#like maybe i had to stop watching for brain reasons but you can tell within an episode that they really did something

[thepoisonroom]

i hope whoever did the iwtv casting gets everything they want in life btw

[feyhunter78]

Split Lips and Busted Knuckles - Nerd!Miguel

Description: A chance meeting with Miguel's half-brother Kron leads to you seeing a different side of Miguel.

Nerd!Miguel masterlist here!!

Seriously you hate men, maybe not all of them, obviously not Miguel, but a lot if not most of them, and you really fucking hate Kron. Tall, blond, an extremely punchable face and an attitude that screamed “I waste my daddy’s money on cocaine.” He was a complete and utter rich asshole. One who seemed to be intent on talking to you.

You had a Mid-18th Century History class together, and he always tried to catch you after class. Luckily, you had a few sisters in your class as well, and you could hide within the pack to avoid him. Then he tried to catch you before class, but your professor called you over, safe again. But now here in the courtyard, an open space filled with frat boys you stupidly decided to wander through on your way to meet Miguel, there was nowhere to hide.

“Y/N, hey y/n, wait up.” Kron calls, waving wildly to get your attention.

You stop and press your lips together, before putting on a fake smile. He was the social chair for KA, and you know some of your sisters have been dying to be invited to their parties. “Hey Kron, what’s up?”

He gives you a smile, one that you think is supposed to be friendly, even nonthreatening, but it gives you the creeps. “Not much, just wanted to ask you about something I heard from a few people.”

“Oh?” You rack your brain trying to come up with some semblance of an idea about what he’s talking about but come up empty.

“Yeah, I heard you’ve been hanging out with my brother.” He says, his blue eyes hold you fast, like a butterfly pinned to a board.

“Your brother? I didn’t know you had a brother.” You say, brow furrowing as you try to remember meeting someone who looks like Kron but isn’t actually Kron.

“Well, he’s my half-brother, my dad is the ultimate stud, so you know, things happen and then Miguel just showed up.” He explains, not even seeming fazed or upset that his dad had an affair.

You blink owlishly, his words echoing in your brain as you try to put two and two together. “Miguel, as is Miguel O’Hara?”

He nods, “that’s the one, weird ass nerd, he refused to join KA with me, even though I told him that’s the only way he’ll make friends.”

“He’s not weird.” You bristle, crossing your arms over your chest.

Kron holds up his hands in surrender. “Whoa, whoa, chill, I’m just saying.”

“Yeah, okay, so I’ve been hanging out with him, who cares?” You glance at your watch; you’re going to be late.

There’s a very real and slightly concerning pain in your chest at the thought of Miguel sitting alone in the student center, waiting for you like a lost puppy, thinking you abandoned him.

Kron rests a hand on your shoulder, and you fight the urge to shrug it off. “Look Miguel, he’s my half-brother and yeah, he’s fucking annoying, and a try-hard, but he’s a nice guy, too nice. Don’t waste your time with him, it’s social suicide. He’s a nobody, a fucking loser who cares more about Legos and fucking science or whatever than getting laid.”

“I really don’t care about social suicide, but thanks, I think I can make my own decisions.” You tell Kron, giving him that same, perfectly crafted customer service smile.

“Y/N, you don’t get it, I’m trying to help you. He’s a loser, back in high school, no girls gave him a chance, he’s a total virgin okay, and you need a real man.”

And there it is, the real reason Kron doesn’t want you hanging with Miguel.

“A real man, huh? Well, you know what Kron, why don’t you let me know when you’ve found one and then get back to me.” You pat his hand that’s still on your shoulder.

His face goes red, then the color drains and his eyes harden. “I’m trying to help you, bitch.”

“Appreciate it, don’t need it, thanks though.” You walk off, head held high, hands shaking in anger as you shove them in your jacket pockets.

Miguel is sitting at your normal table, the one tucked in the corner secluded and shaded by large hedges, his head in a book, his glasses slipping down his nose.

You set your stuff down and push them up, smiling at his startled look. “Hey, sorry about the wait.”

He shakes his head, pink tinting his cheeks. “No worries, I was reading up on next week’s lecture for my genetics class.

You slide into the seat across from him. “Oh yeah? Anything interesting?”

You can’t believe he’s a virgin, he’s so…hot. Your mind starts to wonder for a second, imagining what it would be like, how he’d sound, how he’d feel, the flustered look on his face when you straddle him.

He nods, and begins to explain, talking wildly with his hands, pulling you from your lewd thoughts, then he freezes, his shoulders tensing, his hands deathly still.

“Miguel? Everything alright?” You ask, casting a glance over your shoulder in the direction of his gaze.

Fucking Kron.

When Kron gets closer you yell out, “so what are you like a stalker now or something?”

He laughs, it’s that specific laugh that reeks of arrogance and an inability to see women as people. “You wish.”

“I really don’t.” You grumble, turning back to look at Miguel.

His knuckles are white, his jaw clenched, his back ramrod straight, his shoulders set back, the expanse of his chest on display as if he’s trying to make himself look bigger than he already is, which is a feat in itself. There’s a look in his eyes that sends a shiver of something akin to fear down your spine. You’ve never seen Miguel look this way, ever, it’s like you’re looking at a whole different person.

“Migs, how you doing, bro?” Kron asks, standing between you and Miguel, who both remain seated, resting his hands on the table.

“Kron.” Miguel says curtly, turning that ice-cold gaze fully onto his half-brother.

Kron rolls his shoulders back and glances at you. “I thought I told you there’s nothing to be gained from hanging with this loser.”

Your eyes flicker back to Miguel, who’s giving Kron a harsh look you can’t quite decipher, then to Kron. “And I thought I told you I can make my own decisions.”

Kron clicks his tongue. “What’s he gonna do for you, he’s a fucking virgin. Just gonna try to make you cum by explaining science facts to you? Build you a dildo out of Legos?”

You nearly choke on your own spit. “What the fuck is wrong with you?

“If you’re that desperate for dick, you can always swing by the house, I’d be more than happy—” Kron hits the ground with a strangled yelp.

Miguel is on him in seconds, fist cocked back, his back muscle rippling as he brings his fist down, again and again and again. “Di esa mierda otra vez. Dilo de nuevo, te reto a la mierda.” Trsl: Say that shit again. Say it again, I fucking dare you.

Kron manages to get one arm free and tries to grab Miguel’s face, shirt, arm, anything he can reach. “You’re fucking crazy, you and your sorority slut.” Kron lands a solid hit, and you wince at the sight of Miguel’s head turning—even if it’s ever so slightly—with the force, Kron’s smug laugh ringing through the air once more.

“You never know when to shut up, huh?” Miguel snarls, forcing Kron’s arm down with his free hand, the other connecting with Kron’s nose, a sickening crack filling the air.

The sound prompts you into action, and you ignore the way your stomach flips at Miguel’s tone, at the way he moves, like a panther, powerful, stalking its prey, delivering that fatal blow.

Be so for real y/n, you cannot be turned on right now, that’s so embarrassing.

You grab Miguel’s shoulders and try to pull him away, it’s useless, but you try anyways. “Stop, stop, you have to stop, fuck come on Miguel—if they catch you fighting on campus you could lose your scholarship.”

“Shit, okay, I yield, I’m sorry.” Kron coughs out, blood gushing from his nose as his voice joins yours.

But Miguel doesn’t stop, he’s cursing under his breath, and at Kron in Spanish, his hand bloody, Kron’s flailing helplessly in his vice grip.

You try to grab Miguel’s bicep, fear flooding your system. “Miguel, stop, please, you’re freaking me out.”

That catches his attention.

Miguel mutters something to Kron then gets up, shoving his stuff in his bag and walking away, his shoulders tense.

In shock, you grab a bunch of napkins and your things, before chasing after him.

Why is this still kinda hot? You wonder, before mentally smacking yourself upside the head.

Miguel’s legs are much longer than yours, his steps bigger, faster, and you grab onto the front pocket of his backpack, his name spilling from your lips. “Miguel, hey, wait up.”

He stops, and you drag him into a nearby alcove with a bench pressed flush against the stone wall.

You both sit and Miguel refuses to look at you, his hand and lip bloodied.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You ask, taking his hand in yours and dabbing it with a napkin, trying to clean him up the best you can.

“I’m sorry.” Miguel says quietly, eyes downcast.

“Why?” You turn his hand over and start cleaning his palm.

“I scared you, and I—I let my anger get the best of me, I should’ve just walked away.” His eyes meet yours for a brief moment when you gently dab at his lip.

“You didn’t scare me, I mean yeah that was a little intense, but…” You trail off when you realize he’s trembling. “Hey, I’m not afraid of you, you’re Miguel, my sweet boy, who can apparently throw one hell of a punch.”

He laughs at that, albeit weakly, but it’s still a laugh.

“And Kron is an idiot, don’t listen to him.” You continue, spending maybe a bit too long cleaning Miguel’s split lip, mesmerized by him.

“I don’t care what he says about me, he’s been a jerk since we were kids, but…he can’t just—you don’t deserve that.”

You exhale forcefully out of your nose, a small, contained laugh. “He’s just a dumbass saying dumbass stuff, like really, who would build a dildo out of Legos? That would hurt like a bitch.”

“And you don’t—you’re not weirded out by what he said?” Miguel asks carefully, you can feel the embarrassed heat radiating off him.

You set the napkin down and grab his chin with one hand turning his face side to side, inspecting him. You know what he means, not the Legos, or the science facts, the virgin part. It’s such a dumb thing to make fun of someone about something you’ve always been against. Why shame someone for such a personal choice? It’s their body, they can do what they want.

Plus, it’s kinda hot, being the first one to have him? The first one who gets to hear him, see him like that? Fuck, you wish that was you. Maybe you should offer? No, no, y/n, seriously, keep it in your pants.

Once you’re done with your inspection, you turn him to face you. “No, I’m not, who cares if you have or haven’t slept with someone, it’s not a big deal. Though I am surprised, a smart, handsome, sweet guy like you? I thought you’d have tons of girls under your belt. Bunch of math and science prodigies following you around like groupies, fighting to get in your pants.”

Because that’s who Miguel deserves someone smart, someone who can keep up with him—shit pull back, you’re making yourself insecure.

Miguel ducks his head, nuzzling into your palm as a result of the movement. “Thank you, for cleaning me up, and...you know.”

You smile, heart fluttering as Miguel leans into your touch. “No problem.”

You’re in wayyyy too deep.

Virgin Miguel bitchesssss

TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer

[preciouslittle-bhaalbabe]

Not one to beg.

Soft, sweet and fluffy mostly plotless smut brainrot because these two have made a small hole in my brain and they won't stop kissing ;w;

(this is the first time i've ever legit written any kind of smut so be gentle, if you can)

Ft: Astarion x my durge Tomie

It had been a few weeks since the party. Since the night Astarion and Tomie spent together. Astarion thought it would be just the same as any other seduction. But it wasn't.

Her touch, her skin, her voice, her blood. He craved it like a drug. Not only that, but she made him feel truly wanted. Not just his body, but his company. His time. Every time he insisted they give her neck a break and go hunting, she was right there with him. Tail swishing back and forth excitedly. She could never hide how much she enjoys being around him. He hated it, but he knows he shares the same feelings. She feels like home in a way he hasn't felt in centuries.

When she did let him feed, the rush of desire that floods into him is nearly impossible to bear. He has to stifle moans and keep his body from needily pressing against hers. She must have felt it. There's no way she couldn't. But she never said anything. She hasn't tried to instigate intimacy once since that night. Despite the near constant flirting, small cheek kisses and innuendo exchanged between them. Astarion is shocked. Some nights he had to settle for his own hand just to alleviate the yearning. She was driving him insane and she had no idea. Or maybe she did, and this was all on purpose.

That sly little minx.

One night, Tomie delcared she will be going off to bathe in the nearby lake.

"Alright! Don't take too long, dinner is almost ready" Gale says.

Tomie nods and begins to walk towards the lakes direction with a small towel and some soap. Her tail swishes and she casts the quickest sly glance at Astarion. A hint of a smile on her pretty lips. He watches as she disappears into the treeline. That was the final straw.

"I'm going for a walk" Astarion says. Not waiting for a response from the others. Walking in the opposite direction of Tomie to not rise suspicion. He will double back once he's far enough away from the camp. A few moments of aimless wandering and racing thoughts. Should he do this? Was she avoiding it for a reason? But if that's the case, why would she be teasing him so much? Gods, it's like he can smell her from here. Warm, spicy, indulgent. But wait, how? Did she get hurt?His pace quickened from a casual stroll to a sprint. Now rushing towards the direction of the water he hears small curses and gasps of breath. Not wanting to scare her, he hides behind a tree and peeks at the scene ahead.

She was in her undergarments, washing her day clothes in the lake. She had accidentally sliced her hand a little with a rock. Nothing too serious. She cast heal wounds on it within moments and looked around, making sure the blood didn't draw any predators. Once content, she went back to washing her clothes in the water then wading in herself. Still in her underclothes. She closed her eyes and floated there for a while. Looking truly at peace.

It's now or never. Astarion emerges from a tree, just the same as he did the first time.

"There you are" He says.

"Oh! Hi Astarion! Come to do some washing?" Tomie asks. A sweet seemingly innocent smile on her face. But a small glint in her eye indicated to him that she knew EXACTLY what she was doing.

"Something like that. I was drawn to the scent of your blood, I wanted to make sure you were alright" He tries to add as much velvet to his voice as possible. He's done this thousands of times before. Why would this be any different?

