. You had a heart of gold and you never hesitated to defend the innocent, while he… Jaime had been everything but honorable and his past deeds were enough to confirm that. Not only had he ignored every chance life gave him to become a better man but he had also murdered and hurt innocent without the slightest hint of remorse. All of that for Cersei. Sure, since the moment he met you, Jaime had tried to change, but nothing he could do would be able to outlive his past. There was no hope left for him… With that thought, he quietly gathered his things and closed the door behind him, hoping that one day, maybe long after he was gone, you'd be able to forgive him. The sound of footsteps behind him made him halt his actions and turn to you.

"King's Landing is going to burn. You know that" you stated trying to stay collected no matter how much the thought of him leaving hurt you.

"It doesn't matter" he dismissed you turning back to saddling his horse.

"Jaime, please" you begged grabbing his arm to make him look at you. What was left of your heart shattered when you saw the broken and empty look on his eyes.

"You think I'm a good man. I pushed a boy out of a tower window and crippled him for life. For Cersei. I strangled my cousin with my own hands. For Cersei. I would have murdered every man, woman and child in Riverrun for Cersei. She's hateful. And so am I" he said making your eyes fill with tears and your heart break for him. He looked like he had made his choice, but so had you.

"Maybe you have been, but you're a changed man now" you began and framed his face in your trembling hands to encourage him to listen to you "Since then, I've seen you risk everything to defend innocents and to defend me. You are a good man, Jaime Lannister. I do now think that, I know it. You will never be like her."

"One good action is not enough to redeem a life of mistakes" he insisted gently cupping your hand in his prompting you to let go of him, which you refused.

"Jaime, I'm begging you. The only thing that awaits you there is death and distraction. If you stay here, you can have a new life, we could have a new life together. Please, I won’t lose you too" by that point you had given up trying to hold back your tears as you allowed yourself to completely crumble in from of Jaime. Laying a soft kiss on your palm he looked into your eyes letting a sad smile make its way to his lips.

"I can't be saved, Y/n. I'm too far gone, please forgive me" No matter how promising the prospect of starting a different life with you by his side sounded, he was certain he did not deserve it.

"Everyone can be saved. Don't do this, I… I love you. Let me help you" your words seemed to hit a nerve as you could swear you saw a glimmer of hope shine in his eyes even for just a moment.

"You deserve better" he argued but his tone was not as decisive as it had been before. Praying to any god out there that this would work, you made one last attempt to save him from himself.

"I don't want better, I want you. I need you here with me" you insisted and thankfully those words actually made a difference. Jaime knew he could never escape his past and the things he'd done or be good enough for you, but seeing the loving and yet desperate look on your eyes made him think that maybe there was a chance of learning to live with them.

Finding himself unable to speak, he grabbed your waist and crashed his lips at yours lighting a spark deep inside you. The taste of salty tears was evident in the kiss but neither of you cared. His grip on your nightshirt was harsh and gentle at the same time as he melted into your touch. Feeling his hands shaking, you deepened the kiss even more trying to put all your feelings in it.

"I love you" he whispered after the kiss was broken, voice thick with emotion as the tears finally fell from his eyes. That was all you needed to hear to realize you had actually got to him. Being more thankful than ever before in your life you hugged him tightly, relishing the knowledge than the worst had been avoided.

You knew Jaime's past had left its scars on him, and it would take a long time to heal, but there was nothing you wanted more than to be there for him through it. Even though Jaime felt he would never be enough for you, he swore he would try his best to be a better man. Sure, there was no escaping for his haunting past, but for the first time ever he believed that maybe there was actually a chance for him to be happy and that chance was by your side.

[filmnoirsbian]

My godmothers family lives on an island, 13 breaths from an ocean more ice than water

She takes me to the beach, our feet sloughing through red seaweed like wet carpet

We take two 3 gallon buckets & fill them with saltwater, our woollen gloves soaked, our fingers red with cold

Red is the color of winter, red like wind bitten cheeks, red like blood welling to the surface, trapped beneath the skin like ice

Everyone thinks winter is a cruel lover but the truth is she feels everything, every touch like

Needles to the fingertip, and she doesnt know what to do with it all so she buries each heartbeat like a corpse, her heart a mass grave

Summer makes us greedy, fetching us gifts like a housecat in the form of dead bodies, dropping

Sparrows and cicadas at our feet, saying here, i have done this for you, my love for you can rip things apart

Bodies, everywhere i step there are bodies, containers filled with more than the sum of their parts and

Maybe im nothing but an empty grocery cart, made to carry other peoples needs but

I dont know how to be tender with a body this jagged, how to lay myself against her without drawing blood

Im like a weed torn from its roots too carelessly, leaving some of itself behind

Eirðarlaus sumar my godmother says, summer has not been so loving this year, she stayed for 3 weeks in july before

Slipping out the window in the middle of the night, leaving august to winters frostbitten fingers

Winter on the island is different from winter in michigan, different from winter in new york

We drag the buckets, dampened and weary, up 4 flights of stairs to her brothers apartment

Now comes the magic, my godmother smiles and i say what magic? Its just salt

She says there is always magic in the change, the growth, the becoming of one thing into something else

My godmother does not like her accent, she thinks her tongue is clumsy around english words, she thinks she sounds stupid but

I think she makes everything sound like poetry

We sift the water through a cheesecloth the color of stray sunlight and

Pour it into heavy iron cauldrons to set on the stove--they were her great grandmothers

5 generations of salt she says proudly, caressing the pots like old friends

The water boils under glass lids until the whole apartment smells like the bottom of the ocean

My godmother has lived in the midwest for 20 years now, and i wonder if she feels the aching pull of homesickness

Whenever she lines salt along her tongue

We take the little bundle of herbs collected from the hills the other day--arctic thyme, red clover & a moss so soft & green it makes my mouth water

Lay them side by side along the foil & watch them burn, catching the wayward smoke with a crepe pan until theres nothing but ash

This whole island comes from ash, she tells me, it was formed by a volcano

My godmother told me the great snake accidentally swallowed a rock & sicked it up--that was this island

Is that what godmothers do? I ask her, tell stories & make salt?

