#like me. always angry and never able to face anyone when feeling weak

[ienvieu]

maybe my writing IS a one on one reflection of my inner self

[gibberishfangirl]

Hello~ Congrats on 100 followers!! You really deserve, it means writing is your AESTHETIC. Anyway, leaving the references aside... I'd like to request Furin boys, Togame and Endo (if it's ok with you) reacting to the reader getting stabbed in their place (the reader protects them) in a fight. You decide whether the boys will see this when it happens or on the way back home with the reader walking much further behind and everything, trying to hide it from the boys. Stay well and stay hydrated, CONGRATS ONCE AGAIN 💚

WIND BREAKER | worth the sacrifice

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Mitsuki Kiryu, Toma Hiragi, Jo Togame

Contains ✰ sfw! violence, blood, reader gets injured, fighting, angst, comfort, guilty feelings, angry feelings and behavior, content of the boys reacting differently to the incident

★ a/n <3 : hiii! thank you so much for the kind words it means a lot! :) i did a mix of some characters finding out in the moment vs later. i didn’t include Endo, simply because im not confident enough in my skills to write him yet, sorry :’D </3★

★ feels enormous guilt, didn’t realize in the heat of the moment. realized you were hurt after it was over on your way home. blames himself for not protecting you ★

-> Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

there weren’t enough words in the world to describe the amount of fear and heartbreak that struck Sakura in the moment when you collapsed on the walk home. Sakura was usually fearless in most situations, always confident in his own abilities but this time was different. he couldn’t help but feel lost, not knowing what to do besides picking you up and running to the nearest hospital as his mind was going insane.

he drowned in his own thoughts the whole way there and even after. ‘when did it happen? where was i? how did i let it happen?’ the man who usually was overflown with confidence felt weak.

Sakura would never be able to live with himself if you were to get a life changing injury under his protection. he felt responsible for everything. he felt pathetic, how could he ever be the strongest when he couldn’t protect you? the person he loves the most. ‘you were okay now but what if something happens again? what if things don’t work out next time? next time. there shouldn’t be a next time. there shouldn’t have been a this time to begin with.’

the incident changed Sakura in a way. he hadn’t been the same since that night at the hospital where he cried for the first time in front of you. where he sobbed into your arms crying “i can’t do this without you. i can’t be here if you aren’t, i need you here with me.” Sakura vowed to himself that he’d never let you or anyone else he cared for be put in that position again. he won’t let it happen again.

Sakura knows how much you love him as you tried to be strong for him. the way you smiled and said it was nothing once you woke up. the way you never flinched or showed fear when you had to stitches. he admired it and wants to do the same for you in return. he considers you to be one of the strongest people he knows and you gave him a new meaning to the word “strong”.

-> Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

Nirei wouldn’t have expected this is how the night would’ve ended. he feels terrible as he was sitting next to your hospital bed on a spare chair. he spent the night with you while you were sleeping. he hasn’t been able to sleep or eat since the incident. he can’t help but just keep beating himself up. if only he had been stronger… how did he realize so late? the two of you were walking home when he wrapped his arm around your waist and felt the blood gushing out from your body while you winced in pain.

“Nirei? You still there?” the sound of your voice quickly snapped him out his thoughts. your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, the small lamp beside you was the only source of light. he looked terrible, his eyes were swollen, face covered in bruises, dried blood on his busted lip, not to mention his eye bags were horrendous. his eyes looked so sad, the way he looked so defeated made you feel devastated.

“hey, are you okay?” even though he looked far worse than you, appearance wise, he was still more concerned about you instead of himself. the feeling of starvation hadn’t even hit him since you were at the top of his mind. he hadn’t even bothered to get checked up on himself.

“yeah, i’m fine. are you okay? have you gotten checked? you’re covered bruises,” you were cut off mid ramble by him embracing you. he hugged you so gently it was almost as if he was scared you’d break by the slightest amount of pressure.

“don’t do that ever again. i can’t lose you. i promise ill be the one to protect you next time— just don’t... i want to be the one you can lean on.” Nirei couldn’t stop the tears from coming before breaking out into sobs as you hugged him back. you couldn’t stop your own tears in time. you were more scared than you realized. you stepped in front of him without thinking, it hadn’t registered how scary the situation was until you were on the hospital bed getting rushed into a room. despite how scared you were you couldn’t imagine how much scarier it would’ve been to not have Nirei here with you now.

★ noticed too late, tried to prevent it from happening but fails. he couldn’t stop it in time and is very upset about it. incredibly irritated by the whole situation. ★

-> Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

Suo knew something happened. however, wasn’t exactly sure what that something was. the most he knew was that you were ‘fine’. he could’ve sworn he saw you get hurt but apparently not? every time he asked you if you were okay or tried to check on you, you’d back away and insist nothing was wrong. he couldn’t help but feel worried, mainly because he knew something was off. he quickly turned around when he had seen that guy sneak up behind him and you ran over to protect him. he tried to pull you away from any chance of getting hurt. he assumed he had succeeded when you didn’t have a physical reaction to any pain. a month and a half passed quickly as the whole incident continued to chew him up inside. since it was winter, it made things easier for you to hide the scar due to amount of gloves you wore. as the season quickly came to an end so did your excuses on covering up your injury. Of course Suo immediately noticed the scar on the palm of your hand. the sight of it immediately made him frown. you could feel your own nerves building up from just watching him examine your hand with a straight face. he gently grazed over the scar with such soft caring hands. it was rare to see your smiling boyfriend be so serious with a sad expression.

“why didn’t you tell me? i asked you about it… you could’ve told me the truth you know?” Suo’s gentle voice broke the awkward silence that consumed the air. his tone wasn’t angry, it was rather soft with a hint of sadness to it. did you not think you could trust him with this information? he could’ve been there for you. you wouldn’t have gone through it alone, he would’ve been there. it’s all he could think of while trying to understand why you wouldn’t tell him.

“m sorry suo, i didn’t want you to worry. you’re always taking care of me… i just wanted to show that i could also take care of you.” you felt bad looking at his expression. you assumed you were doing the right thing by keeping it from him. he always worried so much about you. you thought this would’ve made him more stressed out than he needed to be. you can see now by the way he looks that wasn’t the case. maybe you should’ve just been honest from the start.

“i don’t want you to take care of me if it means you’ll be the one to get hurt in return.” Suo couldn’t help but raise his voice a little as he blurted out the words before thinking. he immediately regretted saying it when you responded with a hurt expression. “wait! no, i mean. i don’t want you to get hurt because of my own mistakes. i should’ve seen it coming, im glad to know you care for me that much. i just don’t want you to get hurt. next time, let me take it.”

“no.” the small word casually left your lips. you know if you were to go back in time you would do the same thing all over again. Suo knew that as well which is why he responded with a small smile. he didn’t want to encourage this behavior but he knew you well enough to know that you’ll never stand by and let the ones you care about get hurt. you were thankful that your boyfriend was so understanding and knew your character so well. he simply sighed in response to your word with a “what am i gonna do with you?”

-> Toma Hiragi ᡣ𐭩

Hiragi felt himself wince at the sight of you getting hurt. he was helping out an underclassmen from getting beat up when the other guy tried to catch him from behind. he let out a yell to warn you while running over to you but it had been too late. the guy had already landed a swing at you with the knife before Hiragi grabbed his arm back knocking the weapon out of his hand. Hiragi couldn’t care less about the guy while you held your arm in pain. He did the most logical thing he could think of which was shoving the guy away from the two of you and making his way to the hospital with you on his back. ever since the two of you started dating, Hiragi made you a priority. he wasn’t planning on breaking that anytime soon. he’d deal with the situation later all that matters right now is you.

“wait! Hiragi- it’s really not that bad! i’m okay. we don’t need to go, you should go get him. i’ll be fine.” you tried to protest against his decision while holding onto him tightly. he was running so fast you were almost scared of falling off. keyword: almost. your boyfriend was incredibly strong and you knew the chance of him dropping you were slimmed down to a zero. Higari ignored your protests as you sighed in defeat. he didn’t leave your side for the rest of the day as the doctor checked up on you.

“Hiragi. I told you i’m fine, you should go back and see if everyone’s okay. you should go update Umemiya while you still can.” your words have fallen on deaf ears since the two of you have gotten there. Hiragi was completely ignoring your words, at least that’s what you thought. in reality he heard you loud and clear but he just simply didn’t care. he didn’t care about anyone else except you in this moment.

“i’ll call Umemiya as soon as i know you’re okay. don’t worry about it.” is the only response he gave to your rambling. you knew he had more to say but you didn’t know how to ask or bring it up. “i’m sorry. i should’ve been more careful with you being around. i didn’t think anything was going to happen tonight.”

Hiragi was genuinely apologetic. he had promised to take you on a date like good boyfriends do but the night went downhill fast. he felt terrible for dragging you into that mess involving his own duties. he often struggled with balancing his duties and your relationship with him but he always tried to make things work. “it’s okay, it’s just another excuse for you to take me on two date nights now.” you smiled focusing on the bright side of things. “of course, i would never say no to that.” Higari always did wonder what he did to get so lucky to have you.

-> Mitsuki Kiryu ᡣ𐭩

Kiryu cursed himself in his own head. he always went out of his way to keep you safe from any danger. so far, he had succeeded until now. he failed to react in time and pull you away. Kiryu wanted to pummel the guy who hurt you but he knew you needed him now more than ever. he hated the fact that anyone managed to hurt, let alone scare you, especially if he was there.

“hi love, are you okay?” with the way your boyfriends tone remained so loving and soft you would never know how angry he was inside. “i’m okay, doesn’t hurt too bad.” you blushed at the feeling of his hand caressing your cheek. your boyfriend grew irritated by seeing your beautiful skin bruise where the scar was starting to form. you caught a glimpse of your boyfriends eyebrows furrow up as his eyes stayed on your scar. the look in his eye sent goosebumps to your body.

Kiryu wouldn’t consider himself to be an aggressive person but he’d be lying if he said he’d never been more tempted to chase down a man and make him regret their decision in his life. Despite all these emotions Kiryu always put you first and stayed by your side. Even if he couldn’t help but wonder what he could’ve done differently to prevent everything from happening.

The way Kiryu always had the ability to manage his emotions was amazing. it’s a skill not most people have and you’re glad he’s one of the few who do. However, he can’t reassure you that he’ll be able to hold back on the day he runs into that guy again. honestly, for everyone’s sake that person better pray they never see you or Kiryu again. Kiryu’s kindness should never be seen as a weakness. that man is a lot more capable than he often leads people to believe.

★ angry at the world, feels so much anger at everyone. blames everyone, himself, you, those around you. slightly mad at you because he would’ve preferred it be him instead. can’t fathom why you would do that ★

-> Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

Umemiya was horrified at watching you get hurt and being so helpless at the moment. he felt so useless, so many relied on him and he managed to fail the one he loves most. he was angry and was having trouble holding it in. he sat there in anticipation waiting to hear if you were okay. he felt like such a failure as he continuously beat himself up. he slapped his face against his hands as he facepalmed. the moment was a consistent replay eating him alive. Higari had tried to convince him to leave to go get changed or showered or to go eat but Ume insisted he needed to stay with you. just in case. you needed him, he couldn’t be there for you when it happened but he’s here now. that counts… right?

Ume didn’t bother sleeping as he watched your restful state sleeping in the uncomfortable hospital bed. you didn’t deserve this, you’re the sweetest person he’s ever met. he was lucky to have you. he didn’t deserve you, he knew that much. how could someone ever do something like this to you? yeah it was his fault but who hurts such an innocent person? you were just there at the wrong time… and it was his fault you were even there to begin with. his body jolted up as he noticed your eyelashes fluttering as your eyes opened. “hey.. how are you? want some water?” his tone was soft and quiet since it was still the middle of the night. he didn’t want to startle you as he went up to you and softly caressed your face. you didn’t respond besides just holding his arm and tugging him towards you.

he let out a small sigh before getting into bed with you since you made some space for him. you instinctively cuddled into him and held him tightly. you quickly relaxed into his chest as he stroked your hair. “i’m okay Ume.” you finally responded trying to reassure him after hearing the way his heart was pounding. fortunately, hearing that come from your sweet voice relaxed him as he felt a new sense of relief that he never felt before.

“why would you do that (y/n)?” Ume finally built the courage to ask you the question that he had been wondering since everything happened.

“because you’re worth it Ume, i love you. id do anything for you as long as you’re safe.” you answered it so casually as if he was already supposed to know that. he felt his own heart melt from your response. typically Ume was always the one putting himself in front of danger for others. he’d never been on the other side of this experience, it made him feel oddly safe. all that previous anger he felt towards himself vanished at your reassurance. “i love you too (y/n).” Ume wanted to do everything he could to his ability to prevent something like this happening again. he was glad he could rely on you, that doesn’t mean he ever wants to see you in this state again.

-> Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

pissed doesn’t even begin to describe the amount of rage Togame feels. he hates the fact that he even feels that way. his knuckles have turned white at this point with how tightly he was gripping the wheel. you had just gotten released from the hospital and you haven’t heard a peep come out of your boyfriend. the moment kept flashing in and out of his head of it all happening. the two of you were around so many people, how did no one step in? how couldn’t he stop it? why would you even get involved after he specifically told you not to? unfortunately the emotion of anger was seeking out of both of you. the tension was so thick, it was bad whenever the two of you matched energy in this way.

“i don’t get why you would do something so stupid. i told you to stay back for a reason. how many times have i told you? do not get involved. stay out of it.” Togame’s harsh words broke the silence quickly. you were more angry at the fact that he was the one who broke the silence instead of you being the one to do it. a small part of you was shocked that he was even angry at you but you saw it coming. he did tell you to never get involved if the situation ever escalated.

“excuse me?? well i’m sooooo sorry that i didn’t want you to get stabbed???!!!” you couldn’t stop the painful sarcastic laughter from leaving your throat while you ‘apologized’. you didn’t stop there, you couldn’t. you were the kind of person where once you got started there was no going back. surprisingly the two of you shared that annoying quality. “i can’t believe you’re actually mad at me. what was i supposed to do? you can’t expect me not to do anything! if it were the other way around you would’ve jumped in the way. why is it so different when i do it? it’s not.”

“it is, there’s a huge difference. i can handle it. you on the other hand, aren’t supposed to handle anything. so don’t bother to next time. i should be able to have you around me without having to worry that you’ll just casually walk in front of a weapon. who does that? i can do that. you can’t.” god sometimes you hated the way he thought. “no. i can, i will and i already have so there’s no changing that.”

“i just don’t get why. there’s no point in doing something like that. i’m not worth saving (y/n). you are, you’re worth everything to me. you can’t just sacrifice yourself for anyone. what if things had gone differently? what if you weren’t okay? what do i do then? what am i supposed to do without? i cant live without you so don’t put me in a situation where i have to even imagine that possibility.” Togame’s outburst caught you off guard. you knew he was angry but you hadn’t expected him to get so vulnerable. the look in his eye changed completely, they didn’t hold anymore anger. they held the feeling of sadness more than anything.

“don’t say that, you are worth saving. don’t ask me not to do it again. i love you, i wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. i’m sorry i worried you but im not sorry for doing it. i care about you. try to see it from my perspective, the feeling of losing you scares me just as much as it does you.” your words stuck with Togame as his expression softened. the feeling of being loved was still new to him and he had some difficulty accepting it at times.

★ a/n <3 : SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONGG </3 I really hope you enjoy this! it took me awhile to write because i wanted to make it as diverse as possible and include as many characters as i could. i wanted to make their reactions differently and have it happen in different ways. i hope i didn’t disappoint! thank you all for reading and being so patient. i appreciate you all! <33 ★

[merakiui]

me & you, beyond a horizon so blue.

scaramouche/wanderer x (gender neutral) reader cw: slight angst, brief and vague mentions of scaramouche's past and the shouki no kami fight, you and wanderer have adopted a child together, this fic takes place before scara tries to erase himself in irminsul note - after he's defeated in a fight against the traveler, scaramouche wakes up in the distant future and learns a few things about an emotion he's always felt undeserving of.

It’s dark until he has the courage to force his eyes open.

Immediately, he wants to shut them. Near-blinding, the afternoon sun beams into his room through a part in the curtains. If he were human, it would have caused some sort of irreversible retinal damage. He’s not—though he isn’t spared the impending irritation—and so he’s able to adjust with relative quickness, his indigo eyes soon finding comfort in the brightness. It means a new day has dawned. He’s not dead—if that mortal concept can even apply to a puppet like him.

With a weak groan, Scaramouche drags a hand down his face and, like a sluggish, reanimated corpse, sits up in bed. The sheets are clean and soft, a soothing balm amidst the unrest that vibrates through him. It has been a long while since he’s slept through the night, preferring the shadows over the sun. Nocturnal like nature intended. A creature created in gloom can change and adapt, but it will always seek familiarity no matter what. 

Intrinsically like a rooted habit.

It’s only natural he would be forced into sleep, considering the fall was not pleasant, nor was the inevitable impact. He brings his fingers to his cheek, presses against the area, and assesses for injury. Nothing is damaged.

But then nothing is fixed. Not internally.

Having expected the dreary interior of an infirmary, he’s struck with bewilderment when he makes note of the bedroom he’s currently confined to. It’s furnished like a typical residence, unlike that of any inn he’s ever known, and there is a strange sense about this space. As if he’s always known about it and has just recalled it, destined to wake here one day and submit himself to its simple charms.

This can’t be right.

He’s never seen this bedroom before, let alone slept in it. Until now, that is. Perhaps a part of him has subconsciously willed it into existence with all of his fruitless wishing, the result of some illusion weaved from the intricacies of hopeful dreams.

Scaramouche glances at the bedside table, his brow furrowed in the beginnings of a wary scowl. Something is so obviously, painfully not right. He knows it has something to do with this room and the fact that he’s alone and unguarded. Lesser Lord Kusanali is not a fool, no matter how much he’d like to comfort himself with that delusion, and so he knows there should be no reason why he’s here instead of where he’s meant to be. 

And then he hears them—voices. Three of them, actually. One is high and giggly. It’s a little girl. Judging by the intonation of the other, an adult. Her guardian, to be more exact. He can’t place the third, especially since it’s one that sounds so grossly affectionate. He’s never heard anyone, human or not, speak with such tender warmth. 

He’s never known such a thing. Not in a long while. 