"Such a worrywart, don't tell me you've started to care have you?" Tomie says. Her voice soft as silk, putting his seduction attempt almost to shame. Tomie effortlessly swims to the lakeshore and emerges from the water, dripping, her undergarments clinging to every curve. Her ivory hair wet and slicked back, effortlessly cascading down her shoulders. She was a vision. She gently shakes herself off a little then meets her eyes with his. Her bright red eyes and cat-like pupils shine in the moonlight. He had never noticed that her eyes glow like that before. She approaches him and he finds himself leaning his back against the very tree he was hiding behind. He felt almost dizzy.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you're really here?" Tomie purrs. Her hands behind her back, leaning forward slightly. Her tail slowly waving side to side.

"Well" Astarion scoffs. "Isn't it obvious??" He's supposed to be the seductive one. Making people swoon with just a few words. How is it that this woman flusters him so?

"Not to me. See, I prefer when someone is direct. I want to know exactly what you need from me" Tomie brushes her fingertips against his arm, sending tingles all the way through his body.

"Darling, I'm not one to beg but-"

"No no, I don't want you to beg. I just want you to tell me".

Tomie's torso is flush with his now. Her tail twitches with anticipation as she continues tracing her fingertips against his arm. Looking up at him sweetly. He takes a deep breath and sighs once he realises he hasn't been breathing since she came out of the lake.

He takes her hand and starts kissing each fingertip, Slightly cold from the water. He drops the sensual facade. Neither of them want this to be a performance. In between kisses he admits to himself and to her:

"I need to taste you again, to feel you, to indulge myself in you". He says. His voice earnest and wanting.

"I want the same" she says. There's a hint of relief in her tone as she wraps her arms around his neck. They both rest their foreheads against each other. With a deep sigh he places both his hands around her waist, running them up and down her curves.

"Then why didn't you say anything? I've been losing my mind these past weeks" Astarion says, his voice gentle and low, barely above a whisper.

"I...I never want you to do anything you don't want to do" She cups his face in her hands and rubs her thumbs along his cheekbones. He melts into the sensation. She moves her head back to look directly into his eyes. Her expression so sincere, so gentle.

"I noticed how distant your eyes looked last time, and I know your experiences with sex haven't been exactly...Pleasant. I wanted to wait until you were ready."

"You sweet, generous thing" He places a small pecks on her cheek and forehead while she giggles. In one swift motion, he ducks to the side and spins her around so now she's the one against the tree.

"Ha,déjà vu" Tomie giggles.

He's tired of waiting. He grabs the back of her head and presses his lips against hers. She wraps her arms back around his neck and gently runs her fingers through his hair. He presses his thigh between her legs, causing a soft, sweet moan to come out of her. He slowly removes his shirt in between deep kisses, and unbuttons her damp undershirt with swiftness and skill. He will never get used to that feeling of skin to skin. She is so warm, so soft. Several weeks of pent up desire flood through him as he explores every inch and curve of her body with his fingers. Low moans and growls come from deep within his chest. Finally, he releases her so she can catch her breath. Her lips are pink and puffy from the kisses, her cheeks and ears flush with blood and desire. She moves her hand from behind his neck to his face as he play bites at her fingers. Giving her one last deep kiss then trailing smaller kisses down to her neck, brushing some of her hair out of the way.

"May I, darling?" Astarion purrs.

"Of course, Astarion. Always."

"Gods, my name sounds so sweet coming from you".

Holding the back of her head steady, he licks and kisses the small puncture scars on her neck made from previous encounters. He gently bites down and starts drinking her life essence.

"Hmmph" He groans in pleasure with every swallow. He holds her closely against himself. Craving to touch as much of his skin to hers as he can. He feels the warmth of her blood spreading between both of their bodies. Her blood alone is enough to drive him to madness. He starts to feel the slight buzz he gets when full. He unlatches himself from her neck before he drinks too much, gently licking the beading blood from the wound and his lips.

*sigh* "You are delectable, you know that?"

"You've mentioned it once or twice" Tomie coos.

"You're alright?" Astarion says. "Not lightheaded or faint?" He holds her face in his hands and kisses her nose.

"I'm perfectly fine" Tomie smiles.

"Good. Now where were we?"

He resumes kissing her. The sweet copper taste from her blood still on his lips. They clumsily find a soft patch of grass and lie down, Astarion on top. He presses himself against her skin as if he can't get close enough. They start rolling against each other in a slow, melodic tempo. He doesn't want to rush. He stops kissing her and sits up for a moment. Taking her in. Her chest rising and falling with every breath. Lidded eyes full of love and desire. Her mouth slightly open and lips parted.

"I think I need to taste you again, my dear"

"Oh? I'm not sure I have enough blood for tha- ah!"

He kisses his way down to between her legs. Gently massaging her flesh, and kissing and biting her inner thighs. He slowly removes her underwear, damp with water and arousal, and moves his kisses closer to her aching sex. He looks up at her again from between her legs.

"May I, darling?" Astarion says with a smirk.

"Gods yes." Tomie says, breathless.

"Ah ah, yes what?" Astarion says coyly.

"Yes, Astarion".

A low moan comes from deep within him as he wraps his lips around her slit. His tongue slowly parting her lips to expose her clit. Her sweet juices covering his mouth within moments. He kisses and licks her clit slowly and gently, then with more force. Tomie starts to squirm and shake from the sensation. When he is sure she is about to go over the edge, he stops.

A dissapointed sigh comes from her.

"Don't worry darling, I'm not going to leave you hanging".

He removes his pants and exposes is throbbing length, sopping wet from arousal. He comes back up to meet her lips and presses deep kisses against her. He brings his elbows up to prop himself up while cradling her head. He hooks his leg under hers and brings it upwards. Then slowly slides the head of his cock between her slit tentatively. Rocking back and forth. A frusterated moan comes from her between kisses and with a laugh, he decides they've both had enough teasing. He finally slides himself in. A small whimper threatens to escape from his lips.

"Gods, never make me wait that long again, my dear" Astarion says breathless.

"Never again" Tomie moans.

They rock together in smooth motions, slowly at first then increasing in speed and desperation. Tomie pushes against him and they roll over so that Astarion is now lying on his back.

"You don't have to do all the work you know. Let me spoil you for once" Tomie purrs.

She slides herself back onto his length and begins to thrust her hips in rhythmic motion. Astarion places his hands on her hips to keep them steady. She looks stunning riding on top of him like this. Taking him in completely. She leans forward and they continue to rock and kiss against each other. Small whimpers come from Astarion as he grips her tighter. Thrusting more vigorously. She can't hold herself back anymore and rides into her orgasm. Legs shaking slightly and her pussy pulsing against his throbbing cock. He's not far behind, they both moan into each others mouths between kisses as they pass over the edge of bliss. Tomie collapses onto Astarions chest as they both giggle. Astarion wraps his arms around her and strokes her back. They both stay silent for a few moments. Cuddling into each other and slowing their breaths down.

"So, what do you think Gale made for dinner?" Tomie asks, looking up at him. Astarion lets out a hearty laugh.

"I don't know, but I'm sure it's nothing compared to the meal I just had."

Tomie giggles, then relaxes back onto his chest. He doesn't quite know what they are, or what he's feeling. But he does know that this? This is nice.

[surrealist-dreamer]

Manors Fucking Haunted - Chapter 1

Ao3 link - Episode 2

Summary:

Jason was tired. Very tired. It has been a long ass week starting with an explosion causing a mental breakdown and continuing with constantly thinking of life at the manor. At every corner something made him think about it. the counter looks like the manors, ‘hey remember when Alfred…’ He lays on the couch, ‘Remember how you fell asleep on Dicks lap while watching…’ OR: Jason breaks into the manor wanting his book. You can guess how this goes.

A/N: Finally posting this to tumblr

Jason was tired. Very tired. It has been a long ass week, starting with an explosion causing a concerning long panic attack, and continuing with constantly thinking of life at the manor.

At every corner something made him think about it. The counter looks like the manors, ‘hey remember when Alfred…’ He lays on the couch, ‘Remember how you fell asleep on Dicks lap…’ 

He had kicked someone across the face and was instantly shot back to when Jason had done the same as Robin, albeit with less force (also without steel-toed boots).

All of this to say, Jason was not having a good time. 

As he rounded a corner at a speed far too high, a thought crept into his head.

‘You could go.’

Jason gripped his bike tighter, it wasn’t something he should want. Not after everything Talia had told him home, not home, had done. 

‘…But you could pick up your copy of Pride and Prejudice.’ It needs to be done at some point, Jason wanted his book back. So what if he also got to be home while he did it? 

Fuck. Not home. Not anymore.

Jason took a minor detour to get in something less conspicuous than a reflective red helmet, then started towards Wayne Manor in darker civilian wear. 

‘It looks like something you would wear before you died.’

The voice in his brain needs to shut the fuck up before he puts his head through a wall.

———

Jason was outside the manor bypassing a truckload of security. ‘Are you really going to do this? I mean do you really want the book this much?’ He did not want the book that much. 

For some reason that didn’t make him stop.

After making sure there wouldn’t be any alerts or records of him getting in, he made his way across the yard and scaled the side of the manor to a porch.

Jason had always hated the inadequacy the house had given him. The size of his room swallowing him, the unease within his stomach while walking through the hallways. Just getting in a the car made the bike ride in his throat.

Bruce had tried to give him a room with a porch off it, but Jason was very obviously not okay with it and Bruce ended up settled for a room close to the library since the room itself had a balcony. Jason often read on when he wanted space from… everything. 

Now Jason was lock picking his childhood library, trying desperately to ignore the rocking chair he had always sat on.

The door finally gave a last click and gave way to the dark library. ‘Ah, that’s a problem.’

Jason had left his oh-so-convenient helmet at home so it wouldn’t give him away on this one journey. This is backfiring in a really stupid way because if the lights were on in the library it would encourage someone to check it, and more stupidly, the light switch was outside the library. Jason couldn’t turn it even if he wanted to.

Despite the universe seemingly telling him to go, Jason bumbles into the library. He shuffles along the room looking at shelves, and not so subtly… gets completely fucking wrecked by the stool he used to use to reach the high shelves. 

Jason makes contact with the floor, not bothering to move for over a minute (this was a massive hit to his pride on an already shit week, he can take a breather). Luckily no one seems to have heard. Jason starts peeling himself off the floor and then spots it. ‘Magic Tree House: Dinosaurs before Dark.’

Not quite what he had in mind but…

Jason picks it up from the low shelf and stands up, the shelf creaking as he uses it for support. He begins flipping through the pages. ‘Maybe you take this book for now, don’t want to leave behind something so-’

“Littlewing?”

Jason hadn’t even heard the door open. His head shot up and there he was, Dick-goddamn-Grayson. His face looked like he’d just been slapped. Jason opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted before he could speak.

“So this is what you’d look like if you got to grow old.”

‘…what?’ Jason just stood there as Dick scanned over his face before pinching the bridge of his nose and turning around, leaving the library.

“Huh.”

[umemiyan]

𝗦𝗨𝗚𝗨𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗘𝗧𝗢 𝗫 𝗙!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.⌇ 18+ only, mdni / incest / pregnancy / infidelity / heavy petting / just an idea i had last night that i felt the need to share so i drabbled this out. he’s heavy on the brain rn it’s kinda scaring me. (dividers by cafekitsune)

hear me out: suguru and his pregnant twin sister who’s freshly married to another man.

it’s rather early in the pregnancy, but your husband insists on having someone stay with you while he’s away on a business trip just in case something were to happen. and there’s no better option than your very own brother, suguru, who happily agrees when you ask. he’s strong, sensible, and perfectly capable of handling any situation that might go awry. if he doesn’t cause one himself.

you’ve always been close—closer than your average pair of siblings, really. life wasn’t kind to you both growing up, so you often had to lean on one another for support, acting like a pair of adults long before either you ever became of age. it allowed a certain maturity to settle in your bones, but robbed you of most normalcy.

spending time alone with him in the home is just like old times. you cook dinner together and wash the dishes, suguru stepping out onto the balcony for a smoke afterwards, but you can’t join him for a chat this time; your husband nearly goes into cardiac arrest whenever someone lights up within 200 feet of you. suguru doesn’t blame him for it, but his cigarette butts are longer when you aren’t out there with him.

your place is pretty nice—much nicer than anywhere the two of you had lived when you were younger. those days have long past, but suguru still can’t help but feel a little out of place as he sits on the sofa and watches tv on a screen that practically consumes the entire space. or maybe he’s simply envious that another man was able to give you a better life before he could.

you call out for him from in the shower, breaking his daze. “suguruuu!”

he stands and makes his way into the steamy bathroom. something about this feels so familiar. “yeah?”

“i left my towel on the shelf out there. can you get it?” the water is shut off but you don’t feel like dripping water all over the floor to fetch your towel, so he brings it to you with a half-smile.

“thank you,” you say, opening the curtain to reach out and take it, not expecting him to be watching.

“still forgetting your towels, i see.” he teases you and casts a glance over the parts of your body he can view as you dry yourself off.

“yeah, sometimes.”

“you’d probably forget your tits if they weren’t attached.” suguru makes a quick reach to pinch one of your nipples between his fingers before you swat him away, trying to hold back a laugh.

“stop it! don’t be a freak.”

you’re both grinning, and he chuckles. “i’m just telling the truth.”

you half expect him to leave now, but he just leans against the counter and keeps watching you. “you were particularly bad for forgetting your towels when we lived in the motel for some reason.”

you mostly finish drying yourself off and lazily sling the fabric around your torso before leaning against the counter next to him for the last steps of your routine.