Youre a godmother yourself now--she means my niece, tucked away in the starving foothills of new york--youll find out soon enough

We boil the water through the night and in the hungry blue light of morning we pour the thick salty mud into baking pans like cake batter

This is the worst part, the waiting, and she laughs at my longing eyes

Órótt hjarta, she teases, always so impatient, willing to burn the tongue to sate the stomach

Yes, i think, thats me, thats why winter and i cant ever get comfortable with each other

I'll always be testing the cold earth for soft spots, ready for it to thaw

We let the salt sit for 3 days, stirring it idly with our fingers and wooden spoons whenever we drift through the kitchen for coffee & milk

On the 4th day, she wakes me with a cool hand to the forehead as if testing me for a fever

We take a glass jar and fill it with ash stained salt, enough to last until spring, she says

I dip my finger into black dust, spread it along the roof of my mouth, thinking

Here is the taste of a nation

- arnessysla, 09.30.18

[triumphorce]

under umbras of bundles  of stars,

canopies of leaves & branches that shatter-scatter sky image held indirect

as a gleam in eyes

as conscious lay in fabricated gardens watching memories, & desires in dream form

from across highway covered by

blue-white, 

yellow,

& orange lights

sound of tires, mufflers, sirens, 

amidst a higher sense 

attuned to

muffled far cries muffled while crossing empty lands

filled with chilling wind howls, stealing hope, 

which

kickstarts the power on survival mode..

ups& downs 

drown the cries further,

that

war, warn, or cheer..

or just sing..

maybe

a hymn made by souls for souls under same umbra to set free to lead to wonder & beauty beyond the surface of senses directly to free to seek love loss between me and me

buried beneath  road of longest journey to reach

turn feet all around

all about a world I have no idea about

just mad ideas about Kept in journals i turn over

to all but from in front of views not yet exploited by value of which is, views are power,  & are the will in word- to-page transaction

self diminished to substantiate

entries from entrails, not shown to be conquered

win or lose is how I never saw things.

win or win, only optionss, only progress..

yet..,always over complicating;

marathon sprints from start to finish

as I choose, If i choose, to continue to choose to overlook slopes in existence, where hides I, in ruins, digging for recognition

contribute to a mind overloading with what I know I owe society, &me,

burden of see-through beast, I see illusions of future thru,mistaken as truth, play victim, get stressed or believe I'm down on luck ,in dumps of depression and slum of beliefs,

 in a slump with headphones on temple and music up, reminisce about the golden olden, me and broseph, SSB, PSO, kanto, johto, cartoon cartoons, many one saturday morning’s, plenty cinnamon toast, fruity pebbles, so many card games at Books-a-million

but when I open eyes from trance

I'm forever face to face with today is today

not then not later...

just

 changes who changed how I changed regret and anger to compensate for blaming everybody but me

now I stare afraid at dilemmas mass effect decisions

 daily in-and-out-terventions

to keep from falling back into resentment.. spite blinding shelves of subconscious-self- disappointed perpetuating judgment of others binding progression, tying tongue, boiling blood because old habits die hard and I continue fucking up, up raging rapids w/o a paddle,   almost 3 decades of failing infinite (according to projections) feel I missed and am missing out on so much, so much world, so many words coiled inside, waiting to explode,

all the time, just like everybody.. everything mind sets sights on turns to target issue     how unfortunate for aforementioned coordinates, for anyone close enough for me to put in poems' , important enough to torment conscious over, used to be everybody, used to be nobody, used to be just some people, now its just me and i dont know him

   attempts to speak, to learn again, to teach me about me       to learn to teach                     myself, to set example for ambition directed toward a better version, better verses, better reimbursement of time given tryna be an extrovert, free from bitter, free from bitch asses, set internal standards to never  get fucked with again, fuck you, fuck him, fuck her, i only fucks with a journal & question  everyone,  everything, every word, every whisper, shit ima tell my children every day, breakfast lunch dinner,  do your best and fuck the rest, get it, get lit off enlightenment, fuck rest, save roosting for death, dont look at me, looknat the sky, seize the day in everyway brain permits, dont reach for others' and if anyone tries to take yours, that means they dont fundamentally respect life, so always permeate passion, ignore distractions keeping you from creating, test limits, test intentions, challenge imperfections with wisdom, know that perfect is just cosmetics, but i remain quiet.. remain tied up being alone, wondering..           whether I'm right to do any god damn thing        'cause if I don't do it right..       was I right to think I could, wrong to think I understood

am i wrong not to try?

what of what's sacrificed ?

how do i keep count

how did I end up here       in standby...

standing squeamish & deer eyed in light of opportunities rising in horizon of night skies, to step in to obtain warmth, maintain from days before, to do something, do the one thing, but when will I be ready will eyes be ready to comprehend right or wrong

only me, here. only us, on planet.

only who's responsible? how is who is affected by, afflicted by? when is too late? when is just right, always too soon to tell and.. if I don't do it now, then why expect change..

why, why, why

'cause I expect anything at all

anger toward unmanned vehicles imminent to collide with mine

driven mad up eighty-five degree angled walls during rush hour, sun beaming heat into ride, where i travel on path, thru battlefield of past where fallen intentions decompose to ignorance and wisdom sprouts in the mean time.. I'm in between times, feelin down, down down down down by the way

a trail thru fears past dead ends, rotting trees, looks like fallout hit

a past I try an' forget..

but remember out of reluctance 

to accidentally revisit regret,

stand next to biggest fears,  see if facing them uproots soul

rolls ideas in head, non-stop

like trolls troll under bridges 

to which billy goat gruff temper charges like crono's katana on zenan crossing,

lodes of odes to oaths, lightning loaded, aimed at negative minded sapiens bioshocks via rhythm and syntax, cryo cascades of ideas, locked away in moleskine or computer files to put to rest the rest of an inside in arrest to judgment, in side quest of public playthrough, i feel im on public display, static complaining in front of pretty much strangers   modes of awareness to mental problems i exploit to people who might not think im crazy, who might like what i write, might like to write about the same thing, might see giants in those same nodes i stand near, i hear crisp crackles filling an awkward air as i stare at words on sheets that i might tear, might let collect dust, or share prolly might be quiet, only sound is poetic drafts that fill in under open windows, I open slowly, cool rush, goosebumps, awake aware always, even when mind is a crinkled, crumbled candy wrapper still just construct wrinkles in time via           hairs stand, ovation, and encores to

     helping to cross over doubts, screams of slander, stop it all, right now, shed truth in another light, fed through veins like pen's ink to go over and correct vision of pinheads vane turnin art, free thought to cash and competition, trade purpose blow for blow with obstacles in the name of the next step, over opponents, trade nervous for nerves robust to withstand standing up to stretch and spread chest to stand up for work where time invested is braided circulation    goin in circles,        time wasted pet peeve number 1

    a nowhere never felt before        but something seems familiar.. overlooked,   under yards, under pressure of bone leverage, give life a lift thru cracks of a collapsing effort stretched behind chest and ribs

a heart glows in

hot coal hues hearth warmth under carbon sheets

till blood boils till steam coils from pores to kill the cold along roads

sun or none

no light above, isn't lack of.. 