Scaramouche throws the covers off at once, stumbling from the bed in a panicked flurry. Watching it like it’s a threat, he clutches his chest. He doesn’t feel a heartbeat; rather, it’s the crackle of Electro deep within the core of his being that resounds, fizzling like snapped, angry circuitry. His fingers dig into wrinkled fabrics and he takes pause, realizing his actions.

To think something as mundane as a bed could startle him.

To think comfort would feel like a curse. 

What a joke. Even here, I’m not allowed the peace of a lonesome parting. 

He walks on intact legs, bidding the room a final glower before throwing the door open and stomping outside. Wherever he’s found himself, whether the mortal coil or a place beyond, he’s determined to get out. He pays no attention to the picture frames on the wall as he stalks down the hall, his mind working twice as fast to conjure a plan. If this place proves to be foul, there will be casualties. Three of them. 

Bloodshed is nothing new. 

What is new, though, is the scene he walks into when he approaches the kitchen, stepping through the threshold and immediately stopping short when he sees himself. 

Only…he’s different.

“You’re in poor shape,” his other self comments, almost conversationally, as if this sort of talk is casual. He’s dressed in breezy colors: whites and blues, the prettiest of hues. It’s a color scheme he would never entertain at present, but it sings of free skies with fluffy cumulus. An unburdened soul, light as a feather. 

Scaramouche opens his mouth to retort—so are you—and shuts it because that’s not true. His other self looks better than ever as he sits at the table. He looks healthy. 

He looks happy. 

“Whoa! There are two Papas?!” 

He flinches, horribly rigid, every sense on high alert. His gaze pans over to the little girl peeking out from behind your legs. She looks at him like he’s a wonder to behold—like he’s someone worth adoring. 

It’s different. It’s not the fondly fearful gaze of a devout follower, nor is it the clinical stare of a mournful creator or a deranged doctor. It’s something else. 

It’s…

What is it? What is that emotion—the one that has evaded him for the entirety of his existence?

“Good afternoon, sleepyhead. We were beginning to wonder when you’d wake up.”

He turns to look at you. A smile softens your features. Coupled with the glorious sunlight filtering in from the window, you are the most seraphic creature he’s ever seen. Horrified at the development of his thoughts, he hardens his face into a vicious glare and tamps down the weakness that rises to the surface.

“You were expecting me?” he asks, but it sounds like a demand. “What’s the meaning of this?” 

“Why don’t you take a seat? I can fetch you a cup of tea,” you offer, your voice gentle and coaxing. He glances at the little girl. Her gaze is worn down with worry.

“I will do no such thing,” he snaps, folding his arms across his chest. “You have no authority over me. I’ll sit if I so please, and I do not please. So I will not sit, nor will I indulge in tea.” 

His other self barks out a laugh. “To think I was like that… I was intolerable.”

“Still are,” you reply with a cheeky grin. 

“You’re just as bad,” he snipes back, but there isn’t any heat to the remark. There’s that emotion again, reflected so clearly when he’s looking at you. His other self smiles—genuinely smiles—and then addresses him next. The smile tightens into something serious. “Relax. We’re not going to bite.”

“No, but I can and I will. Don’t think for a minute that just because you’re me I won’t—” He stops himself when the little girl tugs on his shorts, peering up at him with more wide-eyed concern. Rather awkwardly, he does his best to bring his attitude to a child-friendly level. “I… I’m fine.” He searches the silence for her name. 

“Aaliya! Nice to meet you, Papa Number Two!”

Scaramouche nods mechanically, moves to bend down to her height, and then straightens again, thinking better of it. “What is all of this?” His hand sweeps across the room. “Just who are you?” 

Like clockwork finely tuned, you and his other self exchange a furtive glance before nodding. It’s some unspoken language Scaramouche can’t decode. He frowns as he watches this interaction, even more suspicious than before. 

“Aaliya, could you draw something for me?” you ask, guiding her from the kitchen towards the neighboring sitting room. Aaliya grabs a notebook and pencil from the countertop as she goes, humming her compliance. “We need another masterpiece to hang up, and you’re the best artist we’ve got.”

She giggles. “You can count on me!”

The sound calms him. He almost allows his shoulders to drop. Almost. 

Scaramouche watches from the doorway, observing the way you interact with the girl. It’s parental and adoring. You care for this child, and she cares for you. 

Just what is that elusive emotion? Why can’t he place it?

Once Aaliya has been successfully distracted with the allure of art, you return to take your seat beside his other self. Scaramouche stares between the both of you, utterly lost. 

“You don’t have to sit—not like I could get you to after you’ve made up your mind—but, at the very least, let’s talk.”

Scaramouche’s eyes narrow. “Speak.”

“So entitled…” His other self sighs. “I shouldn’t expect anything less. I am you, after all.” 

“Was,” he corrects astutely. “This isn’t the present day, and it can’t possibly be a dream.” He scrutinizes his surroundings, slowly fitting the pieces together. “It’s gone on for much too long.” 

His other self tilts his head, playful. “Are you sure you’re not just stuck under Buer’s thumb?”

Right. Dreams. Lesser Lord Kusanali can poke her nose in and out of dreams as she pleases.

“Plausible, yes. But this is too detailed. And you—” he gestures to Blue Scaramouche— “are different. I wouldn’t dream of something so inane. Something like…this.” 

Something so carefree and content, he almost tacks on as an afterthought, but he refrains. Weakness. 

“Oh, but of course. You’re too good for good things,” his other self jeers, sardonic in a way that incites violence. He pushes that urge away. There’s a child nearby. “For what it’s worth, we’re still the same person.”

“Do not compare me to a weakling like you.”

“Hah? You think I’m the weak one? I’ll show you—”

“Wawan, relax,” you say, moving your body to obstruct his view. 

Both look on, horrified. 

“Wawan?” Scaramouche ventures, brows furrowed. 

“You…” He turns away with a huff. 

“What? It’s cute! You like it!” You smile and nudge him.

Scaramouche is in awe, nearly slack-jawed from witnessing such a bold display. If anyone were to do that to him—to the fearsome Lord Harbinger Scaramouche—they would not get away unscathed. In fact, he’d subject them to a death so brutal they’d beg for release even in the afterlife. No one lays a finger on him unless they’re actively seeking a bloody finale. More importantly, no one reduces his being to such flowery nicknames. 

Disgusting. 

His other self—this Wawan fool—recovers from his flustered state and clears his throat. “Wanderer,” he says, hurrying the syllables before you can make any more comments. “The name I go by. You should know it because you’ll use it one day.”

“I will do no such thing.”

Wanderer’s expression softens at that—out of sympathy, he realizes. Uncharacteristic, Scaramouche thinks. I do not soften, nor do I sympathize. 

“You lost, Balladeer. There is no future for the god you hoped to become because he doesn’t exist. Not anymore.”

He bristles, suddenly defensive. “And who’s to say I haven’t already achieved godhood? Your claims are as useful as a corpse. You have no valid proof.”

“But I do. I’m you.”

“Even so, you’re woefully uninformed if you can so carelessly prattle on about—”

Wanderer sighs again, and this time you offer your hand. He hesitates, looking between Scaramouche and you, before his hand slips into yours, holding tight. Scaramouche’s face twists. 

Foul. 

“You failed, and this is the result of that—the future neither of us could have foreseen.” 

“Failure is a strong word,” you chime in, running your thumb over the top of his hand. You look at Scaramouche next. “You didn’t succeed, yes, but you can learn from your mistakes and grow.”

“And grow I so apparently did,” he mutters, bitter and resentful. “Into a weakling who…” He pauses, his tongue heavy in his mouth, eloquence escaping him. “A weakling who… Who shackles himself to idyllic nonsense with nothing but…” His fingers curl into tight fists. “Nothing but filthy weaknesses to show for it.”

Nonplussed, Wanderer submits to temporary silence, to the comforts you provide. There’s a feeling sprouting between the both of you. Neither of you says anything, but you understand regardless. It’s a silent sort of communication, an undeniable connection. An understanding fostered from that despicable emotion. 

With an offended scoff, Scaramouche turns swiftly on his heel and freezes when he finds Aaliya standing there. She peers up at him, studies his poker face, and presents him with her drawing. 

“Papa tells me love is hard, but it comes easy when you’re with the right people. You need to be willing and accepting. When you are, love will find you and you’ll find love.”

She presses the parchment into his hands. Shakily, he beholds it. It’s a poorly drawn family portrait, but Aaliya’s artistic talents mean nothing to him. It’s the first time he’s ever been willingly included in a portrait. A family portrait. The only time someone has bothered to document a side of him that isn’t the vindictive, villainous, ever-raging tempest he’s known for. The one time he’s ever known what it means to be loved. 

Ah. There’s that emotion. That temperamental, difficult, stormy emotion. It’s love.

In this future, he is treasured and cherished. He has a family. He has love, and he feels it and it’s reciprocated. Or Wanderer feels it, that is. But Scaramouche can see it: the quiet intricacies of your relationship—it’s all the result of love. You love him. Him—a being who was never created for the sake of loving. A being who has always been undeserving, unfit for the burden of divine admiration and reverence. You love him, and he loves you. Godhood and power and control—none of these things matter when compared to love itself.

Scaramouche stares at Aaliya next. He folds the drawing into a neat square, clutches it in a trembling fist, and—

And he cries.

Silently. His shoulders do not shudder. He does not gasp and wail like a newborn. It is entirely soundless, a reaction delayed by years. Tear trails streak down his porcelain cheeks in steady streams. His lip wobbles.

And he cries. 

He cries as he brushes past Aaliya, ignoring her protests and your mumble of, “Let him go. He needs space,” while he flees, beelining for the bedroom. He cries when he unfurls his fingers to cradle the folded square in his palm. He cries when he thinks of the life he’s lived—the suffering and the lies and the tragedy and the backstabbing and the manipulation. He cries because he can’t hold back anymore. Because he failed. Because he will never be a god. Because he is inadequate in the eyes of the divine—as unsubstantial as a common pest. 

He cries because he’s loved. Because someone has found something within his fractured being that’s worth loving. 

He cries into the night, curled in on himself to protect what’s left of his exposed weakness.

It’s dark when he closes his eyes, and unlike before they remain shut. Because if he opens them—if he doesn’t patch up the damaged floodgates—he will cry. 

And it hurts to cry.

And Scaramouche, for all of the pain he’s dealt, has never enjoyed being on the receiving end of agony, self-inflicted or otherwise.

It is a long, sleepless night punctuated with the soft pitter-patter of rainfall.

He’s lying sprawled like a defeated starfish when the first few rays of sunshine poke through the window. Groaning, he slides his arm over his eyes. He knows himself, even if Wanderer is a version of himself he has not yet experienced, and so he doesn’t expect to be checked on. The silence is both a comfort and a curse, smoothing his nerves and chewing through to the core of his being. 

He thinks I’ll come to him first. How utterly foolish.

Scaramouche turns his back towards the sun and presses his face further into the sheets, drained of energy even though he’s just woken up. His ears prick at the sound of a girlish giggle and he lifts his head slightly, his eyes sliding towards the window. Aaliya skips down the pathway, carrying a basket in one hand and holding another girl’s hand with her other. 

A friend, Scaramouche observes, watching the girls until they’re out of sight. He hears you call out to them even though they’re already long gone: “Be back before dinner and don’t get into any trouble!”

He peers at his own hand and flexes his fingers experimentally. Is everyone this feeble in the future, or am I just too strong?

There’s a knock on his door next. He intends to lie back down and block the world out, but instead he sits up and stares. 

“Balladeer, I’ve put a pot of tea on. You’re more than welcome to have some if you’d like.”

He won’t dignify you with a reply. Or that’s what he initially thinks, but then he’s covering the distance to the door before he can stop himself. He yanks it open, much to your surprise. 

“I—” he starts, his scowl mellowing into a reflection of the cold and cruel Fatuus he’s known to be. “I…will have a cup,” he finishes, oddly subdued.

“You don’t have to force yourself to talk. You can glare at us if it makes you feel better. Just make sure to take care of yourself, okay? We’re here for you if you need anything.”

He scoffs, straightens his posture into something regal, and pushes past you. “I was feeling much better until you opened your mouth and spat that irritating dross.”

You exhale through your nose, tentatively stepping into his path. For a minute he considers sweeping past you, but deep down he knows that he—the one he supposedly becomes in the future—would regret it. He would hate to push you away when you’re making an effort to be close—an emotional proximity he’s so clearly avoiding.

“You’re always welcome here.”

“Considering the circumstances, you have no choice but to be hospitable. It’s pointless to feign sincerity just because I’m here. I’m not fragile. Do not treat me as such.”

“You’re right. You’re far from fragile.”

He opens his mouth to argue that point and then pauses, absorbing your words with a dubious frown. 

“You may not believe me, but you’re very resilient and so strong. I should know because I wake next to him every morning, and his existence is enough to remind me that he’s come a very long way.” 

Smiling, you continue onwards. Scaramouche stalls, wondering what that could possibly mean. A very long way from what?

He’s not sure he wants the answer to that.

As if it matters.

“Without spoiling too much, I’ll say you’re in for a world of development,” Wanderer says once Scaramouche has graced the kitchen with his arrival. He’s sitting at the table, which is set for three people and adorned with the usual Sumerian snacks. The scent of tea hangs in the air, fragrant like perfume. “Lots of fun things.”

“Fun,” Scaramouche parrots, his nose scrunching. “What an unconventional way to refer to countless days and nights of agony.”

“I never said it’d be easy.”

“You never said it’d be difficult either.”

“Both of you,” you cut in—vocally and physically, you’re standing between the two of them— “no fighting at the table.”

Wanderer takes your hands in his when you lower into the seat beside him, his thumbs tracing delicate patterns into your skin. “Do you see how troublesome he is? Did you really have to put up with him all those years ago?”

“He’s part of you, Wawan.”

He scoffs. “No part I particularly care for anymore.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes and folds his arms over his chest so the couple in front of him won’t pick up on his discomfort. “I’m not asking to be cared for or coddled. Hate me all you want. I don’t intend to like either of you.”

“Well?” Wanderer raises a brow, a smirk lazily tugging at his lips. “Insufferable.”

“Bitter like your tea,” you agree, to which Wanderer and Scaramouche huff in unison.

They glance at one another, searching the other for an indication of mutual tolerance, before turning away.

“I suppose,” Scaramouche says after a beat of silence, “I shall indulge. Be grateful.” He steps closer towards the table, lifts his cup from its saucer, and brings it to his lips. It’s lukewarm and just as bitter as the tea he’s enjoyed in the past. “It would be a shame to let tea go to waste after your efforts to prepare it.”

He nods in your direction and you beam under his approval.

“Thank you, Balladeer.”

His brow raises, but he doesn’t ask. You fill in the blanks yourself.

“This is the current you. Right now, Wanderer and I, this entire home, the life we share, and even our dear Aaliya—none of it exists in your present. If anything, we’re just a dream to you. So who else are you if not The Balladeer?” 

Who else…

“Obviously I’m no one in this…reality.” He frowns. “If I’ve become that, there’s no need for any of my current aliases.”

“Perhaps not, but you’ll see for yourself when you get there.”

“I’d rather not. I’ll simply shut my eyes.”

“Avoidance is a common symptom of unresolved trauma,” Wanderer oh-so-helpfully adds.

“Oh, you’re a comedian now, are you?” But he isn’t laughing. 

“Just passing on a fact I learned. You’ll hear it for yourself one day. Why not share it in advance? Soften the blow a little.”

“And you’re so perfect?”

“I have no intention to be.”

“Sure.” Scaramouche sips his tea, swallowing the torrent of insults weighing heavy in his mind and on his tongue. “I suppose all of this just fell into your imperfect lap then?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Before they can continue their petulant bickering, you gaze sharply at Wanderer and then at Scaramouche. He’s never felt compelled to obey anyone; he’s never needed to heed those who have always sat below him on the hierarchical pyramid. But for some reason he shuts his mouth and lowers his gaze to the floor.

This is pointless. I must find my way out of here at the earliest convenience before he drives me into the ground with his irritating sentiments.

“Arguing isn’t going to solve anything. He’s our guest, first and foremost. We should treat him like one.”

“I guess it can’t be helped. If this truly is our reality for the next few days, there’s no point in living in denial and self-loathing,” Wanderer concedes with a huff.

“Which is precisely why we should welcome this opportunity. It might not come around again.”

“Let’s hope it never does,” Wanderer and Scaramouche admit at the same time.

That elicits a giggle from you, and they turn on you with disapproving glares. “Sorry, sorry. It’s not funny—I know. I just couldn’t help it. You’re the same person, yet so different. Even your stares hold different feelings.”

Scaramouche won’t acknowledge your observations with a response. Instead, he watches his reflection as it warps and wavers in the tea. And then he drinks.

This is by far the most excruciating dream I’ve ever had the displeasure of experiencing.

There is no pain or death in this dream. No power tantamount to that of a god. He may as well be an apparition without an apparent place in this world. But there is domestic bliss and that is by far the most torturous aspect of this dream.

To think anyone could look upon my visage with such tenderness… You must be out of your mind.

“It’s not like I particularly care, but you seem to lead a quaint life.” Scaramouche sets his empty cup down and leans against the wall, his arms folding impetuously. “Why?”

Wanderer, troublesome menace that he is, bats his eyes and pulls you against him in a possessive half-hug. “Difficult to believe, isn’t it?”

Scaramouche wants to scowl, but he refrains. “I wasn’t asking you.”

“It’s mostly quaint,” you cut in, smooth as alabaster. “Life is always busier when you’re with your loved ones and there’s plenty to do—never a dull moment, as they say—but I don’t mind it. I like busy days.”

The delivery sounds rehearsed, but Scaramouche suspects it’s the truth. Your eyes soften and your smile mellows into something adoring when you nudge Wanderer. He almost retches outright when his other self nudges you back, discreetly reaching for your hand beneath the table. He won’t comment, but it prickles his skin with disgust when he watches this display. His other self fancies you so openly… The current Scaramouche would never.

Could never.

“Also, busy days prevent useless idling.”

“And keep boredom at bay,” Wanderer finishes. He assesses Scaramouche with a fleeting once-over. “You’ve always been a sad, lonesome existence. Your busy days were but minor distractions meant to fill a bottomless void that could never truly be filled.”

“What of it? I prefer solitude.”

He exhales a humorless breath. “Centuries of solitude and all it took was a single vase of flowers… Neither of us could have guessed.”