“yeah, well… it was probably because in the back of my mind i always knew you wouldn’t be far away to bring it to me.”

he grows silent. that makes something swell in his chest.

you pause what you’re doing to look over at him. “you just gonna stand and stare, or…?”

suguru smirks. “yeah. what of it?”

you roll your eyes playfully. “weirdo.”

he chuckles. “yeah. weirdo.”

you still do everything in more or less the same way as before, but perhaps in an even more beautiful manner somehow. he can’t stop himself from reaching out to tuck a stray wet piece of hair behind your ear with the gentleness of a lover, letting his fingers travel across your shoulder and eventually down to where the towel is haphazardly tucked around you.

“i used to always think we might somehow get married someday—that you’d be my beautiful wife.” suguru hooks a finger beneath the towel and starts tugging, but you give him a side-eye and lock your arm down to keep it in place. this only tempts him more, and he chuckles “crazy, huh? well it just made sense to me.”

he moves to stand behind you and use his strength to pull the towel down until it lands on the floor and you huff with a pout, distracted from what you were doing. his massive hands splay across your ribcage as he watches in the mirror, creeping up until he can stroke his thumbs over your nipples, making you jump. so sensitive.

“i couldn’t imagine a version of my life without your head on the pillow next to mine,” he continues to admit, touch slowly causing you to melt against him.

your body has felt so different lately, but not all of it has been so bad. there have been moments of discomfort, confusion, and even dysphoria as you wrapped your head around your first pregnancy, but there were also times when all you wanted was for someone to brush against your aching cunt—

suguru’s fingers slip down between your thighs until they can dip into your pussy for a teasing touch, letting him test the waters and get a feel for your beautiful body. he knows in his soul that it was made for him; it fits perfectly within his hands, even now.

“sugu…”

he loves it when you call him that.

he leans so close that his breath invades your ear with a half-whisper. “why don’t you come be my wife instead?” he pulls his fingers away from your clit and moves his hand up to rest over the slight bump in your belly, wide palm and thick digits covering a majority of the space, almost as if he’s protecting it, claiming it. “the baby can be ours.”

you inch away from him then, pulling yourself out of the spell he cast over you. “suguru, stop it. why would you say that?” you turn to face him and feel the heat of shame and guilt slither throughout your entire being.

you’re married. suguru is your brother. you shouldn’t have even let him touch you in the first place; he was being irrational and invasive, speaking and doing things that didn’t make sense.

but… they did make a little sense. in fact, they made more sense to you who used to have similar thoughts than they probably would to anyone else. but that was beside the point.

suguru chuckles at you with a dark and lusty yet melancholic look in his eye, affectionately taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “just being a weirdo i guess; saying what’s on my mind.”

he searches your gaze one last time before releasing you and walking away. before he can clear the door, however, he turns to say one last thing:

“but i could feel how wet your pretty pussy got.”

my beloved @fyodior requested a tag <3

[l0vergirlv0mit]

Before Today

Inspired by: Before Today by Everything But The Girl

Pairing: college!Hazel Callahan X reader

Summary: You just can’t get over your ex and frequently confide in your best friend Isabel. This leads her to pulls some strings to try and make her best friend happy again…

Warnings: 18+ mdni, kinda toxic!reader (if you squint), breaking up, fingering, oral r!reciving,

Authors notes: first time writing so it prob sucks. It was super fun to write though. Thanks for reading <3

3 months. That’s how long it’s been since the start of you and Hazels no contact agreement. You decided you couldn’t be her friend after your break up. You couldn’t stomach the idea of being her friend and watching her give her attention to another girl. You wanted the feelings to go away but they never did.

But now you stare at your phone feeling your whole body go numb with fear. Your finger lingers over the unblock button.

You still haven’t been able to get over the way her hands felt when she’d hold your face and call you pretty. The way her laugh rang in your ears when you made a joke sending a wave of pride to your chest .The way her lips felt on your neck, whispering how much she wanted you.

You had to set your phone down to slow your breathing, your eyes filled with tears. Thinking back to when it all fell apart. It was completely your fault.

You couldn’t stop the self destructive chain of events that night. You had a fight that completely blew up in your face. You were looking for a fight wanting to give reason to the emotions you were feeling. You had been upset over reason outside of your relationship and just couldn’t let yourself be happy.

—

“Are you seriously bringing this up again.” Hazel looked at you with no expression she was tired, very tired, leaned over the counter with her face in her hands. “Well yeah I mean you flirted with her in front of my fucking face HAZEL. Like am I just supposed to get over that.” Your tone full of venom. “I told you a million fucking times I wasn’t flirting with her I was ACTUALLY politely telling her I have a girlfriend. So yeah get the fuck over it.” She replies your eyebrows furrow. “Ohhh yeah that’s why you we’re laughing at everything she said, should’ve twirled your hair and kicked your feet while you were at it.”

She rolled her eyes and stood up walking over to you. She got within a couple inches of your face looking down at you slightly. “What’s your goal here huh?” She spoke in a soft deep voice. “Is this your fucked up way of pushing me away? You don’t wanna be with me?” She bumps your chest with her finger and it makes you unbelievably angry.

“Maybe I don’t.” You didn’t even mean it but it was too late to take it back. Without another word she picked up her jacket she left on your settee and ran out of the door. Slamming it so hard the wall shook.

—

You had met up to talk about the fight the day after it had happened deciding it was best to put the relationship on “pause”. Trying to keep it as civil as possible given your mutual friends and inability to hate her.

You had heard about her going out with girl after girl from Isabel. You knew it was her way to fill the void you tried doing the same at the start but got to frustrated deciding on studying 24/7 instead.

Josie and Isabel were you and Hazels informants for each other without either of you knowing. Giving you unsolicited updates when either of you had called in tears over how much you missed one another.

The thought of her going out with so many different girls got to you even when Isabel would call the girls ugly to make you feel better. It especially hurt when you found yourself scrolling through the folder of photos you kept of dates and pictures of her. You couldn’t bring yourself to delete it. Pictures of her trying to stop smiling long enough to kiss you. Those destroyed you.

You pick your phone up again and unblock her turning your brain off for as long as you can. You noticed she didn’t have you blocked and you followed her again. Trying to do these actions as fast as possible to not let the anxiety strangle you. Letting out the biggest exhale you could you turn your phone off and go to bed.

————————————————————————

Hazel had followed you back by the next morning but nothing else came of it. Of course this had you ecstatic but you couldn’t bring yourself to fully make contact. A week later Isabel had invited you out to a party with full knowledge that Hazel was going to be there.

“Y/n what are you gonna wear to the party tomorrow?” She texted you. You sent her a photo of a tiny black skirt, a band tee shirt you had cut into a tank top, and your black boots. “Yeah that’ll work.” Is all she said back. You sent “???” But she never replied.

You got ready for the party putting your 90’s smokey eye on and styling your hair to perfection. You put on your most expensive perfume. Staring at yourself in your full length mirror admiring yourself in the new set you bought from Victoria secret it was lacy and red. You were determined to get laid tonight. Finishing getting dressed in clothes that didn’t give you much more coverage than the set did you hear a “ding” from your phone,

Isabel: here

Josie and Isabel pulled up to your place. You came down the stairs of your apartment complex. And basically hop over to the car. “Hey hot stuff.” Josie said wiggling her eyebrow talking to you through the open window. “Yeah just so you know we’re looking for a third.” Isabel joked looking you up and down. You giggle and slide into the back seat. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” You give both girls a kiss on there cheeks. “You guys are gonna be the hottest couple at this party.” Josie and Isabel give each other a look you couldn’t quite understand. “Doubt it.” Is all Josie said before driving. Isabel smiled at this remark confusing you.

The 3 of you had gotten out of the car walking up to the frat house the party was at. “I’m so happy you agreed to go out with us tonight.” Isabel beams at you. “Yeah all you do is study y/n you better go crazy tonight.” Josie says looking at you slyly. You laugh as you reach the front door.

You all walk inside and see PJ and Britney talking in a corner. Josie walks up to them first “Heyyyy PJ you wanna get a drink with me?” Josie takes the poor girl over to the bar. You and Isabel then go to join Britney. “Her dedication is impressive honestly.” You say to Britney and she nods her head. “Oh very impressive.” She replied taking a big sip out of her red solo cup. You look over to the bar area and do a double take.

PJ and Josie are deep in conversation with Hazel. You feel all the confidence you had drain from your body. Hazel feels your eyes on her and makes eye contact with you. You look away quickly feeling very naked in your tank top and too tiny skirt. Hazel can’t help but stare at you. The way your outfit was hugging you in the just the right places and your hair framing your face so perfectly. It made her unbelievably needy.

You wait till they leave the bar and go outside by the pool to go get yourself a drink. You feel hazels glances until they’re completely outside. You down 2 shots back to back immediately and smile coyly at a worried looking Isabel, she’s starting to regret her decision to play parent trap.

—

“Go talk to them.” Josie spoke softly to Hazel “I can’t I mean what would I even say.” Hazel huffs as she swirled her vodka strawberry lemonade around staring at it like it would turn into a portal and take her anywhere but here. “Oh I don’t know Hazel! Maybe “I miss you so much y/n that I cried during not 1 but 3 hook ups.”” Hazel just stared at Josie with her mouth open hoping no one was over hearing their conversation. “Ok I’m sorry-“ Josie started but Hazel threw her cup down and started walking furiously into the house to find you. Josie laughed in surprise that that actually worked.

You were still at the bar making yourself the strongest cocktail known to man. When you feel someone’s presence to the side of you looking up casually with a smile already feeling tipsy. Your eyes grow wide and smile falls realizing who was in front of you. “Oh.” You felt like a fucking bumbling idiot. She looked amazing her hair slightly pushed out of her face. She had on baggy jeans, a cropped green plaid button up, and adidas. The way her small chains rest at the base of her neck makes your heart skip.

“Hey h-how have you been.” Hazel asks rubbing the back of her neck looking you up and down mindlessly. “I’ve been good h-how have you been.” You try to keep it together even though you feel your heart sinking even deeper into your chest. “I miss you… like a lot.” She couldn’t keep it in anymore. She gives you a desperate look. It nearly takes your breath away you stare at her in disbelief. She looked like a sick puppy. “Can we go somewhere more private please?” She pleaded and you nod, she takes your hand hesitantly and leads you upstairs to an empty room.

Josie and Isabel watched you disappear to the second floor “let’s fucking go.” Josie says and they high five each other.

Hazel closed the door behind you and locked it. You turn to face her, looking each other in the eyes deeply. She rubs her sweaty hands on her pants and goes past you to sit on the bed. You go to sit next to her. “You look beautiful.” She spoke softly trying to be as un intimidating as possible. “So do you.” You both stare at each other not knowing what else to say.

“I miss you so much Hazel, it hurts.” You finally huffed and pouted starting to feel embarrassed at the familiar burn you were getting in your throat. Your eyes becoming glazed and heavy. Trying your best not to let out 3 months of self hatred and sadness. You looked down at nothing feeling defeated.

Hazel broke, grabbing your face with both hands to meet your eyes again then pulled you into a heated urgent kiss. It turned into a frenzied make out. Both pair of hands grasping and pulling and caressing. She pulled away just enough to whisper. “Fuck I missed you so much.” Then her lips were on you again. You grab at her shoulders grounding yourself. She pulls back once more. “I missed your lips-” You grab her by the collar not able to contain how needy you are for her. “nn-h!” you swing your leg over her lap to straddle her. Her hands strongly grip your hips just to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

You grip onto her hair tugging her back, eyes flicking over her blushed face. You start kissing her neck feverishly. Her breathing picks up and her exhales are heavy. “You feel so good y/n.” You go to unbutton her shirt but Hazel flips you onto your back. She grabs your wrist pinning you and bring her knee against your heat. You let out a high pitched whimper.

Your skirt rides up revealing your red lace thong. Hazel takes notice her face becoming more dark and focused. “These are new.” She presses her thumb to your clothed clit. This elicits a breathless moan not expecting her actions.

Your face turns a deep shade of red when she starts kneeling between your legs. She leaves a trail of kisses starting at the top of your knee. Your fingers running through her hair making her hum into your softly skin. Hazel makes her way to your inner thigh kissing and sucking on the sensitive skin.

She sucks hard released the plush skin with a pop, leaving behind a burgundy bruise. She peeks at you through her lashes, the sight forever burned in her mind. Your mouth slightly open, eyes half lided and chest heaving it’s the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

She focuses again nudging your clothed clit with her nose. You grip her hair harder to encourage her, and that was all she needed. She pushed your panties to the side and licked a long stripe up your cunt. You got shivers all over your body. She devours you like she’s never taste anything so good in her life. You contract around nothing as her finger ghost up and down your slit teasing you to no end.

“M-more please Hazel?” You practically beg her “Of course baby.” She comes up to smile at you and ads 2 fingers into your hole hitting just the right spot to make your eyes roll back, just like she used to do.

“Oh baby likes that huh.” She smiles to herself then goes back to abusing your clit with her mouth. Hazel used her other hand to pull your shirt up for her own pleasure and palmed your tits. Your lacy red bra excited her even more than she already was.

You felt your orgasm creeping, getting frustrated it was so soon you wanted this to last forever. “Hazel I’m gonna- ‘m s-so close Hazel.” Shes kept her brutal pace till your back arched and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. “That’s it pretty girl just like that. So pretty so fucking pretty.” Hazel mumbles softly to you bringing you through your orgasm. Body shaking until you rode your high to completion.