(look inside)

----

harsh heat of reality hot enough to feel cold

make me go ghost in dark times..

friction strong enough to spark moist..

continue until i sear nerves disembody fromm pain till im felt by meta-form of others

heartfelt arcs between soul and soul-mind 2 mind

light releases thru iris folds spectacle in spectacles----

spectrum wheel of emotions spins &spins to  understand self an urge that intensifies the more  i live life as well as I can Improve every day, no excuse, don't ignore the corners, get behind my ears,every nook and cranny in creative muse-um, uhm, duh, raised on books, nintendo, animation,& wishbone, outside, only myself as playdate, use every square inch as play-scape under every hair in head, a mind uses face and body as way to create 4 fourever& vice versa to escape who ever & know I can do whenever, wherever

wherever i go, a voice in mind goes

that keeps on talkin , keeps me talkin tellin me I've talk--, wrote enough hoped enough to last a lifetime, but that's not enough

and I still got a lifetime

to either solidify or fuck it up

gradually let go of 

to concentrate on life's finest moments i build to build form in appreciation, saying get up, enjoy the sun rays breaching clouds just before dawn; gett off yo butt and do what you know what you taught you to do when you were at multiple low points and you promised you, you'd never fall to end, even if you fall again, again, and again, never stall in the middle of  takeoff stop in middle of road, cant press play if you lost remote, might as well get up and do it, crawl, run or walk away when the times calls to brawl dark-inner energy only honorable mentions defend health during dishonorable discharge of nega, into rivers, into blue sky.. bordered by white clouds and linear silver

a safe place, work space, desk clerk sifting day to day thru file cabinets memories in memos in notebook; written relativity explaining how I see, what I think say what i want like im eight, glad i spent so much time with words and space-bars,   to escape judgment, hatred,

anxious surrounded by bad vibes

above an Earth, below expectations; over a self under surveillance by approval from inside, crazy dimensions, On the fence between people and myself I close eyes, ride waves of nostalgia once more..

see plenty light to traverse pathways, walk fer hours, walk like back in younger days, playin, runnin, completely captivated immersed in games played, tv, roller blades, monopoly, scary stories, trampolines

&10thousand songs later, 10million thoughts later, here I am doing what I made me to.

can't wait for the next chance

supplied energy through lines to hidden gracelands.

[iamwritingsanders]

Corruption Ch. 2 of 3

Roman & Logan

Deceit stood at the entrance to the library, peeking in and watching Logan skim the spines of the collection. He was clearly having an internal argument with himself about which book he wanted to read. Logan would rarely let himself get lost, usually stiff about being focused and getting things done but this was the only place he felt comfortable letting go. To just...relax.

Deceit actually hesitated for a moment before going in, maybe he should wait until Logan was done reading. This was his place. This was his sanctuary. This is where he felt the safest. Deceit didn’t really want to ruin that for him but…Deceit watched as Logan’s lips began to move, his eyes following the words. Logan didn’t need to speak to read, he could easily read in his head. He was reading out loud and by his little gestures, he was reading out loud to someone that wasn’t there. Logan wanted to read to someone! Deceit smiled widely as his eye flashed, a plan coming to mind.

“Do you want some company?” Deceit asked after walking up silently to the back of the chair Logan was in. Logan yelped and threw his book, hands going straight to his head to grab his glasses so they wouldn’t fall off.

“A warning would have sufficed!” Logan snapped, voice still high-pitched from the fear that made his heart race. “What do you need?” Logan took a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself down.

“Aren’t you lonely in here?” Deceit asked, laying his arms on top of the chair and then resting his chin on his hands.

“It’s the study, not a lot of the others enjoy being in here,” Logan stated, getting up to retrieve his book.

“Do you want them to be here?” Deceit watched Logan pause when he bent to get his book.

“They’re free to do what they want,” Logan said, picking his book up and brushing off invisible dust from the cover.

“But don’t you want someone in here with you?” Deceit lifted his head and tilted it at Logan. “Someone, to sit with you and listen to you read?” Logan swallowed thickly as he hugged the book to his chest.

“Please leave,” Logan said. “I know what you’re trying to do and I will not fall for it.”

“I’m trying to offer you some company.” Deceit said.

“You’re trying to get me to do something that you want and I will not be a pawn in your plans. Now leave.” Logan hugged the book tighter to himself.

“I’m not-”

“You’re using a weakness of mine after observing me reading out loud to an empty room and by offering your company to give me something that I want you’ll make it so then I’d feel as if I owe you something and I will not have you holding that over my head. So, for the last time, please leave.”

“That’s not-”

“Leave.” Logan shot Deceit a harsh glare and that got Deceit’s shoulders to slumped and he walked away. So much for that working. Deceit perked up when he heard a loud laugh down the hall.

Looks like it was time to get creative.

x~x~x

“Back, foul beast!” Roman said with a laugh, swinging his sword around in the training room. His area. Logan had the library and Roman had the training room. They were always alone in their areas and Deceit could tell by the way Roman pretended to be fighting with someone, that he was just like Logan. He wanted someone to spar with. Deceit’s eye began to glow again. Roman could never say no to a match. Deceit walked over to the sword display and picked one up for himself, grunting when he found that the one he choose was too heavy and it clanked loudly against the ground. “Who goes there!?” Roman asked, turning and seeing Deceit struggle to return the sword to its place. Roman raised a brow and watched as Deceit hissed at the heavy sword before picking up a smaller and lighter one.

“I’m going to guess that one’s for show?” Deceit weakly chuckled, spinning the sword in his hand and yelping when it fell off and went to the ground.

“Can I help you?” Roman asked, sheathing his sword and crossing his arms.

“I thought you’d want a sparring partner.” Deceit said, picking the sword back up.

“Do you really think you can handle sparring against me?” Roman stuck his nose up.

“We can try. I’m sure it’s a lot better than being in here alone like you usually are.” Deceit shrugged, swinging the sword around clumsily.

“There’s nothing wrong with training on your own, it helps you keep focused on what you need to get done,” Roman stated, going over to Deceit and taking the sword from him. “You hold it like this.” Roman placed the sword in Deceit’s hand properly. “Now, what do you actually want?”

“To spar.” Deceit said, attempting to do one of Roman’s ‘famous’ poses.

“Really?” Roman perked up a little.

“Yeah! I bet it’s more fun to actually fight someone instead of pretending.” Deceit adjusted his hat so he was sure it’d stay on.