A vase of flowers? he wonders, bewildered, but too prideful to ask for an explanation. When will I ever receive flowers?

“You don’t need to worry about that right now,” you say, sipping at your tea with a cryptic smile. “Good things come to those who wait.”

Scaramouche rolls his eyes. “I’ve had enough ‘good things’ for the rest of my life.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. Even if you don’t think so, you’re deserving of good things. Everyone is, even if they’ve done something bad.”

He waits for the gutting punchline. It never comes.

He watches the world beyond the window: fluffy clouds, grass rustling in a breeze, a bird hopping about on the ground. His reflection frowns back at him. “I don’t agree.”

Wanderer shrugs. “If you say so.”

“That’s okay. If that’s what you think, who are we to judge your opinion?”

Briefly, Scaramouche wonders how you can have the patience to put up with him. With Wanderer, he thinks, even though he knows he’s just as troublesome, if not more.

He finishes the rest of his tea and then rises from his seat.

It’s not as if it matters. He doesn’t fit in this family portrait. He never will.

But he does in some distant future.

How peculiar…

Scaramouche wakes on his third day in a rather pleasant purgatory. As it happens, he’s still stuck in this unusual cottage with a bizarre doppelgänger.

So be it, he thinks, sitting up in bed. It occurs to him that he hasn’t been very resistant since he was plucked from his timeline and dropped here. But what is there to resist? You and his other self? This comfortable home? Family? Happiness? Love?

I should get back to my world as soon as possible. That’s my priority. Do not get distracted.

Ideally, he’d like to imagine that’s where he belongs, but he knows there’s no place in this world—or any other world and timeline—where he’s wanted and accepted. At the very least, there’s some semblance of home in his timeline. Even if it isn’t the most welcoming.

When he wanders into the kitchen, he finds you standing over the stovetop. Strips of meat sizzle in a pan. Sitting at the table, doodling on a blank page, is Aaliya. He hasn’t spoken much to her since his first day, and she hasn’t come to his room to pester him. 

“Let him settle in,” you and Wanderer tell her whenever she stalks past the closed door. 

Still, he feels the beginning of a smile pull at his lips as he watches her kick her legs to and fro to an imaginary tempo. 

I’m looking after a child in this timeline. Me. A parent…

He struggles to fathom it.

“Oh, Papa’s back!”

“Already?” You whirl around, a greeting on your tongue. “Ah, no, honey, that’s our visitor. The Balladeer is his name. He does look like Papa, though, doesn’t he?”

“B-Balla… Ballaba… Babadeer?” She scrunches her face up, perplexed.

Scaramouche offers her a gentle, understanding smile. “You may call me ‘Baba’ if it’s easier to pronounce.”

She lights up immediately. “Okay! You’re Baba and Papa’s Papa!”

He finds that the term is more endearing than any alias he’s taken on in the span of his lengthy existence.

“Speaking of, where is he? I would assume he’d be smart enough not to leave me by my lonesome.” 

“He’s out for the day. Won’t be back until later.” You lift the pan from the stove and proceed to distribute breakfast between two plates. He shakes his head at you when you attempt to fix him a plate. With a shrug, you add, “You slept in. How was it?”

“Acceptable,” he admits, lowering into the chair beside Aaliya. “I suppose it’s better than most places.”

“I’m happy to hear that.” You place a cup of tea in front of him. “Bitter. Just how you like it.”

Scaramouche eyes it like it’s poison. “Your hospitality is…appreciated.”

“What do you think?” Aaliya lifts her drawing, proudly showcasing the portrait she’s sketched of you.

Scaramouche is a critic of many things. Art is not one of them. Still, he takes the page in his hands and spends a moment admiring the shaky linework.

“Very wonderful,” he praises, and he means it. “You should become an artist.”

“I want to, but I also wanna be like Papa. He’s really smart.”

“Is he now?”

“Mhm! He’s studying at the Akademiya. My friends told me only really smart people go there.”

I’m a scholar? Truly? He looks to you for confirmation. The proud smile on your face is answer enough. To think this is what becomes of me in a distant reality…

“A commendable occupation. You should always do your best in your studies. They’re very important. But most of all…” He hesitates. Thankfully, his other self isn’t here to listen to his encouraging words and ridicule him. He’s certain he’d never hear the end of it. “You should pursue what you enjoy.” He reaches out to pat her on the head. “Always dream, Aaliya.”

“I will! I promise.”

Scaramouche doesn’t do promises, but somehow he’s convinced by this one.

You sit across from him. “Time to eat, my dear. You can finish your pretty drawing later.”

She nods and pushes her pencils and crayons away in favor of focusing on her plate. Scaramouche watches, stiff and awkward. Family meals are not an unusual occurrence, but it’s been so long since he’s spent quality time with another living creature. With humans.

Am I really so foolish that I’d willingly indulge in a life with humans? Don’t I know better?

“Wawan told me your arrival might be linked to a faulty Ley Line. We’re not sure when you’ll return to your world—if that’s even a possibility—but until we know more you can stay here with us.”

“If I must. Although I assumed that was already established.”

You chuckle. “Is that right? Then it looks like you’ve gotten comfortable in the three days you’ve been here.”

He rolls his eyes. “Your singular deeds are not enough to earn my veneration.”

“I’m not trying to.”

With a huff, he averts his eyes. An uncanny feeling crawls up his throat and settles on his cheeks. You hide your playful grin behind your utensils and eat alongside Aaliya in peaceful silence.

If only everyone could see him: a puppet now named Wanderer, who attends the Akademiya and has a family of his own. A puppet who seems complete when he surrounds himself with his loved ones. It’s impossible to live in denial when all of it is unfolding before his eyes like a fantastical tale in a storybook. He really can’t believe it.

“Tell me—am I fulfilled in this reality?”

You blink back at him, and suddenly he regrets asking. There’s vulnerability in a question like that. An open wound waiting to be exploited.

“Will knowing put you at ease?” Before he can snap back with a defensive reply, you add, “I suspect you’re already aware of the answer.”

He stares at the amber-colored tea in his cup. “I am,” he confesses quietly.

“And do you feel any better?”

“Am I supposed to feel that way?”

“I can’t tell you because there’s no right or wrong way when it comes to emotions. You just…feel them.”

Just feel them?

“I’m more conflicted than anything else. That Wanderer fool… He can’t truly be me. I would never allow myself to grow so weak. To surround myself with weaknesses… How utterly thoughtless.”

“What you see as weakness is his strength.”

Scaramouche’s gaze slides from the tea to you. “And he… And I… I’m happy here? This isn’t a grand farce?”

“As absurd as it seems, this is to be your reality. You’re not always going to be happy. Sometimes you’ll dwell on the past. Sometimes you’ll feel angry and upset. It’s all part of existing.”

“That sounds horrendous.”

“What does?”

“Existing. Isn’t it tiring? I’ve never understood how humans do it.”

“It’s tiring, yes. But it’s also very rewarding. To exist is to cherish happiness and weather hardship. It’s not perfect, but it’s enough. Sometimes all you need is enough.”

What if I’ve never had enough? What if I’ve never had anything?

He shuts his mouth. So many questions flit around in his head, but he already knows the answers to most of them. He just doesn’t want to hear it from himself.

To have enough when you’ve never had anything—when you’ve never felt like anything substantial—he surmises Wanderer can sympathize.

The first few drops of rain patter dry earth. Like dolls moved with wire, you and Scaramouche turn towards the window to watch water beads pearl on verdant fronds.

“Oh, it’s raining!” Aaliya exclaims with a delighted giggle. 

Scaramouche reaches to touch his cheek. A single tear wets his fingertip.

“Huh,” he mumbles. “So it is.”

Sitting on the stoop, watching worms wriggle in wet soil, Scaramouche sighs.

“Did you know the worms sometimes lose their way when it rains?”

“Is that right?” he murmurs, glancing at Aaliya who scoops one up from the stone path and places it in the grass. He smiles at her kind impartiality. “It’s very admirable of you to help them.”

“Mhm! Papa tells me even worms need homes, so it’s important to help them when the rain washes them away.”

He breathes a laugh that sounds more like a scoff. “I really said that? That’s difficult to imagine.”

Ironic, too.

“If no one helps, how will they find their homes?”

“They’ll find their way. Everyone does eventually.”

“Even you?” She blinks at him from where she stands in the grass, worms held in her palms.  

He exhales slowly and gazes skyward. The clouds have opened to let in the tiniest peek of sun. “If worms can find their way, then so, too, can I.”

He’s not sure he trusts it. Not now, at least. But it’s just as inevitable as the shifting seasons—an undeniable, irrefutable fact. He’s changing, if only slightly, and soon he’ll be in Wanderer’s shoes—a puppet with a home and a family. With all of life’s greatest joys and sorrows at his fingertips.

Aaliya sets the worms down in the grass before meandering over. She lowers to sit beside him, resting her head against his arm. “I believe in you, Baba.”

“Thank you.”

Soft as rain, subdued like a snuffed candle, his voice doesn’t waver. For the first time in a while, Scaramouche is defenseless. He’s not so sure he believes in himself. Wrapped in waning sun, listening to the hushed sway of grass, he tries on a smile. Albeit awkward, it fits.

He knows why his future self has become the wind, free and flowing, gentle and tumultuous all at once. Liberated from the past.

Even though he has his doubts, he knows he’ll get there soon.

The sky clears up just as Wanderer’s form comes into view. At first, he’s an insignificant pinprick against a blue sky. Aaliya jumps up from her spot on the stoop to run the rest of the way, calling out to him in an eager voice.

“Feeling any better?”

He keeps his eyes pinned stubbornly ahead. “It’s nothing to concern yourself with.”

“You’re our guest, silly. Of course I’m going to be concerned if you’re not comfortable during your stay. Ah, but I expect you’re coming up on the end of that, aren’t you?”

He blinks at his hands and realizes they’re transparent. “So it appears.”

“Does it?” you tease, patting him on the shoulder. Or you try to, at least. Your hand goes through him. “Guess it wasn’t very funny.”

“Not in the slightest,” he snaps with a scoff. He checks to make sure Wanderer isn’t within earshot. He’s kept occupied with Aaliya, who jumps around him like an energetic bunny. “But… Thank you…for everything. I’m aware I wasn’t the most grateful guest, nor the kindest.”

“You don’t have to be. As long as you felt safe and secure during your time here, despite everything that’s happened in your timeline, that’s all that matters.”

Scaramouche stares at you. I suppose it was a worthwhile escape. Unnecessary, but worthwhile.

“It wasn’t as hellish as I thought it’d be.”

“I’m glad. It was nice having you.”

Just then, Wanderer approaches. Aaliya sits proudly on his shoulders, her fists in his hair. “Glad to see everything’s still in one piece. No atrocities today?”

Suddenly, any sort of security Scaramouche might have been feeling evaporates. He’s reminded that it’s impossible to endure his other self for more than a few minutes. It’s actually impressive you’ve put up with him for this long.

Love is weird like that.

“Go back to the Akademiya and maybe you’ll learn a better sense of humor.”

“Aren’t you a bundle of joy?” Wanderer chuckles and levels him with a playful smile. His next words are tender and truthful. “Good luck on your journey. Have lots of fun.”

What sort of fun could possibly be found in pain? I don’t want or need your sardonic optimism.

“Oh? Baba’s leaving already?”

Scaramouche and Wanderer share a look. You smile behind your hand.

“Baba?”

“P-Pay it no mind!” He reaches for his hat in hopes of relieving everyone of his flustered expression and stops short. He’s not wearing his hat. He hasn’t had it this entire time. Refusing to admit he forgot such a crucial detail, he turns away and folds his arms over his chest. “It matters not.”

“Sure,” Wanderer concedes, but Scaramouche can tell he’s thinking something snarky. “We’ll go with that.”

“Thank you for visiting us,” you interject before the two of them can argue semantics. “Even though our time together was short, it wasn’t any less enjoyable.”

“I’ll miss you, Baba!” Aaliya extends her arm for a high-five.

“Careful now,” Wanderer warns, steadying her on his shoulders. “I suppose, though you’re more trouble than anything, it wasn’t so bad seeing my past self again.”

“You’re a welcoming lot,” he says with a curt nod. “It made this entire debacle slightly tolerable.”

“Only slightly?”

“Your presence didn’t add anything of substance. Don’t get it twisted.”

“Hmm. Perhaps not. At least I get to say I saw you once more.”

At that, he rolls his eyes. Am I supposed to feel flattered?

Wanderer smiles, but Scaramouche can’t place the authenticity. Maybe it’s there and he just doesn’t want to confront it.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I know the feeling well enough.”

“And live every day one at a time. There’s no rush,” you advise, sweet like a real parent. 

“I believe in you, Baba! You’ll find your way just like the worms.”

Wanderer raises a curious brow, but instead of ridiculing him he takes your hand in his and squeezes. Aaliya giggles and pats Wanderer’s head. The three of you make a family. Togetherness. Love. It’s everything he’s never had.

Now he understands. When Wanderer is with you and Aaliya, he’s whole. He’s happy. Free. He’s turned a new leaf. There are still so many apertures and questions—so much he’s missing from a puzzle not yet pictured to completion—but he isn’t worried. Equipped with this new information, he finds himself at peace with the present situation.

“I don’t know if we’ll ever have the chance to meet again in this timeline, but if we do let’s not dwell on the past.”

Scaramouche can feel his consciousness slipping from this realm, every sense pouring in like light through the gaps in trees. Just before he can make sense of it all, he notices the pendant glowing just above Wanderer’s chest.

Impossible… Is that what I think it is?

“You have a lot to look forward to, so next time let’s talk about the future.”

Suddenly, he’s not so sure he wants to leave. Scaramouche steps towards his other self, hand splayed, and wants to say something. Anything. A million words and phrases stick to the roof of his mouth.

I’d like that, he thinks just as the rest of his corporeal form vanishes in a blip.

Scaramouche comes to in the infirmary. He lifts his arm towards the ceiling, observing shattered fingers and broken joints. Thin cracks run along his arm—surface injuries as far as he’s concerned. They’ll be gone within the day, a testament to his self-sufficiency.

You’re very resilient and so strong. Someone once told him that. But who? And why does it warm him so?

“Oh, you’re up!”

He gazes sidelong at Lesser Lord Kusanali, the God of Wisdom, past the wellness bouquet on the bedside desk, and his features harden with antipathy. “Buer.”

“Did you have a nice dream?”

“Dream?” He scoffs. “I don’t dream. Not anymore.”

But it feels like I’ve been asleep for ages… Just what have I been doing all this time?

“Everyone dreams—even when they’re awake. Dreams are what give us hope.”

“Not me.” He turns on his side and shuts his eyes to block her out. “I have no need for childish dreams and misguided hope.”

What does it matter? I have nothing. I am nothing. There’s nothing for me in this rotten world.

Her hum of acknowledgment reaches his ears. “I wouldn’t be so sure.”

Scaramouche scowls. Stop poking around in my head. You have no authority over my thoughts, Buer. Get lost.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I’m here to give you a second chance.”

“I don’t want it. It’s pointless to put me on the path to redemption. Inane, even.”

“Redemption starts with recognition. If you realize that what you’ve done is wrong and are willing to change, redemption will find its way to you.”

He inhales a long, weary breath. “What more is left for me?”

Scaramouche, despite his grandiose title, feels small lying here and contemplating the worth of his existence.

“Plenty of things—good and bad—that you’ve yet to experience.”

He tries to envision what these things could be and turns up blank.

Strange. I was so certain… He sits up in bed, clutching the space where his heart would be if he was human. I could have sworn there was something…

He gazes at his palms next. What happened while I was unconscious?

Surely he witnessed a joyous scene. Otherwise why would he wake feeling so…hopeful?

Inhaling a resolute breath, Scaramouche decides it doesn’t matter.

“Why don’t you take some time to think about it? I may not know the full extent of the turbulence in your mind, but I do know it’s not something to treat lightly.”

The void is both loud and quiet when she departs, and now he’s forced to come to terms with his reality. He lost. Even as a manufactured deity, he was still unfit for godhood. It was a moment so short-lived it was practically a blink—insignificant in the colossal tapestry of time.

“What a joke,” he spits, glaring at the wall ahead. “All of that for nothing…”

He sits back against the cushions and drowns in the silence. It doesn’t comfort him.

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Where has he heard that line before?

Perhaps it was just another delusion.

Scaramouche’s gaze is drawn to the bouquet next. The flowers are fresh and vibrant, each blossom a representation of good health and happiness. Someone placed these here. Someone went out of their way to assemble a bouquet in his honor and then send it over. He wonders if this is the work of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

Who else could muster the empathy for a sorry creature like him?

Will knowing put you at ease?

He thinks it might. At the very least, it would soothe a restless part of his being—the part that craves a connection and yearns to be wanted despite everything he’s done. He wants a heart and a home. He wants to feel the rays of the sun stinging his skin and bathe in the exhilaration of being alive and in the moment. He wants to finally know all of the sweetness he was deprived of in life. The sweetness that comes from love in all its many shapes and forms.

Scaramouche reaches for the bouquet and pauses. He could swipe it off the table and watch rumpled petals scatter amidst shattered glass in a puddle. He could ignore it and pretend it’s not worth his time or attention.

He wants to act like it doesn’t matter, but something’s nagging at him.

For once, the feeling isn’t terrible. For once, he has something to look forward to—an anchor to cling to in this vast, wild sea.

And he isn’t going to let go.

[torusangel]

My love, mine all mine | Gojo Satoru

Description: A boy who has everything, and a girl who only has her love.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of abuse (not by Toru), maybe more but this is what I got right now

A/N: Inspired by Mitski of course. I wrote this all in one sitting and I’m just posting this preview of it to gauge interest right now to see if I should continue this or not! I kinda want to change it but I also think it’s charming so why not just put it out there and see how it goes? This isn’t edited or proof read at all either so might be a mess lol

People told you often that you wore your heart on your sleeve. Never one to shy away from how you really felt, you floated through life leaving your emotions to run free. You laughed, cried, hurt, and loved. Maybe loved too much, too strongly, too powerfully because the love you gave away would end up growing so strong that it hurt you too. There were people in your life who gave you love as well, but you soon realized that people could take that love away. Leave you with only your love to give, nothing else was ever yours, their hearts too easily taken back, promises broken without the bat of an eye, their whispers washed away by the wind.