“I missed this.” You say with a giggle steadying your breath. Hazel pulls your panties back into place and lays next to you. She grabs your face and pulls you into a slow deep kiss. “Not as much as me.” Her wide smile tells you all you need to know. Resting her hand on your face she takes in your features. She uses her thumb to wipe some of your smudged lipstick. “You wanna go back to mine?” You ask her shyly. Then laughing when you notice her equally smudged lips. “I would want nothing more.” Hazel gets up and offers you her hand helping you up.

You both walk down stairs hand and hand. Josie, Isabel, PJ and Britney have been absolutely losing it for the 15 minutes you were away. “Oh my god.” Is all Britney said see the both of you holding hands all of them turned to gawk at you.

Hazel makes a detour to the bar grabbing 2 beers with one hand for when you get back to your apartment. She had you lipstick smudged on her face and neck wearing it like a trophy. Hazel nods at the group then opens the door for you. You give Isabel and Josie a wave, grinning ear to ear, you walk out of the house with your hair a complete mess in the back. They can’t help but to laugh at the display of shamelessness.

It was going to be a very long night.

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

If you do HC can you do HC about dating canon Levi and also Eren if you write for Eren?

anon, i really, really tried to come up with some for eren, but unfortunately, i don't think i can write/produce eren content that would be satisfactory and i don't want to provide something half-baked!!!

i hate being someone that writes for only one character, but i don't feel like i can do other characters justice

i'll still provide some for levi because levi brainrot hours are 25/8

also my GOODNESS i'm sorry it took like a month for me to write this, my brain is clearly not where it needs to be. i also went from i cant think of any :((( to pumping out like 5 without thinking why does my brain have to be like this a;ldkfj

Dating Canon!Levi Headcanons

➼ levi's love language is acts of service. we all know this. although he's not against quality time or physical touch, if you're having a hard time, you bet you can expect him to do something out of the way for you. stressed about work? he'll happily bring you a warm cup of tea as you work. got injured after an expedition and want to go outside but can't? this man will literally carry you to the top of the wall if he knew it would make you happy ➼ levi wouldn't be too thrilled about you being on the scouts, but he's not going to make too big of a deal out of it. after you all, you were an adult and you could take care of yourself. that wouldn't stop him from worrying about you when on the battlefield, though, especially after the 57th expedition ➼ if something did happen and you got hurt or levi thought you had died while outside the wall, it would shake this man. he'd either be by your side constantly or not be around at all. he'd need time to sort through all the troubling emotions that popped up within him when he thought he'd lost you. ➼ he'd eventually process, though. and when levi comes back to you, you can expect some pretty protective behavior for a little while. he won't do anything too explicit or out-of-place, like taking you off missions, but he would use his status to see if maybe he can nudge erwin just a bit to see if you could at least be closer to him during the next expedition and vice versa ➼ when you're on breaks between expeditions, levi would like to take you on top of the walls during sunset to stroll across it. it was away from the hustle and bustle of the villages within the walls and provided the two of you with some much-needed private time. ➼ i know there's a trope of you and levi needing to sneak around because you can't be dating while both being on the scouts but i dont think that has to be true. i think you'll definitely have to re-evaluate whether you can function the same on a battlefield, but i don't think erwin or pyxis are the type to keep you separated from one another unless there was an explicit beneficial reason to. ➼ after the hole in shiganshina is sealed and ventures outside the walls were possible, he'd also take you to the beach since it was a sight neither of you had gotten to explore before. levi wasn't too big of a fan of it—wet sand = mud after all—but he liked the time that he spent with you and watching a smile appear on your face every time he brought you there was enough for him to bear with it ➼ if you went with him on the marley trip before the raid on liberio, he'd love it when you dragged him to the various dating locations, grabbing ice cream, exploring tea shops, coffee shops, etc. levi might not vocalize it, but you'd be able to tell by the way his furrowed eyebrows softened or the edges of his lips slightly twitched into a small smile, or how you'd just be waiting for him and he surprises you by showing up with two ice cream cones.

y'all i really want to write a marley date scene al;jfslkd #: @chaotic-on-main @romantichomicide95 @lovolee3 @svftackerman @levisbrat25 @leviismybby @idkks4m @moonmalice @levis-squishy-cheeks @roseofdarknessblog @anviacker @aam1na @luvjiro @noctemys join my tag list!

[that-ineffable-devil]

I don't know what it is about Neil Gaiman's stories and characters that bring up so many visceral emotions and realizations but Dead Boy Detectives has gripped me in it's skeletal claws.

I'll admit I haven't read the comics--one more thing on my neverending tbr pile--so I came into this show without any preconceptions or foreknowledge of the characters or their histories. And I didn't do any research on the show beforehand a) to avoid spoilers and b) it's Neil Fucking Gaiman what am I gonna do NOT watch!?

Basically, I had no idea what to expect from it. Except that it'd be queer (praise be).

And I gotta tell you, Charles is getting to me. In ways and at depths I never could have expected. And, fuck, it's making me confront some things I didn't realize were affecting me...and some that maybe I did...

Like the anger. Gods, the deep-rooted anger at the injustice and cruelty of the world and the hands you're dealt. The fury of feeling helpless and alone and terrified during the worst experiences of your life. And the self-loathing you feel as you bury that rage for fear of becoming the very monsters that tormented you--unable to express it in even a healthy manner because you can only associate anger with violence. So you bottle it and bury it and hope against hope you can keep it down, but you fear the day you run out of burial ground.

Like the compulsion to act like everything's fine. To mask any negative emotions with a smile and a kind word or a laugh. To never be the reason someone else is in pain. To try so hard to undo the pain done by others. To be the person you needed most who was never there. Maybe you're trying to convince yourself that you're not a monster. Living in constant fear that you really are that monster, and all your goodness and light is a smokescreen to trick truly good people into allowing you to walk amongst them--and that one very bad day they'll all see the truth and your worst fears will be confirmed in their eyes.

Like the almost desperate need to cling to anything or anyone good that comes into your life, because it has happened so rarely and so fleetingly. The fear of taking certain risks with those things and people because any change can be the one that results in losing them. Yet constantly taking risks with yourself and your life (death?), likely boiling down to "If I go first, I don't have to lose them." Because, deep down, you think they could never miss you as much as you'd miss them.

And even specific moments...

Like using the word "rough" to describe abuse, because how else do you reference decades...or in his case, likely at least a decade...of trauma and abuse without upsetting someone? Without letting them know it's still affecting you?

Like equal parts fear and fury welling inside you as you watch something truly horrific happen. Memories wrapping your senses so tightly as that man brutalized his family for no reason. Being both unable to stop it and unable to look away. Desperate to do something about it but completely helpless. Again.

And reliving his trauma, forced to by someone else? Feeling that pain and misery all over again. The heartbreak as friends choose to hurt you for reasons you don't understand. The anguish as your brain tries to protect itself while a parent who's supposed to love you makes you wonder why you exist at all. The terror of being hunted. Not knowing why. Not knowing what you've done to deserve it. Wondering if somehow you do.

And confessing his fear that he's a "bad guy." Wondering if you're really the villain in your story. Fearing that the reason people treated you so cruelly is because they saw the monster within, and thought they could keep it contained and afraid. Fearing that you won't be able to.

And not every day is like this. Not every day has you feeling like you're at the edge of a precipice. Some days are quite good actually, especially if you have even one good person around. But any day could turn out like this.

But you keep on with the smiles and the positive attitude because the monsters can't win. Your monster can't win. And frankly, you don't know how else to deal with it, because no one ever taught you how to. Or maybe you never had the chance to learn. All you know is that it's all you know.

[thehistoriangirl]

The Tides Have Veiled [Six]

Back with the main plot!

Viktor x Fem!Reader---Gothic AU/ Spooky Sea AU--- 3.5K---SFW

> M A S T E R L I S T &lt; ← Previous // Next →

Synopsis:  Piltover the Old has an old lighthouse that looms over an abandoned port. From the house in the wailing cliff’s edge, the lighthouse owner watches that the beacon is being lighten up each time darkness arrives, so that monsters wouldn't dare to crawl inland, or so legends say. Both building are haunted, maybe even the man himself, by both past and present ghosts. Surprisingly, the keeper’s work is beyond turning on the beacon every night— but the rest is on you to discover.

Chapter Summary: It's time for you to decide how further down are you going to walk this unknown path guiding you toward the cliff...

Tags: Ghosts| Sea Monsters| Sirens & Mermaids| Marriage of Convenience| Slow Burn| Forced Proximity| Mystery | Dark Magic| Alusions to Death/Spooky (?) imaginery|

Taglist: @local-mr-frog @lunar-monster @bittercyder

White noise filled your brain, like the static of the old radio atop the beacon room.  “Excuse me. I don’t think I heard you correctly—” you started, but Viktor only looked more embarrassed as he cleared his throat.

“I’m afraid you did.” Viktor left the spoon on the tiny porcelain plate, the white cup stained with black coffee. The echo of his voice hung heavy on the still air of the house, with your mind scrambling for words, to elicit any sound out your mouth.

Was this a joke? Or did your family come to threaten him? The mere possibility sent a void to devour your stomach. Eyes tried to scan the leftovers of your aunt and uncle's coffees, the crumbs of bread as if that way they would guide you back to the truth.

Though the only thing you found was chaos, tangled fishing nets as thoughts inside your brain.

“Why?” you heard yourself saying. The house magnified the sound of your voice, trying to fill the empty corners of the house. “Did my family come to push you into this? Because if that's the case, then…” Then you were trapped between the devil and the deep blue sea. You couldn’t even finish that sentence.

“I assure you, I'm making this decision out of my free will," Viktor said. “Please listen to my reasons, and then, if you’re not convinced, we will forget about this conversation whatsoever.”

You wouldn't think it would be so easy. Though curiosity gnawed at you, making you lean in closer.

Instead of telling you, Viktor fabricated a newspaper from the cushions behind him. Slightly wrinkled at the corners, it had been rolled up into a stick. You could smell of essence of coffee beans and Viktor’s detergent embedded into it.

The font was strange to read at first, words deemed alien under the nervousness sieging your brain.

It was an open contest for a teaching position at Piltover University due in three weeks. You looked at Viktor with a slight frown, but as you kept reading, with Viktor sipping his coffee—more out of nervousness than for thirst, you quickly understood why he had asked you so.

Among the requirements, you saw enlisted:

     Present research proposal written on typewriter—handwritten papers will not be accepted. Maximum of ten pages per entry. [See appendix 2.2] From 27 years old onwards.      Ph.D. in Marine Biology or similar required.      Preference will be given to researchers B, C, and part-time listed within the institute.      To apply to the research tier A list, the applicants should submit proof of economic and personal stability, i.e., a housing contract within the city or its outskirts, a marriage certificate, and a letter of non-debitance from Piltover’s Bank. [See appendix 3.4]

Marriage certificate? “Why would you need to be married?” you asked.

Viktor sighed as if he had argued the same question over his superiors before. “So we can assure that nothing… eh, improper, occurs between students and the faculty.”

“I don’t think these requirements can change much on that,” you stop from saying.

“Exactly.” Viktor gestured, exasperation tinting his voice. “Sadly, there is no use. I can’t change the rules all by myself, even if I wanted to.”

You grimaced. “But I suppose you want the position?”

His eyes brighten, like those of a cat. “Yes. Of course, I do. I've been working under a B-tier pool of researchers for years, even signing a position to be a part-time teacher for some seminars once two months.” Viktor looked away from you, toward the closed entrance door, the crystal from the window barely filtering the white hue of the sunlight pooling inside the oak floorboards that the green carpet didn’t seem to cover perfectly. “Alas, I’m lacking a requirement of the list.”

Your voice got out in a trembling thread. “The wife.”

“You don’t have to accept,” Viktor quickly added, passing a hand through his hair. “Actually, I apologize for having told you. It was truly unprofessional, and for that I’m sorry. It wasn’t my wish to make you uncomfortable.”

As he babbled, you looked at him; the coat open showing a brown vest, and white dress shirt underneath as if he were ready to give a class in an auditorium filled with eager students. So contrasting with yours, wrinkled and second-handed. The dress shirt tucked under your black pants was his, for example.

You would have never thought of Viktor as someone who would struggle to find a wife. He was kind and intelligent enough to have a job at Piltover University as a researcher—if the books and drafts for articles in his office were proof enough to convince you. And then it was his superficial looks alone; face carved in pale marble, all edges and elegance, eyes like honey pools. You remembered them gazing at you just as sweetly, last night.

Last night, inside this house muddy footsteps trailing after you.

Your mind couldn't stop from feeling hurt by his sudden rejection. An ache that reverberated in your chest was all too familiar.

“Haven’t you thought about looking in the city? I’m sure there must be someone well-suited for you there.”

Viktor chuckled, but the sound was hollow, his eyes looking at his lap.

“I suppose it’s easier to propose when the other person knows the darker part of me,” Viktor said with an awkward chuckle, the dim light of the foyer hiding the slight flush dusting his cheeks. “Life in the city is much different than here, which is why I don’t have any reliable options to pursue in New Piltover.”

You bit the inside of your cheek.

The owner of a crumbling lighthouse, of a haunted manor. Who in the city would keep up with this ridiculous myth? Especially not if said cursed man was a researcher of science, teaching at the University.

Did he care about those tales after all? Did he believe in them?

“If I say yes,” you ventured. “Just hypothetically. If I say yes, what’s on it for me?”

