#its a period of his life he comes to deeply regret BUT he eventually takes it as a lession that revenge will only leave you hollow

[gay-caesar-truther]

Because if his time in the Legion Shepherd has a major phobia and dogs, Coyotes in particular. He was a Fumentarii for most of his adult life, and despite the amnesia his body kept score. His phobia of Coyotes and his visceral emotional reaction to Vulpes at Nipton was what inspired him to look into his own past instead of just moving on and leaving it behind

[agent--shadow]

"I never wanted to. I just..." He takes a long pause trying to figure out how to word that period of life in a way that made sense. "After... After my youngest sister...." He winces again as his throat tightens a little. "Took her own life, I wanted to make sure my remaining family had everything they needed. I checked the help-wanted board for weeks, nothing."

He looks up a bit, but not at anything in particular, just dwelling in his own thoughts. "Eventually, I found a single flier tucked into the crevices, I thought it was odd that you wouldn't put it out openly, but I should've known." He grits his teeth as he pulls his hands up to his head, trying to quell the painful regret swirling through him. "How I wish I hadn't found that flier."

"The job paid well, though I didn't know what I'd be doing on the daily. Some days I'd be restocking products, other days I was mining ore. Though it almost didn't matter, I got to come home every day with a little treat for my sister. I got to give her a little bit of joy in a bleak world. But..." He trails off as he forces the sobs in his throat to die in his mouth. Thinking of everything after. He'd tried so hard not to, to just forget that it ever existed, that it'd ever matter again. But of course it mattered. Of course he'd have to relive the story again. No matter how many times he tried to push it down, it would always come back.

"One day..." He fights to steady his wavering voice. "Our parents were able to get on a program to take people out of the country. To a better place, a happier place, a calmer, more peaceful place where we could all live happily ever after. Except we didn't. I don't know what happened, mom and dad didn't explain anything to me except 'she's gone now' and she was." Kai has lost the battle with his raging emotions, tears are streaming down his cheeks, he's practically yelling, forgotten who he's talking to at this point. He hasn't told anyone this, not in a long time, never in this much detail. But it's finally clawing its way out of his mind, and he's not sure if it's for better or worse.

"The company I was working with was also in our new place, I didn't care anymore. They told me to do something, I did it. Life was dull, I didn't know why I was still living it. I guess so my parents still had a living child? I don't know what I owed them," his voice was full of disdain, yet more steady. "But they didn't take it well when Rose died, I didn't want anyone to go through that again, so I just continued."

"Eventually, I was talking with a coworker, and they said they had something for me, something to take the pain away. to make everything better again. At that point I was willing to try anything, I trusted them, I went down an alley way and they strapped me into a device, I didn't care that it was oddly suspicious, at least if it killed me I might get some peace. But it did something so much worse..." He clenches his fists below the table as his squeezes his eyes shut, trying to get the swirls of green in his eyes to go away. All he wanted was to pass out, to die, maybe. But... If Lilac was alive. If there was even a sliver of a chance he could see her again, to apologize for what he did, what had happened, he had to stay on, just a little longer.

"I blacked out, I didn't wake up again until I was standing in an alleyway surrounded by a lot of my coworkers who were chuckling. I had a bloody nose, I remember that's the first thing I noticed, my left jaw was sore, someone had punched me. The second thing I noticed were her cries. I froze, I forced my eyes open, stuff as they were, and I saw my own sister-" his voice wavers again as he palms his head in shame. "Crying out in pain, with My. Knife sunk deep into her right shoulder. So deep that her arm..." He breathed deeply, trying not to retch. "It was barely attached to her body."

For the first time in the interview Kai looked his interrogator straight in the eyes, grief taking over his. "She looked into my eyes. Those young, once innocent eyes. She didn't say anything, but she didn't need to for me to understand. I had done that. My own flesh and blood betrayed the very thing I had sought to protect. It was the first time I'd seen her in years, and I almost took it away."

Kai has pulled his knees up to his chest on the chair, trying to find solace one of the only ways he knew how. By hiding his shameful face from every respectable person. "I'm sorry." Though he knew it wasn't close to enough.

Questioning and Revelations

After some medical attention, Kai (@agent--shadow) finds himself inside one of the agency's interrogation rooms. Several signal blockers have been set up, cutting him off from any outside communication.

Handler Ellie walks in the room, her eyes cold and strict. She puts down an analog recorder, several digital microphones and cameras have littered the room.

"I would appreciate it if you would cooperate with this questioning, young man." Despite her words implying it was a request, her tone was clearly implying that it wasn't an option to be uncooperative.

She checks her watch, checking the time. If her guess is right, Handler Blue (@blueorchid-95) will arrive in half an hour. She would've heard about Kai's location around this time and once she hears about this, it would not be pretty.

[systematicmasspoisoning]

Who is Sam's prison for?

If you're not up to date in DreamSMP lore, Awesamdude, resident Redstone expert, was paid stacks of diamonds by Dream to make an inescapable prison. It is located in the ocean next to Bad and Skeppy's mansion and is VERY large. Supposedly it will be using Elder Guardians to keep a prisoner from mining out due to Mining Fatigue. Even if the prisoner dies of hunger, they will respawn inside. This brings up the question of how

1. they force the prisoner to click a bed inside the prison

2. how they keep the prisoner from breaking the bed.

Regardless of the mechanics of the second one, I think the first is a clue as to who Dream will trap inside the prison. Consider the 3 canon deaths lore. He has used the threat of permanently killing Tommy to get the boy to comply and click on a bed in Logstedshire. So a 'permanent death if you don't comply' is definitely an effective tactic but ONLY for people with one life left.

The main two options are Tommy and Tubbo (or Philza). Or, Dream is planning on knocking another one of his potential opponents, such as Quackity, Fundy or Techno, down to one life in the time it takes to build the actual prison.

Quackity and Fundy aren't big enough threats yet, although Quackity certainly has the potential to be a threat, in this season of the SMP, El Rapids isn't big enough of a threat yet.

Most people would assume Dream's biggest enemies on the server are Tommy and Techno. Techno's role in the grand scheme of things is, as of now, undetermined. However, as Techno is one of the authors of this SMP season, he likely has something up his sleeve. He is currently 'retired' alongside Phil in their Antarctic Empire skins in a snowy biome, but he has made appearances in Tommy's streams to mock the boy for getting exiled (just like Techno predicted with the Theseus analogy.) An alliance between the sleepbois is possibly in the works, but right now, both Tommy and Techno have made it clear there is still a lot of animosity between them. So I don't see Techno, and by extension, Phil becoming much of a problem for Dream (for now.)

Tommy, on the other hand, has been visited by Dream almost every stream while Tommy is exiled; Tommy has been manipulated by him, gaslighted and threatened. Despite making the very real threat of giving Tommy his final death, Dream has stopped Tommy from any, um, self-harming actions. Dream told him "I need you alive." Narratively, that means that Dream has plans for Tommy (they are, after all, each other's main antagonist). But Dream has also said that Tommy will remain on exile for a long time and he told Bad and Sam as they were building the prison that he doesn't intend on using the prison on Tommy (unless he begins to act up was implied.)

Because Bad and Sam (and Eret) are working with Dream, I would assume imprisoning anyone from the Badlands is out of the question. But I think it's interesting how Sam is the primary leader of the building project.

Dream said that Sam is the only one who will totally know the ins and outs of the prison. So that possibly means Sam is the only one who would know how to escape the inescapable prison. The interesting thing about Sam being included in this storyline is his connections. He and Tubbo are very close, and Sam is also friends with Tommy. Its not long of a stretch to assume that Sam's storyline might eventually lead to HIM breaking out whoever Dream imprisons. Tommy, for now, is out of the equation, so who does that leave?

Tubbo. Someone who many people are now considering Dream's puppet. Dream has been laying on the manipulation lately, playing chess with him, complimenting him and trying to increase the wedge between Tubbo and Tommy. You would think Tubbo is safe, so long as he remains pacifistic and continues to make decisions that are to Dream's benefit. But there are things going beyond the scenes that we, the audience, need to consider. The script.

Symbolism and chekov's guns have been sprinkled into the story line for a long time, and it feels as though the roleplayers have upped the ante. It's hard to think about Ghostbur' compasses without crying, but I literally can't stop thinking about what they mean. When it comes to the duo, despite their estrangement, Tommy still considers Tubbo one of the most important things in his life. He placed the "Your Tubbo" compass right beside his discs in his enderchest. Meanwhile, Tubbo held his "Your Tommy" compass in his offhand nearly all stream today. They still care for each other, obviously, but think about one of the reasons Tubbo exiled Tommy in the first place.

He felt like Tommy was choosing the discs over everything else. He felt as though the discs were the only thing Tommy cared about. There has to be a resolution to this. It's been shown by the story that the discs and Tommy's other obligations (L'manberg, his friendships) cannot coexist together for long without it driving a wedge between them.

Tubbo has been streaming more Among Us lobbies and modded Minecraft lately. When he comes onto the server, he nearly has nothing to do. He loves big project and building houses, but as of now, Tubbo has so little materials to even bother making a home and his largest project, the ocean monument, has been placed on the backburner while Sam builds the prison. Its almost....its almost like Tubbo is preparing his audience and for a period of time where he has no reason to be on the SMP. If he's imprisoned, that's not very good content to watch, is it? I also noticed that Dream pointedly did NOT tell Tubbo about the prison today, instead referred to it merely as a 'project.'

My biggest theory is that the prison is for Tubbo. Tubbo is complacent to Dream now, sure, but Tubbo is very, very smart, and- most importantly to Dream - he still has one of Tommy's discs. And Dream wants it.

When talking sweet to Tubbo no longer works, I think the prison will be the next best option. Its possible Dream will frame Tubbo for some crime (foreshadowed by how Quackity and George tried to frame Eret for Karl's murder), or someone will threaten to overthrow Tubbo and Dream will bring him to a 'secure location' to protect him. Tubbo is very nervous about losing his one life, as exhibited by the safe room under the L'mamberg podium, and other comments about his fear of becoming the next Ghostbur. Dream said that he would protect Tubbo if someone tried to overthrow him. The only threats to Tubbo's current presidency is El Rapids. Ranboo is willing to wait until the next election to become president, but Quackity has shown a strong willingness to do terrible things in order to get power. In Quackity's war against Eret and Dream, Dream made many, many references to Tubbo being a better leader, possibly sowing jealousy in Quackity's mind. Sapnap, George and Karl, as apart of El Rapids also have a bone to pick with L'manberg and may also play a part in further separating Quackity from L'manberg and fueling his desire to be the most powerful nation on the server. Absorbing New L'manberg could be the next step.

Dream could pretend to protect Tubbo by bringing him to a 'safe location', the prison, and getting Tubbo to willingly set his spawn inside. Once it comes to light that it's a prison, with Dream his captor, Tubbo will have to make a decision. Give Dream the disc in his enderchest, or stay imprisoned. Freedom, or the disc, a compromise that has been made time and time again on this server.

I think that Tubbo will hold out and allow himself to be imprisoned, while Tommy returns from exile to make a prison break, with the help of Sam. I doubt that will end well, knowing Dream.

I also think at some point, one of the boys will need to bend. Either Tubbo choses to give up his disc to Dream for freedom, or he decides to take the disc with him to his grave. Its basically the Exile decision all over again. Life/freedom, or the discs/war. Selfishness vs. selflessness.

The two boys are learning throughout this current arc to be more like the other. Throughout his Exile, Tommy will learn to be self sufficient and has had to make big sacrifices consistently as Dream blows up the progress he's made. He's learning to chose his own life over property. Meanwhile, Tubbo (although he's only streamed on the SMP once so far this week) has already shown regret for exiling Tommy, and inherently by choosing to launch a war campaign against Techno, he is learning to chose war and bravery over peace and cowardice. He will gain an appreciation for the disks and/or recognize with greater understanding what they mean to Tommy. Maybe he will learn to care deeply for his compass and learns how willing he is to wage war if the compass gets stolen. It's about the symbolism - its what the object means that is worth protecting.

I think Tubbo will die protecting the discs. Or, Tommy will tell Tubbo to give it up. This is a better ending, in which Tommy will learn that the discs represent is his friendships. And, according to Ranboo, they also represent power, according to Ranboo. But on the server, according to Wilbur (when he asks Tubbo to spy for him) people have always represented power.

To Tommy, in this arc, I hope he will learn that keeping the discs is not worth losing his best friend.

[morienmacbain]

Dokkodo (The final wisdom of Miyamoto Musashi, Sword Saint, rendered into hokku by Morien MacBain, esq.)

 1.    You must accept things / whether hard sun or hard rain / like a wayside stone.

   2.   Honey fills the comb, / but do not seek life's pleasures / only for themselves.

   3.   No partial feeling / is ever worthy of trust- / Taste the whole berry!

   4.  Take yourself lightly, / but think of the world deeply / while warm daylight lasts.

   5.  Long life’s finest cut / severs life from desire- / That is swordsmanship!

   6.  A dry river bed / is like regret for what's done- / Find another course.

   7.  Take what comes to you, / do not claw at rice- / Never be jealous!

   8.  Life separates us / like ever-parting seasons- / Truth is not sadness.

   9.  Complaint helps nothing ,/ and resentment even less- / Drop them by the path!

   10. Lust and love bloom sweet,/but make poor guides on the way-/ Walk with open eyes!

   11. At harvest table- / cut away all preference, / and taste what comes next.

   12. Find yourself at home / in palace or cold bear's den / with indifference.

   13. Eat the ripe fruit- / but do not pursue good food /  for its taste alone.

   14. Open your hands- / Let things you don't need fly off / like birds to new trees.

   15. Custom is a chain- / rivers flow rightly untaught; / find your own beliefs.

   16. Don't collect weapons / or practice their ways-/ beyond that which is useful.

   17. Do not fear your death- / This advice is the hardest, / but the sweetest fruit!

   18. Old age needs little- / Do not seek to store  riches / for some far gray day.

   19. Craft your own marvels; / respect Buddha and the gods- / Do not count on them.

   20. Abandon your life- / Give your body to be burned, /  but keep your honor.

   21. Only one last thing- / Walking alone in high grass / Don't stray from this Way!

       This is an adaptation of the twenty-one precepts of Miyamoto Mushashi's Dokkodo into haiku form.

     The Haiku (known during period times as Hokku) is a form (waka) of Japanese poetry.  Each is meant to consist of three phrases, totaling seventeen syllables (on or morae).  Usually divided in a 5-syllable, 7-syllable, 5-syllable pattern (although some period exceptions exist).  Most incorporate a kireji or "cutting word", and a kigo, a word that directly or by implication or tradition relates to a season of the year.

      Kireji are traditionally located at the end of one of the three phrases, and fulfill a role much like the caesura in western poetry, or to the volta in a classical sonnet.  It may briefly cut the stream of thought, provide closure, or provide linkage or parallelism between the adjoining phrases.

     Haiku began in the 14th Century as the first three-line section of a collaborative verse form known as Haikai no renga.  One person would compose the first three lines, and the other would link the final two lines of seven-syllables each.  This created a 31-syllable poem of five phrases structurally identical to a tanka. Because the first three lines set the tone and imagery, they took on the privileged position in the process of composition, and eventually the composition of such three-phrase groups became the dominant form on their own.

     Although modern Haiku written in English are usually composed in three lines, Japanese, hokku/haiku,  especially those written in period, were traditionally  presented as a single line, as I do here.

         Miyamoto Musashi (1584-1645), was a Japanese swordsman, strategist, philosopher, writer,, graphic artist, and ronin (masterless samurai).  He became renowned for his two-sword dueling style and his unparalleled record of success in 61 duels.  He is considered a Kensei (sword saint), and was the founder of Nito-Ichi-ryu swordsmanship.  He is best known for his masterpiece of strategy The Book of Five Rings (Go Rin No Sho), and his much more obscure Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone), which was composed during the last week of his life as a gift to his favorite disciple Terao Magonojo.  The principles of the Dokkodo express an ascetic and stoic way of life.

 The 21 precepts of the Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone) are:

1. Accept everything just the way it is.

2. Do not seek pleasure for its own sake.

3. Do not, under any circumstances, depend on a partial feeling.

4. Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.

5. Be detached from desire your whole life long.

6. Do not regret what you have done.

7. Never be jealous.

8. Never let yourself be saddened by a separation.

9. Resentment and complaint are appropriate neither for oneself nor others.

10. Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love.

11. In all things have no preferences.

12. Be indifferent to where you live.

13. Do not pursue the taste of good food.

14. Do not hold on to possessions you no longer need.

15. Do not act following customary beliefs.

16. Do not collect weapons or practice with weapons beyond what is useful.

17. Do not fear death.

18. Do not seek to possess either goods or fiefs for your old age.

19. Respect Buddha and the gods without counting on their help.

20. You may abandon your own body but you must preserve your honor.

21. Never stray from the way.

Bibliography:

           Musashi, Miyamoto (2018). Complete Musashi : The Definitive Translations of the Complete Writings of Miyamoto Musashi—Japan’s Greatest Samurai. Alexander Bennett. La Vergne: Tuttle Publishing. ISBN 978-1-4629-2027-3.

          Tokitsu, Kenji (2006). Miyamoto Musashi: His Life and Writings. Trans. Sherab Chodzin Kohn. Weatherhill. ISBN 978-0-8348-0567-5.

          Sato, Hiroaki. One Hundred Frogs: From Renga to Haiku to English, Weatherhill 1983, ISBN 0-8348-0176-0

          Shirane, Haruo (2004). Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600-1900. Columbia University Press. ISBN 978-0-231-10991-8.

  Dokkodo

(The final wisdom of Miyamoto Musashi, Sword Saint, rendered into haiku by Morien MacBain, esq.)

 1.    You must accept things / whether hard sun or hard rain / like a wayside stone.

   2.   Honey fills the comb, / but do not seek life's pleasures / only for themselves.

   3.   No partial feeling / is ever worthy of trust- / Taste the whole berry!

   4.  Take yourself lightly, / but think of the world deeply / while warm daylight lasts.

   5.  Long life’s finest cut / severs life from desire- / That is swordsmanship!

   6.  A dry river bed / is like regret for what's done- / Find another course.

   7.  Take what comes to you, / do not claw at rice- / Never be jealous!

   8.  Life separates us / like ever-parting seasons- / Truth is not sadness.

   9.  Complaint helps nothing ,/ and resentment even less- / Drop them by the path!

   10. Lust and love bloom sweet,/but make poor guides on the way-/ Walk with open eyes!

   11. At harvest table- / cut away all preference, / and taste what comes next.

   12. Find yourself at home / in palace or cold bear's den / with indifference.

   13. Eat the ripe fruit- / but do not pursue good food /  for its taste alone.

   14. Open your hands- / Let things you don't need fly off / like birds to new trees.

   15. Custom is a chain- / rivers flow rightly untaught; / find your own beliefs.

   16. Don't collect weapons / or practice their ways-/ beyond that which is useful.

   17. Do not fear your death- / This advice is the hardest, / but the sweetest fruit!

   18. Old age needs little- / Do not seek to store  riches / for some far gray day.

   19. Craft your own marvels; / respect Buddha and the gods- / Do not count on them.

   20. Abandon your life- / Give your body to be burned, /  but keep your honor.

   21. Only one last thing- / Walking alone in high grass / Don't stray from this Way!

       This is an adaptation of the twenty-one precepts of Miyamoto Mushashi's Dokkodo into haiku form.

     The Haiku (known during period times as Hokku) is a form (waka) of Japanese poetry.  Each is meant to consist of three phrases, totaling seventeen syllables (on or morae).  Usually divided in a 5-syllable, 7-syllable, 5-syllable pattern (although some period exceptions exist).  Most incorporate a kireji or "cutting word", and a kigo, a word that directly or by implication or tradition relates to a season of the year.