You wanted to protect your love. After all, love was all you had left. As a little girl fairy tales and stories of princesses with their perfect prince gave you imagination. You dreamed of such devotion, for someone to sweep you off your feet and make you feel like the most precious girl in the world. You held love close to your heart. It’s what made you strong, and yet so fragile. Love fluctuated like that. Some days it’d have the power of a raging storm, able to tear down anything in its path, and some days it’d be so weak and meager that it would break with the flick of a finger. It was inconsistent.

Ever since you were a child your mother was the one who so adamantly taught you about love. She’d tell you how love was the most important thing in life, how you should never give up on your love and to hold onto it and never let it go. How love was what kept you alive. To live without love wasn’t living at all, and the importance of giving love. You saw her crumble and break under life’s trials and tribulations, the way she’d fall when your father hit her. You saw her dance in the living room all alone to music you couldn’t hear and the way her smile grew when you said you’d give your love to her. Your mother through all her hardships still had so much love to give. Sometimes you wondered if the reason your father was so angry was because he knew he didn’t have all of her.

Satoru grew up with everything. Born into a prestigious family, money bought him whatever he desired. He was the definition of spoiled through and through. He never found it strange that his father was always gone and his mother refused to look at him. Everyone around him said he was so lucky, so that’s how he always thought. People admired him, and as he grew up he realized he could make anyone love him. Satoru knew he was handsome, paired with his wealth he found that was the key to make anyone he wanted fall for his charms. Gojo Satoru always got everything he wanted except you.

When he first met you it was at the cafe on campus. Something about the way you carried yourself drew him in. He saw you and the confidence you held, the beauty in your stride, and he knew he had to have you.

When he first approached you that day you thought he was strange. He’d asked you out without a care if you rejected him or not, you later realized it wasn’t that he didn’t care he just never knew rejection in the first place. He said he’d take you anywhere you wanted.

“The moon, could you take me to the moon?” you asked him in earnest. For a split second you noticed his face change from flirty to confused but he easily bounced back.

“I’ll take you right now, how about it?”

Not one to say no to an interesting opportunity, you accepted.

[cursedvida]

SAD EYES, BROKEN SMILE IV (Buggy x F!Reader)

PART III HERE // PART V HERE

WARNINGS: NSFW minors DNI, little smut, Buggy being nasty, swearing.

A/N: Part 4 of this and finally some smut. hope you enjoy!

You still can't believe you kissed Buggy. It was not in your plans to be so direct. You have never been so emotionally exposed, but is also true that you have no experience in romantic matters. You haven't been attracted to anyone before, or at least not in that way. Buggy brings out your most primitive instincts and clouds your reason, it's something you can't avoid.

But actions have consequences and so does kissing your captain. Buggy still hasn't recovered from the shock. The last thing he expected from you was a confession followed by a kiss. Ever since you joined his crew he noticed how you didn't quite fit in. You didn't seem very excited about show business, nor did you seem to be up for the shows. He didn't quite understand why you were so eager to be part of his crew, but it didn't seem strange to him either: he is Buggy the Clown, he is famous not only in the East Blue but also in the Gran Line. Pirates fear him, Marines hate him. He is a genius of deception and persuasion, his fame precedes him enough to attract new challengers. You might not quite fit in but it made sense that you didn't want to leave.

He still wasn't sure whether to trust you or not. Your confession had left him totally baffled and that kiss directly disarmed him. He would never have imagined such a reaction from you, do you really like him the way you say you do or is it just a strategy? Buggy is a really suspicious person, especially when good things happen to him. He doesn't want to believe that you like him because he knows that, if he does, he'll probably end up being disappointed. There's no way a girl like you, who could have anyone, really has feelings for him. Although she'll never admit it, of course, because he's a renowned pirate and people should consider it an honor to have him around.

Nevertheless, he is unable to take his eyes off you. He watches you as you clean the deck of the ship, he follows your movements at mealtimes with his eyes. He is able to count how many times a day you yawn or make that bored face that characterizes you so much. The more he looks at you, the prettier you look to him and the harder it is for him to control himself.

You notice his gaze fixed on you, although you don't know why he watches you with such intensity. Sometimes you have the feeling that at any moment he will leave you stranded on the first island you see, that your days in that crew are numbered. You think he might be very angry, Buggy's character is fickle and unpredictable at times, if he has taken the kiss badly he won't hesitate to make you pay for it. He shouldn't see it as an offense either, you may not be the most exceptional woman in the world but he might see it as a compliment just the same.

You try to avoid it or pretend nothing happened. Yes, the best thing will be to pretend, as you have been doing so far. But he keeps looking at you, all the time, and you start to get nervous.

"Y/N, I have to talk to you" you hear him call after lunchtime.

You tense up at that moment, you feel all your muscles stiffen, as if you were preparing for a fight. You have a strange feeling in your stomach, as if you were nauseous. The walk to his cabin is the longest you've ever walked, and it's only a few meters. When you finally find yourselves alone, you realize that you are unable to look at him. You, who are used to always looking the enemy in the eye, suddenly shy away from Buggy almost instinctively. You realize that deep down you are dead embarrassed.

"Did you call me, Captain?" you ask rather sheepishly. This whole thing is starting to get on your nerves. You're not like that, you're not a softie, not a shy, insecure little girl, you're a ruthless killer with several dozen deaths behind you. You don't understand why he makes you feel so weak, but when he's near you your head stops obeying you.

"Why did you do that?"

No beating around the bush, straight to the point. Buggy didn't want to waste any time. When you finally manage to look at him, his eyes look distrustful and at the same time somewhat hurt.

"It was a strategy, wasn't it?" he insists "You think I didn't notice?"

"A strategy?"

"Yes, to see if I forgot about what happened a couple of days ago. You were trying to divert attention."

You raise your eyebrows in disbelief. Come on, don't fuck around, did the asshole really think you kissed him on the mouth as a confusion strategy? But is he really an asshole or did he fall out of the cradle at birth?

"But are you stupid or what's wrong with you?"

That response on your part, so aggressive, so angry, makes Buggy totally bewildered. In his mind, the only plausible explanation for a girl like you confessing and kissing him is that you are, in effect, trying to gain his trust so that he will forget the suspicious things about you. He doesn't understand why you seem so infuriated.

"I find it amazing that you brag so much about how wonderful you are when then you're not even capable of believing that a girl can like you" You blurt out to him, crossing your arms.

"I've liked hundreds of women, I'm Buggy the…"

"Yeah, I know, we all know that" you cut him off coldly "You pretend you're so full of yourself, but deep down you have very little confidence in yourself."

"Be careful what you say, sweetie, the consequences can be very bad."

"Is it that hard for you to accept that I like you?"

That question catches Buggy totally off guard. It pains him to admit it, but it really does. Of course he's aware that many women are attracted to him, but they're always passing flings, people he's barely seen for a couple of days. People who, in the end, don't know him. You've spent months with him, you've seen him fail on several occasions, it's clear that you're talented and may one day become a really strong pirate. Besides, you're gorgeous and you're hot, he really does find it hard to believe that this whole thing isn't a hoax.

"If you're not attracted to me that's fine" you tell him "we're both adults, I can handle rejection. But stop underestimating my feelings, that's cruel."

Buggy is silent for a few moments, something quite unbecoming of him. Then he looks at you, still in disbelief.

"So you were serious about yesterday?"

"Of course it was serious!" you exclaim, exasperated "I've been doing a lot of-"

But Buggy's mouth won't let you finish. When you want to realize, his lips are on yours and his tongue, agile and curious, tries to enter your mouth with desperation. It's the first time someone kisses you in such a passionate way, as if somehow trying to eat you whole, so it's a little hard for you to react to his momentum. You move your lips to match his and your tongues begin a contest of strength. Buggy's kiss is deep, tastes like salt and face paint. It has a metallic aftertaste that hooks you and its smell of gunpowder and sea manages to numb your senses. Just when you think you're about to lose your balance, a hand detached from his body grabs you around the waist, pulling you closer to him, so close that you are only a few millimeters apart.

You'd been fantasizing about something like this for a while, but your wettest dreams were nowhere near as exciting as the real thing. Having Buggy kissing you as if the world was going to end at that very moment makes your stomach shrink and your legs shake as if they were made of jelly. You've never felt so vulnerable around anyone before, but you don't hate the feeling, it makes you feel good for the first time.

You wrap your arms around his neck. You want more of him, you want to hold him closer. You need to cling to him with such desperation that the slightest almost imperceptible draft that can fit between the two of you hurts. He senses that need of yours and automatically pulls you tighter against his torso. His kisses are deep, wet and with a slight hint of anger that makes them intoxicating.

"Fuck" he exclaims, pulling away slightly for air.

You let out a small moan, something that makes Buggy smile.

"What's up, little girl, do you want more?"

Now it is you who kiss him. Buggy responds with momentum, placing his leg between yours. His hands begin to explore your body over your clothes. You've never let anyone go this far, but with him you just want more and more. When you notice one of his hands stop at your crotch you freeze.

"I'm actually really looking forward to you" he comments, whispering huskily in your ear as he begins to rub between his hand and the fabric of your pants "I've been wondering for some time what it must be like to have you in my bed"

"What a liar you are" You manage to say, almost in a whisper. You notice how the fabric of your underwear is getting wetter and wetter "When I came you didn't even know my name".

"You're right" he nods, giving you a couple of kisses on your neck while his fingers press your most sensitive parts "I just knew you were a pretty face. Little girl, you're like a chocolate candy."

He then attacks your neck, making you moan. He slowly pulls down your pants, now the only barrier he has are your panties.

"Fuck, little girl, your panties are so wet" his voice sounds husky and very excited "I've barely touched you and you're already like this? Fuck, what a delight."

"Buggy…" You sigh. It's the first time a man has managed to get his hand on you and the feelings you are now experiencing are totally new. The pleasure, the swelling, the wetness… You feel like you're going to explode, that you need more contact, more intensity. You move me a little to make friction between his hand and your most intimate part "Buggy, I love it."

"I'm going to eat you whole, princess."

Buggy then removes his glove with his mouth and it is at that moment that he slips his long fingers under your panties. You open your eyes as you feel the direct contact between his skin and your most intimate area.

"So wet just for me, this is a treasure" he murmurs, quite pleased.

At first he just slides one of his fingers all over your intimate area, making your skin crawl with goose bumps. You swore you wouldn't let anyone have you at their mercy, but you've totally surrendered to him and when he finally locates your clitoris, gently caressing it with your own natural lubrication, you can't help but let out a moan.

"That's it, little girl. Yeah, moan for me" He smiles, quite pleased.

"It's… God, please Buggy don't stop doing it" you ask him, almost beg, because the pleasure is enormous.

Buggy starts stroking you faster, now you feel like your whole body is on fire, with a kind of heat right in the center of your belly that intensifies every time his fingertips brush against your skin. You start moaning helplessly as he slides his tongue down your neck until it reaches your cleavage.

"Buggy…" You can barely say anything, just moan his name, but that seems to delight you.

"I'm going to make you mine completely, Y/N. I hope you know what you've done."

But just as Buggy is about to slip one of his fingers inside you, someone knocks loudly on his cabin door, completely breaking the mood. You both tense up, giving a little gasp. Buggy lets out a huge growl, looking really pissed off.

"But who the fuck is it now!" he shrieks, hands still shoved between your legs.

"Captain" Cabaji's voice is heard "We have a problem, there's a Navy ship nearby".

"Fuck" Buggy roars, he'd probably love to beat the shit out of Cabaji for interrupting him at a time like this, but the reasons have been more than justified.

He looks at you with an annoyed look on his face.

"We're not done yet" It's not an apology, it's a warning.

You smile at him.

"I hope so, Captain."

[drefear]

do you even know, how you make me weak

Inspired by @ofherdesire series of toxic Miguel, the characters are all theirs (aside from Miguel lol)

TW: toxic Miguel, bits of sex, violence, bullying if you squint, injury.

Lips left imprints on your skin as Pedro held your body like an antique vase, priceless and delicate. Every touch was such a change from Miguel’s rough hands always moving fast unless he knew he’d hurt you.

Pedro moved in a gentle manner unless you asked for more, and he kept you breathless as he watched your every reaction. It was always about you, about your pleasure, your climax.

“When you pull me close,

Feelings I’ve never known.”

The soft groans he let out as he whispered into your skin made you wonder how you ever lived without such touches and feelings.

This was almost a daily action, like you both needed it to live. He made a schedule to be able to see you once a day, even if it meant only a few minutes and a peck on the lips. He never failed to remind you of his everlasting love for you, his dedication to show you how appreciated you were. Pedro was such a beautiful and welcome change of pace.

Yet, you still longed for the hulking presence you caught brief sightings of, but this was always followed by a blinding ray of blonde pep, like a police flashlight in your face at midnight when you’d done nothing wrong. The sly girl kept him close any time you were around, including during missions.

Miguel couldn’t be around you for more than two seconds without blue eyes popping out from behind him, something that had begun to cause problems within him. She didn’t trust him, and he couldn’t blame her, when he was constantly drawn to you like a moth to a flame.

“Miguel, you ok?” Peter’s voice broke the larger of the two from a trance as he watched you jump from a ledge as you four fought an anomaly, your webs trapping the enemy in your clutches as Miguel stood like a statue, eyes watching you in awe. It was like watching an actual spider weave its web; agile and careful, yet still powerful and strong.

“Miguel!” Peter shouted, finally snapping Miguel out of his thoughts and dodging a falling piece of debris. He rolled onto the ground and grabbed a survivor, handing them off to-

“Miggy!” His girl. He looked at her, why wasn't he always looking at her? She caught the bystander and he turned his attention back to you, who was facing off the anomaly alone now as Peter worked with his girlfriend to find anyone else who might be trapped. He sprung into action once he saw the position you were in and jumped to your side.

“Take the other side, I can handle this one.”

“You’ll get hurt, deja de ser terca!”

“I’ll be fine, now go!” You yelled and yanked your strings tighter in your fists, and he obeyed.

As he worked on the side you directed him towards, you threw the trapbox and red lasers enclosed around the anomaly, making you and Miguel both relax for a brief second. Sighing in exhaustion, you gave a small smile to Peter and Miguel, until suddenly a shout was heard and your body was jerked forward.

As you blinked, you felt the warmth of Miguel’s chest in your face, Peter moving closer to check on you and in the far distance, the sharp angry eyes of his girl.

His red luminescent webs wrapped around your torso and you held your head a bit, the sudden motion making you a little nauseous.

“Are you alright?” Peter’s voice was almost distant as you tried to step away from MIguel, but his hand tightened around your waist and you pushed harder, disliking the lack of distance between you two.

“I’m fine, really. Just a little dizzy.”

“I told you not to be so stubborn.” Miguel’s voice was cold, visceral, and you frowned up at him. It’d been almost a year since you two had an actual conversation, since you last kissed his lips and heard him say how you weren’t enough for him and she was. The sour memory bit into you like an animal and the poison made your vision turn a bit red on the edges, but you wouldn’t let the pain overtake your senses or act out.

Instead of giving him a sassy remark like you wanted to do, you just tapped your watch and opened a portal back to HQ, “I’m getting my head checked, I’ll see you all at debriefing.” You mumbled and walked through the portal.

Miguel watched the portal close and closed his eyes, frustration bubbling inside of him like rapture, popping and hissing at the intense heat it was beginning to give off.

The clean up was minimal, Miguel instructed both Peter and his girlfriend to reconstruct the cannon, and he made his way to bring back the anomaly. Once everything was secured, he sat in his sector, platform high above the actual floor as it gave him better concentration away from all of the talking and bustle of HQ.

The soft patter of footsteps made him aware that someone was making their way up to him, the sound of a web slinging a lighter body up to his level.

“You alright, baby?” Her voice was soft, more on the high-pitch side, and clear like a flute. Her manicured hands pressed into Miguel’s tense muscles and he sank into his chair further, letting her go harder.

“M fine.” he grunted and she nodded, not pushing further. She never pushed, never pressed further than what he wanted. She was just so good, easy to be around, and never making him feel too intensely.

He felt nothing around her. It was simple. He thought he liked that, so why did he crave you so much? Why were you all he thought about? You forced him to feel weak and out of control, even before he met her.

“I think you should maybe give her less missions, it’s obvious that she’s getting sorta… distracted?” Her tone was quiet, and he just nodded in agreement, but he knew you weren’t the problem. He was the distracted one, and he knew that she saw this too. So he didn’t argue, just sank deeper into her butter touch and closed his eyes.

“I’m a lightweight, easy to fall, easy to break

With every move, my whole world shakes, keep me from falling apart.”

You laid in the infirmary, eyes closed from the pressure on the back of your neck. Truth be told, your head didn’t hurt, you just needed to get away from them all.

The door opened and you felt Miguel looming by the end of your bed.

“You’re ok.” It wasn’t a question as much as an announcement, like he was speaking to himself.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You answered and avoided his eyes, scared to get caught in the red glare that trapped you in his hold for months on end.

“I think from now on, you should take it easy.” His voice wasn’t one you wanted to argue with, and it meant the possibility of not seeing him as often, so you didn’t mind. The ache in your chest still lingered.

“Okay.” You nodded, and something sparked in Miguel that you hadn’t seen before.

“Okay? That’s fine to you? You don’t care?”

“I mean, isn’t that what you said to me?” You shot back to him and he looked as if you’d actually shot him with a gun, your bullets creating a red ring in his eyes and making them brighter.

“This isn’t about us.”

“There never was an us.” Your words came out without hesitation and he let out a breath like you’d hit him in the gut. “It was just sex, right?”

“Mi bella.”

“Not yours. Never yours.” You looked up to him finally with fat tears in your eyes and his heart finally broke.

A door closing made you both quiet and look behind Miguel, seeing…

“Pedro…” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he stood with flowers, eyebrows furrowed with conflict and confusion.

“Did you two-” He didn’t even finish the sentence, Miguel not moving an inch. You jumped up and brushed past him, rushing to Pedro as you held him.

“Before, it was before you, before us.” You rambled, hoping it would be enough, that he’d understand.

“And now…?”

“Nothing.” Miguel’s voice was harsh, like the words were wrapped with barbed wire and razor blades.

“Exactly.” Your eyes found his and the look was tense, angry, hateful. “It was nothing.”

Miguel’s eyes darkened and he stormed out of the infirmary. Pedro just looked from him to you and sighed.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about?” The hand that held your favorite flowers dropped and a few petals floated to the ground, similar to how your soul felt right now.