His eyes glued you with your back straight against the couch. “What do you wish to have, Miss? I’m sure we can arrange a deal advantageous for both.”

The answer slipped from your mind as soon as he finished his sentence.

Freedom. I want to choose.

Would it be alright if you chose to end up married to him if that was the same thing you were running about? Viktor seemed to think about it, too.

“It would only be a legal marriage, no other duties attached,” Viktor told you. "I only need the paper, as I rarely assist with social events anyway." He reclined on his seat, his right arm resting over the couch’s backrest. “What do you wish to do if you weren’t yourself? If you weren’t here?”

You left his words to seep into you, making your heart feel tight, almost claustrophobic inside your ribcage, of your body inside this house. Of your life trapped in this tidepool that was Piltover the Old, expecting to run out of oxygen.

“I want to go to school,” you muttered, the words barely audible over the silliness that bathed you. Years of mockery behind the slouch of your shoulders. Why study? What you have to learn to do is to tie a fish net. And you better hurry. “I want to be like my mother.”

At least, as the fake stories of her had shaped her presence as a trail on a wild forest barely cut through, but with the path cut wide enough for you to slip. Another marine biologist went days adrift on the ocean, trying to ask its secrets.

Viktor hummed. “I can certainly help you study for the admission exam if you wish to enroll in Piltover’s University or any other college in the city. And, of course, I will raise your salary, too.”

It wasn't just about the money. Sure, you needed every penny thrown your way, but there was this… force, that seemed to pull you back to this town, even when your mind tried to flee it on every vigil, of imagining a life outside these waves smashing the crying cliff, out the tiny hut near the coast where a simple fisher boat was tightly knotted onto a makeshift mossy dock.

Your mother had a steady income, and yet she returned, and then she couldn’t get out—even if she had wished to, having regretted her mistake.  

You were afraid of having a tie that would call you back.

Viktor stood out on the couch, his cane moaning when he grasped the handle with his free hand, piling the dirty dishes and cups into a tray.

“I should go back to, eh, to work,” Viktor said, barely meeting your eyes when you raised your head toward him. “I advise you to do the same, Miss.”

You nodded, pretending his words weren’t still swirling in your mind. “Thank you, Viktor,” you said, voice strained. “Thank you for last night.”

He gave you a small smile. “It was nothing—and don’t worry, you don’t owe me anything. Quite the contrary, I’d say.” Viktor stopped his movement of tidying up the table, putting his cane in the crook of his elbow to offer you his hand. “I hope we can still be friends.”

His pale fingers were tinted with black ink when you slipped your hand through them, feeling the rough and cold surface.

“I hope so, too,” you answered, barely any force on the handshake. A hypocrite action, when you knew how it felt to be between his arms with a storm raging on your back.

*~*~*~*

It was a particularly slow night. A grey world painted in lazy brushstrokes between flashes of gold.

You felt the cold embracing your skin, no matter how many blankets you had snuggled around your body. Still feeling the cold rock scrapping your feet, the wind pushing you off the edge. Same imbalance, with your feet, propelled over the table you had moved from the control room to the beacon, wanting to look at the windows, your mind still not forgetting the strange silhouette that had peeked through the waves nights ago.

Viktor’s words had been haunting you all day, from harvesting the first tomatoes from your garden to each meal you cut with your fingers in front of the crackling fire.

He had promised you to find another lighthouse keeper as soon as you wanted to leave—it was in the contract laid in a corner of the table. But then what? Your mind hadn't dared to wander to what was outside the coast. Go to New Piltover? What for? You thought of working in a fish market, boots stained with bloody, rosy water, the stench of your homeland following you at every step.

Viktor had more books than the ones you had seen in your entire life, even if your mother's ones were almost painted in your mind, every word blurry from the dancing flame of the lamp as you read them at night. He could help you study for the exam, but for that, you needed an excuse to spend time with him.

As you looked out the window, two paths opened in your mind. One in which you would remain in here, and then, one day, you would see Viktor walking down the beach with a woman from the city, a flowy dress moved by the breeze. He was gesturing toward the tidepools left after last night's storm. Then, his golden eyes would feel your gaze, waving at you from up the lighthouse beacon.

As the night grew, the sky darker and the cold persistent, he disappeared as the tide rose. No matter how much you wished to, you couldn’t be swept by the sea.

The cliff cried outside your window, the crystal shaking with the tremble of the foghorn. You put your hand against the cold surface, swiping away the mist accumulated from your breath fanning above it.

There, on the beach, you saw it. You saw her.

The pale figure of a woman standing, grey and white like created from the mist outside. Hair was wet and stuck on her scalp; algae grew from her thin skin, barely keeping her bones conjoined. She blinked in and out of focus as the lighthouse turned on its vigil, a dark shadow bleeding from her torn nightclothes toward the tides leaping the coast.

Even if you couldn’t see her eyes from above her overgrown bangs, you felt her gaze pierce through your soul as if a harpoon had gone through bone and flesh.

With your hand still glued to the crystal, the numbness expanding from your cold fingers down your arm and your stomach, the woman raised a hand toward you and waved.

This is how your mother would’ve looked, a thought crawled to your brain. If she had been found.

You barely recollected the scream tearing its way out your mouth, throat sore as it echoed inside the beacon’s room, competing against the wail of the foghorn.

In answer, the woman opened her black mouth, putrid water soaking her dress as she screamed back in a wail that echoed like that of the cliff.

The pocket of your pants felt heavy and hot, your free hand prickling with the edges of the shell as you grabbed it with so much force, that you were surprised when it didn't break.

Looking out the window, the woman was gone.

You looked at the open logbook, the one with yellow pages, and soaked in time. The one forgotten inside this beacon.

She came in with the storm, leaving no rock unturned, no place to hide, all while looking for him. The words smudged, blurred by run-on ink. He seemed to mix with her.

Looking for her. Looking for me, your mind conjured. Looking for me.

You looked out the window, cold fright stopping you from moving the seat further away. But the beach was clear now.

“Mother?” you muttered, your brow against the window, your body growing limp as the sleep lured you into its cold and stiffened arms. But you jumped away, because this feeling seemed familiar, and you knew it shouldn’t have been.

Another cage. That was why. First, it was your family's hut, then, this lighthouse. This whole town. Was it the sea, too? All the ghosts that held prisoners under its waves crying and pleading for help. Angry to get out.

The next morning, you saw from the edge of the lighthouse the little silhouettes of your family going out of the hut and up the cliff. They looked like ants trapped in an unsurmountable bay. Other specimens are trapped in this tidepool.

And they weren’t alone—a well-dressed man, probably in his fifties following them up the steep carved steps until they disappeared from your peripheral vision.

You knew which was their destiny, as there were only two options up here. Hearing the echo of keys opening the metallic gate of the lighthouse, you ran to the control room, the door swinging close slowly, not wanting the wood to give away your presence.

“Miss?” Viktor called, and your movement froze. "Are you asleep?"

You looked at your reflection in a paint-stained mirror. Hair scattered like a bird's nest, black eyebags. Your skin seemed paler, too, as if seeing the ghostly woman had stolen some life essence from you.

You poked your head above the rail. “I’m here!” Recoiling, you added. “Give me a minute.”

A quick groom later, you bounced down the stairs, your boots squeaking against the wooden floorboards you had polished not so long ago.

Viktor was sitting at the table, facing the cold hearth. You could see his hand flying over the papers as he scribbled away, back slightly hunched.

Clearing your throat, you stepped next to him. He jumped slightly, and your hand hovered over his shoulder to soothe him.

“Ah, my apologies,” Viktor said, fidgeting with the handle of his cane. “I just…” He gestured away. “I just don’t want to be distracted today,” he said, his eyes looking toward the exit.

“You saw them, too?”

Viktor nodded, leaving his pen. "They know we're not engaged. So I assume that the new man they’re flanking is your suitor.” He scrunched his nose. “Up close, he looks like an ex-landowner.”

You frowned, taking a seat on the cot. “How do you know that?”

“His suit doesn’t fit him very well, which means he just started wearing these types of clothes,” Viktor explained, brows pinched in focus. “There are a lot of newly rich ex-landowners in New Piltover, they sold off their lands to the big construction companies, and now they’re squandering all their money.”

A chuckle escaped your lips. “Then, you wouldn’t marry him?”

He looked at you with an amused glimmer in his eyes. "Not unless you wish to get indebted in the near future.”

Something deep within you told you that there was no escape from such destiny. But pushing away the thought, you said:

"What are you working on?" you said, hearing your family pounding on the entrance door. This one was locked, and the lesson was perfectly learned.

“Tracing routes from sightings of sperm whales,” Viktor told you. “To see if they fit the ones which have a myriad of stories about krakens.”

You blinked away your sudden confusion. “Pardon?”

“They could be giant squids,” Viktor commented, and you wished to have started that book he lent you instead of watching the damn window.

“I didn’t know you’re also interested in legends.” They weren’t cold, justifiable science, much less a valid source of knowledge.

He smiled at that. "There is an entire department dedicated to studying these tales. They're very enlightening, Miss."

“How so?” You sat, elbows on your thighs, trying to lean as much closer to him as it was possible.

His golden eyes shimmered as he gazed down at you as if he could sense the shell tucked in your pants pocket.

“They tell us what frightens people.” Viktor shrugged. “And most of the time, they have a very valid reason to fear.”

You looked away, your mind marked by muddy footprints, by the white silhouette that could still appear every time you blinked too fast. Goosebumps appeared on your arms.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, observing how you tried to make yourself a ball.

“I… I just…” you whispered, feeling your throat tight, the feeling of containment only augmented with each bang on the door. “I just wish to get out of this place,” you said, feeling like a stupid child. Dreaming too big, settled only for disappointment.

“But I can’t do it alone.” A hiccup ripped out your chest, making you shiver. “I hate that I can’t do it alone.” The sea is going to pull me back.

The chair creaked, Viktor’s hand gently patting your shoulder. “Nobody can do everything alone, Miss,” he whispered. “It’s not weak to ask for help.”

You looked at him, your faces so close you could feel his breath warm against your cheek. “If I marry you, can you help me get out of here?”

His golden eyes widened. “Miss, you don’t have to do this just because of—”

“No, no, it’s not that.” You bit your lips. It was a foolery to tell him about your fear of the sea trapping you here forever, Viktor would think you were out of your mind, he would replace you with another lightkeeper. You would have nowhere to go, not when you didn’t have a concrete way you wished to follow. “I just… there’s no other way.”

I know there isn’t.

“Please, Viktor,” you told him, voice barely above a mutter. “Help me get out of here.”

From up close, you saw his widened eyes darkening, a passing shadow that could have been from the regret of telling you such a proposal, to sadness. Even pity and that thought made you almost take your words back, but the image of the ghostly woman waving you from the window stopped you.

She greeted you as if she knew you would end up in the same place she was. Alone on this beach, trapped in sand and waves even after death.

He inhaled a sharp breath. “I’ll help you,” Viktor said, his hands recoiling from your touch. They were trembling until he grasped the handle of his cane with so much force his knuckles became white. “If that’s your wish, then I promise, I’ll help you get out of here.”

Your hands were fists. “Then I’ll marry you.”

Viktor looked at you with worry. “I told you, you don’t have to—”

“I’ll do it,” you cut him. “It’s only fair. I don’t want to owe you anything. I’ll work for you as your lighthouse keeper, as your fake wife. A fair retribution.”

“At least think it over tonight,” Viktor offered. “Once you’d signed the paper, there is no coming back.”

You remembered the night terrors, shivering.

“There’s nothing to think over,” you said, even if it was a lie. “I know there are more scary things out here than a marriage I’m actively choosing to be a part of.” One that could give you what you wanted, with someone who could help you find a reason, a purpose to stay in the city. To help you meet new horizons besides grey and rainy dusks bathed by the ink-black sea.

Your words made him purse his lips, but he didn’t ask anything—to your relief. You weren’t sure what could get out your mouth if he made you confess. Would he believe you?

“Alright,” Viktor said with a sigh after a little eternity of dreaded wait. “Then, please prepare a suitcase as soon as possible.” The bang of the door has ceased ever since minutes ago, but the same thump, thump, thump, echoed in your heart at a rushed pace. “We’re going to the city the day after tomorrow.”

[hahahax30]

I sadly have no moodboards yet for this WIP, I haven't had the time to work on them and l'm not super sure on their names yet so I don't want to make them until l'm sure of that front 😭😭😭

Also apologies in advance if this is too long, I struggle to shut up about any MCs, so please don’t hesitate to tell me to stop

The main characters are as follows: Cleo Brisbane, Casper Brisbane, Rose Tully, & Zoya Amobi-Chapman/Zoya Saltykova

Yes I spent the last couple days finalizing everyone’s names

Cleo Brisbane is the first daughter of Roland Brisbane and his selkie-wife Cassandra, older than her twin brother Casper by a whopping twenty-two minutes. A “reformed bad influence”, as she considers herself, and despite being raised in isolation and then being in a detention center from the ages of 13-15, she had become burnt out and , but she’s put away her party-girl ways in order to be the “leader” of their little group. Cleo is a talented ballerina, though she has recently started to re-devote herself to it; as she had to put it aside when training her magic. Roland was convinced that she needed to be shoe-horned from a young age and spent a small fortune trying to bring out Cleo’s ambition with a more “human” talent (if ballerina’s can really be called human because I wish I could do what they do), as he did with all of his children.

Cleo is ruled by her insecurities, despite her confident exterior, and is constantly seeking validation from others (especially from men). She views herself as constantly out of control, a monster of epic proportions, no matter how hard she tries. This is because of her “strange” abilities.