      Kireji are traditionally located at the end of one of the three phrases, and fulfill a role much like the caesura in western poetry, or to the volta in a classical sonnet.  It may briefly cut the stream of thought, provide closure, or provide linkage or parallelism between the adjoining phrases.

     Haiku began in the 14th Century as the first three-line section of a collaborative verse form known as Haikai no renga.  One person would compose the first three lines, and the other would link the final two lines of seven-syllables each.  This created a 31-syllable poem of five phrases structurally identical to a tanka. Because the first three lines set the tone and imagery, they took on the privileged position in the process of composition, and eventually the composition of such three-phrase groups became the dominant form on their own.

     Although modern Haiku written in English are usually composed in three lines, Japanese, hokku/haiku,  especially those written in period, were traditionally  presented as a single line, as I do here.

         Miyamoto Musashi (1584-1645), was a Japanese swordsman, strategist, philosopher, writer,, graphic artist, and ronin (masterless samurai).  He became renowned for his two-sword dueling style and his unparalleled record of success in 61 duels.  He is considered a Kensei (sword saint), and was the founder of Nito-Ichi-ryu swordsmanship.  He is best known for his masterpiece of strategy The Book of Five Rings (Go Rin No Sho), and his much more obscure Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone), which was composed during the last week of his life as a gift to his favorite disciple Terao Magonojo.  The principles of the Dokkodo express an ascetic and stoic way of life.

 The 21 precepts of the Dokkodo (The Way of Walking Alone) are:

1. Accept everything just the way it is.

2. Do not seek pleasure for its own sake.

3. Do not, under any circumstances, depend on a partial feeling.

4. Think lightly of yourself and deeply of the world.

5. Be detached from desire your whole life long.

6. Do not regret what you have done.

7. Never be jealous.

8. Never let yourself be saddened by a separation.

9. Resentment and complaint are appropriate neither for oneself nor others.

10. Do not let yourself be guided by the feeling of lust or love.

11. In all things have no preferences.

12. Be indifferent to where you live.

13. Do not pursue the taste of good food.

14. Do not hold on to possessions you no longer need.

15. Do not act following customary beliefs.

16. Do not collect weapons or practice with weapons beyond what is useful.

17. Do not fear death.

18. Do not seek to possess either goods or fiefs for your old age.

19. Respect Buddha and the gods without counting on their help.

20. You may abandon your own body but you must preserve your honor.

21. Never stray from the way.

Bibliography:

           Musashi, Miyamoto (2018). Complete Musashi : The Definitive Translations of the Complete Writings of Miyamoto Musashi—Japan’s Greatest Samurai. Alexander Bennett. La Vergne: Tuttle Publishing. ISBN 978-1-4629-2027-3.

          Tokitsu, Kenji (2006). Miyamoto Musashi: His Life and Writings. Trans. Sherab Chodzin Kohn. Weatherhill. ISBN 978-0-8348-0567-5.

          Sato, Hiroaki. One Hundred Frogs: From Renga to Haiku to English, Weatherhill 1983, ISBN 0-8348-0176-0

          Shirane, Haruo (2004). Early Modern Japanese Literature: An Anthology, 1600-1900. Columbia University Press. ISBN 978-0-231-10991-8.

[dearest-kibble]

yan kenma who has you locked up in his apartment- it’s been some time and you’ve given up escaping but you know he live-streams so you kind of start living small clues that you’re there in hope someone will figure it out? but instead of a viewer kenma finds out; and instead of stopping you he just decides to taunt you and play along to the point his viewers make it an inside joke- the emotional rollercoaster that would be? he wouldn’t have to punish you- the crushing despair is enough alone

This is so deliciously fucked up I love it,,, thank you anon, Kenma hits so different. I love him thank you so so so much. i am working on so much,,, thank you for being patient with all my uhhh lateness? this kinda became something a little different than the prompt but hopefully thats good?

Kenma Kozume x Fem reader

tw: Typical yandere-ness, humiliation? Sexism? Mentioned stalking, (If im missing anything please let me know my brain isn’t functioning rn)

You’re sitting on his lap, camera angled so that no one’s view is obstructed by your body, but so that all his views can clearly see you. You’ve been here so long, any hope of leaving, ironically, has left you. But, the thought crept slowly, surely, deeply into your brain and hasn’t left. You turn around on Kenma’s lap, straddling him and you’re sure the live chat is going a little crazy at the thought of Kodzuken having someone in his lap while he streams and he’s probably going to tell you to get off soon, but you’ve got the chat’s attention, and you are going to work with it. You tap Kenma’s cheeks, slight squish on them and you know he hates that it’s on camera all the same, you drum three fingers on his cheek, smiling at him for the camera as your fingertips meet his clammy skin. He doesn’t tell you to stop so across his cheek you swipe your thumb three times as tenderly as possible. As you stand from his lap, you pat his cheeks, three times delicately. You look into his eyes, still as calculating as when you met him, a deceptively warm amber with the tiniest hint of frustration (and somewhere inside, you know it’s probably with you but you can’t care.)

“I’m gonna sit on the couch, ‘kay?” You call softly, hoping you were subtle enough with your plea.

“Oh, okay,” And you think you’re free before he calls a “Wait! Come back for a little.” You’re even halfway to the couch before the words rope you back in. He beckons you to lean down, and whispers into your ear. “I noticed you trying to sign to get out. Morse code isn’t as subtle as you think, you might as well just ask them to get you out,” You chance a quick look towards chat.

“Was that morse code?”

“Holy shit! Yeah, I think that was SOS.”

“You think they actually need to get out or it’s one of those ‘my bfs terrible’ jokes?”

“You see the way they were straddling? Def not a hate my bf sorta thing.”

“See?” He’s still whispering into your ear, game forgotten in lieu of what might be called humiliation.  “They won’t believe you because you want to be here. Regardless of what you say, you would’ve left already if you didn’t.” He smiles at you and affectionately pats your head. Like he’d pet a cat. The idea is still in your mind, though perhaps a little shallower. You glance at the chat once more, someone is still talking about it, but Kenma pushes you away with a “I’ll get you when I’m done, okay?” You end your night on the couch with Kenma. He smiles at you and puts your legs on his lap.

The next livestream is two days after the last one. You have something planned once more, hopefully more effective.

“I’m playing minecraft today, I could set up your computer, and we could play together?” His small smile is back. And though a kind gesture, all you can think about is how easily you could make a point.

“Okay!” The earlier plan is immediately forgotten, and thoughts of what you could do in a game, fills your mind. “Will I have a mic?”

“No, I can’t have you telling them can I?” And it clicks, because of course he’d taunt you. But it’s like your brain grew claws that cannot lose their hold.

“Will I have a camera?” And you know the answer, but Kenma might still surprise you. You’ve already had one shock tonight, maybe you’ll get another.

“No. Sorry. You have chat though.” He pats your head again, ruffling your hair. “I’ve already got you set up, c’mon.” He tugs at your hand, pulling gently.

“Thanks Kenma.” He’s put another computer across from his desk on a much smaller table made for playing cards.

“You’re all set up.”

“Yeah.” He clicks the mouse a few times, waves at the camera to his right. “Can everybody hear me?” He waits a few seconds for chat’s response. “Chat is saying yes, so let’s get right in?” He smiles sheepishly to his camera.

“Hi everyone, I’ m Kodzuken and today we are,” He pauses to look at you with honeyed amber eyes. “Playing Minecraft with my partner.” He nods in your direction. You just open the minecraft tab, the only shortcut that seems to be on the computer.

“It’s a LAN server, click that, okay?” So you click it and say nothing. You start to go through the motions of chopping a tree, making sticks, making a crafting table. Kennma is narrating what he does, and you’re not even sure where he is in game until you're knocked back and turn your mouse to look at him.

“Yeah, I know - she should be relying on me.” He’s responding to something in chat, he’s gotta be. You type a quick,

“What’re they saying?”

“Oh, that my girlfriend shouldn’t be so independent, you rely on me - I'm your boyfriend.” Kenma says it so casually, so acerbically that you immediately take off sprinting from the forest in game.  

“She has these bouts - you saw them last stream - where she likes to try and ‘get away’.” Kenma laughs softly; little glockenspiel notes falling from his mouth. “It’s a really cute joke honestly! Anyway, I’ll put my minecraft bed next to hers later, right now...” You stop paying attention and start planning how you’d try to get your point across more clearly. You could make signs, say “Get me out!” Like Kenma suggested.

“Hey! He looks over the screen at you, piercing eyes staring right through you. “Don’t go off on your own, we’re staying together alright?”

“No.” He’ll have to deal with chatting, possibly hearing you by himself. And you continue through the coded forest. It goes pretty smoothly, though you’re sure Kenma is trying to find you, you’ve already created a mine for yourself, and made a little sign with instructions that reads: “Get me out!”

“Her voice is quite cute, isn’t it? I’ll get to hear it for the rest of my life.” He continues humming out yes’s and no’s to his audience that sit captivated in a land of blocks and pixels.

“Hey, I’m going to use the restroom, is it alright if my girlfriend takes over for me?” He stands, and waves you over into his chair that’s been made for gaming and padded with red accents. He watches you with his cat-like eyes as you sit down and pats your head. “I’ll be right back Kitty, behave.” And you hear his soft footsteps get farther away and the creak of the door twice before you finally look at chat.

Woa, Kudzu got lucky huh?

“Please,” You don’t sound nearly as someone might think you would. You’ve been here too long. “Get me out of here?”

Sure sweetheart, just come over to my place first.

“Just - get me away from him please!”

Girls are so whiny huh?

Hey man, its funny at least amiright?

“It’s not a joke -”

She’s really committed to this bit huh

Damn iim staartin to feel bad for ken

Me to :(

“I’ve been here for year and I don’t want to-”

Wow. what an ungrateful bitch.

Ikr? She’s got a bf and everything and she wants to get out?

“No- it’s not like that - he stalked me for months I-” And the familiar desperation you thought hoped beyond all hope that you had lost bleeds back into your voice all repression surfaces like the tide in your eyes.

Oh fuxxx we made her cry.

relax bet she’s just on her period or smth

“I am not!” A bubble of snot pops from your nose and mucus drips uncomfortably to your lips. “I just-”

What could you want that you don’t have.

“My house! My job! My friends!” And your voice breaks

She wants to go back to a job?

Crazy lady huh.

She wants friends when all she really needs is a man? smh.

“Kitten, what-”

“Leave me the fuck alone!” It’s an outburst that you’ll regret later, for one reason or another. But for now it’s a small comfort to speak your mind. With your voice wavering and congested, you choke out a “Let me go home.” Kenma’s eyebrows furrow but his eyes are still the calculating, cold amber they always are.

“Shh shh, it’s okay.” Instead of the quick pats he’s so fond of, he strokes your hair and massages the nape of your neck like he’s picking up a kitten who's gotten into a fight. “I’m going to cut the stream, okay?”

Who’d want to leave Ken, he’s cutting the stream short to help his gf.

…….yeah

I feel bad.

“You should. Please don’t make her cry.” A few clicks later and the stream cuts. “Do you want me to upload that one?” To get your message out? You’d do anything.

“Yes please…” Someone will have to see it. How miserable you are.

“Then it’ll go up, okay?” He pats your back twice, and he stands again to sit at the computer. Out of the blue he speaks again. “They’re right.” No no no no no. “I’m lucky, i’m so glad you're here with me and that you won’t leave.”

“I will get out!” The proof of your white hot anger is breaking the dam built in your throat.

“Where will you go? Your friends don’t know where you’ve gone, they won’t be happy with you coming back unannounced.”

“My parents-”

“You can rely on me, you don’t need anyone else.”

“But I-”

“Shhh kitty, you’re overreacting let’s get you to bed, you’ve had a stressful day.” And so he walks you back to the room you share that's covered in pictures, and he tucks you under the covers and dries your tears with a blanket. He whispers words to you, faint little nothings about games he’s going to play that you’ll enjoy watching and little bits of trivia about what “Kuroo” is up to. Eventually you fall asleep, with his hand in your hair and a chair pulled up close so he can stare. You both know it but no one will admit, some part of him will always enjoy how you lose hope so quickly.

--

once again! This should not’ve taken so long,,,, and it kinda deviates from request but! there we are! also,,,, you can’t tell me that like,,,,,,, kenma hasn’t been at least exposed to incels and or like,,,, really sexist guys he streams on twitch or youtube or something so- also thank you anon,,, i really like this one

[itsamejin]

it’s you || part 1 || taehyung angst/fluff || hanahaki au

Part 2

Summary: You’d rather live with thorns endlessly scratching the back of your throat than be devoid of the light that Taehyung brought into your life. Even if your love for him was slowly killing you, you didn’t mind as long as you could keep the warmth of his presence until the very end.

Warning: Mentions of throwing up, coughing up blood, death, some slight violence

Genre: Fluff, Angst, hanahaki!au, college!au, fuckboy!tae

Premise: Hanahaki Disease comes in different forms in this universe. The disease would eventually disappear if your love wasn’t that strong to begin with, but if you truly, deeply love someone, your flowers will rip at your throat. Throwing up flowers wasn’t a rare occurrence and for most people it disappeared after a few days. If Hanahaki persists, surgery is recommended, but it would severely dull the positive emotions of the person under surgery. Due to this, some choose to die with their unrequited love. 

Commission Request: @guksflavor

Word Count: 8,313 words

—

Taehyung was obnoxiously handsome, too handsome to be a normal guy majoring in Psychology at one’s local university. Often mistaken for a celebrity, frequently breaking girl’s hearts, Taehyung was known as the campus “flower boy”. 

It was never meant as a term of endearment. In fact, it offended Taehyung deeply when people would whisper about his private life as if he was incapable of hearing the slight jabs to his character. The nickname came from the notorious fact that Taehyung would cause several people to spit out flower petals from his mere presence alone.

It was the common case of “love at first sight”, a kind that never lasted very long after getting to know him. 

Of course, throwing up petals was the first sign of the feared Hanahaki Disease, but it was never that serious when it came to Taehyung. The flowers would stop after a day or two and the girls who convinced themselves that Taehyung would be their future husband soon realized that their feelings never reached below the surface. 

Their love was shallow, for no one really loved Taehyung outside of his good looks and he didn’t really mind. 

Why should he when he hasn’t fallen in love either?

That’s why he was thankful for you and the rest of his close friends who scoffed at his blatant attempts at flirting. He was grateful for you helping him study or telling creepy girls off when they got a little too close to him at parties. He liked that you rejected his advances and that you cared deeply for him despite his tendency to annoy you. He appreciated having a friend that just... wanted to be a friend.

So why were you in the campus restroom stall, for the fifth time that week, spilling your guts out into the toilet? Why were you grasping at the wall, holding onto it for dear life, as you stared at a striking bundle of yellow flowers coated in toilet water? Why did you cry at the sight of beautiful and fully bloomed daffodils?

You swallowed back the incoming wave of discomfort but it kept coming. All because you couldn’t help but have your heart flutter when he put a hand on your shoulder. Your mind swam in thoughts of him and you weren’t quite sure if you could go on like this. If you could continue to want someone when it only brought you pain.

Why were you in love with Kim Taehyung when that was the last thing he wanted from you?

—

“Want to see something cool?” Taehyung asked, sprawled on your living room floor next to you. It was one of those lazy days you had with him, the kind that was only meant to be enjoyed by friends.

“No.”

Taehyung gave you a dirty look but sat up anyways.

“I’ve been working on my flexibility lately,” he chided. “I can touch my toes for 30 seconds now.”

You closed your eyes and gave him a fake smile.

“Good for you,” you sighed. Sometimes Taehyung had too much energy that you couldn’t match up with. You liked to humor him on days like this when he got extra pouty.

“So you’re not even gonna look?” he said, feigning sadness. 

You rolled your eyes behind closed eyes and sat up to face him. You regret opening your eyes because his face was far too close to yours. You would have given him a flower shower right when your eyes locked.

“What was that?” he chuckled. “You looked like you saw a ghost or something. Am I that scary to look at?”

He squeezed your cheeks with both hands and you attempted to pull away from him, only to have him squeeze harder.

“Yes, you’re hideous,” you said through broke sentences. “A beast. You look like a half-eaten mango.”

Taehyung burst out in laughter and let go as he let himself collapse back on the floor. He was that confident in his looks to not mind your snide comments.

“That’s rich coming from you,” he cackled.

You glared at him and hit his stomach with your fist, earning a big ‘oof’ from the oversized child in front of you.

“Say one more word and I will never set you up on that date with my friend,” you threatened, hurt that you had to mention another girl for Taehyung to quit his laughing.

“I’m sorry my queen,” he said dramatically, pretending to kneel at your feet. “I have wronged you.”

You scoffed at his antics and pinched his ear as he wailed for you to stop.

“This is what you get for being stupid,” you said through his cries for help. You lifted his head up to your face and was met with a dazzling grin. Why did he have to smile like that towards you? Why did he lead you on in the most innocent way possible?

“You love when I’m stupid though,” he teased, attempting to tickle your sides.

‘I love you even when you’re not stupid,’ you yearned to say out loud, but the words never escaped your lips.

—

As the days passed it was getting harder and harder to speak. The thorns of some of the flowers made permanent etch marks in the back of your throat. You could muster yourself to sound normal on most days, but just earlier you had thrown up a dozen roses at a small social gathering and the embarrassment and pain had become unbearable. 

You wished there was an easy explanation for your pain, but any time you tried to voice your thoughts out loud, you felt suffocated.

Your friends had noticed pretty early on that you had Hanahaki, but like everyone else, they thought it would disappear just as quickly as it came. Taehyung probably would have noticed if it weren’t for him being so desensitized to the disease that he never even bat an eye when you’d excuse yourself from the bathroom every time you two hung out.

He was the naive type, the one that needed to have it spelled out to him when an explanation was due. Maybe that’s why your heart would hurt so much at the thought of telling him about your condition. It would probably break him if he knew.

“[Y/N], at this point in time it’s imperative that you get surgery,” your doctor said sternly, twisting around in his chair. “It’s not safe to continue on without treatment.”

When the three month grace period passed, it was strongly recommended for you to get the surgery before your vocal cords were damaged beyond repair. 

If you continued to suffer from Hanahaki, death would be awaiting any moment.

“I know,” you said softly. “I’m willing to take that risk.” 

You had your reasons for not wanting surgery. It’s not like you wanted to die, but getting the procedure came with its consequences. Emotions would not come easily and there would be an absence of love in your life... not just for the person you have feelings for, but for everyone around you. So here you were, six months in and losing your voice more and more as the days went by. You were aware of what awaited you next.

You would know. Your mom went through the same procedure.

“You’re very young,” your doctor started, sighing at your stubbornness. “I know that this is a difficult situation, but getting this surgery will save your life. I can’t force you to change your mind, but I want you to weigh your options.”

You nodded at him but tuned out his words as to not be convinced. You couldn’t bear to see Taehyung as just another face, no longer finding the meaning behind his smile, no longer seeing the beauty in his movements. You would rather die a painful death than let go of the love you had developed for a man who didn’t feel the same for you.

“I’ll let you know if I decide differently,” you replied with a whisper. He looked at you with a tinge of disappointment.

“I can’t prescribe a higher dosage of painkillers,” your doctor said solemnly. “Any more and that would be killing you just as much.”

You looked down onto your knees and felt tears stream down your face. Whatever you choose to do, it would end with you in heartbreak anyways. You figured this was the least painful option.

—

Taehyung was always the type to mess around and flirt without thinking. You could count time and time again of him getting kicked out of bars or clubs from talking to other guy’s girlfriends and leaving Jungkook and you to clean up the mess. 

The intense gaze his eyes would hold when he’d see someone he found attractive, the way he’d confidently saunter towards them without feeling nervous. You admired Taehyung because he was someone you could never be. So himself, so unafraid of what the world would think of him.