“Alright then! Let’s see how well you can face-off against a prince!” Roman dramatically laughed and pulled out his sword, pointing it towards Deceit, a large smile on his face. There was a pause before the smile dropped and Roman clenched his jaw. He took a step forward and with a simple twirl of his sword against Deceit’s he unarmed the other Side and he looked down.

“You could have gone a little easy on me.” Deceit chuckled, heading over to get the sword again.

“Get out,” Roman stated, catching Deceit off guard.

“What?”

“I will not be fooled by your fancy words!” Roman shouted. “I will not allow you to mock me by using your sarcasm!”

“I’m not being sarcastic.” Deceit protested.

“And there you go again!” Roman turned away. “That’s all you do! You lie and twist your words to insult me and the others!” Deceit could feel his stomach turning. He thought he had it. He thought he actually had someone. Someone he could hang out with...a friend.

“But...I…”

“Leave!” Roman didn’t even look back and moved to the other side of the room, returning to his practicing as if Deceit was no longer there. Deceit opened his mouth to say something but shook his head instead, walking out without another word.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to have a heart.

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[chokememrstark]

A Dangerous Game // Samifer

Chapter: 7/15

Words: 1837

Summary: Sam comes across a very interesting book that describes a ritual in which one can play a game with the Devil. His curiosity is sparked and even if he doesn’t think he will ever actually do it, Sam soon finds himself face to face with this very entity. Things take a very unpleasant turn, but despite that, Sam is going back, as if something pulls him towards Lucifer.

abuse, violence, bullying, black magic, no hunter!au, a lot of angst, a lot of hurt/little comfort

Note: Because I feel I need to add this: Dean is pretty much a complete asshole in this story, so if you’re uncomfortable with that you might want to reconsider reading it (or tell yourself he is completely ooc, fine with me too xD)

Thanks to @sassysupernaturalsweetheart & @brieflymaximumprincess for their wonderful beta reading and keeping me company while writing this story ♥

Tagging: @spnyoucantkeepmedown @samlicker83  @wait-what5 (if you want to be tagged, just drop me an ask or contact me via IM)

Sam didn’t wake up until the early morning hours, the room had no windows and the candles had burned down already by the time he opened his eyes in the darkness. At first, he simply laid there, unmoving and trying to figure out if he was still asleep or in hell, but eventually he moved and pushed himself off the cold ground. It took a while for him to find the light switch in the unfamiliar room and when he finally did and turned the lights back on, a cold shiver ran through his body. He remembered what had happened the night before - the things the devil had told him - and the pain in his chest came back, almost as bad as before.

It took him a few minutes to collect himself enough to gather the stumps of the candles and wipe the salt away, as well as unwinding the yarn from the mirror and cover it with the cloth again. At last, he turned the crucifix back how it should be and closed his backpack. All of this was kind of automatic, he didn’t really think about what he was doing. He just knew it had to be done and thus, he did it. When he unlocked the door and peeked out, finding the empty chapel, he sighed in relief. He quickly put the key back where he got it after locking the door again and made his way out of the church through the verger’s quarters.

The day had just begun, the twilight not even completely gone, so he knew he was not in too much trouble at least. Not that it mattered, really. After remembering the night before, Sam had no desire to do anything other than lay down and cry for years. The ache was not as intense and numbing as it was the night before, but it still remained painful and horrible. He had been so mad at his dad for treating him the way he did all the time, even started the same with Dean, but in the end they had been right.  Or not? They had a reason to hate him and the more he thought about it, the more unlikely it was that he had never accepted the truth sooner. Of course it was nothing he did on purpose and despite what the Devil had said to console him, it was his fault, there was no way around it.

Sam arrived at home around seven, coming into an empty apartment. The Impala was still gone and the door to Dean’s room was open, with no sign of his brother whatsoever. Unwillingly, Sam was a little relieved. He really didn’t want to face any of them at the moment, no matter how short or why. Without losing any time, Sam hopped under the shower, leaving the hair washing out this time and just focusing on cleaning his face mainly, then got dressed in clean clothes and redid his makeup. His old clothes were dirty from the dust in the storage room and he wasn’t going to step outside with them again like this. When he was done with his makeup, however, he found something weird on the back of his left hand.

Curiously, Sam inspected his hand closer and noticed there was a huge bruise, covering almost his whole hand. He must have fallen on it the night before, when he touched the bruise it stung a little, but not enough to cause disturbing pain. He shrugged it off, put away his stuff and gathered his school supplies to head off again. Not that he actually wanted to go to school, but he wasn’t really looking for trouble with his dad when he found out he ditched it either.

There wasn’t much Sam remembered from his classes this day - his thoughts were occupied with the events of the night before and with the consequences they had on his life. He spent the breaks under the weeping willow trees once more, barely registering when the bell rang to go back inside. He would have loved to sit there forever, hidden between the hanging branches of the trees, almost as if he was in a different world where his problems and pain didn’t exist - but those things were for fairy tales, not real life.

When he finally made it through the last period and headed home, he remembered his promise to the devil. Well, not exactly a promise and he didn’t know if he would actually keep it or not, but he wanted to be prepared just in case. So, instead of going home directly, he changed directions and payed the occult store another visit.

Today, the store was open and when Sam entered, he was greeted with a familiar face. The woman who had served him the last time smiled happily at him, almost excited.

“You are back, how nice! Were you able to use your gifts?” she asked, with curious interest.

“This is why I am here, I wanted to buy a few new candles.”

“So, you did it? You used them?”

“I… yeah, I did,” Sam wanted to lie, but why should he? This woman wouldn’t go to the police or anything to tell anyone, so he screwed his cautiousness. “And I need more for another try.”

“Did it work?” the woman asked, now visibly excited. “Did he appear?”

“You read the book, too, then? What do you think?”

She sighed and bowed her head so her face was covered, then slowly shook her head.

“I read it, yes. And I tried it. But nothing happened.”

“Huh,” Sam huffed and internally smirked to himself, without even wanting it. He didn’t know why Lucifer had shown himself to him and not her, but he wasn’t too interested in finding out why.

Instead of asking her further, Sam turned around to the candle shelf and took his time to select candles he could use. He settled on seven red and seven white ones, thicker than the last ones he used so he could relight them multiple times. He also took a black candle in form of a little dragon and brought them all to the counter.

“What was he like?” the woman asked as soon as he stood before her, eyes wide and eager with anticipation.

“I don’t think I want to talk about this, I’m sorry,” Sam shook his head slowly and put his hands on the counter. “It was a weird experience and I’m not sure if it was a good thing to do.”

“Why not? You are alive! You’ve talked to him and are still alive! What could not be good about this?”

“I’m alive, yeah,” Sam laughed sarcastically. “But it’s not a good life, trust me. I’d like to pay now.”