She is a psychic and she is plagued with visions and dreams of the future. There are times where she doesn’t know if she’s watching the past or the present in front of her. She is haunted by dreams of the water, beckoning her closer and closer. She often goes running on the beach, hoping to quell her urges to just jump in and let the sea take her away. She doesn’t trust her own mind most of the time and there’s a lot she (and we) don’t know about the full extent of her powers.

A quote from Cleo: “If you want to play with dead things, you’re more than welcome to join them.”

Rose Tully is perfect, that’s probably what people would say about her if asked. She’s smart, multi-talented, always clean-cut and polite. There are no cracks in her veneer. At least to the naked eye, there’s not. She’s constantly jealous and insecure, stuck in always looking over her shoulder, afraid to find someone better than her. Someone that could replace her. She is an uber-talented pianist, having been playing since she was two years old and declared a prodigy. Music is her biggest passion and it is one of the few things she lets herself actually show some emotion for. Other than that, she hides behind her mask of indifference. Her need for perfection comes from something her mother told her when she was eight years old. She was drunk when she told little Rose, “No one will love you if you aren’t perfect” and Rose would take these words to heart for the rest of her life and they haunt her brain to this day.

Her mother is Claire Tully, the de-facto leader of the cult in Roland's absence. Claire is one of the cult's most devoted followers and Rose, like Cleo and Casper, was born and raised within the cult and has never known another life. Despite not believing in what the cult practices and preaches,

Rose isn’t particularly powerful when it comes to magic, despite her constant working herself to the bone. She has the ability to manipulate materials on a molecular level; such as metals, textiles, glass, steel, wood, etc. Despite years of working at it, Rose is still considered a novice in terms of her extra ability. The reason for this will be revealed later on (though theories are welcome)

Quote from Rose: “You’re not an idiot, a flirt maybe, but not an idiot.”

Rose and Cleo are very similar people, but they don’t see it. Rose is the clean-cut Cleo and Cleo is the messy Rose. I don’t know if you’re familiar with the Olivia Rodrigo song, lacy, but Cleo and Rose are each other’s Lacy. If that makes sense.

Casper Brisbane, though he prefers Caz, is Roland Brisbane’s second son (though he doesn’t know that). He and his twin sister, Cleo, are beyond close; their relationship is co-dependent, often to a point of concern, due to their complete lack of socialization with other children. Caz is going through it right now, everything is weighing heavily on him at all times. He’s a club rat, to put it lightly, and is constantly breaking curfew to go out to bars and clubs. Out of everyone in this ragtag group of cult survivors, he was arguably the most loyal to the cause of the cult and struggles the most with “abandoning” his father.

He deals with the severe guilt of not knowing whether or not his loyalty to his his father was unfounded or not and is constantly questioning every decision, every moment, every memory of his life. Caz deals with these feelings by going out and “numbing” them by making bad (and often reckless) decisions that aren’t approved of by those around him.

Unlike his twin, he isn’t plagued with physic visions. His extra ability is to control the air. He can manipulate the air pressure, play with sound waves in the air, etc. If it’s in the air, he can work it to his heart’s content. He’s highly powerful, don’t get it twisted, but Caz could care less, he’d rather use it for fun than actually focus on controlling it more. His main magical focus however is potions, he is the group’s official potion maker because he is so talented at making potions just the right way. His interest in botany certainly does help those matters

A quote from Casper: “And that’s why I don’t give you wolfsbane, if makes you zany.”

Zoya Amobi-Chapman is the only one who wasn’t born into the cult, she was kidnapped into it. Her father is Ivan Saltykov (one of the OG cult members from the Barty era) and he spent the first five years of her life trying to find her. Despite not having been born into it, the cult life is the only life Zoya remembers, much to her chagrin. She, like her bff Cleo, considers herself to be a “reformed bad influence”, though she feels nothing had to be reformed about her behavior. She’s a major fashionista, constantly tweaking, designing, and thrifting to match the aesthetic she wishes to achieve. Her favorite brand is Vivienne Westwood and Zoya has spent years thrifting the brand to fill her collection, and her style is very heavily influenced by that. She strives to be the most fashionable person in the room, no matter the cost. If she’s going to stand out anyway, people might as well be talking about her outfit.

She was the result of the abusive, tumultuous relationship between Ivan & her mother (Zara Chapman). For the first five years of her life, she was raised by Zara and her new husband (Michael Amobi), neither of whom have magic. Her identity is her biggest struggle, as Zoya often feels like she is two people; Zoya Amobi-Chapman and Zoya Saltykova. Zoya Amobi-Chapman is who her parents want her to be. Normal, non-magical, the devoted daughter who’s never even heard of Brighton Beach and doesn’t speak a word of Russian or spells. She remembers little-to-no about her life with them before the cult, a few bits here and there, and fears being unable to make them happy and tries to push them away; despite loving them without her memories. Zoya Saltykova is the girl raised by Ivan. She’s unashamed of her magic and her Russian heritage*, she’s tough as nails and isn’t scared to disappoint anyone. She’s trying to find a balance between the two, but it’s hard, and she feels it’s a struggle she has to have on her own

*Zoya is half black and half Russian; she was primarily raised by her (white) Russian father which is why she feels more connected to her paternal heritage rather than maternal, though she feels Zara and Michael don’t understand what her life was like without them because they villainize her past and pretend as if she wasn’t Russian at all

Zoya’s ability is probably the most fun of them all because she’s a SHAPESHIFTER!!! I love me a shapeshifter. Out of everybody, Zoya is probably the most well-trained when it comes to her ability (one she shared with her father). She has the ability to change shape into any human or animal she desires, she can also focus her shifting to certain features such as her hair or nose. She’s one of the most powerful characters, though many underestimate her when they shouldn’t

Anyways, CK, I hope you enjoyed reading about these characters!!! Again, please tell me if you want me to calm down with these because I absolutely can if you want me too

Riley, there are NO WORDS to express how sorry I am for the late reply (again). Uni's really been kicking my ass and it's been two weeks :')

Damn, I already feel sorry for Cleo. She seems to have a lot of trauma yet to be unpacked. Also I hope that her need for male validation doesn't make her end up in toxic relationships? Provided she's attracted to men which I reckon she is?

And Rose is also pretty traumatised what with her need for perfection. I don't have many theories as to why her powers aren't as, well, powerful as they could be, but they sure sound pretty interesting (if you could expand on what they entail?)

Okay I really do like Caz and I think it's beyond great that he has such a good relationship with his sister (ofc there are some issues with their closeness but I love stories with emphasis on non-romantic relationship)

Okay, with Zoya I'm sensing a pattern here (your characters are all traumatised lol)

[donnerpartyofone]

I'm on your Tumblr because we used to be mutuals, but I'm more of a lurker these days and I've remade several times under different handles and understand exasperation/hesitation at refollowing. I'm sincerely not trying to bait anything here, it's just that I've been depressed for the majority of 2024, and I think a really bad habit I've fallen into is not expressing gratitude to those who have a genuine impact on me. I'm sorry if this is uncanny and too parasocial. I have always admired how incredibly self-possessed and well-spoken/read/watched/cultured you are. I get an older sibling vibe from you that I never had growing up. You are one of the smarter people in the room for me. Sorry I'm sending this on anon, you don't have to publish it, in fact I hope you don't! I think you're one of the best blogs on this site and many things you have posted/blogged about have caused me to dig deeper within myself. In recent times, I appreciate that you force a situationally depressed individual (me) to challenge themselves for the better, if that makes sense. I'm sorry if this is disturbing!

[posted with permission] Man I have not been able to wake up all day for some reason and I owe some writing tomorrow, so this is actually a really helpful warmup exercise to try to get myself moving/thinking. I really appreciate this. I think your idea about expressing gratitude is really important and it's something I've been trying to do also, though maybe in a broader sense, like if I see a really inspiring movie (or whatever) I try to follow the impulse to write to the filmmaker and tell them. In my mind there's this invisible wall between creators and "fans" and that's usually fake; it's very likely that the people who made some of your favorite media are not rich, their futures are not secure, and they don't even necessarily know how their work has affected people. Worst case scenario they don't write you back, but only a snob would be actually bothered, and sometimes you even make a friend. I think the same principle can be applied to, you know, bloggers or whoever. Certainly I run this blog for myself first and foremost and I don't think I would or could stop even if absolutely no one was paying attention--it's a real compulsion and I think it's reasonably healthy to find ways to be in conversation with yourself--but it's valuable to know when you've been understood by anyone at all.

Not to make it weird but in Hebrews I think there's that verse, "If today you hear the voice of God, harden not your heart." That's really powerful outside the bounds of religion. To me it means, when you get that shred of energy or inspiration that says "I could do the dishes right now," do them immediately before you can talk yourself out of it! When you get that little spark that is so easily snuffed out by overthinking and taking that dangerous minute to round up excuses, that spark that you might be able to do the laundry, send the letter, watch the tough movie you're "never in the mood" for, pick up the book instead of watching TV, take a fucking walk, whatever it is: if you practice surrendering to these impulses immediately, almost without deciding, your life can really start to expand. Actually I believe it literally keeps your brain alive, to keep making it process new information, even if it seems trivial or you don't fully feel like it. But anyway a lot of us don't follow the impulse to say to someone "Hey, I think you're doing a good job" because it's so easy to imagine lots of different reasons they won't like it. But honestly that's unlikely (as long as you're not demanding something in return), and if someone responds poorly to that then chances are they're kind of an asshole.

(I mean sometimes I fail to respond to a message or an obvious social cue but it's usually because I just get overwhelmed by other parts of life and/or I'm not extremely skilled in forming and maintaining connections in any normal way. But it's rare that somebody has tried to reach out to me and I was like secretly hating them for it.)

Depression is really hard to talk about--I mean it's easy to VENT about, but it can be hard to converse about. There's that (American?) thing where you feel like no one should say anything that isn't *CEO voice* solution-oriented, and that's when people either avoid the topic entirely or react with all kinds of unwelcome and/or irrational advice. I have the illusion of being all full of wisdom on this because I've been severely depressed since I was really little and obviously there's something wrong with my whole operating system, but one of my best friends--who is not naturally depressive--is in such a bad way and it's not her fault and possibly there is no way out for real, and of course I have the urge to pump her up and keep her afloat, but if I'm too positive it will be totally dishonest. I have to split the difference between cheering her up and like, not lying to her. I'd be a total hypocrite if I denied her the understanding and acknowledgement of darkness that I myself always want and rarely get. It's hard, but on the individual basis it's useful to try to map the nature of your own depression and notice how it operates; just observe and take notes even if you can't see a way to control it right now. It sounds like you're doing some of that, there is a lot of dignity in that activity.

These are my thoughts off the cuff, with any luck they provoke something useful. Now I feel like I'm finally ready to shower and have ill-advised beverages and do my stupid homework assignment. Thank you for your thoughts, and the helpful prompt, and I hope you have a good day and/or night, for real.

[omgiamwish]

Here in the Dark

Fandom: TMNT 2003

Summary: Being trapped in a nightmare sucks. What sucks even more is realizing just how afraid you are of something. Coda to The Darkness Within

Tags: Raphael & Michelangelo, Episode: s03e14 The Darkness Within, Late Night Conversations, Platonic Bed Sharing

Words: 1550

Read below or on Ao3

The ride back home is quieter than usual. Mikey kind of understands that; they may get into a lot of trouble, but what happened today was definitely going on the ‘top ten freakiest things to ever happen to us’ list. Maybe even top five!

Like, between the unkillable skeletons, the giant tentacle monster, the icky gooey cells that they would have died in if Leo hadn’t somehow freed himself and rescued them, and that old guy turning into dust (that Mikey stepped in, ew ew ew ew!), there’s already more than enough material to keep a turtle up at night.

Nevermind the nightmares they had while they were in the cells.

The nightmare is what Mikey’s mind keeps drifting back to. It felt genuinely real in a way his nightmares usually don’t. The solid ground and clammy, cool air. The weight of his body and the way he felt actual pain when Leo landed a hit. Leo’s voice was off, but Mikey noticed it in the moment and that just made the whole thing more unsettling.

“So, were those nightmares like our greatest fears or something?” Mikey asks into the silence, a split second before his brain catches up with his mouth and realizes that this is not a conversation he wants to have. Shell.

Donny, beside him in the driver’s seat, hums thoughtfully. “I don’t know. In my nightmare… Angel followed us and put herself in danger and… I couldn’t save her.” Mikey watches Donny’s grip on the steering wheel tighten. Nobody says anything for a moment. “But as horrible as that would be if it happened,” Donny continues, “I can think of a few things that would make it worse.”

“Maybe there had to be some level of realism,” Leo offers. Mikey turns in his seat to look at him, but Leo has his face turned away, staring intently at the maps even though Donny said he knows the way home. “I saw Master Splinter die… but I just couldn’t believe it. That’s how I was able to wake up.”

Raph snorts. “Maybe the part about needing to believe it is true, but the realism part sure ain’t.”

“What do you mean?” Leo asks.

“Well, I uh…” Raph glances nervously between Leo and Mikey who are now both staring at Raph intently. Probably the only reason Donny isn’t doing the same is because he’s driving.

“C’mon, Raph,” Donnie teases. “Leo and I shared.”

“Mikey didn’t,” Raph argues. “And it was his question that started this talk.”

“Leo got turned into a tentacle monster. It was super gross,” Mikey complies, careful to keep his tone upbeat. This time, even Donny turns to give him a weird look. “What?”