You took a shot of whiskey and swallowed harshly. Your throat was burning from the petals that had invaded it earlier in the day, but you needed to drown out your feelings of sorrow somehow. Taehyung had managed to sneak back into the club, now making his way onto the crowded dance floor looking for his next target.

“You feeling okay?” Jungkook asked, patting your back as you coughed a bit at the taste. Jungkook was your mutual best friend with Taehyung, the defining person that made you the Three Musketeers. He was your rock when times were tough.

“I feel like shit,” you sighed deeply, watching as Taehyung grabbed an unassuming girl by the hand and blew her a kiss. “It’s like the flowers get bigger each day.”

Jungkook knew about your disease. In fact, he was the number one supporter of you getting that life-changing surgery that would impair your emotions for Taehyung permanently. He wanted you to live more than anything, even if it meant costing you a semblance of your happiness.

“Why don’t you just confess to him?” Jungkook asked bitterly. “I mean it couldn’t hurt, right? You’re basically preparing to die at this point.”

You scoffed at his straightforwardness. He was obviously upset with your decision to refuse the surgery and he was showing it to you in a very Jungkook way by making petty comments in a shady club. 

He’d never gotten Hanahaki so he would never understand, you thought.

“If I told Tae, wouldn’t you think he’d hate me?” you asked genuinely, tilting your head up at Jungkook. He stared down at you and you could tell he was holding back... because you knew the right answer to the question was yes.  He’d have the same reaction as any other womanizer who couldn’t keep a relationship to save his life.

Taehyung would hate you if you loved him. 

“He’ll probably ignore you for a bit, but that’s him being stupid,” Jungkook sighed, patting you on the head to comfort you a bit. “I mean, he’d probably try and force himself into falling in love with you if you told him about your... situation.”

You pursed your lips. You could see Taehyung do exactly just that. That was his classic way of ghosting the girls he messed around with, but Taehyung would never commit to those same tactics with you. He considered you like family and he’d probably blame himself until the end of time if he were to find out.

“See what I mean?” you avoided eye contact with Jungkook as you felt your eyes tear up a bit. “It would be all fake. He’d hate me and then pretend to love me and then I’d die either way. It would hurt a hell of a lot more if I let that happen.”

Jungkook furrowed his brows and glared at you.

“There’s always the possibility that he does fall in love with you, y’know?”

You shook your head and fiddled with your fingers.

“Taehyung doesn’t fall in love,” you muttered softly. 

The two of you stayed silent, aware that the words you uttered were true. Even as he danced with beautiful women around him, you couldn’t help but keep your eyes solely on Taehyung. He would never let himself be so vulnerable as to fall in love with somebody, let alone a close friend like you.

So why did you let him worm into your heart so easily?

—

Six months ago...

“[Y/N], I’m asking you just this once,” Taehyung begged, puppy eyes activated. “I am begging you to give me her number.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. He always wanted to bother you when you worked your shift at the bookstore. Somehow, Taehyung still didn’t want to make himself useful by helping you put away books.

“Tae, we’re in the same class,” you sighed as you stacked up some magazines on top of each other and pushing a bunch of them into one of the higher shelves. “You could just ask her yourself.”

He whined and gave you that infamous pout known to make every girl on campus swoon. If it weren’t for your self-control you would have punched him right then and there for trying to act cute with you while at work.

“I can’t be too direct,” he replied with those pouty lips. “The other girl I'm trying to get with in that class will notice.”

You scrunched your nose. For someone who hated giving people Hanahaki, he couldn’t help but play around with girls as if it were a sport. He was practically an expert in making himself hated amongst his exs.

“You’re gonna regret being such a fuckboy one of these days,” you warned, but taking out your phone to pull up her number anyways. “Mark my words.”

He let out a cheer and hugged you from behind, squeezing you until the oxygen left your body. You tried to push him off of you, but he didn’t budge. It was better to just let him get his clinginess out of the way and then kick him in the shins later.

“I’ll treat you to dinner for this,” he said, grinning as you sent him her number through text message.

“Yeah, yeah,” you sighed. “Please let go of me I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

He laughed and kissed your cheek, a sound that resounded from the store so loudly that it made you wince.

“Love ya,” he smiled, rushing out of the store like a giddy teenage girl. You clenched your fists and touched the area he pecked. Somehow it made you angry at how excited he looked at the thought of another girl. 

What did they have that you didn’t? Did you not exist to him at all?

You clutched onto your stomach as you felt something rumble. You felt an uncomfortable itch in the back of your throat and asked your boss if you could be excused. You tried making it to the bathroom in the back of the bookstore but you stumbled on a pile of books before you could reach your destination. You were on your knees, clutching your stomach as you hurled the contents inside of your stomach onto the wooden floors.

‘I’m so getting fired for this,’ you thought, as you kept your eyes clenched. When you decided to open them, you weren’t met with the soupy substance of the pizza you ate earlier that day, but with an array of pink peonies scattered across the floor. You shook your head out of disbelief. 

No one throws up that many flowers on the first day of contracting Hanahaki. It was always one or two petals and it never came in full blooms of flowers. You had experienced this before with a boy back in middle school and it never turned out so... dangerously beautiful like this.

The sight in front of you was astonishing, the books stacked behind the scattered petals made for a picturesque view. Something about it didn’t sit quite right with you though, as if this signaled your demise.

You whisked through the flowers to see if anything abnormal was found in the flowers and there you saw it. Small specks of blood on the petals.

You realized then that you were screwed.

—

Present

The club continued to stay lively as Taehyung danced his heart out, simultaneously avoiding the bouncers that made their rounds around the club. He couldn’t risk getting kicked out again. 

While you enjoyed seeing how much fun he was having, it made you sick to your stomach at how up close and personal he was with other girls. It made your blood boil at how easily it was for Taehyung to be so enamored with someone he could meet just five seconds ago, but feel nothing for you when you’d been friends for much longer. You held onto Jungkook’s arm to keep you steady as you felt another vomit session come up. You were starting to get dizzy and it wasn’t from the alcohol.

“You look like you’re about to faint any second now,” Jungkook said, worry etched all over his face. “Do you need me to take you home?”

You just laughed softly and grabbed onto the table in front of you instead of Jungkook. You weren’t leaving tonight knowing that Taehyung was still having the time of his life in front of you, even if it hurt to even stand. You just needed to take your mind off of him, that’s all.

“Jungkook, if you just randomly got amnesia one day and forgot everyone around you, how would you feel?” you asked him, pouring another round of whiskey into your glass to ease the headache.

“What does this have to do with you fainting?” he grumbled, stealing your shot and gulping it down for yourself. You scoffed at his blatant attempt to keep you from drinking.

“Just answer the question,” you said, now eyeing a girl Taehyung had his body pressed against. She looked about ready to pounce on him any second.

“I don’t know, I’d probably feel like shit,” he shrugged, motioning for you to pour him another drink. You obliged.

“Well that’s how getting that fucking surgery would feel like,” you said rather aggressively as now the girl was taking Taehyung to the back of the club, where the restroom stalls were. You felt the familiar feeling of choking occur but you muscled through it.

“You’re overreacting,” Jungkook said, rolling his eyes. He didn’t drink the shot yet and instead handed it to you. He noticed Taehyung getting dragged to the restroom too and felt like you needed it, even if your hands were shaking as you grabbed it from his hands. You clenched your fist as you swallowed the cold liquid. It had flushed down the flowers temporarily.

“Not overreacting. I’ve seen it first-hand myself,” you said.

He looked at you, surprise written all over his face, but didn’t press any further. That’s why you appreciated Jungkook so much. He never overstepped his boundaries, unlike Taehyung who practically invaded your personal space each time you saw him. The two were so different from each other and you were so different from them. You wondered how the three of you even became friends.

“I don’t want to turn out like an empty shell for the rest of my life,” you continued, still holding the empty shot glass to your lips. “I’d rather die doing everything I wanted to rather than live a meaningless life.”

He glanced at you, slightly impressed by how stubborn you truly were. Nothing would get to you and no amount of pleading would make you change your mind. You weren’t going to get that surgery.

“So are you gonna make like a bucket list or what?” he asked, taking the whiskey and chugging it straight from the bottle. You looked at him in disgust as he detached himself from the liquor. It seems like both of you were drinking to forget.

“I should, shouldn’t I?” you smiled, finally setting the glass down as you saw Taehyung exit the bathroom looking disgusted. “Might as well since I’m gonna die anyway.”

You two laughed at the morbidity of it all. It wasn’t a funny situation to be in, but you had to make the most of it. Would this be the last time you go clubbing with Jungkook and Taehyung? Would your life end before it even really started?

“That girl puked hydrangeas on my fucking shoes,” Taehyung yelled, rushing to the two of you. “We gotta leave, I am not having her follow me around after this.”

Jungkook and you scoffed at his silliness. This was better, you thought. The atmosphere between Jungkook and you earlier was so grim. Typical Taehyung brightening up the mood wherever he went.

Even as the feeling of thorns pricked against your throat, you couldn’t shake off the smile that was on your face. For Taehyung had made you happy and you couldn’t imagine not feeling any emotion other than love as he looked at you with such sincerity.

You couldn’t bear the idea of Taehyung not having an effect on you.

—

“Please, Jungkook,” Taehyung cried, shaking him back and forth as all three of you stood in the university hallways waiting for the lecture hall to open. “Just give me the notes, I’ll give them back I promise.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue and tried to pull his backpack away from Taehyung who was furiously trying to make a grab at it.

“Fuck off dude, you should’ve studied when you had the chance,” Jungkook sighed, searching for some assistance from you. “It’s not my fault you got wasted at the club last night.”

Taehyung whined at Jungkook’s reluctance to help him out. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t cram any information that morning with that stupid hangover of his. Pretty soon, Taehyung was looking at you too, expectations written all over his face. You huffed out an annoyed breath and opened up your own bag.

“Tae, just use my notes,” you shook your head lightly, taking out the composition book tucked near the back of your bag. “Stop bothering Jungkook, he looks ready to start a fight with you any moment now.”

Taehyung’s eyes lit up in a way that made your heart stop, naturally gravitating towards your direction. He looked so pure and innocent in moments like these when he gets something he wants. You couldn’t help but feed off from his positive energy.

You handed him your notebook as he stared at it in awe.

“You are the only person who wants to see me succeed,” Taehyung said dramatically, kissing your notes as if it were the seventh wonder of the world. Jungkook scoffed and smacked Taehyung’s head.

“What are you gonna do without [Y/N] always covering you?” he rolled his eyes. Somehow his words stung a bit. 

You didn’t think Jungkook really knew the weight of his own words, but you were thinking deeply about it. What would Taehyung do without you being there for him all the time?

Taehyung shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter, [Y/N]’s gonna be my guardian angel forever,” he teased and put an arm around you. You clenched your jaw and looked down a the floor. You could not let yourself yack some damn petals in that hallway during exam season.

"Do you not feel sorry for her one bit?” Jungkook scoffed, clearly done with Taehyung’s childish antics.

“Why should I?” Taehyung asked innocently, nuzzling into your hair as he held you tight. Somehow his touch felt suffocating, even though his arm was lightly placed on your shoulders. 

“It’s not like she can live without me either,” he teased, booping your nose. 

Jungkook and you exchanged glances and both simultaneously pulled on his ears.

‘If only he knew,’ you thought to yourselves.

—

After the quiz that Taehyung most likely failed, he invited Jungkook and you over to his place to eat some ramen. 

“Sorry man, we actually have a life outside of you,” Jungkook said, declining his offer. “I’ve got extra shifts at work to cover anyways.”

You nodded at Jungkook’s excuse and proceeded with your own.

“I have some stuff to catch up on, so I can’t go,” you replied, trying to act nonchalantly. “Maybe next time, Tae?”

He shook his head at you two, feigning sadness.

“Both of you always act cold towards me, I’m starting to feel like this is a one-sided friendship,” he sighed, clenching his heart as if he was shot. It took everything in you to not step on his foot right then. He might not know about your condition, but the comments were unnecessary regardless if you had Hanahaki or not.

Jungkook and you simply stared at him and he awkwardly put his hand down when none of you showed a reaction.

“Fine, go do whatever,” he said, pompously. “I was gonna invite a girl over for dinner anyways.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes. 

“Alright, bro. Have fun or whatever,” he said, trying to shoo Taehyung away. “I’ll walk [Y/N] to her dorm, you just leave.”

Taehyung clicked his tongue at him, but eventually left, leaving you to be with Jungkook alone.

“He’s the worst,” you sighed, and to that Jungkook nodded in agreement.

“You’re still choosing to die for him, though,” Jungkook muttered under his breath. You flinched at his words, saddened by Jungkook’s word choice. If he put it like that then you sounded like a weirdo.  

An awkward silence fell between the two of you. You half-expected Taehyung to come back to you guys and interrupt your conversation to help lighten the mood, but he never came. Jungkook expected you to talk first since you were the one that asked to talk to him anyway, but it was clear his underhanded comment had made you uncomfortable.

“Why did you want to meet up with me anyway?” Jungkook asked, easing the tension just a bit.

You coughed awkwardly and looked up at him with a new sense of determination in your eyes that he hadn’t seen in a while. You seldom looked motivated these days.

“It’s about that bucket list thing you mentioned yesterday,” you started. “I want to do one of the things as soon as possible.”

He furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Why?”

You bit your bottom lip, not quite knowing how to phrase what you were about to say without making Jungkook upset. He’d probably nag at you like he usually does.

“I don’t have a lot of time left, Jungkook,” you said softly. “I just want to do as much as I can before I get stuck in a hospital bed.”

He stared down at you with sorrowful eyes. He wished there was some other way to help you, one that didn’t ultimately end in you dying.

“What do you need?” he asked kindly, surprisingly taking your words pretty well. 

You smiled up at him and pulled out a piece of paper from your bag. Jungkook took it from your hands and was met with small sketches of flowers that you had presumably drawn. He studied the designs carefully, confused. 

“Okay, how the hell am I supposed to know what this means?” he asked you, angling the paper in different ways to see if he was supposed to crack a code or something.

You shook your head in disappointment. You thought he’d get it by now, considering it was in his line of work.

“Tattoos,” you said simply. “I want a whole sleeve of flowers on my right arm and a bunch of small ones on like my thigh-”

“Stop stop stop,” Jungkook said, waving a hand in front of your face to shut you up. “You want a what now?”

You smiled brightly and spoke with more confidence.

“I want tattoos!”

He scoffed and handed back the paper to you.

“Are you only saying this because you’re gonna get discounted at the shop I work at?”

You shook your head rapidly, not amused by his assumptions.

“No, I’ve just always wanted them,” you said seriously. “I was always too scared with the needle but since I’ve got nothing to lose, I thought why not?”

Jungkook poked you with his index finger in the area between your eyebrows.

“You need to stop talking like that [Y/N],” he said seriously. “I hate when you get all negative.”

You smiled sadly at him.

“Give me the tattoos and I’ll stop talking,” you teased, but your words lacked genuine feeling.

Jungkook heaved out a sigh.

“Fine, but don’t come crying to me if you regret it,” he said, turning his back to you so he could make a call to his boss. Turns out he actually would be working that day.

—

The feeling of Jungkook’s needle on your skin didn’t hurt as much as you nearly thought it would, the pain only coming in dull waves. 

After throwing up flowers consistently for the past few months, nothing could quite match up to the pain of thorns poking at your throat at random times of the day. To you, this was child’s play.

“You’re taking this pretty well for a beginner,” Jungkook complimented, still focusing on the light curves of the forget-me-nots he was etching onto your skin. A whole array of flowers would be drawn on your arm eventually.

“I’m good with my emotions unlike some people,” you said, clearly referencing how agitated Jungkook had been recently. He seemed to lash out every little thing and even made snide comments when he thought no one was listening. Jungkook was definitely taking your situation harder than you were at this point. 

He only smiled at your words, not making any big movements as to not disrupt his work.

“I’m just shocked you’d want the stuff that’s gonna kill you to be on your body forever,” he replied back. Although he spoke too morbidly, he made a fair point.

“Well, the flowers mean more to me than just that,” you started, slightly wincing as Jungkook’s needled started drawing on a new patch of skin. 

Jungkook noticed your discomfort and tried to ease your mind.

“Tell me about that,” he asked, hoping you didn’t feel even more uncomfortable with the question. He anticipated your reply as you coughed awkwardly.

“I’m actually doing this for my mom,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact with him. “She had Hanahaki too and it didn’t turn out well.”

He took a step back to get a good look at your sleeve. He had been working at this tattoo for two hours now and he only seemed to finish just one small section. ‘This would take several sessions of hard work,’ he thought to himself.

“You never talk about your mom,” he pointed out, lightly dabbing the bleeding parts of your skin to avoid infection on your skin.

“My mom got the surgery,” you said slowly, suddenly feeling a sting as the needle hit your skin again. “She found out my dad cheated on her after throwing up flowers for a couple of nights.”

He stopped his movements for a bit, shocked with your revelation. He knew you were hiding something, but he never expected it to be this big. He looked up at you and regretted seeing your sad expression so up close. It seemed you were about ready to cry.

“It literally broke her,” you continued. “She didn’t find joy in anything anymore. Like, she was a completely different person.”

Jungkook stopped his wrists from moving and pulled back a bit. He didn’t know how to comfort you. It was always Taehyug’s forte when it came to emotional stuff. What was he even supposed to say?

“Did you tell her?” Jungkook gulped, his words were shaky. “About not wanting the surgery.”

It was then that you started to break down and it wasn’t from the pain of getting a tattoo. It was the look of complete and utter worry from Jungkook that set you off into a fit of tears. 

“Who is there to tell, Jungkook?” you whispered through the tears. “She’s dead.”

He looked at you in shock, not really registering your words. Obviously, your mother hadn’t died from Hanahaki, she already got the surgery. The reason, he knew, must’ve been much more sinister. He didn’t quite know how to approach you as you hiccuped through your tears. He patted your back in reassurance and repeated time and time again that it was okay, that Taehyung and him would be there for you.

“I’m sorry you had to see me like this,” you mumbled. “I’m a shitty friend.”

He shook his head and was about to reply when an unwelcomed guest came bursting through the tattoo parlor doors.

“Jungkooooook,” you heard a yodel, belonging only to a voice you two could recognize perfectly. 

Taehyung.

You made swift movements to wipe away the tears from your face and Jungkook pretended as if he was in deep focus on drawing something on your skin. Taehyung entered Jungkook’s station, unassuming and bright as ever. He held a plastic bag with takeout boxes in his hand, presumably food.

“[Y/N]? You’re here too?” he asked in confusion, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "Getting a tattoo?”

You nodded hesitantly and he gave an even more worrisome look.

“Can someone explain what’s going on?” he asked slowly, trying to decipher what was really happening.

Jungkook coughed awkwardly.

“I think I’m gonna check out the other clients for a second,” he said, standing up and setting down his tools. “I’ll be right back, [Y/N].”

You looked at Jungkook pleadingly to stay, but he shook his head. He did not want to get involved in whatever discussion was about to go. You sighed and brushed the strands of your hair that was getting on your face. You just hoped your red eyes from crying went unnoticed.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were getting a tattoo?” he asked sadly, sitting on the stool Jungkook once occupied. “Is this what you meant when you said you were ‘catching up on things’?” 

You pursed your lips, not quite knowing how to respond.

“It was a personal thing,” you whispered, massaging the back of your neck. You felt the flowers in your stomach once again.

“What, so you told Jungkook and not me?” Taehyung pouted, setting the food he brought on a nearby table. “I texted him if he was at work and he said yeah. I usually surprise him with Thai food. I didn’t think you were gonna be here too so I only bought enough for two.”

You smiled at him. Taehyung was still as considerate as ever.

He took a look at your tattoo, slightly confused with the realistic flower patterns. His fingers ghosted over them as if to make sure they were real.