She understood, thankfully. Without asking any more questions, the woman scanned Sam’s candles. He payed, thanked her for the conversation and then left the store.

At home, still a completely empty place for some reason, Sam retreated to his room and laid down on his bed. He felt weak, much worse than in the morning after waking up from sleeping on the hard church ground. He needed some distraction, anything really, and turned on the radio next to his bed before laying back down with his eyes closed. For a while, an instrumental song he didn’t recognize played and helped him relax a little, but his thoughts still wouldn’t slow down.

He kind of wanted to believe what Lucifer - he liked the name more than “Devil” to be honest - said was true. That it wasn’t his fault what had happened and that it would have happened with or without him anyway. But, why would he, the literal devil, try to comfort him when he was breaking down? Shouldn’t he be the one enjoying to see him suffer? Wasn’t this what the Devil strived for in his very existence?

And the invitation, the request to come back to talk to him. It was creepy, but at the same time very appealing. Sam thought he was going crazy, but even after the horrible experience he had the last night, he was not completely against the idea of repeating it. The worst things had been said already, hadn’t they? So how much worse could another visit go?

“Well, I could be arrested for performing satanic rituals in a church, of course…” Sam mumbled and then, much to his surprise, actually laughed.

It was a crazy and surreal thought, but it was possible, right? If anyone watched him while sneaking into the church in the middle of the night, they would definitely call the police and that could turn into a very awkward situation. Not to talk about the beating he would get from his dad if something like this would happen.

Sam sighed and listened to the silence the radio provided for a while before another song came on, one that was not really helping with his confusion: Every Breath You Take. Sure, he liked the song in general, but right now it had a very creepy tone to it.

“I wish I could talk to him now,” Sam sighed and pushed himself into a sitting position. He was kind of confused by his own wish to talk to Lucifer, but apart from dropping a pretty big bomb, he had been not too bad in his eyes. Yes, he was the Devil and the game was a dangerous one, but he even warned him about the time limit, so he wouldn’t end up with his soul being trapped.

Sam wanted to know what this was about, he wanted to know why the Devil wanted him to be safe and even come back. Was it part of his trap to lure Sam into something or was it genuine interest or something completely different? Was it his way of corrupting Sam’s soul and make him agree to do tasks in his name to ruin other human’s lives? He really didn’t know, but Sam was much less conflicted about doing the ritual again.

After contemplating about what to do for half an hour more, Sam decided he would think about it later and first focus on his homework. Not his personal top priority, but not everyone in his family would see it the same way. So, he spent the next two hours sitting over math problems and an essay he had to write about morales - a perfectly fitting topic, given his inner turmoil at the moment.

He heard the door of the apartment open and close, but didn’t bother checking who it was. He would find out soon enough anyways, staying quiet to avoid trouble had become a thing he had mastered through the last years and that’s exactly what he did. When the door next to his own wasn’t shut and he heard nothing more than shuffling in the living room and some mumbling, he knew it wasn’t Dean who had arrived. He just hoped there wouldn’t be more arguing soon.

[aliceofthevalley]

Human 4

4.The Freakout

"What do you mean you're leaving?" I couldn't believe any of this.

"Honestly Sawyer you're acting like a child." Avery continued packing, avoiding my gaze. I gripped his upper arm, I had to stop him before he hurt himself.

"Let go." He flung my hand off the second it touched him, leaving me scrutinizing.

"What is your deal, first you don't talk to me, then the team, and now you're leaving us. What gives?"

"Nothing, mind your own business, geez." My heart was stabbed with hurt, but I continued.

"No, talk to me, please!"

"Sawyer- " he warned over his shoulder as he grabbed his bag heading towards the door. I followed vigilantly.

"Please, I want to help. Just talk to me." We walked ten steps before he turned on his heels to face me.

"Look I don't wanna talk about it. I don't want you helping me, I'm leaving. That's the end of it. As far as you're concerned, we never met and that kiss never happened, so stop trying to butt into my personal life." He was inches away from my face, everything about him screamed ice in that moment. The way he said it, the bluntness of my position now in his life, or lack thereof. I was in utter awe and shock as the floor started swirling beneath me.

"I…uh…" he turned back, leaving me alone to stand in the hall holding back tears. He was just about to turn the corner and leave when I did the unthinkable.

"Why can't you just trust me for once, or anyone for that matter? What did we do to warrant this from you. It's like you're a different person now! I miss you, we miss you, let us help you." I was on verge of tears grasping the wall for support.

"Why?" He said over his shoulder.

"Why?" I gasped.

"Because I love you and I can't watch you go walking to your death alone." I lost it, salty rivers began flowing silently down my face.

"I guess you're disappointed now, huh." Avery turned leaving a cold emptiness in his wake. Everything froze, my brain trying to process it all before it fully hit me. Wave after wave of pain, anxiety and depression lapped at my body, crushing my heart, each beat weaker as realization took it over. I couldn't take it and my legs crumbled under me finally. Monstrous sobs found their way to my throat and into the air, bouncing around the ship, like Avery's final words to me. I curled up into a ball, sobbing until darkness overtook my senses, leaving alone but in peace, a death like sleep.

…………….

I woke up to the sound of faint ship engines running, my face planted on the cold metal floor. There weren't any voices I could make out nearby, so I didn't put effort in trying to get up, just laying there perfectly still. How could this happen, he tossed me aside like nothing. I expected that from my friends and family back home, but never Avery. He made me feel inspired, like I was worth something. Guess not. Tears welled up as I began to regain full consciousness. I hated crying, hated the way it made me feel isolated and weak. In the distance, heavy footsteps slowly approached where I was, probably Azmi and Ridge about 75 yards away from where I laid; I could practically hear the obnoxious green hair from here. I jumped up quickly rushing to a nearby bedroom suite, careful to avoid detection. I quietly shut the door behind me; something starting to rumble at my core, rising toward my heart. Cover your mouth, don't make a sound. A few minutes past before Azmi and Ridge came into listening range.

"Where could she be. It's not like her to miss training."

"Azmi, we've known her for, like, a month."

"Yeah, but in that month, she's consistently gone to practice. Not to mention dinner, and an earth movie she specifically wanted to watch was scheduled to play in the media room tonight." They paused walking, a mere few feet from where I was.

"Look, Sawyer checked in after coming back with Avery, right?" A new, stronger wave of pain rolled over me at the mention of Avery. I barely could subdue the cry tearing my throat and regain composure.

"She's here, probably in her room."

"But her room -" she tried objecting.