“Can we go home?” You asked meekly, wanting to at least be secluded as he nodded in agreement and opened a portal to take you to your apartment.

Peter worked silently next to Miguel’s girl, the room echoing as he typed up his report for the anomaly capture before finally speaking.

“You knew that debris was falling, why didn’t you catch it?” He asked and the blonde turned to look at Peter B, then back to her own screen.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I saw it, you watched the piece of the building hit her.” He kept his voice low, “is it because of how Miguel looks at them?”

She froze. Of course she noticed, she wouldn't have made a move on Pedro if she wasn’t aware of the threat you posed. Threatened. Her heart pounded as a sneer appeared on her face for a second before smiling with tight lips.

“Miguel is with me, and that’s all that matters.” Her voice, sickeningly sweet to Peter, answered as if just discussing the weather and not how her jealousy could have killed you, someone she was supposed to see as her ally.

“You’re right, Miguel is with you, so don’t let your insecurities make you do something that could make you lose him.” Peter stood with those words of advice and walked away as if he didn’t just give her a thinly veiled warning.

Her blonde ponytail bobbed as she went to find Miguel, here to surprise him on her day off with a lunch she made him. As she approached his office, she heard panting and groans, knowing those sounds well by now. She’d been seeing Miguel for a few months and things had begun getting serious, so she easily recognized the sound of him about to orgasm.

As she peaked in, she saw him watching videos-

Videos of you. His hand fucking his cock fast and hard as he stared at the screens showing your agility as you soared through the sky in your spidersuit. Her blood boiled and her mind zeroed in on her true target; you.

Pedro sat across from you on your couch, tears filling your eyes as you explained what happened between you and MIguel.

“Who else knows?” He asked and you shook your head.

“Just you. Miguel and I never told anyone, he-” Your voice caught in your throat and you gulped it down, “he didn’t want anyone to know he had been with me.”

Pedro’s hand squeezed yours and he closed his eyes, moving to kiss your cheek.

“Is that why you were so upset that she tried to flirt with me?”

“Yes…” You admitted and let your shoulders sink.

“Alright.” Pedro stayed quiet and then pulled you into a hug.

“What are you-” You began to ask, but he cut you off by cupping your face in his warm hands.

“I’m so proud to have everyone know you’re with me, that you’re mine and I’m yours.” He emphasized the word ‘yours’ and your body trembled in shock. You flung your arms over his shoulders and buried your face into his chest, crying tears you didn't know you were holding in. You felt his lips kiss your shoulders and the side of your face as you wept into his shirt, clutching him close as you spilled your upset.

Lately, Miguel had avoided going home, focusing on work more and more. His precious girl was becoming too clingy, too much for him to handle. He wanted his freedom back, wanted to be the lone wolf he felt comfortable being.

“Miguel?” Her voice rang out like a bell and he closed his eyes, frustrated with the whole day. “Will you be coming home tonight?” She asked cautiously and he just shook his head, knowing she could see him from her vocals echoing. “I miss you, Miggy.” She pressed and he huffed.

“I’m too busy.” He replied and she moved to slip her hand into his, but he jerked away. It wasn’t intentional, it was natural and instinctual. She flinched and her face became dark with anger. “Baby, I-”

“That’s fine.” She answered and spun around to walk away.

“Peter spoke to me today.” Miguel’s voice made her body run cold, feeling like a fly caught in a web. “Said that he thinks we missed something, so I looked back at the footage.” He finally turned around and stood tall over her, “You let her get hurt.”

“It wasn’t intentional-”

“Bullshit!” He shouted and she kept herself calm, fists balled by her side.

“Would you be this upset if it was me?” She asked and he rolled his eyes.

“No puedo mas, this again? What is it with the constant questioning?” He yelled and she folded her arms in defense.

“I see how you act around her, how you look at her!”

“I’m with you!” He screamed back and the two fell quiet, breathless. His chest rose and fell with fury.

“Do you love her?” She glared and he tensed, the blistering heat of the question scorching Miguel.

“Mi sol, I love you.” He tried to emphasize the word ‘you’ once again, trying to explain that she was his sunlight, his-

“You didn’t say no.” Her face grew stoic, cold, almost rude as she straightened up. “So you do.”

“But I don’t- it’s not like that. I don’t want a future with her.”

“You don’t want one, or you’re scared of one?” The implication made him shift where he stood and look away from her, trying to even process everything she was assuming about him. “I don’t want you near her anymore.”

“Fine, I’ll prove it to you that you’re the one for me.” He moved to hold her hands, but she tugged them from his reach. “Please.”

“Alright.”

You were put on less missions, denied access to certain sectors of HQ, and worst of all, completely ignored. Little miss perfect was peppy as ever as you walked towards Miguel’s sector, stopping in her tracks to stand in your way.

“Hey! Need something?”

“Yes, actually. I’m not able to get into some areas that I need to for the next mission.” Her face soured and her pink lips turned to a scowl.

“You were assigned that mission?”

“Peter B asked me to take it for him, he’s having trouble finding someone to watch Mayday and MJ is cracking down on the whole ‘no more bringing Mayday on missions’ rule.” You continued tapping your watch until you bumped into her body, falling backwards and looking up to see her smiling sweetly, bent down and a little too close to your face.

“I’ll get someone to cover the mission, you can rest up, ok?”

“Um, it’s fine, I can handle a minor anomaly.” You backed up and she sighed, rolling her eyes and glaring down at you now. “Is there a problem?”

“Stay away from Miguel, and there won’t be.” She narrowed her eyes and spun on her toes, getting back to her peppy little skip before you could even process the brief conversation you just had, if you could even call that a conversation.

She saw you as a threat, and this was a revelation.

You took her advice and avoided Miguel completely, giving up any mission and refusing to take on anything that he might be present for.

The only time he was unavoidable was when others were around.

“Welcome in, watch out for some of Mayday’s toys!” Peter chuckled and let you walk in, Pedro behind you holding a bottle of your favorite wine and keeping his hand in yours. You stopped short and stared at the table in front of you. There sat Jess and her husband, Pav, Hobie, Miles, Gwen, and… Miguel. He had an arm over the empty chair to his right, another on his left. You gripped Pedro’s hand tighter and walked towards the empty chair to his left.

His girlfriend came out and sat in the chair you moved to sit in, batting her eyes and smiling up at you.

“Oh, sorry, I was already sitting here, but I think there’s a few spots on the couch!” She pointed over to the living room, everyone else completely engrossed in their conversations. You balled your free hand into a fist and just returned the comment with a nod, pulling Pedro along as he glared at Miguel. The leader of Spider Society watching you walk out, then flashing a glare towards the woman by his side.

“There’s no need to be cruel to her.”

“So would you rather her and Pedro sit here?” She leaned backwards, folding her arms defensively as he huffed. For the two of them, the days filled with either rigorous sex or obnoxious arguments. Behind closed doors, Miguel and his girlfriend were now miserable and always giving one another digs. She always caused fights between them when he was busy or trying to sleep, and most of the time they ended in rough kisses. It was the only way Miguel knew how to get her quiet, and how she knew how to keep him under her control without him thinking of you.

“I just might.” He answered and stood up, walking into the living room. Grabbing his coat, he saw how Pedro held you closer, how he comforted your upset frame, how he was so gentle with your hands in his as your head laid on his shoulder. His eyes met Miguel’s and at that moment, Miguel realized that Pedro knew. “Can I- Can we talk?” He asked the other man, motioning towards the balcony. Pedro kissed your forehead, making an itch form in the palm of MIguel’s hand, and followed the bigger of the two out the sliding glass doors.

“Pedro-” Miguel started, but the other raised a hand and interrupted him, a serious look in his dark eyes.

“She told me what happened.”

“I know. I can tell.” Miguel looked out at the city and kept one hand in his pants pocket. “She’s… She’s the world, the moon, she is-” He stopped himself briefly, “she was my everything, but I didn’t know how to care for her. You do, so please don’t ever stop or make my mistake, entiendes?” Miguel’s eyes, rimmed with red, caught Pedro’s and he saw that there was pity in them.

“I-” Pedro’s words caught in his throat as he looked away, trying to understand what the other was saying, then hanging his head. Miguel was trying to let you go, trying to let you be happy with Pedro, and Pedro saw that as Miguel’s eyes avoided him now. He deserved the truth. “You should know that your girlfriend has been bothering-”

Miguel sneered and gripped the railing with both hands. He saw her for who she was now, a snake in a spider suit.

“I know exactly what she’s doing. It won’t happen again.”

Pedro nodded again and looked towards the sky. “You should try to let her be happy.” His voice cracked and he walked away before Miguel could react, slipping back inside and sitting back on the couch with you. Miguel followed after a beat, now understanding Pedro’s statement and grabbing his coat.

“Honey, where are you going?” Her sickly kind voice made Miguel angry as she placed a hand on his arm, before he yanked it away. “You didn’t tell me we were leaving.” She spoke back, a bite in her words that would go undetectable to the others, but MIguel’s eyes burned red with a fire she’d never seen directed at her before.

“That’s because we aren’t. I am.” He clarified and trudged out of Peter’s door.

That night, Miguel sent Lyla to tell her to get her stuff out of his apartment, and that he would like his things returned to HQ as soon as possible.

You and Pedro laid in bed that night and as you drifted to sleep, you felt his watch get a buzz. He glanced at it and immediately turned it off.

“Was that important?”

“Not as important as you.” He pecked your forehead and pulled you in tighter. You fell asleep to the sound of his heartbeat under your head and woke to an empty bed.

[thelonelysoulhome]

Doumeki is the first person ever to reach out his hand to Yashiro:

(Part 3)

When Doumeki first meet Yashiro he is a 36 years old man with strong anchored beliefs, that diged all his traumas deep deep inside of him, traumas that he nourished everyday for 26 years at this point. He suffers, but in silence,

he suffers, but nobody sees, cause he's really good at hiding, at faking, after all, people are actors.

Like I said before Doumeki is the first person ever to ask Y if he's okay and that on their first encounter.

For the first time in Yashiro's life someone try to help him.

And ask a question: are you okay ? Are you okay with what happening ? Do you need help ?

At this point it's not like Y could Say:

"Oh yes I'm deeply traumatised from all the abuse I lived as a kid and that never ended till now, I had to face everything alone and to endure everything, I had to hide the true me real real deep and live as a cold lustful maso cat seeking violent sex as a coping mechanism to protect myself from more external harm"

He's more like;

"Of course I'm okay dumbass... I like violent sex, I can't feel anything if it's not painfull, I always lived like this and it's fine, I don't need anyone, I'm alright as long as everyone treats me like they always did : badly, without care, like an old rag.

For Yashiro, the familiar feel safe, and the change feel overwhelming, frightning.

That how his distorted brain function .

It's in this state of mind that he come into the presence of Doumeki.

We know D always though that Y was beautyful, (he confess that to Y in chapter 1), and that the yakuza world could not be that bad if someone like Y was part of it.

But everything takes a big shift when Y help D to reconnect with his sister Aoi :

At this moment D understand that Y is more than what he just pretends to be.

Y is neither cold or cruel, he's the opposite of that, he's gentle, he's kind, he's sensible, he don't judge, he's strong, cause suffering is never a reason to pity someone, it's a reason to respect them, respect for their strenght to endure it.

Y never shows those sides of him, he try hard to burie them cause for him, they are weaknesses, and he can't take the risk to be weak again.

But it's too late, D already saw little fragmants of the real Y.

And now, he's resilied to stay by his side no matter what :

"I'll do anything, as long as I can stay beside you"

He'll do anything, but it's only a matter of time for him to no longer being able to bear the way people treat Y, and the way Y treat's himself.

D don't understand how kage dosen't notice Y like he does,

He is angry that nobody sees Y the way his eyes do it.

Haaa look at how he stare at his smile... He just want to see him happy.

(The world D use in japanese for 'beautiful' is "きれい" (kirei) that kinda mean beautiful but also clean or pure, meaning that he think Y is beautiful on the outside but also and mainly from the inside)

For him Yashiro is kind, strong and beautiful.

He keeps on by saying that he respect Yashiro.

He's attracted to Y in a way he never been before with anyone, and he sincerely care for Y.

He don't want to use him like a toy like misumi.

He don't pity him like kage.

He don't want him to be something else (a woman) like ryuzaki

(that a deeply dislike btw... And Y is so kind that he take risk to save his ass..)

He love's Y for who he trully is, and he want to protect him.

In this moment D is mad and frustrated, not because Y is having sex with another guy, but because he is being harmed by someone, again. He want's to deffend him but he feel powerless, and that hurt him a lot.

I see some people saying that D is possesive and jealous, and that he has no words to say about what Y is doing with his body, (and normaly I agree whit that) but we know Y's case is far from being normal. Y uses violent sex as a form of self harm to cope with his trauma.

All the men Y encountered always treated and abused him really really badly,

And Y let it all happen not by choice, but because he never lived something else, he been used his whole life, he never chosed anything that happened to him, he undergoes everything . everyone always treated him badly everyone neglected him; his stepdad, his mom, shcool, all the men he encountered, ryuzaki, misumi, they all abused him, and he is so deep in selfloathing that he dosen't care anymore. He's resilieted, he so damaged that his numb.

But D is not okay with that. Is that something this bad ? Is that this bad to want to protect someone you love and care for, from further harm and abuse ?

D is not just being possesive and jealous, he can't bear seeing Y being treated this way. Who could ?

If you saw someone you love and care deeply for, harming themself daily in front of you, you won't do anything ? You won't try to stop them ? You won't try to protect them from this harm ? You can't just say "oh I'm not interfering, their life their choices" when someone is consuming themself little by little in front of your eyes.

Yashiro did not chose this, he suffered, and then he made himself suffer, cause it's the only thing he knows.

No one ever tend he's hand to him, and told him that he doesn't need to treat himself this way anymore...💔

See you part 4.

(How many part I'm gonna write, bear with me lol)

[avpdvoidspace]

Do you ever struggle with being demonized for your quietness? I have, pretty much my whole life. I think it's a huge problem in society, if I'm being honest. I'm tired of acting like my whole child-self was in the wrong for not being able to bring myself to talk in a lot of situations, especially since I didn't get diagnosed and treated for my disorders until I was an adult. To be honest, I think it's society's way of demonizing people with AvPD, non-verbal autism and selective mutism. Thinking people like us are "rude" or "suspicious" for only speaking when spoken to, or having a non-verbal episode where we can't speak at all. I was suspected of being violent or "hiding something". Also I was deemed "weird" and treated like some alien due to other neurodivergencies as well.

People on this website sometimes act like being quiet is also a weakness or result of privilege. My parents were encouraging me and trying to get me to speak all the time, though. No one was saying "you don't have to speak if you don't want to". My father used to get angry with me about it, calling me "weak" and my mother used to guilt-trip me for it, claiming I "never tried hard enough" for her because I couldn't get myself to be neurotypical.

I also grew up in a world of domestic violence. My mother told me the abuse she faced from my father started getting particularly worse when she was pregnant with me. I was a little child born on-edge and having to walk on eggshells. My parents would get into violent fights with each other and my father would hit me, too. Both my parents worked and instead of spending time at home playing or bonding with family like other kids did, I was made to go to headstart when I was only like 2. I know it might seem like not a big deal, but thinking about it, I didn't have the same experiences that average kids do, and I still don't know if whether or not that contributed to my avoidant personality. I didn't even realize most kids don't even start school until they're 4 or 5 until I was much older. People have been getting me out there and encouraging me to socialize with others since the very beginning. It never worked.

I spent my whole life hating myself for it. I felt like I was never competent and that I was a burden on my mother. And there were many times I did try to make connections with others but they ended up either backstabbing me or shaming me for my interests. I regret a lot of the times I allowed myself to be known by others. There are many memories of me simply saying things to people that make me feel awful. Terrible disorder.

I did manage to make and keep some friends. But also I'm still not truly myself with most of them and still afraid they're going to end up demonizing me too if they knew more about me. Being queer and growing up with having kinks has left me with seeing so much family, strangers, and even other queer people say people like me are "freaks" and "degenerates" to my face without knowing they're talking someone who's exactly the kind of person they think should be killed.

I saw a post recently and honestly, it doesn't even apply to me. However, it still managed evoke a lot of negative emotions and memories I am experiencing right now...

So there's this post going around that goes something like "discourse about letting kids not say 'trick or treat' is concerning"(paraphrasing) which was weird to me at first because I've never seen anyone say they allow their kids not to say it. I've always said "trick or trick" during Halloween as a kid, even adding some "meows" because I liked being a cat. So it doesn't even apply to me.

But then there were people acting like not saying it comes from a place of privilege. Someone was like (paraphrasing again)"when I was giving out candy, all the black children were lively and sweet, and all the kids who didn't say it were white and probably middle class".

And that struck me a bit. I'm mixed race. People treated me like a potential violent threat because of my quiet nature, which was a result from trauma, not anyone "babying" me. I was always working class. My parents didn't even own a car. We used public transportation to get everywhere.

BIPOC kids who are quiet get treated as threats! Of course you fucking enjoy lively black kids. If one of them was quiet, you might demonize them...

Then there were people saying "you people just need to grow up."

It's so strange that traits that apply to non-verbal autism or CPTSD get deemed as "social anxiety", because tumblr thinks that is the lesser disorder.

I don't know. I got a lot of bad memories spring up from seeing that post, and I just wanted to vent about it here. So many people demonized me for being quiet growing up and it made me believe I was a monster for so long.

I'm not even saying I encourage the behavior of refusing to talk to people. I had a nice conversation with an old woman at Dunkin yesterday. I enjoy small talk and listening to others talk, even when I can't add much to the conversation. I just worry about other children who are like how I was growing up, being traumatized and quiet and being treated like shit for it... I don't trust anyone sees "quiet" as "rude"

I'm sorry about the length and I hope you're doing well.

anon, I'm sorry this took me so long to post. I just want to say that your ask really resonated with me and I've thought about it several times since receiving it. I get similarly frustrated when I see priveleged people praising marginalized for being more friendly, more whatever, for similar reasons. Or setting up an oppression competition between two groups they're not even a part of.

[shade-pup-cub]

For a fanfic suggestion, how about Four getting sick as a consequence of being so small? Like overeating because they keep giving him big portions 'because he's still growing!' and getting sick from it, or from a wrong potion dosage. Maybe he's more susceptible to hypothermia or heat strokes. Just spitballing ideas! Four is my favourite but I don't see too many fanfics of him :(

Hi Anon! Hope you enjoy. Stay tuned because the next one-shot I’m posting is of Four.