“Why flowers?” he asked. He never thought of you as a flora type person. He’s probably never seen you hold a flower in his life.

“None of your business,” you scoffed trying to face away from him. You didn’t want him to see your flustered expression and the puffiness of your under-eyes. He pouted at your words and lack of eye contact.

“You’ve been so distant from me lately, [Y/N],” he said in a cutesy voice. “I feel like Jungkook and you have been hanging out with each other more than with me. I’m starting to feel really left out.”

You chuckled. You weren’t mad at him for barging in during your tattoo session, but you were frustrated with his naivety. There you were getting the most feared items on the world tattooed on your skin and he questioned very little of it? How dense was he really?

“We can hang out some other time, alright Tae?” you said, ruffling his hair lightly. “I just want this first session done and over with.”

He grinned up at you and squeezed your hand that was on his head.

“Then let me stay here to be your emotional support,” he teased, taking your hand into his. You nodded with a smile, but an uncomfortable feeling had erupted in your stomach.

“Will you excuse me for a second?” you asked urgently, pain laced in your voice. He nodded worriedly as he watched you rush off into the restroom. ‘You were having a lot of stomachaches lately,’ he thought to himself.

You covered your mouth with your palm as soon as you were out of Taehyung’s sight, making sure not to throw up anything on the tattoo parlor floor. Jungkook saw you escaping from his station and followed you into the unisex bathroom. He rushed over to you as you threw up into the toilet bowl, some excess flower petals hitting the floor instead. Tears welled up in your eyes as the flowers kept coming in several colors, all different sizes. They were all tulips, stained in blood and mucus, a truly disgusting sight to behold. 

Jungkook patted your back gently and tried to ease you through the pain. Your mouth ached as the last petal left your lips and you desperately grabbed onto Jungkook’s thigh as you coughed out blood. Your lips were horribly stained with a deep rouge.

“Water, please,” you pleaded with your strained voice in between coughing fits. 

Jungkook got you the water and while you tried to act like nothing happened when you came back to Taehyung who was playing Candy Crush on his phone, he couldn’t help but notice how raspy your voice had gotten since just a few moments earlier and how tired your eyes looked when you stared at him. 

“Are you sure you wanna keep on going?” Jungkook whispered to you. “We can have another session tomorrow. I think it’s probably best you go home.”

You shook your head.

“I just want to be with him a bit more,” you said softly, glad that the boy of your affection was so deeply engrossed in his mobile game. “I didn’t lose that much blood.

Taehyung, at the corner of his eye, couldn’t help but see a small pink petal on your shoe with tinges of red splattered on it. He saw the way Jungkook would ask you every 30 seconds if you were feeling okay when he was never the type to talk while he tattoed.

He wondered if it was any of his business to ask.

—

Throughout the next two weeks, Jungkook had finished the various tattoos you  wanted through grueling sessions with Taehyung bothering the two of you in the sidelines. Within those weeks, your health had massively deteriorated as well. The number of flowers you threw up increased by the day and the amount of blood that showed up was worrisome, to say the least. You knew your time was coming up, so it was only fair that you were to complete something you desired most before your eventual demise. 

Go on a proper date with Taehyung. 

Not like the one-on-one hangouts you had with him where you’d throw on whatever. No, you wanted to get dolled up and pretty this time, so you asked him if he wanted to go watch a movie with you and eat dinner after. You knew it wouldn’t change how Taehyung felt about you since he wouldn’t even consider your invitation as a date, but you still wanted to look your best regardless. 

You got ready hours before he intended to come over to pick you up. You lathered on several layers of lipstick, not really knowing what you were expecting to happen anyways. When you finally made your way outside, you were satisfied the starstruck look in Taehyung’s eyes

“Wow you dressed up today,” he chided as he saw you exit your dormitory. “You have someone to impress or what?”

He winked at you and you only scoffed in response. It was obvious that he was staring intently at the new tattoos you had embedded into your skin. It was nice seeing him look at you in a way that you weren’t used to... like he actually found you attractive.

“Please, I look good for myself,” you said confidently. “Can’t say the same for you considering you wore that shirt yesterday.”

He clicked his tongue in your direction.

“Whatever, whatever,” he said, waving his hand in front of him. “I get to have you all to myself today. No Jungkook in sight. I could rub this in his face later.”

You laughed at his silliness. If you wanted to delude yourself, you’d have thought Taehyung was jealous. He was so cute, with his hands stuffed in his pockets as he looked at you with a flushed face. You only had to tolerate the fluttering feeling in your stomach for a few hours or so, how bad could it be? You just needed to endure it until Tehyung left and you were free to throw up all the petals you needed to.

“Let’s go to the movies?” you offered and he smiled, agreeing with your suggestion.

It was nice like this, walking by his side without a care in the world. It made you sad to think that this too would be taken away from you. That you’ll never get to hear him babble about dates gone awry or see how his smile would get wider when he saw his favorite food again. It would all be taken away from you eventually, one way or another. You clenched your fist, attempting to focus on his voice rather than the nausea that had overtaken your body. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that you had to love him all alone.

“I don’t think I get to tell you enough how much I appreciate you,” Taehyung said, breaking the comfortable silence between you two. “You always look out for me even when you look like you aren’t.”

You smiled at his compliment.

“There’s no need for that,” you replied. “What kind of friend would I be if I just watched you suffer alone?”

You tried to swallow down the hypocrisy that came with your own words. He had no idea that you were lying through your teeth right then and there. You tensed at the sound of Taehyung chuckling at your comment.

“That’s what friends are for after all,” he said in agreement.

It happened almost suddenly. The first cough and then a second and then you couldn’t stop your knees from hitting the concrete of the city sidewalk.

“[Y/N],” Taehyung shouted, kneeling next to you on the crowded street. His voice was distorted among all the other sounds you were hearing. There were bells, whistles, the sound of an incoming storm. You started hyperventilating.

‘Not here, not here. Anywhere else but here,’ you screamed to yourself in your head.

You clenched your stomach and tried to hold back the impending contents that were soon to escape your lips. You shook your head as tears threatened to spill out of your eyes. You didn’t want Taehyung to see you like this.

“[Y/N], tell me what's wrong,” Taehyung pleaded. “I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong!”

You couldn’t help as the tears rolled down your face as the first petal left. And then another. By then, a crowd had formed around you two and someone was in the process of calling an ambulance. You couldn’t stop the bloody white roses that escaped your lips, slashing the inside of your throat as more of them came. All parts of your body ached, but your heart hurt the most. Taehyung’s face was in such distress and you were the reason for it.

You were the reason for his pain just as he was the reason for yours.

The last thing you heard before collapsing in his arms was Taehyung screaming your name, the blood mixed with lipstick on your mouth staining his shirt. He called for help and eventually, they did come. They came but it felt like he had already failed you somehow. Like he could’ve done more to protect you.

As the EMTs hauled you off into the ambulance truck, he took one last glance at the pile of flowers that stained the concrete.

It looked too similar to the flowers drawn near your shoulder.

—

Taehyung sat near your hospital bed, clenching his hands together and shutting his eyes to even out his breathing. ‘I’m a dumbass for not realizing earlier,’ he thought to himself.

The nurses had filled him in about your condition just a few moments earlier. He found out that you were six months into being diagnosed with Hanahaki and that you had no intention of getting surgery. It hurt his heart to think that you were suffering all alone, carrying the burden of a terminal illness all by yourself. He hated to think that the person you loved had no idea you were in such pain. Taehyung found himself hating the person you longed for, even if he didn’t know who that was.

He took a glance at your resting features.

You looked so pale in the dim hospital lights and the sound of your heart monitor made him apprehensive. You had Hanahaki and you never bothered to tell him? Was this another one of your secrets you were hiding from him lately? He sighed, burying his face into his palms.

"You don’t deserve this [Y/N],” he said solemnly, brushing away some strands of hair from your face. “Anyone would be lucky to have you be in love with them. That person doesn’t know what they’re missing out on.”

Taehyung went through a list of people in his head who could’ve been your possible unrequited love. It couldn’t be Namjoon, the guy that was helping you out all the time at the bookstore. You two barely talked. It wasn't Seokjin from lecture hall either, you said he wasn't your type. Was it Hoseok from the same department? Perhaps was it-?

He webbed his fingers through his hair out of frustration. Who could it possibly be?

Taehyung was disturbed from his thoughts from a slight knocking sound that continued on for a few seconds.

"Come in," he replied back cautiously.

To Taehyung’s surprise, Jungkook opened the door, a bouquet flowers in his hand as he walked through. Taehyung's body tensed at the sight of him. He had put two in two together and now he clenched his fists together, tightening his jaw.

It was him. It had to be him.

"I would've come earlier, but I wanted to get these for her when she wakes up," Jungkook said solemnly and set the flowers down near the hospital nightstand. "How's [Y/N] holding up?"

Taehyung stood up from the seat next to your bed, cracking his neck to the side to release some tension. He came close to Jungkook, glaring at him in a threatening stance. Taehyung grabbed at his collar.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing bring flowers to a patient with Hanahaki?"

Taehyung's voice didn't sound quite like he usually did. There was a growl akin to anger in the way he spoke. Jungkook pushed him off of him, confused as to why Taehyung was picking a fight with you when you were sleeping just a few meters away.

"It's just a nice gesture," Jungkook seethed. "Why are you being so fucking hostile when you didn't even know she had Hanahaki in the first place?"

Taehyung scoffed, shoving Jungkook by the chest.

"You knew?" he squinted his eyes at Jungkook. "You fucking knew and you didn't do anything about it?"

Jungkook took a look at your sleeping form. He was glad you weren't awake to be hearing this because he was ready to do something he'd regret. He didn’t mind getting kicked out of the hospital if it meant putting Taehyung in his place.

"Why should I do anything, huh?" Jungkook sighed. "I’ve been begging her to get the damn surgery. She won't fucking listen to me!"

Taehyung punched him right then. His wrists were bound to bruise by the impact of it all and Jungkook just stared at him in shock, clutching his cheek.

"It's your fault that she's dying," Taehyung started, tears welling up in his eyes. "You should have fucking tried harder to convince her. You could’ve stopped this."

Jungkook charged at him and pushed Taehyung against the wall. It was a miracle you hadn’t woken up from all the noise they were making. There was bound to be complaints from neighboring rooms for the ruckus the two boys were causing.

"Me?" Jungkook gritted his teeth, taking a good hard look at Taehyung. "You’re saying I'm the reason?"

Taehyung scoffed at his face and pushed him off.

"Who else then? Who else is fucking killing [Y/N]?!" Taehyung cried, his voice echoing in the hospital room.

Jungkook took a step back from him until he soon brought his fist back to hit Taehyung square in the jaw. He fell onto the floor and cringed at the pain.

“I know it’s not my business to say anything,” he mumbled, but loud enough for Taehyung to hear him. “And that it’s between [Y/N] and you but I’m really fucking sick and tired of seeing her break down over someone as incompetent and stupid as-”

“Can you just spit it out already, you piece of shit-”

Jungkook threw another punch at Taehyung when he made his way to stand. He had collapsed on the floor again, trying to readjust his jaw. Jungkook’s hand was bleeding at that point, but he didn’t care one bit. Taehyung deserved everything that was coming to him.

“It’s you,” Jungkook seethed. “You’re the reason why she’s fucking dying!”

Taehyung stared up at him in a state of shock as your body had started to wake up into consciousness. The two boys stared at each other, dripping in anger.

“What did you say?”

—

A/N: Another Taehyung fic up my sleeve! Sorry to leave it on a cliffhanger like that :P The second part will be a lot more intense. Special thanks to @guksflavor for commissioning this and also buying 2 coffees for me, I really appreciate it. It was a whole lot of fun writing this first part and I hope you guys enjoyed it. It’s my first time writing about Hanahaki Disease, so I wanted my interpretation to be slightly unique. I’m so glad I got a request like this from the get-go, since I love these kind of angsty stories. If y’all want to commission for stories or simply donate, my Kofi is linked on my blog. If not, that’s totally fine, I’m thankful for your support either way.

PS. Trash part two comes out at the end of this week, please anticipate it a lot!

[robotslenderman]

Headcanon on Nosferatu and Toreador.

So I've been coming up with a LOT of Nosferatu headcanon for Wendyfic, and here's one.

Basically we've seen examples of Toreador who are fixated on beauty that isn't aesthetic. Thomas Arturo, for example, is entranced by something that's more of a concept -- the relationships between people where one has power over the other. Qadir is also not a typical Toreador at all and if you squint, his baseball hobby might be seen as his manifestation of the Toreador fixation trait -- that he sees beauty in the game so it's not just a hobby for him.

From this point, this is all headcanon:

Every now and then a Toreador is Embraced that gets a fixation on a clan, tries to immerse themselves entirely in it with the goal of eventually passing as a member of that clan. (I have an AU where Lettow Kaminsky is actually Toreador, and that this is how he came to be a "Gangrel.") Some Toreador have this as a passing "phase", but there are Toreador that exist that are basically permanently drawn to this clan and want to be a member of that clan.

And every once in a blue moon, you get one that wants to be a Nosferatu.

(Obligatory disclaimer: Abuse is Bad and Wrong, and water is wet. Please don't mistake this for being symbolic of genderstuff, this is a completely different phenomenon and is restricted to Toreador entirely.)

Toreador have a biological revulsion in regards to Nosferatu. It's not them being snobby elitists, it's an actual biological thing. It can only be "overcome" by a Toreador finding something beautiful within the Nosferatu instinctively (ie maybe Qadir has a fucking baseball game with Calebros, I don't know!), but because they can't stand to be around Nosferatu this happens rarely.

Needless to say, Toreador that see the entire clan as beautiful have... a big problem. Not because they have to deal with that instinctive revulsion -- actually, that revulsion doesn't exist at all in them because they see the entire Nosferatu aesthetic and way of life as beautiful in itself.

But because, you know, Nosferatu fucking hate Toreador as a rule as a reaction towards this revulsion.

A Toreador that wants to become Nosferatu will, sooner or later, be drawn to their local Warren. And they'll try to join it.

To say the Nosferatu take this badly is an understatement. For one, every now and then a Toreador goes through this phase and your average Nossie can't tell whether this Toreador is going through a phase or was born this way. For two... they fucking hate Toreador.

The Toreador isn't driven out of the Warren, though, they're just... treated like shit. They'll dangle the possibility of joining the clan to the Toreador, but the Toreador has to never go topside again. They have to stay underground or in the Warren, subsisting on rats the whole time. And in the meantime -- well, the Warren sees this interloper and can't fucking stand it, like a hive of bees.

The Toreador is subjected to a brutal hazing. Not physical torture, or anything -- just basically the treatment you get when you're stuck with a bunch of people who can't fucking stand you and think you're doing this for your own personal amusement, like being Nosferatu is fun. Like being Nosferatu is just an aesthetic and not an entire way of life.

A lot of Toreador are driven away in the process. Some of them were even sincere, but couldn't take it. The Warren doesn't care. That was the point.

But if you stick it out...

One night it's like a switch flips. And suddenly, the Toreador is One Of Them. They'll hook the Toreador up with an Antitribu who can get the Toreador in touch with a Tzimisce to change their body completely to look Nosferatu. They'll get chosen by a sire, and the sire will have the Toreador take one drink from their veins -- like a childe drinks from the sire during the Embrace -- and teach them the Nosferatu Disciplines.

The Toreador is no longer Toreador. The Toreador is completely reborn as Nosferatu, and starts the customary journey of fifteen years with their sire. The Nosferatu will collectively forget that the new member was ever Toreador, and will treat this new Nosferatu as one of their own, 100%. There is no stigma tied to Nossies who were once Toreador. They will even be permitted to embrace childer like any other Nosferatu on the same merits (although such childer will always be Toreador, and therefore have the same biological repulsion to Nosferatu as most Toreador do -- many of these childer either end up destroyed or run away from the Warren, driven out by a biological "NOPE").

It's not that the Nossie's past as a Toreador is treated as a secret, it's just treated as if they were never Toreador. So Nossies won't go around telling people you were once Toreador. It might very rarely come up, but it's seen as baffling as walking up to someone and telling them you're not Belgian, or something. Like... they're not Toreador, why bring that up?

Some Nossies are deeply uncomfortable with the hazing (indeed, having a few members of the Warren compassionate towards you and defend you is a vital part of making it through the hazing). But it's also quite symbolic. The Nosferatu Embrace takes three nights and is excruciatingly painful, so the first act of a Nosferatu sire is to abuse their childe. The hazing is seen as its parallel -- its own Embrace, with all the pain that ensues. To become Nosferatu is to be reborn through pain, and there are no exceptions.

The customary period for Toreador hazing is three months, and then induction. It would be three nights like the traditional Embrace, but it's impossible to differentiate between a "poser" and a sincere Toreador in that time, so it's extended to three months. This has the unfortunate effect of driving away many who are truly sincere, but since those Toreador often come back eventually because they can't let it go, three failures to endure the hazing is seen as the same as three months having lived through it so long as each attempt was clearly sincere, so the third time the Toreador leaves they are often tracked down and welcomed back home. (Again, not something Nosferatu let get out -- they don't want "posers" taking advantage of this.)

Because of the brutal hazing, it's exceptionally rare that a Toreador regrets being induced into the clan because the pain of the hazing wasn't nearly as bad as the pain of not being a Nosferatu with their Warren. Before the hazing came along it often ended, uh... very badly. Even the Nosferatu who hate the hazing tend to admit that it's a necessary part of the induction, and if a Toreador somehow gets a good relationship with a Warren before going through this they will actually be sent to another Warren to avoid accidentally inducing someone who might have otherwise been turned off once they realised it wasn't a game.

If a Toreador is regarded fondly enough by a Warren and fails or changes their mind in another, they usually have a good enough relationship that the first Warren doesn't think less of them for not following through. Nosferatu generally respect a truthful and honest "I thought I wanted to be one of you, but I was wrong" more than one might think.

(ETA: Again, this is not commentary on genderstuff. This is me thinking “What if a Toreador became so enamoured with the aesthetic of the Nosferatu that they couldn’t live without it? How would a Nosferatu Warren react to that?” Answer: really badly, until they realise the Toreador means it and then hey, new clanmate!

But then I wrote it out and reread it and I was like “oh god people are going to think this is Gender Commentary. FML”

Pls do NOT think I am advocating treating people who question their gender identity as shit unless they’re “really” trans like... no that’s bullshit, fuck that noise.)

[whatwouldmindykdo]

I wrote a little something about coming to terms with my sexuality and thought I’d share it here...

For as long as I can remember I’ve dreamt of my wedding day. As soon as I was able to comprehend the concept of wedding and marriage it became my only goal, my ultimate achievement: I wanted, I needed to get married. This would make me successful and prove my worthiness. I would be happy forever. And so, for years, I’d spend hours imagining the magical day: the dress, of course, and its designer, the venue, the guests, the music, the menu, the bridal party, the decor. And of course, the groom. Because it was always a groom. However, I would find it extremely difficult to imagine him. I could think of qualities I would look for in a partner, but that was it. Looking back now, I think that, more than any of these things, what I dreamt of was being loved and being in love. I was just hoping to find the kind of unconditional love I grew up surrounded by. Not a person but a feeling. An ideal. 

I grew up in what you would probably call a liberal family. My parents are very open-minded, left-wing voters and I grew up having political debates at the dinner table. But it was always about tolerance. Every love is love, they would say. Everyone deserves to be happy, they would say.

This, however, was not true for them growing up. Both my parents grew up in working class families and worked their way into the middle class. As liberal as my parents are, their own parents were rather conservative in thought. 