"Kid, she's fine; gone exploring to clear her head for awhile." The subject dropped, and with it their conversation. Their footsteps traveling once again. I waited in silence trying to swallow back my feelings, until I couldn't contain it anymore. I pressed my back against the door before falling into a slump and cried. How could he, how could he?

Was it me? Yes that's it, I always had a knack for screwing up relationships. But how, how? Everything was fine until today. No it wasn't, it couldn't have been me, I tried helping but he wouldn't listen. Why didn't he listen? You weren't a part of this fight, he is. You weren't worth knowing anyway.

Voices swam around and around, arguing, so much arguing. Hands to my ears I tried shutting them off, but they just grew louder, making me want to scream. I didn't want to know who did what and whose fault this mess is, I wanted to just feel. The voices hushed before speaking. Then why don't you. Do it. Do it. Do it. Grabbing a pillow from the nearby bed, stuffing it into my face, I screamed, hard and painful. Anger, depression, suffering all coursed through my veins, making me unstable. I got up, blinded by the moment and walked over to the far side of the room where picture frames, seashells, and antique glass bottles sat collecting dust on a beautifully furnished wood shelf. I snatched a blue bottle. Break it; Break it; Break it. Destroy everything, let it all burn to cold ashes.

I threw it against the door, shattering into a shower of broken shards. The adrenaline from it persuaded me to grab another, this time a picture, of what I can't say as salty tears distorted it in the time I had before smashing it among the glass. Item after item, I threw at the ground, until I didn't have anymore emotional strength, reverting back to a wailing mess kneeling on the ground.

Why was I acting like this? All this for a boy I've only known for a couple weeks, this isn't Twilight.

No, but he did make me feel important, no one else has even put effort into doing something like that for me. And yet he left me here, alone in space far from my home- although, planet is more fitting- back to feeling used.

"Sawyer…" a quiet voice interrupted my deprecating thoughts.

"Seil- I…" I turned towards the door, wiping away my shame and slapping on a fake smile. Seil frowned before looking around the tetanus inducing floor I created, stepping over the broken pieces. She wore a long sleeved, floor length dress that dragged glass with it.

"Its 11 pm, you should go to your quarters now, Sawyer.”

"Of course, I’ll get right on that." Before I could leave, she trapped me in a bear hug.

"Should, but won't; I can practically hear the adrenaline in your system. " I tentatively hugged back, her arms tensed and eyes avoiding mine.

"I'm sorry about Avery." I pulled her closer. There was a long pause before she added.

"Don't worry about the mess, I'll clean it up before morning." Seil pulled out, holding me at arms length. At this distance, I fully took in how human she was, more than anyone on this ship.

"Now go get changed, if you're anything like Avery, you'll probably want to head to the combat gym. I'll make sure no one goes looking for you until you calm down." Something happened. Her movement was ridged and choppy, a slight tremor through her body had formed since I last saw her. I didn't know what but something happened to her, I could feel it in my gut. As she began to sweep a path for me outside, I blurted out

"Stop hiding it."

"What?"

"Whatever you're keeping from telling me, stop hiding it. Something went down while I was out, and I need to know." Seil bit her lip, staring at her scuffed shoes nervously.

"It-it's nothing. Nothing happened since you 'went missing', I'm-im just, uh, shocked by your…behavior." It was a blatant lie, but I let it slide since she was helping me. I tiptoed out the door, following Seil down the hall to the deserted athletic facilities.

"I…thanks."

"It'll be our little secret. Now go get dressed."

……………...

The punching bag swayed again after the hundredth hit i dealt. It still amazed me how effortlessly I felt training, yet weird to be able to in the first place.

In, out, breathe.

Sweat beaded on my skin, a welcoming distraction from life for once. I stepped back, smoothing back my hair from my face. Hours had passed, it was probably breakfast time judging from my sore muscles and aching knuckles underneath the thin boxing gloves I was using.

In, out.

Trudging to a nearby bench, I peeled back the gloves revealing a small white bone painted in splashes of garnet, peeking out of my right pointer finger. A couple weeks had jaded me; wearing only a slight frown before pulling off the left and throwing them apathetically to the gym floor. I made my way to the locker room, opening the doors cautiously with my shoulder. Placing my injured hand in the complementary first aid medical bot, I grimaced as my finger was manhandled; the broken bone shoved back into place, fused back together, then the skin stitched and sprayed with antiseptic, all in a matter of seconds using technology I couldn't comprehend nor had time to even care about it. I stripped, dumping my disgusting, sweaty clothes into the laundry shoot and stepping into a nearby shower. Warm water embraced my back as i stood motionless. How long had it been... 4, 5 weeks since I last took an antidepressant? Dang, no wonder life sucks. I tilted my head back swishing my hair around and applying shampoo, followed by conditioner and then shaving. Life felt meaningless and empty. Not just because of Avery, though it didn't help, but the fact I was trillions of light years from Earth. I missed my family, my real family- the one that wasn't hunting me down and trying to kill me. I missed my old life. And Oreos! I teared up at the thought of never having Oreos again; never mind dying , I'll never get to have Oreos again. I smirked to myself.

However, it faded quickly as emptiness came flooding back in, bringing memories of the dead with it; People I killed yesterday. How had I been fine up until now, doing that, murdering members of families and friends in less than an afternoon. How many died because of my actions? Deep down I knew I'd probably killed more than yesterday's blood bath, more innocent souls in heartless slaughter. And I think I enjoyed doing it. I had the skills, backed by the story Ameia told me, and yesterday as testament to that. My heartbeat became more and more painful, recognizable as it rammed itself into my ribcage. I rested my forehead against the tiled shower wall closing my eyes. Breathe. Yesterday was an accident, I didn't mean to kill them, I tried to save them; there wasn't anything I could've done. But those before… we can't change the past, especially not one I can't remember fully. Hot tears brimmed my eyes as guilt ate into me. I was shaking violently to the point of stopping the shower entirely and forcing me into the fetal position on the soaking floor. Three separate occasions of crying in the last 24 hours, how wonderful. I fill my lungs; in, out, in, out, pull yourself together Sawyer, geez. Deep breaths, come on.

Push, pull, push, pull, push, pull, push, pull.

Minutes of trying to battle a guilty conscious, successful. I shakily stood up, grabbing a clean towel and leave in conditioner from my locker. As clean as I felt physically, nothing could cleanse my soul. I dried my body and put the leave in conditioner in my hair; how long was it now? I turned my head towards a mirror, I made a startling discovery seeing a cascading head of milky white almost to my elbows, a stark contrast to the dark brown bob it had been hours before.

"Huh?" I marched closer, and on further inspection, realized my new arctic blue eyes.