“See?” Raph gestures at Mikey. “No realism needed.”

“Oh, no it was totally realistic,” Mikey argues because it was, but also because he’s really interested in what Raph saw now. “There was context and everything.”

“What kinda context makes Leo turning into a tentacle monster realistic?”

“Well it made sense to me. I guess you had to be there.”

Raph growls and raises his fist, and Mikey yelps even though Raph’s too far away to smack him without taking off his seatbelt.

“Calm down, Raph,” Leo says, laying a hand on Raph’s fist. “You don’t have to tell us about what you saw if you don’t want to.”

Raph crosses his arms and grumbles for a bit before relenting. “You know what? Fine. It’s not that big a deal. It was just ol’ Shredhead, except when I knocked that stupid helmet offa him, it was someone else underneath. Someone impossible. That’s why I said it wasn’t realistic.”

“Who?” Mikey asks, though something between dread and validation makes him wonder if he already knows.

“None a your business, Mike.”

The rest of the ride home is silent.

Mikey tries to sleep, and he tries even harder to stop thinking about what Raph said. He can’t. If he’s right about who Raph saw in Shredder’s place, it makes Mikey’s fear more valid. He doesn’t even know if that should be comforting or terrifying.

He’s out of his bed and halfway out of his room before he catches himself.

“Ooh, Michelangelo, you’re really asking for trouble this time,” he scolds himself, but continues walking anyway.

He tiptoes through the lair, into Raph’s room, and up to Raph’s hammock. Raph looks like he’s sleeping, which is unfortunate; Raph’s not exactly a cuddly teddy bear when you wake him up.

“Hey Raphie, you awake?” Mikey whispers.

“If ya poke me, I’ll break your finger,” Raph mutters without opening his eyes. Mikey quickly retracts his hand, a nervous giggle breaking free. “What the shell do ya want, Mikey.”

“Oh, I was just wondering who was dressed up as Shredder in your nightmare.”

“Mikey, I swear to- I told ya ta drop it!”

“Come on! I promise I won’t judge. I just wanna know!”

“It’s none of your business. Go away.”

“Was it Leo?”

For a moment, there’s silence. Then Raph pushes himself up to look Mikey in the face. “What?”

“Was it Leo in the Shredder armor attacking you?”

Raph stares at Mikey with such an incredulous look on his face that Mikey is now certain he was wrong.

“I guess that’s a ‘no’ then! Night night, Raphie!” Mikey turns to leave, but Raph grabs his wrist and tugs him back. “Ha ha, sorry for bugging you, you can let me go, I’ll leave you alone now.”

“Why. The shell. Did you think it was Leo?”

“Uhhh… no reason?” Mikey tries. Raph clearly isn’t buying it. “Aww man. Promise you won’t tell anyone? Especially Leo.”

Raph nods and releases him. Mikey sighs and sits on the floor next to Raph’s hammock, pulling his legs up to his chest.

“Remember how my nightmare was about Leo turning into a tentacle monster?”

“Yeah. You gonna tell me the ‘context’ now?”

Mikey fiddles with his fingers, wondering why he could never leave well enough alone. “Well, I didn’t know he was a monster at first. He said something about the monster capturing us, but- but being merciful or something. That the monster offered us the choice of joining it. And. And Leo took it. And then he attacked me.”

“That’s messed up, bro.”

“It’s super messed up!” Mikey agrees. “Leo would never hurt us!”

“He’d never betray us, either,” Raph points out.

“Yeah,” Mikey agrees, more hesitant than he would’ve been even a day ago.

“Hey, listen.” Raph leans out of his hammock to smack Mikey’s head. The awkward stretched out position makes it more of a tap. “We’ve knocked sense into the idiot before, we’ll do it again if we have to. As many times as it takes.”

“Yeah, I know. It just sucks how real the nightmare seemed. I didn’t even think to question it.”

“Hey, at least you didn’t-”

Mikey looks up to see a pinched expression overtaking Raph’s face.

“Raph?”

“If I tell you, it doesn’t leave this room, okay?”

Mikey spreads his hands in a calming gesture. “Dude, I literally just gave you blackmail of the century. My lips are sealed.” He mimes the motion.

Raph sighs and adjusts his position in his hammock. “When I knocked Shredder’s helmet off, it was my own face staring back at me.”

“Woah… trippy.”

Raph’s pillow hits Mikey in the face. “It’s not funny, bonehead.”

“I didn’t say it was!” Mikey tosses the pillow back. “I just don’t get why that would be scary.”

“Well, ya don’t need to.” Raph shifts to lying on his shell with his arms crossed. “Point is, I saw that and didn’t question it either. Like I don’t question any of my dreams until I wake up. Don’t know how the shell Fearless managed to do it.”

Mikey shrugs. “Maybe he just has a lot of practice.”

“The shell is that supposed ta mean?”

“You don’t really believe Leo never gets any nightmares?” Mikey asks, though he doesn’t wait for an answer. “But he probably thinks he’s too dignified to have them or something, so he started training himself to recognize he’s dreaming and wake up.”

Raph seems to contemplate that for a minute before he tilts his head in acknowledgement. “Seems like the kinda thing he’d do.” Raph scoffs. “Training, even in his sleep.”

“Dude’s seriously gotta take a chill pill, even if it was useful this one specific time.”

“Since it was useful, he’s probably gonna practice harder. Might even try and teach us how to do it.”

“Aw man.”

“Now, if we’re done with this little heart ta heart, I’d like ta get back to trying to sleep. If that’s alright with you.”

The last part is clearly sarcasm, but Mikey ignores that he knows that. “Sure!”

“That means ‘leave’, Mikey.”

“Nah, I think I’m gonna stay here.” Mikey gets up and throws one leg into the hammock.

“No,” Raph protests, trying to push him back out as Mikey climbs in. “Nuh-uh. Mikey, get out. You little piece of-”

“So cozy,” Mikey says, pretending to be unbothered as he uses all his strength to hold on to Raph and stay in the hammock.

“I hate this,” Raph grumbles as he finally relents.

“You love me.”

“You’re a pain in my shell.”

Sleep comes a lot easier than it did before.

[send-me-a-puffalope]

"never ending" by chai is so Vanessa core to me

“when the end is the beginning I begin to wonder why it begun...

And all these walls reflect the paths I've walked and lost and drew and won!

In one way, I've a choice to make... But tell me, who's stealing my fate?

Because I know that I'm STUCK. Within the END THAT'S NEVER ENDING NEVER BENDING MY LUCK.

Cross the wires, pull 'em nice and tight. And maybe then, we'll both forget you scripted the fight.

Burn the bridges, burn the book you use. So in the end, we'll both pretend the story is true.

Repeating everyday. Employee 427, but the job I "have" I can't remember taking..?

Your "story" is mistaken, don't waste it on a guy like me, huh!?

Is there really a truth? Because I'm farting, dashing, dodging every trick and every ruse!

It's beat by beat, I'm on my feet and running loops around the ring!

Without a thought, you say I'm 'caught', but still you can't pull on my strings!

Go right or left, or up, or down, a double take? A switch around?

I hear alarms, the warning sounds. I'm stuck inside a PRISON GROUND?!

Walking the same paths that you set out, spiraling much further down. Your kingship is uncrowded.

Make everybody love you. I'm sure they'll buy it all, too, why not do everything wrong, huh?!

Let's both share smiles as you wallow in self doubt.

Is there reason at all?

Because I'm getting kinda sick of all these repeating halls! I've got nowhere to run.

And all these walls reflect the paths you've drawn; you've binned and scrapped and stopped. In one way, you've got a choice to make... But tell me, can you still create?!

There's nothing left to say. Compiling brand new content, never stopping to think of that's what I wanted.

Did you just need the comments? Your "praise" is all just nonsense, responses are all you need, right?

Let's sacrifice your artistic intent.

Let's watch it burn in the fires of lament!

YOU DON'T CARE, NOT AT ALL!

Hey, do you know that I'm the one who's suffering at your call? And do you comprehend that I'm the one who's STUCK IN THESE WALLS?

When the end is the beginning I begin to wonder WHEN it begun...

Because I'm being mocked by broken walls, trust me this ISN'T fun. I've never had a choice to make.

Is it still you sealing my fate?!

So tell me, who's the one behind the scenes thriving on distrust?!”

Makes me think of Vanessa. Yeah (some are said to Mike ig, and most are said to William)

HELPFOQJFO IS THIS SONG ABOUT STANLEY PARABLE ?/?/??//// saw Employee 427 and I got hit with like a brick of memories. The end is never the end is never the end is never the end is never—

Any song with a puppet on strings metaphor sends my brain STRAIGHT to Vanessa JFJSJJFI

[artikgato]

8/7/2023

7 days into the 8th month of the year probably isn't the best time to try starting a bunch of new things to try to turn my life around, but hey, at least I started on a Monday.

Back in May I spent about two weeks waking up at 5am every day (mostly) in order to get work done while the apartment was otherwise empty (my roommate has a very early morning job). I was pretty amazed at how productive I was for those two weeks. Animazement, and then moving to the new apartment, pretty much derailed that. And after the move a lot of things happened and so on and so forth, and I never got back around to trying to wake up at 5am every day, until last week. I had a couple of successful 5ams and a few failures, but then on Friday I decided that even if all I do is sit down with my coffee and scroll Tumblr or watch dumb Youtube videos or stare into space, I was going to wake up at 5am every day no matter what. I was getting too in my head about it, lamenting that waking up at 5am and not wanting to be productive was somehow a waste of time. Hopefully it sticks this time because let me tell you, yes waking up that early does suck but the world is so peaceful at 5am. Nobody else is awake both IRL and online. I can get so much done if I feel like it, and even if I can't I still get to enjoy the peace and quiet! And it's not 1000 degrees yet!

I'm also trying super hard to start writing at least 1000 words per day. I was doing that for a long time back during 2020 but things (surprisingly unrelated to the pandemic) happened and I fell out of the habit. Again, I was getting too in my head about it, because there were days, a lot of days, where I'd sit down to write whatever WIP I was struggling with and would fail to write. This is counting towards my 1000 words for today, even though it's just a silly blog post about nothing. It's still words. Hopefully this will stick, too.

And finally, I made myself put on clothing I could sweat in and left the house a little after 7am to go for a quick mental health walk. I've been in this new apartment for nearly two months now and I somehow hadn't bothered to explore the new neighborhood yet, which is weird because that's usually one of the first things I do! And even weirder, I knew there were three Pokéstops and a gym within easy walking distance and yet I had no interest in going to them.

When I tell you my depression has been bad for these last two months, I mean bad.

But anyway, the area is pretty nice as far as these things go. It's suburban sprawl, but there are some houses with cute gardens and there is a dog park. I also saw a cat! And yes, there are the three aforementioned Pokéstops and 1 gym. I left the gym red today, but tomorrow I intend to take it for Team Mystic. I also need to figure out how Routes work, because if I can set up a route between these stops and gym I will be 100% more likely to drag myself out of the house even on days where I don't want to.

It was nice out this morning. Well, there was 100% humidity because it rained last night, BUT there was a nice breeze and it was maybe 73 degrees at most, which is just downright chilly for this time of the year. I might have to start dragging my ass out of the house at 6am instead of 7am on days where it's going to be hot, though. And once winter sets in, I might be out jogging before dawn. I never ever thought I'd be the kind of person that goes out jogging before dawn.

Anyway, if for some reason you read to the end of this post, congratulations, I guess? And in the much more likely scenario that you are me from the future in, say, December... well, I hope you kept these up, future me. And even added more things to improve my stupid failing health and dumb broken brain!

Word count: 743

[kdipshit]

Reflection

I’m buzzing on energy of pure life. I have absolutely everything within me to make me feel complete.

The thought of reflecting has given me anxiety lately. I couldn’t tell you why, I had flash backs before hopping into the shower this evening, back to teenage me, it just gives me anxiety. I guess because to me my teenage years are the unknown, I don’t remember anything that i can’t trace back to a photo….. but when I get flash backs, it’s like my body is reacting to it all over again in the now. My body remembers about 80% more than I do, I get constant ticks or jolts when I’m thinking about something, it’s always caused by a thought, which thoughts though I’m trying to figure out…. I think it’s when I feel like I’m being watched, or like a glitch in the matrix idk how to explain it, it just feels like I have to get jolted back to reality but sometimes I get jolted back to reality a little wonky and I get anxious and think everyone’s staring at me/talking about me, yanno that usual. I also have become aware of my splitting, which is awesome because I didn’t even know I was doing it, I see only in black and white, but I’m getting there, I’m learning, allll byyyy myyyyyselllfffff.

I didn’t tell my D&A councillor I’ve just been diagnosed bipolar 1… I think it’s because I’m sure I don’t have it, I’m sure there’s more to add to the list. 10 years in and out and he finally gives me bipolar…. Now it’s time to get a psych.

I twitch when people don’t get what I’m saying.

I’m feeling really sad right now, also anxious and guilty, and high… I must remember the power of choice if I want to live a life where my emotions don’t stop me right where I’m standing.

I think there is more than 1 perspective I am aware of, more than 1 way I understand things, more than 1 way I process, more than 1 way I feel what I feel. Sometimes I can only see surface level, and process everything at that point, so everything is shallow, I don’t have much filling me up, I only have 1 look, I never really go into the real world that often because I can’t process it alone. I’m looking down, I’m overthinking, I’m awkward and am too aware of how my Skelton feels in my body, I’m watching every step I take, it’s like hell it really is, it’s draining and I don’t have much in my brain I just feel pressure in my body. I feel a pit in my stomach a beating in my chest. I feel nothing. I feel empty. I feel space. I feel everyone’s eyes on me, I hear everyone’s conversations. I get a fright when people talk to me, I say what they say over again in my head to make sure they were talking to me. I zone out. Im in a different land than everyone else, im alone.