My father’s parents had grown up on farms. Their own parents, my great-grandparents, lived a life I cannot even begin to comprehend. After the Second World War, as life was changing everywhere, and especially in the countryside, my grandparents left for the city (well, a city, not THE city) to work in factories. They were deeply religious and my father was raised a Catholic. However, he also enjoyed great freedom. He was free to come and go, almost as he wished, to play with his brother and friends. He was free not to work in school, drop out after middle school and go on to work with his father. Which he did, for a while, until he realized he didn’t want to do that his entire life. In other words, he was free to fail, and try again. Would it had been the same thing had he been a girl? We will never know, as he was one of two boys. 

My mother, on the other hand, was not. Her grandparents had been mining workers, as almost everyone in the area. Her own parents had been saved from this life, and pushed to look for work in other industries. They had married young and my mother was the eldest of two. Her parents were heavily involved in political and union movements, pushing for workers’ rights. This gave her an awareness of the political situation and an ideal of what is achievable when you work for it. My mother, however, is also a woman. And as such, her parents expected her to behave a certain way. 

She was expected to be the perfect little girl. Calm, pretty, smiling. Not to take too much space. Do well in school. Be polite. And so my mother tried her best to be this ideal girl. She excelled in school, practiced many sports, and took it upon herself to keep the family together and happy. She eventually went on to work and had to move out to another city, but always close to family as she was sharing an apartment with her aunt. When she found another job closer to her parents, she moved back home. Eventually, she met my father. They dated for a couple of years, but moving in together was unfathomable. Not before marriage. And that’s how my parents ended up married without having ever lived together, something I honestly find quite hard to imagine. Her brother, on the other hand, lived a life closer to my dad’s. He could not roam the streets or drop out of school but he did leave high school without graduating, moving out to work away and never looked back. He introduced many girlfriends to his parents before eventually having a child and getting married, in that order. 

My parents would probably tell you that they raised me and my brother the same way. That not more was expected of me. That I could do the exact same thing he did. And to some extent that is true. We were both expected to excel in school. To be polite and respectful. We were both told we could dream of being whoever we wanted to be. But what had been instilled to my mother was also, somehow, perhaps more sneakily, taught to me. I also had to be the perfect little girl, no excuses. The one that doesn’t move. The one that doesn’t scream or make a scene. The one that helps at home. As Michelle Cliff says in Notes on Speechlessness, ‘I am reminded that a great compliment of my childhood was: ‘she’s such a quiet girl’’.

Instead of rebelling against this system I made it mine: it was my way of taking up space. My way of being remarkable. I was expected to excel at school: I was top of the class. I was expected to be calm and discreet: I would literally never speak. Even today it takes a lot for me to be able to do things I know my parents disapprove. Because I have built myself through others’ approval, and then who am I once they don’t approve? 

What does that have to do with being a lesbian, you may wonder. See, I knew about lesbians. I knew about gays. It was not entirely unknown to me. I saw them on the news, we talked about them at home. But no one in my family was gay, lesbian or part of the LGBTQI+ community, at least not openly. That was not what we did. As much as my family rebelled against capitalistic society, we were expected to conform in certain areas, and this was one. We, as a family, are heterosexuals. And so I unconsciously associated being a good girl to being heterosexual. 

I don’t remember the first time I heard of the LGBTQI+ community, nor do I remember the first time I had a crush on a girl. I am quite sure she was my primary school best friend. I very clearly remember wondering whether I was in love with her or whether that was just how you felt for your best friend (hint: I kinda knew the answer). And so, little me moved on with life. Eventually the feeling wore out, and there was a very intense and dramatic fall out. But that was it, no more questions about my sexuality. Not until I was well into my teenage years, at least. When I made it to university I had began what I would call my transformative journey, learning extensively about feminism, inclusivity and human rights. I was passionate about these subjects and wanted to learn more, and more. I surrounded myself with people who were open-minded, teaching me about these very topics, and, for some of them, part of the LGBTQI+ community. At about this time I began identifying as pansexual or bisexual. I have never been really sure about this. There was no major coming out though. I just stated here and there that I thought love was about a person and their soul, not their gender. Even though I was identifying as pansexual / bisexual, the doubt never really left. I felt ill-at-ease with the identification. Maybe I’m not into labels, I’d think. Maybe. 

Deep down, I knew. I think I’d always known. I would get major crushes on women in films and TV shows. Maybe that’s just identification. I could hardly imagine being in a relationship with a man. Maybe I just haven’t met THE one. I would feel uncomfortable whenever a man flirted with me. Maybe I’m just not into him. 

I just couldn’t imagine being a lesbian. And that’s not to say that I could fathom the very existence of lesbians. I knew they existed, I had a friend as they say. I truly believed that all love is love. What I couldn’t accept was that I was a lesbian. How could I not like men? Good girls like men. Good girls are straight. Good girls get married TO A MAN, and have children WITH A MAN. No way. I must be pansexual. Or bisexual. Not lesbian. 

Funnily enough, the pandemic was a big transitional time for me. I was able to truly connect with myself. Away from the world and the mundanities of everyday life, focusing on what really matters for the first time, I came to a realization. I do not like men. I do not find pleasure in imagining a relationship with a man. This realization was validated by experience. I signed up on a dating app (what??? I know, don’t judge). My immediate reaction was to set up my preferences to women  only (that should have been another hint right?!). However, almost immediately I changed those preferences to everyone (men and women). Why? Because, I thought, by excluding men I might miss out on the one (he’s always somewhere). What if I miss on the opportunity of happily ever after because I renounce to dating half of humanity? And oh boy did I regret that. I was instantly contacted by half the male population of my surroundings (the joys of being on a dating app) and it really felt like it was not for me. I was feeling miserable rather than happy, anxious rather than excited. I switched back to women only and I have felt safer and more myself ever since. 

I guess you could say that I have been feeling rather at peace with who I am. I have come out to a few (selected) friends, in the least dramatic way possible (well, they also are the least dramatic women I know). There remains the question, however, of coming out to family. Because although I have come to term with being a lesbian, I am still scared AF when it comes to coming out to my family and the main reason is: what if I am not lesbian after all (eye roll emoji)? The real reason, though, is that I know that as open-minded as my parents are, a coming out also means a period of adaptation, of understanding what it means exactly. And for someone like me who hates both confrontation and disappointing this feels like a big deal. Selfishly, I wish someone had been there before in my family. That I would not be the first. The trailblazer. The odd one out. The lesbian aunt. But then, I think of my little cousins. And how I could be that person for them. If I allow myself past the fear. 

Thing is, I also truly believe that I will not be able to be fully happy until I come out. I will not be truly happy until I can be who I am fully, knowing that the people who accept it are the ones who love me, for real. But what if that means losing my grandfather? What if it means that people will literally never stop talking about it? 

As much as I have talked about the hardships of coming out and coming to terms with my sexuality, I will also mention that coming to terms with this reality has been a huge relief. It has opened me to a world where love and inclusion are legion. A world where you are accepted for who you truly are. It has given me role models, values and a political awareness that I probably would not have had otherwise. In other words, being lesbian is a blessing because it is who I am, fully. And when I get to be this person, I can finally start to breathe. I can finally start to live. 

My problem lies with mainstream culture and the way it portrays lesbian relationships. I have grown up with the ability of seeing gay couples loving each other, hating each other, flirting, breaking up. Mainstream media and popular culture have very much romanticized gay relationships. What of lesbian relationships then? The reality is completely different. And how could it not be when Instagram still censored the ‘lesbians’ hashtag two weeks ago? When we only have The L Word as a reference? Where on TV and in films have lesbians been given the space and time to actually develop a relationship except in that show? And I’m not even talking about the perfect, happy relationship. Just any relationship. More than 3 minutes of screen time. You’ll have to agree that this is rather recent. 

How different would my life have been if I had seen lesbian couples on TV? How different would my life have been if people had not shied away from lesbian relationships? It is time for pop culture to be inclusive of our people. Little girls need this representation. They need to know that this kind of love exists, is normal, and brings fulfillment. I wish this had been my reality so that I wouldn’t have been mad when Casey from Atypical dumps her boyfriend to explore her relationship with Izzie. Because then perhaps I wouldn’t have been mad at her for doing that. I wouldn’t have been mad at Izzie for being honest. Because that is how deeply rooted my fear of being a lesbian was: I was mad at these two women for having the courage to explore their feelings and be true to themselves, when Casey could have had the perfect ending with Evan. And that is not ok. I need to let go of the idea that the perfect life means being in a heterosexual relationship. Because I know that this is not for me. This will not bring me fulfillment. 

[autistic-girl-academic]

Hypmic OC Crew: Freestyle Angels

so I’ve seen a lot of people posting their Hypmic OCs lately, and that made me want to buckle down and finalize the details for mine!

An all-female team based out of Tokyo’s Minato Ward, the Freestyle Angels are technically an independent crew - they got together to drive out crews who were abusing their claims to the territory, but aren’t interested in winning more territory themselves. (Not that they’d qualify for the DRBs anyway, of course.) Rather, they serve as a foil/rival team to the Chuohku trio.

Sumire Kuino, AKA Queen of Street

“Alone we can do so little; together we can do so much” - Helen Keller

Occupation: Humanitarian aid organizer

Birthday: October 7th

Age: 30

Zodiac: Libra

Height: 6′0″

Weight: 165 lbs

Blood type: AB

Likes: Bargains, fixing things, dogs, birdwatching

Dislikes: Wastefulness, unpaid debts, technology, selfish people

Favorite food: Chazuke

Least favorite food: Fugu

The daughter of a corrupt businessman and his mistress. Her father was an associate of Sairo Tohoten, who helped him flee the country when he got in trouble with the authorities, leaving a young Sumire and her mother behind. Sumire’s mother, only viewing her as another mouth to feed, likewise abandoned her daughter once she’d found a new lover. Frightened at the possibility of ending up in an orphanage, Sumire struggled to fend for herself on the streets until she was taken under the wing of an older homeless man named Takayoshi. He would go on to raise Sumire as his own, with her quickly coming to call him ‘Grandpa’ and taking on his family name. Over the years, Sumire became increasingly protective of him in turn, and he and his circle of friends would jokingly call her ‘queen’ for her assertive, take-charge nature; Sumire was always exasperated by the nickname, but grudgingly grew to accept it.

Takayoshi was the sort of person who was always willing to lend a hand and always kept an eye out for those who needed it, and Sumire followed his example. After he passed away, she became a guardian for anyone with nowhere to go, spending her days building shelters, distributing food, and standing up to whoever threatened the people that depended on her. She had fleeting hopes that the Party of Words would remedy some of the ills plaguing society, but found that little changed once the H Age began. Before the formation of the Dirty Dawg, Minato Ward went through a tumultuous period where it rapidly changed hands between many crews who abused their power. Sumire stole a set of Hypnosis Mics off of one such group and began using it to defend the defenseless, forming a duo with Ageha Hinokuchi called the Rough Diamonds, then a trio once they met Kaori Sakuragi.

Her microphone takes the shape of a street sign, while her speakers are a graffiti-covered castle made from debris. Her ability, Bulwark, decreases the damage done to her allies, albeit at the cost of taking it herself. Her personal rapping style is based off of Hime.

Personality-wise, Sumire’s an incredibly caring person under an intimidating exterior; her default stone-faced expression rarely changes and she speaks very bluntly. She won’t really judge or try to control the choices of those she helps, but if she needs to put her foot down for someone’s own good, her naturally commanding presence makes it hard to not do what she says. She’s a quick learner who can fix up just about anything she puts her hands on (with the exception of hi-tech gadgets) and a highly efficient penny-pincher; show her something with a high price tag and get ready to hear a thorough breakdown of just how many groceries it could buy. Her biggest flaw is that she doesn’t always take care of herself as well as she does others, requiring her teammates to step in and force her to take the occasional break.

She deeply respects Jakurai’s work, but finds Hifumi too flashy for her tastes. She’s also helped Dice a few times in the past, but he finds her kind of terrifying and tries to avoid her. The one person who can immediately make her lose her composure is Rei; plenty of his victims have ended up on the streets, and one of them even committed suicide despite Sumire’s attempts to save them. Unless her teammates stop her, she’ll attack him on sight.

Ageha Hinokuchi, AKA HI-FLYA

“Once freedom lights its beacon in man’s heart, the gods are powerless against him” - Jean-Paul Sartre

Occupation: Fitness & self-defense instructor

Birthday: May 6th

Age: 28

Zodiac: Taurus

Height: 5′6″

Weight: 138 lbs

Blood type: B

Likes: Pro wrestling, action movies, dancing, the beach

Dislikes: Muscle cramps, energy drinks, smoking, conformity

Favorite food: Barbecue

Least favorite food: Sea cucumber

A former member of the Party of Words. As a child, she lost her parents to an armed robbery, leading her to support Otome’s goals of eliminating conventional weapons from Japan. However, she increasingly found herself unable to turn a blind eye to the ways in which the Party manipulated innocent people. Once she learned about the True Hypnosis Microphone, she attempted to sabotage the facility where they were produced, but was discovered. In the fight that followed, a fire broke out; she fell from a great height into the flames and was presumed dead by the Party members who had been trying to apprehend her. However, a friend of hers in the group discovered that she’d survived and smuggled her to safety. After recovering from her wounds, she took on a new name and face, leaving her old identity behind to become Ageha Hinokuchi.

Her goal of stopping the Party of Words remained unchanged, and for a while she was constantly on the move, collecting evidence of their crimes and trying to come up with a way to stand against them. In Minato Ward, she happened to cross paths with Sumire Kuino, who had stolen a set of Hypnosis Microphones and was using them to defend people in need. Though initially reluctant to use one herself, she was forced to when Sumire was outnumbered and lured into a trap. Sumire, who was a firm believer in always repaying what she owed, asked what she could do in exchange for Ageha saving her life. This sparked a deep bond that eventually led to Ageha divulging her past to Sumire, and they formed a duo known as the Rough Diamonds. They later met Kaori Sakuragi and rechristened themselves the Freestyle Angels (incidentally, Ageha came up with both names, the latter because she was a fan of Charlie’s Angels).

Her microphone takes the shape of a portable music player held on an armband and a pair of headphones with butterfly wings on them, while her speaker is a four-sided boxing scoreboard. Her ability, Reverb, allows her to hit her opponent twice in one go, although the second hit isn’t as strong. Her personal style is inspired by Akkogorilla.

In contrast to Sumire, Ageha is fun-loving, always wears a smile, and is overflowing with energy; this is largely due to regretting how she previously lived, as someone blindly obedient who didn’t fully appreciate the joys of life. She can quickly befriend just about anyone and is a bit of a flirt, but only to tease. All of this belies a keen observational eye, though, and she’ll play up being an airhead to make others underestimate her. She knows a wide variety of martial arts, with kickboxing and aikido being her specialties. Because she currently lives and works in Roppongi, she’s also good with foreign languages.

Ageha is a big fan of Sasara’s comedy routines. She's suspicious of Ramuda because she knows he was involved with Chuokhu, but isn’t fully aware of his nature as a clone. Likewise, she detests Rei for having worked on the True Hypnosis Mic, but is much better at hiding it than Sumire.

Kaori Sakuragi, AKA wallflower

“Be not another, if you can be yourself” - Paracelsus

Occupation: Self-employed craftsperson

Birthday: December 5th

Age: 20

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Height: 5′3″

Weight: 116 lbs

Blood type: A

Likes: Homemade things, aromatherapy, reading, gardening

Dislikes: Cameras, busy places, the dentist, controlling people

Favorite food: Croquettes

Least favorite food: Beef tongue

Child-star-turned-idol, lead singer of the wildly popular group ‘Cutie Blooms’, Kaori seemingly vanished off the face of the earth one day. In truth, years of constant media presence, overwork, and pressure to please her demanding stage mother had driven Kaori to have a mental breakdown. Unable to be in the presence of other people without suffering severe panic attacks, she shut herself up in her apartment just before the start of the H Age for two years. When a paparazzi tracked her down and began harassing her for interviews, she fled and became lost on the streets of Minato-ku, but was rescued by Sumire Kuino and Ageha Hinokuchi. Seeing them wield their Hypnosis Mics in her defense reminded her of her original love for singing, and she begged them to make her the third member of their crew.

While her teammates have been helping her work through her trauma, Kaori is still afraid of having her face or voice recognized. She keeps her features obscured by glasses and masks as much as possible, prefers to stay out of sight, and primarily communicates through a tablet that reads out what she writes; she’s very quiet and stammers a lot when she does speak. During her years as a shut-in, she learned to provide for herself in a number of ways, such as growing her own vegetables and making clothes and other handicrafts, the latter of which she sells online.

Her microphone takes the shape of her tablet and stylus, while her speaker is a greenhouse that overflows with more and more flowers as she gains confidence during battle. Her ability, Tongue-Tied, scrambles her opponent’s speech. Her personal style is based off of Haru Nemuri.

Kaori is sensitive, timid, and somewhat pessimistic, but still possesses a very strong determination deep down at her core. She despises the fake persona that was forced upon her by the idol industry and wants to “win back her true self”. The more comfortable she gets around someone, the more she shows her passionate and cheerful side. She’s also very creative and good at memorizing small details, but at the cost of sometimes getting lost in her own thoughts and not noticing what’s going on around her.

She’s an avid reader of Gentaro’s novels, having sent him lots of anonymous fanmail in the past. She’s also recently started listening to Jyushi’s music.

[the-wanted-man]

𝔹𝕒𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 ℍ𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕖𝕟 𝕀𝕟 𝟛𝕤

FFXIV Write 2020 | Parts

noun • a piece or segment of something such as an object, activity, or period of time, which combined with other pieces makes up the whole. noun • some but not all of something. verb • (of two things) moving away from each other.

'Parts’ pulled from an amazing scene with the super awesome @luck-and-larceny​

She walked away and already he was feeling lighter. The way he patted his pockets when she was out of sight was only habit - he was sure nothing had been taken from them save a dumb card marked ‘Darlin’...

Stupid. The whole night had been one bad idea. 

Hooves of rolling thunder stopped at the edge of his camp where he hopped from the saddle of his horse and led the agile creature in by its ropes. Tied its lead of to some branches and then paused uncertainly before the fire. That was a generous term. It was more just the pit now, with the previously burning wood turned to charcoal. Cold, like him. 

He shivered and rubbed his arms absently, trying to ease the gooseflesh off his skin. It wasn’t actually cold, but he felt it. Something was different about this place now. It had some kind of energy he couldn’t begin to understand, or maybe it was all just in his head. His eyes drifted back to the dead fire where much had come to light, and he considered the alternative - Maybe the magic had been there the whole time, and he’d only just come to realize it.

"OK, Roman," she said quietly. "First... Is this area that we're in a place you usually camp at? Is this where you usually sit and think? Lay and dream? If not, where have you done that the most since you've been here?"

It wasn’t the first thing he’d given her of himself, but it was the first thing he’d hesitated to. Physical things were fine. He was...admittedly already planning his next gift. Something made by hand. Stories were fine too. He liked telling her things,but really only when it felt like it was on his terms. This question was almost like she was asking too much. The places he went held parts of him. If she knew what it meant, then she would come to hold parts of him too. He wasn’t sure he wanted that. Not really.

Still, he’d told her yes, his midnight fortune teller, because even in the relative ignorance of his request he knew that this at least was important to her and in a way, it was a piece of her too.  And so they’d sat by the fire, while the Hunter in the stars watched them watch each other, and spill secrets that had meaning only to them. She’d asked what he’d wanted to know, and though his heart said one thing, his lips uttered another.

    Love.     

              “Death.”

Her pretty blue eyes had gone so wide, and he’d felt...excited. Proud, to have surprised her.

"Okay, love," He remembered kind of liking the familiarity if not the name. It’s not that he didn’t like the name, he was just very careful not to like it. "Death then."

Why had he chosen that? Why had she said that? Why did he like that.

She spread the cards out in front of her. "I don’t read cards like other people do. I can tell you why sometime if you like, but it probably doesn't matter... But if you could just indulge me a little, I bet we learn something."