Thank you for the request!🖤

If Four had to describe his fellow heroes in the way of the roles they played dynamically Sky would be the ‘Mother Cucco’ who is always brooding over the sick or injured in a way that wasn’t suffocating. Time would be that ‘Dad Friend’ or ‘Cool Uncle’ that you knew was awesome, but also knew you better listen to. Twilight was the ‘Protector’ and ‘Big Brother’ for obvious reasons and Four would never call him the group's pet due to how disrespectful that would be, but it was nice to have someone like Twi who could shift even if Four hated dark magic. Hyrule was of course the group’s ‘Doc’ and everyone had learned to listen to him or get a slap upside the head. An angry healer meant for a bad day.

There was one person in the group that Four (more so Red) had a soft spot for and that was Wild, their designated ‘Chef’. Bless that man for being able to cook! Four was going to die of starvation with the others cooking.

Wild was the last to join them and it was beyond clear that he did not trust anyone outside of Twilight and somewhat Sky, since the First Hero was the one holding the Master Sword. He was quiet, skittish, feral and had his own odd ticks that Vio liked to sort through and keep notes on, just like he did with the others, but Wild was a challenge to him.

Four made it a point to learn everyone’s written language as well as sign language, proving useful with Wild. None of the others, except Twi, could understand what Wild was signing to them. So when Four figured out the dialect and some of the sign changes, noticing that it really wasn’t too far off from his own, Wild began to open up to him.

This was all months ago and Wild was now fully talking to everyone, more laid back and he had a dynamic role that he fell into as the cook. Cooking brought a smile to Wild’s face and Red beamed at how much happier the newest member was while being able to feed everyone.

That was exactly where the problem was. Red refused to hurt Wild’s feelings when it came to the food. The other Colors would say something, but Red always won that argument. It wasn’t that he disliked Wild’s food, no, it was the amount. Wild and Hyrule were a bottomless pit for food, Time and Sky could easily eat two full servings of just about any meal while Wind and Twilight could go for thirds. Four was lucky to get through one serving! Heaven forbid the meal was heavy on rice and meat and not because it was filling.

Like any other night where they could afford to have a fire going, Wild cooked. It was a hearty meal of rice, a red meat that was cooked perfectly, seasonings and Wild even added two fried eggs with runny yolks. Damn it if Wild knew this was Four’s weakness, his favorite meal and the added eggs were the cherry on top.

Four gave a bright smile when Wild handed him his bowel filled past the brim with deliciousness, eyes flashing with a hit of red.

‘Red, don’t you do it.’

‘Shut it Blue! Did you see how happy he was? He hasn’t been able to cook in a week due to Hyrule restricting what he can do.’

‘That’s Wild’s own fault, Red.’ Green did not have the other Color’s back, choosing to side with Blue.

‘Vio, help me out here.’ Red pleaded.

Vio sighed, ‘We go through this every time. Why are we still fighting over it?’

‘Oh, thanks a lot Vi. You could have been the one that Red listened to.’ Blue snapped.

‘Can we just eat and let Red be happy? He has been looking forward to this all week.’ They could hear the mental tiredness in Green’s voice.

‘Yes!’ Red happily shouted in their shared mind.Four gave a slight wiggle where he sat, bringing a small amount of attention to him.

“Someone is happy to have Wild back to full health.” Legend snickered.

“I’m just happy Hyrule isn’t cooking. I don’t think I can handle another night of potential food poisoning.” Four hummed with the first bite.

“Hey! I can hear you!” Hyrule said from across camp, not truly mad.

“I didn’t say anything that I wouldn’t say to your face.”

When Twilight said he was full after two servings and Wind said the same after one, Four knew he was in trouble. He slowed his pace, but made it a point to finish the whole meal and pushed through the meat sweats and the bloated feeling.

Barely able to move after all the food, Four gingerly laid down on his bedroll, trying to get comfortable. He pretended to be asleep while Time asked who would be on watch, thankful that he didn’t have to be on a shift. It didn’t change the fact that he was awake in the middle of the night.

His eyes flashed open as a shooting pain like a hot knife being stabbed into his lower right abdomen erupted suddenly. Oh that wasn’t good. He placed a hand over the area, applying pressure, relieving some of the pain. Letting go of the pressure made him see little swirls of color. Curling into a ball worked for a moment, but he had to shove his fist into the spot again, have one leg out slightly and the other tucked under him to help increase the pressure.

“Four?”

‘Shit! That’s Hyrule!’ Blue hollered.

‘Shhh!! Keep it down will you? Last thing we need is to have a headache with this.’ Green snapped back.

‘Should we split?’

‘Red, no, that would just make four of us have the same issue and everyone freak out.’ Vio was trying to be calm.

“Four, hey, what’s wrong?” Hyrule asked as he knelt close by.

“N-nothing.”

“You suck at lying. Come on, let me help with whatever this is.” A hand rubbed along his back. “You are burning up and sweating through your tunic. How long have you been sick?”

“Just woke up with it. I’ll be fine.” Four sniffled, not crying.

“Is it something you ate?”

“N-no!” Four shot up into a sitting position causing all of it to be much worse.

Hyrule quirked an eyebrow. “So it was something you ate. No one else is sick though.”

Four held his breath for a moment with his eyes closed trying to will the pain away. “Please don’t tell Wild.”

“Don’t tell me what?” Damn shift change!

‘Noooo!’ Red cried out.

‘Busted, might as well spill it.’ Vio said in a non comforting way.

When Four didn’t say anything, Hyrule stepped in. “Four got sick on something he ate and didn't want help and didn’t want you to know.”

Wild squatted down beside the other two. “How about you let Hyrule help you then we can figure out what made you sick?” Wild gave a soft, but concerned smile.

‘He’s… not mad?’

Giving a sigh, Four agreed and laid back on his back so Hyrule could examine. Warm tingling magic poured from Hyrule’s hand as he searched for the problem. Four tried to stay a still as he could, but wiggled his feet around. He relaxed more when Hyrule pushed on the area that was hurting, but when he let go, Four sucked in a ragged breath.

“It’s your Appendix.” Hyrule confirmed.

Four tilted his head. “The useless organ that does nothing outside of causing issues?”

“That’s the one. Now to fix it, you need to throw up or else it will rupture.”

Four’s ears dropped alongside Wild’s, who asked, “And it was because of something he ate?” Oh no. Wild was making the look Red never wanted to see. He was blaming himself for it.

“He probably ate too much or too fast or even both.” Hyrule reached a hand out for Hyrule to take so he could stand.

“Too much? Four, you only had one serving.” Wild stood and helped the smaller hero over to an area away from the rest of camp. It was slow moving, but they made it. “Want us to stay or-?”

Four didn’t give them a choice as he held onto a tree to promptly throw up everything his appendix thought to hang onto for later. Wild pulled Four’s headband back some to hold his hair away from his face as he told Hyrule to get a red potion.

“Only haa- half of oo- one please.” The dry heaving was worse than the actual throwing up.

Stomach settled and not trying to kill him, Four made it back to his bedroll and wanted nothing more than to face-plant into it and sleep for the next day. Insead he had to face Wild… well Red needed to face Wild.

“You going to tell me the big secret that you didn’t want me to know earlier?” Wild ask as he sat in front of Four and picked at the grass, starting to weave the ends together.

Red huffed and decided to come clean of his predicament. “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings by saying I wanted less food.” Wild seemed more confused than before and now that it was said out loud, Four felt a bit silly for it.

“Why would that hurt my feelings?”

“Cooking and feeding all of us makes you happy and I thought you would think that I didn’t like your food when really it’s much more complicated than that.”

“I’m listening.”

Hyrule passed the least filled potion he had to Four, giving him a look that he better drink.

“Both of you should probably hear this since it applies to potions too. Wild, you are the only one's knee caps I won’t break for saying that I’m still growing as if I’m close to Wind’s age and that is due to you meaning it in a kind way unlike when Legend or Wars says it to pick on me. I can’t eat as much as Wind because I’m not growing anymore due to a magic I was exposed to in one of my adventures. I can’t drink as much potion due to my size and it will eventually make me sick.”

Wild was the first to break the silence with a laugh. “Four, that's all you had to say. I wouldn’t have gotten mad or been hurt by that. Concerned maybe, at least until you told me why so I knew you weren’t starving yourself.”

“Same with the healing. The last thing anyone wants is for you to overdose on potions.” Hyrule added. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m tired and going to bed.”

Four watched him get up and walk over to where Legend was sleeping and land partly on top of him. The other let out an ‘oof’ and a grumble. “Do you want company during your watch?”

Wild shook his head. “You need sleep after all that. Get some rest Four. I’ll wake you and Hyrule last.” Wild stood and was walking away when he suddenly turned back aground. “Hey Red?”

Four jumped at being called one of the Colors and Red made sure to take over, eyes becoming the same color red as the tunic he wore. “Hmm?”

“I have smaller bowls that I can fill for you instead so it doesn’t look like you aren’t eating like normal. I’m sure Sky would say something if he thought you weren’t.”

Red had never been happier. “Thank you, Wild.” Four laid back down into his roll with a new found appreciation for his companions.

‘See, that wasn’t so difficult.’ Green whispered.

‘Shh, don’t rub it in.’

[donniesbabygirl28]

tex being jealous after he suspects you have a crush on a rich guy in town... like he's not only angry but sad too cause he realizes he could never offer you what Mr. rich guy has to "offer" you --- headcanons please ;)

Oh me oh my. I LOVE THIS! GOLD STAR FOR YOU DARLING!

I hope you don't mind but I made the hcs where y'all are friends. (Fem reader, as I said in my last post that I was going to write mostly Fem reader because it's easier for me to write and it gives me more practice, instead of accidentally putting "She" instead of "They" or "He" because as I said, I'm used to writing Fem readers)

So let's get one thing out of the way.

You have been friends with Tex and Johnny since you moved schools, which was back in 3rd grade.

Johnny has always known about Tex's little "Crush" on you.

Tex thinks it's not obvious and thinks nobody can see it when he looks at you. And he also thinks it's just a "Small" crush.

But trust me, that boy has no idea that you have him wrapped around your little finger.

There is a boy in your class, he comes from a rich family and he's very friendly, you occasionally talk to him.

He VERY funny- well obviously not as funny as your two best friends. But funny enough to make you laugh.

All Tex could do was sit and watch as he made you smile and laugh. He was supposed to be the one making you smile. He loved your smile and he didn't want to share it with Big Dollars over there. He didn't crack a single joke during class.

Which did not go unnoticed by Johnny.

"Hey what's wrong buddy, you didn't make a fire today or anything." He said, leaning over his buddy's shoulder.

He looked towards you and "Mr. loverman", frowning as he wanted to cry.

He was angry, not at you. He could never be angry with you. But he was angry with your new rich friend and how much you liked him.

"Oh. Hey I'm sorry, man. Hey- it's alright though, she wouldn't leave us for him and you know it. Have some faith in our friend." He said, patting his back.

It was the end of school and he patiently waited on you by the class door.

You walked to him, along with Johnny, starting to walk with them.

You smiled at him, but he didn't smile back.

You looked at Johnny, as if asking him what was wrong with Tex.

"Thats all you, I'll see you chicks later." He said, walking off into the distance.

Your friend walked up behind you, scaring you before you started smiling.

"Hey Darling."

Tex almost snapped right there.

Tex always called you darling and he wasn't gonna watch some guy with big pockets come crashing in and calling you his sweet names.

The guy walked away and Tex looked at you.

"I thought you were MY darling" his voice cracked a little.

You just looked at him, your lips parted in shock at his little outburst.

"W-..What do you mean? Of course I am. Tex what is with you." You asked, rubbing his arm gently.

He just looked at you, eyes tearing up slightly.

After all, he has always been sensitive and never could keep his emotions covered up, unlike his brother.

And he felt ashamed.

All he could think about was how pathetic he felt, not being able to put beautiful diamonds and gold into your hands in just a snap.

He couldn't help but feel like he wasn't good enough and he wasn't ever gonna be yours.

"Well, I mean it's kinda obvious that I'm no match for Mr rich guy. If he makes you happy then it's okay."

He looked down at his feet, not wanting to meet your eyes.

He felt weak, not being able to give you anything you've ever wanted.

All he ever wanted to do was make you happy but Mr Big lots beat him to it.

"Tex.. Are you..jealous?" You smiled slightly.

His face turned a harsh red.

"No- Im not. I'm just..." He couldn't finish his own sentence.

"Texas." You said, throwing your arms around his neck.

His face is close to a red light.

"Has anyone ever told you about my little Crush on you?" You ask, smirking as you ran your hands through his hair.

"What?" He question, very shocked at your words.

"Texas McCormick. You are everything a lady could ever want. You're sweet, handsome. And I hope you know, that I have no interest what so ever in him." You said, finishing your sentence by pressing a kiss to him lips, which he kisses back immediately.

[love4layla]

AN AGGRESSIVE CONFESSION PT.1

Umeji kizuguchi x fem! Black!Chubby! reader

A/N:Not proofread fight me bout it

WARNING🚨:contains bullying, and fat shaming, swearing (like a lot)

You were always made fun of for being fat but it never reached the point of violence until Highschool. You were always good at defending yourself per usual and didn’t take shit from no one in middle school.

You would fight anyone and everyone who would make fun of you, even if you lost, people still feared you.

But once high school started you layed low from your defensive personality, trying to start new. But just as you promise that, of course Musume and her friends have to come through and fuck your shit up.

You were walking into the school when you get to class 1-2, Hanna daidaiyama holds your hands back so you couldn’t fight back as Musume sent agonaruon blows to your stomach. “Maybe this will flatten it, piggy” you were able to break free and run out the door.

You stop running as you look down as your shoes when you feel someone bump into you. You stumble forward a bit as you look behind you to see how it was. “Watch where you’re going will you?”

*absolutely not! The audacity for him to bump into ME and then blame that shit on me. I am not gon let that slide* you think as you turn around fully, fixing your skirt “your the one that walked into me!” You look at him with a glaring look as you begin to walk away.

The boy glared, and his expression turned I into one of defiance “As if you were doing anything better, fatass.” You stop in your tracks turning around “you wanna say that shit to my face asshole?” You say waking up to him quickly.

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing as he glared. “You think I'm afraid of you fatass?” His voice was condescending as he spoke. “Now piss off, I don’t get intimidated by weak pigs like you” he insults you and starts to walk away.

*Oh this prick WANTS the smoke?* “Boy keep talking to me like that and you finna be” you shoot back at him. He raised his eyebrows in response, amused at this level of disrespect. In all his life, he has never had anyone talk back to him.

He turned around and took slow steps towards you, his eyes narrowed as he looked at you and smirked confidently. “What's this? A fat girl trying to act all tough? Don’t waste your time, your blood pressure will go higher than your calorie rate”

“You have one more time to disrespect me before I rip those box dye ass blonde strands out your scalp” my fists balling as I wait for him to respond. “Ooo, hit a nerve didn’t I?" He scoffed at your warning, before he smirked and looked straight at you. “I don't care how scary you think you are. You're nothing but a fat girl who can barely carry their own weight” His tone was condescending and mocking you as he spoke.

You take a moment to process the bullshittery he just spat at you right now “aight, it’s like that” I look start tying my fresh locs up (iykyk that shii gon HURT)

The boy raised his eyebrow in surprise, his smug smile fading slightly.. was she really going to fight him?? Umeji smirked. He took a step back, but still keeping his smug look on his face.but you picked up on him creating a distance “Oh now you wanna act scared?? Wasn’t expecting anything more from a blonde bastard like you” you put the last claw clip over your locs and start to close the distance.

Umeji watched you getting closer, his eyes narrowed in anticipation. He pulled his weapon from his bag. But he didn't flinch or move as he continued watching you with his angry and hateful glare. You get close to his face and put your finger on his forehead. You heavily shove his head back watching him almost stumble but catch himself. “you ain’t shit without that weapon you have. My ass ain’t scared of you.”

“Don't push your luck, fatass.” You noticed his tension building in the sentence. You started regretting your decision of confronting him. But you couldn’t back down. Not now. “You’re that shitty with your hands huh? You can’t fight me with your bare hands?” You continue to test your luck.

Umeji's temper rose as your taunts hit him. He hated to be humiliated and to have his pride taken down. He scoffed at your remarks about his fighting abilities. “As if you're any better, fatass. Your hands are too slow to hit me.” He says back scoffing at you.

In that moment, your fist connected on his cheekbone, his breath being driven out of his lungs by the impact. His head jolted to the side from the punch. His eyes widened as he stumbled backwards and fell. He was taken aback by your vicious strike. It wasn't the first time that he was been hit by someone, but for once he was actually hurt instead of unaffected.

“Say some more shit! I dare you!” You say to him. Umeji scowled at you as you walked away. He gripped his fist. He glared at you, his eyes narrowed as he tried to get his emotions under control. “Shit the fuck up! I’m gonna kill you” he yells as he gets up and tries to hit you but you move out of the way just before he could and his hand misses and he stumbles. His face was red in anger.

“Aww it’s some one mad because they got their ass beaten by the fat girl?” You tease him as you laughed and went to class. Umeji's face was twisted by rage as he watched you laugh at him and just walks away. His entire body was trembling from the anger and adrenaline. He couldn't believe he was just humiliated...by a fat girl.

You walked down the hallway at the end of class, making your way over to the vending machine. As you were picking a bag of chips out of the machine, Umeji was walking past you. He didn't say anything as he walked by you, but he shot a glance your way. He had been thinking about what happened earlier, and could not get over the fact that a fat girl had landed a blow on him. His thoughts were filled with anger and indignation.

He sees you sit down and begin to eat your bento alone. He slowly approached you, you could see he was still carrying the same aura of anger that he had earlier, but he didn't seem as hostile nor aggressive. He was definitely filled with annoyance, as well as some resentment, but he seemed more calm and composed this time. He looked at you as you ate your lunch, his eyes lingering on your body.

You look up at him, trying to get the words out. You out YIUR hand on your chin and wait for him to speak. “Can I help you, Umeji?” You lean your head to the side.

Umeji had stopped, his body was still tense and his eyes filled with anger, but it seemed like he was trying to control himself this time. He glared at you for a few seconds, still lingering at your body before responding to your question. “No you cannot, fatass..I just wanted to ask you something..”