"Great now I'm Hitler's fever dream reanimated." It changed. My whole entire body changed in a matter of minutes for some weird trivial reason. I mean the proportions are still the same, but…

"Nope. I'm done with this bull. I'm done. Just done. Nope."

I turned away from the mirror and began to break into all the girls lockers using a paperclip I found in my gym bag. It wasn't until I got to Azmi's, that I successfully found the compressed version of a professional hair salon fully stocked. Rows upon rows of scissors, curlers, flat irons and hair dye ornamented the locker, a kaleidoscope of colors and bottles. I grab a couple of gray, blue, and purple boxes and set to work.

…………….

"'Morning guys." Everyone looked up from their meals, their eyes instantly widening.

"Uh, Sawyer…what's with the uh…"

"Yeah, you look…" Ridge and Teauz continued to try and overcome their initial surprise, failing spectacularly in the process. Azmi, however had zero trouble with it.

"Did you use my hair dye?" She screeched, rising from her seat. Her eyes flared with metaphorical fire, not even trying to sugarcoat her disgust with me.

"No, Azmi, I magically changed hair colors while I was gone and forgot to tell you. Oops." Not a complete lie, but still misleading to a degree. She rolled her eyes and folded her arms superiorly.

"Don't take that tone with me, you spoiled brat. We were searching for you all night, and this is how you repay me- us?" She stumbled, the narcissist. She tsked at me like a disappointed mother with sickening seaweed hair.

"Either way, next time you're going to dye your hair, at least make it look professional; honestly you have a tie-dyed t-shirt for hair right now. You're a princess, aren't you, at least have some dignity." She sat back down and scoffed, preceding to treat me like a little fly. I could tell the guys were uncomfortable with how I appeared as well as the confrontation. Probably thought I'd gone crazy, since I kinda disappeared the entire day. Whatever, I'd rather deal with the notion that I've lost it because of Avery than being a hate symbol. Seil entered the dining room from the kitchen carrying a plate of pancakes with a yellow soup, and a cup of tea when she met my eyes. I caught a flicker of relief pass over her.

"Miss Sawyer, good morning. I took the liberty of preparing some food I thought you would like since you didn't request anything." She smiled brightly as I grabbed a chair and sat down away from the others. I avoided their glances while Seil placed my food in front of me and left. Silence accompanied the song of chewing, cutting, and slurping, which lasted for a good half hour.

"So, what's the plan for today?" I pushed away my now clean plate and straightened myself.

"Uh, yeah, right the plan and stuff." Teauz painfully tried to focus again, fidgeting with his fingers. Ridge managed to say, "We're circling around a nearby moon: there's been sightings of military forces patrolling around this solar system. Once we're sure it's safe to leave, we will." They avoided eye contact while picking at their food.

"Oh…'kay. Should I go get dressed for combat or…"

"No!" They panicked, spilling a cup of silver fluid in the floor. Azmi rolled her eyes and summoned Seil before pouting some more.

"I-I mean, no need to today, we're staying on board." Teauz fidgeted more, casting a glance at Ridge, who wore a slightly muffled, deadpan expression.

"Uh, alright…" Standing up, I turned to leave.

"Wait where are you going?"

"My room, why?" Teauz stopped fidgeting trying to think of an excuse.

"Because…" There was a long pause.

"Look, I get you're worried about me, especially after last night; but you need to chill. I'm not running away, or hijacking the ship, or even sulking; I'm just going to my room to work on some stuff." He nodded, before sitting back down slowly along with Ridge. I made it out of the room before they could say anything else.

…………….

The smell of old paper and bound leather was intoxicating. Walls of books stood mountainous before me, lined with knowledge. Since everyone was on the upper decks, I took it upon myself to unlock the secret library no one seemed to want to talk about with me.

[greensungnostic]

(Grand)father's day

Well, it's Sunday. You promised the old man you'd come for a visit, have a special little father's day with him. It'll be nice, spending time with him outside of his study. You start things off by shuffling sleepily down to the kitchen, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you start up the stove. In a cast iron skillet, you lay down a few slices of thick bacon, a few rolls of sausage, and once they're starting to sizzle and fill the pan with a cheerfully popping sizzle, you crack a few eggs in the to fry in the fat. Next you add some tomato, a few mushrooms, and a strip of black pudding all together, two servings sizzling merrily away in the large pan. You pop a few slices of bread in the toaster, put on a pot of beans to cook, then put the kettle on while you wait for it all to cook up. A Full English Breakfast, his favourite. Once it's all nice and ready, you butter the toast, cut it into triangles, and plate everything up. With a newspaper tucked under your arm, you gather the pair of plates up, floating your teacups along behind you with your powers. You ascend to the second floor on foot, lightly tapping at it with your toeclaws to announce your presence. You call through the door -

grandpa! its fathers day! i brought you your favourite! breakfast in the study!

You finagle his doorknob with your hands full, using your elbow to twist it just enough to pop the latch and enter into the dim, musty room once more. He's here of course, staring long and thoughtful into the fireplace once more, which flares into life when you approach. He never seems to get tired of that trick! You set the plates down at the desk, pulling up the stiff side chair to face it.

oh come on i know you are busy but it is your fathers day breakfast, at least come over here!

He makes no moves from his firewatching vigil, so you roll your eyes and push him over there directly, leaving him standing behind his desk, looking at the pleasant tendrils of fragrant steam rising from his plate. He doesn't sit - never has been one to sit for anything but the fanciest meals. But you do sit, tucking into the hearty meal with a soft smile on your face. You don't go to the trouble of a Full English very often, but it is good. You can see why it's his favourite. He doesn't seem very hungry - he scarcely seems to want to touch it - but you can tell from the twinkle in his eye that he appreciates it all the same.

are you gonna finish that bacon and sausage? no? okay thank you grandpa! hehehe, i know, you dont want to mess up your mustache. it looks very nice today! so sharp, so smart!

You snag his uneaten meats, munching them up, as well as one of his little mushrooms. While you eat, you figure he'd like to hear any new news. You were just here the other day so there's not a ton new, but you can touch on it all the same. It's sweet of him to take interest in his granddaughter's life, after all! You look up at the old man in his Stout Dignity, offering a small smile while you speak.

hmm? no nothing super exciting has happened this week, honestly. just did some more gardening and stuff, you know i love to do that! yes grandpa i make sure im armed. no i dont think every earthworm has a chance to grow - yes i read dune, those dont actually exist or if they do the worms in my soil are not precursors to sandworms!! pffft!