She had squeezed his hand then, and he had liked that too.

"Close your eyes. Think of one thing worth living for. Think of one thing worth fighting for. Then think of one thing worth dying for. When you can paint a picture of these things in your mind, grab 3 cards and show them to me."

They weren’t easy questions, but they were answered easily in a single word: freedom. He chose his three cards, noticing how she watched him all the while and maybe there was something in that look, but whatever it was faded when she flipped his first card. He didn’t like that dimming, whatever it was.

"First, I need you to know that every card is open to your own interpretation. I say a thing and it sounds wrong? It's probably wrong. I told you I'm only right half the time. But I forgot to say that you are right 100% of the time."

Far from a promising start. He didn’t think it was common practice for fortune tellers to flip a card, and start reassuring.

"What you live for: The Star. This usually comes right after or during a period of turmoil. It's about...ah... finding yourself or others or..." She frowned, and he wondered why? What thoughts were hidden behind the crease in her brow?

"The Star is like... the Hunter, right? Or Nymeia! It's something to believe in or follow when everything feels hopeless. You live for discovery and renewal and...ah. That sound hokey? Or does it sound right?"

It wasn’t that it sounded right so much that it was that it felt right. He felt it trying to rob the smile he was firmly keeping in place to mask his sudden trepidation. He felt it like an oncoming thunderbolt. He just felt it. These cards were plucking parts of him too. His education rationalized against it but his gut wasn’t settled. He told her it was right, that she should keep going. He should have stopped, but he didn’t abandon the paths he set upon. He was stupid that way, he thought.

"I don't know how to interpret this, Roman. You have to help me..." Her thumb caressed the corner of the card in question as though trying to coax it into speaking fir itself. It didn’t.

He probably would have helped her with anything if she asked.

"What you fight for: Five of Cups. So um..." She ran a hand through her dark hair, tussling her bangs. "Usually Cups are a good suit. Optimistic, joyful, romantic even. But 5 of cups is... different. Uh... It usually shows up when something in life hasn't gone the way you want it to. It represents...regret mostly. Disappointment. Melancholy. Feeling... stuck. Or like the past won't let go. I... I don't know why it's what you're fighting for."

Ah. That image looked familiar. A man staring at three spilled cups while he ignored two full and upright behind him. He looked forlorn. He felt something aching to her description of it all. That was familiar too. When he fought for the things he regretted, was it for love or was it for Death? He’d had a choice in both, up to a point. Was it the constant disappointment he seemed to chase, for something that didn’t seem to work?

Or was it the constant need for excitement Any kinds. All kinds. It didn’t matter what happened in the end if he was warm. It could just as easily be both. Fire was passionate, and bold, but it was destructive too. It couldn’t feed itself. So it took what it could, hungrier than any starved animal could be. Was he the type of person to self-immolate? Perhaps, beneath the guise of a greater nobility.

Something stung harshly at that revelation, and though he told her he didn’t know what any of it meant, he knew that she knew he was probably lying. His voice was shaking. He was definitely lying and she definitely knew.

"...Roman, I... We can stop this now if you want,"  It was nice, hearing his name from her. It sounded like she cared. He pursed his lips. That was dangerous though. And she wasn’t supposed to.

"Ok. So the last one. What you'd die for? It's... It's the Tower." The art of the card was ominous, a tower teetering on the edge of a cliff, destined to fall. "This looks bad," she said rather unhelpfully but corrected herself, "But it doesn't have to be. I'd die for the Tower too if it came down to it. Roman, this card..."

"This card is change and the destruction of something. Upheaval. It's chaos." She gave him a big smile. "It's freedom from something. Revelation. Something else will come crashing to the ground and it might seem like it's bad at first. It might seem like there's no hope at all. But whatever it is that comes down had to come down for something new to be reborn from it.

Ignore the art of this card and imagine it as a phoenix instead. It burns so bright it kills itself and from its ashes it is born again and renewed. Maybe this means you'll see a lot of destruction. Maybe death. I don't know. But whatever takes you in the end will only do so because you tore something down to make something else instead. Freedom."

The word should have been sweet, the way his name sounded from her lips but it wasn’t. It had a bitter quality to it. Freedom through death, but death nonetheless. And if it wasn’t that, then this was all a scam. This woman had stolen a name to get close, and she was speaking of phoenixes and things she really shouldn’t fucking know about and he felt that blazing, rise of heat in his chest and all that angry, all consuming inferno and he wanted all his parts back, every little piece he’d given her down to a card with a stupid heart and a stupid meaning that said ‘Darlin’....

But she looked just as shocked as he was, if not confused. If not scared and he hated himself deeply for making her even remotely feel such a way. She also looked at him kindly and she didn’t leave like he thought she was going to. She stayed the whole night even to pretend everything was fine, and on into the morning over breakfast and eggs, and until he’d dropped her off at a dusty aetheryte in town where she eventually winked out of sight. He’d decided then that betrayal didn’t suit her anyways.

"Did you know...That when I take things away... I replace them with something else?”

It was the last thing he’d reflected on. Memento. She had such a name for a reason. Now he had one of his own: a stormy blue sphere with swirling spirals of ash inside. He didn’t have a lot, so when he’d found it he’d known, and he’d wondered if she knew how much she had actually taken, and how much she had come to replace. There was a type of niceness to that thought, and to the type of friend who liked to give, just as much as she took.

There was left over bacon, and left over eggs so he set the fire again, and got comfortable with a book and with the magic in the air. Maybe, just maybe, he could stand to be a little more generous. A little less paranoid. The cards hadn’t been anything good. Had been scary he felt, for them both but he didn’t have to listen to them. He didn’t plan on it anyways. He cracked open his book, viewing parts of anatomy and learning how to heal them.

It was all going to be fine.

.to be continued...

[magpiemorality]

Eve & Eden, 2/2

Part two of THIS prompt fill. @loveceit

Same warnings as the previous part.

First | AO3

***

Two emerges for dinner with Virgil and Patton, dressed in one of Virgil's too-large sweaters and some pants, topped- or bottomed- with a pair of Patton's fluffy bedsocks. His hair has been washed and is curling at the edges as it dries, and the wariness in his eyes is slightly eased. He still hangs back behind Virgil's shoulder though, letting Patton lead him by the hand. 

One stays on the couch for dinner, claiming he'd rather eat alone and avoid the inevitable questioning. He barely looks at Two as the trio pass through the living room, but Roman sees the tightness in his muscles and his expression when Virgil meets his eyes for a moment and looks away. 

It's a little bit heartbreaking. 

What follows is a period of adjustment, harder than even what they'd been attempting before. Thomas has to be let in on everything and the two new sides have to figure out how to be. 

Roman takes One to the imagination after a particularly nasty fight between the two halves, where Remus constantly shadows them. He's been almost in hiding since the split, always watching from nearby but rarely coming out to be involved. 

In fact Roman hopes that being in the imagination will draw his own other half back out, choosing not to look too hard at the reasons why he's so dedicated to helping One be accepted. 

"You don't have to do this, you know," One tells him one day as they walk in peaceful quiet around the hills of an idyllic magical countryside. "You could leave me to my own devices. Go and make friends with the other one. Turn me into the bad guy, don't you want to do that?" 

"No." Roman catches his arm to stop him dead. One lifts his chin proudly and faces him head on, unsmiling. "I want you to find who you really are. That's all. And I don't think this lashing out while you're scared is helping much, it's just convincing you that you're bad, not me." He lets go and cups his hands around his mouth to yell. "Remus! Come out, we need you!" 

Remus is there when they turn around, looking a little thinner, a little more serious, the purple-black around his eyes spread a little further than before. 

"Talk. You need to," Roman tells them both, marching off and leaving them stood on the hill alone, two stiff figures in the bright day.

--

"Hey Eve, can you pass the salt?" Patton freezes when One's head snaps up in the middle of a forkful of pasta, eyes darting between Patton and... Eve, apparently. 

Things are still not halfway okay between the two. Talking to Remus had been invaluable, and Roman only occasionally regretted the tight friendship they'd struck up, mostly when it turned into wild pranks against him. Only ever him. 

But with the rest One was still awkward. And with Two he could be downright nasty. 

Right now he stands up, meeting Eve's nervous eyes with fury in his own. "Can I talk to you in private quickly, Eve?" 

Virgil tries to protest. "No it's fine, he can't hurt me," Eve murmurs quietly, stilling him with a hand on his shoulder, squeezing briefly before following One out the back. 

They only hear snatches of the argument. One's voice is loud but today Eve snaps back. "I had to!" He shout. "I had to get on with it and learn how to live, god damn it!" 

One must hiss something in return, because Eve lets out a growl that shocks all of them but Virgil, who looks pleased. 

"Don't you dare imply that-"

"And what about me?! I'm just supposed to, hey! You did this to us-"

Eve storms back inside, past the dining table and upstairs, slamming the door to the guest room he's been staying in with a massive bang. 

"Well that went... bad," Patton notes, putting his cutlery down. 

--

"I think Eden will do. If he's going to take Eve," One says one day, leaning into Roman's side, skipping rocks out into the lake. "If we have to have names now. If we're that far gone from him." 

"I don't think that's why he decided to pick a name," Roman argues mildly. "But okay. Eden is pretty cool." 

"Eden was a lie," Eden says, cutting his eyes sideways to see if Roman understands the meaning behind that. It's as close to a confession as he'll get.

"And Eve... did what he had to do." 

"Don't you mean she?" 

"... No, I don't."

--

Eventually animosity cools to acceptance, and Eden occupies much the same space as his predecessor. Remus is delighted by the similarities between the two and seems to mostly just pretend Deceit never left and Eden is just him in a different face. Eden seems to appreciate that more than any reassurance Roman can give him, but that's a lie of its own. 

Patton is determined to do things right this time round and fights tooth and nail to be pleasant to Eden at all times, and they develop an unlikely friendship, bonding over a shared love of the finer things in life; soft fabrics and pastel colours, nail polish and makeup. 

Logan establishes them into the natural order of Thomas's mind and they pointedly don't delve too deeply into the catalyst for the split. It hardly matters, now that it's done. He is more curious about the conflict between them, but he keeps it to himself. The theory isn't ready yet after all, and the peace is tentative at best. 

Eve is just delighted to exist, and Virgil is equally delighted to find someone to be cautious with, to contrast his own caution to so he can feel the urge to step up and be the bold one for once. They're inseparable. It's a point of contention when discussion first comes up of encouraging the two halves to try and repair their relationship. That will take a lot longer, everyone agrees. Not actively being at each other's throats will do for now. It will have to.  -- Next

[ohtheseboysilove]

The sunflower always finds its sunlight I [Roger Taylor x F!Reader]

Words : 2, 400 (the next chapters are longer!)

Warnings : Slowburn!fic, language, sad shit, angst (but who is surprise?)

Summary :  Roger likes Reader since forever but the timing seems to just never be right for them. Reader is still haunted by her past relationship and kept rejecting Roger who know nothing about the abuses she had been victim of. After being rejected for the sixth time,  Roger thinks it’s time for him to move on…

Note : Yes it’s lme again ! With more angst because i can only write angsty story bruuuh! So here is my latest baby and I had think about writing it since months so I’m happy to finally show it to you lovies ! The story covered a period of eight years during the first two chapters which are essentially flash-backs then it’s go back to the present and it’s definitively a slow burn!fic.

Hope you’ready for heartbroken!Roger because he is gonna suffer, im telling you (Reader too ofc!!!) 

Also very important : This story is going to talk about very sensitive topics like eating disorders, physical, sexual and emotional abuses so if you don’t feel comfortable about any of them, please don’t read my story. I will put it in the Warnings section when the chapters will abord theses topics. 

☀ Masterlist ☀

Roger gulped the rest of his neat whisky, wiping furiously his teary eyes. He knew catching feeling was the worst idea possible but he didn’t decide to, it just happened. And now he was regretting to finally experienced a heartbroken. It sucked. The girl he had been stupidly in love for years had reject him not once, not twice or even three times but six painfully times. And he perfectly remembered each of these times even if the first no you said to him had happen almost eight years ago, the night when you met each other.

You were just eighteen, the little newbie in the city of London, here for your studies when you met Freddie at the Kensington market. He guessed right away that you weren’t from here and after hours of talking, he invited you to come with him at a gig his friends had during the evening. Of course you said yes, it was your first night out after two weeks in London, you were excited.

Don’t Forget to Smile! was a great band, good music and powerful energy, you spent a fantastic night with Fred and his not-yet girlfriend Mary. He introduced you to the band and all of you had a beer in one of the crappy booth from the pub, Tim, Brian and Roger were as nice as Freddie so you did enjoy your evening.

Freddie told you the drummer was a real flirt, no meaning any harm but it just couldn’t resist to do does-eyes to every pretty girl in the pub, including you.

“How a sweet little thing like you could be single ?” You smiled to Roger, flattered to be pretty enough for the blond to use his charm on you.

“Well, introduce me to a cute guy and maybe it could fix the issue” You sassed back with a grin, earning few laughs from the table.

“You got one right in front of you, love” The blond winked at you, his round eyes checking you out without a once of shame.

“You’re right Roger” You nodded and gave him your most charming smile before turning to Brian. “Want to have a drink with me Bri ?” Everyone laughed excepted Roger who rolled his eyes, pouting like a kid.

“If I wasn’t with my fantastic girlfriend, I would certainly say yes (Y/N)” The guitarist joked back and gave your hand a kiss like a perfect gentleman.

“I understand Brian” You sighed deeply then turned toward Tim. “Maybe I had a chance with another cutie like you ?” The singer blushed and took a sip of his beer to hide his flustered state. You were a pretty girl and he wasn’t blind.

“Tim forget that, (Y/N), you should go on a date with me. The girls always have a good time with me” The drummer stood up and came sit next to you, arm throwing around your shoulders, cocky and confident smile on his features. “What do you say ? Want to go out with me ?” One of his hand ended up on your knee, squeezing it gently.

“Nice try but no thanks Rog” You giggled as you shook your head, pushing him away. “And if you want an advice, next time you ask a girl out, don’t leered in another girl neckline in same time” You grinned and glanced at the girl sat at the bar, cheeks flushed by Roger’s not-so-discrete glares.

All the table let a Oooow out, teasing the blond about it.

“I wasn’t– Okay I was looking at this girl but she’s hot and, this one, she is interested in me so I guess I’m gonna talk to her” He finished his drink and lowered his head to your ear, murmuring words that at the moment weren’t serious, not knowing that years later, he would still think about it. “I saw how you look at me, even if it take me ten years, I’m gonna kiss these pretty lips of yours and made sweet love to you, beautiful girl” Your eyes were wide-opened at the audacity of the man but chuckled anyway, watched him with an amusing smile walking to the redhead girl.

Roger waved to the bartender for another whisky, a double one as all these memories were coming back, roughly hitting him in the face. The first time had been a joke but the second time was more serious but completely useless as he totally misread the situation purely and simply.

During the next six months, you became of good friend of the band, hanging with them most of your free time and Roger found himself growing attached to you. Not in a romantically way but friendlily speaking. You were one of the first girl he was only friend with, without wanting something more. Well, of course if you decided suddenly you wanted to have a wild and hot session of sex with him, he wouldn’t say no, you were too pretty for that but, it was rather nice to have you as a friend, he found you funny and real cool to hang around. He kept flirting with you but lightly, more like a joke than anything until one day he heard you chatting with Fred.

“I don’t think he feel the same about me...” You complained with a whining voice. “I mean did you see him ? He is really popular with girls, why he would waste his time with me ? It won’t happen”

“Don’t be silly darling, this man is always ogling you, I know he have a thing for you” Replied the dark-haired man in a scold. “I can feel the tension between the two of you when you are around each other. You need to do something about it”

Roger smirked at his friend’s words, he wasn’t wrong about the sexual tension, the blond felt it too. He cleared loudly his throat to announce his arrival and entered the flat he was sharing with Freddie.

“Roger, darling ! The man (Y/N) wanted to see” You made big eyes to your friend, silently scolding him. “I have some stuffs to do so I let you talk” He winked and disappeared of the flat, leaving you nervously fidgeting your fingers.

“How ya doing love ?” He gave you the most flirty smile he had in stock as you blushed, tucking your hairs behind your hairs. “What do you want to talk about ?” He sat on the sofa and tapped the empty space next to him.

“Well, hum...I wanted to ask you something Rog” The drummer smiled wider as you sat, finding incredibly cute how crimson you were becoming. The thought of dating you gently germed in his brain, he could eventually give it a try. “Do you think your friend Donovan would be interest to go on a date with me ?” You quickly gabbled with a shy smile.

Roger found himself silent at your demand. Donovan ? You were talking about Donovan during you and Freddie’s conversation ? He felt incredibly stupid.

“I...hum, I don’t know, never think about it” He stuttered with pink cheeks, he never thought you were into his and Brian’ school friend, Donovan. How did he miss that ?

“Oh. I got it, it’s okay Rog, I prefer honesty you know” You replied sadly, persuaded that he didn’t know how to told you his friend didn’t like you back. Roger looked at you, completely stupefied that you could even think someone wouldn’t be into you, what a joke. “That’s fine, really. He is way out of my league anyway” You chuckled but interiorly you wanted to cry.

“No, no, no ! I think you have your chance (Y/N)” The blond caught your hand and gently pressed it. Maybe it was for the best if you stayed friends, Roger wasn’t the best in relationship and he didn’t want to lose you. “I’m sorry you thought the contrary, I...I thought you were about to ask me out” He confessed with a little smile, earning a surprised gasp from you.

“Oh! Oh! Roger I’m sorry–“

“(Y/N), it’s more than fine, okay ? I just acted a bit too confident, I learned a lesson today, love” He winked and tousled teasingly your hairs. “I think you should ask out Donovan, he will say yes. I have no doubt, he is not stupid to say no to an amazing girl like you” You blushed furiously at his words and thanked him with a happy smile.

If Roger knew you would date his...friend, he was a bit too jealous now to call him a friend, for four long years, maybe he wouldn’t have encouraging you. And after what Donovan did to you, you wished he hadn’t but none of you could have guessed what would happen. The blond was more than fine about you and his friend dating at the beginning but as months flew by, he found himself being a bit envious of Donovan. When he kissed you sweetly at you entered the pub or how happily you squealed when you announced to everyone that you were moving in together. It was some little things who made him thought how badly he wanted to be the one who make you so happy. But it wasn’t him and Roger was your friend so he kept his mouth shut and simply continued his life. The band had now Freddie as lead singer and John Deacon as bass player, touring and becoming more and more popular as years went by.  Thankfully you and the boys remained close, everything was great until Donovan get a promotion for a job in New-York. Roger completely freaked out to see you move away from him, it was selfish but he couldn’t bear the thought of not seeing you anymore. It surprised everyone but you didn’t follow Donovan, you and him broke up and you stayed in London, Roger felt horrible but it couldn’t control how happy it had make him. You, in the other hand, was more than relieved that Donovan was now your ex-boyfriend, after years of suffering in silence, you were finally free of him. Everyone thought you were heartbroken because he left but the truth was you were broken because of all the awful things he did to you and no one never knew. You never told anyone, too ashamed to speak. That the event which leaded us to the third time Roger tried to ask you out.

Roger was nervous to see you again after touring for five months, he remembered how sad and broken you had been after your and Donovan’s break up but he was decided to make you smile again. He was dying to ask you out, feeling ready to commit himself to someone but only if that someone was you, he had a lot of fun during all these years but you had always occupied a little place in his thoughts, his feeling growing with the years. And now you were single again, he wasn’t a horny dog to jump on your bones as soon as you were free, he showed up at your place, with the firm intention to tell you he wanted to be with you, around a bit more than a year after your break-up with Donovan. You and Roger had been so close lately, he thought you were feeling like him. He was wrong.