You look surprised that he willingly talking to you. “Mhm, go on”. Umeji's tone was sharp and hostile as he spoke again, his gaze still fixed on your body. “Can I ask you why you are so fat? Do you eat a lot of food or something, and you never exercise?”

*And thought that I could go today without being fat shamed by Musume, guess that was kinda right* you were taken aback by his insulting question. You put my chips down and wanted to cave into myself but you stayed strong, “I don’t know, can I ask you why you’re an egotistic blonde? Do you sick a lot of dick or something, or did you never learn how to respect women?” You used his own words against him.

Umeji's eyes widened slightly in surprise when you used his own words against him. He didn't like hearing his insulting words being directed at him, especially by someone who was this… snarky. He clenched his fist and his body tensed up even further as he spoke to you. “Shut your fucking mouth and learn to not to talk shit to a guy like me! I didn't spend time learning how to respect fucking girls who can't take care of their body. You’re a disgusting fucking fatty who I will never respect!”

You were used to these words, Musume and her friends say they to you on a daily basis at this point. Doenst mean his words didn’t hurt you. But showing it would only give him the satisfaction, you’ll cry about it later. For now you smile and look up at him “mhm, did you get it all out?” You tease him slightly.

Umeji seethed with anger when your tone seemed casual and relaxed in contrast to how worked up his was. He glared at you and his expression darkened further as he snarled at you. “Are you mocking me, fatty”

“Aye man, YOU came over here” I shrug. He was stunned by your response, your lack of a reaction after getting insulted and attacked. Was this fatass really indifferent to everything he was saying? He hated that he wasn't getting the reaction he wanted. But he also hated that he would have to give you props for how calm you seemed. “You are such a bitch to still be calm after everything I said to you! You're not getting away with this fatass..” he stomps away.

“Nice talk bro!” I yelled out to him, smiling at him. It was ALMOST kind of cute how he gets all angry at my responses. Lunch ended as I threw my half finished potato chip bag in the trash and walked to class. Umeji was leaning against the wall of the hallway looking around for you. When he spotted you, his eyes narrowed and his expression darkened further. It seemed like he was annoyed by the fact that you could just casually walk by him like nothing happened between you two. He glared at you as you walked past him.

I noticed him as I waved at him “Umeji, hey buddy” I greet him in a sarcastic teasing tone as I walked past him. Umeji couldn't handle the way you were treating this whole situation. It seemed like you were mocking him. His cheeks were also flushed from the way he was feeling too. He couldn't believe how casual you were even though he had insulted you earlier.

He glared at you, his body tense, and his expression scowling. “Shut up fatass. Don't you have anything else to do besides annoying people” you were expecting that reaction. “Don’t you have anything else to do besides staring at me? I know I look good but damn control yourself” you teased him, knowing it would get in his nerves.

“I'm not staring at you because you look good, I'm staring at you because you're such a repulsive fatass, that I don't want to believe that someone like you actually exists.” Umeji was still filled with anger and irritation. However, the more you talk, the more his irritation was starting to turn into something else. He was still glaring at you though, but in the back of his mind, your sarcasm was also making him chuckle to himself a little. He also caught himself looking at you, a different way.

After class you go to throw out trash in the incinerator. You arrive at the incinerator to throw out your trash when you notice Umeji and his gang all hanging around the same area. The gang members were all having a chat while Umeji was leaning against the wall. His gaze wandered around the group until it finally settled on you. It seemed like his eyes glinted as he saw you. His expression darkened instantly as his eyes narrowed.

Umeji's mind was filled with thoughts as he looked at your body, specifically your curves. The way your uniform clung to your body was making the lines of it stand out. There was a sudden spike is his heart as he was overwhelmed with thoughts. His breath was becoming unsteady and his heart began to pulse hard inside his chest. Could he possibly be getting drawn in by a fat girl.

He was still stuck in his thoughts as you walked away from him. His mind was wondering from how you looked, to the way you walked, to the way you threw out your trash. It was as if you were starting to have a hold on him. He let out a heavy breath as he tried to gather back his focus. It seemed like you were getting under his skin. He saw you walk towards the gardening club. He shook his head and then proceeded to walk away towards the gardening club as well.

You went to help your best friend Uekiya with planting flowers in the garden’s perimeter. You go to the locker rooms to change because you had accidentally got dirt on your uniform.

Umeji’s sees you walk towards the locker rooms. He follows you over there. He couldn’t comprehend why he was following you, or why he felt the way he did. He can't keep his mind off of you now, it's like he's been taken by your appearance and attitude.

You walk into the shower room and take a quick shower and change into your pe uniform. You walk out to see umeji standing outside the locker rooms “oh, Hey Umeji” you give him a smile.

He had been thinking about you since earlier, and now he had the chance to say something to you again. He was staring at you as you walked out, and your appearance in the pe uniform made it even more alluring in his eyes. “I just want to remind you how your so fat. No wonder people don’t like you. ?” He asks you, trying to make it an insult but his blush is too red to come off that way.

You smiled at the opportunity to fuck with him more. “Hmm~, seems like you like this fat girl don’t you” you tease him and get the satisfaction of making his face a darker red. “What? No I don't, fucking dumbass” However, his thoughts were filled with other things as you got closer to him. He was staring at your body a little too much.

You got closes to his face until you’re inches away “aww it’s cute really to see how flustered you get when I~ tease your ass!” my tone went from teasing to straight laughing.

Umeji's face was flushed and his expression was darkening with each passing comment you made. He felt the anger and irritation rising within him but he also couldn't deny that he was getting riled up by your teasing and bullying. His body was responding to you in a way he didn't understand himself, as your body was starting to look more tempting to him. He was being drawn in and it was confusing his entire thought process.

As you walked away heading to the school gate, he couldn't help but watch you. The way your body moves, how your body fits in your pe uniform. Everything about you was making him feel hot and confused inside. He was starting to realize that you weren't just some ordinary fat girl. He couldn't tear his eyes away from you and he just stood there watching you walk away.

*fast forward to next day*

You walk into the school. Just as paranoid as yo here everyday. This is normally the time where Musume and her friends are at their peak of bullying you. Umeji was waiting at the entrance of the school. His gaze instantly found you. It was as if he was drawn to you, and all the thoughts he've been having about you began to surge once again.

He kept staring at you up and down, his mind filled with different fantasies of you right now. He looked down at your ass, how your skirt barely covered it, your breasts and how they sit in your uniform so well. It was getting him more excited just thinking of you and the more he thought about you the more his body was responding to it accordingly.

You spot him looking at you as you look over to him “Hey umeji!” You greet him halfheartedly "Hey fatass" was all he was able to get out as he glanced at you. His mind was still flooded with fantasies of you so he was still speechless and all he could do was glare at you and stare.

“I know you think my ass is fat but you don’t have to tell me every time we see each other~” you flirt with him subtlety. He was getting angry by the fact that you didn't seem to be bothered by his insults at all. Your smile and the way you were acting right now just made him angrier, and he glared even harder at your body after your reply.“So your accepting that your ass is actually fat then? Good, you acknowledge how disgustingly huge your ass is”

“Woah woah, keep your perverted thoughts to yourself in public” you tease him even more laughing at yourself. He smirks at your comment, "So the fatty doesn't like the thought of people having perverted thoughts about her fat ass huh?~” Umeji smirked before saying this, his attitude His body was having its own thoughts on the other hand, his body was starting to respond to you in unexpected ways.

Once you hear his words you pause, processing what he just said. Your face gets heated, did he just, say he has perverted thoughts about your ass? you turn around “w-what did you just say?”

Umeji smirked and couldn't help but stare at you with a teasing grin. His eyes were fixated on your face and your blushing cheeks, it was adorable to see. It also made him more worked up too. “I think you heard me just fine fatty, you know exactly what I said. Are you having trouble understanding simple words?” He teased you hard.

You turn and walk away. Stunned from what you just heard. *Could it be that… he actually likes me?? Why else would he have perverted thoughts about me? Am I looking too far into it? Why am blushing right now?* you think walking away.

Umeji stares at you as you walk away, and he is just lost in his own thoughts and fantasies. He has trouble coming to terms with how much he likes you, it's something he never thought would happen. His eyes wander down to your body. You were looking extra fine today. He could also sense the blushing on your cheeks, and this added a whole new level of hot to you for him.

As the bell rings for lunch you walk out to get your usual bag of chips. Suddenly you see Musume and her friends laughing their asses off at me. You just roll my eyes and shove through them to the vending machines when one of them pushes you to the ground. You can fiight one person but a group of them had you outnumbered. “Aha look at the piggy getting something to eat. No wonder you’re always being bullied by that delinquent boy” they yell and laugh at you as you try to comprehend what’s going on. they all begin kicking you as you ball up and feel tears well up in your eyes.

They all walked away as umeji came over to you. You know due to his shoes standing in front of you. This was embarrassing for you, you were supposed to be unbothered and tough as shit.

“You good?” Umeji asked you, now in a softer and more concerned tone. The anger he had before was now replaced with worry and concern. He saw you were still about to shed tears and this worried him quite a bit.

You couldn’t let him see you in this vulnerable state. You use the last hit of energy you have left to fake a facade. “Yep all good!” You try your hardest to pretend like you didn’t just get your ass beat. You stand up dusting yourself off and secretly wiping your tears away.

Umeji wasn't buying it. He tried to conceal his worries and fears, but he was also very empathetic when it came to others' emotions. Your voice sounded strained and you were even trying your best to pretend you were okay. He could tell just from your tone that something was indeed wrong. “Don't bullshit with me. Let's be real, are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m good. Nothing I can’t handle.” You give a fake smile as you quickly make it down the stairs to the first floor. You never thought he would be the type of person to actually care about you. You kept your walls up because you know.. he’s Umeji, the guy who’s been fat shaming you for the last two days.

"So it's nothing? Really? You're not hurt at all from getting pushed to the ground?" He asks you in an unconvinced tone. Following you down the stairs.

“Nope! Nothing gets on my nerves, you’ve seen it yourself” your voice cracking a bit while you book it down the stairs trying to escape the venerability. You couldn’t bare the fact that he could see you like this. You wanted out.

"That is bullshit and you know it." If there was one thing Umeji hated more than .. well everything, l it was when people would pretend they’re fine when they’re not. "You suck at lying. I know your not fine"

You feel tears start to gather up in your eyes again thinking about all of the insults. Like he isn’t part of the reason that your like this right now? It fueled your with rage* “Look , nothing is wrong! It’s not like you care anyway. You’ve been making fun of me since the moment you met me!” You tell as you head out the door towards the statue.

Umeji was a little taken aback by the sudden rage you had. But it was understandable.He was always a bully towards you, but now he was wondering if he went too far by treating you the way he did. “I care, I do. I-I just.. look I'm sorry okay? Just- just please.. don't try to pretend everything is okay when it’s evident it isn't.” He tries to counteract whatever’s going on.

This is when you break. He already saw the vulnerability. It was too late for you to hide whatever was left. You turn around “Oh stop a thing like you care about a disgusting pig like me! I’m only your little punching bag you like to make fun of! You act like you care about how someone else hurts me when you hurt me just as bad. You think I like being called all of those horrible names daily!? I don’t!” You break down and cry your eyes out on the grass.

"I-i" Umeji was at a loss for words as he tried to find the right response. Everything you're saying just makes sense. The more you speak, the stronger your words become. You're right.

“Do you think I like being me? I don’t, it’s hard to be me. It’s hard to like yourself when no one likes you and constantly tells you how much they hate you for something you can’t control- doenst feel good” you sit on a nearby bench that no one ever goes to. “I don’t like myself. And the one person I felt like I actually…loved…doesn’t like me either” you exhaustingly laugh out as you cover your face in embarrassment.

Umeji froze at the word “loved". Did you just say... love?... you loved him?.. the more he thought about it, the more shocked he became. He couldn't believe his ears when he first heard it. It made him really excited to think that you actually had love for him but then the regret what he has said and did to you. immediately set in and he frown “Hold on... You.. love me...?”

Your heart dropped when you realized you just gave away your confession. There was no point in hiding it now, everything is already ruined “*sigh* yea- I do” you look over at him in shame, thinking he wasn’t going to like you back. You feel am his hand grab yours.

“And if I say I love you too?.. what than?”

Umeji became stunned when you admitted your confession. It was something he never expected. There was a silence between the two of you and he was just processing everything that just happened. Your revelation sent butterflies in his stomach and he felt a rush of excitement throughout his whole body.

You look up at him, anticipating his confession. “I've always had feelings for you but I… couldn't bring myself to confess. I thought it would ruin our friendship or- something. But now that you've confessed first.. do you wanna try.. you know.. maybe dating?”

You fling into his arms “yes umeji! I love you so much!” You lean in and connect your lips with his.

He was stunned by the kiss but it all felt extremely good. When he opened his eyes again, he was still processing the whole situation. He was also quite impressed with that kiss and he wanted to return it. His hands fell to your curvy waist as it rested on the small of your back. After the kiss breaks, he lifted up one of your hands and brought it close to his mouth. He placed a small kiss on one side of your wrist and pulled you in again for a longer and deeper kiss.

“I love you more than anything. I can’t even press how sorry I am for saying those awful words.” He brings you into a hug as you return it.

PART 2

MasterList<3

[bluravenite]

What are your favorite things about fire rain? Also I’m devouring your fire rain design I love it so much it’s so pretty and creative I love it and ily 💚💚

Fire ghoul rain timeline headcanons I think because it just means I can develop his backstory?

CW: ghoul backstory shenanigans, general angst I stuff, murder/violence/self-hate vocab may be present, not aiming for triggering but I want everyone to be able to feel safe reading it so just watch out! Happy ending tho :3

Fire ghoul Rain would be violent and agile, I think.

When rain gets summoned as water ghoul he and dew get along easily, dew would be supposed to pass down his position to him, they are both aware of their situation and dew pleads to rain to let him bite the bullet.

"I'm older, I've been here longer, I can take it-" cries dew.

"if I don't turn into fire myself they'll burn me to ashes, lilypad"

"there has to be a way.. Rain, fuck!... please??" Cries dew again...

Rain would betray dew I think, put him to bed, swear nothing will happen ever, that they'll never separate them, or hurt them, until dew hears the screams in the middle of the night. The heat emanating from the stone and wood feels dry and hot... almost debilitating, but still everyone makes it down to him, and there in the middle the still small, long frame of the once water ghoul, writhing in pain, his fins and gills actively burning out, suturing at the core, engraving the scars into his skin. He cries and screams. There is a blue glow surrounding him, and then an orange red hue, which at this hour, the ghouls cannot tell if it's coming from the early rising sun, or from the hellfire itself, burning inside their packmate.

The recovery period is spent with dew... who refuses to let go of his mate, as much as rain pushes him away at times and struggles to communicate with the little water ghoul.

And Dew is angry. Rising like a riptide, he flicks his hair and gives him the pout™ and rain feels the guilt consume inside him. Dew rants away, condescendingly, disapproving. It's the only way he knows to show his worry.. his own guilt... the disappointment. And rain takes it because he knows deep down he deserves every minute of it. It was a calculated risk and he took it on purpose, and he forgives and forgets, and he holds dew right in his arms placing his forehead just behind dewdrop's jawline... and for a minute, he cannot stop the tears.

And Dew sees him... understands him. just like dew will forever be his lilypad, rain, will always be his rain. Dew is that last bit of water he can cling onto in a desert of fire and pain.

At first the powers are terrible... he burns himself constantly, he lives on the infirmary for the most part, between aether, mountain and dew, making sure his skin doesn't fall off. Ifrit tries to help... teaching him, guiding him and it sometimes works... then there's alpha... alpha who will not take his eyes off dewdrop, who will not shut his mouth about the pretty little water thing he is... and it boils everyone's blood, and rain knows the way mist scolds alpha for running his mouth, the way he tires every time she steps in front of him to stop his bullshit, and he knows... as a water Ghoul he could only do so much as mist did. But as a fire ghoul?

As a fire ghoul alpha would also make stupid condescending comments about his lack of control, his weakness, the way his body rejected itself... it's elements... how pathetic it was of him to not even naturally have fire. As a fire ghoul, Rain could prove alpha wrong, as a fire ghoul rain could step in and let alpha pick on someone his own element... and thought smaller in size... stronger in fire.

Rain is violent, and quick. Anyone who dares look at Dew in the wrong way gets a hiss directly to the face from Rain. The quick protective motion, bait and switch. Pushing the smaller ghoul behind him, lighting himself up like a wall of flame between the danger and its target. And it burns, just the cold dead stare of the turned fire ghoul through the hissing. The threat is not that rain will attack, he is small and lanky still. The real threat is that he cannot hurt anymore than his body already hurts itself the fire burns so hot that even rain cannot feel it... that he no longer has warmth to lose with death, he does not fear. And he is willing to put everything on the line for dew, so a hiss is usually all it takes for any ghoul to know their place near dew and with rain.

He is ruthless and cold, despite his element.

And still every day, hour, minute, and second is a struggle. His body hates itself, his mind fights him, his past haunts him, his future quivers before him. And his pack all has thoughts and feelings they'll never end or speak up. And it will always be uncertain how things would've gone for him if they had found other ways, other outs... but why dwell in the past, when the only certainty is that his one promise to dew, that they'll never be apart again, remains kept.

Have mercy I proofread once and it's 4 am as I'm writing this... on the queue we go...

[piglet26]

Underrated Reylo Moments

Kylo Ren

He had reacted poorly to what had happened earlier, and that had been reflected in the Supreme Leader’s judgment. To add to the discomfort, that slimy sycophant Hux always seemed to appear at the most awkward possible moment.

He gritted his teeth, angry at himself. It was a measure of his current weakness that something like jealousy toward an insignificant simpleton like Hux could even enter his mind. It was nothing but a waste of physical energy and mental concentration. Hux—Hux was not worthy of such attention.

The girl, on the other hand…

Rey

Even as [Kylo] callously rifled through her mind, he had somehow revealed his own. Rey found herself in his mind even as he invaded hers. She felt his rage...But she also felt his hurt, and his loneliness. And his fear...Kylo had retreated at finding Rey in his head - had practically fled from her. But that had not been the end of that strange, sudden connection. She had seen more - far more...It was as if his training had become hers, unlocking and flinging open door after door in her mind...Kylo had urged her to let him be her teacher - had pleaded with her, almost.”