How silly of him, to even think that your garden worms could become shai-hulud.

other than that, ive mostly just been playing this game with some friends! no like an online one! it is called mine craft and it has you... well, mine ores and craft things out of them! theres lots of adventure, monsters to fight, and more! yes im well armed ive got a magic bow and sword! i might be one of the better strife combatants on the server honestly. i run around on a horse named hubble, exploring for resources and building tunnels and quarries and supplying people with stuff! its really fun, id only ever played it alone before recently. you might not like it though, theres no guns! just bows and crossbows. maybe some could be modded in though! or shoot fireworks at people!

He seems interested, though a dourness seems to befall him when he hears there's no firearms. Maybe it's not a good idea, he'd probably kill all the cute non dog animals. At least he seems tickled by your horse's name. Always naming things for scientists, it's the Harley way. You put your fork and knife down, stacking his half full plate atop your empty one to do away with them both - a quick zap of dishes into the sink. You down your tea, then do the same with the cup. You rise up, looking up at the towering old gentleman.

so tonight is a werewolf night so i dont have aaaaalll night unless you really wanna see me go full furry and cavort around like a loon, but i thought you might want to spend some time together outside today? i set up a little shooting range so i can show you my marksmanship! wanna go see how im doing? im on my sixth prestige level on riflekind so you could say im pretty good!

Grandpa doesn't seem averse to the idea. He always wants to make sure you're well armed, well prepared, so showing your prowess is likely to be a good activity! You loop your arms around one of his, green lightning dancing around the two of you before the scene suddenly shifts to a spot outside in the fields. The fruits of your gardening labour, both figurative and literal, sprawl out in all directions to the edges of the ship. The Breeze ruffles through your hair and the looser bits of Grandpa's expeditionary outfit, the smell of flowers and vegetation in the air. Dotted here and there, you've set up little dummy copies of monsters - a papier mâché ogre here, a clay swarm of imps, little rudimentary robotic underlings bobbing and weaving as targets. You can tell Grandpa is surveying the targets, his grip on the Blunderbuss tight. But they're not his to destroy, they're yours. You draw out a stopwatch, taking a deep breath to steady yourself. It's quite a stressor, showing off your skills to your Grandfather. Okay, you're ready. You click the starter....

Strife.

Your spring into action, your GIRL’S BEST FRIEND deploying from within your specibus and into your hands. You fire a volley of pinpoint-accurate shots into a swath of imps, each one perfectly removing the heads in a spray of fine dust. You YOUTHROLL as if avoiding a barrage of attacks, stopping on a knee to switch to the GREEN SUN STREETSWEEPER and eviscerate a mechanical lich. You swap through your rifles one by one, blasting apart the targets you've set up, each shot dead in the middle of the bullseyes painted on them. You slide, you run up a tree and jump off to shoot upside down in midair, you rifle butt a basilisk. For a grand finale you light the papier mâché ogre ablaze with a green sun flamethrower to soften it up, then swap to your LITTLE BUSTER guitar-rifle to first ventilate it, then pummel it into cinders with the base of the instrument. You let out a little cheer and stop the stopwatch, dancing on the spot in celebration. You check the timer. 1:34.62. Just over a minute and a half, not bad. You bound back over to Grandpa, a big grin and a light sheen of sweat on your face. You gesture out over the dust of your destruction, other small bots already scurrying out to collect the destroyed targets, the spent casings.

voila!! howd i do grandpa?? not a bad time for all those baddies, if i do say so myself! do you like the bass guitar? it shoots .45s and also grenades from the headstock and its good for bashing with too! it dual-classes as an axekind weapon too, haha... i converted it from a regular old classic rickenbacker myself!

You hold up the LITTLE BUSTER for his perusal. He looks on with what feels like an air of appraisal, as if inspecting your craftsmanship. You stay quiet for a long moment to just let him see, before he seems satisfied. A glint of approval, what might be interpreted as a smile behind your grandfather's dense moustache. He's never been good at praise, but you can tell he's proud.

haha, thank you for coming out and watching, grampa. it means a lot to get to show you that, and all this too! do you like how the gardenship looks? ive been up to my eyebrows in dirt making it all cute! look over there, you can see rip van maple, just growing and growing! technically its only a few years old but the growth acceleration puts it at like three hundred!

You spend the next hour or so pointing out nearby points of interest, talking about the care and maintenance and upkeep of your garden, your robots, even the dogs. As if conjured by the utterance of his name, Becquerel appears, curling up at his master's feet like he's prone to. You scratch between your direwolf sized hound's ears and sit down against him, still quietly talking to grandpa.

so how has work been going in there, grandpa? oh, right i know, business trade secrets, cant discuss them! still i hope you are not working too hard in there. you always seem so lost in thought... maybe looking out the window once in a while instead of into the fireplace would give a fresh perspective! shhh i know it is the favorite spot but still! you might even see me running around from in there, haha...

You sigh, looking up at the imposing figure above you. The wind rustles his mustache, and he stalwartly gazes off into the middle difference. Maybe, he seems to think. Maybe he'll try it out. You can tell he must be getting tired though, time to get back to work. You lightly grasp his shirt hem, and Bec returns all three of you to the study. This time his perch does seem to be near the window, overlooking the grape vines and the little bench you built for Rose, just offset from the pane to spare himself the excess light and the ominous silhouette in the window. You pull a little box from your sylladex, a gift for your beloved Grandpa. You can tell he's too lost in thought to pluck at all the lavish ribbons and paper you've wrapped it in, so you unbox it for him. Within he finds a few Artifacts - the skull of a monster that you put onto his mantlepiece immediately; a bottle of his theoretically favourite Cognac, which you put on a shelf next to a few similar bottles of brown alcohol. Clink. And last but not least, a loud Hawaiian shirt with a computer woven into the threads. It's bright, it's garish, it's absolutely nobody's style. You set this neatly folded on his desk, where he can deal with it at his leisure.

okay grandpa, i know you gotta work... thank you for coming out with me today! it was nice to spend time with you... ill come visit again soon, okay? i love you soooooo much grandpa!! happy fathers and grandfathers day!!

You hesitate, then scurry over and hug the old man, clinging tight to his sturdy frame. A single tear runs down your cheek and musses his khaki attire, but it's only a small watermark. You gaze up at the lofty gentleman, ears angled backwards for a moment, wishing he'd return your affection now and then. But it's alright. It's tough for old men full of machismo to show their love. You know he cares from the wistful look in his eyes. You hold onto his hand for a moment, squeezing gently, then depart. As you go, you hear the soft chime of a wardrobifier, perhaps triggered by the teardrop. You look back, and he's wearing the shirt you got him. With a soft smile you slip from his study and close the door behind you, murmuring one more time -

happy fathers day, to a wonderful grampa...