“Hi (Y/N)” He said almost timidly as you opened your flat’s door, wearing your favourite pair of pyjama. You watched him surprised as he gave you the sunflower he had in his hand, a sweet smile in his face. Your forever favourite flower, how cute.

“Roger, what are you doing here ?” You asked as your fingers gently ran on the flower, you had almost forget how happy this simple gesture used to make you happy.

“I...I need to tell you something” You gazed back to him, his cheeks flushing lightly. You had no idea what all of this was about but it felt weird to see Roger so timid and awkward. “I like you (Y/N), a lot. I think you’re the prettiest, most marvellous girl I ever met and I think–“

“Rog...” You murmured with a sad grimace, the blond stopped talking as soon as he caught the look on your face, shame waving on him. You weren’t feeling the same.

“Oh, shit. I’m sorry. I thought, after these past months, that you and me were on the same page but I guess I was wrong” He scratched his neck, cheeks crimson at the rejection.

“Roger I swear, it’s not about you, okay ? We did grow closer these past months but... I don’t want to date anyone for now. I’m not ready and honestly I have no idea when I will be, Rog” You explained with a little voice, feeling stupid to be still emotionally broken by your asshole of ex-boyfriend.

The drummer felt his heart melted at your state, he could see the sadness in your eyes, proving that you weren’t lying. You weren’t ready yet for anything new, of course he understood that.

“I asked you too soon, didn’t I ?” You nodded shyly and wiped away the single tear which escaped your glassy eyes. “I’m sorry. I thought...I mean you looked better than the first months so I gave it a chance. My mistake. But I guess you were too in love to forget him in only a year” The drummer tried to light up the atmosphere and you didn’t say anything about the fact that you weren’t in love anymore months before the break-up, you weren’t ready to tell anyone about this story.

“You have nothing to apologise for Rog. I hope we can still be friend even if I said no” You smiled sweetly and felt relieve when he smiled back, he wasn’t mad at you.

“Of course, love. You only rejected me three times, I have few more tricks in my sleeve” He winked playfully and both of you chuckled.

“Want to come in and watch a movie with me ? I got some leftover pizza” Roger nodded eagerly and followed you inside, both of you spending the evening cuddling on the sofa but nothing more happened that night.

“I think you had enough drinks tonight, buddy. Time to go home” The drummer glared angrily at the bartender but his head was spinning a bit so it was probably for the best.

He still drank the rest of his whisky and slowly made his way out before waving a taxi to go home. He fell asleep in the cab but once he was at home, he was decided to think about the three other times you had reject him. He needed to understand where it went wrong if he wanted a proper chance to move on.

*******************************************************************************************

[creepypastashavecomittedtaxfraud]

mind if i ask for some good soft stuff w Jeff and Toby? or Ben ! ...or EJ.........or Nina.... I'm sorry I will take literally anything I love ur hcs So Much and also Jeff needs more love uwu ((Gee Jeff how come u get to have so many bfs and a gf))

ILL DO SOME FOR EVERYONE!!! Jeff has50 billion partners we know this

this post got SUPER SUPER long i am so sorry everyonebut these r all like my favorite pairings ever SO…i wanna do them justice. under the cut because of the length!

Jeff x Toby

oh they just Love to mess with eachother and pull pranks on each other. toby especially loves to get at jeff withem. usually ends up making the other one just SO MAD

which then sometimes leads to playfighting .which then might lead to one of them getting pinned to the wall.which might end up in semi-angry makeouts .who knows hehe

parts-of-our-mouths-are-rotting-awaygang . toby likes kissing jeff a lil bit on his exposed teeth cus he thinksit’s funny. jeff acts annoyed by it but it makes him blush a little bit.

they both have the tendency to bekind of self destructive and just in general not doing basic self care stuff. sothey Try to keep a little bit of an eye on each other .they both hate to beover bearing but idk. they just care about each other a lot. And love eachother when they cant love themselves

toby and jeff both can be prettyemotionally explosive , so they try to keep each other as level headed aspossible. distracted and mentally ok so one of them doesn’t completely spiralout of control, though if that were to happen the other one will be there toget a hold of em.

The best way to calm either of themis grabbing a hold of them physically and holding their head in your arms untilthey chill out. Ungraceful maybe but effective and relatively easy.

they’re both pretty troubled, butthey’re trying to get it under control. They’re there for each other no matterwhat.

they like to go up to the humanworld late at night and fuck around. climb on stuff that shouldn’t be climbedon. play in fountains. vandalize shit. that’s date night for them. One day jeffgot ahold of some spray paint and they both went nuts with it, THAT was a goodday

Toby didn’t used to smoke till hemet jeff but now they’re both in it unfortunately aha..jeff kind of regretsgetting him into the habit but not much can be done about it now.

Since meeting Jeff toby’s definitelypicked up his kind of harsh sarcastic humor streak, and jeff’s actually gotten atiny bit nicer, though whether that’s of tobys influence or just the sideeffect of being in love is up for debate. So I guess there was a small exchangethere. They balance out nicely.

they both get beat up and injured alottt on the job, probably the most reckless ones of everyone. despite this,whenever the other one comes home all messed up the other one gets so freakedout and concerned, asking what happened and trying to take care of it. kind ofhypocritical but…they cant help it. 

they really really love each other.they wish they could both be healthier

Jeff x Ben

evenbefore they’re in a relationship they are Very close to each other. So whenthey actually get to dating, you know that’s solid. Nothing can tear themapart.

theywere very much, deeply in love with each other before ever admitting it . theyboth never wanted to say anything in case it ruined their close closefriendship but they both completely gave in eventually

they’rebest friends and best boyfriends at the same time. They’re each othersemotional and mental support. They love and care about each other so much, andare able to take care of each other so well because they so . deeply and intimatelyknow each other already. Yknow from being close for so long already. They reallydo trust each other with everything

it’slike they’re constantly together. They eat and sleep together, spend all daytogether, stay up all night together. It makes them happy, keeps them calm. The longest times they’re apart are when Jeff’s out killing or so injured he has to rest in his own room. 

Jeffhas his periods of really bad depression, and ben makes sure to be there forhim and take good care of him during these times. He’s very very calming andgentle and it keeps jeff calm and safe.

Ben,likewise, has long periods of bad depression too, which jeff helps himthrough. Takes care of him, keeps him distracted and comforted. Keeps himcompany.

Theyreally like to just hold each other and talk each other through things. Theyreally know how to communicate and what the other needs to hear and neverfeel lonely with the other around

Theylike to go out on the roof and smoke weed/cigarettes and kiss, sometimes they talksometimes they don’t. they could spend days alone with just each other.

They’ve known each other longer than they’ve known anyone else who lives there. that bond is special. and honestly, Jeff really is ben’s whole world. ben doesn’t know at all what he’d do without jeff. and jeff doesn’t know what he’d do without ben either. it feels like no one knows them like they know each other.

i guess the one little disconnect they have it ben doesn’t do the regular killing stuff like jeff does. doesn’t really get it. just stays home and does his own thing. sometimes he’s self conscious about it, like since he doesn’t do the same work as everyone else maybe he’s…weaker for it..or something. he doesn’t like to talk about it.

they’ve both been aloneand lonely for so long. Most of their lives really. So now that they have eachother they never ever want to let go

Jeff x EJ

Justas, a first things first, the moment ej sees jeff he already gets such a crushon him right away. It sounds so corny but he thinks jeff’s really the cutestguy he’s ever seen. A real love at first sight moment, even though hedefinitely doesn’t say anything about it at first.

EJ,also, is very much the caregiver type, and jeff desperately needs someone totake care of him, so they are really perfect for each other.

Jeffcan’t help but have a real soft spot for being taken care of , which ej is supposedto be doing for him anyway being the medic and all but still. Since ej’s been basicallyin love with jeff since forever he’s just so extra gentle and caring with himwhenever he’s hurt, it makes Jeff just melt…

I think ej’s very calm comforting level-headed logical personality is the main thing that makes jeff fall so hard for him. While he has other friends who try to help and support him ej actually seems to be the only one out of everyone who isn’t as badly effected by it. like he actually has the mental and emotional capabilities of supporting him. and slowly he just becomes so attached to and dependent on him, and he’s happy to love and support jeff

ej however has his really low points too, which jeff tries to help him through too. he holds ej in his arms and pets his hair or gently pats his back and listens to whatevers bothering him. which is all ej really needs. someone there with him. yknow

ej’svery casually affectionate, Jeff gets plenty of space if he wants but if they happento be around each other he loves to stand behind him and wrap his arms aroundhim, be close to him, touch his hair a little, run the back of his hand overhis cheek…really into light physical affection.

Couplevoted most likely to be caught making out in the closet randomly during the day

Ej isjust so completely in love with jeff, flaws and all, loves giving himattention, talking to him, taking care of him, giving him kisses. It is just embarrassinghow in love he is, even if he tries to only express it in private.

Jeffgets flustered and embarrassed easily with how sweet ej is to him, it stillgets him a little bit pink in the face even after being with him for so long, and tries to reciprocate it too. getting all cuddly and sweet with him when he feels the need to

Jeffloves bringing out ejs more outgoing social side. When they first met he wasvery reclusive and you know, loner-type, but jeff’s very outgoing andcenter-of-attention, so after some encouragement they’re both 100% party boystogether, which ej really needed. Being alone all the time was bad for him

Otherthan all that…They’re very strongly bonded and connected in a way they havetrouble describing. Ej just thinks jeff’s the most perfect man in the wholeworld , and Jeff thinks ej is just. perfect . so understanding and loving and caring and patient. he’s never met someone who puts up with his bullshit so well. and he is in Love

Jeff x Nina

Omg when nina finally gets to see him in person for the first time SHE IS SO EXCITED !!!! Runs up to him and gives him a huge hug, practically scooping him up off the ground !!!

He’s, very stunned at first, but gets his bearings back soon enough

After the initial rushed introduction, he learns why she’s here and he’s actually really flattered?

“You’re here??? For me??? you came all this way here to meet me???”

compliments really are the way to his heart lololol

and while he’s still kind of shocked from the whole thing….she is really cute….so that’s a plus

They spend a long time getting acquainted with each other, but nina naturally probably already knows a lot about him, which really just makes jeff more interested in her 

oh once they actually date for real nina is so happy!!! He’s everything she was hoping for and more!!! the guy of her dreams!!! he’s handsome and protective and cool but also sweet and caring and lets her cuddle up to him!!

Jeff has to come around to the idea first but once they’re dating for real he’s actually really happy too!!! She’s so energetic and sweet. its a much needed brightness to his life, he cant help but kind of fall in love with how affectionate she is. and how absolutely smitten she is with him

at the beginning she is very very clingy, goes everywhere with him,!! and he really does not object. honestly its a bit of an ego boost in addition to how much he really has accidentally fallen for her .

 but she does dial it down after a bit! she’s always just as sweet with him as ever though, as long as he allows it 

she’s actually a tiny bit taller than him, and uses that as an excuse to pick him up a little bit from time to time , which he protests, but she thinks its the cutest thing

she’s a very nurturing type girlfriend, she remembers all the stuff he has to do in a day and is checking in to remember if he’s done it. whenever he’s injured she insists on taking care of him

 EVERYONE notices after they start being together that he’s really cleaned himself up. like he showers regularly??? he’s started brushing his hair??? dressing?? semi-nicely??? he acts the same as ever, he’s just. cleaner. and everyone thinks she’s forcing him to be but actually he’s just started putting more effort in himself to impress his beautiful girlfriend, because he just reasons that she always puts so much care and effort into her appearance he should do, almost the same right?

[tellywoodtrash]

Hey! Hope you're having a good day! I had a question, if that's okayy. I was re-watching Tanhaiyaan! I loved that series - Barun and Surbhi had amazing chemistry and I loved the soundtrack. I was just wondering what your thoughts on it were. I did search your tumblr to find reviews or something of the sort for the series, but it kinda came up empty. So I thought I'd ask you. Thanks! :)

Hi friend!

I’m well thanks! Hope you’re having a good day too!

I did do some spoilery mini-lbs for the series. Also lol, I wrote a really detailed review when I watched it (Feb 2017), that I didn’t publish then for some reason. It’s not a show I am inclined to revisit, so here are my thoughts from then, with some mild editing.

what works

the chemistry: barun and surbhi have good chemistry, and their scenes together are enjoyable. they sell all the facets, from the flirting to the attraction to the nice comfortable intimacy they settle into eventually.

the progressiveness: i dunno if the sponsorship deal from tinder mandated it, but the show is refreshingly sex positive (… for something coming out of a mainstream tellywood production house.)

the screenplay: the dialogue, especially in the scenes where meera and haider banter and flirt, is fun. 4 lions shows have always had some brilliant dialogue (esp. in the shiny starting days - the honeymoon period.) if you’re into shayaari and the like, you’ll enjoy that stuff in sobti’s soulful husky voice. i’m not, so i found it pretty corny.

what  doesn’t work

the pacing: where tanhaiyan suffers the most, is pacing. i mean, call me cynical, but i found it really hard to buy that two people, who met like what… 4 days ago? could be THIS deeply in love. for godssake, how MUCH can you love, or even KNOW a person with whom your only conversations have been sexy banter? the only deep thing they know about each other is that they’ve both lost important people in their lives. as much as i love sobti and jyoti (who are good actors for the most part and engage me emotionally), i was constantly rolling my eyes that within less than a week of meeting each other, these two had gone through lust-love-a breakup-ENGAGEMENT-second breakup. MAN, THERE’S A LOAF OF BREAD ON MY KITCHEN COUNTER THAT I’VE HAD A LONGER AND MORE STABLE RELATIONSHIP WITH.

the writing: the writing is the second biggest issue i have with this show, almost equal to the pacing. the thing is, the show feels like a fanfic that’s been brought to life. not even GOOD fanfic, but a mediocre fanfiction riddled with plot holes and crack AUs. look, haider and meera have emotional issues. all fine and good. by episode 9, they’ve opened up to each other (trust me when i say i’m using the phrase “opened up” in the loosest manner possible.) and seem to have made a decision to be together. but then lo and behold, in the last 5 minutes of the second last episode, there’s a WHOLE NEW PROBLEM.  like… why? so unnecessary. just to round it out to 10 episodes?

the slap: misandrist that i am, i am usually rooting for the asshole male lead to get slapped, especially on a 4 lions show, where he most probably deserves it. but in this show even *i* was like, oh come on, that was unwarranted. yes, he’s being a jerk, but the slap was just… ??????? and lol, that one slap and a lecture from meera seems to thikaane lagaofy all of haider’s emotional issues instantly. lmao if only it were that easy; kisi ko duniya mein therapy ki zaroorat hi nahi hoti. (which we know that all 4 lions men need. extensively.)

the pandering: sometimes, the progressiveness of the show seems to be be bordering on pandering, with no real motivation behind it other than to SEEM progressive. like tanya, meera’s friend, who talks about wanting “no-strings-attached sex” with an italian guy and in the very next minute, wistfully saying she could have had a half-italian baby by now. um, that doesn’t sound very “no-strings-attached” to me. or the fact that avantika and sid’s whole big issue is solved by ONE sentence from haider “sabka past hai, tera hai, mera hai; ladkiyon ka past kyun nahi ho sakta?” (to which all the ladies appreciatively nod @ haider, seeing him as the new paragon of feminism) … okaaaaay then.

haider’s character suffers from classic 4 lions male lead bipolarity. one second, he’s lovingly asking her how she is the way she is (so “cool and non-judgmental!”), and when the answer includes guilt over death of her family, he freaks the fuck out and shuts down. what, did he think he’s the only person on the planet who’s ever had to deal with death and regret? what does her answer have anything to do with HIM? he gets slapped for talking flippantly about her parents’ death and grief, and within the matter of 2 scenes, he’s telling meera that she “saw his soul”, when he’s revealed absolutely NOTHING personal about himself, including the reason of his grief. he proposes marriage, and when meera (very rightfully!) says it’s moving a little quickly, he explodes to accuse her of loving her career more than him. um, she’s known you for like 72 hours, buddy. calm the fuck down. don’t even get me started on the fact that he just abandoned her with no explanations given on their engagement day, based on some assumptions he made by sherlocking some clues together (that too wrongly.) classic fucking 4 lions male lead move.

meera’s character is a pushover when it comes to haider’s above bad behaviour. i know every 4 lions female lead can be accused of this, but there’s a difference between them and meera; which is that the former have at least known their male leads for months, before getting tied down into matrimony with them. to an extent, they’ve somewhat made their peace and accepted that side of their partners and “love” them despite that, due to other redeeming qualities/the emotional journey they’ve been on with them over an extended period of time. if a dude you’ve known for all of 4 days starts acting like this, why would you put up with it, let alone fall in love with him? i find the ending especially ridiculous, that she takes him back after he ran away on their engagement day, with zero explanations or conversations, telling her friend that she “understands why haider acted like that” and doesn’t blame him at all. sis, sit the fuck down.

all the friends are highly highly annoying. sid and tanya are pushy and passive aggressive when haider and meera don’t want to talk about emotionally draining topics. sid actually YELLS at haider for not being able to process his grief in the manner thatHE demands. then there’s avantika and her nonsense. from her problems with the saas (what was the point of that, really???), to her guilt issues. she goes and confesses her tryst with sameer to haider instead of sid (HOW EVEN? THE TWO MEN HAVE SUCH DIFFERENT BODY STRUCTURES. ANYONE WITH THE GIFT OF EYESIGHT CAN TELL IT’S HAIDER), and when he gently tries to help her out, she attacks him for being responsible for raza’s death. like… why? he’s been nothing but an absolute sweetheart to her, being supportive and accommodating her every whim. in the end, she doesn’t even apologize for what she says to him! and don’t even get me started on the worst one of all - raashi, who keeps harping on about PAAP over and over, and even goes so far to say that the avantika and sid broke up because the avantika ate egg when she wasn’t supposed to. i really don’t know why anyone else in that group put up with her and her garbage. the least offensive of them all was that one guy who was more like the wedding organizer than an actual friend, always obsessing about everyone not eating enough.

overall opinion

tbh,  quite a middling series for me. i don’t regret watching it, but ehhhhhhh…. i didn’t enjoy it as much considering the people involved in the project (and the amount of time i’d spent waiting for it - i was following its production quite closely all throughout 2016.) the writing just overall was a washout for me (eta: esp. now that i have seen that ‘unscripted’ interview with jyoti/sobti… the way they were gushing about it, and gul saying she cried writing it and stuff…. and i’m just like… OVER THIS???? REALLY? i mean, there have been episodes of ipk and ib where i have genuinely gotten emotional… this series did not have a single episode that pulled me in with the feelings like that.) i really think it could have used tighter scripting to make it more concise and snappy.i would have ended the show once haider and meera made up after their first big fight.my ideal arc for this show would have been the two characters’ relationship growing from a mere sexual attraction, to a genuine emotional kinship that helps them to start healing from their grief, and left it at that, without cramming in all the heavy love and marriage stuff.

[gogh-save-the-bees]

"My Dear Theo"

A letter from Vincent Van Gogh to his brother Theo Van Gogh (written between Monday, 11 and Thursday, 14 August 1879)

It’s mainly to tell you that I’m grateful for your visit that I’m writing to you. It was quite a long time ago that we saw each other or wrote to each other as we used to. All the same, it’s better that we feel something for each other rather than behave like corpses towards one another, the more so because as long as one has no real right to be called a corpse by being legally dead, it smacks of hypocrisy or at least childishness to pose as such. Childish in the manner of a young man of 14 years who thinks that his dignity and social standing actually oblige him to wear a top hat. The hours we spent together in this way have at least assured us that we’re both still in the land of the living. When I saw you again and took a walk with you, I had the same feeling I used to have more than I do now, as though life were something good and precious that one should cherish, and I felt more cheerful and alive than I had been for a long time, because in spite of myself life has gradually become or has seemed much less precious to me, much more unimportant and indifferent. When one lives with others and is bound by a feeling of affection one is aware that one has a reason for being, that one might not be entirely worthless and superfluous but perhaps good for one thing or another, considering that we need one another and are making the same journey as travelling companions. Proper self-respect, however, is also very dependent on relations with others.