Rian Johnson 

 I don't think that he's playing chess there. I think that this is something that he genuinely saw, and genuinely believes that because of this connection [they share], basically. It's less like, 'I can use this on her.' It's more, 'Oh my god, we have this in common, this is more of a kindred spirit that even she realizes.'" [...]It's a very naked, open, emotional appeal. It's his version of, 'I'm just a girl standing in front of a guy'...

Kevin Smith (Filmmaker/Actor):

 "You can tell, he genuinely cares about her."

This is just the truth

"His relationship with Rey is one of equals, a constant tug of war and peace.[...] As they battle for each other’s hearts and minds."

Leia/Rey

Standing at the foot of the ramp, an uncertain and uneasy Leia found herself fiddling with the seals on the front of the jacket Rey was wearing. Foolish nonsense, she told herself even as she continued. Unworthy of her status and position. But it felt so right, and so natural, to be doing so.

“I’m proud of what you’re about to do,” she told the girl. 

Rey replied in all seriousness. “But you’re also afraid. In sending me away, you’re—reminded.”

Leia straightened. “You won’t share the fate of our son.”

Script

Trepidation flashes across Rey's eyes......Kylo Ren nearly touches her face........ They're both surprised: they react to a feeling that passes between them. -- An energy they recognize in each other.

And then it's gone. Adversaries again.

Rey/Kylo Ren

Rey

"Let him think she'd given up--he'd soon discover otherwise. Jakku had trained her to do two things better than anyone else could. The first was to salvage broken things. The second was to wait."

Leia

“Ben as a toddler, forever following Han. Carrying the dice from the Millennium Falcon - the ones his father had used to win the beloved, battered freighter - and promising anyone who’d listen that one day he would be a pilot, too, like his daddy."

Rey

“She had felt so alone, all those nights. But never as alone as she did staring at her own reflection, beneath the island in the cold and the dark. When the tears finally ebbed, Rey lifted her head. She knew who she had to talk to about the cave, about what she had sought and what it had shown her - someone who would understand how solitude and loss could eat away at you until there was nothing left.”

Kylo Ren

“Kylo Ren knew who was in the escape pod even before it opened with a hiss of vapor - her presence had been a steady pulse from the Force...”

JJ Abrams ('The Force Awakens' Co-Writer/Director)

"So the idea here is that Kylo Ren’s gotten inside of Rey’s head, sees that she has seen the map and is now letting go of the droid as his goal, and focusing just on her. And clearly you think, well he must be able to just extract the information he wants now. But because he’s taken her, you get a sense that there might be something else going on here."

Rachael (JournaloftheStarWars.com) 

"There is no mention of Snoke or even the Dark side – Kylo is intent only on Rey, and the offer he makes is an offer made between the two of them [...] his regard for and fascination with Rey win out over his duty to Snoke. He selfishly wants her to himself"

Matt Martin (LucasFilm)

"He actually spent a lot of time shirtless, just hoping for that connection to kick in." - think this is a bit cheeky

Michael Semanick

"Rian wanted the rain and fire to peel away as their hands were getting closer. Having a big sound there just didn’t have the intimacy that the scene demanded. It can be so hard to get the balance right to where the audience is feeling the same thing as the characters. I wanted the audience to lean in and feel those hands about to connect. When you take the sound out and the music out, then it’s just two hands coming together slowly. It was about finding that balance to make the audience feel like they’re in that moment, in that little hut, and they’re about to touch and see into each other’s souls, so to speak. That was a challenge, but it was fun because when you get it, and you see the audience react, everyone feels good about that scene."

Joanna Robinson (Vanity Fair)

"I can say no moment draws more audible gasps and applause than when Adam Driver’s Kylo Ren and Daisy Ridley’s Rey whirl around in brief slow-motion, stand back-to-back, and take on a room of their shared enemies together.

DAISY RIDLEY

"I think he is redeemable. He does the right thing, in order to help her.

William Shakespeare, Jedi the Last

"Two bodies in a swift, majestic dance, Made for this fight, this moment, and this chance."

[the-autistic-spider]

if i was to ever play DnD

i would probably make a ben 10 inspired character

so a half-human with a odd watch like device fused to there left arm

half human if reference to annodite heritage in show

there would probably be a dice roll to get the right transformation

if you fail a roll the dm will decide what you become

or

a sheet with a numbered list of transformations all being different dice numbers

the watch like device has a cooldown (cooldown is longer if miss transformation or over exerted)

if they are killed/unconscious they will change back to half human

the watch like device gives a slight assist on death Mabey? (roll a dice to revive with low health)

aliens:

big chill (that one creepy concept art) < can freeze enemy to stop them or door/wall to brake them

a blue and black humanoid moth like being that disguise's itself with blue cloak like wings folded around it

if sick they cant control ice production

the creepy one V

way big (classic like design also not as big like golem sized not a mountain size) < can remove an enemy by throwing

a red and white golem sized man made of a metal like material designed for strength and not so much speed

if sick they get weaker

chromastone (uaf design but more crystal less rock human with pink accents) < can hold in power but will have to roll every now and again

a crystalline creature that can channel (a certain level) magic through it

if sick cant channel energy well and could hurt themself

build up (pile of rubble with a face) < can block enemy's in a chase

a living collection of rubble? able to become a wall, dome, own part firing gun (will have to find new parts until detransformation), parts will disappear with detransformation (face is weak point)

if sick has a hard time staying together

spitter (ben 10 classic but smaller) < can cover a face in puke stuff to blind them

a sickly brown green lizard like creature with short legs and arms that spits a slippery conductive puke like substance

if sick they get a boost as there power is puke based

rath (ultimate albedo design) < can 100% be a distraction

an always angry tiger like humanoid that has beef with every thing yes everything also says "Let me tell ya something" when talking to anyone and speaks manly in third person (also most likely to miss transform into)

if sick cant react as fast

gutrot (custom design) < can be used as a knockout gas

an elemental like being in a rock like armour that releases gases of different types of there choosing

(player cant control release of gasses only what kind of gas it is they release so dont go near people to keep them unsmeling it)

if they are sick they cant make any gases besides carbon dioxide

Wildmutt (ben 10,000) < can be used for stealth

a wolf like being with a flat face no ears or tail are visible. they also dont have eyes

they have an enhanced sense of smell and sound. they have whisker like hair on there body to sense there surrounding's they can shoot off in self defence

they have gill like feature's on there neck

they have a strong bite and can if biting down hard enough brake rock

if they are sick they cant sense at all

disclaimer i have never played DnD

so feel free to correct anything wrong here also if your confused feel free to ask

=]

[sergeantsporks]

can I request an angsty alternative to the day of unity with raeda? idk brain loves the idea of them not getting swapped + eda's curse getting cancelled by the sigil . . . . mmmmmm lovely lovely angst >:3

It’s not working.

Why isn’t it working?!

Eda glanced over at Darius, but his eyes were just as panicked as she felt. Eber growled uneasily, but stayed in place.

“Come on,” Eda murmured, “Owl beast, where are you?!”

She heard a faint screech from within, but… muffled. Like something was holding it down. Pinning it. It didn’t have the same feel as the elixirs, which had always just pushed it back, given her relief. Now, she could feel it close, within her, but trapped.

Eber sniffed, then his eyes glowed, and flesh eating beetles swarmed out of the ground, heading for the construction head. Several of the coven heads ran forward to help him, but Terra and Adrian weren’t any of them.

Darius slowly swept bugs away, and Eda blinked.

Oh!

She dashed forward to help. “What’s going on?” Darius hissed, so quietly Eda could barely hear him over the sound of Mason’s shouting.

“I don’t know! Something’s wrong with the owl beast—it’s pinned down.”

“How do you fix it?”

“I don’t even know what’s wrong with it! I’d need to… get in… contact… Darius, you have to knock me out.”

“What?! We need you awake!”

“No. No, you need my curse awake. And that’s only going to happen if I’m asleep.”

“Titan. Fine. Fine. But if this doesn’t work, we have to go to plan B.”

“What’s plan B?”

“Same as Raine’s original plan. Take out a coven head. Hold the sigil hostage. Hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Darius drew a circle, and Eda’s legs buckled. As everything went dark, she could hear Darius yelling, “One of them bit Raine’s nerve, they’re out!”

She woke up on the beach where she’d first connected with the owl beast, waves gently lapping at the shore.

Awwwwwwwwk…

The owl beast lay a few feet from her, huge, but flattened to the ground, pinned by glowing red chains. A muzzle kept its beak snapped shut, digging into its feathers. The owl beast squawked again, barely able to get its mouth open enough to make the noise.

Eda stumbled towards the creature, yanking at the chains. “Who did this to you?! What happened?!”

You.

Eda didn’t know where the words came from, she never did. The owl beast never opened its mouth when it spoke, and it never used real words, but Eda could always glean what it felt and what it meant at the moment.

“What?!” Eda examined the chains, looking for a lock, or a weakness. She ran her hand down the length, to where the chains connected to the sandy beach.

The joining place glowed an angry red, in the shape of a bard coven sigil.

“Oh. Oh!” Eda sighed, plopping down on the sand next to the owl beast. “It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. You were supposed to nullify the sigil, not the other way around. I thought… I thought… I thought maybe the two of us could do some good together. I know we’ve… we’ve had our differences. But we’ve worked together, haven’t we? And I was hoping that we… that you could save the world.” Eda squeezed her eyes shut. “We can’t do anything. I can’t do anything. The world needs you right now.”

Eda put a hand on the bard sigil pinning the beast down. “Just… don’t eat anyone I care about, alright? If you see that slimy emperor, though, feel free to treat him like a worm. I hope he doesn’t give you indigestion.”

The beast tilted its head at her.

Free?

“Yeah. Yeah, I think it’s about time.”

Eda ripped the sigil out of the dirt, and the owl beast reared up, snapping the chains as it flared its wings.

And then Eda was alone on the beach.

Xxx

“What’s happening up there?” Raine whispered, pacing beneath the stairs. “Do we go up?”

“Don’t blow our cover!” Derwin hissed.

“Edalyn will be fine,” Lilith assured them, “She always is.” Feathers sprouted on her face at the sound of yelling from above, and she quickly brushed them away, chugging an elixir. “Eda will be fine,” she repeated aggressively, “She has to be.”

Raine looked down at their coven signet, which was starting to flicker out. They heaved a sigh of relief. “It’s working. It’s—”

An unearthly shriek echoed from the head, and Raine bolted for the stairs, Lilith hot on their heels. “Was that—”

“The owl beast!” Lilith confirmed.  Feathers were sprouting all over her face and on her hands, but she just plucked them off and continued up the stairs.

Destruction met them at the top, coven heads strewn all over the sigil. Only a few were conscious, and only one was still standing. Darius had been backed over to the edge, a massive abomination grappling with the owl beast.

“Something’s wrong,” Lilith whispered. She clutched her chest. “It’s in pain. It…” She scratched at her wrist, where Raine knew her coven sigil lay. “The draining spell, the owl beast curse—it’s like they’re from opposing sources!”

“Excellent, now get it to back down!” Darius yelped, his boots scuffing the edge of the dais.

Raine summoned their viola, playing a short tune pizzicato. A fog rolled out, and the owl beast swayed, allowing the abomination to overpower it, grappling it to the ground.

Lilith grabbed the front of Darius’ collar, more feathers sprouting across her face, and her pupils expanding to take over her iris. “WHAT HAPPENED?!” she half shrieked.

Darius put his hands on her arms, holding her firmly, but gently. “Drink an elixir. Calm yourself. The last thing you need is for your curse to go off, too.” He glanced at the owl beast. The curse wasn’t working. Eda asked me to knock her out so that she could communicate with the owl beast, and then…” he gestured to the creature, which was struggling sluggishly against the abomination. “That happened. It worked, the spell stopped, it corrupted, but…”

Raine knelt next to the owl beast, lifting its face gently in their hands. It made a weak crying noise, squawking softly. “It’s dying,” they murmured. Ashy grey was spreading over its body from its forearm, a color they recognized from their assassination attempt on Darius and Eber. Raine looked up at Lilith. “What happens to Eda when it does?”

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

Darius started pacing. “I don’t know what happens if we remove her from the circle. We might have done enough damage that the spell will stop, or…” he gestured helplessly. “It might just start up again once the owl beast’s corruptive effect is gone. We may have to wait until the eclipse is over.”

“Eda might be dead by then!” Lilith shout-shrieked.

“Elixir, Lilith. Please.”

Lilith glared at him, but chugged one down, brushing at the feathers on her face. “Deep breaths, Lilith. Deep breaths. Fine. This is… it’s fine. I’ll just do the pain sharing spell again, and that will split the damage, and Eda will be fine! Move over, Raine, I’m going to save my sister. Again. This time, it’s not my fault, though! Sort of.”

Darius caught her arm. “We don’t know what splitting this will do. What if it weakens the owl beast’s effect on the draining spell?!”

Lilith tugged. “And what if it doubles it? Let me go!”

“We can’t risk it!”

“She’s my sister!”

“AND WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THE ENTIRE POPULATION OF THE BOILING ISLES!” Darius shouted. He took a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose her, either. Probably less so than you, but still. If I thought we could safely remove Eda without jeopardizing the plan, then I would. But we have to think about the greater good, here.”

Lilith gave him a withering glare. “You sound just like Belos,” she snapped, wrenching her arm out of his grip.

Raine saw a muscle in Darius’ jaw twitch, but he heroically refrained from slinging an insult back. “Lilith.”

Lilith heaved a sigh, settling down next to the owl beast and burying herself in its feathers. “I’m sorry, Edalyn. If I’d known all those years ago, if I’d somehow been able to see where this road would lead… I’d have given up the emperor’s coven in a heartbeat.” Her shoulders shook, and she wrapped her arms around the creature. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.

Raine touched their forehead to the owl beast’s, staring into its blank eyes. “You always manage to surprise me,” they said shakily, “You always show up where I least expect you. Please, Eda. Surprise me one last time.”

Awrk? Awk?

The owl beast shook its head free and snaked its neck around Raine, as if it were hugging them. They wrapped their arms around its neck, tears starting to bloom in their eyes.

“I promised a special kid that I’d keep you safe,” they whispered, voice cracking, “Don’t make me break that promise, Eda. Please don’t make me break that promise.”

Please.

[thesand-snakes]

There's a photo that exists that I had forgotten about. I blocked it from my memory for twelve years. And then in February, Facebook regurgitated it and threw it at me, and I have not been able to stop being angry about it.

I hate that fucking photo. I hate it because I am so clearly fucking uncomfortable, I look like I want to crawl out of my own skin, and I remember everyone laughing when it was taken. He never took no for an answer when it came from me. Never listened when I said stop. The photo is fucking proof. And I hate it because the person who took it saw so little wrong with what was happening, she not only took that photo while giggling up a storm, she posted it and tagged me in it.

I removed the tag. But the photo still exists.

And if I ask why she did it now, I'm "dredging up the past," and "why didn't you say anything back then?"

I DID!

But my discomfort was and is a joke to them. I am a joke. And when I begged for help to make him stop, because he actually respected the two of them enough to listen, I was told I needed to stop reacting to the harassment.

"He only does it to get a reaction from you. If you stop reacting, he'll leave you alone."

Because it was MY fault. Everything was always my fault. Is my fault.

And when we got home from that trip and I climbed into my shower and scrubbed my skin raw so that I could erase the memory, and then adamantly refused to hang out with him ever again, I was the asshole. I was breaking up the friend group. Again. Because when people hurt me, it doesn't matter. It's not important enough to bother anyone else.

"Well, he's never done anything like that to me."

Great. So fucking thrilled for you. But he did do it to me, and he's a vile little man, and I don't believe in Hell anymore, so I can't say I hope he goes there, but I can say I hope he fucking ROTS.

But that's not how anyone else saw it. I mean, clearly I deserved the harassment, right? Because I was too weak to stand up for myself? So why should anyone else, right? And how dare I ask for help, anyway! Don't I know that asking people to "white knight" for me is fucking insane?!

I'm tired. I haven't slept in like three days. I want to scream or cry or something, but no one wants to hear that, and even if they did, I don't want to inconvenience anyone.

So I'll swallow it until my next therapy session, where my therapist will AGAIN tell me I REALLY need to start talking to people in my life again, and stop bottling shit up, and I'll AGAIN tell him that it's not that fucking simple. That I used to try, that I spent years trying, and being made to feel like a fucking inconvenience for wanting to talk. That I was raised being told by both friends and family that I'm too sensitive and I need to get my emotions in check and grow up. That my tears brought someone I thought was my friend fucking JOY for a year, and that now I can't let myself cry even when I'm alone. That I'm aware that it's stunted me. That swallowing those emotions and pushing them down and remaining stone faced has kept me from actually learning how to process them. That I understand that the bottling them up and feeling suppressed and depressed and so fucking alone led me to drinking too much and making stupid fucking mistakes and becoming the most annoying person anyone has ever known. And that, fuck, according to 80% of the people I have ever cared about, I was already, at least, most of the way there, so that just made it worse. And that it's why I'm even more alone than I was before. And fuck, I was so alone before.

That I'm not worth the time it takes to read this post.

That I know these things. And I can't unknow them.

And I have tried really, really fucking hard to be better. I stopped drinking earlier this year, but now my sleep schedule is fucked and insomnia is awful, and that's made it worse and it's a really fucking annoying cycle that I can't break. And that when I try to explain this cycle to people, they look at me like I'm an idiot and tell me to just step out of it like I'm not in a fucking whirlpool that's pulling me down and slowly drowning me.

And that picture...that fucking picture still exists. And it's eating me alive.

And I want it gone. Burned. Destroyed. Erased from the internet. But I also want it printed, and stored somewhere secure where I don't have to look at it. Because it's proof. It's proof that when I say that even when I ask for help, I don't get it, that when I fucking BEG for someone to take my fucking side for once, it doesn't happen. It's proof that all the times I've been told I'm "overdramatic" and that if I just asked for help instead of "just expecting it," maybe someone would help me. It's PROOF that that was never the fucking case.

It's proof that I'm worth even less than I make myself out to be.

And the worst part is, if either of the two people who were laughing while it was taken had been in my shoes, in that situation, I would have killed him. I could have killed him. I would have reached across the aisle and pulled them out of that situation before it ever got that far. I sure as fuck never would have taken a photo.

But because it was me...