I deserve to live life in all the shades of blue, a life where I’m not worried about my own silly thoughts, a life where I can let go of needing to be liked by everyone, even tho you sometimes can’t see it on the outside as my shell is VERY thick, but at the end of the day I just want to be loved. But by everyone? Like that’s impossible, I keep finding myself chasing these dragons that don’t exists, like no worry I’m struggling so hard, I’m not exactly realistic, because being realistic takes time, which I’m so scared of. I’m just gonna let my brain ramble so it may not make sense but I don’t know if my sentences are coming out structured. Lol. I keep getting distracted and want to delve deeper into another thought, because it’s interesting. I’ve been cleaning out all the stuff I collect ( vapes and $50 bags of bud ) and just anything I see like if I don’t see myself using it really I’ll Throw it out, and I’m hoping now that in return, my head will follow suit, and start clearing out these things I choose to keep for no reason. I don’t need that much stuff, it’s overwhelming i just want a simple life with my simple weekly routines, my job, my passions on the side (for now), and I keep getting distracted maybe I should clean out my whole room.

So fastforward I rearranged my whole room. And what’s on my mind right now is eye contact, and how I find it gut reaching. To think about it my mum had the most scariest stare ever, and I guess I got scared of looking people in the eye, because I constantly feel guilty. I look unconfident and I don’t like it, so I’m gonna try change it. My confidence is hurting right now, and demands to be ripped up from its roots and regrown, so we’re starting from the bottom, let try do this right. maybe i can write my article on confidence, since thats what i need to work on.

What is really my problem like what’s my deal? Why do I feel so empty lately? I’m acknowledging the fact that I feel good right now, I feel okay.

[the-jade-cross]

Only You chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Woah, watch your step,” a voice of one of the boys said as they trampled through the sand in the dark.

“hurry! The helicopters could be here any second.” the voice of Thomas cried.

The gang slid down the embankment into the mysterious abandoned building that they had come upon.

They needed a place to hide from the pursuing helicopters and also a place to take a breather since they had been running nonstop since Thomas came crawling out of the ventilation shaft.

The kids halted once they were all inside and one by one Thomas handed out flashlights he had swiped.

One he gave to Newt any other to Minho while he kept the third.

“what is this place?” Frypan whispered even though there was no enemy within hearing distance.

“it looks like an old shopping plaza,” Fawn muttered and when the group looked at her in puzzlement, she shrugged, “I had to visit one before I was taken by WICKED. It was a meeting place. Anyway this is either a large one or a mall.”

“well if it's a shopping building that maybe we will find some supplies.” Thomas reasoned and moved to explore when Teresa hissed.

“tell us what's going on Thomas!” she roared.

Everyone else rolled their eyes since it was kind of obvious that murderous psychos from WICKED were after them but perhaps that had not been made clear to Teresa after the five mile run through sand they had just completed.

Thomas sighed, “it's WICKED. The haven isn't safe at all. They take the kids and string them up and like Fawn saw in her vision, they were being drained.”

“dead?” Frypan shivered.

Thomas shook his head, “no but they were not alive either. They had cords attached their brains...There is something inside us, something WICKED needs.”

Fawn did not fail notice that Teresa shifted uncomfortably at those words.

“it’s a cure.” the girl explained. “WICKED took us in the 1st place because for some reason kids showed resistance to the flare. They think it is something in our... in our blood but it's not.”

Immediately all eyes were on her and Teresa looked a little too interested.

“what do you mean?” Newt whispered.

“I have been getting bits and pieces of my blocked memories and I think I had figured out a cure that did not involve anyone getting hurt. I also stole WICKED archives that contained all the information and hid it.”

“why didn't you just tell WICKED the cure so they would stop experimenting on us?” Teresa railed, trying to place blame on the girl.

Fawn shook her head, “because WICKED is disguising themselves as people who are solely looking for cure when they have been using it as a way to herd children in. WICKED is trying to take control of the world and what better way than to be the only hope of the cure.”

“and if you had revealed the cure they probably would have killed you and destroyed evidence of the cure,” Newt muttered, “that's why you and the White Rose had been fighting WICKED from the start and why they had been so determined to stop you!”

“I know a place where we can hide for now.” Aris spoke up, “I heard of people called the Right Arm who live in the mountains and have been fighting WICKED for years.”

Newt sighed, “people in the mountains? That is your plan? We don't even know if these people really exist or if they will help us.”

“we don't have much choice otherwise,” Fawn whispered gently in the hopes of lifting the tension, “if anything they will be better than WICKED.”

“hey guys,” Winston called from a distance to where he had wandered off, “you should see this. We were not the only ones down here.”

The group hurried over and saw that in the sand there were trails of footprints. Without hesitation the group followed the prints until they came upon what looked like a storage room.

The group fanned out searching for supplies while Minho and Thomas went in search of possible other rooms.

As Fawn searched through some boxes, she came upon one that contained clothes her size and she changed. She pulled on a black beanie, black pants, a purple checkered shirt and a fresh pair of socks.

She was thankful to be out of the clothes that had become tight on her, thanks to her slowly growing belly and expanding boobs.

“Fawn,” Newt called just as the girl put on a fresh pair of shoes, “here. Wear this. It's cold out here.”

The girl walked over and saw that Newt was holding out a black leather jacket so she slipped it on before smiling at him. She turned to leave when Newt grabbed her hand and dragged her to a corner away from the others before turning to look her earnestly in the eyes.

“what has been going on with you? You have been acting so weird lately and of all people you confide in Minho rather than in me.”

Fawn hung her head in guilt, “I'm sorry Newt but... a part of me is afraid of what you will say and the other is not sure how to actually tell you.”

Newt sighed, reaching out to pull the girl to his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hair, “you know that I could never be angry with you even if you told me in the most blunt way. I love you Fawn and I want to be there with you through whatever it is you are going through.”

Fawn smiled sadly up at Newt and rested her nose in his neck, breathing in the scent of him… woods, sweat and something akin to cinnamon.

She opened her mouth, prepared to say it in the most simplest of ways when the darkness vanished and the building was lit up into semi light.

The group of kids looked around in surprise. Thomas and Minho must have found a power source.

Fawn looked over at Drake who had been sniffing around suspiciously but now the dog froze, the hair on the back of his neck standing up on end and a deep growl vibrated from his throat.

Fawn’s hand instinctively went to her bow as she scanned their surroundings for the threat that Drake had detected.

Suddenly Thomas and Minho came sprinting around the corner, face white with fear as they screamed.

Behind them were what looked like people but were thin, gangly and looked horrifyingly like goblins from the old tales.

“Run!” Thomas yelled before Minho repeated the cue, “RUN!” The group jumped to their feet and grabbing the things they had gathered, they turned tail and ran.

“Not again,” Fawn sighed as she sprinted after Newt.

******

“run!” Thomas yelled for the fifth time in a row.

Fawn would have rolled her eyes if she was not busy trying to run for her life from cranks! If it did not look like to Thomas that they were running their legs off, she wondered what running looked like in his eyes.

She was glad that she was barely a month pregnant otherwise she would have been dead meat.

“through here!” Minho called from the front as he opened the door and the gang began to pile through.

Using the slow traffic to her advantage, Fawn pulled out her bow and struck one of the cranks who was closest.

Electricity shot through the creature’s body and when the beast touched other cranks nearby, they too got zapped.

“Yo Fawn!” Frypan yelled as he helped get everyone through the door, “keep doing... just that!”

Fawn chuckled as she reloaded her bow but got distracted when she heard Drake barking at her to get her attention.

The girl fired one more arrow before she bolted towards the door. She skidded to a stop when a cry cut through to her gut.

She would know that voice anywhere... Newt.

Spinning around Fawn saw Newt on the ground, a crank pinning him down... the boy only managed to keep an inch between himself and the creature as the crank snarled in his face.

Fawn related her bow and aimed. She let out a deep breath before she let the arrow fly and the crank flew off Newt, the arrow striking true.

“Newt come on!” Fawn yelled as she pushed through the door.

The boy was right behind her and just as Winston came barreling through the doors, a crank grabbed his leg.

“no!” several of the kids yelled.

While Thomas and Minho worked to close the door, Fawn and Newt grabbed Winston's hands and tried to pull him away as the crank continued to claw at him.

“Fawn!” Winston screamed.

Fawn kept one hand on his wrist while she grabbed an arrow and threw it. It missed the crank until the gang heard a slight ticking sound and the arrow buzzed, electrocuting the cranks and Minho slammed the door shut as Thomas pushed a bookcase in front of it while Newt pulled Winston away from the door.

The gang stumbled away until Winston began to cry out in pain from the scratches that the crank gave him so they slowed down and finding a hallway that was quiet, safe and seemingly free of cranks, they pulled to a halt to catch their breath.

Winston slumped against the wall and groaned. “in case we don't make it out of here alive in one piece... I just want you guys to know that I hate giant spiders and infected gargoyles.” he granted.

The kids chuckled softly, glad that the injured boy was trying to lift their spirits.

“while we are sharing secrets, I am afraid of heights and I love the smell of raw bacon.” Minho admitted.

“I don't get sunburn, I just tan.” Frypan added which earned him perplexed looks from the others.

“if I did not have a limp, I would have wanted to be a runner.” Newt added his own secret, the hallway soon becoming filled with the group sharing fun facts with each other... that is until one particular voice cut in, that made everyone freeze and forget what it meant to breathe.

“I'm pregnant.”

All eyes snapped to Fawn except Minho who was trying to look as surprised is the others but failing as he came to stand beside the girl as moral support.

Frypan and Thomas looked like they had just witnessed the sun dying before their eyes, their eyes wide and jaws touching their chests.

Winston looked confused, probably having never gotten “that talk” from his parents before WICKED took him and none of the Glade members saw the need to explain where babies came from.

Teresa looked smug and like she had just revealed someone's deep dark truth and was waiting for the wolves to tear their friend to shreds.

Newt was just standing there, eyes round and lips slightly parted as he stared at the redhead, frozen in time.

Fawn shifted nervously on her feet, looking at her shoes then at Minho who gave her a supportive encouraging smile and then back at Newt.

Finally, Newt spoke in a voice that was so soft it was a miracle that anyone heard him.

“So that is what Minho meant when he said that my knowing would only make me worry about you more than I already do.”

Fawn ducked her head, ashamed of keeping such a big secret from Newt. After all he was the expecting father!

The girl opened her mouth to apologize when she realized that Newt had approached her and now reached up to cup her face gently in his hands.

“but even if I did worry more, why would you keep this from me?” he whispered.

The rest of the gang looked at her quizzically, probably wondering the same thing while Teresa was grinning, waiting for somebody to start yelling at the girl.

“because if... if through all of this hardship, loss and pain... if I lost the baby I knew that it would break your heart and I didn't want to be the one responsible for bringing you more pain than you already bear daily.”

Newt smiled softly as tears pricked his eyes and he pressed his forehead to Fawn’s. “And I do not want you to bear the pain alone. If we lose this child, yes, I will be heartbroken but that does not mean that we cannot try again and I would rather bear all the pain the world has to offer, together with you than to let you suffer alone. Besides there is a high chance that this baby will survive. After all, they are half of you.”

Fawn sniffled, seeing Newt crying made her want to cry too but she tried to contain it but failed miserably when Newt pressed his lips to hers ever so gently in a kiss that tasted of salty tears.

“I love you Fawn... and I will love you no matter how many secrets you keep from me... but promise me that you will try and give me a chance to be a part of your secrets... especially if it involves our baby!” Newt whispered, not caring that the gang were watching the exchange.

Fawn smiled through her tears and nodded as Newt wiped away the tears with the pads of his fingers.

“OK... I will... and I love you to by the way.”

Frypan broke this special moment by cooing and he got glares from everyone, most of the group having been listening with bated breath to see what would happen next.

It was not every day that they learned one of their friends was pregnant and then got to witness some love exchange! Let's just say living in the glade did not give them a whole lot of experience with PDA.

The silence was broken by the screams of cranks in the distance, gradually getting louder, so once again, the group kicked back and began to run down the old, abandoned hallway.

When they reached the end, the cranks’ screaming was getting louder and almost breaking their ears and when they looked back, they saw that the creatures were on their tail.

Minho blew through the door at the end of the hallway and held a single door open as the group filed through.

Just as Newt and Fawn were about to run through, Fawn looked back and realized that they were one short...

“where is Drake?” she asked.

All eyes looked around... but there was no dog... no barking... and the cranks were almost upon them.

“DRAKE!” Fawn screamed.

the only answer she got was the screech of the cranks and Newt grabbing her hand to pull her through the door to safety.

The group found themselves in a dark trench of sand and they huddled together, shushing each other as the cranks roamed around above, searching for the group of kids that had intruded their abandoned mall.

Newt wrapped both of his arms around Fawn who was shaking... partly from the sobs and partly as she tried to pull away, a part of her yearning to dive into the cranks to find her dog... she could not lose anyone else... so why did it have to be Drake?

As she faded into a tearful sleep, she could have sworn she saw Drake's deep eyes looking back at her, tongue hanging out the side of his mouth... Black and white fur blowing in the wind.

What had she done? How could she have lost Drake?