A prisoner who’s kept in isolation, who’s prevented from working, would in the long run, especially if this were to last too long, suffer the consequences just as surely as one who went hungry for too long. Like everyone else, I have need of relationships of friendship or affection or trusting companionship, and am not like a street pump or lamp-post, whether of stone or iron, so that I can’t do without them without perceiving an emptiness and feeling their lack, like any other generally civilized and highly respectable man — and I tell you these things to let you know what a salutary effect your visit had on me.

And just as I wished that we not drift apart, this is also the case with regard to those at home. Even so, at the moment I really dread going there and am strongly inclined to stay here. It could, however, be my fault, and you could be right in thinking that I don’t see things straight, which is why it may be that, despite my great reluctance and notwithstanding that it’s a hard journey, I’m going to Etten for at least a few days.

As I think back on your visit with thankfulness, our talks naturally come to mind. I’ve heard such talks before, many, in fact, and often. Plans for improvement and change and raising the spirits — and yet, don’t let it anger you, I’m a little afraid of them — also because I sometimes acted upon them and ended up rather disappointed. How much has been well thought out that is, however, impracticable.

The time spent at Amsterdam is still so fresh in my memory. You were there yourself, and so you know how the pros and cons were weighed, considered and deliberated upon, reasoned with wisdom, how it was well meant — and yet how pitiful the result, how daft the whole business, how grossly stupid. I still shudder at the thought. It was the worst time I’ve ever gone through. How desirable and appealing the rather difficult and troubled days here in this poor country, in these primitive surroundings, seem to me compared with then. Something similar, I fear, will be the result of following wise counsel given with the best of intentions.

For such experiences are pretty drastic for me. The damage, the sorrow, the heart’s regretfulness is too great for both of us not to have learned the hard way. If we don’t learn from this, what shall we then learn from? A striving such as reaching the goal set before me, as it was put then, truly that is an ambition that won’t easily take hold of me again, the desire to achieve it has cooled considerably, and I now look at things from a different perspective, even though it may sound and look attractive, and even though it’s unacceptable to think about it as experience taught me to think about it. Unacceptable, yes, just as, for example, Francq the Evangelist finds it unacceptable that I declared the sermons given by the Rev. Jean Andry to be only slightly more evangelical than the sermons of a priest. I would rather die a natural death than be prepared for it by the academy, and have occasionally had a lesson from a grass-mower4 that seemed to me more useful than one in Greek.

Improvement in my life — should I not desire it or should I not be in need of improvement? I really want to improve. But it’s precisely because I yearn for it that I’m afraid of remedies that are worse than the disease. Can you blame a sick person if he looks the doctor straight in the eye and prefers not to be treated wrongly or by a quack?

Does someone who has consumption or typhus do wrong by maintaining that a stronger remedy than barley water might be useful or even necessary, or, finding that barley water in itself can do no harm, nevertheless doubts its efficacy and potency in his particular case?

The doctor who prescribed barley water mustn’t say, this patient is a stubborn person who is set upon his own ruin because he doesn’t want to take medicine — no, because the man is not unwilling, but the so-called medicine was unsuitable, because it was indeed ‘it’ but still not yet ‘it’ at all.

Do you blame someone if he fails to be moved by a painting which is recorded in the catalogue as a Memling but which has nothing to do with Memling other than that it’s a similar subject from the Gothic period but without artistic value?

And if you should now assume from what I’ve said that I intended to say you were a quack because of your advice then you will have completely misunderstood me, since I have no such idea or opinion of you.

If, on the other hand, you think that I thought I would do well to take your advice literally and become a lithographer of invoice headings and visiting cards, or a bookkeeper or a carpenter’s apprentice — likewise that of my very dear sister Anna to devote myself to the baker’s trade or many other things of that kind (quite remarkably diverse and mutually exclusive) — which it was suggested I pursue, you would also be mistaken.

But, you say, I’m not giving you this advice for you to follow to the letter, but because I thought you had a taste for idling and because I was of the opinion that you should put an end to it.

Might I be allowed to point out to you that such idling is really a rather strange sort of idling. It’s rather difficult for me to defend myself on this score, but I would be sorry if you couldn’t eventually see this in a different light. I also don’t know if I would do well to counter such accusations by following the advice to become a baker, for example. That would really be a sufficient answer (supposing it were possible for us to assume the guise of a baker or hair-cutter or librarian with lightning speed) and yet actually a foolish response, rather like the way the man acted who, when accused of heartlessness because he was sitting on a donkey, immediately dismounted and continued on his way with the donkey on his shoulders.

And, joking apart, I honestly think it would be better if the relationship between us were more trusting on both sides. If I must seriously feel that I’m annoying or burdensome to you or those at home, useful for neither one thing nor another, and were to go on being forced to feel like an intruder or a fifth wheel in your presence, so that it would be better I weren’t there, and if I should have to continue trying to keep further and further out of other people’s way — if I think that indeed it would be so and cannot be otherwise, then I’m overcome by a feeling of sorrow and I must struggle against despair.

It’s difficult for me to bear these thoughts and more difficult still to bear the thought that so much discord, misery and sorrow, in our midst and in our family, has been caused by me.

If it were indeed so, then I’d truly wish that it be granted me not to have to go on living too long. Yet whenever this depresses me beyond measure, all too deeply, after a long time the thought also occurs to me: it’s perhaps only a bad, terrible dream, and later we’ll perhaps learn to understand and comprehend it better. But is it not, after all, reality, and won’t it one day become better rather than worse? To many it would no doubt appear foolish and superstitious to believe in any improvement for the better. Sometimes in winter it’s so bitterly cold that one says, it’s simply too cold, what do I care whether summer comes, the bad outweighs the good. But whether we like it or not, an end finally comes to the hard frost, and one fine morning the wind has turned and we have a thaw. Comparing the natural state of the weather with our state of mind and our circumstances, subject to variableness and change, I still have some hope that it can improve.

If you write, soon perhaps, you will make me happy. Just in case, address your letter care of J.Bte Denis, rue du Petit-Wasmes à Wasmes (Hainaut)

Walked to Wasmes after your departure that evening. Have since drawn a portrait.

Adieu, accept in thought a handshake, and believe me

Yours truly,

Vincent

Original Letter below

[angelaiswriting]

Sick Days | Vladimir Ranskahov x reader, NSFW

[not even god can stop me and my banners]

✎ Pairing: Vladimir Ranskahov x fem!reader

✎ Requested by Anonymous: So.. would you be willing to write a VladimirxReader fic where the reader gets sick and he doesn’t really know what to do, not being the relationship-type, but she tells him what she needs and they end up having tender sex (because on the contrary to most sick!fics around, some people actually crave the physically closeness when they’re ill)?

✎ A/N: I’m a sucker for smut, you don’t even know how much. I’m also super allergic, so I really wish this were my reality when hell breaks loose haha I really hope you enjoy, sorry for the long wait! I’m also one of those people that crave the physical closeness, so you accidentally asked the right person haha

✎ Warnings: it’s 85% smut (oral f/r, squirting, vaginal sex), 18+ ONLY. If you’re also allergic to stuff and like Vladimir Ranskahov, this is probably the fic for you.

Word-count: 2,807

Vladimir is good at many things: there’s the mob, the accountability for his and his brother’s business, the killing, the torturing. On the more ‘normal’ side of things, there’s sex and an incredible taste for anything filmography-wise. He’s also a god at poker. But then, when it comes to taking care of someone else, everything crumbles to the ground: he panics, doesn’t know what to do, and eventually ends up staying at work long after closing time.

He’s trying to be a better person, though. So, when Y/N texts him that she’s not feeling great, he tells Tolya he’s going home to take care of his woman. The mere idea makes his bones shiver: he’s so not good at this. Give him a man to kill, to kidnap or to torture, and he’s all in for the fun. But give him someone he loves and top that with that person feeling sick, and he’s suddenly retreating.

But this time he reminds himself he’s trying to be better. So, on the ride home, he buys her flowers and a box of chocolate, one of those where the chocolate is filled with liquor because he knows they always cheer her (and him) up.

He parks the car in the garage and, for a second, he wonders how the hell he’s going to help her. Vladimir doesn’t even know if she’s going to need pills and what kind of pills because his go-to remedy for literally anything is a shot of vodka and a packet of cigarettes. But Y/N is not him and it scares the crap out of him.

When he walks up the flight of stairs that lead to the living room, he pep-talks himself. It’s all going to be fine. She’s going to tell him what she needs and he’s going to obey her orders. There’s nothing to be scared of and nothing to be anxious about. It’s just some flu, he thinks, or that time of the month.

The living room is silent and tidy. From what he can see from the top of the stairs that lead back down to the garage, the kitchen is empty, too. He’s making his way towards the bedrooms when he hears a cough and as he turns around, he sees Y/N blow her nose.

“Hey, doll.” He stands there awkwardly, the box of chocolate in one hand and the bouquet of flowers in the other and he suddenly regrets buying the latter. The urge to throw the bouquet against the wall and then stomp on it is strong, but he swallows it.

She groans, curling up better into the blanket, and he sees her frustration painted all over her face. Her eyes are teary, her nose is an angry red and her reddened lips are chapped.

It’s definitely not her period, he notes.

“What’s going on?” he asks as he places both the box of chocolate and the bouquet of flowers on the glass table of the living room.

He takes his shoes and jacket off as he reaches the couch and once he’s close enough, he sees the parquet littered with used tissues.

“Fucking allergy,” she mutters, grunting again as she sneezes four times in a row.

It takes him a while to understand those two words because her nose is closed and her voice is so angry that it can’t help but groan. He knows she hates it when that happens–also because it happens more often than they both like.

She goes on snorting, saying something about her antihistamines and how they do not work how they’re supposed to. Or it’s just her fucked-up allergy in her fucked-up life. No one will ever know. She just knows that now the nightmare is striking and she’d rather cut her hands off than live through it.

Vladimir chuckles lowly as he moves her to sit down behind her, her back against his chest. She feels hot against him even with the blanket between them and it’s not because he finds her hot.

“Have you got fever?” he inquires as he draws her closer, his legs caging her between them.

“No.” Her answer is a grunt and before he has the time to react to that word, she sneezes again and he passes her the box of tissues that sits on the coffee table.

“Do you need some pill?” The only thing he’s allergic to is cat fur, so it’s easy to stay away from that and he’s never battling with his allergy. But hers is a little more complicated and he never knows what to do. Somehow, it’s even worse than flu–because he at least has the little knowledge needed to deal with it.

Y/N shakes her head ‘no’ as she blows her nose before throwing the tissue to the ground.

They lie there in silence for a while and the only sounds in the room are the clock ticking and Y/N’s labored breathing. She has her forehead pressed against the side of his neck and her skin is boiling; her dry lips are parted and the top one brushes against his skin with every breath he takes.

It takes her a while, but she gets up into a sitting position before he can stop her and she throws the blanket away.

“I’m boiling,” she mumbles as she lies back down against him.

Vladimir hums and engulfs her in his embrace, her head tucked under his chin.

“You need anything?” he wonders after a while when she squirms in frustration.

She takes her time to answer, most of all because another set of sneezes catches her off-guard. She groans as she blows her nose for the millionth time today, but then she looks up at him and kisses his chin. “Eat me out,” she answers.

At first, he thinks she’s joking and so he chuckles, but when he notices she’s serious, he almost gasps. If he thinks about it, this is the first time she ever told him to eat her out and to say that it doesn’t arouse him would be a fat lie. “But you’re sick?”

“It’s just allergy,” she manages to answer before sneezing again. “Please, I really need you.” She nibbles at his earlobe and he knows she’s just wrapped him around her finger tighter than before.

Vladimir groans as something stirs in the pit of his stomach. His hands twitch before he grabs her head and kisses her deeply, her chapped lips scratching his. It takes him a while to remember she has to breathe, that she can’t do it from her nose.

But it’s as though she doesn’t exactly care: she inhales deeply and goes on to kiss his jaw and his neck as she tears his shirt open. He tuts at her as buttons go flying in every direction and he’s quick to remove the shirt of her pajamas, just as he’s quick to flip their positions over. He’s hovering over her now, between her legs, and he’s littering her chest in kisses. She moans when his tongue flicks over one of her nipples and his fingers tease the other, his stubble deliciously scratching the skin of her burning chest. When he switches to suck her bud in his mouth, she arches against him and she fights to breathe.

“Are you sure we should be doing this?” He’s worried and she doesn’t miss the concern in his voice.

She nods furiously. “Please, I just… I’m okay, I just crave you.”

Vladimir needs no more encouragement: he switches to her other nipple, his tongue and teeth and mouth play with it until it gets impossibly hard and she squirms, tugging on his hair until he pulls up. And he smirks, grinding his hips against hers to let her feel how hard she always manages to get him.

“Fuck,” she manages to groan before she sneezes again.

Vladimir chuckles as he gets up on his knees. He towers above her as he takes off the jacket of his suit and his shirt and it’s as though her eyes are drinking him in. She stares up at him, her gaze wandering from his leather belt to his face, her lips are parted. He knows it’s because it’s her only way to keep breathing, but he can’t help but get hotter by the second under her scrutiny.

He bends over and his hands run up and down her sides, his thumbs teasing the soft skin of her breasts. His lips kiss from the dip of her collarbone all the way down to her bellybutton and all he can hear are her gasps as his ministrations tickle her.

It takes him a while before his fingers slip underneath the bands of her pants and panties and he takes his time leaving a hickey on her hip bone. Then she blows her nose, making him chuckle, and she whines when he doesn’t budge.

“C’mon,” she groans, wiggling under him.

“Patience.” He stares up at her, his gaze flying over the skin of her abdomen and the valley of her breasts and she stills. She still grunts though, but then the sound turns into a gasp when he suddenly rips her pants and underwear down her legs, taking her socks with them.

This time he’s the one drinking her in. His eyes roam up her legs as his hands run up her shins just to push her legs wider when they reach her knees. He bows down, his hands coming up her thighs to rest on her hips as he presses a kiss against her wet folds.

She gasps again, her neck arching both in surprise and the need to breathe. It’s a real fight: she has to remind her brain to remind her lungs to keep working even though her nose gave up on its job last night. And she knows that’s probably not her best idea, but she’s sick and she’s in pain and her allergies are driving her wild and all she wants is for her man to make love to her.

A moaned ‘Vladimir’ leaves her lips and he smiles against her. His tongue traces a wet stripe from her perineum up to her clit, pressing gently between her slick-covered labia. This time he groans when she moans and the additional vibrations have a shiver to run up her spine.

Her hips start to jerk up when she notices he’s taking his time and so he slips his arms under her thighs and drags her closer, so close there’s no room for movement and she’s pressed up against him, his face, his shoulders.

It’s a sweet but unbearable torture. He eats her out slowly and makes sure to be loud in his ministrations. He switches between kissing her to licking her to sucking hard on her clit, and he knows the effect his stubble has on her. He has to call her name a few times during the whole session because he knows she tends to get so caught up in the act that she forgets to breathe. Still, she can’t focus on anything when he pushes two fingers into her without warning and her brain goes blank when she clamps down hard on them. He groans out at the pressure and when he curls his fingers up to brush against her g-spot, he has to fight against her vagina squeezing them.

Even the pace of his fingers his slow and he makes sure she feels every second of it as the pressure he applies slowly intensifies, his mouth becoming more insistent on her clit.

Her stomach churns and twists as her lungs fight to work. She has one hand on her breast, squeezing it and tugging on her nipple while the other reaches down to rest on his head and it pushes him harder against her as her fingers fight to pull him back.

Vladimir doesn’t move. Even when he comes up a little to breathe, his tongue still flickers over her clit as his fingers slowly pick up their rhythm.

She calls his name, but it’s an aborted moan and it’s hard to hear a ‘Vladimir’ in that sound. He still gets the hint, though: she’s squeezing his fingers harder and his movements get more demanding. But when he takes her clit in his mouth again, there’s no more room for breathing. She comes, and she comes hard, and she squirts over his mouth and chin and hand. And it’s as though her walls are trying to suck his fingers in when he takes them out. He slowly licks her clean, his thumb gently circling her clit to let her ride out her orgasm. And when she finally comes down from her high, she takes in a deep and noisy breath.

Her body is still trembling when he finishes to undress and crawls up her body. He litters it in kisses once again and relishes in the way her chest quickly rises and falls, her hard nipples brushing against his chest with every breath she takes.

He doesn’t wait for her to recover. He pumps his cock a few times and he’s so hard it hurts. His lips trail down her neck to her breast as he aligns himself with her entrance. When he enters her slowly, she arches her neck and fights to keep breathing. He takes the occasion to kiss the column of her throat and as he does so, he pulls almost all the way out, just to then push in again. His movements are slow once again: he loves the feeling of her hot, wet pussy squeezing him to accommodate to his size, just as she loves the slow stretch his dick imposes to her muscles, moving back and forth and brushing against her most sensitive spots.

It’s like a slow race to orgasm and his hips roll against her. He slowly pushes all the way in until he bottoms out and his movements still for a second before he slowly pulls out until only the tip is sheathed.

He tilts her head back to make it easier for her to breathe and bends down to suck on the side of her neck, his chest pressing down against hers. A long, low moan leaves his lips as her walls clamp down on him harder when he hits a particular spot deep inside her and he has to still for a moment, his eyes closing of their own accord and his forehead resting against her shoulder.

At the same moment, her nails rake down his back until she is gripping his ass and pushing up to create more friction.

When he resumes his movements, he lifts his head to stare down at her and he smirks when he sees she’s already lost in her own world, her breath hissing out between her lips as she does her best to meet his thrusts. She’s a moaning mess under him and he can’t help himself but peck her lips in a quick kiss before he has to move away. He groans out when she sneezes: her cunt squeezes him tighter and he almost loses it, he almost comes. And even though he manages to hold back, he knows he’s almost there.

He pulls back until he’s on his knees. He sets her legs over his shoulders until her heels rest on his back and picks up his pace, thrusting into her with more force. It takes her a couple of seconds of his thumb working on her clit for her to come again and this time, when the pressure around his dick intensifies, Vladimir doesn’t hold back. He thrusts into her one last time, his hips smacking almost painfully against hers, and then he’s lost. He barely registers his arms moving her legs from his shoulders because he’s already falling forward, his eyes screwed shut, his hips still thrusting into her as his orgasm makes his body shiver and tense.

It takes them both more than usual to come back down to earth and when they both open their eyes, Vladimir is resting on Y/N’s chest and her hands are absentmindedly waving through his spiky hair.

She sneezes one last time and the action caused her to clamp down on him again. He hisses, half in pain and half in pleasure, and he slips his softening cock out of her, both their fluids trickling out with the movement.

“God, thank you,” she mutters, stretching out to grab a clean tissue to blow her nose.

Vladimir chuckles but doesn’t move. Somehow, he doesn’t have enough strength to get up from that position and so he lies there, staring at her nipple, his hand caressing the underside of the boob.

Had he known she craved him that much when she was sick–he thinks–he would have skipped work days a lot sooner.

Your girl needs to calm her hormones. Let me know how you liked this, feedback is always super appreciated :)

TAGS (to be added/removed shoot me an ask) (if you want to be tagged as ‘Bratva’ or don’t want to anymore, tell me via the ask box)

Everything: @idhrenniel @saibh29 @fuckthatfeeling @aya-fay @pebblesz892 @toomanyfandoms96 @mblaqgi

Bratva (buddies that might be interested in the specific story): @sweetvengeancee @theranskahovs ( @brobachev ?)